#OUAT fanfic

[queen-of-fanfics]

I Told You To Stay pt.2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Prompt: After chasing you down, Peter catches you in the forest and things get ... spicy

A/N: Hi!! So, I know it's been a year since the first part, but I felt inspired, and I love that you guys enjoyed it! THERE IS A SPICY SCENE AT THE END OF THIS PART! I indicated it in case anyone doesn't want to read some nasty; you can skip it. :) I don't ever do NSFW scenes, but I felt like this needed it.

I Told You To Stay Pt. 1

What a compromising situation you found yourself in. Arms pinned above your head, held against a tree staring up into some very angry, yet worrying, eyes, you can’t help but want to laugh at your position. Figures, this is what you get for slipping out the window and running into the woods like hell hounds were nipping at your heels. But in all fairness, your actions were warranted. 

How else were you supposed to react when Peter brought you back to his secret cabin after spending a romantic night together and then suddenly, Wendy is at said so-called “secret cabin” calling him ‘baby’ and trying to rub up on him? Regardless of Peter’s denials, it’s hard to believe that truth when she was standing right in front of you.

“I thought I told you to stay,” Peter says in a threateningly calm voice. 

“Let me go, Peter.” You tried to keep your voice calm, trying to seem nonchalant. You kept your face passive, but there was a war of emotions inside of you. 

You felt hurt. Angry. Embarrassed. Betrayed. And as much as you were trying to suppress it, you felt …. yearning. Even through all this, your heart was still looking for him in the darkness. It skipped and leaped in happiness that he was here. That he came racing after you. That he came looking for you when Wendy was probably waiting for him back at the cabin. The thought of her cause a bite of anger to shoot through you.

“Go back to Wendy, Peter.” You clipped.

“I told you to stay.” His voice was deadly. Deadly to your nerves and deadly to your heart.

Squeezing your eyes shut and blowing out a breath of frustration, trying desperately to get a hold of your temper that you could feel rising. “Go back to your cabin, Peter. Let me go.”

“I told you to stay. All you had to do was stay.” He snarled right back as if you hadn’t said a word and he had the audacity to sound upset with you!

Your eyes shot open and in a burst of adrenaline, you yanked your hands free and shoved against his chest, blurting “Let me go! You lied! I trusted you! I trusted you when everyone else laughed at me and you lied to me!” Shock flashed in his face quickly before he was able to hide it. You have never lost your temper or shown an ounce of venom since you’ve arrived to Neverland. 

You pushed at his chest and tried to shove up off the tree to make your escape, but he wasn’t budging. Instead of stepping back to give you the space you desperately wanted, he stepped into you. Your hands pressed against his chest and your back pressed into the tree. Your bodies were flesh against each other now.

“I have never lied to you, Y/N.” 

Scoffing in disbelief, your rising temper spoke for you, “You said that you and Wendy weren’t together.”

“Again. I have never lied to you.” He growled. 

“Oh really?” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “It didn’t look that way to me. My mistake. It definitely didn’t look like she was cozy in your place and on your body. Peter, I don’t know what game you’re playing but I don’t want any part of it. It looks like Wendy is already in the picture so I don’t want any part of this!” 

“Y/N, would you please just listen to me. I’ll explain everything.”

“I’ve been asking you to explain! I’ve been asking for months and you’ve avoided giving me even an ounce of clarity and now is when you want to explain?! Now that I’ve seen things clearly with my own eyes? I’m supposed to have faith in my feelings towards you but I have to ignore the proof right in front of me? The pair of you are playing mother and father all over this island and I’m supposed to ignore that?!”

“It is not like that.” He snapped, his own frustration growing. 

He went to grab your hands again but you batted them away. Pushing and shoving at his chest, you were desperate to get away. Feeling frantic, the anger you’ve been trying to smother was starting to bubble and rise to the surface. But now your feelings were out of control. Laying too close to the surface was your frustration, hurt, confusions and yearning. Somehow in all of this, your heart was still looking for him in the darkness. Feeling pinned and trapped, the frustration was bringing tears to your eyes.  

“Just listen, Y/N-”

“Get off me!”  

Fed up with your pats and pushes, Peter finally shoved your hands aside and firmly cupped your face. Bringing his forehead down to rest against yours, his fingers cradling the back of your head creating a warm cocoon of just you and him. 

 “My dear sweet, Y/N. Listen to me. I know asking you to put your trust in me is not a fair ask but I’m going to do it anyway. I have my reasons for keeping Wendy on this island, but I promise you, it’s not romantic. I have … suspicions about her that I need to resolve before I can decide what to do with her. But please just trust in me.” The sweetness of his soft voice and his request soaked into your heart the way watercolor soaks into fine paper. His softness and intimacy drained the fight from you, leaving you with only hurt. 

Not wanting to fall for his tricks and continue this loop, you whisper, “Please don’t do this, Peter. These mind games, I-I-I can’t! I’m too tired and too weak to survive you. Please-”

But before you could tell him off, he interrupts, “I know it’ll sound like an easy excuse or some made up lie but I’m telling the truth. I’m going to need your trust because it’ll sound like I’m paranoid, but I promise, this isn’t some easy way out excuse…. just something isn’t right with her. And things haven’t been right since she’s gotten here. I can feel a change in Neverland, but I can’t figure out what she’s done. I’ve caught her rifling through my things and trying to follow me. I’ve been letting her and acting as though I haven’t noticed, but only so that I can figure out what she is trying to do. But that’s how she found my cabin before. I didn’t take her there and I didn’t tell her about it, but she knows about it because she followed me one night. I’m telling you the truth. Just let me figure out what is going on and I’ll get rid of her.” His voice was earnest, like he was being honest but there was a whisper of doubt in the back of your mind. 

Maybe he was being truthful? But I haven’t noticed any changes in the island. But I guess I arrived around the same time Wendy did and didn’t know what it was like before. But he could also be lying just to keep me placated. 

Sensing your doubts, Peter tilts your head up and plants his lips on yours. One of his hands slide to the back of your nape to hold you steady for his onslaught of your mouth. His mouth was soft and warm. Sweet and demanding. Fervent but nervous. A man yet still a boy.

Tears finally slip down your face as you went the unwanted relief that washed over you. How could you want this man so much, a man you weren’t even sure if you could trust, but needed desperately. A man that made you weak with want but afraid of the fall. Against your lips, he whispers, “Please, Y/N, please,” but his kisses never stop and your heart tugs with every quiver you could feel from his lips. What was he asking for? What else could he want from you? But whatever it was … you knew you would give it to him. 

“Trust in me. I’m begging you, just trust in me. Let me show you. Come back to the cabin, I sent her away, you’ll see, she’s not there anymore.”

“It’s not just the cabin, Peter. It’s everything. She’s everywhere. I see you guys-”

“But have you ever seen me affectionate with her? Never. It’s never been like that. She might be donned the title of Lost Mother or whatever, but that doesn’t have any association to me. It’s all for the boys.”

“Peter-” He cut in before you could argue.

