#cs drabble

[whisperingmidnights]

1000 bingo. Morning after…

Feysand x Dove 👀

(I see what you're trying to do 😏 but I have something different in mind. This takes place after Chapter 19 of CS.)

The world is fuzzy in a way I'm not accustomed to, a testament to the strength of the pain tonic Feyre had poured down my throat before we settled in for the night. My joints ache, my limbs feel heavier than normal, and my head...well, at least the pain in my head is bearable. I'll probably need another tonic soon, if I have to guess.

"What do you need?" Rhys's voice is tired, but not in the way in should be if he'd received a full night's sleep. One of the arms wrapped around my body lifts away and, before I can protest, he smooths the back of his knuckles along my bare arm. "Dove?"

"Nothing," I whisper, leaning back against his chest so I can try to look up at him. "What do you need?"

"I have everything I need," he says, tracing a finger over the fresh tattoo on the side of my hand. "I'm more concerned about you."

"I'm fine, love. You haven't slept, Rhys. Why?"

"I..." he swallows thickly, lacing his fingers through my own as he nuzzles the top of my head. "I don't think I can."

The bed on the other side of me shifts as Feyre presses closer. Her nails graze my wrist as she trails her hand along his arm, and I lean my forehead against her chest when her palm comes to rest against his jaw. The room is silent as they slip into their own wordless conversation, and just as my eyes begin to close, I hear a slight sniff before my mate begins to tremble behind me and I feel his chest jerk with sobs he's trying to smother.

It takes some effort to disentangle our hands and turn so I'm able to wrap my arm around his waist, but I do it. I let him hold me against his chest as he takes deep, gasping breaths in an attempt to keep from crying, and I run my hand in slow circles over the length of his spine when he loses that battle. Behind me, Feyre just shifts closer, making soothing noises of her own.

All of the movement and pressure hurt, but I don't care. I'm not the only one hurting right now.

"We're safe," Feyre murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head before she straightens a little to kiss him. "We're all safe, darling. We're going to be alright."

[lazysoulwriter]

obsessed - chris sturniolo.

That's the only word to describe Chris Sturniolo in this relationship. You've never had someone like this before, someone who treats you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. And Chris? He’s never had someone like you either. It’s intoxicating, all-consuming, and neither of you would have it any other way.

You're glued to each other, always. His arms are around you when you’re sitting together, his hand is in yours whenever you’re walking somewhere. If you’re standing still, Chris is pulling you into him. If you’re lying down, his head is on your chest, your stomach, your lap—wherever he can fit himself against you.

And the kissing? Constant. Chris kisses you when you wake up, kisses you before you go to sleep, kisses you when you’re mid-sentence just because he can’t resist. He loves the way your lips feel against his, the way you let out the smallest sigh every time he pulls you in, the way your fingers tighten in his hair like you never want to let go. He kisses you in private, in public, in the backseat of the car when his brothers groan and tell him to get a room. He just laughs, kissing you again, because he doesn’t care who sees. He loves you, and he’s not hiding it.

You laugh together all the time. There’s never a dull moment between you. Chris will say the most ridiculous things just to see you smile, will make faces at you across a crowded room to make you giggle, will tickle your sides just to hear that breathless laugh that makes his heart skip a beat. He loves making you laugh. He loves seeing you happy. And when you’re upset? Chris is the first one there, pulling you into his chest, whispering softly against your hair, rubbing soothing circles against your back.

To him, you're everything. A muse, a goddess, the best thing that's ever happened to him. And he’ll do anything—anything—to keep you happy, to keep you safe. Even if that means facing the overwhelming, most-teenage fandom that follows him and his brothers everywhere. He knows how intense they can be, how protective they are of him, how they analyze every move he makes. But none of it matters when it comes to you.

When the fans start speculating, when the comments get overwhelming, Chris doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t let you see the negativity, doesn’t let it reach you. He’s quick to shut it down, quick to defend you, quick to make it clear that he loves you.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” he tells you one night, his voice firm but soft as he cups your face. “I love you. They don’t get to decide anything about us.”

And you believe him. Because Chris isn’t just obsessed—he’s devoted, he’s protective, and he’s yours.

[kmomof4]

Awwwwwwwwwwww

😍🥰

the jingle bells are ringing

killian jones x emma swan

 "Huh," Killian said.

 For several minutes, he'd been ringing a jingle bell ornament. Periodically, he looked up at Emma quizzically, then back down to the bell, which he'd shake again, then shake his head as he looked back up at her.

 "Either this bell's defective," he said, "or that movie film you showed us last night was a fictitious fairytale indeed."

 "It's a Wonderful Life?" Emma asked.

 "That's the one," Killian said, "the young lass in that film said whenever a bell rings, an angel gets her wings. And yet," he shook the bell, then his head, "you still haven't."

taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from my captain swan taglist, hmu in my dms or askbox!] 

the christmas time again collection | also on ao3

[diorleclerc]

𝐠𝐲𝐦 - 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫

started this almost a year ago and never finished it oops 😔 dedicated to @thatsdemko bc of all our carlos thots 😌

warnings - oral (male receiving)

every time you join carlos while he worked out in your home gym, you always ended up getting distracted by him and you never get your own workout done.

you were doing your stretches when you heard his grunts. you looked up to see carlos sitting at the machine, working on his arms, with his legs spread.

you can’t help but stare and it doesn’t take him long to notice your gaze.

“see something you like?” he smirks, stopping for a moment, letting his hands fall to his thighs.

