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sinner-as-saint · 2 months ago

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here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time.

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets.

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location.

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you.

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready.

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be.

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later:

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other:

‘Go straight home.’

‘Is your class over?’

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home.

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages.

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles.

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken.

And here you were now.

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas.

Fuck! You had messed up.

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together.

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today.

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours.

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were.

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention.

Bucky was here.

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be.

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead.

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike.

Perfect.

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves.

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer–

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense.

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster.

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late.

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone.

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death.

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible.

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now.

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed.

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky.

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder.

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck.

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention.

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?”

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him.

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze.

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?”

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,”

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!”

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious.

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,”

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!”

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you.

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you.

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.”

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going.

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.”

And that was all he said for the next few hours.

–

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street.

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room.

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual.

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes.

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you.

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour.

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm.

But where had Bucky gone?

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food.

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.”

Then he disappeared.

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you.

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs.

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands.

You shook your head.

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again.

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.”

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.”

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,”

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant.

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds.

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background.

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now?

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted?

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed.

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working.

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace.

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?”

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it.

“I know you’re awake.”

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck.

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.”

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.”

He hummed. “It better not.”

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.”

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?”

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.”

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–”

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed.

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face.

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again.

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?”

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function.

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that.

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around.

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?”

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined.

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.”

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.”

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin.

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else.

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right.

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on.

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?”

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder.

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?”

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you.

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess.

“Good girl.”

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier.

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.”

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body.

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing.

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.”

Your heart throbbed and pinched.

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked.

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed.

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.”

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.”

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.”

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.”

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking.

He wasn’t.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #thunderbolts #marvel

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covenofagatha · 25 days ago

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Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 1)

You are best friends with Nicholas Scratch, and one day he invites you over to his house when his mom is there, and shit, you didn't realize his mom was so hot. Non-magical AU

Word count: 2100+

Warnings: 18+, allusions to smut, actual smut will be in later parts, mommy issues (duh)

“Got any plans tonight?” your best friend Nicky asks you, making easy conversation. You had been organizing books on the A-F fiction shelf at the Barnes & Noble at the mall, where you and Nicholas Scratch worked in your free time. You had met him through Westview University, where you both attended school. But when you both started working at the bookstore in the beginning of the year to make a little extra money, you two became fast friends.

“Not really. My parents are working late so I’m on my own. Probably just going to reheat leftovers and watch tv.” The campus was only twenty minutes away from your parents’ house, and ten away from his, so you both lived at home.

“You finished all the chem homework?” he asks, a teasing grin on his face. You’re both in the same Introduction to Chemistry class, with Ms. Dottie Jones. She was a stickler and gave out a packet of homework almost every day. It was everyone’s least favorite class.

You groan. Somehow you had forgotten, and it was due tomorrow. Looked like you had plans after all for the evening. “Fuck,” is all you say, Nicky laughing.

“I haven’t started it either. Want to come over and do it? I’m sure you could stay for dinner. My mom’s cooking and she can help with the homework.”

You smile, gracious for the offer. You had been over to his house a few times, but you hadn’t met his mom yet. You could use the company, and the help for sure. Chemistry was your worst subject, but Nicky was pretty good at it. Apparently his mom, Agatha Harkness, had a background in it, so she was always helping Nicky.

“That would be lovely, thank you. Do you want to go straight there after we get off?” You quickly check your watch. There’s still 45 minutes left in your shift.

“Yeah, that works. Let me text my mom and tell her that you’re coming over.”

“Will she mind?” The last thing you wanted to do was intrude. Nicky and his mom were incredibly close, as it was just the two of them, and according to Nicky, Agatha treasured the time she got to spend with him around her busy schedule. You hadn’t heard much about Nicky’s father and Agatha’s ex-husband, only that they had gotten divorced when Nicky was fourteen and was out of the picture.

“Not at all. She’s been dying to meet you.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking around to make sure no customers or your manager are nearby, and quickly types out a quick message. You make a mental note to text your parents when you finished your shift to let them know you were getting dinner with friends. They wouldn’t mind, plus you were sure you’d still be home before them.

“Thank you,” you say again, and get back to organizing the books.

***

You pull into the driveway, following Nicky’s car. Their house never fails to take your breath away. It’s a beautiful two story Victorian style house, with a steep roof, wrap-around porch, and large windows with paned glass. It’s almost Halloween, and clearly Nicky and his mom go all out. Inflatable ghosts, fake gravestones, pumpkins, and other decorations fill their giant yard and you can’t help but smile. Halloween is one of your favorite holidays, and this year Nicky’s mom was hosting a party for the neighborhood and you had been invited. Nicky leads you to the front door, unlocks it, and motions for you to go in first. The smell of pumpkin and cinnamon hits your nose and you inhale slowly. You can hear noises coming from the kitchen and you trail behind your friend as he leads you to the source.

In the kitchen, a woman is facing away from you, stirring something in a large pot on the stove. Her long, curly black hair tumbles down to her lower back and she is wearing a flannel with navy pants. On the island, you can see some candles flickering. So that’s where the smell was coming from.

“Mom, this is–” Nicky starts, but his mom whips around and exclaims, announcing your name before he even gets a chance.

Holy shit, is your first thought. Nicky’s mom is hot. Her long hair frames her pale face and her bright blue eyes trace you up and down. The top two buttons of her flannel are undone, so you can see her collarbones and a peek of the smooth skin of her chest.

“Oh, hi,” you stammer. “So nice to finally meet you.”

A wide smile overtakes her face and she sticks out a hand. It takes you a beat, but then you remember what you’re supposed to do. You take her hand and shake it, trying to ignore how soft her palm is.

“Nicky’s told me so much about you,” she gushes. “He clearly forgot to mention what a sight for sore eyes you are.” She playfully winks and you figure all the blood in your body has to have rushed to your cheeks, based on how hot they feel.

“Mom,” Nicky whines, shooting you an apologetic look. You let out an awkward chuckle, eyes darting back and forth between mom and son.

His mom waves a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m Agatha. Nicky said you guys are going to work on some homework. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need help, and I’ll give you guys a shout when dinner is ready! Hope you like lamb stew.” Right on cue, your stomach rumbles and Agatha shoots you a smile. “Nicky, why don’t you get your friend a snack while I’m cooking?”

Nicky nods and rummages through the pantry. He grabs a box of cookies and you guys walk up to his room. You sit down at his desk and he flops onto his bed.

“Your mom is nice,” you say casually, trying not to give away how flustered you are because of her.

“She’s pretty cool. Alright, let’s get started. Last time I checked, the packet was eight pages and at least half are balancing equations.”

Ugh. That thought is enough to turn your attention from Agatha to the reality of the situation. You have a lot of homework to get done.

You have just gotten to the third page when Agatha pokes her head in. “How’s homework going?” she asks, and you and Nicky simultaneously groan. She walks over to you, stealing your paper and gently perching on the desk, which you’re sitting at. You struggle to remember how to breathe when her thigh brushes against your knee. “This one is wrong,” she says, pointing at number 13. “You have an extra oxygen on the left side.”

Nicky drops his head into the bed with a muffled swear. Agatha meets your eyes and smiles softly. Fuck, her mouth is pretty.

“Why don’t you take a break? Come downstairs and eat dinner and then we’ll work through this together,” she offers. She holds your homework back out to you and you take it, wondering if she slid her fingers across yours on purpose.

