Warnings: Smut and LOTS of it; a bit of drama too. There’s a lot of everything going on here so you might pick your blanket because this is also long af.
Summary: When Jane leaves Thor, in your heart you know he should stay with you, but as time goes by, his brother realizes that there is more to it.
A/N: I need Jesus, and when you finish reading this, you’re gonna need him too. My characters know they need Jesus, so that should tell you something. Feedback? It won’t hurt!
You poured some shampoo on your hand and gently
started to massage your scalp with it. “So,” you started feeling the soft foam
form in your hair, “I got a call from your brother yesterday,” you let the warm
water run down your soapy self as you awaited for your boyfriend’s answer.
“Really? Thor knows how to make a phone call?”
Loki snickered from the toilet seat. “Well, that is quite the surprise,” he
shook his head.
“The thing is that he broke up with Jane just a
few days ago and even though it wasn’t a lot, she’s given him some time to move
out,” you casually said trying to elicit some kind of reaction from his
uninterested being. “He’s really bummed, y’know?”
“I bet,” Loki pondered, “I’d be utterly
destroyed if you dumped my ass,” he conceded, “but why are we talking about him
“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking about it
and… I wanted to ask you if he could stay here for a while,” you stuck your
head from the end of the curtain and looked at him innocently. “I kinda owe him
that…” you bit your bottom lip.
“How so?” He ran his fingers through his ebony
“When SHIELD first sent me to the States I
ended my renting contract with my landlord and I moved there, and when the
agency died after the whole Winter Soldier thing I realized I had no home to go
back to; Jane was still there and when your brother came to earth he stayed
with her, so he asked Jane if I could live with them until I got my own place…”
you sheepishly said as you rinsed the shampoo from your head. “I stayed there
with them for like 4 months, so maybe he could stay here for that same time
too, if you don’t mind,” you broke it down. “Can you pass me the towel,
please?” You reached out your arm and he handed the soft cloth.
“What about our life?” He asked in a concerned
voice. “I mean let’s face it, love; we are not the quietest ones and Thor isn’t
either; he snores like a chainsaw,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but we’ll have to be a bit more quiet
and just… hold on?” You drew back the curtain and got out with Loki’s help.
“Let me return him the favor, it’ll be for just a little, okay?” You looked at
him with puppy eyes, it always worked with him. “Can we?”
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he shook his
head and unmade the towel, making it fall onto the humid tiles. “I might
consider it,” he effortlessly lifted you in his arms, making you wrap your legs
around his waist, “but only if you bribe me,” he mischievously smiled and
headed for the room.
And just a few days after that, Thor was
setting up this few belongings in the spare room of your apartment. He was really
embarrassed for having to ask you that. He knew he was invading your privacy
and your couple life with Loki, but he really didn’t have much choice or
friends in the United Kingdom.
“It’s okay, big guy,” you placed a hand on his
shoulder when he sat on the bed in defeat. “I know it hurts and all, but…
you’ll be fine eventually, give it some time and you’ll see how things turn
alright,” you shrugged lightly, “besides you’re living with us now, we’re gonna
have fun!” You smiled widely and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He
rested his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Now
come, and we’ll ask for something to eat for dinner,” you said.
So I started DMing for a group of 9 year olds and their dad.
Imsh, the kids’ dad and our half-orc: I want to investigate the vegetation on the side of the road to see if any attackers could be hiding.
DM (me): OK. Roll an d20 for perception.
Imsh *rolls a 3 -1*
The other players, who already know there are 3 nasty goblins inthe bushes: *laughter*
DM: (laughing) Okay you-. You look around, and see that it’s just a beautiful day. You decide too crack open a beer and enjoy this cloudless afternoon with your good friends James (our ranger), Bilbo (our rogue), and the shadowy figures in the grass.
(Our wizard informs him of the attackers, and he manages to get a nat 20 +5 on intimidation, so he captures their leader and interrogates the lackeys. We’re playing my modified/improvised version of Phandelver, so I should have some good stories over the summer!)
Warnings: Lots of smut, protected though, but smut. Wrap it before ye tap it.
A/N: My baby @imaginedaily asked me if I could write a little something for her and of course I said yes because she’s my baby and I love her and I’m guessing I’m a bit gay – okay, A LOT hehe <3 Inspired in Hey Violet’s “Guys my Age”
You got out of the shower with a white towel
wrapped around your body. Andy Black blasting in the background, as loud as
your neighbors allowed. Dancing around at the rhythm of the music, you took out
clothing from the drawers and started sliding it on your frame.
