his voice though his voice i cannot

Throat theory.

I always thought that going for the throat was quite a bold choice on Antis behalf. He hadn’t REALLY gestured to the throat until ‘say goodbye’ (gun to the head on other occasions instead) and then he sliced it.

Anti, even though he is brash, is not stupid. Even though Dark seems to be more calculated, Anti might match him, if this theory is correct.

What is Jack on youtube. The ‘screaming Irish man’ Without his voice, the filter for his energy as he cannot move a lot, Jacksepticeye is much smaller than he is. And without his voice, hell, you couldn’t tell that he was irish. What is Jack without a voice?

Man. Just a man.

And that is much easier to defeat.

I had this theory a while back, and now he’s gone for the throat/voice-box again…

One COULD argue that it was the same time but it obviously isn’t. He recognizes his so called ‘replacement’ Dark, a phenomenon that occurred AFTER Halloween. Why go for the throat again?


Undertale, Night In the Woods, etc. Jacks voice impressions win over the hearts of fans, proved with his Flowey and Papyrus being recognized for voices all through the fandom. Its his strong suit, he prides in it.

Take that pride away.

Take the title away.

Take his persona away.

And Jack is suddenly Sean, and Sean is way easier to take control of, when he doesn’t have all he knows.

Plus, with his throat slit?

He can’t even scream.

(If jack sees this and it WASNT the idea, you are encouraged to adopt this mentality)

Originally posted by markfangirl

Originally posted by dork-iplier

anonymous asked:

What if for langst: Narti controlling lance during a mission and forcing him to tell the others things he didn't want to reveal

I love Narti controlling the Paladins so much? Thanks for the prompt!

Self Harm TW

The battle was at a close. Most of the soldiers were either retreating or being decimated by Voltron. Lance quietly took out Galra after Galra from his nest, and he was about to tell the others he was coming down when he felt it. The cold brush of someone’s hand against his neck. Immediately, his body tensed and relaxed, his gun dropping to the ground far below. 

Lance could faintly hear the sound of his teammates asking if he was okay via the comms, but he couldn’t answer. It was as if he had been pulled not out of his body but inwards, so far inwards that everything was dark, save what he could still see of the world outside through a small opening in the dark cage so very far away. 

It was then that Lance realized how absolutely silent everything was. Silent, dark, and lifeless. He pushed forward, but his steps were staggered and he sunk to the dark, reflective floor of this prison. He couldn’t speak, Lance realized. When he opened his mouth, the silence crushed the words he tried to create. He screamed, or he tried to, as he saw himself walk closer to his friends. He could hear nothing, but somehow he understood what they were saying.

Somehow, he didn’t care about what they were saying. The silence around him destroyed him, his emotions gone. Everything was gone, save that tiny view of him and the Paladins.

Well, well. We finally meet. He said, his voice in Lance’s mind hollow and dry. His voice did nothing to quench the unbearable silence that crushed him, and he clawed at his throat, desperately trying to release the scream that was only pulled further away from the air.

I cannot say this invaluable shell would be worth much to any cause, aside from his wonderful weaponry skills. Though I assume you don’t address the crippling insecurities and depression that his weak mind drags him through. Narti said, and Lance vaguely felt horrified that his depression had been revealed to the others. His scream rose higher in his throat, and he pushed himself upwards, limbs trembling under the weight of the silence.

Lance, it’s me, Keith! Lance, if you’re in there, please, fight this! The echo of Keith’s voice in Lance’s mind filled Lance with a sort of dread. His friends could do nothing for him. Their shocked and mildly horrified faces were filled with the knowledge that they indeed couldn’t do anything for him. All of them were shocked, save Keith, who was desperately being held back by Shiro. Lance’s body lifted up a knife he didn’t realize he had been holding and touched his throat.

Mmm, this action isn’t new for Lance on any level. Too bad. Narti shrugged, the sting of the knife reflecting against Lance. His limbs struggled against the bleak silence that wrapped around him as he shoved himself to his feet. The silence seemed to pause for a moment, and he reached out, clawing at the speck of light in the distance. 

“Lance?” Keith screamed, his words piercing the silence like the most beautiful melody Lance had ever heard as he clawed towards the light. The silence crashed down around him, but he was out. He was free.

“Lance..” Shiro began when the Red Paladin had finally calmed down. He seemed to flinch at his name, and Shiro paused for a moment. “What Narti said when she was controlling you.. Did you hear any of that?” 

Lance looked away. Of course they would remember Narti telling them about his worst fears. Of course she told him about it. Panic seized him as he realized that they knew. All of them, every single one of the Paladins knew about it. About the depression, about the cutting. He backed up, the panic overwhelming as he took in the concerned faces of his friends. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

So he ran.

It ends a bit abruptly, and it’s a bit weird but hey! If I were to elaborate on the prompt Lance probably wouldn’t be able to take silence anymore, so he always is talking or listening to music, and when Keith confronts him about it, annoyed, he breaks down cuz he still has nightmares about the silence overwhelming him. On that lovely note, thanks again for the prompt! I hope you liked it!

|Part 2|

An Agent of Fen’Harel

An ever-so-slightly NSFW Dragon Age Fic | Cullen x Solas x f!Trevelyan | Read it on A03

Cullen stares at the report in his hand, breathing hard. Eyes unfocused. He’s standing — somehow — but the room still tilts wildly beneath his feet. Every word on the page an inconsequential blur, save for those five little letters.


It has been nearly two years since he’s seen that name in a report.

There had been a time, when, for nearly three months, that name had crossed his desk every day. A small footnote at the end of the every consolidated report from the Inquisition’s network of scouts. No sign of Solas.

Every day, passing with no answer.

Every day, pretending it didn’t matter.

Every night, with Trevelyan crying herself to sleep in his arms.

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anonymous asked:

jonsa, 10.

10. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

Jon had sat so long at the writing desk in his study that he did not realise the sun had fallen so low below the horizon until he could no longer see the pages spread across the desk before him. At first he thought his eyes were merely fatigued after so long staring down at the parchments and scrolls he had begun to draft, but as he looked around he found darkness settling passed the open windows of his balcony. 

“Still working?” a voice called, piercing the gathering darkness like a sudden ray of bright light. 

Jon crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, a familiar pop in his back showing he had sat too long at his desk. “Unfortunately.” He managed. “I would much rather be doting upon my darling wife.”

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singing headcanons

since, y’know, a whole bunch of elves were famed for their voices…

fingon: holy fuck, the guy has pipes. has a Big voice, powerful, puts a lot of energy behind it. soulful. modern!fingon probably really likes blues and soul.

maedhros: can carry a tune decently, but his timing is always the tiniest bit off. his voice is kind of hoarse. modern!maedhros can do that rough, whispery bon iver falsetto like nobody can

maglor: is not called the mighty singer for nothing. has a ridiculous vocal range, a whole lot of emotion and a surprising amount of control. his voice is smooth and clear, but has a bit of grit to it in places. modern!maglor could have a career in musical theatre if he wanted, but naturally would rather make mournful folk music

turgon: cannot. sing. for shit. modern!turgon really likes jazz, though

haleth: (is not an elf, but i don’t care) fuckin’ aretha franklin powerhouse. that is all.

glorfindel: if you thought maglor was broadway incarnate, you haven’t met this guy. when he sings, he over-acts, making all of the exaggerated gestures and ridiculous facial expressions. if you can get him to take himself seriously, he’s actually very good, but good luck with that. modern!glorfindel definitely belts out bruno mars or something in the shower

ecthelion: vocal acrobatics like whoa. modern!ecthelion is the bohemian rhapsody king

bonus curufin: has a surprisingly high voice, and an impressive lung capacity to boot. guy could do opera, assuming he would be caught dead doing so

Marital Bliss

This is part of my Drabble Game and is written for the amazing @fading-ruins

Prompts: “In our entire relationship, have you ever told me the truth?” and “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”



You nearly growled at your husband as you sat just to the side of him. His hand had already crumpled the parchment though he had barely looked at it and you were want to rip it out and force him to read it closer. Instead you bit your tongue and listened as his deep voice carried through the air, though it did nothing to calm your ire.

“It is completely out of question,” He dropped the paper and swept the air with his fingers, “Let’s not waste valuable council time on–”

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Tuesday Fic Rec #16 (Angst)

Seized by fear by iantosgal | stiles/derek | t | 6k

Derek was saved from the conversation as his phone began to ring insistently in his pocket. He fished it out and checked the caller ID. He frowned slightly when he saw it said Home. Stiles didn’t normally call him at work.

“Hey Stiles, everything ok?”


“Caleb? What’s up kiddo?”

“Papa fell down.”

Derek felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart thud in his chest.

“What do you mean he fell down?” Out of the corner of his eyes, Derek saw Boyd look up, his face etched with concern.

“Daddy, he’s shaking.”

My heart y’all. Human AU Stiles and Derek are coparenting, happily married and Stiles has a health scare. 

In the Summer of his Years by starr_falling | stiles/derek | m | 31.4k

After months of non-stop supernatural excitement and danger, everything has gone quiet. The Alpha Pack hasn’t made a move, Stiles has barely seen Scott since summer started, and there’s only so much research even he can do.

So when Stiles finds an old chest containing a strange fur and a journal written by his mother, he’s intrigued. But the more he reads, the more he realizes how little he really knew about her. The further he delves into her past, the less he’s certain he wants to know the secrets she’d hidden. Secrets that make him question his own identity.

Oh boy this one has Sterek trusting each other, Stiles as a supernatural creature, Stiles learning about his mom. I love it so much. 

que tu m’aimais encore by magneticwave | stiles/derek | t | 19.9k

Wolves mate for life, don’t they?

Yikes this is so beautiful. It hurts my heart in all the best ways. Stiles refuses to give up, Derek just doesn’t understand what’s happened to his life. 

Going Home (series) by ishipthat | stiles/derek | nr / t | 4.4k 

In the aftermath of the nogitsune, Stiles decides to leave Beacon Hills and all of his friends behind him. But years later his plane catches fire, and he only has a few minutes left to live. He makes one last phone call before going down.

Ooh the pain. So thankful the author posted a part two for this story. Stiles has to leave BH as penance. When he faces death (again) he changes his mind though.

Family Don’t End With Blood by TheRighteousMan (FullmetalFlameElric) | stiles/derek | g | 1.7k | 

After a case, Stiles has to say goodbye to the little girl that stole his heart. Derek just wants to see him smile again.

It’s short and so sweet and makes me want to write all the FBI partners fic. 

and i can easily understand, how easily you could take my man by bleep0bleep // @bleep0bleep | stiles/derek | t | 1.9k | 

“Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain, and I cannot compete with you, Jordan…”

The voice drifts along the hallway of the loft building, a clear tenor that’s rich with sorrow. Stiles stops in his tracks, is that…Derek? Singing a country song, twangs and all. It sounds good though. He must be still drunk, he’s not even getting the song right.

