i love staring at different parts of the skull and watching now it changes

anonymous asked:

Howdy!~ How about UT & UF Sans & US & SF Pap in a car and they're in the back while somebody else is driving and the crush falls asleep on their shoulder and then the car takes a sharp turn and the crush just falls into said skelly's lap. Instead of waking up, the crush just curld up into the lap and smile and say the skele's name? In a sweet, "I trust you" way. Sorry if its long!! Thanks in advance♡

Asked by @hoot-eggs before I moved the blog

Sorry that these aren’t exactly like the request, but I can only write one scenario so many times without changing it up a bit. I tried to keep the general theme the same though.

US!Papyrus: The most annoying thing about car rides were the fact that he couldn’t smoke. Being forced to spend hours in a metal contraption traveling at over 60/mph was bad enough, not being able to calm his nerves while doing it was straight up hell. And since Blue didn’t support his smoking habit, he refused to pull over. In fact the only time Papyrus had gotten a chance to smoke a cigarette had been when you needed them to pull over at a gas station so you could use the bathroom. After that he had jokingly said that if Blue could pull over to let you pee, he should give him a smoke break too.

Neither of you had been very amused, to say the least, and he should be thankful for the small break he had been given. But that had been hours ago, and he could feel his hand subconsciously shift towards his pocket, itching to light another cigarette. He resisted the urge and resigned to let his leg tap an annoying rhythm against the floor, the sound of the engine drowned the tapping anyway. Leaning forward a bit, he tried to listen to Sans’ and Alphys’ conversation in the front seat, but he quickly grew bored and turned his focus to you. You weren’t asleep, despite looking like it. He could tell the differences, in your breathing and in the way your face twitched when a loose thread tickled your cheek. He’d spent hours staring at you throughout your friendship, silently admiring you when you weren’t paying attention. And he refused to feel weird about it. He liked looking at you, and you weren’t bothered by it, so why should he stop? You shifted a little, trying to find a comfortable position with you head against the window. After watching you squirm around for a while, unable to find a way to lean your head just right, he reached an arm out and hooked it on your waist.

Your eyes shot open and looked up as he quietly pulled you against him. Your gaze was dimmed and your eyes hazy, you looked like you were minutes from falling asleep. You made an attempt to speak, but only quiet mumbles could be heard. He hushed you and placed your head on his shoulder, still holding his arm around your waist. You seemed content with this, and closed your eyes as you snuggled into him. A minute passed, and your breaths turned deeper and found a steady rhythm. He loved that sound. It was calming. And if it weren’t for the fact that his mind was occupied with his want for a cigarette, he would’ve probably fallen asleep right then and there, with you in his arms.

He felt content with the situation too, though. And he’d gladly take this over a boring car ride of trying to sleep in the backseat. He’s zoning out while looking out the window, thinking back on his life, from living in the underground to meeting you and then to late nights together at New Muffet’s.

He’s in the middle of reenacting a pun battle he had with the king once, when the car turns sharply and his skull is smacked into the window. Sitting up and rubbing his head to get rid of the pain, he’s sure that he must have gotten his sense knocked out of him, because he could’ve sworn that he heard Blue curse. Before he can ask what happened, Alphys turns around in her seat to ask if he’s alright, and tells them that a car almost pushed them off the road.

Holy fuck, he didn’t expect that. And for some reason he feels almost guilty for zoning out, like it was his fault because he didn’t notice the other car before Blue did. He shakes off the guilt, at least everybody is safe. And nothing happened, nothing’s out of the ordinary.

Except you’re laying down on his lap, which you definitely weren’t before. And holy hell, somehow you’re still asleep. Clutching his hoodie like a life line, face scrunched up in sleepy confusion over what happened. The sudden turn of the car must have shaken you, and maybe triggered a nightmare of sorts. Because your face turns from confusion to fright and you’re almost whimpering, your fists tightening around the fabric of his shirt, and your eyes pressing together.

He doesn’t know what to do, he wants to wake you but that would only scare you further. Moving carefully, he slowly pets down on your head, flattening your hair down and moving his hand in soothing motions. He hushes you quietly, hoping you can hear it over the car engine and your own nightmare. You flinch when his hand makes contact with you, but slowly your whimpering stops and you’re not moving around as much. After a few more seconds of petting you’re breathing normally, face relaxed as you start to calm down. When he decides that you’re no longer having a nightmare he tries to pull his hand away, but yours shoot up to keep it close to you. Your eyes doesn’t open as you quietly breathe out his name, more asleep than awake and still oh so adorable.

‘’I’m here, kiddo.’’ is all he says as he continues to rub your scalp, dragging his hand down to your shoulders every now and then. Your face is once again pressed against his hoodie, and he swears that he hears you inhale deeply into the fabric.

‘’I’m here,’’- he repeats, still rubbing your hair,- ‘’I’ll stay here, hun.’’

But you don’t hear that last part. And as he leans his head back and look out the window, he’s not sure if that makes him relieved or disappointed 

SF!Papyrus: The worst thing about long car rides, were the fact that despite his impressive height, Papyrus was always assigned to sit in the backseat. And while sharing the backseat with you meant one good thing, he couldn’t help but envy his shorter brother and the royal scientist as they sat in the front seat. Both quite a lot shorter than him.

And after hours of sitting hunched over, he could feel his spine grow stiffer. He’d do anything to stretch right now, and feel his joints pop. He absentmindedly popped his fingers as a form of substitute. And averted his gaze from the spacious front seat, he turned it to look out the window. Only three more hours to go. Amazing, he thought.

To lighten his mood, he turned around again to look at you. And he watched you look out your window. The afternoon light made your features look sharper, but it also painted you in a soft, warm glow. Angelic, almost. But it didn’t suit the picture of an angel the underground held. Their view of a savior had been tainted with their violence, their fight to survive. It had been a crueler being they’d imagined back then. He still felt like you were a savior, though. If only to him, although he couldn’t tell you that.

You seemed to notice him stare at you. But when you turned your body, he kept his eyes on you. There wasn’t a lot else to look at, so he figured he could get away with it this time. And when your eyes met his, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. Keeping your gaze leveled, you smiled at him softly, looking even prettier than before. Until your face scrunched up and you yawned loudly, involuntarily bringing your hands up to your face and covering your mouth. The sudden yawn made him laugh, even when you sent him a dirty look, still covering your face as you tried to regain your composure. You really were too adorable.

‘’You should sleep, hun,-’’ he said. Voice quiet but still loud enough to reach you over the engine. ‘’We still have a few hours left, no point in making it longer by bein’ stubborn.’’

Another yawn escaped you, and it apparently convinced you to follow his suggestion. But instead of leaning your head on the window next to you, you put your legs on the seat and your head on his shoulder, wiggling around until you found a comfortable position, using the fluff on his hoodie as a makeshift pillow and smiling at your own handywork. He scoffed at you, but still pulled his arm out from where it had been stuck under your body, letting it rest across your stomach and holding you in place. A minute or two later, he felt his hand rise and fall as you’re breathing turned into a steadier pace. And he leaned his head back to get some rest, letting the rhythmic motion and humming of the engine lull him to sleep.

He woke up by yelling, and then felt his seatbelt tug on his ribcage as his body jerked forward. His arm reached out quickly, holding you back and safe before his eyes were fully opened. Sans was still screaming in the front seat, accompanied by violent gestures and quite a few death threats and profanities. Whatever happened, it must have jarred him. Listening to the chaos in the front seat he managed to gather that someone tried to push Sans out of the lane, aware of what they had been doing. And he felt a quiet rage that they had endangered your life in the process. Just because they didn’t like monsters didn’t mean they had to harm you too.

But you, amazing and weird thing that you was, didn’t even seem phased. Instead you were laying across his lap, face on your arms and body pressing against him. He felt his breath hitch a little, letting you sleep on his shoulder had been one thing. But this was almost too much, and his soul both ached and fluttered at having you oh so close.

He willed his hand not to shake as he carefully touched a scrape on your arm, probably from his jacket as you fell. It wasn’t deep, not even bleeding. But he hated that you’d gotten it anyway, especially as he’d been asleep and unable to hold you up when the car turned.

But when his hand made contact with your skin you squirmed around in his lap, pulling his hand closer and in your sleep, held it under your chin like you would a teddy bear. You murmured a few words, and he caught his name in the middle of them. And if he thought his soul had felt light before, it was practically soaring now.

