#once upon a time drabbles

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x09 The Queen of Hearts

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my   rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump   start the muse again.  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 the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as   soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 1262

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22) (22)

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Note: I know, I know.  This installment is more than twice the word count I limited myself to in these drabbles (making this clearly not a drabble), but I couldn’t end it with that first scene.  I just couldn’t!  We needed a little hope and inspiration after all!

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

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

Emma slumped down the rocky wall of Rumplestiltskin’s cell and settled on the ground, dropping her head as the utter futility of their situation washed over her.

For several minutes after Cora and Hook had left the cave, her anger had fueled her, giving her the strength to use her sword to bang away at the bars of their prison, to use brute force to try to get them the hell out of here.

If nothing else, it had been a good outlet for her aggression.

The absolute son of a bitch!

He’d betrayed her, betrayed them all, stolen the heart out of a princess’s chest for the sole purpose of manipulating them.  Who did that?

You betrayed him first, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered.

It was that voice that made the fight go out of her entirely.  Maybe if she hadn’t betrayed him, he would have continued to help them.  Maybe it would be Cora in this cell instead of them. He’d already shown himself to be endlessly resourceful.  Who’s to say she hadn’t picked the wrong side?

Not that she had any illusions that he was anything more than an absolute blood-thirsty mercenary, who would stoop to absolutely anything to get what he wanted.  No, she was right to not trust him.

Where she messed up was in trusting herself.

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

He was right; she was useless.  What good had she ever been?  Yeah, she was the “savior”, but this cell, the scroll Rumple had written, proved it wasn’t anything special about her.  She was the savior because Rumple had made her the savior.  Now that she’d broken the curse she was indeed useless.

And even a man she’d just met could see it.  The two of them understood each other, after all.

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

The thing is…he hadn’t meant it; not really.  Her superpower had not only flipped on at that phrase but sounded as loud as a five-alarm fire warning.  He’d been lashing out, trying to hurt her.

Because of how badly you hurt him.

The guilt bumped the hopelessness out of the way to take center stage.

He may have been lying his (smoking hot) ass off when he compared her to the bean, but his insistence that he wouldn’t have left her at the top of the beanstalk?  Yeah, that had been entirely sincere.  He’d trusted her, believed in her, put his life on the line for her, and she’d betrayed him.

Because I knew he’d screw me over the first chance he got!

Her superpower flared to life again.  That was a load of crap and she knew it.  She’d betrayed him, because she sensed she could trust him.  She sensed he could become something to her, something big and important and all encompassing, and she couldn’t go there again.  

And because of her fear, they were in the mess they were in now.

Mary Margaret continued talking about hope and optimism, insisting they would find a way out and get home, but truth be told, Emma was beginning to wonder if they’d all be better off if they just left her here.

She was, after all, dried up, dead and useless.

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

“Hey!”

Killian’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice, the relief overwhelming.

He was under no illusions that he was anything more than a villain.  He’d done what he had to do to preserve his chance at revenge, aye, but he’d done so at a price that turned his stomach.

He’d never forget the squelching sound that accompanied his removal of Aurora’s heart.  He’d killed before, of course.  Killed, injured, maimed, manipulated, all of it.

But he’d never ripped out a heart.

The bile rose in his throat just thinking of it, visions of Milah swimming before his eyes.  What had he become in his quest to avenge her?

Still, as uncomfortable as ripping out Aurora’s heart had been, it had been nothing to the look in Swan’s eyes when he’d compared her to the dried-out bean. It was such a stupid and preposterous lie that he was surprised he’d been able to deliver it with a straight face.

She was anything but useless.  She was extraordinary.  He could see that even through the pain of her betrayal.

How could he truly blame her for her actions?  Was she not protecting herself just as he was? She was desperate to get back to her son after all.

The guilt deepened at that.  Killian had already separated one boy from his mother, and the guilt of that had eaten away at both Milah and him every day of their lives together.  What manner of man was he to break up another family?

It had been enough that he had almost almost changed his mind, almost defied Cora.

But that would have been suicide.  And a suicide from which nothing useful could have come.

Given that, he’d tamped down his guilt and left with Cora, hoping beyond hope that Swan would find some way home, that her resourcefulness would get her out of that blasted cave.

And so, when the princess brigade had shown up on the scene, shooting the compass from Cora’s hand and rushing them like a troop of avenging angels, his most predominant emotion was relief.

Cora ordered him to get the compass, and he’d turned to comply, coming face to face with Emma Swan bearing down on him with her sword outstretched.

A blind man could have seen her lack of skill with the weapon.  He could have ended their “duel” before it even began, but he had no desire to defeat her, even less to do her bodily harm. His mind went to the bean he possessed.  Perhaps there was a way for the both of them to achieve their objectives.  Perhaps he could let her obtain her prize—could prove to her that he was wrong, so very bloody wrong, in the way he compared her to the bean.

