I know this is regularly stated by the fannibal fam, but god fucking damn Mads has some sharp cheekbones, like the sharpest I’ve ever seen, as in sharper than the knife he used to gut Will, they are so Fucking sharp he could fillet me with them and turn me into steak and I’d fucking thank him, I’d feel so fucking blessed to be touched by such glory, wow
Summary – You and
Bucky bond over a shared love for fairy tale endings.
Warnings – Pure
fluff…be warned…it could rot your teeth out!
Word Count – 2,381
Notes – This is a
birthday fic to the beautifully sweet Mariana @buckysberrie. Happy Birthday my dear!! If any of you have ever read one of her fic
reviews, you’ll know how much she loves her inner dialogue. I’ve written her a Bucky fic in this style
before and it turned out really cute! I
hope this one is just as adorable. For
those of you who watch OUAT, I didn’t start with this season…you’ll see why
when you read it! As always, feel free
to leave me any comments or feedback!
Words in italics are
the Reader’s internal dialogue
When the Quinjet touched down on the roof of the Avengers
Compound in Upstate New York, all you could think about was a hot shower,
something to eat, and a Netflix binge of your newest favorite TV show. You and Wanda had been undercover for the
past month and you had just made it the end of Season One of Once Upon a
Time. You were desperate to get caught
up so you could watch the newest season live this fall.
requested by @suuny96 - (thanks for requesting babe! im really sorry that it took so long to post!1! i’ve been backed up by hw :/)
To many, Dallas Winston seemed like an icy glare and a leather jacket - the guy that everyone knew to be outwardly hard, cold and mean. But Dally was yours; you knew that Dal wasn’t as cold as many thought he was. Sure, he had a pretty tough outer shell, but something told you that for as long as you two had been together, Dal had thawed out a little just for you.
He never really liked taking you out, always wanting to stay at his, yours, or very occasionally the Curtises’. Whenever he did take you out, it would usually be because you’d been bringing it up to him. So even though Dal didn’t really like watching movies and would normally fall asleep during the showing, he reluctantly promised to take you out to the moviehouse this time. Having time to kill before the movie had shown, you two stopped by at the DX to bother Steve and Soda.
“Well, Soda! Look who decided to show their faces,”Steve called over at you two, giggling with car grease on his cheek. His voice had made Soda look up from around a car hood.
“Dal, Y/N! What are you two up to over here?” Soda beamed, eyes gleaming as usual.
“We came to see Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Why else?” Dal answered, referring to Steve and Soda.
"Well, It’s good to see ya, but Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee are real busy today, Dal,” Soda said, eyeing the cars beginning to make a line down the driveway. Somehow, even before it got busy, Steve had been trying to work on two cars at once while Soda stood pumping gas. But out of the line of cars that waited for gas, a single car seemed familiar to you. And then it hit you.
You knew exactly whose car that belonged to. You could even make out the despised facial features of the guy in the driver’s seat. It was your ex-boyfriend - the boy who you used to be deathly afraid of, who cheated on you like it was nothing. The boy who Dallas Winston knew absolutely nothing about.
He’d been drumming his fingers on the outside of the car, arm haning out of his rolled-down window. And then the dreaded moment came. He spotted you.
"Y/N, baby? Is that who I’m lookin’ at?” he asked, sarcastically smirking before getting out the car to walk over.
”Baby?” Dally turned around to the guy that had been calling you, his eyebrows furrowed and sat heavily upon his eyes - he was automatically bothered by the guy calling you ‘baby’.
“It is, isn’t it? Well, how’ve you been? Don’t tell me you’re Winston’s girl now,” he laughed, attempting to get under your skin. “C’mon baby, you know you belong to me! You don’t wanna be hangin’ ‘round a hood like him. I still care about you doll. I know you still love me.”
“Alright jackass, back off before I give you a fat lip,” Dally said, almost instinctively stepping in front of you. "Y/N, d'you know who this asshole is?”
“Oh, Y/N never said a thing about me? Funny. It seemed like yesterday that she wanted to go on screamin’ my name.”
