I LOVE YOU ALL. Thank you for all of the glorious messages you’ve sent me for my birthday, I covet them all. To reciprocate, I’ve written you a wee fic, to say ‘thank you’ in the only way I know how. I hope you enjoy…and HAPPY SUNDAY.
❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
Anonymous said: I love your stories! Can you please write one where J and C go camping?
So, I know this is only half of your ask, Anon, but I needed this bit to come first before I can write the second part. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve split it into two ❤.
I slotted it in (as I’d been thinking about what to do next for a while) with ‘Ghràdh, Bithbhuan’. Since it was angst for the last chapter, it’s not for this one ;). As always, this fic is not in chronological order, but this does come sometime after Marie Stopes (chapter three).
The sun dipped low on the horizon, a deep red glow bathing the grass in a sea of maroon.
“Sassenach?” Jamie’s voice broke through the silent dusk. “Do ye remember the first time we came up here, when I hadna been here long?”
“Yes, I do. I think that was the first time you kissed me.” Claire blushed, a rare deep peach colouring her cheeks.
Neither of them was looking at the other, engrossed as they were in watching darkness coat the mid-plains of Beinn Nibheis. The wee loch almost glowed grey as the light finally left them.
“Aye, I recall it. I didna think ye were all sae pleased wi’ me afterwards.”
Claire reached behind her, gripping the firelighters between her fingers as Jamie stacked sticks for their evening fire.
“I wasn’t angry with you, Jamie. I was shocked.” She leaned forward, her hair falling around her face as she slid the chalky brick beneath the dry wood. “I liked you, even then.” Her voice was so quiet, barely a whisper. But he didn’t have to strain to here her, their temporary elevated home was surrounded by utter noiselessness. “I just –thought it was too soon.”
Jamie smiled in the dark, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “I canna agree wi’ that, mo nighean donn.”
Twisting to the side, fire forgotten, he took her lips against his, his hand slipping beneath her hair, massaging her scalp as he did so.
Claire didn’t protest this time, her mind devoid of thought as the tip of his tongue nudged her top lip. Unconsciously her head tipped to the right as her mouth opened. Massaging her tongue with his, she moaned, the taste of him almost too much. The faint tang of whisky invaded her senses, mingled with the scent of their last meal.
She couldn’t get enough.
Jamie was lost, his eyes scrunched tightly as he kissed her into oblivion. Their teeth clashed a few times, but the sweet aura of her eclipsed all embarrassment he might have otherwise felt at their minor clumsiness.
“Don’t stop.” She mumbled against him, in-between kisses, her soft breath fanning across his face as she did so. “This time I don’t want you to stop.”
Straddling him, Claire slid her clothed hips flush with his, her fingers sweeping along the length of his cheek bones before disappearing into his loose red locks.
The evening air swirled around them, the slight breeze prickling their skin. Jamie was boiling, his whole body alight like a living flame. It was enough to keep Claire warm, enough to have her curling herself around him in a desperate attempt to lose herself.
“Do ye…” he moaned, shifting himself in the direction of their small tent.
“Yes.” she muttered in response, kneeling over him as they shimmied backwards as far as they could.
The base of Jamie’s back grated painfully against the few stones buried in the grass, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His hands were filthy, the damp dirt getting stuck under his nails as he waited for Claire to undo the zipper of their canvas door.
Claire’s hands grappled to find the small metal hook, her breath visible in the deep inky blackness as she pulled away for just a moment, needing to see that she was searching in the right place. Satisfied that she was, she began to pepper kisses along the length of Jamie’s jaw as the gratifying sound of the zipper pulling free echoed through the hushed night.
“Thank God.” She whispered grinding her hips fully against his as they finally snuck inside.
They didn’t even bother re-closing the door, Jamie simply shifted his pelvis in the confined space, causing Claire to roll onto her back. The sleeping bags slipped a little, but she managed to settle herself into a comfortable position, the soft liner beneath her.
“I need these off, lift!” Jamie whispered, his hand squeezing her arse and tugging at the thick breeks she’d worn to climb the first half of the mountain.
“Yes,” she replied, a breathy moan falling from her lips as she reached to tug the poppers at her waistband. He fumbled with his trousers as she kicked her feet, trying to free herself from the tight material.
As soon as she was mostly bare from the waist down she discretely slithered her hand under Jamie’s underwear.
He jumped, the feel of Claire’s nimble fingers catching him off guard.
“Do…” he stuttered, his breath catching in his throat as she delved ever deeper, his trousers still caught around his knees.
He was trapped. At her mercy.
She smiled and bit his lip at his hesitation, sweeping her tongue over his damp flesh before letting him go.
“Do…?” She questioned, tracing the length of him so slowly.