Perhaps he could remind her just how special she was while at the same time retaining his ability to exact his revenge on his sworn enemy.

So, he’d toyed with her, remaining on the defensive (although he couldn’t resist a bit of blatant innuendo once he’d flipped her to her back.  The opportunity to see the surprise—and maybe even a bit of desire—in her eyes, too delicious to pass up).

In the end, back in possession of the compass, she’d dealt him a blow that knocked all sense from him.  He’d come to minutes later—just in time to watch in horror as Cora’s hand shot forward, plunging into Swan’s chest.  He’d been frozen in place, the shock and revulsion so pervasive he couldn’t move; couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry out.

But then it had happened.  A burst of magic shot forth from Swan, blasting Cora back with such force that she was rendered unconscious.

He was right; she truly was remarkable.  Just like this bean that would soon be restored to its former glory, Emma Swan was back.

Far from dried up, dead and useless, Emma Swan was the best of them all.

                                                                                      Next Chapter-->

[enchantedlandcoffee]

captain swan / even if they’re enemies to lovers, them being ‘close’ so everyone doubts it

Emma shivered slightly as she stood outside Granny's diner, her knitted jumper doing little to protect her from the cold. She berated her past self for leaving her red jacket in the washer the night before, knowing full well Henry would end up being late. As she rubbed her arms in an attempt to get warm, she sensed a presence behind her before a warm weight was draped across her shoulders. She instinctively reached up to grab it, feeling the smooth leather of a leather jacket under her fingers as she turned to face the owner of the jacket, a frown immediately gracing her face.

"Nice to see you too, Swan." Killian scoffed fondly, wrapping an arm around the blonde and pulling her close, "I'm surprised to see you're not wearing your own leather jacket."

"I spilled hot chocolate on it yesterday," Emma grumbled, attempting to subtly move closer to the pirate, "and then forgot to wash it."

Killian chuckled and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her into a bear hug.

"I feel like this is a sign to buy more jackets." She commented, resting her head on Killain’s chest before wrinkling her nose. “You smell like the sea.”

“I am a pirate, love.” Killian answered bemused, slowly rubbing a hand down her back to warm her up, “And considering that your lack of warm clothing choices led to you hugging me in public, I’m heavily against the new jackets idea.”

Before Emma could protest or come up with an insult, the sound of footsteps broke them out of their bubble.

“Mom, I’m sorry I’m- Killian?” Henry called, stopping in his tracks as he surveyed the couple frozen in their embrace,

“Henry! Um-” Emma started, untangling herself from Killian’s embrace and grabbing his jacket before it fell off her shoulders. “We were just- Killian and I-”

At the panicked look Emma sent his way, Killian stepped in quickly: “Your mom left her jacket at home and I thought I’d stop her from freezing.”

Henry looked between the two before turning a questioning stare to Emma. 

“Why didn’t you just wait in the diner?”

send me prompts

[grtmnick]

"For the last time Regina Mills, you can't dramatically pretend to be dead every time we go a couple days without having sex," exclaimed an entirely exacerbated Emma Swan.

"But, orgasms sustain me...," whispered the prone brunette through only slightly parted lips.

"Regina!"

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Sebastian Stan characters finding out you’re pregnant » Jefferson/Mad Hatter

Pairings: Jefferson x Female Reader

Summary: Jefferson finds out you’re pregnant.

Warnings: Fluff, language, pet name

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

The first words out of Jefferson’s mouth would be “Grace is going to be a big sister?”

He would be overly excited about having another baby. He’s happy that you’re the mother of his second baby.

When you and Jefferson tell Grace, she would be overly excited too and she would say “I get to be a big sister!”

Graces would be so excited to tell her friends.

This isn’t Jefferson’s first time being a dad, he would be a little more prepared than he was the first time.

Grace would want to be your little helper if you need anything. If you want a snack or something to drink, she’ll go to the kitchen to get you something to eat and drink.

Grace saying “I want a little sister.”

You buying a Grace a shirt that says “Big Sister” on it.

Grace would try to help you and Jefferson set up the nursery.

Jefferson talking to the baby everyday, especially every night before bed.

Grace would sneak out of her bedroom after you and Jefferson tucked her in for the night just to hug your baby bump and say “I didn’t get to say goodnight to sissy.”

Grace would draw you and Jefferson pictures and describe every single detail of it.

Jefferson wouldn’t mind the gender of the baby just as long as the baby is healthy.

Jefferson would have his hand on your baby bump at all times, especially when you two are cuddling and when you two are sleeping so he can be close to you.