“Dal, he’s… this is my ex-boyfriend.” You gently spoke out from behind Dally, grabbing onto his arm for a quick second, your voice real low. “Dal, he was real terrible. I-I mean he used to beat on me and yell… I jus- we should just leave, alright?”
“He what?” Dal turned all the way back towards you.
“C’mon Dal, don’t make a scene.”
“I ain’t makin’ no scene. This jackoff deserves a fuckin’ broken nose,” Dally told you, pointing at your ex. You knew he was annoyed; he didn’t like the way you brushed off something like that. He shifted his gaze back at your ex, a stare long and hard. Dal got close to him, nudging your ex backward with a heavy palm to his shoulder. “And if you know what’s good for you, you oughta shut your mouth and get lost, man.”
Your ex didn’t take this all too well. You knew he didn’t like being shown up - he had some ego on him. “Received loud and clear,” he started, sardonically smiling. “But if you know what’s good for you - boy, you’d do exactly the same, my friend.”
The two glared at each other for quite a bit and your heart hammered in your chest. You did admire that Dal stood up for you, but you just didn’t want fists to fly. It had always irritated you, the way Dally would come home battered and bruised. So, thank god, before anything escalated any further, Soda stepped in, clearly bothered by the commotion while on the job.
“Alright fellas, that’s enough. Lovebirds, you oughta get to the moviehouse before you miss the showing,” Soda said, looking at you and Dal. Then, he looked at your ex. “And you - get gas or get lost, pal.”
At this, Steve sucked his teeth. “Naw, c’mon Soda! I wanted to see a fight. Ain’t seen nothing good all day! How ‘bout you swing by when Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee have break next time?”
“Whatever, man,” Dally brushed it all off and shrugged his shoulders. “C’mon, Y/N.” Dal protectively slung his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him as you both made your way toward the movie house. Something about his face seemed heavy. More grave than the mug he gives to most people. There was something about him… he seemed contemplative, antsy or something - like something was eating at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it. To be fair though, he had never been the easiest person to read.
When you and Dal got there and went to find seats - which happened to always be in the back because of Dally, of course - he never sat down.
“I’ll be right back, alright?” he said. Except he didn’t wait for a response - he just up and left. The bathroom maybe? An uneasy feeling settled in your gut. What was Dallas up to?
In what seemed like a decade, though only actually about 15 minutes, Dal was back in the seat next to you, a big black-and-blue sitting right at his cheekbone.
“God, what happened? Where did you go?”
“Nowhere important, Y/N.”
“Dal, please don’t go on telling me that you went after him.”
“I think it’s a little late for that.”
“Winston, what did you do?”
“Don’t fuckin’ worry ‘bout it. He got that broken nose we were talkin’ ‘bout earlier.”
“You did what?”
Hearing the question, Dally leaned up against you, as if he was getting ready to fall asleep on you. He rested his head on your shoulder.
“Well, he was askin’ for it, wasn’t he?”
a/n: i hope u liked it! it’s kinda hard to write for dally so im sorry if it sucked a lil <3
A/N: I’ve never had to put a warning before for a scenario.. It isn’t too prominent, tbh it’s more hinted than anything, but I just put them as warnings just incase.. So please read with caution if those are sensitive topics! But this was requested by t h e Taeyong stan and lord, it has stretched me out of my comfort zone ngl
Chat stared wide-eyed as Marinette’s trap door closed. Her mother had just dumped so much subtext on him, over the course of the last ten seconds, he wasn’t sure he could dig himself out without a metaphorical excavator.
“I am so sorry about her,” Marinette said, her voice a little higher than usual and her cheeks so very flushed. It was adorable, actually. And she wouldn’t meet his eyes, so there was probably some truth in Sabine’s teasing.
“It’s okay,” he said, surprised he sounded as calm as he did. "You don’t have to be embarrassed.“
"Ugh,” she muttered, pushing past her dress form back to her desk, and pulling open her sketch book. "She’s so nosy, and she… both my parents, they think we’re dating. And she thinks she’s being helpful and funny.“ She rubbed at her eyes in frustration.
Taking a deep breath, Chat set aside his chaotic feelings and pulled up a desk chair beside her. He’d long since learned to compartmentalize his emotions, to hide things when necessary. It wasn’t going to be productive to bring it up right now. He could dwell on it tonight, while Plagg laughed himself sick in the wastepaper basket.