Jamie tensed, his whole body shaking, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“Do ye want to…Claire…here –now?” He finally managed return, his knees aching with the pressure of holding himself up.
“Have you ever *lain* with a woman before, Jamie?” Claire peeled her eyes open, looking up at him as she continued to massage him.
Jamie shook his head, his curls bouncing against his ears as he did. “Nay. I have’ne. No’ that.”
“Do you want to wait?” She questioned whilst extracting her digits from his rigid skin. Instead, she rubbed her palm along the smooth expanse of his bottom, cupping him gently between her fingers. “We can, you know? We can just sleep.” She could feel the shiver that swept over his skin, leaving raised gooseflesh in its wake.
He could tell that she meant it, but there was an underlying need in her voice that called to him. It made the blood sing in his veins. Part of him, the righteous part, mumbled inaudibly about the moral code he’d break should he give in to his baser needs. He opened his eyes, focusing on Claire, rather than on her wandering hands.
She truly did look like a goddess, hair flung haphazardly around her head, buried as it was in the soft creases of the blankets beneath her.
Watching him intently, a small smile tugged at her lips. He surveyed her as she licked her lips, sliding her shoulders a little to left as she gazed back at him. Beads of sweat were gathering on her temple, the temperature below the tarpaulin rising gradually.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Jamie.” She brought one hand up and rested it, softly, just under his chin, rubbing her thumb over his stubbly chin.
“I want ye, Claire. You ken it, ye can feel how much I do.” He replied, his will breaking by the second. “But I dinna wish to take advantage of ye, I don’t wish for you to regret it, come morning.”
Noting his hesitance, Claire pushed herself up, bringing him up on his haunches as she did so. He dipped his chin forward, the thin material of the tent stretching over the crown of his head.
Her hands tugged at her shirt (noting his eyeline), pulling the buttons apart and exposing her chest as she disrobed, leaving herself only in her knickers now.
“I won’t.” She whispered, heavily emphasising the ‘I’ and leaning back on her palms, her legs stretched either side of his calves. “I want you, and I don’t want to wait. But I won’t take that choice from *you*, Jamie. Do you want me, now?”
Her toes twitched rhythmically against the sensitive skin of his ankles, tangling in the sparse hairs that lay there. It tickled and he shuddered, pleasantly, feeling the faint rush of blood as it pulsed through his aching body. Still, a wee bit of shame filled him. He shouldn’t have allowed her-
He stopped, pulled up short by his thoughts. They’d been here before, he remembered it well. Those weeks of solitary confinement. The silence that followed him around their home like daggers slicing through the tainted air. The overhung sense of dread when he heard her come home, knowing all the while that she would only throw him angry looks and not say a word.
Before, in his own time, he would have been reticent to do such a thing (to allow her to do such a thing), but here things were different. She’d shown him how women were different, and he kent that he had to make his own mind up.
She already *knew* what *she* wanted.
Claire waited patiently, watching the myriad of emotions cross his face. She saw the shame, the dimming of his eyes as he contemplated what it would mean for him to *sleep* with her before marriage, before he’d even proposed. Remaining quiet, she raised her hips, moving her bottom just a little.
A bead of moisture ran down her chest, between her breasts. She felt the tepid liquid as it tumbled southwards, tingling her heated flesh and leaving a tiny wet line in its wake. Jamie’s eyes followed its journey, enraptured by the teeny droplet.
Claire swore she heard him curse.
Slowly Jamie bent forward, his nose touching her ribcage first, his hair tickling the underside of her breasts as he finally allowed his mouth to caress away the water. Using his tongue, he slowly followed the path back up, before quickly turning his attention to her nipples.
“Good choice,” she gasped, holding his head against her now, “right answer, Fraser.”
Jamie continued for what seemed like the longest time, paying full attention to each breast, licking and suckling against one whilst lightly rolling his fingers over the other. He was enamoured, completely bewitched by her body. Every moan, every movement, he soaked it up, basking in her beauty. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d removed his undergarments, her feet pushing them down to meet his trousers, and then taking those down as far as they would go.
Claire, half drunk on lust, tugged her own knickers off and tossed them aside, letting her knees fall against the cold plastic coated sleeping bags.
In no time at all they were both entwined. Jamie held himself over Claire, his nose now level with hers as she rolled her groin upwards, teasing him as she went.
“Ah Dhia! Yer so…” Jamie groaned, as she slid herself along the length of him, her slick skin covering every exposed inch of him but not taking him inside her, “Jesus, Mary and Bride.”
Her shoulders shook as she pushed herself up and took his mouth back against hers, tugging his arse downwards as she kissed him passionately.
“Now, Jamie. Take me –now.” She gasped, her sweet breath rousing him further as he pushed himself forward.
