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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

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Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?)

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think! masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

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ofcloudsandstars · 3 years

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Quick things to do to celebrate Imbolc

Okay since my Yule post was popular I made an Imbolc one since most of us are still going to be locked down lol.

1. Clean and Cleanse your space I know BOO right?? But this is the holiday for cleaning and cleansing. (Even if you hate doing this, this is like the one time a year you have a reason to do it). Time for deep cleaning!! You know that layer of snowy dust behind your bookshelf? Time to open windows and tackle every corner. Scrub off that spot of dirt you have been putting off scrubbing. Time to steam and vacuum your carpets. Wash your bedsheets and add rosemary or juniper oil to the soap. Smoke cleanse your room with Juniper (or Rosemary). Sweep out old energy, old habits, unwanted spirits. Throw out things that do not spark joy. The time is upon us!

2. Bath Magic Along with cleansing your space, it's also the time to cleanse yourself! This is the day to have a ritual bath, the type that looks instagram worthy where you have a bunch of candles and you sit in a hot tub full of colorful soap very pleased and covered in bubbles. If you don't have a tub you can make a special scrub to anoint your entire body with and rinse it off in a shower. This is the time for face masks, feet soaks, those things you glue on your nose to painfully peel off later and fill you with a sense of relief/disgust of what was dwelling in your pores all this time, skin exfoliants, bath jellies and body creams.

Tip: I like to celebrate the eves of sabbats, so I tend to do the cleaning and cleansing stuff the evening before so there’s less of an overwhelming pressure to do everything at once. Especially since cleaning can get draining sometimes. On the day is usually spellwork, nature walks and feasting.

3. Candle Magic This is the sabbat for candles. Not just to look at how pretty they are burning on your altar rejoicing that the winter days are probably like 1 hour longer than before, but to set intentions for your dreams and aspirations!! First take a moment to meditate and ground yourself, then focus on your goals or anything you would really like to accomplish this year, big or small. When you visualizing it coming to be, then light your candle! This is also a great time for candle scrying. You can read your candle flame which can dance fiery omens of the obstacles ahead of you. Here is a helpful but general page for candle scrying.

4. Burning Bayleaves and Barrier Breaking Often when our candle spells keep going out or we receive omens that the obstacles before us are a little more difficult than anticipated, then it's time for Barrier Breaking! Write down anything you feel is holding you back on a small piece of paper. Make sure to get a fire proof dish ready. With that paper think about the obstacles before you or anything holding you back and visualize the sensation of those obstacles coming undone or you being free from it's chains. Make sure you hold on to that feeling as you light it on fire with your spell candle then set it aside on the fire dish to burn completely.

Sometimes this step may call for shadow work as the obstacles that can be holding us back isn't external but internal issues. You can divine with tarot cards to figure out the nature of this obstacle if you aren't aware of it consciously.

Lastly, Burning Bayleaves helps with wishes. You can burn them to help overcome obstacles or to bring luck and set intentions in your life. Just write what you need on the leaves, burn it with your spell candle and set it aside on the dish. Beware as some bayleaves have natural oil in them so they can ignite in a fiery whoosh!! That is usually good luck and shows that your intentions will have no problem being manifested, however, if you are not in the most fire safe area I would not recommend this activity. If you are comfortable doing fire magic and have a safe set up then you can partake in this tradition.

6. Cleansing ALL of your magical tools As this sabbat feels like a gentle awakening and fresh start, you can lay out all of your magical tools and give them a serious cleanse. You can play a cleansing frequency on youtube which could help or ring bells over to disperse any energy hanging on. If you have a smoke bundle or incense you can clease with that and bless your items.

7. Play some Music! Listening to music always helps to set the mood of the day. Here is a playlist for this sabbat!

8. Make a Feast So for a Feast for 1 it's usually just like a festive dish with a side of veggies and a nice dessert. Think about what you'd like as your main dish. For this sabbat I’ve always made an Imbolc Shepards Pie recipe. Reasons being is that I lived someplace where this time of the year was blizzard season though we were halfway done with Winter. So the pie represented the top being the potato mashed "snow" and the meat/beans layer underneath was spicy and represented the earth stirring. (Plus its cute that it's called Shepards pie cause there is a sheep/lamb theme going on but I digress..) Anyway I moved to England and this time of year feels like... very early Spring.. Like it's not really spring spring but it's like.. early pre-spring. (Seasons here in this climate are weird haha but the sabbats make sense here since the traditions were founded in this climate). So the symbolism of the Shepards Pie is a bit lost. However there are a lot of other options such as Cauliflower or Celeriac soup with cheese (or cheese less if you are vegan), winter onion soup, if you are a meat eater than lamb and sage stew (I feel like stews are a big theme here but it fits as it's winter and there is that 'fire in the belly' symbolism that fits with getting sustenance and warmth from a chalice-bowl object). Side dish can be roasted parsnips or stuffed white cabbage (it depends on the main dish). Dessert depends on if you are into cake or tarts but I always either have cheesecake or a milk sponge cake like tres leches. If you live in a snowy area a dessert I used to make would be a warm brownie with vanilla icecream as it's like "snow melt" on earth with life stirring within. Etc.

I know with lockdown and such no one is going to be seeing anyone extra in their lives anytime soon and no one may have the energy to cook a lot, but here is a list of recipes with a feast mood board to check out for ideas.

Have a lovely luminous Imbolc!!

#imbolc #lockdown #quarantine #solitary witch #witch tips #ideas #rituals #magic #witchcraft #candle scrying #spells #imbolc ritual #winter crossquarter

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barnes-dameron · 3 years

Note

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #cold #fluff #writing #fanfic #gn!reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

The Misadventures of Ares: Vinculum

HOSTIS MASTERLIST

Taglist: @sunqnyu @taesty-wander-lust

“What?”

“Dr. Kyung- He said- The blood test- I-”

“Christ’s sake, give me that-”

Stomping over, you snatch the device out from his grasp and press it to your ear.

“There’s no way that’s possible. I’ve been on the pill for the last 3 months.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. l/n, I just don’t think a blood test would provide unreliable results.”

“Well- Check it again!”

“I’ve checked thrice, Dr. l/n. You’re 7 weeks in.”

The device in your hands begins to warm up, but you’re not sure if it’s from the electronics of the thing or that your body temperature was beginning to sky-rocket. Fatigue begins to set in, like you were about to faint. The giddiness clouds your eyes and your brain and before you know it, Hyunjae’s voice was muffled in your ears.

“...Kitten... Give me the phone... Are you... Do you need to... I’m sorry, Dr. Kyung... Right back...”

The lines in your vision are blur when your lids first open. Inhaling the scent coated all over the bed, which was an embarrassing mix of yours and Hyunjae, you rub your eyes in a bid to clear your vision.

The room was dark, besides the amber-orange light emitting from the scented humidifier by the bed. Which means it’s not morning. Rolling over, you note the emptiness in the other half of the queen-sized bed, and the coldness of the sheets tell you that he hasn’t even stepped anywhere near the--

Click

The door swings open slowly, revealing a shirtless Hyunjae with tousled wet hair and baggy joggers. With his phone in one hand, the other was busy ruffling through his wet strands with a towel. His eyes gleam in the dark when they look up from his phone, minding to check on you, but he realises you’re already awake.

“Hey,” He immediately locks his phone and places it by the humidifier on the bed stand. “How are you feeling?”

The mattress by your right arm sinks when he sits down, the citrus scent of his body wash filling your nose when he presses his fingers into your hairline. Drawing gentle lines into your forehead and hair, his eyes are filled nothing but concern. It kind of irks you, when you catch yourself falling for his little ministrations time and time again, even though they have all been for different reasons; under different circumstances.

His soft chuckle jerks you out of your trance when he finally pokes your nose. “Staring in this kind of shitty lighting, huh?”

An annoyed but accustomed groan cues you to swat his hand off your face. “Don’t you ever get tired of that?”

“Nah,” Wrapping his fingers around your wrist and bringing them up to his lips, he presses some light kisses into your hand. “I’ll never get tired of anything as long as it’s you.”

The litter of kisses begin to trail from the back of your hand, down to your shoulder where his light breath tickles your neck. You can’t help the soft giggles that run off your tongue, and his smile is pressed as a kiss into your jaw and then your lips.

He sighs, pulling away to rest his head on your chest with his arms supporting some of his weight atop you. His damp hair gets tangled in your fingers, just before they trail down to his back to trace his shoulder blades.

“So... what happened to the pasta?”

“I tried to finish most of it,” He speaks loud enough for you to hear, though you felt most of it as vibrations through your body. “Why, hungry?”

“...No.”

Then your tummy decides to refute and releases the loudest groan you could ever hear.

Hyunjae laughs as he lifts his head to look at you. “I’m sure the baby isn’t big enough to make that kind of sound yet.”

“Oh, God,” The reminder sours your nose unexpectedly. Your hands come round to cover your face, letting out a soft but frustrated sigh. “I was hoping it was a dream.”

The mischief in Hyunjae’s eyes wear away when he processes your words. The competition in his blood is no longer. Not when there was an other, godly being involved now. Something that he’s given to you, something that you were made to carry, something that’s meant to bond you both.

Something that would become part of his world, as if you weren’t already his.

“A dream? You don’t want... it?”

The thoughts well your brain. It feels like you’re drowning on the inside.

“I’m not saying I don’t want it... I just--”

He sits up and grips onto your hands like his life depended on it. The physical contact sends shudders up your fingers, not because his hands were cold but because they felt hot, like clothes when they just came out of the dryer. The overwhelming sensation forces you to shift and sit up against the bed board, eyes coated with tears and scanning his.

Two beautiful star-studded orbs look deep into yours before they look down, almost like he was ashamed of himself - then you realise he’s not even breathing. He’s holding his breath because he might just break out into horrid sobs.

“Jae...” Your hoarse voice sounds like a croak when it comes out, layered with all the effort you needed to stop yourself from bawling too. His cheeks are cupped in your hands as you try to pull him closer, but he refuses to leave your hands. His eyes are plastered to your stomach before he can look you in the eye with all the love he has in himself.

“You are... everything I ever needed. You are... my life, my world and you have my heart,” His voice is barely recognisable now. It’s so low, it sounds like a whisper, but you know his vocal chords are just strained from his need to control his feelings. “And this... Changes nothing.”

“Jae, I-”

“No,” He shakes his head, still unable to look at you. The emotions that he’s feeling in that gusto chest of his is slowly being translated into thoughts and then words in his head, and even as a doctor, that wasn’t easy. “I know... I know you feel like this isn’t the right time. You’ll think that this comes in the way of your promotion and that things will get harder...”

“Oh,” The ache seeps through you. Guilt surges through your veins and the tears finally fall. “I just... Jae, I worked so hard for this...”

“And I know you did. I swear to God, I know in my bones you did,” His hands find yours that are holding his face, and he finally looks up. He shifts, pushing you further into the middle of the bed so he can fit his body onto the mattress next to you. The strands your hair must’ve gotten the stains of your tears as you wipe his away.

“But I can’t-” The crack in his voice as he wraps his arm around your lower back feels more like a crack in your heart. He rests his head against your heart, attentively listening to the thumping against your chest. “I can’t... I won’t forgive myself if anything happened to you, or the thing inside you. I don’t care if you want the next promotion, you can have it. But what I care about is you, your safety and whatever’s in you right now.”

Sniffling and barely chuckling, you gently trace his hairline, fiddling with the stray strands of hair off his face. “Are you really gonna keep calling it a ‘thing’?”

Hyunjae coughs some kind of sorrowful laughter, inhaling back all the mucus stuck in his nostrils. “I mean, we can’t tell what the gender is until your second trimester.”

“Fair.”

He lifts his head again, and now you can see the pink in his nose and eyes. Your thumb reaches over to his cheekbone and brushes his skin, but he keeps your hand on his cheek and presses a kiss into your palm.

“Are you sure... about this?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. But it’s your body, and as much as I’d die for you to keep it... I want you to decide... Whether you want to keep it.”

A frown gently forms in your forehead as you wipe your tears away, and Hyunjae gives himself time to climb over you, pulling the blanket over his legs and sliding his arm behind your neck. Resting into his shoulder, your eyes rest on the vapour pouring out from the humidifier.

“Will you hate me if I said I needed to think about it?”

A pause.

“No,” He pecks the crown of your head, resting his nose in your hair. “Your body... and... it’s your kid as much as it is mine.”

“You can’t say that it’s a kid when you can’t even tell the gender.”

“It’ll be a kid if you decide to keep it for the next 8 months, kitten.”

A gulp forces its way down your throat.

“I’m scared.”

“What about?”

“Whether I’ll make the right choice. Will I regret it if I keep it? And even if I do, how shit of a mother am I going to be?”

His free arm circles around you to turn your torso towards him, and he tightens his embrace with your nose in his collar bone. “Whatever you do, I know you won’t regret it. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are today, so nobody can blame you for wanting to be reward yourself. And if you do keep it, parenting is a two-man job.”

Another pause.

“Whatever it is, I’ll always be here. Regardless your choice, regardless the outcome. Even when you don’t want to see my stupid snot-face, I’ll still be here. Okay?”

The facial muscles in your forehead relax, and you sigh into his skin. “Okay.”

Hyunjae massages your scalp with his fingertips, moments before he pulls away and slides off the bed abruptly.

“Alright, enough of that crap,” He picks up a shirt from the single sofa seat in the corner of the room and throws it on. “Come down when you’re not about to faint. I cooked you chicken and clam chowder soup.”

#hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz #tbz #lee hyunjae #tbz hyunjae #timetohajima hostis

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m-aster-of-spinjitzu · 3 years

Text

orange and gold

...I just need more Cole and Vania content, they seem like they'd be great friends.

Basically it's just 'Cole goes to visit her there, they almost burn down the kitchen, and make way too many puns', lol.

Set a few months after Master of the Mountain, but before Seabound or The Island.

Also yeah, I couldn't think of a better title, sue me- I just know that they wear one of the colours at some point, so... 🤦‍♀️😂

Trigger warnings: none I think? Huh-

Also, bingo!! I really need to learn better time management, dear freaking gosh- I hope I'm not too late though? I know it's like half a day late, eek- and I was supposed to post this earlier, but I ended up literally falling asleep while writing it😂

Thank you so much Fabro, for hosting such a cool event!:D Your comments on my fics literally never fail to make my day<3. And I'm so glad that I met so many awesome, really skilled people through this event too - it's been a lot of fun working alongside y'all:D, I wish I'd had more time to interact instead of posting stuff and vanishing lol, but exams be like:////

Prompt: cooking (does baking count as cooking? I realized too late lol-) from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Word Count: 2497

---

Trying to escape from killer dire-bats hadn't been on Cole's to do list today - although the mountains were kind of beautiful.

It was a bit difficult to see them while he was being dragged to his death, but hey, didn't Jay always tell them to be more positive?

That was, until he made the mistake of looking down.

Miles of snowcapped mountains touched the pastel blue sky, but he was more focused on exactly how high he was from the ground.

Great.

Trying to swing back onto the Bounty, he didn't notice a golden-winged blur shoot past the bat, almost dropping their spear in haste.

"Let my friend go, or I'll-"

"Vania?"

She throws the spear at the bird, successfully knocking one of its wings.

Huh. She must've been practicing - throwing with accuracy while flying seemed kinda difficult.

"I'm so sorry!" she replies, grabbing his arm before he fell down too. She winces at the strain on her wings, almost dropping him onto the deck. "I was supposed to come earlier, but there was an issue with one of the mines, and it took forever to-"

"There ain't anything in this world that's managed to kill me yet," he replies jokingly, checking that the autopilot hadn't been damaged. "I doubt an angry bird is going to be the first."

"Didn't you mention that you became a ghost once? Pretty sure that means you were dead-"

"Shh, that's not an important detail," he jokes.

"If you say so," she replies with a grin. "Did I mention that Chompy's been tearing down the palace flower arrangements again?"

"Send my regards to the gardener-"

"Did you just make a pun?"

"Remind me why I decided to visit you again?"

"Because you love me?" she asks stepping onto the ground as the Bounty landed gently.

"I hereby crown you as my platonic soulmate," Cole deadpans, taking her hand. "Vania and Cole-"

"Destined to annoy each other for eternity," she giggles, swinging their hands up and down. "But seriously - thanks. I don't think I realized how much work being a queen was."

"What's it like?"

"I mean - I'm glad that people trust me, and they come to me if they have a problem, but the paperwork is a nightmare. I never get to go outside anymore, I swear."

"Paperwork? Also, you just invited me here for a week. I don't wanna disturb you?"

"Nah, I cleared my schedule, don't worry. And trust me, you don't want to know. Everything requires some sort of official written thing, and it's so boring-"

"Official? But you're the queen?"

"Well, yeah, but I don't really want to change something unless it benefits the people. Not after..."

Her smile dims, eyes straying to the palace walls.

Oh- oh.

"You're nothing like him," Cole says firmly, squeezing her hand. "I mean, if you need to take a break, or you can make your job a bit easier by cutting out something unnecessary, that's just gonna help you become a better queen. You've definitely got the interests of your people at heart, and that's the most important thing, you know? And well, uh, everything seems to be going great so far - you don't have to beat yourself up over someone else's mistakes."

"Thanks," she replies softly, her smile slowly returning. "Speaking of breaks, what do you think we should do this time?"

"You could show me around the city again?"

"You've already seen everything cool," Vania giggles, skipping ahead of him. "We don't renovate much - unlike you guys-"

"Hey, it's not our fault that our city gets destroyed every few months-"

"More like every few days," she teases, tying back her golden hair. "How about we find some dragons to adopt?"

"Tempting, but where would you keep them?"

"They could sleep in my room-"

She breaks off when she notices him laughing. "What?"

"N- nothing," Cole replies, in between laughs. "Jay and I just made a bet."

"On what?"

"How many dragons you've adopted. I bet at least six, he bet fifteen."

"Well, jokes on both of you - I'm pretty sure my advisor's going to throw a fit if I show up with another one," she starts, giggling. "We've got twenty living in the palace right now."

"Twenty dragons?"

"They're so cute! You just look into their adorable little eyes," Vania pauses for breath, continuing her animated gesturing, "and you can't help but wanna hug them!"

"Oh, Jay's going to be so mad."

"Aww, I'm sorry guys. They're just too adorable!"

"...Wanna hear a funny story?"

"Yeah, sure!"

"I actually used to be terrified of dragons-"

"No way!" Vania exclaims. "Y'all have been on a lot of adventures though, so-"

"Nah, we used to have our own dragons at first. They were pretty cool! I just- I'm a simple guy! Huge animals with wings are scary up close when you're barely a teenager."

"Or when you're really short-"

"We're the same height!" Cole exclaims, facepalming in a bit of a fondly exasperated way.

"I'm two years younger than you-"

---

"Ugh, whose idea was this?"

"Yours," Vania grins, sitting down on the kitchen counter.

"You were supposed to help me, not leave me high and dry!" Cole accuses jokingly, staring at all the appliances they'd found in the cupboards.

"'One must always be prepared for new adventures,'" she quotes seamlessly, waving one of- what was his name again? Mulch something? Oh! Clutch! Some explorer he was, leaving them to die in the pyramid - Clutch Powers' books in the air.

"Fine," he sighs, staring at the old recipe book she'd found in one of their back cupboards. "But you've gotta help me? I almost burned down-" "Woah, what? If you finish that sentence with 'kitchen'-" "In my defense, Kai was playing a prank on me-" "In my defense, I wouldn't like to explain how the queen of Shintaro burnt down the palace by teaching one of her friends to cook," she grins, flipping through the pages. "What do you wanna start with?" "Something simple?" "Have you ever tried baking bread before? It's a lot of fun!" "I haven't really had the time, but that sounds kinda interesting."

He skims the recipe, raising his eyebrows. "Wait, why does this take hours? I thought you said it was simple?"

"Trust me, it is," she laughs, adding, "besides, I still wanna hear about all your adventures!" "Uh... okay," Cole replies hesitantly, "but if this fails, I'm so sorry." "Give yourself some credit, you guys literally saved the world! Multiple times!" "Bold of y'all to assume we know how we did it," he laughs, only half-kidding. "Besides. I botched soup once."

