could it be an excuse to straighten my hair and wear heels

Breaking the Rules - part 5

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Modern!AU You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Word Count:2,326

Warnings: the usual 

Breaking the Rules - Masterpage

Originally posted by imissyourbattlecries

The next day was peaceful and quiet. The calm before the storm as Mary had said. You sat on the patio, cooking lunch with Bucky’s grandmother while he was playing basketball with his cousin, Peter.

When his grandmother caught you staring at him, she gave you a knowing wink and you ducked your head to hide your smile.

Winnie wanted to get to know you better and decided to take all the girls to the beauty salon to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Of course, Bucky whispered a stupid comment into your ear and you discreetly pinched his side, making him yelp.

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Choking on the Words Bill Skarsgård x Reader



Hello hello! Love how you write and your stories! I was wondering if you could do a reader x bill skarsgard where bill and reader are friends. Everything goes well except that one night when she sees him flirt with some girl. She then realized she’s in love with him. The rest is up to you! Hope you feel inspired by this request! Much love xx

Note: Enjoy! 

Originally posted by p-s-y-c-h-o-therapy

Originally posted by butteryplanet

You were in denial.

There was no way you were in love with your friend Bill.

I mean, that was just absolutely absurd.

You and  Bill? Together?

In your eyes you were a lowly, kinda chubby loser who the press would probably bully in their celebrity magazines.

So there was no way possible.

Only now you were realizing you were.

You were deeply in love with your celebrity guy-friend.

You and Bill were invited by your friends to go to the local bar just for the heck of it and to catch up on ol’ times. You were currently sitting at the bar swirling around your ice water with your straw.

You had decided to wear a tight black dress and already you had been hit on 5 guys asking about your name or number or sign and a few had tried to order you drinks. You weren’t much into drinking alcohol or them trying to get you drunk, so you denied them.

You looked over to where your friend Bill was talking to your friend Brain who was a close friend of yours. You kept glancing over to where he was constantly checking up on him which was just creepy.

You weren’t gonna deny you were in love with Bill but you weren’t gonna say it either. Nor were you gonna sing a song about denying love well Greek statues sing along with you (reference from one of my top 3 Disney songs ;) ).

You looked around for entertainment but most of your friends were messes, already left, or were talking with others. You weren’t feeling pretty social at the time but st the same time you didn’t want to be bored and alone.

Sure enough another idiot walked up to you and you cursed for jinxing yourself. This wasn’t what you meant by you wanted company.

“Hey babe. You got some nice looking legs there-”

“If you dare, to finish that sentence or your not out of my sight from the count of three, you’ll find yourself on the floor with 7 broken fingers. So are you a gambler?” You asked not even looking at the guy.

You could still feel the fear radiating off of him however and when he sounded like he was trying to say something you started your countdown, “1…”

“S-Sorry.” He blurted before walking off well he still had his balls intact.

If any idiot knew about your past they’d be running. You had broken at least 45 fingers, taken out 24 teeth, and more than countless times had twisted a drunk idiots arm behind their back until they were begging for mercy.

A few clubs had actually asked you to become a bouncer which you wouldn’t mind at all. Kicking drunk idiots out and when they decide to get violent you have the right to beat the crap out of them.

Your kind of job. :)! 

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That Voice (Peter Parker x Reader) Part 2

Originally posted by peterparkerimagine

Summary: You’re best friends with Peter Parker and you can fell yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, without his knowledge. What happens when you get rescued by Spider-Man and you happen to recognize his voice?

Warnings: swearing, none really

Disclaimer: gif by peterparkerimagine

Tag List: existingandnotliving alexisclusterfuck skymoonandstardust purple-storm j-k-aesthetics marveltomjunkie thrift-shoppin dontbeabadwolfblinker organicketchupsucks sebastianstn107

part 1


“What is it?” he asked. 

“Peter,” you whispered. “Is that you?”

Spider-Man went rigid before you. His shoulders stiffened and he straightened his back. 

“E-Excuse me?” the superhero asked. “You must be mistaken.”

Your heart was hammering so quickly against your chest that you could barely breathe. You knew that voice. How could you not? 


Before you could even speak his name, Spider-Man backed up a few steps from you.

“I-I have to go. Please be safe,” he urged. 


The web-slinger was already gone, shooting a web out of his wrists and disappearing around the corner into the night of Queens, leaving you alone on the side of the street with only the moon and your heart. 

When you got back to your apartment the first thing you did was call Peter. You paced back and forth in your room, tapping your fingers against your arm anxiously as you waited for him to pick up. Instead, your call went to voicemail. You groaned and hung up before dialing his number once again. You shouldn’t have been surprised when it went to voicemail yet again. 

“Peter Parker, if you don’t answer your phone right now I’m going to kill you the next time I see you,” you said angrily into the phone. “It’s your best friend by the way.”

You hung up and flopped onto your bed with a groan in frustration. You stared at the blank ceiling before you and closed your eyes. You tried to remember every phoneme that came out of Spider-Man’s mouth and compare it to Peter’s. You talked to that boy every day and when Spider-Man talked to you, that only thing that crossed your mind was how similar their voices were. 

You rolled onto your side and glanced at the picture that you had framed on your bedside table. It was of you, Ned, MJ, and Peter, the four of you sitting on a bench in Central Park. The sun was shining over you, making your smiles look brighter. You remembered that day. It was a warm summer Saturday and you spent the day exploring the city with your best friends. 

Your eyes lingered on Peter. He was laughing and his eyes were crinkled in the corners like they always did when he laughed. He had his arm against the back of the bench, behind your back, and you were smiling from ear to ear.

The idea of Peter being Spider-Man continued to cross your mind the longer you stared at the image. Could it possibly be true? 

Peter was nerdy and a dork and he loved Star Wars and chemistry. Spider-Man was cocky and brave and put himself in danger to save the lives of others. Like he did for you.

But Peter was your best friend. Peter was everything you wanted, and more. Your heart beat quickly, skipping over your rib cage like it was trying to perform a gymnastics routine. You curled into yourself as the butterflies filled your stomach. You thought back to when you kissed his cheek after he gave you his sweatshirt in the rain. 

You pulled out your phone once again and looked at the lack of messages, getting frustrated when Peter didn’t return your calls. You sent him a text, saying that you hoped he was safe and that you needed to talk to him tomorrow. 

With that, you fell asleep with the image of Spider-Man’s mask burned in your eyelids. 

You gripped your backpack straps as you walked through the hallways of Midtown High, looking for a certain brown-haired boy. Your eyes scanned the hallways, skipping over the others, and honing on the one boy you wanted to talk to. 

Peter was at his locker. His hair was disheveled and he was wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, not his usual sweater. As you approached him you could see the lines under his eyes and the bruise beneath his jaw. 

Last night you had thought of everything you were going to say to him today, and you were going to interrogate him to find out if he really was the hero of Queens. But as you walked up to him, you lost your words. 

Peter closed his locker and looked up at you. His eyes were tired and dark, and he didn’t smile. 

“What happened?” you whispered breathlessly. 

Peter looked like he wanted to tell you. He opened and closed his mouth before chewing on his bottom lip. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and shook his head. 

“I gotta go,” he grumbled. He turned on his heel and started walking away, but you frowned and chased after him. 

“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” you asked as you fell instep with his quick strides. 



“I said no, (Y/N).”

You froze in place. Peter had never been short with you before and you certainly didn’t understand why he was doing it now. Spider-Man hadn’t even crossed your mind as you stared at your best friend with a look of hurt and betrayal. 

“Just leave me alone, alright?” he snapped. He turned away from you quickly and disappeared in the crowd of students that migrated towards their first period classes. You were left alone as tears stung your eyes. Anger pierced your heart, and you had been so upset you couldn’t even focus on noticing the similarities between Peter’s voice and Spider-Man’s. 

The bell rang and you forced yourself to go to class. 

Peter wasn’t at lunch. 

You walked over to your usual table, spotting both Ned and Michelle, but there was an empty chair next to Ned, leaving you both suspicious and upset. You hadn’t seen Peter all morning, and you were looking forward to talking to him at lunch and maybe find out what was wrong with him. But instead, he didn’t show up. 

“Where’s Peter?” you asked as you sat down. 

Ned shrugged while chewing his sandwich. “Dunno.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” MJ scolded with a look of disgust on her face. 

“Hey, my sandwich is good and I’ll eat it the way I see fit,” Ned retorted.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Loser.”

At least everything was normal with your other friends, giving you some sort of comfort in Peter’s absence. You tried to focus on their conversation instead of thinking of Peter which only made you upset. You were grateful for Ned and MJ’s playful banter to keep your mind occupied at lunch. 

Peter didn’t sit next to you in chemistry. 

You had rested your head on your arms as you waited for class to start, but when he entered the classroom you sat up immediately. You looked over at him, hoping to make eye contact, but instead he kept his head down and sat in the back on the opposite side of the room from you. 

You stared at him in disbelief as he pulled out his notebook and calculator, completely ignoring your existence. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, turning to Ned who sat next to you. 

“What?” Ned asked, looking up from his notebook.

You gestured over to Peter who sat far away from them. Ned’s eyes followed your gaze and he sighed. 

“I don’t know, (Y/N). He hasn’t been acting himself today,” Ned said with the same amount of worry that you had.

Peter looked up when the teacher started talking and glanced in your direction. You caught his eye for a mere second before he looked away. 

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach and you forced yourself to pay attention and take notes. At least it would get your mind off of him.

Peter didn’t meet you at your locker after school. 

You closed the door to your locker, pulling out the hoodie that he lent you a few days ago and resting it on your arm. You searched the hallways for his familiar face, and you finally spotted him rushing towards the door. You frowned in determination and ran after him. 

He was heading towards the back exit, heightening your curiosity and anger. He must be going that way to avoid you. 

“Peter!” you shouted as you ran out the door behind him. He was at the bottom of the stairs and he froze at the sound of your voice. He had his back to you, but he didn’t move a muscle as you walked down to the bottom of the stairs. It was only the two of you behind the building of your school. 

“What is wrong with you?” you demanded, placing a hand on his shoulder and spinning him around. 

“I don’t have time for this, (Y/N)-”

“Well too bad!” you shouted. 

Peter pursed his lips together and looked down at you. A light breeze pushed his hair back, exposing another bruise at the top of his forehead. You gently reached out a hand, and your fingers grazed the skin that the bruise occupied. As your fingers came in contact with his forehead, Peter closed his eyes and let out a breath. 

You pulled your hand back and let it drop at your side. 

“You’re Spider-Man.”

Peter’s silence confirmed your suspicions, and you took a step back. Of course you had been thinking it for the last almost twenty-four hours, but now that he was confirming it, you couldn’t believe it. 

“You’re Spider-Man,” you repeated.

Peter opened his eyes and looked up at you, his hair falling back into place and covering the bruise on his forehead. The one on his jaw was still prominent in the sun’s rays, and you began to notice other scratches and marks along his neck. You wondered if there were more on his torso and arms. 

“You…you’re…you’re putting yourself in danger and…” you couldn’t even formulate a proper sentence as all of the news stories of Spider-Man ran through your mind. Spider-Man scares off bank robbers. Spider-Man holds together the ferry, preventing it from collapse. Spider-Man stops bus from collision. Spider-Man. Spider-Man.

“How could you keep this from me?” you demanded. 

Peter’s eyes glanced down at his hoodie in your hand and he closed his eyes again, letting out a sigh. 

“I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”

Your heart froze in your chest. 


“Now that you know,” Peter mumbled. He opened his eyes and looked away from you. “It’s too dangerous for you (Y/N). I mean…yesterday when I saved you I was so scared. Can you imagine what it would be like if my enemies knew about you?” 

“So you’re what, just cutting me out?” you asked with angry tears stinging your eyes. 

Peter looked at you and his gaze told you he was searching for the right words to say. But the longer you stood in silence, staring at your best friend, the more you began to realize he was cutting you out. 

“Who else knows?” you grumbled. 

“Ned and May.”

Ned knows?” you gasped. “But…but you’re still friends with him. You still hang out with him. You-”

“It’s different.”

How?” you demanded. Your heart was hammering against your chest. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You were so angry. 

“It’s just different, okay?” Peter said sharply. The more he spoke the more you noticed the similarities between his and Spider-Man’s voice. 

“How is it different, Peter?” you snapped. “You just don’t want me in your life now?”

“No, (Y/N), that’s not-”

“Then what?” you gasped. 


Peter froze and looked away. You looked at his arms as he chewed on his lip. Bruises littered his biceps and he had scratches that were beginning to heal on his forearms. He was Spider-Man. Your dorky best friend was Spider-Man. 

“Forget it,” you grumbled as a tear slipped from your eye. You pushed past Peter and began to storm away.

“It’s because I love you,” he called. His voice echoed on the walls of the building around you, making the quiet alley much louder. You froze in place and glanced down at the hoodie in your hand. You hugged it to your body as you turned around and stared at the boy across from you. His eyes were wide and he looked defeated as he stared at you. His expression was a mix of love and hurt.