“Please. Just trust in me. Just enough so that I can prove it to you. Then decide for yourself, but for right now, just trust in me enough. Come back with me tonight. Don’t leave me.” And that was it. That was when your resolve broke and there was nothing you could do but pay heed to his request. With your heart in your throat, throwing caution to the wind, you return his kiss tenfold; letting your actions answer for you. 

~~~ it’s nasty time, ladies and gentlemen ~~~~

Your hands cup his jaw and you push up on your toes, slanting your head to deepen the kiss. You open your mouth in invitation and he accepts instantly. His tongues rushes in to meet and dance with yours; a happy reunion. His groan of relief vibrates through your body and your core tightens in excitement. Squeezing your thighs together to find any sort of relief and you run your hands down his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. 

Suddenly, Peter reaches down and hooks his arms behind your thighs before hoisting you up, your back against the tree and your legs wrapped around his hip, only his body keeping you suspended. The dress that you were wearing rides up high on your thigh and the cold air swirls against your burning skin cause goose bumps were pebble in their wake. Peter uses his hips to keep you pin against the tree but that meant that your could feel his hard member resting against your sex. 

Peter shoves his face into the crook of your neck and suckles and nibbles all along any exposed skin. His hands were gripping and kneading your ass as he was supporting your weight. Almost like he couldn’t help himself, Peter rocks his hips into yours pulling a gasp from you and a groan from him at the sudden delicious friction. “What have you done to me, Y/N? I can feel your grip on your mind and I can do nothing to stop you. You’ve bewitched me. All I could ever need is you, like this.” His whispered breath skates across your skin, burning your ears and curling your toes. 

Giving him easier access to your skin, your eyes close and your head rolls to the side. Unbeknwnsts to you, this movement causes the strap of your dress to slip off your shoulders, the top of your dress falling slightly, giving Peter a perfect view of the tops of your breast. You felt one of his hands tease up your legs and in between your flushed bodies. He pulls your panties to the side and your feel his fingers delve into your folds. You let out a small whimper as he hits his mark, using your wetness, he swirls his expert fingers around your clit with ease. “Peter, please.” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, causing his to chuckle and you yelp in surprise as he plants a firm bite on your neck, causing threads of pleasure down your spine. Your breast felt heavy and achy with need, every pant from you causing your nipples to rub against his chest. Your hips are now rolling on their own accord, moving in time with his torturing fingers.

“You keep begging sweetly like that and I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you right here. I’m barely holding onto my reserve right now, Y/N. I want nothing more than to throw you down and have my fill of you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me to stop right now.” 

Sighing dreamily, you tease, “Weren’t you the one who started this, hmm?” His movements slowed to a stop, and he simply held you for a long moment. Your heart felt like it was floating and soaring through the cloud, butterflies in your stomach as his breath fanned against your breast. “Yeah well … I’ve never been the reasonable one, have I?” You felt his smirk against your neck before it disappeared in his seriousness, “If you want me to stop, Y/N, you have to let me know now.” 

“You’ll stop if I ask?” Your whisper was barely heard as it floated through the silent night.

He was silent for a moment before he responded, “I would. It would kill me but I would. I would do anything you asked of me, Y/N. I would steal the moon for you if you asked it of me. Please … just stay with me.”

Wrapping your arms around his head and shoulders, you envelop the precious bundle that was clingy to you like you were his life source. How could you deny him? Tilting your head towards him so that you lips ghosted over his ear, you whisper, “I need you, Peter. Are you going to make me beg?”

You let out a started gasp as he shot to life. Your hands falling away from him and bracing behind you against the tree as one of his hands shot down to undo his pants while the other ripped the top of your dress down the middle, leaving the two sides falling open and revealing your body to him. Your dress hung loosely, like a belt wrapped around your waist now, your breasts exposed to the cool air causing your nipples to pebble. Suddenly his naked cock was dragging between your wet lips as he rocked against you, coating it with your arousal. Peter pushed to have his body flush against yours again and his face back in your neck, one hand went back to your ass while the other grabbed and squeezed at your breast. 

“Y/N. I need you. Hard and fast. I can’t think straight and having you like this is pushing me towards the brink of insanity. I can’t control myself right now.” 

“Don’t hold back, Peter. I need you, just as you are.” 

A pleasured cry and a “oh my god” was ripped from you when Peter lifted you and slid you the whole way down, taking his whole cock inside you until you were sitting flush against his thigh. “Oh, fuck, Y/N. My dreams are nothing compared to this.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he used you to milk his cock; using you to ride him. His arm flexing to lift you and his hips slamming up to meet you. His pace was brutal. His strength had you slamming down with a force that made your muscles squeeze and pulse with every thrust. Your cries were loud and obscene but his growls and grunt were feral; only causing you to react more frantically. Your hips your rolling to meet his thrusts and the strong kneading on your achy breasts and bites along your neck was almost too much to bare. In and out. In and out. Every slide and every slam sending pleasure to the tops of your head to the tips of your toes.

Then suddenly, his hand was there again, right on your clit with enough pressure that cause nearly painful pleasure. He continued to buck into you like a wild animal, your muscles clenched like a vice in satisfaction. He swirled and flicked with such precision as though he knew exactly what you felt and knew what you needed. Your head was swimming with arosual, your toes curling and your back arching against the rough texture on your back, cause little delicious scratches to scrape there. “Peter, I’m right there. Cum with me. I need you.” 

He slammed his lips into yours, drinking in all your cries, and his efforts doubled, then all at once, he stilled and groaned into your mouth, and he shook and emptied into you. Sweaty and panting, you both held each other, desperate to catch your breaths. After a few calm and blissful minutes, Peter softly kisses your jaw and whispers, “Come back with me, Y/N. Stay with me.”

With your eyes closed, your head rolled back, and your smile pointing up towards the dark sky, you whisper, “Ok, Peter. Take me home.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Told You To Stay Pt. 1

tags: @fandom-fae @mmikeypopcornperil @layla2-49 @sjisfindingneverland @rainbow-alilou @hirohard0 @kaypan9909 @riordanness @vampbloodbunny2 @mk-the-great @fightformidnightx @lanelovesdilfs @queeniemariel @ariaroseloklover @quackitysdrugdealer @wildcatglove13 @james-800 @impossiblesaladwerewolf @bellarose-24

[swanimagines]

HER QUEEN | REGINA MILLS

Summary: Imagine working as a maid in the castle and having a crush on Queen Regina, and her developing a crush on you in Storybrooke.

You always knew Regina wasn't the kindest person in the Kingdom - in fact, she was considered a monster by a lot of people. Which was why so many people were baffled how you weren't scared of her at all, you were even eager to see her and seemed to get along with her better than most of her other servants.

You didn't know yourself why were you so fond of her at first, before finally realising that you actually had feelings for your queen. And it was quite hard to hide, so much so that you had great difficulties with not confessing it to her - you knew she wouldn't react well. She practiced dark magic with Rumpelstilskin and she'd just think of you as weak.

That was why you forced yourself to keep your feelings secret, but every day they just seemed to grow, larger and larger, until you felt like you were going to burst unless you told her. But as you were still sure that you'd just break your heart, you chose to ask Regina for some time off from your duties. She had always given you more leash than she gave her other servants, so you knew she'd say yes.

So you traveled to the other side of the kingdom to your family and tried to clear your head while there - not knowing there was a curse coming to wash over you all.

---

"Hello again, Mrs. Mayor," your cheerful voice rang through the house. Regina's lips curled upwards upon hearing it and she walked up to her entrance hall, seeing you ready with your mop and rags with a bright smile on your face. "How are you today?"

"Good, thank you," Regina replied, her voice warm and happy. You were one of the only people in her Kingdom who she didn't doom to an unhappy ending - you were still sort of her maid, but she was always warm and welcoming to you. You seemed to genuinely enjoy her company and your presence made her feel things she didn't know she could feel - or maybe she had just hidden them from herself back in the Enchanted Forest.

"How is Henry?" You asked, curious as you started to clean the floor. "He is such a wonderful boy."

"Oh, he's fine," Regina said, smiling softly at your praise. "He got an A+ from the English exam this week."

"He is such a smart boy," you said, smiling. "So bright and happy, a joy to have around."

"Thank you," Regina said, smiling as she took a seat on her sofa. "He's growing up so fast. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to cherish the moments. It's just gone by so quickly."

"It has," you agreed. "I don't think I can imagine Henry being a teenager yet."

Regina smiled softly at that - it wouldn't be but another five years and Henry would already be a teenager. Eight years had gone by so quickly, even when time had partially frozen in place here.

And Regina didn't even really think - she just blurted her next words out. "Would you stay for a cup of something hot and a warm apple pie? It's getting chilly out there."

You paused at that, looking at Regina. She almost regretted her words for a moment, thinking she managed to weird you out, but instead you broke into a wide smile.

"I would love that."

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[silentstyx]

ouat peter pan x reader hurt/comfort? please please 🙏

maybe something where the reader is really insecure and then misunderstands something he said that wasn’t actually meant to be mean and then he comforts them?

"Say You Like Your Shirt Soggy"

tw! insecurities, cursing, reader has like an anxious attachment style, Pan lwk ooc

heheheheh conan gray heheheh

You and Pan have been friends for a while, you also somewhat recently started dating. He was a good boyfriend. Protective, kind, listens, and all that jazz. Though, Pan got annoyed very easily.

You woke up in yours and Pan's shared tent alone. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary, he was in charge of everything at Neverland and had to make sure all of the Lost Boys were okay, he also just naturally woke up earlier than you.

You got up and got ready for the day, once you left the tent you went on your short quest to find Pan. You find him talking to some lost boys. You go behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Pan was in the middle of talking when you did this, he sighed and took your arms off of him. Your brows furrowed but you took the hint and just sat next to him. You looked up at him as he spoke.

You gently grabbed his hand as they talked, he immediately jerked his hand away. Why is he being weird? He's usually fine with you being affectionate? You instead opt his hand for just interlocking pinkies.

You see him roll his eyes and sigh as the lost boy talks, yet he doesn't drop your pinky.

Soon enough the conference is over and immediately Pan's gaze is on you. Yet, it wasn't the soft stare with a sweet smirk like normal. No. This time it was a mean glare.

"Did you have to be all over me? That was a damn important meeting." He said with an annoyed undertone.

Your eyes widened harsh tone, "Babe- I'm sorry I didn't know-"

He snaps, jerking his hand away from you, "God, you never know do you?! Your always just up my ass at the worst times!"

You don't know how to respond, so you just stare at him silently. No movement.

He lifted his brows, "Oh now you're not gonna be all over me? Now that I'm yelling at you you're done interacting with me?!"

All you could do was look down, you could feel the lump in your throat as he scolded you. The worst part about this was that he never raised his voice, just the harshness in his voice growing rougher and rougher.

"This is so fuckin annoying.." He grumbles.

Your bottom lip involuntary trembles, voice whiny and sad, "baby, m sorry didnt mean- I can just go."

You got up and went back to the shared tent. You sat in there on your bed alone, tears didn't fall out but instead blurred your vision. You should've used common sense, obviously when he's talking to someone else you shouldn't be all over him. What went through your head when you went up to him and wrapped your arms around him?! Ugh.

The tent then opened up, showing Pan. He had a sorry expression on his face.

"My love? Look-" he hisses, "you're not annoying okay? That meeting was just... difficult, mkay? I was mad at that not you."

You look at him with a hurt expression, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

"I know you hate getting called annoying and I was purposefully pressing buttons, you're not annoying. Okay?" He says with a soft voice.

You nod softly, yet that wasn't enough for him.