At the table, Agatha sits across from you and Nicky is to your right. She asks you all about college, your major, and what you want to do after.

“Have you guys decided what you’re wearing to the party next week?,” she then asks.

“I’m going to be a witch,” you answer, and you swear her eyes light up. “I ordered my costume last week so it should be here soon. Nicky still hasn’t figured out what he’s going as yet.”

Nicky scoffs in protest. “Hey! I’m narrowing it down between a pirate or a superhero. Also, mom loves witches so watch out.”

“Halloween is next week, dude, you better figure it out soon,” you tease and Agatha laughs.

“You tell him,” she says and the two of you share a grin.

“Whatever. I’m going to the bathroom,” Nicky says, standing up and pushing in his chair.

There is a moment of silence as you and Agatha eat some stew. Then she says, “So, y/n, do you have a boyfriend?”

You almost drop your spoon back in the bowl. Is she–no. She is probably trying to get a feel of yours and Nicky’s relationship. “Um, no. I’m actually gay,” you say, finding the stew suddenly incredibly interesting. After Agatha is silent for a few seconds, you look up at her to find a smirk stretched across her face, eyes looking darker than they were.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Her voice is low and you swallow hard, begging the fire in your stomach to die down. This is Nicky’s mom. Nicky’s incredibly attractive mom whose hands, at the moment, you desperately wanted to feel tracing your body. Sliding over your lips, maybe even around your throat. Fuck.

“No,” you say, barely above a whisper. “There’s really no girls in school that I’m interested in.”

Agatha opens her mouth, ready to say something, and you preemptively lean closer, but at that moment, Nicky walks back in and sits down next to you, completely oblivious to your flushed face and his mom’s look of…disappointment?

No. You are clearly just reading into things. Nicky’s mom, who is much older than you are, does not want you.

She’s just being nice, and you are being insane.

You really need to get your mommy issues under control.

Agatha clears her throat. “So, how’s working at the bookstore going?”

“It’s pretty good. Nicky definitely makes the shifts go by faster,” you say, turning to look at him appreciatively. “Except for tomorrow, because someone has to do a group project for their sociology class and can’t work.” The glare you gave Nicky is playful and he snickers.

“So sorry. I’d honestly rather be at work. My group sucks. I honestly wonder how one of the people made it into college,” he says. You agree. You’ve done a fair share of group projects already for some of your classes, and it is often a struggle.

You look back at Agatha, but she doesn’t say anything. The rest of dinner passes quickly, and soon it’s time to get back to homework.

You and Nicky decide to move downstairs so Agatha can help. She’s talking quickly, gesturing down at your paper, but you’re too busy staring at her lips to actually understand what she’s saying. Which is totally fine, until she asks you a question.

“Sorry?” is all you can say, internally cursing for looking like an idiot. She doesn’t look disappointed. Instead, it almost looks like she knows why you’re so distracted. She repeats it slowly, something about if there’s six oxygens on the left side, how many carbon dioxides do we need on the right side. “Three?” you say, sort of guessing.

“Good girl,” she says approvingly, in that raspy voice of hers, and you honest-to-god clench around nothing. You can literally feel yourself getting wetter by the second. And then she moves onto the next question like she didn’t just say that.

It’s almost ten thirty at night by the time you finish your homework and you stand up with a yawn.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Agatha asks. “You can stay in the guest room, I’m sure I can find some clothes for you to wear.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” you say, and she immediately shakes her head.

“You won’t be at all. Come on,” she insists, and you glance at Nicky before she pulls you after her up the stairs. She leads you into her bedroom and lets go of you to walk into her closet and you take the opportunity to look around her room.

Her bed is neatly made, with a cream duvet and a dark, wooden headboard. Her nightstand is the same colored wood and there’s a framed picture of her and Nicky from probably ten years ago. A fireplace is tucked into the corner and dark purple curtains cover the windows.

“Here you go. These should fit. There should be extra toothbrushes and toothpaste in the guest bathroom. If you need anything else, just let me know,” Agatha says, handing you a pile of clothes. “Have a good night, sweetheart.”

You’re too flustered to say anything back so you give her a smile and make your way to the guest room. It’s right by Nicky’s room, so you stop in to say good night and then you text your parents that you’re spending the night at a friend’s house.

The pajamas Agatha gave you – if you can even call them that – slide right onto your body. It’s a silky purple nightie with a black robe and it hugs your curves in all the right places. You look hot and for a second, you think about going to see Agatha again. Just to thank her, you tell yourself unconvincingly.

But you make yourself brush your teeth and get into bed, feeling the wetness still between your thighs.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha all along

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kyufessions · 9 months ago

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sweetheart

synopsis: your annoying neighbor bothers you yet again

pairings: neighbor! eric x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

request: “open your mouth” + “why so shy?”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: spitting, oral (f. receiving), making out, playful teasing, pet name (sweet heart), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i’m writing this half asleep so it’s not proofread whatsoever,, oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

Only if everyone knew. Only if everyone knew that the boy next door you always swore annoyed you to your very core since you had first moved in over ten years ago, would meet you in your old tree house that stood between both of your houses at ungodly hours. With what started as another night wanting to get away from one of your family’s parties, turned into heated makeout sessions that led to what anyone would imagine.

Throughout the years, your father had been kind enough to re-do the treehouse. Seeing as you still adored it, he re-vamped it to make it seem more private and to your liking since you were now in your early 20’s. There was even a small makeshift door and small windows with curtains that you often kept closed- it was your favorite place to get away from madness when your room wasn’t cutting it. That was- until one spring night.

You had been in your treehouse reading a new novel you had bought at your local barnes and nobles, your lamp on and one of curtains slightly open to enjoy the slight breeze. Tonight your parents had some guests over from work, their conversations and jazzy background music being too loud for your liking. So you quietly made your way to your treehouse and enjoying your time alone until you heard some rocks being thrown at the door. Groaning, you ignored the disturbance. You knew exactly who it was and you did not want to deal with him tonight. One more rock, two, even three more were thrown. Thats when you stood up and fully opened up the half drawn curtain, looking down to see the annoying boy next door.

He stood there with his devilish grin, wearing a white tank and his baseball varsity jacket from the college he attended. He waved hello as soon as he saw you looking down at him, catching a glimpse of you from the limited lighting. “What do you want eric?” you shouted down, making sure your voice was only able to be heard between you both and not to disrupt what was happening inside your home.

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “I’m bored.” as you rolled your eyes and started to pull back down the curtain, he yelled back out to you. “Wait!”

You shushed him right away, his voice too loud for your liking. As you motion for him to come up the wooden ladder, he does as instructed and you watch as he climbs up halfway before you stop him with your words. “What do you want?” you ask again, annoyance stringing through your voice.

His lips form another shit eating grin. “I’m bored and saw the light on.”

“Find someone else to bother.” you start to close the door but see his hand stop it from closing.

Before you can begin to speak up again, eric decides to first. “Come on, i’ll stay in the corner and let you do your own thing. I won’t bother you. I just don’t want to be in my house right now and am grounded from using my car.”

“Is no an option?” you ask him with a puff. With a swift shake of his head, you open the door fully and allow him inside.