Grace asking you and Jefferson where babies come from. You would giggle and look at Jefferson while he comes up with an appropriate way of telling his daughter where babies come from.

Grace wanting to take an ultrasound picture to school so she can show her friends her new baby brother or baby sister. She would tell them her little sibling is a girl without knowing it first, because she’s excited.

Jefferson being the gentleman he is would give you any kind of comfort like massages. For example, if you complain about your feet or back hurting, he’ll give you a massage.

You would feel a little insecure when your baby bump gets bigger. Jefferson would tell you how beautiful you are and the baby bump makes you even more beautiful.

Grace would shop for baby clothes with you and Jefferson. She would immediately go to the girl section of the baby clothes.

Over all, Jefferson would be excited and happy that he gets to do this all over again. Grace would be happy and excited too.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck. 

[stormy-writer]

Rumplestiltskin x Reader - Hot n' Cold

Summary: The rat-bastard needs a hug, but he doesn't wanna open up.

CW: Unbearably smothering fluff, one mention of mental illness, mentions of crying, light mentions of death

WC: 1.6k

Pairing: Rumplestiltskin x reader | Rumplestiltskin x fem!reader

A/N: I started writing, blacked out, and now I have this. Here, I guess. Inspired by a post by omgopalsapphire

I breathed in his scent as his warmth flooded me. He smelled like wine and woodsmoke, like a drink by the fire. But he also smelled like mushrooms. Like a rotted log, nestled in the darkness of the wood. His long, wavy hair shook in the harsh winds, and I could feel the cold creeping up my back. But his touch kept me warm. I didn't dare move, and neither did he.

He quietly sobbed into my shoulder as I rubbed his back, silently soothing his cries. The only audible thing was the wing whistling in our ears and our breaths as we stood, wrapped in each other's arms. I had barely known him, yet he seemed so… broken. He looked like he had seen so much pain, so much heartache. And now, as his body shook with his soundless sobs, I could only feel his pain even more.

I did not care how much he snarled and threatened, how he bared his teeth in a deadly grin. Now he was open, vulnerable. And I wasn't going to let anything happen to him. I felt connected to him, somehow bonded. I felt him relax after a while, his muscles no longer so tense. His body stilled and his tears stopped, but he did not let go. The warmth of the embrace seemed to fill him, as it did me. He sniffled, and I could tell he didn't want to let go. So as his arms loosened from around me, I picked him up.

In his surprise, he grabbed onto me again, holding me tightly. With a gasp, the untrusting tone from before settled back into his voice. “What are you doing? Set me down.” He was demanding, but he couldn't hide the emotion in his tone. I hummed in response, but I just turned around and started walking. Back to his castle, where he always was. He let out a small huff before murmuring, and I could tell he was saying “thank you”

.We walked in a comfortable silence, his breathing becoming light and steady as he fully relaxed into me. ‘He must be asleep,’ I thought. Walking as quietly as I could, I nudged open his doors and stepped into his domain, his large estate. The doors slowly shut behind me, and I paused. I knew nothing of this man, except for his terrible pain. I only knew about his home because I knocked on his door, seeking refuge from the storm. But, thankfully, as I stood there thinking, he leaned back in my arms, forcing me to set him down.

I looked on with concern as he slid out of my grasp, my hands ending up at his waist. “Thank you… for carrying me.” He spoke so quietly, I almost couldn't hear him. It was almost as if he was frustrated that I had helped him. “It's no problem. Are you alright?” We were still so close, my hands holding him in place as our breaths mingled. He paused, taken aback. After all the kindness I'd shown him, he was still shocked when I showed that I cared. Grumbling, he stepped back, getting away from me. ��I'm fine. You go along and do whatever it was you were doing before you got here.”

How could he be so hot and cold? How could he pretend like the moment never happened? How silly he is. And frustrating. “I don't think you are fine. A man that-” “I AM NOT A MAN,” he screamed. His heart raced and I could see the anger on his face. But his eyes held only heartbreak. “I am nothing but a monster, and you need to learn that before you get hurt, dearie.” The venom in his words only served to frustrate me more. Who did he think he was?

“I am sorry, but you need to calm down. There's no reas-” Before I can finish, he storms up to me and grabs me by the throat, lifting me up. He was by no means a large man, and yet he had the strength of a giant. I choked, and he grinned evilly. Dropping me, he stepped away. I stood from my knees, rubbing my neck. “There's no reason to get so worked up over nothing.” I dropped my sweet tone, my emotions now shifting. He looked a little hurt, but he covered it with a look of anger.

