prider-parker-imaginations

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Oh, sorry! Could you please do headcannons for a male!reader taking his S/O Bucky Barnes to a pride parade then?

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Bucky had known ever since he was younger that he had an attraction to men

Of course growing up it wasn’t something that he was willing to admit to anyone, too afraid of what they would think

It’s something he keeps secret, tries very hard not to let it slip, when he’s captured by HYDRA

Anything they can use against him, he knows they will. Which means everything about himself has to remain a secret

Eventually after he’s freed from HYDRA control Bucky begins to open himself up to the world again

Steve is the first person that he comes out to, followed by the rest of the team and after sometime he begins to date

The two of you have been together for a few months before you bring up the idea of going to a Pride parade with Bucky

He’s not objecting to going but he does need it explained to him

While not ashamed of his sexuality any longer he’s still surprised that there’s a place where you can go that’s a complete celebration of your sexuality, your gender identity

He’s aware of June being Pride month because it’s something that has been mentioned in passing but the fact that you want to go with him to this parade is something else entirely

Although he’s not one for crowds (he’s working on that), he agrees to go with you because he wants this experience and he wants it with you

Constantly holds your hand whenever he gets a chance because it’s an action he never thought he’d have a chance to do

Buys a flag and drapes it around him the entire time

Doesn’t want to sign anything because he’s spending time with you but does answer honestly when asked if he’s the Winter Soldier because he knows how important it is to have out and proud figures for representation

Totally lets people paint his face or stick pride magnets on his arm

Follows you around to wherever you want to go because he’s never been and he figures you’ll have more experience

Relies on you for certain explanations about terms that he might be hearing for the first time

Be prepared to wear matching shirts with him because once he sees some that he likes, it’s set in his mind that this is going to happen

Tag List: @kamalahkhan / @scarletsoldierrr / @moonlit-imagines /  @randomfandomimagine / @groovyfluxie / @andreasworlsboring101 / @ofthedewthesunlight / @lotsoffandomimagines / @johnmurphyisqueer / ask to be added

[prider-parker-imaginations]

May I offer you a frog in these trying times

Thanks for the tag! I'll leave it as an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in!

Saw this fun picrew on my dash and couldn’t help myself :)))

(honestly wish i looked this good irl lmao)

No pressure tags: @catzy88, @morewyckedthanyou, @foxie-herminah, @godidontevenknowwhat, @lovebillyhargrove, @rascheln, @booksfoxesandcoffee​, @memes-saved-me​ & anyone else who wants to grab this? And again, even if you were tagged, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. :)

[prider-parker-imaginations]

In case any of you were wondering why I haven't been posting the past week or two, this is probably the biggest (though physically smallest) reason. Her name is Bean, I would die for her, and she has consumed my only functional brain cell.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

You're The Most Pleasant Dream

Bucky x Male!Reader

Cw: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: When you have a pleasant dream about Bucky, he thinks you're having a nightmare because of his past.

Bucky's eyes never left your sleeping form.

Seeing how relaxed you were is enough to put him at ease, while wondering how he was able to be with someone as gentle as you were...

You reminded him of someone he craved for so long; the gentleness and a moment of peace for himself. Though he feels he could never escape from his past, his nightmares...You were the only person keeping him like he could be at peace.

Until he heard you whisper his name in his sleep. "Bucky..."

He huffed through his nose. No, no, you're probably having a nightmare. Who would say his name as if his name was comforting, especially in a damn dream? Bucky reached out to shake you in order to wake you untill he heard his name again.

"Buck," you mumbled, a small smile spreading on your face. Your hand creeped among the bedsheets to search for...someone who was supossed to be there, next to you. That's when Bucky flinched.

At first, he allowed you to stir a little in his sleep for a moment, hoping your unconscious search will die down. But instead, to Bucky, it got worse.

You started whining a little. Your face slowly twisted into discomfort, but the stirring stopped.

Fear rose inside him, and he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently shook you awake - he couldn't stand the uncomfortable look on your face.

