yeah... until i get on my own this is how i feign being interesting

Meet Me Inside - Part 6

Part 5 | Masterlist |  Part 7

Relationship: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You really wanted your last year to go without a hitch so you could finally get your Masters degree. But then Professor Barnes walks in to your lecture. And he makes it a whole lot harder to focus.

A/N: Oof this is rough. Sorry lol. HUGE shoutout to @poe-also-bucky for helping me through this one. I was ready to delete everything lol you’re a sweetheart.

Warnings: Language, mentions of dream

Words: 1838

Originally posted by damnirvine

Of all the people you would ever have expected to see tonight, Professor Barnes was the last person you’d have guessed. But life is a fickle bitch. And so that is precisely who you have the fortune to meet.

And is if that wasn’t enough, the moment you lay your eyes on him, images of his lips pressing against your skin flood your mind and you look away immediately.

Fuck fuck fuck this is the last thing I need.

“You’re hilarious” Steve deadpans as Barnes comes to stand beside him before Rogers introduces him to the group. “This is Professor James Barnes, although I know some of you have the misfortune of being in his classes” Rogers smiles at you and trying to casually return the gesture is difficult when you see Natasha look at you from the corner of your eye.

Steve turns to order drinks for the group and Nat waits till there is enough chatter amongst the group before asking “So what did Rogers mean by that look?”

“What look?” you try to act unfazed. It doesn’t work.

That look. How did he even know you’re in his class?”

A loud guffaw from one of the guys breaks you both from your hushed conversation and you’re secretly relieved. You hadn’t told Natasha about Steve walking in on Bucky flirting with you and the more time that passed, the less likely it seemed that you would delve in to that specific event. You weren’t sure if it was because you were embarrassed by what happened or if talking about it would just make it all the more real.

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The Incident™

Rated: Explicit
Word count: 2673
Summary: Being roommates for as long as they had been, they really should’ve seen this coming before now… OR she saw his, then he saw hers, then they did something about it.

Thanks to @cutiepiemish who helped beta 😊

-
The Incident™

Betty was exhausted. She had just finished her fourth twelve hour shift in a row- “a story never sleeps, Elizabeth,” her mother would say- and she was so excited for her head to hit the pillow she could hardly see straight.

That’s probably why she didn’t hear the shower running when she entered her apartment, that’s probably why she didn’t notice the dirty clothes sticking out of the slightly open bathroom door, and that’s also probably why she didn’t register that her very handsome, very wet, very naked roommate was getting himself out of the shower and reaching for his towel when she barged in, until it was infinitely too late.

He screamed. She screamed. Neither of them moved. He was frozen in all his toned, lithe glory, completely exposed before her and she was equally frozen staring, embarrassed while simultaneously sending thanks to whatever gods happened to be on her side.

After several moments spent suspended in time, Betty broke the silence. “JUGGIE! Oh my god, I am so so so so so so sorry!”

It was as if her words snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He scrambled for his towel to cover himself in order to preserve whatever modesty he still had. She tried to cover her eyes and step out of the steamy room to give him the illusion of privacy.

“It’s okay, Betts,” he assured her. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me almost naked before anyway, right?”

“Haha, yeah.” Except she hadn’t almost seen him naked. You’d think so, because they’ve lived together for the duration of most of their adult lives, but she had done very well at giving him the space she knew a twenty-something guy would want. She was his roommate, not his girlfriend.

The closest to naked she’d seen before that night was probably him sans shirt after a hard day of work with Archie and his father at the construction company. She’d never even seen him in his boxer briefs and absolutely never without his beanie.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna… go to my… room now. Okay?” He said, awkwardly trying to shuffle past her.

“Um, yeah. I’m just gonna… go to bed.” She forwent any bathroom usage and buried herself in her pillows, embarrassment and all.

-

She tried so hard to pretend that night never happened. Really, she did. Except she had always found Jughead attractive and after you see a body like his with a face like his and hair like his, it’s really hard to pretend you didn’t see a thing. So she avoided him the next day, and the day following that, until she was finally able to meet with Veronica.

“V!” Betty whined, shoving her face into a pillow, willing it to smother her shame. When that didn’t work she continued: “What do I do now? I mean, we’ve been roommates forever! You and Archie have known us forever! Did I just disrupt the dynamic of the Core Four? WHAT DO I DO?!”

Veronica struggled to hold in her laughter. Leave it to Betty Cooper to feel guilty about seeing a gorgeous man in all his glory, as if Jughead would mind. He’s only loved her for forever. “Uh, B? First thing’s first; get a hold of yourself. Secondly, you are aware that to Jug you may as well have hung the sun in the sky, right? He’s in love with you, sweetie.”

Betty rolled her eyes at Veronica’s suggestion. Seriously, she and Jughead had lived together for almost six years. If he showed any interest in her the way she had in him, surely he would have said something by now. Veronica continued despite Betty’s stubborn denial. “You should give him a peek, B. It’s only fair.”

“What.” Betty replied using a statement rather than a question. She could hardly believe Veronica would suggest such a thing. “How in the hell would you suggest I give him a ‘peek’ exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Use your imagination. You don’t even need to tell him if you aren’t comfortable with it.” She paused, tapping a well-manicured fingernail against her chin. “Oh! I got it! Sometime when you know he’s home, run out of your bedroom in your lacy cheeky lingerie set. You know the one. When he sees you, pretend you didn’t think he was home and voila! Everyone is even and the two of you can bang and get it out of your system. Or marry him. Whichever”

Betty laughed. Whether Veronica was joking or not (Betty had a feeling she was not), she thought that her idea might actually work. It would, at the very least, help Betty feel less guilty.

The two women spent the rest of the afternoon discussing mundane topics while simply enjoying one another’s company before Veronica left for her and Archie’s apartment. “See you soon, B. And if you follow through, you better provide me with all the deets!” She spun with a flourish and took off towards the elevator down the hall.

-

That night Betty dreamt of smooth skin glistening with slick moisture sliding over her own warm, bare body, fingers exploring uncharted territory and tongues warring with one another through deep, intoxicating kisses. It was a really great dream and she most definitely did not want to wake up.

-

Betty, wearing her finest lacy lingerie set- light blue cheeky panties with a matching bra and garter- checked herself over in her floor-length mirror. Her bedroom door was closed and the rest of the apartment empty for the time being, though Jughead was due home any minute. She had a plan. She would hear him come in, put her earbuds in her ears, and strut her stuff “accidentally” in front of her roommate, feigning ignorance to the fact that he would be home at all.

She turned so that her butt was facing the mirror. Did she look alright? Would he think she was attractive? A very big part of her hoped so.

She finally heard the apartment door open then close again. She took a deep, centering breath and put the earbuds in their designated positions before turning on her playlist and heading out of her room.

She was disappointed, however, to find that he was nowhere to be seen. She could’ve sworn she heard the door though. She walked through their apartment and yanked her earbuds from her ears. “Juggie?” No answer. His bedroom door was closed, though, indicating he had probably gone straight there. Still avoiding the awkwardness, no doubt.

Well, Betty couldn’t exactly just barge into his room unannounced and nearly nude, could she? No. She went back to her room and threw some leggings on with a comfortable tee and ventured to the kitchen to dig up some lunch.

As she was standing at the stove watching her burgers sizzle, she heard Jughead’s door open. “Whatcha makin’, Betts?” He asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look.

“Your favorite, Jug. Grab some plates?” If this was the most normal they had been in several days, she would take it without complaint, despite her plan not having worked the way she would have liked.

She flipped the burgers and checked on the fries which were finishing up in the air fryer as Jughead brought two plates over. They worked together to finish their lunch, then sat down to enjoy.

-

After their lunch that day, everything seemed to be back to normal, except Betty found Jughead wore less clothing and more confidence around her. She both loved and hated this new version of him.

He was pretty much constantly in shorts if not his boxer briefs alone. No shirt. No beanie. His body wasn’t incredibly built, but more defined and toned with hidden hills and valleys of muscle. He had the body of someone who was much stronger than they appeared.

Betty really liked it.

But for the length of their friendship and their roommate status, he’s been boxed up in Betty’s mind as Jughead: Friend and Roommate and Totally Off Limits. This new Jughead made fitting into that box in Betty’s mind incredibly difficult.

She tried her hardest to ignore that feeling deep in her belly that suggested she needed a new box for him.

-

Betty was late as hell. She had a 20 minute commute to work and less than ten minutes before she was due to start. She was floundering around trying to find a damn shirt when she looked at the clock. She was so fired after today.

“FUCK!” She yelled as she started digging deeper… nothing she picked up looked as though it would fit or look right and she was about to break down and cry.

“Betty?” Jughead asked as he opened her door. “Are you… Naked! Oh god you’re naked fuck Betts I’m so sorry…” he was staring. Not covering his eyes. Apologizing, yeah, but made no move to correct his error before Betty grabbed the nearest thing she could find to cover herself. His eyes darkened.