He let you keep his hand there, and gently traced your face with his other. Until it ended up tangled in your head, massaging your scalp.

You obviously trusted him, otherwise you wouldn’t sleep with your head in his lap. You wouldn’t murmur his name like that. He played with the idea that maybe you liked him the way he found himself liking you. Maybe he could turn what you had into something more.

It was a nice thought. He held on to it for the rest of the ride.

Loving You Is Torture↬Stiles Stilinski

Request: Hey can you write and imagine with Stiles where he and the reader are kidnapped by Theo, and he tortures the reader in front of Stiles and does really bad things to her. Bit morbid. And can the ending be really sad, you can decide what happens.

Writer: Gillian

Word Count: 1733 (oops)

Warnings: None, ending is kinda sad tho :\

A/N: Sorry abt this Theo, I still love you
P.S. the reader is a werewolf

Out of everyone in the pack, you were the only one to believe Stiles about Theo.

Stiles’ suspicions were right more often than not; about Matt, Jackson, Peter, even Derek at first. You respected that and thought it was unfair for the rest of the pack to just gang up on him, so you stood by his side, even when Malia didn’t.

You were a werewolf, but you still only had one set of DNA, which meant you were pretty much safe from the Dread Doctors – or at least not exactly on their radar.

So, when you were captured and taken to their ‘lair’, it was quite a shock.

Why would they take you? You weren’t a genetic chimera, you hadn’t exactly pissed them off personally, they really had no reason for doing so. Yet they did anyway.

You didn’t understand why it was all happening until you saw the cocky, arrogant smirk on Theo’s face because he knew why you were there.

You were carried, kicking and screaming, to a table that resembled the one at the animal clinic. This one was much more terrifying, with straps included to hold the person down. The Dread Doctors didn’t play around.

“Y/N,” Theo said, moving to stand beside you while they strapped you down. “Long time no see.”

“Not long enough.” You mumbled under your breath, trying to control your erratically beating heart. Theo could hear your heartbeat, he could smell your fear, he knew you were terrified.

“Aw, don’t say that, Y/N,” He let his hand stroke your cheek absently, his smirk only growing when you squirmed away from him. “I’m not Stiles, but I know you find me at least a little attractive.”

“Why would you bring up Stiles?”

Theo raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. Your heartbeat rises whenever he’s around, hell, I can even smell the lust coming off you.”

He knew.

You weren’t surprised; Scott had asked you about it in the small period of time between when he turned into a werewolf and you did. Peter had turned you on the night of the winter formal in sophomore year, as a sort of retaliation for Scott’s lack of cooperation.

So far, you were pretty good at controlling it but you didn’t have to pay too much attention to notice it. You just wondered how Malia hadn’t noticed yet, that her boyfriend’s best friend was in love with him.

It was a tragic, unrequited love, one could say.

“What do you want, Raeken?” You asked, attempting to change the subject.

“‘Raeken’? You’ve demoted me to my last name, now?” His hand clutched his heart in mock hurt. “I’ve gotta say, that stings.”

You stared at him, unamused, while avoiding looking at the tools you assumed were for torturing purposes on the tray beside you. “Okay, Y/L/N, I’ll tell you. As long as you pinky promise not to tell anyone,” He held out his pinky close to your tied-down hand. You sighed, deciding to play his little game, interlocking your fingers.

“Well, I guess I really can tell you now. There’s no point in keeping it a secret anymore,” Theo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to kill you.”

That didn’t surprise you either. Theo clearly wanted something – he always did – and now that just happened to be your death.
“Not yet, though,” You stared up at him. Why wouldn’t just get it over with? Why drag it out? “I want to make sure we have an… audience.”

And that was when they brought Stiles in.

He was unconscious, part of his shirt was singed and he had a bloody gash on his forehead. “What is wrong with you?!”

Theo shrugged. A few people that you assumed were either chimeras or Dread-Doctors-in-training tied him up in the corner, giving him a perfect view of you.

“Wake him up.” Theo instructed, a malicious grin growing on one of the boy’s faces. Claws extended from the tips of his fingers as he prepared to bitch-slap Stiles awake. Theo made a noise that told the boy not to continue.

Sighing disappointedly, he began to not so gently shake Stiles. Stiles awoke with an odd noise, jumping once he saw that he wasn’t in his jeep nor was he alone.


“Hey, Stiles, what’s up?” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking, because you knew now that Stiles was awake, the torture would begin. “Yeah, Stiles, what’s up?”

“Theo.” Stiles said, venom dripping from the single word that contained so much of his hatred.

“It’s so good that you’re awake,” Theo began, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers. “Because now we can get started.”

He reached for the tray, grabbing what looked to you like a military-grade kitchen utensil. “Spending all this time with the Dread Doctors really taught me some things. What methods of torture are the most effective,” Theo motioned for one of the boys to help him.

He held open your mouth upon Theo’s request, visibly gulping when your eyes burned a bright yellow. You let out a growl as Theo emptied the contents of a vial down your throat. You choked it down unwillingly.

You could feel it; you were turning.
Your teeth became pointed while your face began to shift, morphing into its werewolf shape. “There we go.” You snarled at Theo.

“Okay, Stiles, you’re really gonna like this,” He brought out the scalpel like instrument, putting it into your mouth. You thrashed and growled and snarled until the boy finally let you go. Your canines came down hard on Theo’s hand, drawing blood.

Theo pulled his hand away, watching you as you spat blood on him. “Bitch.” He muttered, no longer willing to play around. He ripped out one of your teeth, eliciting a small cry of pain from you.

The all-too-familiar taste of blood flooded your mouth as you nearly choked on the substance. You remained calm, trying desperately to keep your emotions hidden. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek nervously.

Next, Theo held down one of your hands while he pulled out two of your forcibly extended claws. Blood poured from the two wounds and you couldn’t help but scream.

“Stop, Theo!”

Stiles had been uncharacteristically silent throughout this endeavor, so much that you forgot he was there. His heart was racing, he was scared for you. Under different circumstances, you would’ve found this endearing and a step in the right direction for your non-existent relationship with him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Theo laughed, as if Stiles were stupid for not knowing. “For Void! Stiles of course. “You love Y/N, I kill Y/N, Void! Stiles makes an appearance.”

He loved you? Since when? Theo had to mean in a strictly platonic ‘just friends’ kind of way.

“And yeah, Y/N, he loves you just like you love him. It’s hilarious, really. You guys have loved each other for so long and then you’ll never know what’ll happen.”

Theo dipped a knife of some sort into a bucket on the floor next to him, coating it in liquid wolfsbane. You hardly knew what to do. Here you were, being tortured, and all you could focus on was the fact that Stiles loved you.

He made no move to deny this fact, either.
Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Theo sunk the knife into your stomach. You let out another cry of pain – though this one was more of a scream because damn it hurt like hell.

And thus, the wolfsbane was released into your system. You could feel it traveling through your veins like tiny pins and needles stabbing at you from the inside.
Stiles shouted your name, but all you wanted to do was sleep. It seemed like such a good idea, and you could vaguely feel something poking into your skull.

You felt light and airy, despite the screw-like things Theo was drilling into your head.

You couldn’t concentrate on what was going on, so you simply turned your head and grinned at Stiles. He looked near tears and you didn’t know why.

Ominously dark veins creeped up your arms and throughout your body. You traced them with your fingers, the unaware grin still stretched across your face.

Theo unstrapped you, and once again, you didn’t know why. After all of that, he just let you go? He shoved you in Stiles’ direction.
You landed in front of Stiles, still smiling.

You ripped off his chains with ease, focusing back on his face. “Y/N,” He began, holding you as if you were porcelain. “Do you – ” His voice cracked, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Do you feel anything?”

You shook your head, cupping his cheeks. “No, I don’t feel anything,” You paused, wiping a stray tear away with your thumb. “Stiles, why are you crying?”

He covered your hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. “I just – I love you, Y/N.” You smiled. “I love you too, Stiles.”

You wanted to kiss him, wanted to show him how much you loved him, but you couldn’t.

You wanted to go to college, but you never could.

You wanted to get married and have kids, but you’d never even have the choice.
And most of all, you wanted to live out your life.

But you never would.

Stiles watched as the light left your eyes, leaving behind a dullness that was never supposed to be there this soon.

