How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep… that have taken hold.
Sophie Turner by Chris Floyd for People Magazine 2015
Anon asked for Snow in Bigby’s shirt :>
Bigby never allowed himself to indulge of dreams of Snow, but when he did - boy did they make the fur on his back stand still.
Tonight’s wasn’t everything exciting but just the sight of her is enough to take his breath away. In some unknown yet strangely familiar, humble room, she stands in the moonlight in nothing but his shirt wearing that confident smile of hers which is nothing short of sexy in his mind. In the decades he’s known her he’s always admired her strength, her never ending will to do whatever was necessary to serve their community or to survive. To see that reflected in her smile was beautiful.
Her black hair cascades over her shoulder with a deep blue hue matching those eyes he’s always easily pulled into. The lunar light made her look almost heavenly as she slowly made her way towards him on this large bed. Bigby inhales deeply, the muscles in his arm that’re supporting his weight weaken.
No other person in all the worlds, in the thousand of possible other worlds could make him feel this way. Not the Adversary or The Crooked Man’s crew, not Bloody Mary or even the threat of silver bullets can freeze him still like this.
The closer Snow approaches, the better view of her curves he can see and the silhouette of her body through the white fabric of his shirt. Bigby shudders out a heated breath when she approaches him, a knee set between his thighs and a smooth hand rests on top of his left which looks to be wearing a ring matching one on hers. The hand slowly makes its way up his tan arm and, slender fingers tracing every inch of his skin sending a blazing warmth in their wake until she reaches his jawline.
Their distance closes when her lips brush against the shell of his ear, whispering.
“I love you…” Just three simple words holding more power than any spell a 13th Floor Witch can cast. His heart beats faster than he can keep up with and before he can open his mouth to either kiss her or let words out…
“Goddamnit, Colin.”
The sounds of a hefty pig snoring fishes him out of his dream and Bigby’s welcomed by the sweltering heat of a humid summer’s night. Beside him is an empty scotch glass and and an almost empty bottle of Midas Gold. He lets out deep sigh after rubbing his face and tilts his head to look out the window to stare out the window.
“I love you too, Snow…”