It’s a chilly Monday night in January when John knows.
Not knows, but knows.
Clear as crystal.
They’ve just returned to the flat after a dinner out at Angelo’s (two green salads; a bread basket with dipping oil; Sherlock: pesto gnocchi; John: prawn linguine; a bottle of the second-best dry red Angelo could scrounge up; five bites each of tiramisu plus one extra Sherlock sneaks whilst John is in the gents; and one peppermint that John tucks into the pocket of his cheek as they wait for a cab.)
Back in the sitting room of 221b, Sherlock wings out of his great coat and heaps it over the shambles of what looks like the frayed end of a laptop charger and a laptop curiously missing its screen. John pretends not to notice the cover-up as he digs through the cupboards for the now mostly-empty bottle of Ardbeg Uigeadail that Sherlock had lowered nonchalantly into their mostly-full trolley during a recent spending spree at Waitrose. (Thanks to a client’s generous tip, John had also splurged on not one but two rather posh candles for bathtime. Sherlock, bless his heart, had said nothing and tossed in a packet of Twirl Bites for good measure).
“Want a little?” John gestures with an empty glass.
“A finger.” Sherlock hums, prodding the early burst of flames beneath his hands. A comforting pop shoots sparks up into the dark cool air of the chimney. “Actually give me two fingers.”
John refuses to acknowledge the way the tips of his ears heat.
He pours their shares, spins the cap tightly back on the bottle, and leaves it be on the worktop. Coming over and holding a glass out to Sherlock, he plops down in his chair. “Been thinking more about that cold case.” He lets out a low groan as he readjusts the Union Jack pillow at the small of his back. “It could be argyria.”
“Argyria.” Sherlock’s fingers curl around his glass. He cocks an eyebrow in the way only Sherlock can cock an eyebrow.
“Why not?” John leans forward slightly. “A condition where skin turns an abnormal shade of grey-blue due to prolonged contact with silver salts. Victim worked in manufacturing, something with solar energy stuff.”
“Silver’s used in the photovoltaic conductive ink–”
“–which he produced, didn’t he?”
They stare at each other for a moment. A curve of a smile teases the corner of Sherlock’s mouth. “Well done, John.”
“I’m certain that’s what it is.” John moves to set his glass down on the small table next to his chair. The fire crackles pleasantly at his feet. Sherlock’s eyes crinkle as he lets the smile blossom fully into his features, a slight flush from the warmth of the room colouring high on his cheekbones.
God, you’re beautiful, John thinks.
“I’ll phone Lestrade tomorrow,” Sherlock nods. Crosses then uncrosses his ankles.
“No, I’m…rather certain.” Sherlock means to glance at the fireplace, John thinks, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t look anywhere but at John’s face. Then his gaze instead flickers to John’s mouth before circling back up.
“I’m quite certain too.” John says a hint too loudly as his grin drops fondness into the well-worn lines round his eyes.
He feels alive. Purely, unabashedly happy and alive.
“You’ve mentioned.” Sherlock lets his knees bounce apart as he eases his bum down further in his chair. A floppy curl breaks free from its twin to grace his forehead as he ducks his chin down to his chest, the whisky rolling amber and loose in the glass still in his hand.
“Have I done?” John nearly whispers. He feels magnetised, unable to look away.
God, you’re incredibly beautiful, he thinks again.
“Yes.” Sherlock’s voice is a low rumble. He winks.
We’re…flirting. And I think he knows.
I know too.
John doesn’t feel afraid.
“There’s a few other things I’m certain of.” The fire snaps a punctuation of sparks in-between his words. “For example,” he feels his tongue dip out between his lips, wetting them, which catches Sherlock’s gaze again, “I’m certain that Angelo brought out that bottle because you asked him to.”
Sherlock nods again, conceding silently, as his eyes flick back up to John’s.
“I’m certain that you already researched the argyria diagnosis and told Lestrade about it.”
Sherlock starts to shake his head, but stops when John raises both eyebrows. Gracefully he shifts into a gentle nod and lets his legs drift even further apart.