He looks around in amazement at the fairy lights and overall set up, noticing how you plop back on the mini couch you have set up in the corner. His eyes scan over a small drawer with a chipped paint job, old drawings and paintings hanging throughout that’s barely holding on with tape and some nails. There are some obvious new items hanging about and some older ones, and he quietly takes note of that as he walks around to inspect. As he does so, you occasionally glance at him to make sure hes not touching anything he isn’t supposed to. After a little more snooping, he takes a seat on the floor and starts aimlessly scrolling through his phone while you continue to read your novel.

Minutes pass in pure silence- nothing but the occasional hoot from a faraway owl and the distanced sound of jazz music from your home below. That was, until eric opened tiktok. His volume was louder than necessary, his laughter echoing in your ears. You try to continue your reading, trying to be the nice guy. But it felt as if each tiktok he watched just made him laugh harder than the last. You make a mental note of the page you stop on before closing your book and looking over at him, your face blank with irritation.

“If you’re going to be in here, can you at least quiet down? I’m trying to read my book.” your eyes finally meet and he just chuckles, getting up off the floor and walking over towards you.

“What’re you reading anyway?”

You clear your throat before speaking as he inches closer, trying to keep your book close to hide it from him. “None of your business, just please keep it down.”

Eric notices you trying to keep the book from him and as he steps closer he tries reaching for it but failing as you hold it closer to you. He scoffs, trying to reach for it again. “Why so shy about it, huh?” his tone is playful, his eyes beaming with curiosity as he tries to sneak a peek of the cover. You try moving your body to hide it from him but as you’re squirming, he snatches up the book and examines the cover. A small laugh leaves his lips as he notices the explicit cover, your face turning a slight shade of pink as he then reads the first page that started off juicy. When he looks down at you, your cheeks are now red and your eyes wide. “This is the shit you read?”

You stand up and grab the book back from his hands, or at least attempt to before he raises it above your head with a smirk. The height difference between you both wasn’t much, but the fact he was also wearing grey sweats right now didn’t really help the burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. To say eric was ugly would be the biggest lie- you actually found him quite attractive. He was just annoying and pestered you often, but he was quite handsome. As his hand was held above you, your book in his hand, you can notice his peaking bicep from under his varsity jacket.

Your silence and wandering eyes failed you as eric took note of this. “Checking me out, huh?”

As you're snapped out of your daze by his words, you jump up and grab the book from his hand successfully and try to move around him to leave but fail. Although your treehouse is spacious, it’s not the biggest either. So now you’re backed into a corner by the hot annoying neighbor who just found out you read smut. Cool. you just sit down on the small couch, puffing in annoyance in an attempt to hide how flustered you’ve become.

“No i’m not.”

His index and middle finger tap the right side of your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your red cheeks say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Normally you'd swat away his hand, but as you looked in his eyes you felt the air catch in your throat. You felt as if time had stopped due to the close proximity you both were in. the little nickname that normally bothered you made your stomach churn with butterflies, your hands gripping your book tighter.

you tried to hide it once more, trying to keep your tone high and mighty. “don’t call me sweetheart.”

“then try to act like you don’t like it and maybe i will.” eric then squats so he’s now eye level with you, his fingers tracing from your cheek all the way down your neck and to your shoulder ever so gracefully as he does so. your eyes just watch him, unsure of what this feeling is that’s come over you. his head tilts, his face amused by this. “does mommy and daddy know you read smut all up here by yourself?”

eric had always seen you as this goody-two-shoes; mommy and daddy’s most prized possession who always got fantastic grades and went to one of the best colleges the states had to offer. throughout the past ten years, he had always seen you achieve the highest possible grades with honors just to seek your parents approval. never brought over a guy, your nose always buried in a book whether it be for your studies or for fun. he also noticed how your hair never failed to be done perfectly, different colored bows or hair accessories to match your dress or skirt. you always had to present the world with this perfect image of you, and he was just so curious to get to know you deeper than this facade you try to sell everyone you come across.

he watches you shake your head, no words being spoken as you seem choked up. your eyes sparkle under the dimly lit fairy lights as they glare at him, causing him to chuckle lowly yet again. “what if they found out?”

“don’t you fucking dare eric sohn-“

“ah ah,” he slips the book from your hands, placing it beside you. “why don’t we put page one to the test?”

your eyes widen, eyebrows raising. “e-excuse me?”

eric slips off his varsity jacket, tossing it on top of your book. “i skimmed the page over. doesn’t ellen get eaten out, or am i mistaken?” you’re left speechless, yet your face continues to redden all over. eric has thought about this for years but never thought this day would come, only in his wildest of dreams.

eric stands up a little bit to hover over you, lifting your chin and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. his hair is messy, probably from the baseball practice he had earlier in the day. your lips are inches from his, yet not a word can be spoken as you’re just in shock.

“all you have to do is tell me to stop and i will.” is all eric whispers before placing his lips on yours.

both of your lips move in sync with one another, his fitting perfectly on yours. his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, his entire palm cupping it and his fingers placing themselves on the nape of your neck. his touch sends shivers down your spine, his fingertips delicate and careful. his other hand moves to your left thigh, starting to spread it apart from your right one. but you don’t stop him, something within you tells you to allow him. as he bites down on your bottom lip, his hand on your thigh travels to the inner part and stops near your panties. his fingertips graze your folds, the lace material feeling good against his skin.

the sound of your whimper against his lips makes his blood rush, separating his lips from yours. for a few moments he just stares down at you, taking in the view of your wide innocent eyes and puffy pink lips. “fuck you’re so pretty, you know that?”

eric then gets on his knees in front of you, and you watch as he slips off your white silk pleated skirt and stare at your pussy in awe. “all wet for me already, sweetheart?” you bite your lower lip as you watch him, arching your back against the wall at the nickname.

his fingers push the fabric aside, the fingertips grading your folds ever so slightly to take in the beauty for a second. he grins up at you before slipping in one finger, earning a gasp from you. eric starts slow, pumping in and out of you teasingly. he just stares up at you the whole time, taking in the beauty of your reactions. he watches your hand involuntarily reach for his hair, tugging on it once he picks up the pace out of satisfaction. you let out quiet moans as he slips in a second finger, not wanting anyone to potentially hear anything happening up in the treehouse.

after a few moments of his second finger, he puts his mouth to your clit. with this sudden movement you throw your head back, starting to grind against his face. eric takes in every movement you make, enjoying how you use him for your advantage to release. his fingers continue pumping in and out of you at a consistent pace, his tongue occasionally moving in and out of your hole as his lips continue to satisfy you. as your breathing pattern picks up and your legs begin shaking, he knew it was only a few seconds before you climaxed.

once you did, you let out a loud moan and eric took in every juice you offered to him. he begins licking you up, cleaning you up the only way he’s currently able to. he then leans up, grabbing you by the cheek and staring down at your tired face.

“open your mouth, baby.” he murmurs. you do as instructed, allowing him to spit in your mouth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes, smirking as you take in the taste he offers you.

and that’s the night where it all started, your friends with benefits relationship with your annoying neighbor.

#kyufessions the boyz #the boyz #the boyz eric #eric sohn #tbz eric #tbz smut #the boyz smut #eric smut #eric sohn smut #🌙 completed requests

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 days ago

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Dark Shelves 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes (archivist AU)

Summary: your new job is much of the same, with a hit of new misery.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You peer up at the romanesque pillars and the curved dome of the elaborate building. It’s a step up, a high one, and you’re proud of yourself for taking. After years in a basement, blowing dust off of rusted spoons that may as well be at the good-will, you’re finally exactly where you want to be.