“Hi, Jug,” she said, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and something… else. Satisfaction, perhaps, that her plan was carried out after all despite it coming into fruition in a completely unexpected and inconvenient way.

“Call off work, Betty.” He told her. It wasn’t a request but rather a very serious demand.

“Why?” She asked, noticing but trying her best to ignore the sultry look in his eye.

“Just… Do it. Please.” And with that, he turned and headed for his own room.

-

He was only gone a few moments before returning to her bedroom just as she was hanging up her phone. She, much to his dismay, had thrown a baggy shirt over herself in his absence.

“Did they take it well?” He asked her, the dark features of his face still taking in the parts of her that remained exposed.

“They said I deserved a day after all the extra hours I’ve put in. I’m off the hook.”

“Excellent,” he muttered as he strode toward her bed. “May I sit?”

She shifted to make room for him. In doing so, the hem of her shirt reached a dangerous position, nearly baring her to his hungry gaze. She could have sworn she heard him whimper, though he would deny it she was sure.

“So… That happened.” She laced her fingers together and placed her hands in her lap willing her forced, awkward smile to get the hell off her face.

“That it did. So. You saw mine and I saw yours.”

“Yep,” she replied, her lips audibly popping at the end of the word.

“And what should we do about that, Betty?” He asked, clearly suggesting he already had an idea of what he’d like to do. She blushed from her chest to her forehead. He tossed a devastatingly handsome smirk in her direction.

“Listen, Juggie. We’ve been roommates forever and more importantly friends. Whatever happens here today, let’s not forget that, okay?” Ever the voice of reason, Betty needed to say it.

Jughead nodded and she pounced.

-

She brought her hands to either side of his face and brought her lips to his in a bruising kiss, which he eagerly returned. His hands found her waist with ease as he pulled her onto him so that she straddled his lap, allowing their bodies easier access to one another.

“You know, you’re really sexy under all those layers, Juggie,” Betty said between breaths.

He let out a small chuckle. “Your body is incredible, Betts. Incredible.” His mouth connected with hers again, tongues tasting one another, before he added, “Your legs go on for days.”

Her mouth moved from his over to his jawline where she nipped, eliciting a growl from his chest which she was very eager to hear again. Her lips traveled from his jaw to his ear, down to the thick tendon in his neck.

His hands roamed her body as she tasted his skin. He filed away the hills and valleys of her form over her clothing before he grabbed the hem of her shirt and silently requested permission by tugging at it.

Betty nodded, permission granted.

She broke away from the spot she had been lavishing on his collarbone so that he could remove the only thing separating his hungry gaze from all of her. He tossed the offending article to the ground before bringing his hands to her breasts with a soft groan of appreciation.

“Betts, you’re perfect.” He lowered his mouth to one of her nipples while finding the other with his thumb. She rolled her hips over him in response.

“Are we really doing this, Jug?”

“Fuck, yes, Betty Cooper. Absolutely.”

“Excellent,” she replied before shoving herself off his lap. She kneeled beside him and encouraged him to help her remove his boxers. As he did so, she wasted no time feeling his impressive length. “I’ve wanted to do this since the day I saw you,” she said.

“Do wha-” Before he could finish his question, her mouth had descended. He uttered wordless praise and wound his fingers into her golden locks as she worked him with both her mouth and hand until he could hardly stand it.

He gently, and reluctantly, pulled her off him before he could finish. “Your turn,” he whispered urging her to lay before him.

He nudged her legs open. Starting at her feet, he softly drug his fingertips up her legs, approaching her inner thighs but he completely bypassed where she wanted him the most. He could see her desire, yet he couldn’t resist teasing.

He brought his mouth to her breast where he nibbled and kissed her nubs until she was practically panting his name, begging for his touch.

“What do you want, Elizabeth?”

“Your mouth, your fingers, your dick… just you. All of you. Please.”

He smiled before dropping his fingertips to her center. She was so wet, he had to taste her. Once his head was nestled between her legs, her fingers found his unruly black strands where she held on for the ride.

His tongue danced around her sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers pumped in and out of her, quickly unraveling her to a shaking mess. “Juggie, I’m so close,” she sighed. He quickened his pace until he felt her come undone. He slowly worked her through it before bringing his lips up to hers where he allowed her to taste herself.

Before she had a chance to say or do anything, Jughead had already procured the condom he must have brought from his bedroom and stashed somewhere in the bed and was rolling it onto himself. He lined up with her entrance and paused.

“Are you sure?” He asked

“Just do it, please! No more teas-ah!”

He thrust into her causing her words to get caught in her throat. He allowed her to adjust to his size for a moment before slowly pulling almost all the way out. Again he paused and after a moment pushed back in. Both Betty and Jughead became lost in the pleasure of it along with one another.

Through it all, their lips kept finding each other and hushed whispers were passed between the two of them. Why did we wait so long, you feel amazing, Juggie, please don’t ever stop, and I think I might love you along with I think I might love you too.

She shattered first, her inner walls fluttering around him causing him to tumble after, coming with her name on his lips.

-

“That was… wow.” Betty said.

“You bet it was,” Jughead replied as he laid back down beside her.

They sat in comfortable silence for several moments before he asked, “So where does this leave us, Betts?”

Her face lit up with a dazzling smile. “Well Forsythe, as long as you never call me Elizabeth again, you’re never getting rid of me.”

He smiled that kind of smile reserved for the best moments in life before wrapping himself around her. “You got it, Betts.”


-

Please let me know what you think! 💛💙

The Wedding Planner (Part 1)

Summary– Being a wedding planner is all fun and games until suddenly you’re saved from an accident by the man of your dreams– later discovering that he happens to be your latest client’s fiancé. 

Author’s Note– First off, I am just beyond excited for this series! I absolutely loved this movie and figured, “Why not make it into a series and add my own twist to it?” So I finally did and I really hope you all enjoy it! feedback would be greatly appreciated folks.

Originally posted by jennymagicalheart

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||❥ wrong number. 02.  {nsfw}

m » soonyoung

genre: yeah… u know what genre it is… rated m for my fucking soul left my body as i wrote this.

word count: 4 380

request: a follow up scenario to wrong number which is here. except this time it’s not my old horrid writing and it’s no longer over some messages over the phone ;) it’s a drive-in movie + thighs are involved. just sin.


“I can’t believe you fucking did that, [Y/N].”

A wide smile skittered across your lips, from corner to corner, pulling taunt and pushing upward the apples of your cheeks. Despite the moment being one you weren’t necessarily proud to share; it wasn’t enough for you to evade telling your best friend, the girl who was responsible for thrusting you into this mess. You’d met up for coffee before class started, and whilst Mina was occupied with dumping in one too many sugar packets into her mug, you preluded the conversation by bringing up Soonyoung’s number, the number you accidentally sent a very explicit text to.

You told Mina she shouldn’t bring that coffee anywhere near her lips as you described the story, yet she ignored you and inevitably payed the price as you whisper-shouted one of his messages across the table. Something along the lines of riding his thigh, ruining your body into an irreparable state, feeling how your legs tremble over his shoulders. You watched as she hastily slapped a napkin to her mouth, soaking up the hot coffee that spilt from her lips and just about stained her pretty eggshell blouse. Stop drinking it if you choke after everything I say, you chipped, it only gets worse. Though you couldn’t stand behind that last statement with a pure heart, especially when things were far from terrible the night you and Soonyoung had been pleasuring yourselves to the other’s texts.

“It wasn’t just me! Soonyoung was there too, ya know!” You replied to Mina’s flustered words, keeping pace with her as you exited the coffee shop. She tucked a curl of ash purple hair behind her ear, shooting you a look surprisingly scant with her features being so dainty and porcelain like.

“If you think about it, it’s your fault because you entered his number in my phone.”

Mina’s brows pinched together. “Maybe you should check who you’re texting, especially when you’re calling him hot and talking about how badly you want his hands on yo—,”

“Okay!” You balked with a prickling glow devouring your cheeks, “It was my fault too.” Together you arrived at the stop light, surveiling the opposite pole and waiting for that tiny walking man symbol to start twinkling. Mina was in a quarrel with her own thoughts, still baffled by coincidence that Soonyoung, her dance teacher, happened to be the same student you walked in on with another girl at the frat party. She couldn’t deny he was complete eye candy, though his ludic behaviour often times spurned her interest, especially when his best friend Seokmin was sprinkled into the mix.

“I guess I should also mention,” You huffed, pebbles strewn along the asphalt as the symbol finally flickered, “That he invited me to that drive in movie on Friday,” You gulped, ”

And I’m going.”

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Falling, Falling, Falling

Pairing: Klance

Word Count: 3,943

Tags: Altean Lance, Galra Keith, Miscommunication

Notes: I’d just like to give a big shout-out to @cryptidkeiths for editing this for me and another big thanks to @hunksheadbands for keeping me sane while I stressed over writing my first fic. i love you guys. 

Summary: Prince Lance has built walls to keep everyone out his entire life, and then, a curious new friend crash lands on Altea and begins to pull Lance from behind the wall.