It took a few shakes, but you slowly opened your tired eyes to a worried Bucky. "Hm...what's wrong, Buck?" Your voice was a little rough from your tiredness.

"S-sorry. I thought you were having a...nightmare." Bucky's voice quivered as he spoke.

You smiled, and raises your hand to cup his cheek. "How could it be a nightmare if it's you?"

Bucky gave you a confused look. "What...?"

"I'm saying I had the most pleasant dream about you." You replied, your voice softly turning into a whisper.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Thanks for the tag!

Technically this was the ninth photo I had back when I first saw the tag (and then forgot about it because it's been a stressful week), so I guess I'm going on a date with all of Vox Machina and honestly I'm down. In my defense most of my camera roll is screenshots of memes or bad selfies so this was probably as good as I was gonna get

I'll leave this as an open tag so if anyone wants to give it a go then feel free!

new tag game >:)

I'M SO LUCKY

tagging @pasteludic @akiiiraaaa @kylies-brioches @sip-of-depresso @tinkonka @sweet-tooth-claire @chibisquid-cant-be-quiet @otsuchan09 @itzrayla-films @qsakubub @/whoever else wants to do it :)

[prider-parker-imaginations]

I loved your Zemo fanfic where he helps male reader shave his beard. It may sound weird, but it gave me a gender validation

It’s not weird at all, most of the reason I write male!reader fics is to give myself some gender validation too so I feel you on that one and I’m glad the product of my final very gay brain cell it was able to help you out some too!

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Hi I just wanted to drop in and say that I am so so proud of you. I hope that’s not too weird but, I’ve been following you for a while and you’ve made it through so much, and you’ve done so so much and, you’re just really amazing and awesome and cool. Cheering you on in everything you do!

I saw this last night and proceeded to curl up in a ball of emotion and then forgot about it until today because I’m very tired and have a headache and then remembered it again and it made my day immeasurably more bearable, this is very sweet thank youuuuuuuu-

[prider-parker-imaginations]

There are two wolves inside you. One wants to pin Zemo against a wall and the other wants to be pinned against the wall by Zemo.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Yessssss, join me in Zemo hell, we all float down here 😭

Imagine Zemo helping you shave. (Male!Reader)

You scowled at the mirror as you rubbed the pads of your fingers over your jaw. You were overdue for a shave. You rummaged around the bathroom and only succeeded in finding a straight razor. You had never used one before and you didn’t feel like accidentally cutting up your face in the attempt. You opened the door to see Zemo sitting in the living room. “Is there somewhere I can run to nearby to pick up a razor?” you asked. In your haste to prepare for the mission, you’d forgotten to pack your own.

Zemo looked up from his book and his sharp gaze appraised you for a long moment, taking in your still damp from the shower hair and loose jeans before he answered. “There is a razor in there.”

You felt your ears go warm. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the casual way he stared at you or simply your embarrassment at admitting you didn’t know something. “Believe it or not, not every person is well-versed in the use of straight razors.”

“Do you require assistance?” His dark eyes held your gaze steadily, his book still open in his lap.

“You don’t have to- I can just go buy a disposable one,” the words seemed to get stuck on each other, your ears going from warm to hot at his casual offer.

Zemo set his book aside and stood to meet you, “I will not harm you.” As though he could sense your lingering doubts, and knowing him he probably could, he added, “Besides, I doubt your companions would take kindly to you leaving me to my own devices.“

You let out a sigh through your nose, “Fine. Lead the way.” You pushed your damp hair back from your forehead as Zemo busied himself in the bathroom, sitting yourself down on the edge of the substantial bathtub.

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” you asked as you rubbed some oil he had given you over your jaw.

Zemo raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder at you. “I said I would not harm you.” His words did little to calm the jump in your heartbeat as he approached you with the straight razor in hand, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You told yourself it was because a dangerous man was approaching you with something he could use to slit your throat if he wanted to, though you couldn’t deny the almost imperceptible hitch in your breath as he nudged his way to stand between your legs and gently tilted your chin up towards him. You guessed by the way that he paused that he hadn’t missed it either. He spread the shaving cream across your jaw and you tried to ignore the heat you could feel coming off of him at this proximity. You could smell his cologne and you wondered if he could smell the scent of shampoo and soap that lingered on your own skin. Your hands were folded loosely by your lap but every so often when he moved you could feel him brush against you, and your grip on your own fingers would tighten.