Not associate, not assistant, you are an archivist in your own right. You will not be pushed into the corner again. Though you aren’t too presumptive. You could get lost in any stacks. You like how your job affords you pockets of solitary, but you didn’t choose the career on that alone.

You work to preserve and share the past. It sounds more noble in your head than out loud. It’s a good enough reason for you.

You climb the stairs and pause before you pass through the double doors. Inside, the lobby is airy and polished to a shine. You try not to marvel too obviously. Too often you’ve been caught and ridiculed for the very act. Most people look at you and assume less than more of you.

You walk up the front desk, a grand circular structure with shelves behind it. The man behind it has a metal nametag on his brown plaid shirt; Peter. You greet him stoically. You quit smiling to appease strange men a while ago.

“Hi, I’m here to get my employee ID.” You take out your phone. “Then I’m supposed to meet someone named James.”

“Right, I have your welcome packet,” he reaches under the desk. “It’s here.”

“Great,” you accept the folder as he beams back at you. He’s young and fresh-faced. He must still be a student. “Thank you.”

“Have you been her before?” He asks.

“A couple times,” you answer.

“Cool, cool,” he accepts, “there’s a map in there in case.” He points to the folder. “You’re going to second floor. East wing. The office number is in the email.”

“Yes, I saw that. Thanks so much,” you nod.

“Oh, your card’s activated. So any access thingies, just swipe,” he says.

“Got it,” you cross your arm over the folder and continue around the desk to the double set of staircases that open behind it.

You climb patiently. You’re early. You always are. A long academic career has drilled the habit into your very being.

You check the email one last time and put your phone away. You’re not one for stereotypes but in your experience, the senior archivists tend to hate screens. You always resented their stubbornness. Digital backups are essential to the future of your profession. It could also just make their lives easier in general.

As you count down the office numbers, you slow down. The short heels of your lace-up boots clack softly on the oaken floor tiles. The door you need is already open and there’s a man standing in it. He leans slightly on the frame as he faces inward. His deep voice carries behind him.

You push your shoulders back as you approach. You don’t want to interrupt. You stop about a foot back, unsure how to go forward. You check your watch with a subtle tilt of your head.

The man in the door is tall. He has one foot pointed to the floor, and arm bent back as he pushes back his brown corduroy jacket and grips his hip. He wears a dark blue turtleneck that meets the long tails of his outgrown hair. There’s never an in-between with archivists. They are either immaculately preened are shaggy and stuffy.

“Right,” the man glances over his shoulder at you and his eyes squint, crinkly his nose, “I think I’m holding someone up.” He turns to face you, “hello, miss, do you need some help? Looking for the newspaper lab?”

You’re not surprised that he assumes you to be a student. It’s a common presumption among his demographic. They are always the authority and everyone they don’t know must be ignorant.

“No. Hello, I’m an archivist. Newly-hired. You wouldn’t happen to be James Barnes?”

“James?” His mouth slants. “Only his mother calls him that. Bit of advice, it’s Bucky.”

“Steve,” a voice drawls from within the open office.

“Alright, alright,” the man shows his hands then extends one to you. “Steve Rogers. I’m the next door down. Fellow senior archivist, with James.”

“Steve,” another snarl.

You shake the man’s hand, “nice to meet you.”

His cheek ticks, “you too. I like that vest. Very... quirky.”

You don’t thank him. You merely retract your hand and adjust the scarf between the open front of your coat. He sidles out of the doorway as he wears a pompous smirk.

“Come in,” the bodiless voice calls out to you.

You step into the doorway. The man you’re looking for sits behind his desk. He uses an envelope open to pick at what appears to be a metal shell for a coil of parchment. He delicate traces the lines of the ornate metal cap on the end.

“I’ll be a moment,” he says.

“Alright,” you stand in the doorway. He doesn’t welcome you to sit. You introduce yourself in the stagnant lull.

“I know who you are,” he grumbles as his brow wrinkles at his work. “After all, I sacrificed my day to training you.”

You don’t appreciate the insinuation. You’re a task he doesn’t want to tend. A burden on what he really wants to do. You can find your way around just fine without him but the email said training was mandatory. You didn’t exactly have any say in who was handed that unlucky chore.

“I have experience. Three years in the Heron’s Corner archives. And I’ve also done some volunteer work for museums. If you’d rather, I learn just as well from paper or email.” You suggest.

He huffs, “typical.”

You don’t reply. Whatever he assumes about you isn’t true but you’re not biting the hook. He grows exasperated and sets the container on its stands and stabs the envelope open into his pen cub. He slaps his hands on his desk and stands.

“You young ones just want to sit at a computer all day,” he comes around and slides his hands into his pockets. “This job isn’t that.”

“I’m aware of the job description,” you assure him.

He stops before you and reaches to brush his fingertips along his thick beard. A thicket of hair falls forward he swoops it back just as swiftly. The cleft in his jaw deepens with his distaste.

“That’s good. Less to explain, doll face,” he pulls his hand away to check his watch.

“Fine, let’s get started.” He sniffs, “take notes.”

He steps forward and you barely have a chance to get out of his way. His jacket flaps as he passes you and you stiffen as you grip the folder tightly. You reach to your coat pocket and take out your silver pen.

It’s only the first day. Soon enough, you’ll be free to focus on your own work, and he his.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #dark shelves #au #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #winter soldier

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graysdarling · 3 months ago

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〡𝓖. hawthorne ˎˊ˗ rich man.

- summery: grayson hawthorne is a natural born rich man who will spoil the hell out of you.

- warnings: none probably

- words: 606

- voicemail: hah BAM NEW WRITING STYLE BAM IN BACK PEOPLE BAM school starts :(

reblogs and comments are appreciated ⭑.ᐟ

now, grayson hawthorne was a rich man. i think we all knew that. he obviously knew what to do with half of the money (mostly stuff to do with his grandfather) but he doesn't know what to do with the other half.

he’d gotten told that he was stupid and spoiled for not knowing what to do with the money, much to his demise. he’d already spent some on his sisters, on hawthorne business, and he couldn’t spend some on himself. he was grayson hawthorne for hell's sake.

ah, there it was. a solution to all his problems! you. what was better than spending all of his money on his favorite girl? nothing—especially when he saw that smile show up on your face whenever he got your favorite perfume or that time you smiled so big he thought it hurt whenever he got your favorite book.

he’d practically force you to go on a shopping spree and whenever you’d try to pay, he’d immediately do it faster. whenever you turned to glare at him, all you saw was a small smile on those gorgeous lips of his.

it was like he had a mental rule in his head. never let you pay. that wasn’t him being sexist (unlike some people who thought it was), that was him wanting to see you smile. and if getting everything you wanted with his black card made you smile, so be it. he wouldn’t have it either way.

you want a new book series? he would be on his way to barnes and noble to get the full set. you want some new clothes? big mistake. now he was paying attention whenever your eyes stay on a set of gorgeous clothes you saw. even if it was just a small a little bit long glance, he was immediately on his way inside the store before you could even turn to him.

even if you’d try to reject, he knew you wanted that dress you’ve been looking at. so, he just kissed your forehead and walked past you to pay for that dress. sure, it got annoying sometimes, but he just knew how to make his future wife happy. how was that bad?

oh, and god forbid if you were staring at a piece of jewelry. out of the corner of your eye you saw the suit wearing blond immediately walk inside the store while getting his card out. whenever you tried to stop him from paying, he just put a hand around your waist and still paid for it.