"I've botched toast," she mock-sighs, smiling. "Pretty sure that makes us even."

"Lemme get this straight. You've messed up toasting bread, but you can bake it from scratch?"

"Trust me, I don't know either," she giggles, trying to open a brightly coloured packet of... something? Did flour come in packets that small?

"Uh, why are you opening something called 'feast'?" he asks, eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Feast," she echoes, trying to stifle her laughter. "Off to a... rocky start, aren't we?"

It took him a second.

"I already regret this," he jokes, facepalming. "But I'd say that your puns are, uh, gold."

"I've un- unleashed-" breaking off, she half-falls off the counter, laughing so hard her face starts to go red, "a monster."

---

"Uh, is it supposed to look like that?" Cole asks, frowning.

The mixture looked less like the dough he'd been expecting - more like one of Jay's inventions gone wrong.

Badly wrong, he thought, eyes widening at the goopy mess of foam that threatened to spill over the jug.

"The yeast?" Vania echoes, poking her head out of one of the cupboards. "Yeah, all good! It always looks a little gross, and you're gonna doubt ever eating bread again, but at least it doesn't taste like it's fermented-"

"It's what?"

"Yeah," she grimaces, exaggerating her disgust a bit. "If aliens ever fell from the sky, they'd think we were crazy for eating bread-"

"Aliens? I think we're a bit crazy!" Cole exclaims, trying not to laugh.

Vania smiles, then sighs, lugging a huge bag of flour onto the counter. "I can never open these bags properly," she starts, eyeing the the bag a bit warily, "and it always makes such a huge mess all over the kitchen. You'd think they'd make it easier for people to use, right? I swear-"

He jokingly puts his hands over his ears. "I can't hear you!" "But you know that I've sworn off swearing-" she replies, breaking off with a laugh. "Pun not intended - that actually made sense in my head. I swear!"

"No," Cole interjects with a grin, shaking his head. "You don't, remember?"

"See, this is why we're friends-"

"Friends? Is that all I am to you?"

"Oh, be quiet," she shoots back, exaggeratedly dragging a hand down her face. "I mean, sure, just because everyone thinks that we're dating doesn't mean that we-"

Wait. What?

"People think that we're dating?" he asks, clamping a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to muffle his laughter. "I- I- really?"

"I know, right?"

"Even my friends thought so at first," he confesses, dragging a hand down his face. "I mean, as much as I love you-"

"I love you too," Vania replies, completely seriously. "Even if you'll always be more like an annoying-"

"Hey-"

"Sibling to me than anything else," she finishes, grabbing a pair of scissors. Cole watches, a little alarmed, as she stabs them into the flour bag over and over.

"Is it... supposed to be this difficult to just open the bag? Seems kinda stupid-"

"Well, er, they have this piece of paper with glue that you're supposed to pull away from the rest of the bag, but it never works properly and I-"

"Well, we could always make our own flour," Cole interjects, laughing. "I mean, I've got a scythe? Let's go!"

"Uh, but we don't have wheat growing here. I don't think it'd suit the climate very well?"

"Wheat a shame," Cole sighs jokingly, measuring out the flour (which had, finally, escaped the bag).

"Oh my gosh," Vania deadpans, "you did not just-"

"Yep, I did."

"You're horrible," she giggles, "then again, I was the one who started this whole debacle, so I think we'll share the blame."

"Debacle? Where'd you pick that one up from? Sounds kinda cool-"

"Oh, it's from a book someone wrote about you guys," Vania says casually, pouring a cup of water into the bowl.

"Hey, uh-" Cole starts hesitantly, twisting his fingers back and forth, then breaks off. "Why'd you read all that stuff about us, anyways? Adventure books don't really seem like something you read a lot, since we have similar favorite books. I mean..."

"Well, um..." Vania trails off, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh- I guess, well, it sounds kinda stupid, but I'd never really met anyone my age who wasn't a royal or something. I... er, I didn't want to be left out, you know?"

Cole thinks back to a scroll; a quest, a sacrifice. One that his friends never seemed to really notice, unless it was with horror or flinches. Not that he blamed them, but - joking about how he was much more useful to the team when he was freaking dead than he was before he'd stumbled and fell in the temple?

That had been a bit far, even for his best friend. Locks could always be picked or something, he didn't need to be a ghost to provide some sort of value-

Well, that's not completely true, is it? a small voice questions, and he can't keep his hands from shaking a little.

"Jay here thinks you're the least valuable ninja."

Not enough to be a performer. Now, not good enough to even be a ninja, apparently.

Well, he reminds himself firmly, you don't have to be the best - just stand up to those who are cruel and unjust.

Nothing but a scar that glowed warm orange occasionally left of the whole Cursed Realm ordeal, sometimes it was all too easy to forget - or pretend - that it had never even happened in the first place.

Other times, like when he'd dropped a glass of water on the floor and his hands hadn't stopped shaking for hours, or when he woke up screaming, expecting to fall through his bed again, it still felt like he was trapped as a ghost. Literally - and maybe a little figuratively as well.

Yeah. Yeah, I know.

"Thanks for trusting me with that," he replies softly. "And I'm sorry. That sounds... horrible, but, honestly, you're a pretty cool person, and I ain't just saying that because we're friends. People can be awful, and they can- they can leave, but you don't need to pretend to be someone you're not for people to accept you. I kinda know what it's like, and it's... just, uh, not great."

"No, thank you," Vania says, rubbing her eyes. "You're pretty cool, too. And I'm glad that we become friends, even if wasn't in the- the, er, greatest circumstances."

"Right back at ya. The fall was pretty terrifying, though," Cole says casually, as if memories of that nightmarish plunge into the depths of earth don't still send shivers down his spine.

"No, definitely! I was so sure we were gonna splat onto the ground or something, thank gosh we didn't."

"Yeah..." Cole trails off, reading the recipe they'd been following. "Oh- do we just leave the bowl somewhere for a few hours now?"

"Oh, yeah," Vania answers. "Other than clean up the kitchen, what else do you wanna do?"

"That's kind of you, but, ah, I don't mind. You can choose something."

"I don't mind either," she replies, covering the bowl with a dishcloth. "Seriously, I don't."

"Same here though."

"Really, I don't mind-" Vania breaks off with a laugh, adding, "Well, actually, there is something."

She doesn't elaborate, thoughtfully gazing out the window.

"Well, what is it? Don't keep me in the dark."

"Ugh, it's kinda stupid-"

"I'm sure that it's not- well, unless you want to try to jump off a flying ship with a homemade parachute to prove a bet to someone-"

"Do I even wanna know?"

"...uh, probably not. We're way too crazy sometimes, our Master has a hard time keeping us in check. Your thing, though?"

"Can I give you a hug?"

Cole blinks for a second, expecting some sort of punchline.

"That's your thing?"

"Well, yeah- I mean, I said it was kinda stupid-"

"No no, that's not what I meant. You're so sweet - that's all."

"Well, not more than you-"

"Nah, you're sweeter-"

"Let's just call it a tie," Vania says with a smile, reaching over to give her friend a hug. "Thank you so much, I swear- well, no, I don't, but you know, anyways-"

"Yeah," Cole replies, laughing softly. "I know."

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the-beskar-alchemist · 3 years

Text

Alright....*cracks knuckles*.....I have things to SAY

- Okay Din having the baby help him fix a part of the ship he can't reach? That's fitting honestly. He's tiny, he can crawl into the area Din needs to reach, but can't because they're still in space and he can't very well access the particular spot from outside (I'm assuming it's one of those areas only accessible via a hatch from the roof or something). - Also......OMG THE BABY HELPING DIN AND DIN BEING SO PATIENT HE'S SUCH A DAD - I have to wonder about the baby's pain threshold, he seemed only mildly inconvenienced from getting electrocuted (and for some reason I kept thinking about Tito from Oliver and Company fucking around with the wiring in the limo and getting shocked) - CHIN ACTION CHIN ACTION CHIN ACTION......(I truly do NOT understand the fuss over it being Pedro VS Brenden Wayne in the suit, does it really matter???? You're only seeing his chin, not his whole face, calm down) - Din honey broth/soup can only take you so far, TRUST ME, you can't make meals off of flavored liquid, you'll just be hungry again an hour later. It's NO WONDER that kid kept inhaling the eggs lol......BUT....at the same time it's only logical that Din's resources are stuff that's easily frozen/stored and can just be heated without any prep work. The stuff the baby seems to crave tends to be things that would require a way to preserve/store large amounts of food and the Crest isn't built for that sort of thing (I'm thinking about making a slight analysis post about the ship at some point) - The fact that the old covert hideout is empty (save for black-market dealers) tells me that the Armorer is long gone and it's unlikely that anyone would know where she went (I noticed people bringing this up, that neither Cara/Greef checked on her), let's be real: They probably thought it wasn't their place to go poking around a Mandalorian covert just because they're friends with one of them, ESPECIALLY if the mutual friend isn't even around to vouch for their presence - Even though G*na has ruined any chance of me enjoying her as a person, I still appreciate her character as a separate thing. She continues to be badass, and I loved the fighting techniques she implemented in the sewers. - Yeah that crest is sputtering like an old beat-up pickup truck, just barely running - I really love that Karga spoke in such an affectionate manner to the baby. I know that Din tries to talk to him, but the way he does it is reminiscent of two adults talking. Karga actually talks to the baby like he's a child, no baby-talk but definitely with a higher pitch in his voice (the equivalent of the customer-service voice when you think about it) - SOMETHING FISHY ABOUT BEADY-EYED ALIEN DUDE. NO ME GUSTA - ONE OF THE SCHOOL CHILDREN REALLY DOES LOOK LIKE LITTLE REY - I felt like Din was experiencing separation-anxiety about leaving the baby, but I also feel like part of his hesitancy was an immediate reaction to the children whispering and laughing at the baby. I'm sure they weren't trying to appear cruel or anything, but it makes me wonder if he was having a minor flashback of having an experience like that and how it affected him - YODITO YOU PRECIOUS LITTLE SHIT YOU CAN'T JUST TAKE SOMEONE ELSES FOOD - I truly don't think that Karga/Cara see Din as anything less than a good friend, but I really wish they wouldn't treat him like his presence is only valid so long as he's helpful (LET THE MAN TAKE A BREAK) - WHY DOES THE IMPERIAL BASE LOOK LIKE THE PORT FOR A CABLE ON A CPU?? - I really don't like G*na's approach to acting where she thinks she has to sound as tough as possible in order to make her character more appealing/stronger - There are two separate comparison discussions you can take from the infiltration scenes: 1) It's a contrast to S1E6 where Din infiltrates a prison ship with the mercenaries and he's forced to follow their lead, OR 2) Din was awkwardly following the other Mandalorian's in the last episode, but with Karga/Cara he's confidant and even takes the lead - Imperial architecture be like: OSHA???? NEVER HEARD OF HER - I think it's important to note that, while Din is ready and willing to hunt down the Mythrol again if necessary without remorse, he still thought of him enough to keep him from falling down the lava shaft - Din's "I don't like this" had me in my feels a bit, usually he's so nonchalant in trying to act like nothing bothers him but he felt comfortable enough to express his unease in front of his friends - Okay the fact that they're vaguely referencing midi-chlorians, and it looks like this lab is a branch in Palpatine's cloning scheme, makes it seem like they're starting to tie into the movie franchise, but not outright.....it's a "just the tip" situation it seems. I'd honestly prefer they didn't delve to far into the movie canon, I feel the show will lose it's heart if they do. - Pershing mentioned "the volunteer", which has me curious about the kind of person that would allow themselves to be tested for what Gideon has planned. It's possible we're getting another major/unique character in the works. Pershing could've just referenced test subjects in general, but he mentioned a specific one, so that has me wondering what other players are on the board. - That whole chase scene was nerve-wracking - DIN TO THE RESCUE DIN TO THE RESCUE - OMG THE BABY WAVING HIS ARMS LIKE HE'S ON A ROLLERCOASTER - DIN BABY YOU MAKE FLYING THE CREST LOOK SO SEXY - Din was all "Look what I did! Did you see that???" wanting to show off to the baby.....and then baby went BLEEEEEEGH.......AND THEN DIN WIPED IT WITH HIS CAPE???? He's such a DAD - The scene with Cara and officer talking about her losses was kind of emotional. G*na's acting is so wooden, it was honestly a combination of the music and the other actor's performance that seemed to get me, but more importantly its the fact that Cara is such a 3-dimensional character, that has so much potential, but she's being made superficial because of the portrayal - Also......she says she's not a "joiner", but she's eyeing that badge very closely, like she's contemplating a career switch. Perhaps there's a chance we may get revenge-driven Cara joining the New Republic in the future? - I'm glad they didn't actually show where the device is planted, it really adds to the suspense, I prefer a little mystery over having too much explained - Moff Gideon standing amongst the dark troopers like Saruman in the basement of Isengard where they bred the Uruk-hai army in LotR, this guy is pulling out all the stops to be ready to take on a singular Mandalorian and his friends. Does he think that Din will get Mandalorian reinforcements and therefore he needs the numbers? Are they stormtroopers or some form of droids, like the battle droids in S1? They're build kind of "human", and the attendees were using blasts of cold air like what would be used in a cryo-chamber, but what if they're not human? What if they are humanoids? Cyborgs? - It's interesting to think about what types of vessels/hosts Gideon would rely on for midi-chlorian testing. Obviously not just anyone can handle the transfusion, so would he require modifications to some extent to make the host more susceptible? Until next time!!!

#din djarin #mando #mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian series #tms #the mandalorian series 2 #mandalorian s2 #baby yoda #yodito #chapter 12 #s2e4

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missturtleduck · 3 years

Text

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt. 13

Part Twelve│Part Fourteen

“We’re both warriors in our own right, and too good to be surrounded by stupid boys all the time.“

Crossing back over the Serpent’s Pass was easy. The heavy weight on her chest that pummelled her out of nowhere was infinitely hard.

Across the deep-water chasm, Y/N carried Suki, ignoring the strain on her calves and arms. Without the serpent or the extra people holding them back, the girls made their way over the Pass before night fell. The biting cold was not a problem either as Y/N kept a flame lit in her hand as the sun began to lower in the grey sky, enveloped by a cluster of clouds.

“I sent a message ahead of us,” Suki told her idly, adjusting her headband as they walked.

“Oh?”

The Warrior nodded. “The other Kyoshi Warriors will meet us back past the docks and into the wooded area westward.”

Nodding, Y/N focused on the ground beneath her feet. It was unchanging, dusty and sharp, as they began to exit the steepest climbs of the Pass, watching it plateau with little interest. If she could analyse the rocky path they were on, it would distract from the rocky terrain she and Sokka had metaphorically stumbled onto.

“Why did you invite me to come along with you, Suki?” Y/N said, her voice too loud in her ears after hours of endless silence.

Suki smiled at her. “Call it a hunch, but I think we’re like-minded people.”

“Because we’ve both had crushes on Sokka?”

“What?” She snorted, a massive grin now on her face. “No! What I had was a fleeting moment of ‘oh he’s cute’ and that was the end of that.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, flushing with embarrassment. “Well now I feel like an idiot.”

With a gentle nudge, Suki shook her head. “Don’t. We’re both warriors in our own right, and too good to be surrounded by stupid boys all the time.”

The joke summoned a low chuckle in Y/N’s throat, suddenly washing away the bashful feeling settling in her gut. Suki was easy to talk to, it seemed, but that ease with soon disappear. At the end of the journey, the she saw the other Kyoshi Warriors. They were in full garb, waiting.

She felt more out of place than ever. Frowning, Y/N smothered the fire with her shame. A furious grey stretched over the atmosphere, the colour of smoke. Inhaling a deep, controlled breath, she tried in desperation to replace the pressure in her chest with warmth, and for a moment she succeeded. The blossoming fire lily of energy spread, easing the tension in her muscles, her intense scowl softening.

“Warriors.” Suki announced their presence with all the nobility of a Fire Nation general. “This is Y/N. She will be travelling with us for a while.”

A murmur rippled through the group as easy and detrimental as an ocean tide. Y/N had no real experience with other girls her age. Sure, when she had been to visit her father in the Fire Nation Palace, Azula had been welcoming, so to speak. By welcoming, she meant more that the princess seemed to want to add her to a collection. She seemed to keep friends like butterflies, pinned to a board by their wings. This would also be ignoring the age gap between them; the same could even be said for Toph and Katara.

This was going to be strange.

“Yes, she is a firebender, but I would trust her if I had to put my life in her hands,” Suki said, voice turning sterner, more sincere, overcoming the collective whisper of doubt. “You didn’t see her risk her life for the sake of others. Y/N is fierce, and she will fit in with us for as long as she needs.”

With that, Suki had finished. Quelling the uncertainty with swift decisiveness, Y/N couldn’t help but admire the leadership she was displaying.

Tents set up and food gathered, all that was left to do was set up a campfire. Rather than letting one of the Warriors ache over sparking flame with rock, the firebender ignited her forefinger, pointing it at the pile of dry wood collected and arranged with the neat discipline of a trained fighter. Y/N ignored the yelps of the girls around her as the fire hit the wood with fierce accuracy. Under the intense heat, the wood began to crack, splintering and cracking as loud as thunder. As it settled, no longer spitting like a vicious pygmy puma, the girls wasted no time lifting a cooking pot over the campfire.

“No meat in the soup tonight.” A gruff voice said, startling Y/N. “Is that okay with you, firebender?”

She looked at the owner of such a low voice; a tall, leggy girl was stirring different nuts into a broth, stoking the flames every now and then to keep it boiling. Other than a single braid that was slung over her shoulder, her head was completely shaved.

“I don’t mind,” Y/N smiled, swallowing her nerves. “When you travel with a monk, you get used to a vegetarian lifestyle.”

The Warrior looked at her with some curiosity as she continued crushing the shells off of the main ingredients for their meal. “Huh. The Avatar, I’m guessing. What’s he like?”

“Sweet,” Was the first word that blurted out of her mouth. “Young. Fiercely devoted.”

“Glad to know our saviour is sweet.”

“Hey, I also said devoted!”

The two girls stared at each other before bursting out with laughter. They sat there for a few silent moments. Y/N tamed the flames down to a simmering heat as her acquaintance stirred in some green herbs. It smelled divine, summoning images of pine, hiking in the rain, and home. Home was the strongest memory dredged up by the broth.

“I heard,” The girl said, a teasing smile playing on her pretty lips, “That you’re really here because you got into an argument with a boy.”

Perhaps if any of the other girls there had teased like that, Y/N would’ve lost her temper, but this one seemed kind. “You could say that we had a conflict of interests.”

“Those interests being fire and water?” She continued to joke, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “I’m glad to know I’ll never have these problems with boys.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like boys,” The girl shrugged with an easy grin. “Girls, however...”

“Wait, that’s an option?”

Now looking as confused as each other, they were interrupted by another Kyoshi Warrior. This girl had her face bare of paint, her entire body beaming with pure light. Wrapping her arms around the girl at the pot, she planted a kiss on her cheek before looking up to see Y/N, who sat shocked.

“Li, are you already bullying this poor girl?” The cheery one frowned – as much as she could looking like sunshine personified.

“Of course not, Yu,” Li said, clasping her free hand over Yu’s. “I’m just enlightening her to the many possibilities that being in the Kyoshi Warriors has granted me.”

This was a revelation to Y/N. It was her great grandfather who had spearheaded the criminalisation of ‘abnormal’ relationships, so she had never witnessed such explicit affection between two girls. It made sense though, why she never recognised her admiration of fellow women as anything more than friendship after a certain age. In fact, watching Li and Yu be so tender together reminded Y/N of an array of people she had considered close friends, those she would stare at a few seconds too long.

There had been a guard in Ozai’s palace with whom Y/N often walked the gardens when she would visit many years ago. Yes, she had been very young, but she remembered this woman with such intensity; she had these glittering gold eyes, as if someone had caught the sun in manacles and poured its blessing into her. She remembered, Princess Y/N, besotted with this woman and announcing to her that one day she would marry her. She startled at how panicked she had turned, and became sad when she never saw her again.