“Are you nervous?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes briefly flicking from his task to meet your gaze. If you had had your way, you would have tried to stare past him at the wall but standing before you, he took up almost the entirety of your vision. The razor met your cheek, his other hand gently but firmly angling your jaw as he saw fit. A small swath of shaving cream came away and he swirled the blade in a cup of hot water to clean it. His movements were precise, as you expected, though the gentleness took you by some surprise.

You swallowed as he came back to your face again. Your own voice was low, barely more than a murmur, not wanting to move too quickly lest he cut you. “Not used to having someone else do this,” you admitted. It felt like the safest answer, given the circumstances. There was something so casually intimate about his hands on your face, your throat bared to him while he stood between your legs, it made it difficult to think straight. Despite your better judgement, there was something intoxicating about Zemo that you couldn’t quite ignore no matter how hard you tried.

He arched a brow ever so slightly at your response. “That’s not an answer.” Another smooth, steady drag of the razor down your cheek. You could feel his breath wafting over the newly exposed skin along your jaw, smelling faintly of whiskey. You suppressed a shudder.

“Close enough,” you murmured, briefly meeting his gaze.

Zemo let out a small huff of a breath, a muted chuckle. You decided you liked the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. Neither of you seemed entirely willing to break the spell of quiet that had fallen over the bathroom. Another few minutes passed, the silence broken only by the gentle sounds of the razor running over your skin or the bubbling of the basin as he rinsed the foam off the blade, before he spoke again. “Hold still.”

His thumb traced over your bottom lip and you sucked in a breath at how tender the touch felt. Zemo’s eyes snapped to yours, his face hovering only a few inches above yours. There was an intensity to his expression that made you want to look away until your stomach stopped being filled with butterflies, but you were frozen in place. Zemo simply blinked at you, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side. Then he broke the eye contact to resume his task, his thumb gently pressing against your lip as he dragged the razor over your chin. You were almost certain he could hear your heart pounding in your chest. He tilted your head again and you felt his fingers linger as they brushed over your pulse point. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to whimper or pin the man against the wall.

Leave it to Zemo to reduce you to a barely contained mess over something as simple as a shave. 

He reached past you to rinse the razor again, his face drifting impossibly close to yours, and you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If he wanted to play games then you were going to give as good as you could get. You surged upwards, hands coming up to hold his face as your lips met in a desperate kiss, pushing Zemo until his back met the wall. Judging by the speed by which one of his hands went to grip the back of your head to hold you there, while the other snaked around your waist, you guessed that he’d been anticipating your actions. He tasted of expensive whiskey and mint. He tugged at the hair at the nape of your neck as your teeth grazed his lower lip. His stubble scratched against your palm as you moved to tangle your fingers in his neatly arranged hair. His hand at your waist snuck under the hem of your shirt to explore, his fingers cool enough to raise goosebumps across your searing skin.

At last, you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and still smeared with the odd bit of shaving cream as you blinked at him, trying to process what you had just done. Zemo was smirking at you. Some of his hair had fallen across his forehead but even pinned against the wall, he still managed to look maddeningly unruffled.

“You wanted this,” you breathed out.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and the hand that had been at your hip hooked itself into your belt, pulling you closer as Zemo leaned forward. His breath was hot against your throat and his lips brushed against your ear, his voice barely more than a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one.”

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Being-A-Creative-On-Tumblr-Culture is going through all of the 24 reblogs on your post with 357 notes just to get just enough serotonin to get through your day by reading what the five god sent people who left tags wrote

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Imagine Zemo helping you shave. (Male!Reader)

You scowled at the mirror as you rubbed the pads of your fingers over your jaw. You were overdue for a shave. You rummaged around the bathroom and only succeeded in finding a straight razor. You had never used one before and you didn’t feel like accidentally cutting up your face in the attempt. You opened the door to see Zemo sitting in the living room. “Is there somewhere I can run to nearby to pick up a razor?” you asked. In your haste to prepare for the mission, you’d forgotten to pack your own.

