the malice of his reply

anonymous asked:

Just as hook is about to kill the queen with the sword, Emma walks in front of her and gets stabbed

Thanks for the prompt :) 

The first thing she hears is a scream. Her name piercing through the air as twin voices call to her. 

“Swan, why would you do this?!” Hook asks dropping his sword in disgust. He was aiming for the Queen but Emma stepped in the way. 

Emma looks up at him seeing the malice and shock in his eyes as she replies, “I told you we weren’t killing her. Why didn’t you listen to me?” 

“She’s dangerous Swan.” 

Emma looks from him to where twin copies of Regina stand staring at her in shock, fear and distress. “She’s not the danger today. I told you she’s not dying…instead of listening you put my entire family at risk, Regina included.” 

“Swan I…”

Emma groans falling to the ground from pain. He moves to touch her but she pushes him away, only smiling when two brunettes sit either side of her. 

“Idiot!” snarls the Queen, “He couldn’t have killed me!” 

“I couldn’t take the risk,” Emma replies as Regina begins hovering her hands over the wound. 

“I need your help,” Regina says looking pleadingly at her other half who nods before joining her in the healing magic. 

Emma winces feeling a sharp tug of pain before the magic begins to work. Regina shakes her head at her, “Why did you do that Emma?” 

Emma smiles up at her lifting her hand to brush against Regina’s as she replies, “I promised you you weren’t dying.”

“That was years ago.” 

Emma nods, “But it’s still true…and I’m never going to break it.” 

Hello, lovely! I would love to get a Klaus x reader based on the one line prompt “Would I still be cute if I stabbed you in the throat?”

(Sorry this is really short! Had no inspiration)

You perched on the bar stool in the grill, sipping your drink slowly. A quick glance around told you that again, you were alone. Or at least alone in the sense that none of your friends were around, which was nothing new these days. Before long you had finished your drink, and were just about to order another, when someone slid onto the seat beside you. 

“I’ll have what she’s having,” said the man to the bartender. You reluctantly glanced up from your drink to determine exactly who it was who had sat down beside you, though you had a pretty good idea. 

“Klaus,” you stated with a groan.

“Y/N. Lovely to see you too,” he drawled in reply. “What have I done to deserve that kind of greeting?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe terrorize the whole town?” Your tone was bored, sarcastic, and maybe the slightest bit flirtatious. Klaus merely smiled in response to your comment.

“I haven’t harmed you personally though, have I love.”
“Not yet you haven’t. I assume it’s only a matter of time.”

Klaus chuckled, reaching for his drink as it was brought over by the bartender. “You interest me, Y/N. How do people in this country put it? I think ‘you’re cute’?”, he teased you.

“Would I still be cute if I stabbed you in the throat?” You turned to him with raised eyebrows as you spoke, malice in your tone. 

“Easy tiger,” replied Klaus, holding his hands up in mock defence. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
“Oh, I do. Don’t worry,” you replied, before draining your drink and standing up to leave the bar.

uneventful pynch fluff

It was still the middle of the night when Adam tumbled awake, panting heavily, his palms cold and sweaty. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and a moment longer for his thoughts. He relaxed, and melted back into the soft bed sheets. Cabeswater was no long slowly unravelling out of existence. He was safe, Ronan was safe, Gansey was safe. Noah was gone, but the pain wasn’t splintering, just a soft, dull ache. Noah had always been gone, really.

Adam’s hand fumbled with the bedside table, and a light flickered on. He stood up, careful not to bang his head on the low ceiling, and padded out into the hallway. The orb of light bounced happily after him, illuminating his path. He ducked into the kitchen, and flicked the light on.

Ronan was already in there, nestled comfortably on the worktop, studying his newest dream-creation. His dark lashes were low over his eyes as he examined the intricate clockwork of the - well, Adam didn’t know what it was.
“The fuck-” he began, and Ronan started.
“Shit,” he hissed as the device closed around his finger. He pulled it off and dropped it carelessly on the counter. “You creep,” he grumbled, but without malice. He pushed himself off, and approached Adam. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Adam replied, his eyes on Ronan’s hands. He could spend hours tracing each delicate vein from elbow to fingertip, catalogue each scar. He didn’t realise his eyes had drifted to the floor until Ronan reached up and cupped his chin.
“Fuck. I love your eyes. I love you,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss him.

moriellly  asked:

Sorry friend but I'm gonna need a happier follow up to the sprace meds story pls (when you have the time of course)

I think this was the fic you’re referring to? At least I hope so, because that’s what I did…

Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy!

