#you can tell when I get the wandering eye from when my knitting tag blows up

[the-bluestreak-cat]

Shoutout to my followers who engage when I start hunting for knitting inspo

#knitting #you can tell when I get the wandering eye from when my knitting tag blows up #I’m on a double sided scarf rn for my pops and I did it too wide so I’m doubting myself lmao #thinking about flip mittens… #I have some rainbow wool I’ve got my eye on but I’d hate to waste it #that and a winter sweater in dark green and white #that and a yellow and white ‘gingham’ cardigan #aurgh #the second I start a second thing this scarfs goin to the wayside and I Will finish it lmao #all that to say #I also like the bottom middle Halloween sweater! Raglans are cute as hell

[lambden]

i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. here’s more bingo smut for @novigradmarket ... happy holidays!

Prompt: tinsel bondage

E, 3.2K words, Aiden/Lambert/Coën (with established Lambden)

Tags/warnings: modern AU, ... tinsel bondage

“I have to say,” Coën says, more apprehensive than Aiden has ever heard him before. “This isn’t what I expected when you said you needed a favour.” He still has yet to step through the open door into Aiden and Lambert’s apartment; his eyes may be wandering, but his feet are firmly planted in the hallway outside. 

He thrusts his hands deep into the pockets of his sweater— a hand-knitted gift from Eskel, which Aiden only knows because Lambert has a matching sweater of his own. Even though Coën might not technically be part of Lambert’s family, he’s practically one of the pack by now. He’s Lambert’s best friend, which has been more than a little daunting as Aiden tries to navigate the emotional minefield that is Lambert’s family. Coën has been there long before him. And although he’s far too kind to ever say it, should something happen between Aiden and Lambert, Coën would definitely be around to pick up the pieces.

But that’s exactly why Aiden needs to cement this friendship— or, at least, that’s the rationale he’d prepared before Coën actually came over. Now he just feels foolish, and he hasn’t felt foolish while standing shirtless in front of a gorgeous man in a long time. To make up for his nerves, Aiden holds out the massive roll of tinsel to Coën. “I know, but I didn’t expect it to be so much work,” he practically whines. “I’ve been looking up bondage tutorials for hours and they all say a partner is key.”

Though he frowns in bemusement, Coën accepts the proffered tinsel. Aiden counts that as a minor victory and steps back into the apartment, clearing a path for the man to enter. He continues, “If you’re uncomfortable then of course you don’t have to, it’d just— it’d just be a massive help! I mean, the shops were all sold out of sexy one-eyed blow-up dolls, so I had to make do with what I already had at home.”

That terrible joke finally draws a smile out of Coën, and Aiden instantly relaxes at the warmth in his eyes. It’s easy to see why Lambert used to have such a crush on this man when they were teenagers, even if Aiden is glad that Lambert chose him instead. “I’m not uncomfortable,” Coën tells him, sounding very uncomfortable. “It’s just… not what I expected. Where do you even find bondage tutorials?”

“Reddit has everything, my friend,” laughs Aiden. As if he hasn’t been scrolling through the same weirdly devoted Tumblr blog for most of the day, half-trying to find inspiration and half-grinding against his palm. He balances that palm against his bare waist now, and watches without comment as Coën’s gaze sweeps over his naked chest once more. “So… you’re alright with this? Really?”

“It’s a great present,” says Coën, ever the fair and balanced dork. Aiden can’t imagine how he puts up with an asshole like Lambert— he’s only able to manage their relationship on account of being a massive asshole himself. Finally Coën steps over the frame and shuts the door quietly behind himself, and Aiden exhales for the first time since he showed up. Then, for reasons unknown, Coën adds, “Lambchop’s a lucky guy. We should probably get started if he comes home from work soon, yeah?”

“Yes,” Aiden nods eagerly, then remembers exactly how weird this favour really is. “Um. Would you like water or anything, first?”

“I’m alright.” Coën begins twisting the tinsel in his hands, looking for an end as if it’s tape or yarn. It takes tremendous effort but Aiden manages to tear his gaze away from the shifting muscles in those broad arms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. How can anyone look that good in an ugly, homemade Christmas sweater? It defies the imagination. “So am I tying you to the couch here, or…?”

He could ogle Coën all day but the man’s right— they’ve got work to do. Aiden shakes his head and gestures for Coën to follow him into the bedroom, where he’s already set up a jazz vinyl. Lambert can’t stand the sound of jazz but Aiden adores it, and if he’s going to relax enough for another man to tie him up in tinsel, he’s certainly going to need calming music. 

The record is quiet enough that the neighbours won’t hear, but loud enough to drown out the creaking bed frame as Aiden reclines onto it. He starts on his back, drawing his knees up and spreading them until his feet are by his wrists, and he can easily hold his ankles. Raising his head to peer at Coën, Aiden mumbles, “I thought something like this, maybe. You know, you could just tie my wrists and ankles like this, um…” Still holding his bundle of tinsel with one loose end, Coën stares at him from the entrance to the bedroom. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t expect this to be awkward.”

“You didn’t?” Once more Coën laughs, although there’s no meanness to it at all. “So this is your first time having a friend tie you up, then?”

Aiden releases his ankles, huffing sheepishly. “First time having anyone do it, actually,” he admits, and sees Coën’s eyes bulge in surprise. “I mean, I don’t want anything too intense! I just want him to be surprised.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” says Coën. Aiden watches him pace over to the nightstand to retrieve a giant red bow, the type that would belong on a new bike. Not a trussed up boyfriend. Aiden flushes, embarrassed, but Coën just holds the bow up, frowning thoughtfully. “Is this meant to go around your neck?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Aiden bleats out, instead of I thought maybe you could hang it above my gaping asshole, actually! He reaches for the bow, meaning to arrange it around his neck to test how it might feel, but before he can grab it Coën snatches it away. He huffs, shifting his shoulders around to get a little more comfortable. “So are you up for this or not?”

“Sure, I’d love to help.” His tone is almost too perfectly kind— Aiden flushes again as he wonders if he’s being teased. Lambert has always raved about Coën’s sharp wits but honestly, Aiden never gets that impression from him. Coën seems too honest and loyal to have a cutting sense of humour; he’s booksmart, not necessarily clever. But now, seeing him walk around the bed and admire Aiden’s body like it’s a new project to be worked on… Aiden starts to think that maybe Coën’s hiding a laugh. He’s surprisingly flustered by the idea, which must be why the next question catches him so off-guard. “Are you going to keep your pants on?”

“I don’t have to,” Aiden volunteers almost instinctively. Coën doesn’t move, and eventually he realizes that that means the onus is on him to undress himself. Feeling more demure than he’s ever felt in his entire life, he reaches down to unbuckle his belt. The mood music isn’t doing a good enough job calming him down, and the tiny clink of his buckle is almost more than he can bear. To keep the conversation going, he blurts, “I told Lamb you might help me with his present, you know.”

“Yeah?” Coën holds a hand out for the belt. “What’d he say?”

Aiden, stymied, hands it over— then he watches Coën open their closet and carefully hang it next to the rest of their belts. That’s almost too much to handle, so he focuses on stripping out of his jeans in one smooth motion. “Uh, he said that was good, that he liked the sound of that. Because, uh, apparently you always give really good gifts.”

“He flatters me,” Coën scoffs fondly. When he turns back to the bed to take Aiden’s discarded jeans, Aiden watches him falter. Which is entirely fair— it’s not like Aiden had warned him about his underwear, and he knows that this piece is a scene-stealer. Aiden is privately pleased when Coën doesn’t immediately look away from the red lace garment sitting low around his hips. It wouldn’t be fair if he was the only flustered one here.

Then, as the music swells for a heated moment, Aiden realizes that Coën is staring not at his festive underwear, but at the plug that must be visible through the semi-opaque fabric. Even if he can’t see its ridiculous candy-cane colour he would be able to see the flared ridges of its base where they’re pressing against the lace. 

Aiden inhales and curls his toes, flexing his thighs so that the plug moves inside him, and Coën honest-to-God squeaks. Aiden opens his mouth to reflexively deflect, perhaps to give the man an out. After all, he’d signed up for ‘hey, we’re friends, we’ve been to three concerts together now, could you perhaps tie me up in tinsel because I forgot my boyfriend’s Christmas present?’ He had not signed up for this, and Aiden knows he’s taking it too far. But he can’t help put on a show, not when Coën is watching him with such narrowed, focused intensity.

But before Aiden can defuse the situation Coën steps closer to the bed. He doesn’t touch Aiden but he sets the bow down on the mattress and Aiden swears he feels the impact anyway. Coën says, low and serious, “I guess I have a reputation to live up to,” and before he remembers their previous conversation Aiden can’t, for the life of him, parse what the fuck Coën means. Then the implication sets in— I guess I have to make you look good for him— and a shudder runs down Aiden’s spine, making him tremble. Coën doesn’t relent, continuing in that sinfully low voice, “If I came in here… alright, let’s try something else. You’ve got a lovely face, but if I came in here expecting a present, perhaps I’d want you on your hands and knees.”

“Right,” Aiden pants, scrambling to do exactly that. He flips over on the bed so quickly he nearly topples off the edge, but before he can fall he feels a hand on his upper back. He nearly jerks at the motion, unsure why he expected Coën not to touch him. In order for this whole plan to work, Coën is going to have to touch him a fuck of a lot. “Sorry,” he grits out, shaking his head. “I’m good, I just… you startled me a bit.”

“I’m sorry,” Coën says sincerely, coming around the bed to stand at his side without touching him. “If you need me to stop or untie you, really, just say the word. I’m only doing this because you want to— if it starts to feel weird, you need to tell me, alright?” Aiden nods, digging his teeth into his lower lip. Again, Coën prods; “Is that alright?”

“It’s alright,” says Aiden, embarrassment fading slightly. God, Coën is such a dweeb. He’s going to choose to focus on that and not the undeniable fact that this encounter is already much, much sexier than he’d imagined it would be. He had thought the tinsel would be unimaginably itchy and the bow hilariously goofy, not… well. He hadn’t thought that any of it would go like this, with him on his hands and knees, ass in the air for another man. For his boyfriend’s best friend, no less. Even though Aiden knows Lambert wouldn’t mind, the thought still makes him tremble.

Apparently satisfied by his answer, Coën returns his broad, warm palm to Aiden’s back. “Lower, I think,” he suggests gently. Aiden obliges, folding himself down so he’s resting on his elbows. Then Coën taps those too, pulling his wrists up behind his back. Like this Aiden is face down against the mattress, preventing him from enjoying any part of the display, but he can imagine how it’d look for anyone entering the room. For Lambert entering the room. 

His legs spread a little at the thought, at what Lambert will surely do when he comes home to find Aiden like this. Coën takes the cue and moves down there, taking Aiden’s ankles and gently spreading them even further apart. “Is that comfortable? Do you feel like you could hold this for another half hour?”

“Holy shit, we’re cutting it close,” Aiden laughs against the pillows. Coën laughs too, and it sets them both at ease, dissolving some of the tension built up between them. “Yeah, that feels alright. Feels good.”

“It looks good too,” Coën assures him. “I’m going to tie your legs like this, then, but I’ll leave him a little room to move them around.” All of a sudden Aiden is extremely glad to be face-down as heat sparks through him and his cock twitches with desire. Not room for Aiden to shift his legs, but for Lambert to move them as he pleases. Aiden exhales heavily and the pillows only partially muffle the sound.

If Coën notices Aiden’s growing problem, he graciously ignores it, wrapping tinsel around his knees and ankles. Aiden expects it to itch abominably— this is the part he’s been dreading all day, honestly— but it only feels like a light tickle. A rasp, maybe, if he leans into it. He nearly likes the idea that it’ll leave his skin flushed red even after the gentle restraints are removed, like how rope would cut into him and leave an impression. He closes his eyes and lets Coën tie his legs up however he likes.

“Stunning,” Coën says. Aiden gnaws on his lip again, worried about the kind of noise he might let out if he doesn’t. “Really, just… this was a great idea. I had my doubts, but it looks… Yeah. Wow. Lambchop’s gonna black out.”

“Well, let’s hope his reaction is slightly more involved than that,” grins Aiden. Coën chuckles, this time lower than before. Suddenly Aiden desperately wants to know what the view is like for him. Not what it’ll be like when his boyfriend gets home, but how Coën is feeling right now. “Hey, if you’re gonna black out, at least finish wrapping me before you do!”

“What a mouthy gift you’ve brought home,” Coën teases, and Aiden is the one who nearly blacks out at that. So he does know how to tease! Aiden redacts his earlier musings about Coën not having the capacity for cleverness, and wiggles his hips slightly in lieu of a response. 

But Coën just reaches down to take Aiden’s wrists in one hand, grabbing the tinsel with the other and tying them together above his ass. The angle is just shy of uncomfortable but at least Aiden won’t be like this for long. He tests the bonds, curious to see how Coën’s handiwork will hold up against the most minor struggling— but to his surprise, the knot holds fast. “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re very good at this. Hey, I can’t believe I forgot to ask this earlier, but have you done this before?”

A beat hangs in the air as both of them breathe, silence interrupted only by the record player. “No,” Coën finally admits. “I was a Boy Scout, though.”

“Course you fucking were,” Aiden says, delighted. “I would pay to see pictures of that. Do you still fit into your uniform?”

“I didn’t keep the shorts, but I’m sure I wouldn’t,” Coën laughs. He moves up the bed and at first Aiden can’t fathom why, but then when Coën’s gentle hands draw a ribbon around his throat, it’s all he can think about. Right. The bow. Coën ties it more loosely than he expects, and leaves the large bow dangling around Aiden’s neck, ends trailing over his shoulders. 

Perhaps Lambert will grab the ends while he fucks him— the thought makes him shudder, and he really shouldn’t be having reactions like this while Coën is still so close. Valiantly trying to return the conversation to safe territory, Aiden begins, “So was Lambert a Scout with you? Or was that before the two of you knew each other?”

Before Coën can answer, both of them freeze as they hear a sound from outside the bedroom, distant but unmistakable— the doorknob turning as someone opens it. They hadn’t even fucking locked it. Aiden can hardly lift his head to look but he tries anyway, and when he turns he sees Coën staring back at him with wide, dark eyes. “You said half an hour.”

“Guess he’s home early,” Aiden breathes. His traitorous cock twitches with want again. Why is that the most dangerous situations always make him feel the most turned on? “You weren’t supposed to be part of the present, Eagle Scout. Any ideas?” Because Aiden can provide a couple, but he’s pretty sure none of them are appropriate enough for Coën to say yes.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” whispers Coën. Despite his serious tone he looks uncertain as he stands and slowly crosses the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Aiden doesn’t blame him— for all Lambert’s many winning attributes, he does have a lightning-quick temper. Coën’s involvement in this whole ordeal was only supposed to be a funny story, shared after Lambert fucked Aiden silly. Aiden feels guilty that Coën now has to go explain this whole thing to his best friend. 

And also, he feels especially guilty that none of this awkwardness has, at all, made his dick less interested. He strains against the tinsel but Coën did a fantastic job tying him down. If Aiden really wanted to free himself, he’d have one hell of a time doing so. He rolls his hips forward in a tiny, locked motion, grinding against thin air. It provides no friction or relief and the plug in his ass doesn’t move against anything, only moving when Aiden flexes. He moans into the pillow, low and quiet, and as a result he nearly doesn’t hear the awkward conversation happening just outside the room.

“Coën? Didn’t know you were over. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine, sorry! Aiden asked me to come over.”

“Oh, cool. … Where is he?”

“Uh. Well. It’s kind of a funny story.”

Aiden’s knee slips out towards the edge of the bed a little more and somehow the motion pushes his panties up his hips, jerking the plug slightly more inside him. He misses the rest of the muffled dialogue from outside, too busy trying to catch his breath. He’s overwhelmed— has been ever since Coën pushed him down onto the bed, to be honest, and he’s starting to lose what little control he’s got left. He bites down on the soft fabric of the pillow, thinking absentmindedly about the laundry they’ll have to do later, and the apologies he’ll have to deliver to both Lambert and Coën.

Then the bedroom door opens, and he hears a quick inhale from— well, from either of them. Like this, with his face shoved into the pillows, Aiden has no hope of being able to tell who’s who. That thought— that it could be either one of them standing behind him, ogling him right now— is too much to bear, and he groans again, trying to bear down against the plug.

“Holy fucking shit,” Lambert says, already sounding hoarse. Well, that’s one question answered.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Aiden mumbles, trying to spin his head to look over his shoulder. He can’t without straining, but he catches a brief glance of not one, but two men in the doorway. Well, they both might be mad at him for this, but if he’s going to be naughty, this feels like the right time to do it. Aiden breathes, turning to shove his head down again, “Coën, you sticking around?”

#lambden fic #lambden #lambcoen #lambcoen fic #ot3 i desperately need a tag for. it's fine #aiden #coën #events #my writing #lambcoden fic #lambcoden

[spencers-renaissance]

my heart talks about nothing but you

Summary: Derek finds Spencer staring longingly at dancing newlyweds while on a case and once he gets to the bottom of why he's tasked with making a proposal to a man who knows it's coming special somehow. (He pulls it off.)

Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, minor angst, so much fluff, relationship discussions, proposal, vulnerable spencer, protective derek

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid 

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(link to the prequel)

Derek watches curiously as Spencer stands, staring at the newlywed couple dancing slowly to the beat of Norah Jones’ The Nearness of You, surrounded by their friends and family looking fondly on. They’d accidentally crashed the wedding when visiting the venue to question the staff about a connection to their current case, but Spencer had forgotten all about the serial killer on the run as soon as he’d laid eyes on the dancing couple. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb, standing frozen in place, a little off to the side from the rest of the guests but not far away enough to be set apart as staff or… visiting FBI agents. Derek knows he just needs to go and tap him on the shoulder and he’ll snap out of it. They’ll head back to the station and continue working the case, never mentioning his distractedness again, but he isn’t really sure that’s what he wants to do. There’s something so beautifully tragic about Spencer’s expression as he watches the slow waltz across the mahogany dance floor that Derek can’t bring himself to interrupt. 

There’s something whirring through his pretty boy’s head, and he can’t quite figure out what it could possibly be. He doesn’t seem particularly enamoured with either the bride or groom — and Derek should certainly hope not, he wouldn’t be overly pleased if his sweet, devoted boyfriend developed a wandering eye — and the dance itself is nothing special, just two people in love swaying in step to a slow song. 

It must be something emotional then, something about the concept of a newlyweds’ first dance, but what sentiment could possibly be strong enough to allow Spencer to forget himself this much, to wander off in the middle of a case and waste precious minutes watching strangers have an intimate moment together? Derek hopes it’s something good, but with the amount of tragedy his boyfriend has a knack for collecting, he isn’t holding out much hope. 

Eventually, he brings himself to touch Spencer’s arm gently, causing him to whirl around and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of Derek’s face. They head back to the police department and, as he predicted, they don’t talk about it.

⭐️

He can’t quite let it go, though. The next few days are spent with the image of Spencer watching dancing strangers almost forlornly haunting his brain as they finish working the case and fly home to Quantico. Once they’re back in their apartment, shut away from the rest of the world, he can’t help but broach the subject.

Mustering enough self-control to wait a little while longer, he waits until he’s made them a simple dinner of penne alla vodka and they’re sat at the kitchen table enjoying it to bring it up. They’re holding hands on top of the table as they always do — regardless of every one of their friends complaining about how sappy it is — and he gives it a gentle squeeze before clearing his throat and putting down his fork.