“maybe,” you tease, your eyes following the movement of his hands. “you wanna come here and tell me what’s got your attention?” carlos motions you over with his finger.

you climb onto his lap, straddling his thighs while your arms wrap around his neck.

“so what’s got you so distracted, hm?” he teases, his hands finding their place on your hips.

“just couldn’t help but admire,” you start, letting your finger trail down his chest. “yeah? admire what?” he smirks.

“how good your arms look in this shirt… and your thighs in these shorts…” you say, slipping your hand underneath his shirt to trace his abs.

you end up on your knees between his legs, pulling his shorts down just enough to take his cock out.

his hands tangle in your hair as you kiss his tip, your tongue swirling around it. you slowly start to take him into your mouth, your hand wrapped around what you couldn’t fit.

“that’s it honey, keep going. you can take a bit more,” he urges, pushing your head down a little.

you feel his tip hit the back of your throat as you try to take more of him into your mouth. you look up to see his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.

“so good, princesa. you’re doing so good. taking me so well,” he praises.

he holds your head in place and starts to fuck your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat every time he thrusted up.

it doesn’t take much longer before carlos is cumming down your throat. you swallow everything he has to give you before releasing him from your mouth.

a string of spit connects your lips to his cock as his cock slips from your mouth. his thumb wipes it before he slips it into your mouth, letting you suck on his thumb.

“so pretty,” he mutters, pulling you up from the ground.

“now let’s head to the bedroom so i can take care of you, hm?”

[cs-fox]

It wasn’t new to see soldiers out behind the barracks, sucking on hand-rolled cigarettes the rookies had snuck onto base. They all needed the nicotine and the higher-ups usually turned a blind eye, knowing this.

So nobody even batted an eye when their lieutenant started joining the party, often found with his mask rolled up over that crooked, pale nose and a blunt jammed between his lips.

No-one spoke about it. Smoking wasn’t something you bragged about. Vices were like taboo in the SAS, no matter how much you drunk, how many girls you’d snuck into your quarters, or the amount of smoke in your breath, it didn’t come up in sober conversation.

You were glad of that when you found your Lieutenant’s stash of cigarettes, squirrelled away under the sink in the commons room. It was almost 11 when you left the room to light up, the chemicals soaking into your muscles and loosening every fibre as if by magic.

You sighed aloud, thick, white smoke pluming from your parted lips.

‘Thanks, LT,’ you snorted to yourself, leaning back against the grimy outside wall of the mess hall and scuffing your boots into the gravel.

‘I don’t remember doing anything for you, Sergeant.’

‘Fuck! Who’s the-‘ your head whipped around to face a hollow-cheeked skull, which in turn belonged to a tall, broad-shouldered and crooked-nosed… Lieutenant.

‘Sir,’ you muttered, discreetly crushing out the butt you’d dropped in surprise. ‘I…’

‘Save it. Why’d you take them?’

‘I needed to relax,’ you pleaded. ‘God, I only took one. I’ll pay you back or whatever…’

‘Mhm.’

//

It had been a few weeks since you’d been caught smoking behind the mess hall, and you still couldn’t look your lieutenant in the eye. It wasn’t like he made it any easier, though, what with that unnerving dark brown stare that never left your face.

You found yourself back at your old haunt that night, unable to sleep. The small overhang of the mess hall roof shielded you from about seventy per cent of the rain, the rest soaking into your hair and boots.

Footsteps. Heavy ones; you could hear the wet crunch of gravel as the figure approached. All you could see was the orangish light of a tiny ember… the end of a cigarette.

You stood up and held out a hand expectantly before you even registered who it was.

‘It’s a disgusting habit, Sergeant.’

‘Bit rich coming from the likes of you.’ you mumbled out the retort before you could think, and immediately regretted it, eyes widening and fists clenching. But to your surprise, he laughed.

‘Touché.’

A gloved hand extended toward you, a small, thin cylinder with smoke curling from one end slotted in between two fingers. You accepted the cigarette gladly.

‘Cheers.’

__________________________________________

no thoughts head empty

Idk what this is

SEND ME IDEAS GUYS……..

[viiviidlights]

Overblot Theatre - Overlord of Darkness

So since I ran an overblot arc for Casimir on my rp blog...

It's only fair I upload the conclusion to it here!

No one asked to be tagged, but I'll be sharing this on my other blog anyways, so please don't fret!

Content warnings for explicit mention of bullying, um... idk if this necessarily constitutes as verbal abuse, but Casimir's dad kinda totally sucks here so... idk?

Yuna awoke to the same old theatre in its drab monochrome state. Another Overblot meant another journey here that she was bound to forget when she awoke, but she knew that she wasn't here to complain about only seeing this place at the most inopportune times.

Instead, she listened around for the open screening room, searching for the faint light and sound that would escape from it, guiding her to the familiar seats and screen that always held a different story,

Observing the scenery, Yuna noted an almost fuzzy darkness that lingered in her vision as she explored - a vignette around her surroundings that cemented the idea that this was a story she needed to hear; a flashback that she couldn't physically experience, but would learn about nonetheless.

The standard posters and cutouts that typically resembled what one would see in a movie theatre were more akin to a mainstage auditorium instead - with abstract, silhouetted depictions of a young boy in various situations. In one poster, the perspective and colors depicted him as small, but sticking out like a sore thumb, a bright yellow dot amidst a sea of cobalt. Another one painted the boy in a similarly small image, but with a looming shadow that towered above him, a mirror image of the frail silhouette yet older, more commanding. Most of the posters followed a similar theme, with no real features to identify the boy, save for the recognizable pair of wings and horns plastered on every one.