As they joined they both released simultaneous moans, the heightened relief of them becoming one encircling the close air that now filled the tent. Panting, they rose and fell together, the sound of the dry-moisture that coated their heated skin reverberating around them as Jamie pushed his hips forwards and then pulled back, repeating the motion over and over.
“Oh –God–Jamie, don’t s-stop…” Claire cried out, the feel of him overwhelming her.
He didn’t answer her vocally, he couldn’t. But his body responded to her plea, moving harder and faster, as fast as he could bring himself to go without crushing her. His thighs burned, the pressure building from his toes and beating through him, finally ending as a punishing pulsation buried deep in his balls.
“Come to me, Jamie. Let –go.” Claire whispered, her heart beating a deafening tour-de-force, its uneven tap ringing in her ears as she arched her back in response to his jagged movements.
Dots danced in front of his eyes as he felt Claire tighten, the already compact set of her sopping skin closing around him.
He lay his head, as gently as he was able, against her soaking wet shoulder as he bucked and bit into her flesh, trying to contain his wails. Claire held him close, her own orgasm still rocketing through her as her legs anchored him as best she could. A deep, almost animalistic keening broke free as he contracted nearly every muscle in his body, coiling up and flopping to his side as the pleasure took him.
Crickets chirped, their hushed song rattling in a gentle crescendo through the short grass that surrounded the tent.
Deep into the summer night, Claire carefully moved her sore body, twisting herself so that both she and Jamie lay underneath the thick plaid. He stirred as she did so, half in a daze as he sought out her calming presence.
“Shh, Jamie.” She soothed.
“Ye dinna regret it then?” He returned, his eyes opening sleepily as he tried to make out the shape of her in the dark.
“No.” Her answer was firm and unyielding. “Do you?” She asked, with some trepidation.
“God no, sassenach. Anything wi’ you leaves me with no regrets.” He yawned, wrapping his arms around her and trapping her legs beneath his as he burrowed against her. “I love ye, Claire. Have done since I woke wi’ my head in yer lap on that fairy hill.”
Claire’s lungs ceased to function as she processed the words. She clenched her fists, careful not to disturb him as she tried to stop herself from shaking.
“Dinna fash,” he cooed, tracing subtle patterns across her back with the tips of his fingers, “just sleep now, a ghràdh, hush now and sleep.”
Outside the millions of wee creatures continued about their nightly routine, rustling as they went. Claire lay awake, her brain swirling with so many different thoughts.
It wasn’t long before she calmed, the steady beat of Jamie’s heart against her chest bringing her slowly back to earth. She took one last deep breath, letting her hands unfurl as she gently relaxed into his embrace and muttered, thinking him to be fast asleep now, “I love you too, Jamie. Just don’t leave, please.”
His heart shattered as the words hit his ears, muffled as they were the tenor of them still sliced through him.
“I willna, my Claire. No’ ever.”
Jamie’s last sentence hung in the air, a solid confirmation of his commitment to her. No matter what, he thought, half dreamily, he would *never* let her go.
NSFW (Though only near the end after the cut partway through; You can read up to the cut and be fine if you wanted.)
This is for @feysand17 who requested: Would you write a smutty fic about where Feyre knows and accepts the
bond at Starfall and Rhys takes her to the cabin I just thought about
this AU how it would play out.
I wish this one had turned out better overall, though I don’t hate it or anything. I just don’t think I write Feyre very well, but it felt wrong to make this a Rhys POV. And it’s hard to boil down 15-20 chapters of Feyre’s emotional journey into one fic, but this fic would have been catastrophically long had I teased it out to match what Sarah gave us, so… this overly wordy OOC monstrosity is what I’m left with. Hopefully there’s something good in it and if not, at least there’s smut! ;)
“Feyre,” Rhys whispered. He said my name one more time and I blinked my eyes open. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. Rhys was looking down at me softly, our bodies still swaying faintly even though the music had stopped, though I didn’t know when it had.
“Only a little.” He lifted me into his arms, cradling me against his chest before taking off into the sky. My first Starfall was over.
We flew back to the townhouse, wind whipping against us, but it was warm against Rhys’s chest. I could feel his skin through the shirt. It felt oddly pleasant.
But what struck me as even odder was the feeling that I didn’t want it to go away when he set me down. I thought my skin might crack open and bleed from the loss of contact.
As we walked through the townhouse towards my room leaving Velaris’s pale pink skies behind us, I remembered another long night that had dragged on until the early hues of morning shone, one that had ended with stolen kisses and the first bright streaks of new love.
Why was I thinking about that night now?