Your music faded away and in its place, your
ringtone rang. You looked at it and ignored the caller. It had been about four
weeks since you’d been ignoring your lame ex; he wanted to get back together
with you because he missed you very much but you felt completely disgusted by
the idea. Someone told you guys your age were idiots and even though he seemed
normal at first, he proved to be everything you were told he would.
Zipping up your leather jacket and turning the
keys, you hit downtown to see what could the night life offer a single lady
such as yourself. You came across a nice-looking place with some live music and
seats near the stage to enjoy the music while being seated and drinking. As you
made your first order, you couldn’t help but to look at the guy a few tables
away from you. He was kinda hot in a rough way.
After exchanging glances at one another, he
made the first move of changing seats next to you. His name was Clint, or so he
said. Much older than you but not enough to be an old guy.
“And what is a nice girl like you, doing in a
place like this?” He asked before sipping from his drink.
“What can I say?” you shrugged, “my ex-man done
me wrong and here I am spending my nights talking to hot but old strangers.” A
flirty smile drew on your lips.
“Ouch,” Clint took his hand to his heart in an
offended manner, “don’t hurt your old man like that, kid.”
After some enriching music, conversation and
drinks, you found that that Clint used to work in a circus and that he was more
or less skilled at shooting arrows. You were rather impressed with that and you
asked him to please show you how to shoot one, and after paying for the drinks,
he walked with you back to his place which was not far from the bar.
The night was a bit chilly, but not enough to
make you shiver. His conversation was just as fun and as relaxed as he was
inside the bar with all the noise and the people around you. At first you
thought he was one of those guys who liked pick up young girls because he
couldn’t afford to be with one his age, but he seemed more like the guy who
actually didn’t care if he was with one or not. Like he didn’t care at all of
anything around him, really.
His apartment was entirely neat, and even
cleaner than yours. You wandered around his living room while he took out some
beers from the fridge for you to drink. You saw some pictures with him and two
children, and lots and lots of other people.
“If it’s not too personal, who are the kids in
these pictures?” You pointed at one of the pictures.
“My sister’s kids.” He replied, getting closer
and handing you your freezing can. “Good kids.”
“And I’m sure they love their uncle Clint,
right?” You mocked. “That’s sweet.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged, rising his hands
along with him, “all people tend to love me the minute they meet me so… we all
win here, right?” He opened his can and took a long sip from it. You saw how
his Adam’s apple bobbed and suddenly he became even hotter than how you
pictured him. You decided to take a good sip too and let yourself enjoy his
Two beers later you were on the rooftop trying
to shoot arrows, but it was useless, you were not only bad at it, you were
terrible; not a single one hit the bull’s-eye, nonce. He, on the other hand,
was incredibly good. He was so damn good that he didn’t need to look at his
target. He looked at you and kept talking while shooting.
It was like watching that Brave scene when
Merida rejects the sons of the lords, only 10 times cooler.
“You have to relax. You have to be the bow.” He tried to explain. “Try
screaming, at the top of your lungs,” you did as he told you but you only ended
up with a sore throat, “did that work?” you shook your head. “I didn’t think
so,” he rolled his eyes, “ok, now try shaking?” you did, but you only felt even
more ridiculous and he tried hard not to laugh at you.
“Oh god, I’m done with this.” You huffed and
handed Clint his bow and the arrow he gave you to try.
“No, come on.” He said. “Take my hand–” Clint
reached out his free hand and you reluctantly accepted it— “now close your eyes
and try to breathe with me.” His voice was soft, and it took you a moment
before you started imitating what he was doing. You felt your chest expanding
with the air income and with your hands in his, you actually felt much more
He slowly got closer and closer, until you had
his breath brushing your lips. Your mouth hung a bit open when you felt the
proximity of his. It was pure gut instinct that took over your senses, and in a
split second you were crashing your lips on his and pulling from his jacket to
make the distance disappear.
His strong hands held your waist tightly, and
his thumbs circled the uncovered spots of your skin. The bow and quiver fell
onto the concrete floor and the night suddenly became hotter. His mouth molded
perfectly with yours and his tongue gently slid to intertwine with yours.
Somehow, you were not very interested in shooting arrows anymore.
He carried you back to his apartment and closed
the door by pushing you onto it. You got rid of your jacket and top and Clint
followed in suit, revealing a scarred but ridiculously well-defined torso. You
went for his lips again as he walked with you somewhere in his apartment, soon
you realized it was his bedroom.
He gently placed you over the mattress and
started placing soft kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He clearly
knew what he was doing and you understood why people kept telling that messing
around with boys your age was a waste of time. Older men definitely knew what
to do, where to do it, when to do it and how to do it. His pace was soft,
unlike your ex’s who wanted to get shit done ASAP; oh no, Clint took his time
with you, making you enjoy the pleasures of being with a man with experience.
