#oh it's fucking sag season bitches

[swhatever]

‘’you liked it?’’ 

kinktober ‘22 day 6: impact play

pairing: legolas x reader 

summary: you and legolas are sparring due to a bet when you accidentally fail to pull one of your punches. legolas starts acting weird, and when you confront him, well you know what happens AJSJSJ this is kinktober bitch 

warnings: afab!reader, terribly written sparring im so sorry, it isn’t long though don’t worry, only like a paragraph, y/n is an absolute TEASE, legolas doesnt know how healthy communication works season 41 episode 62, a sad amount of commas as per usual, i apologise for nothing, i’m not really someone that reads a lot with impact in it so i apologise if this is poorly written ASJSJJSJS, lowkey dom!sub vibes but only briefly, handjob (m!receiving)

word count: 719 

a/n: i gotta say im a gigolas bitch so writing a legolas x reader was WILD oh well sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do 

sindarin (please let me know if it’s wrong): 

meleth nîn: my love 

melethrilen: my beloved 

miluis: lovely one 

You dodged swiftly, turning and kicking at his upper thigh. He dodged in turn, throwing a punch to your stomach. You hit him, curling a leg around his shin and leaning forward, Legolas fell onto his back. 30 minutes. 30 minutes you had been sparring for, and for 30 minutes you have been suffering, bruises starting to form along your shoulders and back. Fuck the effiency of elves. Noticing your momentary distraction, and the way your shoulders sagged in relief as you finally won, Legolas pulled you on top of him before flipping you over. 

You narrowed your eyes. Instead of giving up however, you locked your legs around his hips and pushed yourself upwards, flipping him onto his back. You straddled him, retracting your arm before slapping him, a red mark quickly forming in its place. You must admit, that was a bit unnecessary, you could’ve been a bit gentler. But you had been sparring for well over 2 hours, your latest round starting not half an hour ago, and you decided you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. 

Instead of trying to fight back, Legolas just laid there, staring at you. 

‘’I win,’’ you grinned, your eyes alight with mirth, ‘’2 out of 3, so I win. You must now do as I say for the next week, oh great prince, I hope you treat it like the honour you know it is.’’ 

You paused your victory speech when you noticed Legolas still hadn’t said anything. No quip, no snarky comment, no complaint about being your servant for the next week. Nothing. 

‘’Legolas?’’ You questioned. 

Legolas’ brows furrowed. 

‘’Are you okay?’’ 

‘’Meleth nîn,’’ he all but breathed, eyes dark, ‘’I think it is safe to say you won.’’ 

‘’Well obviously, dear, I just said that.’’ you attempted to jest, all but failing to hide your frown.

 ‘’What is the matter, my love?’’ you pressured, hands cupping his cheeks, ‘’something plagues you. If it genuinely bothers you about this agreement or you are worried what I may do I will forget this bet ever happened.’’ 

‘’It is not that, miluis,’’ Legolas said, kissing your wrist, ‘’It is not that at all.’’

‘’Then what is it?’’ 

Legolas turned his head, blush rising to his cheeks. Whatever it was clearly embarrassed him. You thought back to the past few hours, wondering what could ail him so. It wasn’t until you hit him that he started seeming quiet. 

‘’Are you upset I hit you? I apologise, my darling, if I hurt you.’’ 

‘’It did not affect me as you thought it had, meleth.’’ 

‘’Then what could possibly-’’ Oh. Oh. This is dangerous, you thought, with an internal grin. 

‘’Legolas,’’ you hummed, failing to hide your sultry tone, ‘’did you enjoy that hit?” 

His rising blush proved your theory. And here you were thinking elves never blush like that. Perfect little princes never blush like that. 

You placed your index finger under his chin and titled him to look at you. 

‘’It is only you that elicits a reaction like that, my starlight.’’ 

You grinned, rolling your hips as Legolas sucked in a breath. 

‘’My darling prince,’’ you purred, ‘’would you like me to do it again?’’ 

Legolas stared at you, mouth agape at your question. He didn’t think you wouldn’t mind. You grabbed his jaw harshly when he didn’t answer. ‘’Tell me, Legolas.’’ He nodded frantically. ‘’With. Words.’’ 

‘’Yes please, meleth nîn.’’ 

You smiled, before slapping him across his other cheek, placing a soft kiss where red began to blossom beneath it. Legolas groaned lightly beneath you. 

Your hands slid beneath his trousers before gripping him harshly, almost tugging at him. Legolas moaned, his hands gripping your hips, all but writhing under you. You flipped so that you lay under him, your hand still down his trousers as he groaned above you. You pulled his trousers down before slapping his ass. A harsh ‘crack’ sound filled the air as skin met skin, and all Legolas could think to do was kiss you before cumming into your hand. You melted into the kiss as you pulled your hand away, before half-heartedly pulling his trousers back up. 

‘’I think we shall continue this in our quarters, my prince.’’ you beamed up at him. 

‘’I think we shall indeed, melethrilen.’’

#kinktober #kinktober 22 #legolas #legolas x reader #moony #moony writes

[daydreamgoddess14]

My bad habits lead to you pt. 3

MASTERLIST

Sequel to We lie awake in love and fear

From a prompt by @lilacmermaid25:

5 times Ted returns from Kansas for a wedding, one time he returns 'just because'.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Thanks for reading so far!

For reference, Rebecca is wearing the 2022 Critics Choice outfit: https://www.eonline.com/photos/34120/2022-critics-choice-awards-red-carpet/page/2

I was going to go with the gold SAG dress but no one should upstage Keeley Fucking Jones at her own wedding.

Songs are Adele - Make you feel my love and Girls Aloud - The promise. ♥️

Chapter 3

Roy and Keeley -  July 2024

“Babe, do you want me to put Jelka at a table with Phoebs? Otherwise she’ll be bored stiff and they’ll be running between the tables anyway. Easier to just stick them together with Roy’s mum?” It was a month after Nate’s wedding. The last game of the season was due to kick off the following lunchtime, but at nearly 5pm on a Friday, Keeley’s thoughts were only on her wedding.

“Jelka’s not coming.”

“Oh, ok. Phoebe won’t be happy about that! Matt’s coming though, yeah? Is she with her grandparents for the weekend?” Keeley was a month into a rigorous 10 week wedding planning marathon. With 6 weeks to go, no stone was going left unturned, she spent most afternoon’s on Rebecca’s sofa alternating between laptop, phone and her super sparkly wedding planner.

“Matt’s not coming.” Rebecca replied, not looking up from her emails. Keeley put down her phone and planner, pushing her fluffy pen into her ponytail.

“I’m sorry, fucking what? Come here now please, Rebecca.” Rebecca didn’t move, she continued typing. “Now please, Rebecca. Don’t make me call Roy up here.”

“You do realise that I’m in charge here Keeley?”

“I’m speaking as your best friend, not as a business partner. Get that juicy arse here.” Rebecca sighed and closed her laptop. “Bring the wine!” Keeley added. After pouring two large glasses and taking her seat at the end of the sofa, Rebecca finally looked at Keeley. The younger woman sat so far forwards that she was practically on the floor, her eyes wide and expectant. “Spill it.” She whispered.

“We broke up.”

“The fuck you did! When? Why? Why didn’t you tell me!”

“It was earlier in the week, when he flew in for a couple of nights.”

“What happened? I know you were still a bit unsure, but I thought you’d pushed through it?” Rebecca hadn’t told Keeley about Nate’s wedding, about visiting Ted the night before he left.

“It’s not him, he’s fine. Jelka is lovely. It’s me. You were right at Beard’s wedding, I can’t settle for fine. I don’t want to settle.”

“Ohh babes. I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok, a bit sad. Alone again and all that.”

“And how did he take it?”

“He was… disappointed. He said I wasn’t going ‘all in’. He said I was closed off, I wasn’t opening up to him, to what we could have.”

“What do you think about that?”

“I think… if I wanted to open up, I would have by now? I tried to, gave myself plenty of time, plenty of opportunity to. I just think I didn’t want to?” Keeley nodded. 

“You can’t force yourself to love someone babe, just cos it sounds like the right thing to do.” They drank their wine quietly. “I’m going to speak out of turn here-”

“That’s not like you Keeley Jones.” 

“Funny bitch. Is this anything to do with Ted? What happened before he left? And after Beard’s wedding?”

“... And before Nate’s wedding. And after Nate’s wedding.” Rebecca added quietly. Keeley rescued her glass before it hit the coffee table.

“What? Ok, ok, let me think. Think, Keeley. How did you manage anything before?!” She muttered, stroking her chin, “He literally arrived half hour before we went to the wedding?!” Keeley racked her brains some more, clicking her fingers when she realised, “Fuck me! When he went to hurry you up and you had to change your shoes! He works fast! And we were all downstairs!” She squealed, “I didn’t think he had it in him! But you didn’t leave with him the night of the wedding, you were angry with him. And the night after… Oh my god, after the restaurant!” Keeley slumped back in her chair in disbelief. “Ho. Lee. Shit, Rebecca. Holy shit.”

“I know, I know. I felt so guilty and I was so angry with him, and then he told me about that woman he was dating and suddenly I forgot all of that. I was just so jealous and I wanted him so much. I’m a terrible person.”

“No you’re not.” 

“I am. What kind of person am I if I can ignore that I have - had - a boyfriend?”

“Wanting Ted doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I’ve ruined what I could have had with Matt. What if I ruin what he has with Marie?”

“He’s a grown man, Rebecca. He can say no. I mean, I don’t know anyone in the world that would turn you down, but still. If it’s over with Matt then I think you can forgive yourself. Ultimately, all it did was show you that you weren’t really happy. He didn’t find out, you didn’t hurt him deliberately.” Rebecca sighed into her wine.

“I haven’t spoken to Ted since that night. We usually speak at least once a week.”

“Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Is he coming to ‘Roy’s 40th’?”

“Yes, though I half expected him to say no, not exactly a groundbreaking event is it. Unless someone gave him a hint?”

“I might have told him he should come over during the summer.”

“He’s bringing Henry.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, might encourage you to keep your hands to yourself.” Rebecca laughed at last. 

“It’s not my hands that are the problem.”

“Oh my god, there’s so much I want to know but I’m scared I won’t be able to look him in the eye ever again! We established last year that it’s good. Like, really fucking good.”

“Life altering, I think you called it at Beard’s wedding.”

“God. Imagine having that on tap. You’d never walk again!”

“Don’t. I think it’s over. When he comes back for your wedding and tells me it’s serious with Marie, then it’s over. It has to be. I think that’s why I went to him before he left again, I knew it was going to be the last time.”

“I feel like I should light a candle in memory of your sex life. You’ll never have sex like it again.” Keeley raised her glass in a toast. “Rebecca's sex life!”

They won their last match, finishing third in the table. Rebecca was ecstatic, as was Roy who had been dreading the team tumbling back down the table as if the previous season had been a total fluke. With the season out of the way, most of the team on their summer holidays and a quiet calendar, Keeley threw herself into the last weeks of wedding planning with gusto. That she could only share her excitement with Rebecca and Roy made it even more exciting for her. Rebecca had been dress shopping with her (for both of them), cake tasting, to scout for a decent band and sampling caterers. That no one had seen through the facade of ‘Roy’s 40th Birthday Party’ was an absolute miracle, and yet, here they were with just three days to go. Keeley had chosen a glam theme, something timeless and classical where the suits and dresses wouldn’t age. She’d urged Rebecca to go full glamour as well, with a dress which had to be seen to be believed. The heat was unbearable, they both desperately hoped that the heatwave would break in the next 48 hours, it had already lingered for 10 days and in a country with no air conditioning, the heat got frustrating after 3. They lay on the training pitch in shorts and vests, straps tucked under their arms to avoid tan lines. 

“If I was in my garden, I could sunbathe nude Keeley. Why am I here?”

“So we can finalise the wedding details! Though I am more than happy to come to your house now that I know you sunbathe nuddy!”

“I don’t do it when I have company.” Rebecca pointed out. She rolled onto her stomach to turn away from the glare of the sun, feeling it burning her through her thin clothing. “Put some more cream on, you don’t want to be red.” Keeley took up the bottle of factor 50 they were sharing and covered her arms, legs and shoulders.

“Fuck, I hope this heat breaks.”

“We’ll all melt if it doesn’t.” Rebecca mumbled into the blanket. She picked absentmindedly at the grass. She took the bottle from Keeley and reapplied her own cream on her shoulders.

“I’ll go and get us some more water.” Moving onto her legs, Rebecca held the bottle upside down and dripped cream in long stripes from ankle to thigh. She ran her hands through the thick cream, making her legs pale until it began to sink into the skin. A shadow broke up the sunlight, giving her some brief relief from the heat.

“Ohh babe, you make a great sunshade - stay there!”

“If you think this is hot, you should really be lookin’ at yourself right now cos holy shit, Rebecca!” Ted said with a whistle. She looked up to him, trying to shield her eyes from the sun directly behind him.

“You’re here!”

“Course I am, I said I would be.” Rebecca jumped up to fling her arms around him just as Keeley emerged from beneath the stands with Henry. “We saw Keeley as we came in, I told him to stay and help her.” He replied pulling his nose away from her neck where he’d been breathing in the scent of suncream, scented body wash and a little sweat. “Jesus you smell incredible, like summer.” He muttered just before Henry was in earshot.

“Look who I found!” Keeley giggled.

“Henry! It’s so good to see you! Goodness, you’ve grown so much - you’ll be as tall as your dad.”

“Good to see you too Rebecca, hey Keeley found these in the physio freezer!” He pulled out a box of fruit popsicles from behind his back, “And there’s four in the box!”

“Well that’s lucky for us. Come, let’s move into the shade, it’s too hot for you in the sun.” Ted picked up the blanket and moved it per Rebecca’s request closer to the building where it was much, much cooler out of the sun. They sat back with their popsicles and Ted told them about their flight and Henry told them about his football team. He found an old, slightly deflated training ball under one of the seats in the stands and kicked it around, showing off his keepy uppy skills. Each time he lost the ball, Rebecca pushed it back to him with her bare feet. Eventually she gave up sitting back down and they began kicking the ball back and forth to each other.

"Not too hard, Henry. Don't want to hurt Rebecca’s feet."

"You should see the shoes I wear Henry darling, my feet are used to pain!"

"Can you do keepy uppy?" Henry asked excitedly. Rebecca hesitated. 

"I can try. It's been an awfully long time though."

"I'll help, you have to keep your eye on the ball." Ted and Keeley watched as Henry patiently taught Rebecca. Everytime she beat her high score, they cheered her, until the heat got the better of them and she sat down to rest, eagerly downing the water Keeley had handed her. Ted had been watching her intently. He hadn't taken his eyes off her legs as she'd bounced the football off her knees and feet. He watched a bead of sweat travel from the side of her neck down into the neckline of her vest. As if sensing his discomfort, Keeley jumped up,

"C'mon Henry, let's get some more water and find you and Rebecca a couple of towels." She led him indoors, throwing an exaggerated wink in Rebecca’s direction. 

"You're pretty good, boss."

"I do own a football team. I went to a few training sessions with a local ladies team when I was much younger. My dad said it wasn't very ladylike so I stopped."

"He was wrong. I would say you've never looked better, but then it would be damn near impossible for me to work out what your best look is." She rolled her eyes with a shy smile, batting off his comment. "Actually, I think I've got a pretty good idea which is my favourite." He added with a smirk.

"Behave yourself, Coach."

"Not easy where you're concerned. Is Matt gracing us with his presence for the wedding?" Rebecca played with the frayed edge of the blanket.

"He's not. We broke up, actually. A while ago now, about a month after Nate and Jade's wedding." Ted was quiet for a moment. 

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Are you?" He didn't reply. "How's things going with Marie?"

"Going well, it's been about 6 months."

"Impressive."

"Hmm. She's talking about moving in together." 

"That's a big step. I take it Henry knows you're dating?" 

"Yeah, he's cool with it."

"That's the main thing." As they'd talked, Rebecca had brought her knees up to under her chin, putting the barrier up around her heart. When she got back, Keeley frowned,

"This is… not the vibe I was expecting." 

"I was just telling Ted about Matt."

"Ohh yep, that'll kill the mood." 

"The path to true love ain't smooth, Keeley Jones, you know that." Ted teased. 

"Speaking of Keeley’s path to love, I need to go. Got to see a band about a song and I need to go home and change first." Keeley squealed with joy.

"Can I come too?!"

"No! It won't be a surprise, then. Stay as long as you want, I don't think I'll be back here tonight."

"What's the surprise?" Henry asked. 

"Rebecca is singing at… Roy's 40th." Ted told him, nodding at Keeley who grinned gratefully. Their understood agreement that you never trust a child with a secret. 

"I wish I'd never decided on doing it this way. 3 days seems so far away!"

"You're doing a great job, darling. Just hold on a little longer." Rebecca shared a hug with the younger woman. "I'll catch up with you Lasso gentlemen tomorrow I expect? I hear you're off to meet baby Teddy, Henry?"

"Yeah, I can’t wait!"

"He is a cutie. Have fun, see you later." 

One wedding rehearsal later, Rebecca was drinking wine in the garden when a picture message came through of Henry holding Teddy, followed quickly by another of Ted and Henry with Teddy. She replied with heart eyes. 

'😍 if anyone can upstage Teddy, it's you two.'

'Don't know about that, he's pretty cute.'

'Don't sell yourself short. Would you and Henry like to come for dinner tomorrow night?'

'It's a date, see you tomorrow. 💜'

“What are you singing?”

“Can’t tell you that H, It’ll give the surprise away.” Ted watched Rebecca and Henry playing Uno after dinner, smiling at the nickname she’d given him.

“Do you think Roy will like it?”