This fic is just so cute with pining Derek getting jealous of Jordan. And Stiles swoops in and sets him straight. 

briellasophia  asked:

hi there chris, i was wondering if you have any failwolf!derek recs?? much love and appreciation! xx

Hey :)

Oh yes! So many fics of derek being ridiculous :p

A Crumpled Bouquet of Pink Flowers by  Vendelin | 2.4K

Derek passive-aggressively courts Stiles

You Had Me At Latte Batman by  Hatteress (goddammitstacey) | 2.1K

The one where Derek’s a barista who accidentally woos Stiles with latte art.

Spin Cycle by  ladyblahblah | 2K

“Stiles leaves his red sweatshirt in the washer and turns all of Derek’s underwear pink.
A romantic comedy ensues.”

all you’re giving me is friction by  drunktuesdays | 4.7K

Stiles is Alpha bait.

total system failure by  HalfFizzbin | 3.4K

In which Stiles is the world’s most inappropriate entrepreneur, Erica is a menace, and Derek is terrible at his job no matter how hard he tries.

Truth or Dare by  violentcrumbles | 8.7K

Derek can’t tell the truth. At all. It’s funny until it isn’t.

The Wonderful World of Woo by  p1013 | 3.4K

Sometime during Stiles’ sophomore year of college, Derek starts dating.

To say it’s an abject failure would be putting it mildly.

Fang-On by  WhoNatural | 2.6K

As a teenager, Derek had this… problem. When he got, well, ‘excited’, it’d show. Pretty obviously. Much to Laura’s amusement.

He’d think it was a thing of the past, except it’s Prom Night, and Stiles is wearing these pants…

Highway Unicorn by  Nanoochka | 5.2K

Stiles is awesome at giving road head. Presumably, he’s good at getting it as well. Derek? Not so much.

Bogarted by  HalfFizzbin | 3.1K

Derek’s hit with a Film Noir curse, which forces him to narrate his own life in luridly-detailed prose.

Aversion Therapy by  entanglednow | 12.8K

If Stiles had had more than a second to think about it, he probably would have remembered that his spur of the moment ideas weren’t always his best ones.

and i can easily understand, how easily you could take my man by bleep0bleep | 1.9K

“Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain, and I cannot compete with you, Jordan…”

The voice drifts along the hallway of the loft building, a clear tenor that’s rich with sorrow. Stiles stops in his tracks, is that…Derek? Singing a country song, twangs and all. It sounds good though. He must be still drunk, he’s not even getting the song right.

There Is Life In Me Yet

A small ficlet about Jamie and Wee Ian inside the wardrobe, just after Ian’s birth. 

All my other fics can be found here.

He hunched over in the small wardrobe, panic racing through every nerve as he cradled the wee babe to his chest, feeling the fragile warmth seep into his skin. How long had it been since he had held an infant so? Granted, he had always had a moment to hold Jenny’s bairns. He loved his role as ‘nunkie’, but his time with the family was so very limited, and really, it wasn’t safe to spend much time with the wains lest they speak out of turn and give him away. Mostly he came down at night when the young ones were all in bed, visiting only with Jenny, and more rarely, Ian, who was often away in prison, in another attempt to wrest Lallybroch away from the Fraser Family. Holding this frail and insubstantial bundle made him feel whole.

Jamie had had to come. He had to see this bairn. It was a compulsion so strong that he’d ignored the warnings and pleadings of his sister and against his own better judgment, had crept down the hill and to the house after dark. He simply had to be there and see this baby. It was a boy, just as he knew it would be. He had no reason for knowing. He certainly hadn’t had any knowledge about any previous bairn of Jenny’s. He’d been sure his own bairn would be a boy, before he’d learned about tiny Faith, born too soon and unable to stay. “Oh, my poor wee lass.” he thought. And what of his other bairn? Was it a boy? A girl? Did it live? “Oh, God! That they might be safe; Claire and the babe.” Jamie said a quick prayer as he always did at thought of Claire. Though he may think of her a thousand times a day, still he would pray for her with every thought.

Claire had been much in his mind over the past few days. He’d woken in the pre-dawn grayness with her touch and scent still on him, but sadly with no memory of any clear dream. How he hungered for her. Every thought, every feeling, every particle of his body ached and strained to draw itself unto her. Seven years without her. How had he lived? Truly, he hadn’t, and now he’d begun to weary of life. It was an endless dull existence, shadowy and insubstantial. He hunted when he could, but always in fear. One visit a month to the family to reclaim some of his humanity, shave his whiskers, and share knowledge of the outside world. An occasional book to read. Never anything more. No warmth, no comfort and nothing to look forward to.

The news of this latest bairn had renewed an interest in life, but at the same time, had caused him such heartache. How he wanted a bairn of his own to hold. To raise. To teach and cherish and provide for. Why had God given him everything he’d ever wanted in life, only to snatch it away 3 short years later? Everything. Everything he’d ever wanted was gone. His wife. His children. His freedom. His beloved country, now ravaged and destroyed by the vengeance of the English. His estate, thank God, was still owned by the family, but he’d never be Laird again. His uncles, his clan - all of it smashed to ruin. Everything he’d ever held dear was essentially lost to him and he struggled to find meaning from one day to the next.

This boy. This fragile, fresh soul had somehow crept into his heart and breathed into it the first glimmer of hope Jamie had felt in ages. All this flashed through his mind as he clutched the child, desperate to keep him quiet, fearing for his life as he hadn’t feared in many years. For surely, if the redcoats discovered him, it would mean not only his death, but the death of this bairn and Jenny, and possibly the rest of the inhabitants of the house, depending on the mood of the soldiers. It would certainly mean the loss of the estate and thus, starvation to any unlucky enough to survive the night. “God!” He prayed again. “Please, Lord, keep us safe. Forgive me my selfishness in wanting to see this child. Protect this family as I cannot.” The child squeaked and squirmed, preparing to let out a betraying holler, when Jamie managed to create enough interest with his little finger to forestall the inevitable. He could hear the soldiers, their harsh language haranguing Jenny, grilling her for information as she lay weak in her bed, the sweat of labor not even rinsed from her body. Anger and fear welled up in him and the desire to kill and maim was nearly irresistible. If he must go, he would surely take these English bastards with him to hell. But he could not. As always, he must live in order to see those he loved safe.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. His stomach churned and all his muscles were clenched, unable to decide between the desire to fight and the need for flight. He feared he would vomit or faint, or both. He feared the babe would cry out for his mother and give them all away. He feared he would survive and this would just become one notable night amongst a sea of dreary nothingness. He could take no more. Each second seemed a lifetime. His heart was screaming in his chest, his vision was blurring and then – he saw her. Claire. His Sassenach. She smiled at him, reached out a hand to caress his face, and, Holy God! He felt the caress. He could smell her. The earthy green smell tinged with sweetness and soft musk. He heard her, though there was no speaking. In his mind he heard, “Shhh, my love. Be still. This child is special. He will be the child of our heart and we will have the raising of him for many years. But you cannot be with him now. You must leave. Only by leaving, can you have him.” The voice, Claire’s voice, paused as his heart calmed and his breathing returned to normal. “Jamie, let him go. Let them all go. It is time. I love you, Jamie. I love you. I love you. Jamie. I love you…” her words faded and his vision cleared as the merest breath of a whisper escaped his lips, “And I you.”

All was quiet outside the wardrobe. The soldiers were gone, and all Jamie could hear were the faint sobs that wracked Jenny’s small frame. Tears ran down his own cheeks, unbidden, and he dashed them away just as the wee bairn had had enough. The tiny fists were clenched tight, the eyes were screwed shut and the mouth was opening for a mighty skelloch as Jamie burst out of the wardrobe and handed the child to Jenny. She had her shift down and the babe to her breast before he could utter a sound – to the great relief of brother and sister. They looked at one another for a long time, not speaking, though a silent conversation was clearly conducted. Finally, Jamie sighed and told Jenny that he thought it best that he not come to the house for a time. Of course she agreed. The risk had been too great. The consequence of his action would have been too costly – for all of them. It grieved them both. Jamie bent over his sister, and kissed her on her crown, holding her solidly for a brief moment. He bent down and kissed the babe, Wee Ian he would be called, and placed a hand on the small head in benediction. This child. This strange, compelling child. Who called to Jamie’s heart and had already found his place there.


His plan was in place and the arrangements all made. Jamie would be betrayed to the English for the price on his head. He would not lie to himself and say he felt no fear. Of course he did. The English were unpredictable and petulant on a good day – merciless and coldblooded on most. He had no idea if he was preparing to be hanged, transported or jailed. But at least it was a change. And he now had hope. A small hope to be sure, and one he didn’t understand, but Claire had told him Wee Ian was to be his in time. Not just his. Theirs. Claire had very clearly said they would have the raising of him. How that could ever be, he couldn’t fathom, and tried not to dwell on – it hurt too much. But the knowledge was there. He trusted Claire. If he must endure years of torture and torment, he would do it gladly, if it meant at some point, he would have back some of what was precious to him. That wee babe, with his soft skin, fuzzy head, and delicate blue eyes had given him a new lease on life, and Claire had made a promise that he was determined to see her keep, no matter how impossible it seemed. It wasn’t his job to ask how or why, simply to be there, whenever, however, whatever happened.

Jamie looked behind him to the entrance of the cave as he made his way down the hill to the rendezvous. For a man heading to his doom, there was an odd spring in his step and a fair gleam in his eye. He had no idea what the future held for him, but he finally knew one solid truth. There was life in him yet, and he would see it through.

anonymous asked:

Bucky breaks up with Tony, because he thinks Tony belongs with Steve. Because he sees the way they look at each other. What he doesn't know is that Tony is glaring a hole in Steves stupid face, while Steve is actually quietly pining. And Tony is heartbroken and goes into his workshop for days. And then Bucky is about to cave cause he misses Tony so much he goes back to him and finds Steve confessing. Tony instead of accepting him, blows up in Steves face and blames him for Bucky leaving.

Tony breaks down in tears. Steve leaves heartbroken, but Bucky can’t focus on that right now. Winteriron Happy Ending.

(this is also for @dreamcatchersdaughter  cause I hurt her with the unhappy Stuckony one)

It’s a little over 1.1k so watch out for the cut.

“We’re over,” Bucky says the moment Tony enters their floor and Tony stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” he asks, voice already breaking and he hates how easily he starts to cry.

“We’re over,” Bucky repeats and it makes as much sense to Tony as the first time Bucky said it.

It must show on Tony’s face too, because Bucky takes a deep breath and then picks up the bag that was waiting at his feet.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he clarifies and Tony immediately feels unstable on his feet.

“Why?” he manages before his voice completely breaks and Bucky shrugs.

“It’s just not working out with us, is it. I think we made a mistake, trying this out at all,” Bucky explains and he seems absolutely untouched by the tears streaming down Tony’s face.