“What did you just say?” you whispered. Peter took a few steps towards you and stopped when he was two feet away. 

“I love you,” he repeated. 

You had been wanting to hear those words come from his mouth for so long. You ached to hear him say it. You dreamed about it. You wanted it. 

But you were so stunned you didn’t realize you had taken a few steps closer to him. 

“You do?”

Peter nodded. 

“But that’s exactly why we can’t hang out anymore,” Peter continued, stepping away from you. 

Your heart was flying and now it was crashing. You had finally heard Peter say the words you wanted to hear. You finally had it. And now you were losing it. 

“You can’t just say that you love me and then leave,” you said angrily. “That’s not fair. That’s not how-”

“(Y/N),” Peter said, his voice cracking. “Don’t make this harder.”

“You just did!” you shouted. “You told me you loved me! And now you’re saying we can’t talk or hang out anymore!” 

“I’m doing this because I love you!” Peter shouted back. “If you ever got hurt because of me…I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I can’t risk it. I can’t.”

Angry tears had begun to roll down your cheeks and you glanced at the hoodie in your hand. You shoved it in his chest and shook your head. 

“Fine. Have a nice life, Spider-Man.”


Sirens rang throughout the streets nearby and Peter’s eyes instantly went towards their direction. He glanced at you, the hoodie, and the cop car that sped by the school. 

“Just go,” you whispered, your voice cracked. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I don’t want this,” Peter said sadly. You shook your head.

“Just go. Spider-Man obviously has to save someone.”

“I’m doing this to protect you, (Y/N).”

More cop cars sped by. 

“Just go,” you urged. 

Peter’s eyes were glassy and he looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he began to walk towards the street, holding his hoodie close to him. You had your backs to each other when Peter stopped walking and turned. You were looking at the ground, tears falling from your eyes as you realized you were going to lose your best friend.

Suddenly, a strong arm spun you around and you were pulled towards Peter’s chest. He held you close to him, placing one hand on your waist and the other in your hair before connecting your lips in a kiss that instantly sent your heart into a race and your head began to spin. 

The kiss was short, but Peter pulled away, leaving you breathless. 

He took a few steps backwards before turning and running around the corner. You stood in the alley behind your school, your lips tingling and your mind racing. Cop cars sped by and you waited a few moments until you saw Spider-Man swinging after them straight into danger. 

Peter loved you.

Spider-Man loved you.

But now he was gone into the city and he said he couldn’t be around you anymore.

In that instant you had the love of your life and lost him in the same moment. More tears fell from your eyes as you looked down and noticed that Peter had placed his hoodie back in your hand when he kissed you. 

You hugged it to your chest and began to walk home, sighing as the breeze blew your hair back. 


There will be a part 3!

Thanks for reading xx

Two Weeks Notice

His blood rushed loudly past his ears and he cleared his throat several times before finally managing to speak. ‘Two weeks?’

The firm nod from his soon-to-be-former-assistant brooked no argument.

Sherlock Holmes, self-made business mogul and genius with a knack for going through PR reps like tissue paper, was, for the first time, utterly baffled. 

‘I don’t understand.’ He stood and rounded his desk, a frown on his face, until he was standing in front of her. Molly Hooper. His assistant. His conscience. His voice of reason. The one person who, despite her diminutive stature and initial fumbling demeanor, had kept him in line and in good public standing for the better part of five years with a backbone of steel and an uncanny ability to charm even the most vicious reporter. 

She wouldn’t leave him… she couldn’t.

‘Are you no longer happy here, Miss Hooper?’

She turned her head before he could read her face, but he didn’t miss her flinch at his formal address. She took a deep breath before turning her gaze back to him. ‘I believe my services would be better utilized elsewhere.’

‘That’s not what I asked. Tell me, why are you leaving me?’

She looked down at her cherry-patterned blouse, tugged it straight, and cleared her throat. ‘Mr Holmes, the terms of my employment were clear in that, should either party be so inclined to terminate said employment, a notice of two weeks must be given. No where in the wording is it required that a reason be given.’

Sherlock cursed inwardly. ‘Miss Hoop-Molly, I thought we had developed an efficient rapport, even a friendship. If I have done something to cause you distress, please inform me so that I may rectify the situation.’ He slipped his hands into his pockets and ducked his head. ‘I have very few friends in my life and I would sincerely be loathe to lose you from my life.’

‘It is nothing you can fix, believe me,’ she replied, smiling sadly. 

Sherlock stepped toward her. ‘Molly-’

‘I’ve already begun vetting potential replacements,’ she interrupted, taking a step back. ‘Three months from now, it’ll be as if there was never any change. You’ll have forgotten all about me.’

Her smile was forced and a gnawing ache settled in Sherlock’s chest. No more chipper, bubbly smiles first thing in the morning as she brought him his coffee and handed him a folder with the relevant emails that had come through overnight. No more trying to hide his laughter in public spaces whenever she mumbled a sarcastic or morbid comment under her breath. No more watching her brilliantly smooth over his social faux-paus with a smile and perfectly-worded statements. 

No more Molly. 

‘What if I don’t want to forget you.’ His voice was dark and low. 

She replied with soft resignation. ‘We both know you excel at deleting extraneous information. And when I leave, that’s what I will become. Your work and empire will continue, your new assistant will do everything I’ve been doing for you, and nothing else in your life will change.’ 

Then with the strength he’d always admired in her, she straightened her shoulders and adopted a cool professional expression. ‘With that out of the way, I shall be off. You have a meeting with the Board in a half hour and I need to prepare the conference room.’ She turned on her heel and left the room, pausing at the door to call over her shoulder, ‘Don’t forget to wear the cufflinks Mr Haversham gave you; keeps you in his favour.’

The door clicked shut behind her with alarming finality and Sherlock fell back against his desk, stunned.

Two weeks. Two weeks and she would leave him. Why? Why was she leaving? He hadn’t offended her lately, insulted her clothing recently, or God forbid, forgotten to pay her! She had given no sign of discontentment or unhappiness working with him. If anything, she had thrived in her position, going above and beyond what he had even expected of her. 

So why would she leave?

Why would she stay?

The little voice that sounded a lot like his business partner, John, came unbidden to his mind. Sherlock froze. 

Why would she stay? If she received a better offer, he would understand that. But she gave no indication that she was looking for or taking a new position and no other company would dare even consider poaching her from him.

His legs were moving before he even thought to, propelling him across the room in record speed. He threw open the door and stormed out, sending a frightened intern scuttling after a flurry of papers she’d thrown in surprise. 

Sherlock paid the employees that parted around him like the Red Sea no mind. His singular focus was on finding his assistant and demanding a full explanation before talking her out of this irrational decision to leave him in the lurch. 

The lift was too slow and he bypassed it entirely, opting to thunder down the stairs to the ground floor. The conference room was in the center of the atrium and completely encased in glass windows that rose to the top of the three story-tall room. Transparency was the core of his business success; no underhanded dealings or hiding secrets. Made for a bumpy ride at times, but paid off in the long run. 

He straight-armed his way through the doors into the atrium; the steel doors slammed into the walls and echoed loudly in the tall room. Every head turned toward the sound and many craned their necks to watch as the C.E.O., President, and Notoriously Aloof Sherlock Holmes blew into the room with the force of a hurricane and narrowed in on the petite assistant who was speaking animatedly with the few board members who had arrived early.

He interrupted them unashamedly and furiously declared, ‘No. I refuse to accept your resignation.’

Molly looked over in surprise and a fierce blush stained her cheeks. Hastily excusing herself from the conversation, she hurried across the room. 

‘Mr Holmes, please-’

‘No, no more Mr Holmes,’ Sherlock snapped, uncaring that every ear was attuned to their discussion. ‘We have been on a first name basis for two years. We are friends, Molly. And friends don’t just quit. Not without reason.’

Molly looked around at their gaping audience and lowered her voice. ‘Sherlock, it’s…’ She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s complicated. Okay? You don’t understand and I get it, I do. Just… respect my decision.’ Her eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘Please.’

It was in that moment that Sherlock saw what he’d ignored for so long. The dilation of her pupils, the longing in her eyes, the soft way she would smile at him, putting aside her own personal life to help him, canceling dates at his last minute request when he needed her… the love that was woven in every word she spoke to him and every thing she did for him. 

And how deeply that love was reciprocated.

He reached out and caught her hand. ‘You’re wrong.’ He stepped closer and lifted his other hand to slip around the back of her head. Her breathing increased and her eyes widened. ‘I believe I do understand. Finally.’ 

‘Sherlock…’ The rest of her breathless words were stolen as he dipped his head and kissed her. 

Around them, the onlookers awed and cheered. Sherlock tuned them out, focusing all his attention on the woman in his arms and kicking himself for ignoring his heart for all these years.

And when John Watson, Sherlock’s business partner, arrived with the rest of the Board members minutes later, he smirked at the sight before him. A quick check to the calendar on his phone only made his smile widen. 

Seems he’d won the betting pool. 

Marauder’s: A Naughty Fiction (Part 2)


Requested?: No

Prompt: Y/N has always been a student at Hogwarts but has gone through her years practically unnoticed by anyone that caught her eye. This year, she expects that to change. Instead of shoving her nose between the pages of books someone will be begin to take quite the interest in her. Watch her finish off her last year of schooling while fucking around with guys along the way.

Warnings?: Mentions of sex, drugs, alcohol, extreme flirtation

Words: 1,569

Originally posted by marauderseraimagines

It was a blinding sun which shone in through my windows, shining down on me from its reflection by the sea. A twitch of my nose and my eyes squinting open, adjusting my position to face away from the bright light.

I heard a giggle.

I flipped over in my bed my eyes now wide open, looking over to Lily’s area of the room. It was her and james, sprawled out together half naked, basking in each others presence.

“Gross.” I said, pulling the covers over my head, sighing to myself.

“Good morning princess!” James said to me, I, rolling my eyes, shoving myself deeper and deeper into my warm covers, remembering the district moaning which kept me awake all night.

“Oh, Lily!” I mocked, moaning. Them both stiffening and looking over to me under my covers.

“Oh yeah, right there James!” I yelled a little louder. I crawled out of my bed, my large shirt fanning around my thighs.

“Lily! Lily I’m about to-” I was cut off by a pillow being thrown at my face and then a strong force tackling me to the floor.

“Lily get off me this instant!” I yelled as she tickled me relentlessly, knowing all the right spots.

“You didn’t hear anything!” She said to me pinning my arms down. “Understood?” She continued, cocking an eyebrow.

“Understood.” I said, she releasing me slowly. I walked toward the bathroom, and just as I turned on the shower I moaned one last time, “I love you James!” and they both raced into the bathroom after me.

It was a busy, loud morning in the great hall. Young students talked amongst themselves, getting to know each other, the older ones all reminiscing on old times. Lily, James, and I walked toward where Sirius and the others were. They both smiling, and me wearing serious bags under my eyes.

I sat down at the table in between Sirius and Remus, Lily and James sitting across from us with Peter.

“Morning.” Remus said, smiling at me, then smiling at Lily and James.

“Morning.” I said back, resting my face on my hand.

“Kept you up all night?” Sirius questioned, gesturing to Lily and James, I just nodded my head.

“Planning on doing anything about it?” He added, smirking at me.

“Killing them, or killing myself.”

“Hopefully neither.” Remus said, them both laughing.

Sirius watched you with a little light in his eyes; Your lashes fluttering up and down, your lips jutting out effortlessly, a little smirk on your face each time Potter made a joke or you thought of something humorous.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked.

“Indeed.” Sirius looked away smiling, sipping his tea. He subconsciously put his hand down atop your knee cap. You were startled at the feeling, but let it sit where it was, no harm in a little human touch, right?

Everyone continued to talk, blabbing on and on about this year’s curriculum, prank ideas, and parties.

“We should have a beginning of the school year party.” Sirius blurted, obviously excited.

“Good idea.” Potter added.

“We should mix houses… no slytherins though.” Said Remus.

“Whats a party without slytherin?” You asked, biting your lip, thinking about every eligible bachelor in the house.

“No slytherins.” Sirius said, slightly angry.

“Ugh, why not?” You asked, looking up at him, pouting your lip slightly, now resting your hand on his thigh.

“Because I just don-” He said, stopping suddenly, looking at your pout then eyes flickering down to your hand, in taking a sharp breath. “I just don’t like them…” He continued, as you moved your hand higher and higher.

“Please?” You pleaded, sticking out your lip a little bit more.

“Fine.” He said, defeatedly, resting his head on his hand, you haulting your movement on his thigh, leaving it there, four inches below his crotch.

The word about the party got around, very fast. Fifth years and up we’re the only ones invited, every house, every gender, everyone. People were coming up to you frequently, knowing you had something to do with it. The Marauders Beginning of Course Party, everyone had to be there. So, countless people asked the dress code, the theme, and what to bring. Others, were asking you if you had a date, you said no each time, but you didn’t necessarily want to have one. You we’re starting to have a liking for Sirius, but you didn’t want any sort of a relationship right now. Maybe a few hookups, and it seemed tonight was a perfect night for one.