Yuna continued down the hallway when she noticed a faint glow at the end of the he doors open and all. She proceeded quickly, her pace picking up when she detected the sound of quiet, fearful sobbing in the background.

"I-I don't wanna die," Casmir sniffled to himself as Yuna poked her head into the screening room. "I-I don't want to be dead and I don't want to be in hell- I'm- I'm so sorry…"

Yuna softly cleared her throat, causing the young fae to jolt up, fear and anxiety swimming in his orange eyes.

"A-ah?! Y-Yuna?!" He exclaimed, wiping his face with his sleeve. "A-are you real? O-or are you a spirit here t-to taunt me for my failures?! I don't-"

"Easy there, Cas," Yuna replied, sitting down in one of the plush seats and making herself comfortable. "I'm real as ever. You don't have to worry, okay? You're not dead, nor are you in Hell… at least, I'd certainly hope that a place as quiet as this wasn't Hell… I still dunno what this place is, if I'm being honest…"

"Y-you mean to say that you've been here before?" Casimir asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion at Yuna's statement.

"Well, yeah, but I don't usually remember too much of what happens while I'm here…"

"Ah… well, I suppose that's nice at least. It means you won't recall some of the stuff I've been forced to rewatch for the last while…"

Casimir gestured towards the screen and Yuna's eyes followed, her attention drawn to the colorless memories shown before her.

'Gee. Thanks stupid brain theatre. You won't tell me what you are but you can sure as hell show me people's trauma out the wazoo, can't you?' She thought sarcastically, before settling in for whatever "show" the theatre had to offer her this time.

-

"I heard he curses anyone that gets too close! A friend of mine heard him mumbling one day and then she broke her leg!"

*"I heard his family does deals with demons, so every generation or two they have a kid that gets possessed by em so they can run around freely… Maybe that's what his problem is!"

"My mom says that he was a changeling who failed to swap with anyone because he was so scary!"

When he was little, these were the sorts of playground rumours that plagued Casimir day by day. He was never a talkative child - no, he was the odd, silent child who sat in the back of the room and kept to himself. All the other children noticed his sharp horns and devilish wings, taking it as a sign that he was of the demonic tribes, no matter how well-known his family was by this point (even if only for their failures in recent years). They avoided him whenever possible, whispering curses behind his back and snickering at his failures. When it came to games in class, he was always the last one picked and the first one out. During partner work, he was always the child stuck in a duo that had not been looking for a third. At recess, he always sat alone underneath the shade of the trees, digging in the dirt, but not even the insects would come to keep him company.

"…Casimir, dear? I know you don't often speak much in class, but I was wondering if you'd like to try something new…"

His first experience in the theatre was in the fifth grade, much later than some of his peers, but still rather young. His teacher had come to him looking for boys who wanted to join the cast, and Casimir figured he was probably a last resort as always. Still, though, he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to actively be around his peers, no matter how afraid of him they seemed to be.

His acceptance of the offer was swift, yet hesitant.

The first few rounds of rehearsals, though, were… almost a miraculous change for Casimir, compared to how he acted previously.

"I don't think I've ever heard him talk before. It's kinda uncanny."

"Yeah, but he's… actually really good at this! Hey, Casimir, wait up-"

"Who would've thought such a quiet kid could make such a terrifying villain?"

For once in his life, his classmates actually wanted to be around him and speak to him. For once, he was being included. The people loved him and his performance! Casimir was practically on cloud nine with how often people spoke to him, asking for him to perform impressions and play games with him on the playground.

So once the show was over, the logical next step was to keep up the act.

"Kyahahaha! Bow before my might, mortals, and cower! For I have come to proclaim myself your new overlord!"

Each stutter had been replaced with a declaration, each whimper replaced by a cackle. He spoke with a flourish, one that matched his very demeanor. With just a few months of rehearsal, he had turned into a completely different individual. It went over well the rest of that year, but once he entered middle school, it became a different story.

"Dude. You know this isn't a show, right? You can quit the act. It's kind of annoying."

"Oh great, here comes the 'evil overlord' on his way to claim us as his servants again."

"Casimir, you can't keep calling us all your minions. Everyone's getting the wrong idea. You're too old for this, now."

People continued to talk to Casimir, yes, but their formerly reverent tone was filled with disdain now, and even the adults in his life began to treat him as odd for his unique manner of speech. Whereas previously, he was just a "well-behaved child with a bit of quirk", he was now "childish", "dramatic", "nonsensical".

His father, though, found the whole schtick to be nonsense from the start, but tolerated it before. Until one night, his father sat him down after a violin rehearsal.

"Casimir. You're fourteen now. Don't you think it's time this 'villain' nonsense comes to an end?"

"But mother said-"

"It doesn't matter what she said. You're fourteen. Next year you'll be a member of the Grand Symphony with Duscha, and in four years you'll be a bonafide adult. You can't keep up this childish game if you want to be taken seriously… I blame that teacher of yours for making you like this."

"Father, it's not her fault that-"

"If that woman hadn't told you to join that stupid show, you wouldn't have developed that 'evil villain' persona that you put on! You would have been the well-mannered, quiet, polite young boy you should have been!"

