Summary: You were tired and your hair was a mess. All you were doing was putting your hair up, but the hair tie had other plans. Now you’re in this little prank war with Bucky. Who will win, who will lose?
Notes: sorry i havent posted in awhile! ever since i came back from vacation, ive had writers block and on top of that, i was sleeping at night?? but now im back to my (terrible) sleep schedule hah. sorry if this little epilogue isnt amazing; its 4:04 am and still have a bit of writers block. anyways, this is hinting at a future one shot heheh any guesses? :p hope you enjoy! ~
It’s been weeks since you called a truce with Bucky, and from that point on, things have calmed down. You snapped back into your routine, with the addition of brief moments with Buck here and there. The both of you were constantly out and about on different missions, making hard to spend time together.
At first it sucked, but with time, you learned to really savour and enjoy those quick but passionate kisses in the hallway. He would catch you heading out on a mission; swiftly grabbing your wrist, pulling you to the side and completely wrapping his arms around you, making sure his lips match yours perfectly.
“Y/N, no way.”
“Come on, he deserves it though! You know that Bucky and I don’t get much time to ourselves…”
You were leaving for a mission with Sam, Clint, and Nat. As you buckled up in the passenger seat, you saw Bucky burst through the door and run over to your window. He signaled you to roll the window down, only to cup your face and give you a last minute kiss. All of a sudden, your momentum shifts back into the seat and you watch as Bucky nearly stumbles face first to the ground. Sam had put the car in reverse and hit the gas, breaking the kiss for you and Bucky.
After a few more minutes of pouting and begging, Wanda sighed, shaking her head with a soft smile upon her face.
“Fine. How do you even know he’s going to.. Uh… Do it?” she asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Trust me, Bucky said he does his business every morning after breakfast” you replied.
The both of you were sitting on the couch, while the rest of the team was finishing off breakfast. Bucky moved from the table to sit next to you, glancing up at Wilson, ever so often. A few minutes passed by, and Sam got up and started heading to the bathroom.
“Just as planned” you mumbled in Wanda’s direction, “Do your magic, Wand.”
With that, Wanda quickly followed behind Sam, and motioned her fingers in a short motion upwards, once he closed the door. Immediately after, a loud yell came from inside the bathroom along with a string of curse words.
Wanda looked back at you, with a huge grin exposing her teeth. You and Bucky couldn’t hold it in anymore; the both of you bursted into laughter, and high fived in victory. Steve, Vision, Tony, Natasha, and Clint all looked at you three confused, only to revert their gaze up to the bathroom door.
Out stepped Sam, with a towel wrapped around his waist and clearly soaked bottoms.
“Okay, I know for a fact that toilet seat wasn’t up when I sat down”
Five times Morrigan listened to Rhysand worry over Feyre (and the one time Morrigan met Feyre).
Set at the beginning of ‘A Court of Mist and Fury’, during the events of Rhysand’s return to the Night Court after his fifty years Under the Mountain.
None of Rhysand’s friends really know what their High Lord went through to protect them, but the last thing Morrigan expects upon his return is to realise that in his darkest hours Rhysand somehow found his mate.
Five short scenes of Morrigan (and other members of Rhysand’s Inner Circle) learning about Feyre, and one scene where Morrigan gets her first introduction onto the human painter that her cousin has lost his heart too.
She hears the sound of glass breaking from the other room and instantly senses who it is.
Morrigan rises to her feet in one fluid movement, rushing to the other room and freezing in her footsteps at the sight of the cousin she has not seen in decades. He is shirtless, his large membranous wings spread wide on either side of him, and even from where she stands Morrigan can spot the pattern of scars embedded violently upon his otherwise pale back.
What has that monster done to you, cousin? She thinks. Rumours of the bitch’s wrath stretched far, and Morrigan had heard what they’d come to call her High Lord.
Morrigan doesn’t care. She is simply relieved to see him again finally. After so long, after all he has gone through for them all.
“Rhys.” She says, her words a cautious calmness whispering upon the tense air between them.
OC X Socialite!Namjoon Length: 6k of sin, how fitting. Recommended OST: (x) and (x) and maybe House of Cards depending on what you’re into. (a/n): you know, I never thought this moment would come for me.. but it has… and now I will enforce this highly explicit content on you and I (really) hope you don’t mind and I am terribly sorry I am a noob* but since it is my longest work I told myself it would be such a waste not to post and …well.. here we are, my first, enjoy.
Warnings: Smut, sex, alcohol mentions, you know the works
It’s 1a.m. or what they call the peak of the night; the hour where the buzz of alcohol is the main fuel for irrational impulses and suddenly the lines between cheeky and outright ballsy disappears. Sticking the far wall of the venue, you’re observing the evening’s happenings with a reoccurring mixture of disdain and amusement— it’s always the same every night— this scene having long lost the enchantment and luster it used to possess in your eyes. Being born into wealth, you’re obligated to attend such parties to keep up good relations with What’s His Face and connections with That Person and of course to keep your own ass in the spotlight. Influence does not grow overnight and once cultivated, who are you to let it die? It’s hypocritical really, the fact that you were jaded by the fame but at the same time refuse to let it go. However, the wealth is as valuable as fools gold when every action is a diamond encrusted lie and every word is coated with a layer of shimmering sweet sarcasm. So you continue on kissing cheeks and forcing smiles, dancing away the night and drowning in this erratic rhythm of your life.
I have been learning Ancient Greek very very sporadically for about 4 months (i.e. spending like an evening every few weeks doing some textbook exercises and making really dumb mistakes) and today I just had that first moment of looking at an actual text and understanding an ENTIRE LINE. OK, the line is a whopping 5 words in length. And one of the words means ‘or’. BUT STILL.
(Also I did that thing afterwards where I looked at how I would translate the line and compared it to an actual translation, and whoa, I am not cut out for translation. The beautiful and poetic translation in my book that actually makes sense is ‘a judge, you mean, or just an avenger?’ and I have written it as ‘someone
to judge or someone to avenge, which of the two do you mean?’. So much of translation is in knowing how to make a translation really flow and make the transition from original to translated language smooth, keeping the feel of the original sentence in the new language. I cannot do that. YET.)