Your breath got caught in your windpipe when
you felt a pair of calloused hands near the valley of your breasts, he slowly
pulled down the fabric of your bra, giving you enough time to react and tell
him to stop, but you said nothing, and your silence only indicated the
permission he had. You helped Clint by freeing yourself from the straps and
unclasping it from behind. Just a little help.
“I could that on my own, (Y/N).” He teased,
keeping his lips glued to the skin of your chest. “I am not like the guys your
“Since you’re a bit older—” you gasped— “I
thought you might need a little help, right?”
“Well, I appreciate that.” He looked up at you
He kissed and sucked on the hot skin of your
breasts; Clint also spread your legs wider to lay comfortable in between them
and use them as support once his lips carried on their way down to the hem of
your jeans. He quickly unmade the button and pulled the fabric down your legs.
You supported yourself with your elbows on the
mattress as he pulled away your wet underwear with his teeth. His hot breathing
was a terrible teaser and it was amazing, because in your life someone had
taken such care of you. His tongue did wonders and you were sure that you were
tearing up his quilt with your tight grip. Hope he didn’t mind.
In a matter of seconds, you were blissfully screaming
the Lord’s name and pushing Clint’s head closer to you. It took you a while you
fathom how good he was just by eating you out. You stared at the ceiling,
trying hard to catch your breath.
“Better than younger guys?” he savored his own
lips, smirking wickedly at you.
“Oh, most certainly. Guys my age don’t know how
to treat me right.”
“It’s only about to get better.” He unmade his
jeans, revealing a glorious shaft under the tight underwear, and before
throwing them away, he picked up a condom from his side table. At least he
didn’t need to be told to fucking use one. You made a mental note on the
various reasons why older guys were better than guys your age.
He positioned himself in between your legs,
teasing your entrance with his length and slowly pushed in. He placed his hands
on both sides of your head and lowered his upper body to distract you from the
terrible stretching feeling by placing soft kisses on your lips. You were
rather confused by his love demonstrations, was this a plain fuck or was he…
You arched your back from the mattress and held
on to his broad shoulders as he pounded harder each second. You wrapped your
legs around his waist and dug your heels on his butt. You loved to hear when he
grunted trying to reach a deeper point in you; he was not loud, and compared to
you he was a bit silent, but the little moans that spilled on his lips sounded
If your previous orgasm was amazing, this one was
indescribable. You couldn’t recall coming so loud and so joyfully. You
surrendered on the mattress while he helped you ride out the orgasm while
reaching his own. You had never been the one to come first, let alone a guy
waiting for you. Well, he was not a random guy, he was a man.
After pulling out, he placed a sweet kiss on
your forehead, and headed to the bathroom. You started picking up your clothes
to get quickly dressed and leave, but before you could walk away from the
bedroom, he appeared in his pajamas (that only included a pair of shorts) and
leaned on the door frame.
“You’re not staying for breakfast?” He asked. “I
mean, it’s a bit late for you to go out there.”
“I can call an Uber.” You shrugged.
“I’m a bit of a sucker for cuddling,” he
admitted, shrugging and walking to the bed, “why don’t you accept my invitation
for breakfast and stay the night?” He patted the bed with a huge grin on his
face. “You can take a shirt from the drawer; the first one.”
You sighed and did as he told. He was a bit
right, it was too late to call an Uber and breakfast sounded like a great idea.
You searched for a shirt you liked and that you could keep. A purple one with a
red, white and blue bull’s-eye in the middle. It was big enough to cover your
butt and you loved the way it looked on you. You even got whistles and cheering
from Clint as you did a bit of modeling. When you were about to close the
drawer, you found some dark, leather-looking clothing.
“What’s this?” You asked, holding the sort of
“Oh, it’s my uniform.”
“Circus uniform?” You asked again, folding the
garment and closing for good the drawer. You slid under the covers and cuddled
next to Clint.
“No, more like avenging uniform. I’m Clint
Barton, by the way.” He smiled, kissed the top of your head and then called it
quits by turning off the lights.
Everyone enjoys a good beer and everyone has a brand of beer they’re loyal to, but what if you’re a witch and you wanna use your beer in your craft? Well beer already is powerful, it’s good for grounding, cleansing, and general good energies but certain brands and bottle color might effect or change the properties and uses.
Rolling Rock - This brand is a pale brew bottled in a green bottle and made from wheat and barley. Barley is used in protection and healing but the green bottle could represent good fortune and money so I’d recommend using this brand in money, healing, and luck spells, maybe even in warding too.
Heineken - Another brand that is a pale brew and bottled in green, like Rolling Rock it can be used in good luck and money spells.