My stomach recoiled at the word. Love. I didn’t love Rhysand. I couldn’t. He was… my mind clouded with a dizzyness that couldn’t come up with anything negative to say anymore. A few months ago I would have had every insult in the world to hurl at him and now…
Rhys squeezed my hand. I checked my mental shields hoping they were still intact in my sleepy state, that he hadn’t heard me, but everything seemed fine.
Besides, if I dared to love Rhysand, who was to say it wouldn’t go the way things had with Tamlin. I still hadn’t even properly broken things with Tamlin. The letter was one thing, but I knew deep down it wouldn’t be enough for him. Could I really find it in me to betray him for Rhys? The fact that I was even asking the question implied I wanted to betray him for Rhys and that thought terrified me.
We’d stopped outside my room and Rhys was looking at me with quiet concern while I looked back at him wondering how this man had become so much to me in the past two months, more than I dared admit.
“I’m sorry,” I said realizing we must have been standing there for an awkward space while my mind did backflips. “I was just thinking.”
Rhys nodded. He seemed to debate whether or not to say something. Part of me was petrified he would while another part of me was even more terrified he wouldn’t. Finally, he simply lifted the hand he’d been holding, turning it over in his palm to kiss the back of it, and bid me a tender, “Goodnight, Feyre darling.”
It was the first time he’d called me that without some kind of snark behind it. Starfall washed over me before he parted. All the little moments from the dust I’d drawn around on his hands to the kiss he’d placed on my cheek, the dancing, the drinks, the lights, but most of all it was him.
Before the return of our favorite lovers, I just want to thank all the talented Richonne writers! You’ve allowed us to wait between seasons and episodes.
Thank you to taking care of this lovers for us.
Because of you, I cried, laughed and stressed a lot and yeah I was sometimes angry… but I looooooved that!!!
I can’t sleep so I wrote about my OTP
doing it instead.
Fareeha was already yawning as she
switched off the bathroom light and trudged into the bedroom. Arms
stretching overhead, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw her
Angela was asleep and propped against
the headboard, reading glasses still on and a book in her lap.
Fareeha climbed slowly onto the bed on her knees. With both hands she
carefully removed and folded the glasses. She leaned across the other
woman to place them on her bedstand along with her book and switched
off the lamp.
A slight change in the doctor’s
breathing was followed by a soft, “Hm?”
Fareeha brushed a few blonde strands
aside, noticing in the dim lighting that Angela’s eyes were partially
opened. Fareeha cupped a hand under her chin, placing a kiss on her
brow, on the tip of her nose, and, softly enough, on her lips.
Sliding under the blankets, Fareeha
gently tugged Angela into her arms. “Come here.”
Angela murmured something and snuggled
in against her, tucking her head underneath Fareeha’s chin, draping
an arm over her side, and shuffling to tangle their legs. Fareeha
pulled the blankets up around them and gathered Angela in her arms.
Rubbing a hand along Angela’s back, Fareeha closed her eyes and fell into peaceful
Summary: Your sister takes an embarrassing video of you and it turns out to be the best thing that’s ever happened.
Word Count: ~4,800 (sorry, I let it get away from me)
Warnings: fluff, mention of surgery and anesthesia, mention of mild panic attack symptoms, more fluff
A/N: This is an AU, and it’s fiction, so please, just assume Genevieve is off somewhere, happy as a clam with another man. I don’t mean to offend or disrespect her in any way. Last night, I was talking with the incredibly kind soul @scarlet-impala and she told me about her constant Jared crisis. This is the result.
*A huge, Jared Padalecki-sized hug and thank you to Scarlet for letting me use this - her real-life post-surgery story - as inspiration!!
Surgery was over. You had just come out of the sleep you were put into via anesthesia. Your brain was jumbled, but one thing was perfectly clear to you - you loved Jared Padalecki. He was the only concise thought you had. Your brained swarmed with how selfless he was, how much he gave to the fans, and how sweet and adorable he acted every time you saw a video of him.
“We don’t deserve Jared Padalecki, he has given us so much,” you mumbled, sounding more drunk than anything.
You didn’t know that your sister had started livestreaming on facebook right before you said it. She wanted to capture every second of your delirium, and unluckily for you, she caught your confession about the giant man you deemed your celebrity crush. She cackled as she ended the stream, watching you fall back asleep in the hospital bed.
The next morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing like someone was calling you. When you picked up your phone, you saw that it was just a constant flow of facebook notifications. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you unlocked your phone. You cursed under your breath when you saw the video your sister posted, knowing it was embarrassing.
When you tapped on the video and let the sound flood the small room you were staying in, you wanted to bury yourself under the covers and hide from everyone. Your face had to be beet red by the time you heard yourself crying over Jared. Looking at the caption she’d posted with it made things even worse.