“I’m certain that tonight at dinner… It was nice. I liked it, being there with you.” John says. “In a way I didn’t want it to end.”
“I did.” Sherlock never fails to surprise in the least surprising ways.
The thing is, John knows better now. “You did?”
“Oh I’m certain.” A soft smile. “I like this quite a bit more than eating pesto gnocchi in public.”
“Hmm.” John expects for his heart to burst out through his ribs, or for his palms to be sweating, or for his breath to be high and tight and shaky but he feels none of those things, none at all. “Come to think of it, I guess I did too.”
Sherlock asks him the question he’s been waiting for. “Why?”
The moment is perfectly ordinary in the most extraordinary way. Sat in their chairs, fire burning, together, at home.
“Because I was certain of another thing.” John feels a long awaited dawning deep in his core. “I was certain that I wanted to come back here and ask if I could kiss you.”
He waits, searching Sherlock’s face.
It’s the best first kiss John’s ever had.
The two glasses of whisky sit, all but forgotten, until John tips them down the sink four days later with a pair of cupid bow lips pressed against the back of his neck, soft and warm just along the edge of his hairline.
Please, any character you write for with #69 from your list
why certainly, nonny! 🕷️💋
Prompt 69: “You’re really soft.”
You smiled to yourself as you entered the den, spotting Sherlock seated, eyes closed, in his chair. You made your way over to him and set the mug down on the table next to him.
He let out a noise, one you assumed to be of acknowledgement, but did not move. You kept your eyes on him, inspecting his features further. He seemed so peaceful when he was thinking. His steady breathing, the way his pale skin contrasted against his dark hair, and oh god, those cheekbones.
You forced your eyes away from him and towards the fireplace.
“Do you need something?” his voice was quieter than usual.
“Hm? Oh, no, I was just, uh…Looking. At the…Stuff,” you picked up a piece of paper and pretended to read before turning to Sherlock, expecting him to give you that classic Do you know who you’re talking to? Do you think I’m stupid? look. But he didn’t. He still hadn’t even opened his eyes. You let out an almost silent sigh and dropped the paper back to it’s place and then took a seat in John’s chair.
“How’s the stuff?” Sherlock smirks, finally opening his eyes. He leans back and picks up his drink.
“Oh, you know,” you raise your eyebrows and attempt a pleasant, yet obviously fake voice, “Object-y. Very stuff-like. Extremely similar to - but not to be confused with - things. Two very different subjects, you know. Different categories.”
Sherlock let out one of his rare (yet surprisingly genuine) chuckles. The sound sent a shock of warmth through you and you couldn’t help but smile along with him.
“So, what were you thinking about?”
He took a sip of his tea before answering, “Oh, you know, stuff.”
“I know. It was a serious answer,” he smirked again as he set down the mug.
You crossed your arms in a pout, but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice. He closed his eyes again and folded his hands - Well, there goes any continuity of that conversation.
You went on with your day, doing various chores around the flat; God only knows who would get them done if not for you.
Exhausted, you sat to take a break and again inspected Sherlock through drooping eyelids.
Something about him was so intriguing, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, probably because it was so many different things, and probably because your brain refused to put in any effort due to fatigue.
There was one particular feature that caught your current attention, however.
His hair sat so perfectly upon his face, the curls just long enough to move with each of his movements. They seemed so soft, so…inviting. Not that you hadn’t run your hands through them before, in fact many a time you had, both absentmindedly and intentionally, not that Sherlock minded, and, depending on the situation, he even seemed to enjoy it.
You got up from your chair and made your way towards him, completely mesmerized.
He didn’t seem to notice your presence until you ran a hand through his curls. At the touch, his eyes flew open.
“What are you doing?”
“Your hair is really soft.”
“Like, really soft.”
“You seem tired.”
“I am,” you sat suddenly on his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, your hand still entangled in his hair.
He seemed surprised at first, though having faced the situation enough, he did not argue and instead placed a hand on your lower back for support, the other resting on your thigh.
“It’s just, like…I don’t get it. How do you get it that soft? It’s so -”
“Soft, yes, you’ve mentioned.”