“Spencer,” he starts hesitantly, “when we were at that wedding checking out the venue’s staff… What had you so distracted? You were staring at the bride and groom like you were in a trance.”

He watches as Spencer freezes for a millisecond before resuming chewing as nonchalantly as possible. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Okay, so it’s going to be like that, Derek thinks a little cynically, but he tries not to lose hope as he takes a breath in before sighing it out. “Baby, if you don’t want to tell me for whatever reason, I’m not going to force you. But we both know that you do know what I’m talking about and I just want you to feel safe and comfortable enough to share it with me. We’ve been together going on five years now, pretty boy, we don’t keep secrets, not anymore.”

Spencer blinks rapidly as he stares down into his bowl of pasta and Derek rushes to the other side of the table as soon as he sees the tears in his eyes, taking Spencer’s hands in his. “That’s exactly it, Derek,” he says, crying quietly, “we’ve been together five years.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at that, tucking a beautiful chestnut strand of Spencer’s hair behind his ear before running his thumb under his eye, brushing his tears away. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says gently, picking Spencer up off his chair and moving them both to the sofa. Since the very beginning of their relationship, he’s always been able to calm Spencer down by picking him up and putting him in his lap; he’d told Derek once that it made him feel safe. “What’s all this about five years? Are you anxious about our anniversary?”

“No,” Spencer promises indignantly, shaking his head. “No, I— it’s just been making me think.”

“Uh, oh,” Derek teases gently, pressing his fingers into Spencer’s side, and it’s worth it when it makes him flash a brief, teary smile. 

“It’s been making me think about my parents, and how when I was really little I used to watch their wedding VHS on repeat. I’d sit on the living room carpet, face practically touching the TV, and watch my two favourite people promise to spend the rest of their lives together. I remember thinking how lucky I was that my parents were so in love. But then William pulled the rug out from beneath my rose-coloured view of the world and I came crashing back to reality.”

“And the dancing the other day reminded you of that time in your life?”

“Sort of,” Spencer answers awkwardly, clearly nervous to reveal the whole truth. Derek knows to just give him time, but he only has to wait a few moments for him to resume explaining. “I’ve been wondering whether I want to get married myself. When I was eleven and left dealing with my mother’s episodes all by myself, watching her cry for my father as she begged him to come to home, I promised myself that I would never put myself into a position where I could be hurt like that. I vowed never to marry anybody. But as… you know, we’ve been together and our relationship has progressed, I’ve found myself rethinking it all over again.”

Derek doesn’t cut in when the pause comes: he’ll know when Spencer’s finished, but he presses gentle kisses of reassurance to whatever he can reach, kissing his hand, his shoulder, his forearm, his ear. The soft pink blush blooming on Spencer’s neck makes the endeavour feel worthwhile. 

“When I was watching that couple dancing, Derek, I wanted it to be you and me. You’re not the man my father is and I’m not my father’s son, so fearing the outcome of my parents’ marriage is starting to feel more and more irrational. I know we can’t predict the future, but I know that right now I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

As soon as he’s done speaking, he buries his face in Derek’s neck, making himself as small as he possibly can against his bigger body. They’d had a few conversations about marriage over the years, but neither of them had considered it especially important so they’d usually just left it, but there were times that Derek longed to propose to Spencer, to make it official. He couldn’t stop worrying about what would happen if he got hurt — he needs to know Spencer would be treated as his next of kin, that everything he has would be Spencer’s. He’d always sensed, though, that with his boyfriend it was more than just a case of not seeing it as necessary or worth the enormous cost of a wedding, and he hadn’t wanted to prod him where he knew it was probably sore. 

“Dr Spencer Reid,” Derek teases, “are you proposing to me?”

“No, no,” Spencer laughs, withdrawing his face from Derek’s neck, blushing slightly. “You were the one who brought it up!”

“I’m only teasing, baby,” he chuckles, running a hand down the side of Spencer’s arm. “Listen, if you want to get married, we’ll get married, okay? It’s as simple as that. I can’t say I haven’t longed to make you my husband at different times over the years we’ve been together, and the idea of throwing the best wedding anybody’s ever been to very much appeals to me.” He grins up at Spencer’s shy expression. “Do you want to be, you know, proposed to?”

Spencer blushes properly at that, looking a little sheepish as he avoids Derek’s curious eyes. “Maybe….”

“I thought that might be the case.” Derek smiles fondly before swinging his boy over so he’s laying on the couch before following suit and positioning himself on top of him. “You better be prepared, Dr Reid, because I am going to blow this proposal out the water,” he promises, kissing him deeply as he winds his fingers in his hair.

“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer whispers, before kissing him again, pasta forgotten and cold on the kitchen table. 

⭐️

Derek lets a few months pass — although he bought them both rings the day after their conversation — before he finally proposes. He knows that anything special or flashy is off the table, because as soon as Spencer detected a hint of something out of the ordinary, he’d know it was coming. He’d also considered involving the team or his family, but eventually settled on it being just the two of them. An exclusive memory shared only between the two of them sounds pretty good to him. 

The first day they have off in September is warm and bright, and Spencer just smiles at Derek’s suggestion of a walk around their local park. They often take strolls around the city’s more nature-rich areas on their days of reprieve from their gruesome job, but it feels even more electric than normal when Spencer slides his palm against Derek’s and interlocks their fingers as soon as they lock the door behind them.

“I’m going out with the girls tonight,” Spencer tells him as they make their way out of the apartment building and into the golden sunshine, the autumnal season still early enough for its warmth to be felt against their skin. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Penelope’s bringing us to a show at her favourite drag club, and I’m quite excited, actually.”

“I’d like to see you in drag, baby,” Derek teases, swinging their hands between them. The streets of DC at 10am on a Tuesday aren’t all that busy, and they walk at a slower pace than normal, enjoying the lack of businessmen and executives jostling them in their hurry. Derek’s other hand fondles the velvet box in his pocket but he doesn’t feel nervous. Anticipation swirls in his stomach, but he’s had enough practice taming it with all his years as an FBI agent to not let it show. 

“You have seen me in drag, moron,” Spencer laughs, rolling his eyes. Derek will never tire of that sound. It still sends the same butterflies loose in his chest as it did the first time he heard it.

Years later, Derek won’t remember what he said in response to that, just that he managed to keep up a conversation the whole way to the park as he ran his fingers over the velvet box in his coat pocket, and Spencer never suspected a thing. 

He waits until they’re far enough into the park to have a little seclusion and privacy to stop walking, accidentally interrupting Spencer’s ramble about his most recent documentary as he pulls gently on their interlocked hands to get him to pause walking, too. Derek’s on one knee by the time he turns around, velvet box in his hand, and Spencer’s hands fly straight to cover his mouth in surprise. 

“Spencer, you are the love of my life. I didn’t think I’d ever settle down, I knew not to expect love, but then I met you. And I fell head over heels for you, baby. You’re everything I need for the rest of my days, and I don’t want to spend a single moment of the time I have left without you by my side. Now, although I know what you’re going to say, and this isn’t the most romantic surprise anyone’s ever pulled off: Dr Spencer Reid, will you do me the honour of agreeing to be my husband?”

“Oh my God,” Spencer says, tears streaming down his face, “Derek, yes, of course I will.”

He doesn’t waste another moment on his knees, springing up and wrapping his boy in a tight hug, before pulling back slightly, gripping Spencer’s face in his hands and kissing him gently. He’s never had a way with words, not like his future husband, so he tries to convey everything he doesn’t know how to say with the way he kisses him. 

When they pull away, he thinks he’s succeeded by the look on Spencer’s face. Derek takes his finger and slides the engagement ring on; a simple silver band with a line of deep-set diamonds running through its centre that fits him perfectly. He passes the box to Spencer who catches on and does the same to Derek, pushing the matching band onto his fourth finger. They stand there, in the middle of a park with their heads bent together, staring at their hands for an inordinate amount of time. 

“Soon it will be us slow dancing on a mahogany dance floor,” Derek murmurs, lifting his right hand to the nape of Spencer’s neck, winding his fingers around the small curly hairs there. 

“Can we use that Sinatra song for our first dance?” Spencer asks, and his eyes are so open and earnest, they take Derek’s breath away for a moment.

He huffs a laugh as he leans forward to rest his forehead against his fiancé’s. “Baby, I’d give you anything you asked for, you know that,” he promises, but really The Way You Look Tonight would be his first choice, too. Their first date had been at a late night café, and towards the end of the night the cover band playing in the corner had played the Sinatra classic. With a little persuasion, Derek had got Spencer out of his seat and they’d danced happily to the music, not caring that they were the only ones dancing. 

They’d danced to it countless times in the kitchen since, and it had slowly grown into their song as their relationship had bloomed. Really, using any other song would be a crime. 

“You’re lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft,” Derek sings into Spencer’s ear as they continue their walk through the park, making him giggle happily. 

“There is nothing for me but to love you,” Spencer sings back, linking their hands again.

“And the way you look tonight,” they finish together, collapsing into laughter as their tuneless voices join together in an ugly harmony. 

“I do love you Spencer Reid,” Derek sighs, happiness filling him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“Not as much as I love you, Derek Morgan,” Spencer argues, pressing even closer to his fiancé’s side. 

As they tease one another lovingly, Derek realises that he can’t wait to have this argument for the rest of his life.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @drinkingcroissants

#moreid #my writing #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid fluff

[supermarvelgirl15]

Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 2: Coffee?

Summary: You seem to struggle to carry a lot of things. Bucky needs to learn that it's okay to have friends.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,705

Warnings: None I think

A/N: This is pretty much a filler tbh lol. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

    One more. You could carry one more bag.

    Splat.

    Maybe not. 

    You cursed under your breath as you squatted down, trying to grab the bag that you dropped on the ground. Hopefully the contents inside didn’t spill and they were all still good. You should really stop trying to carry more things than you possibly can. It’s just, why would you make multiple trips when you can just take one?

    The bags that seemed to fall from your grip every thirty or so feet were meant for the veterans in the shelter that had been built post-Blip. The shelter needed all the help that it could get, so you decided to buy them some sandwiches with a few extra snacks from the grocery store. It wasn’t the ideal breakfast food, but you were sure they would still love them.

    The search for your brother so far has turned up empty handed. The security cameras at the docks had somehow been wiped, which immediately raised some red flags. The footage mysteriously cut off as soon as Colton parked his car, picking back up again a couple hours later. 

    Technology wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so you sent the tape to one of the members of your old SEAL team, Rhett. Rhett was probably the smartest one that was on your team, and if anyone could do it, it was him. So while you were waiting on some feedback from him, you were going to help where you could.

    Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he was out this early in the morning, but he needed to be anywhere where he wasn’t being trapped inside his own head. His nightmares weren’t getting any better and the one last night was a bad one. He was tired, grumpy, and desperate.

    He needed something to distract himself. If he tried to get Yuri out this early, it would certainly get him cursed out in Japanese. There wasn’t really anyone else for him to go to anymore, so that just left the option of him wandering around the streets of Brooklyn. 

    Brooklyn. He grew up here a long time ago and it was barely recognizable anymore. Sure, there were places that were still the same since the forties, but it just seemed different. Maybe it was because he was different.

    A familiar sound of curses made him look up from where he was watching his feet, looking around for the source. His eyes landed on you, squatting down to pick up one of the various bags that you had dropped. Why was he always catching you in these situations? 

    He’s seen you a few times since the first time you met, but it was nothing more than offering a small smile to the other. Sometimes you would say something to him in passing and he would just nod in acknowledgement. 

    Could he be more friendlier to his new neighbor? Yes, he could be way nicer to you. The old him would have even tried to make a move on you. He just wasn’t in the market for new friends at the moment. Especially ones that knew who he was. 

    At first, he was just going to continue on his way, not wanting to interact with anybody while he was in a mood. But when he saw you plop down on a bench with that defeated look on your usually cheerful face, he couldn’t not help you. 

    Bucky glanced around him as he approached you, taking his gloved hands out of pockets. You didn’t seem to notice him, too immersed with checking whatever was inside the bags that you had been carrying.

    “Good mornin’,” Bucky greeted you, sticking his hands back into his pockets once again. He observed as your sad look from before quickly changed back into your usual happy one. Then he noticed how you internally did a double take once you realized that it was him speaking to you.

    “Morning,” you replied with a smile as you set the bag you were looking through to the side with the others. A voice inside his head made him wonder how someone like you could smile at him like that, but he quickly blocked it out. 

    He cleared his throat before he continued talking. “You looked like you could use some help,” he gestured to the bags on the bench beside you. 

    You looked down at the bags, nodding slightly. “I… Yeah, I could definitely use a lot of help,” you chuckled as you stood up. “I’m taking these to the veterans shelter down about three blocks. I don’t want to cause you any trouble by asking you for help,” you licked your lips as you picked up a few of the bags.

   Bucky shook his head as he started picking up the rest of the bags. “You didn’t ask. I offered,” he reminded you, starting in the direction of the shelter. You stood there in shock for a moment before shaking it off and quickly followed him. 

    The walk to the shelter was pretty much a quiet one, neither one of you knowing how to start a conversation with the other. You couldn’t help but try to sneak a glance to his left hand, trying to see if any metal was peeking out. You wondered if he noticed what you were doing, watching as he shifted the bags in his hand somewhat nervously out of the corner of your eye.

    Bucky stayed outside as you went into the shelter to drop off the bags of food with the volunteers. He didn’t feel comfortable going inside, not wanting to risk actually seeing someone that would know him. If anyone was going to recognize him, it would be war veterans.

    You came back out a few minutes later, waving goodbye to one of the old men before you shut the door behind you. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets as you walked over to where Bucky was standing. 

    “Thanks for helping me. I’d probably still be dropping them on the street if you didn’t show up,” you laughed slightly. Bucky gave you one of his awkward smiles in return, telling you not to mention it. He turned to leave, taking a few steps away from you, but something came over you. You couldn’t let him leave just yet.

    “Would you… like to get some coffee?”

    Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning back to face you. He knows that he should say no. He didn’t want to let anyone get close to him. 

    “Sure, why not?”

                                          ★

    The café wasn’t too far from their apartment building, Bucky finds out. He wondered why he’s never been here as he listened to you tell him how now was the perfect time to go since the breakfast rush was coming to an end. He realizes you were right when you both sit down in a booth tucked away in the corner. There were only a couple other people in there, making the café a nice contrast to the busy streets just outside.

    The waitress that took your coffee orders made the place even cozier with her soft spoken voice. You told him that her name was Jolene and that she started not too long before you moved into the apartment across from him. He’s been here longer than you and you’re already making more friends than him. Then again, he wasn’t exactly trying to.

    When the waitress came back with your orders, you slipped her your debit card to pay for both of your drinks, much to Bucky’s protest. He tried to argue that he could pay for his own coffee.

    You shook your head, blowing into your coffee to cool it off some. “It’s my way of thanking you. Plus, I get a military discount,” you smiled cheekily at him, taking a sip of your drink.

    Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked over at you, the money problem briefly leaving his mind. “You’re military?” He questioned, glancing you up and down. He honestly didn’t take you as a soldier, but some things about you did make sense now.

    You nodded as you reached into your shirt, pulling out your dog tags to show him. “I used to be. Apparently my squad was disbanded during the Blip, so they put me in early retirement,” you answered him, the last sentence coming out bitterly. 

    Bucky nodded apologetically, taking a small sip from his coffee. “It seems the Blip screwed over a lot of people,” he commented, glancing around the café.

    You opened your mouth to change the subject, but was interrupted by your phone going off. You apologized to Bucky before looking at it, seeing that it was a message from Rhett. Your heart started beating faster as you read the three words he sent you.

    I got it.

    You stuffed your phone back into your pocket as you started swiftly sliding out of the booth. “I’m so sorry, but something just came up. I know this is so rude,” you started rambling out an apology.

    “It’s fine, really. Everything okay, Kris?” Bucky stopped you, looking at you worriedly. He hoped it wasn’t something he did.

    You bit your lip, nodding frantically. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just a, a family emergency. Um, if you give me your number, I’ll let you know when I can make this up to you,” you tell him, your eyes widening once you realize you literally just asked James Barnes for his number. “If you want to, that is. I totally understand if you don’t want to give it to me.”

    Bucky laughs slightly, easing your anxiety some. He definitely should laugh more. “Yeah, uh, it’s…” He started reading out his number to you as you quickly typed it into your phone. 

    You give him another smile as you saved his number. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to you later, James,” you said, turning to leave before getting stopped by Bucky’s voice.

    “You can just call me Bucky. The only person that calls me James anymore is my therapist,” he cringed at his attempt at a joke. Who tells someone they barely know that they have a therapist?

    You didn’t seem to mind as you smiled at him again. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

××××××

@bucky-bunnie @learisa @denimbex1986 @magconfangurl1​ (If you would like to be removed/added please let me know!)

#DToB #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #kay writes

[blackvelvetwriteson]

Hi, could I get a one shot fem! black reader x Kakashi, please? (can be nsfw or fluff, it's your choice)

Hey there! Thank you for the request 🥺🥺 I had a bit of a roadblock with this one simply because I couldn’t think of a prompt, BUT I eventually thought ‘why not write about the holidays’ so I got into a groove with it! Once I got into it, it was a really fun write! I hope that this is what you expected and/or lives up to your expectations! 

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒

                                            (  ~ Kakashi Hatake x Black Female                                                                   Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Fluffy Fluff!                                                                  

FANDOM: Naruto Shippuden

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There really are none for today, it’s pretty fluffy for today!

SUMMARY: Reader-Chan wants to celebrate the holiday season this year because she never got to, but she doesn’t necessarily know how to approach Kakashi about it since he never celebrates the holidays (or ever even heard of them for that matter.

WORD COUNT: 4303

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

     For some reason, you were in an incredibly festive mood this time around. Maybe it was something about how the gilded sunlight made yours and Kakashi’s home feel more… Well, home-y. Maybe it was the remnants of your food that you’d made earlier for your lunch still lingering around the house, or the kids of the village running around outside of your windows, whether subliminally training or not undeterminable, reminding you of your youth. Time had gone by so fast, and already you’d been in Japan for about two years and a half. You already knew that, in general, the people of the area didn’t celebrate Halloween, and actually it was a week AFTER Halloween would’ve taken place in America, but something about today… Something about today made your festive bone quiver and you decided to do SOMETHING to celebrate. 

Since you’d picked up on the shinobi not celebrating American holidays like you were used to, you avoided asking Kakashi about it. Come to think of it, he never really did anything you were accustomed to besides the staring thing; and when you got together he tried to give you food related nicknames. You had to sit down and explain to him why it wasn’t okay and why it made you uncomfortable and then he thoroughly apologized and left it at that. He didn’t really have any nicknames for you, and from research you found that most women in Japan (and men) only go by their given names with -chan/san at the end which was cute, but if everyone had to call you that then it’d lose meaning and it wouldn’t be as cute.

Even still, though, you decided that today would be the day that you participated in the festivities of the holiday season that, in America, would be fast approaching. The only question for you was who you were going to dress up as and suddenly a thought formed in your head as you popped up from the couch and scurried to your guys’s room. You’d dress up as your hero, your boyfriend Hatake Kakashi! He wouldn’t expect it, you’d be able to see how everything fits, AND it’d be cute- at least you thought- and it’d give you something to do so that the crisp, perfect day didn’t go to waste.