“I certainly hope so. You and Phoebe will get on famously at this rate - you both have an awful lot of questions.” She teased. Phoebe had spent weeks asking about Uncle Roy’s party, how come Rebecca was singing? Was there really so much to organise? Why couldn’t they just go to soft play? Or a park? Or the beach? Do they play games at grown up birthday parties? Can they play musical chairs? Will there still be cake? Rebecca had almost wished that she hadn’t been invited in on the secret, but sharing the experience with Keeley had been wonderful fun and had helped her hugely in getting over the fact that she was once again single. That she didn’t need to get over Matt had proved to her that she’d made the right decision. It was more the realities of being single again in her late forties which she was frustrated about. The more she looked at Leslie and Julie, the more she wanted the same as they had - a lasting love she could depend on. After Uno, they put on a movie - Henry was into dinosaurs so they were watching the original Jurassic Park. “Do you need another drink darling?” She asked him halfway through the film, he was enraptured with the screen and only shook his head so she went to the kitchen with hers and Ted’s glasses for a refill. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this, you know?” Ted asked, following her.

“I wanted to, I’m sorry we fought last time you were here. I wanted to spend time with you both.” He nodded.

“I’m sorry too. I should have told you about Marie. It wasn’t fair of me to keep asking you about Matt but keep Marie a secret from you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I think leaving covered that pretty well to be honest.” She said with a teasing smile. “I hope being back in Kansas is everything you wanted?”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t say everything.” He admitted. He took a step closer, taking the whiskey glass from her and putting it on the counter. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed him in, shaking her head.

“No, don’t do this to Marie. Trust me when I tell you that it makes you feel like the worst person in the world. It’s not worth it.”

“Was it worth it to you?” He asked. She hesitated before nodding.

“I already told you, you’re worth everything to me. But you are too good and too kind and too Ted to treat Marie the same way I did Matt.” She placed her hand over his heart with a sad smile. He leaned into her, resting his forehead against hers.

“I want to kiss you so much.”

“Please don’t.” She begged, “Please don’t make me want you anymore than I already do. It’s unbearable. I look at you and I can feel your hands and I want-” her body arched into him almost of its own accord.

“What do you want, Rebecca?” He whispered, his lips brushed across hers lightly, not quite a kiss, one hand holding her hip tightly. She groaned with longing, breathless with trying to hold back from him. 

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me.” He murmured, his nose grazing her jawline. She clenched against nothing, desperate to feel him inside her. His proximity had backed her into the counter and he was half a step from lining his body up against hers. The hand on her hip brushed against the front of her leggings and she couldn’t stop from rolling her hips to meet his hand, a low moan in her throat. 

“You. I want you to touch me.” She gripped his wrist before he could, holding his hand away from her. “But you have a life in Kansas, and I’m not going to let you fuck it up.” She kissed his cheek and moved out from his grasp. She took her drink back to the sitting room where she rejoined Henry and stared resolutely at the film and tried to regain her composure. She noticed that it took a few minutes for him to come back in from the kitchen.

The wedding day dawned bright and clear, but certainly less hot which they were all grateful for. Keeley had told everyone that the party would be on the training pitch at the club. As far as she and Roy were concerned, there was nowhere else in the world they’d rather marry. Rebecca had left Keeley up in her office which they’d converted to a bridal dressing room - far enough from curious eyes. She’d helped her into her dress and left her sitting by the window to await her cue. She swept across the pitch in a lime green ball gown skirt, with a separate black corset top, making her way to where a table had been placed. Curious murmurs and voices rippled through the crowd as she turned to face them all, drawing their attention. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” She let them jostle and titter for a minute, giving Keeley time to get down the stairs and into the doorway before clearing her throat, “Isaac?”

“Oi! Boss is talking, hush ya butts.” A few people behind him, Ted laughed.

“Thank you, Isaac. Now, I know you think you’re all here for Roy’s 40th birthday party, but I’m afraid that’s not quite true, is it Roy?” He stepped forward from where he’d been next to Jamie and Ted,

“Thought we might have a wedding instead?” A hum of noise rose around them, Phoebe’s eyes were on stalks as she swiveled around trying to understand. Then she spotted Keeley.

“Auntie Keeley!” She shouted and all eyes turned to the stands where Keeley smiled. Roy nodded at Will who had been given an assignment when he arrived - when you get the nod, hit play on the boombox. He’d had no idea why until that moment. On the outskirts of the group, Keeley found Leslie and offered him her arm unexpectedly. His eyes welled with tears and he held out his own arm for her to take instead, leading her through the haphazard group which parted to accommodate them and settled to create an aisle of sorts. When she reached Roy, she leaned down to pass Phoebe her bouquet with a watery smile. She kissed Leslie’s cheek and thanked him before taking her place next to Roy in front of Rebecca.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today for the marriage of Roy Brian Kent and Keeley Louise Jones.” A huge cheer went up as the gathered group realised the truth. Rebecca took the opportunity to brush a couple of tears away and steady her voice. “You’re really going to have to forgive me. I suspect I’m not going to make it through this without tears. When Roy and Keeley asked me to officiate their wedding, I of course said yes. I have had the great pleasure, as you all have, of watching them fall in love over the last four years. They may have had their ups and downs, gotten into their own head - and each others, at times not felt good enough, or felt like they were too much. But they've been there for each other. Even when they were apart, they continued to support, love and care for each other." She looked past Roy and Keeley at the wedding party, catching Ted's eye as she spoke, her words echoing true not just for Roy and Keeley. There wasn’t a dry eye on the pitch as Rebecca asked Roy and Keeley to recite their vows to one another. At one point, Ted sent Henry up to the front with a tissue for Rebecca who was struggling to get through the ceremony. She stroked his cheek gently and stopped to wipe her tears away. “On behalf of Richmond county council, I am so, so proud to declare that you are husband and wife. Roy, go get your girl.” Roy swept Keeley into a kiss and dipped her. The team went mental. With the secret out, the party could begin. A small army of people emerged from the carpark and began setting up a small stage for the band, lighting and a temporary dance floor. Nate ushered a mobile bar onto the pitch alongside a couple of food vans. While the party planners got to work, Will manned the boom box and Roy and Keeley happily made their way around their friends and family. Rebecca gestured to Keeley that she was popping upstairs to her office for a few minutes and the beautiful bride nodded, raising a bottle of champagne that someone had managed to procure while the bar was getting themselves organised. Seeing her leave, Ted asked Henry to hang out with Phoebe for a little while and asked Jamie to keep an eye on them both. He followed Rebecca to her office, knocking on the slightly ajar door.

“Well this brings back memories, boss.” He let himself in.

“No biscuits this time though.” She was touching up her make-up after all of the tears. 

“You were incredible.”

“It was nothing, just a few words. It was the legal bit I was worried about.”

“Beautiful words. They love you so much, all of them, not just Roy and Keeley.”

“I know, I love them too.” He reached out to touch her skirt,

“You look wonderful, this is something else.” He stepped into her space, a hand on her lower back guiding her to sit on her desk. 

“What are you up to? I thought we talked about this the other night.”

“You made the decision for me. I want to decide for myself.”

“The guilt will tear you apart, Ted. Please trust me.” She pleaded. “I’m not strong enough to keep saying no to you, you have to help me, please.”

“The guilt will be mine to bear, not yours, honey. I can’t listen to everything you just said down there and not show you how much-” He leaned in to capture her warm lips in a searing kiss. She reciprocated immediately, hands running through his hair and shifting so that he could stand between her legs.

“How much what?” She gasped as his kisses trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, shifting the strap aside so he could mark the skin.

“How much I love you. How much I need you, what you do to me.” Her hand on his face stopped him and he looked up at her.

“Oh, Ted. I love you too.” Her free hand moved to his belt, “And as for what you do to me? You nearly made me come in my own kitchen without even touching me.”

“Nearly ain’t nearly good enough for you.” His hand found the split in her skirt, pulling it to one side and brushing against her soaked core. He groaned into her mouth as she pulled down his zip and freed his cock. “God, I always wanted you in your office.” 

“Ted, please.” She moaned. He held her hips as he slid into her slowly, waiting until he was fully seated within her before moving again. He found their rhythm straight away as if he’d catalogued every sigh, every moan that had fallen from her lips each time previously. He knew exactly how to bring her to the abyss quickly, just as he knew exactly how to drag it out until she begged for release. He brought a thumb to her clit, pressing roughly until her legs shook and she tightened around him and took them both over the edge. He stayed between her legs to leave a row of kisses across the low neckline of her top. “We need to move, love. They’ll be looking for us.” He stepped away reluctantly so she could get down from the desk. “You go now, I’ll clean up here and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Without the tension of having Matt around at Beard’s wedding and Ted’s lingering jealousy, without the anger and hurt feelings of Nate’s wedding, Rebecca and Ted finally had a night they could truly enjoy. The band arrived, and as Keeley and Roy had requested, Rebecca got up to join them. She cleared her throat away from the microphone and tapped it gently to get everyone’s attention.

“Evening all, me again. Keeley’s got me pulling a double shift.” The beautiful piano sounds of ‘Make You Feel My Love’ began softly in the background, “She wanted me to sing this for their first dance. I did offer to get the real Adele for her, but she turned me down.”

“Only you babes, we only want you!” Keeley shouted on her way to the dancefloor. Rebecca smiled as the intro to the song gave her her cue. Her voice was, as usual, perfect and the audience were enraptured with her - Ted and Henry included. 

The storms are raging on the rolling sea

And on the highway of regret

The winds of change are blowing wild and free

You ain't seen nothing like me yet

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true

Nothing that I wouldn't do

Go to the ends of the Earth for you

To make you feel my love

To make you feel my love

Her eyes swam with tears, she was singing for Roy and Keeley but she was singing to Ted. She caught his eye on the final bridge, stumbling over the last line. The applause was deafening. 

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Now a surprise that they don’t know about. Traditionally, the next song should be a banger to get everyone up and dancing. Well, I wanted to sing something classy - the Supremes?” A cheer went up, “Whitney?” Another cheer. “But I thought to myself, what would Keeley Jones-Kent want, and the answer became very clear to me. Cheesy pop. So this is for you my darling, sweet girl. I love you both so very much.” The band launched into The Promise by Girls Aloud, the intro making Keeley shriek with joy. Phoebe pulled her mum and Henry onto the dance floor and they were quickly joined by various members of the team. 

I've had enough of wishin', I've found you

Baby don't you know

I've had as much as I can take of fallin', yeah

Got a lot to learn 'bout ridin' through

'Cause you're gonna make me, make me love you

Nothin' at all, nothin' that I do

The promise I made, the promise I made

Is startin' to fade, startin' to fade (fade)

When the song was over, Rebecca thanked the band and met Keeley at the edge of the makeshift stage. The tiny woman hugged Rebecca tightly.

“Thank you babes, I love you.”

“Anything for you two.” Rebecca beamed. 

Roy had given the band, bar and food vans well in excess of their usual fees to allow everyone to dance, drink and eat long into the night. Rebecca danced with what felt like everyone. Past midnight, the crowd thinned. Phoebe and Henry lay asleep under a pile of blankets next to Leslie and Julie who were enjoying a quiet drink together. Beard and Jane had taken baby Teddy home to bed and there was only a small number of people left. She felt Ted approach her before she heard him.

“Dance with me?” He asked quietly. She kicked off her shoes and let him pull her into his arms. Near them on the dance floor, Keeley swayed with Jamie, while Roy had cut in on Sam and Simi so that Sam could go to the bar. Colin and Michael held each other tightly, smiling blissfully.

“I love seeing them all so happy.” She said as they moved in synchronicity to the music. 

“I love seeing you happy.” He replied. “And I miss this. I miss them all.”

“We get by without you, but it’s so much better when you’re here.” She unknowingly echoed Beard’s words from Nate’s wedding. “But I’d never ask you to leave your darling boy.”

“He’s pretty sweet on you too.”

“Oh yeah?” She grinned.

“Yeah, he hated Dr Jake. Poor Michelle daren’t go on another date right now. He’s not totally keen on Marie, if I’m being honest.” Rebecca frowned. “Oh, he’s polite, courteous and all that. It’s not until I’ve seen him here that I noticed the difference between him behaving how he thinks I want him to and how he really is. I haven’t had to tell him once to be kind, be polite, say thank you.”

“He’s happy here. He’s always enjoyed visiting.” Ted hummed. “You’ll be back again soon enough, and Henry is always welcome.”

“I’m ready to know when the next wedding is.”

“Why’s that?”

“Seems we’ve got a streak to maintain. Looks like hooking up at weddings is becoming a theme.”

“Against our better judgment.” Rebecca added, Ted agreed. 

“I know, I know. We’re both terrible people. Long as I’m with you, I couldn’t care less.” 

As Ted tucked Henry into bed at the B&B, the boy turned into Ted’s side and snuggled up.

“You’re happier here than you are in Kansas, dad.” He said sleepily as his eyes drifted shut.

#ted lasso #tedbecca #ted and rebecca #ted lasso s3 #rebecca x ted #rebecca welton #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic

[outofcontexturi]

Mon 21st Nov 2022 journal 21:51pm

I feel lazy in the mind. Like a large part of me didn’t want to open this app and write this journal right now but I’m not listening to that part of me. I’m trying to get my life together and I’m in my own way right now maybe cause my body really needs a reset and knows best but time won’t let me relax without quitting the rehearsal process and not performing which is t what I want to do. I need to find my passion for acting again and soon. Therapy today was good. It put me in a really good mood. I had a great conversation with Angie yesterday about life and shit. And the importance of healthy eating which is something I really want to try and embark on this season. It’s getting too dark too early and it’s really fucking up my mood and I feel that diet or what you put into your body is kinda what you get out of it too and because I’ve been depressed for a while or in a depressive state for a while I’ve just been eating like shit and not caring as much but I think I’m tired of chips and burgers. I need something new and homemade in my life. I’m tired of these £4-7 meals that all add up to something in the end. I could be so much better but I’ve lost some discipline that I’m trying to get back. I can get it back and will get it back. Thank God for life. Thank God for opportunity. Thank God for favour and Thank God for love and family. I’ve been looking at my birth chart recently from a tropical pov and a whole sign pov just to see any stark differences and there’s not really much to report back other than saturn is in my 5th house and my Taurus is in my 6th house. That’s all. Saffrah just messaged me. It’s 21:58pm. I felt good talking to that therapist today. I told her life felt like a dream and shit. i like therapists that are conversational instead of looking at me and trying to psychoanalyse me. Shout out to Lisa. Also, Peace is looking sexy as fuck. Speak of the devil she just messaged me; it’s 22:00pm. Oh yeah I went to some party on Saturday evening at Natalie’s old house. Shit was very good vibes considering I was one of two black people there. No racist vibes. Nothing. Just some good white folk. I didn’t feel out of place as such. They were cool and I met some cool people too. Benjy. 28. Actor. Becks. 28. works with Natalie. I was up until 7 in the morning. I was absolutely fucked. Yesterday felt a bit rough for the kid I can’t even lie. just endless cycles of masturbation and self scrutiny. Sometimes bussing a nut isn’t always worth it. i really value honesty man. fuck. I messaged Monique cause I think I wanna fuck. Okay so hopefully by 11:30pm I’ll be asleep. It’s 22:10(10:10)pm. I genuinely love being the right high. It feels the best ever. I had one of my best showers today cause I was high as shit and the hot water hit my back and I honestly screamed a lil😂. I’m listening to a Garden Kisses cover on SoundCloud (artist SeaJay x Garden Kisses). It’s 22:13pm. I feel In love with life and it’s possibilities. I wanna fuck Alexandra. And Monique. And Peace. I thought about Destini yesterday too. I hope her sexy self is doing good. I’d genuinely fall in love with her if I knew her. I wanna fuck Syanna too. Taurus Women>>> ugh or cancer Women >>> or Libra women>>>> or some Sag women>>> ugh I love bad bitches SO MUCH omfg genuinely genuinely love me a bad bitch. Fuck man. I’m open to letting go of close friends in hopes of finding the right close friends if need be. I’m know what I being to relationships and friendships and I know how much work and care I have for people and if people think they can not care for me and I’ll stick around you have me ABSOLUTELY FUCKED UP. I’m not that nigga no more baby. you’ll recognise soon enough. I’m like no one you know. If I could sing this song like the way this nigga is singing it I’d be happy as fuck. Damn. I don’t know if I said this already in previous posts but my mum is back from Ghana. It’s nice to have her back but damn I didn’t miss the sending that much hahaha love her though but Damn man. 22:22pm. I wanna fuck. ugh. I’m high but not completely gone high. like work lev

#journal

[wltcher]

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

Tennessee Williams, The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore

Richard Kadrey, Aloha from Hell

#quotes #parallels #literary parallels #web weaving #anne carson #sandra cisneros #richard kadrey #tennessee williams #fire #oh it's fucking sag season bitches #sagittarius #B) #w #oh feel free to add btw #x

[hollandsmushroom]

could you please write me a peter x plus size reader where she is highly insecure and hates her stomach but peter makes her more comfortable in her skin?

You're Perfect || P.P.

That is most definitely something I can do!! I wrote this like...immediately after getting the request hehe

Peter Parker x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Intense descriptions of self hatred, not liking ones stomach, scratching??? insecurity, just general self loathing.

Word Count: 1032

Your hands trailed at your sides as you stood in front of your mirror, eyes tracing daggers across your reflection, the target of such a malicious gaze being your stomach. It stood out to you, the rest of your body fading away as you trained your hatred on the part of you that just didn't look good. You raised your hands from where they had lain dormant at your side, letting them rest of the soft expanse of your belly as you quickly curled your fingers deeper into yourself, wishing to pull some of it away, detach the supposed excess that you had deemed to be too much and unloveable. Grabbing at your skin you pushed two hands towards each other, trapping innocent skin beneath the pinch of despair, the pressure making your belly button change shape, contorting the beauty of your skin to some other shape in a strive to make it perfect, to look smaller or less obtrusive. You wished you it would disappear, you wished to disappear, for none of this to be real and for your body to be a figment of some sick god imagination. Your focus was too trained on the burning hatred that your fingernails marred your flesh with to realize that you were no longer alone.