“But I love you,” Tony says like maybe that could change anything but of course it doesn’t.

“Sometimes that just isn’t enough, you know,” Bucky replies without meeting his eyes and then he shoulders past Tony to leave.

It’s a long time before Tony finds the will to move again.


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House of Cards || kth v. jjk [4]

Originally posted by mvssmedia

House of Cards

The Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Subtitle: V for Valiant  

Characters: Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook

Categories: Fluff, Angst

AU(s):College!AU, Stalker!AU, Best Friends!AU

Word Count: 3,638

Sypnosis: Some people see life in black and white, and others see it in brown and blue, but Kim Taehyung only sees it in red and you.

• ° °•○•° °•○•° °•○•° °•○• ° °•○•° °

Hyejin never returned that day, but she did come back three days later to a dorm filled with flowers that were not addressed to her and a half-sleeping you that was facetiming Jungkook in the apparent confusion. The confusion on her face could not compare to the concern that laced Jungkook when he spotted the white roses that happened to adorn nearly every aspect of your dorm.  

“Do you have a secret admirer or something?” Jungkook grumbles as he barely had any room to stand in your room that had been crowded with flowers. Jungkook was well of aware of your beauty – but he never expected that someone else would be able to see it too. “Your entire room and half this place is covered with white roses.”

You knit your brows in confusion. “You didn’t send them..?”  

“Does it look like I have white rose money?” Jungkook quips, not in annoyance at you, but at whoever dared to send your flowers, and not a dozen or three dozen like most normal people. No, this person had sent you twenty dozens of roses. “Now, when I walked in here and asked Hyejin, she said that she thought I had sent them. It is perfectly fine to talk me up to everyone but you should at least tell me who sent you all of this. Do you have a sugar daddy that I don’t know about? A benefactor like those dramas?”  

You shake your head. “I thought you sent them! You’re the only person that I talk to, Jungkook. There is literally no one else who would know how much I like white roses than you.”  

“Has anyone mentioned white roses to you lately?” Your words send Jungkook into hyper protective mode. Your acceptance into Seoul University is painted vividly in Jungkook’s mind and he grimaces in discontent. He also thinks about that time when you told him in your last weeks of junior year because someone was following you home. “Have you seen any white roses lately?”

You tilt your head in thought before your eyes meet Jungkook’s. “The only person I’ve seen with white roses lately would be Hyejin’s boyfriend. He came a couple of days ago to give them to her but she wasn’t here. I highly doubt Hansung would do that, though. Hyejin said that he doesn’t have that kind of cash and that would be really reckless to just do that when one, he has a girlfriend and two, we would know exactly who it is.”  

The mention of the blonde boy makes Jungkook grit his teeth. “Have you considered that maybe he wants you to know who it is?”  

“You’re being paranoid, Jungkook.” You stand up in front of Jungkook and take his hand and pat it softly. “You don’t  have to worry about me.  I can handle myself.”

Jungkook blinks once, no twice before shaking his head. “I just don’t want to wake up one day and get a call saying that you’re not here anymore, or kidnapped, or even worse…” His voice trails off. His wordless mention makes you remember the summer before college and the accident that you had gotten into.

“I shouldn’t have let you go home, dammit Y/N.” Jungkook’s voice spills into the receiver as you yawn tiredly in response. You were only a couple of blocks away from your house. “You’re going to be okay, alright?”  

   You nod though he cannot see you. “I’m fine, Jungkook. I knew you would be like this, so I called just to let you know that I am fine, okay? Enjoy your party.”  

  “Just stay on the phone with me until you make it to your house, okay? Lots of questionable things have been happening to you lately and I don’t want to take any chances.” Jungkook violently shakes his head as ideas swirl into his mind. He waves away the drink that is being offered to him by Kim Yugyeom, one of his close friends, before shifting on the kitchen counter. “It’s past one in the morning and I let you walk home by  yourself. I’m such an as-”

  You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s small rant about himself while crossing the street. The light flashes red halfway in your walk and you quickly run across the street. The slightest hint of footfalls is amplified as you run across but you ignore them, thinking that they are your own.  "That you are, Jungkook, that you are.“

"Yah! When I said that, I didn’t need your agreement.” Jungkook jokes as he slides himself off of the kitchen counter. He leans over a couple that’s making out to grab himself a cup of water so that he can sober up faster. “Y/N-ah? Why are you quiet?”  

 Ignoring the pleas of your friend, you turn your head towards the sound of fabric flapping in the wind – like someone was running. “Jungkook, I think someone is following me.” You turn back to the direction of your house with a tired but alert look in your eyes. There still was a block left from your house.  

“What?” Jungkook gulps hard enough for you to hear it. “Fuck, I knew I should have just taken you home. Can’t you run to home or something?”

You roll your eyes while picking up your pace but also trying not to make it obvious. “I’m trying, Jun-”

Cutting you off mid sentence, you scream as loud as you can muster before hands cover your mouth. Hands attempt to rummage through your hoodie and pants but attempts are futile as you do your best to get out of the person’s group. It’s only seconds after you’re silence that you realize that there is not just one person there, but another.

“Be quiet and we won’t hurt you, okay?” Forest green eyes state back into your own, but you know that they have to be contacts masking their own brown eyes. “Stand still and look pretty.”  

You squirm in the person behind you’s grip, attempting to bite the person’s hand. “LET ME GO!” You elbow the person who restricts your movement only to be caught by the owner of green contacts with a smirk on his face.  

“Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be out this late.” Are the last words you hear before you reach the edge of consciousness and disseminate to the darkness that is intrinsic gray.

Your silence on the other line raises Jungkook’s anxiety level. “Y/n? Y/n?” Jungkook is running out of his front door in direction to your house that is just over a mile away. “Y/N-please- say something.”  


Jungkook silently thanks himself for you pushing him to join the track team as he sprints. Leaves crunch under his feet and the cold abnormally cold wind slaps his cheeks as he crosses the shortcut the two of you always had taken together since you were kids. His eyes catch sight of a figure hunched over another.  

“Y/N-ah!” Jungkook screams so loud that his voice cracks half way. The sound of Jungkook’s voice has the hunched over figure turn to face him; welcoming mahogany eyes meet Jungkook’s in fear and a black mask covers the bottom half of his face. The eye contact adds extra adrenaline to Jungkook as he speeds faster, watching as the hunched over figure cowers away from you. A small piece of paper falling from his coat pocket in the process.  

Upon hearing your name, you attempt to open your eyes. ’“J-jungkook-” You stammer before turning your eyes to the shadow that looms by your side. Unrecognizable eyes stare back into yours, but you feel a sense of recognition washes over you. “Who are you?”  

“I missed you so much.” The unknown person whispers to you before he was pressed against the pavement by Jungkook. His mask stays intact as his head bumps against the pavement.

Jungkook pressed the unknown male against the concrete. “You piece of -” Before Jungkook finishes his sentence, with practiced malice, his fist connects with the jaw of the unknown male. “You’re so lucky that I’m not going to kill you because so help if you touch or even th-” Frustrations vibe through him as he lands another fist against the jaw of the male.  

“Jungkook, stop.” You weakly blurt while wiping the blood that stains the corner of your mouth. Your soft voice calms Jungkook ever so slightly as he turns to face you. “H-he helped me.” You groan softly as you try your best to crawl over towards Jungkook. “Don’t-”

Taking advantage of Jungkook’s distraction, the unknown male slams Jungkook roughly against the sidewalk. Fire laces his orbs. “I fucking trust you to protect her with your life. I gave her to you.” The malice in the boy’s voice has Jungkook staring up at him in confusion. What was he saying? “I love her so much that it hurts. I’d die for her and you can’t even protect her.” Each word planted a fist against Jungkook’s jaw and his stomach, causing the young boy to groan in pain. Blood from the unknown boy’s brow fell on Jungkook’s face.  

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook coughs in between his sentence but the intent of hate is still embedded in his words.  

“STOP!” You scream while pulling the unknown boy off of Jungkook. Your strength wanes on you with every movement that you make. “Don’t hurt him-”

Completely engrossed in his anger, the boy sends you flying back on the ground. You wince in pain from your already bruised side. The sound of you in pain is too much for him to bare and he quickly shivers at the idea of what just happen. He stumbles a bit before standing up; his eyes taking in the black and blue Jungkook and you who groaned while holding your stomach. The sight was too much for him to behold and so he did as he knew best- he ran.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”  Your words bring Jungkook out of his thoughts as he strains a smile at you. For a long time, it seemed that Jungkook always felt the need to take care of you and it was not without reason. You like to think that you can take care of yourself and you could – but Jungkook never quite saw the need for you to be completely without him for a certain period of time. “What are you thinking about?”

A two word syllable escapes Jungkook’s slip. “Summer.” The mere word makes you swallow hard because the two of you had agreed not to mention that night. Nothing especially horrible happened to you – only that your purse had gotten stolen, but the person who helped you from avoiding a worse fate had left Jungkook in dissonance ever since. The man’s words had left Jungkook with burning questions for you and following that encounter, he asked you frequently in hopes of finding who it would be. “That guy – you know the one,” Jungkook takes a step closer to you. His eyes never leaving yours. “Do you think it could be him?”  

What cripples you the most is that you find yourself actually pondering if that guy could be who sent you all the roses. Your silence unhinges Jungkook with every second and he feels that he can not breathe in the absence of your words. Every fiber of his being burns in discontent as he awaits your answer but he says nothing.  

“Y/N-ah,” Jungkook grasps your wrist. The discontent within him makes his eyes jump. “That wasn’t very long ago.” He licks his bottom lip. “He said that he loved you – that he gave you to me.” A sharp breath ripples through the both of you at Jungkook’s proposition because deep down, you know that Jungkook is on to something and the fact that he does makes you swallow hard.  "I don’t want to lose you because some fuck has an obsession with you.“ Despite his harsh language, you find yourself more at ease with the profanity because you can hear the sincerity that wanes in his voice. "I-I just don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” He stammers out.  

The small confession makes your heart leap quicker than it should for the two of you to just because platonic and you swallow back your tears when you take Jungkook in for an embrace. He whimpers a bit by accident but encloses you into his arms. “I won’t let you lose me.” You try to sound hopeful but you know Jungkook is still bothered by the prospect. He sniffles softly and you’re unsure if he’s crying or not – but you decide to go against the former because Jeon Jungkook does not cry. He pecks your forehead and pulls you closer than what should scientifically impossible.  

Despite his surroundings, Taehyung stands with a smile bewitched on his face. He could only imagine the glimpse of happiness on your face when you saw the roses that he had managed to send you. As much as Taehyung hated working the underground, he knew that you were worth the risk that he was taking.  