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Torn Up (Part One)

Originally posted by leafbabies

A couple of disclaimers:  

1. I’ve never ever published an imagine before, and this is just the first part of many, so if you want to read more, shoot me a message and I’ll continue to post this story!

2. This is gonna be a big one. It’s already 15k words on the google doc, and I’m nowhere near halfway done, so I’ll be releasing it in parts if y’all want me to continue.

3. I’m not sure about the pairing yet, so in a couple parts if y’all have any opinions, feel free to weigh in!

Warnings:  Some foul language, probably rude jokes, ambiguous romance at this point… 

Parts Two through Five

The first time I tried coffee, I was convinced that it was the most vile thing on Earth. Granted, it was that super bitter, low-quality instant stuff. As I got older and tried higher quality beans and roasts, I fell in love with its complexity. Fast-forward seven years and there I was working as a barista in a quirky little coffee shop in downtown Toronto.

I had always wanted to go to college outside of the United States; I could never really stay contentedly in one place. The constant relocation that came with having parents whose jobs included constant moves was the most likely cause of my wanderlust. That, and the fact that I was raised in places like Germany and England, Texas and Canada. Out of the thirteen different places I had lived, Canada was my favorite; granted, it was Niagara Falls which was known for being very American. Canada was just foreign enough to be separate from the U.S., but Toronto was only seven hours away from where my parents had retired to in Indiana. They weren’t happy about me studying in another country, but conceded that Toronto wasn’t as bad as sending me off to Europe.

The stress of classes hadn’t quite hit me yet, as it was only three weeks into the fall semester of my freshman year at the University of Toronto. I was feeling confident enough to get a job at a coffee shop a couple of blocks away from campus and was enjoying the sense of purpose it gave me. I did however dread the idea that I would possibly have to give it up if my grades started to slip. Granted, the employee benefits of working at a niche little place like Espresso Yourself, along with the free coffee and flexible hours, it would be difficult to leave, no matter how tough my classes got.

After about a month of working at Espresso Yourself, I already had a few regular customers. Most of them were young professionals who would show up in immaculate suits and with purposeful, if not superior, expressions on their faces. While they all seemed to order the same three things, kind of like how they all wore variations of the same three outfits, I learned to predict whether someone would order real coffee or a fancy, sugary drink from the rest of my customers.

Adversely, the only two true regulars who didn’t show up dressed like they would kill each other for a job were two young guys who pretty much lived in Toronto Maple Leafs gear. Despite them being regulars, they never seemed to show up at the same time every day, but by their third visit I knew them by name and their orders by heart. Mitch was the shorter of the two and without fail would order a caramel mocha with extra whip. His friend Auston (double espresso, splash of cream) teased Mitch mercilessly after every order for choosing something so sugary and girly, to which Mitch complained that it was the only out of diet thing he consumed and that he was trying to put on weight anyway. The two bickered like frat boys. Or old women.

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Show Me Who’s Boss

Request: “Can you write a credence smut with like thigh riding ??” + “Can you write another fic where credence is really sensitive to touch and its kinda smutty? Thx”

Pairing: Credence Barebone x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT

Ice and fire, a mingling of contradictory feelings arising from your attentive touch. Cold where your hands pressed against his arm, and hot when the subsequent heat flowed around the area, his blood itself pooling to the area your fingers caressed. You were just talking, smiling and chatting away with Queenie while you thoughtlessly stroked his arm, your voice drowned out by the loud alarm sounding off in Credence’s head.

It was as if time slowed whenever you connected physically with him, your eyes fluttering in slurred motions, your lips parting with gentle breath. It was like watching a calm beach shore while in the eye of a storm, his entire body shifting towards you while you stood there innocently, continuing your affectionate subterfuge. Because he knew you knew what you were doing to him, he felt in the calculated way your fingers drifted purposefully across his veins, tickling them in such a featherlight way that it made him shiver. Each darting glance at the boy was only to confirm that you were driving him mad, each subtle airy sigh and lip bite dutifully noted by Credence while his tunnel vision focused on you.

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A Way to You Again: Part 10

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count:  1913

Catch Up Here

Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been fairly successful at keeping their relationship hidden from the rest of the Avengers. That is… until Nat walks into the kitchen one night and finds Bucky kissing Y/N. While Y/N is relieved that their relationship is out in the open it soon becomes more complicated than she could have ever imagined.



Author’s Notes: Thanks to the lovely

@melconnor2007

for the request. Happy Birthday Bucky!

Originally posted by veronikaphoenix

Originally posted by whitequeenblog

As my fist connected with the punching bag I felt a sense of relief. I tried not to envision Bucky’s face over and over, but the truth was – I had moved from heartbreak to anger after his behavior with Steve. My hands ached slightly as I continued my work.

“You’re probably going to regret not taping those up,” Nat’s voice floated quietly from behind me. I sighed heavily. Could no one in this fucking tower leave me alone for two seconds? Running away was becoming a much more desirable solution to my problems by the minute.

“What do you want, Nat?” I asked evenly as I continued to maneuver around the punching bag.

“To talk,” she responded quietly.

I steadied the bag with my hands as I laughed. “Everyone in this fucking tower seems to want to talk to me today, and you know what? I’m just not in a very talkative mood if I’m going to be completely honest. And why the fuck would you think I would want to talk to you?” I responded angrily as I turned towards her.

“I’m sorry,” she said clearly and loudly. The response disarmed me for a moment – I wasn’t planning on this being the conversation we were going to have.

“Sorry for what?” I stuttered back as I flexed my aching fingers.

“For what I said about Barnes…. For what I said about you. I was completely out of line.”

“It seemed like you didn’t care at the time,” I responded bitterly. I wasn’t ready to kiss and make up with anyone – especially her.

“I was… I was cruel and I’m so sorry. I was hurt by what he did, and I was angry at you which was unfair, but Y/N… he… Bucky loves you,” she responded sincerely as she walked towards me. Her last words hit me so heavily that I flinched at the sound of them.

“Did he put you up to this? Or are you just someone else that is trying to speak on his behalf when he could obviously not give a damn?” I asked bitterly as I crossed my arms in front of me.

“It’s your name,” she whispered.

“What?”

“It’s your name he calls out in his sleep. Every night since he’s gotten back.”

I bit my bottom lip nervously at this. “Have they been bad?” I asked – my tone deflating with my anger.

“The worst I’ve seen in years,” she added as she sighed. “Look…. Barnes – he may have trouble telling you… but it’s clear that he’s terrified to lose you.”

“Thanks,” I muttered bitterly as I turned on my heel and headed for the showers.


The rest of the day was luckily uneventful for the most part. I had promised Wanda that I would take her shopping and she had held me to that promise – cornering me as soon as I had exited the shower. For the most part it was a happy distraction from an otherwise miserable day until she forced me to go into Victoria’s Secret.

“Y/N, come on. Surely Barnes is a lingerie man?” Wanda asked as she quirked an eyebrow up in question.

I laughed nervously. Bucky and I had only had sex once before everything fell apart. I had no idea what kind of “man” he was nor did I really care to think about it at the moment. “I don’t really know Wanda… I just…”

“Oh come on – we’re here. You might as well look,” she urged. I sighed internally. Why had I agreed to even come in the first place? In the end it was at least better than awkwardly staring at Bucky through the gaping hole in the wall of my bedroom.

“Fine,” I muttered bitterly as I snatched the black lingerie set out of Wanda’s hands and stomped towards the dressing room.


As the elevator doors opened my nostrils were filled with the smell of something delicious cooking. Wanda had dragged me around at least half of the city throughout the day. My stomach growled at the smell. I was ready to eat and sleep.

“Hey!” Sam called to us from the couch in the common room. “You guys have fun?”

“Lots!” Wanda exclaimed as she walked quickly over to the couch to show Sam everything she had found – of course he would feign interest just for her. Sam had always had a soft spot for Wanda. I was determined to try to quickly get to my room to deposit my own bags – especially the one holding the lingerie that Wanda had demanded I buy.

“What about you, Y/N?” Sam called over. At the mention of my name Bucky’s head peeked from around the corner leading to the kitchen – his eyes immediately zoning in on the pink striped bag. He may have been a man out of time, but he sure as hell was a man and knew immediately what the bag contained. His faced became clouded with confusion as his eyes met mine. “Y/N?” Sam asked again loudly – making me jump. I immediately blushed and caught a glimmer of humor in Bucky’s eyes as I turned to Sam.

“Yeah it was fun,” I muttered as I quickly made my way back to my room.


When I rejoined everyone they were making their way to the dining room. 

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing,” I asked Sam.

“Dunno – Barnes cooked it,” he shrugged. This peaked my interest – typically Bucky was exempt from making meals unless he volunteered, which he never did.