If you had been able to pull your attention from yourself loathing you would have noticed the downtrodden looking boy behind you, shoulder sagged in his red suit that usually seemed to pull the confidence to the surface, but now, now he looked defeated.

“What are you doing?” Peter’s voice came out much more broken than he had intended, he wanted to sound strong, to be able to assert his love for your body with a powerful assurance but that seemed to have slipped away, now he just felt lost and heart broken, soul seemingly shattered at the sight of his partner viewing themselves with such unadulterated distaste, the type of disgust that would have earned any other person a punch to the face but since it was you, his love, all he could do was try not to shatter in front of you, to try and assure you that you were in fact perfection, his perfection.

His voice startled you, pulling you from your disgruntled fog as you turned around to face him, tugging your shirt down hurriedly to hide the victim of your disgust.

“Peter! You’re here!” you cried, moving to go hug him but he stood still, only movement being that of his hand pulling his mask from his face, revealing his greatly saddened features to your desperate eyes. Your movements ceased as you saw his face, a realization clicking into place as you stilled, hands dropping from where they had been reaching for a hug to go and tug at the loose and frayed string of your old t-shirt. “How long have you been here?” you looked up at him through the webs of your lashes, voice weak as you prayed he hadn’t seen you play torturer and victim with your own skin, that he hadn’t had to witness the contortions of your belly as you twisted yourself in the mirror in nothing more than an attempt to look like there was less of you.

“Long enough, what were you doing?” he brushed past your inquiry, knowing the reasoning behind the question but he needed answers, even if they knew that they would break his heart.

“Oh I, well I was just looking at myself” you whispered, going to sit on the edge of your bed as you trained your eyes to the suddenly very interesting palms.

“That didn’t look like just looking at yourself” Peter’s voice was gentle now, dancing on the edge of frayed as he tried to hold himself together. Still dawning in the suit Peter took a place between your thighs, grabbing your hands in his own as he tried to pull your attention to his adoring eyes but you avoided them. “Y/n, please look at me” he was begging and he was unashamed of the fact, he needed your attention and he needed to assure you that you were his definition of beauty. Your eyes tore from where his suit clad fingers had intertwined with your own, the threading seemingly less intense than the conversation at hand but there was only so long that you could ignore the elephant in the room. His brown eyes were warm when you met them, dancing with hues of heartbreak. “I love you” his voice trailed with love, still begging to hold your gaze as you tried to pull it away.

“Why?” your voice was breaking, everything was breaking and you wished you could be nothing but dust in the wind.

“Because you are perfect” his words were cliched but held true in his heart, you were perfect, to him you were, there was nothing more correct for him than you.

“Peter I am not perfect” you pushed his hands away, standing up and hiking up your shirt, your belly becoming exposed to the chill of your room, a shiver etching up your spine. “I am terrible, I just, Im too much, there is too fucking much of me and I want it to stop, I want it to disappear and I just-I want to be beautiful, I want to be beautiful for you because you are perfect!” you let out, your voice laced with tears as you grip into your skin, but your hands were quickly pulled away, Peter’s grip on your hands pulled you back to your bed, letting you fall back down on the comforter. His lips immediately melding with the exposed skin of your belly, placing a soft chaste kiss to your skin and looking up at you with his wide puppy dog eyes.

“If I don’t get to call you perfect, you don’t get to call me perfect,” he asserted, his hands covering the soft expanse of your belly, kissing the crescent shaped marks of your fingernails with the gentle touch of his fingers. “I love every single inch of you, it's all perfect, all of it” his lips pressed just below your belly button. “You’re perfect”

♡Taglist♡

@iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @evermoreholland @spidey-sophie @harmqnia @thehumanistsdiary @samaraaaaa @itscaminow @alinastarkrovs @marvelsbitch8 @celestialholland @kasidy409 @parkerdarling @scarletspideyy @capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @hackerholland @tom-softie @hollandsjen @tomhollandsbitch8 @bi-lmg07 @reawritesthings @tomsholland2412 @lowkey-holland @cocoamoonmalfoy @vintageobx @elishi03 @spooky-season-bitch

#soft peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x plus!size reader #plus size reader insert #plus size blurb #plus size reader

[cpcoulter-official]

Power Struggle

(I wanna say for the record I didn't wanna post this initially here because of all the -bad words- in it, but apparently it's quite popular among Stuart Trio stans. XD)

“No.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. And while that was usually something that warned everyone that the territory is getting dangerous, Julian remained unmoved. “No?” Logan repeated.

“No,” Julian replied, flipping the page of the script. “You and Derek can go have dinner. I’m staying here. Slackers don’t get Oscars.”

The laugh that burst out of Logan was one of disbelief. “Staying in here. Again. Julian—” he spread his arms to the bomb site of a room covered in coffee cups and papers that were a quarter academic, a quarter full of fan mail and presents, and an entire half of scripts. “You haven’t left this room since you arrived here!”

Logan and Derek had decided to stage an intervention. Julian had been back at school all of five days and spent four of it holed up in his room alternating between memorizing scripts, drinking frankly illegal amounts of coffee, doing about six video auditions a day, yelling at his people over the phone, answering fan mail, and then the immense schoolwork. They weren’t sure when he actually slept when he ever left the room, and it was getting ridiculous, even for them.

“That’s not true,” Julian replied breezily. “I went out to get coffee, I go to class.”

“And you go right back in here, and you bitch, and you have your theatrics—”

“You are the last person I want to hear about theatrics from.”

Derek responded this time. “And you stress. You’re sitting there stressing about your next movie, your next award show—”

“It’s awards season!” Julian widened his eyes at them like this wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. “You guys know that, the nominations from SAG, Golden Globes, Oscars—”

“You say Oscar one more time, I’m going to explode,” Logan rubbed his temples and pushed a stack of papers off a chair so he could sit. “It’s ceased to become a word.”

“Don’t touch that, that’s for a superhero movie!” Julian screeched, diving for it. “I’ve had everything here stacked according to priority, okay?”

“And chair means what?” Derek asked incredulously.

“The ones on the chair are “Definitely Consider”,” Julian replied as he cheerfully dusted off the superhero script, looking at it as though it were a baby, “the ones next to you are, “You’re an Idiot if You Don’t Take It”.”

Logan eyed him distrustfully and picked up the top one off the stack next to Derek. It had confidential watermarked all over it. He flipped through it. “...oh geez, is this a Tarantino?”

“Well…” Julian awkwardly shifted back to his spot on the bay window.

“You’re going to take a Tarantino?” Derek burst out, aghast. “Do you know what he does to his actors?!”

“Do you know how many Oscars—”

“That’s it!” Logan exploded, getting up, storming straight up to Julian, who flattened like a cat against the windowpane.

“What, I—LOGAN!!” Julian screamed when the prefect bodily picked him up.

“I’m pulling rank! I’m the prefect and you’re going to get out of this room like a real person and eat some fucking dinner!” Logan retorted, slinging Julian over his shoulder like a hunter carrying a dead deer.

“Logan what the hell?!” Julian kicked and shoved at him even as Logan now strode across the room with him. “Put me down!! Put me down right now, you ass—”

By this time, Stuarts were poking their heads out of their rooms to wonder what the screaming was all about and they watched in wonder as their prefect literally carried the school movie star out of his room, Derek trailing and looking vastly amused.

“Logan!!” Julian yelled, punching his shoulder and nothing was working. “Logan, you can’t just carry me off like I’m some stupid princess—”

“You are a fucking princess and you know it!” Logan shot back, heading for the stairs.

“PUT ME DOWN!!”

“NO.”

“You’re also not taking the Tarantino,” Derek replied calmly, following and gesturing for the others to move along.

“You can’t tell me what to—” Julian yelled upstairs, “Nobody is allowed into my room, all of you leave my fanmail alone!!” He resumed punching Logan.

“Going out?” Bailey asked, part baffled, partly amused, as he held open the front door.

“We’re going to make a real boy out of Pinnochio over here,” Logan grumbled, carrying a still yelling Julian out of the house. “Derek, get the car!!”

“By all means, Your Highness,” Derek rolled his eyes but pulled his keys out.

Panting, Julian glared at Logan, “I will get you for this, Logan, I have an audition in an hour and a half, I better be back by then—LOGAN!” He tried to grab back the phone that the prefect fished out of his pocket with his free hand.

“Thad, catch!”

Thaddeus barely managed it, the phone bouncing like a hot potato in his hands. “What?!”

“If that phone so much as comes within six feet of him, I’m holding you personally responsible,” Logan warned.

“Thad,” Julian warned with the promise of death in his tone, “If you don’t put that phone in my room right now…!”

“I can’t carry this level of responsibility!!” Thad yelled in panic.

The car pulled up while Julian was trying to strangle Logan with his school tie and failing. Logan stuffed the diva into the backseat and slammed the door shut, Derek locking it. “Shut up and be good.”

“I hate you two so much,” Julian grumbled mutinously from the back as Logan climbed shotgun.

“Yes, and you’ll be livid by night's end,” Derek replied cheerfully, eyeing him from the rearview.

Logan turned around and smirked at him in triumph as they pulled away from Stuart. “Mexican?”

Julian glared balefully at him, arms crossed. “...Chinese.”

“Chinese it is.”

:)

#side-stories #side-canon #stuart trio

[221bsunsettowers]

TK/Carlos: I Shake and I Shiver Just to Watch You Breathe

(Takes place during Season 2, Episode 6)

As their car pulled in, Carlos leapt out, churning up dust as he took off running. The minute he spotted the 126, he knew.

Oh. Yep. Love of my life. Following a duffle bag, spray paint and a prayer across an active loaded minefield.

And then TK leapt onto the first circle.

In which Carlos ends up at the minefield right as TK starts his journey across.

Takes place during episode 2x06, because Carlos should be in every episode, and because there was so much potential for Carlos to be there watching TK jump through an active minefield.

CW for a few swear words, panic, anxiety, explosion, fear. No blood, injuries, or medical procedures are described.

Thanks so much to @buddie-buddie  who once again was an amazing support system for me to push through the self doubt and just keep writing.

Title from Run by Matt Nathanson and Sugarland

Can also be read on a03

It definitely wasn't a secret to Carlos' coworkers he was in a serious committed relationship with a firefighter from the 126. When he could, TK would stop by the station to bring coffee and a kiss, especially if he knew Carlos was having a hard day, and Carlos was constantly being good-naturedly teased about the apparently epic heart eyes between him and his boyfriend anytime they were on the same call.

If somehow anyone didn't know by that point, the framed picture of him and TK on his desk would have given that one away.

So Carlos found his cell phone pinging over and over in the seconds before the news came over the radio. His fellow officers had tried to warn him what was coming, not that he could take much comfort in that with what he was hearing.

126. Minefield. Two firefighters attempting a rescue.

His partner didn't even hesitate before responding that they were on their way to the site.

As their car pulled in, Carlos leapt out, churning up dust as he took off running. The minute he spotted the 126, he knew.

Oh. Yep. Love of my life. Following a duffle bag, spray paint and a prayer across an active loaded minefield.

And then TK leapt onto the first circle.

Carlos felt that morning's breakfast rising in his throat, battling with his lung's sudden amnesia regarding breathing, and he was doubling over, head swimming, until he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

"We gotcha," Judd's voice rumbled soothingly in his ear, and Carlos suddenly found himself perched on the back of the truck, Tommy's kind eyes meeting his as she reminded him to breathe in and out. The rest of the 126 had pressed closer together, and Carlos felt Paul's shoulder tap reassuringly against his own.

"I--what even--" Shaking his head, Carlos gave up on even trying to ask how they now all found themselves at the scene of this unbelievable situation.

"They needed a medic," Marjan explained softly.

"TK said you guys filled that spot though..." Carlos turned his head to find the eyes of a man who sure as hell looked like a paramedic quickly darting his gaze away. "You son of a bitch," Carlos growled, and that was definitely not a sound he knew he could make, but that bastard stood on this side and TK was on the other, and whose fucking fault was that then.

"Carlos...." Paul's arm was around his chest, gently tugging Carlos back, and Carlos sagged, because that medic was worth nothing and TK was worth everything and wasn't that what really mattered anyway.

And then, as if on cue, explosion.

Smoke shot everywhere, and Carlos felt his knees buckle, and by the time he hit the ground they still couldn't see a damn thing. So he knelt there, holding his breath, trying to will TK's way out of the ashes, and it wasn't until Tommy's radio announced the news that Carlos let out a gasping choke of air.

Rising, Carlos dusted his uniform pants off as the Bomb Squad pulled into view and the injured teenager on the field woke up. He nodded his head at the officers he recognized, tried to smile for his patiently waiting partner, kept his shaking hands concealed inside his pockets and his relieved sobs clenched tight inside his throat. He knocked shoulders with the 126, and he knew they knew him far too well at this point to believe he was fine, but they also knew him well enough to know he was one soft touch away from crumbling.

And TK was suddenly walking towards him, that beautiful sunshine grin quickly shifting into concern as he took in Carlos.

"Los," was all TK got to say before Carlos had his arms around him, hard enough to carry him back against the rear of the engine. Carlos was whimpering, another sound he had no idea he could produce, and TK was holding Carlos together, a tight embrace and soothing murmurs and a kiss to the side of Carlos' jaw.

"Aren't you supposed to be the one shaking here?" Carlos tried to joke, eyes closed as he nosed along TK's hairline, breathing him in.

"Adrenaline crash hasn't happened yet," TK assured him, clutching his fingers in the curls at the nape of Carlos' neck. "Right now I'm worried about you, baby."

"I had to watch that whole thing, Ty," Carlos whispered into TK's skin, the crook of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. "I love you so much and I'm so mad at you."

"I know, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," and TK's hands were clutching at Carlos' back, gripping his uniform tight enough to tear, and Carlos was nodding into TK's shoulder, drawing breath in.

The crew, the Bomb Squad, the kids from the field, everyone was out of sight, blurry visions around the corner from where TK and Carlos now stood. Pulling back slightly, Carlos wiped his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, looking down at their dust-covered shoes.

"TK, just imagine you're standing on the other side of a fence, and there I am, about to enter a field full of, let's say, snipers, to try to save someone who's already been shot.  And every time I move I throw a rock, and if that rock misses the nearest sniper, I get shot." Carlos choked out, shaking his head violently. "That's what that felt like for me to watch you on that minefield."

"Please don't ever make me imagine that," TK's voice was shaking, and Carlos met his eyes, saw them tear-filled, saw the way TK's trembling hands reached for him, and he swept TK up in his arms again.

"Please stay safe for me," Carlos whispered back, words settling along their skin as they both nodded in unison, Carlos knowing TK needed the hopeful promise just as much as he did.

"Are you still mad at me?" TK's voice was so quiet, quivering in uncertainty, and Carlos pulled back just enough to cup his boyfriend's face in his hands.

"You saved a kid's life," Carlos said, voice full of awe and so much love as he brought his forehead to bump gently against TK's. "I knew what I was getting into, Tiger, may not have seen a minefield coming, but still."

They both laughed, TK's head doing that adorable little tilt to the side, just far enough to lay a kiss on Carlos' palm. "I love you so much," TK promised, wrapping his arms around Carlos' waist, leaning into Carlos' waiting arms.

"I love you so much too," Carlos vowed back, pressing their lips together into a soft, steady kiss. Before stepping back, Carlos murmured, "And you better believe I'll be expecting a full body massage tonight since you just took ten years off my life with that stunt." He grinned as TK blushed, giving him no warning as the rest of the had been extremely patient 126 came barrelling over, and TK ended up in a combination headlock hug tackle.

"See you at home!" TK managed to squeak out from where he was currently pinned. "Love you Carlos!"

"Love you too baby," Carlos grinned, shoulders shaking with laughter as TK's hair was forcibly ruffled by Judd's hand. Turning to his also extremely patient partner, Carlos squeezed her arm gratefully. "I owe you the biggest coffee we can find."

"Oh you owe me at least three giant coffees, Officer Heart Eyes Emoji," she bantered back with a laugh and a smirk.

"New nickname for the win!" Marjan crowed, TK shrugging sheepishly as he emerged from under Mateo's arm.

Laughing as he slid back into the car, Carlos just caught her next words before the door closed. "Oh don't worry, we would never leave you out, the Heart Eyes Emoji Formerly Known as Strand!"

@i-had-bucky @bikingthroughhawkins @officereyes @highqualitykhakis @meloingly

Let me know if you would like to be added to my Tarlos tag!

#9-1-1 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #tk strand x carlos reyes #tk x carlos #carlos reyes x tk strand #carlos x tk #episode 2x06 #minefield #tarlos #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #always more carlos #emotional hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #126 ships them like we do #126 firefam #otp: we make a pretty good team

[pollylynn]

Title: Diegesis WC: 1200 Episode: A Death in the Family (1 x 10)

Here are the things he should have known. He is the fucking storyteller, right? He should have known. 

She is a cop, and he knows why. Oh, with all his Day Two swagger, he knows why: You could have lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught. So put two and two together, Mister Mystery Writer: How does a cop—one whose loss of a loved one has set them on a path to fighting crime—spend every waking moment of her life from the second she clips on the shield? 

Having burned three years of her life just trying to get her foot in the door, she goes ahead and burns three more. She burns the tail end of her teens and her college years. The better part of her twenties are a rain of ashes. She spends more than half a decade as a shell of a human being, living, breathing, eating sleeping a case that’s going on five years cold by the time she has any hope of touching even the half-assed evidence there is. 

