#I never thought I would say this but he could wear crocs *shivers*

[jjongslight]

I hope the clown shoes are the most comfortable thing he's ever worn. If they are I'll forgive it.

I would forgive it if he kept them hidden.

#some things are meant to be enjoyed by you and only you #there are other comfortable shoes I am sure #I never thought I would say this but he could wear crocs *shivers* #tbh I would have gotten it if had worn them once for like giggles and shit but they keep coming back *cries in diph greyi* #don't come for me nothing is that serious taemints #anon #ask #fashion #clown shoes #taemin #my queen #fucktiddyboy #thémine #cultaeleader #tiermin #lire taemin #supreme taemin #je t'aemin #lil' bitch tae #lee frenchesco #this is an autism thing I am pretty sure it's his comfort item

[floorbe]

can you do a Danganronpa taka x fem!reader x mondo going to the mall? i feel like The Boys™ haven’t been shopping like ever lol! thank you!

Absolutely!!! This turned into more of a “they all force each other to try on outfits”, but I hope it still suffices hehe

~

You usher Taka into the fitting room, giggling as he stumbles inside with the outfit you had picked out for him. Your current plan was to swap Taka and Mondo’s clothing styles. You had picked out something you admittedly never thought you would see Taka wear: a leather jacket and leather pants. As you sat down to wait for Taka to change, you see Mondo open the door to his dressing room, trudging out in the outfit you had picked for him. You stifle a laugh, he looks so obviously uncomfortable, and justifiably so. He’s wearing the preppiest outfit you could manage to find, a white shirt with white capris, a fancy belt, and, to finish the look, white crocs. 

He’s blushing, rubbing the back of his neck as scowls at you. You bust out laughing, and his scowl deepens. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbles, walking over to take a seat next to you. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer. “It’s gonna be your turn soon, though.” He grins, poking you teasingly as you shiver at the thought of them both picking out clothes for you. Taka only wears his school uniform, and Mondo wears the same coat every day... what monstrosity would they put you in? 

You turn to jab him, but are interrupted as the door to Taka’s room swings open. He stiffly walks out, his face red. You and Mondo stare at him silently for a moment before cracking up. Taka struggles to cross his arms, the squeaking of the leather overpowering any scolding words he was trying to say, and he eventually gives up and lets his arms hang by his sides stiffly. The leather is tight, so tight that poor Taka has to practically waddle over to you two, which only causes you to laugh harder.

Taka prepares to speak, but gasps when he sees Mondo, however, “Y-you...! You look splendid!” he gapes, face flushing more. 

“Huh?” Mondo wipes a tear from his eye before registering what Taka said, face tinged in red. “O-oh, these? I dunno, they aren’t my style,” he mumbles, looking away. 

“Nonsense!” Taka smiles widely, trying once again to move his arms dynamically before allowing them to hang again, “You look amazingly cool!” 

Mondo grins, rubbing the back of his neck, “Thanks.” The two share a moment before Mondo’s grin turns evil, turning to you. “Your turn,” he purrs, and you start to resist as his arm tightens around your shoulders. You turn to Taka for help, only to find him smiling down at you. In any other circumstance, you would smile right back, but in this light, with Mondo slowly restricting you, you can’t help but find his smile... menacing. 

They push you into the fitting room with what you decide is the worst ensemble of clothes you have ever seen. It’s a long sleeve barf green shirt, bright purple polkadot (where did they get this design? The kids section?) short shorts, and, of course, cowboy boots. Of course. You begrudgingly put them on, solemnly opening the door to your fitting room to your boyfriends, who are currently sitting with Mondo’s arm around Taka’s waist. 

They both take one look at you before Mondo bursts out in cackles, and Taka tries desperately to hold back his laughter. You can’t help but grin at them, sauntering over, which causes Taka to let loose his spurts of loud laughs. You grin as they both begin to settle down and pull you down to meet them, both giving you a quick kiss on the lips. 

You all change out of your simply amazing outfits and continue your mall trip. Taka apparently has never been here, (why would he? He wears the same thing daily, anyways) and is enraptured by all of the different stores. He’s a blushing mess when you pass by Victoria’s Secret, though, and you can tell Mondo has a blush as well. You teasingly ask if they want to go inside, to which they both vigorously shake their heads and pull you along. Mondo insists on laying on every single piece of furniture you see, giving his professional opinion on it before moving on. 

You smile to yourself, taking your boyfriends hands in each of your own and causing them to both look down at you with a loving smile. Man, you love them.

#danganronpa #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo owada #mondo oowada #kiyotaka ishimaru x reader #mondo oowada x reader #mondo owada x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru x reader x mondo oowada #kiyotaka ishimaru x reader x mondo owada #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa scenario #imagine #scenario #upperstone

[catzula]

A promise worth catching a cold.

Vet Shinsou x (fem)Reader

Synopsis: you saved a cat and took it to the vet. You weren't expecting the vet to be an indigo haired man, who made your heart beat faster every time you looked at him.

Ahem, first fic ever, ahem.

Warnings: swearing (just a little)

Shinsou was bored. He was bored and tired and hungry and was about to lose it. It was past midnight and he was still waiting for that one customer that was a little too late. He knew he shouldn't have accepted when Aizawa asked him to fill in just this once. He was waiting for almost 3 hours now, but no one even stopped by.

There was a storm outside, a really big one too, but if the customer couldn't make it because of the storm, they should have just called in! But no, Shinsou had to wait because one person just couldn't bother to call to let them know, that they were going to be late and/or weren't going to come. If that would have been the case, Shinsou would have at least ordered some food.

This is stupid, he thought, I shouldn't have to wait 3 fucking hours just for one customer! It wasn't even an emergency, he was supposed to do a monthly check-up for a puppy but he just couldn't take it anymore, he wanted to go home and sleep.

He stood up in his chair, his legs were sore due to sitting in one position, a really uncomfortable one may I add, for so long. It was raining heavily, and a flash of occasional lightning brightened the darkroom. He grabbed his jacket and his backpack, and just when he was walking towards the exit the door opened.

Shinsou couldn't help but roll his eyes. Really? Now? Did they decide to come in now? But to his surprise, it wasn't a middle-aged woman with a toy poodle in her Louis Vuitton bag, it was a girl who stood in the entrance.

A girl about his age, who was so wet that there was already a puddle where she stood, his indigo eyes wandered on your figure. You had a shoebox clutched to your chest, wet hair sticking to your face and you were shivering.

"I-'m so sorry are you still open?" You were wet and really cold, shivering uncontrollably so it was normal your voice cracked.

"I was just leaving," Shinsou answered, not even bothering to hide the annoyed look in his face.

You noticed his expression but decided not to say anything about it. Though it was at that moment when you realized how handsome he was. Your eyes lingered on his face a little longer than necessary and you bit your lip, trying to concentrate.

You handed him the now wet shoebox, which made him look at you, waiting for an explanation. "The neighbors were complaining about some cat noises so when I went to see the source, I realized it was a kitten that was stuck in a car so-"

When he looked in the box, he wasn't expecting to see a kitty that was so small that probably wasn't even a week old.

"What do you mean in a car?"

You shrugged, not sure how to really explain it, but you tried nonetheless. "In a car. She was stuck in the engine so I took her out." You did the same hand motion you did to save the cat, and this made Shinsou realize how your left arm was injured, up till your elbow. You had hundreds of little cuts on your left arm, and one deep cut that seemed like it was still bleeding.

Shinsou's eyes wandered over you once again, this time a little more closely. You were wearing an oversized shirt and pajama shorts that had bunny prints on them, your yellow Crocs were wet and making annoying noises with your every move. Your shirt was wet and it was clinging on you, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Shinsou realized you weren't wearing a bra and this realization made his cheeks burn a little.

When you noticed where he was looking at, and saw how you were practically naked you crossed your arms in front of your chest with an embarrassed look on your face that almost made Shinsou laugh out loud.

He faked a cough to at least get rid of this awkward silence but it didn't really help. "I'm going to do everything I can. There is a heater right there so you could wait there and dry a little."

"And just...try not to move your left arm please." He added before he left.

When you sat next to the heater, you couldn't hold back a little moan of relief. Warm. You thought to yourself, not being able to hold back the smile on your lips.

Your eyes were on the indigo haired guy, who was a little too handsome for your sanity. His eyes looked annoyed and really sleep deprived, dark circles under his eyes, but even that added to how handsome he was. Even though he had a cold gaze while talking to you, looking at him now, you noticed how soft and compassionate his eyes were, looking at the injured kitty.

You couldn't help yourself but watch him, you just couldn't tear your eyes from this guy who had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, but because you didn't want him to think that you were a creep, you took your phone out of your pocket, -thank God it was still working- and checked your messages.

Shinsou was more than aware of the (e/c) eyes watching him. The eyes that made his heart beat a little too fast, his skin a little too hot. You were pretty, even though you were as wet as a mouse, Shinsou wasn't blind.

When he did everything he could, for now, he left the cat to sleep and went in to check up on you.

You were curled next to the heater, legs exposed because of your shorts, (h/c) locks dry and messy. He tried not to think about how you reminded him of a cat. Your eyes were closed and Shinsou wondered if you were sleeping.

He got a little closer to you, walking softly so you wouldn't wake up if you were sleeping but you opened your eyes nonetheless. Shifting your position, you rubbed your eyes and smiled softly at him. A smile so sweet that made him hold his breath. "How is the...umm... Cat?"

"He's okay. I'm here to look at your arm."

The look on your pretty face told him that you forgot all about your injured arm and he felt a little tingly feeling in his stomach, not knowing why.

"Oh, okay." You looked a little uncomfortable. "Thanks, a lot."

He didn't say anything but the little smile on his lips made your heart beat faster. His smile was soft, along with his dark purple eyes, and it made you wonder how his lips would feel like, which made your cheeks burn bright red.

He cleaned your wounds and bandaged them. You didn't talk during the process, but you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him. He was even hotter up close. His indigo hair looked soft, yet it was defying gravity in a way you had never seen before. You wondered how it would feel like under her fingers and that image led to another-

When Shinsou looked up from your arm to your face he noticed how red you were but decided not to say anything about it, and honestly, you couldn't ask for anything else.

Your shirt was dry at last, fucking finally, he thought to himself, it was almost impossible not to look at your... well erm... Shirt.

Although you were now fully dry, he couldn't help but notice how cold your hands still were, or how you still shivered a bit, even though you were trying to hide it. He stood up and grabbed his sweatshirt, it was his high school's sweatshirt but he didn't really care.

"Here."

You looked at him and his sweatshirt for a few seconds but took the sweatshirt without arguing. Your eyes widened when you saw the logo on the sweatshirt. "You gotta be kidding me."

He tried not to think about how good his sweatshirt looked on you.

You tried not to think about how the sweatshirt smelled like lavender.

"You go to UA? The UA? The highschool only the smartest people in the whole fucking country go to?"

"Well, uh-"

"Actually, if the answer is positive please don't answer that." You said jokingly. Shinsou couldn't help but smile.

"Well, I'm Shinsou." He held out his hand, you did the same only to remember your hand was injured and gasped a little because of the sudden pain.

"I'm Y/N." You said, stretching out your other hand because you wanted to know how he felt like. His hand was warm and soft, and when you pulled your hand back, you felt a tingling sensation lingering on your fingers.

You looked at each other's eyes for a little too long. "I think the cat should stay with me for a few days or a week or so. If you could leave your phone number, I can call you."

When your eyes widened he felt his cheeks burn a little. "I mean to call you- because of the cat... I didn't mean it that way."

You knew what he meant, but couldn't help but feel a little hurt by his words. You still forced a smile on your face. "Yeah, sure! Umm, if you could give me your phone I'll type it in."

You typed her number in awkward silence, without realizing how Shinsou was internally beating the shit out of himself.

You gave the phone back to him and he couldn't help but smile at the cat emoji next to your name. When the awkward silence continued you sighed.

"I'll leave now."

"Hey, umm, wait a second!" He said before he could prevent himself from doing so. "I- I mean, I could give you a ride, it's still raining outside and you're..."

He stopped mid-sentence but you realized what he meant by the look he sent at your clothes. You stayed silent for a second or two, considering his offer than a smile graced your lips.

"Thank you." You could feel your heart beating faster, even though he already made it pretty clear that he wasn't interested in you, he was a little too handsome for you not to be excited. The lavender smell coming from his sweatshirt didn't help either.

You stepped out into the ongoing storm, you could feel his eyes watching your every move.

Both of you walked to his car in silence, when you reached the car, both of you were -once again- wet. His sweatshirt was the only thing that protected your body and your hair from getting wet, but he wasn't as lucky. Indigo locks now sticking to his face, his thin shirt wet and heavy, showing everything underneath- how was he still so handsome?

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander on his figure, his muscles now on display, and feel your face burn despite the cold weather. He smirked but didn't comment, a smile that made you both embarrassed and excited. You opened the car door and practically threw yourself on the seat.