“And who's to say I'm worked up, hmm? I feel PERFECTLY fine.” His tone raised, and I could tell he was trying to keep his walls up. “So fine, in fact, that I'll make you a deal.” I frowned. “I don't take deals. You know that.” “Yes, yes. But this will be a deal you cannot refuse!” He was hiding again. Hiding beneath that dastardly mask, that sinister smile. Shaking my head, I stepped forward, only for him to take a step back. “What's your offer?” My frustration seeped through my words, as well as my tiredness. Flamboyantly, he bowed and chuckled.

“Well, my dear, the deal is you leave my estate and never find me or it again, and you get something from me. A favour.” He took a pause, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Anything.” Was he serious? He was pushing me away, shoving me out of his life, and for what? Because I got too close? Too close to the truth? He was really boiling my blood. I sighed. “Anything. Anything at all?” Nodding he straightened his back and stood tall again, or, as tall as he was. I looked away, thinking. But then I got an idea.

“Fine. I'll take the deal.” A look of pain flashed across his features, if only for a moment. Then he returned to his sly, smug grin. “So, what'll it be? Money? Perhaps a family? I can-” “I want you to rescind the deal.” He was shocked. His mouth hung agape as he looked at me like I was crazy. Then he shut it, smiling irritatedly. “That was fast. Don't you want to think it over, maybe? There's a lot I could provide you with.” He stepped closer, gesturing wildly as he tried to convince me.

“And, besides, it's such a simple task. Why not ask for something you truly desire? Hmm? Anything at all, and it will be yours.” Now he was close, almost as close as before. How could he have gone from crying into my shoulder to trying to get rid of me? He was more bipolar than Aunt Vicka. I took a breath, biting the inside of my cheek. “You're right. I have a better idea.” He seemed pleased at the fact I was changing my favour. Leaning down, I whispered as a grin spread across my face.

“Rescind the deal and you have to be nice to me. Or at least tolerant.” His smirk fell, replaced by a look of anger. He did not like being the one without control. He wanted to be the one with the upper hand. Growling, he glared me down as he looked up at me, our faces inches away. “You… And why exactly should I? I could just throw away this little deal, and I could kill you right where you stand.” His voice was low, and I could feel the hate in his breath. And yet his eyes told me of his true feelings. Feelings of hurt, feelings of frustration. Why wouldn't I just leave? I really could, and I could get myself a life of luxury.

But I didn't want to. I didn't want to leave. “No, you couldn't. I already accepted the deal. And now I’ve told you my favour, which you owe me.” I knew that magic binded his word, and I knew that he had to comply. He stood, his expression almost blank, if it weren't for the obvious anger. His lip twitched and he huffed, stepped back. “Technically, if I rescinded the deal, that would make the favour null. It would be useless. Inactive.” “No, it wouldn't. I'm calling on the favour while the deal is still in action, so you will have to follow through, no matter if the deal is terminated or not.”

I knew about tricks. I didn't know of his, but I knew of many. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and grumbled something I didn't hear. “What was that?” I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. He took a small step back, but he didn't move again as I stopped in front of him. “I said fine!” He snapped at me, but quietly. He looked like a little kid that just got told off. I grinned. Taking his hand, I planted a kiss on his green, scaly knuckles. I muttered against his skin, looking up at him expectantly. “Could I possibly ask for a room to stay here?”

I have no idea what the fuck I just wrote but my eyes hurt and I have a migraine. I made this because I saw a post of omgopalsapphire saying “imagine hugging Rumplestiltskin” and I couldn't get it out of my head. Thank you for reading.

[good-beanswrites]

Hear me out:

Kotoko adopted Es, and Fuuta went ballistic.

Rip Fuuta... he can never catch a break... Asdfsdf thank you for this, it was a blast thinking of all the ridiculous ways this could have played out! (One possibility I toyed with was Fuuta's competitive instincts take over, he fights her for Es, only to realize too late "*I* don't want to be responsible for a whole child WAIT") It's a similar format to the last one, with a knock-at-the-door reveal, but I still think it works 😂

“Don’t fuck with me, Es.”

“I would never.”

Lying brat. Fuuta knew they would every chance that they got. It was the reason he was so relieved that Es decided to find somewhere else to live after Milgram’s end. Fuuta had nothing left to fear from his former warden, but the others’ suggestions that Es become his new roommate still made him shudder. Three interrogations in a closed space with the rude kid were enough for him, thank you very much.

However, it wasn’t all a relief. He couldn’t help feeling concerned about who they’d gone to live with. Given how cryptic they were being, Fuuta would have been convinced they walked into the woods to find a furry family of Jackalopes or something to raise them –except, they showed up for this walk with clean clothing and internet access. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re fucking with me right now. Why can’t you just tell me who it is?” 

“It isn’t any of your concern. Hey, I thought you swore to stay out of others’ business. You turned over a new leaf and all that?”