As we walked into the dinning room my breath hitched in my throat. He had made the meal he had prepared on our first date – complete with homemade breadsticks. I couldn’t help the small smile that spread across my face. As I took in the room my eyes finally found Bucky’s the corners of which crinkled subtly. It was clear by the look on his face that he had done this for me. What Bucky failed at with words he excelled in by actions. We all sat around the table and quickly set to forking food onto our plates. I sat next to Sam and Steve again, but Bucky sat directly in front of me –always keeping his eyes trained on me to assess my reactions. Everything about the meal was wonderful and for the first time since my arrival I felt carefree.

“Y/N – Barnes, we’re keeping you off this mission. Everyone leaves tomorrow morning so try not to break anything else,” Tony said sardonically as he looked at Bucky. At this announcement I almost choked on my wine.

“Everyone?” I asked.

“Yes everyone,” Tony replied matter-of-factly.

“Can I inquire as to why Bucky and I are the only two people that aren’t needed on this mission?” I asked as I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.

Tony shrugged at this. “Just see it as being able to spend some quality time together. Also concerning the wall— perhaps we should just remove it since you two are… you know,” Tony quirked an eyebrow at this. This time I did choke – causing Bucky to look at me in surprise. This was obviously Tony’s way of telling us to fix our shit because he wasn’t going to deal with it anymore. “Anyways – what is everyone up for tonight? Other than watching The Hangover,” he added as Sam opened his mouth to speak.

“Maybe we could watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?” Bucky asked as he looked at me. Sam immediately moaned at the suggestion and I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Come on Sam. It’s my favorite movie and we haven’t watched it in forever!” I protested.

“Okay fine!” He whined in response.

“Well that’s settled then,” Tony announced as he rose from the table.


I sat on the couch waiting for Bucky to turn up before we started the movie. I felt like the day had made a dramatic shift for me. Each of Bucky’s actions had been carefully calculated to show how much he cared without crossing a line. I kept reminding myself that I still needed to be cautious. It seemed like every time I let myself have a tender moment with him something happened to further the hurt he had caused, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. Maybe it was the meal or him offering up my favorite movie to the group even though its story made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was hearing what he told Steve as they argued this morning…. or maybe it was Nat’s apology and revelation about the return of Bucky’s nightmares.

“You’re going to chew that thing off,” Bucky remarked as he looked at me with an amused grin. I jumped at the sound of his voice – I had been lost in thought waging my internal debate as I chewed on my bottom lip. He chuckled softly to himself before handing me my favorite blanket. As he settled down beside me I spread the blanket over both of us. He didn’t put his arm around me this time— rather settling for placing his hand near my own. As the movie started Bucky’s fingers curled lightly around my own causing me to wince. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“It’s nothing,” I grimaced as I mentally kicked myself for not taping my hands before practice. Bucky gently pulled my hand from under the blanket and examined it closely. My knuckles were certainly bruised. After shooting me a disapproving look he returned both of our hands back under the blanket. His hand took mine and began to expertly and gently massage each knuckle. I found his touch was still as intoxicating as the first time he had laced his fingers with mine.

Suddenly the movie paused and I looked around confused. Everyone was getting up to leave except for the two of us. “Where are you—” I began to ask but Tony cut me off.

“We all have to be up in the early morning hours. We’re going to call it a night, but you two should continue,” he said as a small smile formed on his face. “Goodnight,” he added with a wave before strolling out of the room. Everyone else said their goodnights and made their way to their rooms leaving just Bucky and myself.

“This feels like a set up,” I snorted indignantly as I stretched out on the couch. Bucky chuckled quietly at this. The tension between us was still uneasy, but no longer explosive. “Should we finish the movie?” I asked as I grabbed a pillow that Sam had tossed onto the floor and placed it beside Bucky before laying down. “I know you hate it,” I added.

“I don’t hate it, and even if I did – I would do anything to make you happy,” he replied, smiling sadly at me as he brushed the hair from my face. When I looked into his eyes I wanted so badly to forget about the last week, to forget about the things that we had both said and done that caused so much hurt, to kiss him and tell him we would be okay, but I knew if things were to ever improve we would have to have the talk that we had been skirting around – even during our more explosive interactions. And now wasn’t the time.

“Okay then it’s settled,” I responded with a grin as I grabbed the remote from where Tony had left it and hit play to resume the movie.


Tags: (I hope this is everyone – this tag list is out of control, and I’m a hot mess bahaha)

@bless-my-demons @lillian-paige @pleasefixthepain @nikkitia7 @kittthekat @ailynalonso15 @themistsofmyavalon @coffeeismylife28 @melconnor2007 @harleyqueen7 @sebbys-girl @marvel-lucy @lbouvet @totallygroovyllama @stickthinbarbie @avengers-bucky-fanfic @buckybarnesbestbabe @irepeldirt @glitterintheairblog @mizzzpink @barnesandnoble13 @themercurialmadhatter @bringmetheemobands @theloveablesociopath @selfdestructivefangirl @bellenuit45 @moncun @smkunz613 @ephemeral-high @the-craziestone @zxcorra @awinterloveuniverse @thefandomplace @hellomissmabel @imamoose @dont-let-me-go-again @barnes-and-noble-girl @hollycornish @amrita31199 @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @skeletoresinthebasement @iron-winter @mikaelarhead @shliic @queenllamamama13 @jasmins3 @caitsymichelle13 @winterboobaer @mytasterpeculiar @bexboo616 @sgt-jbb-107 @sapphire1727 @seargantbcky @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @fiercemonaco @marvelouslyloki @kendallefire @lilasiannerd @alyssaj23 @harleenquim @masha-meow01 @simplyashley95 @beautifulbri26 @buckyappreciationsociety @specs15 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @basicallybucky @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte @tequilavet @welovesebsquad @shamvictoria11 @megandrawsspace @axelinchen @domcaaa996 @get-weird-pjjl @buckypietroandstevearemyfavs @genlovesdcb @gingerbatchwife @specs15 @xthefuckerysquaredx @sammysgirl1997 @sebstanthemanxo @alltheprettyroyals @writingblockswriters @maygenjayne1 @sempiternal-amour @fine-ass-feminist @ladymelissastark @allinhishands @lostinspace33 @hollycornish @california-grown @dapaticaldodie @mcsmashdesigns @shifutheshihtzu @alltheprettyroyals @stacyscarlet04 @maygenjayne1

The Limits of Terminology

Words: ~5k

Tags: Friends to lovers. Defining the relationship.Slight mention of sex but nothing too graphic guys

Rating: Mature I guess. Cus of the sex.

Summary: Dan has referred to Phil as a lot of things over the years. Best friend. Housemate. Business Partner.

But terminology is limiting, and none of it feels like enough. How can one word encapsulate everything they mean to each other?

[AO3 Link]

Fic under the cut.

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Under the influence 1/1

This is what happens when I have late night conversations with @scully-loves-ruthie and we find epic gifs that just leave us howling.  This also features the prompt ‘I think you need stitches’ from @frangipanidownunder and  ‘Are you trying to flirt? Because you’re embarrassing yourself’ from anon.  It’s just ridiculous fluff but I promised @frizzyhairedbitch85 some fluff so here it is. @today-in-fic


It’s fair to say I have seen Mulder in some fairly compromising situations during our long and chequered partnership and while occasionally his actions have left me mildly bemused as to how to proceed, the sight of my partner - a law enforcement officer no less - standing practically naked at the dessert table surrounded by an assortment of senior citizens who are staring with mouths agape as he happily washes his face with the warm brown liquid chocolate that is streaming from the fountain that is the table’s central attraction is a fucking new one on me.

But I should probably start at the beginning.

We found ourselves ensconced in this mid-size town at the edge of nowhere a few days ago, the reports of an apparition of the spectral peeping Tom variety terrorising the young female population had piqued Mulder’s interest although I’m still not completely convinced exactly which part of the case had held such appeal to him that it necessitated a flight across country before the ink had even dried on the 302. 

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Give the People What They Want

here’s my first fic of the seven that are going up this week!

An accidental like on Twitter brings Dan more than he bargained for.

“Hey guys! I’m joined today by Dan, and we’re going to be doing the chapstick challenge!”

aka the one where Dan and Phil try to do the chapstick challenge and it doesn’t exactly go as planned

words: 2.8k

tags: chapstick challenge, friends to lovers, fluff, making out, slight grinding but no real smut

read it on ao3

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Deal With It (Let’s make this interesting) 1/2

Rival Poker Players AU.  Guys, you know what inspired this. Modern AU, but with a kind of Captain Wench flavor. Rivals to Lovers. Heavily influenced by the 1994 movie Maverick, but you don’t need to know anything about the movie or really very much about poker to hang with this. 

Rating: T for this chapter (mostly due to language), but M for the next part and I’m not chickening out this time

Summary: Emma Swan, poker hustler with more than just card tricks up her sleeve, meets Killian Jones, a fellow gambler, at a shady little casino down south. After a memorable first encounter, they seem to keep finding each other, but are they really ready to gamble with their hearts? Emma just doesn’t know if she can deal with it. 