"But father, if I didn't help with the performance, people would have kept ignoring me. I don't want to be ignored-"

"Well you certainly shouldn't be wanting to stand out, either. Once you're in the symphony, you are a part of the collective! You need to be able to blend in. There's no room for your antics with this. I've scheduled for you to meet with everyone before your audition in a few weeks and-"

"But… but what if I don't want to be in the Grand Symphony? I like being on stage with my friends and-"

"Sevens, Casimir, can't you think of someone other than yourself?! This isn't just about the Symphony, this is about the Spirit Sending- this is about Sabbatine! You need to give up this silly pipe dream of yours in favor of reality. I won't tell you again."

That was the beginning of his constant battle for approval, not only with his peers, but with his father as well.

Every year after, Casimir was sent to audition for the Symphony. He went out of his way to flub the first one, but that only served to cause his father to press him even harder.

"…Vladimir, you don't suppose you're being too hard on him, do you?"

"Of course not. I'm just as hard on him as I was on Duscha. He just happens to be a hard-headed idiot who won't think about what's best for everyone."

"But he's still your son!"

"And no son of mine is going to shirk his duties for the best of the town. I won't be discussing this further, Carmilla."

The next few weeks, Casimir was silent. He spoke to nothing and no one. Those were the longest weeks of his life, he thought, and it was almost as if he had faded back into the background, a monster defeated by the light and forced back into shadows for the forseeable future.

Every audition after, Casimir performed well, if only to sate his father, but would reject every offer after. It became a battle of sheer willpower to see who was going to cave first - Casimir? Or his father?

"Don't tell me you're rejecting such a generous offer again, Casimir. You should know better by now, so stop being so stubborn and just accept that this is how things have to be for us."

"I'm not joining the Symphony, father. I've told you time and again that this is not what I want to do-"

"Don't speak back to me, young man. You know how important this is. This is bigger than you. This is bigger than the family-"

"I don't care, father… This is what I want to do- what I'm meant to do!"

"You're meant to play the violin so we can restore our family's name, Casimir- What has brought on this level of stubbornness? Was it that letter? I knew allowing you the chance to go to high school was a mistake, of course you would-"

"It was not the letter from NRC, father. This is me. This is who I am and what I want to do! Why can't you just accept that I want to be on the stage. I was meant for it! Why can't you see that?!"

"You can be on the stage with the Symphony, Casimir, it's not like I'm taking performance away from you forever."

"But it's not the same. It isn't! Gah…. why can't you just be happy for me, father? Mother and Duscha support me, so why can't you?"

"Casimir- stop. Just… go to your room. I can't discuss this with you any further tonight."

"… Fine… but I won't be accepting that invitation."

It became almost a game of back and forth between Casimir and his father - He would be accepted by the symphony only to reject the invitation, his father would lecture him, the two would storm off at a total standstill. It made the house grow tense, with anger and frustration left to fester. Casimir and his father rarely spoke in the off time past a certain point, but that all changed once Casimir left for his freshman year at Night Raven College.

It was supposed to be the last time.

"*Sevens, have you seen that Diasomnia freshman in the drama club? He's so annoying…"

"*I know, right? He was kinda funny the first few days, but that bit of his gets old real fast."

"It's like he never grew out of playing pretend in kindergarten."

"Pfft, yeah! It's always 'Overlord of Darkness' this and 'all my evilness' that, heheh… jeez it's so dumb…"

"Wait, I think that's him over there- Hey! Dark Overloser-"

He thought he had escaped this kind of behaviour. His peers mocking him. Treating him like he was just comic relief in the background. Openly berating him for his actions.

But… at least people talked to him, now. That much was nice.

He never did talk about the nights he spent sobbing to himself somewhere on campus. The random injuries that he'd come back with late at night. The constant jeering and harassment.

Because as long as he could cheer other people up, as long as he could keep acting, as long as he could keep talking to people? He was satisfied.

This just… happened to be the last straw.

The rigging whizzing in front of his face. The laughter from his peers. His father standing up and leaving mid-show. It… it hurt.

It hurt so much.

Why did they hate him?

What did he do wrong?

Was he really that bad of a villain?

He thought that that was what they wanted to see.

So why…?

Why did it hurt so much?

He was always so tired… so, so tired.

And it hurt all the same.

-

When the reel finally stopped, Yuna turned to face Casimir. She could relate, at least partially. She knew all too well what it was like to be treated with scorn and disdain directly to your face and having no ability to challenge it.

"Well… now you know of my dark past… or… well, how stupid it is…" Casimir muttered, not looking up to face her.

Yuna simply sighed, placing a gentle hand on Casimir's shoulder.

"It's not stupid, Cas… You felt trapped. You adopted a role because people liked it, but only until they decided they didn't… you just wanted to be seen. Not just by your classmates, but by your dad, too."

"…I did. But he probably is going to take me out of school now that I've fumbled my last chance to prove myself-"

"He won't," Yuna said, a fire beginning to burn in her viridian eyes. "I- no everyone will make sure of that. Me, James, Rusul? Everyone else? We've got your back. Anyone who wants to get to you will have to go through us first."

"You don't know that." Casimir went to protest, but Yuna put a finger to his lips.

"I do." She replied, standing up and stepping directly between Casimir and the screen. "After all…

we're your loyal vassals, aren't we?"

Casimir barely held back a sob as he launched up from his seat, all but throwing himself into a hug with Yuna, who's eyes widened only for a moment before she returned the gesture, making sure to be careful of Casimir's wings.

"It's okay, Cas. I've got you. I'm right here…. I'm right here."

-

After a few minutes, Casimir finally stopped crying, wiping at his eyes before sitting back down in the plush seats of the theatre.

"Hey, Yuna?"

"Yes, Casimir?"