“Tch. I meant other people’s business. You’re different.” 

If Es had vanished off the grid like some of the other prisoners, Fuuta wouldn’t have cared. But they were here, near enough to arrange some lame meetup, which meant they were going to remain in his life for a while longer. And that meant, as the model citizen that Fuuta was, he felt responsible for ensuring they didn’t get themselves kidnapped by some creep. 

He asked, “how much do you know about them, anyway? I mean, what kind of person can house a random weird kid on incredibly short notice? That’s definitely suspicious.”

Fuuta pulled the mask up on his face as they turned down a more crowded street. He knew people were going to gawk at his eye anyways, but it still helped him feel like he was blending in. With his thoughts on the injury for a moment, he was glad that bitch Kotoko was one of the prisoners who had gone off the grid. Good riddance.

“I promise, she’s fine. Not weird with children at all. In fact, she’s really good with them, which is why she could help me on such short notice.” They muttered, “but it’s not like I’m that young…”

“That’s still not normal. Is she some old housewife or something?”

“Ah, are you trying to do the interrogation this time? Actually, I’d say she’s around your age.”

“It’s just you two living alone? I’m still worried about Milgram coming looking for us again – can a girl like that really protect you?”

“Is everyone supposed to live with a big, strong man, like you?”

“Wha–!” Fuuta’s cheeks burned red. “That’s not what I –!”

“I’m only teasing. It’s cute that you care about me.”

That only agitated him more. “It’s not cute! I’m being realistic! One of us has to think about your safety while you’re just distracted by some pretty girl.”

“What makes you think she’s pretty?”

“Well, why else would you be so careless in deciding to live with her?”

All of the sudden, he saw it in Es’ eyes: that spark of mischief that Fuuta had come to loathe. He could never tell what they were plotting, but it was never a good sign.

Es held up their hands in mock surrender. They put on a ridiculous, overdramatic voice. “Ah, you caught me, Fuuta! I’m hiding her identity because she’s the most beautiful, capable woman in all of Japan, and I want to keep her all to myself!” 

He groaned, but they weren’t deterred. “She’s got everything, I couldn’t risk you falling for her! She’s quite capable of defending me. She’s very strong, with protective instincts much like your own. She understands our situation like no one else could. She’s got intense eyes, and you wouldn’t believe her singing voice. She enjoys deep conversations, she’s a dog person, she –”

“ – now you’re being the creep! Just shut up, I get it already...”

When they finally had the decency to pull it together, they reassured him. “It’s all true, though. So there’s no need to worry about me. I’m in good hands.”

Good hands, his ass. In only a brief conversation, the caretaker had gone from sounding a little suspicious to sounding way too good to be true… meaning she was extremely suspicious.

“Maybe someday I’ll introduce you, if you’re lucky...”

He turned his eyes away. “At least let me run some background checks on her first.” 

(He would just stalk her on social media, but that still counted.)

“You’re just going to stalk her on social media. That doesn’t count.”

“Eh? I have legit methods!” He hid deeper under his mask.

Even after the topic was dropped, after he and Es parted ways on an awkward goodbye, Fuuta was left thinking about this mystery woman. It took a bit of digging (and maybe a tiny bit of social media stalking) but at last he found where Es lived with this stranger. Contrary to what they may believe, he had turned over a new leaf. There would be no more hiding behind screens or letting others do the confrontation for him. Now that he was a changed person, he’d do the healthy and normal thing with this information: he’d march on down there himself and confront her like a man. 

He made it all the way to the front door with his chin high. He knocked with confidence. 

Then he began to shift nervously. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the woman’s description out of his head. Sure, he was here to check on Es, but if someone happened to check him out at the same time, it was only right to be prepared… He straightened his shirt collar. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered if he should have covered up his eye to look more presentable.

The door swung open. 

The surprise on Kotoko’s face was nowhere near the amount on Fuuta’s.

“Oh, for fucks sake –!”

From somewhere behind her, Es’ laughter rang out.

[hippolotamus]

Inspiration Saturday 💻

Plowing through the Spotify Drabble asks this weekend. Next up is a little something for @thewolvesof1998. Where will it go? *shrugs innocently*

tagged by @daffi-990 @loserdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz

no pressure tagging @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @underwater-ninja-13 @wikiangela @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie @eowon @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes @vanillahigh00 @welcometololaland @apothecarose LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @jamespearce9-1-1 @monsterrae1 @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @stereopticons @statueinthestone @elvensorceress @spagheddiediaz @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @buddierights @911onabc @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @pirrusstuff @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @messyhairdiaz @gayedmundodiaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @evaneds and anyone else who wants to!

[kazoosandfannypacks]

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!