Even after her, there had been others she had admired; Jin who lived near her mother, Suki to some extent, and she was now realising how she had completely melted in front of Li.

But then there was Jìngyi and Sokka. Where did they fit?

“Sweetness,” Yu whispered to Li, “I think you broke the poor thing.”

“Hey, firebender,” Li said, brushing her companion off, “First bowl of soup fresh just for you.”

Numb, she took the bowl with a nod. “You can call me Y/N.”

That scent was back again as the pleasant nutty broth exuded heat. Swirling up in tendrils of steam, Y/N caught those glimpses of home again, but they were even stronger now – perhaps more melancholy and informed. But who was it she was seeing? Where was home?

Sipping a spoonful, her entire body warmed up in a way that could only be comforting. It was like the embrace of a fireplace after being caught in the rain. Spirits, it was good. It was definitely better than anything her and Katara had managed to cook up from the wilds. Watching her new acquaintances, Y/N realised their bond was forged in something other than affection; it seemed that Li was the cook and Yu the forager. Love, it seemed, could flourish somewhere that no one would ever expect it.

“This is lovely, thank you,” Y/N said with the utmost sincerity, bowing her head lowly.

Usually, she was all about etiquette, but the flavour and the sad pit in her stomach made her desperate to wolf the meal down. So many words to describe one bowl - splendid, delicious, homely – but Y/N could find none to describe how she was feeling.

“Tomorrow,” Li cut in past Y/N’s thoughts, “Yu and I, that being my Yu, will help you get ready for the journey ahead.”

Y/N allowed a small giggle to pass her lips at Li’s bad joke. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re travelling with the Kyoshi Warriors, you have to look like one!” Yu laughed, tapping her foot against Y/N’s knee as she took a seat opposite her.

“What, with the–” YN gestured to her face, mimicking the swipe of a brush over her eyes and lips.

“Yes!” Yu said, excited, “And with you uniform as well.”

“Is that okay?”

All three of the girls looked up behind Y/N’s shoulder to see a now bare faced Suki. Her red hair was tied back haphazardly in a pony tail, wisps of hair falling either side of her face. Out of any uniform whatsoever and in some comfy looking sleep clothes, she looked more relaxed.

Suki wasn’t looking at the other girls though. Suki was looking at Y/N.

“Oh!” Y/N flushed, sheepish. “Yeah, that would be great! Thank you for allowing me to travel with you.”

“Not at all,” She brushed off, taking a seat next to her on the ground, sandwiching her between her and Li. “Soup is going down a treat, girls. I’m sure we’ll all be sleeping warm in our sleeping bags tonight.”

A sleeping bag.

Oh no.

“Where am I sleeping, Suki?” Y/N asked, placing an empty bowl down on the ground – though it was refilled pretty quickly. “I mean, I don’t have problems with staying warm usually, so it’s fine if I don’t have a sleeping bag, but– “

“Y/N,” Suki interrupted, “You can have my sleeping mat and just lie between two of us just in case the winds pick up.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Crisis averted, Y/N thought as she dug through another bowl of soup. But what kind of crisis, she had to wonder. Crisis or not, she had no trouble getting to sleep under an ocean of stars, laid between Suki and Li. She felt comfortable – content, even – which was new. Perhaps she wouldn’t have too much trouble travelling with the Kyoshi Warriors after all.

And she’d hardly thought about Sokka all evening.

TAGLIST: @lunariasilver @maragreene @bestyearsof5sos @korra-rail-me @moistpotatobear @sporadicalalmondcookie @jaayypasta @animeboysimppp

#atla #sokka x reader #suki #kyoshi warriors #sokka #aang #katara #toph #angst #bi!reader #f!reader #the girls of ba sing se #missturtleduck

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 21 - Panic (Thanks @spideyhoarder for the prompt!)

“I’ll be okay,” he croaks out hoarsely with weak smile. May gives him a look like she doesn’t believe him and Peter tries to make his expression even more earnest. He, actually, really doesn’t want her to go but he knows that they can’t afford her to miss this shift since she’s already used all her PTO on his Spider-Man related hospital stays. Things have been a little tight lately and, even though May is careful not to talk to Peter about money much, he knows that one shift could make or break them.

Words: 2301, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting, Fainting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay baby,” May asked him for the fifth time, combing his wet bangs back from his forehead and surreptitiously checking his fever with the cool palm of her hand. Peter fights against the inclination to push his head further into her hand.

“Alright,” May says dubiously, looking torn and guilty about leaving him. “If you start feeling any worse I want you to have the desk page me okay? Promise me Peter.”

“I will,” Peter promised, crossing his fingers under his sheets. There was no way that he would pull her from work. Literally none.

“Okay,” May says still looking guilty and Peter hates it. Hates that its just the two of them now, hates that May overworks herself, hates that he makes her worry about him. She leans forward to pull him into a soft hug and Peter returns it, mindful of his strength and a little misty eyed – fevers always make him emotional. “I love you. Get some sleep; I left plenty of water and Gatorade on your nightstand and there’s soup in the crock pot for lunch. Eat some of it okay?”

“I will May,” Peter agrees, releasing her and pulling back even though he doesn’t want to. Even though all he wants is to cuddle up next to her on the couch and watch cartoons like he did when he was eight and sick and miserable. “You need to go or you’ll be late,” Peter says with a smile and May runs her hands through his hair one more time before standing from the bed.

“Love you,” she repeats as she leaves the room. He hears her grab her bag and then the sound of the door closing, her footsteps fading into the distance and Peter relaxes back against his bed with a sigh and glances at the alarm clock next to him.

Thirteen hours. He can make it thirteen hours.

———————————————

Peter can’t make it thirteen hours.

He gags again, leaning over the toilet to dry heave and feels tears of effort and frustration leak down his cheeks. God he feels so awful.

The fit subsides and Peter collapses back to lean against the tub. The cramped single bathroom in their Queens apartment smells like stale bile and Peter grimaces as it turns his stomach, grabbing his water bottle to rinse out his mouth. It’s only just after ten and Peter has no idea how he’s going to make it until nine in the evening, he can tell his fever is rising and he’s feeling so much worse. The Advil that he had taken that morning is doing absolutely nothing for him and Peter just wants to cry.

He should call May. He can’t call May.

He can call Mr. Stark.

“No,” Peter says, shaking his head vigorously to clear it and making his headache throb worse, the room spinning and leaving him dizzy. There’s no way he can ask Tony Stark, Iron Man, his hero since he was a kid to rub his back while he vomits and get him soup. It’s way too embarrassing.

“This is fine,” Peter says, pinching his eyes shut and swallowing convulsively against the rising nausea. “I’m fine,” he gags, leaning over again to dry heave.

Eleven more hours. He can do that.

———————————————

The subway is bright and loud and full of people. Peter sways with the movement and tries to remember how he got here.

He’s freezing, the thin hoodie jacket, sweats and beat up tennis shoes doing nothing to block out the October chill that’s seeping through the underground. He feels sweat beading the back of his neck and face, chilling him more and making him shiver weakly. The smartly dressed business woman sitting across from him is eyeing him with distaste and Peter hunches in on himself.

How did he get here? Where is he going?

May?

No. Not May. May’s working.

Then where…?

He lets his eyes slip closed. The swirling of his vision and the movement of the subway car are making him want to vomit again and he can’t do that. There’s nothing more pathetic than vomiting on the train.

Also it’ll probably get him kicked off. So.

He drifts.

Stark Tower looms over him and Peter sways, dizzy and confused. Why is he here? What is he doing?

The crowds of people walking on the sidewalk – on their way to lunch or meetings or whatever it is that business people do – swerve around him with irritation and Peter stumbles when one smacks him with their elbow.

Is it a lab day? What day is it? He’s so tired, he wants to sleep.

He has a bed in Mr. Stark’s penthouse Peter remembers. Mr. Stark got him a whole room once Peter started hanging around more often, surely the man won’t mind if he uses it for a quick nap?

The fluorescent lights of the elevator burn his retinas and Peter squints. When did he get here?

“Hello Peter,” FRIDAY’s disembodied voice echos through the elevator car. “You seem to have a temperature, do you want me to let Boss know you’re here?”

Does he want Mr. Stark to know he’s here? Yeah he does. He wants someone to take care of him – he’s so tired and he feels awful and he can’t do this alone what was he thinking?

“No,” his voice is quiet and broken from all the vomiting and from not drinking and it hurts to talk holy shit. He clears his throat once and winces, gripping tightly onto the rail that runs around the car and grimacing when he feels it warp. He didn’t mean to do that. He’ll fix it.

FRIDAY’s silence is telling and judge mental and Peter has things he wants to say about that, many things actually, but he doesn’t. He kinda feels like vomiting again so he needs to keep his mouth closed.

The elevator stops on the penthouse floor and Peter stumbles out, listing into the wall and panting as he exits. He’s got this – his room is just down the hall. He can make it.

The floor tilts threateningly in front of his eyes and he keeps both hands on the wall as he walks down the hallway. He’s so close. He can’t give up now. The door to his room is closed and it takes some doing but he gets the door open; the room is dark, the windows opaque and blotting out the weak morning sunlight. His bed is still in disarray from the last time he stayed over and it looks so inviting.

Peter lets go of the wall to walk in the room.

His vision tilts again and starts to grey and tunnel and he stops dead where he’s standing to sway in place.

Oh he’s definitely going to pass out.

“FRI…”

It’s all he gets out before the floor rushes up to meet him.

—————————————

“Penthouse FRI,” Tony says brusquely as he boards his private elevator, loosening his tie and popping the top button of his white dress shirt as he goes. There’s nothing he hates more than pointless budgeting meetings except for long pointless budgeting meetings that ruin his whole day.

The car starts to move and Tony goes to lean against the railing; the metal in his left hand is the smooth, burnished steel he is used to but the left side… He glances down and see the railing is warped and bent, clearly in the shape of a hand and he frowns.

“What happened here?” He asks himself, running his index finger over the blemish curiously. Oh well. He can easily ix it and he can look through the video footage later to see how it happened but his money is on the kid. The only problem with this theory is that if Peter did this he would have been falling all over himself to apologize and he’d be trying to fix it himself.

Strange.

The elevator opens to the penthouse and Tony steps out, pulling of his tie fully and allowing it to drape around his shoulders loosely. Something feels off and he can’t quite put his finger on what; whatever it is warrants further investigation but he wants to change first – his workshop jeans are calling his name.

The hallway is darkened as he makes his way to the room he shares with Pepper except for a square of light from Peter’s doorway. Tony frowns – he’s sure the door was closed this morning?

Quickening his pace, he approaches the door and peers in the room.

Peter’s laid out limp on the floor just inside the doorway, limbs sprawled out and face pale except his cheeks which are bright red with fever and his nose which is purpling and bloody from where he clearly hit it passing out.

“Shit!” Tony says, dropping to the floor next to the kid and rolling him onto his side in the recovery position. He’s positively burning, sweating through his clothes and matting his hair to his skull. “FRI how long’s the kid been here?” He asks as he checks Peter’s pulse (rapid and thready) and breathing (congested).

“Two hours,” she responds. “He didn’t want me to alert you he was here.”

“Update that protocol dear,” he snaps at her, moving Peter’s bangs out of his face. “And call down to Bruce and Helen in the MedBay to let them know the situation. Can I move him?”

“He should be safe to move”,” FRIDAY tells him, “Dr.’s Banner and Cho are preparing for you now.”

“This is going to be so bad for my back,” Tony grouses to the unconscious kid as he rolls Peter fully onto his back and slips one arm under his back and the other under his knees. He takes a deep breath and lifts, stumbling a little – the wiry and corded muscles Peter developed from the bite are heavy.

The elevator ride to the MedBay thankfully is quick and, soon, Tony is dropping Peter gently onto one of the beds and stepping back as Bruce and Helen converge on him, setting up monitors and sticking a thermometer under his tongue.

Bruce hisses at the thermometer readout when he pulls it from Peter’s slack jaw. “One hundred and four point one,” he declares, stripping Peter’s hoodie off and leaving the kid in just his sweats and a loose t-shirt. “We need to get him cooled down before he boils his brain.”

“How did he even get here?” Helen asks, confused, as she sets up an IV catheter and a bag of plasmalyte.

“Kid’s stubborn,.” Tony says sardonically as he scrolls through his phone for May Parker’s contact info – he’s willing to bet a few billion that she has no idea that he kid decided to go on a unapproved field trip today. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Probably the flu,” Helen says as she places the catheter and starts running the fluids. “It’s been going around and the strain is particularly awful this year.”

“Great,” Tony says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I’ve got to call his aunt.”

Tony just hopes that the tentative rapport he’s built up with May over the past few months will prevent her from gutting him when she finds out her kid was under his roof for two hours without him noticing.

—————————————————

When Peter wakes up he feels loads better. The ache in his head is subsiding and everything feels more clear, sharper somehow. He takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh, the nausea’s gone.

“You awake kiddo?”A voice asks next to him and Peter’s eyes shoot open in panic and, oh shit, Mr. Stark is sitting on one of the uncomfortable MedBay chairs beside his bed with a tablet in his lap and his glasses low on his nose.

“Oh shit,” he says again, out loud this time and his mentor chuckles at him, setting the tablet aside.

“Yeah you’re not wrong,” he agrees with a grin. “Once you’re better you, May and I are having a discussion about self-care.” Peter groans and closes his eyes, throwing an arm across his eyes dramatically and hears Tony snort.

“Sorry,” Peter apologizes, coughing a little as talking irritates his throat and he swallows, trying to wet his throat. Mr. Stark passes him a cup of water and Peter takes it gratefully and sips it slowly, the coolness like ambrosia. “Uh… how did I get here?”

“You took the subway apparently,” Tony says with an eye roll. “Although I have no idea how you got here in one piece – your fever was over a hundred and four. Bruce and Helen say you ‘re lucky you have a healing factor or it could have been much worse. You have the flu by the way.”

“Great,” Peter mutters, picking at the tape covering the IV in his arm and letting out a yawn. He’s so tired.

“Go back to sleep,” Tony tells him, leaning forward to run his fingers through Peter’s hair and lower the bed some so that he’s more reclined. “May won’t be here for a few more hours.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes, letting his eyes close. He falls asleep to the even breathing of his mentor sitting vigil next to him.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump21 #Prompt: Panic #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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yangrr · 4 years

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dear no one [q.kun]

⇾ pairing : qian kun x reader

⇾ summary : love is worth the wait,especially when it’s your favourite food store aunty’s grandson

⇾ wc : 2k

⇾ genre/warnings : implied soulmate! au,inspired by Tori Kelly’s Dear No One | mild swearing

+if i may add,i want to dedicate this to @nctream who has always been the writer whom i admired for the longest time.thank you for being the sweetest person i came across this hellsite,though i never actually communicate with you but you’re so incredible and i hope you know that.much love!

All your life,you’ve wanted nothing more than to meet the one,the soulmate who was allegedly entwined with your soul before your time on Earth even began ticking.Everyone has someone,it was just a matter of time before you meet them.But that was also exactly why you were impatient,counting down daily on the crossed-out boxes of your yearly calendar,most of your friends had met theirs by now.Some married,some even with kids---or just happily dating.All but you.

It sucked really.

Going to work in the wretched company every day was like a punch to the guts when everyone around you was all about love.Mrs Kim on the marketing department always showed off her vacation photos--it was always jolly and exciting,grinning faces of her twin boys seemed to mock you for your lack of relationship.And there was also Mr Lee,a young intern who was at least 4 years younger than you but had already found his one and only.

And how about Mr Park,the old bumbling guy nearing his retirement age?His sweet plump wife never forgets to pack him lunch,constantly reminding him to wear his tweed coat in case he catches a cold in the draughty security room.

What about you?No one to come home to,no one packing your lunch or was there a partner for holidays.Twenty-three pushing twenty-four with no felicity in love.Lady Luck never smiled at you much,you could say.Maybe it’s your resting bitch face,it could probably scare off the fortune bearing deity and leave her quivering in her robes.

The day was cold as it is,heavy rain started its relentless onslaught on the wooden roof of the rickety store off the main road.You were craving hot soup after work and thought it would be a good idea to drive off course to visit the dear old lady who ran the shop on her own.She was an amiable creature,forever ready to offer a radiant smile that let her old beauty trickle through.The granny would probably be one of the few people you were genuinely nice to,which explains your big chunk of discount every time you stopped by.

But it wasn’t a good idea of course.Nothing you ever did was a good idea.

Your engine couldn’t start up after running in the rain for your car.Other than damaging the leather seats of your vehicle,your heels sunk deep into the slushy mud and broke right when you yanked upwards to get it out.Groaning in frustration,your fingers latched onto the tresses of your wet hair,the half-cracking nail getting caught between them.You forgot to cut them last night,and now it had turned its head back to bite you in the arse.

The you that made your way back into the shop shocked the small-framed lady,your disheveled appearance a huge contrast to the sleek you that had left the store a few minutes ago.You probably gave her little heart the dose of pump she never needed.

“Dear,what happened?”She exclaimed,scurrying over to you with two thick towels. “You’ll have to dry off,or you’ll be sick!”

She sat you down on the chair behind the counter,while you attempted to shield your ratty image from the prying eyes of her customers.It didn’t really work though,they still locked glances on you,curious and hushed gossip brewing among the group of malevolent looking ladies who look upon you with their beady eyes.

“Come,”She urged,ushering you towards the baby blue curtains that led into the kitchen,maybe.There was a “STAFF ONLY” hanging above the entrance,and the sound of pans clanging gave it away.

“Qian Kun!”Her frail voice shrieked in Mandarin, “Qian Kun,where are you,you lazy boy,”Tugging you by the arm,she led you further into the cooking area.The smell of cooking was making your full stomach rumble again,and you once again longed for the hot herbal soup with noodles. “Are you on your phone again?”

“I’m not lazy!”Was the reply.A fairly built man emerged out of nowhere,eyebrows furrowed in confusion when his eyes rested on your straggly form. “Who’s this?The new cashier?”He queried,wiping his wet hands on the rag by the table.

You couldn't answer,your usually sharp tongue felt prickly and numb.You only stared back absent-mindedly,but he looked about as enamoured by you like you had been by him.

You knew the old lady told him something,and with the way she was yelling at him,you figured he was too zoned out to concentrate.Both of you tore your gazes away from each other when his grandmother reached up to his broad shoulders to give him a good shake.

“You never listen to me.” She grumbled,huffing indignantly. “All I told you to do is to lend them something to wear,and drop them back.”

The granny gave Kun a small shove, “Naughty boy,and you were so cute back then.”She muttered,retying her apron hastily and hurrying away to wait on the unattended counter.

“I’m still cute now.”He mumbled,looking sheepish in front of you. “I-uh-I apologise,that was embarrassing.”

“No worries.”You let out a small giggle,waving his comment off. “Your grandmother is cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up in an amused smile,while he gestured for you to follow him. “I hope you can fit into my granny’s clothes,they are a little old-fashioned but I think you can make it work.”

The door behind the pantry led up to a stairway of wooden steps,and then into a fairly warm lounge.There was a small couch,and a bed accompanied with a shelf of books and board games.You supposed that this could be their resting place of some sort when they closed temporarily for the day,lunch break, or whenever someone feels a little out of it.

“This place looks really comfortable.”You remarked,shifting your black button-up from sticking onto your skin.It clung on like leeches,making this whole ordeal more unpleasant than it already is.The nail was giving you excruciating pain,the shard of the broken end digging vehemently into your fingertips.

“It is,my granny made sure it’s the best condition so all the employees would feel comfy here.” Kun rummaged in the closet to the left of the bed,fishing out a pair of loose black pants and a plain white tee. “Here,she didn’t leave any shirts here,but I hope you’re okay with mine.”

You nodded thankfully,reaching out to take them from him.The shirt smelled nice,your nose picking up on the lavender-scented detergent wafting from the material.