[AO3]


Emma hates this place. Over her years of hustling poker, she’s become accustomed to the bleeps, dings and 8-bit digital “music” (sarcastic quotation marks very much intended) that make up the constant, mind-numbing background noise in a casino. She can handle the smell of stale cigarette smoke and human bodies that could use a break from gambling to, you know, actually shower or something. Even the watered down cocktails don’t bother her. Hell, those are probably a blessing in disguise - keeps her mind sharp without her having to order something non-alcoholic which might tip off her marks.

But this piddly-dink river casino hotel on the outskirts of Nowheresville, Louisiana? Really bringing her down. Maybe it’s the general air of despair and decay. Maybe it’s the humidity. She’s already regretting not putting her hair up. It’s starting to do that weird wavy thing it does sometimes, a few tendrils sticking to her neck. Not to mention her skinny jeans - great for attracting a mark, but not exactly comfort wear - are clinging unpleasantly to her legs, making her want to squirm.  Or maybe she’s just still pissed that she nearly broke the heel off of her favorite pair of fuck-me pumps on a ripped spot in the tacky patterned carpet. It’s all just so irritating and depressing.

She could’ve gone someplace nicer, true. Then she’d be spending too much of the money she’s trying to win off these poor bastards to pay for her lodgings. Or she could sleep in her car. Again. On this wet, drizzling mess of a night. Yeah, no. Fuck that.

Oh. Hey, look. She won again.

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Morgan Rielly - Part Eleven

I’m going to be re-writing my Nylander fic on my Wattpad account (HockeyImagines_) soon! I didn’t like how it turned out, and like a few people have noted I ended it pretty abruptly and now I have a better idea of what I want to do. So, if you would like to read it just search for me! I’ll make another post here on Tumblr when I make my first post on Wattpad. 

Shortly after I told Morgan I had my own board to play on, I realized I in fact did not. Now I’m standing in the board game aisle of my local store trying to decide if I like the special edition theme board better than the original.

               A small part of me is holding a small thrill at the thought of tomorrow morning. Okay, maybe a big part. The last two days have been like night and day from my first couple weeks working for the most scrutinized hockey team in the NHL. It’s like I had been pent up in a boarded house for the last five years and finally was able to pry open a window to breathe unfiltered air. Now my lungs are filled with the smell of spring and the scent of Morgan’s scarf which is wrapped securely around my neck currently.

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Dating Lena Luthor (Everyday can be our Valentine’s)

Originally posted by lenazorel

Request: Prompt Lena x reader, the reader forgot it’s Valentine’s Day and Lena is mad because it’s her first time celebrating valentines. So reader does a surprise romantic date night

a/n: Ahhhh this was so cute to do LOL. I was thinking about this all during work wondering wth I was gonna do with this!! Firstly, I don’t really think Lena would be angry, per se, so I switched this up just a tiny bit! There’s a funny little easter egg I put in here because I’m absolute katie trash, tell me if you find the Funny Joke. Thanks for reading btw y’all! You give me something to do lol. Requests are always open, and I’ll get to them hopefully every other day!

- - - - -

So maybe you were a little bit of an asshole. Actually, you are definitely the tiniest bit an asshole. You’re a good enough person, and you show basic human decency because you surely weren’t raised to be a farm animal with no manners. You’d even go so far as to say you care about people if they’re really hurting enough for you to feel compelled to get into that uncomfortable place of relating to them and having to comfort them.

You’re a bit rough around the edges, you’d admit it. You’ve had a grand total of 3 and a half arguably serious relationships in your very eventful, very promising life so far and it’s not like you were emotionally stunted for the entirety of them all, not really. Sometimes you’d admit you are a pretty emotionally constipated person - you lose track of your days as often as you lose track of your housekeys, and if someone asked you to retell something from last week, well, you’d let them know that frankly you don’t even remember what the last thing you ate was. But you knew how to make your girl smile and that’s what counted. You’re kinda good when it comes to the bigger stuff. That’s all that should matter, right?

When you walked into CatCo for work in the morning, you greeted everyone who’d spare a glance at you, even spent some time making small talk with some of your deskmates. There was a restlessness in the air that made you think people were even itching to talk to you. Everyone had seemed peppier today more than usual. That was surely a weird thing to note, even for a place like CatCo (especially for a place like CatCo). There was an abundance of flowers sitting on desks and because Miss Grant has a very vocal opinion-decreed-official-but-not-really-official-policy regarding cheap-smelling things in her offices, even when arguably flowers are the most natural scent in the world (how possibly can they be cheap?), all the bouquets and arrangements were relegated to a place by their desk inhabitant’s feet where they could be admired in relative peace.

For what it was worth, the place seemed more alive than it ever has been - not that Miss Grant was the worst person to work for, quite the contrary, everyone was just too intimidated or outright terrified of her that any semblance of fun was  overpowered by the fear of messing something up. Miss Grant was nice, in her own quiet, borderline abrasive but never power hungry way. You could tolerate just one day of people being in a good mood.

You felt a slight gust of wind blow your way as you sat at your desk, and you really ought to think you should warn Kara about slowing down her speed just a notch more.

“Hi! (Y/N)! Golly it’s a great morning isn’t it. Oh, why aren’t you wearing red?”

“Kara, does it look like I own any coloured clothing other than black? Anyway, why would I?”

Kara’s eyes widen comically and she inhales sharply, and you almost dismiss it as another purely Kara Thing. You take note of her white pants and pink blazer, unbuttoned to reveal a simple white button up, and you grudgingly concede that this nerd always looks so stupidly cute.

Before you could get yourself irrationally angry at the multitude of Kara’s Preppy Looks, you wonder if Miss Grant has a special occasion that you didn’t get the memo for.

“Wait, is something happening today? Did Miss Grant finally acquire that small-town newspaper outside of Metropolis?”

Kara tilts her head at you, fully reminiscent of a confused child, and her eyebrow quirks ridiculously high up that it could disappear into her hairline.

“Hm, that’s not right. I would have heard about that one. I know she was saying how everyone should dress in red to symbolize the blood spilled of her competitors, but even that’s a bit much.” You say more to yourself than to Kara.

Kara opens and closes her mouth, and opens and closes it again seemingly at a loss to say something as she squints very severely at you. Your eyes widen marginally, taken aback by Kara’s silent assessment.

“Are you alright? Did I offend you or something?”

Kara’s jaw drops as she gasps indignantly. You were only half-kidding but you think you might as well have offended her unwittingly at some point in your very brief conversation.

“Seriously, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I really hope you’re joking.” Those words were startlingly ominous, and especially so coming from someone like Kara.

“What the hell do you even mean? Kara-”

Before you can ask any more of her, Cat Grant’s voice reverberates through the office. It’s impressive, considering she’s a good thirty feet away from you and inside an enclosed elevator when she speaks up.

“Keira, please tell me you found out who plastered that cheap Wal-Mart stock paper heart onto my window and that you have collected their resignation letter. Do not think that because I’m not here I don’t have eyes everywhere. I can practically smell the cheap scotch tape sticking eternally to my windows.”

“No DIY decor, already on it, Miss Grant. But don’t you think that’s a bit-”

Kara follows after Miss Grant, falling into step behind her rather impressively as Miss Grant hands off her coat to Kara and Kara hands her latte to her, balancing  various papers, clothing, and a bag in her arms.

Why is everyone so weird.

You boot up your computer and check the messages on your phone while you wait. An unread message from Lena fills your screen.

Lena: “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

You smile at your girlfriend’s simple text. You know it’s tired and not very fair to keep having presumptions of your girlfriend based solely on her career, but you can’t help it. She’s a softie and an absolute sucker for romance and you never would have suspected it - certainly not the first few times she’d spent the night at your place and she’d untangle her hair from her high bun, shucking off her heels and stripping off her CEO persona. It always mesmerized you, it still does, which is why you’re smiling at your phone like an absolute nerd at her easy vulnerability when it comes to you.

you: “I can’t wait to see your beautiful face, pretty lady ;) Don’t make my day any more difficult than it needs to be…”

You remember all too well the very incriminating texts that have recently bombarded your phone with startling frequency. Lena being her own boss certainly had its perks, and spending an awful amount of time sending suggestive messages and downright not-safe-for-work pictures certainly was a perk in itself.

You’d wondered how often anyone would see you looking around suspiciously with the biggest shit-eating grin on your face. It begged the curiosity of who knew you were practically sexting sometimes? You figured you were probably a bit obvious, Kara has spent her fair share of your shift grimacing and blushing furiously whenever you meet her eye. It’s strange because it’s not like part of her powers involves mind-reading, did it really not take a genius to figure you out? Maybe with her super hearing and- oh. That might explain a little bit. In fact, that might explain a lot. Gross. You are not going to broach that conversation with her.

Lena: “Hmmm, that’s no fun…”

You smirk down at your phone. It is far too early for this teasing bullshit, but Lena Luthor lives on her own time and the universal conventions of decency wait for no one, apparently.