You hummed in contentment, “Yeah. That. All the better for pulling, and stuff,” you weakly attempted to tighten your grasp and pressed a kiss to his neck (for the implication, of course), and you could hear his breath quicken slightly as he shifted uncomfortably, though his hold on you did strengthen slightly.
“I’m only joking,” you giggle.
“Well, I’m…glad you like it, at least,” his voice was low.
under the cut you will find #80 gifs of my flawless filipina prinsesa cleo lazuli – best known for her highlighted to the Gods™ cheekbones & popular online presence !! hunt was requested by me. all the gifs were created, cropped, and edited by me so i’d appreciate if you didn’t edit or add these gifs into any other future gif hunts without asking me first. i will update when more resources become available ! please like/reblog if you use these gifs & found this helpful.
Below are some random After Story scenes to The Donor Story
They’re not necessary, but I thought they were really cute and funny, so I’m sharing them with you all :> Enjoy~
Scene 1: Inside (and Out)
*Faris recuperates after a few hours of rest. With enough
alertness, he and Yousra decide to make an announcement to the others*
Faris: Everyone.. there’s something I need to tell you, especially
to you, Papyrus.
Papyrus: *blinks and looks around, then tilts his head, pointing
to himself* Eh?
Faris: You remember when I left in a hurry before the transplant?
Papyrus: Ah, yes. You left to tell Yousra about it.
Faris: That was.. only part of the reason. The other reason was
because.. I.. sort of proposed to her.
Papyrus: Oh my god, what?? You did??!
Papyrus: *looks at Yousra* And you said yes??
*Yousra gives a nod. She’s a little embarrassed of the attention directed
Papyrus: *hands on cheekbones* OH MY GOD!! *he dashes over to the
two and shakes both their hands vigorously* Congratulations! I am so happy for
you two!! *he then takes a look at Yousra’s left hand, turning it over when he doesn’t
find what he’s looking for* Ah.. Eh.. Where is it?
Yousra: Where’s what?
Papyrus: The ring! Faris was supposed to give you a ring when he
proposed to you!
Faris: Why would I need to do that? Aren’t there rings exchanged
at a marital ceremony?
Alphys: Those are considered wedding bonds. An engagement ring is a pledge to a future
life together in matrimony.
Papyrus: Also, it lets others know about your engagement so they
can congratulate you!
Faris: That’s a little embarrassing…
Alphys: But why of all days (or nights, I should say), did you
propose right before the transplant?
Faris: I… *looks down, ashamed* I didn’t know when would be the
perfect time to ask. I tried to ask once before, but I was cut short.. When you
two told me about the donor, I had to know for sure if Yousra would stay by my
side, even if I was somebody else.
Alphys: But despite it all, she still loves you, right? It doesn’t
matter how you may look as long as you’re still you. It is the inside that
Faris: Yeah.. *he looks at Yousra and clasps her hand* I know that
Papyrus: But I must say, your good looks is an added bonus! *gives
a wink and thumbs up*
Faris: *stares vacantly*
Yousra: *face reddens up* Papyrus, why…
Papyrus: Am I wrong..?
Scene 2: Giving The Talk
*Faris’ health continues to improve. He’s about ready to be discharged
from the hospital, but Alphys needs to take a look at his soul to be sure it’s in
good condition before he can go*
Faris: So when can I get out of here..?
Alphys: Eager, are we? I-I don’t blame you.. Staying in the
hospital for several hours can make a patient stir-crazy, but I’m afraid you’ll
have to remain here just a bit longer. I-It’s recommended that I take a look at
your soul. There’s also some important matter we need to discuss concerning
your new body.
Faris: *sigh* Fine..
*Alphys comes over to examine his new soul. The core of the soul
is occupied by darkness that is Faris’ fragment. Andrew had allowed the
fragment to spread throughout, giving Faris full access to the body. Only the outer
wall of the soul remains untainted by darkness, glowing in orange, green and
blue which were once the representation of Andrew’s character. It now serves as
a shell to help carry Faris’ fragment*
Alphys: That’s incredible…
Faris: How does it look?