The dress code for the night was casual, so that’s an excuse for all girls to dress promiscuously, but, I had to look the best. I adorned a deep red, off the shoulder, tight crop top, exposing my belly button and cinched waist. High waisted denim jeans gripped onto my hips tightly, and exposed my curves for everyone to see. I wore standard black chuck taylor’s on my feet, I was never really one for heels. I kept my makeup minimal, and my hair was lying naturally and effortlessly around my shoulders and down my back. I was ready.

When I walked into the room not only were guys mouths watering, but girls as well. I sauntered over to the drink table and grabbed a tall, plastic cup of alcoholic butterbeer. I smiled at the warm, sugary taste at the tip of my tongue. I jumped a little when a pair of hands settled around my waist, only to push me out of the way.

“Y/N.” A familiar voice said, grabbing the same drink as I did.

“Regulus!” I yelled happily, pulling him into a hug. “Missed you!”

He smiled lightly, winking at me, kissing my cheek. You and Regulus had a thing a year back, but his mother found out about the two of you, and she was not happy about her son dating a failed Slytherin.

“And me as well, you look ravishing.” He said nicely, obviously feeling guilty for not ignoring his mother’s wishes.

You both talked back and forth to one another, but something seemed familiar about him. His eyes? No. His smirk? Yes, it was oddly similar to… And speak of the devil, a hand fell lightly on your shoulder, moving to your waist.

“Evening Y/N.” Sirius whispered into your ear, gripping tightly onto you.

“Sirius.” Regulus said in disgust, eyeing him up and down.

“Oh, hello Regulus, didn’t see you there, introducing yourself to Y/N?” He asked cockily, giving him back the same glare.

Sirius straightened his posture, shoving his hand into your back pocket, practically having a staring contest with his, as you’ve figured out, brother.  

“I could ask you the same Sirius, but alas, me and Y/N already know each other very well.” He said back, putting emphasis on the ‘very’.

Sirius stiffened, and brought you even closer to himself.

“Do you now?” He asked, glaring at him.

You decided to interrupt the two, not wanting anything to have to go down between the two of them.

“Oh Sirius, me and Regulus used to date a while ago, nothing serious though.”

“Obviously not.” He countered. His eyes like daggers burning into him.

Regulus stiffened up, “Well, I’ll just be going.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Sirius says back.

After he’s left and Sirius is done staring him down, he smiles at you, giggling slightly.

“Jealous are we?” I asked, teasing him.

“Pshh, no!” He said, undeniably trying to hide the fact.

You rolled your eyes, and grabbed his hand, finding the rest of your friends and sitting down on the couch.

Sirius places you atop his lap, resting his head on your shoulder, as everyone in the circle passed around a slim joint. You liked it, him wrapped around you, but still you felt as if he was getting more attached to you than you were to him, and this year was your year for messing around.

He shoved his head into your neck slightly.

“Sirius, that tickles!” You squealed, and he just burrowed further in.

His hands wrapped around your waist, protectively, his lips pressing tenderly to your neck.

The joint was passed to you, you looked down at it with concern and question. You relaxed into Sirius, and took a deep inhale. You grabbed his face from your neck, and released the smoke into his mouth. His eyes widened, but he blew the smoke off to the side. He looked into your eyes, and you looked into his, and your lips slowly collided into one another, moving in synch.

You tasted the bitterness of the weed, and the sweetness of the butter beer. His tongue inside your mouth, sweeping along the insides of your cheeks, massaging your tongue with his. He reached his hand up to your cheek as you wrapped your arm around his neck, pulling at the hair at the nape.

“Gross.” You heard Potter say, Lily grabbing his face and kissing him as well.

Remus and Peter looked at each other sadly, and wrapped themselves into each other’s embrace.

The party was dying down, Remus lay completed stoned, sprawled out along the floor. Peter was asleep on the couch and Lily and Potter had made their way up to your room sometime ago. You and Sirius sat on the couch, enjoying each other’s presence. Then, you stood up, a cocky smirk on your face, your eyes droopy and red. You old him to lead you up to his room.

anonymous asked:

I would love to read something where Jamie walks into a bar or cafe and Claire is up on stage singing something. They have never met and he is instantly transfixed by her. He wants to meet her but she has been burned before and he has to work hard to show her he is serious.

The damn phone was ringing again. Shrill in his ears with the sound of what could only be bad news.

But he couldn’t afford an answering machine, and was just about broke. So he reached over the side of the bed, fumbling in the dark for the receiver, spilling a pile of records to the floor.

“Hello?” he croaked, voice raspy with sleep and cigarettes.

“Oh good, you’re awake. What are you up to tonight?”

He rubbed his face with his free hand. “It’s six AM, Ian. What the hell?”

“I’m still out with Murtagh – he said he’s got a lead on a singer looking for a band. You in?”

*That* woke him up. Ian – his best friend and the finest damn drummer on the face of the earth – and Jamie had parted ways with their most recent band two months before. Creative differences, or whatever. They had picked up random session work here and there, but nothing steady since then. And it was damn hard to survive – even in Alphabet City where you crawled over junkies sprawled out on the sidewalk and dodged homeless ‘Nam vets panhandling on every corner just to get to the front door every night – when they both could only bring home a few dollars a week.

“Who’s the singer? Do you know him?”

The long blare of a siren wailed through the receiver.

“Are you on the street, Ian? Do I need to meet you somewhere?”

“No, it’s OK!” he shouted into the mouthpiece. “We can audition tomorrow. But the singer will be performing at Murtagh’s club tonight – 9:30. I promised Jenny I’d go with her to see that new Evita musical in the theater district – she said the orchestra may need a backup backup drummer…”

“OK, OK. I’ll do it. 9:30? Are you even coming back today?” Jamie slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. Frowning at the plastic bag caught in the tree branch right outside his window.

“One more place with Murtagh, then straight to Jenny’s. I’ll say you send your love! And I’ll tell Murtagh we’re in. Gotta go!”

A click – then the dialtone.

Jamie carefully set down the receiver and then reached down for the neck of his guitar. He hoisted it to his knees, idly strumming. Thinking.

9:45 PM found Jamie Fraser half-way through his pack of cigarettes, sliding down the slippery vinyl bench that lined the walls of Murtagh FitzGibbon’s half-cabaret, half-comedy club where a few careers had been launched – and where many bright dreams had faded.

But Murtagh had taken a chance on Jamie and Ian, hooking them up with the MacKenzie brothers the previous year. It was a good gig while it lasted, but Rupert had let the bit of fame they’d garnered (if touring small theaters in Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire college towns could be considered “fame”) go to his head. He and his twin brother Angus – singer and bassist, respectively – hadn’t let Jamie contribute any of his own songs to the setlist. They wanted to go bigger, while Jamie and Ian wanted to get smarter.

So here he was, back in Murtagh’s club. At least he wasn’t paying him to find a new gig – not like he could have given him any money, anyway.

If things got really bad, he and Ian could always move in with Jenny – Jamie’s sister, and Ian’s fiancée. She had what their parents considered to be a “respectable” job, working as a bookkeeper at St. Vincent’s Hospital. She could always help him find work there, if push came to shove – and it would be a steady income, to be sure.

But Jamie knew he wasn’t cut out for that kind of work. He was creative – had always doodled drawings or written ditties on the piano and guitar from a young age. Mom and Dad didn’t quite understand it, but they supported it.

And this new singer – this potential ticket to a new chapter in his life – was late.

All Murtagh had said in the fifteen seconds they’d had to chat was that the singer would be on after the one-handed French juggler, of all things. And Claudel had just bowed to finish his act.

Jamie sipped the whisky he’d been nursing all night, tapping the heel of his boots impatiently. Watching the small woman with a riot of curly hair set up a stool behind the microphone at center stage. She had to be new – one of the many helpers who dreamed of the spotlight.

But then to his astonishment, she turned around, smiled confidently at the crowd, and climbed onto the stool.

The houselights dimmed, and the spotlight illuminated her gorgeous, creamy skin. She wore a short black dress, black stockings, and black heels.

And a dazzling smile.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp. And tonight I’ll be singing some of my favorites from Sondheim, Rodgers and Hammerstein, and Cole Porter.”

Show tunes? He had dragged his ass all the way to the Upper East Side for a woman who sang show tunes? What kind of joke was Murtagh playing on him?

Then Claire Beauchamp nodded at Ned Gowan – perched, as he had been for over twenty years, behind the piano at stage left.

And she began to sing.

And Jamie Fraser was mesmerized.

That voice. That *voice.* Beautiful and rich and pure. Expressive – evocative – honest. Joyous and sorrowful and a thousand emotions in between.

It spoke to him. Burrowed deep inside his ribs. Burst forth in a racing heart.

His fingers unconsciously curled to hold the invisible frets and strings of his acoustic guitar – itching to write.

Who was she? Why was she here?

And why did she want a guitarist?

He’d played some jazz music in high school, and could pluck out any tune on the piano – but he knew almost next to nothing about the music with which she was clearly so familiar.

But for that voice – he’d try anything.

Her set was exactly twenty minutes. As soon as she’d bowed to the tepid applause in the room and made her way backstage, Jamie found his feet following her. He’d played this club often enough to know the quickest way to large room where all the acts got ready. He dodged a man wearing an enormous sombrero, followed by a woman in a gorgeous, colorful dress clutching two maracas, and turned the corner to the prep room.

A long mirror hung on one side, and an equally long line of director’s chairs packed with men and women adjusting their hair and makeup huddled to one side. Coats and boots and props piled randomly on the other side of the room – and there she was, alone, winding a long scarf around her neck.

“Excuse me? Miss Beauchamp?”

She looked up, startled, and somehow he stood right in front of her. God, she had to be a foot shorter than him. She wore barely any makeup – so different and refreshing from the typical woman who performed here. And bravely met his eyes. Waiting.

“I’m Jamie Fraser.”

Realization dawned. “The guitar player? Murtagh didn’t let me know you’d be here tonight.”

“I like doing my research. I didn’t last time, and it came back to bite me in the ass.”

She broke his gaze to shrug into her blue peacoat. “Well then. And what did your research find tonight?”

“Why do you want a guitar player?” he blurted. “Ian – my drummer – and I, we don’t do show tunes. Or jazz, or lounge music, or whatever else seems to be in your repertoire.”

“Well that’s good, then.” She buttoned up her coat and shoved her hands in her pockets, chin tilted up a bit. Defiant. “Because I don’t want to do this kind of music anymore.”

Jamie waited, brows raised.

“Well, what *do* you want?”

“I want to be a rock and roll singer. And I want you to help me.”

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it – but thankfully didn’t.

“A rock singer? No offense, but have you ever sang that kind of music before?”

“Are you telling me I can’t do it?” She straightened up a bit, eyes narrowed. “Because I’ve heard that one before. And I’ve ignored every single person who told me I couldn’t. It got me here to New York, it got me here to The Broch tonight. And it got you to come backstage to find me.”

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m not – I’m sorry if you took it that way. Only – you have such a beautiful voice. It’s just surprising, is all. Rock isn’t beautiful – it’s tough. Raw. And it isn’t always sunshine and rainbows.”

“Well, I’m tough,” she countered, voice steely and fierce.” I’ve been through a lot more than you think. And believe me, I know that happy endings only happen in the musicals.”

She looked away for a moment – but not from shyness. Clearly gathering her thoughts.

He wanted to reach out and caress her face – right there, where her cheek met her jaw.

Then clenched his hand into a fist. What the hell was she doing to him?

“But it’s what I want,” she continued. “I’ve sacrificed so much for this. Murtagh says you’re the best guitarist and songwriter he’s found in a long time. And I need a musical partner – like Page to Plant, or Keith to Mick. I need someone I can work with, and rely on, and who can push me to be the singer I’ve always wanted to be.”

She pressed her lips, suddenly shy.

“Are you willing to do that?”

Jamie’s whole world tilted.

“Yes.” His voice was clear, strong, confident. It was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

Then she smiled at him, and he forgot all the other people in the crowded room.

“Good. I’ve got a rehearsal space down on the Bowery – can you be there at ten in the morning?” She pulled a card and pen from her purse and scribbled the address. He must have nodded because the next thing he knew she had wished him goodbye and slid past him – and he cradled the card in the palm of his hand, realizing he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

Stephen Sondheim, “Send In The Clowns”:

Rodgers & Hammerstein, “You’ll Never Walk Alone”:

Cole Porter, “De Lovely”:

Across the Stars, Chapter 7

Prologue   Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 8

AN: I did it! It’s here! And I really love this chapter and I’m so pumped for Spring Break and the stress all just melted away from me an I’m so happy and ready to write again. I’m so thankful for all your enthusiasm–it really helps when I write. You all have no idea. If you liked this chapter, please remember to like/reblog/leave a commment. Or come talk to me with headcanons and things like that <3 Enjoy!