“Then I’ll drive you home?” The warm tone of his voice felt homely, sending hot waves across your body,making you feel like a lightheaded teenager talking to their crush for the first time,tongue heavy with nerves.But yet at the same time,the attraction that bloomed in your chest felt more matured and controlled than the seventeen-year-old you,age muffling the lovesick squeals that you would’ve let out when you’re alone in your room.

You had felt something when you first landed eyes on him,a familiar feeling stemming that made it impossible to wound your mind around.Maybe it was your affection deprived self that was being delusional,and it would pass like one of your many fleeting crushes.

But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander,thinking about what if he was the one you’ve been waiting for?

If there was a chance to hit the pause button,you would, in half a heartbeat.The quiet fragments of conversation shared brought you a sense of ease that you’ve never felt in a long time,with white noises and soft tunes of guitar strumming playing from the car radio was almost ethereal.The drizzle of the rain incorporated flavour to the moment like the topping to your favourite dessert,it was the perfect addition that completed the time shared.

“I’ll drop by tomorrow to return the clothes.”You said,unbuckling the seatbelt as he stopped in the lobby of your apartment complex.

“Alright,I guess I’ll see you tomorrow again?”Kun smiled,the kind that made your organs go mushy and all gooey,like someone stuck a ladle in you and began to stir aggressively.

“For sure!Thank you for the lift.” You limped out of the car slowly,careful to not cause more impairment to your shoes.You didn’t fancy going up the elevator looking like someone ran you over with a truck,but there wasn’t much of an option.

All you could think of that night were Qian Kun and his calloused fingers,deep timbre voice and gentle smiles.Maybe you were going crazy,but again,there wasn’t much of an option either.

“You seem very happy today.” Mrs Kim from the marketing team mentioned,the cheerful grin almost blinding you.You couldn’t help but spot the striking resemblance of the smile to her sons.Now,it suddenly appeared more kind and less scornful than you thought,and you felt a little bad for always being grouchy towards her.You realised it was nothing but your loneliness coming into play,and you would even admit that you were envious of her happy family life. “Had a great day yesterday?”

“Not really,no,”You told her. “But I guess it wasn’t all that bad.”

So the tales of yesterday’s misfortunes came pouring out of you,from the dreaded engine to the antagonising broken nail,Mrs Kim was more than shocked to see the unconscious tug of your lips upwards.

“And you’re still smiling after all that?”She laughed. “I’m gonna say that you met someone.”

Your eyes widened a bit,trying to cough it off. “I didn’t!It was just the store owner’s grandson.”

“So there is someone?”Mrs Kim waggled her eyebrows at you. “You cannot hide from me,child.That’s the face of an infatuated person.”

The bell jingled when you pushed open the glass door.Stepping in,you opened your mouth to greet the granny like usual,but was met with an unknown face gaping at you.It was a boy,around a few years younger,round marble eyes curious yet welcoming.His booming tone greeted you,far too much enthusiasm for your liking.

“Hello,welcome!What would you like today,miss?We have chicken noodle soup for today’s special and--,”

“Lucas,please stop talking so loudly.”Kun’s voice reverberated from behind the thin curtains. “You’re gonna scare all the customers on your first day.”

“I’m here to see Kun.”You spoke to the giant of a human,glancing swiftly at the kitchen entrance,slightly intimidated by his tall stature.He gave you a quick once-over,looking a bit confused.

“Are you his girlfriend?”He questioned,shooting you a broad smirk. “Kun ge is so lucky,I’m--”

“Lucas,what’s taking so long?”Kun appeared again like the first time you met him,drying his damp hands on a small rag. “Oh!”

“Oh,indeed.”Lucas said,mischief written all over his face. “Is this your girlfriend,gege?Should I let granny know about this?”

Kun scowled at him,murmuring something along the lines of ‘if you don’t shut up,I’ll make sure you don’t have a job by the end of today.’

“Hey.”

You passed him the neatly packed parcel, “I’ve washed everything.Thank you again for being so kind to me.”

“I say this calls for a celebration.” Lucas interrupted,peeking from behind the cash register. “Kun,remember that sushi place you wanted to try out?The one near the local university.”

Kun hummed, “What celebration?”

“That someone is finally into you for the first time in twenty-four years?You should appreciate this effort made by this very beautiful individual.”

“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?”Kun hissed,the frown intensifying.

“Well,if you need someone to go with,I know a person who would very much like to.”You interjected,growing more bashful by the second.

“Great!Now you two settle between yourselves.I’ve got work to do!”Lucas said brightly,darting away.

Kun smiled,tucking his phone away in his pocket,glittering irises not leaving yours.

“I’ll call you.” He promised,and somewhere in you just knew he would.

And as you made your way out of the store,the keen sense in your being told you that something very special was about to begin.

Good things truly do come to those who wait,after all.

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beckzorz · 4 years

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The Perfect Date

Prompt: [image: Sebastian Stan, captioned with “She was just so stunning.”] + “A Bucky POV prompt: Bucky telling everyone at the compound about the most perfect date he’s ever had (with you, of course).” Pairing: Bucky Barnes/f!Reader. | 1.2k A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! Thank you so much @sallycanwait68 for such an adorable prompt! Sad news: I definitely did NOT write this in Bucky’s POV XD Hope you like it anyway!!! Thanks also to @kentuckybarnes who always inspires xoxo And a huge thanks to @the-ss-horniest-book-club for hosting this Week of Love! Love to all!

“That does sound pretty sweet,” Bucky says nonchalantly. He take a final slurp of his iced coffee.

Sam smirks. “Yes she sure was.”

“Fireworks, flowers, lingerie, a gunfight… How are you going to top that, Bucky?” Natasha asks. She drapes herself on the arm of Sam’s chair and raises her eyebrows.

“Well,” Bucky says, “easily.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you start unloading your tray of clean glasses at the bar. The worst thing about your job on the housekeeping staff at the compound is that you can’t tell anyone what hilarious bullshit comes out of the Avengers’ mouths. The other staff, sure, but not your friends on the outside.

Well, insofar as you’ve got friends on the outside. Which… not really.

“Well, we got started at a little bar in Minsk,” Bucky begins.

Your eyes widen as you slide a wine glass into its upside-down holder under the overhead cabinet. In Minsk?

Uh oh.

“Nice and dim, a couple booths… Kinda a mix between classy and not.”

You steal a glance at Bucky. His eyes, bluer today with that fitted turquoise shirt he’s wearing, are sparkling in the sun streaming in from the giant windows. He’s not looking at you—why would he be?

Okay, enough dreaming, back to the tumblers.

“There’s this table of middle-aged guys hitting on the waitress,” Bucky continues. “It’s normal stuff there, y’know.”

“Normal here too,” Natasha says drily.

“Well. Yeah.” Bucky shifts in his seat. “Anyway, so in walks this woman with a long coat and tall boots—”

“How do you know her boots were tall if she was wearing a coat?” Sam interrupts.

“Cool your tits, I’m getting there,” Bucky says. “Anyway, so I was at the bar, getting intel, and this woman struts in—no, she wasn’t strutting, she was… stalking, I guess. Like Nat stalks.”

You have you bite your tongue. Comparing his date to Natasha? He’s cutting it close.

“So she stalks over to the bar, orders a drink, and heads straight for the dart board at the back.”

There’s a particular glass that you don’t recognize. It’s beautiful—nearly paper-thin, with a detailed pattern of air bubbles caught inside the glass—but sturdy enough to survive the dishwasher. Asgardian, maybe? You tilt it to catch the light, and the air bubbles inside glitter like gold. Gorgeous.

“And you’re just watching her?” Sam asks.

“If you were there, you’d’ve been watching her too,” Bucky assures him. “Trust me.”

“So… did you play darts with her?” Natasha asks.

The Asgardian glass can go in the display against the wall, you decide.

“Not exactly.”

You can hear the glee in Bucky’s voice, and you let out a slow breath as you turn back to face the room and get another bunch of glasses to put away.

“She grabs all of the darts in one hand and immediately comes back to the bar, takes a swig of her drink, and then turns around and whips a dart at this blond guy sitting at the other end of the bar.”

“Shit,” Sam says; in the same breath, Natasha says, “Good for her.”

Bucky’s quivering in his seat. “Hits him straight in the cheek. So the bartender yells, the middle-aged men yell, and I have to duck because the blond’s friend—I think his name was Zhuk—pulls out a gun and shoots at her, but she’d already moved and it would’ve hit me if I didn’t get outta the way.”

“Shit!” Sam exclaims. “The fuck! What kinda crazy—!”

You grit your teeth, hard, as you slide champagne glasses into their slots hanging under the counter. It’s so hard not to speak, but you’re gagged as thoroughly as if—well, hm. You squeeze your eyes shut for the barest moment to contain your latest urge to grin. Not quite as thoroughly gagged.

Still, you can’t butt in. Bucky has to tell this tale on his own.

“My kinda crazy,” Bucky says smugly. “Smart crazy.”

“Funny,” Natasha teases, “that’s my type too.”

Bucky stretches out his leg and nudges her knee fondly with the toe of his boot.

“Anyway she throws the rest of the darts at once, then she just Obi-Wan Kenobis her way out of her coat and she’s fucking draped in weapons. Real beauties. Pistol between the shoulder blades, holsters at hip and thigh, knives in her belt…”

“Are we on a date with her weaponry or with her?” Sam says.

You’re finished putting the glasses away, and you’ve got to leave. You grab the tray, stuff it under your arm, and as you leave, you hear Bucky’s voice get louder with excitement.

“Both! She was just so stunning! She took them down to perfection, and I just sat back and watched. Maximum pain, non-lethal, the perfect take-out if you wanted to get…”

Not until you’re on an elevator do you break out laughing.

—

“So who won?”

Bucky blinks at you, confused. You’re in a tiny round booth, and he’s as close to you as he can be without actually dragging you into his lap. Arm twined through yours, hands clasped, fingers interlinked, your ankle crossed over his.

“In the best date ever battle,” you explain, and he cackles.

“I did, of course,” he says, looking for all the world like the Cheshire Cat. “I mean, first of all there was the spree through the back streets, then the disabling of a neighborhood power grid, a break for soup—”

“That was really good soup.” You sigh wistfully and lean your cheek on Bucky’s shoulder, smiling.

“Hah, yeah. What can I say, I’ve got good taste.” He squeezes your hand.

“Yes you do,” you declare.

“Where was I?” He clicks his teeth. “Oh yeah. Soup, you pretending to be a prostitute extremely enthusiastically—”

“Anyone would be enthusiastic if they got to hump your thigh and make out with you, even if they weren’t getting fake-paid for it,” you point out, squeezing his leg for good measure. “Anyway, don’t forget the fact that you made a damn convincing client.” Your fingers dance towards his crotch.

He glares at you, but he’s grinning, and those sweet lines around his eyes and lips make your heart dance.

“Yeah,” he says. “Guess I did.”

You kiss his cheek and pick up your glass. “Here’s to—let’s see, convincing people we like each other—”

“And don’t,” Bucky adds.

“—taking down a HYDRA sleeper cell with darts and daggers, and me not cracking up while you told that story to your hopefully oblivious teammates,” you finish.

Bucky snags his glass and clinks it against yours. “I’ll drink to that,” he says. “But first, I’d rather drink to us.”

“Just us?” you ask.

He smiles and leans his forehead against yours, pulling your clasped hands against his heart. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

You stare, eyes fixed on his, your heart pounding and toes curling and breath catching. The restaurant sounds—clinks from the kitchen, other couples’ voices, the orchestral music piping in above your head—all fade as you drown in his ocean-deep eyes.

“Yeah,” he says again. “Just us.”

#hbc week of love #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier imagine #becca writes

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

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The Other Side of Me - Chapter 1

Darkwing Duck Fanfiction (90s Series)

The Negaverse Launchpad arrives in Saint Canard and announces his intention to take down Darkwing Duck in preparation for Negaduck’s arrival. Darkwing refuses to take the threat seriously, so Launchpad decides to take on his stronger, crazier, and downright dangerous counterpart himself.

***

“I’m not sure about this one, boss. I’ll do whatever you tell me. But that portal looks… dangerous.”

“Aw, don’t tell me the big bad Launchpad is going to be a pussy about a harmless little portal?”

“I’m no pussy!”

“Then get your butt down there!” Negaduck slammed a fist into the big brute’s shoulder.

Launchpad did not so much as flinch. A frown creased his stubbled beak as he stared into the portal that swirled about their feet.

Sometimes it took a few seconds for his orders to sink through that beefy skull. Negaduck was not keen on waiting for his minion’s neurons to fire. But this would be easier if his guinea pig was cooperative. “Listen, LP,” said Negaduck as he stretched an arm around his companion’s broad shoulders, “I need someone over in that other Saint Canard I can trust. A scout to take care of Darkwing Duck and pave the way for my glorious reign.”

A grin slowly spread across that big, dumb face. “Yeah, I can do that boss.”

“Then listen carefully. And I’ll try and keep it simple, stupid. Everything over there is the opposite. There’s an alternate you over there too. If those nerds at the university rigged this thing up properly, this portal will dump you out within a mile of him. If everything goes to plan, I’ll have access to Darkwing’s world again.”

“Hey, wait. Is this one of those things where you want me to replace my double? I’m a heavy, man. You need to use me to smash some skulls!” Launchpad pounded a fist into his open palm.

Negaduck snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding me. You’d need a shave. And to learn some table manners. No, smash in as many skulls as you see fit. Take out some of Darkwing’s allies. Find out where his lair is. I don’t care. I’m giving you your head… if you know what to do with it.”

“Huh?”

Negaduck grabbed Launchpad by the collar and dragged him down so they were beak to beak. “I’m tired of your screw ups and having to explain everything half a dozen times. You get over there, and you prove to me you’re worth keeping around. Got it, big guy?”

Launchpad glared back at him, but Negaduck did not miss the other man’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulped. “Got it, boss.” He squared his shoulders and moved back over to the portal.

Negaduck grinned. He didn’t care what Launchpad did once, and if, he arrived in Darkwing’s Saint Canard. He needed this idiot for one thing and one thing only.

“Still looks a little rough down there.” Launchpad grumbled as he craned his neck out over the edge. “But maybe it’s not really so dangerous.”

“Only one way to find out.” Negaduck put a foot square into Launchpad’s backside. The big brute pinwheeled his arms and then toppled into the maelstrom.

Which immediately exploded into a green black geyser that splattered and hissed across the ceiling.

Negaduck dropped to the floor and pulled his hat down over his eyes. The air heated to a barely tolerable level. A rush of wind whipped and howled past him. Then with a crash and a whoosh the gale turned back on itself and rushed back towards the portal. A chair skittered across the floor beside him, caught in the vacuum.

Then the portal shut down with a very final sounding whoomph.

Negaduck cautiously peeked out from under his hat. The ceiling had been blasted black, as had the floor. The chair sat where the portal had been, blackened, and cleaved clean in two. The smell of burnt wood and feathers lingered in the air.

Negaduck whistled through his teeth as he stood to his feet. “Oh yeah, that duck is D.E.A-dead.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at his failed experiment. Then he shrugged. “Guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

***

Launchpad dusted dying embers from the feathers on his forearms and hauled himself to his feet. The world tilted. “Stop it!” he demanded with a slur. The portal ride had been hectic, like being inside a green and black tumble dryer that was doing its best to catch on fire. But he wasn’t going to moan about it. He’d walk it off.

Sure enough, the world settled around him. The cracked bitumen at his feet was littered with garbage. Dingy, spray-painted walls hemmed him in. For a moment, Launchpad thought the alley he found himself in was back in the Negaverse. But the sky above was a bright, clear blue, and the sound of birdsong reached him. The alleyway opened to a parking lot. Across the road was a park, which was actually green. There were children playing, and giggling. Launchpad repressed a shudder. “Yuck. What a hell hole.”

And then an eerily familiar voice reached his ears. “Okay, so we need to get eggs, milk, de… er, or is that an o? I have got to stop Drake writing on my shopping list.”

Next to a garish blue sedan stood… Launchpad.

Launchpad blinked and rubbed at his eyes. “What the heck is he even wearing.”

His double scratched at the aviator’s cap perched on his head, then shrugged. “Hey, if I make soup, he’s not going to know what’s in it anyway.” Then, belting out a whistling tune that made Launchpad cringe, he strolled into the grocery store.

Launchpad rolled his shoulders. “Alright, then. Well, he is supposed to be Darkwing’s sidekick. Maybe this whole thing is just a cover. And I can’t fail Negaduck again…” Launchpad bit his lip. But no. Negaduck would not follow him in a hurry. He had most certainly pushed him through to check the safety of the portal. That ride had been anything but safe, and Negaduck was too much of a coward to come through right away until he was sure it was.

Which meant he had some time up his sleeve. “Guess I’ve got some work to do, but…” Launchpad rubbed his hands together as his gaze narrowed on the blue sedan. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun whilst I’m at it.”

***

Launchpad searched the aisles of the grocery store for what he’d eventually determined was ‘deodorant.’ He snatched a spray can off a shelf and grinned in triumph. “Got ya. But you are definitely not going in the soup. Heheh.”

Crime had taken a bit of a dip the last half of the week. It meant he could get on top of the groceries. Maybe get some meals into the freezer. When there were two men who spent half the night tearing around Saint Canard chasing baddies, and one growing kid who could consume an entire stack of pancakes and then ask if she was going to get bacon and eggs with that, in the house, it paid to have something stashed that was easy to make and better than toast. Launchpad’s freezer meals always seemed to last forever. Although, sometimes Launchpad thought that was because DW preferred the toast.

He ended up getting a bit more food than he had originally intended. “Are you sure you can carry all of those?” the register attendant asked him.

“No problemo.” Launchpad hefted the two overstuffed grocery bags to his chest. He grinned out through a bunch of celery leaves and winked.

The attendant slowly raised her eyebrow. “Have a good day, sir.”

Launchpad weaved his way across the parking lot. Lifting the haul was the easy part. But the grocery bags were so overstuffed he could barely see where he was going. “Not the first time I’ve been flying blind.” Every time he caught sight of the blue sedan through the celery, he course corrected.

“Ow!” Launchpad grumbled as his shin collected the tail gate. “There she is.” He had to boot the car twice before his foot found the tail gate catch, and then he dumped the groceries in back.

He threw himself into the driver’s seat, tore into reverse, then scraped the undercarriage on the gutter out of the parking lot. Someone honked. “Sorry, I got to get home to make soup!”

Launchpad tapped the steering wheel, hummed to himself, and glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Huh? I thought I shaved this morning. Wait…”

Launchpad spluttered as his scarf tightened about his throat. Warm breath blew down his neck. “Keep driving. And no funny business.”

“Air…” His scarf loosened just a little.

“Take us off the highway.” There was something familiar about that voice. “Pull into a sidestreet.”

Yeah. Right. Launchpad pulled into a slip lane off the highway as he’d been instructed. “So, you wearing a seatbelt?”

“I don’t need no pussy seatbelt…”

As the slip lane dipped down, Launchpad gunned it. The incline was just enough to get a bit of power out of the four-cylinder engine. His assailant yelped, and there was a heavy thud as his he slammed into the roof.

Launchpad gagged as his air cut off completely. He struggled, one hand wresting the steering wheel back and forth to keep them on course, the other grappling with the material now looped tightly about his throat. He slammed on the brakes. He had previously determined the trajectory of any loose items in the sedan on more than one occasion. He ducked. Tins and bottles took flight. Some thudded into the man in the back, eliciting more grunts and curses. The rest bounced harmlessly off the windshield.

Launchpad got out and, teeth gritted, hauled the man in his rear seat out by the collar. “Next time pick on someone your own size!”

The guy slammed balled up fists on Launchpad’s arms and broke his grip. “That was the idea.”

Launchpad took a step back and put up his guard. Both men froze, facing each other in a fighting stance.

Launchpad’s fists loosened. “You… You look just like me…”

“What the hell was that?” His mirror image barked. “You trying to kill us both?”

“Mom and Dad never said anything about me having a twin.”

The man that looked like him straightened his disheveled jacket collar with a quick tug. “Okay. That was actually a half decent move. Maybe you’re not as domesticated as I first thought.”

“Who are you?” Launchpad demanded.