When he got in, he ran his hand through his hair, something you thought of doing since the first second you saw him and combed his now wet locks away from his face.

He looked at you like he was waiting for something, but you weren't sure what exactly, so you looked right back at him. When you both looked at each other's eyes for at least 20 seconds, he started to laugh.

His laugh was infectious, you couldn't help but laugh yourself too. The tired look and his cold gaze vanished when he laughed, you caught yourself staring, but didn't do anything to stop it.

"I was hoping you could tell me where you live?" He said when he stopped laughing. "Oooh-" now that made much more sense. "But you could always crash at my place too." This sentence said with that smirk of his was enough to make your heart stop.

Surely he wasn't... Flirting with you? But what other explanation was there?

"How generous, a true gentleman. But I think I'm going to stick with the first plan." You said mockingly. "I live near the library."

A few seconds of silence past. "So, now you know which school I go to, it's only fair if you tell me yours too." He said with a little smile on his face. Did he want to know more about you? That idea made you feel tingly all over your body.

"Well, my school isn't the most well-known high school in the country, it's ****." You said teasingly. He laughed softly and you realized how hot he looked driving the car, concentrated on the road.

He opened the radio and you sang along softly, earning a smile from him. He drew the car according to your directions and when the car stopped you felt a little sad.

You were about to open the door when you remembered you still had his sweatshirt on. "Oh- your sweatshirt." You made a move to take it off but he stopped you by touching your arm softly. "It's okay, you can give it to me next time."

Next time?

"Oh, you mean next week, when I come to take the cat."

He shrugged, "If you want to wait till then, sure." Your eyes widened and the tingly feeling ran through your whole body. "I-" you weren't sure how to answer but he seemed to find it funny, how speechless you were, so he laughed.

"I'll text you?"

You felt a smile tugging on your lips. "Sure."

#shinsou x reader #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bnha x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #shinsou hitoshi

[parkersharthook]

Cheers (Drink To That)

Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers friendship (Bucky Barnes x female!reader)

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of past drugging, just guys being dudes

2.2k+ words

MODERN AU where Bucky and Steve play truth or drink (x)

“have any friend of yours said that I was dumb? Like in your life.”

Bucky said as he laughed softly, “So many of them.”

~.~

“Hi I’m Steve”

“And I’m Bucky, and we’re best friends. Basically brothers but not legally.”

“or biologically” Steve chimed in

[Welcome to Truth or Drink. Who’s going first?]

Steve sat up straighter and flexed slightly, “I’m better looking so I’ll go first.” Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes but let Steve continue anyways, “If someone offered you one million to never talk to me again would you take it?”

Bucky thumbed an empty shot glass as answered, “I mean I want to say no because you are my best friend but that is a lot of money”

Steve nodded and he set the piece of paper to the side, “you should take it, that’s a shit ton of money. That’s like your livelihood. Plus I could still talk to y/n so win-win.”

Bucky laughed and nodded, “then yeah I probably would take it.” He drew a card, “Have you ever had a crush on someone that I’ve been with?”

“Well yeah probably most of them.” Steve answered with ease causing Bucky to do a double take.

Bucky laughed as his eyes widened, “what?”

Steve nodded, “despite your tendency to date crazy girls, they have always been super attractive.”

“what about y/n?” Bucky questioned

“oh yeah”

Bucky’s mouth fell open incredulously, “are you kidding me? My fiancé?!”

Steve rolled his eyes, “duh, she’s hot. We actually went out on a date before I introduced you guys.”

“Oh she did tell me this.” Bucky relented

[Could we have come context please?]

Steve smiled to the camera, “I took his now fiancé, when I first met her, on a date and we both just thought we were better off as friends and then the two of them met and hit it off so yeah…”

Bucky worried his bottom lip, “but it wasn’t a serious date right?”

Steve shrugged, “well I mean it was a date. I took her to dinner and paid so yeah it was a date but it wasn’t like anything happened.”

“I mean you still kind of hit on y/n still…” Bucky said teasingly with only a slight undertone of salt.

Steve rolled his eyes again, “jokingly…”

Bucky straightened up, “okay whatever”

“Oh relax Buck you know I would never do anything to come between you guys. You guys are made for each other.” Bucky smiled at Steve as Steve took another card, “do you remember when I lost my virginity and how did you know?”

“remember it? Not to the exact instance. But I know you lost it in high school and told me after it happened… right?”

Steve nodded, “yeah that sounds about right.”

Bucky drew the next one, “is there something that happened between us that we should talk about now?

Steve fiddled with his fingers, “umm…. not that I now of? I feel like we’re pretty open and honest with each other.”

Bucky agreed, “yeah I think if anything came up we would’ve dealt with it at the time”

“yeah probably. I mean, unless there is something you would like to tell me.” Bucky shook his head with a short laugh. Steve continued to a new card, “Who is the smarter friend?”

Bucky’s smile widened, “Are we talking street smarts or book smarts. Because honestly me in both categories probably?

Steve scoffed, “Oh come on, not at all. Just because you’re a space nerd doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me”

Bucky threw his hands up, “I’m a fucking lawyer bro.”

“so? I’ve won any and all fights we’ve been in. Both physical and verbal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “any verbal fights we’ve had that you’ve won are only because I let you won. Plus you win any physical fights only because you’re big not because you know how to throw a punch.” Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky as he held his hands up in defense, “I’m not calling you dumb I’m just saying that I’ve made smarter decisions in most aspects of our life.”

“fine whatever” Steve exaggerated, throwing the card to the side.

Bucky laughed, “no need to be salty.” Another card drawn. “Name my favorite sex position.”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t know man… probably whatever y/n likes best.”

Bucky rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, “okay but like imagine outside of y/n—"

“hard to do.” Steve interrupted.

Bucky laughed, “yeah that’s kinda hard to separate us but try. What’s my favorite sex position?”

Steve sighed, “I don’t know man probably doggy. You’ve always liked a good ass.”

Bucky laughed, “who doesn’t though. But yeah, you’re right.”

Steve pulled the next card, “I dare you to call my ex and tell her how you really feel.”

Bucky shook his head immediately, “no.”

Steve snickered, “why not?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve, “because your exes are crazy and most of them know where I live because I haven’t moved in a while so absolutely not.”

Another large laugh came from Steve, “fine whatever. Pussy. Take a drink if you’re not gonna call them.”

Bucky held his hands up, “I’m thinking of my future.” He poured himself a shot and knocked it back easily before reaching for another card, “How many sexual partners have you had? Be honest.”

Steve mentally counted for a moment, “15…? I honestly don’t know man. Do you think if y/n knew your number she’d be mad”

Bucky shook his head, “she knows my number. Dude we literally tell each other everything, I don’t think there’s something out there that she doesn’t know already.”

“that’s kinda cute actually.” Steve reached for a new card, “what’s the worst fight we ever had?”

Bucky knew instantly. “The one sophomore year of college right around spring break. That was really bad.”

Steve grimaced and nodded, “oh yeah that definitely was our worst one.”

[can you tell us what happened?]

Bucky leveled his head for a moment, “I’m not actually sure if we can… it involves a lot of other people. But it ended with us like beating the shit out of each other so it definitely took a turn for the worst.”

“that’s an understatement.” Steve mumbled as he pulled another one, “which one of us is the most successful? Oh wait I think it was your turn to ask the question.”

Bucky shrugged, “it doesn’t matter.” He thought for a moment, “I think we’re pretty even. I definitely got more success like earlier on in life but at our stage right now… we’re pretty damn even.”

“I mean you make more money.” Steve countered lightly.

Bucky nodded slightly and ran a finger over his lip in thought, “yeah… but we both have a stable job, a good relationship, we’re happy with what we do and where we are in life. We’re doing good for ourselves man. Go us.”

Steve laughed and held his hand up for a high five, “hell yeah we are.” Bucky reached across the table and smacked his hand. The two laughed as Bucky pulled a new card

“Share the most mortifying memory you have of me.” Bucky said with a grimace.

Steve sighed, “I’ll answer this but I haven’t had anything to drink man. Let’s take 2 shots.”

Bucky laughed, “I am so unbelievably down.” The two knocked back four shots of alcohol before Steve went back to the question.

“I mean you once stumbled into our dorm room at maybe… 5 am still ‘drunk’ and you were only wearing your boxers and a pair of crocs that weren’t yours. And I was trying to get you into bed and you literally passed out and I was so scared I didn’t know what to do.”

Bucky winced, “was that the night I was accidentally drugged?”

Steve nodded solemnly, “yeah…”

[seriously?]

Bucky nodded, “this guy at a party tried to drug a girl’s drink but I ended up accidentally taking her drink instead of my own so I got drugged. I made it back to our dorms -- thank god -- and then Steve had to deal with that.”

Steve sighed, “yeah that was terrifying. I called the RA explaining what happened and he got mad as us because he just assumed Bucky was shitfaced. And then like thirty minutes after he passed out, he woke up but was still acting like he was drunk. So our other roommate and I ended up having to take you to the hospital. I feel like I just knew something was wrong.”

“I feel like I’ve said thank you for that but… thanks man.” Steve nodded. Bucky continued, “Honestly, I’m just happy it didn’t happen to the girl. Because like even though it was scary, I ended up okay and I don’t want to know what the other possible outcome of that night was…”

Steve shivered, “anyways… moving on. Finish this line with me, I’m most scared of…”

Bucky smiled, “mind control.”

[what?]

Bucky laughed, “oh yeah this tall and muscly dude over here is scared of mind control.”

Steve shuddered, “that shit freaks me out. Like all that stuff in movies… bleh. Imagine like having no control over your actions and just doing what other people tell you to do. That sounds horrible.”

Bucky sniggered, “you know that isn’t real, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “technically yes but we also have no idea that something like that isn’t out in the world right now. I’ve heard of plenty of things like brainwashing and stuff.

Bucky shook his head, “not quite mind control but whatever. Next question: have you ever disliked someone I dated?”

Steve pulled his lips between his teeth for a moment, “I’m gonna take a shot.”

Bucky laughed, “I mean I know who you didn’t like. No one liked her.”

“I’m gonna take a shot” Steve repeated.

Bucky’s eyes widened, “was it not just Dot? were there more girls you didn’t like?”

Steve shrugged, “I’m just gonna take a shot.” He knocked back the drink eaisly

Bucky shook his head with a slight annoyance, “dick.”

Steve wiped his mouth, “I mean in comparison to y/n they’re all trash and I hate all of them.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I mean me too but that wasn’t the question!”

Steve raised his hands in defense, gesturing towards the empty shot glass. “hey, I took the shot!” He quickly grabbed a new card to further the game along, “If you had to eat one part of my body, what would it be?”

Bucky sighed, really confused and slightly disturbed by this question. “I don’t know…?” He drawled. “Like a finger or toe? Nothing too big or important.”

Steve laughed and gave him a smile, “you know… I appreciate that.”

Bucky grabbed the next card, “alright. Oh man… I don’t want to ask this. Can I take a shot instead of ask it?”

[2 shots]

Bucky pointed to the man off camera, “I will take that deal”

Steve smirked, “what was it?” He reached over to grab the card and skim it quickly. He snorted slightly, “smart choice.”

“okay my turn.” Steve read the new one, “have you ever caught me masturbating or having sex?”

Bucky shook his head, “not masturbating. I think I heard you and Sharon one time.”

Steve furrowed his brows, confused. “me and Sharon never…”

Bucky’s eyes widened in a surprised shock, “what? Really? Oh then I heard you and someone but never liked walked in on which is honestly surprising because we lived together for like 5 years and through college.” Steve nodded in agreement.

“if I killed somebody would you help me cover up the body?”

Steve didn’t even hesitate, “for sure! I don’t know how good I would be at helping but I’d help.”

Bucky smiled and pumped a fist, “that’s friendship right there! Though I might ask Natasha over you.”

Steve agreed, “yeah that’s a smart choice. I’d probably get us caught.”

Steve read the card quickly and shook his head in exasperation, “let’s take another shot before this question.” He gulped back the shot with a slight grimace, “what would it take for us to have sex?”

Bucky grimaced, “I’m gonna take another shot after that question.” He studied Steve for a second, “I mean not much look at him.” That caused everyone behind the camera to laugh. Bucky continued with a smile, “No I’m joking, it would take a lot. I mean first, we’d both have to be single so that would already be a hard obstacle. Then probably like a solid amount of money.”

Steve raised his brow, “really? Like how much?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know… enough to pay for most things that I’ll need for the rest of my life.”

“okay so like an absurd amount.”

Bucky nodded aggressively, “yeah…” Bucky groaned as he read the next card, “sit on my lap and stare into my eyes intimately or take a shot.”

“okay so here’s the thing.” Steve started to explain, “I would do that really easily but I also just really don’t want to right now? You know?” Steve continued on despite the agreement from Bucky, “Like if I was a tad drunker than I probably would but we’re both dating someone and-”

Bucky laughed, “just take the shot. Pour me one too.”