He waited for her.

He knew he shouldn’t have, knew that waiting for her, that even talking to her was a risk. That he was risking both his own life and her life. And he knew that he made her hate him, and that she needed to hate him, needed to fear him, needed to get as far away from him and Tamlin as possible. As far away from Amarantha and this whole damned mess that had spread out before them, that she had no business getting tangled up in.

She and Eirian were alike in that they were innocents.

But Eirian, because of her family tie to him, had no choice but to be dragged into this, and Feyre…Feyre could run. And he hoped she did. He hoped he’d scared Tamlin enough that he’d sent her away, to wherever her family or friends were. He told himself he was waiting at the coffee shop every day to ensure that she didn’t come back, to ensure that she was safe and home and away from him and Amarantha and Tamlin.

He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

“I don’t think she’s coming back, man,” Sam said as he pushed Rhys’s third Americano across the café table. “I haven’t seen her for two and a half weeks now.”

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[Why I Love] - Chpt. 10

Kiss Me

Negan x Addison 

A/N: ( ̄ω ̄;)( ̄ω ̄;) – i’ve pretty much outlined my chapters up to this point, so it may take me some time before I post the next one, depending on how bad the writer’s block is hahaha xx 

Chapter 9 || Masterlist 

(gif by @normannipples

“What are you two doing here?” 

Naomi and Jade both stood in front of my door with mischievous smiles on their faces. Jade was holding onto three glasses, and Naomi revealed a bottle of wine she had hidden behind her. 

“We call it the new wife initiation” 

“New wife initiation?” I laughed. 

“Yep, you’re one of us now. I think that deserves a toast”. Naomi stated, as the two of them walked inside, and took their seat on the floor. 

One of us now. That still sounds weird to me…

Jade poured the drinks, as Naomi handed me a glass. 

“I just want you to know that you’ve got friends here” She admitted, and I gave her a smile. She’s been so supportive and nice to me, even when I haven’t exactly reciprocated the same kindness. 

“You guys are awesome” I replied.  

The three of us toasted, taking a sip of our drinks. We were having a great time talking about life, love, and all the things we missed about the old world. The night and wine eventually turned us into three giggling girls, with time passing by quickly without any of us realizing it. 

“So, have you and Negan…?” Jade raised her brows suggestively at me. 

Keep reading

SanversWeek Day 6- Smut

They’d been sending each other text messages all day with the intention of riling the other up, and it was working.

Messages of I can’t wait to feel how wet you are for me and I want to make you come hard with my fingers buried inside you and my tongue on your clit…

More than once Alex had caught J’onn looking at her before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. She’d stopped pretending to look sorry.

Neither of them could wait to get home, to make good on the promises they’d been messaging, to see who would come undone the quickest.

On days like this, when they felt more… playful, there was an added anticipation. Their last venture into role play has resulted in Alex in nothing but a lab coat and glasses offering to give Maggie a thorough physical.

Alex grinned as the latest message came through from Maggie;

Maybe that presumptuous Fed could make an appearance tonight?

Immediately, Alex’s mind was filled with the image of Maggie bent over the couch as she showed her just where her jurisdiction ended.

Alex looked up as J’onn coughed rather loudly and excused himself from the room, much to amusement of Agent Vasquez. Alex blushed, looked down at her watch and decided she could probably head home.

Only if the cocky Detective is going to be there she replied as she headed towards the locker room to change.

After a quick shower Alex pulled out one of the black suits she kept at the DEO with a simple white tank top to wear underneath the jacket. She smiled as she pulled out a set of heels that would make her tower over Maggie. She straightened her hair to the more severe look needed for the character she was to play when she got home and headed to her car.

She parked and saw Maggie’s bike already in it’s usual spot, meaning Maggie was already upstairs waiting for her.

She climbed the stairs two at a time in her eagerness to get to her girlfriend and discovered Maggie had only just beaten her home as she turned the corner to see Maggie using her key to let herself into the apartment. She took a moment to appreciate the curve of Maggie’s arse in her tight trousers, detective badge glinting at her hip.

‘Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing in my crime scene?’ Alex called out as she swaggered towards Maggie, remembering at the last moment to make herself look annoyed.

‘Anyone ever tell you all you Feds sound the same?’ Maggie retorted as she turned to face Alex, leaving her key in the lock, surprised that Alex had nearly beaten her home.

‘I’m sure you mean well detective, but this is a federal crime scene…’ Alex moved into Maggie’s personal space, towering over her in her heels.

Instead of taking a step back, like most people would have, Maggie stepped forwards defiantly.

‘This is well within my jurisdiction’

Maggie turned back to the door and finished unlocking it, pushed it open and stepped through, closing it in Alex’s face.

Oh game on Alex thought as she pushed through the door, slamming it behind her.

‘Your jurisdiction ends where I say it does, Detective’ Alex sneered.

‘I don’t think so…’ Maggie laughed, her dimples fully on display, wondering when Alex would realise she was not going to be the one in control tonight.

Alex raised an eyebrow, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but suddenly found herself, face first, pushed up against the door she had just shut, arms pinned against the door. The realisation hit her that she had anticipated a completely different evening; one that involved Maggie pliant and willing beneath her, breathy and begging while Alex teased her. But this? This was even better!

‘Someone should teach you Feds to share, wouldn’t hurt to have some manners…’ Maggie taunted as she pulled her cuffs out, taking each of her girlfriends wrists in turn and snapping the cuffs around them.

‘This OK?’ Maggie questioned in a soft voice, breaking character to check in.

‘Oh god yes’ Alex moaned in response and heard Maggie chuckle.

‘Good’ Maggie husked in Alex’s ear as she pushed the length of her body against Alex, one hand hand roaming round to pull the tank top out of the trousers it was tucked into. She scratched her nails across Alex’s abs, trailing upwards towards her bra, smirking as Alex arched her back, grinding her arse against Maggie’s front.

‘Not so intimidating now, are we?’ Maggie teased as she ran her fingers over the material of Alex’s bra, pinching the hardened nipple.

Alex bit her lip to keep from moaning too loud and pressed her forehead against the door.

Maggie tugged the bra down and rolled one nipple between her fingers before repeating the action with Alex’s other breast.


‘Swearing isn’t appropriate for an agent in your position… Agent…’ Maggie chastised and removed her hand.

Alex whined at the loss of contact.

Maggie’s hand roamed, scratching and caressing it’s way back down Alex’s body until it settled on her belt.

With a flick of her wrist it was undone and she slowly pulled it from the loops. She let it fall to the floor with a thud before returning her hand to Alex’s body, squeezing her arse through her slacks.

‘What do you want me to do Agent’

Alex mumbled incoherently, her head still pressed against the door.

‘Use your words’ Maggie instructed, spanking Alex’s arse.

‘I want your fingers…’ Alex trailed off, too worked up from the day of teasing messages.

‘Here?’ Maggie questioned, her tongue firmly in her cheek as she trailed a single finger around Alex’s bellybutton.

‘L… Lower’ Alex stuttered out.

Maggie flicked the button to Alex’s slacks open and lowered the zip. She cupped Alex through her panties, gently grinding the heel of her hand against Alex’s clit.

Alex groaned and ground hard against Maggie.

‘You’re so wet…’

She slipped her fingers under the waistband of the panties and ran her fingers through the wetness.

Maggie…’ Alex whined as her girlfriends fingers continued to tease her, only slipping in a single finger up to the first knuckle.

‘It’s Detective to you’ Maggie nipped at Alex’s ear as she once again removed her finger from where Alex so desperately wanted them.

Maggie stepped back slightly to pull down Alex’s trousers and underwear, guiding her feet out of them. She quickly nipped at Alex’s bare backside before returning to her earlier position, pressed up against Alex.

Alex felt Maggie’s fingers ghosted across her clit, offering no release, continuing to tease.

Alex whined.

‘I want you to ask nicely, Agent’

Alex gritted her teeth to stop herself from smiling.


‘Please, what?’ Maggie demanded.

‘Please Detective…’

‘Good girl’ Maggie smiled as she tapped the inside of Alex’s thighs, indicating she wanted Alex to spread her legs.

Alex widened her stance and couldn’t resist wiggling her arse at Maggie. Maggie spanked it playfully before unlocking the cuffs and gently rubbing each wrist.

‘You’ll need to brace yourself against the door’ Maggie winked at Alex’s questioning glance over her shoulder.

Alex nodded, shrugged her jacket off and placed her hands either side of her head.

Please…’ Alex begged as she felt Maggie slide two fingers through her wet folds from behind.

‘I know sweetie’

She slipped two finger in easily, curling on every thrust.

‘Fuck!’ Alex cried out, grateful Maggie had the foresight to undo the handcuffs.

Maggie kept thrusting, knowing it wouldn’t take long until Alex was convulsing round her hand. She brought her other hand round to finger Alex’s clit, who bucked immediately against her.

‘I’m so close’ Alex panted out, her muscles flexing as she held herself up.

Maggie sped up her thrusts, thrusting harder and deeper into Alex and bit into the sweat covered shoulder in front of her.

Alex screamed out as her orgasm washed over her, twitching against Maggie as her head slumped against the door.

Maggie gently guided Alex over to the couch and gathered her into her arms. Alex nuzzled in as her breathing steadied, inhaling the scent of her girlfriend.

‘Gimme five minutes’ she mumbled, ‘this Fed needs to put that cocky Detective in her place…’

‘I’d like to see you try Danvers…’

Austin Nights Part 2

Pairing: Single!Jensen × Reader

Word Count: 3070

Summary: The reader lives in Austin and unknowingly runs into Jensen at a bonfire and sparks fly. Part 1 After abruptly leaving the party, the reader hopes to run into Jay again.

Obviously I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time.

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors.


Saturdays were your favorite days. No school, no kids, and you especially appreciated no alarm clocks. You woke up a bit later than usual considering you had not been able to fall asleep easily as you replayed the rush of last night over and over again in your head. The sun peaked through the blinds and you stretched in bed. You could hear Angie in the other room dealing with what sounded like a pretty awful hangover.

As your feet hit the floor, a sense of urgency hit you. You wanted to see him again and the only way to do that would be to scale the streets of Austin. No. You tried to repress the feeling. One, there is no way he would even remember you. Two, he probably found some other chick as there as probably a line of willing subjects after you ditched the fire. Three, even if he did remember you, there was no way you were just going to run into him by chance. But it would be nice to get out and do something anyways you compromised as an excuse.

After you got ready fairly quickly, you went to find Angie who seemed to be recovering just fine.

“Hey.” You chirped. “Up for bloody marys and brunch?”

“Um, yes! That’s the best idea you ever had.” She instantly jumped up and grabbed her purse.

At brunch, Angie gushed over Jared and how unbelievably nice he was. You tired to play it cool but threw in a question every now and then about how to find them or if she knew anything about how long they would be here. She was just as clueless as you. The two of you walked up and down SoCo window shopping and trying to get ideas of how to redecorate the apartment. You couldn’t help but feel you were only half involved in the process as you kept scanning the crowds for a glimpse of someone familiar.

Angie tired out quickly and abandoned you to take a nap in preparation for her plans tonight which you knew meant she wanted to do something but had no idea what. You headed downtown and picked up some records at Waterloo and settled down at BookPeople. You wasted a couple of hours browsing through books and worked a bit on creating a few therapy based activities for some of the children at the school.

When you finally made it back home you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed but tried to remind yourself of what you had concluded earlier. Angie was lounging about.

Keep reading

Tale As Old As Time Chapter 3: Be Our Guest

Originally posted by badass-but-sensitive

Originally posted by toyboxboy

Contains:fluff-ish?, angst.


Except for the sunlight peeking through the small window by the ceiling, the dungeon was dark. Spencer sat in the corner of the cold, brick room, the only sound being a mysterious dripping sound that all dungeons had. It echoed throughout the mostly uninhabited jail, driving the poor man into madness. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mother, if she was safe and sound at home, his heart ached at the thought of her worrying for his sake. All this trouble for a rose. A rose /he/ asked for. This was all his fault anyway. He should have gone with her, but she was so stubborn.

Spencer started to tear up yet once again, gasping when the doors bolted open. He expect to see the beast that had put him here but it seemed as if no one was there until a rough, kind voice broke the unnerving dripping. “Sorry to disturb you Monsieur, but surely you don’t want to stay here in this cave.” Spencer stood up defensively, looking out the door to find no one. “Down here!” The voice spoke yet again.

Spencer locked his rich brown eyes with a matching metallic pair. A candelabra with realistic human features stared up at him, a smile growing as he waved his lit arm to greet the bewildered man. “Bonjour!” Spencer noticed the object speak and his eyes grew to be the size of saucers, his flight or flight response kicking in to grab a small stool and bash the candle over the head.

“Oomph! You’re very strong Monsieur! That’s good to know…” The candlestick stood up, moving broken pieces of the stool out of the way so he could bow politely. “I am Derek Morgan, your lumiere, your light.”