"[reader] I need a verbal response. You're not annoying, ya know that?" His voice was firm, he was not joking.

You roll your eyes with a soft chuckle, "I know..."

"Cmere..." He whisper as he brings you into a soft hug, "love you honey.."

[victoriously-regal]

The swanqueen fic I'm reading right now is very angsty and filled with the usual Swan-Mills cuteness, of course. But the funniest fucking thing just happened and I have to just take a minute to laugh my ass off about it.

Lemme set the scene: Killian is at the sherrif's station with Emma and suddenly gets a call that his ship has been vandalised. He leaves... and guess who conveniently shows up a few minutes later? Regina fucking Mills, hell yeah.

So basically in the plot, Regina needs time alone with Emma to talk to her. We learn after the fact that it turns out, she had told Zelena to "come up with a distraction" for Hook to get him out of the station, therefore giving her a chance alone with Emma to talk.

But of course, Zelena being Zelena, she took that instruction from her sister and decided that the perfect distraction for Killian would be...

... to spray paint a bunch of green dicks all over the Jolly Roger.

Zelena Mills, how I love you.

[dovesdreaming]

Moonlit secrets

Summary: reader hides that she’s a werewolf from Peter but the truth is revealed when a full moon creeps closer

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: painful transformation into werewolf?

-

Neverland was a place of endless adventure, a land where time stood still and boys never grew up. Peter Pan reveled in the chaos, the unpredictability of it all. But even he was taken aback when she arrived. She was different. Not like the Lost Boys or even the most formidable of his enemies. There was a wildness about her, a barely contained fury that simmered beneath the surface. Her eyes, a striking shade of yellow, seemed to glow in the dim light of the forest. Her movements were fluid, predatory, as if she was constantly on the hunt. Pan had watched her from afar at first, curious about this strange new arrival. She didn't fit the mold of the usual inhabitants of Neverland. She was no mere mortal, he could sense that much. She was something else entirely. And he was determined to find out what.

The first time they crossed paths, it was in the heart of the forest. Pan had approached her with his usual cocky grin, but it faltered when he saw the flash of sharp canines as she snarled at him, a low growl rumbling in her chest. “Who are you?" Pan asked, intrigued rather than intimidated. “Stay out of my way” she snapped, her voice rough and filled with barely restrained aggression. Pan’s grin returned, wider this time. "Feisty. I like that”. She glared at him, her yellow eyes narrowing. "I’m not here to be liked”. But despite her words, something about Pan intrigued her too. He was different from others she had encountered. There was an air of command about him, a dangerous charm that was almost impossible to resist. Almost.

As the days passed, Pan found himself increasingly drawn to her. She was a puzzle, one that he was determined to solve. But the closer he got, the more she pulled away. Her temper flared at the slightest provocation, and her sharp tongue left even Pan at a loss for words. It didn’t take long for Pan to realize that something was wrong. She was more irritable than usual, her movements less fluid, more pained. The day before the full moon, she was especially on edge, snapping at anyone who came near. She even avoided Pan, which was unusual given their growing connection. That night, Pan found her sitting alone by the edge of the forest, her body tense and rigid. He approached cautiously, not wanting to provoke her further. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. “Nothing” she muttered, not meeting his gaze. Pan crouched down beside her, reaching out to touch her arm, but she pulled away sharply, a pained gasp escaping her lips.

“Don’t” she hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously. But Pan wasn’t deterred. He had seen the way she winced, the way her body trembled with the effort of keeping something hidden. Something was hurting her, and it wasn’t just physical. “You’re sick” Pan said, a note of concern creeping into his voice. “What’s happening to you?”. She turned away from him, her voice trembling as she spoke. “You wouldn’t understand”. “Try me”.

For a long moment, she was silent, battling with herself. Finally, she looked at him, her eyes glowing in the dim light. “I’m not… like you. I’m a monster”. Pan frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean?”. “The full moon” she whispered, her voice tight with fear and shame. “It changes me. I’m not human. I’m… a werewolf”. Pan stared at her, the pieces slowly falling into place. Her wildness, her temper, the way she had been avoiding him, it all made sense now. But instead of fear, all he felt was a surge of protectiveness. He had seen monsters before, real monsters. She wasn’t one of them.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. “It’s not safe. For you, for anyone. I can’t control it”. Pan reached out again, this time she didn’t pull away. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm and reassuring. “You’re not alone in this. I’m not afraid of you”. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear. “You should be”.

The night of the full moon arrived, and Pan stayed close to her despite her protests. She had tried to push him away, to run into the depths of the forest where she couldn’t hurt anyone, but Pan wouldn’t let her. He was determined to see this through, to help her in any way he could. As the moon rose high in the sky, she fell to the ground, her body convulsing with the force of the transformation. Pan watched in horror and fascination as her bones shifted, her muscles contorted, and her skin stretched to accommodate her new form. The pain was evident in her screams, each one tearing through the night air like a knife.

Pan’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched, helpless to do anything but stay by her side. Her form shifted into something monstrous, a humanoid wolf with fur sprouting from her skin, her yellow eyes glowing with an eerie light. Her growls turned feral, and for a moment, Pan wondered if he should have listened to her warnings. But then, she looked at him, and in those wild, glowing eyes, he saw something familiar. It was her. She was still in there, fighting against the monster, trying to hold on to what little humanity she had left. “Stay back” she growled, her voice distorted but still recognizable. Pan ignored the warning. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her furred arm. “I’m not leaving you”. She snarled, but there was no real malice in it. It was more a plea, a desperate attempt to protect him from herself. But Pan wasn’t afraid. He had faced the worst Neverland had to offer and come out on top. He wasn’t going to let her go through this alone.

As the night wore on, she gradually began to regain control, the feral light in her eyes dimming as she forced the beast within to submit. By the time the moon began to set, she was exhausted, her body trembling with the effort it had taken to keep herself from losing control completely. Pan knelt beside her, his arms wrapping around her trembling form. She collapsed against him, too tired to resist. “You’re not a monster” he whispered into her ear. “You’re strong. You fought it, and you won”. She looked up at him, her eyes reverting to their usual yellow, the sharp canines visible as she smiled weakly. “You don’t know how close I was to losing control”. “But you didn’t” Pan said firmly. “And you won’t. Not as long as I’m here”. She closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest, finally allowing herself to relax in his arms. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe. Pan wasn’t afraid of her. He saw her, the real her, and he stayed. In that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face the darkness alone anymore.

-

Thank you for reading! <3

[wittyandobsessed]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Mr. Gold/Rumple x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | fluffy domestic stuff.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: 16. “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

The morning is quiet, wrapped in the kind of golden stillness that only exists between lovers. The curtains filter in a soft glow, casting lazy streaks of light across the room. Outside, Storybrooke is beginning to stir, but here—in this little haven of warmth and whispered affections—the world feels like it’s just the two of you.

You rest your head on Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder, your fingers idly tracing invisible patterns along his chest. His breathing is slow, steady, the rise and fall of it so soothing that you could stay like this forever. His face, usually marked by tension and carefully guarded expressions, is untroubled in sleep. Peaceful. Open.

And then, in the quiet, you hear it.

Your name.

Murmured in a breathy sigh, as though even in dreams, you are the tether keeping him grounded.

Your lips curve into a smile as you shift slightly, propping yourself up just enough to watch him more closely. He stirs beneath your touch, a faint crease appearing between his brows before his lashes flutter open. Sleep still lingers in his gaze, his brown eyes soft and unfocused as they find yours.

"Good morning," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the delicate intimacy of the moment.

He hums in response, a lazy, contented sound that sends warmth curling in your chest. His fingers, slow and absentminded, brush along your arm, a silent acknowledgment of your presence.

You lean in, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth before whispering against his lips, "Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

Rumple’s brow lifts ever so slightly, curiosity flickering across his face. "Do I?" His voice is thick with sleep, a low rasp that sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

"Mhmm," you confirm, tracing the curve of his jaw with your fingertip. "And do you know what you said?"

His lips quirk in the ghost of a smirk. "Something scandalous, I hope."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Not quite. You said my name."

Something shifts in his expression. It’s subtle—just the smallest intake of breath, the way his fingers tighten around yours—but you see it. You feel it.

"Were you dreaming of me?" you ask, your voice gentle, teasing, but with an underlying tenderness that lingers between you.

His hand moves, catching yours and bringing it to his lips. His eyes never leave yours as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, reverent, deliberate. And then, his voice is quiet, but sure.

"I'm always dreaming of you."

Your heart flutters, a soft gasp catching in your throat at the sincerity in his words. There's no hesitation, no teasing deflection—just truth. Pure and unguarded.

A lump rises in your throat as you lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, hoping to convey all the love you feel without needing to say a single word. He returns it with equal fervor, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer as if afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not going anywhere.

Not now.

Not ever.

Because just as he is always dreaming of you, you are always dreaming of him, too.

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

⋆˖⁺‧˚⟡ SwanQueen Masterlist ⟡˚‧⁺˖⋆

Multi-Chapter

We Both Matter... Don't We? {NSFW}

Emma was getting married. Married, to that ridiculous, filthy pirate. Married, with a ring and a dress and too many flowers. Married, despite the vision she kept having of her death— or maybe because of it. The threat of the Savior’s death loomed heavy over the town, the Black Fairy and Gideon lurking in the mines. And underneath it all was Regina, trying her best to keep her mouth shut and be the rock that Emma needed. If that meant that she buried her feelings and dealt with the heartbreak that came from watching Emma walk down an aisle into someone else’s arms, so be it. She had to keep it together, because if she let herself want… then everything would come crumbling down on top of her, and Emma would get hurt in the process. She had done it for six years… what was a lifetime more?

One-Shots

Almost. Again.

Sometimes battles give you a rush of adrenaline. Sometimes battles exhaust you. And sometimes... Sometimes, battles are the perfect catalyst to mend relationships and create space for repressed feelings to bubble up and boil over. But not always.

[riordanness]

better than revenge — [k.jones]

wordcount: 2.1K

warnings: none???

requested: no

“C’mon lass, you get what you want, and I get what I want.”

I raise my eyebrows at this. “Oh?” I question, sipping from my goblet, keeping my eyes on him.

“What do I get out of this?” I ask, my voice hard and my gaze resolute. If I knew one thing, it was to never let down my guard, never show weakness.

The man laughs, tips his head back and gulps the rest of his alcohol down. He looks me in the eye. “I’ll let you live, lass… and I’ll even throw in a few pieces of gold for your trouble.”

I stare at him for the count of four.

“Deal.”

Hours later, under cover of nightfall, I tiptoe down the docks. My leather boots are soft and worn from use, and I have perfected the art of silent footsteps.

My fingers curl around the hilt of my sword, ready to pull it from its sheath the moment I perceive a threat of any kind.

I silently go through my mission once again, knowing full well a single mistake will result in my death. If the pirates aboard this ship don’t get me, the man who sent me on this mission surely will.

I have a simple goal: sneak aboard the Jolly Roger, find a magical compass, and get out alive.

My eyes rest on the ship itself, its name painted in cursive letters right on the waterline, so as the ship moves slightly on the waves, the words appear to dance.

I slip forward, seeing no one on deck. With one swift, fluid movement, I place my right hand on the starboard railing, then I use the momentum from a scissor kick to propel myself from the dock to the deck, dropping without a sound onto my feet.