You sifted through the closet with eager eyes as you hummed softly, some of your curls coming loose and falling down by your face, your dark brown beautiful eyes twinkling as you pulled out the parts to the outfit he wore from day to day, your eyebrows knitting a little as one corner of your lip lifted a little. “This man, so help me black Jesus,” you whisper softly noticing how much heftier your wardrobe was than his. He had the same outfit to go over about 5 or 5 times, black sweatpants, black shorts, and 3 different headbands all crushed, neatly, together on one side of the closet while your clothing took up the other half. You shook your head and closed the door with your hip once you were sure you had everything you needed for your little plan. You looked it over excitedly, your slender auburn fingers contrasting almost perfectly against the colors of his uniform. “Damn… I never noticed that till now,” you laugh softly as you remove your shirt and start to pull on articles of the outfit, trying to mimic exactly how you saw Kakashi wear his so you didn’t accidentally disrespect him. Of course he only had 2 masks and a shirt with a mask that you’d sewn onto it, and you decided not to mess with any of it. You didn’t want to hide your face at all whatsoever, especially behind masks that might’ve well have been your boyfriend’s comfort items. You had pretty much everything on, the worn out navy blue bringing everything together, the green brightening your pretty almost black eyes. You giggle softly as you look in the mirror and decide to do something with your hair before it dried completely- you’d taken a shower only 30 minutes prior and your hair was a little damp. You scurry off to the bathroom with the bandage and garter in one hand, your yellow hair pik in the other. You looked extremely excited, for once taking a moment to completely love and indulge in yourself. Being in an area where your existence was offensive to others to suddenly going to a place where absolutely nobody looked even close to you was an extreme shift, but Kakashi made it okay, literally brawling with anybody that so much as looked at you the wrong way. You had a small bit of tummy, but he loved that about you; and it’s not like it slowed you down any, made you unreliable, or made you any less attractive than you were. In fact, to some people it wasn’t even really noticeable unless you were wearing certain things. You also had to drop the American style and adopt the Japanese locale and honestly, while that was a HUGE shift, Kakashi helped with that too. Sometimes you’d get yourself in trouble with how you spoke though; that American lingo that’d been generationally passed down to you finding its way showing up and showing out, especially when someone wanted to make fun of your hair, or your physique and compare you to the other local girls, most noticeably Ten-Ten, Lady Tsunade, Sakura, and Hinata. They argued that the more pale girls were more attractive; because you could play in their hair and you wouldn’t have to worry about one slowing you down- at which remarks you stuck the shit talkers to a tree with your kunai for hours after you thoroughly cussed them out and ribbed them a little, telling Kakashi what’d happened so he could go cut them down. On the flip side, the kids absolutely adored you and loved when you were out so they could play tag or ask you unnecessary questions or get some treats from you.

You quick-washed your hair in the sink and started to blow-dry it deciding that you’d give yourself an at home blowout so that you could complete the look. Being the multitasker you were born into being, you found something to prop the blowdryer up while you piked your hair out quickly, smiling as you watched your hair fluff up, watching your coils straighten and then get bigger until it couldn’t anymore. Then it hit you; Kakashi hadn’t seen your hair blown out except once and that was while you were braiding it back and his eyes were fixated on your fingers as he wondered how a person could do that. At this point, your hair was halfway done, and while you let the tool dry your hair even more, you attempted to wrap the bandage around your thigh and it only BARELY made it, your thigh utterly choked in the process. You looked down at your leg and then pensively looked at the garter and decided that wouldn’t fit around your leg and you let out a frustrated sigh. “That man, is fine as fuck, but why he built like a bean pole,” you huff quietly as you let the bandage loose from trapping your thigh before your mind wandered to him. “…. Aight so maybe he got a LITTLE bit of muscle, but we aint talkin’ about that right now,” you laugh softly before looking at your phone seeing that he sent you a text signifying that he was on his way back from training for the day and that he was fine. You smiled cheerily at your text and tilted your head some at yourself, using your pik to fluff your hair out more before you scurried back to your guys’s room and snatched one of his spare headbands up, securing it quickly and tactfully. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hands coming up and sliding into the arm holes of his navy green vest. You turned to one side, then to the next, then finally you looked at yourself from a front profile and your eyes glistened a little. “You’re… so heroic,” you mumbled under your breath before you heard some clatter coming from outside of the room.

“Oh right… You can do that,” you say as you open the door and watch him freeze completely in his spot, his eyes slowly raking over you from head to toe then back up again, his stoic expression unchanging from what you could tell. “H-Heyy… Honey,” you smile nervously as you wave with one of your gloved hands. He walked towards you and slipped one side of the headband over one of your eyes and then he stifled a soft grunt under his breath.

“It’s Kakashi. We’ve talked about this,” he said softly before he looked over his shoulders, his hands sliding in his pockets again as his back straightened out some. “….Why are you wearing my clothes,” he asked with a slight edge to his voice, meanwhile you were still frozen in place, your legs starting to quiver some. You didn’t know why he was being so cold to you and it made you just a little insecure. “Particularly… Those,” he said as he stared at the wall below the TV you both had, his legs crossed as he leaned back into the couch.

“Damn so you not gonna say ‘hi.’ Or ‘I missed you,’ or nothin’ like that hm? Well… My bad, I guess I’ll just go take it off,” you say softly, the spirit of the day becoming crushed. He mused softly and his head only tilted a small bit. He didn’t even look at you and you noticed this. The whole time you were here… The whole time you were together the only thing you wanted was his eyes on you and his praises. You were struggling and it was on you for the most part because you hadn’t reached out to him for help. He was a real big one for “say what you mean or need,” or something like that. You LOVED the idea behind the last stretch of the year; the days designated for giving thanks, hanging out with the ones you love, amazing food, and gifts, and movies, and music. All of it… But having come from where you had, you never really had good times or a good chance to make memories. Now that you were old enough to have someone of your own and actually be able to create memories, you wanted to… But instead you’d been trying to force it out of your life to make your man happy, however you weren’t having it anymore. You just didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Mm.. What’s-“

Before he could even finish speaking, you’d vanished back into your guys’s room and shut the door behind you. He sat back in the seat and he let out a low drawn out breath and then stood up. Within one second he vanished from the living room and appeared right in front of you with his arms crossed.

“I asked why you were wearing my clothes, not that you had to take them off,” he said as he looked blandly at your hurt expression. “And I was trying to ask what was up with you,” he said as he reached one hand out and gently tipped your head up, his free hand reaching for where your bangs covered your eye but then he stopped as he usually did and he tilted his head some. “May I?” He spoke from behind his mask. You push his hand out of the way and move your hair out of your face by yourself, your sharp eyes peering into his. This time his eyebrows rose a bit more noticeably and usual and he waited for you to talk so he could listen, his hands now in his pockets.

“Yknow… I’ve tried to work what is normal to me out of my system… And when I was younger, that would’ve been… Easier. But now, it’s not… Kakashi, when you don’t look at me it makes me feel undesirable… Because nobody else looks at me unless they’re making fun of how flat and wide my features are… or how damn burnt I look even though this is my natural skin tone! I just… Want you to call me your baby once in awhile damnit! I want to call you *mine* and not just… Ka-ka-shi. Everybody calls you that… And… I get jealous when I see the other people hanging out with you, the cooler people with the sharingan variants, or the cool eyes and the people with the slim builds, or the people with the advanced shinobi skills that are greater than mi-“ You hadn’t noticed that while you were talking, Kakashi pulled his mask down, then you were interrupted with a kiss. It was a soft, but soulful kiss; the kind where one of his gloved hands had you by the chin and the other by the back of your head. The kind where you could feel his body heat completely wrapping you up. The kind where you felt his trembling breath break his completely calm composure. Your hands were gently pressed against the back of his arms, one of your hands at his elbow as he pulled away and allowed his eyes to slowly open. His shadow was cast down onto you and you saw his eyes squint a little, his smile hidden by the mask he’d pulled back up after the kiss. On the other hand, your eyes were wide and your lips were barely parted, your eyes glistening as you looked over his mostly hidden smile. Your knees buckled under you and he helped make sure you didn’t fall, his chest pressed against yours.

“You done?” He asked as he helped you stand upright again. You were dazed just staring at your man and he smirked a little as he pulled his mask down again still standing close to you. “I see… You want everyone to know that you’re mine and vice versa? That’s it? That’s why you’re wearing my clothes today…? You want me to… Call you mine? Right?” He spoke quietly, he was ONLY talking to you, his deep voice getting a little more hoarse as he continued to drone on, his hands on your hips pulling you closer to him, his intense gaze still cast into your eyes. You swallow hard and nibble the inside of your cheek. “You want you to call you my baby? My beautiful, perfect baby girl? Hm? Is that why you’re acting out? Or… You want me to show you that I care more, right? Maybe… You want me to make dinner once? Or bring you flowers? Or watch you train? Or… Cheer you on? Right? Perhaps tease you a little… Or hold you this close all the time?”

You nod slowly and then look away already knowing what this was sort of leading up to but his slender fingers forced your gaze back on him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, baby,” he said softly as he tilted his head a little. “If you wanted that… Why didn’t you just say so? I can’t read minds… And I’m still relatively new to this whole… Romance scene,” he said softly as he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. “You know this. I’m a little… Dense? I’m not sure if that’s the proper word. But…. You’re just… Ugh… I didn’t know that me hanging around people made you jealous- perhaps it’s in my best interest to just tell you how much you mean to me all of the time. You’d want that too, right? I know you would,” he said softly as his fingers gently trailed up your back. “Or… Maybe you want to have a little bit more sex? Is that apart of it?” The question made your eyes wide, skin burn with an invisible blush, and your jaw drop a little. He let out a hollow laugh in turn, gently pushing your jaw up to close your mouth with the tips of his fingers. “Baby steps. I got it. For now, let me just say this: You’re beautiful… All of your scars, curves, marks and all. Those coffee colored eyes of yours are so much more… Stupefying than any sharingan I have seen and will ever see…. The little spark they get when you’re determined, or that soft glisten when you get embarrassed,” he said as he looked over your whole face. “Your body… Your whole body… Is amazing… You don’t have to be slim to be an amazing shinobi; and so help me, my beautiful queen,” he says softly as he leans down so he’s eye level with you. “If you ever discredit yourself like that again, I’ll work you out so that you’re not able to move for the next week. You’re right on the fast track to be a fine shinobi- possibly even the greatest at that. Well… Not greater than me, but that’s another story and another conversation,” he said quietly as you were pushed back onto your bed while he stood over you. “Are those idiots getting into your head again?” His eyebrows furrowed a little as his hands slipped back into his pockets.

Finally you were able to find your words again and you crossed your legs out of habit. “Y-Yeah… For… Like… The past 3 weeks they’ve been telling me that I’m too slow… Or I’m too… Wide… Or making fun of me and my eyes, or making fun of how dark I am… Or making fun of my hair! My damn hair! It hurts… A lot… And we’re together, but I don’t want to be known as that abnormal girl that calls on her boyfriend every time she needs saving. I got it… Aight? I can handle that… But… That’s why I need YOUR praises…. To validate me I guess… I already know I’m THAT… girl… But I want to hear it from you… I want you,” you mumbled softly. “And the reason I’m dressed up like this is because I’m dressed up for Halloween- In America it’s a day where people dress up and do their makeup and hair and have fun at parties or go trick or treating to get candy and stuff! I’ve always loved it despite not being able to… Participate much,” you say softly as you rub your arm. “I dunno, I guess I just wanted to celebrate the holiday season this year- even if we never do it again, I at least want one memory of a great holiday season with mine… With you,” you say softly. He listens to everything you say with an opaque grin on his face.

“If that’s what you wanted, then why didn’t you just say that?” He said softly as he climbed over you, his hips barely resting in your lap as your heart skipped a beat. He pushed you to lay down on the bed and his hands rested right by your head, your eyes peering up at him with a soft grin rested on your face.

“I-I d-didn’t w-want to get told no… I d-didn’t want to… Bother you with something that seemed so insignificant… I didn’t want you to think of me as weak,” you say softly as he gently kisses your neck. You shuddered a little and bit your lip as you tilt your head up some.

“Well now’s your hot seat,” he huffed quietly against your neck. “Tell me what you want, tell me everything you want, and I’ll do it until you tell me that you don’t want it anymore,” he said as he looked back into your eyes, your hands rested against his chest as you thought for a moment before speaking again. “W-Well… I want you to call me your baby and vice versa… Or come up with a nickname or something… I want you to watch me train and root for me, I want you to let everyone know who I belong to, but allow me to show who you belong to, too… I want you to tease me and hold me close… Everywhere… I want you to go on dates with me and do holiday stuff with me… I want you to make me feel wanted and loved… I just fucking want *you* Kakashi…” you say softly as you look up at him. Upon gazing, you notice that his expression had soften significantly, and the hold he had on you was more protective than ever. “A-And I guess more s-sex would be cool,” you say softly and he chuckles quietly in return. You reach one of your hands up and gently cup his face, your thumb gently caressing his cheek. “You know… You should smile more… You’re quite handsome when you do… Well I mean you’re fine as hell either way, but I like it when you smile… And laugh like that…” you say softly as he leans his head into your hand a little more. He kisses your clothed palm and smiles just for you and suddenly you took on a breathless expression, your eyes halfway open as he blushed a little and you just took this moment to adore him, everything about him. “That’s what you want from me? Okay,” he said softly before moving to pin your hand weakly to the bed above you, his eyes both gazing into yours- well as much as he could anyway seeing as your hair practically swallowed your face leaving your bottom half of your face exposed for him. You could see him just fine, he just couldn’t see you… And for the moment that was fine. His gentle lips pressed against yours from above and your eyes fluttered shut as usual when this happened. You felt a little touch starved because he didn’t like contact very much, but he was warming up to it a little more. You wrapped one of your arms around his waist and pulled him closer, and then the two of you melted into each other on the bed in a fit of grunts, deep, passionate, soft kisses, dulcet giggles coming from the both of you, his hand wandering up your waist up the natural curve of your body as yours tried to find where his clothing allowed you access to his skin. You found it, your warm fingers contrasting against his lukewarm skin. He jolted a little and let out a groan before looking at you again, nibbling your lip gently before he pulled away. “You’re amazing,” he whispered quietly and breathlessly against your lips as you tried to control your breathing again.

“Says one of the most notable and historic ninja warriors of all time,” you say with a soft chuckle, moving your hair out of your face so you could look at him and so he could look at you.

“You know… Paths like that carry plenty of… Skeletons in the closet, right?” He said softly as his gaze intensified only a little bit.

“Yeah, and? You still made it… Everyone looks up to you… You’ve killed people and seen plenty of your own killed… And people that couldn’t handle it… Y’know… But, Kakashi Hatake,” you say softly as you turn his head back towards you and your own expression hardens a little. “No matter what, I’ll still love you like the day that I met you… Just like that day you first came to protect.. Well the other person- after they were bullying me… After you checked to make sure I was okay… Baby I love you, and as long as you love me too, I’m gonna be on your side. I’m your woman- I’m your queen, right? A queen needs her partner in royalty, and this house is our kingdom. You’re my king, and unapologetically mine… And I’m the same for you,” you say quietly as you sit up and smile a little. “I know you haven’t been sleeping, Kashi,” you say softly as you gently kiss his lips. “I’m not a super heavy sleeper… You’re safe now, though,” you say softly as you run your fingers through his hair. “Let me go make dinner tonight and… C-Can I decorate?” You whispered softly, expecting a no as you turned and gently pushed him to make him lay on the bed and he chuckled softly, gently grabbing your hand.

“If decorations are what you want, then I don’t have a problem with it,” he said softly, kissing the back of your hand gently. Your skin burned with an invisible flush and you pulled the covers up on him, trying to make the room just a little more homey so that he could sleep better.

“I… Wow… Um… Okay,” you say softly, lighting a candle and setting it on the nightstand, standing in the doorway. “I d-don’t know if I said this already, but I’m gonna make a hot pot for dinner… And I’ll go see if there are any pumpkins in the area… I’ll make us some pumpkin bread and make some cookies for the kids,” you say with a beaming smile, looking at your sleepy man who was already cuddling a pillow on his way to sleep. He admired your soothing voice, able to relax for the first time in a long time, and how the golden sun gave you a gilded glow that made your skin twinkle and your eyes illuminate the room. He had never felt so lucky to have someone as good as you to him, and that was the last thing he saw- or thought- before he slipped off into dreamland and you disappeared behind the door to excitedly start dinner.

#black velvet x naruto #requested writes #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake fluff #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #kakashi x black reader #kakashi x black female reader #kakashi hatake x female reader #black velvet asks #jenesis answers

[snarkwrites]

mine | tim speedle | csi:miami

Notes:

Okay, so here’s the thing.. Those smutty one shots and the one shot I wrote at Christmas about Tim Speedle and an ofc who was an old girlfriend? They were originally part of this huge backstory I came up with years ago too and like.. Given that I’m posting the backstory in bits for Greg, I thought why not do the same for Tim. So, if you were ever wondering where the OC from the christmas one shot came from.. This is her. A little more thought out and less vague. Anything not explained there, or in the smut I’ve already posted and plan to post eventually, will be explained here.. Because fuckkit.. Might as well make this a chapter thing too...

Pairing:

Tim Speedle x OFC, Sylvie.

Warnings:

Uhh.. Angst and unresolved feelings at first. Filth you’ve all already seen but more to come.. Maybe a little action and suspense? because I have plans for this one, mhm.

Oh. Right off the bat.. Ya’ll are not gonna like Ryan Wolfe in here at first if I’ve done my job properly. Because as it went on the show, he’s gonna be... hard to warm to here. I chose to keep him in and have him, as well as Cardoza and others, working on the shift opposite of Tim.

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

@twistnet​ 

[ faq | tag list doc | soundtrack ] 

                                            ONE.

“Damn. Are you even gonna open this and humor a thought of going?” Eric waved around the class reunion invite that Tim had gotten in the mail and tossed on the counter. From across the room, Tim continued to dig around in the fridge, trying to find the case of beer he’d picked up on his way in.

He was refusing to answer the question.

Grabbing the case of beer, he sat them on the folding table they’d set up in the living room to play poker at and he took a beer out for himself, popping it against the counter, taking a long sip from the bottle.

Eric was already in the kitchen. Throwing together the traditional go to sandwich for their poker nights.

“Hey, that new guy’s not comin, right?”

“Wolfe? Yeah.. I think Walter with his big mouth invited him.”

“Goddamn it.” Tim swore, grumbling. “There’s just something off about the guy, I’m telling you.”

“Either way, it’s not our problem, man. He’s on the other shift, remember? Are you gonna answer my question, Speed, or do I have to drag the answer out of you, buddy?” Eric asked, giving Tim a pointed look.

Walter stepped into Tim’s apartment with Ryan coming into view right behind him. Tim’s jaw set and when Walter asked “Drag what answer out of Speed, man? What’d I miss?” as he wandered over to grab himself a beer and take a seat at the table, Tim shrugged. “It’s nothing, Walt. Forget Eric here ran his big fuckin mouth.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothin, you grouch.” Eric remarked, chuckling when Tim gave him what he thought was a silencing glare. As per usual, it did not work.

Ryan, the new guy, spoke up from over nearby Tim’s fridge, nodding to a photo booth strip held on by a magnet. “Is this your girl, Speed? Damn… you never mentioned you were seeing a model.” as he shook his head and let out a low and appreciative whistle.

Eric’s gaze settled on the photo strip and then back on Tim. Tim was all but trying not to explode. Getting defensive and touchy as he tended to whenever that particular strip of photos came into a conversation. He tried to give Ryan the subtlest shake of the head no, but it was too late.