“And the most foolish person I know!” A rougher voice came from the nearby stairs. Spencer turned to see if it was an actual human this time but was met with the sight of a clock climbing up the last step, panting. His design didn’t allow him to move as freely as Derek could. “What exactly are you doing releasing the prisoner!
If the Mistress knew what you were doing she’s throw a fit!”

“Ah Aaron, don’t be rude to our guest…” Derek made a gesture to Spencer who had been watching the bickerish interaction with intrest and shock. His brows raised when he realized he was being adressed, back straightening. “I’m Spencer…”

“Ah! Spencer, this is Aaron Hotchner.” Derek introduced, the Aaron’s face remaining stoic. “We are to lead you to your room!” He smiled, the candle’s feet clicking against the floor, Aaron wobbling side to side as he tried to chase after his friend. Spencer remained by the door, still wondering what he heck was happening. “Well, come on! You’re welcome to stay in there I guess but..I’m certain you don’t want to.” Derek called back, and Spencer sighed. It couldn’t get any worse right?

“H-how are you guys talking?” He asked, stepping behind the moving objects which should have been inanimate. “And why am I, a prisoner, being given a room?”

“Mistress didn’t say it, but if you are to stay here then she’d eventually give you a more comfortable room.”

“So…I can go anywhere?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing. He followed the pair down the endless amounts of halls and staircases. Chances are he would get lost before he even figured out where to go.

“Except the West Wing.” Derek answered, stopping when Aaron gave him a look. “B-because we don’t have one.” He tried recovering, blowing out one of his candles to move Spencer’s face from looking at the West side of the caste through the windows.

“What’s in the West Wing?” He asked, voice muffled by Derek’s arms pushing into his cheek.

“Nothing.” Aaron answered, leading the way even though he claimed he wasn’t part of the plan.

“Nothing.” Derek repeated.

“Storage space.”

“Yes, exactly, storage space. Now, let’s continue our journey on to the East Wing, or as I like to call it, the only wing.” They approached a hall with numerous rooms, leading him to the first door.

Upon entering, Spencer couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful the room seemed. Derek flopped on to the bed, an explosion of dust flying through the room. “We haven’t been expecting guests in quite a long time.” He explained, eyes widening as a feather duster entered the room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this in no time.” The plumeau offered, making her way around the room. “Ah!’ she flew to the bed, being enveloped by Derek’s candelabra arms. "This plan is dangerous.” She whispered.

“I’d do anything to kiss you again Savannah..” He smiled back, confusion overtaking him when she pushed him back. “I’ve been burned by you before…”

Aaron coughed, Spencer smiling cheekily. “Husband and wife you know… that type…” His face looked slightly sad but he didn’t have a moment to question it when the wardrobe in the corner started screeching.

“Penelope! Don’t be startled, we’ve brought someone for you to dress!” Derek calmed her. “Spencer, this is your wardrobe Penelope Garcia. A famous stylist.”

“When she can stay awake.” Aaron chuckling…

“Ahhh how amazing! Finally someone to gaudy up!” She cried happily, pulling him forth by his face, cheeks being pushed together. “Handsome, beautiful brown eyes, wow, sharp jaw line. I can do wonders with this!” She pulled different items out of her drawers, moths coming out with it.

“Whoops! Now, here we go!” A dark jacket which ended up being too big for him was draped over his shoulder, different fabrics wrapping around him to cinch his string-bean waist and cover him with to big trousers as well. Lastly, a giant powdered wig covered his hair and he was left looking well…foolish.

“It’s amazing, perfect as usual….we’ll leave you to it!” The three backed out of the room, shutting the door. At the sound, Penelope fell asleep again, leaving Spencer standing there.

He waddled over to the window, staring down at the thousands of feet of air that laid over the ground, which seemed so far away. Looking down at himself and the fabrics laying all over the floor, an idea struck him.


(Your POV)

You sauntered into the dining hall, bottom of the dress you wore everyday, grey and frayed, exposing your paws which replaced where your feet should have been. After sitting you looked across the table, seeing something different in your field of vision. It was another place setting. It took you a few seconds to realize who was behind this, and who it could be for. Shoving all the dining wear on the ground, you walked into the kitchen and found who you were looking for.

“You’re making him dinner?!” You roared, hand on your hip. The man turned around, a nervous smile growing. Aaron was on the table as well, face stoic. “I assure you mistress, I had no part in his will. It’s completely ridiculous, preparing him to dine, giving him a room… It’s not condoned for a prisoner.” You shook your head in a confused manner, anger overtaking your features.

“You gave him a room! Derek!” He backed up, hands in a surrendering manner. “Y/n, I was only thinking of you! This has to be the one, the one to break the spell! He cannot fall in love with you if he’s locked up! Right Aaron?” The clock blinked furiously. “This wasn’t my idea!” Derek laughed a bit, waving him off. “Of course it is, you just said so!

"Excuse me!” You barked, running a hand through your hair, paws getting caught in tangles before you ungraciously pulled them out. The bickering ceased. “How is anyone supposed to fall in love with me? Look at me, I’m hideous!” You rolled your eyes, trying to will away the sadness. “B-besides, his mother is a common thief, if he fell in love with me, what would that say about my character?”

“Now, you of all people cannot judge someone based off of who their parents are hm?” A soft voice came closer, a teapot, Jennifer, making her way over, sat upon a moving tray. You avoided her glare and folded your arms over yourself, looking away.

“Now Princess, if someone is truly in love with you then they will be able to see you for the beautiful woman you are on the inside, not for your outward appearance.” Aaron reminded you sternly. “Ah, finally, something he says I can agree with.” Derek mumbled.

“Well, how am I supposed to even interact with him?” You asked quietly, turning back to the trio. This was a hopeless plan already. Too may variables stood in your way. No matter how much your friends encouraged you, you couldn’t take it to heart or your hopes would raise too high.

“You invite him to dinner!” Derek urged, Jennifer and Aaron’s confirmation spurring you on. You nodded, slowly turning and making your way over. The men scurried to climb the tray to sit with Jennifer and see how this went. “I didn’t think she would actually do it.” Aaron whispered, his hope slowly growing.

The all followed you as you ventured up the stairs, making you even more nervous. Derek pointed out which room they gave him and you walked over to the door, not moving. “Maybe this was a bad idea….” You whispered, turning on your heel. “Stop!” They all cried, blocking your way.

“Just…Well, you can start by making yourself more presentable. Straighten up, try to act like a proper lady.” Arron advised. You straightened up, shoulders moving behind you looking for his reassurance.

“Ah yes, when he comes in, give him a beautiful, dazzling smile.  Come, come.  Show me the smile.” the corners of your mouth twitched, until a half of your mouth awkwardly went up.

“But don’t frighten the poor boy.” Jennifer warned and you returned to your scowl.

“Impress him with your rapier wit?” Aaron proposed.

“-But be gentle.” Jennifer interrupted.

“Shower him with compliments, guys like that.” Derek flashed his own smile.

“-But be sincere!”

“And above all…” Savannah chimed in.

“You must control your temper!” All four items chided, making you step back in alarm. After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Gentle Y/n, the boy lost his mother and freedom all in one day…” You knocked again, softer this time. A faint, ‘Just a minute’ could be heard and you could swear you had never felt this nervous, even in your human form.

“W-will you join me for dinner?” You hesitantly asked, swallowing thickly. The silence that followed was practically deafening.

“You take me as your prisoner and then invite me to dinner? This is absolutely ridiculous! No!” Embarrassment on your part turned to anger and you could tell the staff started to get frustrated with you which only spurred your anger on more.

“I told you to join me for dinner!” You roared.

“And I told you no!” He yelled back.

“If he won’t eat with me then he’ll starve!” You screamed, bashing the wall so harshly you left an indent. You heard Jennifer gasp and you ran, tears replaced by more anger. It was so easy to hate yourself, now more then ever.


(Spencer’s POV)

Combining all the fabrics in Penelope’s drawers, plus the bedding of the frame occupied Spencer’s thoughts. It made it easy to forget his grief. He had to made sure that everything was tied just right so that it wouldn’t fall apart and he wouldn’t fall to his death.

Another knock on his door startled him. “I thought I told you to go away!” He yelled, jaw clenching. This castle was too confusing. Nice servants who were enchanted for some reason and a terrible mistress. It didn’t seem so hard to figure out why she was cursed, her temper was infuriating.

“It’s only Mrs. Jennifer, I come bearing tea!” He stood up, realizing he didn’t have enough time to pull his man-made rope up before she entered so he pushed it to the side, trying to stand in front of the bed post which had the rope tied to it.

“Oh! Aren’t you lovely? Handsome too!” She entered the room on her cart, frowning when she saw the rope. “Oh dear, it’s a long journey… let me fi you up before you go. I find most problems can be solved with a bracing cup of tea.” The teapot tilted herself over into a teacup which then proceeded to slide onto the floor. “Careful Henry, you could break your handle!”

Spencer picked the teacup and took a tentative sip, finding the hole situation a bit queer. “Wanna see me do a trick?” The young boy giggled, bubbles coming up from the tea.

“C'mon, if you are to leave tonight we should make sure you’re full before such a long trek.” She beckoned Henry back up on the tray with her, which started to head with the door.

“But she said 'If he doesn’t eat with me then he’ll starve’…” Spencer pointed out, following the moving tray.

“People say a lot of things in the heat on anger…it is our job whether or not to listen. Now come on poppet.” She lead the young man to the dining hall when upon his entrance, the candles were put out. Spencer took a hesitant seat.

“Monsieur.  It is with deepest pleasure and greatest pride that I welcome you tonight.  And now, we invite you to relax. Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents…your dinner.” Derek stood on the table, starting to sing.

Be Our Guest

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” Spencer asked, following 'JJ’ as she told him to call him, back up to his room.

“The Mistress is just a bit rough around the edges, pardon first impressions. Underneath all that is a princess…of a lady just waiting to emerge.” Spencer nodded but still didn’t believe her.

“Derek and Aaron were mentioning something about the West Wing…”

“-Never you mind about the West Wing.” They stopped at the end of the staircase. “Just go straight to bed.” JJ watched him as he headed up the stairs, nodding after a few moments, satisfied.

When the wheels of the cart echoed out of earshot, Spencer ran to the other side of the castle, his curiosity overtaking him. He looked throughout the halls, portraits scratched to the point of almost being unrecognizable.

One particular portrait caught his eye. A young woman, with s/c skin, thin/pouty lips and long/short/medium hair was painted ever so beautifully, but what caught his attention was the eyes. Deep, rich and full of color.

He entered upon a large room with various items torn up. A soft breeze hit him, the balcony windows being destroyed, cold air seeping through the room. A glass vase… of some sort pulled him next.

A rose was trapped underneath, petals surrounding the end of the stem. His fingers touched the glass, cool to the touch. A thump beside him startled him.

“What are you doing?!” You screeched, shoving his hand away. “What did you do to it?!” Spencer stepped back, wrapping his hands around himself.

“N-nothing, I-”

“Do you realize what you could have done? You could have ruined us all! G-get out! Leave!” You roared loudly, claws coming out. “Go!” You screamed again, watching him bolt out of the room.

“Monsieur! Where are you going?” Derek yelled as he and Aaron saw Spencer head for the door.

“Getting out of here!” He snapped, throwing the heavy door open, out into the snow.

“Please don’t go! It’s dangerous!”

@phoenixwwitch @totallynotn3rdy95 @cool-bluemoon @queenelsaschuyler @amarislestrange @rogerthatsgt @marieannfandoms @bekaperk @charcoalblack-ish @dontshootmespence

Taxi Cab (Thomas x Reader)

There’s an urban legend thats been circulating about a taxi cab that doesn’t take you where you want to go, but where you need to go.

It was raining on the cold January night. It had been sunny all week, but now that Y/N decided to walk home, fate had decided to release the cold showers onto Y/N shivering back. She blamed Maria, she really did. If it wasn’t for her dark haired friend, Y/N would be home cuddled up in bed right now. But alas, Y/N was wandering the freezing New York streets at one in the morning.

Maria had convinced Y/N to go out drinking with her, and Y/N reluctantly obliged to her best friends wishes. The pair spent the night jumping from one club to the next, and downing numerous shots. It wasn’t long, though, until Maria abandoned Y/N for some hot guy she met at the bar, and her friend disappeared to do who knows what.

The street Y/N was currently walking on was empty, the street was lit by the flickering light of the lamp post overhead. Y/N was shivering furiously, her silver sequined dress clung to her dress due to the moisture by said rain. She was positive she looked a mess now. Her hair was wet and mangled, resembling a rat’s nest. Y/N couldn’t actually see herself, but she assumed her makeup was runny and just as messed up as the rest of her night. She swore to herself, she was beginning to get too old for clubbing. 

Y/N’s night was lifted when warm light shown over her body and engulfed the street in brightness. She turned, and a limp smile slowly appeared as her eyes landed on a sleek yellow taxi cab turned onto the street she was on. Y/N was quick to hail the cab, and just as quickly climbed into the backseat of the car, happy to escape the rain.

