now i need her to snap at those other fools then i'm happy

bookwormchocaholic  asked:

Trope prompt list: arranged marriage for Rumbelle. ;)

Ooooh. This is one of my favorite trope and one I’ve never been able to plot, because Rumple always slips away from such deals. But since it was asked, I guess we’d start with that?

Twenty years ago…

Ogres attack Avonlea. As a last resource, the king decides to ask for the Dark One’s help and sends him a letter offering their most precious treasure in exchange for his power: their gold.

Rumpelstiltskin, being the kind of man who cannot let a chance to see a nobleman beg go unremarked, presents himself at the Avonlea castle and proceeds to merrily mock them for daring to offer gold to the spinner of gold. But since he is a merciful soul… deep down… (giggly sniggers), he has decided to give them a chance. Give him a good reason for the Dark One to exert himself in their favor, and - cue deep bow - he will be glad to help them.

Any reason at all.

Any? At all?


Enter the lady of the land.

“The history books claim you drove the ogres away from the Marchlands.”

Rumpelstiltskin scoffs, never liking the reminder of those days. “The stories also claim I eat children for dinner.” A glance down to the lady’s growing belly. “Are you offering?”

Every man in the room steps forward - starting with the lady’s husband - but she raises a hand to stop them.

“Colette,” the king mutters, nerves on an edge.

She squares her shoulders and pretends a dozen grown men didn’t just almost commit suicide. “I said history books, sir. Not nursery tales to scare the little ones into good behavior.”

Keep reading

knightcommanderalenko  asked:

Also, I'm prompting you to write fluffy Butch x LW where he's being awkward and isn't sure how to express his feeeeeelings :3

Okay I’m so excited to get this up oh my gosh, I had so much fun writing this, and I’m sorry it took me so long D: But oh my god I like this a lot, so just for you my Tunnel Snake :3 


Butch watches as she crouches down, her lithe hands digging through the battered bodies of the Super Mutants they’d slain, both their bodies covered with the thick grime of their kills.

He watches the way her shoulder muscles roll as she moves, her vault jumpsuit tied loosely at her waist to combat the sun, tanned shoulders barely covered by a black tank top. He’d spend so much time these past weeks counting the constellations of freckles across those delicate shoulders, watching the way they tensed and tightened against the recoil of the combat shotgun she wielded so confidently, the sway of her strawberry and sunshine curls as they brushed down her back, wild and unrestrained - like she was.

Butch snaps out of it immediately when her hand flashes across his vision, he blinks rapidly in surprise, coming out of his revelry to chuckle at her having to stand on her toes for her hand to reach.

“S-Sorry what’d you say nosebleed?” He stutters slightly and curses himself for it, caught off guard by the subtle arch of her eyebrows and the way her green eyes glitter at him from a layer of dirt and blood. ‘Get it together Butch-man’ He screams at himself, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket to hide the shake of his hands.

She shakes her head at him and turns, pointing half-heartedly in the direction of Mega-Ton. He shrugs his shoulders and nods, happy to head home if thats what she wanted. He fights the urge to hit himself in the face, before setting off after her, absolutely mesmerised by the sway of her hips against the semi-tight material of the vault jumpsuit she’d donned for their quick jaunt out into the Wasteland, forgoing her normal armoured leathers for something more breathable.

“You’ve been out of it for a while now.” She comments airily, glancing back over at her shoulder at him with sultry, half lidded eyes. “I think you’re losing your touch Butch-man

He can’t help the breath of air that leaves his lungs at the sight of her, but manages a scoff and a shake of his head, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

“No touch being lost here, I’d love to demonstrate if you’d let me.” He says with a lurid grin, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He fights the urge to slap himself in the forehead, what was he thinking?

She giggles and turns her head back towards the horizon, idly humming a familiar tune, one that used to play on the Vault radio in the diner, he didn’t think she’d still remember any of them - didn’t think she’d want to remember any of them.

He sighs a little to himself, idly pushing his hair back into place as he watches her walk, the way her curls bounce with each step. It had been an interesting few months by her side since she’d dragged his ass out of Rivet City, fearlessly leading him out into the Wasteland like she owned the goddamned place.