“Is that stupid cap cutting off circulation to your brain? I’m you, genius.”

The gears in Launchpad’s head grated over. “The Negaverse. DW told me… you work for Negaduck.”

“There you go. Heh. Guess I’m not as stupid as everyone keeps telling me.”

“What are you doing in Saint Canard? I mean, our Saint Canard.”

The other Launchpad flicked a celery leaf from his shoulder. “Not the groceries.”

“Okay, okay… I’m talking to another me. Perfectly normal. So, you work for Negaduck. But that doesn’t mean you’re a bad guy, right? I mean, you’re me… Heheh.” Launchpad tugged at his scarf.

His double dragged him towards him, so they were pressed beak to beak. “Why are you giggling?”

“I am very uncomfortable right now.”

Launchpad released him with a snort. “Great. That’s his bloody laugh. I’m glad we’re supposed to be opposites. But you listen up, pal. You’re going to be more than uncomfortable when Negaduck gets here.”

“Negaduck’s back?” Talking to himself was weird as. But he had to pull it together and focus. Launchpad jabbed a finger into his double’s chest. “I’m not going to let him hurt DW!”

Launchpad grinned. “There’s the guy who nearly sent me through his windshield. Relax, Negaduck isn’t here. Yet. He sent me, his top man, through ahead of him. So, you’re not going to have to worry about him hurting your ‘DW’. Because by the time he gets here, this Launchpad will have put Darkwing Duck at the bottom of Audubon Bay.”

Launchpad threw a punch.

His double shielded his chin with broad forearms, then clapped Launchpad in the side of the head with a right hook that sent him sprawling across the bonnet of the sedan. “Negaduck will be awhile,” he said, as he backed away. “So, in the meantime we’re going to play a little game. I’m coming for Darkwing Duck. Let’s see if his sidekick who I’ve heard so much about can stop me.”

Launchpad hauled himself upright, hands balled into first. But his head still spun. By the time the world settled enough he could stand without toppling over, the doppelganger had disappeared.

“Launchpad!” It would’ve been amusing, screaming his own name. Had his heart not been hammering in his chest. His double had gone. But he had been no figment of his imagination. “I’ve got to warn DW.”

Tins and bottles clattered across the pavement as Launchpad dove back into the sedan and raced towards home.

***

Authors note: So that’s the first chapter. I’ve been (re)watching Darkwing Duck on Disney Plus. Forgot how good it was. And so, now I’m writing fanfiction. This is set somewhere just after that episode where Darkwing goes to the Negaverse (Life, the Negaverse, and Everything). Basically I just wanted to get the two Launchpad’s together in the same universe and see what happens.

I’ve already started posting this on fanfiction.net, but wasn’t seeing much action over there. But seeing as I’m booting back up the tumblr, its coming over here now. I’ll post the other chapters soon.

Read chapter 2

#darkwing #darkwing duck #launchpad mcquack #negaverse #launchpad #negaduck #fanfic #fanfiction #darkwing fanfic #darkwing fanfiction #nega launchpad

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

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Been having a weird/off week. But you know what’s made it better?

Spending some more time in Midvale with Supergirl Ep. 6x06, “Prom Again!”

Spoilers!

So! Last week was the fun shenanigans/set-up, THIS WEEK we get the emotional pay-offs and oooooh. So good. So good.

Historically, Supergirl kinda struggles to stick its landing when it comes to paying off its set-ups, but I think this episode is really solid in that regard.

And thus, we begin! With the forest showdown! And I love it. Love every part of it. Love Kara flying in and freeing Nia and Brainy with her heat vision, love that one of Kenny and Kara’s go-to plays is called ‘Speed Racer’, love Brainy’s whole, ‘my buddy’s gonna BLAST YA if you don’t cooperate’ and Kara just. Threatens the bad guys from the shrubbery.

She’s supposed to be scary and intimidating with the heat vision eyes but dagnabbit...it’s just kind of cute.

Last week I completely forgot to mention how much I love that Kenny and Kara have go-to plays WITH NAMES. (NERDY names at that!) And also that Alex is so exasperated by it.

JUST YOU WAIT, KIDDO.

Fast forward to the Fortress and everyone’s happy! The day is saved! The timeline is restored! Alex apologizes for being a bit of a grouch!

*cough* understatement *cough*

And Brainy doesn’t get the fist bump, d’awwwww. XD

Nia has a lovely chat with Kara wherein SHE is the elder hero who inspires the youths. Nice. NICE.

And THEN, the first of some good Danvers Sisters scenes...we’ll call this one ‘the mini-van chat.’

Kara apologizing about the ‘Zookeeper fight-y thing’ and the GLASSES FIDGET.

Shout out to the writers, who were ON-POINT with the dialogue for both parts, and shout out to the young actresses as well. It’s...honestly uncanny, how well they nailed playing Kara and Alex.

(I mean, we knew this already, of course, but GOSH. What a wonderful showcase. So, so glad, that we got such a large Midvale story in the final season.)

Right, so, another dialogue highlight from the mini-van chat (but like, not in a silly way. More in a, ‘oh wow that’s very sweet’ way) Alex, to Kara about her choice: ‘It’s the right one because you made it.’

THESE KIDS.

Then we go to Nia and Brainy on the Legion Cruiser!

Nia’s outfit? Outstanding. Brainy’s mask? Admittedly a little distracting because it didn’t look like it was fitting quite right.

But A+ song choice for their dance, show.

(Really, A+ song choices across the board. You can tell they were absolutely LOVING getting in all those needle drops.)

And then we discover--ALL IS NOT WELL! THE TIMELINE IS STILL BROKEN!

Cat Grant has released the aliens! And she has been captured! And yet she remains heckin’ fearless!

Love that she calls Mitch ‘Mr. Blue Sky.’

It took me a while to warm up to this ‘new’ version of Cat Grant but this episode really gave her some fun stuff to do and yep, I dig it. Great stuff.

Meanwhile, back at the prom...

I'm taking this moment to applaud the Supergirl folks for their very nice workarounds for ‘crowded’ locations this season thus far. The episodes have never felt like, overtly obvious in terms of Covid protocol impacts (I mean there are a few scenes here and there where you’re like, ‘oh, yeah, this is set up in this specific way to probably account for some production changes) but I’ve never felt that the episodes are losing anything, you know?

Case in point! Two episodes, set in a crowded high school! But most of the stuff takes place before/between classes, or outside!

(Specifically enjoyed all the outdoor stuff and natural lighting. It’s not quite the same as that LA sunshine, but. Still nice.)

Anyways, in “Prom Again!” the action/discussions are set in the hallways/classrooms outside of the actual Prom. Inobtrusive! Makes sense for the story! Doesn’t compromise!

Gold stars for everyone.

Kara and Kenny are BOTH unrelentingly cheesy--Kara even says as much--and it’s wonderful.

‘Hey Stargazer.’ Kara, you smooth operator you.

Shout out to Kenny’s bowtie, it’s great.

...Shout out to Kenny in general.

(Like, Will is great, but he’s got a lot to live up to, now.)

So FURTHER PROOF THAT THE TIMELINE IS BUSTED: Kara is going to stay in Midvale!

Me, knowing full well that Kara has to go to National City, but also being...just a liiiiittle bit team Kenny:

And then...THE METEOR!

That Kara just. Body-slams.

It reminded me of another Danvers, who also body-slams some space stuff:

But UNLIKE Kara’s cross-company cousin, this particular move does not end well!

Because there’s KRYPTONITE! And also, a CLOAKED SPACESHIP, BLOCKING THE FALLING METEOR DEBRIS! And, you know, ALIEN HUNTERS THREATENING HIGH SCHOOLERS! And Kenny SACRIFICES HIMSELF FOR KARA!

(Well, okay. It’s tonight but you get the idea.)

Poor, sweet Kenny. Who feels WAY out of his depth as he’s imprisoned alongside Cat on the alien ship...but it does bring us one of her patented ‘tough love pep talks.’ Wherein she calls Kenny brilliant.

And also, Kendall.

Never change, Cat. Never change.

Also, “Go, go.”

Okay, some more rapid fire specifics that I enjoyed so that this list doesn’t get...too? Long? ...No promises.

Smol Kara squaring her shoulders in that classic Kara Super Pose!

Alex being able to pick a lock!

Kara using the reflected sunlight from the moon to heal!

‘That’s an 80% failure rate’ ‘Oh yes it’s terrible.’

The scene where the police have Kara, and Alex comes rushing out all, ‘that’s my sister!’ and Kara’s gonna just RISK EVERYTHING to fix this?

100/10, excellent, love to see that Danvers Sisters angst in the Worst Timeline. Also? Alex’s desperate little headshake, silently pleading for Kara to NOT DO THE THING???? Devastating. In the best way.

‘The world will know that name...Keira.’

No Plutonian Landshark sightings!?!? Not even a graphic on a computer screen? FOR SHAME!

(Personally, I’m imaging that they look like Jeff, pictured below.)

Kara stowing away on the Cruiser, and her very cute, ‘Don’t be mad!’

Her entire speech about her future--She’s just seventeen! She doesn’t have her driver’s license yet! Eliza’s only let her do the laundry once! She’s not even sure she can make rice!

(Eliza, I love you, but for Pete’s sake, let your kid do her own laundry.)

Brainy and Kara trying to play it cool upon being discovered by Kenny and Alex!

Their story involving an excess of formal wear!

Nia inspiring Cat to start CatCo, and telling her she’s CAT FREAKIN’ GRANT!

“If you say Lois Lane I will expire.”

Wait, did I mention the lucid dreaming power yet? ...Nia’s lucid dreaming power!

The entirety of Kara and Kenny’s talk in the gym!

Kara in the Worst Timeline tell Alex, ‘you don’t have to shout’. And then in the Fixed Timeline: ‘inside voice please.’

And she quotes Monty Python that lil GOOBER.

THE WHOLE EPISODE(S) was a GOSHDARN DELIGHT, I TELL YA. (Did I say that last week? I might’ve said that last week, but I don’t care.)

And now, some slightly more in-depth, overall thoughts:

So, How ‘Bout Them Danvers: Not surprisingly, the girls end up in, if not the exact same place as the end of “Midvale”, then pretty darn close. I’m trying to avoid, like. All of fandom, these days, but unfortunately, the bad takes are numerous, and often untagged. So I did see a bunch of people insisting that Kenny living ‘ruined the Danvers’ relationship’ and that the show is ‘taking away everything that makes Kara Kara’

To which I say:

In the broadest terms, what needs to happen by episode’s end to match up with “Midvale”, and prep the kiddos for the stuff that happens in the Pilot - Kara needs to put the aspirations of super-ing on the backburner, and Alex needs to like. Not hate Kara, but also be committed to helping Kara keep her secret, you know...secret.

All of these things are set up. I repeat: All. Of. Them.

And Kenny didn’t have to die!

(I will admit, I chuckled that they so blatantly teased an untimely demise for him...because I know it will annoy select corners of fandom.

Muhahahahaha.)

But anyways, back to those key ingredients for making a ‘Danvers Sisters in the same emotional place they were in @ Midvale’s end’ soup: Alex deals with that simmering resentment. Seeing Kara handle herself well in a super-ing context gives her that little, ‘hey, this isn’t so bad!’ outlook.

BUT INTERESTINGLY, in the Fixed Timeline, Alex and Kara don’t have that chat in the supply room, where Alex is like. ‘You CANNOT reveal your powers, BAD THINGS will happen if you do.’

That is saved for the Pilot!*

MEANWHILE. The Kara ingredients! She puts super-ing on hold.

Her chat with Kenny functions as a replacement for her chat with J’onn-as-Not!Alura, in the sense that it’s here that she reveals that she didn’t choose to come to Midvale, she didn’t choose these powers.

(...I can already sense fandom using those lines to prove their end-of-series theories and like. Ugh. Ugh.)

But anyways. It’s also here that we get shades of Pilot!Kara, what with the season one conflict of being Super vs. being normal.

It’s ALL THE SAME STUFF.

Fandom needs to like. Chill.

And their (fake) concern for Kara’s characterization is entirely misplaced, because this was a really wonderful showcase for Kara in particular.

Like. The first episode was really Nia’s time to shine, and we still got solid Brainy and Nia action in this episode!

But man. That good Kara content.

THE CONTENT I CRAVE!

So speaking of good Kara content in particular, I LOVED Kara’s prom dress. It's got both a SKIRT. AND PANTS!

Amazing.

I know nothing of fashion, but it was very cute, very girly, and okay. Though I hate the comic, the one thing I actually liked about Future State is Kara’s costume. This was similar!

(Thank goodness it looked nothing like the prom dress from Rebirth. That...was a bit of a train wreck.)

(Look, not all comic artists are great clothes designers, it’s just how it is.)

We see the empowerment theme come up with Kara inspiring Kenny; he describes her as ‘an amazing light in a world of darkness’ and tells her that, ‘you changed me, Kara Zor-El.’

We love to see it.

They also agree that stargazing and Monty Python make for the perfect prom these absolute NERDS I love them.

*Quick wibbly-wobbly, timey-whimey note WRT making this episode ‘fit’ with the Pilot: I’m not saying that it 100% does. There’s already the change with the Kryptonite, and the added info/awareness of the DEO.

Those little changes, though, don’t really impact the overall arc of Kara and Alex, the way the emotional stuff might.

Thus! The ‘Pilot’ of Earth Prime, and in fact, the ENTIRETY of the show’s run thus far most likely involved little differences throughout, but the emotional core is very close, if not the exact same.

BUT EITHER WAY, it doesn’t matter, because our Kara and Alex are still our Kara and Alex thanks to the multiple sets of memories!

(So all of fandom’s freaking out is for naught. As it almost always is.)

I bring this up because, again, as much as I talk about setting stuff up for where we find Kara six years from now--this Kara is a little different! She comes across as more confident, something Izabela Vidovic mentioned in an interview, when discussing her approach to playing Kara this time around.

And now, Alex: Admittedly, she gets less focus as like, a solo-entity in these episodes--she really is there to serve the more Kara-centric plot. Personally, it didn’t bother me too much because outside of these flashback episodes, Alex has had some solid development and screen time, so. It balances out.

And the scenes we did get with those 2? Solid. Top tier. There was even a couch scene! Like, technically. Because there was a couch in the supply room. XD

Spotlight on Kenny: fandom kinda loves to insist that all the men on Supergirl are trash, because, ya know. 'Feminism’ or whatever. It’s ships, it’s always ships. But, in fact! The dudes on Supergirl? Are actually wonderful! And Kenny is another example of a guy who isn’t afraid to be emotionally vulnerable, who 1000% supports Kara, but is also like. His own person.

GOOD JOB, SHOW. GOOD JOB.

Brainy too, had some really nice stuff in terms of dealing with his emotions!

And it’s Brainy who gives us our closing line, as Nia asks him how he’s feeling now that they’ve accomplished their mission:

“Hopeful.”

NOICE.

In conclusion! “Prom Night” and “Prom Again!” were EXCELLENT! They had heart! They had stakes! They had the promised time-travel do-over alluded to in the titles! Outstanding performances from the entire cast! Tthe ‘young’ versions of characters in particular! And I WILL be watching these episodes on repeat throughout the three-month hiatus! XD

But before the Super Friends take their break: NEXT WEEK! The Quest for Kara Concludes!!!

#SG post #supergirl spoilers #supergirl season 6 spoilers #long post #gifs

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nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

one day (i know that you will be there)

Summary: Here, have some fluffy transbur :D

Pairings: gen everyone, with a specific focus on crimeboys

Read on AO3

Word count: 2070

Warnings: None? I guess? Tell me if there are any, but I don’t see them

Other notes: Part of @noorahqar‘s BANGER discord server Pride Event!

Please DO NOT send this to the CC’s or even imply that this exists because No, Thank you

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Sometimes, it feels like it's okay. Nothing's wrong at all and in fact, Wilbur is happy.

Other times it feels like he's stuck in his own skin, a place he can't get out of.

Wilbur doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He's always been cis, it's all he knows we it's his comfort zone. Even while his life was being wholly upended by YouTube, and Twitch and life in general, Wilbur's gender was always a constant- the one thing he never worried about or spent too much time on. It was his gender, and it was just kind of...there.

Sometimes when gender is part of the conversation, people display confusion when Wilbur talks about his gender like something separate from him that was tied on and is just there now, like a bit of hair that can never stay in place, but isn't necessarily a bother, either. But isn't gender like that for everyone?

Well, according to the one and only Tommyinnit, no.

"Well… for me, my gender is pretty malleable. It's more of a fucking... fucking abstract concept than a feeling? I'm a little detached from mine, but not as much as that, Wilbs."

"Then what is your gender like?" Wilbur asks. It's late on a Friday night, and Wilbur had ended up visiting Tommy's flat out of mostly impulse, living just under a kilometre away from his sibling these days. They're in the living room, splayed out on the floor talking about anything and everything in the dark, too quiet to wake Tubbo and Ranboo.

Wilbur’s not agender- he has a gender that he keeps around, even if it stays reasonably sectioned away from the rest of him.

Tommy hums, an older tune that Wilbur can't place as he fiddles around with some wool scraps ("Cabbages!" Tommy insists indignantly) leftover from the cardigan they had just finished when Wilbur walked in. It's a burgundy colour that's probably going to be matched with one of Tommy's longer cream skirts to University Monday morning.

"My gender is a… a kind of vibe? I guess? To me it feels like skirts doing that cool swoosh thing in the wind around you while you walk or eating Tubbo's chicken soup and that feeling I always got after a Dream SMP stream. It's weird, but that's my gender I guess." And that is weird. It's weird as fuck, but Tommy's gender sounds really fucking cool so Wilbur tries anyways. Tries to imagine what his gender, the amorphous entity that it is, feels like to him.

It's hard, at first, but then Wilbur starts humming. He's always done better with auditory concepts than visual or tactile ones, strumming tunes together that tie in with his latest hyperfixation.

So Wilbur hums. He starts with 'White Wine in a Wetherspoons' and then 'Cause for Concern' with a little bit of 'Your new Boyfriend' thrown in for posterity as it all starts to come together. Tommy starts tapping his finger on the plywood floor, creating a small beat.

His gender feels nice, actually, and not just the neutral burden that the universe has him carry around. It begins to feel like the warmth in Wilbur's chest when someone says "Hey, don't stop. Tell me more, this is interesting" to even the most niche fixations that Wilbur has ever had, like the different types of bricks or the historical fashion one he had at the same time as Tommy and they made dozens of Pinterest boards together (1830’s hairstyles his beloved). It feels like Phil calling him 'Son' in that chamomile accent, like everything will be fine. It feels like the tipsy laughs he and Niki share when getting drunk together and it sounds like the quick, comforting 'bzzt bzzt bzzt' of Tommy's sewing machine running on the other side of the flat while Wilbur makes them breakfast because they and his flatmates are fundamentally incapable of looking after themselves.

It's really a pretty nice gender, actually. So when Wilbur closes its metaphorical pouch and clips it back onto his metaphorical backpack, he feels lighter, warmer inside than before. Is this how Tommy feels sometimes?

The tapping stops and Wilbur realises that Tommy's fallen asleep, surrounded by scraps of cabbage on a fairly cold plywood floor. This will not do. Thankfully, Wilbur has gained enough arm strength to reasonably carry the nineteen-year-old to his bedroom, carefully avoiding sewing pins that Tommy will clean up frantically in the morning. Tubbo and Ranboo are asleep as before, in the same place, huddled together on the lowest bunk covered in blankets, with just enough room for another person.

Tommy fits in perfectly, head on Ranboo's shoulder and the rest of him swathed in blankets to protect from the cold. It's started to show fairly heavily outside so going home is not possible. Therefore, Wilbur stays.

The guest room still has some of his shit from the last time he stayed over, around a week ago. Piling a thick-ish duvet on top of himself, Wilbur sleeps, more at peace than he's ever been.

Monday morning, Wilbur tries out pronouns. He was spending the weekend in a bit of a haze of filming and social interaction and talking to Elodie, his editor, in order to have most of this week free.