“Ayo, V!” A voice bellows behind him and Taehyung grimaces at the volume of the person’s voice. With a scowl on his face, Taehyung narrows his eyes on the man who stands in front of him. The sight of not one, not two, but four men makes him roll his eyes in discontent but he can’t say that he wasn’t surprised. Min Suga never arrived alone. “Do you have my money?”  

The mask that encompasses the bottom half of his face masks the slight tremble from his bottom lip. He thanks himself for being smart enough to at least mask himself. It was the same mask that you had touched when he had saved you that deep summer night. “I need more time. You know I’m good for it.” Taehyung hastily replies, knowing that Suga was not one to make wait. Taehyung himself had never experienced Suga’s fury but he heard that those that did never lived to tell the tale.  

Platinum blonde hair sticks against Suga’s forehead as he throws his head back in laugh. His hand at his hip to steady himself from punching Taehyung. “You know I don’t have patience, V.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance as the two of them make eye contact. “You owe me my money. You better produce that shit fast or you’re going to end up right where Hansung is.”

The mere mention of the real Hansung makes Taehyung swallow harder than he ought to for someone who wasn’t afraid and sheepishly nods. “I-I-I’ll get it soon.” Taehyung’s measly response does not convince Suga as he dismissively waves his hand towards his three henchmen with a sinister smile on his lips. The silence from the leader swallows Taehyung whole as the three men approach him with fire in their eyes.

“I know that you’re doing this all for that girl.” Suga adds, the gummy smile is the epitome of the misconception that most would see when they see Min Suga. “I would not like a repeat of what happened during the summer to happen again – now should we?” He raises his brows at Taehyung and Taehyung clenches his jaw in anger but Taehyung knows better than to run away so he stands still, paralyzed as the first punch lands against his cheek. Another punch lands against Taehyung and he hunches over by the force while deeply inhaling to take the brunt out of the punch but it does him no justice. Punch after punch comes but Taehyung does not regret the pain that comes to him. Pain that stemmed from you would never hurt him anyhow.  

Later that night, illumination from refrigerated beverages kisses your skin while you sit in the convenience store that had been near your dorm. You knew that you had to hurry back soon if you didn’t want Jungkook knowing that you left but a part of you still wished that Jungkook wouldn’t treat you like a little girl and let you protect yourself for once. The idea causes a pout on your lips as you walk over to the counter to pay for your things. The cashier evidently did not want to wait on you as they quickly gave you back your change, muttering something about someone being late for their shift. You shrugged while taking your package of ramen and walking over to the microwave and placing your food quickly inside.  

“Hansung! You’re late.” The cashier girl quips, not bothering to look up as she takes the apron off of her and throws it his direction. She doesn’t bother to notice the busted lip that he adorns or the evident blood stain on his once pristine white shirt. She pushes past him without a care and is already out of the convenience store before you can turn around to take his appearance yourself and when you do, you gasp a little.  

You murmur in confusion while looking at him. “Hansung?” The lilt of your voice makes him snap his neck nearly in efforts to look at you and your stomach drops at how badly beaten he looks. He’s in absence of the glasses he always wears and he limps a bit while going behind the corner, taking the apron that was thrown behind it.  

“Oh, h-hi Y/n,” he stammers.  Taehyung smiles despite the pain that burns his side. He’s certain that three of his ribs are broken as he speaks but he can’t afford to go to the hospita: one, because he can’t risk anyone finding out who he is and two, he spent all the money that he had on you.  

You walk over to where he stands, taking in his appearance in shock. “What happened? Who did this to you?” You remember how Jungkook had told you to stay away from all members of the opposite sex (except him, of course) and Hansung definitely fell into that category. Yet, how could you stay away from him when he looked so helpless?  

“I just got greedy, that’s all.” Taehyung mumbles while leaning back against the counter to restrain himself from the urge to touch you. He wished that he could suppress his thoughts but he knew that he would never. Someone as perfect as you deserved to be in every thought of someone’s mind. He knows that you don’t take his answer with more than a grain of salt but secretly prays that you would stop asking questions. “H-how are you, by the way?” He clenches the bottom of the apron this time instead of the counter to fight back his urge to kiss you. Oh, how easy it could be if he just did it right now.

“I don’t matter right not, Taehyung. I think we should take you to a hospital. You’re limping and I’m certain that something’s bad has happened to you and you won’t tell me.” You reach out to touch his arm and he winces at your touch. To you, you think it’s out of pain but to him, the idea of you reaching out to him sends him into overdrive. Did you have to make it so hard for him?  

Taehyung shakes his head almost violently, words tying around the lump in his throat. “I-I’m fine, really,” His eyes dart to your hand on his arm, his heart beats in double time. A bewildered look falls on his face despite the messy look that adorns him. “Can you let m-me go? I-I-” He stammers more and you quickly retract your hand. His pupils have dilated.  

“Taehyung, I really don’t think you’re okay.” You state while biting your tongue.

“Well, how can I be when you’re so close to me?” The statement blurts from Taehyung and you take a step back from his random outburst. “I mean, just what do you expect?”  

When had his speech patterns changed so quickly? What was going on with him? “Taehyung, something isn’t right…”  

“You’re r-right. Something is not right.” He takes a deep breath, grasping his shaking left hand with his right. “It’s-”

Before Taehyung can finish, the familiar call of your name makes him stop short. “Y/N!” Jungkook.  

It’ll always be Jungkook, Taehyung thinks to himself as he grits his teeth in dissatisfaction.  

“Y/N!” Jungkook says, a rave of reassurance filling him as his fingers rummage your head, shoulders and arms, “You weren’t at the dorms when I came to pick you up and-” A scoff from behind Jungkook leaves the younger boy stiffening at the sound. Chestnut hair slaps his forehead as he whips around to see a disheveled looking Taehyung. “What are you doing here?”

Retreating back to normalcy, Taehyung swallows hard at the sight of Jungkook. “I w-work here.” And there is the stutter again. You stand there at a lost for words, confused with what was the truth regarding Kim Hansung. Was he the sweet, painfully shy boy who loved Hyejin or was he this?

“Stay away from Y/N.” Jungkook tells the older boy with a narrowing of his eyes. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at but there’s something off about you and I’m determined to find out.”  

Stay away from Y/N. Stay away from Y/n. STAY AWAY.  Taehyung wished that he could repeat those words to himself and believe it because he had been doing that for years. He had stayed away. He had tried to forget you despite all the years that the two of you had been apart. He tried to stay away from your friends. He had tried to stay away from the boys who took interest in you. Honest, he had, but hearing from Jungkook irked him to no end.  

He would not stay away, no, never, of course not. You had made it too easy for him to keep coming back.  

• ° °•○•° °•○•° °•○•° °•○• ° °•○•° °


(Lavellan and Solas’ second kiss after Haven. Excerpted from the most recent chapter of my ongoing fic, updated 9/25/17)

At that, he pulled away; she did not follow him, fingertips left behind to hover in the air, bereft of their perch. Solas hunched over, curled inward on himself—a rare display of poor posture—his elbows perched on his knees, his hands laced together. They were clasped tightly, as though he were physically restraining himself from reaching out to her again. He swallowed. The amber firelight followed the rise and fall of his throat.

“When they brought you to me…” he began, “you could have been anyone. You were a mystery. And though I believed you innocent—blameless for the destruction of the Temple—still I knew not what to expect. Would you assist us in closing the Breach willingly? Would you be capable of providing such assistance? And then you…” a smile twitched, before molding itself into a troubled frown, “… exceeded all possible expectations, proved to be beyond what any of us could have hoped you would be.”

He looked at her, matter-of-factly. “That is why they wish to believe you are chosen. Because they cannot believe the depth of your virtue, your integrity, your… incorruptibility. They cannot explain it; therefore, it must be an expression of Divinity. The will of their Maker.” He sneered the word, voicing the disdain she often felt but rarely voiced. Then his voice softened.  “But I see it. And though I know it is no act of God, that makes it no less remarkable. You possess a subtlety and a wisdom I have not seen since my deepest journeys into ancient memories of the Fade.”

“And when you tell me I inspire you…” and Solas looked very much like he wanted to touch her again, then; he clasped his hands tighter, turned his gaze back to the fire. “It frightens me. Even before we grew close you were a far better person than I have ever been. You are more than I ever could have dreamt you might be….” He turned his head away from her, pushed her from her peripheral vision. Softly, barely audible, “More dear to me than I fear is wise.”

Wise or not, she could not help but be warmed by Solas’ confession that she was dear to him. She smiled. Hummed thoughtfully. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, though I’m not sure it’s true.” He turned towards her; already he looked prepared to protest. “Oh, I am sure you believe it is. But…”  and her voice trailed off. She shrugged her shoulders, turned her face up to the moon through the bare branches, just as fat as it had been the night they had walked across the silvery Dirth.  

“But who cares?” she asked, her tone easy, carefree. “What you are, what I am: kind or cruel, wise or foolish. I know this is true: when I am with you, my spirit is free. Not buckled under the weight of the Inquisition, or—”

warm, and close, the moon eclipsed: his mouth closed around hers and her thought left unfinished. He had bridged the space between them in the span of a heartbeat. His hand lifted, lighted on the side of her neck, thumb nestled in the notch behind her jaw to turn her face, softly, towards his. And she surrendered: yielded to the ardor of his kiss as surely as the sea yields to the pull of the heavens.

(Endeavoring to put words to the emotions, to describe fully what he meant to her, she had not seen: she had not seen the way his gaze had followed her, hardly moving, hardly breathing. She did not see the subtle wrinkle between his brows, the sole indication of his despair as he began to understand: it was too late for restraint. Aghast at his own imminent surrender, and what it meant—what was to come, and what must inevitably follow, how terribly this would end—torn just as his face was halved between firelight and shadows as he watched her speak of what she did not—could not—know.

He shouldn’t—but this was merely the most recent in a long line of things he should not have done. He never should have danced with her. He should not have returned her kiss. He should have better controlled himself, been cold and unmovable as stone….

He never should have come to love her.

Perhaps the most prideful folly since waking from all those long years of slumber was to think he could protect himself from this.

With her face upturned to the silver light of the moon, she did not see the fleeting twitch at the corner of his jaw: the flicker that heralded the defeat of his discipline. The last remaining walls he had built to defend himself against this catastrophe crumbled as though they were castles of sand, swept out to sea.

With her face upturned to the moon, she did not see the way his face softened, lunged—the way he closed the space between them when she spoke of how he had freed her.)

And as she sealed her lips around his in return she could hear the way he breathed: the shaking exhale that avalanched through him at her consent. Solas pressed closer; she could feel the tip of his nose against her cheek as the kiss deepened. The hand at her neck gently guided her towards him; the hand beneath her winter cloak (when it had slipped into her cloak she could not say) was upon her waist, teasing upwards the hem of her shirt, seeking the radiant warmth of bare flesh. She moved closer. His hand slipped under the shirt and found purchase at the small of her back.