he doesn’t even try to excuse himself. he was grayson hawthorne, for hell’s sake, he didn’t need excuses to make his girl happy.

don’t even get started whenever you try to pay first. you didn’t know if it was his stare or his intimidating aura, but the cashier always took his card instead of yours! once you walked out of the store mad—which grayson didn’t know why. he was giving you everything you wanted and more. why be sad?—he quickly pulled you into his chest and softly kissed your temple.

his way of apologizing, you could say. but you knew that he wasn’t actually sorry.

he wasn’t stupid. he knew how to treat a girl right, especially if it was his girl. no way was he going to let you pay for yourself when he was right there! besides, the small smile on your face whenever you walked out of the mall with him carrying all of the stuff he got you was priceless. he didn’t care about the money, as long as he got to see your beautiful smile over and over again.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @imaseabear @tornqdowarnings @flowers-for-em @alwaysthefangirl @luvv-danielle

#the inheritance games #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the inheritance trilogy #grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x fem!y/n #grayson hawthorne x fem!reader #grayson hawthorne x y/n #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #graysdarling ✶ ˖ ࣪#⊱ ۫ ׅ belle loves

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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the heist

the wistful wyvern, chapter five

a/n: HEIST TIME, BABYYYY!!

summary: eventually, after you thought the palace couldn’t unfold any further, you finally came upon the chamber that you sought.

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, ball, heist, kissing, violence, injuries, cliffhanger

word count: 3535

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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With city walls high enough to shade the outer rim of the town, Ingorn, the capital of the southern kingdom, was notoriously operated under tight supervision. One could not simply wander in or out of the city, a key factor that had managed to worry you to the point that your stomach was still in knots long after you and Bucky had successfully blended in among everyone else and sneaked your way inside through the main gate.

The central castle towered behind you as you now found yourself tugged away in the shadows of one of the small alleys that made up the vibrant and bustling market. The stick in your grasp dragged through the dirt as you explained with the aid of your spontaneous battle map.

“…and then we slip out,” you moved the little pebbles you’d found to help the visualisation, “right under their noses,” Bucky’s eyes then flickered up from the map at your feet to flash you his slightly apprehensive expression, “it’ll be fine, we’ll be fine,” you tilted your head, “and if not, you know, the food on the inside isn’t as bad as people think.”

Tossing the stick, you then dragged your boot over the drawing to erase it.

“Alright,” you exhaled, “step one,” and cast your glance out the dim alleyway to the seamster across the street, “we gotta look the part in order to blend in.”

Seizing a goblet of wine as a waiter passed, “here,” you handed it off to Bucky beside you, who was visibly fighting every instinct in himself to not undo the tight top buttons of the black ensemble he now wore, “don’t actually drink it.”

As you both scanned the ballroom meticulously, you slinked your arm in his to blend in with all of the other couples at the party.

“So,” you murmured above the music, “we know the king has a copy of the key, as well as his head of security, Commander Abbot.”

“Which are both too risqué,” Bucky chimed in as his gaze checked in the opposite direction to you, “so we’ll have to go with the last option.”

“Crown Prince Callum,” you elaborated, only seeing drunken gambling and dancing duos for as far as your eye would take you.

“Mhm,” he hummed, then swiftly nudged your side lightly as he spotted the aforementioned royal, “purple dress shirt, to your left,” he subtly pointed him out for you, “the keys are on his belt.”

After slyly sneaking a peek at the royal standing further down, mid-conversation with a monocle-wearing gentleman, you let out a heavy sigh and tugged the neckline of your blue gown down further, “gods, why couldn’t you have been his type?”

But when you turned to grab the wine goblet out of Bucky’s grasp, he only bit down a laugh and winked, “good luck.”

Making your pace brisk, you neared the prince just as he began to turn. Clutching the full glass of burgundy wine in your hand, you purposely collided with the noble and spilt the drink all over his purple tunic.

“Oh gods,” you faked a gasp and stared down at the stain, “your highness! Please forgive me, I didn’t see where I was going, I–… I’m so sorry.”

The immediate anger that began to blossom on Prince Callum’s face withered and faded when his gaze did a double take as you bashfully batted your eyelashes at him.

As you swiftly grabbed a napkin from the nearby buffet table to hand off to him, he simply breathed, “ah, it’s–…” as his stare was too busy dropping to your cleavage to notice how yours dipped to the keys dangling from his belt, “it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, you can barely even notice the stain,” he glanced down at the faint mark, “so that’s lucky.”

“I’m still so sorry, I really should have been looking where I was going.”

After he let his stare linger even longer, the crown prince then blinked, “forgive me if this is too forward of me, but would you care for a dance?”

“A dance?” you faked a timid gasp, though the corners of your lips lifted as this was exactly the proximity you needed in order to steal the keys, “with you?”

“Yes,” he then leaned in closer to smugly whisper in your ear, “if you’re so sorry, then dance with me,” before floating back enough for his emerald eyes to capture yours.

Bending your knees slightly, you offered him a small curtsy and said, “it would be an honour, your grace.”

After he offered you his palm and you swiftly slid yours into it, he led you to the middle of the dancefloor. Snaking his grasp around your waist, he drew you in a little too close for what you were comfortable with, but exactly what you needed to get the job done.

“So, my lady,” he uttered as the pair of you began to sway to the music, “I don’t believe we’ve formally been acquainted.”

“Oh, I’m aware of who you are, your highness.”

“But I don’t know who you are,” he briefly twirled you an arm’s length away from him before whirling you back to him, “we haven’t met before. I’d surely remember a beauty such as you.”

“Lady Delphine of Cællimbe, your grace.”

“Ah,” his brows lifted with recognition, “so you must be one of Arthur’s daughters?”

“I am,” you lied.

“Forgive me, I’ve always had a hard time keeping track of all of his daughters,” a skill you knew even some members of that house in Cællimbe didn’t have, “but perhaps now’s the time I finally learn.”

As you let your eyes drift down to the keys dangling from his hip once more, you then uttered, “you know what I think you deserve,” you let your hand softly, yet suggestively, glide from his shoulder and down his frame, “after I so rudely spilt my drink on you?”

With a palm firm on your lower back, he dipped you down to the rhythm of the song. Staring back at you with bated breath, “what?” you knew he was hooked.

“A kiss,” you managed to whisper just before he crashed his lips against your own.

Running your palm further down his body, your fingers grazed the delicate loop the keys hung from just as he began to lift you up from the dip and press your frame closer against his. Letting your other hand wander, you tried to make your touch come off as just the same kind of attention he was giving you. You tried not to gag when his caress curved around your bottom and stole a swift squeeze. But just before he finally parted from the repulsive kiss, you snatched the small bundle away and hid it down your cleavage.

“Wow…” he breathed, eyes fluttering between each of yours, “that was–…” he speechlessly murmured as the song came to an end and everyone around you began to bow and curtsy to their partners, though the prince didn’t move an inch.

“Thank you for the dance, your highness,” you pulled away and offered him a small smile.

And as you turned to walk away, his voice found your ears once more as you weaved through the crowd, “will you grant me another one later? Perhaps in a more private quarters?”

Casting a glance back over your shoulder, you playfully answered, “how about you find me at midnight and get the answer then?” before you ducked out the open glass doors onto the broad balcony that stretched so wide it connected many of the chambers.

