Live. Laugh. Love. 
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What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.

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Most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born and never get to see any of it. I don’t want to be most of us.

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itsjustjensen:

dean interrogating alone vs sam and dean interrogating together

#and dean was like ‘i’M GONNA STAB THE GUY’ and sam was like ‘shhh no dean let’s laugh @ him’#and so they laughed#:)

answered 1 day ago with 678 notesviasource

Prompt :) Emma knows she's falling for Killian and wants to get to know more about him. First date type stuff like favorite color and food, first kiss, dislikes, wants for the future. She wants to open up to him about herself and she wants him to do the same before long. Things get very personal. Set in Storybrooke. Can be smut/smuff/fluff/angst. Can be canon through current episodes or not.

Anonymous

bemusedbicycle:

sunday morning rain is falling.

“Favorite food?”

He peers at her overtop the rim of his mug, hair still deliciously rumpled from bed, sticking up every which way in careless clumps of thick, black strands. His blue eyes narrow slightly with a little grin as he considers her question.

“My realm or yours?”

She shrugs as she flips a pancake off the griddle, sliding it onto a plate and handing it over to him. “Doesn’t matter which.”

He ponders her question for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he works at the sticky cap of the syrup bottle. No matter how tightly she closes the damn thing, syrup still manages to leak its way out all over the container. But she thinks that has less to do with how she closes the lid and more to do with the 13 year old eating her out of house and home.

“I’m quite fond of those BLT sandwiches Granny makes on Wednesdays.” He hums under his breath as he pours a generous amount of maple on his stack of pancakes. “Much better than her Thursday lunch special, of that I am certain.”

He shoots her a wide grin and it anchors deep in her chest, stealing her breath and causing a light pink flush to warm its way over her cheeks. His grin only spreads as her face heats and she bites her lip against the rush of happiness that overwhelms her, crashing over her in steady waves. She flicks the stove off and takes her own plate of pancakes next to him, sliding onto the empty stool.

“Favorite color?”

She reaches for the butter and his fingertips brush over her wrist.

“Green.” He replies without hesitation and when she meets his eyes, she can’t help the sigh that filters through her lips because he is looking at her like she is everything – the sun and the sky and the sea and the stars. She leans her body more fully into his, presses her knees into the side of his flannel covered legs. He welcomes the affection with a surprised sound in the back of his throat and when he shoves a bit of sticky pancake in his mouth, he is grinning again.

“Not that I mind, love, but where is the inquisition coming from?” His nose nudges against her cheek and when he presses his lips against the corner of her own, he leaves behind traces of his breakfast.

She tilts her head to the side. “I just feel like there’s not a lot I know about you. We sort of skipped the whole dating thing.”

“Does that bother you? Not having a courtship?”

She doesn’t miss the way his voice wavers slightly, the hint of self-doubt that lingers there. So she leans forward and twists her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, angling his head so that her lips meet his fully this time, letting her tongue graze his bottom lip.

“No.” And it doesn’t – she never was one for romantic dinners and formalities anyway. She likes what they have much more – the intimacy, the adoration. “I just want to know about you.”

She gives him a sly look as she sips at her cinnamon hot chocolate and his eyes dart to her lips, the blue darkening considerably as she licks away a hint of whipped cream. “Don’t you want to know about me?”

He arches an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh darling, I already know all about you.”

At her eye roll and gentle scoff, he continues. “I know you only drink your cinnamon hot chocolate on weekend mornings.” He nods to her cup. “You much prefer coffee during the week – just a hint of cream and two sugars. I know your favorite color is red and gods above – how I love you in it.” He nips at her exposed shoulder with a low growl and she shivers thinking of that very specific lacy red lingerie set she has and how very much he enjoyed it the previous night.

“You are a creature of habit with your meals, unless Granny has mac and cheese in which case you pack it away like a bloody sailor.” He chuckles under his breath. “When you find something truly amusing, your head tilts back just the slightest bit. And when you are angry, your hands ball into fists and your shoulders go rigid.”

He turns his attention back to his breakfast. “And you hate black licorice.” He finishes, popping his last bit of pancake into his mouth. “Although I still haven’t figured out why it exists, dreadful piece of sustenance if you ask me.”

She stares at him in quiet astonishment and when he turns back to meet her stunned gaze, his grin is soft and sure and perfect.