And still, still—even with his tongue daring to trace along her bottom lip, begging permission (despite the shudder that ran through her at that lick)—she felt within her the responsibility to resist. To be certain this was what he wanted, and that she, with her influence and position (her titles) was not taking advantage; the last thing she wanted was to make him feel used.

But his kiss stirred something within her, as ephemeral and formless as the miasma of the Fade that had unsettled in her wake as she crossed that haunted space, searching for him. And perhaps it was all those months of waiting, or the gentleness of his touch, as if he couldn’t quite believe he could (or had given himself permission to) hold her like this. Again. A longing she had denied for too long: she let it swallow her.

She brought her hand to the back of his neck, cradled. Opened her mouth and closed her teeth gently along his bottom lip, tugged; they came together like a rolling ocean wave and his tongue crossed the threshold of her mouth to taste her, and at once she felt all tension and resistance go out of her. A ship tossed in a storm, or the way a river surges and sings along its path to meet the sea; the way it froths on approach, pooling and pouring. She grasped at his strong shoulders, and when she followed his tongue with her own, his mouth hummed against hers—resonance of pleasure—his hand wandering down her waist to grip at her thigh.

Diminished, receding (as before the next tidal swell): he pulled away from her, breathing heavily (she could feel the rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath) but glistening in the light of the fire like a strand of the finest silk, she saw the line of saliva that still bridged the space between them. Mouth cornering into a smile as she raised a hand to his face, swiped the offending link away with her thumb so she could better look at him. She could count each crease of his swollen lips deepened in the flickering firelight. Each freckle.

The hand he had kept at her jaw to cradle her face ventured a descent, fingertips tracing along the exposed flesh of her neck, across her collar, downward, hesitant at the swell of her breast: she breathed in, an exaggerated motion (how a river swells with the rain that dapples its surface) ribs pushing outward as lungs filled with air made sweeter by his proximity, and pushed her into his open palm. He squeezed; she wished the weather warmer, the climate more agreeable, for the leather of her vest barely yielded to the touch but she groaned into the feeling of it all the same, leaning into him.

The effect on him was tremendous: he quavered, a hungry and stippled sound riding on his exhale as his hand circled her breast once more. Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers raised, his lips as if he meant to kiss her—thought better of it. Lowered his hand from her breast to her lower back, his opposite hand from her thigh to the hollow behind her knee, and pulled; not gentle, but demanding. A command for closer contact.

She obeyed, thrilled at the order, stifled a laugh (did not want to wake the others) [to the side in the periphery of her vision a log collapsed into itself; a flurry of cinders ascended on a pillar of smoke, giddy as she felt] and allowed herself to be hoisted, guided, her legs straddling his until she was settled in his lap. As he pressed his face against her neck, planting ardent kisses along the column of her throat, she lifted her face to the stars and the bare branches above, smiled at the hottest of the wild sparks that lifted from their fire and disappeared into the sky above.

And then, she could have been anywhere, anyone. Everything of consequence—her burdens, her responsibilities—fallen away to make room for this, this heat pooling in her gut (reciprocated, at last) and this flickering, the fluttering of her heart each time his mouth pressed against her flesh, sowing a blush in its wake, a warmth to guard against the cold of winter. And when his lips found their way back to hers she met them: closed the seam of her mouth around his bottom lip in a languid kiss as her fingertips lifted to his face, traced along the side of his cheek.

When they broke apart again she bowed her head to him, kept their foreheads pressed. As she stroked the lines of his face, she could not help but laugh. Tamed her mirth, or tried. Smile still playing about her lips when she asked him: “Solas, are you sure?”

She could not see his face—with her back to the fire he was obscured in deep shadow—but she could feel him: feel the hand that rose to comb through her hair, feel the kiss he pressed to the corner of her mouth, and when he pulled away it was only to leave enough space to speak. With each word his lips brushed against hers. “I have thought on this long enough.”

Ar lath ma vhenan. I am yours.”

Burned Part: 3

Summary: Bucky has been on the team for about 5 months and he has yet to know anything about the reader. She is a very unique asset to the team.

Warnings:  CUSSING. Violence. Angst. FLUFF

Author’s Note: I’ve been in a really terrible place in my mind..sorry.

Originally posted by fearless-man

You didn’t bother to look at anyone as you made your entrance to the kitchen in a leather jacket, crop top, skinny jeans and combat boots. You looked like you were about to kill someone. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and made your way towards the exist without looking at anyone. 

You finally made it outside as the fall weather hit your face with a chilling breeze. You sighed as you grabbed your lighter out from your pocket and placed a cigarette in your mouth before you lit your addiction you felt a presence behind you. You rolled your eyes at their lame attempt to sneak up on you. You glanced their way and found you had mistaken the numbers. 

Steve and Bucky were watching you with surprise etched into their facial features. You remembered you didn’t catch a glance of either of them in the kitchen. You sighed as you lit your cigarette and waited for their questions. 

You waited and waited until you grew tired and walked in the opposite direction of the pair. You enjoyed your cigarette and the midnight air as you grew impatient when you felt like you were being watched. You rolled your eyes as the two began to tail you. And not very well you might add. You began to watch your feet exchange positions as you walked.

“Y/N!!” You whipped your head towards the stranger who yelled your name. You looked up and found who you were looking for. You smiled and ran towards your friend. Male friend. You got close enough to jump into his arms as he twirled you around. You laughed at his silliness. He finally put you down and you saw that his eyebrows were drawn together as he looked behind you to sense that some guys were tailing you. You rolled your eyes and leaned into his ear.

“Just let them think they are stealthy.” He laughed as he thought about going along with it. You extinguished your cigarette and flicked it as you placed your hand on your hips raising a questioning eyebrow at your friend. 

“Yes I got one.” Your face lit up as he pulled a closed envelope out from his jacket. You jumped with excitement as you thought about witch one he found for you. You hugged him tightly as you grasped the envelope into your hands. 

“Thank you..” He scoffed but hugged you anyways.

“Ya know you’re not as heartless as you lead on..” You sighed and pulled away not without giving him a punch to the arm. He rolled his eyes at your tough act and sighed. 

“I gotta go meet the wife for dinner. I hope this helps..” You nodded and began to say your goodbyes. You began to open the file as you walked the way you came. 

You caught sight of Bucky and Steve standing in front of you. You continued to walk as you seem to squeeze between the two over large men. You didn’t want to stop as you were too engrossed with the file between your nibble fingers. The two men sighed and walked behind you, trying to figure out what’s going on. 

You stopped abruptly and gasped. This couldn’t be right. It shouldn’t be. You turned to face the men with a horrid look in your eyes. You dropped the file and dropped to your knees from the amount information that just made it’s way into your brain. How were you going to be able to tell them?

“Y/N!” Bucky was the first one to reach you when you fell. You were shaking and you shrugged him off. You grabbed the files and ran. Ran so hard and fast that you left the men in a struggle to keep up with you. You got to the tower and went straight towards Furry’s office. 

“HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE!” You shouted as you entered and sprawled the files on his desk. Furry was just about to leave until he heard you barge in. You had a storm of emotions inside you and you didn’t know how to control anything.  

“Well hello to you too.” Furry sighed as you entered his office just as he was about to leave. 

“SHE SHOULDN’T BE ALIVE!” You were beyond confused and bitter that you didn’t find this sooner. You huffed and deflated when you saw that he wasn’t fazed. Of course nothing would surprise Furry but that doesn’t make you any less angry and confused. 

“I need to go get her!” You didn’t hesitated to volunteer to recuse the one person that means the most to your beloved. 

Yes Bucky broke your heart but he didn’t deserve this.. no one did. You weren’t specifically looking for them but you needed something that will help you grow closer to him.. so maybe he wouldn’t see you as a ‘no one.’ 

“Agent Y/N I have to disagree.” 

“I DON’T CARE!” You were huffing and your hair and skin were red. You needed to do this for him.

With a sigh he allowed you to do as you please. You straightened up and ran out of the door to get into your gear as you were determined to get this done tonight. You stripped as quickly as you could of your outfit and began to put on your dark red catsuit and equip yourself with weapons. You grabbed your knives, pistols and your sniper rifle. You were not about to fail this mission. You found yourself in front of the one persons room you didn’t expect to be at anytime soon. 

“Coming!” You knocked on Steve’s door and heard his muffled voice not a minute later. You stood impatiently as you found yourself pumping with adrenaline. When the door swung open you didn’t allow the confused soldier to utter a word before you handed him the file. 

“I need your help.” Your voice was cold and full of rage. You saw the gears turning in Steve’s head as he read the file and quickly raised his head to look at you as though he’s seen a ghost. 

“You and Bucky cannot go on this mission.. I need to do it. I know it might seem selfish but if it fails, I don’t need you both blaming yourselves. If I don’t contact you before landing, tell him.” You stood for a minute as Steve’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. He nodded, allowing you to leave.  You huffed and began to walk at a very fast pace towards the jet. 

“She’s alive…”Steve was in his own world that he didn’t even flinch at the loud roar of the jet leaving. 

10 hours later..

“WHERE IS SHE!?” You were landing punches to each and every soldier that stood in your way. HYDRA really need to work on their training..

“Hail HYDRA.” One agent sneered at you and your blind rage before his face was turned into a black hole of nothing. Your emotions are the reason your power is growing and you refused to leave without any information or her. 

“TELL ME!!” You were surrounded by at least 50 agents but your mind didn’t seem to register the numbers and nor did your body care. You were punching your way towards the building and the bodies that you dropped were burning with red and orange, burning with your rage. You stood before the building huffing and shaking at the physical toll this mission is taking on you alone. You glanced over your shoulder, watching each and every HYDRA agent’s body burn, whether they were alive or not didn’t matter to you. 

You pushed the door open and unsheathed your knife as your hands were dripping with blood. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to fight off the first defense with just your hands but you couldn’t help it. You saw them and went blind with red. 

“Okay where the fuck is she, I gotta get up in the morning.” You sighed as you made your way down the longest fucking hallway you’ve ever seen. You started to grow anxious at the sight of no one around. You sighed and cupped your hands on each side of your mouth to make your voice louder, not that you needed it. 

“HERE HYDRA, HYDRA! COME EAT!” You mimicked the way you would call a cat or dog. You sighed and waited for the sounds of boots but nothing. You started to walk down the hallway when you heard a whimper. You would’ve missed it if you were an assassin. Your head did a sharp right and you thought you got whiplash for a moment. You griped your knife that you’ve been holding for a while now and slowly made your way towards the sound. 

“Hello?” You whispered as though you might scare it away. You heard shuffling and what sound like chains. 

“Help…m-me.” Your eyes widen and you kicked down the locked door with ease and lit a fire with your hand to give some light in the abyss of darkness. You saw a small fragile girl curled in a ball with barely anything covering her body, she was trying to push herself more against the corner. You walked towards her and heated chains that restricted her hands and legs until they fell off. 