"…Can I still call you my vassal? Is- is that okay?" Casimir asked, his thumbs twiddling in front of him as he stared back down at the floor.

"Of course," Yuna smiled, patting him on the head. "Am I not perpetually in your service, my lord?"

Casimir looked up, eyes sparkling as he beamed.

"That is… correct. This is… this is most excellent, indeed!"

"Hehe, that's perfect, then."

Yuna chuckled to herself as she stood up.

"Well… I think I'm going to have to give you a few more minutes to yourself, but….

I'll be right there once you wake up. We all will. So keep your head up in the meantime, Casi."

"W-wait!" Casimir cried, rushing up to Yuna and tapping her shoulder.

When she turned around, she was quite surprised.

Casimir was bowed in front of her, a wide smile on his face.

"What's all this?" She asked, and Casimir stood back up.

"It's my way of showing gratitude. Thank you, Yuna, for a most excellent show, indeed."

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 4 Rewatch Drabbles: 4x2 White Out

(Gif not mine. I couldn't find who to attribute it to. If you're the creator, let me know, and I'll credit you.)

Summary:  A series of 100-1000 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 4 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 662

Other Chapters: (1) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma had stopped shivering.  Surely that was a bad sign.  People who were dying of hypothermia stopped shivering, didn’t they? That, combined with the fact that the desire to go to sleep was overwhelming should have sent alarm bells going off in her head.

But she just didn’t even have the energy to care.  She watched dispassionately as Elsa found her magic and began to slowly open a hole in the wall.  

And then there they were, her father and her…well, whatever Killian was to her.  Her father looked concerned, of course, but Killian, Killian looked frantic, devastated, like his whole world was about to crumble.  He all but climbed into the ice wall himself to get to her.

A sudden warmth kindled inside her at the sight of him.  When had anyone, anyone ever looked at her like that?  Like she was their whole world?  Like losing her was the most terrifying thing he could even imagine?

And so, as soon as she was out, as soon as she was free, as soon as she was in his arms, she hugged him back, as fiercely as her depleted, frozen strength would allow.  

“You okay?” he murmured into her hair.

She nodded, too weak to voice a word.

Words had never been her strength anyway, so she used her actions instead. She cupped the back of his head–the same way her dad always did when he hugged her–pouring out all the reassurance and comfort she could muster.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killan’s heart gradually slowed to a normal rhythm.  She was here, alive, in his arms, hugging him and nodding in answer to his questions.  He felt the tears prickle the back of his eyes.

He’d been so afraid, so bloody terrified that he’d lost another woman he loved, and this time, he was sure he’d perish with her.  He couldn’t lose her; couldn’t.  It would more than devastate him. It would destroy him.

Her strength gave out and she sagged against him. In one quick swoop, he picked her up, one arm supporting her upper body and the other under her knees.  She was free from immediate danger, but she was still perilously cold.  He must get her to warmth, to safety.

And so he did.  He carried her to her father’s vessel, held her as Charming drove through the streets of Storybrooke, warm air pouring from the vents of the vehicle.  He carried her up to the loft, held her hand as her father and Elsa brought her a blanket, wrapped his arm around her..

When she laid her head on his shoulder and laced her fingers with his, he knew she’d accepted his comfort, knew she needed him as much as he needed her.

As her parents, her son and Elsa gradually went about their business, she turned to him.  “Hey,” she said.

“Hello, yourself,” he responded with a gentle smile, wrapping his arm around her again, and gently rubbing her shoulder.

“Thanks for saving me,” she said simply.

His smile grew more tender, and he planted a gentle kiss against her temple.  “It was Elsa who did that, love, and I suppose your father as well, as he was the one to talk her through it.”

“But you tried, you wanted to,” she countered.

“Aye,” he said.  “Always.”

Emma smiled up at him, raising a still weak and frigid hand to cup his cheek. She said nothing more for long moments, but he could see it all in her eyes. 

I’d save you too.  I care about you too.  I don’t know what I’d do without you either. It means everything to me that you’re here.

One day she’d say the words aloud, but for now, it was enough.  For now, she was safe and in his arms, and he was never letting her go again.

When she quietly, almost hesitantly asked him to stay with her that night, he didn’t even hesitate.

There was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[nova2kss]

Give me like 2 days yall🤭

[natalie-goodman]

drabble challenge - 39

“What color do you like better?” Satine knows that Christian is the absolute last person to ask this question to.

His dubious recollection of whether or not her eyes were green or blue leads her to believe that his grasp on color may not be the best.

She holds up a red slip dress, this one falls about midthigh and the middle is a light red mesh overlay, and the other is a dark navy one with a deep deep back. She likes the red against her complexion, it’s been a staple color in her wardrobe since she realized how good it looks on her. But she likes the feel of her long hair brushing against her bare back when she’s out in public, and the blue goes with her blue eyes.

“They both look good,” he says, proving her earlier thought of him being the last person to ask this to.

“But which one do you like better?” She asks, as that had been her question. She knew they both looked good and both looked good on her, that’s why she owned them.

“That one,” he points at the navy one. “You like your hair against your back.”

She grins at that, stupidly and without being able to help it. It always catches her off guard when he calls out specific details about her like that. No one else ever has. Unless you count them needling her weaknesses. “And?”

“And,” he reaches over, his hand pressed against the small of her back. “I like holding my hand here when you wear it.”

She rewards him with a kiss. She will love him forever, even if he’s hopeless about color.