Steve pulled the next question, “do you love me. If yes, say it or take a shot.”

Bucky smiled, “of course I love you, you’re my best friend.”

Steve smiled back at him, “aww thanks man. I love you too!”

#marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #reader #steve rogers and bucky barnes #stucky friendship #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader imagine #emma writes #masterlist input

[bnhascribbles]

Better Late Than Never

Kirishima x Reader

Music AU, Fluff, Pining; A (late) birthday present for the vibrant @sunlikesthis!  Kirishima is precious and SO ARE YOU MY PAL.  YOU’RE FRIEND CAN’T FINISH STUFF ON A DEADLINE SO HAVE SOME FOOLS THAT HAVE THE SAME PROBLEM.

Words: 3K

Warnings: Swearing (only slightly because Bakugo)

The first thing that strikes you is the fact that it is absolutely freezing in the hall.  Then again, that was the case at all of these concerts; the AC always seemed to be cranked up to “Antarctica,” and the fact that your clothes are sopping wet only helps the chill seep into your bones that much faster.  The second thing you notice is that the lights are already out, the stage already lit up, the quintet already...performing?  No, they couldn’t be—maybe they were just warming up.  With the lights off.  For a silent crowd.  You hang back against the wall, checking your phone and doing what you can to cover up some of the light from the screen.  When you see the time, it takes all the restraint in you not to gasp over the sound of the group onstage.

You were late, and not in the fashionable way either, if that rule could even be applied to musical performances (it can’t).  The rain—it must’ve been the rain.  People always forgot how to drive when the sky got even a little cloudy, and you could never trust buses to arrive on time, even on sunny days.  You thought you’d accounted for that.  Keyword: thought.

The musicians were already well into their piece and you’d just walked in and slammed the double doors behind you like some sort of moron that’s never been to a recital before.  You become acutely aware of the eyes on you—the old woman shaking her head in the corner, the mother and son glaring daggers at you as you just stand there, frozen and looking just a little too casual in your soaked tee and sneakers.  The way they saw it, you were probably the poster child for “what not to do as an audience member.”  Your head throbs, the weight of the sheer embarrassment threatening to topple you and create an even bigger scene.

With legs like jelly, you shuffle down an aisle, crawling over more than one frustrated concert-goer and sinking into the first empty seat you find.  You can still feel their stares though, and somewhere at the back of your mind, a little voice tells you to stand right back up and nope out of there before anything can get worse.  It’s tempting, but then again, listening to it would mean you’d have to do that weird seat-waddle thing through the aisle again.  Your shoes are full of water too—there’d definitely be some sloshing on the way out, and that wouldn’t really help make your escape any more subtle.  It would also mean you’d be breaking your promise to Kirishima.  That would be worse than any amount of embarrassment you could ever experience.  You might be a disaster, but you were a disaster that supported your friends, dammit.  That meant that your personal policy on tardiness at recitals was a bit more lenient today—a “better late than never” sort of deal.  

Hands pressed firmly to the sides of your face (like that’ll do anything to hide you from the looks), you peer up at the stage.  Kirishima’s there beneath the blinding beams of light, sitting right of center-stage with his trumpet propped in his lap.  He looks impossibly casual—in his element—even decked out in a suit and tie instead of his usual cargo-pants-and-crocs getup.  Casting a quick glance at Bakugo across from him, then to his music below, Kirishima lifts his instrument to his lips, begins to play.  You’ll never understand how he does that, how he just performs and forgets about the hundred pairs of eyes trained on him while he does it.  You know from experience (some of it very, very recent) the way that any sort of attention could shake a person, make them feel like they’re breathing underwater—dizzy and nauseous with lungs that can’t seem to do their job right.  But you suppose that’s the difference between him and you.  He’s meant to be a frontman: his sound is strong and his disposition perpetually sunny—he’s the sort of person that people flock to without even realizing it.  And of course he has to be humble about it; Kirishima couldn’t just be an egotistical jerk like Bakugo.  No, he had to be perfectly kind, perfectly charming, and perfectly out of your league.  In regards to friendship and...anything else.

Not that you need more with Kirishima.  Friendship is fine.  Friendship is awesome.  Sure, that intense look he gets whenever he practices makes something curl up on itself deep in your belly.  Sure, whenever he gives you one of those playful pats on the back, you wish he would linger for just a little bit longer. 

Sure, you can’t seem to shake the image of his hard body melting into yours—a fantasy where your hands are knotted into his wild hair, dragging him in closer as you gasp, finally begin to understand what all those long hours spent perfecting embouchure and technique were good for when he starts to—

But friendship.  Right.  Your friendship with Kirishima is perfectly acceptable.

The piece ends in what feels like a minute.  You barely notice.  It takes thunderous applause all around you to snap you from your trance, and you join in clapping before anyone can find another reason to accuse you of being disrespectful.  The group stands, instruments at their sides, and they bow, but you’re hyperfocused on Kirishima.  He’s squinting into the audience, nose crinkled and sweat dripping down his forehead.  Searching.  You can’t imagine it’ll do any good; you’re not in the seat you’re supposed to be in—the one he’d reserved specifically for you—and the blinding stage lights shining down on him probably don’t make looking for any one particular person easy.  Still, the silent moment of recognition that passes over his face when his eyes scan over your area of the crowd makes you think, just maybe, he sees you there.  Kirishima grins wide, lopsided, and you can feel your heart do a minuet in your freakin chest.  Because he looks good when he does it.  Really good actually.  And he isn’t looking away, even when he sits—when the rest of the quintet starts fumbling through their sheet music in preparation for the next piece.  

It takes a subtle, but firm, kick to the shin from Bakugo and a whispered something from Sero on his right to get Kirishima back in his “performer mode,” emptying the valves on his instrument and flipping through the paper on his stand.  Kaminari and Ashido turn to each other with these smirks plastered across their faces, and it’s barely a second before that earns a murderous glare from Bakugo.  Their smiles don’t fade, not even a bit, but they shift in their seats, sitting up a little straighter.  The damage is done though—you feel fuzzy and hot and hopeful.  And maybe you’re reaching, but you think you see a bit of a pink color creeping up Kirishima’s neck.  That’s only fuel for your fire.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur.  You can’t say you exactly remember standing up for the final applause, nor elbowing your way out the hall and into the lobby, nor walking outside and looping around the building to stand, shivering at the backstage entrance.  Your damp clothes feel like they’re covered in icicles by the time someone finally swings open the door, nearly knocking into you in the process.

The encounter is a surprise for both of you, so much so that for a second, you’re seriously concerned Ashido is going to use her French horn case to bludgeon you.  Thankfully, she only gets as far as drawing her arm back in preparation for the swing before a bit of light from inside reaches your face.  Ashido lowers her “weapon” and clutches her chest in relief.

“Oh my god,” she pants, leaning on the doorframe for support, “oh my god, oh my god, you scared the shit out of me.  I thought you were gonna murder me or something.”

You swallow hard, choking down most of your own shock before speaking.  “I could say the same for you.  Do you always swing first and ask questions later?”

Ashido lets out a short laugh, having caught her breath a bit.  “Only when the other person looks like the fuckin’ grim reaper.”  She blinks and gives you a once-over.  “Seriously, how are you not actually, like, dead?  Or at least frozen?  You’re soggy and...where’s your coat?”

“Didn’t have time to grab it; had practice earlier today, so I ran home to drop my instrument then booked it to the bus stop.  I still wound up getting here late.”  You sigh, remembering the horror of it all.

“So you were late—big deal.  You know, it’s fine to miss a concert or two if you’re busy.”

“It is a big deal, Mina.  And it’s not fine to just be a flake when—.”

“—when Eijiro is the one inviting you.”  Ashido finishes your sentence, lips twisting up into a familiar smirk—mischievous and all-knowing.  Your brain shoots into panic mode at the suggestion, and you frantically search for anything witty or sarcastic or just plain contradictory to shoot back with.  You’re at a complete loss though, your mouth forming the words without any sound coming out.

“Just get inside already.  Things’ll never get interesting between you two if you die of frostbite now”  Ashido ushers you through the door and into the warmth, still doing absolutely nothing to contain her smug expression.  When you scowl, she rolls her eyes and gives you a gentle shove forward.  “Kidding, kidding.  Come on, ever heard of a joke?”

“No.”  You deadpan, peering back at her over your shoulder.  Ashido gives you another shove, and you’re about to tell her off, but before you can, you’re colliding with something—something that feels like a boulder wearing a suit jacket.

Kirishima grabs your shoulder as you bounce off his chest, steadying you before you have the chance to fall back too far.  Ashido cackles the entire way out to the parking lot—you can hear her shrill laughter long after the door slams behind her.  

“Hey!” Kirishima greets you a little too loud, obviously caught off guard by the whole scene.  It only takes him a second to recover though, and once he does, he flashes a toothy grin and gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Fancy bumping into you back here.”  

You groan.  “Puns don’t suit you, Eijiro—leave em’ to Kaminari.”

“Aw, really?  I thought that one was pretty good, though!”

“Nope.  Stick to trumpet; if today’s concert is any indication, you’re way better at that anyway.”

He chuckles and ruffles his hair with his free hand, smile softening a bit.  “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too.”  You say, a smile forcing its way across your lips.  That always seemed to happen when you were around Kirishima, and you like to pretend you don’t know already know why.  “The rain slowed me down so I wasn’t even sure I’d make it in time.  But better late than never, right?”

“Right.”

There’s a moment of silence between the pair of you—the sort that happens when neither person has the slightest clue how to continue the conversation.  You definitely weren’t going to be the one to say “see ya’” or “bye,” mostly because you really didn’t want to; Kirishima had been busy all month prepping for today, and seeing as you hadn’t even gotten to speak with him before the recital (once again thank you so much public transportation), you were seriously falling short of your “Kiri Quota” for the week.  Consequences associated with a failure to meet it included: an empty feeling in your chest, an unexplainable preoccupation with the color red, a sudden desire to google pictures of crocs, and the inability to stop thinking about how good his lips would feel if he’d just lean in a little and—

No!  Bad!  You need to stop doing this—stop daydreaming, stop making up these impossible scenarios in your head.  Your crazy games of what if were the reason these awkward silences even started happening in the first place.  

One little comment from Bakugo had been all it’d taken.  Seriously.  One exasperated exclamation of “just fuckin’ get together already” shouted in a drunken stupor had been enough to create a rift between you and Kirishima.  Which was ridiculous really, because if anything was meant to happen between the two of you, it would’ve happened already.  One of you would’ve abandoned all your fears of horrible embarrassment and a wrecked friendship and would’ve just gone for it.  That's the way it worked, right?  Because if it didn’t...well then, hell, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

The buzz of the lights is almost deafening.  Kirishima shifts in place while you clench your jaw tight in a desperate attempt to keep your teeth from chattering.  

“Are you—”  You both begin at the same time, then stop abruptly.

“You first.”  The two of you do it again, laughing nervously when you end up copying each other a second time.

“You cold?”  Kirishima offers.  You raise an eyebrow and his eyes drift down to your folded arms, hands nestled tightly beneath your armpits.  The moment you notice his gaze, they fly out, adopting a frantic, placating gesture.

“Oh, I’m fine!  My clothes are just a little wet from earlier and you know how the staff likes to turn up the air, even when it’s negative whatever degrees outside.”  You shove your hands back to their original place.  “It’s alright—really.”

Kirishima nods like he understands, but still pulls his hand back from your shoulder and shrugs off his suit jacket.  

“Eiji—”

He cuts you off before you can finish.  “I was actually thinking it was hot in here.  Besides, I’m gonna be hauling chairs and stuff and I don’t need to sweat while I do it.”  Kirishima reaches around you and places his coat over your shoulders.  “So this works better for both of us, right?”

You huff, but that’s the extent of your complaining.  Because it is warmer—you can still feel the residual heat from Kirishima’s body lingering in the fabric.  You try to pretend that fact doesn’t make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

You clear your throat, resolving to ask your question and distract yourself.  “Are you sticking around to pack up?”

Kirishima sighs, heavy.  “Yeah.  There’s not a ton to do, but Katsuki will kill me if I leave before him.  As it is, he’s already pissed that Mina bailed on us.”  

“I can help if you need a pair of extra hands.”  You offer.

“Nope.  You’re my guest, so I’m not gonna have you lugging around our stuff for us.  That’s what Hanta and Denki are for.”

“But I’m—”

“We’re good.”  Kirishima assures you.  “With the four of us, we’ll have it done in, like, 10 minutes.  Just hang tight and, if you’re willing to wait, I’ll give you a ride home.”  He extends his hand outward towards you.  “Deal?”  

You take it, but make sure that he can see you rolling your eyes when you do it.  “Fine, I’ll wait.”