Tim was already lost to thought, dwelling on the past.

Ryan eyed him, a brow raised. “Sore subject?” he questioned. Eric glared at Ryan and grumbled, giving Tim a silent look of agreement about the new guy. Tim nodded and smirked, mouthing back “Told you so, idiot.” before fixing his gaze on Ryan and shrugging. “Not really, no. We dated for a while.”

“High school and college.” Eric spoke up, ignoring Tim’s glare. “What? It’s true, right? That’s not just a while, Tim. That’s literally almost a decade, man.” 

“Are you going to let me answer the guy Eric,or nah?” Tim asked, giving Eric another pointed glare as he took the worn deck of cards and shuffled them a few times, starting to deal. When Eric went quiet, Tim continued. “I took the job here. We broke up.”

“The man is lying. What happened was he didn’t ask her to come with and she didn’t try to stop him. So they never actually broke up. They just lost touch. And if you got that invite man, maybe…”

“Invite to what?” Ryan asked, an amused look as he fixed his gaze on Tim. So far, he got the suspicion that neither Tim nor Eric were particularly warming up to him, but it didn’t really matter. He was there because Walter asked if he wanted to play a few hands. And given that of everyone they worked with, so far Walter was the only real welcoming member of the forensics team on either shift, he wasn’t about to turn it down.

If nothing, he figured, he could show Eric and Tim up in a game or two and then leave… Unless the current conversation and it’s effect on Tim Speedle proved to be too interesting and amusing to continue to pass up.

“Class reunion. If I wanted to go back and listen to a bunch of douchebag jocks talk about their glory days, I’d go.” Tim answered, grumbling and shifting around in his chair, wondering when in the hell they were all going to get off the subject.

“She might be there man, you never know.”

“Eric, if it were going to work out in the first place, one of us would’ve said or done something. We wouldn’t have just left it the way it was.” Tim pointed out. Turning his attention to his hand as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, brown eyes carefully surveying the other men around the table.

He smirked when he realized that of them all, the only one who was really good at keeping a consistent poker face was Eric. Then again, Tim thought to himself, Eric knows me too well. He knows I learned how to read him like a book years ago. 

“She’s in Miami right now, actually. I saw her in the lobby of that high end hotel earlier today when our team got called to work that double homicide.” Ryan smirked as he just casually dropped the bombshell. Holding Tim’s gaze a few seconds. Trying to get a read on the guy, see if he might have a winning hand this round.

Tim nearly choked on the sip of Michelob he’d taken and eyed Ryan. The guy had to be trying to bullshit him. Probably to cover for his lack of a poker face, Tim mused, smirking at Ryan as he did so. “She lives in New York, buddy. You probably saw somebody who looked like her. I doubt you saw her.”

“Oh trust me… You don’t see a girl like that a time or two and confuse her with somebody else.” Ryan smirked right back, waiting on his words to hit the intended mark before dropping the bigger bombshell. “Her name is Sylvie, right? Because that’s what the frat boys hounding her for selfies and autographs called her.” 

Just the slightest drop of Tim Speedle’s jaw was enough to make Ryan’s entire night. At this point, he was just genuinely enjoying having a rib at the guy. It wasn’t a secret around the lab that Eric Delko and Tim Speedle were nothing if not tight knit. That’s why it surprised more than a few people when the two seemed to just welcome Walter with open arms and no hesitation. And yet, they went above and beyond to cop snide attitudes with both himself and another man he worked with, Jesse Cardoza.

Tim eyed Ryan, a brow raised. Then he just shrugged. “It’s your play, Wolfe.” he barely managed to unclench his jaw enough to say it, but he did. He hoped that his tone would clearly indicate that for tonight, the topic was over. Even though he knew already that no thanks to Ryan’s words, tonight was going to be a long one for him…

Was she really in Miami? Or was Ryan just being an asshole as per usual?...

,, he’s gotta be saying it to get a rise and more of the story outta me… that’s it... unless she’s here. She does travel a lot, man.. Your ma is always real quick to tell you about every single move she makes when you call back home every Sunday.” Tim shoved the intrusive thought out of his head and it was immediately followed by another. ,, It’s been years and nothing but silence. Neither of us tried to keep in touch and it’s not like we couldn’t... But.. she did come to you in the hospital that first few nights... if she wanted you to know she was there, she would have stayed, just drop the what ifs or you’re going to lose your goddamn mind.” 

Ryan made his call and Tim smirked, shoving some more chips into the middle of the table. “I see your King and raise you.”

Eric nearly spat his drink. He eyed Ryan, wondering if the guy had any idea of the wrath he’d probably just unleashed on himself by pushing buttons as openly as he had been. And he felt bad for the guy. Just because he worked with Cardoza, it didn’t necessarily make him the same.

He leaned in and offered up a quiet warning into Ryan’s ear when Tim got up to go and grab himself one of the Cuban sandwiches sitting on a plate near the stove. “You might want to lay off, Wolfe. Tim’s still hurting and bitter as hell about her, but too damn stubborn to do anything.”

“Which is fucking stupid, if you ask me.” Ryan answered, gazing across the room, smirking as he called out to Tim, “Hey, can I get another beer, man?”

Tim gave him the finger and flopped back into his chair, taking a few bites of his sandwich. “If you get up and get it, yeah. By all means.” Tim chuckled as Ryan gave him a dirty look, but after a little grumbling, he got up and grabbed himself a beer.

“What would you do if she was in town, man?” Eric was the one who asked the question.

Tim pretended not to hear him, but it wasn’t something that he wasn’t already wondering about himself. Did he even really need -or deserve for that matter, to do anything?

XXX

“6 am, sharp.”

“Rex if you remind me one more time about this stupid photo shoot, I swear to fuck, I’ll cancel. I came to Miami to relax. Not be hounded and have gigs booked for me. This was supposed to be my vacation, you’re literally not even supposed to be here.” I rolled onto my stomach on the hotel bed. The patio doors were open and the breeze blowing in off the ocean was relaxing.

Or it had been until Rex felt fit to show up and ruin things.

To be fair, I thought to myself, you’re the one who won’t just tell the guy that you’re not re-signing with his agency when your contract ends. But he seriously couldn’t take a fucking hint when I left on a red-eye and didn’t think he should know?

I was flipping through the television when I happened on a local news show. And they were showing an interview at Miami Dade PD about a pending case that was pretty huge in the media right now.

But that wasn’t what was catching my attention at all.

My eyes fixed on the five seconds glimpse I got of Tim as he hurried into the station. So handsome that I could feel my heart breaking all over again at the sight of him. I sighed and turned off the television.

I wound up on the balcony, staring down at the streets below. Wondering what he was doing right now.. Trying to imagine just how differently everything might have actually gone if I’d been braver back then. If I’d spoken up. Told him that I loved him and I didn’t want to lose touch or for us to be over.

I could’ve come with him.

And then I remembered the fear I felt the night my mom called me, fresh off the phone with his mom… The night I almost lost him.

And I remembered the feeling I felt when I finally made it to his side, a whole two days later. Seeing him lying there in that bed, hovering between life and death. The fear that he’d wake up and he’d want me to leave over-ruling every basic instinct in me that was telling me to stay. Take care of him. At the very least, get some closure. I didn’t deserve him then and the fact remained.

I don’t deserve him now, either. And too much time has gone by... I’d lost any right to tell him how I felt now. He probably had his own happy life. A better one. Who would I be to come in and lay it all on the line and destroy that?

If I’m being truly honest with myself here, I’ve never actually deserved Tim Speedle. And I’ve always known it. It’s why I had to let him go back then and a big reason why I was fighting myself so hard to keep from going to him now.

But I wanted him so badly. I needed him.

Everything felt wrong without him. I tried to move on, I tried convincing myself he was a high school and college boyfriend and my best childhood friend before that, but deep down, I knew.

Tim Speedle was, is and will always be, the man I love.

But I’m not good enough for him and hopefully, he’s moved on by now. God I hope he’s happy.

The thought had me taking a few shaky breaths and wiping away a tear that had been lingering in my eyes, threatening to roll down my cheek. I wandered back inside and even though I knew it wasn’t a good idea… I found myself searching his name.

Biting my lip as my heart skipped a beat or two when I realized that his phone number was still the same. And it was listed, not private.

I’m not exactly sure why, but I went to my contacts. And for a good ten minutes, I hovered over his name… I actually went as far as to pull up the conversation box and read over the last conversation we had. Before I realized it, I was crying again and that empty feeling was creeping back in…

,, you came all the way to Miami. You can’t keep living like this…” my brain taunted me. And then, another thought crept in, ,, if you wanted him, you shouldn’t have just let him leave without saying so. All you had to do was tell him you wanted to come. What, were you expecting some flowery proposal? For him to drop the chance of a lifetime for you? And what if he had, huh? What then? You know he would’ve hated you and by now, you two would be over… Nobody ever stays...Your own father couldn’t even be bothered to stick around, Syl… The man has probably forgotten all about you by now.”  and before my mind got any darker, I slipped off the bed and grabbed my favorite jacket. Maybe taking a ride down to the Keys would help me get this off my mind. Or driving a few blocks over, going to the beach to look at the stars.

All I did know was that suddenly, it felt like the very vast and open space in this 5 star hotel room was rapidly closing all around me.

#tim speedle fanfiction #tim speedle fanfic #tim speedle fic #tim speedle imagine #tim speedle imagines #my writing ; tim speedle #my fanfiction ; tim speedle #my fics ; tim speedle #// so.. here we go.

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

Five favorite writing bits from 2020

I was tagged by @kunstpause and @potatowitch thank you so much for this tag! It was fun to reflect on my writing from this year. I only really started in July, so I’m looking forward to things to come!

Mostly, this will be passages from my Cullen/Trevelyan fic, but there is a Greedfall excerpt that I technically think I wrote last year???

Under the cut because this got long

Sides of the Coin (unpublished as of 1/21)

“Kurt, clearly I’m useless today. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow. I’m sure I have enough bruises for one day.”

“Anyone who wants you dead won’t care if you’re distracted and bruised. I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re having an off day. I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to be able to save yourself. Now raise your blade and try it again.”

She lunged toward him, but he easily parried the strike, which had been performed more in irritation than any thought that it may be a good idea.

“Still sloppy.” He advanced on her, and Corinne barely managed to swat away his strikes with her blade, stumbling backward on exhausted legs.

“Kurt…”

“Come on Green Blood, defend yourself! I know I taught you better than this! What would your uncle think of this performance?”

She swung hard, meeting Kurt’s blade with unexpected force and pushing him back. She advanced on the offensive, landing blow after blow as he frantically parried aggressive strikes.

“Corinne-“

His unusual use of her name did nothing to dissuade her assault as she hailed down upon him. She was an indomitable storm, striking mercilessly as Kurt did his best to block without harming her.

“Corinne, what are you-“

“Stop… treating me…. like a…. child!” she panted through her onslaught.

“I’m not!” Kurt yelled as their blades clashed. They pushed against one another, eyes meeting across the steel. “I’m treating you like someone I don’t want getting killed!”

“You’re talking to me the same way you did when I was fifteen! What are you going to do, tell on me to my uncle? Go ahead! He’s months away by sea!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Kurt shoved hard, both of their blades swinging wildly to the side as they both stumbled backward. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry!”

“Because I am a grown woman, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, and the only reason Constantin hasn’t destroyed the colony yet, and you’re talking to me like a teenager with her first blade!”

“Because you’re fighting like a teenager with her first blade!”

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 18

“I’ve been told you were romantically involved with the Empress.”

“I didn’t take you for a gossipmonger, Inquisitor,” Briala said, smiling sadly.

“Is it true?”

“Would it be so terrible if it was? It is lonely at the top, Your Worship - something it seems you know well. Is your own Commander not warming your bed?”

“My personal affairs are not threatening Empires.”

“Aren’t they?”

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 17

Evelyn looked him over, sensing the dread that filled him. Though he insisted otherwise, the group that had accosted him had shaken him. If she could help it, it wouldn’t happen again.

“Cullen, what if I told you there was a way to keep them off of you?” She looked up at him nervously, and Cullen’s brows knit together in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Evelyn pulled the silken kerchief from her breast pocket, running her thumb over the embroidered lettering.

E.T. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.

Bold, indeed.

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 3

Cullen hastily took the reports from the scout and set about finding a quiet corner of the Chantry to work in. Ordinarily he’d prefer to work outside, but he had been waiting for the reports from the Hinterlands since the Herald… no, Evelyn... and her team had left weeks ago, and their importance required a focus only a quiet room could provide.

Cassandra’s was on top. Unsurprisingly, her reports were clean and concise, detailing their endeavors and findings in the form of an organized list. Her information was useful, and Cullen took note of anything he may need to pass on to Josephine and Leliana. As he copied down the details, he noticed Cassandra’s final entry, written below her other notes.

Our arrival at the Crossroads was met with resistance from rebel mages and Templars. The Herald was pinned beneath a Templar and held by the neck. I was able to stop the Templar, but the Herald suffered minor bruising. After a week of fighting beside her, I have determined her lost footing was not a mistake. The Herald is an extremely well-trained rogue.

CP

Cullen stared at the report, as though his gaze could bring further explanation. One of the first rules of combat training was to never let your enemy take you to the ground, especially for rogue fighters, who often wore lighter armor. He pulled out the next report, hoping it would contain more information.

The next came from Solas, who had thoroughly described the area, citing historical sites, locations of natural materials, and possible locations to camp. It was actually quite useful, but didn’t answer his question about the incident with the Templar. That was until he realized the pages had stuck, and there was one more note on the final page.

Evelyn suffered a minor injury to the neck caused by an altercation with a rebel Templar. Though she claimed to not be bothered by it, she moved her head tenderly, and the discoloration turned to dark bruising. I applied an elfroot salve to the affected area that evening, but there was not much that could be done for it. It has been healing well on its own.

Solas

Cullen flipped immediately to the next report, hoping to find something else.

Curly,

Have I mentioned that I hate the wilderness? The Ferelden cold bites as harshly as its war dogs. It has been two weeks since we parted with civilization. Since then, it has been nothing but hastily made camps. Rams feed on the grasses of rolling hills, while their predators lurk in hidden caves beyond view…

Cullen groaned. Varric’s report was far thicker than the others. His clean yet elaborate scrawl continued for pages. While entertaining, it made it difficult to find the information he needed. He skimmed through until he found what he was searching for.

When we arrived at the Crossroads, we were attacked from both sides by mages and Templars alike. Our team was caught in the middle, and neither group cared to differentiate between us and the enemy. They even went so far as to turn hostile against Inquisition soldiers and refugees. A Templar almost killed a refugee woman, but Evelyn tackled him to the ground at the last moment, giving her enough time to escape and saving her life. Unfortunately, once on the ground, the Templar was able to pin Evelyn down by the throat. The Seeker managed to pull him off and kill him before things could get worse, but the Herald was bruised for days. Trust me when I say we need to watch her, Curly. I’ve seen firsthand what this world does to heroes.

V.

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 10

“Of course,” Evelyn said, intently picking lint from her sleeve. “I’ll be down in just a moment.” Once they were gone, Evelyn looked toward the floor, appearing far more sullen than she had just moments prior.

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked. Evelyn sighed.

“It’s Alexius’s judgement. It’s one thing in the field, when someone attacks you - when you know it’s you or them. But to sit on a throne and condemn… What Alexius did was terrible, but he only wanted to save his son. I can’t say I don’t understand. Sometimes I wonder if I’d have done the same, in his place. But then I remember that future…” she placed her hands on her hips, biting her lower lip and trembling with rage. “It was horrible, Cullen. They imprisoned our friends - used their bodies to mine red lyrium. It infected everything! Then they tortured Leliana, destroyed the Inquisition, and I didn’t know what happened to my family, or what happened to you, and I… Dammit!” As she dabbed a tear away with her glove, Cullen impulsively wrapped his arms around her. He did so awkwardly, at first, but then he relaxed, resting his chin atop her head as Evelyn eased into him.

“Why didn’t he attack me? Why couldn’t I have killed him then, in the heat of battle, without having to worry about whether or not it was right? And now I don’t know if I can…”

“You can,” Cullen said softly. “I know it won’t be easy, but you can.” Evelyn breathed deeply, allowing the comforting scent of oakmoss to calm her.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she finally pulled back, immediately missing the comfort his arms had brought. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Don’t be sorry, Evelyn. It’d be more concerning if nothing troubled you.”

“Tell that to my parents,” she said sadly, gazing at her boots. Cullen gently tilted her chin upward with his hand, guiding her eyes to him.

“You can do this. I’ll support whatever you decide. And I heard from a reliable source that the kitchen staff have been baking cakes all afternoon, so when it’s all over we’ll get you a slice of cake and a glass of that wine Josephine hid in here. Alright?” He slid his hand through her hair and Evelyn laughed, sniffling a bit.

“I do love cake. But no more than one glass of wine. I’m a bloody lightweight.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Thank you, Cullen.” Evelyn smiled up at him, feeling a bit better. The gaze changed when she realized just how close they were, his hand resting on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to the scar on his lip. Her heart pounded as she realized he had done the same, and the desire to feel his lips on hers consumed her.

Then she remembered where they were.

How long had it been since she last had a man in her bedroom? Alone? And this was not just any man. It was Cullen. Cullen, who she looked forward to seeing each day, who she thought of frequently in the field, who had cared for her after the fall of Haven, who she worried for at night. There was no denying she cared for him, and if the look in his eyes was any indication...

The thought made her nervous, and she glanced toward the bed and back to him, cursing herself as he followed her glance. He blushed furiously when he realized where she had looked, and Evelyn felt the heat rising in her own cheeks as they pulled away.

“Perhaps… we should…” Cullen spluttered.

“I… should get down there,” Evelyn managed.

“Of course.” Evelyn started toward the door, then turned to find Cullen still looking after her.

“You should come.”

“Right,” Cullen said, quickly following.

Tagging @kemvee @noire-pandora @hawkeish @musetta3 and anyone else who wants to!

#tags #another rogue trevelyan fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #Greedfall #inquisitor x cullen #cullen x trevelyan #cullen rutherford #commander cullen

[yourperfectflaws]

HYDRA’s Pet ; 03

Pairing: James Bunchan Barnes x HYDRA!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic/ Familial)

Series Summary: As HYDRA’s favorite experiment, you were trained to follow orders perfectly. But, when you’re taken from the only home you’d ever known by the Avengers, you find yourself more lost than ever. However, out of all the things that could have happened to you, you’d never expected him to be one of them.

Chapter Summary: Your sexy ass is introduced to the team and then scheduled for reprogramming. 

Warnings: Adult Language

Word Count: 1.5k (sorry this one was so short. T^T)

Author’s Note: Again, don’t worry Bucky is coming soon! (nextchapterperhapsahhhh)

Prologue // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

January 18th, 2017 ; Avengers Compound

After coming back in to check on you, Steve told you that you’d have to stay the night in the compound and then you’d be introduced to the rest of the Avengers in the morning. And when you woke up, you saw him standing in front of the door with a pair of shiny, metal cuffs in his hand. You looked at them and then back up at him with your heart pounding in your ears. 

“They’re just a precaution, don’t worry,” he assured you as he put them on your wrists, as if he was calming a rabid animal. But you weren’t even mad because it was working. “It’s because we have a few members of the team who aren’t sold on you just yet.”

He brought you out of the cell— which did have a key pad on the wall next to it— and into an elevator that took you up to the ground floor of the building. There you walked up a flight of stairs and into a lounge area where the entire team was waiting for you. 