It was never supposed to be there ever.

“I love you.” Stiles whispered one last time, his tears falling onto your face. He closed your eyes, standing up to face Theo.
Anger surged through him; he wanted to kill Theo, he wanted to brutally murder him several times. It was all his fault.

But he couldn’t help the guilt forming in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t Theo’s fault, it was his. If it weren’t for him, you might never even be in all of this.

Stiles was the one who told you, Stiles was the one who dragged you down with him, it was all Stiles’ fault.

And he was determined to avenge you, no matter how long it took, no matter who got in his way or tried to stop him, he would do it.

He was going to kill Theo Raeken.

A little bit of Horrortale Sans

*Sooooo, all this side-blog casual rp stuff has had me thinking of my past rps.  I might dig for some later on, but I clicked through my files and saw that I had a starter saved from when I roleplayed as HT!Sans.  It’s actually the first thing I had ever written for him, and I did it because I was planning on having an HT chapter in BPT and wanted to work on nailing his character.  

I figured I might share it with you guys before I go play some Overwatch for a bit.

They say that true madness comes from repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  

If that was the case, then they were all mad down here.

The days all seemed to fade and jumble together.  At this point, Sans wasn’t even getting paid for being a sentry, and his brother had finally made it into the Royal Guard–only to desperately want out.  Things had once been different, hadn’t they?  Sure, all the days had still been the same–the same japes, the same napping at a sentry post, the same burg and fries at Grillby’s–but the air had been lighter, lacking the heavy oppression and sense of hopelessness.

And he had once…

*i’m rootin’ for ya, kid.

Who?  What?  
No, he doesn’t have any kids.  He is a skeleton. 
He was mistaken.

Phalanges idly drummed along his sentry post, beside the hot dog he was ‘selling.’  He used to sell plenty of these in Hotland, right before he went on MTT–what?  he’d never been on MTT.  
The phalanges of his free hand scraped along the side of his face; a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere.  


A single blood-red eyelight shifted toward his brother as the incredibly-tall skeleton approached, clutching a bowl in his hands.  Sans tilted his skull slightly, noticing the way Papyrus struggled not to stare at the gaping, jagged hole on the side of Sans’s head.  He wasn’t exactly sure how he had gotten the injury, or how long he’d had it now, but it always seemed to make his brother uneasy when he asked–and the lie Papyrus had spun about Sans slipping and falling had been an obvious fabrication.  His brother may be Great, but he is not a Great liar.  

“yeah bro?”


The lankier skeleton was the single monster that Sans knew that still held onto his upbeat attitude.  It had been Sans’s idea to start adding that ingredient to Papyrus’s spaghetti, and after the first time Sans had helped his brother prepare it, the younger skelebro had been hooked.  Of course, the food seemed to mess with him a little, driving him slightly mad along with Sans, but at least they were well-fed as sentries.  Or… as well-fed as it got in a place with food as scarce as the Underground.  

“if we’re lucky.  maybe one will come through before they pasta way in the ruins this time.”

“THAT ISN’T FUNNY, SANS!”  Papyrus’s bone brows knit together slightly, and Sans stopped drumming his fingers against the wood, watching him.  His brother was bent over at the waist to regard him properly, his jagged, broken, permanently red-stained teeth moving as he spoke.  "M-MAYBE IF I GIVE ONE OF THE HUMANS WE CAPTURE OVER TO QUEEN UNDYNE, SHE’LL RELEASE ME FROM THE GUARD!“

Sans’s expression darkened, his eyelight becoming large enough to fill the entire socket, and he found his palm scraping further up his cheek, his phalange dipping into his unlit eyesocket.  It felt uncomfortable, almost painful even, and he dug his finger in deeper, hooking it around the edge of his skull.  

"no.  she won’t.  and giving someone like her the power of a soul?  don’t think so.  she doesn’t deserve to be a god.”  His fingers went back to drumming against the sentry station, a signal that the subject was closed.  He would sooner die here; it’s not as if getting to the Surface appealed to him anymore.  

There was no going back from this life.

“… YOU’RE RIGHT, BROTHER!  I’LL GO CHECK ON MY PUZZLES JUST IN CASE.  WANT ANY SPAGHETTI?”  Papyrus uncovered the lid, and Sans glanced down at the noodles.  It was true that his brother’s cooking had improved since he stopped taking lessons directly from Undyne and allowed Sans to help, but..

It’s not like Sans could take food from Papyrus.

“nah, i’m full.  had some fried snow earlier, so it’s all yours, bro.”

Papyrus sighed in exasperation, pulling his bowl to his chest.  "YOU ALWAYS HAVE FRIED SNOW.“

"well, it’s snow problem to make.”  His perma-grin widened.  Papyrus groaned as expected and shook his head.  

“WELL, IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND, YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME!”  And with that, Papyrus marched off further down the path, and Sans was left again in silence, with only the drumming of his fingers punctuating it.  

The silence–the waiting at that station–was the most difficult part.  

There were days when his thoughts wandered, and he wasn’t even sure what was real and what wasn’t.  Sometimes, he couldn’t remember what had happened two days ago, but he recalled in vivid detail the first day he had come to Snowdin.  Or there were days when he couldn’t remember why he was even sitting at the sentry station or recall who was beyond the door to the Ruins.

Then there were the pieces of his memory that were gone forever, like his role as a scientist in the Lab.  

He felt his eyesockets beginning to close, and he eased up on the pressure of his fingers inside one of them.  It was so tempting to just nap.. just a little rest.  For as long as he could remember, he had been slacking off at his station, sleeping on the job.  Once, he had been reprimanded without real fire behind the words, but now, there were so many rules.  Sleeping on the job was punishable by dusting, and well..

*all the more reason to sleep.

Just as he started to nod off, hoping to Asgore’s Ghost that it would be a dreamless slumber, he heard a commotion coming from the Ruins.  It sounded like Tori, and Sans leaned over slightly, hoping to be able to hear a little better.  He couldn’t make out anything, but his interest was definitely piqued; if Toriel had a guest, that could only mean that there was a human around.  He’d once made the mistake of letting just how bad the situation in the Underground was slip, and ever since then, Toriel had been a bit.. different.  One could say he’d ruined her life.

And she knew he no longer made promises.  

And she wanted to keep the humans with her forever–no matter the cost–as long as they weren’t captured or devoured.  Some humans managed to escape.  Others, not so much.  He hoped this time would be more like the former… and when he heard the Ruin doors open and shut, his grin widened. He leaned casually with his elbows on his post, fingers drumming a nameless beat he couldn’t remember, and his skull propped up by his other hand.  He stared out unseeingly as he waited, focused, listening for the tell-tale sound of snow crunching underfoot.

The definition of madness is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

But what was coming was different.

And Sans could use the break from the madness.

Deal with the Devil: Chapter 1

’…But my hands are tied.’

   There is only so long that Jack Morrison can endure the limitations placed on him by the U.N., only so long that he can continue being a soldier in name alone and with the world crumbling beneath him, even a deal with the devil can sound like heaven.

Disclaimer: As always Overwatch and its amazing characters don’t belong to me, I’m just borrowing them.

Keep reading

Slow Burn - Part 3

Pairing: firefighter!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,806

Summary: The reader is reluctantly setup on a blind date and it doesn’t go as planned. Is there an instant spark or is it a slow burn?

Part 1 Part 2

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls.”

It’s taking everything you have not to jump on him right now. Play it cool, Y/N.

“No way. Only the special ones.” He flatters with a smile that makes you melt.

You notice Sam walking by the kitchen but he stops when he sees you. He silently calls you over. Dean follows your gaze to where Sam is standing.

“I’ll be right back, ok?” You say to Dean.

“I’ll be here, sweetheart.” He says in his husky voice.

You walk up to Sam and he has a huge smile on his face. He leans down a bit because he’s gigantic compared to you and whispers, “What do you think?”

Keep reading

The Way You Walk

Originally posted by magicalstarsandflowers

16. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

The Way You Walk

She knew she was bugging him, edging him on to the brim. But he was so good hearted, he could never sway her away like the others always do when they had enough of her. Albeit her curiosity was the most annoying thing to grace the lands of earth.

And yet, he was enchanted by her spell, Her brown hair would always grace the tip of her waist shaping her round ass, her short legs perfect for her body, and her eyes boring into his cold baby blues, big and doughy.