He's back at home with pronoun dressing rooms loaded on Firefox, a Geoguessur stream finished and a free day with spoons to spare. It is time.

First- she/her.

This is Wilbur, the site reads, She's 27 years old with a penchant for making songs. She also really likes hanging out with her sibling, Tommy and her best friends on the Dream SMP. She still ships DNF.

Oh. Oh wow. She/Her works pretty well actually. Wilbur likes that for herself.

Next- they/them. This is not as nice, but it's also not bad, necessarily.

Fae/Faer- this one is pleasant enough.

Everything else is okay, Wilbur supposes. She figures that just knowing that he/him isn't the only answer is good enough for herself.

The first person she tells is Tommy, on a phone call during one of his frees.

“Okay, so he, she and fae, right?” they ask, rolling the pronouns around like the colorful hard candies sold in packets of two hundred each, muttering small sentences, barely audible to the phone mic amongst the dozens of student voices around him, pitter-pattering like sleet on cars heard from a cozy living room.

“Yeah. pronouns change by the day. Please don’t interchange them.” Wilbur confirms, short and soft.

“Oh that’s really fucking cool. What are they today? Does anyone else know? Do you have names you want to be called instead?” Tommy asks, orange-sweet in his kind concern and slowed down questions as to not deflate the souffle in Wilbur’s brain.

“Uh, she/her, and no, not yet on the knowing and the name thing. I’m going to tell Phil and Niki, then Dream, probably. Wish me luck.” Wilbur answers, the ‘wish me luck’ thrown in more as a formality than anything, but she’s still nervous, thoughts spinning in popcorn-crunch circles, pop pop pop about how it could go wrong and even if Tommy and Ranboo were accepted, perhaps that courtesy won’t be extended to her. Tommy, the absolute fucking legend as always seems to have figured that much out.

“Wil. Wilbur. Wilby. Big Dubs- It’s going to be fucking fine, you’re popcorn-popping again and while that’s one of your idiosyncrasies and I fucking love those, you are also freaking the fuck out. Everything will be fine, alright?”

“Idiosyncrasies? Where did you learn that? Is ‘The Tommyinnit’ learning new big words?” Wilbur teases, to mask her affection just a little bit, even as it seeps out of her voice like honey in a sopapilla, warm and sticky and sweet.

“Don’t fucking patronize me.” Tommy retorts, instinctive as it’s been for the past few years now, no bite behind their words. “I’ve got South Asian Lit now- call us in the evening?” he asks, because Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo are a single unit in the evening. Do not attempt separation till after midnight. Wilbur laughs, a small thing only audible to her sibling over the phone.

“Course. You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

“Okay. Now I need to walk like, three buildings or some shit, so I’m hanging the fuck up. See you later?” Tommy’s voice is softer towards the end, cotton candy and Wilbur melts, just a little bit.

“Okay, bye Tommy.”

“Bye Wil. Good luck.” Tommy hangs up a few seconds later, the last thing on the line that Wilbur can hear being Ranboo’s steadily louder voice as end catches up to Tommy, and Wilbur keeps the phone to her ear for a few seconds more, before putting it on charge and loading up Discord, to find Phil and Dream on VC 3 together, Tubbo and Purpled occupying the beloved VC 2.

Wilbur joins the call, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, and taking a sip of lukewarm tea. Earl Grey, probably taken from the tea box Phil gifted her on Christmas and prepares herself.

“Ay, H’lo, son.”

“Hey, Wilbur!” Dream’s voice, chirpy and crisp as a freshly-picked apple registers first, just before Phil’s comforting chamomile and Wilbur is at ease very quickly, because it’s Dream and Phil. It is literally impossible for things to go wrong.

“Hi! I just came on here to tell you something.” Wilbur starts. After hearing noises of agreement, like popping candy, Wilbur starts.

“Um, so on Friday, Tommy and I did some soul-searching. Well, I did most of the searching. And uh, I figured out that I’m technically genderfluid, but my gender is a series of abstracts and I use he, she and fae pronouns.” It’s quiet for a second, before Phil responds.

“Hey, that’s pogchamp, mate. What pronouns are you using right now? Are they interchangeable?” Dream makes a noise in agreement, in questioning.

“Thanks, and uh, she/her, and no. not interchangeable. I use certain pronouns until I don’t.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Should I update your pronoun role in the Discord to ‘ask for pronouns’?” Dream finally says, and in typical Dream fashion, it’s by getting straight to business. It’s ridiculously endearing, even five years on, knowing everyone’s little quirks and idiosyncrasies (thanks Tommy for reminding her that the word exists) that it’s still possible to be endeared by them, and that they’re all still endeared to her.

“Yes please, Dream. Thank you. I’ll make a small announcement on the server myself, but thanks.”

“No problem, Wilbur! We’re glad you’re happy.”

“What the green-bitch said, mate.” Phil responds, and Dream turns on his camera for that only, just to show that he isn’t actually wearing green- he’s wearing a blue T-shirt, blonde hair mussed about enough to show that he did not comb it when he woke up. His face still has some sleep leftovers, but he’s awake enough to pay attention, and he’s smiling at Wilbur, mouse clicking very fast to change her discord role, and it shows up a few seconds later with a purple dot. ‘ask for my pronouns’. Wilbur is smiling like an idiot, and she turns on her camera, Phil following suit as she starts laughing a little wetly and all of this sinks in.

Wilbur is gender-fluid. She loves herself, her family and the little pouch still strapped to her backpack. Phil is whispering things into the mic soothingly and Dream is grinning at her, and it just feels so good. The bad feeling in Wilbur’s skin just isn’t here today, and it feels like it won’t be around for a while yet.

With slightly blurry eyes trying to see through her glasses, Wilbur makes an announcement with the @everyone turned on.

Bitchbur (she/her today): @everyone I’m here to announce that I’m genderfluid! You can either ask me my pronouns or I’ll just change my nick. The name’s still Wilbur. That’s about it.

Replies start coming in, nothing but messages of support and thumbs-up emoticons, and Wilber closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair, laughing a bit more. She’s so happy that she managed to accept herself, and find acceptance in everyone else on this server. She probably won’t come out to the internet for a while, or even to some of her real-life friends but that’s okay.

She’s got everything she needs right here.

#dream smp #mcyt #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #writers on tumblr #vee's writing #2021 #do not repost

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Place In The Woods

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Bucky Barnes still doesn’t know who is, but he knows what he’s not. He’s not HYDRAs weapon anymore. He knows he’s not really the Soldier. He knows he needs to remember the man he was. He didn’t know that an encounter, no matter how brief, with a very special woman would start him down the right path.

Notes: Takes place immediately after the river scene in CA:WS. Explicit content. Swearing. Smut. And just a touch of fluff. No breaks in story cannon.

Warning 18+ angsty, fluff and smut to follow.

Few headlights past him on the rural road late in the night. Bucky Barnes just drove vaguely north in the stolen 2004 Ford F-150. He had no idea where he was or what may be nearby. Whenever a city seemed closed, he turned the truck in the other direction and stayed as far away from people as possible. Functioning on auto-pilot, he just put distance between himself and the scene.

After pulling Steve Rogers from the water, he found a hidden spot to observe. Part of him want to sit there with the stranger – the target and mission who knew more about him than he did. He felt a deep protective urge that nearly overwhelmed all his training, his common sense, even his fear. The conditioning in his head roared and railed, demanding he complete his mission.

Instead, he took up a position and waited. Bucky fought to stay himself, to hold on to free will. He battled to remain present and aware of his surroundings. He focused on the trigger that broke his bonds, this man who he knew but couldn’t remember. Sooner than should have been possible, Steve stirred. He lifted his head wearily and looked around before touching something in the wrist of his uniform. He laid back with a groan.

The sound of an engine had Bucky vacating the area, having no desire to be captured again. A beacon of some sort must be transmitting Steve’s location. He knew the rescuers could be using any number of scanning technologies and hiding would be useless. Sticking to shadows and alleys, avoiding traffic cameras and other people, Bucky finally found a locked back door to a pawn shop.

Once he snapped the lock in his left hand, the bolt not standing a chance against his prosthetic arm, he knew time was limited. Moving with expert precision, Bucky snagged a ruck sack, a leather jacket, a tactical knife, two 9mm handguns, extra magazines, boxes of shells, and a burner phone. In the office he found a petty cash envelope with $200 and hoodie that should fit. It would do.

All the emergency responders were busy at the chaos caused by the downed helicarriers, and everyone else seemed to be too busy trying find out what happened to pay much attention to a shadow skulking through the streets. He ducked into a beat-up laundromat where the few patrons gathered around the little television in the office beyond the counter. One of the gawkers looked to be about his size. The third drier Bucky checked was full of jeans and jerseys that would fit.

A rueful smile tugged at his lips when he noticed the open thermos, a copy Stephen King’s Dark Tower, and a set of keys, left forgotten amongst the excitement. The faded blue truck sat parked just around the corner. Bucky drove for nearly forty minutes before he found a remote place to pull over.

The old building looked like it may have once been a roadside grocer, but now the windows were boarded up and brush was over taking the drive. He pulled around back, hiding the truck from the road. He lucked out, finding water still flowed from the side faucet. He could clean up and change clothes.

With every piece of equipment he stripped off, strong memories of what he’d done seemed to clarify in his mind. Arm guards dropped onto the tail gate. He pushed his right forearm into the throat of a French ambassador, as he stabbed him. Holster unbuckled. Standing in the shadows of a Swiss banker’s flat, waiting for her to step through the door before shooting. Chest guard joined the pile. Hearing the man say “Bucky?” for the first time.

Suddenly his legs failed, he found himself on the ground. His chest felt too tight. The air too thick to breathe. He looked at his hands and they were shaking. He curled them into fists, but they wouldn’t stop. He panted, wanted to scream, to howl. Fuck, it hurt. He felt raw - like he was coming undone. He curled over his knees, burying his head under his arms.

I know him.

Flashes of memories assaulted his mind. The feeling of a strong hand on his shoulder. Blue eyes. A set of rickety stairs outside a building. A green and blue quilt that smelled like ivory soap and lavender. Potato soup, so hot that his belly felt warm. The smell of boot polish. Being back to back on a battle field. A red-headed nurse. Deep masculine laughter. Swing music. Coffee with milk and two sugars. Stevie laughing and calling him a jerk.

They were good memories. Bucky forced himself to breathe slower. They were all memories worth having. He wiped the tears and snot from his face.

“Get your shit together.” He told himself. “You are Bucky Barnes. Not some soulless fucking asset. You’re not a tool. You’re a person. You just need time to figure it all out. Get your ass up, change clothes, blend in, don’t get caught.”

Bucky followed his own orders. Cleaning up and changing into street clothes, he figured he’d need food and another form of transportation soon. Time to disappear.

It was beginning to get dark when Mattie Williams and Jack, her dog, made it to the cabin. It was tucked along the barrier to a state park. She would usually leave her car in the park and hike in. There were no real roads leading to the cabin, just a trails and one old logging road. Getting in with a vehicle took work. It was perfect. No one knew where she went. No one could track her.

Jack’s ears perked up as he approached the cabin. His tail went stiff. Without question, Mattie slipped her backpack off and dropped it on the wet ground. She pulled the pistol from the holster beneath her jacket. Aiming in the direction of Jack’s eye line, she tapped his back and he edged forward. Coming out of the tree line as silently as possible and hoping the light rain covered what little noise they made, she followed her well-trained dog. The cabin door was open.

She could barely see the outline of a man standing in the one room cabin, looking in the cupboards. Jack’s eyes were locked on him. He was alone. Good.

Mattie slipped closer to the door, gun held ready. ��I don’t want to shoot you if you’re just hungry.” The man froze. “But I better like your answer, because out here I can kill you and no one will be the wiser.”

He turned, fierce blue eyes glaring at her from beneath long brown hair. He took one step. The dog took two, teeth bared and growling. He looked to the dog, then back at Mattie - really seeing this time. His shoulders lowered and he brought his hands in front of him in surrender.

“Better.” Mattie did not change her stance. “Best start talking. What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t think anyone was here. The place looked cleared out for the season. I was just hoping for a spot to sleep that was dry.” He spoke softly. His right hand dropped, palm up. “I’ll just leave.”

Jack padded forward, sniffing his hand. He pushed his muzzle in more, stepping closer. His ears relaxed, and tail swayed. He licked the offered hand and looked back at Mattie with a full toothy dog smile.

“Hmm.” Mattie lowered her weapon. She clicked the safety back on, but did not put it away. “Well, you past the first test. Jack.” She called and the dog came around to sit at attention on her left.

“You just going to think I’m okay because your dog licked me?”

“I trust Jack’s judgement in regards to people better than any human I know. He’s never done me wrong. Still doesn’t change the fact that you don’t look like a hiker. You’re not someone who’s living on the streets. You wouldn’t be out here.”

He stared hard at the floor. “I should go.”

Mattie heard the rain start to hit the tin roof with great ferocity. It was a forty-minute hike to the nearest park station and miles to the nearest road. “You hungry?”

He glanced up, question pulling his brows together. Then he nodded.

“Okay, there’s a woodpile around the side. Bring some in, and I’ll go get my pack.” Mattie walked out in the rain, wondering what the hell she was doing. Crouching beside her things, making sure everything was secure, Jack snuggled close. “You think he’s okay, huh, buddy? Yeah, I wonder if he’s a kindred spirit, too.” She scratched his ears. “But warn me if I’m being stupid just because he’s hot as hell, okay?”

Jack woofed and spun around. Mattie laughed.

When she stepped back inside, shaking the rain off her hair, the stranger was loading wood into the old cast iron stove. At least he knew what he was doing. She took a cleansing breath and slipped the gun back into its holster.

“What do you say we start over?” She dropped the heavy pack on the table. “Hi. I’m Mattie. You look like you could use a hot meal.” She extended a hand.

He stood, wiping his gloved hands on his jeans. He shook her hand, still serious and reserved. “Bucky. I’m sorry to intrude.”

Bucky waited for her to show some sort of recognition. He wasn’t sure, but his face had to be on the news somewhere. He’d read that all of Hydra’s secrets had been dropped onto the internet. Surely, they were looking for him by now. It had been three weeks since the battle in DC. Instead, the attractive petite brunette smiled up at him with welcoming big brown eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

She had him get the fire going as she pulled packages of supplies out of her backpack. Jack circled the cabin, checking on them both. Bucky watched her open a storage area under a bench seat loaded with home canned goods, explaining why there were only dishes and pots in the cupboards. Before long a big cast iron pot of stew bubbled on the stove.

The rain created a steady clatter on the roof, but the cabin remained dry and warm. Still, Bucky stay bundled in his coat and gloves. Mattie offered him a cup of coffee, “Make yourself at home, Bucky. You’ve got to be sweating under all that.”

His left hand clenched. “I’m fine, ma’am.”

“Don’t do that, please.” She laughed lightly and slid into the seat across from him. “Just Mattie, okay?”

He nodded, sipping the coffee. Silence stretched out as she studied him closely. Bucky tried not squirm or rile against the close examination. He tried to remember he was a guest. “Thanks for let me stay.”

“Thank Jack.” She gave him a half smile. “So, what are you running from?”

Bucky went completely still.

Mattie casually got up and refilled their coffee mugs. “It’s just a guess, but you’ve got the same sort of tension I’ve seen in the mirror for the last six years. Alone. Alert. Off the grid. Running.”

He chewed his lip. “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“But someone’s after you?”

A single nod.

“Because of something you’ve done or something you know?” Mattie nervously picked at a chip in her mug.

“Both.”

“Are you armed?” Her brown eye locked with his blue.

“Yes.” He didn’t flinch.

“So, how is this going to work? Are we going to hold up here in an uneasy truce, or are we going to see if we can trust each other?” Mattie truly hoped they could trust each other. She’d been longing to have some to talk to, much less someone who looked like they could take care of whatever happened to be thrown at them.

Bucky desperately wanted to give in, wanted to take the opportunity to unburden himself of everything his mind had churned up in recent weeks. Fearing that once he started he would not stop, he held his tongue. Besides, she was kind and he did not want to bring her any more trouble. “I don’t know.”

“Alright,” Mattie pushed herself up. “Food should be hot.”

In silence, they dished up bowls of stew and ate slowly. The food was hot, tasty and filling. Mattie, gestured with her spoon for Bucky to help himself to more when he emptied his dish. Mattie rinsed her bowl and fixed Jack his food while Bucky ate his second helping.

She watched her dog munch away, and then just couldn’t stop herself. “I’ve had him for four years. Best decision I ever made. He’s smart, well trained, and great company. I can sleep if he’s with me. Before then, I never really slept. Every little noise would jerk me wide awake. Then I’d go until exhaustion got the better of me, and I slept too deep so the nightmares would come with a vengeance.”

Bucky held still, just listening. Afraid to break the spell, not wanting her to stop but not knowing what to say.

Mattie came over and picked up Bucky’s empty dish. Her hand rested on his shoulder and she squeezed. The sensation felt foreign and yet familiar. He closed his eyes against sudden and confusing emotions. “I promise I won’t do anything to bring you harm, and Jack will know if anything comes close before we will. Tonight, sleep hard and for as long as you want.”

Bucky didn’t trust his voice, nodding.

After doing the dishes, Mattie pulled on her jacket and took Jack out. She must have stayed on the porch because only the dog was soaked. As Bucky watched her towel him off, he considered what he could share and still keep her safe.

“I may have nightmares.” He stood nearby, hands buried in his jeans pockets. He’d removed his jacket and gloves, leaving him in the long sleeve hoodie.

“It’s okay. Me, too.”

“I want to tell you, but knowing is dangerous.”

Mattie suddenly looked very tired, “That’s what got me into this mess to begin with. Who ever thought the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ would be so damn true?”

“Don’t know about that. Not knowing is just as bad.” Bucky frowned, think about all the lost time, all the lost memories, the chair and painful wipes.

“Were you military?” Mattie unzipped her boots and crawled onto the armchair, feet tucked beneath her.

“Not for years.” Bucky shook his head, sitting across from her on the small old sofa. Jack jumped up and put his head in his lap.

Mattie immediately noticed his left hand and made no secret of it. “Well, that’s some next level shit.”

He flexed his hand, “Um, yeah. I suppose.”

“Secret Service, CIA or something?”

“No.” His rubbed the dog’s head.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Bucky’s head snapped up in surprise. But he slowly shook his head.

“No? Hydra?”

“Stop.”

Mattie swallowed. Hard.

Bucky waited. She would tell him to leave. He berated himself for allowing her to go on. This was a stupid idea.

“Well, if you’re running from those bastards, we have more in common than you may think.” Mattie stood up, going to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. She took a swig straight from the bottle as she walked over. She held it out. He took belt off the bottle and gave it back.

She folded herself back into her chair. Mattie studied the light playing on the amber liquid for a moment before taking another drink. “I stumbled on to the wrong thing at the wrong time. It cost me everything. Those cockroaches have long memories, and I’ve been hiding ever since.”

He nodded in agreement, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her sight drifted off into the distant past.

“I was nurse once, working on humanitarian program in South America. We treating kids with birth defects – everything from cleft palates to heart valve repairs. Something happened, a battle of some sort, and our little hospital was overrun by these people. Hydra, I later found out. They had their own people to take care of and apparently the little ones were taking up needed resources.” Mattie took a large swallow of the whiskey. “Some of us were necessary, some were not. The patients, the babies and their families, were just in the way. They ordered everyone . . . neutralized.”

Mattie fought to push back the memories of the killings. The Hydra doctors ordering some of the children to be taken for experiments and the screams for the days that followed crept into her consciousness.

“But you escaped.” Bucky felt a little sick. Of all the assassinations he remembered, he thankfully did not recall any children.

“Barely, with one of the hospital workers who sometimes smuggled for a cartel. I really don’t know how I survived that first couple weeks. I learned really quickly how many eyes there are in any given city. I started patching up wounded gang members that couldn’t go to an ER. My skills came in handy. I started trading medical services for instruction on anything that would help me survive.”

She took a final swig off the bottle of whiskey before standing and offering it to Bucky. “That’s my story, glossing over some of the details, of course. It’s been sixteen months without them catching my scent.”