The cab smelled of lavender and citrus, a refreshing smell from the smokey scent of the usual cab. Little did Y/N know, this was no ordinary taxi cab. Y/N briskly uttered the directions to her apartment, not caring to take a second glance at the driver. The soft rumble of the engine sounded as the taxi took off for its destination, softly lulling Y/N to sleep.

“We’re here.” Announced the gruff voice of the driver.

It wasn’t long until the cab lurched to a stop, waking Y/N from her brisk slumber. She rummaged through her handbag, pulling out the sufficient amount of cash, and hastily handing it to the cab driver, uttering a small thanks to the cab driver and slipping out the door. 

The taxi speedily drove off, and Y/N finally had a chance to examine her surroundings. Her eyes widened as she realized this wasn’t her street at all. Not even close. Y/N stumbled onto the sidewalk, the reality of how much she had drank was catching up with her. She held her arms around her tightly, and glanced around for some sort of sign as to where she was.

Y/N’s eyes landed on a man sitting on the steps to an apartment building. The man had long curly hair that wilted due to the dampness in the air. He wore a gray suit, with matching bland colored shoes. His facial features were well defined and handsome, although his eyes were sad. But there was something else Y/N saw in his eyes… shock? Fear? Hope? Y/N wasn’t sure.

“Excuse me sir? Can you tell me where I am?” Y/N asked.

She began to stumble over to him, and a wave of nausea washed over her. Y/N steadied herself against a iron gate the lined the buildings, pulling herself closer to the man. He only watched her with questioning eyes. The man opened his mouth, about to say something, then closed it again. Y/N made it to where he was, and stood in front of him.

“I-I’m afraid I’m terribly lost.” Y/N uttered, another wave of nausea swept over Y/N, and she felt her legs give out from beneath her. The world began to fade from view, the last sight she could remember was the man in the suit reaching out for her.

Thomas sat on the cold, stone steps that led up to his apartment. His body had gone completely numb to the world around him. He didn’t hear the sounds of New York night life, and he didn’t feel the cold flecks of water that rained down on to him. A blanket was draped over his shoulders, and he held a mug with a colorful logo on it tightly in his hands. 

Water droplets began pooling in the mug, turning the yellowish hue of the once peppermint tea near translucent. Thomas didn’t mind the rain too much, in fact, he embraced it. The rain disguised the tears that slipped down the dark skinned man’s cheeks. It must’ve been past midnight already, Thomas concluded. He decided that he liked the night, it was quieter. For New York, at least.

Lucy was sound asleep upstairs, this would be the only time for Thomas to gather his thoughts in piece. It had been two years today, but Thomas still wasn’t ready to move on. He probably would never be. It still hurt to think about her. Thomas hated her, for leaving him alone to take care of Lucy, but at the same time, he still loved her.

The rain water seeped through his shirt, and Thomas could feel the cold in his bones, but was too dazed to move and go inside. It was late, and he was tired, But then again, he had been tired for two years. Thomas hadn’t gotten a goodnights rest in what seemed like forever. His lack of sleep was beginning to affect his life at work as well. 

Thomas had been so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice when a shiny taxi cab pulled up on his street. He blinked as the bright lights lit up the street, and he wondered who could that possibly be at this hour? Thomas set down the cup of tea, rain, and tears, and leaned forward to examine the figure stepping out of the cab.

It was a woman. She wore a sparkling silver dress that shimmered under the streetlights, and bright blue heels adorned her feet. Her hair was soaking wet, yet it perfectly framed her face. And her face. It was all too familiar to Thomas. He had stared into those eyes, held those cheeks, and kissed those lips. She stumbled as she walked, Thomas concluded she must be drunk.

“Excuse me sir? Can you tell me where I am?” Her voice rang out in the cold evening hair, she took a few steps toward him. “I-I’m afraid I’m terribly lost.”

Thomas shuddered as words left he lips. That voice was hauntingly familiar to him. This couldn’t be happening. Why was fate mocking him like this? He stared at the woman in front of him, his heart leapt out of his chest as he gazed upon her features closer up. She stood directly in front of him, swaying slightly.

Before Thomas knew it, the girl began to collapse, his instincts kicked in, catching her before her head could hit the ground. Thomas held her tightly in his arms, knowing that this was impossible. A single word escaped his lips.


Y/N woke up in warmth. That couldn’t be right. The last thing Y/N could remember was stumbling around the streets of New York streets. She hesitantly opened her eyes, and examined her surroundings. Y/N was in a large room, sitting on a king size bed, too large for one person. A large window was on one side of the room, and Y/N could see it was morning through the blinds.

A dresser made of dark colored wood sat against a wall, a floor length mirror was directly across from it. A desk sat in the corner of the room, a laptop sat on it. Other than the few pieces of furniture, the large room was sparsely decorated. This room was practical, apparently the owner didn’t care about lavish decorating.

Y/N slid off the bed, straightening the gray comforter. She noted that she was still wearing the sequin dress she had on the night before, her blue shoes had been set at the foot of the bed. She picked up her shoes in one hand, and decided to try and find where she was. But first, Y/N found herself wandering over to the desk, examining the design. 

She couldn’t help but notice a silhouette of a picture frame outlined in dust. Taking a quick glance around the room, Y/N saw that the frame on the desk wasn’t the only missing picture. She could see two nails on a wall where pictures should have hung. Perhaps the owner of this room had removed the decorations, but why?

Remembering that this wasn’t her home, Y/N convinced herself to try to find the owner and figure out why she was here. She slowly opened the door that led to the rest of the apartment, light from the apartment flooded into the room.  Y/N found herself in a bright living room that connected to the apartments kitchen. 

The room had a magenta armchair, a tan couch, coffee table, and a grand piano displayed neatly to the side of the room. Y/N could tell that the piano had once been the masterpiece of the room, but the instrument looked like it hadn’t been played in years. The most intriguing part of the room though, was the man sleeping on the couch.

Sleeping wasn’t the exactly the right word, as it seemed to Y/N that he was awake. Dazed, perhaps? Dazed was the right word to use. As the man saw movement in the corner of his eye, he sat up and studied Y/N standing in front of him. Y/N stood there awkwardly, attempting an uncomfortable smile.

“Uhm, hello.” Y/N said, biting her lip gently. “I’m Y/N L/N, and I was wondering if you could help me figure out where I am and how I got here.”

The man watched her carefully, as if expecting something more from her. He stood up from the couch, taking a small step toward Y/N. Y/N’s eyes trailed over this man’s body, he only wore a pair of sweatpants, and Y/N could see his defined muscles. 

“Y/N?” He tested the name on his lips. “I’m Thomas. Thomas Jefferson. You showed up on my street last night and passed out, so I brought you up to my apartment.”

Y/N blushed as she began to remember what happened the night before. She crossed her arms over her chest, realizing that her dress was a bit revealing.

“Oh, goodness. I’m so, so sorry. This is really embarrassing. I guess I should be going then.” Y/N decided, her cheeks flushed a red color.

Thomas nodded, then suggested, “I could maybe give you a ride? I have to take my daughter to school in five minutes, it wouldn’t be a problem for me to drop you off as well.”

Y/N felt her heart sink a little at the mention of his daughter. This attractive stranger was probably already married. She didn’t know why she was upset, she had just only met him, but there was something about Thomas that she liked. 

“If it’s not too much of a problem, that would be great.” Y/N replied. “I wouldn’t want to get lost again.”

It was almost a month later, that Thomas had met with his coworker, and best friend, James Madison. The two men met at a small coffee shop after Thomas had dropped Lucy off at school. 

“I’m telling you, Thomas, you’ve sacrificed too much already. What has it been? Two years? You’ve put your life on hold. You still have the rest of your life in front of you! Your whole career! Thomas, go out there and meet a nice girl. You know Martha would want you to move on, and stop moping around.” James told Thomas forcefully. Thomas hadn’t seen his friend get so worked up about a topic ever, and it was honestly quite frightening. 

Thomas put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, James. Look, I’ll try to find someone, okay? But I don’t think girls like men with as much baggage as I have. Hell, I don’t know what girls like!”

“Baggage? Thomas, you could be a serial killer and girls would be falling for you!” Madison chuckled, patting Thomas on the back. 

James had promised to pick Lucy up from school that day, Thomas knew he could trust James with his daughter. He would trust James with his life. Thomas had to stay at work a few hours later for a conference, and on his way home, he decided to pick up ingredients for Lucy’s favorite soup. 

He roamed the aisles of a local grocery store, picking up all the ingredients necessary for dinner. Thomas had just added a can of chicken broth to his shopping cart when he saw her again. Y/N L/N stood in the same aisle, adding a large box of goldfish to her own cart.

“Ms. L/N?” Thomas asked hesitantly.

Y/N looked up and a smile spread across her face. “Thomas Jefferson? Wow, crazy running into you again. Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Well, it was nice running into you again, Y/N. See you around.” Thomas told her with a soft smile.

“It was nice seeing you, too, Thomas.” Y/N replied, she began to turn the corner when Madison’s words echoed in his mind. Martha would want you to move on, stop moping around.

Wait, Y/N!” Thomas called after her. Y/N stopped before she turned the corner of the aisle, and turned back to see Thomas rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Gaining some courage, Thomas asked, “Y/N, would you… I don’t know, maybe want to get coffee or a drink sometime?”

A smile slowly spread across Y/N’s face and she nodded. “I’d love that. Here. let me give you my number.”

Thomas let out a relieved sigh as Y/N put her number in his phone. 

“Au revoir, Thomas.” Y/N smiled as she left him in the aisle.

Thomas smiled back, and replied with, “Yes, until we meet again.”

A week later, Thomas sat at his desk, running a hand through his hair. He needed to finish his presentation for the meeting tomorrow, and his coworker, Alex Hamilton, was driving him crazy. Thomas decided he needed a break, and knew just what to do. Thomas searched through his contacts until he saw the name he was looking for. He clicked the phone icon, and waited impatiently to the sound of the ringing. After what seemed like forever, Y/N finally picked up.

“Hello? This is Y/N L/N.” Thomas grinned at the sound of her voice.

He immediately replied. “Hi, Y/N. This is Thomas, Thomas Jefferson. I was wondering if you wanted to get that drink?”

Thomas was certain he heard her laugh. “Hi Thomas, it’s good to hear from you again. I’d love to get a drink, what time were you thinking?”

“Uhm, would now work?” Thomas asked sheepishly. “I have some free time, and there’s a nice coffee place I know…”

“Sounds perfect. Send me the address, and I’ll see you soon.” Y/N replied. 

“Will do. See you soon!” Thomas said, hanging up. He quickly sent Y/N the address, and set aside his work. For the first time in years, Thomas was excited again. 

He rushed to the base of the building, and hailed the first cab he found. Oddly enough, the cab smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. It wasn’t the kind of smell that would come from tacky car fresheners, it was quite relaxing. Thomas didn’t care much of the smell of the car, he was to excited to see Y/N again. He couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N since he ran into her at the grocery store. Before Thomas knew it, they had arrived at the Coffee Shop. Thomas quickly payed the driver, instructing him to “Keep the change!”

Thomas was pleased to find that Y/N was already in the coffee shop, sitting at one of the tables in the back, sipping a cup of coffee. She smiled when she saw him, and waved him over. 

After coffee that day, Y/N and Thomas began dating, and had had more dates since. It was two months into their relationship, when Thomas decided it was time for Y/N to officially meet Lucy this time. Lucy immediately loved Y/N, the two bonded quickly. It was at dinner one night, that Y/N sensed something was up.

“Y/N, you look a lot like my mommy.” Seven-year-old Lucy decided while finishing up her dinner.

Y/N’s brows knitted together in confusion. She was about to ask Lucy about it, when Thomas interrupted.

“Lucy, I think it’s time for bed.” Thomas said sternly.

Lucy didn’t complain, getting up from the table and heading toward her bedroom. Y/N and Thomas stood up from the table as well. Y/N began collecting the dishes and setting them in the sink. “Go tuck Lucy in, Thomas. I can clean up the kitchen.”

“Thanks, darlin’.” Thomas said, placing a kiss on Y/N’s cheek, and followed Lucy into her room. 

As Y/N stored the leftover food, and washed the dishes, Lucy’s words weighed heavily on her mind. What did she mean when she said Y/N looked a lot like her mom? Thomas was always incredibly closed up when it came to Lucy’s mom. Thomas finished putting Lucy to bed, and emerged from her room. Y/N had found her way to the couch, and patted the spot next to her. 

“Thomas, come sit.” Y/N ordered. Thomas walked over to her, and sat next to her. He wrapped an arm around her relaxing. “Thomas, what did Lucy mean when she said I looked like her mother?”

Y/N could feel Thomas physically tense up. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“No, Thomas. You’re not telling me something. Thomas, we’re in a relationship now, you can’t keep things from me. I know you don’t like talking about Lucy’s mom, but not opening up to me is coming between us.” Y/N said, beginning to get worked up.

