Don’t Want Shelter is the hate to love fic that I’ve been working on lately. Louis and Harry are both in their mid-forties, have known each other since childhood, and have hated each other since college. This snippet takes place present day. Here’s another snippet that I posted the other day that takes place a couple of weeks before this and there’s more of a summary in that post as well. Please excuse any mistakes because it’s not been read by my beta yet.
“Ugh, why you always gotta show off like this,” Sam complains. Not really complaining, if he’s being honest. Bucky pauses, shifts the weight of the armchair. The thin cotton of his t-shirt is damp with sweat, sticking to his skin, and Sam takes the opportunity to appreciate the view.
“Yeah,” Bucky says, catching his gaze. “That’s why, sweetheart.” Sam feels himself flush hot; doesn’t look away and doesn’t look away, leaning in the doorway and letting his expression go maybe a little sultry, and Bucky shoulders the armchair into the living room, sets it down. Looks back at Sam and grins, cheeky, blows a strand of hair out of his face.
“That’s all the big stuff,” Sam says, “I think we got another couple boxes in the back of the car, but—” and then Bucky’s got an arm hooked under his knees and another around his shoulders and is scooping him up, easy as pie. Sam definitely does not squawk, indignantly or otherwise. Flails a little, maybe, but Bucky’s got him held fast.
“Put me down,” he says, “come on—”
“Nope,” Bucky tells him. “Don’t you know it’s traditional?”
“Well, in that case, you might as well carry me all the way in,” Sam shrugs, rolling his eyes, and Bucky nips at the side of his throat.
“No sheets on the bed yet,” he murmurs, “hell, we still gotta put the goddamn frame back together,” and Sam sighs.
“Not like we haven’t done it on the floor before,” he says. Catches how Bucky’s pupils dilate dark.
“If you’re gonna do it on the floor you can wait until I’m gone,” Steve says from out of nowhere, a box held on each shoulder, and Sam can’t help but laugh and laugh as Bucky carries him inside.
A fem!destiel coffeeshop au with barista!cas and mechanic!dean. Based on this post about my favorite fem!destiel headcanons.
There’s an odd grumbling noise coming from the engine and Cas groans, easing her foot off the gas.
“Oh come on, not today, please not today.”
The clock on the dash is taunting her and she sneers at is as she races through the quiet streets. There’s no one out yet. They’re all still in bed. Because it’s fucking four in the goddamn morning and no one in their right mind should be awake right now.
But Castielle Novak has a coffee shop to open. So the sorry sons of bitches who have to be up at six can actually function and feel alive when they show up for work.
The grumbling continues as Cas drives but by some miracle she makes it to the shop.
Opening isn’t half bad once Cas is in the swing of things and about three triple espressos in. She lowers the chairs, preps the machines, starts brewing the house blends.
Gabe dances through the door around 4:45, late as always, and heads to the kitchen to start the pastries.
At 6:30 on the dot, she flips the sign and waits for the angry mob of bitter caffeine-addicted zombies to swarm her.
The customers incite a whole other sort of exhaustion in Cas. In just an hour, they’ve brought her to her limit and it’s all she can do to just stand there, recite orders, and wish them a good day.
But around 8:30 she gets her pick-me-up.
And her name is Deanna Winchester. She’s a mechanic who works just down the street, as Cas has learned during the months the woman has been coming in for her grande Columbian roast.
MEET ME AT SLEEP IN TEN MINUTES IF U WAN AN ASS KICKING
Dear god its 2am and I’ve finally finished putting this bed together AAA
I don’t have any covers yet and I’m still setting up my improv pokemon plushies shelf in the space behind it but OKAY I STILL FEEL ACCOMPLISHED
I fit this goddamn bed in this tiny room and now I can sleep on a normal mattress for the first time in six years THE LUXURY IS TOO MUCH TO HANDLE!!!
Also srsly this thing is SO TALL its like 3/4s my height
And it has storage space under the bottom and I have four pillows and two duvets and just Jesus Christ if this isn’t the best sleep in all of history I want my money back
My hair dye was already fading but its gotten like ten times worse from all the sweat! That mattress was heavier than my couch!
Its gonna be angsty but with a happy ending so don’t worry peeps, it’s just gonna take some time to get there.
I hope you enjoy and support the story!
“Get up” Seokjin asked for what must be the sixth time, he
had about two more tries in him before he took a more drastic measure of waking
up the sleeping boy. The boy could sleep through the apocalypse if he tried
hard enough, and unbeknown to the boy he was about to start one if he didn’t
get his ass up out of bed sometime in the next ten seconds.