Zemo looked up from his book and his sharp gaze appraised you for a long moment, taking in your still damp from the shower hair and loose jeans before he answered. “There is a razor in there.”

You felt your ears go warm. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the casual way he stared at you or simply your embarrassment at admitting you didn’t know something. “Believe it or not, not every person is well-versed in the use of straight razors.”

“Do you require assistance?” His dark eyes held your gaze steadily, his book still open in his lap.

“You don’t have to- I can just go buy a disposable one,” the words seemed to get stuck on each other, your ears going from warm to hot at his casual offer.

Zemo set his book aside and stood to meet you, “I will not harm you.” As though he could sense your lingering doubts, and knowing him he probably could, he added, “Besides, I doubt your companions would take kindly to you leaving me to my own devices."

You let out a sigh through your nose, “Fine. Lead the way.” You pushed your damp hair back from your forehead as Zemo busied himself in the bathroom, sitting yourself down on the edge of the substantial bathtub.

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” you asked as you rubbed some oil he had given you over your jaw.

Zemo raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder at you. “I said I would not harm you.” His words did little to calm the jump in your heartbeat as he approached you with the straight razor in hand, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You told yourself it was because a dangerous man was approaching you with something he could use to slit your throat if he wanted to, though you couldn’t deny the almost imperceptible hitch in your breath as he nudged his way to stand between your legs and gently tilted your chin up towards him. You guessed by the way that he paused that he hadn’t missed it either. He spread the shaving cream across your jaw and you tried to ignore the heat you could feel coming off of him at this proximity. You could smell his cologne and you wondered if he could smell the scent of shampoo and soap that lingered on your own skin. Your hands were folded loosely by your lap but every so often when he moved you could feel him brush against you, and your grip on your own fingers would tighten.

“Are you nervous?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes briefly flicking from his task to meet your gaze. If you had had your way, you would have tried to stare past him at the wall but standing before you, he took up almost the entirety of your vision. The razor met your cheek, his other hand gently but firmly angling your jaw as he saw fit. A small swath of shaving cream came away and he swirled the blade in a cup of hot water to clean it. His movements were precise, as you expected, though the gentleness took you by some surprise.

You swallowed as he came back to your face again. Your own voice was low, barely more than a murmur, not wanting to move too quickly lest he cut you. “Not used to having someone else do this,” you admitted. It felt like the safest answer, given the circumstances. There was something so casually intimate about his hands on your face, your throat bared to him while he stood between your legs, it made it difficult to think straight. Despite your better judgement, there was something intoxicating about Zemo that you couldn't quite ignore no matter how hard you tried.

He arched a brow ever so slightly at your response. “That’s not an answer.” Another smooth, steady drag of the razor down your cheek. You could feel his breath wafting over the newly exposed skin along your jaw, smelling faintly of whiskey. You suppressed a shudder.

“Close enough,” you murmured, briefly meeting his gaze.

Zemo let out a small huff of a breath, a muted chuckle. You decided you liked the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. Neither of you seemed entirely willing to break the spell of quiet that had fallen over the bathroom. Another few minutes passed, the silence broken only by the gentle sounds of the razor running over your skin or the bubbling of the basin as he rinsed the foam off the blade, before he spoke again. “Hold still.”

His thumb traced over your bottom lip and you sucked in a breath at how tender the touch felt. Zemo’s eyes snapped to yours, his face hovering only a few inches above yours. There was an intensity to his expression that made you want to look away until your stomach stopped being filled with butterflies, but you were frozen in place. Zemo simply blinked at you, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side. Then he broke the eye contact to resume his task, his thumb gently pressing against your lip as he dragged the razor over your chin. You were almost certain he could hear your heart pounding in your chest. He tilted your head again and you felt his fingers linger as they brushed over your pulse point. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to whimper or pin the man against the wall.