Alphys: Mm… Looks good to me~ *his soul disappears when she’s
finished looking it over, and she straightens up* Now Faris.. *she takes off
her bifocals* s-since you are a monster now living in a human body, there are
some things you need to consider. Normally a human body will continue to go
through physical change as they age. Y-You’re aware already that monsters stop
aging when the spiritual link to both parents is severed, but can resume aging
once their link is reestablished to their children. You are a hybrid of the
two, s-so I’m not sure yet if you will be aging regularly like a human or not.
I’ll be assigning you to regular checkups to see if anything has changed.
Alphys: There is also a thing that humans experience called digestion. When
humans ingest food, it goes through a process of absorption and elimination.
Whatever waste is collected inside the system is flushed out.
Faris: Okay you don’t need to give me the details.
Alphys: *smiles awkwardly* S-Sorry. I know it’s an embarrassing
subject, but in this case, you won’t need to worry about any of that.
Apparently, everything you consume is absorbed and converted into energy. It
works similarly to a monster. Lucky you~
Faris: Eh… *he seems bothered by that comment*
Alphys: While we’re on topic about human body functions.. There’s
something I’d like you to do for me.
Faris: I’m afraid to ask..
Alphys: I-It’s just a little homework assignment.. Can you read?
Alphys: Good~ *she leaves the room a moment, then returns with a
stack of books. They look very much like textbooks you’d find in a school. She
wheels around a tray table and sets the books on top in front of Faris* Then I’d
like you to read into these books.
Faris: All of them??
Alphys: It’s not much. You only need to read the essentials *she
leans in and whispers* I highlighted them for you~
Faris: Uh huh… *stares at the stack of books. He couldn’t believe
Alphys would spend so much time reading them from front to back, marking all
the ‘important’ information* So what exactly are they about?
Alphys: Mm let’s see *she lists them one by one as she holds up
each book* There’s human anatomy, human behavior, health and wellness, sex
Faris: Is this all really necessary..?
Alphys: Yes. Since you are now technically human, it’s important to
familiarize yourself with the way the human body function.
Faris: *grunts and falls back into his pillow, rolling his eyes up*
I think I pretty much have an idea how the human body works, thank you…
Scene 3: A Pair of Buns
*after that awkward talk with Alphys, Faris can now get ready to
leave the hospital. She brought out a pile of folded clothes from storage and
placed them out on the other medical bed then left. Papyrus stepped in to check
Papyrus: So how was the checkup?
Faris: Fine, I suppose *he sits up* Can you take care of these..
books for me?
Papyrus: Eh..? *he goes over and picks up the first book titled
Human Anatomy* What are these for?
Faris: Learning.. apparently.. I wouldn’t look in them if I were
Papyrus: Why? It’s got pictures of skeletons in them! *is skimming
through the anatomy book* Do you think that we could possibly be related to the
humans? I mean, they have bones inside, and Sans and I are Skeletons.
Faris: Hm.. *he ponders on it as he goes over to check out the
clothes that Alphys put on the other bed. They used to belong to Andrew. He
holds up the striped long sleeve* ..Eehh..
Papyrus: *glances up* What’s wrong?
Faris: ..Is it possible if we stop somewhere and get some new outfits?
Papyrus: Why? Is there something wrong with those?
Faris: They’re fine, but they belonged to Andrew, and striped shirts aren’t
really my style.. It’d be nice to have some clothes of my own.
Papyrus: Oooh.. *taps his mandible* I know someone who has a taste
for fashion. Maybe he can help us find some clothes for you!
Faris: That’d be great actually.
*the door then slides open, and Yousra steps into the room
carrying a tray of snacks she got out of the café*
Yousra: Faris, I got you some sna- *she suddenly freezes. The
first thing she sees is Faris still in his hospital gown with his back to her.
Between the openings of the gown, she catches a glimpse of his bare backside.
Her face steams up, and she drops the tray to cover up her cheeks*
*both Faris and Papyrus look up to the sound of the tray crashing
to the floor and turn around*
Faris: Yousra? What happened..?
Papyrus: Wowie, your whole face is red. Are you sick??
*Yousra quickly spins herself around, facing away from the two*
Yousra: I-I’m fine *internally screams* Are you telling me he was wearing nothing beneath that thing the entire
time he was awake??!!
Papyrus: … *glances at Faris* Maybe she needs to be admitted to
the hospital this time.