“I love you.” She whispers and it’s raspy and stupid but she will worry about that later.

“Aye, love.” His lips capture hers again. “That I already know as well.”

answered 1 day ago with 678 notesviasource

Prompt :) Emma knows she's falling for Killian and wants to get to know more about him. First date type stuff like favorite color and food, first kiss, dislikes, wants for the future. She wants to open up to him about herself and she wants him to do the same before long. Things get very personal. Set in Storybrooke. Can be smut/smuff/fluff/angst. Can be canon through current episodes or not.

Anonymous

bemusedbicycle:

sunday morning rain is falling.

“Favorite food?”

He peers at her overtop the rim of his mug, hair still deliciously rumpled from bed, sticking up every which way in careless clumps of thick, black strands. His blue eyes narrow slightly with a little grin as he considers her question.

“My realm or yours?”

She shrugs as she flips a pancake off the griddle, sliding it onto a plate and handing it over to him. “Doesn’t matter which.”

He ponders her question for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he works at the sticky cap of the syrup bottle. No matter how tightly she closes the damn thing, syrup still manages to leak its way out all over the container. But she thinks that has less to do with how she closes the lid and more to do with the 13 year old eating her out of house and home.

“I’m quite fond of those BLT sandwiches Granny makes on Wednesdays.” He hums under his breath as he pours a generous amount of maple on his stack of pancakes. “Much better than her Thursday lunch special, of that I am certain.”

He shoots her a wide grin and it anchors deep in her chest, stealing her breath and causing a light pink flush to warm its way over her cheeks. His grin only spreads as her face heats and she bites her lip against the rush of happiness that overwhelms her, crashing over her in steady waves. She flicks the stove off and takes her own plate of pancakes next to him, sliding onto the empty stool.

“Favorite color?”

She reaches for the butter and his fingertips brush over her wrist.

“Green.” He replies without hesitation and when she meets his eyes, she can’t help the sigh that filters through her lips because he is looking at her like she is everything – the sun and the sky and the sea and the stars. She leans her body more fully into his, presses her knees into the side of his flannel covered legs. He welcomes the affection with a surprised sound in the back of his throat and when he shoves a bit of sticky pancake in his mouth, he is grinning again.

“Not that I mind, love, but where is the inquisition coming from?” His nose nudges against her cheek and when he presses his lips against the corner of her own, he leaves behind traces of his breakfast.

She tilts her head to the side. “I just feel like there’s not a lot I know about you. We sort of skipped the whole dating thing.”

“Does that bother you? Not having a courtship?”

She doesn’t miss the way his voice wavers slightly, the hint of self-doubt that lingers there. So she leans forward and twists her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, angling his head so that her lips meet his fully this time, letting her tongue graze his bottom lip.

“No.” And it doesn’t – she never was one for romantic dinners and formalities anyway. She likes what they have much more – the intimacy, the adoration. “I just want to know about you.”

She gives him a sly look as she sips at her cinnamon hot chocolate and his eyes dart to her lips, the blue darkening considerably as she licks away a hint of whipped cream. “Don’t you want to know about me?”

He arches an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh darling, I already know all about you.”

At her eye roll and gentle scoff, he continues. “I know you only drink your cinnamon hot chocolate on weekend mornings.” He nods to her cup. “You much prefer coffee during the week – just a hint of cream and two sugars. I know your favorite color is red and gods above – how I love you in it.” He nips at her exposed shoulder with a low growl and she shivers thinking of that very specific lacy red lingerie set she has and how very much he enjoyed it the previous night.

“You are a creature of habit with your meals, unless Granny has mac and cheese in which case you pack it away like a bloody sailor.” He chuckles under his breath. “When you find something truly amusing, your head tilts back just the slightest bit. And when you are angry, your hands ball into fists and your shoulders go rigid.”

He turns his attention back to his breakfast. “And you hate black licorice.” He finishes, popping his last bit of pancake into his mouth. “Although I still haven’t figured out why it exists, dreadful piece of sustenance if you ask me.”

She stares at him in quiet astonishment and when he turns back to meet her stunned gaze, his grin is soft and sure and perfect.

“I love you.” She whispers and it’s raspy and stupid but she will worry about that later.

“Aye, love.” His lips capture hers again. “That I already know as well.”

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bonus

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lillyanjones:

Colin ‘I Don’t Know What to Say’ O’Donoghue

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