Budweiser - Another pale brew brand but made from rice and barley, rice brings healing, fertility, protection, and security and the coloring of the bottle, brown, represents home, hearth, stability, and honesty. So, for protection spells, fertility spells, and divination use this brand.
Guinness - All the way from Ireland now we have the dark brew and made from barley, it’s strong and powerful taste and aroma will add oomph if you add this to spells, specifically fertility and protection spells.
Corona - A brew made from rice and corn, since we already covered rice early I’m gonna move onto what corn represents; corn represents prosperity and abundance so you can use these in healing, fertility, money spells, and divination.
Blue Moon - This is a brew I haven’t actually gotten the chance to use yet but it’s got some great properties. Blue Moon is made with orange peels, orange peels can be used for divination and love. So Blue Moon is great for divination and love spells.
Yuengling - This beer is another pale brew made from corn and barley, use in money, healing, and fertility spells.
Fanfic Request: You and Gaston happily married with children (all the romantic fluffiness!).
i told myself i needed to write a fic BUT I WAS LIKE “HEADCANONS INSTEAD”
Living in the countryside away from the hustle bustle of village life. Probably a simple far, a place where Gaston can clear his head and be himself without having to worry or put up a facade for others. He loves it really, and he wouldn’t ask for anything else.
A place where he can literally put his feet up (You only rub them when you feel like it, he doesn’t actually pressure you to do it). A place where he can enjoy a beer in silence. A place where he can think and be with the things that matter to him.
The two of you are always up early enough to watch the sun rise. Imagine sitting beside Gaston, watching the sky change color in front of you. He wraps his arms around you and tugs you closer. A small kiss is placed to your forehead. A few more minutes before your children wake up, he thinks. That’s all he needed. Was a few more minutes alone with you in quiet and peace.
Imagine the two of you being lucky enough to have a boy and a girl.
Gaston loves them so freaking much, and actually, they look a lot like him. Dark hair(thick hair), same skin tone and they both happen to have his stubbornness. (Which can cause problems sometimes.) Gaston actually fights you on this sometimes(Playfully) and tells you that they look a lot more like you, “I can see your smile in theirs when they laugh”. Rolling your eyes teasingly, you kiss his lips softly and whisper, “You old romantic.”
Imagine him tangling flowers into his daughters hair after she asks him to do it. He knows he’s not good at it but he still tries. She gives him a warm kiss to his cheek when he finishes and she scurries off to show you. “Momma, momma look what papa did!!” You look down at her, smiling brightly, “It’s so pretty.” You brush a stray hair out of her face, “Your papa is so good at that, huh? He puts them in my hair too.” She nods happily and looks back at Gaston with an even wider smile. He feels his heart melt.
She probably convinces him to let her put flowers in his hair too. Just imagine that. She looks at him sternly, grasps the sides of his face and brings his head down enough so she can reach his hair. You’re standing off to the side, watching him with your son in your lap. Laughing quietly, you urge her to continue. Gaston gives you a playful glare. “I hope those are purple flowers. Purple is a good color for me.” He says to his daughter with a small laugh. Your son joins in eventually and he starts putting flowers in Gaston’s hair, coordinating with his sister as to what color he needed.
Imagine Gaston taking his son hunting. But, while preparing, his daughter comes up and asks if she can come as well. After talking to you, and you agreeing, he takes both of them with him. Imagine his son holding onto the back of Gaston’s jacket and holding his sisters hand while they track. Both of them are super invested.
Imagine them coming back and your son is literally about to bounce off the walls because he actually managed to shoot a duck. Your daughter is resting on Gaston’s shoulders as she got tired on the way home. You take her carefully, rocking her back to sleep as she stirred with the movement as Gaston places a gentle kiss to your cheek before beaming proudly. “He’s going to be a good hunter, just like his father.” He looks at your son, still going on and on about what he had done. You see his father in his personality.
Gaston tells them about his time during the War before bedtime. Says it’s their bedtime story. You usually sit and listen.
“When I was younger,” He pauses and reflects, “much younger….”
Your son gets so excited hearing about it because wow, his father was a hero.
Your daughter on the other hand, likes the ending when Gaston explains how he met you and how he fell in love with you after the War and how you bring out the best in him and how much he really does love you and them.
“Your mother was so…” He has to think about his word choice, “Beautiful… Gorgeous… She swept me away and hasn’t let me life a day without her beauty ever since.”
Monitoring your PDA because your kids do not appreciate it when you kiss each other in front of them.
Your son pretends to gag and your daughter yelling at you to “STOP KISSING.”
Sufficing on gazes, small kisses to the cheek and Gaston wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer until the kids are put to bed.