Butch had always been curious about her, had laid into her with his teasing more often when she’d turned from a gangly and awkward pre-pubescent to one of the more stunning girls in the Vault. He’d heard Freddie and Wally going on about her often, had heard the other girls muttering under their breath when she walked past,  huddled behind piles of medicinal theory and hidden behind thick glasses.

He’d gotten the shock of his life when she’d come back and blazed a warpath through Vault 101. She’d looked absolutely terrifying, not what he’d expected at all. He knew she’d survive, but he didn’t know that in the few short months she’d been outside that she’d turn into the Queen of the Wastes, laying waste to the world outside as she blazed a trail searching for her Father.

It hadn’t taken much for him to follow her out into the Wasteland, even less when she’d offered to take him away from Rivet City and out into the world with him. If he was curious about her before, he was entranced now, unable to take his eyes off her for more than a moment, watching the way her mouth curled around her words, the dusting of freckles under her eyes or the way her eyes twinkled when she found something he’d said amusing.

Butch had never thought it’d happen, but he was a fool for her, he’d turned into a bumbling idiot around her, unable to come up with his usual witty one liners and suggestive talk, merely stuttering in her presence and staring like a goddamned lecher.

He sinks deep into the couch when they get home, groaning as his aching muscles loosen, a deep content spreading through him after the hours of traveling and fighting they’d just done. Dogmeat jumps up beside him, and Butch can’t help but roll his eyes and pet the damned dog. They’d had a love hate relationship, but their girl had insisted they get along, and so they’d obeyed.

He hauls himself off the couch with a roll of his eyes when she yells out for him to strip off the armour he wore over his tunnel snakes jacket, telling him she needed to take it to Moira to be repaired tomorrow. He always chuckled at this, give her a gun and she’d fix it in a jiffy - tell her to sew or fix armour, and she’d shove it away in two seconds.

He trudges up the stairs, stomping slightly with annoyance at having to get up so soon after sitting down, but he does what she says this time around with minimal grumbling.

Butch reaches the top of the stairs, already reaching up to the latches of his shoulder guards when he looks up, his hands freezing.

She’s got her back turned to him, and all he can see for miles in skin, just the bare expanse of her freckled back and shoulders, rolling as they pull her tank top away from her neck and throw it to the side, reaching over for a clean shirt.

A deep breath whistles through his teeth when she turns to the side slightly, and he catches a glimpse of her breast, perfectly round and pert as she bends, the scars on her back tugging slightly as she does.

She hears his gasp, her head snapping to meet his gaze with wide, incredulous eyes, her mouth popping open as she freezes, stunned into submission by his gasp, then the hungry look in his eyes as he devours the sight of her half bare body.

Neither of them move for several heartbeats, before the blood rushing in his ears, and the way his heart pounds at the sight of her, screaming for him to stride over there and kiss the life out of her, to finish what he’d been dreaming about for so long, to feel her lips against his, her body twined around his.

“Oh fuck it.” He growls, flinging his shoulder guards away with a lazy motion, striding across the top floor and kicking the door closed behind him as he seizes her cheeks, smashing their lips together with little ceremony.

She gasps, her hands flailing slightly before she relaxes, a moan slipping from her throat as she eases into him, her hands looping over his broad shoulders, pulling him tighter against him as he opens her mouth under his, snaking their tongues together hesitantly, before they’re swaying - roiling together with a slow burning that he knows will eventually turn into a blazing inferno.

She pulls away with a deep breath, her fingers tangled deep into his hair, the strands twined around her long fingers, and she gives an angry tug when he smirks at her.

“Do you-“ Another irritated tug. “Have any, idea how long I’ve waited for you to do that!” She cries, her eyes incredulous as she glares up at him, her lips swollen and pink from his harsh kisses.

“Probably about as long as I’ve wanted to do it.” He breathes airily. She’d stolen all the air from his lungs, and he was incapable of breathing without her now, he craved her desperately, she brought comfort and life with her, and he didn’t know how to be out here without her now, didn’t know how to be himself to an extent without her.

She grins wolfishly, and tugs on his hair again, silencing his cry about watching his carefully styled locks with a searing kiss, nipping at his bottom lip with brutal teeth, calming his hiss of pain with a soothing lick of her tongue.

Anything they could have said to one another after that was consumed by the others touch, the feeling of their lips against one another’s, against their skin.

He supposed stepping outside of that Vault after the damned nosebleed was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.