When you walked through the door, you felt the heat of their stares boring through you. You tried to present yourself with confidence, but it was rather hard considering you were in handcuffs. Among them, you recognized the redheaded woman and the man with the bow. They looked at you without a hint of malice, which surprised you. You would have thought that they would be the ones that opted for you to be cuffed. 

Then, a dark haired man approached you with an insincere smile and shook your cuffed hands. Your fought the urge to bring them down on his head.

“Hello... Y/n, was it?” He asked more to Steve than you, who nodded. You recognized his voice as the man in the iron suit. “It’s nice to formally meet you, my name is Tony Stark and though I don’t appreciate you trying to murder my friends, it seems that this ‘star spangled ding dong’—” he threw his arm over Steve’s broad shoulders. “—sees some potential in you.” 

“Okay, Tony, that’s a little harsh,” said a man with graying, dark hair, like Tony, but a softer voice. He approached you, along with another man, who had dark skin and extremely short hair. “My name is Dr. Bruce Banner, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n.” He shook your cuffed hands with a warm smile. 

“And I’m Colonel James Rhodes,” the black man said with a firm nod of his head. This prompted the rest of the team to introduce themselves as well all while Tony was giving you threatening looks. You were starting to get the feeling that maybe he didn’t like you. But you also didn’t really care. 

The redheaded woman was named Natasha Romanoff and the man with the bow was named Clint Barton. There was also Sam Wilson, Thor— who was, by far, the most likable—, and Wanda Maximoff. They had mentioned that there were a few members missing who were too busy to meet you that you’d see from time to time. You didn’t really care as long as they left you alone. 

“I have a question,” you asked as they had begun talking among themselves. They turned to you, a few with surprised faces, and waited for you to ask what was on your mind. “What is this thing?” You pointed to the metal collar around your neck. 

“Oh that’s Wakandan tech. It’s a strength suppressor, I think.” Tony answered while engrossed in his tablet. He seemed to remember something because he looked up at you and quirked an eyebrow. “Speaking of Wakanda, I’m going to let you know for safety reasons we’re sending you there for rehabilitation.”

You felt your heart drop. They were going to do what? You took a few steps back. Steve noticed your distress and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. 

“We’ve got to get whatever HYDRA put in your head out of it,” he clarified. “Don’t worry, they’ve done it before.”

You didn’t say anything but let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your nerves ignited at the possibility of more tests. You could practically smell the sanitation solution. The sticky bed. The sharp tools. 

“Hey, look at me,” Steve crouched down so he was at eye level with you. You hadn’t realized it but you were staring a hole in the carpet. “You’ll be back in no time, I promise.” 

You stared at him for a few long seconds. As much as you desperately wanted to, you couldn’t feel any hatred or animosity for him. It irked you to think that you were actually starting to like him. Them. 

“Okay, the ship is here,” Tony announced. Well, maybe not him. 

Steve turned to you. “Alright, let’s go—“

“Actually, can I take her up? I’d like to have a private conversation with her.” Natasha forced herself between the two of you. You watched as Steve’s eyebrows knit together and his mouth formed a light frown. “Not anything to worry about, Steve. Just a friendly conversation between women.”

Though he could tell that she had ulterior motives, he was in no place to argue with her. So, all he could do was watch as you left with his friend. 

As you walked along the pristine corridors, you admired the architecture. It was extremely beautiful but you couldn’t help the jealously that stirred within you. You had lived in a dirty, rusty base your whole life and their compound was so spotless and pleasing to look at. You couldn’t help but imagine yourself wandering these halls every day. 

All of a sudden, Natasha stopped in the middle of the hallway, breaking your train of through. You tilted your head when she swiftly turned to you. Her face was hard and you could tell that she’d been suppressing her anger. 

“I know you’ve got the rest of the team all wrapped around your finger, especially Steve, but I don’t trust you.” She pointed her finger in your face. You stepped back to avoid a potential attack. “Why don’t you have a life before HYDRA got to you? There’s nothing but a number in their system.”

“HYDRA is my parents,” you said in the same robotic and monotonous voice. Natasha’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. 

“You’ve said that already. Do you mean that they raised you?”

Something inside you desperately wanted to get on her good side. To be vulnerable in front of someone. It was extremely strange and you’d never felt anything like this before. 

“I was told they took me in as a baby and raised me in the base. They’re all I know. They gave me purpose,” you explained. Then you realized something. “Now that I’m here, I don’t have one anymore.”

Her eyes softened. “How about I give you one then?” She suggested, which surprised you. “Your new purpose is to go through this rehabilitation and come back a new person, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Though it seemed she hated you, she was being undeniably sweet. It wasn’t her sweetness that surprised you, but your reaction to it. You could feel your chest lighten and it scared you. The thought of living with these people was becoming more and more appealing and you didn’t know what to do. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve been staring off into space for two minutes, Y/n.” She placed a soft hand on your shoulder. 

Realizing that you appreciated her words, you stood and gave her a firm salute. “Thank you.”

“What?” She took a sharp step back, eyes wide. 

“Thank you for giving me a purpose, Natasha.” You smiled genuinely for the first time since you could remember. Your rising chest felt strange and almost unnatural. 

“You’re welcome, Y/n.” She returned the smile. “I hope that when you come back, we can both be friends.”

“Me too,” you said without thinking. It surprised you how easily you said that. 

“We should get going, they’re probably wondering what the hell’s taking so long.” She laughed and you both resumed walking towards your destination. She took you into an elevator and down another hallway. At the end you could see a steel door. 

Outside the door was a large, Wakandan ship. The steely metal gleamed in the sunlight and nearly blinded you as you both approached it. A handsome, dark-skinned man met the two of you halfway and smiled. His expensive looking clothes were as handsome as his face. 

“Hello, you must be Y/n. I am king T’challa of Wakanda. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed to you and you returned the gesture, though your movements weren’t as graceful or elegant as his were. “My sister is waiting for us back home.” He then turned to Natasha. “I can take her from here, thank you.”

Natasha nodded and said her goodbyes. You watched as she left through the door, which made a loud click when it shut. 

T’challa placed a polite hand on your back and walked you to the gleaming steps. You walked up in front of him, the wind blowing right through you, and into the strange ship. You began to wonder what on Earth would be in store for you this time. 

-----

I apologize for not updating as quick as I wanted to but I accidentally deleted my draft and I had to write the whole thing all over again. Not to mention that I have online school and am working on a WEBTOON. 

REBLOG IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ON MY TAGLIST

Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter! Have a great day and stay safe!

Tags: 

@stressedandbandobessed7771​

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #James Bunchan Barnes #bucky imagines #bucky x reader #slow burn #bucky headcanon #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #y/n #avengers x y/n #Avengers #avengers fic #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x you #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #natasha romanov #black widow #t'challa #black panther #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark

[crqstalite]

WIP Whenever

tagged by the lovely @that-wasnt-so-bad <3

tagging @ripley95things

told from the perspective of brione petrakis in 2186 just before the events of the opening scene in ME3. probably won’t actually be written until after saudade is finished, but here it is :p

-

Six months. Six bloody months on a station.

If this is how they planned to get her to give up Cerberus secrets, it was working. Only, it'd be about a hundred times more effective if she actually had Cerberus secrets.

Brione had never been much of a solid ground person. From as soon as she could get off Earth at the ripe age of eighteen, she preferred ships to stations. Even if said station had one of the best bars she'd ever set foot on, moving around was just her. Made for a quick escape than being a sitting duck in the embassy. There wasn't a single other planet in the Widow System to hide out on if things got dicey, and the Citadel hadn't been moved in God knew how long.

Plus, she could do without dealing with Udina day in, day out. How and why Anderson had thought it was a good idea to step down from his Councilor position, she didn't know. In her humble opinion, this was a regression for humans everywhere. Still, she'd been on 'administrative' leave for the last few months ("Just a precaution," Hackett had told her, "You'll be back on the front lines before you know it."), and getting back to work with the impending doom of more paperwork to fight was her dream.

Oh right, she wasn't allowed to give the real reason because of the political front the Councilors had put up to keep people from panicking (acting accordingly, more like). She meant Reapers. The giant cthulhus that looked more like squid coming to end humanity and the galaxy as they knew it. She was far from being a non believer of the Reapers, but her sarcasm was starting to reach a breaking point.

The light glows green on the door, and she steps inside, "Udina."

"Captain," He lifts his head from his computer, standing, "I assume you have something for me?"

"Nothing you'd want to hear, just more weird readings from the Bahak system," The door clicks shut behind her as she glances around the room. He'd confirmed there weren't any cameras or Alliance microphones in here, but it still put her on edge. Probably because being watched for a year or so by the Illusive bastard had given her a sense of paranoia. More than usual at least, "You said there were reports coming in from Sol bases?"

"There are some...concerning ones that came in only hours ago. At least from what has been passed onto me by the Alliance," His brows knit in frustration as she crosses her arms, shifting her weight off her heels for a moment, "I will admit, this must be how it feels to be Shepard, having the Council question everything you bring to them."

She pauses, "You think it's the Reapers? I was pretty damn sure it was the batarians getting bold after their relay was destroyed."

"Do not make me laugh, Captain." He deadpans, and she shrugs in response, "I'd believed the Alliance would listen closer and do something about it, but the Defense Committee had instead decided to sit on their hands and antagonize their one resource against the fight with the Reapers."

"You can't depend on the Alliance to get jack shit done, Udina. It's been sixteen years since I discovered that, and riding around with Shepard lately has only cemented that," Brione sighs, "Not even a token fleet to at least defend the Charon relay."

"The First Fleet--"

"Udina, you and I both know that won't be enough. If the Reapers pour in like I'm inclined to believe, they're going to eat us for breakfast. You must have seen how Sovereign and the Geth tore through the fleets here," She raises an eyebrow, as if to prove her point while he moves over to the window, a sound of agreement or annoyance, she can't tell, "We need Council support somewhere, and I'm not holding my breath for the Arcturus fleets to be able to pull our asses out of the fire if they do show up."

"That is the problem, if they do pour in like you believe they will, I doubt the Sol system will be their only target. We can not requisition assistance from other races at that point, to put it simply, they will not care if Palaven or Thessia is hit at around the same time. I'm very sure they will not care even if Earth is the only Council planet that is attacked," He turns back to her, "Losing Shepard to the Alliance military was a blow that could destroy us all."

"You were the one who let her go back into their hands, Udina. You could've pulled Council rank and kept her active."

"And break ties with the Alliance? Your comedy has not improved," He responds, and she groans, "Doing that would've gotten her discharged, whether it was in humanity's best interests or not. And we still need ties to them, we have not been cemented into the Council yet, their resources can only do so much."

"I see what you're getting at. I'm assuming things with Major Alenko haven't panned out yet?" She asks, eyes wandering to his sparse desk. Even though she had her own qualms with him (mostly about being called a traitor -- 'tensions running high' her ass), she could back this new idea of getting him into the Spectre program. God knew they needed another human face dealing with the Councilors before she bit Tevos' pretty blue head off, "I'm assuming you're still fishing for more human representatives."

"Discussions have been, stagnant. For someone who worked so closely with Shepard, not only willingly stealing the Normandy--"

"Udina, we all consented to staying aboard, but we didn't steal it. Wasn't that one of Shepard's topics in her trial, that she willingly was convicted of by herself?"

"Yes, I am aware," She snorts before hiding it behind a laugh when he tenderly touches the side of his head, "I am not the one holding this up in the Council chambers. I would've put your name forward but..." He trails off.

"We've had this talk before. The Council wouldn't want me, a street urchin from Earth who has a knack for getting people killed under her command," The words leave a sour taste in her mouth, but she's never been one to mince words, "Not to mention this 'pompous' undercover mission I was on for the better part of the year."

"Count yourself lucky that Anderson has such a way with words." His compliment sounds genuine, but the tone he uses says otherwise. Which, he has a point. It's the same reason she's only on leave, and not demoted. Same reason both Jeff and Citlali were still allowed aboard the Normandy to assist with retrofits. The same reason that Johansson was somewhere out doing the Alliance's bidding.

The same reason Shepard was still a Commander, "I get the picture. But we can't even get a Reaper-based audience with the Council yet?" He shakes his head, and she powers ahead, "The derelict Reaper on Mnemosyne? No one took a single look at the flight logs or scans done by the Normandy?"

"Due to the damage it took after escaping the Omega-4 relay, it has been unable to be recovered by the Council. I have half a mind to believe it is tied up in Alliance politics."

She wants to say that they wouldn't do that, and then inwardly groaned reminding herself of what they did when Shepard died. Cover-ups were not an unknown tactic, and it was often done for whatever reason, "What more are they going to need to do something about it? Another Sovereign kicking down our front door?"

#mass effect #writing wip #wip #brione petrakis #mass effect oc #oc #original character #wip whenever

[stardancerluv]

One Night, Ten Years

Part One of Five

Summary: Reader is a huge fan of Curt Wild. They are attending their first concert!

Arthur’s Note: How is there no fanfic with this character!?!

“Y/N, you have to chores to do young lady.” Your mother shrilled from the other side of the door.

“Ok, mom!”

You were laying half on, half off your bed. You, held, Curt Wild’s new record in front of you. Having done a-lot of chores, you managed to save up for.

Yours soaked in his tight leather pants, a belt that rested low on his narrow waist, his naked torso. In your, chest your heart was racing and butterflies were between your legs. You were slightly dizzy as you got up, holding his record close to your chest.

Finally, putting it down your bedroom was cleaned in moments. If you wanted to sleep over at Nancy’s tonight, you had better do everything that needed to be done.

Quietly, creeping down the stairs, turning the knobs, filling the one side of the sink you started on the dishes from breakfast. “It’s Saturday, I promise you...” Your mother’s voice trailed off, when she realized you must have gone downstairs.

“Was that so bad?” She asked moments later.

“I guess not, considering I’m already done with my room.” You tried to sound resigned so that she would feel good about being right.

You have no idea mother, you wished distantly. If I had my way I’d still be in my room gazing at that new Curt Wild album cover.

“I am proud of you.” Your mother beamed. “You could have just kept on pouting in your room.”

“You’ve told me to not pout. So I am making an effort.” Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. “Even, if I am not looking forward to sweeping the front steps.” You grimaced at her as your mind wandered to Mr. McGregor. He was the new English teacher that came to your school two years ago. When he first spoke, the butterflies began.

That was before you heard and saw the one and only Curt Wild. Mr. McGregor, was reserved and polite with smart suit-jackets, a sweater vest always topped with a bowtie. All the while, Curt Wild..was well Curt Wild, you had to resist smirking thinking of him.

“Where is my little girl, eighteen and you are already reminding me of a little lady.” She put a reassuring, hand on your shoulder. “If you keep this, up maybe I will convince father to let you go to that secretarial school in London.”

“Wait?” You turned and looked at her shocked. “Really?” You wiped your wet hands on your apron.

She nodded. “You have amazing grades, and have been proving to me that you can be very responsible, sweetie.”

You hugged your mother tightly. “Oh mom, you’re the best.”

“Well, just keep on being our amazing daughter and I don’t see why he wouldn’t say yes.”

“Oh, mom! I promise.” You happily went back to doing the dishes. If that happened life would be so *choice.

“We’ll see.”

*****

You were flying high ever since your talk with your mother about that school. Happily, you began, at the top of the steps.

Now, all you could hope for is that Nancy could score the tickets for the concert. If she called you, it meant that the sleepover was on and she had gotten the tickets for the two of you. Of course, you’d still have to ask but since it was a long weekend, you were certain the answer would be a yes.

You were on step three when the phone rang, you practically leapt out of your skin but you let your mother answer it.

“Y/N!” You heard her call.

“Yeah!” You called back, cleaning off the fourth step.

“Nancy, on the phone!”

“Ok, I’m coming.” You dusted off the broom and left in the doorway.

“Yes, Nancy?” You twined the cord around your finger.

“I got them! Mom, said you are more then welcome to come!” You had to remember to breathe. “Have you talked to your mom?”

“No I have to ask her.” You put the phone down.

You went over to where she was working on a scarf. You knelt beside her. “Mother...umm...Nancy was wondering since its a long weekend, if I could come over to her house to have a sleep over?”

Your mother, looked at you over her cat eye frames. “Will you two be attending late morning or afternoon mass with her family?”

“Afternoon, that’s when they go.”

“Alright make sure you pack some appropriate clothes for church. I expect you to be home by dinner time at six sharp on Sunday.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sweetie. Just finish your chores and you can head on over.”

“Oh, mother thank you so much!” And your carefully hugged her, around her huge needles.

“I will go and tell Nancy!”

*****

An hour later, after you carefully hid the record away, you began looking at your clothes seriously. First your pajamas then what you wear to Church went into your duffle bag.

You were at a complete loss at what to wear to the concert. This would be your first concert. You shook as you looked over the possibilities.

In the end, you grabbed at least three different looks. You grabbed whatever else you would need. You practically skipped down the stairs, with your duffle bag on your shoulder you went and found your mother.

“Hi mother, I’m going to head over.”

She put her knitting aside and stood up. “My pretty girl, you have fun!” She gave you a hug.

You hugged her back. “See you in time for dinner on Sunday, mother!”

******

Happily, you skipped over to Nancy’s house. Your heart had not stopped racing since the phone call.

“Get in here!” She happily exclaimed as you came up. You ran the rest of the way.

You leaned in the doorway, you looked around. “Where are your parents?”

“It’s their anniversary.” She shrugged. “They said they wouldn’t be back till late!”

“That means...!!!”

“You bet!” Nancy, grabbed your wrist and the two of you raced up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Put it on!” You happily, exclaimed.

Soon Curt Wild’s voice was signing through the house.

“Show me the tickets.”

“Right!”

Nancy, opened her jewelry box, seeing them your heart began to race.

“Ooo look at these.” Your hands shook as you held them. “Do you know what your wearing tonight ?”

“Nancy, I don’t know! I brought outfits though!”

Quickly, you brought out all of your possible outfits. You barely brought them out when Nancy, squealed that one! She pointed to the black slouchy shirt with the pink fluffy skirt. “Should I wear the fish nets and the heals?” Truth be told, you were growing nervous.”

“Yes!”

“Alright! I can do it.”

*****

You hung tightly onto the bathroom sink as you labored over the pink then golden colors you added to your eyes. You made sure to frame it with cleopatra lines, or at least that was what the make-up girl had told you when she gave you that amazing makeover for your prom. You were finishing, up when Nancy, came bouncing in.

“Ooo that looks so *choice.” She smiled at you in the mirror.

Smiling, you turned to your friend. “What do you have to tell me?”

“How did you know I had to ask you something?”

You rose an eyebrow at your friend. “You’re my best friend, I know these things.”

She shrugged and nodded, “I guess so.” She smiled brightly. “My cousin, is meeting us there. She is our way to stay past my curfew.”

“Is she cool?”

Nancy nodded. “Oh yeah, she likes Curt Wild too.”

“Good!”

“And,” she stretched out the word. “Want a sip?” She held up the bottle of something.

“This is Vodka!” You took the bottle from her. You took a swig and then coughed. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, its making me less nervous about tonight.”

“I could use that!” You took another drink from the bottle before giving it back to her.

“I better put this back.”

You then applied your bright pink lipstick, once happy with it you pretended to blow yourself a kiss. “Nancy!” You called. “I am ready when you are!” She smiled peering around the door frame. “Let’s go!”

*****

Soon, the two of you were waiting to take the bus to the next town. A line formed behind the two of you.