After the episode Spencer had thrown in the office after the case, you had offered to take him home instead of having him walking around DC in the dead of night fuming from his ears.
But when you had walked him up to his apartment, he was dead-set on you coming in.
“If I got caught up like that, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” he states.
“I lived with it for most of my life. I’m used to it,” you lie.
“I’ve never seen you get emotional like that before, Y/N,” Spencer admits.
“Then that makes two of us,” you snicker as you shake you head lightly and turn your gaze away.
“Let me just brew us some coffee. It’ll be warm, and we can sit in silence and cool down,” he says lowly.
The coffee did sound nice.
“Alright. But just ONE cup,” you emphasize.
Smiling in triumph as he quickly unlocks his door, you step into his apartment that had practically been deemed your second home, sighing as you walk over to his couch and sink yourself slowly into it.
The case had been so emotionally taxing that you weren’t aware of how tired you had become until you had finally gotten off of your feet.
And your felt your eyes steadily begin to droop.
“So, I went out and bought some of that weird creamer stuff you drink in your coffee. They didn’t have plain caramel but they had a caramel macch-”
But when he turned back towards you, he smiled lightly to himself as his eyes danced along your body, contorted on the couch with your head fallen forward and your light snores escaping through your nose.
The two of you were profilers. There were no words that needed to be spoken when it came to how the two of you felt. The two of you knew when your friendship turned a corner into a best friendship, and the two of you also mutually understood when that best friendship had divulged into something greater…
His mother loved you, and so did he. And while there was never a definitive point where your relationship changed, the thing that he loved was that it never did.
With you, it always just was.
But when this case had happened, and it had revealed a life that you had lived that, up until this point, you had never talked about, an anger and a jealousy rose within him that he didn’t believe he was capable of.
Anger that people could have treated you that way, and jealousy that they had you at such a vulnerable time and not him.
If he had a chance, he would have turned back the wheels of time, found you when the two of you were teenagers, and never left your side. He wanted all of you: your past, your present, and your future. He wanted your hand in marriage, your heart forever, your children to call him “daddy”, your body to meld to his in passion, your wrinkled hand in old age as the two of you laid in bed and dreamed about your younger, more youthful years.
Neither of you needed words to express any of it.
But maybe it was time a few were spoken.
Turning off the coffee pot as he makes his way over to the couch, he shifts you down onto the cushions as your head lobs off to the side, his fingers dancing along your cheek as he slowly brushes the lightly greasy tendrils from your eyes.
Pulling a blanket down around your body, he tucks you in before leaning in and pressing a long, warm kiss into your forehead, and it caused you to stir lightly as you grunt and groan with your shifting.
“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers into your ear.
And he smiled when your soft, pillowy, tired lips croaked, “Love you too, Spencer.”
So I’m just imagining Pharah and Mercy are training one day. (Honestly they say they’re training but really they’re just goofing off and flying around the base to avoid Winston making them do more drills.)
It starts with Fareeha rocket jumping and Angela timing how long she can stay in the air. Then Fareeha starts to get a little more cocky and wants to show off to her crush how high she can go too. They’re both laughing as she flings herself away from the earth and makes silly faces at Angela down below, until Angela also flies up to her with her own equally silly faces before floating gently back to the ground.
At one point though, while making a particularly ridiculous face and not exactly paying attention, Fareeha launches herself into a bird.
And it’s a tiny little thing like a sparrow or a pigeon that begins to fall as soon as Fareeha makes contact with it. Angela and her tender heart just go hell no at that point, and she locks onto the falling avian and starts to heal it.
The bird never hit the ground.
It happily flies away, probably healthier than it was before. Angela beams at Fareeha who’s holding back tears both from feeling bad for hurting an innocent bird but also for how sweet her girlfriend is.
Occasionally when they’re back at that particular base, Mercy will hear a cheerful song that she knows is from that little bird. Pharah finds bird shit on any equipment she leaves outside.
I absolutely adore this art (by @ddoale, you are amazing!) so much that it inspired me to write this tiny fic! This is my very first snowbaz fic! You can basically fit this in between Baz and Simon’s part in Chapter 67 of the book! Enjoy! (:
The Grey Suit (0.7k)
Simon looks stunning in a grey suit.
But I would never tell him that.
He’s standing in front of me now, freshly showered, smelling faintly of smoke that has been loosely masked with a citrus soap he used. He’s adjusting the buttons of his shirt (of course he would accidentally button the wrong ones together), and I catch a glimpse of skin just above his pants. I immediately look away. Thank Crowley I’m not able to blush.
I move over to the the mirror and begin adjusting my suit jacket and tie. I start slicking my hair back and glance over at Simon through the reflection. He’s fumbling with his tie now, and I can’t stop staring at him in that suit. It fits him in every way a suit should properly fit someone. I should thank my step-mother again for buying it.