She spends those years learning not to be surprised that even the murders of prominent plastic surgeons go unnoticed, because New Yorkers don’t try to peek inside heavily ticketed cars with tinted windows. Because random wayward violence has a way of finding the blind spots in surveillance cameras. Because random, wayward violence congregates in the down-and-out places where people keep their heads down and have nothing to say to cops. 

That is how she spends every waking moment of her life, and if he’d wanted to know that—if he hadn’t been so fucking invested in riding in on a white horse—he would have known. But there he stands, gaping as though the story she’s only just managed to spit through her teeth is a twist more shocking than any he’s conjured up or come across in his rarefied mystery writer circles. 

There he stands talking about resources that it turns out he has already turned loose on the most painful parts of her private life, because he decided not to know that she had turned over every stone, pleaded with every person even remotely related to the case to speak with her—to go over it again, again, again. 

It’s fucking obvious why she doesn’t want to investigate, but he decided not to know. 

*************************

Here are the things he doesn’t know—the things he is mistaken about. She is not extraordinary. She let go. She backed down. She stopped. Three years in—six, almost seven with college and the academy—she simply stopped. 

She can call it self-preservation. She can call it walking back from the edge of the cliff or clawing her way out of the rabbit hole, but the truth is she stopped, and then she searched for validation. 

A year of therapy. Kate, let’s talk about reasonable expectations. Let’s deal in facts. Let’s talk about the hopes and dreams your mother would have for you. That your father still has for you. Let’s set some boundaries based based on your experience—your expertise. Kate. Let’s talk . . . 

Six months with Will. Closer to a year, really, with all the dancing around one another the two of them did. Seven years cold? Shit, Kate, you know the numbers. You know how many go unsolved. There’s no shame in calling it. No shame at all. 

It made sense to stop. It was realistic to stop. It was healthy to stop. It was necessary. That is what she has always told herself. It’s what she spits in his face before she even knows he’s already betrayed her. 

But here’s what he doesn’t know. 

It’s a lie. 

Because she didn’t just stop, she gave in. She believed. She bought into the gang violence bullshit. It’s a beautifully simple explanation—sadistic posturing, a brutal demonstration of who owns what streets, some little punk making his bones with a knife in an alley. It’s an un-endable story, an excuse to simply give in. 

But what he doesn’t know—what no one, save for the blackened shell of who she might have been—is how many fantasies she’s built on believing. She sees him, some tatted-up banger beaten and left for dead in some turf war, by someone up the food chain, by some junkie. She sees his friends, the people he loves, gunned down in an endless cycle of senseless violence. She imagines karma coming for that son of a bitch again and again. She closes her eyes and dreams, over and over again, of the world righting itself. 

These are the things he doesn’t know. They are the things that no one knows, save for the blackened shell of who she might have been. 

********************

Here is what she knows now. Here are the things she will know for the rest of her life. She will have to know them. 

There are three more victims. At least three more victims. There are three more families—at least three more families—who have been shattered. There are parents and siblings, there are spouses and lovers and children and friends who are devastated—who remain devastated ten years on because she gave up. 

The pattern was there to see—so many patterns if only she had been better, if she had pressed on instead of lying down in the name of self-preservation. 

There’s the disparity of wounds on her mother’s body, a killing thrust, followed by theater. That’s a pattern she could have—should have—seen if only she’d asked the right question of the right person. 

There are the three other cases within six months, upscale people utterly out of place where their bodies were found, each of them killed in the early evening, in convenient places, not one of them a robbery, not one of them a sexual assault. The same name scrawled at the end of each report. The same bullshit phrasing. Multiple sharp-force trauma to the torso and abdomen. Random placement. Consistent with a brief struggle. A pattern, a pattern, a pattern, if only she hadn’t been letting go from the very first. 

The web of connections stares up at her from the pages fanning out across her coffee table and  falling to the floor. The constellation of them lights up the raw backs of her eyelids when they finally fall closed, hours later—days later by then, maybe. 

There are countless lives and countless years lost to despair and obsession and hopelessness.  Truly countless, because this is no skinny kid with sagging pants and no other options for making his way in the world. This is no shot–caller or low-level henchman likely to have been swallowed back up by the world already. 

This is a methodical, careful monster, the kind that has a signature style—a killing thrust, then theater. A preference for conducting his business way uptown where surveillance is spotty, where no one looks into windows, and no one sees anything out of them. 

These are the things she knows now. This is the unknowable weight of all that hangs on her. 

She let it go.

A/N: Well. If this has morph, its morph forms around the nucleus of how stinky this is. Not a good day. Not a good effort to end the season. Blargh. 

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 1 #Castle: A Death in the Family #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Johanna Beckett #Will Sorenson #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

[cosmichealingfam]

Spilling Secrets on Scorpios

it’s spooky szn bitches! so let’s talk scorpios

Scorpio is the sign of fixed water—think: ice, cenotes, plunge pools, hot tubs

The sun moved into Scorpio on October 23rd this year

Astro purists will continue to try and tell you that cusps aren't real, but the days leading up to this Scorpio season were a perfect example as to why that's bullshit. Oftentimes the energy of the upcoming season hearkens before the sun makes its way there. Sometimes that's because many other planets have gathered in the next sign before the Sun makes it fashionably late to the party. This time around, that pre-season energy took the form of a Mars - Pluto square.

Mars and Pluto rule the sign of Scorpio, meaning that their energies and properties deeply relate to, and even influence, the sign. It also means that when these planets are situated in Scorpio, they're very much at home. Pluto is happy sitting in deep, watery depths. Mars gets eager to do its dirty work under the cover of Scorpio's night.

A square is a relationship between planets. An aspect. Indicating a 90 degree angle, a tight angle. A square—you get it. Squares bring about growth. They make it abundantly clear what we fuck with and what we do NOT fuck with. A square indicates tension at play.

On the other side of a squared aspect, we find ourselves shaking free of this tension. There's a release of pressure. There might be increased agency to move forward on That With Which We Fuck, and options for transformation might come about. If that happened for you in this first week of Scorpio season, take hold of and enjoy them, if you can! Because on the 30th, Mars joins the sun in Scorpio for the rest of the season and onwards through til December 13th (which will be such a hectic day in the sky omg just wait), so we'll have to do our best to get comfy in the Underworld Energy. It'll be easier if you've got your hands firmly on the reins of something that matters to you, or else Mars will happily take you for a ride.

If you're a Scorpio, or if you know any Scorpio people well,

and "Scorpio people" are potentially Scorpio suns, but you may have others in your life with HEAVY Scorpio influence in their natal chart that YOU don't even know about, that THEY might not even know about 😮  Scorpio be sneaky!

but if you do know someone with all sorts of Scorpio in their being—and EYE have known many—you know that they have some relationship to tension. They may not like it, per se; some Scorpios don't seem to like liking things at all. They can just be oddly comfortable in tenuous situations. Perhaps it's that they won't do much to ease the tension and that makes one wonder if they enjoy sitting in it, or else why won't they just do something, anything, to relieve themselves (or all involved). Scorpio much prefers to sit quietly—or loudly, if they have hella Sag placements too—in discomfort than to have someone loudly point out that they're uncomfortable. That's where the broody stereotype shows up. Scorpio, for the most part, prefers to be left alone—given that there's so much in its own depths to explore. Whatever way they relate to the phenomenon—Scorpios and Tension have a dynamic.

Scorpios, like all fixed signs, have a thing about willpower. Scorpio tends to keep things locked tight, tucked away inside, and find pleasure in not sharing what's in there. Silences, in all their many forms: abstentions, ghosting, vows of silence, meditative silence: all Scorpio territory. But it's still a water sign; and water is wont to leak, to seep. Ice melts. Hot tubs have to be, like, aggressively maintained, or else they become toxic. And even if a scorpio placement does somehow manage to keep it alllll stuck inside, denying themself what they always, always, secretly crave: that sweet, vulnerable release of the emotions and traumas and desires trapped within them—even IF they're oh so (detrimentally) determined to do so, more likely than not, the placement will progress into Sagittarius, and that shit will scorch (and either find a fun, but potentially inappropriate, outlet to burn it off, or further detach and intellectualize/dogmatize it—it's not the end of the world, despite how it may feel for the lil Scorpy)

And though there's some shade in that, we all have Scorpio in our selves. Even if it's not a major planet placement, Scorpio reigns over one of 12 houses in our natal chart, and Scorpio season still comes every mf year. There's something for us all to learn here.

Tension IS dynamic, after all. Scorpio is about transformation, giving us insight into what scares us, yes, but also what incites us. That's the Mars in it all. It muddles attraction and repulsion, and is viscerally aware of the power in energy exchange. That's the Pluto in it all. Scorpio is the quiet, secretive, deeply personal drive that we keep to ourselves except under VERY specific circumstances. And those circumstances are just as deeply personal as the drive itself. What we choose to hide is of the utmost importance. Scorpio is what awaits us in the shadows.

But there's a choice here, when it comes to our shadow: cower from it, drown in it, or shine a spotlight on it and share in a dance. If you're interested in number three, I can certainly help. Taking a look at certain houses, planets, and points in the chart, I can delineate themes, topics, and triggers that fall under the shadow, and help you to understand and integrate them in a healthy way. For it's not going anywhere, darling, no matter how much you may want it to—every part of you forever lives with and in you. Scorpio, eventually, knows that better than most.

Well, I could go on and on, but I'll take a lesson from the season, and leave something to be desired. Thanks for reading! Feel free to share with ur fave Scorpios, or your fave person who's been hurt by a Scorpio, and pleaseeee do share the news of Cosmic Healing! There's so much more info on the site, and if you are interested in a reading, you can reply to this letter, or email us at [email protected] <3 

Stay spooky, friends!

kay

Also, to hear more from me in the future, and read any of my past musings too, find me at https://kaydarling.substack.com/

#astrology #astroreading #astro readings #scorpio #scorpio szn #scorpioszn #scorpio season #spooky szn #fixed sign #water sign #cosmic healing #stars

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 2, Episode 1: Omega (Part One)

Welcome to Season 2 bitches! This one’s gonna be fun 😉 Here’s the masterlist for the series if you wanna catch up!

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader

Notes: thanks everyone for the encouragement to continue!! every single one of your messages made my heart so happy! this is more of a filler chapter to catch us up but hopefully you guys still like it! I’m super excited for this season and have lots of good stuff planned 😏

I love feedback so let me know what you think!

                                                    —————————

“Oh my God, Stiles. Just do it already.”

I huffed out an impatient breath and watched as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. We were sitting in the middle of his bed, my crossed legs only an inch away from his.

“Hey, I’m the anchor here. Alright?” His honey eyes twitched at me as one of his hands hovered above mine. “Let me do my thing.”

It was always hit or miss, whether Stiles’ touch would help calm my abilities or set them off. We’d been practicing the last couple days, trying to figure out how I could regain some control.

Most of the time, I felt like I was completely losing my mind. My thoughts were constantly racing. I was hearing and seeing things that weren’t actually there and showing up in random places again. None of it made sense. Peter had done something when he bit me, dialed my senses up to a hundred, and I had no idea how to fix it.

I was brought out of my thoughts as I felt a gentle touch on the top of my hand. My eyes flickered down to my lap, where Stiles was hesitantly running his fingers along my skin.

“Anything?” My gaze flickered up to meet his, my heart fluttering at the intense concern shining back at me. He hadn’t stopped worrying since I woke up in the hospital, so now I was growing concerned about his mental state.

“No.” A small smile twitched at my lips as I realized my senses had calmed significantly. The dull hum that had become a constant in my mind since I was bitten was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, relishing in the few moments of silence. “Nothing.”

“Okay. So hand on hand...good. Hand on arm...bad.” Stiles’ eyes narrowed as he nodded to himself, referring to yesterday when he’d barely brushed against me and I’d practically passed out.

I glowered at him and slid my hands out from under his. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that we had any idea how this works.” He quipped with a swivel of his head, his eyebrows raising incredulously.

“I think it has more to do with....” I trailed off with a sigh, realizing that I actually had no idea what I was talking about. “Yeah, no. I’m at a loss.”

A frown pulled at his lips as he took one of my hands again and dragged his fingers along my skin, moving up my arm inch by inch. I let out content breath when he reached my shoulder and squeezed it gently. A moment later his hand cupped the side of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as his thumb rubbed soothingly at my jaw.

I watched his eyes as they followed each of his movements, seemingly waiting for something bad to happen. When they flickered up to meet mine, I practically melted into a puddle. They were rounded gently, glimmering a bright golden color as a ray of sunlight snuck in through his blinds, perfectly illuminating his freckled skin.

I couldn’t help but lean forward to capture his lips with mine, my eyes fluttering closed in the process. He stiffened for a split second, as if caught off guard, before relaxing into the kiss. His fingers twitched against my face, but he was otherwise completely still in front of me.

When my tongue tentatively swept along his bottom lip, a quick image flashed in my mind. I grimaced involuntarily, whatever it was disappearing too fast to decipher. 

“What is it?” Stiles pulled away from me with a jerk, his eyes wide as they jumped around my face.

I shook my head, hoping that would somehow clear everything away, and sent him a tight lipped smile. “Nothing. Promise.”

His eyes narrowed for a split second in disbelief, but he seemed to think better of arguing as he pulled me back to him with the hand that still rested against my face. I wasn’t exactly lying to him, but he was already worried enough. He didn’t need to know every single time something weird happened to me.

I didn’t even realize we were slowly drifting toward the mattress until my back pressed against it lightly. I brought my hands up to the sides of his face, momentarily forgetting that his hair was too short to run my fingers through. The spiky buzz cut poked at my skin as I ran my fingers along the back of his head. His free hand squeezed at my hip gently as he leaned over me.

I pulled away fractionally to catch my breath, giggling slightly at his timid nature. “Stiles...”

“Mmm?” He hummed against my lips and leaned forward, trying to reconnect them.

“I’m not going to break.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I slid one hand down to push against his chest, creating enough distance between us so that I could catch his eyes.

He let out a sigh, gaze flickering around my face in question. Since the day I was bitten, he’d been treating me like a porcelain doll. It was almost like he as afraid to touch me, which was honestly understandable because half the time when he did I lost my mind, but I needed him to cut it the fuck out if we were going to be together.

He nodded slightly before reaching down to grip my hand. His mouth met mine again as he tangled our fingers together and gently pressed my arm into the mattress beside my head. My lips twitched into a small smile against his as our tongues danced languidly. An idea suddenly popped into my mind and I pressed against him until he let me roll him onto his back.

I landed on top of him, my legs on either side of his hips. I pulled back and dragged my lips along his jaw, lightly pressing kisses against his smooth skin as I continued down his neck. He let out a shuddering breath and suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist, flipping me onto my back. He used a little more force than necessary, sending us clumsily tumbling off the side of the bed. 

I yelped as we crashed onto the floor, Stiles managing to turn at the last second so that he took the brunt of the fall. He grunted in pain, his eyes pinching shut as he grimaced beneath me. I winced, pushing myself up onto my elbows to remove some of the weight from him. 

His eyes popped open and we stared at each other for a long moment before erupting in a fit of giggles. I let my head fall against his chest, feeling my worries drift away in the comfort of his arms.

“That was so your fault.”

                                                      —————————

I huffed out an annoyed breath as I climbed into the Jeep, shutting the passenger door behind me with a slam. I pressed my back against the leather seat and rubbed the scratchy material I’d just stolen between my fingers.

“Did you get it?”

My eyes narrowed into a glare before sweeping toward Stiles as I held up the fabric in my hands. Clearly, he wasn’t very observant at the moment. “This is stupid.”

“Just shove the thing in his face and let’s find her.” His hand, which rested on the back of our seats, gestured behind us.

I hesitated, pursing my lips tightly. “If my mom gets fired because of this—”

“There’s no way anything’s gonna go wrong, Y/N.” Scott spoke up from the backseat as he reached forward and snatched the hospital gown from my lap.

I whipped around to glare at him. “You do realize that’s exactly what people say before everything goes horribly wrong?”

He just rolled his eyes and brought the gown up to his nose, ignoring my jab. After several unsuccessful days of Stiles and I trying to figure out how my personal brand of crazy works, Scott had the ridiculous idea to find Lydia by scent. There was no way it was going to work. 

At this point, she’s been missing for five days. It was honestly impressive, in a terrible way, that no one had been able to find her yet. I was beginning to worry that she wasn’t even in Beacon Hills anymore. I couldn’t help but think, if she were still here, that we should’ve come across something by now.

Stiles started the Jeep from beside me, instantly jumping in surprise as the headlights illuminated a familiar thin figure. “Jesus Christ...”

Allison narrowed her eyes at him before rushing over to the passenger window. 

“What are you doing here? Someone’s gonna see us.” Scott squished me against my seat as he leaned forward to peer out the window.

I pressed my shoulder into his chest to give myself more room, but he didn’t even budge an inch. I huffed in annoyance, watching as his wide eyes flickered around the dimly lit parking lot of the hospital before meeting hers again.

The two of them had been sneaking around for the last week, after Allison’s dad caught them making out in her car and nearly killed him on the spot. In exchange for his life, she’d promised to stay away from him. That lasted about an hour—which was honestly impressive given how obsessive they are—before he was sneaking into her house again.

“I don’t care. She’s my best friend and we need to find her before they do.” Allison insisted, completely ignoring my existence as she looked into Scott’s eyes pleadingly.

I squirmed uncomfortably under his weight, but quickly gave up on getting free. I sagged back in my seat with a sigh, knowing I wouldn’t be moving until he did.

“I can find her before the cops do.” His brows furrowed in offense as he probably assumed she was doubting his werewolf abilities.