Kirishima gives your hand a firm shake.  But once that’s done, he doesn’t let go.  When his thumb brushes up against your knuckles, just barely there, you tell yourself it’s chance—he has something he’s forgotten to say and he doesn’t want you rushing off into a dressing room before he can say it.  When he rubs at the bottom half of his face with his free hand, covering the beginnings of a blush, you convince yourself it’s because he really is hot—in the temperature sort of way, of course.  When his face seems to drift in closer to yours, agonizingly slowly, millimeter by millimeter, you discount that as...well, you don’t have an explanation for that yet.  At least, not one that won’t get your hopes up.  

Still, you can’t help it.  You find yourself chewing on your bottom lip and leaning in, determined to meet him halfway.

Before you can, a gruff voice calls out from beyond the stage door.  “Take your fuckin’ time, Kirishima!  Not like we’re waiting for you or anything!”

Kirishima practically throws your hand and hops back, expression looking almost guilty as he peers over his shoulder, then back at you.  Then he laughs, but it’s completely forced.  Awkward and full of tension.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.  So just—” he rubs furiously at his jaw, “—don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I’ll wait right here.”  You say, scratching at the back of your neck and praying that your feeble voice doesn’t betray you.  

Kirishima nods and, as you watch him hurry away, your insides are churning.  Damn Bakugo for starting this fiasco, and damn him for not letting you see it through to the end.

Thankfully, you don’t have much time to feel sorry for yourself.  Kirishima groans just as he reaches the stage door.  He presses his clenched fists to the wall beside the doorframe, just for a second, then turns on his heel and faces you once again.  His expression is much different than it had been before.  It’s intense—like the look he gets when he’s practicing.  When he has a goal in mind.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”  He says, his voice gravelly and strained.

Kirishima stomps back over to you in a hurry, and before you have the chance to question him, he takes the sides of your face in his hands.

“Better late than never?”

You understand the meaning of the question immediately, and your pulse beats wildly for it.

“Better late than never.”  You exhale, pressing your forehead to his.

And then he kisses you.  Hard.  You suppose that his way of making up for lost time.

#bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha #mha #mha x reader #eijiro kirishima #HAPPY BDAY SUN

[fanfic-she-wrote]

A Mermaid’s Heart (Captain Hook x Reader)

No smut, lots of fluff. This story was requested by an anon. Hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing this. Hook has been one of my favorite characters since I was little. :)

The night was unusually calm as the moon glistened over the waters of Mermaid Lagoon, where you sat relaxing on a rock happily enjoying the peace and quiet. There were no signs of Peter Pan or any of the lost boys around. They often visited you and your sisters, which they seemed to enjoy. You on the other hand did not. You were not overly fond of the boisterous Peter Pan, always bragging about his adventures around Neverland, especially about the day he cut off Captain Hook’s hand. That story was always popular. While your sisters feared the notorious Captain Hook, you were curious. The more Pan talked about him, the more curious you became.

You thought back to the first time you saw Hook a few days ago. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you, so you decided to venture over to Pegleg Point in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him…little did you know you’d get more than that.

You never saw him before and wanted to know what was so intimidating about him. As you swam closer, you saw his ship and were surprised at the enormity of it.

You settled on a nearby rock by the beach, carefully watching from a safe distance. You saw many crewmen on the deck, mostly just lounging around drinking and doing their best to stay occupied. You scanned up and down the ship for someone who resembled the descriptions you heard. Sometimes they varied depending who it was from. Pan’s chosen words were that he was old and ugly. Others said he was very scrawny and tall, like a skeleton.

You waited for what seemed like an eternity, and just as you were about to give up and go home, you saw him. A man with long black hair that went just below his shoulders, wearing a long red coat, and a sword hanging from his waist immerged from the cabins and onto the deck. What gave his identity away most of all was the hook he had for a hand. Quite the contrary, you thought he was actually quite handsome. Nothing at all like what the others described. You had expected someone way older, but this man was only 35 at the most. Pan clearly exaggerated, as he probably did with most of his stories. Hook had an air of sophistication about him that made him all the more intriguing. You watched him intently as he walked up to the helm and stood there proudly, looking out over the waters surrounding his ship.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. You watched him for several more minutes, before deciding to head home not wanting your family to worry. You had wandered off many times before, but never to any place like Pegleg Point and you usually had a companion. This time you were all on your own and you enjoyed every second of it. You loved the feeling of independence.

Before you could make it very far however, you heard canon fire in the distance. You popped your head back up to the surface and saw smoke emanating from Hook’s ship. You looked closer and saw a green silhouette zooming in and out between the masts. You rolled your eyes. It was Pan. Who apparently decided today was a good day to pester poor Captain Hook. You could hear lots of shouting and swearing coming from the crew and even Hook himself, nearly drowning out Peter Pan’s mischievous laughter.

“Fire!” You heard the Captain shout and then another blast, but instead of hitting the boy, it hit one of the spars sending shards of wood flying in all directions. You watched in shock as it toppled over onto the deck. Pan acted like this was all some kind of game!

“Pan!” You hear Hook yell out. “I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do!”

“You’ll never get me!” Peter teased, flying in circles around the Captain. Hook pulled out his sword and swung violently at him, but Pan was faster than him and darted out of the way, snatching Hook’s hat from off his head as he went, and placing it atop his own, mocking him. From the corner of your eye you saw something swim past you. It was large and green, and an odd ticking noise was emanating from it. Pan also seemed to notice it, promptly calling out, “Hey Hook! Your friend Mr. Crocodile is here to see you!” Hook stopped and looked behind him, his eyes widening in terror. “Oh no!” He shrieked, recoiling and dropping his sword.

“Aww, look! He missed you.” Pan taunted, pointing to the crocodile who was happily wagging its tail, giving it a dog like appearance. Hook backed away closing his eyes, and blocking his ears not wanting to hear the clock ticking. “Cap’n! Look out!” A man called out, but it was too late. Hook tripped over a barrel of gunpowder and fell backwards over the railing. You had to do something. You swam over there as fast as you could, trying to reach Hook before the croc did.

You could hear crewmen desperately shouting from above for their Captain. When you reached him, you found him slowly sinking to the bottom, unconscious. You scooped him up in your arms and quickly pulled him up to the surface being careful not to let go. “Cap’n!” A man gasped from the deck. You looked up and saw a man with white sideburns and a red hat. “Is he ok?!” He asked you. But you didn’t have time to answer, the crocodile was headed your way and it was licking its chomps. Holding the Captain close, you swam off towards the shore, hoping that you were faster than the beast that was chasing you.

You were so close now, you could feel the water getting shallower, but the croc was gaining on you. You could hear the ticking getting louder, and louder. You looked behind you just in time to see it open its jaws. You leapt out of the way, pulling Hook with you, just as its jaws shut with a deafening snap. With one last kick, you reached the shore, carefully placing Hook down on the soft, warm sand. But you still weren’t safe. Determined to ward off this creature, you turn around and face it glaring down into its yellow eyes. While you weren’t as powerful as your mother, you could still do some magic. You focused all your strength on the water around you and lifted your hand up directing the motion towards the crocodile. Suddenly, a huge wave swept over it sending it flying backwards away from you and Hook. You sighed in relief as you watched the crocodile swim away.

Behind you, you heard coughing. You turned around and saw Hook, sitting up coughing up some water. You stared at him, wondering whether you should see if he’s alright or if you should leave. Surely, someone was going to come and get him. “W-who are you?” He asked, before you could decide. You hadn’t planned on this. All you wanted was a look… “I’m Y/N.” You replied in a soft voice. He smiles.

“What a pretty name.” Hook says.

You blushed and looked away. “Thank you.”

“No, my dear, thank you.”

“For what?” You looked back over, curiously.

“Saving me.”

“Oh! Well, it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t just let that crocodile get you.” You saide, shocked. Wouldn’t anyone else have done that? Helping or saving someone just seemed natural to you. He shivered at the thought of the crocodile.

“I saw what you did. That was amazing!” He said, referring to the wave you made. To you that was nothing, especially compared to your mother. She would have obliterated that old croc.

“Thank you. Hopefully he won’t bother you for a while. Wish I could do something about Peter Pan.” You replied.

“Me too.”

“Why does he bother you like that?” You asked. He just shrugs and doesn’t say anything. For now, you supposed, that would remain a mystery. Perhaps, he didn’t trust you enough yet.

“Oh, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself.” He says, getting up and brushing himself off as best he could. He didn’t really need to introduce himself, but you humored him anyway. Bowing down he said, “I’m Captain James Hook.”  

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain.” And indeed, it was a pleasure. You could only hope he felt the same.

“What brings a beautiful mermaid such as yourself, all the way over here? Mermaids don’t really visit this area.” Hook asked, curiously. He called you beautiful. You heart was beating so fast you thought it would beat out of your chest.

“Uh…I was just curious to see what was beyond Mermaid Lagoon.” You quickly lie. He raised his eyebrow, unsure whether he believed you or not.  Not sure what to say, you awkwardly looked over your shoulder just in time see a rowboat coming your way with a few pirates onboard. You had to get out of there and fast.

“I should go.” You said, diving into the water.

“Wait! When can I see you again?!” Hook called out, running after you.

“Soon, I promise!” And with that, you dove under the water and swam away. When you looked back at the beach once you swam far enough away, you saw Hook climb into the rowboat with the assistance of the man in the red hat you saw earlier. Once you were sure he was fine you went home. You only went back there once after that, but unfortunately Hook was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, you hadn’t been back there since.

As you lay there staring up into the stars, deep in thought and close to sleep, you hear a voice call out to you in the night, making you jump.

“Hello, Y/N! What are you doing up at this hour?” You open your eyes and look up, and see Dione, your eldest sister swimming towards you.

“Just enjoying the peace and quiet.” You reply, settling back down.

“I see.” She says. “I thought maybe you went to Pegleg Point again?” Your eyes widened for a moment. How did she know?

“I haven’t been to Pegleg Point.” You calmly answer as best as you can.

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve been watching you.” Dione said, swimming over to you. “What I want to know is, why?” She asks. You say nothing and lie there in silence. “Has someone struck your fancy?” You blush and look away, so your sister doesn’t see. “Who is it?” She insists.

“Just because you’re the eldest doesn’t mean you have to know everything.” You snap.

“I’m just concerned. They’re pirates.” She says, a genuine hint of concern in her voice.

You sigh, giving in. “Yes...”

“Who?” She asks, curiously.

“Captain Hook.” You respond. She gasps, horrified. “You stay away from him!”

“Why?”

“Because he’s the most dangerous pirate of them all. You know that.”

“I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone says he is.” You argue.

“Y/N, please, stay away from him…If you don’t, I’ll tell mother.” Dione says, seriously.

“Do what you have to do, but I’m not going to live in fear like the rest of you.” You say.

She sighs. “I just care about you. You’re my sister.”

“I know. I understand. It’s late. Go to bed, Dione. I’ll be along in a few minutes. I just want to enjoy the night a little while longer.” You say, taking a deep breath. Dione hesitates for a moment before wishing you goodnight and disappearing below the lagoon.

You sigh and lay back down, feeling disheartened. Now you’d never get a chance to see Hook again. If only you could convince your sister that she was wrong about him.

Suddenly, you heard something move in the water behind you. You turn around but see nothing. “Probably just a fish…” You mumble, shrugging it off. Just as you were about to leave, and join your sister, someone called out your name. Realizing who the voice belonged to your heart skipped a beat. You turned back around and saw Hook in a rowboat coming towards you. You smile for a brief moment at the sight of him. You hadn’t expected to see him here and were afraid of what would happen if you were caught.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper as he pulls up next to you.

“I had to see you again. I knew this is where you’d be.” Hook answers.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You say in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was watching.

“Why not?”

“If my sister or my mother saw you, we’d both be in trouble.”

“Why? Is it because I’m a pirate?” He asks you. You fall silent.

“I’m sorry...” You wanted to cry. You were from two different worlds. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, you told yourself.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him, into his deep blue eyes, and found yourself entranced in them. “I’m not afraid. We’ll find a way.” He assures you, his voice sounding very serious and sincere.  

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I’d rather be with you on your ship.” You confess.

You both fall silent for a moment, looking up into the stars, as they shined down on the two of you. “There’s a legend that the stars are the ancestors of the fairies.” You tell him.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Not many people do although I’m sure they all have their own legends about them.”

“What about your people?” Hook asks turning to you.

“We study them the same as humans. There is one legend of a man in Neverland who taught the merpeople of all his astronomical knowledge and fell in love with a mermaid.” You explain.

“What happened to him?” The pirate asks, eager to learn more.

“The mermaid he fell in love with was a powerful queen, her powers were far greater than mine. She turned him into a merman, and they married.” You finish.

“Interesting! Is that it?”

“There’s some other legends…but I don’t think I have time to tell you them all.” You say, looking around.

“Then perhaps tomorrow night? I’d like to hear more.” He asks. You bite you lip, unsure. After taking a minute to contemplate you happily agree. “But not here…and not at Pegleg Point.”