Simon is now struggling with his tie. His broad shoulders look even larger, his suit coat fitting snug against the squirming of his arms. He lets out a frustrated groan, and I begin to wonder if Bunce just spells his school tie for him every morning.
“Come here, Snow,” I say, moving back towards him. He looks up between those golden curls, giving me a confused glare, but steps forward anyway. I reach for his tie, avoiding his eyes completely, and he lets his hands fall to his side.
“Uh,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding embarrassed. “Penny usually helps me…”
I knew it, so I smirk. “Does she tie your shoes for you too?” I start to untangle the knot he made in his tie.
“I can tie my own shoes, Baz,” Simon says, rolling his eyes with a huff.
I just nod sarcastically. Simon has made quite a mess out of his tie and it takes me a minute to untangle it. When I finally straighten it out, I grab his shirt collar and pop it up gently. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, and I suddenly become nervous when they meet mine.
“Baz,” he says, and I ignore him, looking down at his neck. I begin to work on his tie, but I’ve only ever tied one on myself, thus making it difficult to remember the steps.
“Baz,” Simon says again, but quieter this time. His hands slowly come forward and settle against my sides. I’m very nervous now.
“Stay still, Snow,” was all I could say. He doesn’t. Telling Simon to do anything usually results in the opposite reaction. His hands gently slide up my sides, smoothing over my shoulders and rest calmly on my arms stretched out in front of him. He squeezes them slightly and looks at my neck.
I gulp and try to focus on finishing his tie. I can’t focus though. How could anyone focus when Simon Snow is touching you and eyeing the sensitive spots of your neck?
I quickly finish up his tie, adjusting the knot. I hesitate to let go though, so I reach up and turn is collar down. He still doesn’t let go of my arms.
“Snow, we’re going to be late for dinner.” I say, reluctantly beginning to pull away. He catches my hands and lets them fall together. He squeezes them and smiles at me nervously.
“You.. You look.. nice in your suit, Baz,” he says, stuttering slightly, and my stomach drops. Has he been thinking about that this whole time? I gulp again.
And you look stunning in yours, I want to say. But I don’t. I just squeeze his hands back.
“Let’s go to dinner, Simon,” I say instead. I let his hands slide out of mine as slow as possible, savoring his contact. He begins to move away, a few curls falling in front of his face, and I resist the urge to swipe them away. I fail. And I run my hand through them, slicking them over to one side. I disappoint myself. But I can’t help it. Simon looks stunning in a grey suit.
The first thing that registered in his mind as he regained
consciousness was a horrible headache.
As a trained agent, Saeyoung instinctively feels his environment before opening his eyes. The headache was annoying, but what really
bothered him is that the left side of his head feels sticky and matted.
Suppressing a groan, he wills himself awake, but not opening
his eyes. He starts to move his
fingertips and wiggle his toes—thank
goodness they still work—and he certainly anticipated that his hands were
tied, so the resistance he felt when he tried to move his right arm confirmed
his assumption. In all his experience in
getting captured, he was half-expecting that he is placed in a dark,
rat-infested room in some abandoned building with peeling paint and smelled of
dead rats and mold…
…but why does the room smell like carpet shampoo?
With eyes still closed, he knows the room is dark. It should be safe to open his eyes a little.
He almost regretted opening his eyes because once he did, a
new kind of pain shot up to his head.
The room was indeed dark, but the sole light source was right in front
of him and the light just made his headache worse. He then realizes that he was without his
glasses; the familiar weight on the bridge of his nose was completely
absent. However, he was somehow pleased
to know that he was alone.
As his eyesight settled, he certainly did not expect to see
that he is being kept in a room that’s quite…lavish. The floor lamp across him was made of
intricately woven metal and glass. “Too bad it’s too far from reach,” he
thought. The walls were lined with wood
trims and decorative moulding, each panel varnished with a mahogany tint. However, save for the lamp, the room was
empty with no windows; and looking around he realized that he was tied onto one
of the two support beams in the room.
Saeyoung was unsure on how many hours has passed since they
took him. He could vaguely remember
waking up in a moving vehicle, his hands tied behind him. “Where
the hell am I?” he thought; and judging from the general weakness he feels
and his parched throat, he may have been drugged and did not have a single drop
of water for the last twenty-four hours or more.
“They took my
jacket…damn,” he thought, and he audibly groaned when he realizes that they
took his cross necklace, too. He had
implanted GPS tracking on his jacket and necklace, and he finds himself smiling
a bit at the thought of considering having the goddamn GPS tracking implanted on himself.