Leave it to Zemo to reduce you to a barely contained mess over something as simple as a shave. 

He reached past you to rinse the razor again, his face drifting impossibly close to yours, and you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If he wanted to play games then you were going to give as good as you could get. You surged upwards, hands coming up to hold his face as your lips met in a desperate kiss, pushing Zemo until his back met the wall. Judging by the speed by which one of his hands went to grip the back of your head to hold you there, while the other snaked around your waist, you guessed that he’d been anticipating your actions. He tasted of expensive whiskey and mint. He tugged at the hair at the nape of your neck as your teeth grazed his lower lip. His stubble scratched against your palm as you moved to tangle your fingers in his neatly arranged hair. His hand at your waist snuck under the hem of your shirt to explore, his fingers cool enough to raise goosebumps across your searing skin.

At last, you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and still smeared with the odd bit of shaving cream as you blinked at him, trying to process what you had just done. Zemo was smirking at you. Some of his hair had fallen across his forehead but even pinned against the wall, he still managed to look maddeningly unruffled.

“You wanted this,” you breathed out.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and the hand that had been at your hip hooked itself into your belt, pulling you closer as Zemo leaned forward. His breath was hot against your throat and his lips brushed against your ear, his voice barely more than a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one.”

[prider-parker-imaginations]

"Where is your other half?"

"Bucky," Sam said, leaning forward. If he was going to lunge, he could get in the way, intercept before mistakes could be made. Like he said, they needed Zemo, as little as Sam liked to admit. He didn't move though, his grip on the chair only growing stronger. You weren't just a sensitive subject, a taboo topic, you were an open wound Bucky hadn't figured out how to sew up, something that hemorrhaged out of him, a constant reminder. You'd been there with him through it all, in all those killings, trainings, brainwashing, captured not long after him. Like him, on your death bed, few options left. Where he went, you did too. Never one without the other. But, when Bucky went to Wakanda to heal, to rest, you fled, feeling unworthy of their hospitality, their care. You wanted to do it on your own, your faith and trust in others lost completely. When Thanos came, you did not appear beside any of them. No one had seen you or heard from you. They went looking, but knew better. It was all part of your training.

"My second greatest creation," Zemo smiled, his joy out of malicious, but also admiration, a love in the same way a father has for his child, or more like Frankenstein loving his monster. Pride. You were perfect in every way, much like The Winter Soldier had. "Together, you were something else." Something dangerous, unstoppable, genocidal, Bucky thinks, but does not say. He has a feeling Zemo is thinking the exact same thing. Re-activating the two of them had been one of his greatest accomplishments. "You were always the stronger one, it seems." He shrugged, eyeing his crowd of two. Gone like you never existed at all, you called Bucky once, out of the blue, for one final goodbye. He never told anyone. Your last call, your last chance, carrying too much pain of what you'd done and who you'd been. He begged to see you, to help you, but dread had crept in, a warning that you were gone for good this time, forever, hanging up abruptly, leaving him alone again, listening to his own pleas.

"Don't push it." Bucky warns, trying to hide the shake in his voice.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

me: i’ve got a lot of work to do so probably no new stuff this week

also me: time to write a vaguely spicy zemo fic until 4am because my brain allowed me a single brain cell for this and this alone

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Travis Mayweather - Childhood Memories (platonic)

Pairing: Travis x gender-neutral reader Requested by an anon: Imagine bonding with Travis over both growing up on cargo ships (or alternatively, imagine being best friends with Travis because you both grew up on the Horizon?) Word count: 585

Tag list: @obiwansjedi, @space-helen, @mrs-l-mccoy, @williambutchers - if you want to be added to or removed from a tag list, please let me know!

“Thought I’d find you up here,” a familiar voice said from down below.

You lowered your book and looked down to see your best friend, Travis, poking his head into the “sweet spot” of the ship. You smiled, then your face fell. “Shit, what time is it?”

“0700,” he said, pushing himself off of the entrance. He began to float up towards you.