I was about to say ‘don’t get me started on domestic Gaston’ but get me started please.
Absolutely a man who tries to cook you breakfast for your birthday but almost burns down the entire house. He just doesn’t cook often enough to know. He ends up getting help from the kids, and things turn out okay. (He only burned it a little).
Probably tries to do the dishes here and there too(Especially when he’s sucking up to you). Always tells you, “That’s a really good workout for your arms. I’m surprised they’re not as big as mine.” You roll your eyes, flexing your arm teasingly. “Aren’t they?”
You asking him to help you with cleaning the house and doing the laundry, and for a second he looks at you like “who do you think you’re talking to?” but the glare you give him back gets him to agree and he ends up helping the kids take the laundry outside to dry.
Gaston lifting up your daughter as she pins clothes to the line to dry. Your son tugs on his shirt, begging to be picked up too.
When you go out to check on them, the basket of laundry is still sitting there and Gaston is on his back, the two kids on top of him. They’re all laughing. Gaston catches eyes with you, “They’ve got me pinned, (Name). I can’t move!”
It’s late at night and the two of you had just put the kids to sleep after what seemed like hours of wrestling them into bed in the first place. You sigh softly, gazing at your love before making your way to the kitchen to clean and put away dishes before bed. Gaston looks at his children a few seconds longer before following you. Leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and living space, he smiles slightly, “I know I told you that two children were enough for me, but have you ever thought…?” “About having another one?” You asked, finishing his sentence. Tilting your head to the side, you could feel the heat hit your face. “I wouldn’t mind… three more even.” He smirks softly, making his way towards you. Kissing the back of your neck and then the shell of your ear, he murmurs to you, “Three? A bit too eager, are you?”
MMMM BOI I HOPE THOSE WERE OKAY. if you liked them, i can make more! Thank you for reading! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!
I’m sure I’m not alone being someone deeply effected by the moon to the point where I have emotional episodes due to which phase it’s in. Like the seasons I also adapted my practice to go in the flow which the moon moves in in order to be in balance. Hopefully this practice can help you too if you find this of value.
New Moon This is the most important phase for me. On the first day the moon enters this phase I cleanse my space energetically and take time to do a ritual bath (or shower with a soap spell if I don’t have time for a full bath). The theme is energy cleansing and starting new. Cleanse the altar, cleanse the crystals, cleanse yourself, set up wards- depending on the element of the moon I cleanse with incense, candle, salt or mist (Or whatever feels right at the time. Usually the element and quality of the sign shows itself more in the bath than in the cleansing of my space but it’s just an example). The New Moon is also full of cerebral energy for me. The moon rules emotions and inner thoughts and I personally feel the new moon has more power in influencing my mind as the full has more power in influencing my raw emotions. Depending on which sign the new moon is in, I focus my mental energy towards it’s message and the direction I should focus on for the next lunar cycle. Typically the new moon rests in whatever sign the sun is in so I focus on the zodiac season’s energy (like if it’s Libra season, Taurus season etc). The next week following (waxing crescent week) is mentally figuring out and visualizing how I will bring what I want and what I need to focus on in manifesting in my life.
Full Moon The Full moon tends to be the phase everyone focuses on but its energy can be overwhelming to me since it heightens my emotions and makes me feel irrational. The Full Moon has intense energy and it’s theme is perfect for charging and energy work. Charge magical tools and crystals, charge yourself, channel the moon’s element and sign in a focused meditation and absorb it’s energy. Use the powerful energy lingering to cast spells. I find it easier to manifest something on this day perhaps because my emotions are heightened and a lot of spell casting and success depends on how I feel. Other activities to engage the moon’s power and emotional influence is creating art or releasing pent up emotions through dance or listening to music. The Full Moon is a phase personally for me, that focuses on the magic of art and how art can help release certain emotions especially if the moon is trying to highlight a hidden or repressed feeling. Take the evening to draw, put on music to fit the mood and use art to explore yourself or do shadow work. If you enjoy drinking, enchant a cocktail or enjoy a beer to help bring to light certain emotions and maybe do drunken tarot or do some journaling to document how you feel and help with further introspection later. You can do this all solitary or gather some witchy friends to get drunk and scream your emotions into the void (I mean wolves howl at the full moon, so why can’t you?) Then put on some music, do some art, dance your feelings away or cry together because you feel irrationally moody and out of control.
I don’t do anything in particular for these actual days but their weeks are important to me.
First Quarter The week following the first quarter is dedicated to spells of growth, prosperity, manifestation, momentum and drive. It follows the week of the waxing crescent which is dedicated to visualization and setting goals. First quarter initiates action for the waxing gibbous week. If there’s something I wish to give power to, it’s casted on this week.