I quickly shift my body to the shadows, crouching down and moving fast, getting to the doors leading to the lower deck.

Opening it, I slip inside, shutting it quietly behind me. I hadn’t spent the greatest amount of time on boats in my short life, and I haven’t the faintest idea of where to search for a compass of all things.

Luckily for me, I have a locator. I pull it from my pocket now, a shiny white stone, glowing faintly. Apparently, the closer to the compass I get, the brighter the light will shine.

I turn in a slow circle, and when I face the corridor to my left, the brightness of the stone becomes more obvious, in a way I can’t describe. It didn’t become literally brighter, exactly, but it was suddenly very clear which direction I should take.

I follow the stone’s magical light, until it leads me to a small desk inside what I think is the captain’s chambers. Luckily for me, no one is at home. I’m daft. the entire ship is empty. The crew must be out for a night at the pub, and good for me too.

I yank at the top drawer of the desk, its hinges crusty and rough. When the drawer finally slides open, my eyes come to rest on the only object inside.

A golden compass.

I smile, and reach towards the compass. The metal is cool to my touch, and my fingertips glide over it as smoothly as if it was polished merely moments earlier.

I lift it up out of the drawer, dangling it in the air in front of me. I stare in awe, watching as the compass catches the light, glittering and flashing. Rainbows dance across the chamber’s walls, filling the room with colour.

I am just about to drop the compass into my dress pocket, when a voice behind me scares the daylight out of me.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I whirl around, shoving the compass into the deep pocket of my skirts. It was safest there; the pocket easily missed due to the many folds of my skirts. I draw my sword, and stare at the dark figure lurking in the doorway.

Shadows dance across his face, distorting his features. He’s tall, and I can tell his sword is also drawn, the blade catching the light of the only lamp in the room. My eyes drop to the lamp on the desk beside me. Without thinking, I blow out the flame.

It’s completely dark. I use this to my advantage, running fast at the doorway, crashing into the figure. We both land hard on the floor, and I scramble to my feet, ready to run.

But then, hands grab at my waist, hold me fast, and my hopes of escape crumble.

“You aren’t getting away that easily, love,” an accented voice whispers in my ear, before something hits my head, and I remember nothing else.

•••

My head pounds, and I dread opening my eyes. When I do, I immediately cringe in pain as light seemingly floods my vision, increasing my headache by tenfold.

I push myself up to a sitting position, taking in my surroundings. I’m in a bed, a simple woven blanket over me. I’m still in my normal clothes, which means no one changed me, thank goodness.

With a slight gasp, I hastily check my pocket. Of course, no compass. I shouldn’t have even dared to hope it remained in my possession. Of course that pirate would have taken it back.

Speaking of that pirate, I frown. Turning over all the events of last night (or what I assume was the last night; I’m not sure how much time has passed since I was knocked out; or even what time of day it is. Whoever’s cabin this is, they clearly hate windows), I shiver slightly. The memory of that voice in my ear, whispering seductively…

I shake myself, and climb out of the bed. I must find that compass, even if I am now a prisoner on this bloody pirate ship.

I leave the cabin, finding my way down the corridor, trying to find the familiar door that leads to the upper deck. When I finally find it, I can hear voices from outside. Pirates laughing and shouting and jeering at each other. At least half of the voices are obviously drunk.

My choice is a simple one, but I still hesitate. Remain a prisoner on this ship? Or risk dying in the battle across the deck?

My father always used to call me his little daredevil, before he died, so I decide to live up to his nickname for me, and push open the door.

The moment I step onto the deck, into the harsh sunlight, the chatter all around me stops. A dozen pairs of pirate eyes gape at me in curiosity. I wonder how often a woman has been on this ship.

Suddenly, someone drops down in front of me, swinging off a top with one hand, and landing on his feet. Startled, I take a step backwards, almost losing my balance.

The man straightens, and locks eyes with me. He smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. I mean, it’s nice. He’s fairly attractive, but his smile leaks devilishness.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, love,” the man says, and I would recognise that voice anywhere. He’s the man from last night, the man who knocked me out.

“I’m Killian Jones,” he continues. “Or as I’m not commonly known as, Captain Hook. To whom do I owe the honour?”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. I am a girl who has tried to steal from him, and yet he seems unaffected by this fact. My guard is instantly up, and I prepare for a fight.

“You are going to let me go,” I say stubbornly, wishing badly that I had my sword. I hadn’t noticed it right away when I’d awoken, but they’d taken it from me. “And I require your golden compass as well as my freedom.”

Killian Jones stares at me for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs.

His crew joins in the laughter, some pointing their fingers at me, some jeering and making stupid noises and gestures.

I roll my eyes at them. I have no time for men who aren’t my father. They’re a troublesome species that require a great deal too much effort for my own personal liking.

The captain gains his composure, and stares at me, rather dumbfounded.

“Love, there’s no way in hell I am giving you this compass, just like that.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then fight me for it. A duel. Winner gets the compass.”

Killian Jones raises an eyebrow at me apprehensively. “I don’t fight women. At least not with a sword.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Then this’ll be an easy win.” I step quickly towards one of the crew members, elbow him in the chest and pull at his sword at the same time, yanking it from its sheath as he stumbles backwards.

I launch an attack on Killian, my sword coming down on his head. In a flash, he brings his arm up to stop my blade.

My sword clangs against metal, and I stare in shock at what should be Killian’s hand… but isn’t. Replacing his hand is a shiny hook, which has caught my blade mid-air.

I blink in surprise. “You…”

“Yes, I know,” Killian sighs. “Captain Hook isn’t just a catchy nickname.” With his other hand, he gently pries my fingers off the hilt of the borrowed sword.

“Now, love, you’re going to stop attacking me, and do what I say. Or else you’re not going to get a very happy ending.”

I stand, deflated, and watch as he tells a crew mate to tie my hands together, and lash me to the main mast. I slump to the ground, a heavy feeling of defeat clouding over me. I watch in silence as Killian and his crew go back to their loud, joyful drinking. I seem to be forgotten, just like that.

I grit my teeth in frustration, but am suddenly aware of how loosely my bonds have been tied. Clearly, the crew member Killian Jones elected to tie me up was more than a little bit drunk. I smirk to myself as I wriggle my fingers, working at the poorly made knots.

Once my hands are free, I still, watching carefully, planning my escape. Most of the crew have wandered below decks now, and only Killian Jones and another man with a red beanie over his messy hair (who I guess is first mate), stand against the ship’s railing across the other end of the Jolly Roger.

Killian seems to bore of the first mate, and dismisses him, waving his hand at the man. The man disappears into one of the doorways at the back of the ship.

I wait, silent, hoping Hook will follow his mate. He doesn’t seem to have any plans of doing this. For a while, I just sit and watch him as he leans his back against the railing, picking at his metal hook, running his forefinger up and down it, tracing the sharp edges.

“You alright there, love?”

The break in silence startles me so much I barely hear the question. “I–what?”

Kilian looks up, meets my eyes, and smirks slowly, his chin tilting up a little as he does so. His tongue traces his upper teeth, his eyes studying me hard.

“I can’t let you go, you know,” he says.

“Why?” I refuse to believe him. There has to be a way for me to get out of this. Silently, I curse that random, awful man in the tavern for getting me into this mess. Even for a bit of gold and my life, I doubt this is worth it. A whole lot of hassle for not much gain, it was starting to seem.

“Because,” Hook replies, apparently not wanting to elaborate.

I roll my eyes. I am done with this rubbish. I stand quickly, my ropes dropping to the deck.

Killian’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t seem especially surprised at my escape. “What exactly are you going to do now?” he asks me, a glint in his eyes. Whether it’s from amusement or pure evil, I don’t exactly know.

“Get out of here and kill you,” I say, eyes narrowed.

He laughs. “Okay, love. You do that.” For a moment, he does nothing but play with the hilt of his sword. Then he looks up at me. “You know, you could always join my crew.”

I frown immediately. “What do you mean? Why on earth would I do that?”

He smirks. “Because… I want you to.”

I stare at him, unsure if he’s serious or joking. Then, I make a dumb decision and decide, “Why not.”

[countrymusiclover]

Princess Red Thief - Rumplestilskin

"She stole from the Dark One"

Everly, referred to as the "Red Theif" and who is also the daughter of Princess Abigail and Knight Frederick has been keeping a secret from her parents as long as she could. She seeks help from the one man who knew everything about magic, but was anything but good. Will her secret finally be revealed when the evil queen casts her curse???

1 - Life Changing Deal

2 - Cinderella's Prince

3 - Confusing Conversations

4 - Must Be Fought For

5 - Definition of Justice

6 - Directions of Truth

7 - Playing with Fire

8 - Getting Closer to the Truth

9 - A Man Named Jefferson

10 - Closest to His Heart

11 - Finally Awake

12 -Thief History

13 - We're in Trouble

14 - The Golden Newborns

15 - True Rumplestilskin Fashion

16 - Meeting the Parents

17 - Not His First Witch Lover

18 - The Pirates Crocodile

19 - The Pirates Crocodile pt 2

20 - "Tiny" the Giant

21 - Through the Looking Glass

22 - The Crocodiles Heart

???

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @onentaien-kwara

[mockiery]

Abstract Reflections - Ch 1

He'd dealt with Pan for two centuries, played his games, took his demonic thrills in stride. But Killian feels the difference here and now. Those were men, boys, mindless monsters. This is a god. After his sacrifice, Killian Jones awakes in the Underworld and is faced with the torments of a sadistic god, his own body and mind turned against him. Memories of Killian's long life and lost loved ones weigh heavily on his soul, some sending him into spirals of guilt and despair, others grounding him and giving him hope. All he can do is try to resist the pull of darkness and oblivion until Hades bores of him; or better yet, someone he loves deems him worthy of saving.

Tags: Captain Swan, Jones Family, Underworld Arc, Character Study, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Guilt, Flashbacks, Memories, etc. (more listed on ao3)

[AO3] | Rated M | 4.1k words

Next Chapter | Masterlist

thanks to the wonderful @brucethegirl for beta reading for me!

-

Chapter 1. An Underworld Welcome

First, is the cold. The feeling of frigid stone beneath him, rough against the exposed skin of his hand and cheek — a cold that settles into his bones. Then, it's the heat. Burning, intense heat from above, like standing too close to a bonfire or forge, radiating through his flesh. Neither extreme offers any respite from the other, just further discomfort.

His eyes blink open, slow. There’s no light at first. He rolls from his side onto his back, body aching, but as his left arm finds ground, something sharp and burning presses through the fabric of his jacket and into his skin. He flinches away, grabbing at the spot, feeling the new wound. Only an inch wide, it doesn't seem too deep, but gods it stings. He's had severe wounds that felt better than this one does, and it leaves him wondering if the burning was the heat or something more insidious: a poison or an acid. His eyes are as adjusted as it seems they’re capable of in this darkness, finding no firelight to account for the oppressive heat.

He breathes stale air and gives whatever space he’s in a proper and thorough scan of his senses. There's a crick in his neck that goes taut as he stretches, limiting his movements. He'd not slept on the floor in a long while, and he always had the sense to put his arm under his damned head when he did. His mind is hazy, and while his joints and muscles ache, there's no pounding in his head that signifies he's been knocked out.

It's hard to push his senses beyond the cold and heat overwhelming his focus, but he manages. The room smells of dust, stone, rust, and metal, with an undercurrent of human stench. Something acrid is muddying the metallic taste on the heavy, still air, making it harder to determine if it's blood or not. Killian had been in a number of dungeons in his time, and this felt like an amalgamation of the worst each brig had to offer.

Every breath and movement he makes echoes through the space, proving his instincts right- he's in a small room, big enough for a person. The perfect size for a cell.

Where, then? He can't hear anything beyond the sound of himself in this damn room. Maybe the flicker of a torch somewhere far away? So much metal and rust to breathe in, but no clinking of anything but his own necklace on the floor below. It's maddeningly quiet, eerie and lifeless. For a moment he fears it's his own bloody hearing at fault, failing him, his ears damaged, but his breathing sounds just as loud as it should, as does his sigh of relief that follows that assuring thought.