Lena: “What if I’m in the mood to be bad?”

you: “I guess I’d have to teach you a lesson about what happens when you tease me all day”

Lena: “It’s settled, let’s call it a date.″

you: “you’d call anything we do a date, love LOL

Lena: “Well then let’s make it extra special tonight ;)”

you: “looking forward to it, you big nerd”

You finally amend to put to your phone, seeing as though you spent a good few minutes flirting with your girlfriend instead of working. You figure even someone with as much money as Cat Grant wouldn’t appreciate you fooling around on company time.

“Ooooh, texting a fancy someone?” Winn’s voice comes from behind you as he swirls around to face you in his swivel chair.

“Yeah, weirdo.” You roll your eyes amused as Winn feigns hurt, but he continues nonetheless.

“Cool, you guys got any romantic plans tonight? Lena must be wicked excited.” He quirks his eyebrows suggestively, and you reach over to hit him on the arm hard enough to make him yelp.

“Gross. Even if we were I wouldn’t tell you anything.”

“Aww aren’t we superfriends? Don’t we go to share super secrets?”

“Definitely not of the bedroom variety.”

“Ah fine, I don’t think I want to know anyway. J’onn and Kara must try so hard to tune out all the adult stuff you and Lena get into whenever you guys are chilling at the DEO.”

You grimace and tune out whatever else Winn was about to say, “Oh god.”

“Really, you guys have no PG plans tonight? No extravagant displays of luxurious affection or cute date outings?”

“No, Winn. Why are you and Kara so interested in my life today anyway?”

Winn stares blankly at you before chuckling and turning back towards his computer. “Ah, ah okay! Sore topic. Sorry to pry. Just know I’m your pal, alright? You can tell me all the things.”

“Yes, rest assured, you are my pal, Winn.” You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head at your interaction.

You’d become quite busy the next few hours, all the bustle and general strangeness of the day wearing off as the remaining CatCo employees that stuck around waited until they could go home. You finally had a chance to lean back and check your phone’s notifications.

Lena: “When are you coming home? I miss you.”

you: “lol you’re so cute. Soon babe, don’t worry. Just a few things to finish up here. Are you done yet?”

Lena: “Yes, I managed to finish all that I needed today. I let Jess go early too, she’s got a cute date of her own.”

you: “oh man, no way! Is he cute? Is he worthy?? Is he an asshole? Do we need to threaten him?”

Lena: “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re more excited about Jess’ plans than ours. I’ve no clue, I merely assumed. Though she was acting particularly off today come to think of it.”

you: “you too eh? People were so weird today. More than they usually are. It must be a full moon.”

Lena: “I’ve no doubt that must be it. Tell me when you’re about to leave, darling. I’d very much like to get out of these restrictive clothes.”

you: “what? You won’t let me help you out??”

Lena: “If you take too long, you’ll regret far more than just that.”

Lena: “I will see you soon <3″

If you rushed to pack up a little quicker than you usually would and took off at a speed that could rival Kara’s, you’d never admit it to anyone. In your haste, you still managed to text Lena once you got into the packed streetcar and were notified that she was just on her way to yours from her apartment.

You had the chance to clean up your apartment a bit and get into your comfiest trackpants and your favourite hoodie when you heard knocking on your door. You opened the door and smiled as you opened your arms to your girlfriend. Lena immediately walked into your embrace and wrapped her arms around your middle, sighing happily as she did.

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you, I just got back from work.”

“And did work have half an army’s worth of perfume sprayed throughout the entire office to attract potential mates today?” She smirks as she makes her way around you to put her things away and make herself at home.

“I thought you said I smelled nice.”

“You do, I’m going to be stealing that sweater from you by the end of tonight.”

You chuckle at her nonchalance, “Naturally.”

She leans back on the back of your couch and crosses her arms easily. “Any hot plans for tonight?”

“You, me, and a box of pizza?”

“Make it two and you got yourself a deal.”

“Any other requests, beautiful?” You make your way slowly to Lena, eventually pinning her between your body and the couch. Your face is just inches away from hers and you can practically feel her next words against your skin.

“I was good today, need I remind you.”

“You were, actually.”

“What do I get for that?” She brings her lips close to yours and you can feel yourself being pulled for a kiss, but she doesn’t let you.

“Anything you want.”

“Oh, that’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, I want to make it all about you tonight.” You try again for a kiss, leaning in just too late as Lena brings herself away again. You grunt in mild frustration and she chuckles at your desperation.

“Are you sure? I see you’re getting a little impatient.”

Finally, she kisses you and you feel relieved. You’ve been waiting all day to be able to kiss your girlfriend. She’s the only sense of normalcy you have, no matter the absurdity that is your life or your individual circumstances. Her hands come up between your bodies as she latches onto the front of your shirt and tugs. Your hands come up to her hips and you push up against her lightly. You hear a soft groan from her lips and kiss it away.

You lose yourself in the kiss for however long you’ve been going at it, and she pulls herself away suddenly, leaving you moderately shocked at the abrupt loss of contact as she makes her way towards your kitchen.

“Let’s get Tony’s, I think I’m in the mood for a greasy cheesy-stuffed crust pizza.” She smirks as she takes in your indignant expression. You decide right then and there that, yes, in accordance to all science, religion, and all poetry that could be: Lena Luthor will be the death of you.

You call in your favourite pizza place and have two large greasy, cheesy-stuffed crust pizzas delivered to your door - one vegetarian for Lena (compromises, apparently), and one specialty butter chicken flavoured pizza that does an excellent job of tasting like it’s supposed to.

You’re the very definition of relaxed as you recline into your couch, Lena leaning into you as you wrap an arm around her. You both decided on one of the conspiracy theory documentaries on Netflix, deciding it was a good piece of relative garbage to consume.

Lena hums happily as she nuzzles into your side, taking a bit more of the blanket wrapped around you two as it uncovers a bit more of your legs.

You hear her mumbling from somewhere near your stomach, muffled by your sweater and the blanket and her general sleepiness. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

“What?”

There’s a long pause as you stare at Lena’s figure, no doubt with the intensity of burning into her skull if you had heat vision.

“I’m sorry, was that too weird? I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“No…”

Lena finally turns her head to look at you questioningly. “What is it, love?”

You squint hard at the TV, the documentary long forgotten as you quickly run a reel of your entire day, pulling the brakes hard to a screeching halt when you put all the pieces together.

“Holy shit.” You mumble more to yourself than Lena.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Please, we can just forget about it-”

“No. No, no, no…”

“Oh my god, (Y/N), are you okay? Please talk to me.”

You sit up quickly, trying as best as you can to ease Lena off your lap as you continue to scratch at the surface of your struggling comprehension. You can’t believe yourself, you really can’t. You’ve certainly outdid yourself this time.

“I can’t believe it.”

Lena becomes increasingly alarmed at how upset you’re becoming and is at a loss for consoling you.

You finally look at her, an amalgamation of sadness, disappointment, and disbelief in your eyes. “Baby why didn’t you say anything?”

“I- I mean, I just did?”

“No, no way. This was supposed to be special.”

She looks at you, total confusion written on her face. “I’m sorry. I just thought- you didn’t bring it up? You hadn’t mentioned it all day and we haven’t really talked much about it, which is fair because that’s not really a thing one talks about in detail. I just thought you weren’t comfortable? I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“No, no baby that’s not it. I just- wow, I kinda suck. Aren’t you a little bit sad that I forgot?”

Lena’s lips quirk into a small smile. “Well, I mean I’ve never really had an official Valentine’s day so to speak. I would have liked to do something nice for you. But I wasn’t sure if you’d already made plans and I didn’t want to encroach on yours, and you didn’t give many hints about today at all so I thought maybe there was something else there. I didn’t want to bring it up if it was going to upset you.”

You click your tongue and lean across the couch to meet Lena halfway. You take her face in your hands and kiss her passionately. “You are too good for me, you know that?”

Lena smiles and kisses you again in between her words. “It’s okay, darling. As long as you remember my birthday.”

You pause in between your kisses, stopping as you stare almost cross-eyed into her eyes. The delayed reaction most certainly wasn’t going to help you. “Yeah, of course.”

She squints her eyes at you, backing away marginally so she can regard your entire face.

“You do remember when my birthday is, right?”

“How can I? You have like, three.”

She gasps in mock offense and begins to move away before you pull her back in, grinning at her reaction. You savour one last kiss before gently pulling yourself away and shaking your head. “Nope, I won’t have this. Get up.”

“What is it now?” She quirks her eyebrow at you quizzically, surely pondering what other nonsense you’ve come up with now.

“Get up baby, this is our date night.”

“I’d figured this night was, regardless of the calendar date?”

“Nope. Get your pretty little ass off that couch and help me, Luthor.”

Lena laughs as you take her in your arms and take her away from the couch. You pull the cushions off immediately and leave them in a heap on the floor as you take long strides toward your bedroom.

She calls after you from the living room.  “Where on earth are you going? What are you even doing?”

You come back with various blankets and push them into her arms. Lena looks down at them questioningly and watches as you stack the cushions against the couch, taking care that they won’t fall.