“If I tap your metal plates, would you feel it?” She asked, scotching closer to his body on the couch, while he furthered himself from her prying musk slamming right into the couches rest arm  

“ Not much,” He whispered, Bucky learned the hard way that if he didn’t answer her questions it would just lead to her answering her own questions by rambling on and on about stupid crap he didn’t even understand. She was just a nurse that works at the compound, although she had found a sudden interest in one of her recent patient.

“What If I lick it?” She placed her fingers under her chin and purled her brows together.

“I really hope you wont do that,” He asked annoyed by her sudden change of attitude. He looked horrified, because if he learned anything, it would be that this nurse would do anything that strung from between her lips. 

“What does your hair feel like?” She asked, forgetting about his arm, she leaned closer to his shoulder, her slim fingers just inches away from his dry locks. She stood for a second, blinking a few times before her gaze shifted to Bucky’s eyes, he knew she was asking for permission. At least she gave him a choice. 

“Go ahead…” He grumbled, slumping deeper into the couch. She knew he was angry, he even looked pissed. Yet the personal medic still found her nails digging into the man’s skull, softly pulling at his roots before grabbing strands from the rim of his forehead. She gathered all his hair, until she reached the part of his other ear. James was about to say something, ask if she’s done or if she had just found something in his hair- he was ready to defend his case, Natasha got angry at him this morning and threw a pancake his way.- He had took three showers just to get the syrup out. But before he could get an utter out from between his chapped pink lips, the girl was pulling his head in between her breasts and continued to finish the braid with much thought. 

“There, your done!” She exclaimed, letting go of Buchanan’s head. His body instantly shot back up, arms still crossed over his chest, face still stoic. “Can I take a picture?” Her voice sounded scared, that was probably the only time he saw the girl tucked close to him sound worried. 

“Maybe later-”

“Can I put flowers in between your braid?” 

Buchanan released an audible sigh of exhaustion. She was wearing him out, either he liked to admit or not, she was a handful. He never understood why she kept coming to him, Bothering, annoying, pestering, he guessed it was partly because he doesn’t have the guts to shut her off like rest of the team- Even Steve sometimes rudly walks away from her rambling. Bucky was always there to pick up the shattered pieces.

“Can we go in the garden, I want to put flowers in your hair please.” She held onto his metal arm and pulled hard. Causing his frame to bend down to where she was. He thought if he didn’t do much she would get the message, but the girl just egged him on more. “Come on, please Bucky!” She went ahead and stood up, dusting her shorts before fixing Steve’s shirt that’s she most likely stole from the dryers down stairs. “Please…” Her bangs framed the side of her face. As she now held onto Bucky’s fingers trying to intertwine hers with the metal ones. 

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Bucky asked, his attention diverted behind the medic as he closely listened to the food network. His words weren’t meant to hurt the girl, in fact he wanted nothing of the sorts, he just hoped she would leave him alone. But that proved futile when she jumped back next to him and shoved her face in between his neck. He was surprised at first, stiff even. But gave it a rest once she spoke the next sentence.

“I won’t move until we go to the gardens.” 

And like that, James found himself staring at the screen trying his very hardest to ignore the prying big baby beside him. She noted his attitude, figuring out that he could go on hours without being annoyed from her smothering her face next to his neck, so she draped her arms around his body, pouting for a bigger effect.

“Fine!” Bucky exclaimed, pushing her warm body away from him. He stood up, but was surprised when he found the bubbly girl already exiting the compound. “Dammit.” He muttered defeated. 

Once he was outside, in Starks garden, he found the girl lazily picking flowers that seemed to interest her. She would grab one, bend down from the waist and sniff it before moving on to the next. Everytime she would bend her hair would escape from between her bitty ears and frame her face. She was an angle, roaming the earth, and Barnes just hoped she was his.

Bucky was beyond annoyed at this point, but watching the girl before him prancing about had slightly loosened the dark feeling. He loved her, but could sometimes say otherwise when her nagging contrasted with his patience. 

“Come over here Bucky.” The small cinnamon haired lady whispered as she placed a hand over her eyes to shield from the seeping suns rays. 

He walked over, or more like marched with dignity. Lips pieced shut, eyes grazing hard into her warm chocolate ones. She giggled once he came over, handing him the flowers after demanding he sits between the tulips so she would wrangle some flowers in his hair. 

“Why are you still laughing?” Bucky murmured, his eyes closed from the relaxing sensation her hands did to his hairlines. 

“Why do you walk like that?” She softly asked, patting the flowers in place and opening a few to keep them from closing in. 

“Walking with a different amount of weigh on one side does that to you.” He shrugged. His pupils opening once she stopped touching him. She fell to her knees and wrapped her frail arms around his built fame. Her hands didn’t even reach beyond his forearms. He was two built and wide. 

“(Y/N)?” Bucky asked, his own hand over hers. 

She hummed in satisfaction, giving him the willpower to continue. 

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” 

They both stood up, surprised at Bucky’s sudden confession. He looked nervous, ready to bolt it out from here, but her next words kept him grounded in place.  

“I think I might be falling in love with you too.” 

Like that, the solider had grasped the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him, he placed his nose right beside hers, foreheads aligned. He didn’t wast much time before his lips molded with hers, trying his hardest to dip her. But she broke the kiss with a string of giggles. 

He couldn’t help but pant, a small smirk gracing his features. Allowing her to push him back a bit. 

“Not in public…” Her whisper came sandwiched between her breathes as she ran her fingertips across her plump lips. Turning around and leaving the garden with the longest record of being quite. He didn’t avert his gaze, he watched her enter the building before hanging his head in worry.

“Well at least now you know how to shut her up…” Scott stated as a matter of factly, reverting back to his normal size, surprising the former assassin. 

“Fucks sake!”

Originally posted by evasivereasoning

Pretty Bird Pt. 9 (Yoongi Angst)

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |


BTS members: Min Yoongi

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 3.151

Summary:  You are Big Hit’s newest trainee, and you have the luck to be tutored by BTS. But the thing is no one asked them before installing you in their dorm. They’re mad, but you’re stronger than you look.

N/A: Feedback is more than welcome!

Originally posted by sugagifs

The first rehearsal was a nightmare, just as you expected.

At first, they thought your idea was great, but as time passed you proved yourself unable to come up with a concept that could bring your idea to life. You did not have the time to create an elaborate and complicated choreography, and the members were struggling as much as you were trying to find the point the performance was lacking.

‘Guys, we need to focus.’ Namjoon had spent the past half an hour trying to bring everyone’s opinion together, adding it to the pieces of information they had at hand. ‘We need to specify which song we are using for the performance… We cannot use all of them. So: What am I to you and I Need U or Hold me Tight and House of Cards? All of them? None? ’

‘We have too many options and to make an arrangement would be a complete chaos.’ Yoongi’s realism brought them back to reality. ‘We don’t have twenty minutes to do what we want on stage. ’ The mood was grim, as they stared at the floor in defeat. They had wasted the last two hours just trying to find a way to make it work, bringing up every thought that crossed their minds, no matter how ridiculous it was.

Nothing seemed right.

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when serendipity whispers: chapter one

knotted with (false) memories

written by @gigiree​ & @miraculousturtle​.

for @alyseb630–who is not only our biggest supporter, but the reason why this story exists. we love you. 

Summary: If serendipity is having good luck and fortune by happenstance, then in this universe they have none. Because in most stories they meet their true loves in France, but magic would have to exist for that. 

(And here’s a secret: it does.)

Pairing: Adrienette 

(Also on AO3).

[p.s. thanks to @tei-gen for helping with the translation we needed!]

It always comes back to this moment, he realizes as his back is flat pressed to a cold hard ground and his Lady is over him. It’s the exact same scene where words are glued to the inside of his mouth and refuse to be spoken.

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No Place Like Home

The future is a different country. Sometimes it’s hard to find home. 

A What If Peggy (with the Serum) was in the ice with Steve AU (Steggy Secret Santa gift for @bisexualhayesmorrisons)

Note: This is… slightly more melancholy in tone than I’d really intended, especially at the beginning, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Also, this is not compliant with Peggy’s backstory in S2.

“I’ve gotta put her in the water,” Steve said, looking at her as she fiddled with the radio, trying to get someone on the line.