He took the bottle and drank down a hearty mouthful, even though the alcohol did nothing to his serum enhanced system. The burn reminded him he was still human. Bucky watched Jack get up to stretch as Mattie put the whiskey away.

“What do know about Hydra?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“A lot more now than I did a month ago.” She admitted. “They are a lot more powerful than I ever imagined. I spent a few unbelievable days digging through the data dumped online. Made my problems seem so unbelievably small.”

“Did you,” he took a deep breath, “see anything about me?”

“I definitely don’t remember reading about anyone with the name Bucky, and I don’t think I saw any pictures of you.” Mattie frowned, an ugly realization settling in. “You’re not just running from them. You worked for them.”

“Not willingly.” He ground out through clenched teeth.

“What did they have on you?” She asked, carefully moving to sit on the opposite side of the sofa from him.

“It wasn’t like that.” He hung his head.

“They fucked with your mind. Oh god.” Mattie breathed. She’d read about the technology after the files were dumped. She’d dug straight into the medical experiments Hydra performed. A morbid need filled her to understand the depravity of it, even though she held no power to stop it yet. “Didn’t they?”

His hands clenched together. Eyes locked shut. Conflict raged in his mind. He wanted to run out the door and get as far away as possible. He wanted to crumble onto the floor and tell her everything. He needed to go. This was dangerous.

Then Bucky felt her small hand rest on the back of his head. He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Mattie barely heard him whisper, “They destroyed it.”

Bucky honestly could not remember last time anyone touched him with kindness, but he found himself leaning into the shoulder of this kind-hearted woman, who had every reason to not trust him. Yet, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and fingers caressed his hair as if comforting a child. He breathed in the clean, distinctly feminine scent of her. He committed every sensation to memory.

Mattie held him, heart breaking for this stranger. She could tell this simple comfort, this simple touch, surprised him. How long had it been? He leaned against her, but did not cling or grope. Mattie found herself squeezing him tighter.

“I’m so sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?” She asked, stroking his hair.

He exhaled, warm breath tickling across her neck. He did not want to move, so he remained in her embrace. Although he knew he should not say anything, he wanted to. “They wiped my mind. They stole my memories. They made me their asset. They made my compliant.”

Mattie knew she did not fully comprehend the extensiveness of his confession, but she’d read enough to know it had to be a hundred times worse than her imagination could fathom. Her throat tightened. “But you got away.”

She felt him nodded. Hesitantly, his arms encircled her waist. They remained that way for a while, just absorbing the strength from each other’s presence. Bucky chuckled when a wet nose nudged between them. Mattie’s light laughter joined him and she scratched Jack’s ears. “Someone wants in on the group hug.”

Bucky sat back. “I don’t know why you are being so nice to me, but I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Mattie joked with a wink as she retreated to throw another piece of wood into the stove.

The moment gone, they settled in for the night. Bucky insisted upon sleeping on the little sofa, although his legs hung over the edge. Jack jumped up on the bed with Mattie, curling against her back. The steady clatter of rain and warm crackling of the fire surrounded them as they both dozes off.

Jack woke Mattie with a wet nose. She jerked, instantly aware. Jack whined and padded to Bucky’s side. She approached slowly, watching his face contort in pain. Mattie fought the urge to smooth the furrow from his brow, but knew that he would likely lash out.

“Bucky.” She spoke kindly but loud enough to hopefully wake him. “Bucky, wake up.”

He began to curl up, defensively, growling and grunting in his sleep as if fighting against something holding him down. The more she spoke his name, the more he thrashed. His left arm swung out, metal breaking through the wood of the coffee table. Jack barked.

Bucky sat up straight, eyes wild.

“Bucky?”

“I…” he looked around wildly before knotting his hands in his hair, burying his head into his knees. “Sorry. Nightmare. Sorry, I woke you.”

“It’s okay.” She sat closer to him touching his head, feeling how tightly his fingers were clenched in his hair. “They’re nightmares. Memories. Not real. You’re here and you’re safe. For now, tonight, you’re safe.”

Bucky released the hold on his head, lolling toward her lap. The feel of her warm hands on the back of his neck and her fingers in his hair practically drew a whimper from his chest. He pushed up, elbows on knees, and tried to lift his head. He pushed away the grip of the nightmare.

She stood, taking him by the arm. “Come on.”

“What?”

Mattie just pulled him along with her to the bed. He shook his head, but still followed. “I don’t want to hurt you. Look what I did to the table.”

She ignored his words, and just crawled on the bed and held up the quilt for him. Bucky sighed and lay down beside her. When she rolled over, he spooned up behind her on instinct. Mattie yawned and buried herself deeper into the covers. Her fingertips stroked the skin of his forearm.

Bucky closed his eyes, allowing the scent and sensation to lull him back toward sleep. A part of his mind still spun, alert and fearful. He now felt different, particularly holding this woman in his arms. It was an old feeling, the urge to be a protector instead of a creature of destructions. Feelings that still felt confusing and long forgotten stirred in his chest.

He felt Jack jump up on the bed and settle atop the covers behind his knees. Two weeks ago, the thought of being sandwiched like this would be terrifying. However, this felt warm and safe. Bucky breathed in the scent of her hair. He felt the rise and fall of her chest. Her bare toes found the exposed flesh of his ankle between his sweats and sock.

Waves of emotions, long forgotten, rolled over him. He battled to keep his breath steady, trying desperately not to panic from it all. Bucky wanted to enjoy this. He needed it. Still he felt the urge to run from the feelings, from the pain the memories, from the ache behind his eye. Bucky felt guilt for bringing trouble to this wonderful woman, but he did not want to let her go. He feared hurt her, and still wanted to crush her to him with all his strength. Part of him wanted to weep.

Mattie sighed, she rolled over in his arms. She did not look up at him, but wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his neck. “It’s okay.”

Bucky squeezed her tighter, feeling her soft hair against his face. He couldn’t breathe.

Her hands rubbed his back and shoulders. He froze. She did not stop at the raise scars where flesh met metal, she continued and murmured words of comfort. Bucky’s fingers knotted in her night shirt. Mattie felt his muscles begin to let go, allowing him to breathe. She didn’t need to see or hear the hot tears that slipped into her hair.

Sleep must have overtaken him, because Bucky awoke to the feeling of Mattie jerk in his arms. He looked down, through the dark seeing her face crumple in her sleep. A quiet whine and a shift at the foot of the bed brought his attention to Jack. “It’s okay, boy.”

He swept the hair away from her face. “Mattie.” He spoke low and calm. “Doll, wake up.”

It took a few more tries, but her eyes flew open. She didn’t thrash out or make a noise. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She stared at Bucky for a moment before touching the hand that held her face. “I’m alight.”

She sat up and looked at her watch on the bedside table. It was still the middle of the night. Bucky watched as she got up and put another piece of wood in the stove. Tears continued to flow down her face. She made no move to wipe them away, made no apologies.

When Mattie climbed back under the quilts with him, Bucky wiped away some of the wetness with his thumb. He surprised himself by asking. “Do you want to talk about it?”

They lay there in the dark, faces close and legs wound together, quietly sharing their nightmares. Neither backed away from the other’s terror or judged the other’s fear. Bucky found he could talk about his nightmares. They weren’t real even if they were born from memories. He could discuss the memories that came back to him in dreams. The conflict of his conditioning didn’t plague him as they spoke into the night.

Mattie awoke slowly, aware of the solid warm body curled around her. Soft lips and the tip of a wet tongue languidly rubbed along the back of her neck, behind her ear. A large hand supported one of her breasts, under her shirt. Clearer thought formed in her head, and she could feel the very hard erection pressed into the curve of her ass.

She could only marvel at what a wonderful way it was to wake up. Her heart rate picked up. She laid there, lazily, unsure if Bucky was really awake. Mattie pushed the logical part of her brain aside. This man may be dangerous, he may be broken, but he was strong and he understood something of what she’d been through. He made her feel safe. He felt amazing.

Bucky froze.

Mattie slipped her hand up to cover his where he held her breast. She nuzzled her neck closer to him. Bucky’s mouth kissed her neck again and she hummed in delight. He moved his hand to rest on her waist. The puffs of his breath in her hair tickled her ear.

“Doll, I...” He didn’t know what to say. Should he apologize? He wasn’t sorry. Should he say he wanted her? That he wasn’t sure what was happening?

Mattie rolled over and took his face in her hands. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smoothed back his hair, smiling. “Thank you for that, but what do you want?”

Unable to resist, Bucky covered her mouth with his own. It was a soft, chaste kiss that carried more emotion than heat. He touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth again. “I don’t want to take advantage.”

Mattie actually giggled. He smiled at the sound, still keeping his eyes closed. He felt her kiss along his jaw and it made him ache. “Bucky, do you want me?”

He still her hands with his own. When their eyes locked, both were blown wide with passion. “I do, Mattie. I do, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me how?” She asked. “I’m not expecting anything-”

“No, Doll.” Bucky kissed her fingers. “I’m afraid of physically hurting you.” Confusion crossed her beautiful features. He sighed. “I haven’t - I don’t remember the last time – I was with a woman. I have a hard time keeping my mind my own. I’m worried that I could lose – that I wouldn’t be able to stop – that I couldn’t control myself and get – rough.”

Mattie slowly nodded her head, biting her lip. “After what you told me last night, I can understand. But Bucky, while you were sleeping just now you weren’t violent. If anything, you made me feel safe. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’m not afraid of being hurt by you.”

Bucky studied her, taking in the chocolate of her eyes and curve of her face. He believed her. The Universe should be beating him against jagged rocks for the things he’d done, and yet somehow, he’d found this calm harbor. Somehow, this amazing woman appeared like a balm against his weary soul.

His lips found hers again, gentle and searching. As their kiss deepened, he swallowed the whimper escaping her throat. She needed this just as much. Bucky kissed and nipped his way from her jaw to just beneath her ear. Her hands raked up his side, pushing his shirt higher. He involuntarily flinched. She stopped, but he nuzzled closer.

“Don’t stop.”

Mattie pulled at his clothes, tossing the shirt to the floor. She leaned over him, admiring the thick muscles and feeling his warm skin. She felt a pang in her heart for all the scars. He let out a shaky breath as her mouth trailed all the evidence of his pain as if she could kiss it away. When her tongue laved over his stomach, his hips involuntarily rocked forward.

“Fuck, Doll...”

Mattie crawled up his body, mouth wet and hair mussed. Bucky kissed her thoroughly, a gnashing of tongues and teeth, and she met his vigor with her own. Her leg swung over his hips and he moaned into her mouth when she sat back against him. He could feel her heat through their sweats as she rubbed against his length.

She sat up and tossed her shirt aside. Bucky’s mind went blank for a moment as he took in this amazing woman. His hand moved of their own accord, desperate to feel the soft flesh, the firm weight, of her breasts. Her hair fell down her back in a mass. A flush tinted her delicate skin. Most alluringly, a sultry wicked grin danced across her lips.

“You are gorgeous.” Her nails trailed down his chest and she bit her lip.

Bucky sat up, wrapping her in his arms. “No. But you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His mouth found hers again as he rolled them over. He took one hardened nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with other. Her nails scraped along his scalp and tugged at his hair. He wanted to devour her, touching and tasting everywhere.

As he reached the waist of her sweats, she lifted her hips in an eager attempt to be rid of the barrier. His mouth nipped at her hip, licked across to her inner thigh. Mattie’s legs opened wider of their own accord. The scent of her filled his head and he groaned. His fingers slipped through her folds, already slippery and wet for him.

He looked up, locking eyes with her as he leaned forward and lapped at her dripping cunt. The intensity in his blue eye while his face buried between her legs was the hottest thing she’d seen. It ripped the breath from her. “Holy shit.”

His tongue stiffened and flicked at clit. He sucked it in his hot mouth. First one, then two, strong fingers entered her. His strokes firm, curling as he felt her moan on the perfect spot. He hummed and groaned the most divine sounds, like he was in heaven. If this was out of practice for the man, Mattie was sure that Bucky at the top of his game would kill her.

The tension wound tighter and Mattie breathed deeper, not fighting it, not forcing it. She watched Bucky, listened to him. Drowned in the sensations. A warm flush filled her. “Oh god, Bucky, fuck. I’m about to. . .”

The pressure and the pace of his fingers increase and he sucked harder with a growl. Mattie came apart, flooding over his hand, being licked up by his tongue, shaking under his touch.

Her hand wound into his hair as he feathered kisses over her belly, a giant smile on his sex soaked face. “Come up here and kiss me.” She demanded. Their mouths clashed together, heated and desperate. Mattie’s hand reach inside his sweats, wrapping as best she could around his thick cock. He growled into her mouth and she giggled.

“Get naked.”

Bucky flopped onto his back, kicking off his sweats. Before he could move, Mattie settled herself between his knees. She massaged her hands into his strong thick thighs. Kissing along his hips, feeling her way closer. She pushed her hair over one shoulder and took his cock by the base. He watched her, open mouthed, as she ran her tongue from base to tip before taking him in her mouth completely.

“Fuck.” He groaned out a slow breath.

She began to fuck him thoroughly with her mouth, toying with her tongue and hollowing her cheeks, he knotted his fists into the sheets. Bucky desperately wanted to take her by the hair, wanted more, want to slam his dick to the back of throat and come. “Doll, you’ve got to stop.” He pulled at her “Or this will be over before it begins.”

Mattie nipped at nipple before moving to his jaw. “But I enjoy it so much.” She whined.

“I can tell.” He massaged her ass, feeling her rub against him. “Tell me you’ve got some sort of protection, ‘cause I really want to fuck you.”

She looked him in the eye, suddenly serious. “Did you mean it when you said this stuff they gave you, the serum, keeps you from getting sick or contracting or carrying anything?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m clean and I’m on the pill.”

His brows drew together. She wondered if it was more quizzical than concern.

“I can’t get pregnant right now.”

A slow smile spread over his face, hips rocking. “Really?”

Mattie ran her tongue along his lower lip before kissing him. “Really.” She rolled her hip so just the tip of him pressed into her wet entrance.

“Sweet fucking Jesus.” Bucky’s right hand went into her hair, holding her head close his. His left took her by the hip and guided her down as she impaled herself upon him. She panted, moving slowly, experiencing the fullness, adjusting to him and relishing in the feeling.

He kissed her again as she rocked, moving more. Blood rushed through her veins. Breathing each other in, kisses wet and messy, his nose rubbed again her smooth skin. She bit his lip, pulled at his hair. His metal fingers dug into her hip, her ass.

It felt amazing, but not enough. Bucky flipped her over hiking her knees up over his forearms and sank himself deep into her, hard and fast. Mattie cried out. “God!” He froze. Did he hurt her? Her hands clenched his shoulders, nails scraped up into his hair. “Fuck me! Hard, Bucky, fuck me hard.”

He slammed into her, causing the bed to creak. Mattie’s breath rushed from her body. Her body pliant and alive under his. She felt like the waves of near pain and exquisite pleasure would drown her. All she could do was hold on for the ride.

Bucky would not last, it had been so long. He wanted this so bad. He released her legs, and brought his own knees up, angling her hips. Mattie began to make delightful mewing noises. He nipped at her inner wrist, tasting her pulse. His right hand kneaded her tit, pulling at the over sensitive nipple. He was fighting to hold it together. She began to quiver in his arms. Their eyes were locked until her eyes rolled back as her body clamped around his cock, flooding over him, hot and wet. He plummeted over the edge in violent releasing, leaving him breathless.

They lay there, wrapped around each other, smelling of sweat and sex. Neither wanting to move. Neither wanting the rain to stop or the moment to end.

Bucky’s eyes drifted open at the sound of water running. Maggie stood at the sink filling a large kettle, wearing nothing but an oversized red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The back of her hair was a mass of tangles. The rain had stopped. Jack lifted his head up from the foot of the bed to look at him.

“Hey Doll,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep. “Whatcha doing?”

“No hot water here. I’m just heating some up for a bath.” She cocked an eyebrow as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Unless you want to take a cold shower?”

He gave her a surprisingly easy chuckle. “I’m used to those. How about we just get dirty again?”

Mattie laughed, continuing her task. Muted sunlight filtered into the cabin, an early morning sun fighting to break through thick clouds. A kettle whistled on the stove and she set it aside to add the other. He watched her move about with easy. She had great legs.

“Come ‘ere.”

She crawled under the warmth of the quilt, giggling when he rolled her over and pinned her down with his body. His mouth covered her smile with a lazy kiss. The tip of her tongue traced the curve of his full lips, drawing rumble from his chest.

“How the hell did I manage to get so lucky?” Bucky nipped at her ear. “This time yesterday, I thought for sure I was in for a bum rap.”

Mattie giggled. His body felt amazing, solid and hot. His scruff rubbed along her neck as those sinful lips kissed under her ear. Bucky laughed low against her skin as Jack belly crawled over the blankets and on top of the two of them.

The dog whined.

“He’s either jealous or needs to go out.” Mattie giggled.

Bucky adored the sound. Jack barked. “Out it is.”

He rolled off of her and she got up to open the cabin door. He watched her as she stood in the open door. Dark worries, images of this kind woman being shot down from the woods for nothing more than harboring him filled his mind. Standing there, in the morning light looking beautiful and relaxed, she would make such an easy target.

Leaving would be the right thing to do.

“What it is?” Mattie asked, concern etched over her features.

He’d been too lost in thought to notice her stare. Bucky shook his head, frowning hard. He should get dressed and go. Still, moving seemed impossible.

She shut the door when Jack came back in. She moved the second kettle off the direct heat on her way to sit beside him. Mattie touched his bearded cheek, ran her fingers through his hair. “What just happened?” Bucky locked his eyes closed, shaking his head. He couldn’t admit to the images of her bloody form in the doorway. “Please. Something went through your mind. Did you remember something?”

“No.” He held her palm to his face, eyes still closed. “I just. This is dangerous. Bad things could happen.”

“Oh, Bucky.” She pressed her lips to the furrow in his brow. “Yes. This is dangerous.”

His eye opened to get lost in her sincere gaze.

“Dangerous. But everything about my life is. This,” She kissed him softly, “is a gift. I’m not fool enough to think this could be ‘ever after’ and I know that the longer we’re in each other’s company the better chance the people after you and the people after me may stumble over each other. But for now, for just a few quiet days, let’s enjoy the time we have. Please.”

Bucky tasted her lips. Mattie kissed him back, thoroughly. It was slow, wet, lazy. He pulled her down beside him, hands touching her reverently. She responded to each caress with little moans and mews. He lifted the flannel shirt off her. She wrapped herself around him, urging him further, pushing the dark thoughts away.

He went slow, taking his time, drinking her in, savoring every sensation. Mattie moaned deep, knotting her hands in his hair, when he slipped into her. She was wet and wanting, loving the feel of his weight, the touch of their bodies. They moved together, tasting, touching, staring into each other eyes.

The orgasm caused Mattie’s very core to quiver, every intense sensation washing over her at once. She buried her face into his neck and felt tears in her eyes. Bucky held her tight, wanting to drown in her. His own release followed shortly after. He kissed the sweat off her brow, but did not want to move out of her.

“Don’t move.” Mattie pleaded. “Not yet.”

“I’m too heavy.” He smiled against her skin.

“You’re perfect.” She breathed.

As their bodies cooled, Bucky rolled off of her, but still held her close. When she began to pull away, he took her hand. “I’m going to set up the bath.” She explained.

Bucky heard water running in the bathroom. Then watched her fetch the kettles. Mattie moved about, comfortable in her nudity. She drew him from the bed and into a deep, wide copper tub. The water was hot, but not scalding and he knew it would cool soon.

“You’re going to join me, aren’t you?” He sat up and made space between his legs. “There’s room.”

“Yes.”

She took his hand and slipped down in front of him. Bucky lathered up a wash cloth and gently cleaned her body. “I need to move on soon.”

“I know.” Mattie laid back against his chest. “Stay just another day or two. I can go into town, get you supplies. It wouldn’t take long.”

Bucky considered for a while, stroking her skin with his fingertips. Mattie took his left hand into hers, carefully examining the metal digits that brought her such pleasure.