Rounding the corner, you wedged yourself into a little nook and momentarily let yourself melt against the stone wall, finally granting yourself a chance to shutter over what you’d just endured.

“Did you get it?” your eyes swiftly fluttered back open as Bucky’s low timbre washed over you, haven evidently kept a close eye and followed you out here.

“Of course, I got it,” you fished the keys out from between your boobs and handed them to him. As he slid them into his pocket, you swiftly leaned away from the wall to snatch up a drink from the tray balancing servant that hastily passed by. In an attempt at washing out the taste of the prince’s possessive kiss, you downed the sweet liquor as quickly as you could manage, “urgh,” you groaned, then noticed the amused expression plastered on Bucky’s features and grumbled before he could begin to tease you, “oh, shut up,” you watched him bite down on his grin, “let’s just go.”

Heading back inside, the two of you swiftly slipped down hallways and sneaked by a bunch of boozed-up guests, before your swift steps echoed softly on the staircases as you made your way deeper down into the gilded palace.

When you reached the basement, you quietly made your way down the long corridors. The torches hung sporadically along the walls were the only source of light, making the sudden passages that occasionally crossed the one you ventured down nearly come as a shock.

Suddenly, a pair of footsteps, not your own nor Bucky’s, found your ears.

And just as a shadow began to appear from around the corner, Bucky’s arm quickly wrapped around you as he dragged you into what he’d assumed was a chamber, but turned out to be a very tight broom closet.

The sound of the treads slowed as the door shut behind you. With Bucky’s burly body now firmly pressed up against yours, you scarcely breathed at all as you listened intently to the approaching footsteps. As torch light began to seep in from the crack beneath the door, your eyes found each other’s in the darkness.

Though as the handle began to twist, your partner reacted quickly and did the very last thing you thought he’d do in order to not blow your cover.

Grabbing a hold of your face, Bucky swiftly pulled you in and captured your lips just as the door swung open.

“Oi! You can’t be down here,” the guard bellowed and Bucky’s lips faded from yours just as swiftly as they had appeared, making the whole decoy feel like it had just been a dream.

Being quick to respond, Bucky glanced at the man and said, “sorry, just thought we could find somewhere private down here,” but your eyes were still too spellbound to tear away from his visage even as the ruse faded.

“Sir, just take it back upstairs,” he held the door and ushered you back out, “there are guest rooms a servant can point out for you if things get very dire,” before the guard then began to escort you back to a staircase leading up.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, his palm still scorching through the fabric of your dress on your waist as you conquered the lowest of the steps, leaning enough into the guard’s command for him to turn and go back to his post.

You stayed at the foot of the stairs a moment longer before the coast was clear once more.

Eventually, after you thought the palace couldn’t unfold any further, you finally came upon the chamber that you sought.

Around the corner from a short and curving stairway, there stood the entryway to where the massive vault lied. Before the solid door stood two guards, a layout you silently explained to your partner with a few hand motions.

With your spines pressed against the wall at the very bottom of the staircase, you wordlessly shared your plan before giving it a go.

Purposely stumbling down the last step, you glanced up at the guards and pretended to be incredibly intoxicated, “oh, hey,” you took a few wobbly steps towards them.

“Madam,” one of them perked up, “you’re not allowed to be down here.”

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” you slurred, “I think I might have taken a wrong turn,” before you reached out and leaned against the decorative vase standing tall at the edge of the chamber. As it began to wobble violently, one of the soldiers instinctively reacted and reached out to catch it before it smashed, “wow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” with their attention turned to you, you tried to twist their view away from the stairs where Bucky waited to sneak out from, “that last drink is just really getting to me, I think.”

Doubling over the vase, you pretended to heave. As one stepped even further away from his post to near you, the other one pipped up, “madam, you really should return to the party–, uh!” before Bucky appeared and his solid fist knocked him clean out.

Swiftly, you wrapped your limbs around the guard close to you, nearly climbing him like a monkey, as you slipped your arm around his throat and squeezed.

“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep…” you murmured through your laboured breathes as the soldier slowly lost consciousness and tumbled to the floor, taking you down with him.

Offering you a hand, Bucky helped you back up onto your feet. As he conjured the keys, your eyes fell upon the dark hellstone that made up the sturdy vault door. The intricate lock in the centre of the arched entrance wasn’t difficult to spot in the slightest as its opulence was on par with the rest of the palace’s decor.

When the corresponding key twisted and the vault door swung open with a heavy creak, your arm swiftly shot out to hold Bucky back before his boot could cross the threshold.

“Stop!” you nudged for him to glance down and spot the tripwire he nearly triggered, “this place is probably rigged with tons of traps…”

Carefully, you stepped over the wire, each one of your slow footfalls came accompanied by an anxious breath. Like a shadow, Bucky meticulously placed his feet exactly where yours had been.

Between the hoard of glimmering gold and sparkling gems, dazzling armour and secretive scrolls, there below a shiny shield lied a small chest, already cracked open to reveal the treasure within.

“There!” Bucky pointed for you to spot it as well. Safely tucked away in the narrow box were five coarsely textured eggs, all the size of honeydew melons. Crouching down before it, Bucky then closed the lid and seized it safely under his arm. Turning to you, he flashed you a bright smile, “we did it.”

But his victorious grin didn’t last long as his boot then shifted and stepped on what turned out to not just be another tile on the cool floor, but a pressure plate that clicked down from just a fraction of his weight.

From a cluster of small holes on the opposite wall, a dozen poisoned darts soared out, but thankfully, Bucky’s reflexes were sharper than his perception, as he swiftly tackled you both to the floor.

Treasures clanged around you from the crash as you blinked up and saw the small bolts fly above your heads.

“Are you okay?” one of his palms found your cheek as he hovered above you, eyes frantically scanning your features, “did you get–”

“I’m fine,” you swiftly stated before the approaching of rushed footsteps suddenly found your ears. Evidently, the clatter had been enough to alert your presence, “Buck,” you panted as the alarm hadn’t yet seeped into his soul, “we gotta move.”

After you scrambled to your feet and exited the vault, the warden at your side cast a glance your way before you began to run.

“You smuggled that dagger in with you, right?”

“Yep,” you breathed, as you bent down and grasped the fabrics of your skirt, giving it a stubborn tug till it ripped a slit all the way up to the top of your thigh in order to grant you better mobility, but retroactively also revealing the hidden blade that was strapped to your leg, “let’s hope we won’t have to use it though.”

Running back the way you came, you managed to hide from the first wave of guards that came rushing down towards the vault, but when you rounded a corner and came upon three soldiers, everyone froze up for but a moment.

“Oh, no…” Bucky muttered before he raised his voice and tried, “uh, gentlemen, this isn’t what it looks like,” before he gave up and threw a punch at one of them.

Unsheathing your dagger, you tossed it into the thigh of one of the ones storming Bucky. With the chest still clutched under his arm, Bucky snatched up the weapon with a flourish and used it to his advantage.

The last in the trio rushed at you and swiftly wrestled you to the ground till you found yourself in a position you weren’t sure how you’d get out of. But then, your eyes flickered to the long leather bracelet ever glued around your wrist. Swiftly, you unfurled the improvised weapon and tangled it underneath the guard’s thick neck and tightened it so fiercely that the boulder of a man nearly turned blue in the face before he passed out.

As you pushed his heavy body off of you, you watched as the last of Bucky’s guys tumbled to the ground, both of them bleeding, though nothing fatal.