“What about Skull Rock?” He asks.

“That place is kind of spooky.” You say with a shiver.

“I’ve been there. It’s really not that bad. Also, we’ll be alone.” He points out, with a mischievous smile. No one would suspect anything if you went there. “Okay!”

“Excellent! I’ll see you there tomorrow night, same time.” He leans towards you and scoops up your hand, pressing his lips against it. You could have sworn your heart stopped.

“Till we meet again, Y/N.”

“I can’t wait.” You say, hoping you’re not blushing as much as you think you are. You watched him as he sails away disappearing into the distance.

When you arrive home, you go straight to your room and lie on your bed. As you lay there, your thoughts are filled with your time spent with Hook. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt when he kissed your hand. Nobody ever did that. You just couldn’t wait to see him again. You didn’t care whether anyone approved, nobody was going to stop you from seeing him. Slowly, you fell asleep thinking of the pirate that didn’t just steal treasure, but your heart as well.

#captain hook #disney #peter pan #1953 #hans conried #classic movie imagines #fanfiction #anyone interested in a part 2?

[bucky-at-bedtime]

The Bet Pt.2

Summary: You’ve spent the entirety of your college life avoiding parties and living a life of quiet Saturday nights and hangover-less Sunday mornings. That is, until Bucky Barnes cons you into attending 5 parties. Chaos ensues.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: None yet!

Words: 1599

A/n: Part 2 is here! Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed part one! I hope this is worth the wait! (If you want to be tagged in this series feel free to send me a message or an ask!)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

You were being tortured. Some evil god was looking down at you and cackling, you were sure of it. Wanda was giggling in front of you as you tried to blink away the mascara she had just poked into your eye but it was difficult to blink when you had false eyelashes on that weighed a tonne.

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t torture - but it felt pretty close.

It had been 6 days since Bucky proposed his little scheme which meant it was Friday night and you were finally going to your first college party. Unwillingly. Not that any of your so-called friends cared.

“We wouldn’t go to all these parties if they weren’t a bit fun” Wanda mumbled, cleaning up the makeup around your eyes.

“It’s just not my thing!” There they were, those words that you have repeated incessantly for your entire college career.

“Well then, just think about the assignment” she gently moved a couple of your hairs from your face. “Now, go get changed”

Wanda and Natasha had taken it upon themselves to use you as their personal, life-sized Barbie doll. Walking into your room you found the little black dress they decided was appropriate party-wear and quickly put it on. It was short.

Finally, you turned, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked… different. It was strange to see yourself in clothes and makeup you would never usually wear - not that you didn’t like dressing up, you just did it differently - it was as if someone had taken your brain and replaced it with some strange mash-up of Wanda and Natasha’s.

It was a little cliche – you walked down the hallway, a little wobbly on your heels, and everyone turned to look at you with varying responses of shock and awe – it felt like a movie.

“Damn, you have legs” Sam’s comment was alluding to the fact that you had never worn a dress this short in your life and you quickly poked your tongue out at him.

“You look hot!” Natasha stood up, walking over to adjust the straps of your dress.

“I feel unstable” you murmured, running a hand through your hair “let’s go, I wanna get this over with”

Everyone was up in an instant, out of their chairs and through the front door. Bucky, instead walked towards you, holding an arm out.

Bucky knew you weren’t comfortable in the dress you were wearing and he saw the way you wobbled on the heels. He just hoped you would still have fun - this was his idea after all. 5 parties. 5 chances to get you to come out of your shell.

“M’lady” he chuckled and you quickly hooked your arm under his, mostly for balance. You didn’t get very far. When you reached the top of the stairs outside your apartment, you stopped in your tracks. Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion at your abrupt halt.

“Alright, bet’s off, I’m going home”

“What?” Bucky looked at you incredulously “what are you talking about? We’re only 5 steps out of your apartment”

You gesture towards the daunting stairs with one hand, pointing at your heels with the other. “I already fall down stairs on a weekly basis - add these things into the mix and I’ll break my leg” It was true, only a couple of months ago you had fallen down these stairs and torn the ligaments in your ankle, you didn’t plan on doing it again.

He sighed, looking at you with one eyebrow raised before bending down in front of you. “Get on” he demanded “I’m not letting these stairs ruin our quest”

You groaned, but you knew he wouldn’t give up, so you found yourself awkwardly climbing onto Bucky’s back, your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. His hands moved so that they were underneath your thighs, holding you up and you shivered slightly when his hands touched your bare skin. You found yourself so close that when you breathed in you could smell the earthy scent of his shampoo. Your arms tightened around him subconsciously.

“Alright, onwards.” He started down the stairs making you laugh as he ran to catch up with others. You began to think that maybe this wouldn’t be that bad.

It was that bad.

When you rocked up at the frat house at around 8, you immediately knew it was going to be a long night. The booming dubstep was escaping every exit of the large house, you found yourself surprised that the ground didn’t shake in time with the shitty music. A car full of hysterical girls rocked up as you stood on the front lawn and one of them immediately threw up on the curb. You found yourself leaning over to Bucky, a hand on his arm.

“Good start” you spoke quietly and he looked down at you, a strained look on his face as he assessed the party, pulling you inside. He thought this was going to be a little more relaxed, but from the small snippet they had already seen, he was pretty sure this wouldn’t be your kind of party.

Now, a couple of hours since you arrived, you found yourself sitting in the bathroom, the cold edge of the bathtub digging into your thighs. There mightn’t have been any comfortable seating in here, but it was your best escape from the sleazy guys that kept trying to flirt. You had a beer in your hand but you were far from drunk, your feet aching from standing up in heels for too long. The music also had a hard time penetrating the bathroom walls, so your safe haven was filled with strange buzzing noises from the strong bass of the speakers rather than the actual deafening music. For the most part, this party was exactly what you remembered them to be.

You had watched as Natasha, Sam and Wanda did too many shots, far too quickly. Steve instantly went to find Sharon - the girl he’d been passively flirting with for what felt like years.

Bucky stayed with you for a little while, both of you downing a few beers and chatting idly, but he was soon pulled away by a girl in your fiction writing class. The last thing you had seen as you went to find your tiled retreat was her pushing her lips onto his.

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you pulled it out, finding a couple of texts from a very drunk Natasha:

10:08: ‘Come dance with meeeeeeeee’

10:30: ‘We’re doin SHOTS’

10:33: ‘I miss yooou’

You didn’t bother responding, chuckling slightly at her enthusiasm before opening a couple of texts from Bucky:

10:15: ‘Are you okay? Where’d you go?’

10:31: ‘Doll, please respond, I’m worried’

You smiled down at the texts, your thumbs hovering over the keypad as you tried to think of a good excuse. Instead, you decided to call, holding the phone to your ear as you waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, what happened to you?” the music boomed through the phone and you winced slightly, pulling it away from your ear.

“I’m fine Buck, just retreated to the bathroom after a girl cried on my shoulder for a good twenty minutes” you let out a dry chuckle. “Y’know, my history paper is looking pretty good right now.”

You could basically feel him roll his eyes through the phone as he laughed. “Hey! I have four more chances.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not looking good for you, Barnes.”

“Give me a couple of minutes.” He hung up.

You weren’t exactly sure what he needed a couple of minutes for, but soon there was a knock on the door and he called your name through the chipped wood. You quickly yanked the door open, and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

“Where are we going? I thought you were having a wonderful time with Hannah” you referenced the girl you had previously seen him making out with and he shook his head at you.

“This is a shitty party,” he said, briefly looking back at you. “It’s my fault you’re here and not having fun so, I’m getting you out of here.” He pulled you out the front door “let’s go for a walk”

“Bucky, I can’t just go for a stroll in these shoes” you complained, pulling your hand from his and gesturing to your aching feet. He looked down at them but something else on the porch caught his eye and he crouched down, picking up a pair of lime green crocs and putting them in front of your feet. “No way.” You crossed your arms. “I am not wearing crocs - that is a crime - so is stealing, we are not stealing someone’s crocs”

“C’mon, doll, it’s just me. No one else will see the crocs” his bright eyes were pleading at you, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that you immediately lost yourself in the blue of his iris’, but you slipped off the heels, replacing them with crocs.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Let’s go.” He hooked his arm under your elbow and pulled you away from the door and towards your apartment. “They bring out your eyes”

He laughed loudly as you punched him gently in the arm, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face as you watched the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. “Shut up, Barnes”

Part 3

Tags:

@camillechan @projectxhappiness @fandoms-who @verycoolveryunique @brokenanxiety @confidentrose @bookgirlunicorn @anamcg317 @sebastianstanisagift @imshalida @phenomenalgoober (If I missed anyone, let me know!)

[the-captains-ayebrows]

The Long Road Home - Canon Extension for 3x11 “Going Home”

My contribution to this year's CS Storybook! Check out the cover art by @elaine--captain--swan  who makes very beautiful things, and I highly recommend looking her up on Tumblr.

A series of missing and extended scenes that mostly take place during the Season 3 "Missing Year". It begins with Emma and Killian saying good-bye as Pan's curse rolls in. Lots of internal monologue.  Canon-compliant mentions of Emma and Walsh's relationship. This also contains a favorite headcanon of mine about where Blackbeard gets all those portal beans

Length ~4K words. Rated T for a few swear words. Also on [AO3]

There’s not a day that’ll go by I won’t think of you.

Good.

-- Killian --

One word. One word is all she gave him, but it’s enough. It’ll have to be enough. Because there’s no time now. There’s never enough time. Her friends and family surround her. Then she’s disappearing into that bizarre yellow carriage of hers, and then even that disappears from his view in a wash of purple smoke. But he meant it, what he said to her. He hopes she meant it, too.

-- Emma --

One word. One word is all she could offer. Because there wasn’t enough time. There’s never enough time. And everyone else is around her, hugging her, and when the hell did she become a hugger? Anyway, it’s not the time for heart-to-heart confessions. She and Henry have to run. She always runs. At least she has her son with her this time. At least she’s not alone. But, Hook… he meant it, what he said to her. Her inner lie detector was absolutely silent. She meant it, too, her one word. And she hopes he can hear in that word what she didn’t say.  

Don’t forget me. Don’t give up. You have to remember for the both of us.

But most of all, Bring me home again.

-- Killian --

Will mermaids ever cease to be the bane of his existence? Bloody hell. The Crocodile and Pan are finally dead - rather considerate of the Croc to have taken himself and his accursed father out in one blow - and he would’ve thought all the tribulations he encountered from his centuries in Neverland were behind him. But no. Bloody mermaids. Can’t a man pay off a harlot in peace?

Still, if the lass is telling the truth about Blackbeard and his beloved Jolly Roger, all the sins of her piscine race shall be forgiven, at least as far as he’s concerned. From where he sits, or rather crouches, behind assorted cargo crates with this Ariel person and Smee, it would appear her information is accurate.

By the gods, it's been so long since he’s seen her, the first love of his life. Before Milah, before… that lass whose name he refuses to speak aloud, though it certainly echoes through his thoughts constantly. Before any fair maid had tempted him, there was her. The Jewel of the Realm. The Jolly Roger. His constant companion. His confidant. His home.

Even as he thinks the words, he feels a tug behind his breastbone, a fisherman’s hook (the irony is not lost on him) buried deep in his chest that pulls him in a very different direction from the gangplank before him. He ignores it. He forces the emptiness in his breast into the shape of a gracefully curving hull and towering sails, instead of the softer lines, painted in shades of red and gold and green, that have haunted him of late.

“You know you’re talking about a boat, right?”

Bloody mermaids. “You have your love and I have mine.”

And he does love her, his Jolly. He needs her. Needs to feel like himself again. He feels like he’s losing himself. Losing everything. He lost his revenge, the one thing keeping him alive over the centuries. The Croc now dead by his own hand. He’d lost his ship to Pan’s curse. He’d lost…

But now here the Jolly sits, ready to welcome him back with open yardarms. What is he without her? Without his identity as Captain Hook? He’s a pirate. He’s always been a pirate, just as he told the Prince those months back. He needs to get back to that, back to himself, back home to his beloved ship. It’s all he has left.

And Blackbeard is daft if he thinks he can stand in the way.

-- Emma --

He spilled his coffee on her. Ran smack-dab into her on the street, his latte splattered all over her bright red wool coat. It’s the most cliched of meet-cutes - actually, it reminds her of some story she heard a while back. Maybe an old friend met their fiancee that way? Whatever. But still… since her place in Boston burned down, she really does need new furniture for her new home, and the insurance money was surprisingly generous. He seems nice enough. Mostly harmless, anyway. So, when he gives her his business card and an apparently sincere offer to pay for her dry cleaning, she accepts it.

Walsh Ozman, Antiques and Fine Furniture.

But, here’s the thing… The wood puns may be too much for her to handle.

“Wizard of Oak. Really? Was ‘Shiver Me Timbers’ already taken?”