Eventually, you’re satisfied with your work and you’ve made a tiny fort in front of your TV with the blankets and couch cushions. Lena smiles at you, bewildered and her expression just begging for an explanation.

You notice her look and cock your head to your creation. “Well then? Get in. You said you’ve never made one of these in your life, ever. Right?”

“Yes…” She’s still looking on with perplexity but crouches down to get into your fort. You follow happily behind her.

“Well, I fucked up, so I’m going to try and fix it.”

Your girlfriend looks at you with utter adoration, her eyes slightly wet with unshed tears. “You are truly something else, (Y/N).”

You smile at her and let her kiss you, closing your eyes in content as you bask in the love you have for Lena - the woman who came into your life and challenged everything you thought you knew, and then changed you for the better.

“I am sorry. I feel like absolute shit. I’ve never forgotten before and I…” Your words trail off, and she looks at you, encouraging and understanding. You find the resilience to continue. “I just, I don’t know how it’s escaped me. It’s like, lately it’s this simultaneous experience of my days blurring together and looking forward to each day, you know?”

Lena doesn’t answer, she simply nods and silently prods you to continue.

“It’s no excuse, I don’t want it to be. It’s just that, I’ve been so happy now. I am so happy, and that is all thanks to you. I lose track of my days because I’m not counting down anymore to some unmarked end or whatever, or waiting until the next greatest thing happens to me that makes me feel alive for a few minutes. I don’t need that anymore because it’s you. You are the best thing that’s happened to me, and I don’t need to count down anymore.”

You hear her sniffle and you wrap an arm around her, as best as you can attempt with the lack of space in your fort.

“I just want to make it up to you. Because you deserve everything. And the people I’ve dated in the past have done things on Valentine’s day, and it makes me feel fucking terrible that I can’t even be assed to remember it for you. It makes me feel like I’ve let you down, and it sucks, because I want to be worthy of you. If I can’t even remember one stupid day, how am I supposed to be the person you need me to be?”

You inhale sharply, getting all your words out and finally being able to breathe. Lena’s freely crying now, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes and wetting her cheeks.

“No, (Y/N), look at this. You did this.” She points up at the fort surrounding you. “You did make it up to me. You realized it and did something about it. I could never hold this against you. I can’t be mad at you for this. You did nothing wrong, baby. And you are exactly the person I need.”

Lena’s hand comes up to your face and caresses your cheek, her thumb lightly treading circles on your skin.

“You are so good to me. You are good for me, (Y/N), and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to spend this day with.” She leans in to kiss you and your breathing steadies, allowing yourself this forgiveness.

There’s a pause in your kisses as you and Lena look at each other, the documentary long over as silence fills your apartment. Nothing but the sounds of the street and the humming of your appliances can be heard.

“You wanna know something that I haven’t done?” You ask her after a moment.

“What is that?”

“I’ve never had sex in a pillow fort before. I’m gonna fuck you in this one.”

You smirk as she she gasps scandalously, swatting your face away from her as you effectively ruin the moment. You laugh as you dodge her half-hearted attempts to keep you away, poking at her sides as she twitches and squeals at the onslaught.

“Hey, but honestly. What else haven’t you done before? You wanna do some watercolour painting tonight? I think I have a full set hiding around somewhere that I got from my best friend for my birthday. Or we could put together a puzzle, or something.” You contemplate the items you have in your apartment, and you’re about to move to look for them.

All Lena does is give you a long look, studying you before she pushes you down onto your back and moves on top of you, kissing you so that you both forget the time or the day by the time you’re both done with each other.

Pardon Our Ectoplasm

Christmas Truce gift for @anemptymorgue, who asked for something humorous to do with Amity Park’s general citizens and their relationship with ghosts. Hope you like it!

This, Wes berated himself, is why you didn’t do last-minute Christmas shopping in Amity. “But you can’t be sold out!”

The blue-shirted associate - Neil, according to his name tag- shrugged. “Sorry sir; we’re technically not sold out- we’re out of stock.”

“What’s the difference?!”

“One has us selling things like a normal store, and the other one is that cyber ghost popping through the ceiling and making our inventory attack people like it was the machine uprising.” 

Another associate sweeping up broken and scorched plastic added, “Only instead of killer robots it was iPads and overpriced HDMI cables.”

“The cyber ghost?” Kwan piped up behind Wes. “Which one is that?”

“Yeah, y’know…the cyber ghost?” At their blank expression, Neil pressed. “Come on: green skin, lab coat, lame shades? Has that shrieky voice that sounds like that one dude?”

Wes glanced back at Kwan, Dash, and Dale, who all shrugged. 

“Wait, Terry would totally know this. He’s a big Ecto-Fanboy.” He called across the store, loud and echoing with nothing but empty shelves between them. “Hey Tere! What was the name of that ghost yesterday! The techie one?”

“You mean Technus?” someone across the store hollered back. “How do you forget that? He talks in the third person! He was constantly telling people his name. The first thing he said was ‘It is I, Technus, Master of Machines and all that goes beep-boop!’ He did it in that weird Gilbert Gottfried kinda voice.”

Neil snapped his fingers. “Gilbert Gottfried, that was it!” 

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Civil War

Summary: You and Dean don’t see eye to eye when it comes to comic book universes. 

Word Count: 1377

Warnings: None

Pairing: Dean x Reader

This is my entry for @jaredpadasexyy ‘s Easter Challenge. This was beta-ed by @avasmommy224.

Prompt: 20. “Marvel is better than DC”

Your name: submit What is this?

You were sitting in your room watching a movie. Which movie? Only the best cinematic masterpiece of all time: “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”. You had just gotten to the highway scene. Cap and the Winter Soldier were going hand to hand, blow for blow. Even though you had seen this movie a million times, you still found yourself on the edge of your seat.

Cap had just ripped the Winter Soldier’s mask off and revealed his face.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

You couldn’t help but say the line in sync with Bucky and let out a little squeal as it was one of your favorite lines in the movie. And as luck would have it, Dean happened to be walking by at that exact moment.

“What are you squealin’ at?”

Your finger hit the pause button on the remote. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Dean gave you a suspicious look as he took at seat on the other side of your bed. “If it’s nothing, then why’d you pause it?”

You turned to him with an irritated look on your face. How dare he intrude on your quality time with your two husbands? “Because I would like to watch it alone.”

“Why? Is there a dirty scene coming up?” Dean said raising his eyebrows.

“God no! I just enjoy the movie more on my own, that’s all.”

Dean gave you another suspicious look, this one more teasing.

“Yeah, sure” he said doubtfully “I believe that.”

“It’s true!”

He put his hands up in surrender, “I believe you, I swear! Cross my heart and everything.”

You rolled your eyes as you unpaused your movie and turned back to it. Dean moved closer as he started to watch the movie as well. After a few minutes into the resumed movie, you turned to him only to see a confused look etched on his face.

You looked back at the television, trying to decipher what could’ve caused his confusion and came up with nothing.

“So what’s so special about him?”

“What?”

“Captain America. All he has is the power of ultimate frisbee.”

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Stupid Question

Enzo Amore one-shot #48 ‘meeting again at a high school reunion au’ This is pure fluff. Requested an age ago by @heyitstatianita​ I don’t really do requests anymore, but I promised myself I would honour the ones I received back before my monumental writers’ block hit, so here is the first of the remaining batch.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction (clearly), written about a fictional character as portrayed in the ring and on camera by a real-life person. I feel the need to draw a distinction between the two because there’s been some Discourse on the subject recently. If the real-life wrestler whose character I have written about herein is uncomfortable with it, they are welcome to ask me to take it down. Anyone else is kindly requested to employ a “don’t like it, don’t read it” approach and move along. This here is a little harmless escapism. I hope you enjoy it.

Tagging the crew: @hardcorewwetrash @wwe-smutfics @sjwriteswrestling @fuckyeahbulletclub @withwordslikeweapons @writergrrrl29 @concussed-to-pieces

I’m not big on reunions. The whole ‘blast from the past’ thing doesn’t really do it for me. If you ask me, if people give a crap about each other they stay in touch, and if they don’t, well then they probably weren’t meant to. So being dragged along to my old hometown (which is bad enough on its own, let me tell you) and hauled into a hotel ballroom stuffed full of people I’d barely even spared a thought for over the last ten years, was about as far from my idea of a good time as it’s possible to get.

And yet, there I was. With my little nametag on and everything, complete with tiny reproduction of my yearbook photo, because nothing says ‘we’re intelligent, mature adults’ like breaking the ice over and over with the same stilted conversation about how “gosh, you look so different now!”

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our love was made for movie screens;

pairing: riley matthews and lucas friar
word count: 1.5k
prompt: “day one: canon verse - something that takes place in the canon universe as we know it”
written for: rucas fanfic week 2017
summary: lucas friar loves the movies, but he love seeing them with riley even more.
a/n: so, this is my first rucas oneshot, and it’s probably not that great, have mercy. the fic is set in the summer between 7th and 8th grade. there’s been a lot of references to rucas movie dates in the show (gm texas pt. 3 and gm the new year) but we never saw any of it, so i imagined what one of them was like. the movies mentioned are avengers age of ultron (cursed) and inside out (which i haven’t seen dfgjdfg) and the title is from all i want by kodaline. 