[justanoasisimagines]

From the beginning

Summary; Before their legendary story begun, two notorious pirates were on different courses. Pairing; Killian Jones x Female Reader (Nickname Smoke) WordCount; 516 Warnings; N/A A/N; Requests are currently open and you can find my guidelines pinned to the top of the page! This is connected to a blurb I reccently wrote you can find that here There is going to be a fic following suit. Someone gave me an idea for a drabble, but I've decided to turn it into a fully fledged fic. Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

A legendary female pirate traveled across the seven seas. Notorious for her wit, intelligence, her ability to outfight any opponent. She was a legend amongst the pirates. No one could give a definitive description of the woman. She often lurked in the shadows. Her hat covered her face, she often wore a pair of leather mahogany leather gloves. She demanded respect in her actions and words. Only a fool would dare to rise against her. She hadn't been nicknamed smoke for nothing. She could slip away into thin air. Some believed it was sorcery, perhaps she was a witch who'd chosen a life on the ocean. Perhaps she knew when to slip away. Perhaps she'd learned how to vanish at a moment's notice. Smoke heard frequent rumors and speculation about herself. She'd found some laughable, leaning towards the bizarre, others were closer to the truth. Yet she never confirmed which ones were. Fear often forces people to be cautious. Which they needed to be if they desired to be in her presence. It was one of the positives of keeping her identity hidden. She could explore through the world hearing people regard her freely. No one stopped their hushed conversations like they often did when " Captain Smoke" was in their presence. They say knowledge is power and it couldn't be more true. Captain Smoke liked to believe it was why she kept ahead of her rivals. How'd she managed to keep her reputation over the years? She kept learning and adapting to all the changes. It was why she'd become one of the most legendary pirates in Neverland. There was one other who could come close to her. He matched her in nearly every capacity. Killian Jones is a renowned pirate and captain of the Jolly Rodger. Killian was known throughout Neverland as a ferocious and vicious pirate. Killian below his legacy was a human being. He had inspiration, dreams, fears and faults. He was also a curious individual, specifically regarding a particular pirate. He'd heard of her legacy. Heard her battles, her brilliance and the capabilities of her crew. However, they had yet to cross paths. Whenever the two were in the same area, she appeared to disappear in front of him. He'd never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance thus far. For several years now, Killian had been chasing a different type of treasure. Her. Killian wanted to know her. He wanted to know exactly the person behind the moniker. What did she look like? What was she like behind closed doors? Killian believed the two would be an unstoppable force. No one would stand in their way. Perhaps with her by his side, he'd finally be able to defeat Peter Pan once and for all. Killian would find her one way or another. He'd capture her if he had to. One way or another. He'd know her. If. When he succeeded, Killian would mark this down as the greatest treasure hunt of his life. He was destined to meet her, he could feel it. What Killian didn't know was he already had…

[demonicbaby666]

Sorry I’m Late

One shot/Drabble | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Edit credit: @thequeenswife

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Swanqueen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 237

Summary: What if the last scene of season 7 looked a little different…

Emma stood there, nervously fidgeting by her parent’s side. The crowd of people - sat waiting - had grown slightly restless in the grand palace room, and a wave of sickness settled low in Emma’s stomach surveying all the faces of her fellow townsfolk, now her subjects.

Doubt filled her mind, the younger version of herself screamed loudly, telling her she was once again being abandoned. Years of work felt like it was flushed down the drain as she stood helplessly waiting, feeling small and meek in an ocean of watchful eyes.

“Where is she?” Emma said to Snow, tears beginning to brim in her eyes.

Then, just as snow opened her mouth to reassure her nerve wracked daughter, the ceiling to floor entrance doors were flung open, the sound echoing through the room and traveling straight to Emma.

There she was. Regina.

Any doubts Emma was previously having ceased to exist watching the love of her life cling tight to Henry and walk the path to a secure future she had always dreamed and longed for. In her wedding dress, Regina’s small bump was only noticeable to those who knew their little growing secret and Emma had to fight back, what were now, tears of pure joy.

“Sorry I’m late.” Regina spoke softly stepping up two small stairs to join Emma. Faint smiles and chuckles spread through the room, but to Emma and Regina, the only ones that mattered in that moment were each other’s.

Taglist: @criminallyobsessedcm | click here to be added to my tag list

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x8 Into the Deep

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump start the muse again.  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 the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 466

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22) (22)

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

"Ten hours are up," the giant said, stooping down to unshackle Hook.  "You're free to go."

Hook jumped to his feet and then he reached for the sword.

The giant took a quick step back, eyeing the weapon with caution.  "Woah!" He said, "I let you live."

Hook nodded. "At her bequest, aye?"