His smile at seeing her in his shop flickers for a moment, and she senses she’s said something wrong, but she can’t imagine what. Perhaps he’s the one who can’t handle it? His grin is right back in place before she can figure it out. He does, in fact, pay for her dry cleaning, and she buys an end table.

He calls her a few days later to ask if she’s satisfied with her purchase. She is, of course. Something about the scrollwork beneath the table top reminds her of ocean waves, and she finds it strangely calming. She’s caught herself more than once tracing her fingers across it absently as she reads a book on her couch. He asks her to dinner, and she says she’ll think about it.

She does. Think about it, that is. Henry is, first and foremost, the love her life. She thanks whatever deity is listening every day that she decided not to give him up all those years ago. Can’t imagine what kind of a person she’d be without her son. She’d probably be a lot more guarded, more jaded, without seeing every day all the light and hope in his sweet, brown eyes.

Still, it’s been just the two of them for years. She didn’t have time for anything resembling a love life when Henry was little, to say nothing of the lingering wounds Neal had left on her heart. Henry’s not a little kid anymore, though, and she’s in a really solid place in her life. Good apartment. Good job. Maybe a nice guy is the logical next step?

She can admit that she’s been lonely. Every once in a blue moon, when the loneliness got too much for her to bear, she’d been known to send Henry off to sleep over with a friend, while she ‘slept over’ with a stranger. Not that she ever spent the night.

It feels like ages since she’s even had that level of adult contact, though. She literally can’t remember the last time that someone made her feel, well, anything really. Not even base lust, and certainly not anything resembling an actual emotion.

Even as she thinks the words, something pricks at the back of her mind. It’s not a memory exactly. Or really, it’s more like a memory of a memory? Is that even a thing? Like a Xerox of a photograph. Faded, corrupted, colorless, but still there. Pieces of a dream, maybe. Has to be. Who the hell would wear black leather in a jungle in real life? As if she’s ever even seen a jungle.

Emma Swan is far too pragmatic to let herself get bogged down in fantasy. So yeah, after getting the official go-ahead from Henry, she agrees to go to dinner with Walsh. And he’s kind, and he likes Henry, and there’s something familiar and appealing about his dark eyebrows and messy hair.

So, she tells herself to hope that this, this is what’s been missing. This is the thing that’s finally going to make her feel like she’s found a home.

And she’s not about to let some stupid dream stand in her way.

-- Blackbeard --

By Neptune’s left testicle, look what the tide’s washed in! That bloody ponce has some gall to show his face in here. He knows full well this is the regular gaming establishment patronized by Blackbeard’s crew. Wonder how he feels seeing the Captain himself in residence this evening?

Perhaps he thought his old nemesis had been swept up in this latest curse, but even a scurvy git like Hook should know better. He’s not the only sailor on these waters with the sense to steer clear of an onslaught of purple smoke. If he only knew how easily Blackbeard could extract himself from any… unfortunate situation.

He’d have used a bean when Hook made him walk the plank if that little mermaid hadn’t saved him the trouble. He’s always got a handful on him at any given time, and when he runs low, he simply uses one to transport himself to the uncharted island where he grows the blasted things. Oh, everyone believed that all the beans had been destroyed when Prince James (the original, not his insipid twin) and his little strumpet Jack defeated the Giants of the Beanstalk. Certainly, Blackbeard’s taken great pains (and inflicted great pains - ha!) to ensure that is the only story being told.

In truth, the Prince had managed to steal a small cache of the beans before the last giant set the fields ablaze, then paid Blackbeard a ludicrous sum of gold to hide them from King George. Probably planning a patricidal coup or some such thing. Blackbeard swears the Prince would’ve made an excellent pirate, not that it matters anymore. The Prince went and got himself killed, and there was no other living soul to know Blackbeard still had possession of the beans.

So, he’d made a little investment of them. He’d located a tiny island not found on any map, gathered up a crew of… shall we say, 'indentured workers' to plow and plant for him, and now he’s got a field full of lovely little stalks growing as many beans as he could possibly need. Even used one to pay off a former fairy for a bit of cloaking magic, to ensure his plantation is never discovered.

Honestly, you’d think someone would’ve noticed by now. How he can be in Arendelle in the morning and the farthest reaches of the Maritime Kingdom by tea time. Bloody idiots, the whole lot. Heads firmly up their own arses.

Ha! Oh, but this is too delicious. Hook absolutely reeks of desperation, and apparently, one such bean is the object of his desire. No. Check that. It’s a woman. Captain-bloody-Hook has been bested by a woman!

This is rich. Simply glorious! He swears by all the gods, this is the best day of his life. He shall not take a single coin of Hook’s gold. No, no. The son of a codfish tried to kill him. His utter humiliation is a far better price. Blackbeard wants Hook’s ship - the very ship they dueled over before - and he’ll accept nothing less. Far be it for him to tell Hook he’s got hundreds of the damn beans at his disposal.

Let the fool trade away his pride. His ship. His home. And all for some damned wench! Ha!

-- Henry --

He knows. She hasn’t said anything, but he knows. Henry’s a pretty smart kid, after all. And it’s been just the two of them - he and his mom against the world - for too long for him not to notice.

Walsh really seems like a good guy. He’s got terrible taste in music and his store has, like, the lamest name ever, but Henry can tell the guy actually likes his mom. Like… like , likes her.

It just... Doesn’t seem like enough? He can’t explain it. His mom still seems like something is holding her back. Like her brain and heart aren’t talking to each other. She loves Walsh - says she does anyway - but Henry is grown up enough now to know there’s a difference between love and Capital-L Love .

Henry knows his mom loves him , though. Capital L truly loves him. No question. That doesn’t mean she isn’t still lonely. For, you know, the other kind of love. He worries about her. He’s the kid and she’s the parent - she likes to remind him of that when he’s acting ‘too grown up’ - but he still does.  And she’s definitely, totally, lonely.

He just… he wishes they could find that missing piece, you know? So, he asks her to go with him to his usual thinking spot. That big fountain right beside the library. The books kind of help him focus, and the water… well, that’s what fountains are for. Wishing.

He feels - he’s always felt - like there’s something about this place. Something special. Magical.  That’s stupid, he guesses, but he can’t think of a better word for it. So, he tosses his coin and makes a wish.

He knows his mom thinks he’s upset about something from school, and he should tell her he’s worried about her. He should. But there’s something holding him back, too. Something he can’t quite remember. He doesn’t know how to tell her what he thinks is missing because he really doesn’t know. There’s just this empty space, you know?

So, he tosses a coin and he wishes - more than he’s ever wished for anything - for their little family to be complete. He isn’t even sure what he means by that. He just feels like they’re waiting for something. That something is out there waiting for them. An adventure, a future, a home.

-- Emma --

What. The hell. Just happened. Emma blinks once, twice, and again, licking her lips before she can think better of it. She can’t really think of anything. Her brain feels like a cat in a YouTube video frantically scrambling on a freshly waxed floor, but never actually getting anywhere.

“Mom? Who was that?”

“No idea. Someone must’ve left the door open downstairs.”

Because no. She had no idea who he was. Just some crazy person. He had to be, but she…

Sh- she…

She froze . Emma Swan absolutely vapor locked. It was weird enough that she opened the door without looking out the peephole first - especially since the way he’d pounded on the door already had her on high alert, but even so. A strange guy dressed like a freaking pirate is standing in her hallway sighing her name as if she’s an oasis in the desert and she just, what? Stands there with her mouth hanging open, squinting at him, listening to his voice, trying to place him.

Why would she do that? Why not just slam her door in the face of the weirdo in his elaborate costume? Nope. She asked him if she knew him. As if she’d forget that face. Or that outfit.

What the hell is wrong with her? Why did he seem so familiar?

And, and, and -

God, he telegraphed that kiss. Like, every nerve ending in her body could sense it coming from the way he was looking at her alone, not to mention the awkward full body twitch before he leaned in. Even if she wasn’t a pro at reading body language, the guy practically had a neon sign over his head that said, ‘I’m about to reach for you.’

And she stood there. And let him. She didn’t step back. She didn’t grab his wrist and twist it behind him and shove his pretty face into the wall and shout for Henry to bring her handcuffs.

She stood there and closed her eyes and… time stopped. She was in a jungle, the one from her dream. Everything smelled leafy and sweaty and a mosquito was biting the back of her neck, but she didn’t give a single fuck because his lips were touching hers, and it felt like - it felt like…

Funny thing about time stopping. When it starts back up again, it zooms ahead even faster to catch up to where it should have been. It also makes a noise that sounds very much like your own voice screaming in your ear, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The kick to his balls was a (literal) knee-jerk reaction. But even then - even then - she still stood there talking to him. A random stranger kisses her on the mouth and she gives him the chance to explain himself. Like he’d tell her the truth.

He was telling her the truth.

Just because he believes it, that doesn’t make it true.

Oh, sure, she threatened to call the cops and finally managed to remember that her door does, in fact, close. But god, the whole interaction…

There shouldn’t have been a whole interaction. Who even is she today?

Maybe she’s overly tired. She’s been working a lot of late nights recently. Maybe tonight she’ll take a sleeping pill so she’ll get a good night’s rest. No...unwanted dreams. Unwanted in the sense that she doesn’t want confirmation of exactly where she’s seen his face before.

Maybe her blood sugar is out of whack and she just needs some pancakes and hot cocoa.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

-- Henry --

What. Was. That. Let’s eat? That’s all she’s gonna say? Henry’s twelve, he’s not deaf and blind. Fine. If that’s how she wants to be, Henry can play it cool, too.   And he’ll do it better than her, without all the out-of-breath huffing. He can keep a secret after all. He hasn’t told her that Walsh is about to propose, even though it’s been a week since he asked for Henry’s blessing. So, fine. He won’t talk to her about this either.

But like… really? He knows what he heard. There was some guy at the door - he definitely heard a guy’s voice - and that guy was talking about  Cs mom having a family and that her family was in trouble and, well… Henry’s also about 99% sure his mom punched the guy or something. But then she kept talking to him? What even is that?

It was kind of like she knew the guy, but she didn’t at the same time, if that makes any sense. She never opens the door for people she doesn’t know or isn’t expecting. She says it's because of all the skips she’s put in jail. Never know when one might try to come after her. Or him. She’s really protective of him. She wouldn’t even let Walsh come over until they’d been dating for months .

Really, his mom is being super weird, even now that the guy is gone. She never acts like this. Her face is flushed, she keeps licking her lips and it’s not because of the pancake syrup. She hasn’t even touched her food which is also very un-momlike behavior. She loves food. About the only time Henry ever sees her this way is when she’s really close to solving a big case, like right on the edge of figuring it out.

Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe that guy is part of some big case she’s trying to crack.

Or… maybe she’s just being weird because she’s got a date with Walsh at some fancy restaurant tonight and she’s figured out what he’s going to do. That’s probably it. He really wants his mom to be happy, and if marrying Walsh will do that, then he’s cool with it. But, he’s not sure. It could be Walsh is the missing piece for their family like Henry had wished, but it doesn’t seem to fit somehow. He’s not sure why.

Speaking of that wish, Henry can’t stop thinking about what the strange guy yelled right before his mom slammed the door. “You have to remember, ” he’d said. Like it was the most important thing ever.

Family. They have to remember. It’s all so… Henry’s not sure, but it sends a shiver down his spine. It was seriously just a couple of days ago that he’d made that wish. That their family would be complete. Because it felt like there was something out there that he couldn’t quite remember. It’s spooky and way too much of a coincidence to let slide.

So, maybe magic isn’t so stupid after all? Maybe some strange guy showing up is somehow connected to his wish? And his mom just slammed the door in the guy’s face!

-- Killian --

That went… about as poorly as he should have expected. Nothing is ever easy with that lass. Crumpled on the floor outside her door, Killian isn’t sure which hurts more, his manhood or his heart. She did a rather stunning job of crushing both.

He’s a bloody idiot. He should have known, should have realized that she didn’t… that she wasn’t…

Gods above and below, he actually attempted to give her True Love’s Kiss. They’d only ever shared one kiss of any kind. One soul-shattering, life-altering kiss, to be sure but…

A one-time thing. Don’t follow me.

It was just a kiss. How is that your darkest secret?

He should have known, but he had hoped. He’d hoped in a way that he didn’t think he would ever be capable of doing again. She’s given him that, and even as he sloshes through a mire of self-loathing disappointment, he’s grateful to her.

I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah… that is, until I met you.

She is his new dream, his beacon guiding him out of the storm into a fair harbor. It matters not that she doesn’t return his feelings. He came here to save her, not to make love to her. He will find a way. He will bring her back to the people who love her. All the people who love her. He shall bring her home and she’ll save the day once more, not because she’s ‘The Savior’, but because she’s Emma-bloody-Swan and he’s yet to see her fail.