“I will go tomorrow night.” Bucky said at last. “It’s not safe for me – or you – if I stay in one place any longer.”

“Then today I’ll head into town. What will you need?”

“You don’t have to -”

“I know I don’t have to,” Mattie flicked water in his face with a giggle. “But I’m going to.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her. “Fine. Food. A new burner phone, too.”

When Mattie and Jack walked into the woods, Bucky grabbed an energy bar and a bottle of water. He wondered a ways from the tree line until he came to the hiding spot of the cross over motorcycle he’d stolen. He checked his supplies. Nothing had been disturbed. Bucky climbed up into the branches of a nearby tree, finding a location with a good view of the cabin and the direction Mattie disappeared. Resting a gun in his lap, Bucky waited.

Mattie made it to her car much quicker without the rain. The drive into the nearest town didn’t take long. Jack stuck his nose out the window along the way, enjoying the wind. She swung into a super store on the outskirts of town to do some shopping.

After, she picked up a coffee and surfed the internet on the burner phone she’d picked up for herself.

Googling ‘Bucky Barnes’, the very first entry was from the Smithsonian. Mattie read, hand over her mouth. Page after page, told of the WWII heroes and their fight. She read about the only member of the Howling Commandos to die, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. She stared at the black and white photos, knowing just how blue those eyes were in real life.

“Well, Jack.” She scratched her dog’s head. “Now all the old slang makes sense.”

On the hike back, she wondered how much he knew about himself. Bucky said he’d lost his memory. Hydra scrambled his mind. What else did they do to him? How was he still alive, and she smiled to herself, very virile. One thing Mattie was certain of, he was important. For heaven’s sake, the site called him ‘Captain America’s oldest and dearest friend’. Good side or bad, people were going to be desperate to find him.

She made it back to the cabin to find it empty. Damn. Mattie dropped her pack on the table.

Footsteps, heavier than necessary, came onto the porch. Jack stood at the door with his tail wagging.

Mattie rushed to the door and threw it open. “For a second there I thought you skipped out on me.”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “No, Doll. Just looking around.” She smiled brightly and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. “Nice to see you too.”

“I’ve gotten you something, and um, we need to talk.” She led him inside.

Mattie handed him a beer, still cool from her pack. He cracked it open and thanked her. “Okay, here’s travel food and that phone you wanted. I also got you this.”

Bucky took the medical supply box with a questioning look.

“It’s a sterile dressing for people healing from burns. It only goes to the elbow, but the it will cover your hand and forearm. A bandage is far less noticeable than the metal. It won’t be as conspicuous as a single glove either.” Mattie opened her own beer and sat down beside him.

“Great idea. Thank you.” Bucky took the dressing out, examining the flesh tone nylon.

“Bucky, do you remember the war?” She asked quietly.

Disjointed flashes of bombed out buildings and heavy wet wool uniforms and heavy rifles filled his mind. “I don’t know.”

“What about Captain America? Do you remember Captain Rogers?”

Bucky’s hand shot out grabbing her wrist painfully. He growled. “What?”

“Honey, ease up you’re hurting me.” Mattie said her voice flat, body still. His eyes widen and he snatched his hand away. “I did a little digging on the internet. Not much, but you two go way back. They two of you have a real history. He was your best friend once – ages ago, before World War II. Bucky, how is that possible?”

She watched a dozen emotions dance through his eyes. Finally, he looked at her sad and lost. “I don’t know what I remember. It’s all jumbled. I just see moments, flashes of people or things or places. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“He’s an Avenger now. He knows Tony Stark. If there’s anyone who get you the best help possible -”

“No.” Bucky clinched his fists. “I would be turned over to the authorities. I’ve done things. People will want me dead. Or worse, I’ll be their lab rat.”

Mattie’s heart broke at the pain and self-loathing in his voice. Her fingers ran through his hair. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from touching him. But he leaned into it, quietly accepting the comfort. “Okay. You figure it out your way. You should know, in the American History Museum in DC, there’s an exhibit. It’s all about your heroic time in the war."

Bucky’s eyes snapped up, mind reeling. He was in a museum, as a hero? He laced his fingers with hers, resting his forehead to their entwined hands. He wanted to remember.

“I got you something else.” She pulled out a brown leather journal with a pen in the clasp. “If your memories are coming in bits and pieces, then maybe writing them all down will help you put it all together. I know I wrote in journals to keep my head on straight when I was first running. Got it all out, you know. I couldn’t talk to anybody about it, so it went on the page.”

“I don’t know that I’m much of writer.” Bucky picked up the journal and flipped through the blank pages.

“No one will see it but you. Who cares? Hell, just make lists if that helps.” She smiled.

“Why?”

“Why journal?”

“No, why are you doing all of this? I don’t deserve it.”

Mattie giggled. “Well, when else will I ever get the chance to have a bonafide national hero in my bed?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but grabbed her and pulled her on his lap. He nipped at her neck. “I’m no hero.”

“Super-hot hundred-year-old dude, then?” She giggled harder.

“Doll.” He tweaked her nipple through her bra. “You calling me old?”

“I’m just saying-”

Bucky stalled her words with his tongue. She moaned into him. His hand slipped up under her shirt. Mattie trailed her mouth along his sharp jaw to nip at his ear, earning a growl from his chest. He stood, depositing her on the table. He pulled his shirt over his head as Mattie began toss away her clothes.

Helping her pull her jeans off, Bucky dropped to his knees before her. He lifted her leg over his shoulder before spreading her legs wide, unabashedly marveling at her glistening sex. His cool metal fingers tracing through her folds, as he nipped his way along her inner thigh. Mattie leaned back on both hands as his mouth covered her.

Bucky’s licks and sucks became more fevered. Her moans failing to drown out his wet slurping and satisfied growls. His fingers slid in and out of her quivering cunt, pressing deliciously on sensitive flesh. Mattie’s hand wound in his hair tight. “Oh, holy shit!”

He suddenly stood, jeans down, and rammed himself deep in one trust. Mattie cried out. Bucky dug his fingers into her hips, pounding into her hard. “Yes, Doll.” Bucky growled. “Squirt all over my cock.”

She did, coming hard and soaking him. He didn’t wait for her to recover, but flipped her over belly down on the table, ramming into her again. His left hand pressed into her lower back, his right took a handful of her hair. Mattied cried out. “Fuck yes!”

Spurred on, Bucky pulled her head back, biting down on the back of her neck. Mattie’s second orgasm hit her completely by surprise. Her legs shook and her body spasmed. Bucky held her up, unrelenting. “Shit, Baby. So fucking good.” Words tumbled from his mouth.

He lifted her leg onto the chair, letting him go deeper, crashing against her wall. The sounds coming from her whipped him into a fever. So hot. Yes, she moaned, always letting him go on, lost in the heady smell of sex and nerves on fire.

Bucky almost lost it when she looked over her shoulder, eyes heavy, panting and giving him the sexiest, wicked smile he’d ever seem. She shook, her mouth fell open. He felt her clench his cock. “Oh god! Fuck yes!” She whined. Gripped hard, he fucked her rough, losing his rhythm as he came just after her.

Mattie lay face down on the table, shaking, panting for a moment. He turned her over to hold in his arms with gentle hands, but her knees buckled. He held her flush against him. She giggled, love drunk.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Bucky nuzzled his nose into her hair.

“Way better than okay. Amazing. Gimme a minute, though, I can’t seem to find my legs.” She kissed his chest.

He laughed, an easy and honest chuckle, erupting from his chest. “I’ve got you.” Bucky swept her up in his arms and kicked the jeans off his ankle. He carried over to the bed, lying her down and crawling up beside her. He rained gentle kisses across her neck and chest, over her breast and to her belly.

She felt boneless, completely relaxed.

“Mattie,” Bucky whispered, somewhat strangled.

She lifted her head to look down where he ghosted his fingers over her hips. A deep frown marred his beautiful face.

“Doll, why didn’t you say I was hurting you? These bruises are already showing.”

“Oh, Bucky.” She pulled at him until his face was close to hers. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. Not really. Besides, if you would have stopped – I may have had to hurt you.” She smiled brightly.

“But,”

She cut off his words with a kiss. “No. No ‘buts’. That was amazing and intense and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re so fucking good. I feel incredible.”

Bucky kissed her back, gently and full of emotion. He’d let himself be lost to the moment, to lose control. He never wished to hurt her. But here she was thanking him for it. “You are one extraordinary woman.” A lopsided grin bloomed on his face. “You’re going to be sore.”

“And every time I feel it, it will make think about you fucking me senseless.” She smiled back.

He threw his head back and laughed. Mattie curled up to him, entwining legs and getting lost in his scent. She knew it wouldn’t last, but for right now she intended to lap up everything Bucky had to offer. Sleep tugged at her, and she fought to stay awake.

Bucky could feel her beginning to drift off and fight it. He kissed her, slow and lazy. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll stick around until tomorrow. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good.” She mumbled, falling to sleep almost immediately.

He lay there for a while, fingers tracing slow circles on her back. He would use the journals. He would document what he remembered. He would write down the bits and pieces of his old life. He would list what he knew of his time as the Soldier and remind himself that it was not him. He was no longer in their control. He was Bucky Barnes. First, though, he would write about the woman who reminded him what it felt like to be a man again.

Bucky thanked whatever power was out there that he stumbled across this little place in the woods.

#bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes smut #mcu #captain america #bucky x original female character #bucky x oc #bucky angst

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tonystarkbingo · 4 years

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Tony Stark Bingo Prompt Meme

So, we did another Prompt Meme game, and came up with these summaries based on a three-tag prompt. This is an open prompt, if any of these summaries look like fun to you, please feel free to write them!! Tag us or the writer of the prompt when you do so we can all see how cool you are and what you’ve given us for the promot

@summerpipedream - Winteriron - All Tony wanted to do after finishing up at MIT was to pack up his desk at Stark Industries and quietly fade into obscurity. Sure money was tight, but he never expected Jan to actually sign him up for one of those social media reality shows. Now, he was stuck in a house, with no phone, no internet, or access to the outside world, trying to avoid the sexy Bucky Barnes, who's mission in life seemed to be to never wear a shirt around him.

@darthbloodorange - The world is ending, an alien race has all but taken over the world, it is an apocalypse of devastating proportions, most of the world is dead. The Avengers, those who are left, have retreated to a bunker built a fourth of the way down into the Earth’s core. Tony and Steve have been growing closer, when they are not working together to find a way to fight back against the aliens, they are fuck buddies. Tony’s a genius, he knows the odd of surviving this are not in their favour. Odds were that they were going to die… and well, Tony doesn’t want to die without letting Steve know how he feels. Before the battle Tony corners Steve in the armoury and confesses that he loves him. Steve is aromatic, has been since project rebirth. They are both so very sorry.

@newnewyorker93 - After a series of strange killings where the victims are found set up kneeling like they're praying, Tony Stark (a private detective) is on the case. An initial (false) suspect is the local priest, Matt Murdoch, who ends up being a helpful ally in solving the case (and possibly more)

@27dragons - Winteriron: You'd think that Tony Stark would have learned to ski when he was growing up. You'd think wrong; Howard never saw the point in it. So here he is, almost done with his PhD, and his friends have decided on a spring break trip to go skiing. He doesn't want to admit to them that he doesn't know how, so their first night at the lodge, he offers one of the ski instructors a large sum of money to sneak him up onto the slopes for a few lessons that night. Against his better judgment -- but desperately needing the cash -- Ski instructor Bucky Barnes takes Tony up on the slopes. Unfortunately, just as Tony's starting to get the hang of things, it starts snowing. Hard. Even more unfortunately, the newfallen snow disguises a patch of ice and Tony tumbles out of control. By the time Bucky catches up to him and verifies that he's not badly hurt, the snow is coming down too hard to see the lodge -- so what else are they to do but seek shelter in a caretaker's cabin conveniently (TM) nearby and wait for morning...?

@gavilansblog - Tony is kidnapped as part of an Evil Plot (TM). He's handling things just fine, tyvm, until his would-be rescuer (who he's been pining for, obviously), gets dragged in and handcuffed back to back with him. Seriously, dude? If you insist on breaking the kidnapping procedure at least actually rescue me! The taxes come in when the Evil Plot Master does his monologue and reveals that the kidnapping is part of a Villain Logic scheme to get Stark Industries to throw money behind the campaign to get a new law requiring actually taxing billionaires to fail. Evil Plot Master is, naturally, a billionaire. Tony would facepalm if he weren't handcuffed to his idiot rescuer, seriously. And then the kidnapping protocol kicks in and Jarvis shuts the whole facility down only instead of being handcuffed by himself Tony is now handcuffed to his rescuer so they have to do the whole escaping part of the plan while handcuffed together, resulting is the standard Tension (TM) moments and possibly an almost-kiss.

Fey Relay - Bruce, Tony, and Peter, resident science geeks, get de-aged and really want to play in the lab. You know, the one that has lots of things that can kill them in it? But they're still sort of mentally in there, just cranky and smol. So they get assigned their own Non-Science Adults who they hand-hold and point to do their sciency bidding. Thor, Steve, and Natasha oblige them and have great fun!

@rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter Dragons were real. Okay they were actually just souped-up dinosaurs, but that didn’t mean Tony wasn’t being hunted—with intent—by lizards. He hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid Island in the first place. SI funding had explicitly been removed from the crackpot idea to return dinosaurs to the food chain. He could have told everyone that this was going to happen. Instead he was climbing through a jungle with a one-armed man who refused to give his name and if they didn’t get to the raptor enclave, retrieve the anti-venom, and return in time, people Tony loved were going to die.

His guide had better live up to his scruffy wild-man appearance or Tony was going to lose everything.

@somesortofitalianroast - Nurse Bucky Barnes wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. The vigilante known as Nomad had just crashed through the (luckily) open fire escape window. While he was lucky not to have any broken bones, he was unlucky enough to have a bad concussion. A really bad one. One that meant he couldn’t fall asleep. Also unfortunately, he only had the one bed and the enormous Nomad wouldn’t fit on his couch, so they’d have to share. It was only after he helped Nomad into his bed that he noticed the blood, and, unthinking, he pulled the cowl off to check for another, serious injury. And gasped. Nomad was Steve Rogers, his best friend in school, who’d died in an IED attack in Iraq 5 years earlier.

@polizwrites Natasha Romanov and Virginia Potts are the proprietors of Chaykus - a Russian tea room on the seedy side of town. Its new mission is to be a sanctuary for women who have been smuggled into the country for sex trafficking purposes. As for the men who engage in such practices? Well, they are quickly discovering that their days are numbered.

@dixiehellcat - Pepper is the manager of the heavy metal band War Machine. James Rhodes, lead guitarist and founder of the band, is looking for a new lead singer. He did not expect the woo-loving Virginia to get horoscopes cast for the applicants and decide based on that. He just wants somebody who can sing, dammit. This Stark kid is uncomfortably attractive, yeah, but he's been thrown out of two bands already. what? the shower sex? it was only that one time after a show, and they were both wasted...

@dracusfyre Tony was born without a soul mark. Bucky's was lost forever when Hydra took his arm. Without the universe to give you a hint that this person is The One, falling in love is gambling with your heart. But soulmates don't have to be born, they can be made - and Bucky and Tony decide that the same should be true of soul marks, as well

@ceealaina Tony was like nerd prime growing up. Normally he doesn’t let it bother him too much — he’s got inventions to invent, after all. But all of a sudden he realizes that he’s almost 20, he’s got two degrees under his belt, and has no idea how to do much more than kiss. He’s not entirely sure how he manages to convince Rhodey to sleep with him to “get it out of the way,” or how he manages to convince him to keep sleeping with him to “help improve my technique,” but it’s the best sex of his life (not that he has much to compare it to) and he never wants it to end. But it’s the night when they’re watching movies, and Tony’s ends up dozing against Rhodey’s shoulder only to wake up to a feather light kiss against his forehead that he realizes he might be in trouble.

@thudworm - King Anthony considers it part of his royal duties to protect his people by going out and taking care of any monsters harassing them. Of course, no one can know that the knight Iron Man is really the king, which leads to some fun assumptions about Iron Man’s identity.

@jacarandabanyan Tony’s mom forbid him to purposefully drive out his roommates so that he can have a room all to himself where he can tinker until morning light. She had to hear about it from friends, acquaintances, and other well-known socialites often enough when Tony went to boarding school and ran his roommates off there. Now that he’s in college, that behavior must stop. Luckily for Tony, he doesn’t even have to try to get the first two roommates at MIT to request a room switch. But then he meets his third roommate- a tall, handsome, funny man named James Rhodes. At first it was just natural joy at having a fellow competent engineer to hang out with, and perhaps the occasional dirty thought. But his crush on the man quickly grows. Before he knows it, Tony’s pining hard for his best friend. Every once in a while he thinks Rhodey might be interested too- but then he hears Rhodey lecturing a computer science senior for plying Tony with :beer: alcohol at a party because “come on, man, kid’s only 16. Have a little class and try chasing skirts a little closer to your age.” After that, he’s convinced Rhodey will only ever see him as a friend and a kid.

psychiccatpanda - Tony works hard and puts in long hours. So what if some of his long nights turn into very early mornings at CHew 2 OH. The only drawback is his business partner and head baker, Steve, with his disappointed looks and his continual arguing. When Steve's friend Bucky starts hanging around the shop, though, Tony notices. Oh lord, he notices. A month or so later, one night when he and Steve are working after hours at Steve's place to plan their seasonal menu, Steve tells him that he's noticed him checking out Bucky. Tony hits him with a decorative pillow and things kind of get out of hand. Surveying the damage (let's face it - Steve's coffee table was never going to be quite right again), Steve turns to him, "I was just going to suggest you get some practice kissing before asking him out." Oh. Oh...

@tisfan So... the problem with being a necromancer is being able to practice one's skill. The local cemeteries won't even let you look at a dead body if you're not a relative. Tony Stark, budding necromancer, forges a marriage certificate for the John Doe so that he can practice his craft. Only to find that it works perfectly. Bucky is No Longer Dead, and 100% interested in staying married...

@abrighterdarkness He didn’t mean to snoop. He knew that wasn’t what he was being paid for here--the loud laughter of the party echoing from down the hall where he was actually supposed to be, was clear enough reminder of that fact. All Tony wanted was two short minutes to breathe without being pawed at--yes, yes, that might be his job but breathing room was much appreciated just the same--and now he was stuck in this closet sized bathroom with what sounded like a mob-hit being discuss right outside the door. He knew he should’ve turned this job down.

magica - Howard Stark had an idea. Some people - alright, most people, stop hitting me, Maria! - would say it was a terrible idea. But it was only a little injection of stuff based on that strange glowing blue cube they'd found in the Arctic. And Tony was absolutely willing, let's get that straight, Maria! How was Howard supposed to know that it'd enable Tony to open up his own portals? And if some mystical green energy happened to swamp Tony just as he was opening a portal to Egypt? Well, that wasn't his fault. The dark-haired, well-built Priest of Anubis that Tony manages to bring back with him? That is not his fault either, damn it, Maria!

@festiveferret - Tony could say with absolute confidence - at least, if he could say anything at all in his current predicament - that this was not the way his PR rep, Pepper, would have wanted him to come out. There were, he figured, several hundred ways that the day could have gone better, but if asked to rank the top three, he'd put them thusly:

1) That he decided to come out by having a wild, unabashed make out session with none other than Captain America, in the middle of a busy New York street.

2) That it was, in fact, the morning after their first "date" - a term he was applying loosely here - and not a tasteful reveal of a long-standing, safe, secure, adult relationship.

And 3) That at some point between the first floor lobby of his apartment building and the front door off his penthouse suite he'd suddenly, unexpectedly, and so-far permanently been turned into a ferret and no one knew.

It would also probably concern her to discover that of all these rather bewildering turns in his life, the one at the forefront of his mind was that ferrets couldn't send morning-after texts, and he didn't want Steve to think their little dalliance had been nothing more than an - albeit unfortunately public - one night stand.

Of one thing he was sure, however: Pepper was going to need a raise.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #bingo party #prompt meme

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