She didn’t acknowledge the words. She focused on the panel in front of her, but her shoulders were tense and the red nails of her empty hand bit into her palm. They had both looked at the instruments panel. It didn’t take fluency to know that whatever Schmidt had pressed earlier had locked them on course to New York. There wasn’t any choice, and they both knew it. The plane had to go down, and the only way to accomplish that now was to do it manually.


She looked over at him, her hair mussed and falling in her eyes after the fighting with Schmidt. She watched him with resignation for a moment. She’d always known there was the possibility that they might not live to see the end of the war, but right now it was overwhelming. She sighed and went still, when Steve reached out to take her hand, gently pressing his gloved fingers against her clenched ones, prompting her fingers uncurling to wrap tightly around his. Some of the tension ebbed away from her frame, but there was a fear there that wouldn’t be assuaged with a mere touch.

“If I could just find the bloody frequency-” Peggy grumbled, adjusting the radio panel with her free hand. There was a pop and crackle before static.

“I’m sorry, Peggy.”

She sighed. “I know.”

Ice stretched across the horizon, a white blanket. There was a moment of regret and pain for all the things neither of them would get to see now. All those plans and promises they’d both acknowledged but never quite made were going to end here in the cold. When Steve let go of her hand to take hold of the stick, Peggy laid her hand on top of his and nodded.

Together, they pushed, sending the plane careening down toward the ice below.

“I guess we won’t make that dance after all,” Steve said, looking at her. He laughed, a sad chuckle that sent a lance through her heart. “Probably for the best, I would have hated to step on your toes.”

Peggy was tempted to laugh. Of all the things for him to worry about- even if it was for nothing. “Far worse things have happened to me than you stepping on my toes, Steve.”

He smiled sadly. “We could have had the band play something slow.”

Peggy woke gasping, a sharp prickle running across her skin like needles. It was a feeling of ice in her veins. She had dreamed of the crash before, the feeling of the wind and the cold and the searing pain that followed. It was never the same twice, sometimes she dreamed of other horrors: of the Schmidt’s red skull laughing as the plane went down in flames and the feel of blood pooling at her feet and covering her hands.

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<< Phases // New Moon >>

Summary: Jungkook was just a boy who was in love with the moon. And you were a girl who thought you could be his moon, but you were nothing except a phase. 

Genre: angst

A/N: um. wrote this on a whim. pretty proud of it tbh lmao. considering making a sequel but idk. hmu

Jungkook was always fascinated, enthralled, by how the moon works. Its ivory glow that comes and goes, carefreely cascading down the landscapes and galaxies. He was mesmerized by how it could wax and wane so easily, just slowly present itself and then leave without a word, no promises to come back even though it always does. Its phases transform throughout the nights, illuminating the starless skies in an unforgettable milky glow, but eventually fading like a beautiful dream.

Jeon Jungkook was your moon, your beautiful dream. But the only difference was that dreams were not made to linger on to. They were made to be forgotten.

Yours was just like any other love story, breathtaking, unforgettable. You met him the summer of your sophomore year in college at a party. The night was sweltering and humid, the exact opposite of prime conditions for a house party, yet that’s exactly where you were. You were watching as your friends swayed on the dance floors, politely refusing any handsome strangers that approached you, asking for your hand in a dance. It was just like any other night, with you sulking in a hidden corner of the room as others were spotted with neon blues and greens by the flashing strobe lights.

Jungkook approached you just like he did any other girl. His hands were slipped into his pockets, striding confidently towards you. The cushion of the couch sunk with his weight, and your gaze shifted from the brilliant colors of your phone to his sparkling eyes.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook, what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you muttered.

“Why are you just sitting here by yourself?” he had inquired, one corner of his mouth slanting up with each word.

“Because I don’t want to be a part of whatever’s going on” you casted a sideways glance over to the middle of the room where sweaty bodies collided, “over there.”

He chuckled lightly, sounding like the soft chimes of wind bells in a light breeze, and that was the moment when the moon of your world started glowing, although it was just a sliver of gold in the darkness. You knew then that he would not be just any other boy.

“Well, do you want to get out of here with me?”

He stood and peered at you expectantly, and you eyed his outstretched hand. You weighed out the pros and the cons in your head, rating on a scale of one to ten how awful an idea that would be. It would just be like any other short trip, you told yourself as you laced your fingers in the gaps between his.

He led you out of the stuffy room, although the atmosphere outside was identical to the heat inside, just quieter. You trailed silently behind Jungkook, his tall stature casting you in complete shadow from the flickering streetlights around the campus. As he turned around the corner of a looming structure, leading you up the stairs of the fire escape, the streetlights finally shined upon you before you escaped into the building behind him and was in darkness again.

The climb up was silent, and you kept on questioning yourself on why exactly you were here. You didn’t know him, he didn’t know you, yet here you were climbing up the steps of the astrology tower with your fingers interlaced in his. You asked yourself again and again what his motive might be on the way to the top, and with each step sprouted a new answer until your head was filled to the top with growing insecurities and threatened to overflow. Then he started to slow down his pace, and you knew that there was no backing out of this now as you were already at the rooftop.

The moment he opened the door was still a moment that you can see behind closed lids even until this day. A gleaming full moon was hanging in the sky before you, made closer by the dozens of steps that led you up the building and set your calves on fire. Yet the second you laid eyes on the glowing circular disk that was plastered against the deep hued backdrop, your breath hitched in your throat before it was completely robbed away.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, careful not to talk too loud as if your voice could shatter the peaceful scenery.

Jungkook didn’t answer, and you glanced up at him. His face was bathed in the moon’s luminous shower of white, setting half his face in shadow and the other half ablaze. He wordlessly pulled you behind him again, and led you to the center of the rooftop. He shrugged off the jacket on his shoulder and splayed it flat on the floor, lying down without a hint of hesitation. From his spot on the cement floor, he eyed you expectantly, and you lower yourself to rest on your back besides him.

You just lied like that for a good ten minutes, listening to the sounds emitted by the night and the rhythmic huffs of Jungkook’s breathing. He stared, starry eyed, at the sky, and the few stars that decided to appear tonight reflected in his orbs. His arms were tucked behind his head, pillowing his skull and making him utterly at peace and, to you, gorgeous.

“I love the moon.” he murmured after the long period of silence.

You turned your head to look at him. “Why?”

“I mean, just look at it. It’s so free, so unrestricted. It comes when it wants, and goes at its heart’s content. It waits for no one, and leaves no traces behind except for its beautiful glow that is engraved into people’s memories. But when you think about it, it’s also so mysterious. Its cycle around the earth takes 29 days, yet 25 of the 29 are only fractions, phases, of this celestial being. And when it’s whole, it never remains so. It dissipates with the wind, and disappears a bit with every sunrise.” Jungkook glanced back at you. “That’s how I want to live. I want to see every margin of the world like the moon, yet leaving nothing but memories in my wake. I want to travel to and fro with the breeze, and change course as often as the moon changes phases.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked, intrigued by this boy and his dreams.

“I don’t know, really. Responsibilities?  Money? I’m not quite sure what’s holding me back yet. But I will surely overcome it before it even shows itself. One day, I will just pack my bags and go, I swear upon that.”

“Why did you bring me here though?”

“I don’t know, you seemed bored at the party, and I wanted to share this with someone.”

So the two of you lied there in stillness after that, no words exchanged and no questions spoken. And this routine was repeated every other night afterwards. It became your ritual with him, even when the moon had hidden its glowing body from your sights or showed you only a sliver of its marvel. You came every night to that same spot on that same rooftop to find Jungkook already resting there in that same position with his hands behind his head.

He took you to many other places too. Places like the peak of the nearby mountain, where the view only came from the price of hours of climbing and heavy breathing. Places like the ocean, where the moon appeared especially bright against the dark roaring waves that crashed against your shins. Places like his small apartment where he kissed you for the first time, just to try it out, but then continued to do it again afterwards. You liked visiting those places with him, letting yourself experience a different kind of ambience every time. Each departure happened just the way he liked, with nothing in your trails except memories and maybe the echo of your steps.

Soon enough, you were falling in love with him just like how he was falling in love with moon, just like how he loved imprinting nothing but his footsteps in a new place. You fell in love with the way the wind sifted through his hair, tousling them in every direction. You fell in love with his passion and fire for adventure, his desire for spontaneousness. And maybe he was just as in love with you. Maybe he also loved the way your eyes glazed over every time he brought you to a new place because you were so mesmerized. Maybe he loved the way you would cast lingering glances at the scenery because he wouldn’t let you take any pictures, as he said those will only make you miss the view even more dearly.