“Gah, they took
everything,” he groaned in his thoughts, and then he suddenly remembered…
Oh God please I hope they didn’t take that, too…
He sighs in relief as his thumb finds the familiar metal on
his left ring finger. Running his thumb
along the small hoop, he finds himself ridden with worry for his wife. He leans his head on the support beam, and looked
up at the decorative mouldings on the ceiling.
“MC…” he whispers, his heart sinking even further as he
remembers pushing you off the ledge into the river. The pain in your eyes was too much for him to
bear; and the way you kept calling for his name as the river swept you away
from danger was tugging at his heartstrings so much. He closes his eyes and imagines the way you
looked into his eyes that night…how your lips were pouting slightly, and how
your fingers made him shiver as you traced them along his jaw…
It was supposed to be a perfect night.
It turned out to be the perfect nightmare.
“Shit…I can’t be like
this,” he reprimanded himself. He
immediately tried to recall that moment; while trying to figure out the knots
on the rope that binds his hands.
Running the scene again and again in his head, he gets more and more
confused. “Why didn’t they shoot me?” He
contemplated, trying to loosen the ropes behind him. He recalls where the bullets actually landed,
and all of them seem to be deliberately aimed at you.
“Why?” He continues
to ask, trying to rack his brain for answers.
“What the hell do they want from
away from the river, Saeyoung turns to find four armed men, their guns cocked
and ready to fire. He stands his ground,
hoping to distract them from the unusual splashing in the river. He can, at the very least, protect you from
the girl?” one of them asks.
bother with the girl?” Saeyoung replied.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
she has everythingto do with this,” an
unfamiliar voice came from the dark alley behind the gunmen. As much as Saeyoung tried to see, all he
could make out was a long coat, a wool scarf draped on the man’s neck to rest
on either side of his chest, and smoke coming from a lit cigar. He sounded old—probably in his sixties?—and
his voice was cold and laced with viciousness.
Muffled voices pulled him from his reverie. Saeyoung
immediately focuses his attention to try to understand what they were
saying. Cursing under his breath, he
managed to untangle one knot, but what kind of sadistic motherloving son of a bitch would tie knots this way?!
Before he could get another knot undone, he hears a click on
the door as the latch gets dislodged from its barrel. He stopped moving and watched the door open,
and his captor stepped in. It was the
same man he met at the docks, with the long coat and scarf, but when the floor
lamp finally illuminated the man’s features, he felt his heart sink.
“Ah, it appears that you know who I am,” the man smirked, looming
over him. Saeyoung bit the insides of
his lip, his mind running wild, trying to find some connection—any possible connection to you. He was absolutely
sure you were not affiliated with shady characters…he was absolutely sure to the point of obsessing
in finding more and more about you—there is just no way he could have missed you being connected somehow to a leader of an organized crime syndicate.
Seeing the confusion in Saeyoung’s eyes, the man let out a
chuckle. “Cat got your tongue, boy? Although I am very curious,” The man crouches in front of him, flips out a small
knife and runs the dull side of the cold blade along Saeyoung’s jaw, “just how the hell did you recognize me?”
Shit. Saeyoung cursed in his head, trying to
find some sort of excuse while holding his breath, noting the glint of the
knife in his peripheral vision.
Realizing that there is no point in hiding now, he closed his eyes to
keep the man from getting any more ideas from his facial expressions alone.
The man flips the knife shut and laughs. “Interesting.
You are very interesting, boy.” He then proceeds to dig into his
pockets, and dangled his cross necklace and his GPS device—both broken beyond
repair—in front of his face. “These are
not toys for little boys like you, son—I’m going to know soon enough who you
really are. But I am more interested in
that…pretty lass of yours. Where’s the lady?”
Saeyoung felt anger well inside his chest. He felt angry at how the man’s thoughts of
you sounded when the words rolled out of his tongue. However, he kept an unfazed façade, like how
they were trained. In his mind, he needs
to find out why this man is looking
for you; so he needs to play along with this little charade. He needs to find a way to protect you, and take you far away from
the reaches of this madman–
Before he could even formulate a plan in his head, the man
had planted his boot on his stomach, leaving Saeyoung coughing and gasping for
“I asked you a question,” the man said, his voice laced with
“Go to hell.”
The man’s boot met his face this time, causing a cut on his
lip. He could taste the blood in his
mouth, which he spat out, and clenched his teeth as the searing pain almost
made him cry out. The man then grabs a
fistful of his hair and yanks his head upward, and Saeyoung could tell from the
look in his face that the man is pretty happy with his handiwork.
“You’re pretty resilient,” the man said, “but don’t worry; I
have more—interesting—ways of making
All of a sudden, Canon in D was playing in the room. The man straightened and reached into his
pocket, and with a tap the music stopped and he placed the smartphone next to
his ear. “What? I’m busy.”