[astrodances]

Olympics prompt

So I may end up regretting this, taking a long time, or maybe not even following through (fair warning XD), but I like learning about different Olympic sports, so, in an effort to do so, I thought of a prompt idea:

give me a character (or two) [for a fandom I know] + an Olympic sport, and I'll try to draw or write something for it! 😄⚽️🏊🏃🥇

[acrushedlittlestar]

The main reason I ship kafblade I'd because I WANT TO BE THERE TOO. I want to be between a beautiful dominant woman and her rabid goth malewife that does anything she says. I want to be stepped on by Kafka while Blade watches and begs for a turn too.

[lazysoulwriter]

christopher... ♡

you keep calling Chris by his full name—Christopher—and make him fall harder every time.

the flustered barista - Chris had just taken a sip of his coffee when you leaned across the counter and said it—smooth, teasing, and perfectly timed.

“Christopher, I think you forgot to pay for your drink.”

He choked. Actually choked. Eyes wide, hand flying to his chest like you’d just shot him.

“What did you just call me?” he wheezed, coughing into his sleeve.

“Christopher,” you repeated sweetly, resting your chin on your hand. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

His face went so red it rivaled the espresso machine’s warning light.

“Yeah, but—” He cleared his throat. “No one calls me that.”

“Guess I’m not ‘no one,’ then.” You winked, grabbing his receipt and writing something on it before sliding it toward him.

He glanced down.

Your number.

“Enjoy your coffee, Christopher.”

And with that, you walked off, leaving him gripping the cup like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

the puppy eyes incident - Chris had an unfair advantage—puppy eyes. Those big, ridiculous, soft blue eyes that he used as a weapon when he wanted something.

And right now, he wanted the last slice of pizza.

“Come on,” he pleaded, tilting his head, looking devastated as you held the plate hostage. “Please?”

You sighed dramatically. “Christopher, are you seriously trying to manipulate me with those eyes?”

His whole body froze, like you’d just called him out in front of a live studio audience.

“…What did you just say?” His voice cracked, which was kind of adorable.

“Christopher,” you repeated, grinning as his ears turned pink.

“You can’t— You can’t just—” He flailed, pointing at you. “That’s illegal.”

“Says who?” You smirked. “Someone who calls me by my full name whenever he wants?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I— That’s different!”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Christopher.”

You slid the pizza slice toward him as a reward for surviving the embarrassment.

But the way he stared at you, all dumbfounded and lovestruck? Yeah. You were definitely winning this game.

the almost slip-up - Chris was scrolling on his phone when you leaned over his shoulder, looking at whatever dumb video he was watching.

“Christopher,” you murmured near his ear.

His whole body stiffened.

You hadn’t meant to do it like that, but it just kind of… slipped out. Soft. A little too close. A little too intimate.

He turned his head slowly, eyes dark, a slow smirk creeping onto his face.

“Oh,” he said, voice dropping. “Say that again.”

You blinked. “…Huh?”

“Say it again,” he repeated, shifting slightly toward you. His phone was abandoned now, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to touch you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He grinned. “Because I like it.”

Oh. Oh.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling very warm. “Christopher.”

The way he exhaled? Like he was barely holding it together?

Yeah. That was definitely going to be useful later.

the ‘you’re in trouble’ moment - Chris had done something. You didn’t know what yet, but the way he was avoiding your gaze? Guilty.

“Christopher,” you said, hands on your hips.

He instantly winced. “Oh no.”

“Oh no what?” You raised an eyebrow.

He fidgeted. “You— You only call me that when I’m in trouble.”

“That’s crazy,” you said, feigning innocence. “Why would you ever be in trouble, Christopher?”

His eyes widened. “Okay, wait, wait—” He scrambled up, hands in the air. “Before you freak out—”

“So I should freak out?”

“…No?”

You crossed your arms, tapping your foot.

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “Ugh, you’re terrifying.”

“Good,” you said sweetly. “Now spill.”

The Bedhead Confession - It was early. Too early. Chris was barely awake, sprawled out on your couch, hair a mess, voice rough with sleep as he yawned.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled.

“Morning, Christopher.”

His head snapped up so fast you almost felt bad. Almost.

“…That’s cheating,” he said, voice still gravelly.

“What is?”

He blinked at you like you’d just personally ruined his life. “Saying it when I’m half awake.”

“Why?” You smirked. “Does it do something to you, Christopher?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. He rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his face.

“You suck,” he groaned.

You laughed, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over him. “No, but I do win.”

And judging by the way he peeked at you from under his arm, looking all soft and smitten?

Yeah. You totally won.

[kmomof4]

Ohhhhhh, my heart!!!

🥺🥹❤️

This Town (captain swan drabble)

requested by @kanerallels

The faint pink rose in Emma's hand stood in stark contrast to her black leather, its scent reminding her of that horseback ride across Camelot, the pirate who held her hand in a field full of roses and purged all the demons from her mind.

This time, she wouldn't fail to do the same for him. She had a second chance to make things right, to get to him before the darkness did, to save the man she loved from himself. She whispered to the rose, to herself, to everyone and no one:

"I'll never stop fighting for us, Killian."

(a/n and tags under the cut)

a/n: there were a lot of directions i could take this song, but i felt like emma's pov during the dark one arc was perfect! thanks for the song rec!

taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree  @anmylica  @teamhook  @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator  @caught-in-the-filter  @ultraluckycatnd  @cs-rylie  @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

send me a ship and a song and i’ll write a drabble!