Seokjin let out an exasperated sigh and bent down to come
level with the sleeping boys face and leant in to his ear to whisper a rather
ominous “If you don’t get your ass moving in the next five seconds, I will
flush your precious usb and its back up’s down the toilet”
That inspired some movement from the boy, he opened one eye,
glaring at Seokjin. “You wouldn’t dare”
Seokjin smirked, “You wanna try me?”
They had an intense stare down for a few more seconds before
Yoongi decided to admit defeat – this time. He started unwrapping himself from
the blanket cocoon he had made himself, grumbling the whole time and cursing
Seokjin out. Seokjin stood up, patting himself on the back in a job well done,
“So, why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?” Yoongi
muttered from his spot – still on the goddamn bed – patting down his bed hair
and valiantly trying to stay awake.
“It’s 12’o’clock” Seokjin incredulously replied with a
“Like I said, this ungodly hour.”
“Whatever….” Seokjin took a few moments to compose himself
(Read: To stop him from committing murder). “You told me yesterday that you had
to be at a meeting for 1’oclock so to wake you up an hour earlier, and here we
are, me having to suffer because you are a pain in the ass that can’t use a
regular alarm clock like everyone else” Seokjin finished by throwing his arms
out dramatically and placing them on his hips.
“Oh…right” Yoongi sheepishly admitted. He stood up
stretching his arms above his head, until he heard a satisfying pop of his
back, making Seokjin cringe. Seokjin was still stood there watching Yoongi, his
eyes unknowingly falling to the strip of skin on show while Yoongi was
stretching, it was pale and despite what one would think, nicely toned, I mean
it wasn’t a six pack but it was nice – really nice. So, nice that he found
himself wondering what it would feel like to touch with his fingertips, his
lips and what it would taste like against his tongue. Seokjin snapped out of
his musings, hearing the groan Yoongi let out after he had finished stretching,
cringing to himself over his previous thoughts and try to push them as far back
into his mind as he could.
Bad Seokjin, bad.
“I’m gonna go get ready then, thanks for waking me up Jin”
Yoongi smirked, reaching out to squeeze Seokjin’s shoulder as he passed him on
his way to the bathroom, stroking down his arm and keeping it there until it
could no longer keep contact.
“Your welcome” Seokjin responded, still slightly flustered
from his thoughts to properly reply.
Seokjin was stood at the counter, placing omelettes onto to
plates, humming to himself and swaying side to side. Seokjin was trying to keep
himself busy and his mind off his previous thoughts. He really needed to get
his shit together, he either needed to tell Yoongi about his feeling and just face
the consequences or admit it wasn’t ever gonna happen and start to move on.
Yoongi and Seokjin had been friends since they were
children, attending the same schools and college until university took them
separate ways. Seokjin chose acting as his major with a side of culinary arts,
whereas Yoongi had gone for music – specifically producing it. Despite their
different passions, they had decided to continue their roommate arrangement and
moved in together after they had graduated from college, they had always been
together, they lived well with one another and knew each other inside and out,
so why should any of that have to change?
Now that both had graduated from university, they chose to
still live together they just upgraded the place in which they lived, luckily
for them they could afford it. Immediately after graduation, Yoongi had been
offered several opportunities and was now making a name for himself in both
producing and rapping. Seokjin was very proud.
As for Seokjin, all throughout school up till university, he
was modelling on the side and the money he made from that had gone into his
saving so by the time he had left university he had saved up quite a pretty
penny while also simultaneously making connection in the modelling word and
gaining respect in the area which would hopefully help him in his aspirations
of becoming an actor. He had had a few small roles but was hoping for something
more substantial in the future – but Seokjin was content where he was for the
moment – he had a part time job in a top end restaurant, small acting roles
here and there and his modelling gigs all made sure that he was able to live
comfortably enough while he took the necessary steps to making it big.
So Seokjin was content with his life – happy even. There was
just one tiny problem and that was the fact he was in love. Usually that’s a
happy thing, something to be celebrated but in this instance, it was
threatening to suffocate Seokjin with anxiety whenever he thought about it. Seokjin
was in one of the most cliché scenarios ever –
he was in love with his best friend.
Seokjin wanted to deny it and rage against it but that
seemed to take much more effort than simply accepting the fact that he was in
love with Yoongi, so he had come to terms with it. There was no big epiphany or
revelation, around a year ago he was just lounging around on the sofa with
Yoongi when he looked at him and the thought just kinda popped in there and
refused to leave (the little bastard).