Last Quarter The week following the Last Quarter is dedicated to cleaning, purging and banishing. I make sure to clean my space thoroughly and throw out old things, ward unwanted energy and try to distance myself from things I dislike, drink more water- eat less red meat and wheat (for personal health issues to help with my digestion)- drink cleansing teas, and focus my energy on release. Spells to cast on this week are warding, banishing, ending or distancing.
A/N: So I was sitting at work this morning when this idea struck me and I was like…I HAVE TO WRITE THIS. Set during the current season so spoilers.
Summary: The British Men of Letters want info on all the American hunters & finally find something they can use against Sam & Dean to get the information.
Sam and Dean sat in their chairs as they glared at Ketch and the two other members of the British Men of Letters who had barged into the bunker. The boys had just returned home from a hunt Ketch had sent them on and were enjoying some beers when Ketch came through the door with his gun drawn.
“We wanna talk to Mick. Now.” Sam said as he scowled at the Englishman.
“Ah, about that. Mick, he’s dead, been dead for a couple of weeks now.” Ketch replied nonchalantly. The Winchester’s continued to stare at Ketch, trying to not react to the news of Mick’s death.
“Why’d you kill him?” Dean questioned.
“Let’s just say that the, higher level members back home didn’t approve of the way he was handling things here in America. So he had to be handled.” Ketch told the brothers.
“What do you want?” Sam asked, changing the subject.
“Well, you see, those same members decided that we need to change our strategy towards you American hunters. Assimilate or eliminate.” Ketch said as he looked between Sam and Dean.
“So if we don’t take to your rules, you’re gonna kills us?” Sam replied.
“Yes. Now, we’re almost positive that you two are going to be a pain in our side and work against us so you’ll be handled, but first, you’re going to give us information about all the hunters you know.” Ketch stated as if it was a fact.
Request: Could you do a Bucky x reader where the avengers are playing truth or dare and the reader gets dared to give Bucky a lap dance since he’s never had one and the reader gets really embarrassed because she thinks he doesn’t like her since Bucky never really talks to her but he’s actually secretly in love with her?
Summary: Basically what the request its; you give Bucky a lap dance and you get embarrassed ;)
Warnings: Fluff and kinda angst ?
A/N: I love doing requests! Also, if I don’t get to yours right away it’s most likely because I’m busy with homework / I’m doing research for the request. I finished my homework for today so I have some free time hence why I’ve been basically bleeding these fanfictions. Enjoy!
This fic idea was just floating around in my head for a while and I finally wrote it. It will probably be around four or five parts. Let me know what you think!
Part 1 // Maybe it’s You and Me? //
The museum was busy for a weekday, Claire thought. She would
know as she visited the museum at least once a month one her days off from the hospital. People bustled around her
in hushed whispers around the gallery, gazing at the art hanging on the walls.
Claire stood back from the cluster of people, readjusting her
sunglasses on the top of her head and squinting as the small text box next to the painting
instructed to do. Art was one of her favorite things, though she had no
creative ability whatsoever. Science was more her style, but that didn’t mean
she couldn’t spend her days admiring others’ labor of love.
Museums were quiet and evoked a sort of peace in her, she
had found. In contrast to the hectic ER, the museum juxtaposed the energy in
her professional life. She would get lost in a gallery, tracing the footsteps
of others and observing the other guests as much as the art on display.
Having been through all galleries three times, she decided
it was time for coffee. Black and strong. It was a treat she always looked forward to at the end of her visit. A nice place in the museum café, looking out at the
streets with a book for the next few hours.
She walked down the corridor leading to the main lobby of
the museum, pulling out her phone and glancing at the lock screen.
Just landed. Talk to
She typed out a quick response and pocketed the phone again.
Frank was on a trip to London for the weekend. He usually came along to museums
with her, though he preferred the historical museums more than the modern.
They had been dating for the past three years, and a little
part of Claire loathed to admit that she preferred going to the museum without
She loved Frank. She really did. He took care of her and
loved her, but Claire couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Or was
she being unrealistic? They had a solid love, a comfortable partnership. Dependable. Frank
had mentioned marriage more than once, he being eight years older than her 28
years. He was ready, but she wasn’t.
Sighing, she glanced around the small café at the seats available
and sighed again when there was a man in a beanie sitting in her usual spot. She shrugged her jacket tight around her in frustration and moved to grab her coffee, all the while glaring at the face hidden in their laptop.
Grumbling to herself, she sat her purse on the table behind
her usual, hoping the man would leave soon so she could snag it. Her spot had the perfect natural lighting for
reading and the one she currently sat at was uncomfortably close to the rubbish
Cracking open her book, she began to lose herself once more
in “Wuthering Heights” and sipped her hot coffee.