He closes his eyes tightly, trying to make them adjust to the darkness, taking inventory of his own body in the meantime. His hook is sharp as ever, and the weight of his rings grace his fingers. Good. Wherever he is, he hasn't been robbed and disarmed. His hand continues inventory, he's dressed fully: jacket, belt, vest all from the magic-free realm of Emma's, and-

Emma. His hand freezes at the center of his abdomen. He thumbs through the buttons of his shirt, finding only an old scar at the base of his ribs that he's had for ages. Nothing new. No... no sign of Excalibur's cursed blade. He reaches for his neck — no cut there either. Did...? That all happened, didn't it? How...?

He reaches out with his hook tenderly, slowly sweeping it back and forth, surveying for any hazards to avoid as his mind races. What happened? How did he get here? The last thing he remembered...

Emma. Her eyes fill with tears, a pleading in her eyes that Killian has never seen before. Killian holds the sword out for Emma to take.

Her voice wavers, "I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to lose you." Killian is struggling, the sword pulsing in his hand. It’s taking everything he has to keep the darkness in it. He looks to Emma and knows she's his whole world. He'd do anything to save just her, and this sacrifice will save so much more than just her. "But you have to let me go. Let me die a hero! That's the man I want you to remember, please!"

Emma takes the sword, and the release of tension is short lived as he sees her arm shake with the power she is now containing. He knows she can hold it. Far better than he ever could.

"I love you." She kisses him. She's so warm and good and he doesn't let his hand find her because he knows he wouldn't be able to let go. The time feels slow but is gone so quickly.

"I love you, too." He returns as soon as the kiss breaks. Emma steps back.

He gives a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay."

Emma lets out a sob, readying the blade, shaking. He steals one last look to her family, seeing the pain and the fear in them. Henry looks scared and confused, the lad wrapped in his adoptive mother's arms. Regina's look is knowing, as is David's. David holds his wife, Snow's shock juxtaposed to David's pained acceptance, the glisten in his eyes squeezes his heart in his chest more than he'd admit to the man. He wishes he could say how sorry he is for everything, but they know already. It's in their eyes. He almost wishes Belle were here, so she could see the regret and apology in his face now, but she's better off not seeing this. He squeezes his jaw tighter and hopes that his own eyes say everything he needs them to.

With a shuddering breath, he looks back to Emma and the glimmering blade she raises. He steels himself and nods.

His body tightens to brace for the pain as Emma moves, the sob escaping her as the sword pushes through his center, and he can't hold in the cry of pain that comes out. He wanted to stay strong, wanted to make it easier for her and her family, but he couldn't. He's always been the weakest.

Excalibur, pulsing with darkness, tears into his body with a viciousness, and it's all he can feel for a moment, the overwhelming pain, his head is light and his balance teeters. Emma's head is on his shoulder, his chin on hers as he falters against the heaviness weighing on his consciousness. But he pushes it back, his vision is fogging, and he can only reach his hand up to ground himself, his forehead to Emma's, his hand finding her cheek.

He forces his eyes open as much as he can and sees the darkness leave her, the red of that jacket of hers in his peripheral. He'd smile if he had the power to. She pulls back, drawing the sword out of him and he hears his own whimper like it's coming from somewhere else.

He barely catches himself as his knees start to buckle, and Excalibur disintegrates in Emma's hold. The sword gone, Killian feels that horrible burning gash open on his neck, like it never left. Emma surges to him as he fails to hold his own weight up any longer, and he feels her ease him to the ground. His eyelids are too heavy, he's so exhausted. He doesn't have to see her to know she's with him.

It's familiar, the way he's fallen. How he's been caught. Held. Once again, his body rests on the grass, hand cradling his head as she lays him down. This time she doesn't try to stop the bleeding at his neck with magic, instead pushing sweat-matted hair away from his forehead. She holds his hand, her tears coloring his skin as she sobs into his chest. There's a tremble in Emma's hands long after Killian's own hand has stilled. He hears her crying, soft and shuddering, incomplete shapes of words in shuddered sobbing breaths. He thinks he hears "sorry" and "love" and he exhales shakily when her lips touch his forehead. Emma's hold on his hand is tight and close to her chest. He feels the heave of her breath, the throb of her heart in her chest, and he knows he's breaking it.

He wishes he could hold her, thank her, say he's sorry, say he loves her. As the end finds him, Killian is glad he could die in her arms a second time.

Killian shudders, frozen in place. Did... did she bring him back somehow, heal Excalibur's wounds? Did she find a way? Did she... did she take it back, did Emma try to-

"You have to help me, Swan. Take it."

"I can't. It should be me."

No, no she couldn't, even if she wanted, that cursed sword was gone. It'd been destroyed with him.

"Your family needs you." Killian couldn't understand how Emma could offer such a thing, her life was worth more than his ever would be. "If anyone deserves to go to the underworld, it's me."

His eyes widen. He swipes his hook imprecisely ahead of him in the darkness and shoots up to a sitting position.

The smell... Brimstone. Sulfur. Blood. Ash.

Another frantic sweep of his hook above him nearly throws out his shoulder, the hook unexpectedly catching on a chain above. He yelps and thrashes until the hook is free, rising to a crouch, not yet daring to stand. He slows, trying to steady his breathing. If he's where he thinks he is... Why is he breathing? Why does he hear his heartbeat in his ears, why does he have a heartbeat at all?

He reaches his hook higher, testing for anything above him other than the chain. Finding the chain alone, he rises steadily, the stiffness in his limbs slowing him more than his caution.

"Oh please, don't stand on my account," a voice echoes through the small space. Killian flinches, his hook raising and his hand instinctively going for his cutlass, finding nothing on his belt.

He stares hard in the direction the voice came from in the blackness and speaks as forcefully as he can, "Show yourself. Who are you?" It comes out hoarse at first but is satisfactorily strong by the end.

"Is that any way to treat your host?" The snide response comes from behind him, and Killian quickly turns to face their new position. He hadn't heard them move.

"Who are you?" He demands again, a growl in his words.

The voice laughs, deep and condescending, once again from a new location. Whoever it is, they're toying with him. And enjoying it.

"Come on, now, Hook. You knew where you were going."

"Show yourself now or-"

 "Or what? You'll hook me to death?"

"I've done it a hundred times before." Killian's delivered better threats, but he's not exactly in his realm of comfort.

"A hundred? Oh, don't sell yourself short, I'm sure it was more than that. You've killed more than that, I'd wager. But never something like me."

Something. Not someone. Something.

The space alights, blue in hue and flickering from a source behind him. The room he’s in is worse than he'd imagined: dried blood on the floor, on the wall, mixed into the dust. A small dagger caked with dried blood lays on the ground — the blade that had nicked his arm.

Somehow the air is even hotter now and Killian turns to the source.

Before him, his taunter stands with arms crossed, leaning against the cell's wall. The man's scalp and shoulders are aflame with blue fire — and yet there's a cold impassiveness in his eyes. He looks at Killian like he's an insignificant speck of dirt, an annoyance.

"You're..."

"Hades, yes." The god waves his hand with disinterest. The fire diminishes, leaving a dim wall-mounted torch as the only light source. "I'm sure you're honored."

"Wh-" the start of an incomplete question escapes his lips before he has enough mind to think first. He clenches his jaw, sharpening his expression.

The god continues without pause. "I, on the contrary, am not what you'd call honored." Hades crooks his head with a frown and steps further into the cell's tight space. Killian stands his ground, glare following Hades as the god circles him.

"You have been an inconvenience, to say the least," the god assesses aloud. His cold gaze sizes up his new captive soul from head to boot and seems to find Killian more than lacking.

A shiver rockets down Killian's spine. He conceals it with a roll of his shoulders, straightening up to meet the god's height with his own, but his nerves stay balanced on a razor's edge.

"You're centuries overdue, for starters. But I could let that slide with all the souls you were sending my way." He's close now, speaking over Killian's shoulder. "Lost boys, sailors, knights, merchants, all sorts. But ooh, you really started slowing down, didn't you, Hook?"

It takes every bit of his self-control to not pull away, refusing to allow Hades to gain a single inch in this game of intimidation. Killian knows these ploys all too well. He'd used them and been at the mercy of them for centuries.

"Or do you prefer Killian these days?" Hades mocks, rolling his eyes.

 Killian's mouth twitches. "Captain, to you." 

Hades slows to a stop and laughs. Another shiver shoots through Killian, this one less concealed. The god turns his head to him and smiles.

Killian feels his airway close before he processes the sight of Hades grabbing his throat. He's dead, his body is back in Storybrooke, his heart pierced through by Excalibur, his blood poured out onto the lake’s shore. But he bleeds here in the Underworld, and he needs to breathe. His vision starts to darken at the edges as Hades suspends him a foot above the ground like he weighs nothing.

His hand and hook latch onto the god's arm, scratching, pushing, pulling, trying to lift himself to find relief. Before Killian's boot can make any contact, Hades sharply yanks him sideways through the air.

"I hate to tell you, Captain, I'm the only one with any titles or command around here." He throws Killian against the wall, head slamming hard into stone, clattering to the floor. "And you haven't led a crew in quite some time."

"Aye, I've not," He admits, croaking out between a heaving breath and cough, hand shielding his throat, checking his neck for anything broken. Finding nothing out of place, he recovers, rising up. Thankfully he feels nothing wrong with his movement or sensation beyond the bruising. He pushes himself up to stand.

"Hook, then. At least while I let you keep your little toy there, hm? Sound good?"

Killian's blood runs cold.

Hades smirks. "As I was saying, you've really let me down these past few years, Hook. Just not enough souls dying by your hands- or hand, forgive me." He makes a false apologetic face that makes Killian want to throttle the bastard, but he holds himself.

"Now that- that was enough for me to want to have some words with you. But this recent business, this Dark One mess?" Hades grabs him by the throat again, slamming him against the wall this time. "That requires more than words."

Killian's hook is useless, failing to even snag the god's sleeve as he struggles. But when Killian meets the god's eyes, trying to speak, the grip loosens enough for Killian to wheeze out, "I'd have thought you'd like what I got up to as a Dark One." He raises his eyebrow, shoving down the panic igniting his nerves, aiming for his playfulness in duels past. He doesn't think he's all that successful.

"Up until you went and raised all the Dark Ones out of my domain, I had." Killian must look confused because Hades scoffs. "They were my best torturers down here, whether they were working for me or not. And now? I'm fresh out of all my favorite dead Dark Ones. Thanks to you."

Killian smirks, and were his vocal cords not being crushed, he'd tell the evil bastard 'you're welcome'. Hades catches his meaning well enough it seems though, squeezing tighter until Killian's vision goes dark at the edges. Before consciousness abandons him, Hades throws Killian face first to the ground across the room. His arms don't move fast enough, unable to stop his forehead thrashing into the rough stone.

He coughs, his hand at his throat again, as if that'd help him breathe better. He pushes himself up by his hook, the metal scraping against the stone with a dreadful noise.

"Forgive me for being unaware of Dark Ones’ continued employment after death." The gravel in his voice strains painfully, but he grins up at the god as he rises to his eye level. "Would've considered that more thoroughly before I sacrificed my bloody life."

"You think you're cute, don't you?"

Killian huffs a painful laugh. "I think I'm right bloody handsome, yes."

The pure, gleeful malice that ignites in Hades' eyes is enough to make Killian's stomach turn. "Let's see what I can do about that."

Hades grabs him by the collar and pushes him down to his knees effortlessly. When the god's fist finds Killian's face, his vision goes white, his neck snaps back like whiplash from the carriages of Emma's realm — cars, or whatever. He's still reeling, his hand limply clawing at Hades' grasp, when another impossibly powerful strike collides with his face. His left eye feels like it's been crushed inside his skull. When he goes slack, Hades' grip on his collar is the only thing keeping him up. Then there's a hand in his hair, pulling, ripping him up from the freezing floor before just as quickly slamming his face to the stone of the wall and releasing him. His own dead weight drops him to the floor, where his cheek and chin take a final blow.