Seokjin was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice
Yoongi making his way over “What smell so good?” and startled him so bad with his question that
he nearly dropped the plates he was
“Jesus Christ, why don’t you make noise when you move?”
Seokjin, totally did not scream, was precariously balancing two plates and two
glasses of juice in his arms while glaring at Yoongi, clearly flustered.
“Are you sure you’re not part cat?” Seokjin demanded,
setting the breakfast items down on the table.
Yoongi Shrugged in response.
“Looks good” Yoongi appraised, he set himself down in one of
the chairs taking a sip of his juice, digging in once Seokjin had also sat down
across from him. He made a noise of approval after his first bite, causing
Seokjin to smile over at him, a faint pleased blush making its way on to his
“So, what’s this meeting all about then?”
“Hmm? Oh, it’s for a new upcoming idol group, apparently,
they are “highly anticipated” and are guaranteed to “make it big”” Yoongi
couldn’t help but roll his eyes, every manager/company said the same bullshit.
“Usually it takes more than that to capture your attention
though?” Seokjin questioned between bites.
“Yeah, well, I heard some samples from them and they
actually sound pretty good – I can see some real potential, if they put the
work in.” Yoongi admitted.
“Wow that’s high praise coming from you,” Seokjin looked
interested “you’ll have to let me have a listen sometime” Yoongi nodded his
head in agreement.
The conversation was interrupted but the ringing of Yoongi’s
phone, he took it out from his pocket and gave a brief glance at the screen
“What’s up Namjoon?” Yoongi questioned immediately.
“Because every time you ring me it’s to either give me shit
or because someone’s fucked something up – usually you.”
Seokjin watched Yoongi in amusement as he played with his
remaining food, listening to Namjoon disinterestedly, rolling his eyes every so
often and letting out sighs. Signalling to Seokjin to “Kill me now”.
“I know Namjoon, I’m gonna be there in like fifteen minute –
tops. Okay? Yes, yes, I know. Okay I’m hanging up now. See you in a bit” Yoongi
ended the call placing the phone in his pocket, he stuffed the remaining food
in his mouth, washing it down with the juice before standing up and grabbing
his keys from the counter making his way to the door to slip his shoes on.
“Right better get off before I’m late and I have to listen
to Namjoon chew my ear off”
Seokjin let out a small chuckle. “You know you love him
Yoongi” Yoongi snorted glancing at Seokjin in a way that expressed the “shut
the fuck up” without uttering a single word.
“So what are you gonna get up to today?” Yoongi asked, while
he was packing the last few things in his bag.
“Nothing much, just gonna chill really, I don’t usually get
a day to myself so think I just wanna pull a Yoongi and laze around all day”
Seokjin replied with a grin, Yoongi answered him with a middle finger causing
Seokjin to let out one of his signature windshield wiper laughs. Yoongi grinned
“Right well enjoy your awesomely inspired lazy day – don’t
have too much fun without me” Yoongi called out before making his way out of
the apartment, giving a small final wave to Seokjin who returned it with a
flying kiss, causing Yoongi to let out a snort before closing the door behind
As soon as Yoongi left, Seokjin let out a deep sigh letting
his arms drop to his side.
pairing: Jungkook x Reader word count: 1027 words genre: fluff??? angst?? a/n: idk what this is so i hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, would this qualify as a oneshot or drabble? who knows.
When your coworker asks you why you stick around you struggle because… Why? How do you put into words that he’s your whole world and it’d be like giving away your heart and soul if you no longer got to wake up and know he loves you of all people.
The dreamscape post is amazing, bless you for squashing my heart so! Imagine Fury briefing Bucky before he gets sent into the dreamscape and Bucky's struggle with submitting to all the medical equipment and the vulnerability of it all.
(The original dreamscape post is here. Reading it first is in no way compulsory, but things may make more sense.)
“What I’m about to say does not leave this room, understood?”
Bucky nods, not quite sure what he’s agreeing to. This was not the demeanor of a Director who was planning a memorial for a national icon seventy years dead.
“The reconnaissance teams found the plane,” Fury says, slowly, measuredly. “They located Captain Rogers’ body and treated him as a hypothermia victim, as a precaution, because, well…” Fury gestures politely in Bucky’s direction. Bucky nods again, slightly impatiently this time. There’s a fluttering starting in Bucky’s chest, somewhere between fear and hope.
“They found a pulse,” Fury says, in that same calm, careful tone. “And a while after that, he started breathing on his own.”
“Oh,” Bucky says. “Oh, fuck.” The fluttering surges up: panic and exhilaration and he—doesn’t—know—what. He closes his eyes, trying to ride it out. “Fuck.” Wild hope is closing up his throat, choking him. He squashes it, ruthlessly.