Immersed in the world of Catherine and Heathcliff, she
neglected to notice her phone buzzing until it rang for probably the third
JAMIE FRASER flashed on her screen with the photo of them
together on the estate of his family’s home. She loved that picture. Faces
pressed together, smiles on their faces from the crazy wind whipping their hair
around, and the green valley in the background.
Quickly, she tapped the screen and held the phone up to her
“I was beginning to think ye were ignoring me.”
The sound of his voice made a ridiculous smile spread on her
face and her toes curl.
“No, not ignoring you. I was reading and didn’t hear the
phone,” she laughed. “What’s up?”
“Can’t a guy call his best friend?”
“Oh, I’m your best friend? I thought that was Ian?”
He laughed. She missed his laugh. “Ian’s my brother-in-law.
It doesn’t count.” He paused for a moment, “What are you doing?”
She glanced up and noticed the the man had left and her
table was vacant. Scrambling, she put the phone into the crook of her neck and
gathering her purse, coffee and book. “Just reading a little. Boring, you know
Triumphantly, she deposited her stuff on the table and
sighed as she sat down, settling in for another long haul. “What, are you coming home from the gym?”
He liked to call her on his way home after a work out to
pass the time and chat. Though, it was usually a lot earlier where he was. Time differences were a bitch.
“No. I’m rather annoyed though,” despite the statement, she
could hear him smiling.
“Oh, about what?” She inquired, taking a sip of her now cold
“This girl just stole my table,” he said with a huff.
She almost dropped her cup. Without being obvious, she
tried to scan the room. He’s not here, you’re being ridiculous, she thought to
herself, but still, her eyes searched.
“Well, go steal it back,” she said, a little breathless. She
hoped he didn’t hear it.
“Alright,” he laughed and simultaneously, she felt two hands
clamp onto her shoulders. The familiar feel of them meant she didn’t need to check, so she turned and threw herself into his arms.
He hummed into her hair, “Well, hello there,” he chucked,
wrapping his arms around her tight. She remembered how they felt when he held
her against his chest and when he carried her in his arms, and when he pinned
her down to the be–
“Happy to see me?” He interrupted her memories while
stepping back to look at her.
“Of course, but why aren’t you in America?”
She took a step back from his embrace with regret. His denim
jacket smelled like heaven and she wanted to breath in the scent all day until she got drunk off it.
“I just came for a visit. I’m heading to Lallybroch in a few
days, but I wanted to see you.”
An ear-to-ear smile spread on her face and she felt it flush. He smirked and wrapped an arm around her, grabbing her stuff off the
table and leading her towards the exit.
“Let’s go,” he said, his nose accidentally grazing her
Gathering her thoughts, she made a few inches of space between their bodies, shrugging out of his arm. Don’t get close, her brain warned. Not again. You won’t recover a second time.
~Five Years Earlier~
Tonight, the sky was lit with a smattering of stars that illuminated
the walk to the pub. The inside glowed like a snow globe, a little
bubble from the harsh Scottish weather. It would be cozy inside with multiple
fires burning and some good company.
It was Jamie’s 23rd birthday tonight and she was here was to help him ring in the new year of life, along with a few other
close friends from uni. It was also a premature goodbye party as graduation was
approaching fast and soon they would go their separate ways into the real
As she walked in, rubbing her gloved hands together and
sighing from the sudden embrace of warmth, she immediately felt eyes on her. She
didn’t need to look around from hanging her scarf and coat up to know that it
was Jamie’s eyes looking at her. She always knew what his gaze felt like. A
spark of adrenaline, warmth and awareness was the recipe and she found it
They had met as freshman and were close ever since. There had been an attraction since the beginning, but nothing ever happened between them. He was
her best friend and vise versa, but he had had a high school sweetheart, Laoghaire,
and he had dated her the first two years of uni. When they broke up –which everyone
saw coming– Claire had already been dating André, a transfer student from
Spain. Their relationship was rocky at best and lasted the better part of last
year, but quickly ended after he moved back to Spain.
But now, since the first time they had met, they were both
single. Though, Claire felt sure that friends was all they were destined to be.
“Ah, there she is! And late, who would have thought?”
Smiling, she shook her head and butted her shoulder against
Jamie as she took the vacant stool next to him. “You’re lucky I came at all,
bastard. I do have an exam in two days.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, which made her heart
skip, and wrapped an arm tight around her. He poured her a beer from the
pitcher the table had been sharing and raised a glass towards her. “Now, WE
“Ayes” were exclaimed around the table, from Rupert, who had already
looked drunk to Gellis, who looked more than annoyed with him, to Angus,
Willie and a few other faces ready to get pissed as Rupert was putting it.