Thomas sighed. “Y/N nows not a good-”

“Thomas, stop.” Y/N interrupted. “Tell me right now what’s going on, or I’m walking out.”

There was a long pause, before Thomas finally broke the silence. “You’re right. You deserve the truth. I married Lucy’s mother, Martha, when we were very young. When we were 22, Martha gave birth to Lucy. Everything was great for a time. But, it didn’t last. When Lucy was four, Martha began to get very sick. She died before Lucy was five.”

Thomas’s hands begun to shake as he remembered it all. Y/N took his hand in hers, and soothingly stroked his hair as a few tears slipped from his eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry Thomas!” Y/N told him, comforting him.

Thomas shook his head. “Y/N, that’s not all. I need you to know something. I’ll be right back.”

Thomas left to his room, and reappeared with a small wooden frame in his hand. 

“Y/N, the first time I saw you, I was immediately entranced. The truth is, Y/N, you look identical to Lucy’s mother Martha.” Thomas showed Y/N the picture. It was a photograph of Lucy and her mother, who did in fact, look completely like Y/N. Y/N was shocked and she took the photograph from Thomas’s hands. She was silent as she studied the picture.

“Y/N?” Thomas said after a long pause. “Y/N, please say something.”

Y/N looked up from the picture to meet Thomas’s eyes. “How could you not tell me this, Thomas?! I can’t believe you! Is that why you asked me out? Because I look like her?”

Thomas flinched at her words. “Y/N, it’s not like that. Well, sure I was first attracted to you because you looked like her, but Y/N, you’re so-”

“Stop. Thomas, just stop.” Y/N said, putting her hand up to silence him. “You used me, just because I looked like Martha. I-I can’t be around you right now. Goodbye, Thomas Jefferson.”

It had been a week since Y/N had stormed out of Thomas’s place. She was still mad at him, but she missed him like hell. She was headed for work that morning, and hailed a cab to work. Y/N slipped into the back seat of the cab, and pulled out her phone. Three voicemails from Thomas, and nine unread messages. Y/N was tempted to open one of his texts, or possibly call him back? Y/N decided against it. 

While she was distracted by her phone, she didn’t notice that the cab she had stepped into carried the same scent as the one she had gotten in the night she met Thomas. Soon the cab lurched to a stop, and Y/N stepped out. Before she could do anything, the cab sped off, leaving Y/N at the entrance to a small park. 

“Wait!” Y/N called after the cab, but it was too late, the cab was already gone. 

Y/N sighed, and began to walk in the direction of her workplace. When she looked up, Y/N saw a magenta kite flying in the air. Curious, Y/N began to follow the kite into the park, where she saw Thomas Jefferson helping Lucy fly the kite. Y/N silently watched the two, a small smile appeared on her face. Y/N didn’t watch for long, as Lucy spotted her and came running over.

“Y/N!” Lucy wrapped her arms tightly around Y/N’s waist. “I missed you so much.”

Y/N laughed light;y. “I missed you, too, Lucy.”

Thomas cleared his voice from behind them. “Lucy, can I speak with Y/N?”

Lucy nodded, and left to play with her kite. 

“Y/N, please, I need you to hear me out.” Thomas pleaded. Y/N crossed her arms, but let him talk. “I want to start by saying, I’m sorry. I should have told you from the beginning, it wasn’t fair to you. I’ll admit, I was first drawn to you because you looked like Martha, but that all changed when I got to know you. Y/N, you’re beautiful, smart, kind, loving. You’re everything, Y/N, my entire world. Lucy loves you, god Y/N, I love you. This past week, I can’t live without you. Y/N, I-”

“Shut up, Thomas. I love you, too.”

With that, Y/N pressed her lips against his.

T.R.O.U.B.L.E. (5/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Language Guys

Summary: You and your twin brother Devin work for the Avengers, he’s an active agent who is far from being Bucky Barnes biggest fan, but you’re a simple assistant whose carrying on the secret affair with Barnes. How bad could this get, as long as no one finds out right?

A/N: Angsty, cute series for Buck, because I know I need more Buck on my blog. If you want to be tagged let me know!!

@chrisevansthedoritobastard   @holahellohialoha  @almightyunnie @imamotherfuckingstar-lord  @iwillbeinmynest  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@goodnightwife @irepeldirt @yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci @buckyb-avengers  @winterboobaer  @mrhowardstark @rileyloves5 @darkchocolaterey  @loveyourselfcreateyourself  @agentsinstorybrooke @mustbenot  @buckyswinterchildren  @seargantbcky  @alyssaj23  @canumoveyourseatup-no

Originally posted by bovaria

“I would let go of her, if you don’t want your hands broken Agent.” Nat is leaning against the door way, Tony next to her, the movement behind them tells you Steve is holding Buck back, you swallow looking back at your brother.

“This is a family issue.” Devin nods trying to sound like he wasn’t close to snapping.

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Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 5

On FFdotnet and Ao3

Hello, friends!  Is it midnight yet where I am?  NO! Does that mean I am technically posting Day 5’s fic on Day 5?  YES!  I literally finished this about five minutes ago so there has been no editing going on.  I’ll fix all the mistakes before I post to FFdotNet and Ao3. Probably.

Anywho – I wrote a fic today.  It’s … a thing.  That I did. But it’s on time, so yay for me.

Day 5 - The Wrong Trouser Of Time (Fanworks focusing on canon divergence)

I’m Not Saying a Word

Even from his bedroom, Sherlock could hear the low, impatient murmur of reporters and cameramen milling about outside Baker Street.  Some of them had been waiting nearly a quarter of an hour.  As far as Sherlock was concerned, they could continue to wait until he had a chance to say hello to their last guests.  Who were uncharacteristically tardy.  Or, at least, Molly was; he had no idea if the fiancé was generally punctual or not.  

When Mrs Hudson had first suggested throwing a small engagement party at Baker Street, he had balked; but he really did owe John something for letting the man think they were going to be blown to pieces on that train car; champagne and nibbles it was the least he could agree to.

He finished his phone call with Mycroft, delighted that for once it was brother dear who had to suffer through another jaunt to the theatre with Mummy and Father.

“Come on.”  John tried to urge his friend to deal with the reporters outside, no doubt in a hurry to return to Mary and his glass of champagne.  “You’ll have to go down.  They want the story.”

Sherlock was tempted to remind him that they were waiting for Molly, but he knew John would read too much into it. John did have a point, unfortunately, the people outside would only wait so long before ringing the bell and becoming a nuisance.  He rolled his eyes and moved past him.  “In a minute.”

He stepped into the siting room and immediately noticed that the first bottle of had been emptied.  Everyone else already had a glass at hand, but who knew what would happen to the second bottle if he left them unsupervised while he went downstairs.  He popped the cork and crouched down next to the coffee table to pour a glass for Molly. It briefly occurred to him that he should save one for the fiancé, but he shrugged the thought off by reminding himself that he wasn’t even sure the other man drank alcohol.  No sense wasting a glass.

He looked up just in time to realize that Mary was looking at him, even though she was talking to Mrs Hudson.  “We were interrupted last time.”

John chimed in from behind.  “Yeah.”

Ah, the aborted proposal. Admittedly, he did have something to do with that, yes.

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Familiar: Part 2

Pairing: Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: Angst?, torture

A/N: I got an idea for a storyline to continue this oneshot, so I’m gonna make it a few parts long (probably 5)!

Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the tags list.

Y/H/C: Your Hair Colour

Part 1

Every time you tensed your arms, the metal cuffs that held you to the chair dug into your wrists - deepening the cuts and making you bite back hisses of pain. You try your hardest not to tense in anticipation, but you can’t help trying to recoil as an agent throws an ice cold bucket of water on you.

Your heart rate picks up again, your body trying to fight off the cold, and you instinctively hold your breath as another agent presses the big, red button that sent electricity through the chair; and then, through your damp body. You’d been biting back cries of agony for so long now that you’d torn skin off of your lip, and you knew that if this torture continued you’d bite right through it.

This was a new position for you. You’d seen dozens Hydra agents strapped to this chair over the decades, but you’d never experienced the pain yourself. You’d never disappointed a head of Hydra before. You were definitely setting a new record for how long you were surviving through this torture - all the agents before you didn’t have superhuman healing.

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Upside Down (part 1)

Intro: Hello and welcome to Kaity’s heart in post form.  If you need me, I am currently 600 kilometers deep in the Scotty trashcan, with no sign of escape (not that I want to).  So please enjoy all my feelings out in the open.  This fic ended up being 7,500 words long so I split it up into multiple parts.  Some are long, some are short.  All are good.  I hope. 

Pairing: Scotty x reader (and best friend!Jim Kirk)

Word Count:1,454

Warnings: totally 100% fake engineering everything, (I was too lazy to actually come up with proper terms so I just made up words), eventual injury, swears.

Summary: So basically the starting point for this fic was Scotty x reader who loves engineering as much as he does.  So that’s where I went with this fic.  You are second-in-command engineer and Scotty one day ends up being in charge, much to your chagrin.  You butt heads.  Scotty gets hurt.  Feelings get hurt (mostly my own).  Welcome to my trashcan.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5


“So you’re saying you would never have sex with me.”

“James Tiberius Kirk if you were the last person on earth I would copulate with a turtle before I even considered you.” You deadpanned, strapping your tool belt to your hips as you got ready to leave and turned to the frowning Captain who was leaning against the door frame. 

“Really funny.” Jim griped sarcastically, and you sauntered up to him, swinging your hips in just the right way, and you saw his eyes fall and he shook his head. 

“It’s only funny because it’s true, Jimbo.” You reached up and slapped his cheek twice, flashing a million dollar smile before pushing past him. 

“You know, this means I owe Uhura 5 bucks.” Jim called as you made your way to the engineering room. 

“That’s your own fault, you idiot.” You called back, laughing as you turned down the next hallway, finally out of his sight.  

“Hey, Bobby!” You shouted as you entered the automated doors, instantly smiling at the comforting smell of metal and sound of whirring machinery. 

“Lass, what’s with all the yelling?” An unfamiliar voice sounded from somewhere in the room and you leaned over the railing to look down and saw a man in a red shirt looking up at you. 

Suddenly, a hard hand clapped you on the shoulder and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Spinning around you saw Jim again and scowled, taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. 

“Yeah, Bobby doesn’t work here anymore.” Jim said matter-of-factly. 

Your jaw fell open in disbelief, “What!?”

“He had to take sudden leave for… reasons, and this is his replacement.  Get up here Scotty!” Jim yelled and you continued to look at him incredulously. 

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aching: part four [calum hood]

au: zombie apocalypse! 5sos take refuge at a local high school. after stopping at a mall for supplies, they find a fragile girl who retreated in a small book store. (based off school-live)

warning: idk you might wanna pray and sprinkle some holy water everywhere after u read this lmao

one | two | three

She feared people just as much as she did the lifeless monsters, desperate for brain and limb. What humans did was brutal, and what they’d do to survive was something she wouldn’t like to imagine thinking about.

And after everything that barreled down on her, all that’s happened in the span of this attack on humanity, she made a decision that could end in tragedy.

Y/N didn’t know any of these boys, how desperate their beings could become, if they were the lowest of humanity or the highest. She didn’t know what they were capable of doing. But, lying to their own friend about a late comrade – that seemed to irk her the most.

“You’re not going to stay?” Michael arched an eyebrow, voice low as he leaned back against a blood-stained table. “Why not?”

She smiled. “I have a friend to find, a promise to keep.”

His eyes narrow at her momentarily, and she wasn’t sure if he was mad or shocked by her decision. “What if they didn’t make it?”

“What if he did, is all I’m betting my cards on.”

His lips straightened, unhappily sighing as he replied, “When are you going?”

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Tony Stark X Reader

No real warnings, just Tony being fluffy. 

Words: 2246

Originally posted by elisabetholsen

  I plopped down onto the chair in the lab and watched him moving around, once again Tony was tinkering with his suit, moving from one side to the other as he muttered away to himself. I got up and started to hunt around the room, I must have moved way too many things as I heard him sigh.

  “What are you looking for?” He finally asked.

  “Snacks! There is none left. Thor has eaten everything!” I carried on my hand sweeping underneath the desks. “I don’t have any snacks in here, the crumbs would get into things and………,”

  “Found them,” I interrupted him, I turned as I opened the pack and he was staring at me, then down to the red pack in my hands and I realised that it was his last pack.

  “How about I give you my card and you go and buy some more,” he reached into his back pocket and you shook your head. “Not my turn,” I shrugged and moved back to the chair and sat down watching him. He turned his head to look at me. He folded his arms as he leaned back against the table. “Is there no one else you can annoy?” he walked up to me and pulled the bag out of my hands and I sighed and began licking my fingers clean, I heard him sucking in breath and I held in a chuckle. He might have been older than me, but lord that man was handsome, and his humour just added to it, but there was another side to him, if he thought he was right then there was no changing his mind.