“What’s his brain scans look like?” he asks, roughly, because no one’s actually used the word ‘alive’ yet.
“No damage that they can see,” Fury says. “His brain scans come back not just normal but active.”
“Active,” Bucky echoes, and the fluttering is morphing into something that wants to be horrified shivers.
“He’s unconscious,” Fury says. “And given how fast the serum’s knit his broken bones back together, there’s no damn medical reason why he’s unconscious.” Fury opens the file on the desk. Bucky reaches for the photographs, realizes how hard he’s shaking, and lets Fury spread the photos out in front of him. There’s image after image of the twisted wreck, of Steve’s not—corpse looking so very dead.
“He lived through the crash,” Bucky whispers, touching the photo that showed Steve … half—excavated, his shield firmly on his arm. “He was awake for a while, maybe, enough to pick up his shield.”
“That’s the working theory,” Fury says.
Shit. Bucky rubs his temples. “I think I know where he might be. Sort of.” He very carefully doesn’t look up. “Sometimes — sometimes the cryosleep would go weird, and I’d be just…frozen, but conscious, and that was… awful. So I’d go somewhere else in my head and when they revived me again, I wasn’t there. I think — I think those were the times I’d wake up and there were wires in my skull and I’d be thrashing around like a fish on a hook. Let’s…” He raises his gaze to Fury who stares back, quite still. “Let’s not do that to Steve.”
“Let’s not,” Fury agrees quietly.
Bucky exhales soundlessly. “Point is, if Steve was conscious for a while after the crash, freezing into something like cryosleep because the serum was keeping him alive…he might have left for a while, too. He might be down deep enough that he doesn’t know it’s safe to come back.”
Fury’s very sigh indicates he thinks this is a stupid—ass idea, but he pushes another file towards Bucky, this one labeled Top Secret, too, but also Stark Industries and Experimental. “There might be a way to go and get him.”
Do you have any theories as to why the Granada series omitted Watson's proposal? I thought it was the most profound moment in the original story- when Watson says he's got a marriage from the case but what does Holmes have and Holmes simply (and tragically) says he's got the cocaine. Wonder why they disregarded such a crucial plot point
Well first, here’s what Michael Cox, the producer of the show, had to say:
“I think that the great strength of all the stories is that the relationship between Holmes and Watson is simply one of the greatest friendships in all of literature. And it doesn’t quite work if there’s a wife around the corner. My theory is that Doyle rather regretted marrying Watson off.”
And then there’s Jeremy:
“She would have got in the way. Watson was always more in love with Holmes—in a pure sense—than he could have been with a woman.”
I was considering this a bit today as I was watching The Sign of Four, but I was thinking about it the other way around - I was questioning why they played up Watson’s “attraction” to Mary Morstan so much if they weren’t going to go through with the canon relationship he and Mary had. At first one would think it’s a nod to canon John/Mary, but if they didn’t go through with a full proposal/marriage, I look back on that episode and have to wonder, what then was the point? Although I have yet to watch any episodes after TSOF, I already know that John/Mary doesn’t happen in the Granada ‘verse, so if Watson’s constant comments and attentions to Mary in TSOF weren’t leading to a proposal during that episode or in an future episode, what did these moments offer?
This is what I think they offered (but I didn’t pay 100% attention to the episode, so this is upon one surface-level watch): an opportunity to see how Holmes reacts when his relationship with Watson is threatened (we’d already kind of seen the opposite with Adler…ish). At the beginning of the episode Watson tells Holmes he see sees a pretty lady crossing the street to perhaps come see him. What does Holmes do? He tries to reroute Watson’s attentions back to him. On the surface, he is “complaining” about how Watson writes about Holmes, but really he is reminding Watson just how romantically he writes and describes Holmes, and just how warm he thinks of him. He wants Watson to focus on Watson&Holmes.
Then, when Mary is in 221B, and again Watson’s attention is strongly focused on her, Holmes ‘chastises’ Watson for how cluttered their flat is, not only again trying to attract Watson’s attention back to him, but perhaps to show Mary, this potential threat, that they are two men happily living domestically with one another. He also uses a lint roller to basically caress his body and just completely doesn’t focus on what Mary is saying but is trying to have the focus pulled back to him.