He must not give up. He must encourage her to remember who she is, her true self, not whomever Regina’s blasted false memories have conjured her into thinking she is. Emma is a smart woman, practical, but with a keen intuition. He’ll need hard evidence to get her to listen to him. Once she does, he hopes (there’s that word again) that her innate ability for detecting lies will convince her he’s speaking the truth.

But what evidence can he possibly offer? He racks his brain as he drags his sorry carcass off the floor and stumbles down the hallway. Gods, but this is a strange land. All these people living in what amounts to nothing more than little crates all stacked on top of each other into towering monstrosities. He’s seen tenement buildings in his travels, of course, but nothing like…

Wait. He’s seen exactly this kind of tenement before. It was here, in this very land. Baelfire’s - that is to say, Neal’s - place. He found it once. Perhaps he can locate it again? He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but this may very well be his only chance. The only place he can find something to make Emma believe again.

And when she believes, when she remembers… No. He tries once more to snuff out the tiny spark inside him that should have been fully doused when her knee connected with his groin, and yet it persists.

When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.

There’s not a day that’ll go by I won’t think of you.

Good.

Perhaps she did want him. Perhaps she does… No. No, no, no. No. At the very least, he cannot waste time thinking on it now.

For now, he must focus on the task of getting her to believe. To remember. Once she does, he will bring her home.

Whatever happens after that, well… That’s up to her. As for him, he’s made his decision. Even before he made the deal with Blackbeard. Home is where the heart is, after all, and his heart is with Emma Swan.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs canon extension #cs canon compliant #cs storybook #The Long Road Home #lookit I wrote something short for once!

[violecentstrs]

Our True Love - Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you very much for all the follows, likes and reblogs, guys. I really am happy to see people enjoying my stories so far. It makes “my heart full of glee”. Hehe. I extended the story a little bit more so that I can give it more action. So, thank you all so much for reading my stories and I hope you enjoy it! (Sorry in advance for any grammatical errors in my stories!) 

Previous Chapter(s): Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Blood, tears and a little sexy Bucky Word count: 2,878 Summary: Reader and Bucky doesn’t get along well after his marriage to Rosaline. Will her friendship with Bucky last or will they crumble and fade?

★ ★ ★

The stars are sparkling in the sky.

The nights are getting colder and colder. Autumn had just arrived and I love it so much. I sit in my apartment with a blanket wrapped around my body. A war movie playing on TV while I work on my laptop. I hear the message notification on my phone. When I see who it is, I smile.

Richard [09:52PM] – Cherry, what are you doing?

You [09:53PM] – Watching a movie while refining a report. Yourself, Croc?

Richard [09:54PM] – I’m eating some cereal for dinner. You even work after hours, huh?

You [09:55PM] – Cereal? You didn’t cook for dinner? Haha. Of course, to keep my life easy in the office.

Richard [10:00PM] – I’m tired. I’ve been running around from one interview to another. I might end up working for the modelling company after all.

You [10:03PM] – Really? That is wonderful. We should celebrate together!

The doorbell to my apartment scares the living daylights out of me. I look at the time on my phone. Who on Earth would be coming at this time?

I quietly approach the door after grabbing my pepper spray. In case there is a psycho standing outside of my door. I peek at the little peephole on my door. My breath caught in my throat. It is Bucky.

I unlock the door, keeping the slider on to double check. I widen my eyes. Bucky’s blue eyes caught in mine. He is wearing his combat suit with his weapons still strapped around his body.

“Y/N…” He says.

“Bucky! What are you doing here?” I ask. He lets out a sigh.

“Long story.” I bite my lower lip. Without any more words, I close the door back and remove the slider. I open it back up.

“Come in. I got all night.” I invite him inside. I look around the hallway to make sure no one is around. I lock my door back, watching Bucky making his way towards the couch I was sitting on before. I walk over to the kitchen and bring over a glass of water for him.

When I returned, Bucky’s metal arm is over his eyes. His lips quivering a little. When I sit on my spot, Bucky jerks away surprised. He clutches his chest before breathing out. I look at him worriedly as I hand him the glass of water. It’s been a while since I saw him like this.

“Bucky, what happened?” I ask him. He drinks the water in one go. He’s very nervous and troubled right now.

“Rosaline and I had another fight.” He answers simply, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans down and placing his hands over his face. I watch him carefully, waiting for him to continue.

“I got home and saw a bunch of her friends in the living room. When I checked for her in the kitchen, she was with another man. I burst; getting angry thinking that she is cheating on me. I made a fool of myself in front of them. She lost it, saying how she’s tired of dealing with my problems and kicked me out.” He continues. I can see the little tears spilling down his eyes. He must’ve felt so bad.

My hands shiver as I hover it over his back. I wasn’t sure if I should hold him or not. I was still mad at him for shouting at me the other night. But now that he came to me, feeling upset and troubled, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him be.

I take a deep breath before wrapping my arm around his shoulders. The second my arm made contact with him, he sits up, grabbing onto my wrists while looking at me surprised. He’s very jumpy.

“It’s ok, Bucky. Calm down.” I say as his hands tightens around my wrists.

I can see the tears in his eyes. The trail of it down his cheeks. My heart twists at the sight. I’d never thought I’d see him cry like this again. The last time I did had been so painful and heart-breaking. He lets my wrists go before returning back to the position he was in.

I reach out to hold him in my arms once again. I can feel him leaning into me when I did. I stroke his hair gently, remembering the way I would always do on nights similar to this. I can smell the sweat mixed with dust in his hair. It must’ve been from his mission.

“Bucky. You shouldn’t just assume things so quickly. She cares and loves you. I know that your anger comes from your exhaustion. But you need to learn to be a bit more patient.” His body tenses in my arms but he remains silent. I run my hands up and down his right arm to comfort him.

I freeze when I come in contact with something wet from a ripped part of his sleeve. I pull my hand up to look at it. My heart stops. Blood. I get up from where I was sitting to look at his flesh arm.

Blood is soaking through the torn up sleeve. I panicked. Why didn’t I notice this before?

“Bucky, you’re bleeding!” I say. Bucky looks at me before looking at his arm.

“Oh. I didn’t notice that.” I didn’t wait to hear that stupid response. I rush into the bathroom to grab a couple of towels and a bowl of water. I run into my bedroom to grab the first aid kit. Bucky watches me as I run back and forth to grab the items.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s just a small wound.” He says, miserably failing at trying not to worry me. I take a pair of scissors and carefully cut the sleeve off his combat suit. He has many others like it anyways.

I examine the wound on his arm.

“How did this happen?” I ask him, worried. He shrugs. I give him an angry look. That seems to put his senses back together.

“It must’ve been when I jumped down over the fence with the metal spikes. My arm must’ve gotten caught on one of them.” He answers. I let out a sigh.

A scratch about 6 inches long running down from the top of his arm. I wipe the damp towel on the wound to clean the dried blood off. Thankfully, the cut is not so deep that he needs stitching. A flash of memory hits me. 

“I’ll be fine, Y/N. There’s no need to worry about it.” He says, moving his arm. I hold it down and rub alcohol over the wound. He didn’t flinch. This reminds me of that night when Bucky wrapped my finger with the tissue. 

“You worry about my pin sized injury last time. You have no rights to tell me I shouldn’t worry about this even worse injury on your arm. You’re lucky I have some supplies in my house.” I answer.  I can feel Bucky’s eyes on me as I work on his arm.

When I finished dressing the wound, I let out a satisfied yet worried sigh. There’s no more blood coming out of the wound, but if it wasn’t treated, it could have been infected.

“Okay. It should be fine. Next time tell me when you are in—” When I turn to look at Bucky, his face was inches away from mine. My heart jumps in surprise and I fall backwards onto the floor.

“Are you okay?” He asks, pulling me back up on the couch. I nod slowly before reaching for the bloody towel to wipe my hands off. I can feel my face warm up when I remembered how close his face was to mine. What was he trying to do?

I reach down to clean up the mess I had made. The first aid kid box had tipped over and spilled all of its contents on the floor. I panic way too easily. I need to learn how to control my reactions sometimes. His tired eyes remaining glued to me as I clean up the place.

“Bucky, are you okay with pasta?” I ask when I returned from the bathroom. He looks at me confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t eaten right?” I wipe my hands on my shirt. He takes a moment to think. I sigh before returning back to the room.

I pull out Steve’s shirt and pants from the storage room. Sharon and Steve stayed over one time since their house was getting reconstructed. He left them here and I kept on forgetting to give them back. I guess they ended up being of use after all. I hand Bucky the towel, shirt and pants. He looks up at me, blinking.

Man, this guy is in a completely different world right now.

“It’s Steve’s. He left them here when he had the house redone.” I say. Bucky takes the clothes quietly.

“Wash up. Eat, then rest. Go. Don’t get the bandages wet.” I order him while making my way to the kitchen.

Since the kitchen is open, I can still see him on the couch. Five minutes passed before Bucky even moved a muscle. I watch him go into the bathroom and hear the water running. He’s a mess. Poor Bucky.

I probably need to talk to Rosaline about Bucky. It can still work. Though, it does make me wonder why she would react so drastically. She used to take care of Bucky’s mental state anyways. But then again, that was when he was Winter Soldier. So the side effects of the never ending brainwashing must be new to her.

I hear my phone ring from the living room. I run over to it to see who it was. Richard. Shoot. I forgot to text him back.

“Hello?” I answer as I walk back into the kitchen.

“Hey, Cherry Princess. Are you so into your work that you forgot about me?” Richard’s laughter on the other line is as sweet as a caramel candy.

“No. Something came up.” I answer back while transferring the meal onto a plate.

“Oh yeah? What is that? Screaming at agents over the phone for the atrocious spelling mistakes?” I chuckle.

“No. It’s Bucky.” I say, peeking over at the bathroom. The water is still running. The silence on the other line was loud and clear.

“He’s there?” After a few moments, he asks. His voice suddenly changed into a little harsh one.

“Yeah. Apparently he and Rosy got into a fight.” The sigh on the other line sounds so dreadful.

“And he comes running to you?” He asks. His voice sharp like a blade. What just happened to that caramel candy voice?

“He’s my friend, Richard. I need to help him out.” I say, whispering into the phone when I hear the water stop running.

“Until he wants more out of you.” He says harshly. I blink.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.  

“I’ll tell you later. I need to call Rosy. Bye, Y/N.” With that, a click.

“Richard?” I call out, but only the beeping end call sound is all I hear. I look at the phone confused.

“Who was it?” Bucky’s voice scares me. I look at him before shaking my head.

“Just Richard.” I say while bringing the food to him. His expression turns dark again.

“What did he want?” I wave him off. I really don’t want to pour oil into the fire. Bucky silently takes out a chair before looking at the food.

“You made this?” I bite my lower lip and nod. It wasn’t bad when I tasted it, but I don’t know if Bucky will like it himself. My heart races when he takes the first bite. I wait in anticipation to hear what he might say. His face lights up.

“Wow, you’re still good at cooking.” He says while taking another bite. My chest fills up with joy. I’m so glad he likes it.

“Huuu. I’m glad.” I smile at him.

I place the mattress in the empty spot right by the TV. I put one of my pillows and blankets on it. I can hear Bucky washing the dishes in the kitchen as I set up the place for him to sleep. I pat the mattress a little. It was dusty when I took it out of the storage room.

“I can just sleep on your couch, Y/N.” Bucky says as he wipes his hands on the towel. I just realized how Steve’s shirt seems really tight on Bucky. His pecs, biceps and abs practically bulging through the shirt. I blush at the sight before shaking my head.

“No, you are not. Not with your arm banged up like that. I have an extra mattress anyways.” I say before getting up. I pull Bucky and sit him down on the mattress. I walk back into the kitchen to prepare some warm glass of milk and honey.

I hand him the glass when I returned. Bucky looks at me.

“As usual, Sergeant.” I say. He smiles up at me. He grabs my hand along with the glass. He is drinking the milk with my hand still holding onto it. My heart beats wildly in my chest at this sudden action. 

With his damp hair loose on the sides of his face, little scratches on his cheeks, light blue eyes staring down at me and then Steve’s tight shirt on his body; oh God. He looks very sexy. When he was done, he licks his milky lips still looking at me.

My insides shiver at the sight of him like that. I pull my hand away along with the glass quickly. I scurry into the kitchen to wash it. I can feel my chest on the verge of bursting. I glance over at the living room and see Bucky lying down on the mattress.

Keep yourself together, Y/N. 

I jolt awake when I hear a loud yell coming from outside. I jump off from my bed instantly and pick up my pepper spray again. I walk towards my door carefully, hearing another yell coming from there. It sounds like Bucky. I gasp and immediately run out to the living room.

Bucky is thrusting around on the mattress. The sheets had come off and was soaked in Bucky’s sweat. I throw myself on top of him to stop him. I shake him violently.

“Bucky!! Bucky!!”

When he wakes up, his pupils were dilated. He rolls us around and pins me down against the mattress. His metal hand reaching quickly over for the pistol on the coffee table, pointing straight at my forehead.