Saeyoung cannot make out the words that were being spoken by
the caller, but soon his captor just looked into his eyes and smiled with such wickedness
that it sent chills down Saeyoung’s spine.
With a sinking heart, he is absolutely
certain that his worst fears have been realized.
The man then turned away from him and walked to the door,
“Blindfold and gag him”, he ordered his men. “We’re going on a trip.”
A/N: Here’s the next chapter, as promised! Thank you all for bearing with me this far x_x I know it’s getting very long, but I didn’t want to rush it. :(
Things are getting complicated~ But YAY finally we get to see Saeyoung (after 5 chapters lololol).
Summary: Prompt request turned drabble-series. Unbeknownst to you, your best friend Bucky is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.
Anon prompts request: “angsty and painful and in Bucky POV” 1: “A wedding?” 231: “May I have this dance?” 236: “My parents asked about you.” 243:“Oh, my God! You’re in love with her!” 369: “You know, it hurt when I realized that you’re not in love with me. But nothing can compare to the pain I felt when I saw you fall in love with him…”
Warnings: swearing, very very mild mention of smut
Word Count: 665
Author’s Note: Italics are Bucky’s vortex-o-angst letter. Quotes in the letter, as I imagine it, are him looking back at older notes and scribbles and pulling the memories into the letter.
Ok… we’re getting into the real angsty angst now, or at least I feel like it is. Remember that I love you, ok?
There are a lot of lasts in here too, Y/N. I don’t even want to look at them, but I think I have to. Maybe it will help; remind me that you’re his and not mine.
Like the last time you stayed up all night with me: “I had another nightmare. Falling again. Just the idea of laying down felt like falling again and I wanted to crawl out of my skin, so I went to unwind in the living room. Y/N was already there, in my t-shirt.” That damn t-shirt. We didn’t even need to talk, Y/N. That’s how close we were. I just poured us both a drink and you immediately curled under my arm. It was so natural, so easy. How could you not know that I was in love with you? More importantly how could I not have told you?
“Why are you being like this? I just wanted your help!” She was almost yelling at him, fuming.
Bucky was shaking his head, his shoulders were stiff, his posture aggressive. He’d been steadily putting distance between himself and Y/N. He just didn’t know what else to do, he was so raw all of the time, and exhausted from trying to hide it from her. And she was equally tired of his apparent apathy, of being the only one trying to keep their friendship afloat.
And here we have more slightly!Older Adrienette/LadyNoir fluff because why not? XD
Prompt: “Oh my God, he’s adorable! Can we keep him, please?”
“Oh my God, he’s adorable! Can we keep him, please?”
Ladybug sighed as Chat Noir held up a small orange tabby cat, an eager smile on his face. The kitten mewed and her partner was instantly cooing at it, gently scratching under it’s chin.
“I thought you preferred black cats, Kitty?” She asked teasingly, unable to resist coming closer to pet the tiny feline.
“I like all cats, My Lady. So, can we keep him?”
“You know we can’t.”
Chat pouted at her, ears falling flat against his head, “Why not?”
“Adrien…” The heroine sighed, “You know between hero work, your busy schedule, my internship and school, we’re too busy right now to take care of him. We…we’ve hardly had time for each other lately too and it’d just be worse for this little guy.”
The hero sighed in defeat, “Right…”
Unable to stand her partner looking so sad, Ladybug took the purring kitten into her arms, “Tell you what, Chaton, we’ll take him for the night since I’m pretty sure it’s going to start raining soon and in the morning we’ll take him to the shelter. You know they’ll do their very best to find him a good home if their second favorite investor brings him in.”
“Second favorite? I’m the first favorite.”
“Chat Noir is the favorite. Adrien Agreste is their second.”
Green eyes blinked for a moment before he chuckled softly, “Fair enough. You’ve got yourself a deal, Princess.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and started to pet the kitten again with his other before leaning over and giving Ladybug a soft kiss on the of her head, “Thank you.”
“Of course. I would never let a tiny baby suffer in the rain. Now let’s go home.”
“As you wish, Bugaboo~”
D'aaww~ Saving kitties from the rain, these two are the best heroes XD Hope enjoyed and stay tuned!
He stops, halfway through the door, and smiles because what he’s seeing is still new to his eyes.
She’s standing in the kitchen clad in his shirt from the night before, swinging her hips and singing along to the radio she has playing through the room. Pots and pans line the worktop giving him evidence that what she’s preparing isn’t her first time.
But he can’t deny that this scene makes his race like he’s human again. It’s only been one day, yes, but the longing for this moment makes it feel new and familiar all at the same time.