But however much he may have loved you, he loved adventure more. And however much you may have loved him, you couldn’t stop him.

He left on a bitter, winter night. You had gone back to your family during Christmas break for tedious reunions and feigned smiles. Each day you spent away from him made you more anxious to weave your fingers through his thick strands and place constellation kisses on his sweet lips. So when the day finally came, you could swear that everyone around you noticed the spring in your step. The crisp sound of your knuckles hitting against the wood of his door was a symphony to yours ears, and you couldn’t hold your excitement as you detected footsteps coming towards you from the inside.

But those footsteps did not belong to him. Instead, they belonged to a slender young man whose almond shaped eyes gave you tingles down your spine.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” you asked, trying to peek past the man’s shoulder for a glimpse of Jungkook.

“I live here.” he answered.

Your blood froze in your veins, and you knitted your eyebrows at the reply. “No, Jungkook lived here. You know, a boy about this tall with really sparkly eyes?” You motioned wildly as the panic began to set in.

“Ah, he moved out two days ago.”

“What?” Your blood began to flow again, but faster and faster until it roared in your ears and made your skull pound. “He just left?”

“You must be Y/N! He said if you ever came around to give you this.” The man retreated back into the small apartment, and reappeared with a small envelope in his hands. You snatched the white material from his grasp, and checked the handwriting on the surface. It was Jungkook’s, there was no mistaking it. The unforgettable curls of his J’s and the slash of his T’s were all too familiar to you. You felt the tears rush to the frames of your eyes, but refused to let them fall before forcing your legs carry you away from the stranger’s doorsteps in a sprint.

You tore open the letter madly, and your eyes scanned frantically on the few lines that Jungkook messily scrawled.


I left. Yes, I finally did it. I have figured out why after all these years I couldn’t just drop everything and go. Are you ready for the answer, because I promise you’re in for a laugh. It’s nothing. The answer is nothing. Nothing had been holding me back, I didn’t care about responsibilities, and I realized that I had enough money to send myself on a journey. It was nothing. Just me and my stupid brain thinking that I actually had something to stay behind for. But I don’t. I have lost faith in this barren land of fake people and fake dreams, this university, long ago. I should’ve left way before. And then you came along. You came along and made me think that, hey, I might actually have something to hold onto now. And I’m sure that I can rely on you with my life, but I don’t belong. I had to leave and sacrifices must be made, and I’m sorry that those sacrifices turned out to be you.

Jeon Jungkook.”

That was it. That was all he left in his wake for you, and it surprised you that he even left anything. He had chosen to live his life like the moon, to embed his traces to even the edges of the Earth, to wax and wane to his heart’s content, thinking that he could be nothing but a memory.

Oh, but how wrong he was.

He was indeed the moon, but the moon is what creates the rumbling tides on the glassy ocean surfaces. Its gravity, along with other planets, is what holds Earth together so that it doesn’t go plunging in the ball of fire and gas that was the sun. The moon is what illuminates the night sky every single night, and what everyone around the world can lift up their heads to admire.

And he thought that it could just come and go without any significance.

He was your everything. He was what held your world together, brought you closer to the stars than you will ever be, and his absence was what left your world spinning off its axis into chaos and confusion.

He was the moon of your universe, yet you were just a phase to him.

<< Phases // New Moon >>

Shaken, Not Stirred || Suga || Part 2

Summary:  Another night, another shift at Black Out. Another shift meant another 10 hours of watching the enigmatic gangster Min Yoongi reject every single woman who walked up to him. But perhaps tonight would be a little different for the both of you.

Word Count: 1,764

A/N: Y’know, I wasn’t planning on releasing a second part to this scenario but a lot of people requested it I though ‘Eh, why not?’ cause I’m always one to please. I might just leave it at these two parts because I already have three ongoing Suga series (read RoommatesNext Door and Stereo Hearts here). Regardless, I hope you enjoy this installment.

<< Part 1 ||

You wiped your forehead with the back of your weaker hand while your dominant one cleaned up the spill on the bench top in front of you, the collapsed figure of a drunken man slumped next to an overturned cup and his head resting on the sticky wood.

You looked up towards one of the security guards roaming around the filled club and locked eyes with him, nudging your head to the male passed out in front of you.

As the bouncer reached the bar, you smiled apologetically at your co-worker, watching as he scooped the man up by his arms and escorted him from the premises, leaving the bench unoccupied.

It was midnight, a mere 6 hours into your usual shift at Black Out and you wanted to do nothing more than what the businesses name insinuated. Your co-worker who had been put on to share your shift had left half an hour ago, a family emergency that required their full attention and resulted in them abandoning you to be the soul bartender.

You weren’t worried about the customers - you could handle the influx of orders that arose every hour. You were more concerned with the idea that you wouldn’t survive the rest of your shift due to the rising fatigue that was filling your being. Normally your co-worker would be there to keep you awake, on your toes, but his absence meant you were to fend for yourself.

Another body stumbled over to you, propping their hands on the bar as the mop of bleach blond hair was slowly lifted, revealing a dazed stare of another intoxicated patron.

“What can I get you today, handsome?” You asked with a smile, watching as the bleariness retracted from his eyes and his lips quirked into their own sly grin.

From your short time working at Black Out, you learnt that everyone loved to have their ego stroked – whether their liked to admit it or not – and the people would often tip more when they were drunk and praised by the person making their drink.

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The Repetition of Mirrors: A Strange Magic One Shot

Alternatively Titled: In Which a Reflection is Consulted, a Person is Remembered and a Name is Practiced

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Let’s just make this clear. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m already feeling all stupid and insecure about my writing, and wasn’t going to do anything for a bit. Or maybe I was… I don’t know. But the idea came to me today and hit me so hard and so fast that there was nothing to do but write it. And so I valiantly put all my work to the side, sat down, and one hour later this was produced. Is it my best… I’m not sure. But if I didn’t get it out, I didn’t know what I was going to do.

This is simply a one shot and is not connected to any further stories I have planned. Because, if you remember- never supposed to happen… 

Dedicated to the wonderful and talented Suzie-Guru who has been cheering me on endlessly, and who has been partaking in a ‘let’s see who can hurt the other person more with feels’ battle with me. Which has been a torturous treat, let me tell you. 

Thanks girl! I truly appreciate it!

And as you know, sometimes the only way a writer can thank someone is by writing. 

So, here you go!

P.S. Super nervous to post this, but I haven’t posted anything for a bit and I want to make sure that I get something out before I go and work on other things. 

Thanks to you all for dealing with me and dealing with my screwy time schedule! YOU’RE ALL AWESOME!

He practiced in the mirror. Constantly.

“I am the Bog King.”

It was so much easier now that there was a mirror to practice to. There used to never be, his own face a catalyst for too many memories, boiling hot, melting sand into glass. But Marianne had insisted.

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Would You Mind? || Cullen/Trevelyan Drabble ||

A small drabble that I had in my head for the past couple of days. Featuring my rogue archer Beau Trevelyan and Cullen…

Title: Would You Mind?
Rating: SFW
Pairing: Cullen/Beau Trevelyan. Pre-relationship. 
Words: 1,408 (Can I still call it a drabble if its over 1k words?)
Summary: In which the Inquisitor asks Cullen for help.

“Alright Inquisitor, you can look now!”

Cullen stopped in the doorway of the Inquisitor’s quarters when he heard Josephine’s voice. She was still up here? He knew that the Inquisitor’s dress for the ball at Halamshiral had arrived earlier in the day, but he hadn’t thought it would have taken this long for a fitting. It was just a bloody dress!

“Well? What do you think? I think it looks fantastic,” Josephine quipped, the pleased tone of her voice bringing a small smile to Cullen’s face. She was always so proud of her work.

“… I sincerely hope you don’t truly think I’m going to wear this,” came Beau’s voice a moment later, a half laugh coloring her tone with rueful amusement.

“What!?” the ambassador exclaimed. “What’s the matter with it? It’s a beautiful dress, and it’s perfect for the ball!”

Cullen heard the rustling movement of fabric as the Inquisitor turned. “You honestly don’t see it do you? You’ve – ” She sighed and then: “Cullen, I know you’re there - it’s bad luck to linger in doorways, you know.”