[only4riwoo]

this was me actually tweaking in my notes app at 4 in the fucking morning today because i was running on straight energy drinks with no sleep and the power of the midnight horny

[bunnykawa]

Do you still take thirsts for Haikyuu?

ykw i'm considering opening thirsts for hq and jjk so that i can write more but i'm still thinking about it lololol

[viiviidlights]

A Game of Hide and Seek

An old drabble I've had for a while. Might rewrite it eventually, but I wanted to start sharing some old posts of mine anyways so that people might get to know some of my OCs a bit,,, This one is centered around the past of my silly guy, Grim, and briefly introduces Mordred, who i mentioned in my demon post. have fun. Or not. idk.

“Mama? Papa?” The young boy called out. “This isn’t fun anymore! When will I get a turn to hide?!”

He was only supposed to be playing a game of hide-and-seek. Of course, it was more like his parents would find a place to start before hiding and leaving Grim to seek. He was very good at seeking, especially when he had his “friends” around to help him. They only really showed up when he was upset or scared or nervous, but they were always nice to him. They always helped him seek and find his parents.

Grim didn’t like flying near the tops of the trees, especially during the daytime, but he figured with his friends around to search the ground, he would look higher up. He hated the feeling of his skin burning, even though there was still a decent amount of coverage, but he had a game to play. After all, his parents wouldn’t reveal themselves to him, that would have been cheating.

In fact, if Grim didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed they were trying to ignore him, or worse, get rid of him! But they were his parents, so they wouldn’t do that. Even if these games sometimes went on for days, sometimes weeks where Grim would barely get food or sleep while he searched. They never came out when he cried. They never looked for him when it got bright or when scary men would come into the woods with loud tools and weapons. But they still loved him! They would always seem angry at first, but that was just because they were so worried about him! Sometimes they’d cry, but that was only because they missed him so much.

Right?

As he leapt and glided from tree branch to tree branch, Grim noticed a hole in the ground. What if his parents were hiding in there? It was as good of a place to check as any, so he allowed himself to glide from the tree he was situated in and approached.

“I’ve got you both now, hehe! This time you gotta let me have a turn to hide for a change!” Grim exclaimed, approaching the hole, which upon closer inspection was far deeper than he had inspected. Maybe it was an old animal den of some kind? He bent down to peek into the hole.

Snap.

Rumble rumble rumble.

Crash.

Grim yelped at the sudden sounds, rolling into the hole and barely avoiding a massive rock that had been hidden by the dense foliage in the surrounding area.

What he failed to account for, however, was the crunching and tearing sensation that suddenly shot up his back. He couldn’t move?

Well, not exactly. He could still move his arms and legs, and his tail seemed intact, but it was as though he was… dangling? And whatever was holding him was painful. Like flesh was being stretched and pulled from his body.

Grim looked up, trying to keep himself from screaming in fear and agony, as he noticed his wings sprawled out above him on either side. Something he often did to protect himself from harsh blows. Except something was wrong. He couldn’t perceive the ends of his wings, let alone feel either of them. Just the pain.

And it was dark. Too dark. Sure, he could see in the dark just fine, but the den hadn’t been this dark just now, had it?

Grim was scared. Granted, he was scared more often than he’d like to admit, but this was terrifying. He could only hopelessly dangle just above the ground in this dark den, only dimly lit by his markings and nothing else. His breathing began to hitch, and Grim felt his eyes beginning to tear up. A friend slowly began to form right before him, and it was… ugly.

Gleaming yellow eyes paired with razor-sharp teeth bore themselves before Grim as he choked back sobs of pain and fear and frustration and hopelessness.

“What is it you wish, Grim?” The manifestation asked, swirling itself around his body in soothing motions. Grim didn’t want to scream, he didn’t want to panic. He had to keep calm, and the friend doing this was only a representation of that. He knew if he started to panic too much more, the friend would get angry. It would start attacking things around him, and if there were animals or, god forbid, other people in here, they’d get hurt.

But the pressure hurt worse, and Grim barely held back a scream as he felt the shifting and tearing of muscles and skin and bone.

“You need to let go, Grim”. A new manifestation had said, hovering in front of his face.

“You’ll just hurt more if you don’t”. The first one added.

Grim couldn’t think. Everything was just more and more intense and painful the more he dangled here. He couldn’t scream. No one was going to come and find him anyways. His parents surely wouldn’t be able to hear him from here anyways! But it hurt so much.

“Give us the order, Grim,”

“You know you’ll just stay here until you die if you don’t,”

“They’re not going to come for you, whether you scream or not,”

“Tell us and this can be fixed, Grim,”

Grim could only hear his own sobs on top of the voices, but he knew they were right. He was stuck here, and he knew he would be if he didn’t do something.

“Fine,” He shrieked. “Get it over with! Just… Just get me out of here, please… Please!”

“As you wish, Grim,”

“You made the right choice, Grim,”

There was a sudden welling of energy as the shadow creatures bore their fangs. Grim could feel them hovering on either side of his back before sharp claws tore through layers of flesh on either of his wings. He shrieked once again as he felt himself fall to the ground right below him, blood dripping down his back. The manifestations grew larger, splitting in half as the two clones rested themselves on Grim’s back, swirling and trying to soothe the pain as the other two began pushing at the stone.

What felt like ages later, dim light began filtering through the opening to the den, and what were once Grim’s wings fell into the den beside him onto the ground, flattened and near unrecognizable. Grim could barely focus enough to turn his head towards them, but nearly fainted as he did.

“The job is done, Grim,”

“But there is still more to do,”

“Just give us the word,”

Grim could barely breathe as he looked around, and even that felt like a chore at this point. He turned to the two manifestations at the entry to the den and murmured only a single phrase before collapsing from the pain.