You couldn’t help hut notice there were several more going to the concert, some were younger then you and Nancy. “I don’t think we’re the only one going to the concert.”

“I think, you’re right.” She giggled

As you looked around, your clothes then Nancy’s and some of the others, you grew self conscious. Were you rock enough?

Nancy, nudged you. “You look so rock n’ roll!” She said happily as she sat next to you on the bus.

“Aw, thanks Nancy!”

Shortly after getting off the bus, her cousin came running over to the two of you. She looked a little older the two of you but seemed very cool.

Your shocked that by the time, the three of you reaches the gate Nancy and her cousin got nervous. So you were the one who ended up getting everyone in with their tickets.

The large burly guy who was ripping tickets stopped and looked at the three of you. A large smiled spread across his face.

“Ladies, tonight is your lucky day.”

“Oh!” You looked happily from Nancy and her cousin then back at the guard.

He held up three white slips of paper. “These are for you ladies after the show.”

They are backstage passes so you can go on up there.” He gestured to hotel that sat on he grounds the concert was being held on.

“What! Wow! Thank you so much!” You could barely contain yourself.”

“Tell them Louie, sent you!” “We will! Thank you, Louie!”

“And wait, one last thing.”He then handed you purple tickets. “These are also for you!” He winked. Go and enjoy that front row as well!”

“What??” “Yeah! Today you all will have a night to remember!” “We will!” You felt like you could possibly jump out of your skin. Louie beckoned you closer. “Ok, see that guy right there in the green?”

You happily nodded. “Show him both tickets and he will take care of the three of you.” He pointed to a security guard that looked even bigger then he was.

“Alright, I will. Thank you!”

******

After, walking a little further into the venue which was this kind of clearing in a forest that was a short distance from a huge castle like looking hotel. It was so brilliant. The three of you huddled together.

“I can’t believe this!” You were breathless. “We will be so close!” Nancy pointed out. “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe this! Oh I am so glad I tagged along tonight.” Her cousin excitedly beamed at the two of you.

A spotlight snapped on, you make out his slender, pale for under the solitary bright light. Your heart began to race and the butterflies were once again there.

“All the way from New York City with the best garage band of all kind, Cuuuuurt Wild!”

You watched hypnotized as he poured then rubbed something down his torso and back up to his face. You could not tear your gaze away. Your stomach twisted and knotted up.

He made his way up to the microphone, singing! Following, his hand he managed to pull a sound deep from within you, as he put his hand down the front his black leather pants grabbing himself. It felt as if he was grabbing you.

Your breath got caught in your throat the sounds you made were like moans. Somehow, swallowing you managed to call out his name, completely forgetting he was a few mere feet away from you. Looking over and down, his eyes met yours for the briefest of moments and he winked. You rocked on your heels.

*****

An hour later the lights snapped off to indicate an intermission. By then sweat, rolled down you and you had gotten used to being breathless.

The three of you giggled and relived the moment, he winked at you. You felt as if it was for you, but Nancy was convinced it was for the lanky and taller girl behind you. As she put it, based on all the chicks, he had ever posed with over the years, that girl was more the type he’d wink at.

You didn’t care. She wasn’t going the cut the fuzzy feeling that had enveloped you the moment, he appeared on stage.

*****

The lights snapped back on and there he was brilliant as ever. His hands were twirling above his head, as he danced and sung. Thats when you realized he sprinkling glitter over his body. Not even realizing you had moved, your hands rested on the barricade smiling and writhing under where he danced.

You arched toward him, you watched as he began shaking the glitter toward you as he held the container from his waist. You smiled and closed yours at the sparkling assault. You could feel as they came down peppered your body in their shiny radiance.

*****

The rest of his performance was a blur. You danced to his voice. At times, you completely lost yourself, your surroundings and danced like you did when no one was looking. Someone came by with pints and you remember holding one up as if to toast him. You downed two and your fuzzy warm grew larger around you. You did not take notice of how many your friends had.

It was after, he took a very tight bow to the audience did you feel as your eyes had met again. All through this, the butterflies had long had long since left from between your legs, and what replaced them was an ache. It was an aching thud that matched you heart.

@theblackmaskclub @rosionis @johallzy @brookisbi

*choice - means cool

#curt wild #velvet goldmine #ewan mcgregor #part 1 #one night ten years #curt wild x reader #curt wild x y/n

[def-initely-soul]

7 & 10 with sehun? maybe make it fluffy and supernatural if you can/want, I'm really happy you're back! I missed seeing you on my dash ksjsks (tho of course don't feel pressured to stay on here if you feel tired because as much as I miss seeing you on here I want you to feel happy more)

Aw, you’re so sweet, thank you, really my heart just expanded two sizes from reading this!😭 I’m happy I’m back too, thank you for being so considerate ily 💞 It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything so I can’t promise you it’ll be good, but I’ll try!

Bias: Sehun from EXO

Prompt(s): #7 “Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.” + #10 “Mmm, I appreciated that little murmuring you did in my ear.” “….That wasn’t me.”

Genre: Fluff/Supernatural/PG-13

Warnings: Scary themes (I don’t know how to tag this lol)

Words: 1.3k

“So, how are we supposed to do this?” you ask your boyfriend as you take a look through his secret room. You know, where he keeps everything that might alert anyone he’s a witch.

Yeah, your boyfriend is a witch.

To be honest you were completely shocked at first, even going as far as to avoid him for a week. But not because you wanted nothing to do with him. You just needed some time to process the news.

But Sehun thought you were breaking up with him, so when Chanyeol, his best friend and also a witch, showed up telling you Sehun wouldn’t even get out of the house, you took matters into your own hands. You immediately went to him, to let him know you were still with him, even if he was a witch.

And now, almost a month after that, after your initial shock has died down, you wanted Sehun to demonstrate.

Hence your visit to his crypt full of wonders as you like to call it. Of course, Sehun finds that cheesy but that doesn’t stop you from calling it that.

“We aren’t supposed to do anything. I on the other hand just have to find my book and then amaze you with my magnificent powers!” Sehun smirks at you and you roll your eyes at him with a chuckle.

“Cocky much?” you respond as you approach a crystal ball on top of the shelves, leaning in to inspect it without touching it. Sehun warned you about touching stuff in here. Some of them are cursed so it would be wise to keep a safe distance from them.

“Mmmm, actually a whole lot of “cocky”, that’s my biggest virtue,” Sehun concludes with a wink and now you can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass,” you say, pretending to place your ear on the object and Sehun simply chuckles at your antics.

“Come on, it’s time…” he beckons you over, sitting on the floor with the book right in front of him and a few candles lying around him in a circle.

You carefully place yourself on the carpet, a sudden breeze making you rub your hands on your arms for warmth before you look back at Sehun. His eyes are closed, palms placed upon his knees as his lips move just barely, probably chanting a spell from the book between you.

“Okay, now what?” your impatience is tangible as you can’t keep your body from slightly rocking back an forth.

Sehun opens up one eye. “Now you remain silent as I try to make this spell work without any side-effects…”

You frown at him but nonetheless stop talking as you stare at him. He keeps on murmuring softly but then the volume of his voice turns louder as words you don’t understand spill from his lips. The book suddenly opens by itself, eliciting a gasp from you as the pages turn on their own until they stop on one page, probably the one with the spell Sehun is currently doing.

Sehun doesn’t seem affected by your shriek, still chanting out loud and staying completely calm. The breeze you felt earlier is stronger now, ruffling your hair and clothes but somehow Sehun and the book remain untouched.

And then one by one the candles are blown out. Starting from the ones next to Sehun and moving forward to the ones next to you. At first, Sehun is swallowed by darkness.

“Sehun, what’s going on?” but there’s no answer and then the book is gone as well.

You swallow your nerves in an attempt to keep calm.

Until the last candles give out.

“Sehun?”

“I’m here, baby.”

A breath of relief escapes you before “Okay, so what did you do?”

Sehun just chuckles.

And then there’s murmuring in your ear. Although you can’t understand it, you recognize it as the one Sehun was chanting earlier. It sends shivers down but somehow it manages to comfort you. The chant continues but this time it’s just a whisper and then you feel something tugging you upwards.

Until you realize you’re floating.

And then all the candles simultaneously light up.

Sehun looks at you with a triumphant look on his face, as if admiring his work.

You look down only to see yourself still in a sitting position, only a few meters of the ground.

“Whooa…” you mumble in complete awe. You’re floating. And still, you feel as if your sitting on the ground. I mean, you feel the hardness of it beneath you but you’re on the air.

“Like it?” Sehun comes closer to place his hands around your waist and you smile at him before tangling your legs around his torso.

“It’s amazing. You’re amazing…” you admit before leaning forward and pressing a light kiss on his lips. 

Sehun smiles against the kiss as his hands move to your thighs to keep you in place. The spell has already begun fading out.

“Mmm, I also appreciated that little murmuring you did in my ear,” you whisper next to his ear as your hands play with the hair on the nape of his neck.

But Sehun leans back to look at you, confused. “…That wasn’t me.”

You look at him equally confused and a bit frightened, to be honest. “What?”

Then the murmuring begins once more. And the candles blow out again.

Your hands tighten around your boyfriend as you look around in mild panic, squinting your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You don’t like not seeing what’s going on around you. “Sehun…”

“I don’t know what’s going on…” he mumbles, frustrated, brows knitted in a frown before he looks back at you. “… But it’s gonna be okay. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Then a loud scream breaks through the quietness.

You yelp in fear as you hide your face in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck as Sehun places his hand on the back of your head protectively.

Then all the lights are back on and a very loud, very familiar laugh echoes through the room.

“Seriously, man? That wasn’t funny!” Sehun scolds whoever is behind you and when you turn your head around, you see Chanyeol floating in the middle of the room, laughing his ass off.

“Oh, come on, it was kinda funny!” he manages to say through laughs and you try to throw him the most menacing glance you can master.

Of course, that doesn’t seem to work on him as he keeps on having a laughing fit but then Sehun swishes his hand and Chanyeol lands with a thud on the ground.

He grunts in pain before, “That was uncalled for!”

Sehun raises a brow, “Get out before I do something on your ass that’s uncalled for.”

You suppress a chuckle and Chanyeol rolls his eyes before getting up. “See what kind of an ass he is Y/N? Who would treat their friend like that?”

“The kind of person whose friend is ruining their dates,” you state in a joking manner and Chanyeol chuckles.

“Touche. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone… And remember, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’ he shakes a finger towards the two of you as he leaves the room.

“So all logical decisions are out the window then?” you whisper to your boyfriend who laughs at your joke and places a lingering kiss on your lips, as his hands wander the skin of your thighs and at once you feel safe again.

“I heard that!”

#sehun #exo #exo sehun #witch!au #fluff #supernatural #sehun witch!au #witch sehun #sehun fluff #sehun supernatural #exo fluff #exo supernatural #exo sehun witch!au #exo sehun fluff #exo sehun supernatural #halloween themed #sehun halloween themed #exo halloween themed #exo sehun halloween themed #halloween requests

[softnow]

paracosm [iii/?]

msr | college au | this chapter: t | words: 2k

she is a puzzle wrapped in high-waisted denim that he’s desperate to solve.

s/o to @o6666666 for continuing to love bb fox and dana as much as i do. also tagging @today-in-fic.

← last chapter. / ao3.

— — —

Fox Mulder is not—despite what some might think, judging by the company he keeps—hopeless with the ladies. He’s had his fair share of dates and kisses and, when the dates and the kissing have gone particularly well, warm bodies in his bed. Or his warm body in somebody else’s bed. Or, on one memorable and near-impossible occasion, the backseat of somebody else’s Volkswagen Beetle.

He even had Diana sophomore year—not his first girlfriend, but certainly his most serious. They had talked about grad school together and about the little apartment they’d rent above the private practice they would open someday. She had wanted to call it Fox & Fowley. He—infatuated but not dumb—had not. (This was, of course, before she took off for a semester abroad and never returned.)

All of this to say, he isn’t some sweaty preteen with his first crush.

And yet.

He can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Can barely focus in class. He’s up at seven—seven!—even on days he doesn’t have to be anywhere until noon, just so he can be at the library by eight.

“Dude,” Langly said last week after Mulder spent a good—oh—forty-five minutes talking about the clips Dana wore in her hair on Thursday. “You’ve got it bad.”

And he does. God, he does. He’s never had it so bad. He’s seen the inside of the library more in the last two weeks than he has in the last three years. He’s never been so late to so many classes so many times in a row. It’s just impossible—actually, factually impossible—to walk away from her when she’s leaning towards him on her elbows, whispering words like special relativity and time dilation and inertial frame of reference.

She’s a physics major—pre-med!—and she reads James Joyce and string theory for fun, and three days ago, she wore her hair in the smallest french braid he’s ever seen and how—how—is he supposed to walk away from that?

He lies awake at night and thinks about her. Every night. All night. About library Dana and her big, blue eyes and her freckles and her sweet little waist. His hands would fit so perfectly around that little waist, he’s certain. He needs to know. That, yes, but so much more.

Where is she from? The closest approximation he’s been able to get out of her is not here. Does she have brothers? Sisters? A boyfriend? God, he thinks he would die if she did. What’s her favorite food? Is she a morning person? A night person? Does she snore in her sleep? Does she kiss the same way she talks, deliberate and measured and smart? What is her damn last name?

It’s become a game now, he thinks. He hopes. He hopes it’s a game and that she’s playing it too, this keep away, this Dana, who are you? He asks her daily. She rebuffs him daily with her self-satisfied smirks, her little pink tongue darting out to greet her lips.

(He dreams about that tongue. He—more than dreams about that tongue. A few choice magazines are collecting dust in his bedroom because of that tongue.)

He’s even asked around, but nobody seems to know a freshman named Dana with a tiny nose and a dry wit and a berry-pink mouth. (God, the mouth.)

Frohike tells him to take it easy. “She’ll come around,” he says. But Frohike doesn’t understand. Mulder’s going crazy. All day, every day, twenty-four/seven, it’s Dana. Dana Dana Dana. His brain is a radio that only gets one station: all Dana, all the time. She is a puzzle wrapped in high-waisted denim that he’s desperate to solve.

Which is why, after two excruciatingly Dana-less days, he approaches her on Monday with a stack of books and a smile.

“Mulder,” she says cautiously, in much the same tone one might reserve for a child who has just wandered in with something unnerving, like a dead rat. Or a bomb. “What are you doing?”

He pushes the stack towards her. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that this was a library.”

“Uh-huh,” she says slowly. “I just didn’t think you—”

“What? Read?” He rests his elbows on the desk and shakes his head. “Maybe you’d know that if you’d have dinner with me. It’s half-price pizza at the bowling alley tonight. What’dya say?”

Dana sighs, then lifts her chin and holds out a hand.

“Card, please.”

He grins as he hands it over and watches her do her thing. Her script is neat and tiny as she copies his name and student number onto the first date card. She stamps it and moves on to the next. She’s on the third when she pauses, her brow knitting together. He tightens down on his smile and tries to look innocent as she sits back in her chair and crosses her arms.

“Mulder,” she says, and god, he could listen to her say his name all day, even exasperated like that. “What is this?”

He drums his fingers on the countertop. “What is what?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, a wry expression that says she knows that he knows what she’s talking about. She holds up the first book and reads the cover.

“Iron Town by Dana Chamberlain.” Then the second: “Fundamentals of Ecology and Society by Dana Rankin.” Then the third, the fourth, the fifth: “Dana Graham. Dana Olson. Dana Earle. Is this your idea of cute?”

“My idea of cute is you in that sweater,” he says, because she’s wrapped in some fuzzy, grey, oversized number today that swallows her whole and presumably guards against the fan blowing cold air behind the desk. Then quickly, before she can protest, he continues: “This is my idea of practical. You won’t tell me your last name.” He shrugs. “Thought I’d test out some possibilities. How’d I do?”

She looks nonplussed, but as someone who has devoted nearly two whole weeks to studying her face, he feels relatively confident that the little tic at the corner of her mouth means she’s at least a little plussed.

“Are you serious?” she asks.

He nods. “About you? Absolutely.”

She flushes the prettiest pink and drops her gaze, toying with the ripped edge of the Dana Olson paperback.

“You don’t even know me,” she mumbles.

“And whose fault is that?” He leans in a little closer, trying to catch her eye. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not exactly an open book.”

He realizes this was the exact wrong thing to say a moment too late as her forehead wrinkles and her lips draw up into a tight pucker.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, slamming all the Dana books back into a pile. “I didn’t realize I owed you my whole life story. Do you need my original birth certificate, or will a copy be enough?”

She starts to slide from her chair, but he reaches out and catches her arm. Her face is red, and she doesn’t look at him.

“Whoa,” he says. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t…it’s not a bad thing.”

She continues to glare at the countertop, and he takes a chance. He swipes his thumb across the inside of her wrist once, back and forth.

“I like you, Dana,” he says, “but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If I’ve been too pushy… I’m sorry, okay? Tell me to go, and I’ll go. You don’t owe me anything.”

She settles back into her seat and sniffs. For a brief, horrible second, he thinks he’s made her cry. But when she finally looks up, her eyes are dry and clear.

“Scully,” she says.

He cocks his head. “Sorry?”

“My last name is Scully.”

The relief, the giddiness that floods him nearly knocks him off his feet. This is what winning the lottery must feel like. Dana (Scully!) brushes a little curl behind her ear and gives him an uncertain smile.

“Scully,” he says, liking the way it rolls around on his tongue. “Dana Scully.”

She nods. “Yes.”

“You wanna get some lunch, Dana Scully? My treat. You can tell me absolutely nothing about yourself. You don’t even have to talk. We can sit in total silence and pretend we’ve never met.”

She narrows her eyes at him but they’re playful, maybe even a little impish.

“Don’t push your luck,” she says.

But when he comes back half an hour later with turkey sandwiches and potato chips and two bottles of lemonade, she doesn’t kick him out. She also doesn’t kick him out when he follows her outside to the picnic tables behind the library, and she continues to not kick him out as she picks one in the shade of a big oak tree. He watches (with what he hopes isn’t slack-jawed amazement) as she pulls her fuzzy sweater over her head to reveal a little blue t-shirt and pale, smooth arms, and still, she doesn’t kick him out.

They sit on the same side of the table and watch other students lounge in the grass, toss frisbees, eat their own lunches. A warm September breeze ruffles Mulder’s hair, and occasionally, Dana’s knee brushes his thigh. He tries not to choke at the contact, electric even through his jeans.

True to his word, they don’t talk, but he eats slower than ever, savoring the nerve-wracking feeling of her next to him, the occasional touch of her elbow as she reaches for her drink. It turns out they don’t really need to speak anyway. She teaches him things even in total silence.

For example: when she finishes her chips, she steals the rest of his. She doesn’t ask permission; she simply watches him from the corner of her eye as she dips her fingers into the bag. He files food thief away in his mental rolodex of Dana facts and nudges the bag closer to her. (She also doesn’t say thank you, but the way she licks salt from her fingertips is thanks enough.)

When all the food is gone, they linger a little while longer, sipping the last of their lemonade. Beside him, she is serene, her eyes heavy-lidded, her face tipped up into the breeze. He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, but he bites his tongue. He promised her a silent lunch. He needs her to know he means what he says.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity or maybe only a minute, the black plastic Casio on her left wrist beeps. Lunchtime over.

Dana stands and does a little stretch. Her t-shirt rides up, baring an inch of milky white stomach, and Mulder is suddenly, painfully aware of the blood in his veins. He forces himself to look away. The last thing he needs is to ruin whatever modicum of progress he’s made this afternoon by ogling her belly.