“Come on, it’s time to go home. Bucky’s waiting for us.” Her eyes soon began to show hope and was filled with tears. She hugged you with little strength she had and nuzzled her face in your shoulder. 

“Okay..” She tried to stand but let out a strangled cry as her legs wouldn’t hold her weight especially now that you noticed they were broken. Your rage seethed out of your pores and she definitely could tell the change of aura around you. She clings on you and began to apologize for her lack of strength. 

“Trust me honey, it isn’t your fault. I will make them pay for what they did to us.” You hosted her up in your arms and began to run towards the exist until you both felt the breeze that was soon replaced with heat due to the amount of bodies burning from your doing. When she saw the burning bodies, she gasped and looked at your cold facial expression. You glanced at her as you neared the jet. 

“They hurt me. They hurt you. They hurt our Bucky. I’m not going to apologize.” You stiffened when she hugged you from her position and cried. You began to walk up the ramp when you froze in your spot at the sight of an intruder. You growled and placed your new found friend behind you despite her protest. 

“Give her back to us and we won’t harm your precious team.” The man in front of you clearly was the leader but you didn’t care as you laughed in his face which took the two by surprise. You quieted down and chuckled as your enemy began to analyze you. 

“Hurt my team? Come on man, you couldn’t do that if you tired.” You tackled the man to the ground and began to punch his without effort and finally pulled your knife out and stabbed the man in the throat. He began to choke and you got off the intruder and kicked him until he was rolling down he ramp as his body was stiff and lifeless. 

You shut the ramp and grabbed your survivor and carried her towards the co-pilot seat while you sat in the pilot’s seat. You told FRIDAY to auto pilot you home. When you were about a couple hundred mile out, you filled her in with updates and how the world has changed.

“Are you Bucky’s girlfriend?” You stiffened at her question and shook your head no.

“But you want to be?” You again stiffened and sighed. You chuckled as you explained your position on the team and in Bucky’s heart then you explained where he was in your heart.

“Woooooow. He sounds a lot different but then again so are we.” She was a lot more talkative than he was that’s for sure. You chuckled at her answer. 

You both began to talk more and more about your thoughts and your inner demons. 

9 hours later..

“Steve mission complete and we are landing soon. Keep Bucky away.” When you didn’t hear a response from the solder you assumed he got the message. 

You shrugged your shoulders and stood at the ramp with your new friend and was chatting away when the ramp came down.”

“Y/N Y/L/N! WHERE HAv-” You sighed as you closed your eyes as you saw the brunette stride towards you but lost his voice when he saw the woman beside you. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I tr-” Steve was also speechless when he saw the woman. You chuckled and turned towards her and bend down to pick her up due to her legs. You carried her bridal style down the ramp and towards Bucky. 

“You gotta teach me the art of rending a man speechless.” You both giggled as you place her in Bucky’s arms with a smile.

“Rebecca?” His voice was so little and broken. Rebecca Barnes, sibling of James Barnes. He finally had family.

“Hi Jamie.” She had tears in her eyes and sniffled as she found herself hugging onto Bucky’s neck and sobbing that she finally had her brother back. 

“But how?” The four of you were heading to the infirmary to get you and Rebecca looked at. The two were talking no stop about what happened back in the 40′s. You and Steve however stayed silent trying not to ruin the moment.

“Well I was about to give up hope but then I saw Y/N here yelling and killing 50 agents by herself then still had strength to carry my fat ass!” Rebecca was laughing and you were too considering you were yelling around the building you both left hours ago. 

“Actually honey I think it was 70!” You turned and chuckled when she playfully rolled her eyes and giggled. Yep she’s your new best friend. 

“Y/N I was just ab- you’re bleeding.” When he entered the medical bay you heard Bruce’s voice first and when he pointed out that you were bleeding, you feel but luckily Steve caught you. 

“Honestly you need to team up with someone already before you die.” Bruce huffed and looked your wound over as he decided that you just need to be patched, it wasn’t bad enough to need stitches. 

“You tell me that every day.” You rolled your eyes as you attended your own wounds and swatted him away, telling him to look at Rebecca. 

“Hi Rebecca. I’m Bruce and I’m going to be looking at your wounds okay?” You smiled to yourself at his kindness and consideration. 

“Okay..” Rebecca was perched upon one of the many tables as Bruce began to look at her legs. She glanced at you and saw you tempting to take your upper catsuit off but failed. You weren’t going to ask for help, she knew that much so she asked Bucky to help you real quick. He nodded at his sister’s request and walked your way. 

“I’m fine.. just need scissors.” You mumbled but he didn’t hear you or didn’t care for your protests. He unzipped your upper body and pulled your arms out of the sleeves gently and stood in front of you with eyes full of questions. But he just hugged you and nuzzled into your hair.

“Thank you..” You heard him sniffled and smiled warmly in his shoulder as you grabbed him tightly as you could with one arm. Your wound in your side wouldn’t let you grab the man in front of you no matter how hard you tried. 

He pulled away from you with a teary smile and blush upon his cheeks. You placed your hand on his cheek and smiled at him with a genuine smile that you never have showed before. He looked at you with adoration and smiled. He kissed your forehead and rest his forehead against your temple. 

“You know, you are the most important person to me.” He whispered to you and you stiffened at the confession. Your eyes were glossy and you turned to kiss his cheek and sniffled. You nodded in agreement unable to trust your voice at the moment.  He pulled back and turned to discuss what will need to be done about his sister’s legs. 

You shook your head and attended to your wound but your mind kept drifting towards the man who had stolen your heart. When you were done with your wounds and found the entire team entering upon hearing Bucky’s sister was found. You smiled and left without a word to turn in for the night. You passed Bucky’s room and stopped in your tracks as you thought about how in the world were you going to tell him you love him especially since his sister is here and what if he doesn’t want to be in a relationship right now.. 

You sighed as you continued to walk towards your room with depressing thoughts but with a sense of hope that maybe it will work out.

Tag list!

  @dont-let-me-go-again @steggy4ever @softwhispers

@sebstanwassup @snuggleducky @damnbuckyishot@gerardwayisapotato

@itsjusthaawo​ @queen–valeskaxx​ @learisa​ @melconnor2007​ @hollycornish


For @godlingcaptainchristina. Canon-era, developing ExR. Of sorts.

“Go with solidarity, my brothers, and soon we will see all of Paris roused to our Cause and rallied to our Call!”

Enjolras’s words were met with a round of cheers, bringing the meeting to a close. Enjolras shared a smile with his closest lieutenants before sitting for the first time in over an hour. His break would be only temporary; time was a luxury only the bourgeois could afford and more preparation was needed. But even as Enjolras gratefully accepted a cup from Combeferre and took a sip, he scanned the room, something amiss even with his mind otherwise occupied.

It took him a long moment to realize that there was no glaring error present; rather, what struck him as wrong was the absence of a constant: Grantaire, the libertine and resident cynic who nonetheless was as consistent a presence as darkness to the night. It took him a moment longer to scan his memories and realize that he had not seen Grantaire some four meetings hence, an oddity that he felt remorse at not realizing earlier. “Where is Grantaire?” he asked Combeferre in an undertone, hoping not to draw attention to the question.

Combeferre shook his head, not looking up from the pamphlets spread in front of him. “He has not been here a few weeks, I don’t think,” he said, confirming Enjolras’s realization. “Surely you noticed? There is a reason our meetings have gone undisturbed of late by the fumes of wine and rants of nonbelievers.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can you write an imagine of the phantom of the opera where christine shows up while the phantom and the reader is together and the reader is insecure and nervous about christine and the phantom finds and and reassures her. hopefully that makes sense but i love your imagines tho!!! I feel like they're the chracter itself

Thank you so much! :) This one is more Robert Englund’s Phantom because I felt like switching it up from Gerik. Hope you don’t mind :)

You were in your bedroom, lying on your bed and reading one of the old dusty tomes you’d found on the Phantom’s extensive bookshelf. You heard a familiar voice beyond the door and your stomach clenched - Christine was here. You loved her, you did, but you’d seen the way she and the Phantom looked at each other when they were lost in the music they made together. It didn’t worry you, you trusted the both of them, but it made you wary that one day, he’d leave you for music. Love and music were the same thing in his world and you were wary that one day he’d choose music over everything you’d ever built up together.

Putting the tome down, you slid off the bed and made your way into the open space that was your home. You came out of the alcove and saw the Phantom at the piano, playing a chord that Christine then mimicked as they went through the scales to warm up her voice.

You stood there, watching them, before you turned back into your room, feeling sick. No matter how hard you tried, Christine had something you didn’t - the voice of an angel. 

Voices and footsteps, then a knock on your door. The Phantom opened it and stood there, his gloved hand on the doorknob and a curious look on his face. “Are you well, my dear?”

You nodded, feeling sick. “Yes. I’m fine. Have you finished your lesson already?” You inquired, wincing at how unconvincing you sounded.

His eyes narrowed and your stomach dropped. He took two long strides into the room and was already at your side. He glanced down at your hands, clenching your clothes at the side of your body and his eyes flickered up to yours as he took your hands away from your sides and held them gently in his own, the leather cool against your warm hands.

“Do not dare to presume that I would leave you for music, Y/N.” His voice is low, a dangerous edge to it that almost dares you to protest. 

You’re smarter than that though, so you only nod your head in agreement, not wanting to test his patience with company, even if said company has been on the receiving end of his temper before.

“I just get scared that you’ll leave, is all. Christine’s voice is like an angel’s and my own is… Inadequate. I cannot sing, I cannot play… I’m not musical like you are.”

There was a long pause and then, “You love the music. I am the music.” He swooped down and kissed you once, then left the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. Moments later, their lesson resumed.

Phantom of the Opera: @liemarce @bingewatchingmylifegoby@sky-the-llama @suddenlyitisntwhatitusedtobe @phangirl-ofthe-operra @phantom-of-the-keurig @oddybutgoodie

Tale As Old As Time ~ Birth of a Beast

With Beauty and the Beast back in cinemas it seemed a good time to post this…
On another note…Slav is bloody hard to write! Not sure if I got his voice right…

Carrying on from here (https://nandireya.tumblr.com/post/157228587424/tale-as-old-as-time)

Tale As Old As Time
Birth of a Beast

He began to wonder if being a prisoner was always this boring. They hadn’t bothered to tend to the wound in his side. It was still dripping, albeit slowly, but enough to make him feel a little lightheaded. He could feel the tackiness of the congealed blood where it had trickled down from the tear.

The pretty Galra had been in a few times, trying to get him to talk. Of course he had no intention of telling them anything. He didn’t plan to react to them in any way at all. But mostly he was just left alone. The druids still stood there, on either side of the door, watching him silently, but they didn’t actually interact with him. So he was left to his own thoughts. And the longer he thought, the more morose they became.