"Yeah," the giant said slowly, still eyeing the sword cautiously. 

“Fear not,” Hook said, “as you’ve kept your word, this is not meant for you.  Others may not be as fortunate.”

The anger he’d been stoking for the better part of the day flared to a white hot heat.  Anger was a damn sight easier to deal with than the emotion that lay just beneath the surface.

Betrayal.

He’d trusted her, believed her, thought they were united in a common purpose.  Truth be told, there had been a connection with Swan, one that went beyond the fact their interests aligned.  He’d felt a spark of something undefined and as yet undefinable, but it was as real and as significant as this godforsaken beanstalk she’d chained him to.

They’d spent hours together searching for the compass, and with each moment his hope had grown, hope that maybe there could be another path out there beyond what he’d always imagined awaited him.

To be sure, nothing had changed with regard to his quest.  He would kill the Crocodile, avenge his Milah.  Nothing could dissuade him from what had been his purpose, his reason for living for the better part of two centuries, but for the first time on this beanstalk working beside Swan he’d begun to think about what came after.

After…perhaps there was a life for him, perhaps even happiness.

That hope had crumbled the moment she snapped the shackle to his wrist.

It was a stark reminder yet again that no one could be trusted, that the only one he could truly swear allegiance to was himself, no matter how much he might wish the opposite to be true.

And so, he’d spent the next ten hours meticulously rebuilding the fortress around his heart, fortifying it brick by brick until it was well nigh impenetrable.  

Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt.

Stepping around the giant, Hook scaled the ledge and began the painstaking process of climbing down the beanstalk.  The rain pelted him as he climbed, making the trek infinitely slower and more dangerous than the ascent.

Finally, finally he reached the bottom, jumping the last ten feet and preparing to set out after Swan and take back what was his.

“My dear captain,” he heard from behind him, “it seems you’ve been on quite an adventure.  The compass please.”

He closed his eyes, his stomach dropping.  Cora.

It looked like his terrible day was about to get even worse.

                                                                                  NEXT CHAPTER -->

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Captain Swan drabble based on this prompt:

"Killian?!" Emma yelled as she ran into the town square, rain pouring down her face. "Killian, where are you?!" She turned around in a circle, scanning frantically as the blurry figures of her family came into view. Henry ran up to her, a solemn look on his face.

"Mom, it's Hook."

--

Emma ran like her life depended on it, heart pounding in her ears as she reached the forest, pausing at the small gathering near a tall tree.

The group parted easily for her, revealing Killian propped up against the tree, his skin an ash white. Emma fell to her knees when she reached him, immediately cupping his face with one hand as she felt for a pulse with the other.

Nothing.

"Hook?" She whispered, tears forming in her eyes as the group around the two dispersed to give them privacy.

"Kiss him, mom," Henry whispered, having led her to the woods, "You've got to at least try."

Emma nodded and wiped a tear from her face before cupping Killian's face again and kissing him softly on the lips. She pulled away, keeping her eyes closed as she prayed for it to work.

A minute passed and there was no sign of life from the pirate, causing Emma to drop her head to Killian's shoulder, tears freely falling down her face.

"I'm sorry." She whispered over and over again, clasping his shirt in her hands.

"I'm not sure it worked, try again, love."

Her head flew up from its resting place, a look of disbelief on her face as the pirate grinned at her.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, love."

-

Tagging @kmomof4 @cosette141 @jrob64 @stahlop

[grtmnick]

One might think that taking the time to strategically loosen the buttons of your silk blouse into the most provocative display possible, while also trying to survive when stranded on a tropical island, was not worthy of Regina's effort.

But the ravenous seafoam green gaze glued to her proved otherwise.

[atthebell-moved]

happy ptide 🏳️‍🌈 soft little tntduo fic

Words: 1487 Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Wilbur Soot, Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Alexis | Quackity/Ghostbur (Dream SMP), Alexis | Quackity & Ghostbur (Dream SMP) Characters: Alexis | Quackity, Wilbur Soot Additional Tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Ghostbur and Wilbur Soot are the Same Person, Dancing, this is really soft i dont know how that happened Summary:

Quackity and Wilbur talk about old memories and not-so-lost chances. Just an incredibly soft tntduo moment

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You don’t mind working evenings during the week. In the hour before closing time, it’s pretty slow. There isn’t much for you to do much follow the tune of the instrumental jazz and lean on the counter behind your till. Management is hidden in the back office so you don’t even need to pretend to work.

So it is that you’re startled at the unexpected figure strutting around the table of stationary and novelties across from the checkout. You stand straight as you smile at the man, not letting it falter as you recognise him. You brace yourself and swallow as your mouth runs dry. He’s been here almost every day this week; at least, when you’ve been in.