He startled, heat rising to the back of his neck. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but that didn’t discourage the embarrassment he could feel. How does she do that? He wondered, taking the next step.

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anonymous asked:

Hey I wanted to say I love your blog. And ask if you've got amy more of this awesome 20-ish SoSu x Deacon? Maybe Deacon loving sole but still thinking it's a bit wrong because of the age gap? Or Some random settlers/people from Diamond city being mean to them for the same reason? i'' appreciate whatever you'll write *.*

Alright, so, I wanted to post another reaction before I did anymore Deacon stuff but… Oh well. I promise to have a reaction up tomorrow though! I’m almost done with it. Sorry I’ve been MIA. I would like to say I have an excuse for you, but I don’t :(

On a side note though, I restarted Fallout 4 on survival mode and just… :’)

Also, Codsworth is savage, like wow.

Also also, thanks anon for sending this in! 20-ish SoSu x Deacon is my OTP :’)

Dammit, I should’ve said no.

No, fucking, no.

Way to go Deacon, agreeing to date someone half your age. What did you think was going to happen? That her friends would sit idly by while she wasted her life on some old-as-dirt, fucking piece of shit like you? That they would spout at her that time-honored line of bullshit of “whatever makes you happy?”

I’d already received a less than pleasant visit from Piper. Big sibling syndrome: she stormed in, all clenched fists and bared teeth, and slammed her hands down on my desk, getting right up in my face.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Well, I’m kidding about ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of the time that my mouth’s open, so as a general rule it’s probably always safer to say, yes, I am kidding you.”

“You’d better be! I mean, what did you think you were doing saying yes to Sole? Did you think it was a good idea? To string along someone as young and open and fragile as she is?! What are you getting at here Deacon? Is this another one of your damn lessons? Because I swear if it is-“

My chair screamed across the floorboards as I stood up. Piper flinched and backed off of the table, but managed to keep a scowl on her face. I stared her down from behind my sunglasses, however her body language suggested that none of the effect was diluted.

“I’m a liar Piper, not heartless. It might be hard for you to imagine, but I care about Sole, and I wouldn’t dare hurt her, not after what happened last time.”

Piper’s lips quirked to one side. She wasn’t convinced, nor did she have any reason to. I am a liar, after all. At a loss for gesticulation, the reporter simply crossed her arms.

“One wrong move Deacon, and I will have your name and face plastered on every last inch of the Commonwealth.”

I chuckled.

“Charming thought, Pipes, but the Gunners already beat you to it. Feel free plaster away though; I’ll have already changed my name and face by the time you print the first issue.”

Piper smirked.

“I thought you promised Sole you wouldn’t change your face again.”

“I did.”

“Whatever. Just watch yourself, old man.”

“Always do.”

Preston and Danse have been giving me the stink eye too. The minuteman, thankfully, has been a smidgen more tactful about his displeasure with Sole’s and my relationship. Knowing the lion-hearted man, he probably kept quiet for Sole’s sake. He always did have a soft spot for her. A little late on the draw, I’m afraid. Early bird gets the worm, Preston.

Eugh. Actually, let’s never say that again.  Sole isn’t bird-breakfast, or some kind of prize. Shit. Maybe I should that doe-eyed do-gooder have a chance with her. He’d be a hell of a lot better for Sole than me.

Shit, even Danse would’ve been a better choice. Unlike the minuteman, Danse was a bit more brusque in his disapproval. If he hadn’t been actively attacking my character, his little speech might’ve actually been funny.

“Deacon, I am astounded by the profound lack of dignity you’ve revealed by being with Sole. Not only is this completely irresponsible of you, but the relationship itself is utterly disgusting. Disgraceful, even. You’re old enough to be her father; aren’t you the least bit ashamed of yourself?”


“Not as ashamed as you should be of that haircut. Maybe it’s time to go fully shaved Danse. I’ve got a few tips and tricks I can spare, but be warned, a good barber never reveals all of his secrets. Or is that magicians?”

Danse let a sneer smear across his smug-ass face.

“Hmph. I would expect as much coming from someone who dabbles in manipulation and subterfuge. I’m watching you Deacon. One wrong move, and I’ll be the first to introduce you to the barrel of my gun.”

“Sir yes sir.”

I gave him a lazy salute, and then headed on my way. I can only take so much of him at one time.

Shockingly enough, even our resident stone-cold killer came to pay me a visit. Terse as always, he didn’t mince his words.

“When you inevitably end up hurting Sole, don’t be surprised when I break your skull. Understand?”

“Loud and clear killer. But hey, you mind watching the face? It’s expensive. The spine however: open season! Feel free to break each and every little vertebrae yourself!”

X6’s nostrils flared with a slightly irritated sigh before he stalked off, making a show of his curt turn.

Thank God for Curie. She seemed to be the only one around Sanctuary with any sense, or rather, lack thereof.

“I do not understand! If you both love each other, then what is so wrong with you two being together? If Mademoiselle Edna and Monsieur Zwicky have taught us anything, then it is that love has few boundaries!”

“While I appreciate the sentiment Miss Curie, the relationship between my mistress and Deacon is of quite a different vein.” Codsworth butted in. Damn, I had really been hoping to avoid her robo-butler. “This lout is about twice as old as Mistress Sole, and has somehow manipulated the poor young thing into a horrible, dead-end relationship. She’s not equipped to deal with all of his undoubtedly heavy baggage, and she deserves someone who can take care of her instead of the other way around! I am loath with you Deacon, especially after I entrusted you with her safety. Then again, maybe it was poor foresight on my part for trusting a liar.”

I saw no need to argue.

And too bad for me if I wanted to slosh my way into oblivion because now even my favorite, red-headed drinking buddy sees fit shun me. I have a hunch that if Sole didn’t make her infatuation with me so glaringly obvious to everyone, Cait would’ve already put me in the ground. Instead, she settles for the occasional dirty look or just flat out ignoring me. To be honest, it stings a little that she hasn’t even bothered to give me a good verbal thrashing. I needed something to suck me back to reality.

Speaking of reality, here’s the real zinger: Nick.

Good ol’ Nicky, one of the few people too good for this fucked up world, didn’t bother to talk to me. Which was good; talking to me is a complete waste of time, and he knows it. Rather, he took Sole, sweet little Sole, into his cozy Sanctuary house to speak with her, and like a fool I skulked outside the window, listening to the two people I admire most in the Commonwealth discuss my least favorite topic: me.

Nick offered Sole a seat on his couch; I could hear the squeak of centuries old springs as they both sat down. Nick starts, but only after letting a few beats of silence settle them in.

“So Deacon, huh? That’s an… interesting choice.”

She huffed out a halfway amused laugh.

“That’s what everyone tells me, more or less.”

They go quiet again. She was never much of a talker. Nick sighed; it’s a conscious response for him, seeing as breathing for a synth is quite redundant.

“Sole, I’ve known Deacon for a long time. He’s a good man, but I believe both of you going about this irrationally. Now I don’t say this to scare you, but I want you to think about your relationship with him for a second. Deacon is old enough to be your father. Albeit a young father, but a father none the less. You’ll grow old together, sure, but he’ll pass on long before you do, probably by a good fifteen years or more. That’s a long time to miss a spouse. And what about kids? If you have them, they’re going to lose their father at an early age. And before you start off on me about early deaths in the Commonwealth, that’s different. Death by raiders, illness, wildlife: those are unforeseeable tragedies. This on the other hand, is avoidable… Just something for you to think about before cementing anything.”

More silence. I was tempted to peek, to see what was happening.

“Hey now, don’t cry sweetheart. I’m just trying to look out for you. You may be the savior of the Commonwealth, but that doesn’t mean you’re accustomed to it. Hell, you probably weren’t even accustomed to your world before thawing out here. You’re young Sole, and whether or not you want to admit it, you need someone looking after you. Everyone does, to some extent. But what’s more is that this is still your decision. If even after thinking it through you decide to stay with Deacon, I’ll support you both.”

There’s more creaking of the springs and some rustling of clothes. I chanced a look past the windowsill to see Nick hugging Sole with her face buried in the crook of his neck. The old synth spotted me right away, lifting a questioning brow, but said nothing. I gave him a grateful nod of my head and fled the scene just before he finished the hug.