“What about before my father?” Her voice rose with worry, and I shoved against Scott once again as my heart skipped a beat in alarm.

“He knows?” My question was slightly muffled behind him, until he finally leaned back with a grimace in my direction.

“Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs.” Allison’s eyes flickered between the two of us, wide with concern.

Well, shit. That couldn’t mean anything good. If her dad and other men were out looking for Lydia, our timeline was easily just cut in half. Maybe they wanted to kill her, or just catch her, but we couldn’t sit by and let either happen.

“A search party?” A spark of hope rose in my chest, although I knew it was a long shot.

“More like a hunting party.” She sighed, her eyes shining with guilt as if it were somehow her fault.

I popped the passenger door open quickly, scooting closer to Stiles to give her some room. Clearly, she wanted to come with us, and I wasn’t about to turn away extra help. “Get in.”

We drove in tense silence for a few minutes, all of us lost in our own thoughts. I was stuck on the same fear I’d had since the dance. It was highly unlikely that Lydia wasn’t a werewolf. I mean, if she wasn’t, she must be dead by now, and that wasn’t something I could even begin to entertain.

Then there was the fact that she would not handle being a werewolf well. I dreaded the idea of chaining her up on full moons, or dealing with extra moodiness on top of her usual attitude. It wouldn’t be pretty for any of us.

“Alright.” Stiles suddenly spoke up, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously. “If she’s turning, would they actually kill her?”

Allison’s eyes met his in the rear view mirror from beside me. I’d switched places with Scott when she got into the car, putting him up front with Stiles.

“I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. All they say is ‘we’ll talk after Kate’s funeral, when the others get here.’”

“Others? What others?” My head snapped in her direction, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. This situation was quickly going from bad to worse, especially if they were calling in more hunters.

She sighed dejectedly and avoided my eyes. “I don’t know. They won’t tell me that, either.”

“Okay. Your family has some serious communication issues to work on. Scott, are we going the right way?” Stiles glanced toward the passenger side expectantly.

Scott nodded, his head sticking out the window as he tried to catch a scent. I rolled my eyes and dropped my head against the back of our seat. This whole thing was completely ridiculous. He may have hightened senses, but that didn’t mean he was a fucking search dog.

Even I could admit that we were desperate. We were taking things into our own hands as best we could. Scott was really our only hope at this point, which was pretty sad. He directed us all the way to the preserve, where we got out to continue on foot.

“She came here? Are you sure?” Stiles squinted his eyes at the Hale house a few minutes later as we approached it cautiously.

None of us had been here since the night Kate and Peter died, and I think it was safe to say that it wasn’t high on our list of places to visit. I’d be more than happy to never come here again.

Just the sight of the withering structure had my heart racing in my chest. Allison only glanced at the house fleetingly before crossing her arms and ducking her head away. It was probably harder for her to be here than any of us. Even though her aunt was a crazy bitch, she was still grieving as anyone would.

“This is where the scent leads.” Scott confirmed, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Dried leaves crunched beneath our feet as we slowly made our way toward the house. All of us were on high alert, waiting for something terrible to happen. Honestly, it was still hard for me to believe that Peter was actually dead. There was just something off about the whole thing, but I couldn’t place it for the life of me.

“Alright. But has Lydia ever been here?” Stiles turned around expectantly as he lead us up the small hill in their yard.

“Not with me.” Allison frowned, still refusing to look at the house.

Scott and I shook our heads as his eyes flickered over us. He sighed heavily before facing forward again and letting his hands smack against his thighs. He was a natural born detective, and it was killing him that he couldn’t figure this out. Despite our best efforts with my abilities and all the information we could get out of his dad, it didn’t feel like we were any closer to finding her.

“Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek?” Allison leaned toward me and mumbled the theory, as if she didn’t want to admit that Lydia could actually be a werewolf.

“You mean...looking for an alpha?” Scott sighed, easily hearing her with his heightened senses, and looking very troubled by the idea.

“Wolves need a pack, right?” She pressed, playing with the material of her sweater’s sleeve nervously.

“Not all of them.” Scott muttered, his eyes trained on the house in front of us as if waiting for something to jump out.

She let out a huff in annoyance at his cryptic answer. “But would she have been drawn to an alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?”

“Yeah,” His lips pulled into a knowing frown. “Were stronger in packs.”

“Like strength in numbers.” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. It made sense. Wolves were pack animals in the wild, after all.

Scott suddenly came to a stop and glanced between Allison and I, his eyes . “No, like literally stronger. Faster. Better in every way.”

That must’ve been why Peter was so hellbent on turning as many people as he could. He was a power hungry monster—even as a human—add in all the werewolf shit and it’s no wonder he went insane.

“Whoa, hey. Look at this. You guys see this?” Stiles’ voice rose in concern from behind me and I turned to see him crouched near the ground.

I hadn’t even realized that he was rummaging through the leaves around us, too caught up in my own thoughts. I quickly made my way to his side, my eyes widening when I caught sight of a thin wire tied tightly between two trees.

“I think it’s a—” My breath caught, the words dying on my lips as Stiles tugged on it, some rustling and a grunt instantly sounding behind us.

“Uh. Stiles...” Scott’s voice was breathless.

“Yeah, buddy?”

I peered at him over my shoulder, wincing as my eyes landed on his he upside down frame, the wire wrapped tightly around one of his ankles.

Stiles spun on his heel beside me, his face falling into a grimace at the sight. “Oh.”

“Next time you see a tripwire, don’t trip it.” Scott shrugged, his voice light with amusement.

“Noted.” Stiles nodded quickly, moving forward to inspect the wire in an effort to release him.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of this situation. We couldn’t get through a single mission without something going wrong, no matter how small. Allison joined my side as we made our way toward Scott, but we only made it a few steps before his eyes widened in alarm and he held his hands out to stop us.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He started swinging as he jerked his arms frantically. “Someone’s coming.”

My heart skipped a beat as panic surged through me at his words. I could only assume that the trap was left by hunters, which meant he was as good as dead if we left him hanging there.

“Go!” He snapped when none of us moved, causing Allison to bolt away instantly.

I hesitated, wishing there was something I could do. Realistically, I knew I’d be no match for literally anyone who tried attacking me—let alone trained hunters—and Scott could easily defend himself. I’d seen it several times when he fought Derek, and then Peter. But there was no telling how many there would be, and he was at a serious disadvantage.

Stiles gripped my arm and dragged me along with him, only stopping once we were safely hidden behind a nearby tree. I squinted through the darkness as four men emerged from the distance. When I saw that one of them was Allison’s dad, I couldn’t help but glance her way. Her eyes were firmly planted on Scott, though, her brows pinched with worry.

“Scott.” He greeted curtly, crouching down to meet him face to face. “How are you doing?”

Scott let out a nervous breath, his skin turning pink from all the blood rushing to his head. “Mr. Argent. Good. You know, just hangin’ out. This one of yours? It’s, uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting.”

I let my eyes fall closed and internally cringed at his nervous rambling. Stiles let out a sigh from beside me, probably thinking the same thing. Technically, we were trespassing on private property, and he wasn’t building a very good case for his innocence.

“What are you doing out here, Scott?” Mr. Argent’s voice was hard, disapproving almost, as his eyes flickered over his dangling body.

“Looking for my friend.” He said quickly, surprising me with his honesty.

“Ah, that’s right. Lydia’s in your group now, isn’t she? Part of the clique? Is that the word you use? Or is there another word for it?” Mr. Argent’s gaze was unrelenting as he stared Scott down. My jaw clenched at his threatening tone. I didn’t like what he was implying. “Part of your pack?”

“Actually, clique sounds about right to me.” Scott’s voice hardened as all traces of amusement left his face, instantly in full protective mode.

“I hope so. ‘Cause I know she’s a friend of Allison’s, and one special circumstance—like yourself—one, I can handle. Not two.”

I heard Allison’s sharp intake of breath from the tree beside us, and let my attention flicker toward her. She was staring at her dad with wide eyes and parted lips, as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying. Although he wasn’t being explicit, it was obvious what he meant.

If they find her, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

“Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?” Mr. Argent drawled, still kneeling on the damp ground in front of Scott.

He threw his arms out, looking completely over this conversation and being upside down. “I have a feeling I don’t want to.”

“Medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that.” As he spoke, one of his hands came up to swipe across Scott’s abdomen. “Let’s hope a demonstration never becomes necessary.”

With that, he slowly rose to his feet and walked away. The three men that had come with him followed suit wordlessly, disappearing into the darkness a moment later. We all instantly rushed to Scott’s side, Allison bending over to look into his eyes anxiously.

“Are you okay?” She fanned her hands over him, as if trying to help but not sure what to do.

“Yeah. Fine. Just another life threatening conversation with your dad.” He scoffed humorlessly, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

He’d been “threatening” Scott’s life for weeks now, but hadn’t actually done anything. It was obvious that he was looking out for him, since we hadn’t had any more encounters—other than tonight—with hunters. It seemed to me that he had a soft spot for Scott, but had to keep up appearances since his daughter dating a werewolf would probably hurt his reputation.

I walked toward the tree where the tripwire was tied, turning back to Stiles expectantly. “A little help?”

He jogged my way with a huff, his breath condensing into a small cloud in front of his lips. Before we could even begin strategizing how to untie the thing, a snap sounded from behind us. I spun around quickly, thinking something was wrong, but let out a breath of relief when I saw that Scott was back on his feet.

The corner of his lips twitched into a smirk as he somehow retracted his claws back into his fingertips—which was honestly weird as fuck—and gestured toward the house. “You guys comin’?”

We followed his lead, continuing on our search for the night. We only stopped a few hours later, completely exhausted and nearly frostbitten, when Allison forced us to go home.

Tomorrow was my first day back at school since being bitten, and they were all way more concerned than necessary. At this point, that was the least of my worries. Our failed efforts tonight made me feel ten times worse, because we still didn’t find a single trace of Lydia.

My hope was dwindling by the minute, right along with her chances of survival.

Season 1, Episode 12 Episode 1, Part Two

#stiles stilinski #scott mccall #stiles x y/n #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #teen wolf series #allison argent #stiles x reader #stiles #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf season two #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski smut #stiles x original character #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinski x y/n #lydia martin

[lihikainanea]

can you please write smth where tiger's having a rough migraine but she wont tell bill bc she knew he'd drop work and would be at home in a snap of fingers if she told him smth, and then when he comes home he finds her in her room with all her blinds shut and doors closed to not let the light come through bc it makes her head ache more and its hurting so much already that she had thrown up a couple of times and he's worried and upset that she didnt call him but then takes care of her?

oh goddddd nani babes this is so sweet. As a fellow migraine sufferer, god I feel junk punched by this one.

I don’t know about any of you, sometimes I can feel a migraine come on from a day or two before--something will just feel off, I’ll get a nosebleed, or I have one of those “haha I’m so stressed god it’s a miracle I haven’t gotten a migraine yet” moments and then the next day--BAM. Flattened. Sometimes too, though, they just come out of nowhere. I’ll be fine, and then my vision will skew, my stomach will turn, and I know I have about a 5-10 minute window before I’m in some serious pain.

I get all the symptoms, too. Nausea. Extreme sensitivity to light. Blurred vision, or total blackout vision. Splitting pain. If I’m lucky, it only lasts a day. I’ve had some bad ones that last a long ass time and it’s awful.

So like, look--maybe tiger feels one coming on. Maybe Bill is on set--he’s in town, just on set for 16 hours every day--and tiger has been working like the boss bitch she is. But one morning at work--she feels it. That drilling sensation above her left eye--it’s a headache for now, but the minute the vision in her eye goes wonky she knows what she’s in store for. She quickly packs her shit, pops a few really strong Tylenol in an effort to fight it off (sometimes it works), and she heads home. She has a routine, one that works half the time--some strong Tylenol, a whole bottle of gatorade, and ten minutes later--two espressos. Hydration and caffeine can sometime nip it in the bud, if she’s lucky.

She’s not so lucky this time. She gets these, usually with the change of seasons or the barometric pressure being all off. She half contemplates calling Bill, but when she squints her eyes enough to see the time she realizes that he’s only been on set for two hours, and probably hasn’t even made it out of the make up chair yet. This shoot is a short one and every hour counts, and she can’t ruin his day.

Instead she stumbles to try and get her stuff ready for the long haul--cold compresses, warm compresses, her bottle of pain meds, some water. She barely makes it to bed.

And that’s exactly where she proceeds to stay for the next 14 hours.

The poor bean, it’s awful. The pain is so bad at one point that she dry heaves. And even if she wants to call Bill now, there’s no fucking way she can even function long enough to do that. She can barely speak. She’s just curled up in bed, in complete darkness, trying to relax and not tense up, whimpering in pain.

Bill wraps around midnight--he calls her, but it goes to voicemail. He thinks maybe she might be asleep, but something doesn’t sit right because she hasn’t texted him all day--and when she goes to bed, she always tells him goodnight. It’s a sweet sentiment, but also a warning that his lanky ass better not make too much noise when he comes home, lest he wake her up. He shakes off a feeling of malaise, and heads home.

But the hairs on his neck stand on end when he pulls up and every single one of the lights inside are off. He can’t explain it, but his Little Human alert is dinging furiously and he doesn’t know why. Taking the steps two and three at a time, he swings open the door and calls out to her.

But like, listen--the door whipping open and shutting harshly after, Bill’s loud voice calling for her? Fuck man, that’s torture when you have a migraine. And all he hears is her whimper, her choking sob, and he knows right away. And while he wants to be angry, his first instinct is just...concern. Care. He heads to the bedroom immediately, trying to walk as softly as he can.

“Oh kid,” he whispers lowly. He approaches slowly, crouching on her side of the bed and putting a soothing hand on her. She’s scrunched up so small, tensed in a tiny ball, in way too much pain.

“Billy,” she croaks out, and it’s half sob, half relief, half whimper of pain.

“It’s okay tiger, I’m here,” he whispers, “I got you.”

He’s trying not to talk too much because even a whisper is too loud, and tiger is just kind of full on crying now which is no doubt causing her even more pain.

“Hush,” he soothes, “I’ll be right back.”

There are a few things that help ease some of the pain, but more often than not, she just has to let it pass on its own. He gets some room temperature water and a straw, to help her swallow some more meds. He gets some new cold compresses, and heats up her warm ones. Granny made a ginger tea, a home remedy, that used to help with tiger’s symptoms--so he makes a mug of that.

He makes his way back to the room, puts the straw to her lips for a sip. When she’s done he just gently pushes two pain pills between her lips, giving her the straw back so she can swallow.

He doesn’t want to move her just yet--he will eventually, but he’ll let the pain meds kick in a tad first. Instead he just gently--oh, so gently--replaces the warm compress on her neck, places a new cool one on her forehead. She flinches at that one, and he apologizes softly.

She can’t sit up and sip the tea, and he purposely popped a few ice cubes in so it wouldn’t scald him. But then he just real gently dips two fingers in, and holds them to her mouth. She sucks the tea off of them that way--and he keeps doing it. Just getting a bit of liquid on his fingers and holding them to her mouth so she could wrap her lips around.

His other hand is on her somewhere--her thigh, her side. He wants to weave it through her hair but he can’t touch her head when she’s like this, even the softest head scritchies would still cause her too much pain. When she’s halfway done her tea, he starts on the second part of what usually helps her--just holding her tight, giving her something else to focus on, and pressing on a few pressure points that she taught him.

“I’m gonna move you kid,” he whispers. and she stirs a little. he climbs onto the bed as gently as he can, gathering her in his arms as he sits with his back to the headboard. She lets out an agonized whine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “It’ll feel better in a second.”

He scoots her up onto him a bit more, cradles her head to his chest. He pats gently at her stomach with one hand, using his other one to pinch hard between her forefinger and her thumb. He alternates between pressing down hard on it, and rubbing slow circles.

It helps, but nothing but time will make it completely go away.

I’ll bet he falls asleep like that, doesn't he? Because pain is an exhausting thing, and after so many hours of it, tiger’s body just kind of shuts down and knocks itself out--and miraculously, she falls asleep. He hears her breaths evening out, feels some of the tension leaving her, and he too kind of sags in relief. He doesn’t dare move once she drifts off, not wanting to wake her. He knows how painful these are for her, and he’s going to have a long talk with her tomorrow about how she should have called him. How he doesn’t ever want her to be in pain like this, for that long, alone again. 

But for that night, he drifts off real soon after she does. Propped up against the headboard like that, her all curled up in his arms.

#BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #soft bill

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 8

*snickers*

[AO3]

x

“Here.” Sidney Glass dropped a file on her desk, making Lacey look up. “Next assignment.”

She sat back slowly, picking up the file and raising an eyebrow.

“So what is it this time?” she asked. “Flower-arranging at the local church? First prize in the pumpkin-growing contest?”

“Pumpkins aren’t in season yet.”

“Then the story will only be slightly more boring than it otherwise would be.”

Sidney sighed.

“I have no idea why you even moved here if you find it so dull,” he said. “Wouldn’t you have more fun in the city?”

She gave him an amused look.

“Would you believe me if I said I actually wanted a quiet life?”

“Not really.”

“It’s true,” she insisted. “Or at least it’s mostly true. I grew up in a small town. Being back in one is kind of - it’s like I’m a teenager again, so I’m rebelling against it even though I know it’s a good place to live, you know?”

“Good,” said Sidney. “In that case you won’t mind writing a piece on Zelena West’s charity work.”

“Charity work,” Lacey snorted. “She’s a mean-spirited witch.”

“True enough, but she still organises the food drive every year.”

“Probably because it’s the only way she can hold any power over people,” said Lacey. “I bet she takes the best stuff for herself.”

“Get some proof of that and the piece might get interesting,” said Sidney. “In the meantime just stick to the brief.” 