He stares off into the middle distance until she begins gathering her things. She drapes her sweater over her arm and balls up her trash. After a moment’s hesitation, she takes his trash, too, and dumps it all in the nearest garbage can. Then she wanders back and hovers at the edge of the table, touching the corner with her fingertips.

“Um,” she says. “Okay. Well…”

Her cheeks are pink—though from what, he’s not sure.

“Thank you for lunch,” he says, and she flushes darker.

“You bought it.”

He just shrugs. “You know what I mean.”

She licks her bottom lip, then draws it between her teeth. He tries—really, he does—not to stare.

“I need to…” She gestures vaguely over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, not rising. As much as he wants to follow her back inside and whisper to her for the rest of the afternoon, something tells him to take her earlier advice and not push his extraordinary luck any further.

“Okay.” She raps her knuckles lightly on the table and holds his gaze for a moment longer, then heads for the doors.

The sway of her hips is enchanting, and he can’t help himself.

“Hey, Dana Scully,” he calls.

She pauses and turns around, eyebrow quirked. “Yeah?”

“Okay if I come see you tomorrow?”

She purses her lips (against a smile, he thinks) and begins walking backwards.

“I dunno,” she says with a little shrug. “Guess you’ll have to ask me then.”

#fox mulder #dana scully #msr #msr fanfic #txf #myfic #paracosm #i said i wasn't releasing this until i was done with ch4 #i haven't even started ch4 #but it's been a week and i'm trying to keep to some kind of schedule #so #here you go #thank u for being patient #and also for leaving such wonderful comments on this story so far #i'm glad other people are loving bb dana and fox as much as i love them #mulder #scully

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 70

It was late in the morning when Link finally trudged out of his room, dragging his feet across the floor as he made his way downstairs. He had hardly slept - for obvious reasons - and only managed to catch a few hours after Mipha made her sneaky escape. On the plus side, he was officially on summer vacation, and he had the entire summer to sleep.

With the exception of Ganondorf’s ominous return.

His sister sat at the table, her legs swinging under the chair as she colored in a coloring book. Link sat himself with a sigh beside her. His stomach was growling, but he wasn’t ready to put in any effort into making food. He looked around, noticing then his father’s absence.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He had to run to work for a little bit,” Aryll said without looking up from her coloring.

“Oh.”

“I wanted Mipha to make me breakfast,” she continued as she scribbled away.

“Why would she do that?”

“Because you were having a sleepover and I wasn’t invited.”

Link practically jumped up in his seat. His gaze narrowed on his sister. “How do you know that?”

“Because I saw her. Duh.”

“Don’t tell Dad,” Link snapped.

Aryll paused her coloring, meeting Link’s gaze with a frown. “Why?”

“Because he can’t know, okay?” he said, flustered.

Aryll looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because - Just - Because I said so, alright? Just keep your mouth shut.”

Aryll crossed her arms. “That’s not very nice.”

Link rolled his eyes. “Promise, please, Ary?”

Aryll’s gaze narrowed on him for a moment, then she shrugged and returned to her coloring. “Fine,” she said. “But only if you let me paint your nails.”

Link groaned, but agreed to her terms. He found the energy to make himself a bowl of cereal, and once his stomach was silenced, he moved to his room to dress, returning to the living room to await his fate. Aryll already had the nail polish out, organizing them on the coffee table in rainbow order. Link slouched on the couch and clicked on the tv as his sister set to work painting his toes.

She had finished one foot when their father entered, but Aryll took no notice, too busy painting her brother's toenails in lively colors.

His father took one look at his son, snorted, and grinned. “Ah, how the tables have turned, Sucker.”

Link rolled his eyes.

“Link said I could paint all his toes if I kept my mouth shut about Mipha sleeping over in his room.”

Link yanked his foot back from her angrily. Her jaw dropped at the realization that she had spilled the beans. She jumped up suddenly, spilling the contents of the open nail polish bottle, and jumped forward towards Link, narrowly missing his groin as she pulled at his shirt.

“I'm so sorry, Link!”

Link grunted, his hands moving to protect himself. “Get off!”

But she continued to pull and shake him. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” After a moment of this, she flung herself on top of the couch, her arms dangling as she regarded her father with an apologetic look on her face. “I fibbed, Daddy,” she said. “Don't ban Mipha from coming over ever again!”

Their father looked between them for a moment, still standing in the kitchen as the spectacle took place before his eyes. After a moment, he grinned, laughed, and moved across the room. When he passed his son, he hit him upside his head. “At least he won't die a virgin,” he said to seemingly no one as he rounded the corner to make his way upstairs.

Aryll turned to her brother questioningly. “What's a virgin?”

“Nothing,” Link muttered.

“It can’t be nothing,” Aryll said stubbornly.

“Are you done with my damn feet?”

Aryll moved to pick up the nail polish bottle that was on the floor. She hurried into the kitchen to grab some towels, then returned to attempt to clean up the spill she had caused. Most of the polish simply smeared and would require additional efforts, but Link couldn’t have cared less at that moment. When Aryll finally gave up, she looked up at her brother with big, sweet, innocent eyes, and stated “I still have some more toes to do or they will look funny.”

“They already look funny,” Link said with a sigh as he settled back into the couch. “Hurry up.”

Aryll sprang up gleefully and sat herself on the couch, taking her brother’s foot once more and set back to work. “Are you gonna show Mipha later?”

“Yeah,” Link said with a roll of his eyes. “Sure. She’ll love ‘em.”

Aryll nodded, still concentrating on painting her brother’s toes. “Almost as much as she loves you.”

Aryll spent another half an hour perfecting Link’s toes and blowing them dry before finally releasing her brother from the torture. He wiggled his toes in faux admiration, then got up to retrieve his phone, dialing Mipha’s number.

“You know,” she said, answering the call. “You’re supposed to wait three days so I won’t think you’re needy or something.”

Link grinned. “I’m needy.”

“Clearly.”

“I just had my toe nails painted by Ary,” he whined. He chose to leave out the bit about her spilling the beans to their father. “I need an excuse to get out of here before she starts braiding my hair.”

“So, now I’m just an excuse?” Mipha feigned being hurt. “And here I thought we had something special.”

“Okay, goodbye,” Link said.

“Wait,” Mipha said quickly. “I promised Urbosa we could hang out today.”

Link’s gaze narrowed as he spoke. He was sure that could only mean gossip. “So you can give her all the juicy details?” If a blush could have been heard, Link heard it.

“What?” she started, then laughed nervously. “No. What? Goddess, Link. No. What. No. No!”

“You’re a good liar. But if you could at least work in somewhere that I’m a proficient and passionate lover, that would be great.”

“Proficient?” Mipha repeated. “That’s a big word for you. Who you trying to impress?”

“Just trying to give myself an edge in the dating world for when you find something better.”

“I thought you were a catch?”

“Well, I sure like to think so.”

“Alright, Fabio,” Mipha said with a sigh. “I guess you can tag along.”

“Great,” Link said. “Let me just put on my heels. Ary did an excellent job painting my toes.”

*****

Mipha made sure to warn Urbosa in advance that Link would be with her, and thus blowing their plans of gossiping all together, but as it worked out, Riju had insisted on tagging along as well, quickly and easily convincing Revali that they needed a rematch against Link. By the afternoon, Hyrule’s six Champions, including Riju, Teba - and now that school was out - Suki, had found themselves between the park and the soccer field, Riju bouncing a soccer ball from knee to knee. She looked up just as Mipha and Link approached, making the group complete.

“Finally!” Riju shouted, drawing the attention of the group to Mipha and Link. They were hand in hand and either in the midst of conversation, or simply staring lovingly into each other's eyes, which the group assumed to be the more plausible explanation. Riju's outburst brought them out of their gaze, however, and they turned their attention curiously onto their friends.

Riju bounded up and down, clapping her hands together. She pointed to Mipha and Link, then to herself, then back to the new couple excitedly. “I called that, you guys, you heard it, I called it. I knew it! I told ya! I did that!”

Urbosa put a hand on her hip and shook her head, grinning. “Yeah, sure, Riju, you called it.”

“So, this is finally a thing, now?” Zelda said. “Officially? The ship is sailing?”

Mipha's brows knit together, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “The ship?”

“Apparently everyone knew it but the two of you,” Teba said with a tone of disinterest.

“I was starting to wonder if Link would be single for the rest of his life,” Revali said with a smirk.

“That doesn't say much for me,” Mipha muttered. Link elbowed her playfully in the ribs.

“Ignore them,” Urbosa said, waving her hand at them.

“I’m not here for gossip,” Revali said, clapping his hands together. “I’m here to kick Link’s ass.” He grabbed the ball from Riju and grinned devilishly at Link.

“Shirts!” Riju yelled. “Me and Revali, you and Daruk.”

Link turned a helpless gaze to his friend. “Can’t you just punch him?”

“I’m not losing to Revali,” Daruk said. “And definitely not Riju.”

Link sighed, pulling his shirt over his head as he jogged after the four of them onto the field. Once the game started, Teba and Suki had wandered off, leaving Urbosa, Mipha, and Zelda alone to watch the game.

Urbosa put a hand on her hip and grinned at Mipha. “You hit that.”

Mipha yelped lightly and buried her face in her hands.

Zelda turned to her in surprise. “You hit that?”

Urbosa nodded. “She hit that.”

“Can we stop saying that?” Mipha muttered.

Urbosa shrugged. “You fucked? Screwed? Made love?” She bent over and grinned. “He put his dick in your -”

“Urbosa!”

“You promised me details!”

“I hate you,” Mipha muttered.

“Remember last time?” Urbosa said, reminiscing happily. “We were right here when I told ya you needed to get laid. And you finally took my advice.” She patted Mipha’s head. “My little girl is all grown up.”

Mipha groaned loudly. She turned her attention on the game, which had apparently stopped for a moment while Urbosa was teasing her. A group of young children had swarmed the field, jumping up and down around the players. One made a muscle with his arms, and Daruk was clearly pretending to be impressed with the little guy’s biceps. Another made shooting motions with his arms, as if shooting a bow, and Revali was in all of his glory as he signed an autograph for the child. A couple more were fighting with imaginary swords, while the other was telling an apparently very thrilling and animated story to Link, judging by the way his hands circled around him and made what appeared to be explosion gestures. Riju shared in this child’s excitement, engaging just as excitedly in the conversation.

“You’re totally gonna have his babies,” Urbosa said.

Mipha met her gaze. She hadn’t realized she was smiling while watching Link.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #fic #fanfic #loz #botw #shadows of hyrule #soh70

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Marry You-- Joe Mazzello x Reader

Request; “How about a joe mazzello based on the song marry you by Bruno  Mars? Idk” ( @hi-i-dont-know )

Warnings; some language, the song is fem! specific but the story itself isn’t

Word Count; 1.8k

Notes; sorry it's taken me so long to get around to this lol

You couldn’t believe it. You had worked so hard for so long, and you finally did it. Here you were, standing on a stage, accepting an award at a prestigious ceremony. People were clapping, and cameras were everywhere. Never in a million years did you expect this to happen. 

You stuttered through your acceptance speech before scurrying back to your seat. The rest of the awards ceremony seemed to go by in a haze as you continued to try to wrap your mind around the evening. You were in desperate need of a drink, and the after party couldn’t come soon enough.

Dozens of people came up to congratulate you, and you only recognized about half of them. You quickly gulped down your drinks in an attempt to make yourself calm down. It wasn’t the wisest idea, but it was all you could do besides leaving the party, which you obviously didn’t want to do. You were tipsy, borderline drunk, and still feeling overwhelmed. That’s when he decided to approach you. The last thing you needed was your childhood celebrity crush to show up, but that’s exactly what happened.

Your first introduction to Joe Mazzello was when you watched Radio Flyer shortly after it came out, then you saw him again in Jurassic Park. Your younger self thought he was cute, thus your childhood crush formed. As years went on and the two of you started to become more successful in the world of entertainment, you had met each other once or twice, but it was always in passing. Neither of you really spoke to each other much. The most interaction the two of you had was via social media, occasionally liking each other’s posts. 

Needless to say, you were worried about embarrassing yourself because you had too much alcohol in your system for your mind to properly function, and it didn’t help that you continued to drink. “I’m sure you’re going to be sick of hearing this by the end of the night, but congratulations!” Joe flashed you a bright smile. You laughed before thanking him. “Mind if I sit?” He nodded his head towards the empty stool next to yours. You shook your head.

“No, not at all!” Joe sat, and the two of you chatted about basic stuff, like ‘Have you tried the shrimp? It’s pretty good!’ or ‘I’ve been going ninety-to-nothing tonight and can’t wait to finally get home.’ You normally felt awkward during small talk, but this was nice. Maybe it was just the alcohol that was making this feel so comfortable. Maybe it was just his charming personality. Either way, you didn’t care. You were enjoying it. 

“Hope I’m not bothering you. I’m sure a ton of other people would like to talk to you.” You scoffed at Joe’s comment and dramatically rolled your eyes.

“Oh, please! I’m having way more fun talking to you than I would have if I were talking to some of them. Besides, it’s not every day that you get to hang out with your age-old celebrity crush.” You brought your glass to your lips and froze. Did you seriously just say that out loud? No, surely not. You weren’t that drunk, right? You slowly lowered the glass, glancing over at Joe. Shit. You did say it out loud. His mouth was open, looking shocked. And his cheeks were red. 

“You... wait. I’m your celebrity crush?” You felt the heat rising to your face and nodded. He ran a hand through his hair. “No fucking way. This is crazy. You’ve been my celebrity crush since we first met at that movie premiere a few years ago,” Joe said enthusiastically, very much resembling a child telling their friends about the cool toy they got for Christmas. You covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. Joe’s brows knitted together, but his goofy grin remained. “I’m serious!” 

“This is too good to be true. It sounds like something out of a fanfiction book on Wattpad or Tumblr.” Joe laughed, stating his agreement. He suddenly grabbed your hand. His eyes were wide and mischief danced across his features.

“I’ve got an awesome idea, and it’ll really make life like a fanfic.” You pursed your lips, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What’re you planning, Joe?” 

“It’s a surprise! Now, where’s the closest Walmart?”

Who cares if we're trashed Got a pocket full of cash we can blow Shots of Patron And it's on girl

The two of you managed to find an Uber at the ungodly hour of the morning it was. People gave you odd looks when you first walked into the store. Some because they recognized the two of you, and some because you were both in incredibly formal attire... while drunk shopping in Walmart. You headed straight towards the candy, and Joe disappeared. As you were paying for the mountain of candy in your arms, you felt someone tap on your shoulder. It was Joe, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You okay?” you snickered, grabbing the plastic bag from the worker before thanking her. 

'Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you

“Actually, there’s something important I want to ask you.” You raised a brow at him, and he took a deep breath. When Joe got down on one knee, your jaw dropped. He pulled out a ring that had a little silver frog on top, its back made of a green gem. “Let’s continue with the fanfiction themed night, shall we?” You laughed, nodding. Joe beamed up at you and slid the ring onto your finger.

“Is this actually happening right now?” you asked in between laughs. Joe shrugged. 

“Dunno. That sounds like something for our sober selves to figure out. Wanna check out the Redbox movies?”

I'll go get a ring Let the choir bell sing like ooh So what you wanna do Let's just run girl If we wake up and you want to break up That's cool No, I won't blame you It was fun girl

Your head was pounding. Bringing a hand to your face, you rubbed your eyes before squinting them open. How much did you drink last night? You could hardly remember a thing... that is until you realized you weren’t in your hotel room, nor were you alone. An arm was wrapped around your waist, and the person’s head was nuzzled against your back. Fucking shit. Your mind was reeling, trying to remember what had happened. A part of your mind tried to rationalize that maybe you didn’t hook up with someone. After all, you were still dressed. Then again... the sweats and baggy shirt didn’t belong to you. 

You were worried about waking whoever was beside you. You were desperate to avoid any awkward and embarrassing interactions. Slowly reaching out, you went to pull your phone off of the bedside table. That’s when you noticed the ring. Your breath got caught in your throat as a sudden sense of urgency flooded your system. You tried to turn your phone on, but a black screen stared back at you. Of course, it was dead. Well, there was only one thing you could do. You started peeling yourself from the person’s grasp. As you did, the person stirred. When you were finally able to turn and look at them, it felt like someone dumped a bucket of rocks into your stomach. “Damn... my head’s killin’ me,” Joe groaned while rubbing his face. Your mouth open and closed. You couldn’t think of anything to say. Joe removed his hands, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes widened. “Oh my god...” was all the could muster up.

“Joe, what the hell happened last night?” You showed him your hand, and his face reddened. 

“Well... I-- uh-- don’t remember much. I don’t think we had sex, but I don’t know about that.” He pointed at the ring. Joe quickly sat up, snatching his phone from the floor. Thankfully, it had been charging. 

He had multiple missed calls and unopened text messages from his friends, most of which said something along the lines of ‘Joe, what the hell is going on? Is this real?’ Joe swiped through his camera roll, but most of the pictures were goofy selfies or short videos of the two of you wandering around Walmart. It didn’t really offer much information. You suggested looking through your social media accounts. Lo and behold, it was the jackpot. Your twitter was filled with cringe-worthy levels of cheesy and sappy pickup lines, all of which had Joe tagged in them. He responded to a few, but his replies only consisted of various heart emojis. Joe’s Instagram story had dozens of photos and videos of you two, most of which you had already seen in his camera roll. Then there was one post that had the caption ‘I liked it so I put a ring on it (guess we’re engaged now)’, and you had commented ‘#couplegoals’. You decided to take a look into your own Instagram account, clicking through the story photos you remembered posting. When it finally got to something new, you couldn’t help the butterflies that formed in your chest. 

It was a video of Joe, laying in bed next to you. Your head was on his chest, and you had an arm draped across his torso. You were out cold, and Joe had a soft smile on his face. “(Y/N) fell asleep in the middle of our Night At The Museum marathon, so I decided to hack their insta.” He glanced down at you, his smile growing even wider. “They’re so adorable, even when they’re snoring like a freight train. But don’t let them know that I told you guys that,” he said the last part with a serious expression. Joe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then the video ended.

“So I guess we got engaged,” you mumbled, examining the little frog ring on your finger. “We know that much happened.”

“What now?” Joe asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You glanced at him, and he was idly tracing a pattern into the bed’s comforter. 

“Well, first, I think we should get some breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Then maybe we could start with a date and see how that goes?” Joe looked up, meeting your gaze. A smile spread across his lips.

“I like that plan.”

Don't say no no no no no Just say yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah And we'll go go go go go If you're ready, like I'm ready

Just say I do Tell me right now baby Tell me right now baby, baby Just say I do Tell me right now baby Tell me right now baby, baby

Tag List;

@mothermercuryy @mmmmmitslikeadiseaseson

#request #joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody x reader

[buckyforbreakfast]

Roomba

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You leave Bucky home alone for a mere 30 minutes and the roomba finds him.

Warnings: language, brief nudity

Word Count: 1,585

A/N: I kept thinking about how Bucky might not be acquainted with stuff like this and thought it was too cute not to share (re-uploaded because my tumblr got deleted).

He felt almost as if he were intruding in the home. Sure, you had been gracious enough to let him move in. He didn’t have much, no possessions to his name. Still, Bucky felt bad about it. He didn’t pay rent or anything, but you continued to insist he wasn’t taking up any space.

During the time he’d been staying there, sleeping in two different rooms quickly transitioned into sleeping in just one.