“Alright, time for you to run along home before it gets dark. After these last few days, you need some rest.”

Turning away, I hiked up the hill behind Sanctuary to my humble abode: a nondescript little makeshift cabin. It looked as worn down as I felt, but even after Sole offered me a house in Sanctuary proper, I declined and insisted she have Sturges build me something small and out of the way. Pushing past the rusted red door, I collapsed into my tattered armchair and pulled out a cigarette because damn did I need one.

Barely two minutes into my smoke break, just when the nicotine started taking the edge off, my door gently creaked open. Sole tip-toed in, searching for me with big, watery eyes. I sat up, both hands pressed against the arms of the chair, poised to launch me to her side, but then I froze, smoking cigarette still caught between my lips.

This is it, I thought, Nick got to her. He always gets to her. Good for him. Good for her. Devastating for me. But this is how it should be, damn it. Don’t screw this up Deacon, just let her go. Let. Her. Go. She doesn’t need any more fuck ups in her life. Go ahead and end it, and maybe it won’t hurt too badly. Shit. Stop shaking. Shit, stop shaking.

Her hand on my shoulder makes me jump. I’m still frozen, but my eyes never leave hers. And her eyes, they’re red-rimmed and brimming, so she won’t be saying much. Talking unravels her.

She gestured her head down and then back up. I nodded reassuringly at her. A shaky sigh left through her nose, and then Sole carefully curled up in my lap, forcing me to recline from my coiled position. Her forehead warmed my neck, but the familiar feeling couldn’t help me relax. Plucking the cig from my mouth, I tried releasing some tension in one long, trembling breath.

“You were supposed to go home.” I said.

I felt her shrug.

“Didn’t want to.”

She wasn’t surprised that I eavesdropped. She was never surprised by my deceits, even the ones she fell for and then later discovered… or didn’t discover, ever since that damned recall code gag. She fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. But the price we paid for it in the end, were her lowered expectations. That’s the only lie in my whole career that I ever considered a failure.

Hell, how can she stand to live in the same community as me, much less come to me for comfort?

I take a long drag, willing some pesky tear back inside their ducts. Come on now Deacon, get it out before you lose your cool.

“Sole, I think… it’s been long enough. What we’ve shared has been nice and all, but for both our sake, it’s time to break it off.”

She jerked back like I’d hit her, her elbows digging uncomfortably into my chest. I could see her angrily trying to blink back the already falling tears.

“Wh-what?” Her hands fisted up in my shirt, clenching and un-clenching. “But… why?”

“Sole, please, this is already hard enough. I’m not good for you; never will be. Believe me, you don’t want to be hitched to this fuck up for the rest of your life.” I swallowed hard, and damn it, now I’m crying too. I saw realization spark across her face as the first tear breached the rim of my glasses. Compassionately, like everything she did, she took them off and set the pair on the side table.

We watched each other quietly crying. Shit, we must’ve been the most pitiful sight on the face of the earth at that moment.

Suddenly her hands were on my face, and she leaned in. The warmth of her breath caused a buzzing sensation starting through my lips.

“Don’t.” I whispered.

Sole didn’t answer. Her lips pressed against mine.

It was our first.

And it changed my mind.

“I love you.” I blurted, my lips awkwardly moving against hers as I said it.

“I love you too. I love you too.” She whimpered against me. “I don’t want to leave you Dee. Please. I don’t care what anyone else says, even if they end up being right. Even if you’re twice my age, and even if this means sacrificing my golden years. Maybe I am young and stupid, but I’m young and stupidly in love, and that’s all I know.”

She kissed me harder the next time. I was sure that her mouth was heaven on earth. Soft, prying and yielding at the same time, coaxing. And her tongue, God her tongue, slipping out and running across my chapped bottom lip. When she pulled away, it was too soon.

“And you’re not a fuck up Deacon.” Her thumbs rubbed rapidly at my tears, feeling soft against my cheekbones. “You’re not. You’re so not.”

I squeezed her hips, probably too hard; It had been so long, too long, since I felt this overcome. Shit, I was in deep.

“Ca- mm- C-Can’t argue with a pretty lady.” I cheesed, and there was that smile. I lived for that smile.  “Now, where were we?”

“I think I remember where we left off.” She said, and if there’s one thing I can count on it’s this,

Sole definitely isn’t a liar.

Broken Crown - Part 3

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader (at this point I should give her a name)

A/N: Please don’t hate me after this. Quick question, how would those who like my writing feel if I were to start a story on here? All my own characters and plot. It’s been in my head for a while, I just couldn’t decided if I wanted to post on here or Wattpad. Let me know!!!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 

To the Lady Sansa of House Stark and House Dayne,

       She has become numb. When I hold her, I feel her body crumble into nothing. As I pretend to sleep, I hear her up all night. Violent sobs rake through her body and ruin my heart. She is not the same as she once was. This is not the woman we met so long ago. I love her, more than I have ever loved another. But, I am afraid the feelings are not reciprocated anymore. What happened during the Battle of the Dead, haunts her. Sometimes I wish it was me who did what she had to do. I am torn by it too, but there is something inside of her that has been completely wrecked. I thought moving back up to Winterfell was going to help, but she is still not happy. All I am trying to say is, I need your help. Please come North. Tell your husband it is by order of the King and also your brother. Little sister, I wish you the safest of travels. 

Jon Snow is alive. He has done the impossible but, he could not have done it without his Queen. The Night King is gone and the time that followed should’ve been one of celebration. Except, Jon finds himself two months later holed up in his study writing a letter and pleading with his sister to come North. 

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Swimming Lessons [An Argo!AU Drabble]

I gave myself the feels and had to get this written. Argo!AU credited to the brilliant @cinensis – go look at his art. It is amazing.

Cut for length, not for content.

“Sis, it’s really important that ya don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“I got it! Geez, you don’t have to keep telling me!”

“Okay, okay! Sorry!”

The zodiac slipped through the water as Badd took it out a small distance from the research vessel. The sun was shining bright in a perfectly blue sky, and he kept his eyes focused between steering the boat and watching out for his sister, who now, come to think of it, may have not needed two safety vests. Her arms were stuck out at her sides, unable to even put them down entirely. No harm in being cautious, though, right?

“Look, big bro!” she said excitedly, pointing west to a plume of wet air that shot high into the sky. From even far off, Badd could hear the blowhole exhale, and he saw a tail rise and fall.

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Beauty and the Beast AU

So this is supposed to be an introduction to how Stan turned into The Beast. I tried to make it sound like it could be in storybook! It is based off of the AU by @artsycrapfromsai. Do not expect this to fit exactly into their canon because I have only seen bits and pieces of the whole! I just really liked it so yeah, this is my contribution.


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Captain! Michael Part Two

Read Part One Here

Pairing: Y/N and Michael 

Synopsis: Everything that happens when they return home from their voyage thing

Rating: So Mature friends, no young eyes 

A/N: YES I KNOW I AM THE WORST. I promised when I wrote it that I would make a part two, I promised when I hit 3k, and I’ve promised several times since then and now its finally here! I struggled highkey with writing this but I gained inspiration and finally finished it. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

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Cancer Arc, part 3: I See You

This is the third installment of my Cancer Arc Series.  

Part 1: Mint Chocolate Chip

Part 2: Love Me Tender

Author: @piecesofscully

Rating: PG-13/R

Timeline: season 4-5ish

A/N: Thank you to the beautiful @kateyes224 for the beta and unconditional love, and thank you to @2momsmakearight and @thegilliantimes for the unending support and brainstorming. 

Weeks Later

“He said that the tumor hasn’t grown, and that the cancer hasn’t metastasized.  That’s good news, Scully, real good news,” Mulder says as he turns the key in the ignition.

“He also said that it hasn’t decreased in size,” I mutter.  I instantly regret allowing the words to fall from my lips, my negativity effectively launching him into a speech that borderlines a sales pitch regarding homeopathic therapies and their healing benefits as he steers us out of the parking garage and onto the open street with such a finesse that only a number of recurring instead of recurring visits could produce.  His voice filters through the stale air of the car that’s rapidly growing warmer, an occasional phrase catching my attention more than others, hanging so briefly in the space between us then disappearing just as quickly, like the blinking of fireflies in an open field.

Probiotic foods, immune system boosting supplements, juicing.  I feel myself visibly flinch when I hear the words “coffee enema.”

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