Killian has bested men with greater strength than his own more times than he can count. He's killed a few dozen that he'd consider more talented swordsmen than him. He bloody well held his own against a giant undead witch for far longer than anyone should've, after a 30 foot fall onto unforgiving rock. He'd dealt with Pan for two centuries, played his games, took his demonic thrills in stride. But Killian feels the difference here and now.

 Those were men, boys, mindless monsters. This is a god. 

He deals more force into a hit than Killian has felt before; Killian's left eye is swollen over, a pool of fire in the socket, and the surrounding structures throbbing enough that Killian fears the browbone's been fractured. The pain is blinding in more ways than one. His throat is bruised enough that every breath hurts. He swallows, forcing down a whimper at the pain of the action. Still, he pushes himself up, managing to get to his hand and knees, feeling every impact bruise across his body. He forces his breath to steady.

When Killian dares to look up to the god, Hades is watching. His hands are tucked behind his back as he leans over patiently, studying him. With Killian's face in view now, Hades grins at his handiwork. "Now, that's a start."

"What do you want from me?"

Hades' grin widens. "Why, what a lovely question! Someone's finally catching up. I thought you'd be a slow one, but here we are already!"

Killian exhales, pushing himself up and back, sitting on his heels unsteadily. He looks to Hades and waits.

"First, I want to try something. This need not be a wholly negative relationship. You may well prove to me that you can make up for all the Dark Ones you lost."

"How so?"

"I'm glad you asked."  

Hades' smug face isn't one that Killian thinks he likes much. He'd worked for ship captains with that look — if you got yourself in trouble and wanted to make it to shore, you apologized, and you groveled. You asked to make it up to them, offer to work the whole night through, something grueling. Or on the rare occasion, you offered invaluable information that'd either make money or reveal a side-dealing first mate. But that was rarely all they wanted, not from a sailor that'd wronged his captain. The lash was always part of the deal.

Hades looks to the dagger on the floor. Killian's eyes — or rather, his eye, he's down to one now — follows it as the blade shoots up, handle first, into Hades' hand. The god ponders it, turning it over in his grasp. Dagger was a generous word, it's small, more a knife than a dagger.

"What do you plan to do with that?" Killian's brows raise, the left one alighting with pain at the movement. He grits his teeth.

"Oh me? Nothing. It’s what you will do with it." He places the handle in Killian's palm with a devilish look. "I'm surprised you don't recognize it, considering, well, what you've done with it before." 

Killian holds it, his mind in its air-starved and rattled state sluggishly trying to piece together Hades' implication.

"Oh, I like that. Searching your mind for all the blood you've shed, looking for a time you used something as small as this. No hook, no sword, but an itty bitty knife. How personal it had to have been, right? Feel the blood on your hand, see the look in his eyes up close as you take a man's life."

Killian's heart stutters in his chest.

"Oh, there it is! Tell me. Please enlighten your audience, captain."

Killian's jaw is a vice, tight enough that his bruised throat burns. He forces the words through clenched teeth. "Brennan Jones."

"How cold, truly. Name, not relationship? That's a good sign, I'd worried you'd gone too soft." Hades grins, that vicious fire in his eyes returned. "Who was he, Hook?"

"You already bloody well know." The contempt in his expression could rival the god's.

Hades steps into his face so he's all Killian can see. The god himself burns and freezes like the cell itself does. "I want to hear it. From you."

His gaze falls. "My father."

Killian couldn't look his father in the eye as he drove the knife into him, and Hades knows it, it seems. There are very few lives he's taken with a broken gaze. He'd excused it as remaining vigilant of his surroundings, and it was. But in truth, it was simple guilt. Hades has chosen to toy with his mind, with his guilt — it's a familiar twist of the knife that's been stuck in his gut for centuries. Killian dreads the game that this god of demons has in store for him. He'd thought he'd seen the worst that the worlds' most manipulative bastards had to offer, but this was a god.

"Thank you." Hades whispers it condescendingly into his ear, before stepping back and opening his arms in a grand gesture. "Now, I have a very special gift just for you. Consider it an audition."

"For what?"

 "You said it yourself, didn’t you? Dark Ones don’t get to retire." He clicks his tongue disapprovingly with a shake of his head.

"What do you want from me?" Killian spits. He's running out of patience. And sense.

 "That's the spirit! Keep that energy going, you'll need it."

Killian almost lunges at the man, stepping forward with the knife raised in threat. His hook did nothing, he doubts this little thing could do any better but wielding it in Hades direction feels better than just standing around. Hades feigns surprise.

"Easy, now." The 'surprise' turns to a smirk. "Save it for your cellmate."

Killian squints, keeping the blade up. "Cellmate?"

"You didn't notice? My, my, I thought your instincts were better than that, Hook."

Hades practically pouts at him, shrugging when Killian's eyes scan the cell. The grated bars lack any door, and the other stone walls are empty. There's nothing but blood and chains hanging off the wall. He looks to Hades again who smiles, his shrug relaxes as his eyes drift up from Killian to something directly above him.

Dread fills Killian's gut. He follows the god's gaze up to the cell's ceiling and his stomach drops.

Above, wrapped in hanging chains, is a bloody mass of a man, hanging limply. His blood-matted hair hangs down and obscures his features, but Killian knows that face. He knows it anywhere. He's seen it in nightmares for centuries, seen his smiling assurance that night before he sold Killian and Liam away. He's seen that desperate dying face tell Killian he could still change and be a better man, seen it every night when he's closed his eyes. Killian's father hangs unconscious, beaten, bloodied, and chained. In hell. And Killian sent him here.

[queen-of-fanfics]

I Told You To Stay

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Prompt: Peter told you to stay.

A/N: Ayoooo lol I'm alive. Anywho Y'ALL I GRADUATED COLLEGE and the first thing I accomplished after was writing this fanfic. How have y'all been? Now I have some free time and a desk job so I have time to write more. I literally got the idea for this scenario from a dream I had. So... This one gets a little heated but nothing explicit.

I Told You To Stay Part 2

"Where do you think you're going?" Peter teases you as he grabs your arm to spin you around.

You were the second Lost Girl to have ever made it to the island. The first will always be Wendy. Wendy continues to be the mother figure around the island while you were free to run off hunting and exploring with the Lost Boys. You could never shake the feeling that either Wendy hated you or envied you. She would be stuck cooking and caring for the boy while you were almost like a sister. You two never got along too well, the feeling of competition was always there.

The second that you came to the island and met everyone, it was no surprise that Peter was the one that caught your eye. 

However, you were always hesitant to let any hope blossom in you since you thought that Peter and Wendy were together. And if they weren’t, she would have first dibs on him anyway. But that fact never stopped your crush and admiration of him from growing. Day in and day out, you were running through the forests with him and protecting the Lost Boys together. 

Tonight was a quiet and warm night and everyone had had their dinners and was heading to bed. Wendy had made dinner and stayed back at the camp to clean up. You were heading towards your cabin before Peter grabbed your arm.

“You aren’t going to bed already, are you?” Peter asked with his usual smirk.

“Why, huh? You got something in mind worth my while?”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.” He hides his smile from you as he leads you into the forest. That leads to where you are now. Running through the trees and climbing up the cliff as Peter is bounding off in front of you.

Coming to a stop behind Peter, you drop your hands to your knees and your head drops to start gasping for air. “Are we there yet? I feel like my lungs are going to explode!”

All of a sudden you’re squealing in delight because Peter ran over to you and scooped you into the air, carrying you bridal style. He takes off flying and your arms shoot out and wrapped around his neck. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Taking you up to see the stars!” He yelled over the whistling wind as you continued laughing until tears formed in your eyes. 

Daring to peek over his shoulders, you gasp at the beautiful aerial view of the island before he dives and does a giant loop in the air. Hugging him close, you shove your face into his neck and breathe in his scent. Though the night was cool, you felt warm against him. Wanting this moment to last forever but you know it can’t, you decide that you will hold this memory so you can always relive this happiness that you feel. 

Feeling dizzy either from the adrenaline or from him, you rest your head against him and press a soft kiss on his neck. 

Suddenly, Peter tosses you lightly into the air and you are airborne before he catches you but now your position has changed. Now you are sitting, straddling his hips, as his hands come to your behind to carry your weight. Your arms wrap around his neck again but now you are face-to-face with him. 

As a blush covers your face, you whisper, “Well hi there.” 

He gives you a small smile as he looks at your thorough hooded eyes, “Much better don’t you think? Now I can see you.” 

You sit there, chest to chest with breaths mingling, completely suspended in the air over a cliff. “What are we doing, Y/N?” His whisper caresses your skin and he leans in just a little bit closer.

“What do you mean?” You can’t help but do the same, almost like a string pulling you to him.

“You know exactly what I mean. Have you casted a spell on me? Making me dream of you every night and thinking of you every minute the sun is up? Have you made yourself my personal magnet to me so I can never not be near you? Are you bewitching me?” He continues to whisper as one of his hands drags up your body and grips the back of your neck, pulling you in closer until your noses are barely touching. 

Your breaths are coming out shaking but your fingers find their way to his hand and you tighten your hold, desperately keeping him close. 

“What if it’s you that is playing with my head?”

Your lips are brushing against each other but not quite touching. Your brain fogs with desire but it’s all pulled away from you as Peter abruptly pulls away and starts flying back to land.

“Wha-” You’re dizzy from the sudden change but you aren’t able to be stable on your feet before Peter is hurriedly pulling you through the trees. Silently giggling and running through the forest, your heart is beating out of your chest. 

Coming to a clearing, you see a small and simple log cabin sitting by itself. There are a few steps leading up to a porch that surrounds the little cabin. 

“Where are we, Peter?”

“This is my place.” He finally slows down to a stop.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. The movement pulls a giggle out of your throat but you don’t take your eyes off the cute cottage.

“I thought you had a tent back at the campsite with everyone else, hm? Are you keeping secrets from us now?” You tease.

“I always have secrets, don’t you know. But this is my own quiet place. I come here when I need to think. Or when I’m scheming.” He tickles your sides and gives your neck a quick kiss before he straightens. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He takes your hand and walks you into the cabin. 

The inside of the cabin matches its look on the outside. Comfortable. Simple. Nothing extravagant. The main room is open. One side seems to act as a dining room with a large table with a few chairs beside it. The other side of the room has a matching large table but this table is covered in maps, scrolls, trinkets, and many other items you did not recognize. You see a door towards the back of the cabin which you could tell leads to a bedroom.  

“Here, let me get you some water before you pass out on me.” 

But before Peter could take a step or before you could even respond, a voice calls out from the back room.

“Peter darling? Did you just get home?”

The blood drains from your face and your eyes grow to saucers as you see Wendy walk out of the back room. Your ears started ringing and it feels as though everything is happening so fast yet so slowly. 

Peter marches over to Wendy and angrily argues with her though you couldn’t hear anything over the muffling in your ears. “What are you doing here? Who said you could be here?”

“What are you talking about, baby? Don’t be like that.” 

Wendy tries to run her hands up Peter’s front side but her hands do not get far before he grabs her hands and throws them off of him. 

Your eyes shoot back and forth between Peter and Wendy and you could hear yourself mumbling, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t-” You hadn’t realized that you were backing up until you felt the front door hit your back. 

Before you knew it, Peter was in front of you. All you could do was stare up at him with your heart ready to leap out of your chest. You were confused and hurt and scared and you wanted to be mad. But looking up at him. With his face soft and full of worry. All you could do was trust. Trust in what, you weren’t sure. But a wave of calmness fell over you as you looked at him and his hands came up to softly grip your shoulders. 