“Five times Zelena West didn’t get bitch-slapped for talking shit about people and one time she did?” suggested Lacey.

Sidney chuckled as he sat back down at his desk, sending her an amused look.

“I’d read that,” he said. “But she’s going beyond the food drive this year. A charity dance. All profits to the church outreach program.”

“Wow.” Lacey pursed her lips. “She trying to bang the priest?”

“I doubt it,” said Sidney, shuddering. “She’s been trying to get her claws into Mr Gold.”

“Really?” Lacey sat up, an odd sensation going through her. It almost felt like outrage, which she couldn’t understand. “She had any success?”

“What do you think?” he said dryly, and she nodded, settling back in the chair.

“Okay, I’ll interview her,” she said. “If she’ll talk to me.”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence. Sidney tapped at something on his keyboard, glancing at the screen in front of him. Lacey pondered the unwelcome image of Zelena West throwing herself at Gold, and shuddered just as Sidney had. Not that Zelena was unattractive. Just unstable. Lacey got the feeling she didn’t easily take a hint, and she was almost intrigued to know what Gold’s response to her would be.

It had been several days since she had come across Gold naked at the cabin. Clearly the guy was comfortable letting everything hang out. Maybe that was how he relaxed. She supposed she could understand that. It wasn’t as though it had been an unpleasant sight, anyway, just - unexpected. She still hadn’t summoned the courage to go and apologise to him, and told herself they had both been busy.

“So,” said Lacey, putting her feet up on the desk and her arms behind her head. “Mr Gold. What’s his deal?”

Sidney looked surprised at the question.

“Well, he’s landlord for most of Storybrooke,” he said. “Owns a pawnshop, richest guy in town…”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, what’s his history? He married? Single?”

Sidney’s surprise turned into alarm.

“Please don’t tell me you’re planning on hitting on him.”

“What? No!” Lacey was surprised at her own vehemence. “No, it’s not like that. I’m just - interested, that’s all. He seems like kind of a loner.”

“Well, he keeps to himself, that’s for sure,” said Sidney. 

“That has to get to you, after a while,” observed Lacey, tapping a pen against her lower lip. “Alone every night, only your own thoughts for company… You think he’s into anything weird?”

“Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how much I do not want to think about that,” muttered Sidney, and Lacey smirked.

“That’s not a no.”

Sidney sighed, slapping a file down on her desk.

“I don’t know a thing about Gold’s private life,” he said. “No one does. He keeps it - well, private.”

“So he could spend every Friday night dressed in leather and riding a huge butt plug and no one in town would know?”

“Oh my…” Sidney ran his hands over his face. “I’m gonna need bleach to get rid of that mental image.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lacey snickered, and Sidney shook his head.

“Look, aside from being a hardass with people who don’t pay their rent, he’s quiet and reserved and spends every hour holed up in the pawn shop,” he said. “He’s a generous donor to Storybrooke General Hospital, particularly the children’s ward. He takes a walk every morning and gets coffee at Granny’s. About as straight-laced as you can get.”

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

Sidney sighed, shaking his head.

“Okay, you want to cover something more interesting than the church fundraiser, and I want to pretend this conversation never happened,” he said. “How about we make a deal?”

Lacey perked up.

“Really?” she said. “What deal?”

“Simple,” said Sidney. “Get Gold to give you an interview.”

Lacey felt her face fall.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You get him to agree to sit down and talk to you for half an hour, you’ll do something no one else at the Mirror ever has,” said Sidney. “Make it something personal and I’ll even give you a raise.”

“But he hates me,” she complained.

“Why would he hate you?”

Lacey shrank down in the chair a little.

“We kind of - got off on the wrong foot,” she muttered, and he shrugged.

“Guess you can’t want that raise too much.”

“Okay, not so fast,” she said, sitting up again. “I’m not saying I won’t do it, I’m just saying - well, it’s not gonna be easy, that’s all.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” said Sidney. “So I’m told.”

x

Gold made his way up the path, wincing at every step. His leg had been giving him hell all day, and he suspected that it meant rain was coming. It was a night for taking a couple of painkillers, drinking whisky and losing himself in a good book while he waited for them to take effect.

He mounted the steps, pausing when he saw a cardboard box in front of the door. Probably his delivery of special ingredients from August’s in Boston. He found that Storybrooke could satisfy most of his culinary needs, by and large, but there were things he couldn’t get in town, like dried porcini, smoked paprika and loose-leaf Earl Grey tea. Smiling at the thought of the things he could make with the box contents, he opened the front door, scooped up the box and went inside.

It had been a long day, and he went straight to the kitchen, dropping the box onto the table and pouring himself a glass of wine before shrugging out of his coat. Taking a sip, he pulled a knife from the wooden block and sliced open the tape sealing the box. The contents made him frown; he was used to gleaming jars of ingredients nestled in packing noodles. This box was padded with scrunched up brown paper, wedged around boxes containing - oh.

Gold withdrew one of the boxes, a full ten inches, the cardboard thick and gleaming, silky to the touch. On the box was a picture of an anatomically-improbable plastic penis, the text on the box boasting ‘realistic feel and ten-speed vibration’. He dropped it back, picking up a smaller, square box with a bright pink wand made of curved silicone. Intense clitoral stimulation for rapid climax, announced the box. Perfect for solo play.

Gold pushed the box back in amongst the brown paper, flipping the lid closed again and eyeing the label that he hadn’t bothered to check. Miss L French. Of course.

He could feel his cheeks heating, and a vision of Lacey using the products on herself burst into full colour in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to dispel it and cursing the telltale twitch of his cock. The image changed, and to his dismay he realised he was imagining himself using the toys on a very naked Lacey, her body undulating against his as she moaned in pleasure. His cock began to swell, and Gold shook his head, remembering the look on her face when she had seen him naked, the disparaging words she had used to describe the encounter to Miss Lucas. The images disappeared at once, and he sagged in relief. Sighing to himself, he was about to seek out some tape to seal the box again when he paused, fingers drumming against the sides. Fuck it. I’m taking it over there now. If she’s the one embarrassed by our encounter it’ll make a bloody change.

x

Lacey peered inside the fridge, chewing her lip and trying to decide which of the unappetising contents to have for dinner. She really needed to go grocery shopping, but kept forgetting that Storybrooke’s stores didn’t stay open late. One drawback of being in a small town. 

She closed the fridge door and opened the freezer section. God, not frozen pizza again! Jesus, Lacey, get your life together. The cat eats better than you.

As though he had heard her thoughts, Darcy appeared at her feet, mewing, and she sighed, pulling out a pizza box and dropping it on the counter.

“I have to learn to cook something more than omelettes,” she told him.

Darcy stood on his back legs, paws against the fridge, and Lacey grinned.

“Okay, let’s feed you first, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She gave him a pouch of food, and although he sniffed at it cautiously, he settled down to eat. She wasn’t sure where his recent lack of appetite had come from, but he was in good condition, so if he wasn’t eating what she put down, he was clearly eating somewhere else. A knock at the door made her glance around, and she headed for the hallway, pausing as she recognised the silhouette of her neighbour, cane held a little out to the side. Lacey took a deep breath, fists opening and closing, and nodded to herself. Well, he’s here. You may as well apologise. Suck it up, girl.

She strode towards the door before she could think about it too much, wrenching it open and nodding at Mr Gold. He was carrying a cardboard box in one arm, his gaze steady.

“Hey,” she said abruptly, and Gold showed his teeth.

“Miss French," he said. "I apologise for disturbing your evening.” 

The words weren’t said in the stiff, terse way she was used to. Instead they seemed to flow, dark and soft, like black silk. Idly, she wondered if he wore underwear that matched his silk shirts.

“Yeah, you interrupted a heavy evening of heating up frozen pizza and drinking wine,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

He glanced down at the box, then back up. There was a gleam in his eyes she hadn’t seen before, and she wasn’t sure if it was amusement. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk.

“I appear to have something of yours,” he said. “I was expecting a delivery, and so I opened it without checking the address label. My apologies.”

Lacey shrugged.

“Sure. No problem. Happens to all of us, I guess…”

Her voice trailed off, a heavy weight sinking into the pit of her stomach as she recalled what she had been expecting to arrive that week. A shipment of sex toys for a freelance review piece she was doing. A blush rose in her cheeks, and Gold’s smile grew.

“I’ll leave these with you, then,” he said, handing her the box. “Do enjoy your evening, won’t you?”

He bowed his head, heading down the porch steps and swaggering back to the house. She was desperately trying to think of something clever to say, but her brain had gone blank.

"Well, I will now!" she shouted, and he glanced over his shoulder, grinning widely. The bastard.

Lacey slammed the front door, leaned back against the wall with the box in her hands, and waited for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

She still hadn’t apologised.

#fic: heatsroke #golden lace fic #golden lace #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic

[valkyriesryde]

Two Nerds in a Blanket

Pairing: Bucky x Rogers!Reader, Sam x Steve

Summary: In desperate need for a date to your work’s Christmas party you, reluctantly, seek the help of one Bucket Brains.

Word Count: 6,400ish lol

A/N: IT’S HERE!!! Feels like most of my fics are dedicated to @flowerymoonlight​ but tbh this wouldn’t be here without her so thank her for it. Big thanks to anyone else I rambled to about this baby you da bomb diggity. 

~~~

A slip of the tongue. A simple bit of miscommunication was all that had gotten you into this mess. You weren’t even the one to say it. You hadn’t even confirmed anything. Now? Now you were stuck in a predicament. 

Cheryl had been talking about how she was so excited to meet everyone’s significant others and to introduce her wife to everyone. Then suddenly the four of you at your cubicle were talking about how awesome it was going to be with the eight of you. 

Not once were you even given a chance to speak, not once were you able to tell them that in fact, no, you did not have a significant other that you could bring to the Christmas party. When you left work that day with only a week until the party a plan started brewing in your head, it was too late for you to correct them, you needed a date.

Tony said no. He was too much of a public figure and a happily married man. 

Clint told you to ask Natasha. She said no. 

Now you sat next to Sam, your last option.

“Please Sam, you are my only option now!” 

“Yea I’m not your only option though, am I?” Sam smirked as he continued to avoid answering your pleas. You let out a sigh and threw your head back. “I’m pretty sure Steve wouldn’t be too happy with me doing that, why don’t you ask Bucky?”

“Ask Bucky what?” Bucky and Steve walked into the open lounge and kitchen area with the shopping as Bucky started unloading the food and Steve came to lean over the couch behind Sam. 

“Y/N needs a date to her work’s Christmas party” Sam was nonchalant about the whole thing while Steve raised an eyebrow and looked at you with narrowed eyes. 

“And you asked Sam?” you nod slightly, mumble ‘just for the night?’ but Steve’s mouth falls open and his grip on Sam’s shoulders tightened. “I’d rather not share my boyfriend with my sister.” 

Sam’s face falls and then scrunches up, “yea I’d rather not date both the Rogers.” 

In the kitchen, Bucky stifles a laugh as he continues putting away the frozen foods. 

“You could take Bucky?” Steve suggests, leaving the two of you to help Bucky.

“I’d rather not.”

“Does Bucky get a say in this?” Bucky threw up his hands as you stood from your seat. You do this all the time with Sam, talk about him right in front of him like he isn’t even there, drives him crazy. 

“It’s okay Bucket. I’d rather not go than go with you anyway,” you shrug it off but your shoulders sag, you were really looking forward to that party, maybe you can make some excuse as to why your partner couldn’t be there. 

Bucky sighs as Steve nudges his arm and gives him a pleading look, mouthing ‘please’ Bucky rolls his eyes. “Fine, Y/N. I’ll be your stupid date but you owe me!” 

“You don’t have to-“

“No, no I’ll do it. You just owe me a favour alright?” Your face lights up and you try to ignore the fact that you’ll be with Bucky, or the nagging voice in the back of your head that sounds a lot like Rebecca reminding you of that high school crush you used to have. 

~~~

Steve sat on the window sill that looked out across the street of his apartment. He had a notebook in hand and was drawing the potted plant that sat on the balcony across the way. It was a peaceful and serene moment.

“Greetings brother!” Moment over. “Is Bucket Brains here?”

“He’s in his room,” Steve nodded towards Bucky’s room and he watched you walk straight in, scream, and walk straight out. “He just got out of the shower.” Steve bit back a laugh. You shot a glare at him and Bucky came out of his room pulling a shirt over his head.

“Do you know how to knock?!” 

“I need to wash my fucking eyes out!” 

“Who gave you a key?” Bucky pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard with a huff and slammed a bowl on the bench. “You’re here so much we should start charging you rent.”

“Oh please,” you plopped into one of the stools, Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head back ready for another battle between you two, same thing different day. “I have every right to be here, I’m family. What’s your excuse?” 

“I live here!” 

“But at what cost?” 

“Fucking hell you two bicker like an old married couple!” Sam walks over to Steve and pushes his notebook out of his lap, replacing it with himself. 

“Us?” Bucky exclaims as Steve pushes Sam to the ground and sits at the bench next to you. “You two bicker like a freaking married couple.”

“That doesn’t count,” Steve says and Sam stands and tries to push himself back onto Steve’s lap, much to his annoyance. “We basically are an old married couple.”

“Pfft. Like I’d marry you.” Steve gasps and pulls Sam closer, Bucky just ignores them. It was a common occurrence to witness Steve and Sam being sickeningly sweet.

“You take that back!” 

~~~

“Right, now that that’s out of the way I have to buy a dress.” You and Bucky, while Steve and Sam watched with amusement, had spent the past hour getting your story straight for the party that night. You had everything down to the last detail, where you met (through Steve), when you got together (two months ago), your first date (a simple dinner and a movie). In six hours, you and Bucky would be walking through the door to your to the Christmas party, for now, you needed an outfit. 

“You don’t have a dress?” 

“I don’t exactly go to many events Jameson.” Bucky bit back a growl. Those stupid fucking nicknames. 

“I wonder why. It’s the day of the event, you couldn’t buy one earlier?” 

“I’m not great at time management... and shop dressing sucks.”

“You need a babysitter.” You flipped Bucky off as you started to walk towards the door, you didn’t notice him pull his shoes on.

“Isn’t that your job now?” Bucky smacked Sam over the head as he jogged to catch up with you at the door.

“I have to go to the mall anyway,” he shrugged. 

Bucky was different when he was by himself. You noticed that as soon as the two of you got into the car. He didn’t bite back as much, his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio, he was carefree. 

You dragged him into shop after shop trying to find the perfect dress for the night. Bucky didn’t seem too fazed. He followed suit, even picked out some things for you to try every now and then. There wasn’t much chat, you warned him about your coworkers.

“Stacy is a bit intense, she’ll probably question you but she means well.” 

He nodded along outside the changing room not really paying attention to what you were saying but just to the sound of your voice, it was rare he got to hear it not making snide comments towards him, he enjoyed the peace. 

“Okay this is it,” you stepped out of the changing room with dress in hand and smiled at him.

“Are you saying that because it’s good or because you’re sick of shopping?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know Bucket,” you winked. 

“Please stop calling me that.”

“You called me Inferior Rogers for a year so uh no.” 

Steve liked to describe you and Bucky’s relationship as love-hate, he wanted to tell people that you got along, that you were one big happy family but alas, that wasn’t the case. Bucky liked to say “she’s about one comment away from being as annoying as my sister”. Bucky meant by this of course, “she’s my best friend’s sister, as much as I want to kiss her stupid face I have to pretend I see her as a sister too”. 

You liked to say “Bucky is the bane of my existence”. Rebecca would follow up with “she’s in denial they’re gonna get married and she’s gonna be my actual sister one day”. You, of course, meant, “Rebecca was my only friend in high school because people used to only be friends with us to get to Bucky even though he’s a giant nerd who stole my brother...and I’m angry that I want to kiss his stupid face”. Rebecca, well, she meant what she said. 

The youngest of the Barnes clan had been rooting for the two of you since senior year when you went to a college party with the boys and got put into seven minutes in heaven with Bucky. Nothing happened, of course, at least that’s what you agreed and what you told a grinning Rebecca and tight-mouthed Steve when you walked out. The heated making out that was brought on by pent up feelings and snide comments was one of those ‘this never happened’ things. That was a long time ago. 

“I’ll pick you up at 7 then?” You sat in your car now, dropping Bucky off back at his apartment. Your shopping was in the back, Bucky’s one bag, he bought socks, was in his hand as he sat with his leg out the door.

“It’s at a gallery, like ten minutes away from here so we could walk? I can meet you here?”

“It’s at Steve’s place?” 

“Oh no, I tried but they went for the modern art one.” You shrug your shoulders, Steve was booked out for the holiday season so your work couldn’t get in to have theirs there, would have made things easier, you could have just hung out with him all night.

“Damn she’s a bitch.”

“Yea, ahh well. Don’t forget your notes! I’ll see you at 7?”

“See you at 7.”

~~~ 

“Fuck you!”

“I’m trying to help!” 

You walked into the boy’s apartment and stood in the doorway watching Bucky and Sam yell at each other from across the room. Bucky yelled over the back of the couch, his hand in his hair and dressed ready for the night except for the tie left undone around his neck. Sam stood in the doorway of his bedroom, he turned to you as soon as he noticed your presence.

“Get your boyfriend the fuck out of my apartment!” 

“Just before you were complaining that I was leaving!” Sam fumbled trying to come up with a comeback as Bucky slouched back into the couch and tried - and failed - to tie his tie.

“What the fuck guys?” you threw your hands up and slapped Bucky’s hands away, fixing the tie yourself. “One of these days someone is going to call the police claiming you guys are having a domestic dispute!” Bucky watched the concentration on your face, once again not paying attention to what you were saying, he had to sit on his hands and hold himself back from leaning in because all he wanted to do was kiss the crease on your forehead and suck your tongue as it sticks out the corner of your mouth slightly. 