“Oh, uh,” you don’t notice anything in his hands aside from his cell phone, “Mr. Pine isn’t here, sir. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply until he’s at the counter. His blue eyes bore into you as he rests his hand against the edge, gripping his phone tight. A small furrow scrunches between his brows.

“I didn’t ask,” he smiles.

“Well, er, sorry, I thought…” you chew your lip nervously. Each time he’s been in, he’s asked for the store owner. You assume he knows him. And he’s of the demographic who likes to make a fuss when he doesn’t get what he wants. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You shouldn’t have,” he agrees, still grinning.

You squirm and run your fingertips over the keyboard. “Well, is there anything I can help you find? We’re closing up soon–”

“You’re trying to get me to leave?” He challenges.

“Not at all,” you croak. “Sorry, sir.”

“Andy,” he pulls his hand away, instead crossing his arms and leaning his elbows on the counter. He reads your name tag, “it’s fine. I was just looking around. Figure a book might help keep me busy.” 

He has a very intense way of watching you. Very on the point. He speaks directly to you, but you’re more the type to focus above someone or past them.

“Do you have a favourite genre?” You prompt. It’s easiest to talk about work and you have a dozen suggestions.

“Not really. You know, I work a lot and I never really had a chance to read much outside of deposition records,” he shrugs and raises his eyebrows, “don’t make my mistakes. Don’t waste your life working overtime. Enjoy the small things. Like books, you’re never gonna find a fairytale in real life.”

You feel a bit bad for him but try not to show it. You don’t want to insult it and he seems to pendulum between amiable and unapproachable. You nod and put on your customer service smile.

“Oh, thanks, I guess you’re probably right,” you eke out, “do you like thrillers? They’re pretty popular and we’re having a special.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s somewhere to start,” he rubs his beard, the hand clutching his phone against the counter as he leans on the same elbow, “what do you read?”

You give your usual answer, vague and not entirely false, “fantasy, mostly.”

“Like The Hobbit or whatever?” He wonders.

“Sure, I’ve read that,” you say.

“My wife– ex, now, she was a Tolkien fan,” his lips slant, “twenty years, no kids. Got nothing to show for it.” He pushes himself straight, “I’m sorry, you caught me on a bad night. I, whatever you suggest, I’ll take it. I need something to get my mind off of… everything.”

“Oh, sure, well, we have our best sellers down here,” you point over the counter and the racks between each till, “Conrad’s always a good choice.”

He hums and backs up. He peruses the books silently as you twiddle your fingers impatiently. You’ve had awkward encounters with customers before, almost daily, but something about him is a bit too cringe for you. You hate to even think like that. You feel mean. He’s just going through some things. And who isn't?

He plucks up a book and comes back to your till. He lays it down and slides his phone into his pants pocket, then reaches under his jacket. He takes out his wallet and pauses as he unfolds it, “wait, do you get commission? I could grab a few more.”

“Um, no,” you login and scan the barcode on the book, “but there’s a survey on you receipt. If you fill that out, I get credit for that.”

“Oh, sure, a survey,” he agrees as he slides out a card.

“And did you have our rewards card?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “what’s that?”

Great. You peek at the time in the corner of the till screen. It’s getting close to closing.

“So, for purchases you collect points. Kinda like air miles. When you buy items that are part of a promotion, you receive double, and for prestige members, there are triple point days. You can collect points to earn store credit.”

He nods and considers it. He tilts his head as his cheek dimples, “so, that costs money?”

“Yes, twenty-five dollars for paperback level and forty for prestige.”

He weighs the options. You expect the amounts to deter him like most customers. He taps his card on the counter, “you know what, I’ll do the forty. I’m looking to get into reading so I’ll be back for sure.”

“Oh, uh, right, okay,” you say with surprise, “I’ll just get you registered.”

You reach past the till and grab one of the cards displayed behind it. You scan it and go through the whole routine; name, phone number, email. You get all his info in and offer him a bag before you turn the debit machine towards him. He taps his card and the approval chirps loudly.

“Great, so, if you wanna do the survey,” you say as his receipt prints out, “you can scan this QR code and it will direct you straight to the survey.” You tear off the receipt and circle at the bottom, “my employee number is here, you’ll have to enter that and the transaction ID.”

You fold the receipt and hand it over. He takes it and looks it over with a squint. He raises his chin and gives a half-smile, “um, this QR thing? How do I… I’m sorry, I’m a bit slow. Could you show me?”

You want to say no. You want to point to the clock and tell him to have a good day but he’s actually going to do the survey. You need a good review.

“Sure, um, I’ll show you. Just on your phone,” you step closer as he digs his hand in his pants pocket, “let me see the receipt.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, “you’re so patient with me.”