You cringed. You were supposed to meet him for dinner at 0630 after his shift was done. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Got lost in your book,” Travis finished for you. He settled into a seated position upside down next to you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve found you huddled up with a book in Horizon’s sweet spot more times than I can count. So when I didn’t see you in the messhall, I knew you’d be here.”

You laughed with him. “It’s your fault for showing it to me. And for finding Enterprise’s sweet spot.”

Travis shrugged nonchalantly. “If I hadn’t show it to you on the Horizon, someone else on the ship would have. And what kind of friend would I be if I found the one here and didn’t share it with you?”

You smiled and nodded along with him. “True. You know, it’s still a mystery to me how we managed to hide in the Horizon’s sweet spot so many times,” you mused.

“You know what I think?” he asked.

You raised your brow in question. “What?”

“I think our parents let us think we were hiding from them,” Travis said with a grin. “Everyone knew of the ship’s sweet spot. You’d think they would have at least checked it.”

You laughed and nodded. “You might be right. But it was a big ship. There were plenty of places for kids to hide in.”

He smiled, but you could see that it was bittersweet.

“I miss it too sometimes,” you said softly, voicing his unaired thoughts.

“You do?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised. “But you love Starfleet.”

You nodded and shrugged a shoulder. “I do, but… I miss how close everyone was on the Horizon. I miss the families on there, and the more relaxed nature of it all. I love Starfleet, I really do. I love the exploration and the research opportunities, but it’s not the same as life on a cargo ship.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Travis said with a soft sigh. “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Maybe some day. But for now, I’m pretty content here. Mostly I just miss the family-feeling of it all.”

Travis took your hand gently and gave it a squeeze. “Well, you have me.”

You grinned at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, either,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re my family, Y/N. You’re a piece of my past and a part of my future.”

You let out a short laugh. “Since when did you become so poetic?”

“Since you lent me so many of your books,” he said, laughing along with you.

You squeezed his hand for a few moments, then let go. “All this sentimental talk has made me hungry. What do you say we go grab a bite to eat?”

“I’d say lead the way,” he said, extending a hand down to the exit with a warm smile plastered on his face. A smile you’d seen so many times over the years, and yet would never grow tired of seeing.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Dropping in to offer a quick heads up that there probably won't be any uploads for the next week or so as I focus on wrapping up the semester.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Hi Sam! I’d like to request a Shuri x Reader drabble with prompt 21 and 63 from prompt list 1, if that’s okay! And again, congrats in 10k!

Characters: Reader x Shuri

Warnings: —

Prompt: 21. “Are you being sarcastic?” “Me? Sarcastic? Never.” & 63. “I’ve got it under control.”

Word Count: 303

A/N: thank u so much stella!! i hope u like it 💕

want to request a drabble? Read this post!

The loud explosion that rattles through Shuri’s lab startles you, to say the least. You flinch at the sound, and your eyes widen as you sprint to the building, rushing to Shuri’s aid. You burst through the doors, expecting there to be some sort of threat, for Shuri to be in danger, but to your surprise, you find Shuri alone in the lab, desperately trying to fan out some flames erupting from one of her work benches.

“Shuri!” you exclaim, rushing to her side. You desperately look around you for anything to help Shuri, and you ask, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’ve got it under control.” Shuri tells you, the flames still dancing out at her as she struggles to put them out. You frown, raising an eyebrow at her.

Slowly, you ask, “Are you being sarcastic?” 

“Me? Sarcastic? Never.” Shuri scoffs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Finally pointing at the corner, Shuri exclaims, “The fire extinguisher is there!” 

You lunge into action, scrambling to grab the small device. You hand it to Shuri, who quickly activates it, putting out the mini explosion. As the flames quickly die down, Shuri lets out a sigh of relief, before turning to you with a teasing smile, “You were so slow, you almost let my whole lab burn down.”

“Seriously?” you splutter, and Shuri laughs. “You’re the one who started the fire! What are you even doing in here?” 

“Just trying out new things.” Shuri grins, wiggling her eyebrows at you as her eyes sparkle with excitement. You love how enthusiastic Shuri gets about her new inventions, and you’re always eager to hear about them. “Want to see?”