“It’s not my fault Bucky can’t tie a tie!” 

“Neither can you!” he snaps out of your trance as you stand up straight and offer him your hand which he gladly takes. 

~~~

“It’s going to be fine.” The party was in full swing when you and Bucky arrived, you weren’t sure if you were talking to yourself or Bucky at this point. His hand rested on your lower back as he guided you through the gallery.

“Take a deep breath Poppet.” You bit your lip at the use of the nickname. You and Bucky weren’t strangers to nicknames, Bucket...and all of the bucket related names like Bucket Brains, Bucky-Bucket and Bucket Barnes, Buckerooster and Buckaroo, Inferior Rogers, Roger Rabbit, Stupid head, Stink for brains, Jerky McJerkface was a fan favourite and there was that one time he yelled “Abomination!” at you before storming out because you ate the last of his Nutella sandwich...you claim you thought it was Becca’s but who’s to say. 

Poppet was different. Poppet was a name of endearment. Poppet wasn’t something you’d ever heard Bucky call anyone before. Bucky had never called you anything endearing before. It’s just the deal, he’s just pretending, you told yourself cursing Becca for putting ideas in your head about the prospect of you and Bucky constantly. 

There’s no time to even think about it as your friends are coming up to you and introductions are being given out, Bucky is shaking hands, everyone is smiling and laughing and a glass of champagne is being pushed into your hand. 

It’s no time at all when Stacey is questioning Bucky about his work and his family and then the dreaded question comes up, “How did you two meet then?”

Bucky lets out a chuckle and before you can answer he’s going on about how when you were seven and him ten he came round to hang out with your brother, you wouldn’t leave them alone and Bucky ended up elbowing you “accidentally I swear” in the face. The group erupts in laughter as Bucky describes you crying and running to your mother with a chipped tooth, “wasn’t the best first impression, but her brother and I have been best friends ever since really.”

There’s a couple aww’s, you raise your eyebrows and give him a what the hell look because that wasn’t what we discussed. Bucky shrugs, it just came out. 

“You two must be high school sweethearts then! That’s so sweet!” 

“Oh no no not at all,” you try to stop her, try to tell Stacey that, no, you were not high school sweethearts at all but bucky beat you to it with a laugh. 

"No, couldn't stand her in high school. But after college she seemed to be less of a brat,” he looks at you and digs his hand in his pocket with a wink, “anyway, I moved in with her brother and we started hanging out and I started seeing her in a different light I guess." 

You stand there with your mouth slightly ajar, Bucky shifts slightly from side to side and takes a mouthful of his champagne.

"Well, how'd you get together then?"

He laughs nervously, not looking at you but you’re still looking at him, this wasn’t the plan! You don’t know what to say, your story doesn’t make sense now but Bucky speaks up, “actually have Steve to thank for that. He asked to go to the museum with the both of us, separately of course, then canceled after we were already there waiting for him.” He gives you a nervous glance, “she's a giant nerd but so am I so we decided to just go in and look around. Ended up there for what? Two hours? Something like that. I think that's when I fell for her as silly as that sounds. Something adorably intriguing about a girl you have to drag away from a sculpture because she's been admiring it for fifteen minutes. Yea, that was that." Bucky laughs again and the group aww’s and is gushing about how adorable that is and how sweet of a story it is.

You’re shocked to say the least. Shocked because that did happen, all of that. About five months ago when Steve invited you to a day out at the museum and you ran into Bucky outside. You were both shocked but thought, ya know what, fuck it. You didn’t HAVE to go around the new exhibits together but that’s what ended up happening. You moved at your own pace, sometimes reading through the information together. That was until you got to the marble statues and, well, you ended up looking at one for a good fifteen minutes before, like Bucky said, he dragged you away by the arm. Saying things like "what's so interesting about a sculpture anyway, it's the space exhibition you should really be paying attention to."

You laugh with your friends and the conversation quickly moves on to everyone else’s stories of how they met their partners. Bucky won’t look at you, he’s biting his lower lip and paying an awful lot of attention to his empty champagne glass until there’s a lull in the conversation and he pipes up and offers to get everyone another round. 

By 1am you’re both drunk and stumbling down the street with a bottle of something something each and the air is filled with laughter. The moment earlier is forgotten about, the night filled with laughter, stories from work and dancing with friends instead of awkward glances and nervous small talk.

You almost fall into Bucky’s apartment but he’s clutching your waist and your arm is slung lazily around his shoulder as you keep each other up. 

“We gotta - shh - baby we gotta be quiet” he nods towards the hallway where Sam and Steve are most likely sleeping as you sit on the couch and bring the bottle to your lips. 

“You can stop calling me baby, no one’s around,” you look around and Bucky sits on the floor next to you, his bottle sitting on the table. 

“Maybe I like it baby,” he emphasizes the word and there’s a smirk on his face as he looks at you. It’s just the alcohol you think when you see a twinkle in his eye. 

“Fuck, marry, kill Bucket!” You say sliding off the sofa onto the floor next to him. Bucky groans and throws his head back.

“Alright, you first.”

“Okay. Wanda, Nat or me?”

“That’s just all the girls but Pepper?” He taps his chin and he’s thinking as if he hasn’t already made up his mind. But he can’t tell you that.

“Well she’s married so you can’t have her.”

“Kill-”

“You have to say why!”

Bucky laughs and takes the bottle from you, taking a drink before continuing. “Kill Nat, she can’t cook. Fuck you because it’ll shut you up for a second. Marry Wanda, then she can make me plum pies for the rest of her life.” He licks his lips, glazed over eyes looking towards the tv as he thinks about Wanda’s famous pies and the fact that it’s all a lie. 

“Like you’d be good enough in bed to shut me up”

“I can show you if you want,” Bucky winks and you shove him with your elbow and snatch the bottle back, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “Alright, Sam, Clint or me?” He lists off the names on his fingers and you roll your eyes at him including himself, Pietro is an option too he didn’t HAVE to say himself.

“Oh, that’s easy. I’m killing Sam, I’d rather not have my brother’s dirty seconds.”

“He’s got some weird kinks as well.”

“How do you..never mind. Fuck Clint because Nat says he’s good in bed and marry you.” Bucky perks up at your answer, you’re picking at the label on the bottle hoping he doesn’t ask why.

“You have to say why.” Fuck.

“Having to deal with Clint’s unpredictability all day? No thanks, he and Nat have it down packed.” 

“Oh, so I’m predictable?” Bucky feigns hurt and clutches his chest like you’ve shot him, you shove him again and he almost goes tumbling to the side with laughter. 

“No stupid. I bet you’d treat your sig-nif-i-cant other like royalty.” You’re smiling at him and your worlds are spoken slowly to get them out right but you’re so sure of yourself. You’ve seen Bucky in a relationship, though they only happen rarely and he’s absolutely loyal and caring. 

“Only if it was the right person.” You’re looking at each other and Bucky starts to lean in closer. You follow, your eyes darting to his lips as his tongue pokes out quickly and he licks his bottom lip. 

“And what’s the right person,” you whisper and you think, in the corner of your eye, you see his hand starts to raise towards you. All of a sudden Bucky is on his feet and you hear the bathroom door shut and what sounds like Bucky vomiting. 

“Neat.” You take another swig of the bottle and crawl back onto the couch, sleep sounds good, bad decisions are made with alcohol. 

~~~

“Hey,” something or someONE is poking your foot and it’s awfully annoying but not as annoying as the sound of the beEPING MICROWAVE. “Hey wake up.” 

“Go away,” you swat at the noise, Steve, but he just laughs and pushes your legs off the sofa, sitting in their place. 

“Looks like you and Bucky got along.” You can hear his smirk, how is it possible to hear someone’s smirk. God your head hurts, your stomach hurts too much champagne. You groan and he laughs again.

Without warning the sound of two pans smacking together rings out through the place followed by Sam’s laughter in the hallway and Bucky’s yelling. 

“I’m gonna go throw up.” 

Steve sits on the side of the tub with a bottle of water while you empty the little contents that remain in your stomach. As annoying as brothers can be at least you know he’s always here for you, even when you’ve just vomited in his toilet. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Advil is in the left cupboard.”

“No, but thanks. Do you remember when you canceled on going to the museum with Bucky and me?” You’re searching through his cabinet and he chucks you the water bottle when you find the Advil. 

“Yea why?” Steve shrugs and nods his head.

“Why’d you do that?” As soon as you ask he’s got that guilty look on his face. The same one he gave you when he fed your stuffed teddy to the dog next door when you were seven and the same one he gave you when he and Sam and moved in together three months after the fact (that one still stings). 

“I just want you two to get along! You both love the museum so I thought if you had a common interest…” Steve shrugs again and you have to applaud his dedication to getting you and Bucky to get along, if only. 

“Our common interest is you, you idiot.” You think about all the times you and Bucky have fought, all the times you felt annoyed by him “you’re why we don’t get along.” 

“I think if anything, that should be a reason to get along.” You’re too hungover to explain this shit to Steve and his thick, loving brain now. 

“We’re at each other’s throats for your attention Stevie, now leave me to be hungover on your bathroom floor.” The cold tile is refreshing against your cheek, Steve stands up and kicks your leg, offering you a ride home and a promise to drop the subject but not without a “I love you both.”

Bucky regrets getting out of bed. Not even the pile of apology bacon from Sam for waking him up with PANS could fix his comment.

“The most important thing I want to know about your night is did y’all FUCK?!” 

“Dude, that’s my sister?” Steve walks into the kitchen and Bucky sighs in relief that you’re not with him, he doesn’t think he can face you after last night. 

“Don’t call me dude, my name is baby to you.” Sam points his tongs at Steve who just bats them away with a finger and wraps him in a hug. 

Bucky hates feelings, romance sucks. His head is in his hands and he is still very much hungover “no we didn’t fuck, it was fine. Went smoothly, nothing scandalous.”

Sam pulls back from Steve and gives Bucky a pointed look, he’s gearing for an earful. “Is it a genetics thing?��� Sam turns to Steve and smacks his chest, “Are all Rogers just really fucking dense?” 

“What did I do?” 

“It took four months for you to realize I was asking you out and taking you on dates you buffoon!” Bucky swears this conversation was about him and you for a second but fuck apparently not. Maybe he could slip out? Go back to sleep? Avoid you for a few weeks and not think about the fact he almost kissed you or let spill about the museum…

“And I apologized but what does that have to do with anything?” Bucky catches Sam’s eye and his heart drops, his eyes are begging him not to say anything.

“Sam -”

“Nah you had your shot and you missed. In fact the net was here,” he points in front of him, “and you threw the ball allllllll the way over there,” and his hand is stretched out towards the window. Steve sits down on the seat next to Bucky, his attention caught in the conversation he doesn’t quite understand. “Steve, baby, love of my life, please don’t kill the messenger here.”

“Sam.” Bucky is about to leap over the counter and throttle Sam...if only his head didn’t hurt so much.

“Bucky wants to bone your sister and I honestly CANNOT believe she hasn’t realized that. Why else would he have said yes to last night?!” 

Steve lets out a nervous laugh, he shakes his head and looks between Bucky and Sam, “what? Noo.” But when he looks at Bucky and sees his face dropped and the defeated look in his eyes Steve knows the truth and his mouth hangs open.

“It’s not like that Steve-”

“Oh no sorry, Bucky has a giant nerd crush on your sister.” Right, that’s it. Bucky leaps out of his chair and tackles Sam, his headache long forgotten about. 

“I TOLD YOU IN CONFIDENCE!” They’re scuffling on the ground muttering things like “you had your chance!” and “you fucker!” before Steve is pulling them apart and onto separate couches. 

“I was really rooting for you man.” Bucky narrows his eyes at Sam and rubs his hands down his face. This could not be a worse day. 

“Is this true?” Oh okay no Steve wants to talk about it this it could be a worse day. 

“It’s not like anything is or ever was going to happen. She’s your sister, I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“And she hates him.”

“And she hates me yes thank you Sam.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Steve stands up and walks into the hallway. That’s when it dawned on him. You were right. It’s him. 

Steve thinks back to all the times you and Bucky fought as kids and realizes that he was the common factor. You were fighting over him. Then as the years went by and you grew you just began fighting about everything, but it all started with having to share Steve. When you made Bucky eat sand at the playground when you were eight Steve thought it was because Bucky had stolen your toy but it was because Steve had chosen to play with Bucky. When you were twelve and you yelled at Bucky for being an asshat it was because Steve chose to ride bikes with him instead of you. Steve wondered how long Bucky had felt this way about you and how he’d missed it. His gut fell at the idea that he was the reason Bucky hadn’t done anything about his feelings. 

He turned and walked back into the lounge, determined to set right what he had caused to sit adrift for however long. “Right okay this is the weirdest fucking to happen to me and I’m friends with Clint and Tony. Is it just a crush or is it proper feelings?” 

After getting over the initial shock of Steve seeming okay with Bucky’s feelings he has to take a second to register what he’s being asked before he can answer with confidence. “Feelings?” ...or little confidence.

“You need to be sure because if you hurt her I will not hesitate to kill you.” Sam is taken aback by Steve’s outburst almost as much as Bucky but he’s also a little turned on right now…

“Okay, yea I’m sure. I want to date her I’m sorry okay. It won’t happen.” 

“That’s a lie.” Steve knows Bucky would never do anything to jeopardize their friendship, and he knows that if his feelings for you are real that he wouldn’t do anything that would risk hurting you. “Knowing Sam, he’ll make something happen.” But he also knows Sam’s meddling ass...who happened to suggest you ask Bucky in the first place… “Anyway, if you get married you’d be my actual brother and that’s pretty cool.” 

Bucky’s face lights up at the idea of marrying you. He only really thought it was a crush, maybe mixed in with some sexual tension, until last night. Having you on his arm, pretending you were his. The comments people made about you looking so good together. Bucky wanted that for the rest of his life. He didn’t love you, or at least he wasn’t sure of that yet, but fuck he could see it happening, he wanted it to happen. And you almost kissed him last night, you said you’d marry him so maybe, just maybe, there was something there.

After he’s showered, shaved and dressed Bucky is out the door and to your apartment as Sam slings his arm over Steve’s shoulder.

“I’m really proud of you, didn’t think you had that in you. Didn’t even punch him.”

“I think I’m already too emotionally invested in their relationship.” Steve sighs and leans back into Sam.

“Shit man me too she better say yes.” 

~~~

Bucky’s palms are clammy and his heart is racing when he reaches the door to your apartment. He has to count to three and take a deep breath before he knocks on the door but he’s thoroughly disappointed, and also a little relieved when Wanda opens it.

“You look almost as bad as her.” She looks Bucky up and down and gestures for him to come in, Bucky looks around the open lounge and kitchen area but there’s no sign of you.

“I feel like death is she here?” He’s frantic, he must sound like an idiot.

“She’s in her room.” 

There’s a soft knock on your door but no answer. Bucky looks over his shoulder but there’s no sight of Wanda anymore either as he slips into your room and sees you curled up and fast asleep on one side of your bed with still slightly wet hair and pajamas. 

He can’t leave, he considers it but he’s come so far. He could wake you up. But he doesn’t want you to be mad at him if you aren’t already. So Bucky sits on the side of the bed. Then after a few minutes of twiddling his thumbs, he’s scooting up to the top of your bed and laying his head on the pillow, careful not to make any sudden movements. The next thing he knows he’s fast asleep next to you.

You wake up and there’s a heavy warmth over your waist and your phone is flashing with missed messages. You peer over your shoulder and see Bucky sound asleep, turning onto your back you continue looking at him confused and pick up your phone...that has nine missed messages...one from Wanda and EIGHT from Rebecca, they state:

Wanda aka MOM: You guys are the cutest fake couple ever lmao

Betta Barnes: EXCUSE ME MA’AM!

FUCKING ANSWER YOUR PHONE!

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!

CHECK FB!!!!

I’M LOSING MY SHIT!

ARE YOU AND MY DEAR BROTHER DATING!

HE WON’T PICK UP!!!

YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD TELL ME IF YOU AND BUCKY STARTED DATING I FEEL VERY BETRAYED BUT ALSO VERY HAPPY! I’M HAVING A LOT OF CONFLICTED FEELINGS RN

Attached to Wanda’s message is a picture from the party of you and Bucky. His arm around your neck and yours around his torso, his lips pressed to your temple and you’re both laughing. You have a vague memory of the cameraman telling Bucky to show you some love and his striking the pose and then licking your cheek. That was five flutes in…oh no. Oh no Becca has seen these, this isn’t good. 

Bucky groans and grips your hip, pulling you closer until he opens his eyes and remembers where he is. His hand leaves your hip and curls under his cheek as he gives you a sheepish smile and mumbles hello.

“What are you doing here?” Your phone and the problem of Rebecca thinking you and Bucky are actually dating is put to the side the moment he smiles at you. Has it always been that nice to see him smile? 

“Wanted to talk but you were asleep...guess I fell asleep too.” Bucky rubs his eyes but he doesn’t move from his spot on his side next to you as you match his position. 

“Talk about what?” 

"I went off script last night." You suck in a breath as you remember what Bucky had said, the museum, the idea of him falling for you that day. 

"You did. Why?"

"Thought it was more believable," he’s playing with a loose string in the pillow, too scared to look at your reaction as he thinks maybe this was a mistake.

"Because you meant what you said?" You’re biting your lip hoping to god he says yes but why would he?.

"Every word." Bucky reaches out and pushes a loose strand of hair back from your face, his fingers trail down your cheek slowly.

"But you hate me? I'm Steve's annoying little sister," the whole reason you fought was because you were Steve’s sister?! Bucky hates you, Bucky thinks you’re annoying. Bucky meant every word.

"I'm not going to disagree with that second part. But I don't hate you. Disliked you a lot when were younger but never hate.” He chuckles as his fingers retreat from your cheek back under his pillow, they leave goosebumps on your skin. “Kinda like ya actually." He’s not looking you in the eye again and you’ve never seen Bucky so shy in all the years you’ve known him. 

"Does Steve know?” 

"Wouldn’t be here if he didn't. I know you don't like me much but I had to tell you. I thought it was just a stupid crush but after last night, I had so much fun and you were just you and I loved seeing you like that. You're not like that around me normally." It’s your turn to brush the hair back from his face as he tries to hide behind it and your fingers scratch through his beard until they settle on his jaw. Bucky closes his eyes momentarily feeling you against him in a way he never thought he would.

"That's because we don't get along," you have to be sure. You need to be sure this isn’t all just a game to him. You know better, you know Bucky would never do anything to intentionally hurt you but you need to be sure for your own heart’s sake. 

"Oh come on that's just banter neither of us means anything by it." He’s smiling at you and his eyes bounce between your eyes and your lips, god just kiss her he thinks, just fucking do it. 

"Maybe not. Want to know something I do mean though?" He’s nodding his head quickly and you’re leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Your hand grips his jaw and pulls him closer as his travel up your side and push you onto your back, his body shortly following as he settles with one leg between yours and his hips pressed to your side. 

Bucky is in bliss. He’s pretty sure he’s had dreams where he got to kiss you before but nothing could ever live up to the real thing. The feeling of your hands under his shirt on his shoulders, your fingers moving through his hair, your tongue. God your tongue welcoming him and drawing him in like he’s a sailor and you’re a siren in the middle of the ocean. He’d gladly follow you to the deepest depths. 

You pull away but Bucky doesn’t stray far and he’s got a giant shit-eating grin on his face which you’re sure you mirror as you lie there out of breath with him.

“Can I take you on a real date?” You nod and pull him down for another peck. Bucky rolls off of you settles down next to you with a kiss pressed to your shoulder.

“But tomorrow.” “Hmm?”

“Today I want to order McDonald’s and continue sleeping off this hangover.” You reach up and tangle your fingers back into his hair, soft and falling around your hand as Bucky laughs against your shoulder. “Are you going to join me?”

“Of course,” he sits up and kisses you again but only quickly before he pulls out his phone. “You order I need to do something.

From Bucky to Sam:

~~~

There is an empty McDonalds bag on the floor, half empty cups on the nightstands and you’re lying in bed with your head on Bucky’s shoulder watching the IT Crowd when Bucky breaks the silence. 