  “No, Thor has gone somewhere, never says anything. Vision is playing chess against himself. Steve and Natasha are training. Bruce is busy in his lab and he has locked the door.” I shrugged and he shook his head, he moved back to his hiding spot and the chips went back under. I knew he would move them to another spot once I had left the room. "Then ask Clint for some lessons.“ He turned his back and started to tinker again. I got up and headed to his side, I leaned against the table and looked up to him. “He has gone home and I am bored. So… how about you teach me?” I straighten up as he starts laughing. “You think I am going to teach you to touch my things?” he looked to me and I saw the creases at the corners of his eyes. His hair had flopped down over his forehead and I resisted the urge to brush it back. The worse thing about having a crush, is trying to hide it, trying to stop the long lingering stares, or trying to find any reason to be near him, but I knew he thought I was too young. I didn’t care. “Yes, you know I could learn anything from you,” I picked up a little tool and he pulled it out of my grasp and put it back down, then he walked away and grabbed a pen and paper and wrote a list down, ripping it from the pad he brought it back and handed it to me.

  “Here is a list of books, read them and then come back and see me, and then maybe…” He motioned for me to move as he carried on. I smirked and left the room.

  A week later after a few brief visits I headed back and he was making something else. I walked around to the opposite side of the table and leaned down. “What is it?” I asked and he looked up. "Did you read the books?“ He changed the subject.

  "I did,” I straightened up and he raised his eyebrows at me in surprise.

  “You did? Did you understand them?" 

  "Nope, there was a few short words that might have sunk in, but other than that nope,” I tried to touch the wires and he slapped the back of my hand. "Then I can’t help you,“ he looked down and carried on. "Can I ask for a favour?” I bit the inside of my cheek and my voice lowered to a whisper.

  “That depends?” he stood up and folded his arms as he gave me a questioning look.

  “There is a charity dinner tonight… you know food, dancing, giving money?” I half shrug and his head had tilted slightly. “I think I threw that invite out." 

 "But I have one, my father received two, so I got one, and I would like to ask if you if you would like to be my plus one,” I was rambling I was scared he was going to laugh, shake his head and say no, but he looked like he was thinking about it,

  “Like a date?” he asked, and now he looked worried and my heart sank,

  “No, not really, I just don’t want to go alone…” I tried to keep it from sounding sulky,

  “I wasn’t planning on going.” he said and my stomach dropped.

  “Oh. All right. No problem. I will go with my father.” I moved away from the desk and walked out the room and I could feel that he was watching me leave, and I past Natasha in the corridor, I gave her a half smile and carried on, she frowned but continued into see Tony.

Dressed in my long black dress, my high heels, my hair was pulled up, twisted, tucked and pinned, I wore long sapphire earrings with a matching necklace. Looking in the mirror I sighed. My father was waiting for me and I had to hurry, he hated being late for anything. I grabbed my bag and left my room. The dinner was held in a hotel restaurant. There would be speakers and there would be music, I would have to be sitting there watching everyone fawn over my father. Stepping out of the Limo I looked past my father and smiled as I saw Tony standing there in his tux, talking with reporters and he was dazzling them with his smile, his charm and ease, the camera flashes were flashing from every angle. Then someone shouted my father’s name and he looked over to me. As his gaze swept over me he smiled. Excusing himself he walked to me, placing a hand on my arm he leaned in and just brushed a kiss across my cheek. “You look very beautiful, a very big change to what you usually wear,” he moved to my side, his hand rested on the base of my back and I had to remind myself to breath. The back of my dress was low cut and I could feel his thumb brushing over my skin, I wasn’t sure if he realised what he was doing. As we walked past the reporters and the photographers, someone shouted, "Is that your date Tony?“

 "I hope so,” He shouted back, and then he lowered his head, "If the offer still stands of being your plus one?“ He whispered and I looked up to him, our faces were so close to one another and the flashes seamed to get quicker. "Oh, I don’t know?” I smirked and he moved closer.

  “There are a lot of reporters that would love it if you were to leave me out here.” his voice was low but full of humour and his hand moved further up my back. I tried to stop the shiver, and the gasp, as I had to remember this was a show for him, playing up to the cameras. “Maybe I should?” I started to walk up and he stayed by my side. I gave him a sideways glance and he smirked, “You didn’t say no,” he walked in with me and the reporters turned their attentions to someone else.

   As I said there was speeches and toasts. I looked to Tony who looked as bored as I was, and I wondered what had changed his mind about coming? At the moment, he was writing something on his napkin and I leaned forward and seen it was a diagram for something, then he picked it up and tucked it into his pocket, turned to the podium where someone was still talking and he looked impatient. “Do you want to go?” I leaned in close and whispered to him, his head turned quickly to look at me and he shook his head. “Maybe a dance first,” he whispered back, but his fingers drummed on the table. “You don’t have to.” I placed my hand on top of his and he didn’t pull away, his fingers wrapped round mine. “It can wait until later, I owe you a dance.” He didn’t let go of my hand and I was happy enough to keep it there. The music started and he stood and pulled on my hand pulling me to my feet, he led me onto the dance floor and pulled me round to be in front of him. His arm wrapped around me as he stepped closer to me. I could feel myself blushing as my body pressed against his. I kept my eyes firmly on his bowtie and he started moving. This felt good, this was what I had dreamed off. I could just make out the soft glow of the arc reactor in his chest. His hand was moving up and down my back and his other hand tightened around mine. When the music finished he led me back to my seat, but he didn’t sit, he still had hold of my hand and he leaned down and kissed the back of it. "I will see you tomorrow no doubt,” he smiled and straightened up.

  “You’re leaving?” I frowned and he nodded.

  “Things to do,” he started to walk away and I got up and followed him. He looked down at me and I shrugged. “It’s boring, so I might as well come with you.” I stayed with him and he didn’t argue, his arm just came around me and we headed out and to the car.

  At his, he left me at the door as he hurried around the room, pulling of his jacket and then his bowtie and threw it onto the chair, then he unbuttoned the shirt and rolled up his sleeves, grabbing things he started to pat down his pants, frowning as he looked around, I moved to his jacket and took out the napkin and moved over to him. He took it out of my hand and carried on, I paced over to the phone, then I ordered pizza. He laughed and claps his hands, I looked up from the chair and he looked so excited. I moved to his side and he looked to me and without any hesitation he placed his hands either side of my face and he kissed me, then he stopped and lifted his head. “Oh, I am sorry,” he said as he looked down at me, I didn’t give him chance to say anything else I leaned up and kissed him back. My hands moved into his hair, but then I moved back, my eyes wide. “I should go!” I muttered and my fingers pressed to my lips as I turned away from him. I made it to the door before he grabbed me, spinning me round and pressing me up against the door. “I am too old for you,” he said, more to himself than me, his hands on the top of my arms, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead against mine. “No,” I managed and he sighed. “I have tried to keep you at arms-length. Tried to be cold to you, but you don’t seem to stay away, and tonight, in that dress, your body pressed against mine…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, my heart was thumping so hard I was sure he would be able to hear it. Wait, had I heard him right? He hadn’t given me any indication that he liked me. “I thought you saw me as an annoyance?” I stood there looking into his hazel eyes, and he nodded. “Annoying because I couldn’t concentrate when you were around. My thoughts were nothing but how I was too old for you, that you should be with someone else, but then I would get jealous…” He finally tilted his head down and kissed me, hard and wonderful, that it made me dizzy. My hands moved to his shoulders to stop myself from falling. "I want you!“ he moved slightly but as he spoke his lips brushed against mine and I couldn’t say anything so I nodded. He moved away taking my hand as he pulled me through the lab to the far door. I knew this was where he slept when he had late nights. His gaze moved over the table and ever so slightly he hesitated. I wanted him for so long but I also knew his work was important. "You can stay here and work,” I pulled him back slightly and he shook his head as he turned to look at me. “That can wait. You come first,” he carried on walking and I chuckled. “Is that a promise?” I asked and he stopped and moved to kiss me. “Every time!” He quickened his step to his room. Not sure who paid and ate the pizza, but I know I didn’t get a slice! @zomtompham

Fic Preview: 03 Bonnie and Clyde

I’ve been thinking I need completed works to participate in Steggy Positivity Week but that’s ridiculous.  I’m almost done with the fic but I’ve had no time to put the finishing touches on it still don’t but I’ll be damned if I’m not participating so I’m pulling a Robot and giving you the preview.

Steggy Positivity Week - [1/7] Agent Carter Timeline

Steve took one last look in the mirror and straightened his tie.  He was sorry he didn’t have a hat to pair with it but Peggy assured him that was all right.  None of the other guys would be wearing one either. 

He checked his watch. A quarter till eight.  He still had plenty of time.  He could hear the boys in the living room.  From the sound of it, Dugan was telling another tall tale. Steve shook his head at another round of raucous laughter.

They had all flown in for him.  Tomorrow he was due to receive the Medal of Honor.  It had been awarded to him posthumously but since he had no living next of kin the medal had no one to go to.  Once news had spread that he was alive and very much able to receive the medal in person, President Truman hadn’t hesitated to send him a letter informing him of the honor.

Thankfully Steve had managed to get the full blown ceremonial presentation knocked down to a small gathering located in Senator Brandt’s office.

Steve was not looking forward to being reunited with him.

In the meantime he had a date.

Grabbing his keys and his wallet, he walked out to join his friends.

“Cap!” Dugan shouted. “You’re on time! Glad to see Carter’s finally havin’ a good influence on ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, I told her I wouldn’t make an entrance tonight.  Told her that was her job.”

“Ah, she’s always a showstopper,” Dugan reminded. 

Morita slapped Steve’s arm.  “Looks like she took your advice to heart, though.”

Steve looked up from the slight scuff on his shoe to notice all the fellas staring behind him. He whirled around to see Peggy in a blue cap sleeve dress, the neckline plunging just enough to be modest but entice in the same glance.  Her hair was pulled back by her ears, pulled back in what he was sure was a simple twist. Her lips were their familiar shade of red.

Showstopper indeed.

“Do I pass inspection?” Peggy asked. The question was open but her eyes were on Steve.

He walked up to her. “That’s supposed to be my line,” he said.  He slid his hands in his pockets and looked her up and down.  “I think you’ll do.”

Her manicured eyebrow went up.  She returned the favor and took in his uniform.  Unconsciously he stood straighter.

“Your shoe is scuffed.”

“You took the kit.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Eh, it’s the best I got,” he shrugged.  Taking a hand out of his pocket he grabbed hers and kissed the back of it.  “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

Peggy hummed.  “I should hope so.  Can’t have Senator Brandt thinking his “dancing monkey” is less than perfect.”

The sarcasm he heard in her voice made him chuckle.  He leaned down to kiss her.

“Display of affection, fellas,” Dugan’s voice boomed.  “Avert your eyes.”

Peggy rolled her eyes and tugged on his lapel to complete his thought. 

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Return To Me.

Can be found on AO3 and, also this chapter under the cut….

Summary: What would you do if you woke up tomorrow with the last 5 years of your memories gone? After an unfortunate accident, Oliver Queen must figure out his place in a life he has no memory of whilst his wife, Felicity, does everything she can to support him. With emotions, secrets and relationships pushed to the limits; will love and friendship be enough to turn back the hands of time?

Authors Note: This is going to be a long note, sorry. I just wanted to explain some things, I started writing roughly 4 years ago after some horrible personal stuff, it took a while for me to decide to start posting that work and sharing it. Writing for me is a way to escape real life, and all the pain, sadness, tough times etc. I use it as a way to deal with things, to just take a step back. When I started I responded to everything (I still try to), and even now I take every comment to heart, but I have been dealing with some horrible things in real life, things I don’t want to get into here. But for the past year some peoples comments on my fics have been making me feel even worse. I love to interact, I love to hear what people think but it hurts to have something I’ve spent free time working on, using as an escape ripped to shreds. It feels personal, because it is personal. I carried on responding even to all the anger, until last year when I reached boiling point. I stopped writing, I stopped posting. Then this fic was born, and I worked on it privately until I felt ready to share again. By now, real life is getting a lot worse, and I’m tired of being made to feel worse about writing, something that is meant to be fun, all because I can’t please everyone (and I really do try to). So if I have an attitude I apologise, but it’s born out of years worth of things. Things I can never explain, but being made to feel not good enough in life and here, it hurts, it hurts a lot more, I don’t expect people to read my fics, let alone enjoy them. But I just expect common curtsey. If you don’t like my work, that’s totally okay! But you don’t have to go out your way to tell me you don’t like it, to tell me you wont be reading, how bad a writer I am. All that does is make me feel worse about my life. I don’t see myself as a writer, let alone a good one. I just hope someone might enjoy reading my work. SO truly I am sorry and it’s taken me awhile to want to post again.
BUT today is @tinaday3w birthday, and I didn’t have a gift for her and she said she wanted to read this, so happy birthday sweetie, I hope you enjoy this surprise. And I am sorry for this one.

Chapter 8: Future.

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