Race had put Spot in his own bed. He didn’t have his key to Spot’s apartment anymore so he’d taken him back to his, close to putting Spot on the sofa. But Spot was ill – it wasn’t fair to leave him on the uncomfortable couch with just a blanket and a spare pillow. So he half dragged, half carried Spot to the bed and pulled the duvet over him, unable to stop himself from brushing Spot’s hair off his forehead.

Seeing Spot in his bed brought back too many memories. Lazy afternoons and hot nights and cold early mornings when getting up was torture. He instantly wanted to climb into bed beside him and curl up against his chest, but he wasn’t allowed. They didn’t do that anymore. And Spot was ill and barely conscious – hardly in the right frame of mind to consent to anything. So he left his ex-boyfriend alone in his bed and sat on the sofa by himself and aimlessly watched Netflix, the irony of the situation not lost on him.


When Spot woke up he was still muggy and ill, but not high on medication anymore. He stretched out, enjoying the familiar comfort of Race’s sheets. Until he realised that this was Race’s bed he was in, and he knew he’d lost that privilege months ago. He was quick to leave the room, not liking how he didn’t feel like he belonged there anymore, and head out into the rest of the apartment. Race was sat on the sofa, his head in his hands. When he heard Spot’s cough he started and climbed nervously to his feet.

Neither of them wanted to speak first, not knowing what they were allowed to say. Eventually Spot broke the silence.

“I don’t remember a lot of what happened,” he admitted, rubbing his arms with the palms of his hands to have something to focus on, “but I’m sorry they called you. I never changed my emergency contacts and… yeah.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. It wasn’t I still love you and I’m sorry it ended and changing that contact would feel too much like losing you forever and I don’t want that.

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anonymous asked:

STEREK : Stiles & Derek being married and the proud parents of two beautiful, young girls : Claudia & Talia <3<3 PS : Derek with mustache & Stiles suffering from stubble burn *o*

I love it! Two of you asked for mustached Derek!!


Derek drags himself out of bed that morning and finds Stiles staring into the bathroom mirror, neck twisting and arching, brows furrowed in a small frown.

Derek follows his gaze and finds himself smirking at the pink, stubble-raw skin. His husband catches his expression in the mirror and makes a face.

“Not funny, dude. This is about reason three-hundred and forty-two why you need to get rid of that thing like four years ago.”

It’s a long-running debate between them and Derek just grins, stepping up behind Stiles and wrapping arms around his bare waist, kissing soft and slow against he tender skin.

“You used to love my stubble burn. Used to walk into pack meetings flaunting it, wearing those shirts with the extra-wide V-necks after I marked you up the night before.”

Stiles lets himself sink back against Derek, their bodies melting together in a way that’s casual and familiar as much as it is intoxicating.

“Yeah, but that’s before I was expected to be a respectable member of society. The kids keep asking if I have allergies, Derek, and at least half the parents totally know.”

Derek comes up from his neck long enough to murmur: “And are probably jealous.”

“Oh, I’ve got a picture of us on my desk, you can be sure they’re jealous.”

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Coffee, Coffee, Coffee!

I’ve been sitting on this story for months now, writing and rewriting the end and I’ve had it! Here! *throws it at all my wonderful followers* Enjoy!


Cup 1.

The first cup always tasted the best. It had the richest flavor, the most robust aroma, and hit the spot the second it passed between her lips and splashed down her throat.

“Mmm…” That was the tiny noise she’d make as she sat down at her desk and pursed her lips to make sure her lipstick hadn’t rubbed off unevenly.

Oliver always brought her the best coffee in the morning, and she appreciated him for that. It always made her feel better knowing she was valued by her boss for all the work she put into not only the company, but their missions as well. Who knew all it would take was a good cup of coffee in the morning delivered by her gorgeous partner in crime?

Felicity set off to work, putting together reports and files for his various meetings throughout the day and answering the phone whenever it rang. As much as she hated the tedious stuff, she knew once it was over, she’d get to do what she did best: hack.

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