Then at the end of the episode Holmes completely ignores Mary when she leaves the flat while Watson continues to make bisexual googly eyes at her. And then finally, Watson is watching Mary outside the window and commenting on her beauty, but Holmes again tries to pin the focus back on the two of them. He comments how he solved the case but that Watson will write it up. He mentions the romantic writing again, but really the focus is how they are the team - him solving, Watson writing, and that is how it is and will always be, despite any temporary romantic obstacles. While Watson looks out (with a rainbow in the shot), we see Holmes in a mirror perhaps affected a bit by how Watson had acted with Mary (maybe?). The last lines are so heartbreaking:
WATSON: *looking out window with a rainbow* What a very attractive woman.
HOLMES: *sprawled out on his bed* Was she? (a statement or a question?) I hadn’t noticed (HE IS SO SOFT AND SAD?)
And Watson continues looking out the window and smoking with that goddamned rainbow and Holmes is still sprawled on the bed. Honestly those two are stuck in hell. Wanting and needing to stay with one another but not being able to safely allow their feelings to come to the surface. Perhaps Watson is attracted to her, but it also seems like they are both mourning how it is okay for Watson to say this of a woman, but not be able to say this out loud about Holmes. They are sad and pining and while Watson may see opportunities for a second-level of happiness with someone else, he will always choose Holmes, even if it can’t be what they both want it to be in that kind of society. That’s kind of how I read that episode, at least.
To end this rather long response (eesh - perhaps I just should have copied and pasted those two quotes instead of going on a rant), while thinking about all of this today I was also thinking of Liddy’s post on BBC Sherlock Mary being a personification of Victorian homophobia, and a representation of what really kept Holmes and Watson (and John and Sherlock) away from one another. It kind of all coincides into a jumbled mess of angsty feels….
In the two years Nico had been back at camp, Nico had come to be known as the kid who sleeps until noon. It didn’t really bother anyone, he didn’t have a cabin to lead – it was just him, but he still had some responsibilities.
Will was named honorary “get Nico out of bed, goddamn it” by pretty much everyone, since he was the one Nico was less likely to try and hurt in a fit of exhausted rage. Didn’t mean he still hadn’t had a pillow, a stuffed dragon, and a copy of Machiavelli’s “The Prince” thrown at him. But the ends justified the means, and the means to get Nico to the cabin counselors meetings had been made up of tickling, giving away clothes, a promise of coffee, a promise that he could go back to bed when it was over, and a few other things Will would rather keep private.
This day, Will came armed and ready with a large mug of black coffee.
He held the coffee next to Nico’s face, which was eighty percent pillow.
“Nico…” Will said, “Come on, get up now.” Nico moved a little and muttered something in Italian.
Will held the mug by his face again, but moved it swiftly when Nico went to grab it. Will kept moving it farther and farther away from Nico, waiting for him to stand, or at least sit up. But instead, Nico made things harder, and just flopped forward, reaching out for it with his face still down, until he eventually just feel onto the floor.
“Oww,” he groaned, WIll tried not to laugh as he sat on the floor, nudging Nico to sit up.
“Good morning sweetie.” Will said in the cheeriest voice he could muster. Nico rubbed his eyes almost violently before snatching up the coffee.
“I hate you and everything you stand for.”
“Exactly.” Nico stood up and sat back on his bed, sipping at the coffee, Will followed, getting comfortable and resting his head on Nico’s shoulder.
“You know,” Will said, “there really isn’t anything super important happening at today meeting …”
Nico’s eyes widened, “William Solace,” he said most dramatic voice, “are you suggesting that we skip the meeting?”
Will shrugged, “Maybe.”
“Good,” Nico put the mug on his bedside table and pulled the blankets off, “because there was no way I was sitting though another meeting about strawberry sales.”
So Clint is married in AOU but imagine this though Clint takes the rest of the avengers to his farm and then he's like 'honey i'm home' and Coulson comes out from the kitchen wearing a flowery apron follwed by Skye, Jemma and Leo. And Skye is like did you bring Natasha and then Clint goes 'guys meet my lovely husband and these are the ducklings that follow him around so we just adopted them'
oh man, it’s been forever since I thought much about C/C, but this is the dream, right here. clint and phil with a farm and all the kids running around the property.
… alright, maybe the farm is technically shield owned, and maybe the farm was just a cover/safe house for another mission, and maybe clint still has an apartment in bed stuy, but goddamn it, they were trying to GET AWAY for their honeymoon! just a week! just a week on a farm, out in the countryside, away from the world’s chaos.
but, well, it’s clint. so of course bad luck is going to follow him. of course.
(… but maybe he and phil were getting a little bored anyway. there’s only so much sex you can have in the hayloft before you start getting the urge to shoot things and climb tall buildings again.)
also, nat looks at the little aos ducklings and immediately asks, “alright, so which one did you name after me?”