Getting to your feet, your gaze found your fellow warden's while you hastily wrapped the cord back around your wrist before your feet began to move once more.

Eventually, after you’d slipped out of the basement and raced higher up into the palace, you found yourself cornered with nowhere left to run. Every corridor you ran down had guards on the other end of it.

Ducking into a chamber that had a canopy bed so elegant that it nearly kissed the tall ceilings, you and Bucky worked together to push a polished wooden wardrobe against the door to block it off.

Your stare stayed glued to the only exit as your chest heaved with every breath, though Bucky’s didn’t linger as long, instead flickering to the windows right behind you.

“I’ve got an idea,” he uttered before unlatching the window and pushing it open.

Stepping closer, your gaze mimicked his and spotted the roofline below.

“Seriously?” you glared at him as heavy thumps began to echo at the barricaded door, “how far down is that?”

“Just don’t think about it,” he grabbed your hand and helped you up onto the windowsill, “it’s not like we got that many options,” his fingers laced with yours as he came to join you, “on three,” you stared down at the shingles below in horror, “one, two, three!”

And just as the cupboard scraped across the floor, the guards successfully barging the door down, the two of you jumped. Getting the wind thoroughly knocked out of you, the pair of you crashed onto the roof in a bruising tumble.

Thankfully, though your body throbbed from the fall, nothing seemed broken as you helped each other to your feet and began to sprint across the rooftops and jump over gaps between buildings towards the pending city walls.

And with one last leap, you reached the parapet. Helping him down the wall first, Bucky then promised to catch you as you hesitated the steep climb.

You felt like sitting ducks as you sprinted across the open fields surrounding the city. Lungs burning from how long you’d been running, you saw the main gate roll up and let out a hoard of soldiers, all on horseback.

The lights in a few of the watchtowers flickered as you passed them, and before you knew it, arrows began to fly, only narrowly missing your heads.

A plan then stuck your partner as he pushed the chest into your arms and urged you to keep running in the same direction while he curved off in a reckless attempt at leading the enemies away.

Though you knew it was too dangerous, he darted off before you could stop him, only glancing back to tell you to meet him behind the small cluster of pine trees that shot up further down the meadow.

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes as you soon heaved to regain your breath and the pine needles pricked your spine. Whipping your head around, Bucky was nowhere within your sight, even as your breathing began to grow steady.

And just as paralysing thoughts of his demise settled within your mind, his silhouette suddenly appeared from around a tall shrub.

Unable to stop yourself, you ran into each other’s arms.

“That was so stupid,” you sniffled against his shoulder as you clung onto him like you never had before.

Seizing your face, he gently tilted it back enough for him to flash you a cocky smirk, “worked though,” as he wiped your cheeks dry.

Blinking up into his eyes, the moonlight nearly made them sparkle as fiercely as the palm-sized gemstones you’d spotted in the vault.

Then, just as victory washed over the both of you, the soft smile that warmed Bucky’s features faulted as a breathless gasp of pain tumbled out of him.

Still faintly vibrating from its journey, an arrow suddenly jutted out of his left shoulder.

#lea’s writing #eflorr au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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ipseitydelrey · 1 year ago

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headcanons: dating spencer reid ♡

(i’m so totally normal about this man)

ship spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings mentions of schizophrenia & alzheimer’s

a/n thought this would be a good first post! interaction would be appreciated, but your readership would be enough! enjoy~

★ he regularly gives you books he has read, completed with small annotations.

★ to go with the previous headcanon, you would give him more modern books you enjoy as opposed to the classical/foreign ones he gifts.

★ expect for your first couple of dates to be more awkward (he has definitely asked derek for advice on more than one occasion).

★ he makes it a point to learn all that he can about whatever you like at the moment, even if he himself isn't into it/doesn't understand the appeal. it's mostly just so he can connect with you more and to share fun facts about your interests.

★ he's awful at cooking, but once or twice, he has definitely attempted to cook a homemade meal for you two as a romantic gesture. you both decided that what he made wasn't edible, but you appreciated the attempt and ordered takeout instead.

★ weekly bookstore visits! half of the time you would go to barnes & noble for your literary needs, but you two also enjoy supporting local bookstores (+ they tend to have rare books too).

★ when you two are cuddling, he loves it when you run your fingers through his hair and give him a head massage; it really helps with his migraines.

★ convention is in town? best believe that you two are wearing matching cosplays, especially if the characters you're dressing up as is canonically a couple.

★ spencer doesn't just ask derek; he also asks penelope and jj for advice too.

★ on the first couple of dates he generally avoided touching, but now? he can't get enough of you, how warm you are and how soft your hands are.

★ much like how he tends to go on a tangent, he loves it and listens intently whenever you infodump about a topic you're interested in.

★ antique stores! you both find the atmosphere lovely and you would get gifts for each other there.

★ his love language is praise, both giving and receiving. he wants to make sure you feel loved and wanted. even when it's something small, like getting him coffee for example, he'll go on and on about how wonderful you are, how good you are to him and how much he loves and adores you.

★ on the receiving end, he'll absolutely melt if you give him reassurance that you reciprocate his love. and if you hold him — cup his cheeks or wrap your arms around his waist — while whispering praises? as emily said, IQ of 187 slashed down to 60.

★ the first time he said "i love you" was sort of an accident. he had just come back from a case and he was so tired that he collapsed into your arms and you had to drag him to bed. you were making sure he was comfortable and in his delirious state he mumbled "love you" in the sleepiest voice imaginable.

★ movie nights! whenever it's his turn, he either picks some pretentious, foreign language, criterion collection, 3+ hour film...or he just puts on reruns of star trek or doctor who.

★ when you moved in with him, you both had to buy another bookshelf. both because of the books strewn around spencer's apartment that were unable to be shelved due to overcrowding, and to fit your books there too.

★ he's super worried about doing something wrong. this is probably his first actual serious relationship, so he's being extra cautious to not accidentally insult or hurt you. over time, he learns to relax around you but the worry is still there, just in small doses.

★ he doesn't really like PDA, but he makes up for the lack of it with tons of hugs, kisses, and close contact in private (specifically at home, but anywhere private will do).

★ whenever you two go out and you want to wear formal attire, he'll help you with putting it on! he'll zip up your dress, help tie your tie, fasten your necklace, maybe help with cuff links. he absolutely loves being able to assist you with anything, no matter how small.

★ he was definitely worried when he brought you to go meet his mom for the first time, so he made sure to pick a day where she would be in one of her good moods and also told you everything he knows about schizophrenia and alzheimer's. he was thankfully relieved when his mom liked you and vice versa.

★ a bit corny, but he loves reciting love poems to you. this can also extend to passages from books that discuss romantic love; he has an eidetic memory after all and he's going to put it to good use!

#★ sei’s headcanons #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds headcanons #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #headcanon #fanfic

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pep-rambles · 8 months ago

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Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor, Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW)

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

-Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now.

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine.

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers.

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny)

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

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treadsuren · 8 months ago

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I said it once and I'll say it again, This is a quote that you have to pay close attention .

Feyre POV - A Court of Silver Flames (Barnes and Noble Exclusive Edition)

“Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way."

“And torn up by thorns," I mused, recalling a morning this past summer when Elain had come into the house, Her Right Palm bleeding from several gashes thanks to a stubborn rosebush that had pierced her gloves. The thorns had broken off in her skin, leaving sharp splinters that I’d had to pull free.I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.