“Depends.” you tap your chin. “Are you going to blow us up?”

“I’ll try not to.” Shuri jokes, and the two of you dissolve into laughter. 

[prider-parker-imaginations]

The Black Sheep: Part 9

Previous: Imagine Littlefinger trying to blackmail you.

Next: TBA

Imagine reuniting with Tyrion when he returns to King’s Landing. (Male!Reader)

You didn’t look up from the book you were studying at the sound of clinking armour at the threshold to your chambers. Guards came and went by frequently in the Red Keep and the sound had quickly grown familiar to you. “What is it?” you asked, your quill scratching across a scrap of parchment as you scrawled out a quick note.

“Is that any way to greet your favourite brother?”

The quill fell from your fingers as you stood sharply to face your little brother. “Tyrion!” Delight made your heart warm before a stab of cold dread tempered the sensation. Your brother’s armour stood in stark contrast to remind you that while him and Jaime had participated in the war, you had remained at King’s Landing. While Tyrion had faced your father, you had hidden away.

Tyrion seemed to sense your hesitance and offered you a smile, his arms open. He had always been good at reading your emotions. “Don’t worry. Father is still far away fighting a war. He sent me to serve as Hand of the King in his stead.”

You returned his smile with a genuine one of your own and moved to embrace him. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you,” Tyrion replied, giving your shoulder a firm pat. “Now, please tell me how in the world things here went to shit as soon as I was gone.”

And so the two of you sat in your chambers and spoke for hours, filling each other in the details of your lives since he had left with the rest of your siblings for Winterfell.

“I apologize for not coming to see you first upon my return,” Tyrion acknowledged, swirling the wine in his cup. “I didn’t want to miss seeing the look on our dear sister’s face when she learned father had appointed me Hand of the King. Now, tell me about the Stark girl. Cersei tells me you and her have become quite close.”

You stared into your own cup, a frown etched across your features. “You and I both know how Joffrey can be. I’ve done what I can to make things easier for her, but he seems intent on making her life miserable.”

“You’ve been spending a great deal of time with her?”

“Is it so wrong to want her to feel as though she has at least one ally?” 

“Why, brother, it almost sounds as though you have feelings for the girl,” Tyrion teased, and you found yourself bristling at the comment.

 “You know it’s not like that.” You couldn’t keep the irritation from bleeding into your voice, the echo of Littlefinger’s needling feeding your frustration. You hated that people kept assuming because you wanted to spend time with Sansa that you must have feelings for her. It wasn’t like that. For one, she was barely more than a child and you were a man grown. Could you not want to help and protect a child without someone assuming you wanted to take advantage of them? Could you do nothing without something being read into it?

Tyrion held up a hand, his expression turning placating and his tone gentle, “I apologize, that was unworthy of me. But you may want to proceed cautiously with her. Not only is she betrothed to your nephew, she is a hostage here. You would not want your affections for her to be taken as a sign of disloyalty. And even if your affections for her do not mean you want her, others may interpret it that way. Including her.”

You slumped back in your chair, taking a long drink. You ran a hand over your face, a deep exhaustion settling into your bones. “Only in our family would befriending a lonely little girl be such a complicated affair,” you groaned. “I just wish there was something more I could do for her. She deserves an ally that isn’t a coward.”

An amused grin spread across your little brother’s face. “How about a dwarf and a whore?”

You blinked, your confusion amplified by the warm headiness of the wine. “A whore?”

Tyrion leaned forwards and you could see the beginnings of a plan forming behind his wickedly clever eyes. “How would you like to defy father and give Sansa another ally at the same time?”

You sat up, intrigued as your brother laid out his plan to install Shae as Sansa’s new handmaiden. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

“More so than any of the handmaidens Cersei would choose.”

You mulled the idea over in your head thoughtfully. “You don’t think father finding out would put Shae at risk?”

“Then we shall have to be careful.”

You reached across the table between the two of you to clasp Tyrion’s fingers. “Thank you, Tyrion.

He rested his own smaller hand over yours, giving you a familiar smile. “Who am I to deny my favourite brother?”