“Help me, please…”

“Oh my. It seems you are still alive. That’s quite a relief,” a feminine voice said softly as Grim finally began to come to his senses. “I was honestly concerned you wouldn’t be waking up any time soon… in fact, I was concerned you were probably going to die.”

The figure had a strange look in their eyes. They were soft. Kind.

Grim went to sit up and a sharp pain shot through his back and shoulders, interrupting any thoughts he might have had.

“Oh dear, please don’t hurt yourself further. I’m sure your body would not be thanking you for further pain on top of everything else you seem to have been through. Losing your wings in what I can only imagine to be a horrific accident? That’s already traumatic enough.”

Grim frowned as he listened to the person talk. She seemed kind enough, but he wanted his parents. Why weren’t they here? His friends were supposed to get help and. Yeah they did, but where were his parents?

“Is everything all right, little one? You seem pensive.”

Grim didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm.

“Where are my parents?”

The figure frowned, averting their eyes.

“I’m not sure what you mean. I was told they weren’t going to be coming for you. That they didn’t know where you were anyways.”

Grim began to sit himself up again anyways, disregarding his own pain.

“Where are they? I always find them and we always go home and they always scold me for getting lost even though they were the ones who hid in the first place and-”

He had begun crying without realizing it, and the figure appeared to have had some kind of realization herself.

“Oh, little one. I’m so sorry, but I don’t think they’ll be coming here for you anytime soon, even if they did know of your whereabouts.”

No. No. That couldn’t be true. Grim’s parents loved him! They always made sure he had an outfit and food and would always play games with him. They would fuss and worry over him and sure, sometimes they got too angry and scary, but they cared about him! They had to!

The person seemed nervous as friends began to form around him left and right, hissing words of hatred and hopelessness and anger and fear.

“Where are my parents?!” Grim shouted. “Where are my mama and papa?! I always find them and we’re always reunited so where are they?”

The person took a deep breath and stared at Grim, trying to contain their own fear.

“They’re not coming for you, dear. I already told you that. And if I’m being quite honest, although I hate to say it, I doubt they ever wanted to in the first place. Otherwise, you would never have been left in such a place by your lonesome…”

Grim wasn’t stupid. He knew that. But he didn’t want to hear that out loud. There was a blasting sound and he watched the figure’s eyes widen in shock for only a brief moment.

But she said nothing. She just recollected herself and nodded, before gently reaching for one of the young boy’s hands and carefully embracing him.

“I’m sorry, dear. Please forgive me.”

Grim was taken aback. Her touch stung through bandages that wrapped his skin, and yet? They were warm. She didn’t mean any harm to him. Why was he so tense? Where did that go?

“Why don’t you push her away, Grim?”

“She can’t replace them.”

“And yet you’re afraid, Grim.”

“You’re scared.”

“You’re alone.”

“But she calms.”

“Is she safe?”

“You can trust her.”

“Right?”

The shadows whispered in his ear, confident in their words. They weren’t wrong. He was afraid. But he wanted to trust this stranger in all of their motherlike grace. She didn’t flinch when he almost blew up her house a few moments ago, instead they sat here reassuring him, making sure he was alright, trying to calm him down.

“Little one, are you alright? You’re crying again.” She said softly, brushing Grim’s hair from his eyes.

He was crying again, wasn’t he? He didn’t know why. He wanted to curl up into a small ball and die. But he listened to the person. She was humming. It was an odd tune, slightly off-key and jilted, but it sounded nice regardless. His mother never hummed or sang to him. She thought it was a waste of time. Time that could be spent playing games with him.

Games… were the ‘games’ that his family played really just a lie? Is that why they got mad when he ‘found’ his parents? When he came home, is that why they cried? Did they really just want to be rid of him? Was it pain, frustration, that made them so upset?

Grim knew the answer to that. That answer being a glaringly obvious yes. He was always odd, unstable, a liability. But he didn’t want to think of that. So why now?

The woman stopped humming and stood up, trying to change the topic.

“I’ve never introduced myself to you, have I, little one?” she spoke, her voice like music in the way it calmed him.

Grim sniffed, shaking his head slightly.

“They call me many names, ‘auntie’, ‘forest-keeper’, ‘mother’. But you can simply call me “Mordred”, if that makes you comfortable. Speaking of, you’re much too young to be comfortably on your own. You most assuredly are far from home and knowing what I think I know, I have a feeling you’ll need a place to rest and recover…”

“Can I stay here, just for a little bit?” Grim interjected, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“Well, little one, whatever you feel safe choosing. As long as it makes you feel alright.” Mordred said with a soft nod. She was in no position to argue.

“Thank you,” Grim replied softly, and then paused. “Sorry for almost blowing you up…I hope you aren’t too mad.”

Mordred laughed, patting Grim on the head, right between his horns. A gentle pat, reassuring him ever so slightly.

“It’s alright little one, it’ll take a lot more than that to upset me.” She smiled kindly, brushing a strand of hair out of Grim’s forehead before taking her hand back. “Now, why don’t you get some more rest, hm? I’ll return later, and then perhaps we can speak more.”

As Mordred turned to leave, Grim wanted to reach out, to grab them and request she stay here. But he knew she was right, he needed to rest.

Grim sighed and carefully laid back down on the cot he’d been on and closed his eyes. He hoped that Mordred wouldn’t break her promise. Hopefully she would come back like she said.

He was done playing games for the time being.