“Cheers, birthday boy,” she clicked her glass against his.
“Cheers,” he murmured, not taking his piercing blue eyes off
hers as he took a sip.
Warmth pooled in her belly, but she fought it away with a
gulp of cold beer and enjoyed the rest of the night without any feelings
“SHE WANTED ME, MAN! BERDAAAAA! COME TO ME!” Rupert stumbled
drunkenly while Jamie and Angus tried to shuffle his huge body into a cab.
“She didna want ye, Rup,” Jamie struggle to say under his
weight. “She just wanted ye to leave her be. Yer drunk, man. You’re going home.”
Rupert glared at him while Angus got in the cab and pulled
on him with all his might. Between Jamie’s shoving and Angus’ pulling, Rupert
finally managed to get himself in.
Right before Jamie shut the door, Rupert pulled on his collar
while looking at me with a cocked eyebrow and whispered something to Jamie that
made him turn bright red.
Glancing away nervously, she pulled out her phone and
pretended to type something out while the door closed and started to drive
“Do ye want me to call you one, Sassenach?”
“Um,” she glanced up at him as he looked down at her. Damn
that poker face. She could never tell what he was thinking, but she hoped that
he couldn’t see through her glass face at that moment.
The wind whipped around them, chilly for May. She didn’t
want the night to end, to not see him again until next week after finals were
over. And then what? Where would they be?
Time seemed to be slipping away too fast for her to catch it
and it made her palms sweaty and her heart race.
He moved a step closer to her to block the wind while she
decided what to do next. She wasn’t drunk enough to say anything rash, but
maybe had just enough buzz to do something daring.
He rubbed a hand down her sweater to warm her. A friendly
gesture. Did he only see her as a friend?
Well, if he rejected her, she could just joke it off as her
having to much to drink tomorrow. Or she felt bad he had no one to kiss on his
“Claire, do you want me to –”
She cut off his question with her lips.
He jumped slightly as if the feel of her kiss was the last
thing he ever expected, ever imagined in that moment. He was motionless underneath
her hands. Still as a statue.
Gently, she released his top lip with the upmost reluctance,
stepping down and looking at his unreadable face.
She knew he could read her own face in that moment. Her eyes
were wide and lips parted still. She licked her bottom lip and his eyes watched the motion like a hawk.
Taking a step back even further, she pushed the hair from her
face and looked down at her feet.
“You don’t have to say anything, Jamie. I’m sorry,” she
stuttered and fumbled for her phone in her pocket while he still gawked at her.
“I’ll just,” she motioned back to the bar. “I’ll call a cab.”
She turned sharply and wondered if she should stumble to
make it seem like she was drunk for her alibi tomorrow.
“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, watching it form
a cloud in front of her. Caught up in her own humiliation, she didn’t hear his
footsteps until she felt his touch.
Before she realized what had happened, she found herself
against the cold brick of the bar, out of sight, in the dark with Jamie’s lips
pressed urgently against hers.
Gasping into his mouth, she did nothing as one arm snaked
around her waist to pull her body tight against his. She felt his other hand
weave into her hair, pushing her beanie off and gripped her hard. Her own hands
dangled at her side as his lips and tongue urged her mouth open to him.
He pulled back to look at her, gasping for breath as if he
had just run a marathon. His lips were red and swollen from her kisses, a curl
of red dangled in front of his face and his eyes were heartbreakingly blue. The
earlier mask was gone and all she saw was urgent hope. She had never seen him
“Are you drunk?” He asked, looking carefully into her eyes.
“No, are you?”
“No,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her
face, then cupping her cheek in his palm.
They starred at each other for a long beat, both unaware of
what to do next.
It’s time to be brave, Beauchamp.
She licked her lips again and took a deep breath. “Maybe you
can call that cab?”
He stared at her for a moment and then his eyes flickered
away from her as he shuffled his feet.
“Ok,” he cleared his throat and patted his pocket for his
phone, eyebrows drawn together in either confusion or disappointment. Maybe both.
She smiled a little and snagged a finger into one of his belt
loops, pulling him back against her. He jerked in surprise and look at her like
she was a puzzle he couldn’t find the missing piece to.
Here is a little gem I wrote for @jennpy It probably has really bad humour and like… is not even that funny. But my writing style is weird so eh. I ain’t changing the way I write just because people hate it. Love you guys xD
Based off of the text I’ve seen all over Tumblr of,
· Jack: do you know why I called you in here?
· Rhys: because I accidentally sent you a dick pic
· Jack: [stops pouring two glasses of wine] accidentally?