He knew Shiro had been experimented on by Haggar and her hooded cronies. He’d never specifically asked him about it, it didn’t feel right to pry. And he’d witnessed more than once the lasting trauma it had left on him. He dreaded to think what the witch had planned for him. He doubted it had anything to do with robotic limb replacements. Not when they’d found the secret in his blood. Part of him wished they’d just get on with it.

As if the universe had somehow heard his thoughts, the door hissed open and the pretty Galra strode in, looking self-important as always. His eyes locked onto Keith, he could see his gaze with his peripheral vision but he refused to meet it.

“Get out.” He said to the druid guards, his eyes never shifting their focus. “NOW!” He snapped when they didn’t move. They exchanged a glance, then turned and did as bidden. Keith was a little concerned at how they had actually obeyed him. Maybe the self-important act wasn’t just attitude.

“I thought they’d never leave.” He smirked. Keith continued to ignore him.

“Still not talking to me, hmmm?” He moved closer. “That’s alright. I don’t want to hear you speak.” He leaned in close, sharp teeth dangerously close to his ear. “I want to hear you scream.”

He held up what looked like a large syringe, filled with a shimmering, silvery…something.

“I found this in one of the labs.” He explained. “Highly experimental. Yet to be tested. So I really don’t know what it’s going to do to you.” He slammed Keith’s head painfully to one side, exposing his neck.

“Let’s find out.” He grinned, stabbing the needle deep into his flesh.

Keith let out an involuntary hiss as his face tightened with pain. He berated himself for showing any kind if reaction, but he couldn’t help himself. That had HURT

He didn’t know what he’d been injected with, apparently neither did the pretty Galra, he got the impression the guy was as full of crap as he was full of himself. He could actually feel it beginning to spread, like millions of microscopic insects crawling under his skin. It was an odd sensation, not actually painful, just weird.

Until the bugs started to bite. Isolated little pinpricks to begin with, nothing he couldn’t handle. But like the crawling sensation, it quickly began to spread, and intensify. He began to flinch, twisting left and right as much as his bounds would allow, in an ill-conceived attempt to get away from the pain. But how could you get away from something that was burning inside you?

He bit down on his lip, screwing up his face. He clenched his fists so tightly the nails dug into his palms so deeply they drew blood, not that he noticed. What was one more sting in a catalogue of agony? He tightened every muscle he possibly could until his entire body began to shake with the effort. He focused on his breathing. Recited song lyrics in his head. Anything and everything to keep himself from screaming. He’d be damned if he’d give that smug bastard the satisfaction.

“You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” His voice came from behind him as he circled to the other side. “Perhaps another dose is in order?”

Keith’s eyes widened as his senses were overwhelmed. Every nerve was on fire. Every muscle was knotted. Even his bones hurt, down to the marrow. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t hold it in any longer. He threw back his head and screamed. Though, truth be told, the sound that tore out of his throat, reverberated off the walls of the tiny cell, that echoed painfully in his ears was more a howl than a scream. It didn’t even sound human. If he’d been more self-aware it probably would have worried him.

It only stopped when he lacked the breath to continue.


He must have passed out because the next thing he was aware of was the taste of blood on his lips. The pain was gone, or he’d become numb to it. He couldn’t move, his muscles wouldn’t respond. Even if they did, he still didn’t think he could, his bones felt like they were made of lead.

“What in the seven levels have you done!?”

He frowned as best he could. When had Haggar come in?

“So you’re the only one allowed to make a masterpiece?” The creep snorted.

“You call this a masterpiece?” Haggar snarled. She turned his head towards her with a surprisingly gentle hand. He couldn’t resist her touch as she pried open one heavy eye, pushed up his lip.

“He IS a work in progress.” The pretty Galra said. “But I think he’s coming along nicely. Though I must admit, the tail is a surprise.”

He was aware that they were still there, still arguing, but it was too hard to focus on what they were saying. Too hard to focus on anything. Like staying awake…or breathing…

‘Help him…’

If he’d been able to he’d have frowned at the voice buzzing in his skull.

‘I was told to stay here.’ A second, though similar, voice answered.

If he’d been more lucid he would have questioned his sanity. Hearing voices was never a good thing.

'Help him…’ The first repeated. 'Help him or I will!’

'That would be unwise.’

'He is slipping.’
The first again. 'He may no longer truly be mine, but I would sacrifice myself before I let him go where I cannot follow.’

'Your loyalty is admirable.’
The second admitted. 'But if this is the universe’s design-’

'And your loyalty is non-existent!’
The first snapped back. 'You have already lost two and now you sit idly by while a third slips into oblivion!’

'You overstep your bounds!’
The second snarled. 'But…you are right.’

A ear-shattering roar reverberated through the ship, followed by a series of explosions. The cell’s bright light flicked to dull, emergency red as alarms began to echo through the hallways. Haggar and the pretty Galra exchanged a nervous glance. Keith managed a weak smile.

Black was coming for him, goaded into it by Red, he surmised. He didn’t know how the lion was going to manage it, whether it would end in freedom or death. Either way, his ordeal would be over.


Lance stifled a yawn as he surveyed the long distance scanners. Ever since Keith had sacrificed himself for their freedom the three remaining paladins had been taking it in turns at the monitors for any sign of their missing comrade.

The blue paladin kept replaying things over and over in his mind, trying to come up with some scenario that would not have resulted in their errant, newbie leader’s capture, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing. Keith was part Galra, he could interact with their technology in a way none of them could. He’d spent more time running about on Galra ships on his numerous boarder-line suicidal missions than any of them, he knew their layouts better. He was the best close-quarter fighter. If any of them could escape a Galra stronghold, it was Keith.

He just wished it wasn’t taking him so damn long. Of course, it had only been little more than a day…

He yawned again, settling back in his seat. He didn’t realise he’d nodded off until Pidge whacked him up the backside of the head.

“You’re supposed to be watching the scanners!” She snapped.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. “But it’s not like I missed anything.”

A flashing dot appeared at the very edge of the scanner’s range. A circular pulse of black. The pair exchanged a quick glance before Pidge shoved him aside to zoom in on the specific section of space. The feline shape of the craft was unmistakable.

“I knew those purple bastards couldn’t hold him!” Lance whooped flinging his arms around the tiny tech-head.

“Get off!” She shouldered him aside.

Lance punched up the comms. “Yo, there, buddy!” He smirked. “You sure took your damn time.”

There was no answer.

“He is in communication range, right?” He asked Pidge.

“Should be.” She frowned. “Though he could have sustained damage in the escape. Or…he’s just ignoring you.”

Lance considered her with an unamused expression. “If you’re being an ass, Mullet, I’m so gonna kick your butt when you get back here!”

Pidge let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes as she turned her attention back to the scanner. “Whoa. Black’s really moving!” She noted.

“Are they being chased?” Lance frowned, leaning in for a closer look over her shoulder.

“Doesn’t look like it.” She shook her head. “And if they were Keith would never lead them back to us.” So why would the lion be moving so fast? Unless there was another reason he wasn’t responding to them.

“Is he okay?” Lance asked, coming to the same conclusion. She met his worried eyes with a concerned expression of her own.


The three paladins and the princess waited in the black lion’s hanger as the lion in question made its final approach. Coran was busy preparing the infirmary. In the little more than an hour it had taken for Black to arrive at the Castle after initially popping up on the scans they still hadn’t been able to raise its pilot. With each passing moment they began to fear that something was seriously wrong.

They took a step back as Black approached to settle gracefully before them. The lion lowered its massive head completely to the floor before opening its jaws. The group stopped dead in their tracks as a pile of debris spilled from its mouth.

“What the hell?” Lance frowned, dodging what looked like part of a control panel that skittered across the floor towards him. There were more sections of the same, or possibly different panels, some bits of wall, some floor, part of a door.

The fact that it appeared Black had literally taken a bite out of an entire room only rattled their nerves more. The quartet ran up the ramp as quickly as the could, scrambling over even more debris, screaming Keith’s name. Though none had expected a response, it only upped their fear when they didn’t get one.

“Come on, man.” Hunk whispered, his voice strained as he began to dig through the rubbish, tossing it back down the ramp. “Where are you?”

“Careful, Hunk.” Pidge warned. “You don’t want to accidentally cause more damage.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He lamented. “I’m just-”

“We all are.” She placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Over here.”

Lance’s voice was soft, tiny even. His expression one they’d never seen on the jovial paladin’s face before. He crouched down, gently beginning to move twisted pieces of metal.

“How…is…” Allura’s voice caught in her throat when Lance raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Not good.” He shook his head.

The others quickly made their way over to where Lance was hunkered down. He had not been lying. If anything what he’d said was an understatement. He lay on the floor, his body limp and unmoving and covered in blood, whether from his time in the hands of the Galra or from Black’s unorthodox rescue attempt it was impossible to tell. Beneath the blood he was covered in a fine powdery coating of soft purple. The sharp tips of pointed teeth could be seen inside his partially opened mouth. Incongruously he was painfully thin, his eyes were sunken, there were deep hollows under his cheek bones.

“Are you sure that’s him?” Pidge question, a worried frown marking her features. She didn’t want to accept that this emaciated wreak of what by all accounts was a Galra was their friend.

“Do you honestly think Black would just let some random Galra in here?” He snapped angrily before his face soften. “Besides…I’d know that mullet anywhere.”

Pidge screwed up her face then, no longer able to deny it, in an effort to hide her tears at the sight of him. Allura covered her mouth to stifle her gasp.

“What the hell did they do to him?” Hunk frowned. “He looks like they’ve been starving him for months. But he’s been gone barely a day.”

“Looks like whatever it is is still happening.” Pidge noted. Even as she spoke the teeth were becoming more prominent. Longer, sharper, deadlier.

“We gotta get him in a healing pod.” Lance said, working his hands underneath his shoulder and the hallow of his knees in order to pick him up. But he couldn’t. “Holy crap. He weighs a ton!”

Hunk bent down to scoop him up from the other side. He was a good deal stronger than Lance but even he could barely budge him. They both looked up as Allura moved forward. Hunk moved aside as the princess bent down to lift him from the floor. Even she had difficulty. As she settled him in her arms his head fell back, his mouth opened more as he let out a strangled gasp. His eyes opened slightly, glassy, unfocused and gold, before his head lolled towards her and his fleeting moment of consciousness fled.

“Coran? Is the infirmary ready?” She spoke to the air.

“Yes, Princess.” Came his disembodied voice.

“We’re on our way.”

Lance boogled as the princess turned.

“Is that a tail?”


Allura lay a hand on the transparent surface of the healing pod. Even under its sedative effects his face was pinched with pain. In the centre of the circular room Coran was bringing up the scan the Castle had taken of Keith on the day of his arrival to compare it to the readings currently coming from the medical device.