"Why is Rebecca sending me angry yet very supportive messages about us? These are from this morning before I came round...wait no this one was from an hour ago." He was finally looking through the dozen missed messages from his sister, having forgotten about them after texting Sam earlier when he noticed the pattern, some favorites included

I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU HURT HER

I’M SO HAPPY LET ME TELL MUM

BUCKY YOU LUCKY SON OF A BITCH

MY OTP I’M CRYING

And those were just the most recent ones...

"When I was 15 and drunk off cruisers I told her I was going to marry you and she has never let me forget it," better to pull off the bandaid on that little tidbit you think. You should have known she would spam him as well, you just hoped she didn’t say anything embarrassing. 

"I knew you had a crush on me.” Bucky squeezes your thigh that his hand rests on teasingly and you nudge him back telling him no you did not. “How does she already know?" 

"She made me triple pinky swear to tell her if anything even remotely romantic were to happen between..." 

"So you told her I was your fake boyfriend for a night and then that I asked you on a real date?"

"....no. but she saw the pictures from last night," you look up with a sly smile to see Bucky’s eyes go wide and his mouth drop open.

"There’s pictures?!?!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

Permanent Taglist (open): @witch-of-letters @harryngtonewithyourshit @morsmordrethings @buckysdumbmetalarm @marvelsangels @momobaby227 @weirdlyokaywithit @disgustangg @bucky-blogs

Bucky Taglist (open): @bxrnsfeyson @brilliantbellesoares @supraveng @chubby-dumplin @stuckonjbbarnes @meganlikesfandoms @mood-pancakes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine

[bigheart-energy]

my honest opinion based on the sun sign of ppl i know (sag season aka brutally honest season)

Aries: ily but u guys gotta chill, also saying you are bored with someone to their face is rude, ur not the smartest sign of the zodiac no matter how many times u google “aries smart”

Taurus: pls accept that u are not always right and if u want emotional stability how about u offer some that would be neat, also cHANGE IS OK

Gemini: u are fun idc what anyone else says, u are only fake because it takes a lot for u to get attached and when u truly care it’s amazing

Cancer: stop with the passive aggressiveness when mad maybe, ily tho fave sign by far, also crying is the best thing dont let anyone tell u otherwise, go outside more

Leo: not everything is about u but go off, wanting attention is fine tho feel u boo, also we get it ur sexy pls stop yelling

Virgo: we get it u are perfect and intelligent u dont gotta be a bitch about it, ur vibe is pretty chill tho so that’s cool, would be nice if u had feelings sometimes

Libra: i love you and u are perfect even tho u forget pretty much everything and everyone and cant make a decision to save ur life but omg i just love u

Scorpio: i have yet to meet a scorpio and truly like them, u are rly hard to get to know, maybe let urself be known it’s ok some people are nice i swear, not u tho, i mean i dont even know CUS IDK U only ur bitchy side u use as a defense mechanism

Sagittarius: we are assholes and we do not deserve the amount of luck we experience istg, fuck our bullshit and fake promises, at least we are funny

Capricorn: oh my god like... u guys gotta chill too, ur stubbornness is so annoying, i appreciate the showering with gifts to ppl u truly care about that’s nice but u cant buy people’s feelings, how about u confront urs sometimes

Aquarius: like scorpio i swear i CANNOT know u, or understand u, all i know is that ur special but u dont rly get on well with ur feelings which im not sure u even have, anyways u won’t feel less empty just because u try to be busy

Pisces: u are like the manipulative brother of cancer pls stop using ur emotional intelligence against other people, maybe fix urself and calm down before trying to fix literally everybody else in order to feel validated

#sun signs #astrology #astrology meme #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #libra #sag season #astro opinions #zodiac #zodiac signs #guess my other placements based on this post lol

[smartguyreviewed]

2x6 - Trial and Error

Original air date: Oct 15, 1997

Okay, so we begin this infuriating episode with Floyd coming home and calling out for his biological children. None of them are home. Except for Mo. Mo broke into the house. No, seriously. He broke into the house and started eating somebody’s leftovers. Now in any other case, this would warrant a passionate ass whooping and a call to the parents of this child because what the fuck are you doing so wrong to have your son breaking into houses and not stealing anything except for food? However, this is sitcom world and Floyd just seems more annoyed than anything since Mo is always there anyway.

Mo tells Floyd he needs to be more careful about locking the windows. So linebacker ass Mo really needed to eat and somehow oozed through a window just to get food? Ok, I take back what I said about him needing his ass kicked. Mo is clearly malnourished even though he’s huge. His parents must be poor and therefore can’t afford to feed him. Holy shit was that dark. Moving on. 

Food and TJ’s brain are the reasons for his crime. His parents are going to kill him if he brings home another D. This is really helping me build a theory that Mo’s parents are abusive, so let’s assume his parents are literal this time about the kill thing. Floyd then realizes that Mo’s punishment would equal him not being over again to eat up their food and casually break in so he tells Mo that TJ joined the Marines. Nice, Floyd.

Just then, the rest of Floyd’s flock comes in babbling about who got what part in a play. TJ is naturally upset because he wanted a bigger role, still not getting used to the idea that he’s a 10 year old and unless he’s playing the role of a character with dwarfism, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have a huge part. TJ storms off in a huff. Typical TJ things.

The next day, everyone is atwitter over a test from their more over it than Lisa Simpson teacher. This man wants all of his students to fail. He hates his students. He’s a teacher and yet he hates teaching. Maybe this is the wrong profession for you, bruh? And it’s evident his ‘over it’ level is on a million from the way he comes in and tells his class to “get ready to hate me.” The deadpan, dry delivery was funny though. 

His first task is to give his students an assignment so hard that even he doesn’t know all the answers. Um, why? If you don’t know the answers, how are you gonna grade the tests? Isn’t this just creating more work for you, someone who already hates his job? Why the fuck does Piedmont hire such bad teachers and faculty, dammit?

Even TJ is intimidated by this test! Mo asks Mr. Bringleman why stuff from another chapter he previously said wouldn’t be on the test is on the test. He simply says he lied. This man is evil. I hated teachers who did that bitch ass shit. Yes, I only studied for what you said was going to be on the test because I have other classes too, ya know. I’m a teenager, not a machine!

I’m just gonna call him Mr. B for the rest of this review because fuck this most likely racist white man. His ass was listening to the boys talking about how hard the test was and then Mo says he wishes he could do to Mr. B what he does to all of them. Mr. B asks if he’s threatening him and Mo stammers. Then Mr. B insults his intelligence by asking if he ever has a complete thought. Before he can even fix his mouth to call him the N word, not Linda Ellerbee shows up to see what’s going on. Oh yeah, and she’s the new principal. She’s the third one so far and this is only the first half of the second season.

Anyways, she needs someone to cover a class and outright forces him to do it. Ha-ha. When the boys laugh at him, Mr. B says he’s going to grade Mo’s test. Nice, I just love seeing teachers bully students.

At the play rehearsal, TJ is still campaigning for a lead role. Mackey has to be the one to humble him, asking for duct tape. Marcus’s play related arc in this episode is pursuing acting seriously in case music doesn’t work out. His part has no lines so he’s trying to act with his face. He can just feel the SAG membership card in his hands.

Just then, Yvette bursts in wearing a Prince-inspired outfit and lets everyone know there was a fire in the chem lab. Dun du--pause. Why the fuck is she telling everyone? Wouldn’t they have had a fire drill? Are there no fire alarms in this blasted school? How the fuck did nobody know about it or smell smoke and why is Yvette bursting in like the town crier in this Purple Rain ass outfit???

All the students are happy until Linda Ellerbee hands Mo his charred playbook and asks him to come into her office. Dun dun dun. Later we find out that Mo was expelled. Because he is an abused child who only feels safe at the Hendersons, Mo has once again broke into their house and begun working out in their garage. Floyd is over it.

TJ comes home and talks to Mo. He is sad to learn that nobody thinks he’s innocent but says that TJ has to believe him because he has the “wide-eyed innocence of a child.” He follows this up with shitty examples of kids trusting adults who end up being assholes. Once they finally get on a good example, TJ is able to see that Mo is innocent and decides to help Mo get back into school.

The next day, TJ is in the principal’s office waiting for Linda Ellerbee. She has mice in her office because Piedmont is the worst public school ever and is resorting to playing the Spice Girls to get them out. Is that supposed to be a diss to the Spice Girls? Fuck anyone who disses the Spice Girls.

Sis is not budging when it comes to letting Mo back in the school. Sounds like a job for TJ’s cuteness and persistence! He gets her to agree to a mock trial where Mo would have to come back to the school. I...whatever. Order in the courtroom!

TJ is Mo’s defense. The opposinjg side calls Marcus to the stand so we already know this will end in disaster. It takes less than a minute for Marcus to admit that Mo threatened Mr. B. Ugh! Stupid Marcus. But he doesn’t even do the worst on the stand. Mo actually manages to fuck it all up! Marcus and TJ are trying to paint Mo out to be, what the kids today would call it, a “punk ass bitch.” Rather than play along and accept it, dumb ass Mo puts his stupid, fragile masculinity ahead of his chance to get back into school and says that he follows through on all threats. Once he realizes his gaffe, he immediately sits his ass down. Yvette is annoyed.

Vice principal Millitch, who will later replace Linda Ellerbee in one of the only sensical things I’ve seen regarding Piedmont, qualifies that Mo’s playbook was found at the scene next to Mr. B’s burnt gradebook. It was nice knowing ya, Mo. We know how the legal system works.

So then the loser teacher gets on the stand and tries to make it seem like he doesn’t intentionally make his students suffer by giving them ridiculously hard tests and lying about what’s even going to be on the test. To him, Mo is just a stupid, violent nigger so of course he’d want to commit a crime instead of studying harder. And then he lays it on thicker by insulting his intelligence again, explaining what the word combust means in the most smug ass, irritating way. It’s fucked up upon re-watch but at least it’s super realistic how predominately black public schools get racist white teachers often. They’re usually there for the tuition reimbursement.

TJ is now realizing that he may not be able to help Mo out of this jam. While eating dinner, Yvette comes in and apologizes for her lateness, saying the trial is over and now the school can continue with the play rehearsals. She tells an adamant TJ that Mr. B, also assuming the trial’s conclusion, was chain smoking cigarettes and humming “Don’t Worry Be Happy.” Floyd is appalled at the latter. TJ’s gears begin shifting. Side note but doesn’t Mr. B just look like a miserable ass teacher who smokes in the classroom?

TJ and Mo break into the school. Geez, so much trespassing in this episode! Mo isn’t even worried about being caught because what are they gonna do, “expel him from college?” Slapstick ensues while TJ collects samples from the gradebook. Mo, on the other hand, is battling a mouse trap. I was super high when I watched this last night but this scene had me in stitches. Omar Gooding is really good with physical comedy. Look, even TJ gets stuck to him when they’re leaving! Priceless!

At court the next morning, TJ calls Mr. B to the stand. He brilliantly examines him and exposes him for smoking in the classroom, which was the actual cause for the fire. This man is fucking evil! He was actually about to get away with very possibly ruining a teenager’s life until a fucking 10 year old stepped in and dug deeper. He could have seriously gotten him disowned by his parents, making him homeless, forcing him to turn to the streets for survival. All because he’s an asshole and didn’t have the heart to own up to what he did. Hell, it’s fucking Piedmont! I’m sure they would have kept him!

Seeing as he just gets sent to Linda’s office, he’s most likely getting a slap on the wrist and paid vacation leave. Oh well. Also frustratingly realistic. At least Mo isn’t expelled anymore. Too bad Mo’s unwashed hands are still sticky when he shakes the principal’s hand and the joke continues.

At the end, Marcus gets bumped up to the illustrious Juror #2. Gotta love a true thespian! Case dismissed. Bring out the dancing lobsters.

Things I noticed:

- Stinky Steve is Mr. B’s defense.

- Piedmont has no respect for their students’ time. The mock trial began at 8am. Assuming that their school day begins at 9am, I bet the play participants probably hate TJ for forcing them to get up an hour earlier than normal, on top of having to do the play after school.

#tj henderson #smart guy #tahj mowry #yvette henderson #essence atkins #john marshall jones #marcus henderson #jason weaver #stinky steve #sister sister #morris tibbs #mo tibbs #omar gooding #floyd henderson

[lymricks]

tagged by @ohmybgosh thank you I LOVE THESE (also, holy hell, you’re TALL)

Name: Olympia but I go by Lym for a sense of normalcy lol

Gender: my pronouns are she/her! 

Star Sign: Sagittarius and like, I am for sure a sag lol I’m ridiculous

Height: 5′2″ I’m so tiny

Time: 20:01

Birthday: December 3

Favorite Bands: Ugh I am so basic re:music. I dunno. I like all music. I listen to Jack’s Mannequin a lot when I like need a soundtrack. Bruised, in particular.

Favorite Solo Artists: I like all music, but also, and especially, T Swift, obv. 

Song stuck in my head: happiness by t swift I never said I wasn’t BASIC.

Last Movie: Spirit Of Christmas. Oh, you haven’t watched it? WHY NOT. She is a REAL ESTATE LAWYER. He is a GHOST HAUNTING AN INN SHE NEEDS TO SELL. It’s amazing. 100000/10. Watch every year. Sometimes twice.

Last Show: The 100 I am doing a re-watch before I watch the last two seasons. It’s really sad? I forget how sad this show is.

When did I create this blog: Uhmmmmmm 2017? Maybe? but I had tumblrs before. Whenever I started Harringrove writing I was like, shit, I need a tumblr.

What do I post: Harringrove, poetry, the west wing, t swift...are you sensing a theme?

Last thing I googled: “songs released december 1985″

Other blogs: no!

Do I get asks: sometimes? y’all are always deeply sweet. I welcome them even though my replies are prob lame.

Why I chose my URL: I’m Lym. Lymricks is a terrible ~pun~

Following: a million? the best humans? I love them all.

Followers: the very GREATEST people. thanks <3

Average hours of sleep: I am an 8 hours bitch. Seriously, I will be fucking bratty if I do not get them. 

Instruments: I went to college based off the clarinet for one (1) year and then I was like fuck this give me books and that’s my life story, really.

What I’m wearing:  BU sweats, a oiselle vote hoodie, hot pink socks.

Dream job: a full time writer, but I also love my job.

Dream trip: the maldives with my best friend

Favorite food: s u s h i, but if we’re talking “can prep for myself” it’s pasta

Nationality: American

Favorite song: Take a shot every time I say “Taylor Swift” you’re welcome bc you’re drunk now.

Last book I read: I just finished one day in december, which I liked the premise of and only gave 2 stars for not-great writing or characters. Currently reading This Close to Okay and hoping to finish before midnight on 1/1 because I want to get one more book in.

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: Hogwarts, but only once shit has settled down and absent she who shall not be named’s hatred and bigotry, Star Trek, the saddle club lol @ me

I’m tagging @imneithernor @brawlite @confettibites and anyone else who wants to do this. I am forever the worst at tagging. No pressure if I tag you. If I didn’t and you want to do this PLEASE know that you are tagged.

#tag game #also take a shot every time I say 'lol' #your girl has had some tuesday night cheap champagne