Peter was gently moving you through the cabin and you could hear Wendy protesting but you couldn’t clear your head enough to hear what she was saying. Peter leads you to the back room which is his bedroom. He sits you on his bed and whispers to you, “Stay here.” 

“Peter, I can go. I should’ve known you two were together. I shouldn’t be here, I can go.” But before you could make a move for the door, Peter grips your face gently but firmly, “I said ‘stay here’. I will figure this out. I’m not with her. She isn’t welcome here. You. Stay. Here.” 

Peter slammed the door behind him as he left and all you could do was sit on the bed as you were told. Looking around the room, there wasn’t much there to keep you entertained. There was a nightstand by the bed with a few nicknacks on it. A desk with papers covered in writing you couldn’t read. No pictures. No posters. Nothing. Twiddling your thumbs, you tried to not overthink. You sat as patiently as you could but as the minutes ticked by and their angry whispering didn't stop, your anxiety started to kick up.

What if he is lying? Why would she just randomly be here? She’s comfortable enough coming in and out of his place like that. He could just be telling me what I want to hear. Of course, they’re together. Even a blind person could see that they were together. When did I become so dumb?! I need to get out of here. 

Your breathing starts to become more rapid as your mind starts spiraling. Looking around the room, there was only one door, and that led back to the main room where Peter and Wendy are. The only other thing in the room was a window that sat above the desk. That was your ticket out. You thank the stars that you weren’t on an upstairs floor or anything or else this escape plan was going to be harder than you thought.

Swinging the window wide enough for your body to fit through, you quietly climbed up onto the table, careful not to disturb anything, and started to push out. You managed to make your way out but you accidentally made a loud thump as your body hit the back deck. Before you could stop and think about what to do, you jumped to your feet and took off running into the forest. 

You ran until your lungs burned and ran some more. All around you were trees, trees, and more trees. Everything looked the same yet you didn’t recognize where you were. “Shit I should have been paying attention on the way here. Where the fuck am I?”

Coming to a stop, you drop your hands to your knees to try and catch your breath. After a few deep breaths, you stand up tall and prepare to take off again, at a more reasonable pace this time that you’re far enough away.

But before you could head off, something flies into you and you go slamming back into a tree. A warm, hard body pushes up against you and holds you flush against the tree with no room to escape. It’s still too dark in the night and the trees are blocking the moonlight so you can’t see what has you pinned. You start wiggling around and try to use your hands to push yourself free but a hand wraps around your wrists and pins them above your head. Something comes close to your ear and you could feel the anger radiating from this figure.

“I thought I told you to stay.”

I Told You To Stay Pt. 2

[swanimagines]

Please can I ask for an once upon a time gif imagine: trying to go on a nice normal date with Regina, but some trouble or another always interrupts? Thank you!

WORTH IT

Once upon a time, you managed to do the impossible: manage to capture the heart of Regina Mills herself. It took a lot of persuasion (and maybe a little bit of Henry acting as your cheerleader), but eventually, she agreed.

Your first official date was supposed to be simple and ordinary — a dinner at Granny's, followed by a walk in the park. Regina had even promised to keep her Mayor voice at bay for the evening.

“I’ll leave my work behind at the office for once,” she had promised and smirked when you were fetching her from her door.

But of course, this was Storybrooke, and something was always up. And it felt like even more was up just for your date, whatever you did, whenever you arranged it.

So the first time, you sat at the diner with your meals, chatting and you were just about to cut into your burger, when the door clinked and you could tell by Regina’s expression that it was someone she did not want to see right now.

And sure enough, when you turned around, you met Emma’s eyes. Regina and her were friends nowadays, sure, but situations like these visibly reminded Regina of when she couldn’t stand the blonde.

“Regina!” Emma called, making a beeline for your table. “We’ve got a situation.”

Regina didn’t even look at her when she crossed her hands, placing her chin on top of them. “Of course we do,” she muttered.

You looked at Emma. “Can it wait? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

Emma hesitated,glancing at Regina again and then back at you. “I hate to break up… your date, or whatever this is, but there’s a rogue dragon in the forest. Looks like Maleficent’s hatchling got loose.”

Regina was quiet, visibly clenching her jaw before she glared at Emma. “A rogue dragon? And it just so happened to emerge now?”

Emma grimaced. “Well, not exactly. I thought I could handle it because I know you’re… busy, but it’s, uh… bigger than I expected.”

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long sigh, and you could basically hear her thoughts about regretting she ever left her Evil Queen days behind on that moment. She raised her gaze to you.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “But you know how this town is.”

You gave her a small smile. “It’s okay, go save Storybrooke. We can go on a date another time.”

Regina’s lips twitched upward, before she stood up. “You’re lucky I don’t still have a dungeon, Swan. Let’s go.”

—

It took a week before you were able to schedule another date with Regina after the dragon episode. This time you made a plan you thought was smart: no public places, and no telling anyone where you are going, only that you’re on a date. If some major trouble would come up, you’d likely hear it. But Regina didn’t want to be bothered by something that others would be able to handle — well, the dragon episode was something she actually needed to handle, but she said anything less than that wasn’t worth her time while she was with you.

So you set up a picnic by a beautiful pond Regina had found some years ago. She had used to come here with Henry back when Henry was a toddler, and for a while you honestly believed that the second time did the charm this time.

But then, rustling. You both turned to look at the direction, but the rustling stopped the moment you did.

“It’s probably a squirrel,” you suggested, and Regina sighed.

“It’d better be.”

More rustling, now much louder, along with some big branches moving. You turned to look at the sight again, and you thought for a moment. “A swarm of squirrels?”

Regina gave you a flat look. "A swarm of squirrels? Really?"

Before you could retort, a few curses were heard and Leroy emerged, who was covered in leaves, dirt, and something sticky.

"Regina!" he hollered as he almost tripped over his feet. "We’ve got a big problem!"

Regina stood abruptly, her hand already raised as if she were seconds away from turning the dwarf into something she would be able to squish. "Leroy," she grumbled. "This had better be life or death."

"It is! There’s a–" He paused, glancing at you with a sheepish expression. "Uh, sorry to interrupt your little picnic thingy, but there’s a bear loose in the woods. And it’s angry."

You blinked. “A bear? Why would a bear be–”

“It’s been enchanted!” Leroy cut in. “Probably by one of them leftover cursed objects. It’s tearing through everything! We need Regina before it smashes up the tavern!”

Regina groaned, turning to look at you before she muttered, “How did he even find us?”

You shrugged, but then some of Leroy’s brothers emerged from the bushes as well. “Well, dwarves are generally good at tracking, even when Leroy isn’t.”

“Your Majesty, please,” Doc mumbled. “Some of the townsfolk want to shoot the bear, but Snow believes it may be one of us.”

Regina finally nodded, standing up and you shrugged before starting to gather the food back into the basket. “I guess that third time will do the charm.”

—

The third attempt at a date was the result of careful planning, and there would be no chance of distractions. Or so Regina vowed, anyway.

“Absolutely no one knows where we’re going this time,” she had promised you as she fixed her coat. “The whole town should be asleep, and there hasn’t been major problems where I'd bee needed at nighttime in years."

This time, she suggested something you thought was genius, a late evening stargazing trip to a hilltop outside of town. She even made a few magical barriers to ensure privacy. There was absolutely no way you could be interrupted by anyone. Just you, her, and the stars.

It was magical. You brought a plush blanket to sit on and that same basket you had last time around. Even the sky was clear for stargazing.

“This might actually work,” you sighed contentedly as you took a bite of your muffin, leaning against her shoulder.

Regina chuckled, carefully taking your hand. “It better. If we’re interrupted again, I may just turn the entire town into frogs.”

You laughed, imagining frogs somehow looking like Leroy and Ruby hopping around Storybrooke. “I’d pay to see that.”

But of course, everything was too perfect, and you both sensed it, something was going to happen. But you still tried to brush it off as nervousness, and nudged Regina who seemed to sense the air shifting too. “Relax. You put up those magical barriers for a reason, right? Nothing’s going to–”

And at that moment, the ground shook and the muffin tumbled from your hand, rolling down the hill. Footsteps of something big, you realised, and were almost scared to look behind you when Regina stood up.

Regina scoffed as a large shadow neared you from behind the trees. “You were saying?”

“Is this town cursed or something?” you muttered under your breath. “Why is there always a crisis?”

Regina watched as the ogre pounded on the barrier. “I wouldn’t rule it out, a curse that always flares up when it sees us on a date.”

You looked at the ogre, roaring and pushing on the barrier. “It can’t make its way through, right?”

“Well, I’m forced to let it get through because it’s either me taking it down or it will make its way to Storybrooke. But it can’t see us yet, so I have an upper hand on it. This won’t take long.”

And sure enough, the ogre was soon subdued and knocked out on the ground, and Regina wiped her forehead. “I swear, the universe is against us.”

You smiled, resting your chin on her shoulder as you hugged her from behind. “Well, we just need to prove the universe wrong, then.”

Regina glanced at you, and then took a look at your picnic spread that had toppled over from the fight and the ground shaking. “This picnic seems to be ruined at least.

“Fourth time says the charm?” you chuckled, but you both knew it most likely would end up like all the others up to now.

“You still want to keep trying?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Well, even if it’s just ten minutes, it’s still a date, somewhat. And every moment spent with you is worth it.”

Regina’s cheeks tinted pink at that, and you grinned, kissing her cheek before you started cleaning the mess of what used to be your picnic.

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[silentstyx]

hi, I don't know if you're still taking request for out but if you are PLEASE DEAR GOD, HENRY MILLS X READER where reader is super quiet and has rbf but then they get around Henry and just light up like nobody's seen before 🛐🛐

"And You Take Me The Way I Am"

tw! idk regina's kind of a bitch, cussing (a tad), reader pretty much has social anxiety 💀

guys how much aura did i lose when i forgot how i set up my fics bc its been so long... 😭😭 i didnt know how to end it so uh sloppy ending lwk.

You heard people around you as you sat in the booth alone at granny's. Someone you recognized with a black short pixie cut with a warm smile and kind eyes. She offered you to sit with her and her family so you're not alone. You look up at her, looking at her outfit. pink blouse with black leggings. Brown boots since it was getting somewhat chilly outside. You looked her outfit up and down- shit.

You realized that you doing this could give the impression of a dirty look so you just look back to your phone instead. The woman furrowed her brows, somewhat confused as she tilted her head. After a couple of seconds she walked back to her table with a 2 other girls and a guy. One girl with a black bob, the other with blonde long hair- oh no. This was Henry's, your boyfriend, family. They all saw you staring at them and the one with a bob gave you a dirty look as she saw your stare. You realized that you had your brows furrowed and quickly relaxed them. Embarrassed, you just go back to your previous activities on your phone.

You then hear the door jingle, announcing to everyone that someone entered. You heard Red softly tell them 'hey henry', so you look back and immediately smiled. It was more of a subtle smile but better than earlier nonetheless. You got up and walked over to him, mumbling a quiet 'hey'. Usually you'd be louder but you could feel his family glaring at you. You could feel the stares pierce through your back.

Henry smiled back at you then saw his families confused looks and one of his mom's glare. His brows then furrowed as he looked back at you. You gave an awkward smile and replied, "uhm... I met your family, unknowingly...."

He sighs and walks past you, grabbing your hand. He walks to their table, "Moms, grandma, grandpa, this is my girlfriend. [Name]."

The one with a black bob looked you up and down, almost exactly to how you did to the one with a pixie cut. Henry pointed to all of them and told you who they were. Even though you were rude, His grandma still gave you a warm smile, the only one to be kind, once she was introduced. It felt ironic that she was the only nice one.

"Hi.. sorry about the looks, It wasn't meant to be rude..." You explain, shoulders tensed. Henry's hand was still laced with yours.