There was something special about going to the movies. Maybe it was splurging on overpriced buttery popcorn and sugary sweet chocolate, or finding the perfect seat to settle into. Perhaps it was escaping screams and the crushing weight of expectations, the feeling of knuckles and the taste of blood– the distraction of being transported into another world and focusing on someone else’s problems. But the best thing, to Lucas, was the company. He wasn’t always the best at talking to others, unsure of his words, but he didn’t have to talk when he was at the movies. Lucas was allowed to bask in presence of his friends, listen to their laughs and watch them cry, just be. The movies revealed the little things that made his newfound friends tick or burst out into grins. It helped him understand the crazy people who were Farkle, Maya, and Riley; while he seemed to fit in well with the three, he still had a lot to learn about the native New Yorkers.

Lucas Friar loved the movies, plain and simple.

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2 AM (m)

pairings: park jimin | reader, mention of min yoongi | reader
genre: lovers to strangers au / angst, smut 
warnings: heartbreak, phone sex
word count: 3,024
description: all your favorite things happened at 2 AM. unfortunately, time flew until before you knew it he was gone like the hour.
author’s note: this is based on a personal experience of mine. just ventured through some old feelings. re-uploaded!

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Distress and Destress (RusAme oneshot)

Synopsis: Nations have endured much, but that does not mean it doesn’t add up. America notices something taking a toll on Russia and discovers his bosses at the heart of his stress. He is determined to provide Russia some relief, in spite of the odds and Russia’s own stubbornness. RusAme / AmeRus oneshot.

Word count: 6530

Distress and Destress

The sun and clouds waged a persistent battle all day as the conference slouched on, rays of light occasionally peaking between the thick gray blanket, only to be smothered again. It helped, at least, in that there was no reason to cast longing looks out the window to pine for a stroll outside, a breath of warmth fresh air, rejuvenating sunlight. No, instead the weather reflected the mood of most nations present: restless, fighting for some brightness in their day when all the while the fog of responsibility and tedium hung all around.

In the beginning, America counted down the hours. Then as the sands drained through his internal hour glass, hours turned to increments of ten minutes: just ten minutes six more times, ten minutes five more times. Individual minutes: forty-two minutes. Seconds: just six-hundred seconds to be rid of this place.

But as it so often does, time acted precisely opposite of how it was wanted to. Even with this makeshift counting sheep routine, America was bored. He had other matters that took, in his opinion, much greater precedence over this tired old meeting: other matters both domestic and foreign. And so to indulge his more foreign interests, throughout the droning lectures of other countries who didn’t want to be here either, America people watched. His was not the only wandering eye, he found. England’s thick brows were furrowed in agitation as he cast short glances to a few seats over, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Following the line of his gaze, America saw that France, bless him, had found a seat next to the window and- cloudy day or not- what bit of light that spilled in was casting a tasteful shadow across his pensive, angular features. Elbow propped up on the table, head resting in his hand, he looked every part a philosophical thinker of old. Feeling a new set of eyes on him, Frances glanced over at America and winked before resuming his original pose.

Clever bastard.

Italy looked expectedly bored, fidgeting unhappily in his seat, the speed of his writing suggesting they were more of the doodling nature as opposed to actual notes. That was fine. Artistic master in his own right, Italy never created anything with half effort; the result was that even simple sketches looked like the framework for what would soon be a masterpiece.

Realizing he’d lost the flow of the current speech, America hastily returned his attention to the front of the room. But the tone and content of the briefing fast reminded him why he had lost focus in the first place, and again his gaze wandered. That was when he saw, in a sea of slouching or daydreaming or restless nations, Russia sitting straight up in his seat, every ounce of his attention focused ahead, fingers diligently typing along with every single word said.

Show off, America mouthed, hoping at least something would divert him. No response. Russia wore the same attentive, borderline agitated expression as before, looking for all the world as if the only thing that existed was the presentation. Frowning in disappointment, America turned away to finish the rest of this purgatory.

0o0o0

“You know, I’m not sure if I’m offended or relieved I don’t get that look from you,” America drawled as he and Russia strolled out at last, Russia checking three times that his notes had been saved properly.

“What look? If this is about how I greet Lithuania, I told him and I tell you- it is comforting smile.”

“Debatable. But not what I mean. Come on, you weren’t the least bit bored in there? Or was that for my benefit to see how I’m supposed to behave?”

Russia blinked twice. “I was just making sure I got everything down,” he said finally, sounding almost tired.

America raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, but…we don’t have to pretend it’s actually interesting. I don’t think half of what was said applies to most of the people there.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Russia said stiffly, turning away and striding on. “We had to go.”

America frowned. “You alright?” he asked.

“Fine enough.”

That evasive answer combined with the lack of eye contact and hand fisted into his scarf set off immediate red flags. And the last time something Russia did set off red flags, he had changed governments.

“What’s up?” America insisted, tone gentler now. One arm looped with Russia’s, he set his free hand onto Russia’s in a comforting hold.

“What is ever up, being a country?” A wry smile that might have been a grimace twisted his pallid features; they would have to fix that, America though suddenly. With summer starting, it was the perfect time to go out together and get some sun. “B- people being difficult, sometimes,” he added haltingly.

Where had been a gentle smile turned once more into a frown. “Boss-type people?” America clarified slowly.

“People,” Russia said in feigned nonchalance, about as transparent as a glass window.

Blue eyes rolled behind rectangular spectacles. “Come on, Braginsky, it’s called venting. You’ve seemed down for a bit- one good round of this venting stuff and you’ll probably feel better. Now that we actually have time to be together,” he couldn’t help but add.

“My boss has kept me busy.”

“I know. I know all too well,” America retorted, drawing patience from some hidden well. “Someone needs a break.”

As they turned onto a commercial street, Russia gave an emphatic shake of the head. “No breaks,” he said. Thin lines carved into the corners of his eyes as that same fog of distress festered around him as it had been for at least a month now, as persistent as the clouds above them so determined not to let the sun through. “Not until things are fixed.”

“What things?” Now they were getting somewhere.

Russia shook his head.

And just like that, they were back at the start. “Off limits?” America asked slowly, gold-colored eyebrow raised. For the sake of their relationship anytime conversations drifted into dubious waters, they simply deemed them off limits and redirected. It worked at least seventy percent of the time.

“Off limits.” America’s eyes drifted to catch the tell Russia insisted he didn’t have: sure enough, a pale calloused hand was fidgeting with his scarf, rubbing the soft fabric with his thumb. America sighed. To confront Russia about the lie or let it go? His more inquisitive- England called it brash- nature wanted nothing more than to push for more information, more anything. But that incessant logical side he was subject to knew Russia too well, knew the man carried certain things he did not want America to know, did not think he would handle, always ready to be met with rejection or disgust. Through it all, America felt in his heart Russia had faced too much of that already and so, ignoring the part of him screaming to address this here and now, America nodded in acceptance, knowing pacing was a delicate thing for them, knowing he would probably have his answers as this probably would not go away.

And he was right.

Before the end of their dinner date, America knew without a shred of doubt Russia was being overworked in some way. Three times his phone rang and he leapt up and out of the restaurant to take it, tone formal and, at times, a little desperate. By the time Russia returned the third time this happened, America was slouched in his seat, the untouched slice of cake they were to share sitting on the table between them.

“Can we enjoy our date now?” he asked.

Mistaking America’s tone as politely curious rather than disapprovingly expectant, Russia nodded with a smile. “Yes- enjoy date now,” he echoed, settling back down. “I am surprised you did not have any of this.” He noted the cake.

“I wanted to do something with you tonight,” America said slowly.

Russia’s gaze flicked from their dessert to America’s blue eyes, darkened slightly. “We have,” Russia insisted in confusion. “We are out to dinner together. We wandered the city together.”

“Together physically, yeah,” America agreed. “But your boss has been third-wheeling us since we left the conference.”

“It is important work. We all have it,” Russia said defensively, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, and most of us are generally allowed to handle stuff on our own time and, well, on our own. What gives? You hosting something soon? The FIFA World Cup’s not until 2018.”

“Nothing like that.” Russia redirected his attention to the cake, beginning to dig in. “Things are just busy and there are things that need to be taken care of. And it is not just my boss,” he added. “Other officials have been calling and have needed to be called.”

America would like to say something about that. The last thing he wanted to do was address what he had thought for a while now, that Russia so desperately wanted to trust his bosses, that that trust was what helped leave him more hurt and confused and prone to lash out when they showed their first interest- like too many leaders in history- wasn’t their people’s happiness. But he needed something to believe in, to help know there would be that perfect happiness someday. And so he got defensive when America accused his boss of being the only perpetrator in spoiling their night.

Read the rest on FF or Ao3.