“By the Ancients.” He whispered. When seen side-by-side the two were very, very different. The original showed a tag on an anomaly in his DNA where it had compared it to the scans of the other paladins taken at the same time. Apparently the Castle had known about his unique parentage but had not felt the need to alert anyone about it.

“There’s a forty three point seven percent increase in his bone density.” Coran read.

“Meaning?” Lance prompted.

“His bones are getting stronger.”

“Would that explain why he’s gotten so heavy?” Hunk asked.

“Possibly.” Coran nodded. “Though he was always on the weighty side for a being of his stature.”

“What’s all this?” Pidge jabbed a finger at a mass of swimming light particles swarming around his organs. “It doesn’t look like the circulatory system…or any human system…or anything remotely biological.”

“Oh, no!”

Pidge and Coran found themselves pushed back as Slav snaked his way up between them and the medical console.

“No, no, no, no, no no!” His round eyes widened as he studied the display. “My nanites!”

“You’re responsible for this!?” Lance shouldered his way through, a murderous look on his face.

“Noooooo….?” The multi-limbed alien backed away as best as he was able. “At least not directly.”

Lance picked him up by the front of his shirt.

“Make yourself clear, if you can.” He snarled.

“The nanites!” He gestured to the screen with several of his stubby limbs. “They are my design. Meant to alter a subject’s genetics on a molecular level. But they were only theoretical. I had built nothing. It had not even left my head until forcibly extracted. The Galra…they must have…”

“Put your theory into practice.” Pidge sighed.

Slav nodded frantically. The blue paladin had still not released him. “Though there is a ninety seven point six percent chance that who ever implemented this had absolutely no idea what they were doing. They needed to provide a source of genetic material for the nanites to work with. That is why his systems are all in decline, the nanites are leeching what they need from the only source they have.”

“They’re eating him alive?” Hunk looked horrified.

“If you created these things then you can stop it.” Lance growled. “Change him back!”

“It cannot be done.” Slav shook his head. “Once initiated the process is irreversible. I cannot even stop it.” He looked over to Keith, all but lifeless in the healing pod. He looked to the readout. The pod was having little to no effect. It had barely slowed the tiny techno-terrors coursing through his system.

He sighed.

“But I can complete it.”

Allura had been listening to everything that was being said while silently watching Keith’s progress. The pod was not healing him, it COULDN’T heal him. He was dying, and there was only one way to save his life. Though it pained her, though she knew what it meant for him, that it was not what he wanted. It would be better to plead his forgiveness than to mourn his loss.

“Do it.” She said flatly.

All eyes snapped to her.

“What!?” Lance dropped Slav and stalked towards her. “You know what that’ll do! It’ll make him one of them! That’s not what he wants!”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to be dead either, Lance!” She turned on him.

“Are those really our only options?” Hunk asked.

“At this point, yes.” Coran confirmed.

Lance turned on Pidge. “Can’t you hack those quiznaking things and reprogram them or something?” He demanded.

“Not in the time he has left.” She shook her head sadly.

“We have no other choice.” Allura lowered her head until her forehead came into contact with the transparent forcefield sealing the healing pod. Closing her eyes she repeated her order, her voice broken.

“Do it.”

Slav’s hands danced across the console in a blur. Light shimmered around Keith’s nose and mouth as a breathing mask appeared. Various fluids began to fill the pod, obscuring him from their sight. They turned their attention to the readout instead. The shimmering around his organs quickly shifted, heading outwards to the newly introduced…whatever it was.

“It is raw material.” Slav explained. “Far easier for them to work with. They do not have to break it down to repurpose it. They will use it to repair the damaged they have done as well as complete the task they were assigned…assuming they were built correctly.”

The organs that had been on the brink of shutting down began to stabilise. His heartbeat, which had been so close to flatlining, began to climb until it was beating strong and steady. His blood pressure returned to normal.

Hunk, who had been at the back of the group, allowing the smaller members better access to the screen, caught a flicker of movement with his peripheral vision. He turned his head, frowning. The pod was still cloudy but it was beginning to clear as the nanites used up the material Slav had introduced.

“Ah…guys…?” He began, keeping his eyes on the pod. “These things are suppose to keep you sedated until they cycle’s finished, right?”

“That is correct, Hunk.” Coran confirmed. “Why do you ask?”

“Because he’s looking at us.” He said nervously.

With the exception of Slav, who continued to monitor the readout and make adjustment as necessary, they all turned to the pod encasing their friend. It was difficult to really see through the clouds of genetic material, but they could make out a pair of baleful yellow eyes glaring through the muck.

“He looks pissed.” Lance breathed. As if to reinforce that assessment a large, clawed fist slammed against the forcefield.

“Oh, yeah.” Lance swallowed as they all began to inch away. “He’s definitely pissed.”

Both palms slapped against the forcefield, claws digging in causing it to redden and spark as he attempted to tear through it.

“Keithy wants out!” Hunk murmured nervously.

“Will that thing hold?” Pidge asked, stepping behind Hunk, hugging his arm. There was a kick this time, so powerful it shook the entire pod.

“Keithy REALLY wants out!” Hunk shifted his arm to wrap it around Pidge.

“Fear not, Number Four.” Coran reassured her. “It’s the same kind of forcefield that keeps the vacuum of space at bay.”

The kicking and punching stilled. Had he heard what Coran had said? Was he listening? Or had he just realised he couldn’t get through that way?

“Keith..?” Allura took a step forward. “You need-”

She was cut off by a hideous shrieking noise that made fingernails dragged against a blackboard positively melodic, causing them all to instinctively cover their ears.

“What the hell was that?” Lance winched.

“He’s trying to get out through the back of the pod.” Pidge flinched as the ear-piercing sound was repeated.

“Slav?” Allura looked over to where he was monitoring the pod. “Can we release him?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head. “The nanites have not completed their programming. If we were to stop the cycle now they would go back to repurposing his own genetic material to finish. And his attempts to escape are hindering the process, they have to repair the damage he is causing himself.”

“He’s…hurting himself?” Allura frowned, concerned.

“Nothing that threatens his life.” Slav said. “Some light bone fracturing, and he’s torn out ninety three point five percent of his claws.” There was another screech. “Ninety eight point seven.”

“We need to calm him down.” Lance noted. “Can we pump in some kind of sedative or something?” He flinched as claw met metal again.

“One hundred and seven point nine percent.” Slav called.

“We don’t need a rundown on the damage he’s doing to himself, Slav.” Allura sighed.

“How can it be over one hundred percent?” Lance frowned.

“He’s ripping out the repaired ones.” Pidge clarified.

“Euew.” Lance pulled a face.

“A sedative would be counterproductive at this time.” Coran said, leaning over Slav to read the medical readout. “The nanites appear to be…shutting down…?”

“They are being absorbed.” Slav corrected.

“Euew.” Lance repeated.

“You may wish to move away from the pod.” Slav warned. “I can not guarantee how he will react when the forcefield comes down. Which it will be doing in five…four…three…two…one…”

They had moved to either side of the pod, out of the line of fire as it were. Everybody held their breath as the blue barrier shimmered and began to dissolve. He didn’t stumble out as expected.

“He is still in there, right?” Lance questioned.

As he spoke a set of long, wickedly clawed fingers curled around the lower half of the pod, the other set quickly following on the other side. For a split second they were aware of a dark blur as he lunched himself across the room, hurling himself into the shadows beyond the ring of healing pods. There was a scuttling sound as he tried to find purchase on the polished floor with his newly acquired claws followed by a soft thud as he collided with the wall.

“Keith?” Allura called, moving cautiously towards where she could hear his short ragged breathing. It was hard to determine whether he’d hurt himself when he’d hit the wall or, more likely, he was bordering on a panic attack.

“Buddy?” Lance added, moving to stand with the Princess.

It was hard to see him, hunched as he was in the shadows, but they could see that he was staring at his hands with wide, slightly luminous eyes, what they imagined were his ears twitched slightly as they approached. Golden eyes turned on them and he backed away deeper into the darkness.

“Keith?” Allura repeated, taking a tentative step closer. The eyes appeared to soften, his head tilted slightly, quizzically.

“It’s gonna be okay…” Lance began, but got a very cat-like hiss for his efforts as Keith bared very dangerous looking fangs at him. Something moved sinuously behind him, thumping against the wall. He began to slink along the outer curve of the room, curiously on all fours, bright yellow eyes locked on them. Or at least they assumed they were. It was always impossible to determine just where a Galra was looking. And that was truly what he was now. Not a hybrid. This was not some kind of partial transformation like they’d expected should his alien DNA somehow try to assert itself. Slav’s nanotechnology had rewritten his genome entirely, completely eradicating everything human about him.

Nobody dared move, they didn’t want to risk spooking him, setting him off in some way. He obviously wasn’t in his right mind. He wasn’t moving like a human, he wasn’t moving like a Galra. He wasn’t moving like a truly sentient being at all. He moved like an animal, like some kind of monstrous beast.

Too late they realised just where he was slinking to.

“Shit!” Pidge spat. “The door!”

But he was already gone.

twiceinabluemoon  asked:

The last one was so good I have to request another tsf with Adam K. Maybe one where the reader keeps trying to make him blush?

Bruce was out of the office for the day so you took his spot recording with Adam and James today.

You had managed to make Adam blush on camera when commenting about his hair today and now you were hellbent on turning him into a tomato with James enabling you. You used everything in your arsenal from comments about working out to even being as bold as kissing his cheek.

As Adam crashed, he covered his face, “We cannot use any of the footage from today.”

“Why not?” you asked innocently.

Adam stopped the recording and turned around, “I think both of you know why.” He looked between the two of you.

“What’s that? Elyse is calling me? Guys, I got to go,” James excused himself even though Elyse was sitting right behind him.

You rolled your eyes but leaned in and lowered your voice, “You know you wouldn’t blush as much if you didn’t like me so much.”

Adam leaned back in surprise, “What?! How- How do you know?” His voice lowered as he leaned closer again, “How long have you known?”

You shrugged, “Awhile. I’ve just been waiting for you to make your move.” You pat Adam’s knee before standing and walking off, leaving him in stunned silence.

Dreams are Not Wishes - DK

Title: Dreams are Not Wishes

Member: DK

Genre: Fluffy fluff 

Summary: In times of self-doubt, a few wise, comforting words to push your back will be enough to remind you, “Keep chasing your dreams!” You just did not expect to hear those words from a busy guy like DK though.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes [!!]: 

  • A short reminder to everyone to keep working hard towards our dreams (yepp, our).  
  • Funny, I actually had an angst idea for DK, but I changed it to a fluffier one because I don’t want him to cry. XDD
  • I am not sure if they do, but I wrote this under the assumption that they have a “dorm ajumma” helping them weekly.
  • Yeheyy for the 1.3k word feat. ;D
  • I am suddenly tagging @saythename17scenarios for all the support she has given to us co-writers. THANK YOU SO MUCH! :D 

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