Now not only was he intruding in your house, but in your bed as well. Bucky mentally scolded himself for overthinking. Feeling guilty wasn’t beneficial to him or anyone else. Not him and not you. He blamed the shower. When you’re in there with him, he has no room to second guess himself. In fact, whenever you’re around him he has no room to second guess himself. 

You had never left his side before. As soon as he showed up on your steps with his little suitcase, Bucky had become an extension to yourself.

The two of you had been talking for the past month about getting him used to being alone. You were extremely generous with the time and catered to how he felt about it. The first time you left was only for five minutes and Bucky was pretty sure you’d just stood outside the door. Even though he was right, you protested otherwise.

For the past few weeks you’d been doing this, working up to longer periods of time. He wasn’t any happy about it. Bucky let his negative feelings be known when it came to you leaving him to his own devices. Even if he didn’t like it, it was a necessary change. It was getting complained about that Bucky would follow you into public restrooms. You told him he couldn’t go with you everywhere, not that it was up to you, but some places wouldn’t allow either of you back because of it.

Today, you had left him at home to go to the grocery store. He was at a loss of what to do in your absence. Settling on a shower only caused his mind to wander more. A hot shower nonetheless. 

Your words were something he had to keep reminding himself of, making them his mantra. ‘I’m coming back, Buck. No one will take you away. I promise.’

You’d be back in less than thirty minutes. He was okay. He would be okay.

Steam followed him out of the shower. The water still clung heavily to his body as he stepped out. With a sigh, he blinked hard to see more clearly through the fog he created in the bathroom. 

Bucky leaned over the sink to wipe the mirror visible. After all this time, he still wasn’t used to looking back at who he was now. His under eyes were brighter; the bags disappearing with well rest. He knew it was because you’d starting sleeping in the same bed. He knew that you knew it, too.

Bucky smiled at the thought of you, only to knit his brows when remembering that you weren’t there. The shower had already been cut off, but he’d only just heard the obnoxious hum coming from the other room. Immediately, his alertness peaked.

Sloppily, Bucky wrapped the towel around his waist and ran to front room, body still clad with water droplets. Water was getting everywhere; he was soaking everything in his path. If he wasn’t careful he could break something, and most everything in the house didn’t belong to him. 

Shuffling a bit to the left, he paused.

He saw the source of the noise. An unnatural, mechanic round thing rolling itself on the surface area of floor.

He lost all sense of being careful. In his falling short of properly drying himself off, Bucky slipped in the mess he made and hit the hard floor, too close to that whirring object.

He cradled the back of his head from the impact, and looking down his lashes to find it. The tile floor sent chills throughout his body, clearing away any warmth he still had from his shower. He had no time to react as the tiny robot neared where he was on the ground.

His face fell in terror. It was blinking red into his eyes. The machine hovered over his foot before his pinky toe caught the wrong end of the apparatus. Bucky yanked his foot away and scrambled off of the floor. His towel was a crumbled mess on the ground and he didn’t even hesitate to leave it there. So be it if he had to run out of the house naked, he would. 

He ran back to the bedroom to grab the phone he barely knew how to use.

“Fuck!”

Looking down, he saw his pinky toe was turning red. That thing had targeted him. That red blinking light had recognized him and attacked. Artificial intelligence of a sort he’s not yet seen.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Y/N,” he panicked, finally remembering how to reach the call app and stomping his foot to ease the pain.

His heart was beating out of his chest waiting for the dialing tone to stop.

On the last ring you picked up, “Bucky? I’m on my way home. Are you okay?” You could hear his heavy panting on the other end of the line. Picking up the phone on the last ring might have not been your best move.

“Yes. No, it got me. Come home now, Y/N. I’m in the bedroom hiding from it,” he rushed.

“What? Don’t move, Buck, I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you so much, just hide in the bedroom. I’m on my way right now.”

The line beeped and Bucky’s heart rate picked back up. How the hell did this thing get in the house? He thought the security system was set up by Stark. Standing up from his crouched position on the floor, he shuffled to the dresser drawers to put on some underwear. Finally deciding he didn’t want to be found dead naked.

Y/N’s on her way home. She’ll get rid of it. Tell Tony about it. Maybe put Neosporin on his toe. Everything will be okay. Unless it gets her, too. What if it’s taking DNA samples of its victims? Recording time and location?

He had to protect you from it. He violently searched the room with his eyes before they landed on your crutches from when you had your knee injury a couple months back.

Bucky hopped on his one foot before grabbing one of the crutches, blowing air out of his mouth. Adrenaline racked his body, not letting the pain in his toe slow him down, and reached for the doorknob.

The robot was still humming in the front room, pushing around his towel; red light still blinking. He gripped the crutch firmly in his real hand, leaving the vibranium one empty in case he needed to cause extra damage, and stalked toward it.

Before he could strike the devil machine, he saw you through the glass door, with a wild expression on your face. What the hell was he about to do?

The keys jangled in your grasp as the door flung open. You just stood there. The groceries in your arms discarded on the floor.

“Y/N, don’t come in. I’m going to handle it,” Bucky pointed to the spot you were in, ordering you to stay put.

Instead of doing what he asked, you ran to his innocent target and crouched down to turn it off, “Bucky, are you okay?”

He stared blankly at you, then the powered off device, and then you again, “What?”

Giving him a sympathetic look, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down to your level. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you and he sighed. You felt so bad for him, thinking that the self-vacuum cleaner was out to kill him. He buried his head into your neck and his tense muscles finally relaxed.

You set down your keys and ran a hand through his wet hair, “Buck, that’s a roomba, honey.”

His voice was gravelly, “What’s a fucking roomba?”

The whine in his question broke your heart, knowing your Bucky was scared half to death of the harmless thing.

“It a vacuum cleaner, it does the vacuuming by itself with no cords,” you waited a beat, letting him soak in the information, “Were you going to hit my roomba with my crutches?” You couldn’t help but be amused at the sight you’d seen earlier.

The calm man brushed his hair back out of his face and laughed at himself, “Yeah, yeah. I was trying to protect you from it.”

“Come here, Buck,” you embraced him again, “I love you, you silly boy.”

He hummed at your affection, repeating the words back to you and kissing your jaw, “Can we go take a nap?”

“We can, but first, was this your towel?” you pointed to the floor, realizing just how hilarious the scene probably looked. Bucky’s cheeks turned pink, nodding, revealing that the roomba stole it from him.

“Bucky, you ran around the house naked because the roomba stole your towel?”

He hummed before throwing his arms under you, making a grunting noise with the action and walking back towards your room.

You looked up at him, “The towel, Buck.”

“I’ll get it, but first, it’s naptime.”

Punching his chest, you gave him a playful smile and let the poor man take you to your shared room.

PERMANENT TAGS:

@saharzek / @just-add-butter / @sergeant-james-bbarnes / @jitterbuck / @strawberrybucky / @allseeingbee / @spideydaddyboy / @laurfangirl424 / @melannchoholic / @bestbebucky / @lanavintagez / @sweetboybucky @baseballbucky / @httpmcrvel / @aletheladyinred / @impalaimages / @yknott81 / @pizzarollpatrol / @captnsmarvels / @theglowstickofdestiny / @supdaryl

BUCKY TAGS:

@fuckthatfeeling / @notimetoblog / @clarabella960 / @the-soldiers / @jackievonawesome / @merrmaid-queen

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #roomba #rei writes #buckyforbreakfast

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Buddy Pt. 2

Summary: Bucky tries to save a dog when it is involved in a car accident, only to discover his cute neighbour is a veterinarian. A series of meet-cutes occur and with the help of a certain dog, the two end up tangled together.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Vet!Reader

Warnings: Mention of animal cruelty and FLUFF.

A/n: Chapter two guys!! Thanks to everyone who supported chapter one! I love you all so much. If you want to be tagged please let me know!  I wasn’t going to post this so soon, but I couldn’t leave you guys hanging with that ending 😫

Let me know what you think!! 

Words: 2560

Part 1//Masterlist

It had been almost 2 hours since Bucky had stumbled onto the doorstep of your clinic, dog in his arms and panic in his eyes. He had been sitting in the waiting room anxiously, pretty much tearing out his own hair. His mind kept flicking back to that moment - to the light that flooded the road and the terrified eyes behind that wheel. He was taking short breaths and could feel the tears brimming in his eyes. He just wanted to go for a drive, but it felt like danger followed everywhere he went.

Meanwhile, you were stitching up the final few cuts along the dog’s left leg. You were finally able to breathe again after 2 hours of surgery, taking a heavy breath into your lungs in relief. Your scrubs were smudged with blood and you peeled the gloves off of your hands, giving the pit bull a final look-over before walking out into the waiting room, your eyes surveying the room for your neighbour.

“He’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky’s head shot up from his hands and he looked up at you, eyes lined with the red strings of exhaustion.

“He’s okay?” his voice was shaky and full of hope. You could see how much he cared instantly.

“Yeah, James, he’s alright.”     

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back in the chair, a heavy breath escaping his chest. You took a sharp intake of breath when you finally got a chance to look at him, noticing his torn black t-shirt and the scrapes along his torso.     

“Oh my god, did you jump in front of that car or something?!” you yelped, rushing forward and falling onto your knees, reaching out towards his bare skin. You noticed the shards of gravel that were still littered in the dry cuts.     

“...yes?”     

When the world fell from his lips you looked up at him, a disbelieving look on your face. This man threw himself in front of a car to save an animal that wasn’t even his, and now he was acting like it as no big deal.     

“Oh my god, come with me.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling him up from the chair and leading him back to an examination room.    

“Sit on the table” you directed, pointing at the table in the middle of the room and rummaging in a few draws to find some disinfectant.

“You really don’t have to do this, I’m fine,” he mumbled, pulling gently at the tattered t-shirt. “I’ve had far worse than this.”     

“I’m sure you have, but I’m still going to insist that you let me clean it because I’m pretty sure you have bits of road in your skin,” you mumbled, pouring some alcohol onto a cotton pad. “Now, sit.”  

You didn’t see the smile that tugged at his lips at your direct tone, but when you turned around he was sitting on the bench, his shirt in his hand as he pulled at the torn material anxiously. You tried to avoid looking at his bare torso, instead, focussing on the gashes along his ribs.  

“Alright, this is gonna sting,” you murmured, surveying the shallow scrapes.

“S’alright, doll.”   

You dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton across his ribs, your other hand resting on his metal shoulder to keep him still.     

He winced slightly in contact with a sharp intake of breath, but when you looked up at him with worried eyes, he sent you a tight smile to let you know he was okay. 

“So why are you still here? Its 3am, shouldn’t you be at home, in bed?” he wanted to fill the silence and was curious as to why you were still at work at such a ridiculous time.     

“I had to finish some paperwork and then I was watching ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’ on my laptop. I didn’t realise how late it got.” you chuckled to yourself, glancing over at your open laptop. “Plus, there are some really cute kittens I’m taking care of right now and I just didn’t want to leave them here on their own”     

He chuckled at that, “I guess we’re both suckers for cute animals then.”    

You laughed as you finished cleaning the scrapes on his torso, agreeing wholeheartedly. “You probably don’t need any bandages, you’re healing really quickly.”     

“Perks of being me,” he laughed. 

You threw the used cotton balls away and lead Bucky through the halls, into the room where you had left the dog, head still resting on Bucky’s denim jacket. You rustled through a few shelves, finding some scrubs that would fit Bucky and throwing the light blue shirt at his chest, allowing him to cover-up and cutting off your own temptation to stare at his fucking perfect abdomen.    

“He doesn’t have any tags or a chip, so I can’t identify him. Unfortunately, judging by these older scars and his malnourishment, it looks like he came from an abusive home.” Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together at that and he brought his fingers up to gently trace along the old scars on the dog’s skin. “The only thing he had on him was this.” You held up a thin metal chain that had been around the dog’s neck.    

“So what now?” Bucky mumbled, eyes still on the unconscious dog in front of him. You watched as they glistened with a tenderness you could’ve sworn you had never seen before.

“Well, I could keep him here for a few days and look for someone to adopt him, but unfortunately there’s a stigma around pit bulls and I don’t know if I could find anyone,” you said, running a hand through your hair and glancing at Bucky. He was still staring down at the animal, eyes full of worry and care, flesh hand gently grazing over his ears. “...or you could adopt him.”   

His head shot up at that, eyes wide. You tucked your hands into your pockets, leaning back onto the bench behind you and feeling your lips stretch into a genuine smile, shrugging your shoulders.   

“You seem to really care about him - I mean, you threw yourself in front of a car for him - I don’t think anyone I found would do that.”   

His eyes flickered between you and the dog with surprise and curiosity.    

“You don’t have to decide right now, I want to keep him here for a day or two, but I think it’s a good idea.”   

“I– I don’t even know how to take care of a dog, I–”   

“Hey,” you stepped forward and rested a hand on Bucky’s arm. “jump that hurdle when you get there. It’s not too hard, and I’ll be around if you have questions.”

He nodded lamely.      

“Anyway, it’s almost 5am and I would like to get some sleep before I have to be back here at 10.” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorr–”  

“It’s okay, James,” you reassured.

The two of you made your way out of the building, not before Bucky helped you carry the dog into a more comfortable, blanket-filled enclosure. When you reached the car park, Bucky began to walk back to his bike, but stopped short a few feet away.

“Hey, could I– could I give you my number? Call me when I can come see him?”

“Of course.” you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. “I’ll probably call you tomorrow.”

He nodded gently, sending you a smile before throwing his leg over the bike and peeling off in the opposite direction to you, heading towards the Avengers Compound.

You drove home, your eyelids heavy, and finally fell into your the grasp of your warm blankets, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately, completely exhausted from you unexpectedly wild night.

Meanwhile, Bucky was at the compound at the break of dawn, switching the scrubs t-shirt for some workout gear in his locker, he made his way towards the gym immediately, wanting to blow off some steam. He couldn’t get his mind off the dog and really needed some sort of distraction.

“Hey! Tinman, what ya doin’ here so early?” Sam jogged across the gym, jovially punching Bucky’s arm when he reached him.

“Had a weird night.” He mumbled, wandering towards the reinforced punching bags and beginning to strap up his hands. “What do you think of pets?”

“Pets?” Sam raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall behind him. “I’m gonna need some more specifics.”

Bucky pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, gesturing to the punching bag. Sam moved forwards, leaning his shoulder against the opposite side of the bag and holding it still for Bucky.

“I uh– I guess I’m thinking about adopting a dog.” he mumbled, “Again, weird night.”

“Well, it’s not a bad idea. I mean, there are heaps of studies done on how dogs help with PTSD. Could help with your nightmares.” Sam mumbled, grunting slightly in the middle of the sentence when Bucky threw a punch.

“Yeah, maybe.” He threw another punch.

“So, you gonna tell me about this wild night of yours?”

Bucky chuckled, but nodded anyway, beginning the story.

When you woke up to your alarm a few hours later, you could hardly convince your own eyes to open, weighted down with such exhaustion. When you finally managed to roll out of bed, have a quick shower and grab a bite to eat, you pulled on a fresh pair of scrubs and stumbled out the door.

“Emily, you’re a lifesaver,” you mumbled as you entered the clinic, grabbing the coffee cup off of her desk and taking a long sip of the caffeinated beverage.

“Why so tired?” You missed the cheeky look on her face as you continued past the front desk. “Could this have anything to do with the pit bull in exam room 3?”

You turned on your heel and raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you know?”

“Well, when I got here I noticed the new, injured animal out the back and was extremely curious,” she stated slyly, smirking in your direction “so, I looked at the security footage from last night and found something very interesting.”

“Ok, you can shut up now, Em, I need peace and quiet and to check on that dog.”

She cackled loudly at your words, turning away to answer the ringing phone as you escaped to the back, putting your stuff down and going to check on the new dog.

“Hey there, pup,” you whispered, reaching into his cage slowly and letting the now-conscious dog reluctantly sniff your hand. You gently scratched behind his ears, but he stayed laying down, seemingly uninterested in any interaction.

You figured he had anxiety from his previous owners and decided to just check on his stitches and leave him be for a little while. You made a mental not to call James when you got the chance.

The day passed without too many hiccups (you only fell asleep at your desk once) and you managed to make it to 5:00 without majorly injuring yourself or anyone else. Finally, the place was empty and you pulled your phone from your bag, scrolling until you found his number.

The phone only rang 3 times before there was a clattering sound and Bucky’s voice rang out from the other end.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me,”

“Hi, how’re you?”

“I’m good, I’m tired, but good” you chuckled. “You wanna come see him? He’s been awake today, I took him for a very slow walk but he hasn’t been very lively. I’m sure he’d like to see you”

“You think he’ll remember me?” Though he tried to hide it, you could hear the smidge of insecurity in his voice. He was worried that this animal was going to hate him before it even really met him. You sincerely doubted that.

“Only one way to find out.” you murmured, tapping a pen against the bench with a hopeful smirk on your face.

It was silent on the other line for a moment, but you heard a sigh as Bucky made his decision. “Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

You felt a smile stretch across your face at his words and had the urge to roll your eyes at yourself. “See ya soon, James,” you said, pulling the phone away and hanging up. You still couldn’t wipe that smile off your face.

Around 20 minutes later, you had managed to usher Emily out of the clinic and were waiting patiently for Bucky to arrive. Your head was resting in your hand, your eyes desperately trying to keep themselves open when there was a rattling knock on the glass door. You lifted your head and smiled welcomingly when you saw Bucky standing at the door, holding a coffee in his hand.

“Hi, come in,” you unlocked the door and allowed him to walk inside.

“This is for you,” he mumbled, holding the large coffee cup towards you. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got a normal latte and a bunch of sugar packets.” he pulled a handful of little brown sugar bags out of his jacket pocket and your eyes widened at the gesture.

“If I wasn’t so tired I would tell you ‘you shouldn’t have’ or something,” you mumbled, taking the warm cup from his hand and practically inhaling half of it.

He chuckled. “I guess that’s a no to the sugar,” and stuffed them back in his pocket.

“Alright, follow me, let’s go see this dog.”

He followed you through the halls once again and you led him into the free examination room where the dog was still laying in a mountain of blankets. The dog hadn’t noticed your entry yet, still deeply asleep.

You turned to look at Bucky, watching the creases in his forehead appear. He was worried again, losing his confidence. You reached out and gently placed an arm on his shoulder, sending him a gentle smile of reassurance. He looked up at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and then turning back to the dog. He took a few cautionary steps forward, and then finally fell to his knees beside the bed.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered.

It was like magic. The minute those words left his lips the fuzzy grey ears perked up and the dog lifted his head, searching for the source of the noise. He struggled to roll over, sitting up and surging towards Bucky, pawing at legs and immediately licking his stubble-covered chin.

Your mouth fell open at the interaction, shocked that the dog suddenly had so much energy. You felt your breath catch in your throat when your eyes found Bucky’s face and caught sight of the show-stopping smile that stretched across his lips. He gently scratched the back of his ears turning his chin up and allowing the dog to lick his jaw.

“Oh my god, he loves you,” you whispered, walking towards the two boys, and crouching down next to them. Bucky simply laughed in response, staring into the dog’s grey eyes.

“He’s barely moved all day and now he’s all over you,” you chuckled, gently patting the dog’s back. “He must remember.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered between you and the dog. “I want him. I want to adopt him.” The words tumbled out of his mouth as if escaping a cage and he pressed his forehead to the dog’s. “I’m gonna take you home, buddy.”

part 3

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