I could have sworn I saw my life flash before my eyes when Bucky did that.

“Bucky it’s me!!” I yell again. His blue eyes returning before he gasps. He pulls himself off me and drops the pistol. He coughs before falling backwards and leaning on the coffee table.

I’ve never seen Bucky like this before. He normally would just pin me down, but never pull out any weapon. I sit up, feeling the back of my shirt a little damp from my own sweat. He holds his hands against his face. I can hear little gasps and see how his hands are shivering so much. He’s crying again.

“Bucky…” I reach out to touch his arm.

“I’m so sorry…” He says behind his hands. My chest tightens with pain. I hear my heart shatter at the tone of his voice. He’s in so much pain right now… Oh, Bucky.

I immediately wrap my arms around him. I pull him in and hold him tightly.

“Shh. It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine, Bucky.” I reassure him. He cries silently as his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me tightly while crying onto my shoulder. The heart-breaking sound of his whimpers makes me cry myself. It hurts so much to see how hurt Bucky is.

He falls asleep after an hour passed. He had his grip on me tight, so I couldn’t pry myself away from him. I didn’t want to anyways. I stayed there with him, stroking his hair continuously while my other hand is held tightly in his. Even though Bucky had been crying before, I really feel at peace with him sleeping against me like this. I look out into the night sky through the window.

The moon is lighting up inside of the living room a little. Despite his size and height, I didn’t feel crushed underneath him. He must’ve positioned himself just right so he won’t suffocate me when he fell asleep. I watch Bucky’s sleeping face against my shoulder. 

His face looks so tired, angry, sad, confused, but most of all, broken. I feel the tears spilling down again.

With his history of being used by HYDRA, then having to deal with the after effects of it. Nightmare after nightmare of crimes he never wanted to commit. Regret and pain of remembering people die at his own hands. Hands he wasn’t able to control because of the serum. Now that he finally had a chance at happiness, his problems came back and took that away from him.

Give Bucky a break, please…

★ ★ ★

A/N: I teared up a little while writing the last bit of this. It made me really think of the suffering Bucky has gone through. I hope y’all know what I’m talking about. Heh. Anyways, thank you for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

Next chapter coming soon!

Tag(s): @ipaintmelodies @goldwanderer @hairdye-enthusiast @bexboo616 @chipilerendi @typical0001

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america #OC #the winter soldier #fanfiction #fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #otl #ourtruelove

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Almost a Bride by Jo Watson Blitz

Title: ALMOST A BRIDE

Author: Jo Watson

Series: Destination Love, #2

On Sale: January 31, 2017

Publisher: Forever

Trade Paperback: $14.99 USD

eBook: $4.99 USD

Add to Goodreads

**Newly revised and expanded, Wattpad sensation Jo Watson's ALMOST A BRIDE is now available in print for the first time!**

That awkward moment you catch your boyfriend in bed with another woman and then mistakenly get arrested #chargesdropped

Annie knows life isn't always fair. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you get mistaken for a crazed intruder when you come home early and find your boyfriend wearing nipple clamps with a coworker on the night you thought he was going to propose to you.

The important thing is to move on, and for Annie that means treating herself to a tropical vacation. But when she runs into her ex and his new woman staying at the same resort, reason is washed out to sea. Caught off guard, Annie pretends she's with Chris, a cute screenwriter she meets on the beach. With his own writing blocked, Chris is happy to help Annie craft a story to save face. Soon Annie isn't just getting over her ex, she's getting under Chris. As her fictional feelings grow increasingly real, Annie has to decide if she's ready to risk her heart on a new relationship.

EXCERPT

Iknew something was wrong the second I walked up to my front door.

Call it intuition. Call it a sixth sense. But I just knew.

I blame the shoes. The shoes were undoubtedly the cause of all the

problems that day. It was the shoes’ fault that I came home early, and

the shoes’ fault I was fired.

I suppose I can’t blame the shoes for making me late, though—

that was the alarm clock’s fault for rudely deciding not to do its job.

And when I finally realized, through the thick haze of sleepiness,

that it hadn’t gone off, it was too late. I was already late for work.

And when I say work, I mean my brand-new job—job of my

dreams—as a fashion assistant at Glamorous Girl mag.

I’d just made a total career change, leaving behind a successful job

as a stylist in advertising to pursue a job in the magazine industry. It

was early days, so I was still desperately trying to impress by being

perfect, polite, and oh so obliging. Whether it was the request for

the latte to be served at 97.7 degrees with no sugar, soy milk froth,

and a sprinkling of organic cocoa powder flown in directly from

the foothills of the Andes. Or whether it was for the jasmine-and-lavender-

scented candles to be burned in the office for exactly ten

minutes before my boss arrived—that was me.

Little Miss Annie Obliging.

Because let’s face it, the word assistant is just a glammed-up euphemism

for slave. But I was ambitious and determined, so when I

realized I wouldn’t be able to attend to the scented candles, or fetch

the latte, I panicked. So much so, that I left the house without the

said troublemaking, life-ruining, world-annihilating shoes.

Let’s take a moment to talk about the shoes. They weren’t

ordinary shoes, oh no, they were none other than the just-off-the-

Paris-catwalk-and-not-for-sale-to-mere-mortals-yet Christian Louboutins.

They also happened to be the centerpieces for that day’s

shoot.

The same rushed panic that had caused me to forget the shoes in

the first place had also left me with barely enough time to scrape my

hair back into a casual bun and slip on a creased T-shirt and pair of

jeans from my floor.

The latter is a bigger sin than you think. Because where I

work, wearing anything other than the most fashionable apparel

is sacrilege. People practically throw holy water at you and start

wailing in Latin for fear that you’ve been possessed by the demon

of bad fashion. In fact, a real demon possession, complete with a

backward-rolling head and the ability to speak in tongues, would

be preferable to the demon of last season’s handbag and Crocs

sandals.

So when I finally got to work, underdressed, out of breath, without

the shoes, and over an hour late, I was in serious trouble.

My boss was throwing a hissy fit, due to lack of flowery scents in

her office, and her personal assistant Cedric was in the throes of an

overly dramatic caffeine withdrawal, due to lack of latte.

And it kept getting worse.

Two hours later the panicky fashion director summoned the

Louboutins. Those shoes had been troublemakers from the start. It

had been an absolute trauma getting them in the first place. They’d

been flown into South Africa late the previous night, and I’d been

tasked with collecting them. Everyone was holding their collective

breath for the grand arrival. So when I was forced to confess to their

absence…well, you can only imagine.

When lunch finally arrived, I jumped into my car and sped home.

I had exactly one hour to get in and out before the photo shoot, more

than enough time.

I pulled into my driveway at breakneck speed, ran for the front

door, slipped my house keys into the lock, and turned—

But…

Something made me stop.

Something told me not to go inside.

Something was very wrong.

I looked around nervously. Everything seemed normal. Peter

across the road was blasting his TV as usual, the ratbag Chihuahua

from number 45 was running up and down the garden perimeter

yapping at an unseen force, and Mildred, my neighbor, was outside

watering her hydrangeas.

So why was I hesitating?

I took a deep breath and inched the door open.

Nothing looked out of place.

Everything was exactly the way I’d left it.

Yet everything felt wrong.

I slunk down the hallway toward the kitchen, where I knew I’d

find the shoes perched next to the coffeepot. But once inside, I was

hit by a terribly eerie sensation…someone was in the house. A shiver

licked the length of my spine when my suspicions were confirmed.

Creeeeaaakkk…A noise was coming from my bedroom directly

above me.

Shit, shit, shit, there was an intruder in the house!

I launched myself at the cutlery drawer, grabbing the largest knife

I could find while simultaneously dialing the police and still managing

to hold on to the shoes for dear life.

“Police! Help, there’s an intruder in my house. Forty-Seven Mendelssohn

Road, Oaklands. Quick.”

Now what? I’d never been in a situation like this before. What

was the correct protocol? Should I hide, evacuate the house, attack

the intruder, scream loudly? Or perhaps a combination of the above?

I thought for a second before deciding to get the fuck out of there!

But just as I had one foot safely installed outside the front door, I

heard another noise. This time it was different. It was…

It sounded like…

My blood ran cold.

But it couldn’t be. Trevv was at work. Trevv had a very important

day in court, he told me. His client’s final hearing was today. Right

now, in fact. I’d called him from my office about an hour ago and

he’d told me he was in court.

He was in court, dammit!

I started climbing the stairs.

More noises.

Two voices?

But that was impossible…wasn’t it?

The noises grew louder and louder the farther up the stairs I

went. I’m not really sure at what point I knew what the noises were

or knew what I was going to see when I opened the door. But I just

knew.

It’s one thing walking in on your boyfriend having sex with another

woman, but it’s another thing entirely walking in on him the

second the other woman is coming. She was facing the door but was

bouncing up and down so vigorously that her face was a blur. And

then suddenly her body stiffened, she threw her head back, opened

her mouth, and let out a high-pitched wail. As if that wasn’t self explanatory

enough, she decided to toss in a few words for good

measure.

“Yes, Trevvy, yes. Oh my God, oh my God, oh Trevvy. Harder!

Ah, ah, ah.” *Pant, pant, pant* “I’m coming!” *Long high-pitched

scream*

Now…there were several things wrong with this picture, aside

from the obvious. Firstly, who the hell screams like that in bed? No

one does! Sex is not so good that you have to break the sound barrier

with your squealing dolphin sounds. Secondly, what the hell was

she wearing? She was clad in some kind of leathery studded number

that looked like it had been worn by one of the Village People. And

to make matters worse, Trevv was blindfolded with the tie that I had

bought him two Christmases ago and…OH MY GOD…were those,

were those…nipple clamps?

I felt sick to my stomach.

And thirdly, who was this mystery woman without an ounce of cellulite,

without the slightest smidge of fat, and with boobs that seemed

to defy all known natural laws of gravity and motion? Which

woman can be that damn perfect…

…and then her features came into focus and the answer dawned

on me.

Tess.

Tess Blackman.

My boyfriend’s “coworker.” The woman I’d invited into

my home on several occasions for dinner. The woman that I always

phoned when I couldn’t get hold of Trevv, because I knew they

were probably together working on a case, tired and exhausted and

burning the midnight oil when they’d rather be at home with their

significant others. She had a fiancé after all.

Poor overworked Trevv and Tess.

God, I was naive.

But the show didn’t end there. Tess’s eyes were still closed when

Trevv started making some delightful grunting-moaning-squeaking

sounds. He’d never made sounds like that with me before. His sweaty

hands reached up and grabbed at her hungrily.

Faster.

Harder.

Loud, long moan.

I was frozen. It’s hard to know what to do when you watch your

partner of two years with his penis somewhere you wouldn’t even

like to imagine, let alone witness in full blinding daylight.

Once all their postcoital panting had tapered off, Tess opened her

eyes and saw me standing in the doorway. The look on her face was

indescribable. Shock and horror and fear all at the same time. And

then she opened her mouth and screamed.

Trevv then turned his head toward the door and whipped off his

blindfold. Our eyes locked and then he did something truly bizarre.

Unexpected. He grabbed Tess by the hand and dragged her to the

other side of the bed.

“Anne, please…you don’t want to do this.” Trevv threw his hands

in the air defensively. He looked terrified. She was bleating hysterically

by this stage.

What was going on? Wasn’t I the jilted one? Wasn’t I the one

that was supposed to be upset? I started walking toward them, which

seemed to only make matters worse.

“Anne, please. Please.” He seemed to be begging now. “Think

about what you’re doing. I know this is bad, but this isn’t the way to

handle it. Please don’t do this.”

Things happened pretty quickly after that. Suddenly, the room

was filled with armed police officers. I was about to tell them they

could all go home, when Trevv cut me off.

“She has a knife. She’s going to kill us!” he shouted, pointing at me.

What knife? I glanced at my hands, and that’s when I realized I

was still holding the large knife, and it was pointed in their direction.

I quickly turned to explain. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Ma’am…” One of the police officers cut me off and started creeping

toward me as if I was a feral pit bull that hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Put down your weapon.”

“I swear, this isn’t what you think, I was just trying to—”

BAM! Face on floor, handcuffs around wrists.

Three really painful things happened at that point: One, the knife

slipped and cut the entire length of my palm. Two, some of my

newly acquired, gorgeous nails snapped off. And three, the crystal-encrusted,

six-inch heel of the priceless Louboutin snapped off,

rolled across the floor lifelessly, and disappeared under the bed.

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THE DESTINATION LOVE SERIES

BURNING MOON, #1

ALMOST A BRIDE, #2

FINDING YOU, #3

Series Page on Goodreads

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jo Watson is an award-winning writer of romantic comedies. Burning Moon won a Watty Award in 2014. Jo is an Adidas addict and a Depeche Mode devotee.

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Book Information

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FGMAMTC 

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

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#Jo Watson #blitz