"What was it meant as then." His mom with black hair replied, he said her name was regina. She wasn't asking a question it sounded like. It was definitely meant to intimidate.

"I was just... observing, I guess? I don't know what it's called but it wasn't ill intended." You explain further, praying that they forgive you.

His grandma gives them all a look, one that says 'its fine'. Regina looked you up and down again then relaxed back into her chair.

"Who's your mom and dad?" His grandpa questions, Henry sighs seeing all of them ready to give his girlfriend a second chance. You guys combined the table and the booth and talked til it was dark.

His family loved you once they got to know you, David said your smile was brighter than Mary Margaret's.

©️ silentstyx please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work with out my permission.

[victoriously-wicked]

OUAT APPRECIATION WEEK 2024

DAY 6- STORYLINE THAT NEVER WAS:

Song: 'Below the Surface' by Griffinilla

THE SPLIT SERUM CAUSED THE EVIL QUEEN TO CONSUME REGINA.

I don't like how the show treated Split!Queen as a separate person. I love Regina SOOOO much, but you can't just remove her evil half and act as if she never did the things she did. Because the fact remains- Regina DID commit the monstrosities she did as The Evil Queen, and that's what makes her redemption so satisfying to watch, because she has genuinely become the best version of herself by the time the show decided to split her in two. So my what-if is this: what if the serum backfired when Snow injected it into Regina? Instead of the darkness being removed from inside her, it begins to take over Regina's body until it is the only thing that remains. But this doesn't mean the good in Regina is gone- it is just buried deep down inside of her, trying to resurface, and struggling immensely. So Regina goes dark, with the serum giving the darkness full control over her. As much as she wants to stop (and she REALLY does want to), Regina is unable to keep herself from falling to the darkness again. As much as they fear for Regina now, the hero squad still love her all the same, and want to find a way to re-ignite the good within her and help bring it back to the surface. However, if the hero squad succeed, this won't just solve everything. If they manage to get her good side to be re-ignited, Regina will still have to overcome the darkness raging within her, and only then will she return to the surface. Overcoming the darkness won't destroy it or The Evil Queen, like what the show tried to do. This will just bury it all deep down, like what happened to Regina and her goodness when the serum took over. She'll have to live with her darkness, but instead of looking at it as something to resent or torture herself with, she revels in knowing that she has come so far since then, and the fact that she will never go down that path again. She has her friends, she has her family, people who love her. And you know what? That's all she ever needed.

[dovesdreaming]

Tides of jealousy

Summary: Peter Pan and the reader have always understood each other but when Wendy Darling arrives on Neverland, bringing her own spark and spirit, Pan finds himself questioning the one thing he thought he had a firm grip on: your heart. (Readers bi and pan gets jealous)

Requested

Masterlist

Neverland was Peter Pan’s domain, a place where he controlled the rules, and everyone answered to him. Every Lost Boy followed his lead, every creature in the forest feared his shadow. And then there was you his equal, his confidant, his partner in crime and affection. Your presence had always kept Pan grounded, the thrill of your shared chaos as intoxicating as it was comforting. Yet there was a part of you that still held onto the world beyond Neverland, a curiosity that Peter both loved and feared. It was that curiosity that had drawn you to Wendy Darling.

She had been brought to Neverland as a bargaining chip, a pawn for Pan’s games. But Wendy was no ordinary pawn; she was clever and compassionate, and it didn’t take long for her to see through Pan’s manipulations. What he hadn’t expected was how quickly she found a place among the Lost Boys, and beside you.

Peter had noticed it from the start: the way your laughter rang louder when Wendy was near, the shared glances, the whispered conversations. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more. The way you seemed to gravitate toward Wendy or the way Wendy looked at you with wide-eyed admiration.

Peters jealousy was at an all time high when the three of you sat around the fire one night, the Lost Boys already dispersed into their huts or fallen asleep on the ground. Wendy sat beside you, her knees pulled to her chest, her face lit warmly by the firelight. Pan leaned back, arms crossed, watching the two of you closely. Wendy’s voice was soft but animated. “I just... I didn’t think Neverland would be like this. There’s so much more life here than I imagined”.

“Life and danger” Pan remarked, his voice more clipped than intended. You nudged him playfully, a gesture that usually softened his mood, but tonight it barely dented the tension knotting his chest.

“It’s both” you agreed with Wendy, your smile warm and genuine. “That’s why it’s amazing”. Wendy’s eyes lingered on you, and Peter saw the glimmer of admiration there. Or was it something more? His fingers dug into his arms, his jaw tightening.

“I could stay here forever” Wendy said quietly, looking at you rather than the island.

The air felt heavy. Peter’s smile faltered, sharpness glinting in his eyes. “Forever’s a long time, Darling. Especially here”. Wendy’s gaze flicked to Pan’s, startled by his tone. She shifted slightly, her shoulders stiffening. You shot Pan a pointed look, a silent reprimand that only stoked the frustration twisting inside him.

Over the next few days, Pan’s unease grew. He saw it in every interaction, Wendy’s shy smile when you taught her how to shoot an arrow, the way you leaned in close to show her how to set a snare, the way you brushed dirt from her cheek with a tenderness that twisted in his gut. When Wendy began to spend more time with the Lost Boys, Pan thought maybe things would return to normal. Instead, you drifted with her, laughing as you showed her around Neverland, while Peter watched from the shadows.

One evening, he found you both by the lagoon, your heads bent close together as you whispered and giggled. The sound dug into him, sharper than a blade. He approached, his presence breaking the moment. Wendy looked up first, her face bright with excitement.

“Peter! We were just talking about exploring the caves tomorrow. Y/N says they’re incredible”. Peter’s eyes flicked to you, but your expression was unreadable. The uncertainty made his throat tight.

“Funny,” he drawled, forcing a smirk. “I thought the caves were our thing, love”.

You stiffened slightly, catching the edge in his voice. “They still are, Pan. We were just talking”.

“Just talking” he echoed, the forced grin not reaching his eyes. “Right”.

Wendy glanced between the two of you, the atmosphere now heavy and uncomfortable. She shifted awkwardly. “Maybe... maybe I should head back”.

“No” you interjected, your gaze locking with Pan’s. “It’s fine, Wendy”. But she was already retreating, her smile awkward and apologetic. Pan watched her go, his chest aching with something ugly and unfamiliar. When you turned to him, your expression was caught between irritation and confusion.

“What is wrong with you?” you demanded.

“What’s wrong with me?” Peter’s voice was sharper than intended. “Maybe I should be asking what’s going on with you and Wendy”.

You blinked, the accusation hanging heavy between you. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on” Pan snapped. “The way she looks at you, the way you look at her. I’m not blind”.

Realization dawned in your eyes, and you scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Are you actually jealous right now?” Pan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The accusation felt too close, too raw. “Wendy and I are friends” you said firmly. “That’s it”.

“But what if it wasn’t?” The question slipped out, a crack in his defenses. “What if she wanted more? What if you did?”

Your eyes softened, the sharpness of your expression fading. “Peter... I'm with you. I love you. And, yes, I'm bi, but that doesn't mean I want everyone who’s kind to me. It doesn’t change what I feel for you”.

The knot in Pan’s chest began to loosen, replaced by a guilty, aching relief. “I just... I see the way she looks at you, and I thought...”

“I care about Wendy” you admitted gently. “She’s amazing. But she’s not you. She doesn’t know me like you do”.

Peter’s gaze fell, the weight of his fear laid bare. “I thought maybe you’d realized I wasn’t enough. That someone else could give you more”.

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his face, tilting his chin up until his eyes met yours. “No one could ever be you, Peter. No one else could ever matter like you do”. For a moment, the tension hung between you, a fragile, vulnerable thing. Then Pan leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath shaky but steadying.

“Sorry I got jealous” he muttered looking at the ground.

You laughed softly, your thumb brushing his cheek. “I forgive you, Pan. Just... trust me, okay?” And for the first time in a long while, Pan let himself do just that.

[wittyandobsessed]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Killian Jones x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | funny fluff, such a teasing pirate.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: 5. "What was I doing in your dream?"

𝐓𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

A gentle knock roused you from sleep, though you barely stirred. Your mind lingered in that hazy place between dreaming and wakefulness, desperately clinging to the remnants of the vision that had held you captive moments before. The sound of the ocean, the taste of salt on your lips, the warmth of a rough hand against your own—all of it slipping away like sand through your fingers.

Another knock, firmer this time.

You groaned, stretching beneath the covers before reluctantly rolling over. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the dream refusing to loosen its grip.

“Come in,” you called groggily, rubbing your eyes.

The door creaked open, and there he was—standing in the dim light of the cabin, his presence as commanding as ever. Captain Killian Jones.

You swallowed, the sight of him sending an unwanted jolt through you. His black leather coat was unbuttoned, revealing the deep red shirt beneath, slightly unlaced at the top. His hook glinted in the candlelight, though his other hand rested on his hip, his expression full of amusement.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, love," he mused, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

You sat up quickly, gripping the blanket like a lifeline. "I—no, it's nothing."

Killian arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "Oh, I very much doubt that." He took another step closer, tilting his head. "You were muttering in your sleep."

Your breath hitched. "I was?"

He nodded. "Quite a lot, actually. And my name came up more than once."

Your eyes widened. Heat flooded your cheeks, and you immediately looked away. Curse him for being so perceptive.

Killian chuckled, moving toward you until he stood at the edge of the bed. "Care to tell me what I was doing in that dream of yours?" His voice was laced with teasing curiosity, but there was something deeper beneath it—something dangerous, something that made your stomach twist.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Absolutely not. There was no way in all the realms you were telling him the truth. That in your dream, his lips had been on yours. That he'd whispered your name against your skin as he pressed you against the mast of his ship. That you'd felt the scrape of his stubble against your cheek as he kissed a trail down your throat, making you shiver.

No, you couldn’t tell him that.

"It was nothing," you lied.

Killian hummed, unconvinced. He reached out, his knuckles brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, the touch so featherlight it made your breath catch. "Lass, you’re a terrible liar."

Your stomach did an unwelcome flip. He was far too close now, his scent—salt, rum, leather—wrapping around you like a spell.

"I dream about a lot of things," you tried again, forcing your voice to stay even. "Doesn’t mean anything."

Killian smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, but I think it does."

You glared at him, crossing your arms. "Are you always this insufferable?"

"Only when I know I’m right," he quipped.

You groaned, flopping back onto the pillow. "Fine. You want to know what you were doing in my dream?"

His smirk widened. "Enlighten me."

You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage you had. Then you turned your head to look at him, eyes narrowing.

"You were swabbing the deck."

Killian blinked. "I was what?"

"Swabbing the deck," you repeated, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. "Muttering to yourself about how you should’ve been the one to peel the potatoes instead."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Clever lass."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You asked."

Killian chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I was, hoping for something a little more…" He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

You ignored the way your pulse quickened. "Disappointed?"

"Not in the least." He leaned down then, close enough that you could see the flecks of ocean blue in his eyes, close enough that his breath ghosted against your lips.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

"But," he murmured, "if you ever do have a… different sort of dream about me, love—" his voice dipped lower, rougher, more dangerous— "I do hope you'll share the details."

Then he pulled back, winked, and strode toward the door, leaving you breathless and cursing him under your breath.

Smug pirate.

And yet, as you lay back against the pillow, heart still racing, you knew the worst part.

You absolutely would be dreaming of him again.

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry