#Em writes

[emsprovisions]

Happy WIP Wednesday! I’m sharing a little bit from a project I’m working on 💕

Carlos hadn’t expected anything to happen when he chose to move to New York for grad school, least of all meeting TK Strand.

It had been the first day he moved in back in August, Carlos is always careful, but the oven in his apartment is old and it sparked and there was a small electrical fire that Carlos managed to put out, but the smoke alarm triggered the call to FDNY anyways.

He’d shown up at Carlos’s door in turnouts and a helmet, T.K. Strand printed on the back of his jacket. Carlos was done for with those pretty green eyes that seemed to pierce right through him.

He brought the station cookies the next day–successfully managing not to set his oven on fire this time–and secretly hoped he’d be able to hand them off to the handsome firefighter himself.

That was four months ago, and now, Carlos has never felt lighter than he does right now. TK holds on tight to his hand as they walk through the city. He’s bundled up in a coat that TK only made a little bit of fun of him for wearing, but his hand in Carlos’s is warm, and his smile is even warmer, and Carlos has no clue how he happens to be lucky enough to score the world’s greatest boyfriend, but he has.

Thank you for the tags @whatsintheboxmh @carlos-in-glasses @carlossreaders @heartstringsduet @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @nisbanisba

No pressure tags @sapphic--kiwi @ironheartwriter @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland @decafdino @paperstorm @eclectic-sassycoweyes @henrygrass @tellmegoodbye @chicgeekgirl89 + Open 🏷️

[wadewnstonwilson]

needy logan headcanons for when you're busy with work || suggestion by @hiddenavenues

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x genderneutral!reader

author note: let me know if you guys want me to make this into an actual fic!! also would love to make more headcanons in the future featuring logan or wade so please feel free to drop me an ask!

logan is always finding excuses to be near you. whether you're at your desk or working late on a project, he’ll casually drop by to “check on you.” his presence is comforting but undeniably distracting, as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, silently watching you with a smirk.

he knows what you like, so he starts bringing your favorite coffee or snack without being asked. it’s his way of saying, “i’m thinking about you,” but he never makes a big deal out of it. you finds little gifts like books, flowers, or even something practical you mentioned needing, left quietly in your space.

logan becomes extra touchy during this time. he’ll walk up behind you and rest his hands on your shoulders, rubbing away the tension, or casually brush a hand across your back. his hands linger just a bit longer than necessary, and there’s always a hint of possessiveness in his touch.

he'll randomly interrupt your work by stealing a kiss or ruffling your hair, knowing it gets a reaction out of you. if you try to shoo him away, he’ll grin and lean in closer, saying something teasing like, “you work too hard. take a break for me, darlin’.”

logan isn’t one for grand gestures, but he’ll leave handwritten notes in your workspace with short, gruff messages like, “missin’ you,” or “don’t forget to take a break.” sometimes they’re playful and flirty, other times they’re almost shy, revealing how much he hates being without your attention.

he takes on small tasks for you without you asking—picking up groceries, fixing something around the house, or even doing laundry. he doesn’t expect praise, but he secretly loves the idea that these small things might free up time for you to spend together.

despite all his gestures, there’s a simmering undercurrent of jealousy. if you mention spending time with someone else, logan’s demeanor will change slightly—his jaw tightens, and he might grip your hand a little harder. he doesn’t vocalize his jealousy much, but the possessiveness in his actions makes it clear.

when logan can’t have the your full attention, he’ll settle for watching you. his eyes follow your every move, as if committing every detail to memory. there’s an intensity in his gaze, a silent reminder of just how much he needs you.

whenever you do get a break, logan will immediately pull you into his arms, practically growling if you try to resist. he craves the physical connection, holding you tightly as if he’s making up for all the time you've been apart. he’s never been the type to ask for attention, but now, it’s obvious how much he needs it.

despite his rugged exterior, logan’s neediness shows a softer side. he’s not good with words, but you can tell he’s feeling a little insecure about being pushed aside. every gesture, touch, and note is his way of quietly saying, “miss you, need you.” even if he doesn’t say it out loud, the affection is constant and genuine.

[writing-for-marvel]

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Masterlist

Welcome to my first Kintober event! I’ve been on tumblr for over two years now and previously I’ve been too intimidated by the sheer magnitude of this event to try participating, but this year I thought I’d give it a go!

In the aim of doing something a little different, I’ve decided to stray from the ‘normal’ Kinktober format and instead will be writing for only one couple as they explore Europe and each other during their honeymoon - as inspired by the lovely @holacia3

All fics will be with the same Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader established relationship and though they will be linked, each can be read on its own.

This event and my blog are strictly 18+ only - minors and ageless blogs do not interact. Dividers by me, please do not use

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library | Ko-fi

Day 1: Mile High Club (1.7k)

Day 4: Overstimulation (1.8k)

Day 7: Striptease (1.6k)

Day 10: Exhibitionism (1.2k)

Day 13: Somnophilia (1.2k)

Day 16: Massage (1.6k)

Day 19: Sex Toys (1.6k)

Day 22: Balcony Sex (1.6k)

Day 25: Body Worship (2.5k)

Day 28: Filming (1.5k)

Day 31: Breeding Kink (2.1k)

[death---dealer]

'come back' this 'why dont you just quit' that SHUT UP ART TAKES TIME and i'M GOING THROUGH STUFF. I swear I'm working on stuff for other characters Caesar is my comfort CHARACTER THO.

Before the Sun.

Caesar was teetering between deep sleep and a lucid state, the fluttering of his eyelids were indicative of that. A soft smile tugged its way onto your expression, fallen with slumber itself as you had only just woken up a minute prior. The Ape King was vulnerable, or at least so you thought as your stare studied the way Caesar was resting on his stomach, his shoulders rising and falling with an inclined pace of drowsiness. It was rare in and of itself to see the broad body of him sleeping, every carnal and primal intent seeped out of the very tips of his fur the night before casting in you in a naked hue beside him.

He never slid his entire large frame on your side, save for the usual arm that was spread against your roused body, ultimately keeping you pinned between the rippled muscles under his thickened furred forearm and the animal hides that helped cushion the nest below on your back. 

It was hard to see the angles of his face much to your displeasure as the dawn had yet to crest itself into the shared bed bringing with it the first morning light that played shadows of delicacies against Caesar’s already sharpened features. Instead, you found your fingers dragging against the grain of Caesar’s furred arm, upwards towards his bicep, never admitting that you longed to have him awake but that was the intent deep inside of your dozy train of thought. 

There was a grumble of a baritone from the Ape beside you. “You… should be sleeping…” “I could say the same.” The retort you had was quick as if you anticipated his words, a smile of acute fondness taking hold against the edges of your lips. Caesar processed your words slowly, hearing the infliction you had used and without even looking towards you, he was able to deduce that you had been smiling. Something he himself desired to see. The Chimp was still lingering in a dream-state as he rolled his gaze open just long enough to make minor eye contact that cause you to yearn to see the green-gold of his irises looking at you and only you as if it were the first time making such intimate contact in the first place. It felt ardent and aggressive, the way that your heart fluttered against your ribcage with his next words, the deep richness like silken honey enough to keep you captivated. “Hm… Council meeting… This morning. Must… Wake soon.”

The words made sense but you were unwilling to waver to them as did Caesar as you were pulled inwards towards him. As if the 'C' shaped position he held his hand against your exposed skin, exploding the nerves to the point of exasperated goosebumps, was gravity itself and you found it difficult not to help the equation by rolling and bringing your face into his neck. You could almost feel the movement of the ripping muscles of Caesar's jugular as he adjusted his head for your placement, always happy and fulfilled to let his face press into the crown of your head as you puzzled your expression into his neck. Eyelids fluttered shut at the impact that felt so natural.

His scent was indescribable as usual to your waking nostrils which then began to tangle happily with the dreams that you imagined were ingrained in some deepened part of your subconscious. Deeply stuck with notes of the Muir Woods, the vines snaking up the trees and musk as if Caesar had accidentally rubbed his shoulder against dampened foliage and the tiny droplets of moisture were still clinging to the frayed tips of his fur.

All so inviting and all too alluring as your eyelids fluttered shut in drowsed bliss for a split second longer than you would have liked as you wanted to do nothing more than admire Caesar before he needed to trudge himself out of the nest to begin his day. Shoulders strong and wide, gait paced and sure. Green and golden catapulted irises that were so intent and detailed on all aspects around him that it was a spectacle itself to watch Caesar scan the Colony in search of answers that bore no inquiry to being with. All things that translated and transcended all attention from Apes and Humans alike in his presense.

“It’s not morning yet…” Your voice is barely above a whisper as Caesar chortled in response, a mixture of innate affection from your teasing phrase and the way that your breath catapulted against his fur, sinking in from the proximity your face was to his thickened neck into his skin below and shattering against it like fire against an ice sheet. Canines peeking out momentarily which captivated your faltering gaze before they rested shut permanently, consumed by the warmth that Caesar always provided along with the shield of protection that always lingered around your Mate.

"The Sun's not even up..." That tapered off with a slumber filled yawn against Caesar's fur, a few strands letting them case between your lips as you beckoned your body closer to the Ape and entangling yourself further much to Caesar's adamance to wake sooner rather than later.

Feeling you soft against his harder body coated with pristine and thickly dense muscles, the ricochets of your breathing along his neck and down the scape towards where his shoulder fused all tempted him to linger, to stay and bide time that was meant for a meeting. Caesar could spare a few moments, maybe even minutes if you wanted to be more persuasive.

You could feel the pressing of ovals against your side as his grip on your tender and naked flesh became more possessive and coated with intentions that were fluttering against the horizon just like the Sun itself. He'd wait to get up until it had risen. Despite it being a Human Technicality. Caesar would have it no other way as he grunted quietly, fusing your body against his to keep warm for the rest of the pre-dawn morn.

[marvel-ous-m]

The Stuff of Our Lives

Written for @steddiemicrofic June Prompt: Stuff | WC: 483 | Teen and Up Audiences | Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Eddie Munson Has a Bad Father, Flight of Icarus Lore Mentioned

“Do you need help with your other things, babe?” 

Steve looked at the boxes in the back of the van in response to Eddie’s question, mentally reviewing the various contents of each. 

Two for clothes, one for books, tapes, and movies, one for trinkets, and one for miscellaneous shit. 

“Nope! This is it.” Steve caught Eddie’s eye through the rearview mirror and smiled, then closed the van doors. He circled the van and climbed into the passenger seat, not noticing how Eddie’s responding smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Are we moving the rest of your stuff into the apartment later?” 

Steve frowned, feeling a pang of hurt at the implication of Eddie’s question. “There’s no other stuff. Clothes, toiletries, trinkets. That’s all there is, all I have.” 

Eddie’s eyes darted back to the rearview mirror, glancing at the five boxes that took up almost no space in the van. “No furniture or anything?” 

Steve shrugged. “I figured I’d just buy that from the secondhand shop. My parents are already pissed I’m moving out. My dad would, like, track me down if he found out that I took anything else.” Steve gave a forced laugh, which was silenced a beat later when Eddie’s hand rested on top of Steve’s knee. They fell quiet for a few minutes as Eddie carefully navigated the roads to their apartment. 

Finally, Eddie spoke. “A couple years ago my house burned down. I saved a few of my mother’s records, some books I’d had since I was a kid, but the rest wasn’t salvageable.” 

“Fuck, Eddie, I-”

“My dad didn’t care, but I did. Stuff isn’t forever, and to someone else it may just be a pile of junk, but to me, it’s a physical representation of a memory, and I can think of nothing more... significant than surrounding yourself with those memories. I had some other stuff at Wayne’s when that happened, and have made more memories since, better ones, but it was still hard to let go of those memories in that house.” 

Steve was at a loss for words, and Eddie continued. 

“I know your parents aren’t the best, that they think of things as having monetary value and not much else, but I guess what I’m trying to say is, even though you don’t have much stuff right now, that just means that we have the opportunity to get more stuff together, right? To fill our home with memories of us. You won’t be surrounded by memories of them anymore.” Eddie paused, then grimaced. “Sorry if that, like, makes zero sense-” 

Steve placed his hand on top of Eddie’s, his eyes wet with emotion and his heart warmed by Eddie’s words. “No, I get it. Our stuff, our memories.” Steve smiled. “I can’t wait to get stuff with you, Eds.” 

Eddie glanced over at Steve, offering his boyfriend a soft smile. “Same here, baby.” 

[starshinegarcia]

hi!!! Can you do Spencer x fem reader where she is not a part of the BAU but is Spencer's gf and no one on the team knows but they have their suspicions. Then one day he forgot his lunch so she decides to bring it to him at work and everyone is so shocked that he has a gf and they tease Spencer bc he's so infatuated with her and they are so in love!

I love this idea so much!! requested Spencer x Reader oneshot- my first time writing Spencer! feedback appreciated as always! __ stands for Y/N! hope i did it justice! thanks so much for the request lovely 💗

Isn’t it just so pretty to think..

The sun peeked in at you through a crack in the cream colored curtains, a trick of the light casting shadows on your freckled back as you dozed off- again. The slow beeping of your alarm clock came into earshot once again, and you begrudgingly unlocked your phone, trudging across the apartment to take a picture of the fridge (it was the only way to shut your alarm off, Spencer had figured out your sleep habits.) Slowly padding back to your bedroom, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, blinking as you examined Spencer’s side of the bed. Wait. You twirled around, doing a double take as your eyes focused on the blue lunch bag sitting on the counter. Spencer had forgotten his lunch, the one you had packed for him the night before, like you always did.

The love note peeked out at you in the front pocket, an extra reminder to you as you grabbed your phone. Scrolling through a few texts from Spencer from earlier in the morning, you dialed his number, chewing on your lip as it rang. “Good morning, sunshine.” “Spencie, you forgot your lunch.” You heard your boyfriend sigh on the other line, imagining him rubbing his temples. “So much for that eidetic memory, huh? I’m sorry, baby, put it back in the fridge, okay? I’ll order something for today.” You shook your head, but refrain from arguing audibly as an idea sprang into your head. “Baby?” “Just wait there, okay Spence?” “__, sweetheart, what-” “No time to talk! Bye!” Giggling, you DID place the lunch back in the fridge as he had asked, dashing back to the bedroom and shutting the door with a spin.

Spencer had, undoubtedly, been in a rush that morning, having stayed in bed with you a few more minutes then time allowed for. He ended up not being late, and even if he had been he would never sacrifice that time with you, not for the BAU, not for the world. You had been dating for half a year now, but you had been in his life for much longer before that- hence you two moving in relatively quickly. The team obviously had their suspicions, but no formal introduction had taken place- but Spencer was left completely clueless that morning as you hung up the phone, smiling and going back to his files with a loving shake of his head.

So, come lunchtime, the last thing he was expecting was your scent wafting through the office, his ears picking up on the jingling of your bracelets and suddenly feeling slightly crazy. But no, there you were, bouncing up to him with a visitor badge pinned to your blouse, your guy’s favorite Chinese takeout cradled in her hands.

“Hi, babe.” You set the food down on his desk, perching yourself on his desk. “What are you doing here, sunshine?” “Well, I have a shoot later downtown, and, I figured you might want some lunch- free delivery, of course.” Spencer chuckles, taking you in- you were wearing a light blue blouse over a darker blue skirt- two of his favorite colors, though anything looked good on you. “You shouldn’t have. You look stunning, though. I can’t wait to see those pictures later.” You giggle, swinging your legs and reaching out a hand to smooth his curls down. Spencer clears his throat, and you glance up to see the entire BAU staring at you.

The rest of the office watched in awe as you came in, then with even more surprise as you beelined it to Spencer’s desk. JJ whipped a fashion magazine out of seemingly thin-air, pointing to a woman on the front cover. “She is quite literally the top plus sized model in the US right now.” “You’re telling me that Spencer is dating HER?” Garcia burst out in a fit of giggles, “I told you guys, big girls are the way to go!” while Derek shook his head with a smile. “Pretty boy pulls a model. Who knew?” Emily swiveled around to face them, shaking her head. “She looks different than the magazine, though. She looks smart, and look at the way he’s looking at her. Reid wouldn’t date someone without depth.”

Becoming aware of everyone’s eyes on you, you look to your boyfriend for an answer, getting a nod and gentle smile in return. You hop up off his desk, smoothing your skirt down and waving shyly. “Uh, hi, everyone! I’m __, it’s really nice to finally meet you guys, Spencer has told me so much about you and I’m really glad to finally be putting a face to the name and I’m-” “Baby, breathe.” The team stifles a laugh, the resemblance between your rants and Spencer’s tangents clear. You flush. “Anyway. I brought enough food for all, if you guys want? Penelope, I um, got some vegetarian stuff for you, as well.” Garcia, the woman that she is, wraps you in a tight hug, and you laugh, appreciating her silent invitation into the group.

Seated at the round table, everyone passes food around, settling down eventually and eating off of paper plates Rossi had dug up somewhere. Chatter fills the table, and the door abruptly opens as Hotch enters the briefing room. Everyone freezes, and you drop your fork startlingly loudly as his eyes find you. Rossi starts, “Aaron, we were just-” Hotch holds up his hand, cracking a smile as he motions to shake your hand. “You must be Spencer’s girlfriend. I had a feeling we’d be meeting you soon. __, is it?” You blink, standing up and letting out a sigh of relief, eyes twinkling as he winks at Spencer and starts to pull up a chair.

As the lunch hour came to a natural close, Spencer pulled you close as you leaned on his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of your head,Garcia gazes at you two from the bullpen. “They are so freaking cute, I could cry.” Everyone laughs, but silently agrees, happy to know their youngest and most troubled colleague had found someone. Back in the office, you glance at your bedazzled watch and sigh.“I need to get going, baby, my shoot starts in half an hour.” Spencer groans, tugging on your arm as you start to stand up and gather your things. You laugh, rubbing his hand with your thumb. “I’ll see you at home, Spencie.” He nods, pulling you into a kiss and resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll be looking forward to that PB&J tomorrow, sweetheart.”

All along there was some invisible string, tying you to me..

Tags: @discotitsposts @ilikw

Comment 🦋 to be added to my tag list!! :)

[bunification]

SHORT FUSE — ELLIE WILLIAMS

ellie takes you to a club and can’t wait til home to fuck you.

wc: 1.2K

a/n: hiiii so this is my first fic!!! i’m super excited, open to any advice, and likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome!!! my asks are always open :)

Ellie is pissed. The kind of pissed that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that burns and simmers until it boils over, scalding everything in its way. And because the reason was you, dancing away at a club she took you to, in clothes she bought for you (knowing you’d look like this, like a meal that’s got a garnish, all delicious and presentable), she’s even more pissed because she knew this would happen.

She can’t take you anywhere without people fawning over you, a fact that both satisfies some primal urge within her and activates an equally primal violent one. She’s having fun, she scolds herself. You can fuck her stupid in an hour. You can give her an hour.

And Ellie could’ve–would’ve–if you hadn’t stumbled over, all done up with black smudged around your eyes and glossy lips twisted in a pout twenty minutes later asking to dance. She even tried complying, folding before you finished asking as she dragged you back toward the dance floor.

It was a minute in, when you began grinding your ass against the strap hidden beneath her slacks, that Ellie’s restraint finally snapped. Her hands slot themselves onto your hips, gripping with a strength that tells you she could throw you over her shoulder in a heartbeat. You pause your movements; her hands tighten, gripping the fat at your hips like you might try and escape, then loosen without losing their place.

You’re just barely tipsy, more confused when you mumble out “Els, wha–?” Except she doesn’t let you finish, moving her iron grip to your hand, swallowing it in her own as she spins you around to look at her. She looks debauched. Pupils engulfing her irises, lips recently wet and parted with heaving breaths, furrowed brows caging in her eyes as she looks at you. She’s ethereal.

“Y’r a fuckin’ tease,” she grumbles and then doesn’t waste a moment more before leaning down to press her lips against yours. It starts slow, with a special awareness that this is happening in the middle of the dance floor, before quickly devolving until the rest of the world fades and it’s just eachother. She devours you, pulls you apart and explores each section as her tongue fucks itself into your mouth, before she obscenely sucks your tongue into hers. You can’t help but whimper, and that’s when she pulls back, allows the two of you to catch your breath. You pant into her mouth, breaths mingling, and Ellie leans down to press a quick peck to your lips, like she can’t help it. Her hand, giant and imposing, softly cups your cheek and her thumb dances across the soft skin.

“Can’t wait till home,” she mumbles, and you catch it by reading her kiss stricken lips, the words going straight to your cunt. “Bathroom?” she asks, and she’s hopeful, so cute with bitten lips and a shy grin. Who are you to deny her of something you’ve wanted since you got back from class? You nod, and she winks, before turning around and swallowing your hand in her own yet again, leading a path through the crowd to the bathroom.

Entering the bathroom was a blur, only coming into focus once Ellie manhandled you onto the counter, cool granite a harsh contrast to the way her hands encapsulated your plush thighs. She was kneading at the doughy skin, mouth relentless against your lips, and then your neck. You were speechless for a moment, and then you were sure you’d never shut up again, “God Ellie, so good to me,” And you’re tugging at her roots, just scrambling to pull her into you, to get her face up to yours so you can see her, breath with her, love on her.

Ellie doesn’t move, instead tsks, just a condescending “Ah, ah, ah” before turning her attention back towards your neck. “Supposed to be mad at you,” and she huffs a laugh into your neck when you scoff. “‘M serious,” she continues, “You’re out there looking all pretty, and I don’t really care what you do, babe, but they’re looking. Wish I could be the only one, ‘s all.”

“So you’re really not mad at me,” you clarify, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, and Ellie nips at your skin, a playful little notion. After a beat, she finally folds, “No,” keeping her position buried in the crook of your neck before peeking out to make eye contact with a twinkle in them before asking, “Will you still let me fuck you?”

You nod, and then it’s all unbottoning pants and flipping up skirts, messy circles on your clit over your panties with your face buried in Ellie’s neck. You hiccup against her skin, lazily mouthing at it when you quiet down a bit, patiently waiting for your girlfriend to pull out her dick. Ellie shimmies her slacks down her legs a bit before letting the pink glittery dildo escape the confines of her pants. “Y’want my fingers? Need a little more from me?” And only a sob escapes because she’s been working your clit the entire time.

“Need you now,” You whimper, squirming where she has you against the granite, her big hands palming at your tits through your shirt, and you’re ready for her, slick and pliant and open. She rubs your clits a couple more times before bringing one of her hands to the base of her dick, and the other to slide your panties over. The head nudges at your rim, stretching so easily as she pushes in, and your lips are a breath apart, panting into the other’s mouth when Ellie slides home.

You moan unabashadly, head throw back until it thumps against the mirror as Ellie thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. She’s so deep it hurts, so deep it feels like she might grow roots and build a home here. And god, you want her to, and you tell her as much as she fucks into you, just “Oh Els,” and “Right there, fuck,” and “I’m getting—mmph—close, oh”. Ellie can’t help the cocky grin that stays on her face as her hips slam into your own, knowing she’s got you like this and knowing that, for the rest of her life, no one else would.

“Is my girl close?” She asks, face now right by your ear, “Y’gonna cum? Is my sweet girl gonna cum?” You nod, furiously, letting out a shout of pleasure when her hand sneaks down towards your clit and rubs. It all lasts a moment more before pleasure consumes you, vision going white as the wave crashes. She holds you, carrying you through it with deep, slow thrusts, a milky white ring around the pretty pink base.

Ellie’s hand circles your back, pulling you toward her before seeming to remember that she’s buried inside you, and so she backs up so she can pull out. She slips out of you, and you briefly whine at her absence until she returns, with some damp paper towel. She cleans you up, and kisses your forehead before resituating your underwear and skirt, then her own slacks.

Ellie is content. The kind of content that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that floats and glimmers until it’s barely containable. And because the reason was you, sitting before her on the counter she just fucked you on, she’s even more content because she had a feeling this would happen.

[settsplitt]

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips - landoscar!! (kiss over the carotid pulse in the neck? c: )

@starlightiing hi Jess!!!! This one really got away from me honestly....i have no idea how it ended up being 1.2k lol. But i really hope you like it!!!

Oscar looks good in his swim trunks.

Lando can’t help but think so, staring at him as he shakes the water out of his hair. He has a towel slung over his shoulders, blue and white stripes covering the pale skin of his shoulders, obscuring his full chest from Lando's view.

But the view is still pretty fucking good. Water drips down his legs, leaving swirling patterns through the hair on shins. His shorts cling to his thighs, showing off the cut of muscle above his knee. They hang low, exposing the softness of his abs and stomach, the curve of his waist. He looks good. 

His eyes land on Lando, where he’s sprawled out on the white couches that line the starboard side of the small yacht. He looks him up and down, like he’s considering him. Lando smiles.

“Good swim?” he says, as he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He squints against the afternoon sun as he looks back up at Oscar. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, pulling the towel off his shoulders and wrapping it around his fist. He towels off his legs, balancing on one foot and then the other, reaching all the way down to the droplets that have collected on his ankles.

It should look goofy. Hell, it probably does. But all Lando can focus on is the flex of his thigh as he balances, the long line of his shoulder as he reaches down to get at his toes. 

He’s like a drooling dog staring pathetically at dinner.

His eyes follow his movement as he straightens back up, chest fully exposed and shining in the sun. The towel is dropped to the ground at the periphery of Lando’s vision, delicate pale fingers letting it go slowly.

He must’ve missed something Oscar’s said, because when his eyes finally wander up to his face his eyebrows are raised expectantly. His mouth curls up at the corner. He's definitely caught Lando looking.

Lando hums questioningly, prompting Oscar to repeat himself. He tucks his chin into his hand and watches him from beneath his eyelashes as his mouth begins to move. 

“I was just saying, would be better with you out there with me,” he casts his gaze over the water, mouth still curved in a half smile. Lando shakes his head.

“No. Uh-uh. I told you, something touched my foot yesterday. I'm not getting in that water again,”

Oscar laughs at him. His face cracks open on a smile and he laughs. Lando almost died in the ocean and he’s laughing. This is not acceptable behavior. 

Lando jumps up from his seat on the couch, springing himself across the few feet of slippery deck to where Oscar's standing. He grabs Oscar's shoulder for leverage and uses his other hand to cover his mouth. Oscar tries to lean out of the way, ducking his head from side to side, but Lando catches him anyway. 

“You fucking Muppet! It's not funny,” he says, but he’s giggling himself too, words coming out jumbled and unserious. Oscar continues to laugh at him. 

He lets his hand fall against Oscar's chest as he catches his breath. Oscar’s chest is warm beneath his hand, just barely wet with seawater, droplets glistening against his pale skin. He drums his fingers against his bones, listening intently to the sound his skin makes against Oscar's. He looks up again.

Oscar meets his eyes. He’s not laughing anymore. His mouth is hanging slightly open, soft breaths spilling out between his teeth. His eyes are open wide. Lando knows that look.

They shouldn't. Not here, this close to the coast and the harbor and probably a thousand cell phone cameras that could capture any moment between them. 

But Lando wants to. And he can tell Oscar wants it too.

He doesn't hesitate before he pushes his face forward into Oscar's neck, rubbing his nose along the curve of his neck. He brings one hand up to Oscar’s chest, bracing himself against his body. 

He runs his lips over Oscar’s skin, pressing his tongue against his neck. He tastes like salt water and lingering sunscreen. Oscar tilts his neck back slightly, allowing him better access to the cut of his jawline.

“We really shouldn't,” he says into Oscar's skin, teeth coming into contact with the curve of his jaw. Oscar lets out a small gasp and Lando takes it as an invitation.

He presses his mouth into the soft spot below his jaw, between hard muscle and the line of his vocal chords. He can feel his pulse beneath his lips. His pulse is hard and fast, lingering exertion from his laps around the boat. Or maybe from something else. 

He pulls his mouth away, glancing up at Oscar’s face. His eyes have fallen closed. His cheeks are pink. It could just be the sun. Or, again, something else. 

“Someone could see,” Lando says, mouth centimeters from Oscar's pulse point. He leans back in and runs his tongue over the fluttering skin. 

“D-don't care,” Oscar grits out, but oh, oh. Lando can tell he definitely does care, based on the way his pulse has quickened beneath his tongue. He scrapes his teeth against the spot, running his tongue against the sensitive skin to soothe it after.

Lando can feel the vibrations of Oscar’s throat as he lets out a moan, chest heaving beneath the hand Lando has placed across his ribs. 

He can feel his heart beating there, too. He hadn't noticed it at first, too caught up in the moment to feel the thump beneath his palm. He wonders what it would sound like if he were to press his ear to his bare skin, if the sound would be loud enough to vibrate his teeth, if it would feel as good as his pulse does against his mouth. 

As it is, he keeps his tongue pressed to his skin, mouthing at his pulse point with a renewed vigor. He braces his free hand against the other side of his neck, pulling Oscar into him, like he could dig any deeper into his skin with his mouth. 

He lets out a stuttered moan, and his hand comes up to grab at Lando’s against his neck. 

“L-Lando,” he stutters out, and when Lando pulls away he can see a pained look on his face, like he wants more. More that he can’t have when they’re in the open air of a yacht, less than a mile away from the most high profile place in the world. 

Ah, ok. Enough for now. He’ll just have to take him home later and finish things in his bed. 

He presses a final kiss to his neck before he separates himself from Oscar’s body. He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, eyeing Oscar up as he takes a step back.

He looks positively flustered. His entire face is red and his chest heaves up and down with every open-mouthed breath he takes. Lando diligently keeps his eyes above his waistline, but he’s pretty sure of what he’d find if he were to look. 

“So what d’you want for dinner?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Oscar chuckles to himself, like he’s just thought of something funny.

“Seafood?”

[whollyjoly]

manifesting may and buck talking at the hospital, in a parallel to the may and bobby conversation in 6x11:

buck, trying to keep it together: "im sorry im such a mess, you must be taking this a lot harder than i am"

may, putting a hand on his shoulder: "buck, we're both worried about our dad. it's okay"

[drowninginthoughts27]

In Every Universe (It Was You)

By drowninginthoughts on ao3

"Hi," James smiles, scratching the back of his neck anxiously as he talks, "So uhh... English isn't exactly my strong suit, you see. And uhh... I was kinda wondering if we could exchange numbers or something so that I have someone to contact if I get confused, ya know."

"Why couldn't you ask someone else?" Regulus questions.

"I don't really know anyone else in this class super well."

Regulus just stares at him blankly, unsure of how to reply. He almost doesn't believe him, James knows pretty much everyone and it's not that big of a school after all.

Or a collection of Jegulus-centric microfics which were originally posted to Tumblr and have since been revamped a bit and published

[emsprovisions]

I originally wasn't going to share anything from this project before I was ready to post it but it's all I have new this week and I think a little extra fluff on the dash is necessary today ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“You’re not wearing anything Christmassy. Should I avoid wearing something Christmassy?” TK pokes his head around the corner to meet Carlos’s eyes in the bathroom mirror.

Carlos quirks a brow at his fiancé. “It’s just the APD Christmas party, babe. You can wear whatever you want. You don’t need to dress up.”

“But you did.”

“This is how I dress for date night, it’s not that fancy,” Carlos frowns, backtracking through the bathroom to reenter the bedroom and set his hands on TK’s bare hips. “Is something bothering you, baby?”

TK bites his lip as he looks back at the closet. “...It’s the first APD Christmas party I’m going to with you.”

Judging by Carlos’s face, he doesn’t understand what TK’s getting at. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks adorably confused. “Okay, and?” He asks gently, because Carlos is always kind and patient with TK. 

“And,” TK sighs dramatically. “I don’t know. I just want to make a good impression on your coworkers. We didn’t go the first year we were together because of the pandemic, we didn’t go last year because we were broken up…”

Carlos’s hands rise to TK’s shoulders to rub him gently. “Everyone knows you’re my fiancé, babe. You’ve even defrosted Lexi’s heart a bit with those lemon bars of yours,” Carlos waggles an eyebrow, making TK laugh a little.

“I know, I know. I don’t know why I’m stressing about it. I guess it’s just because I don’t know your coworkers outside of calls the way you know mine.”

“Wear a Christmas sweater if you want to, babe. Be as loud as you want. That’s why we’re getting married, right? So we can tell the whole world how much we love each other,” Carlos’s smile is soft, the way he looks at TK is filled with so much love TK’s heart could burst.

He wraps his arms around Carlos’s neck and hugs him tight. “Thanks, baby.”

Thank you for the tags @ironheartwriter @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @carlossreaders @whatsintheboxmh @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @strandnreyes @bonheur-cafe @nisbanisba @welcometololaland I’m looking forward to reading through your wips and reblogging them throughout today! 💕

No pressure tags @sapphic--kiwi @reyesstrand @thisbuildinghasfeelings @henrygrass @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @corsage @decafdino @chicgeekgirl89 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @alrightbuckaroo +open 🏷️

[wadewnstonwilson]

not helpin' your case.

summary: wade refuses to let logan sink into despair, constantly teasing him to lighten the mood. logan pretends to be annoyed, he secretly appreciates wade's presence, which keeps him grounded.

warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), none just fluffy goodness

word count: 1.4k

a/n: okay so i absolutely adore writing for wade because my adhd gets to go off the rails. tons of fluff, tons of dumb idiots being dumb idiots. i'll probably keep my poolverine fics to one shots because i just like little things of them here and there but enjoy!

Logan’s healing factor made him damn near indestructible. No matter how many bullets tore through him, how deep claws or blades sank into his flesh, his body always knitted itself back together as if nothing had happened. But the pain? He felt every second of it. The tearing, the ripping, the burning. The scars may not last long, but the memory of the agony lingered.

The physical pain, though, was the easy part. Logan could take a punch, a bullet, or an explosion and keep going. What he couldn't shake were the emotional scars. Decades—no, centuries—of loss, betrayal, and endless fighting. It was a constant burden, a weight that settled deep in his bones, refusing to let go. The faces of the people he'd lost, the betrayals he'd suffered—they all haunted him in the quiet moments, in the dark of night when the world stopped and there was nothing left but his thoughts.

And then, there was Wade.

The walking contradiction, the human cartoon, the man who turned every nightmare into a punchline. Wade had his own trauma—probably more than Logan, though it was hard to tell with him—but Wade’s way of dealing with it? He laughed. He made jokes, crude, sharp, and relentless. Where Logan brooded, Wade cracked jokes. Where Logan tried to bottle it all up, Wade exploded with it in a constant barrage of sarcasm and humor.

And while it drove Logan insane, it also saved him. Wade didn’t let him sink into the darkness. Wade wouldn’t let him dwell on the pain for too long. No, Wade kept him tethered to reality, whether Logan liked it or not.

“Yo, Claws!” Wade’s voice cut through Logan’s thoughts like a knife. “What’s with that resting murder face? You’ve been staring out that window for, like, an hour. What, are you brooding about your tragic past again? Or are you just trying to figure out where your hairline went wrong?”

Logan, arms crossed, leaning against the window frame, didn’t even flinch. He’d gotten used to Wade’s voice crashing into his internal monologues like a freight train. He grunted in response, refusing to turn around.

Wade was sprawled out on the couch, his legs kicked up on the armrest, a katana in his hands that he was polishing far too enthusiastically. “Come on, man, you can’t be doing the brooding thing again. You’ve got more angst than a whole squad of moody teenagers at a My Chemical Romance concert. What’s going on in that big, furry head of yours? Still thinking about your tragic backstory? We get it—everyone you’ve ever loved has died, you’ve got an animal inside you, blah blah blah. Yawn.”

Logan’s lips twitched, though he didn’t give Wade the satisfaction of turning around. “I’m not brooding,” he muttered, voice low and gruff.

Wade sat up dramatically, hand on his chest like Logan had just insulted his honor. “Oh, really? And I’m not wearing pants!” He stood up, glancing down at his fully clothed legs with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh fuck, wait, I am wearing pants! Looks like we’re both liars, Lo.”

Logan finally turned, slowly, his arms still crossed over his chest. “You ever stop talking?”

Wade grinned, sauntering over with the swagger of a man who absolutely loved hearing himself speak. He tilted his head at Logan, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. Someone’s gotta keep you from turning into a walking tragedy, and I guess that’s my job now. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Logan let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t brood.”

Wade poked him in the chest, right between his crossed arms. “Sure you don’t, Moody McStabberson. You just stand by windows staring off into the distance, thinking about all the people who betrayed you, probably playing sad music in your head. Real original, man. What’s next? You gonna write some dark poetry and start a Tumblr?”

Logan couldn’t help it this time. His lips quirked, just a bit. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Wade threw himself back onto the couch, dramatically flinging his legs back up as if the weight of the world was too much for him. “Ridiculously awesome, you mean,” he shot back, grabbing the TV remote and flipping through channels. “So what’s it gonna be tonight, claws? You wanna watch some depressing documentary about the fall of the Roman Empire or maybe something more your speed, like... I don’t know... a show about emotionally constipated loners who don’t know how to ask for help?”

Logan moved from the window, finally sitting down beside Wade, though he didn’t say a word. Wade’s constant barrage of sarcasm and jokes was like background noise now, a familiar hum that kept him grounded, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Wade’s face lit up as he found some late-night talk show with overly enthusiastic hosts and an absurd number of bright lights. “Oh, shit, this looks good,” he said, grinning. “Nothing like watching rich assholes pretend to care about regular people. Warms my heart.”

Logan leaned back, rubbing his temples as the bright lights of the show flashed across the room. “You’re gonna give me a headache.”

Wade shot him a grin, clearly delighted. “Aw, come on, Logie Bear. I know you’re having fun. You can’t lie to me. I’ve seen that twitch of a smile, you can’t hide it. Admit it, I make your life better.”

Logan let out a soft, begrudging chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass, Wade.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who took a bullet to the ass last week and then said it was ‘just a scratch’,” Wade said, flipping the channel again. “Seriously, I had to fucking dig a bullet out of your hairy Canadian ass, but sure, just a scratch. How’s the ass feeling now, by the way?”

Logan snorted—a rare sound from him—and Wade’s grin widened like he’d just won the lottery. He leaned over, jabbing Logan in the side with his elbow. “Admit it, you love when I get all Florence Nightingale on you. It’s like a sexy version of a nurse, except with more swearing, fewer clothes, and zero actual medical knowledge.”

Logan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re not helping your case.”

Wade nudged him again, his voice full of teasing. “Oh, come on. You know I’m the only person who can make you crack that grumpy exterior. It’s like my superpower—breaking through the Wolverine angst. And trust me, pumpkin, I love using it.”

Logan finally gave in, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, you’re real special, Wade.”

“You bet your sweet ass I am,” Wade said, stretching out on the couch, draping his legs across Logan’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. He flipped through the channels with his usual reckless abandon, not really looking for anything specific—just something to keep the noise going.

For a moment, the two of them sat there in companionable silence, the TV flickering in the background. Wade’s energy, usually a hurricane, seemed to settle, just for a moment. His legs were still draped lazily over Logan’s lap, his head resting back against the couch cushion, and Logan found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

“You ever stop to think,” Logan began, his voice low and thoughtful, “that maybe you’re the reason I’m not as messed up as I could be?”

Wade paused, remote still in his hand, his gaze flicking up to meet Logan’s. For a second, the sarcasm faded, the usual wall of jokes and bravado dropping. Wade tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I kinda figured that was the deal.” He winked, the sass returning full force. “But don’t go getting all mushy on me, alright? I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I mean, I’m an asshole, not a Hallmark card.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that."

Wade leaned back, kicking his legs up higher as he flipped to another channel. “You need me, Peanut. Admit it.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but as he glanced over at Wade—at the way his presence filled the room with life, with noise, with something that kept Logan’s mind from spiraling into the dark places it so often wandered—he knew Wade was right. The man was a walking disaster, but he was Logan’s disaster.

“I guess I do,” Logan said softly, and for once, Wade didn’t make a joke.

Instead, he smiled, turning his attention back to the TV, his legs still draped lazily across Logan’s lap.

And for a little while, everything felt just a little bit easier.

[writing-for-marvel]

A Solid Foundation

Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?

Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.

She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.

“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.

“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.

It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.

You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.

“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”

“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.

“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”

But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.

You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.

You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.

Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.

You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.

“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.

“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”

“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”

“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.

“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.

“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.

“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.

You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.

Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.

“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.

“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”

He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.

“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.

“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.

“Yeah, care for a drive?”

* * *

The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.

You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.

Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.

Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.

You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.

You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.

He’s building you a home.

“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.

“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?

“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.

You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.

Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.

The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.

As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.

He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.

“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.

“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.

Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.

Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.

“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”

You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.

“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.

“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.

“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.

For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.

“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.

“Of course, my love.”

He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.

If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here

[death---dealer]

*Face down in my bed as I am writing this out on my phone*

Caesar is not a cuddly sort of Ape but he will bring your body in closer if you're both in the midst of half-hazed sleep and he senses you're cold in the middle of the night. Preference is really having you on top of his chest as the two of you sleep, he likes the assurance that you're near in case he needs to protect. Followed closely by the preference of having you laying on his outstretched arm, using it as a pillow as you coil tightly into him, pressing your face into the side of his chest and seeping into his warmth. Noa is a big time straggler when he sleeps, not really a cuddler but he does have appendages on you at most times as he likes to sleep on his stomach with his arms and legs outstretched. You like it as it keeps you warm on colder nights, and he will grab hold of you and pull you in closer in mid-sleep and it always leaves you wondering what he's dreaming about. Until he starts drooling on you and you're groaning, trying to roll away but the grip he has on you is insanely tight.

Blue Eyes does enjoy the closeness of cuddling, though he's not really willing to admit that that's what it is. To him, you just like to curl yourself into him and feel the heat radiating off of him, and he'll just so happen to wrap an arm around you after his stunned silence drifts away at having you so close. He'll bring you in close out of selfish want to nestle his muzzle into your hair, even going as far as to trail his thick fingers between the strands here and there as you fall asleep. Koba doesn't cuddle what were you EXPECTING. Instead, he will find himself watching you sleep. He's torn on conflicting notions though. One part of him likes to watch you, it's one of those primal instincts that carries heavy into his attraction to you. Stupid little defenseless human that needs his protecting at all times. On the flip side, he will ( never admitting to anyone even himself ) watch you out of curiosity. The way your mouth falls open when sleep finally over powers you, the rise and fall of your shoulders. Interesting. And disgusting. He wants to break every bone in your body. And then heal them for you.

[marvel-ous-m]

Saving the Best for Last

Written for @steddiemicrofic Special prompt for @wynnyfryd's birthday!!: Bottom | WC: 345 | Gen | Tags: Getting Together, Post-Season 4, Fluff

A/N: Happy Birthday, Wynn! I love your writing, and I'm so grateful for all you do for the fandom! I hope that today is the absolute best.

Eddie wasn’t expecting to do anything to celebrate his birthday aside from sitting with Wayne to watch some horror movies, seeing that he was still being persecuted by the majority of Hawkins.

Instead, the trailer was overrun with The Party. They eagerly joined in on the movie marathon, even bringing some gifts along that they put aside for Eddie to open in his own time. 

It was perfect. 

When everyone was gone, Eddie opened the gifts. His heart warmed at the thoughtful presents- new tapes to make up for those destroyed in the old trailer, a ‘coupon’ from Buckley to explore Indy with her- he even got some new minifigs from Nancy.

Eventually, he reached the gift on the bottom of the pile, a box with ‘from Steve’ scrawled on top. Its contents had him pushing the present aside so that he could make a call. 

“Harrington residence.”

“Steve, are you- shit. Is this what I think it is?” His question held a clear double meaning. 

He and Steve had grown inseparable over the last two months- he’d barely left Eddie’s side at the hospital, and given that Steve saved his life (and that Eddie had a crush on him), Eddie wasn’t eager to push him away. 

The gift was his vest- but not really ‘his’, as the note inside explained. Steve had taken the pins and patches from the old one and decorated a new, bloodstain-free vest, even embroidering his Warlock, his Sweetheart, over the spot covering Eddie’s heart. 

It was probably the most thoughtful thing anyone other than Wayne had ever done for him, and had his brain catching up with his heart, making him realize that maybe his feelings were reciprocated. 

“The vest or, uh-” Steve cleared his throat. “Or… us? Because… yes to both, I hope.” 

“Yeah? Then come over so I can thank you properly.” 

Eddie pulled Steve inside when he arrived, greeting him with a kiss that was enthusiastically returned. 

Later that night, with Steve wrapped in his arms, Eddie knew he was holding the best gift of all. 

[starshinegarcia]

Don’t Blame Me

Aaron Hotchner x BAU Reader Part 2!

Part 1 Here

(Based on Season 4 episode 9)

“If you walk away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay”

TW: Mentions of Sexual Assault (Marked if you need to skip)

It had been a full day since your.. less than a professional encounter with Hotch, and it’s safe to say that you had been left reeling. Not only was it unbelievably unprofessional- you enjoyed it and wanted more of it, and that was what made you the most angry. You had never even considered being attracted to him- aside from the occasional dream fantasy- and now? You were all in your head about what this meant, not focusing on the task and case at hand. Your teammates had taken notice, and had all tried to inquire in their own way- Emily bluntly, Garcia by sweetalking, Morgan by flirting- but you had pushed aside every effort and kept to yourself- making an extra effort not to make direct eye contact with Hotch, if you could help it. And that had been successful- until now, that is.

“It’s possible that we need a decoy. Someone to see how his methods work, up close and personal.” Reid offers to Hotch, and Hotch nods, his gaze shifting to your desk, where you were chewing on the tip of a pen, eyes glazed over and deep in thought about- something. “Someone he knows, someone he’s comfortable with. So he can feel like he’s winning.” Reid follows his gaze, pausing, “Sir, if I may- __ seems to be distracted at the moment and it may not be best for her to-” Hotch is ignoring him, closing the case shut and motioning in your direction. “Agent __, Agent Prentiss, I’d like to speak with you two.”

Emily snaps her fingers in front of your face- but you had already come to the sound of Hotch saying your last name. You rolled your eyes at her, trailing behind her and positioning yourself out of Hotch’s gaze. “We need you two to go undercover, in order to fully grasp the methods our unsub is using, adapted from Viper’s.” “So, we need to get Viper to try his moves on us.” Emily sighs, nodding. You talk softly, gritting your teeth slightly, “Yes, sir.” Hotch’s eyes find yours, finally, “Agent, you can sit this one out, if you feel unsafe-” “No. I can do it.” Your voice comes out bitter and sharp, so you hastily add a “Sir.” at the end to cover your tracks. You follow Emily into the women’s locker room, grabbing your go bag and angrily digging through it. “You okay?” Emily raises her eyebrow at you, well versed at reading women by now. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

The familiar lights of the, once again, still sleazy bar hit your face as you walk in, carefully trailing behind Emily, with eyes alert. You had both changed into less FBI-agent like clothes, grabbing a drink from the bar as you found a seat n the corner. Before long, the familiar sharp scent of cheap cologne met your nostrils as Viper emerged behind you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s back for a taste. Who’s your friend?” You see Emily swallow a snarky remark, “Emily Prentiss.” “Enchante.” Viper smirks, bowing dramatically as his eyes find you. “So, tell me, did my methods work?” “You could say that, I suppose.” You hear Hotch’s voice in your head, Agent, you can sit this one out, and you grit your teeth, leaning in closer and continuing to banter with him.

SKIP HERE FOR SA TRIGGER!! At a certain point, you feel Emily tugging on your shirt, and you whip around to see her slyly following a man in a fedora. You turned back to Viper, “This has been.. Nice, but I have to go now, I’m afraid. Look me up on Facebook- unless you’re too off-grid for that.” Viper’s eyes change, grabbing onto your arm and pulling you to him quickly. “I don’t think so.” He growls, dragging you back into the depths of the bar. You freeze, going limp as you realize the danger you’ve put yourself in. You fumble for your gun- shit, you had gone in unarmed and unwired. You found yourself in the same dark corner you had been in earlier, just in daylight- it was much scarier now. Viper’s rough hands found your body, as you shook your head, trying to protest, or fight back, “Stop, please-” “Don’t fight it.” His hand found your mouth, muffling your protests.

You sunk your head against the brick wall, closing your eyes as tears streaked down your face- until a sharp voice broke through the dark. “FBI, Freeze, hands behind your back! Now!” You blinked quickly, seeing the blurry vision of Hotch aiming a gun at your attacker through your tears. Viper scoffed as Morgan cuffed him, and you fell against the wall, your knees crumbling underneath you. Hotch immediately put his gun away, moving towards you- but you summoned every bit of strength left in you and threw your arms around him. He stiffened at first, but just as quickly wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you and using his free hand to stroke your hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“Don’t blame me, love made me crazy”

(if it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right)

𝐀/𝐍 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬!! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭,, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 ;)