#lucien #lucien vanserra #elucien #elain x lucien #pro lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien acotar #acotar

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months ago

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Recreate

Pairing:��Biker!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: fluff, implied smut

Request by @waywardfillorian: Biker!Dean takes his Book tiktok reader girly friend to get as books as she wants at Barnes & Noble.

Summary: As your boyfriend, Dean is responsible for your happiness. Books are what make you happy. Riding his bike is what makes you happy. Recreating famous BookTok scenes is what makes both of you happy… and eager.

Square Filled: play fighting (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Dean never said where you two were going to go on your date so you decide to dress casually--jeans, a short-sleeved frilly shirt, and the Converse Dean bought you for your birthday. It’s still hot when the sun goes down so there is no need to bring a jacket if you stay out that long. You put two small hoops into your ears and make sure your hair is perfect before hearing the familiar sound that gets butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Dean’s motorcycle can be heard even before he enters the cul-de-sac, and you race to your window to see him round the corner. A wide smile spreads across your face and you race downstairs to greet him. Dean parks his bike when you come barreling out of the house. He catches you in his arms and hugs you while rubbing your back affectionately. He’d kiss you but his helmet is still on.

“Slow down there. What’s the rush?” he chuckles and slides up his visor so you can see his beautiful green eyes.

“Nothing. I just missed you is all.”

“It’s been two days,” he laughs.

“That’s too long. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. You ready to go?”

“Yep!” You twirl to show him your entire outfit. “Do I look okay?”

“Y/N, you are the most beautiful woman. It doesn’t matter what you wear.”

“Even if I was wearing a burlap sack?”

“I think that’d be sexier.” He chuckles. “Come here.”

You step up to him and he grabs the second helmet strapped to his bike. He slides the helmet over your head and makes sure it’s on snugly before helping you strap it in. He’s concentrating so hard on the small task, his thick fingers pressing delicately into your neck. One of the things you absolutely love doing is behaving like a brat for him. He radiates dominant energy with just about everyone in his life, and you’re no exception. He loves you with all of his heart and he treats you like a princess but you love it when he loses his shit just because you decided to have an attitude.

It’s why you reach up and slap his visor close as he is trying to strap you in.

Dean’s entire hand wraps around your throat and he tips his head to the right, his eyes burning with a challenge. A challenge that says, “Are you sure you want to play with me?” Dean tips your head back more and tucks the strap into the helmet to keep it out of the way. Then, he slides his hand from your throat to hook under the helmet by your chin. He pulls you closer so that your helmet bumps against his.

“Keep it up, sweetheart.”

You can’t help the giggle that comes out. He makes you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. Lord knows he’s tried before. Dean gets on his bike and stabilizes it for you to get on. You grab his shoulder and swing your leg over it, settling on the bike right behind him.

“So, where are we going?” you ask. There are microphones inside the helmets so that you can talk to each other comfortably. “I made sure to dress for every occasion.”

“It’s a surprise, princess.” You smile. “Just enjoy the ride.”

Dean turns the bike on and kicks the stand back before peeling back onto the road. You reach around him and grip the very small handle so you have something to anchor yourself to the bike. You wish you could feel the wind in your hair just once without a helmet but there is no way Dean would ever let you ride his bike without a helmet on. He cares too much about your safety to do that, even if you suggest riding around the neighborhood.

An idea pops into your head when you remember a TikTok you watched the other day of a woman who was backpacking for a biker. Thank God no one can see the mischievous smirk forming on your face. You wrap one arm around Dean’s waist while the other rests on his thigh. Without giving him any warning, you slide the resting hand over the front of his jeans and right over his cock.

He stiffens and waits for you to make the next move. You’re playing with fire and he knows it. You love it too much. You love the animal you bring out in him whenever you do this shit to him. You haven’t even moved and he’s already growing underneath your touch. He slows down for a red light and you make the bold move to palm his cock gently. Dean reaches behind himself and hooks his fingers under your helmet by your chin. He yanks you to him and you move your hands to his thighs to steady yourself.

“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. Do you want me to turn this bike around and punish you at home?”

“Maybe,” you smirk.

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

The light turns green so Dean is forced to let go of your helmet and continue to ride all the way to Barnes and Noble. When you see the sign, you audibly gasp in excitement. Not even the worst of storms will keep you from going to Barnes and Noble. This is your favorite place on Earth as you love reading so much. Your book collection is always growing since Dean loves to spend his money on you.

“You brought me to Barnes and Noble?” you grin and get off the bike when he parks.

“Get as many books as you want. This spree is on me.”

You don’t have to be told this twice. You don’t even take your helmet off before sprinting into the store. There are a lot of genres you love reading but there is one that will be above everyone else--dark romance. You love men in masks, men on bikes, men who murder, men who take what they want, and men who love unconditionally. The sex is always hot between two enemies or between a stalker and his victim.

Dean leaves to go to the bathroom while you browse the book selection. There are so many you have read so you’re always looking for new books to read, new characters to invest into. You grab a book you’ve never read before but have seen all over TikTok and turn to a random page. A smirk spreads across your face when you read all about the two characters fucking. You have no context clues but you can guess the premise when you see the word “Maze of Mirrors”.

You’re so invested in the story that you don’t notice someone standing behind you.

“Is this what you read about? Naughty girl.” You slam the book close and turn to Dean who no doubt has a smirk underneath his helmet. He backs you into the bookshelf and grips your neck with his calloused hands. “Why don’t you get that book and we can recreate that scene at home?”

If he wasn’t holding you, you’d already be kneeling on the floor for him.

“Okay,” you squeak out.

Barnes and Noble will always be here when you’re ready to come back and get more books but there will never be another moment like this with Dean. Every time Dean suggests something like this, it’s always a different scenario. There is nothing about Dean you hate. You really found your soulmate in him.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

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hollycrowned · 3 months ago

Text

cipherhunt log: some sunny day

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

On July 27th, I went to the Hillsboro Barnes & Noble signing event for The Book of Bill. I’ve decided to come back to this account at least for a moment to write a little bit about what it was like. At the end of this post, there’s some Cipher Hunt related news, so be sure to read all the way through.

The Q&A was a lot of fun. There was excitement in the air even before the event began, with eager fans wearing Dipper hats and flannel shirts hurrying to their seats. A few fans were in cosplay, too, which was heartwarming to see. While there were several kids with their parents in the audience, most of the fans there were younger adults—which really made it hit me that the series first aired over ten years ago.

By total accident I ended up next to the door Alex stepped through and caught his entrance:

Alex has the type of charm that can get anyone laughing, and his own laughter is contagious. I didn’t record much of the talk, wanting to simply experience it, but here’s a short video I took of him talking about how The Book of Bill came about:

Over the half hour, Alex talked about the the book itself, about the show, his characters, and about creating a television series. Fans, when the mic was turned over to the audience, said what they love most about the series and asked about intentionality and the possibility of crossovers (Alex’s immediate “yes” was a hit). Alex expressed after one question that while he never could have guessed that people would like Gravity Falls so much, he’s grateful for the enduring love fans have for the show.

The event coordinator, who schooled a few questions to Alex before mic was given over to the audience, asked what I think we all want to know: “What are you working on right now?” Alex gave the answer he’s given in the past: that as is typical in Hollywood, he can’t talk about the projects he’s currently involved in.

If you were around when I was active here, you might remember that by the time I left, my focus had become to follow Alex through his career. To recap: after Gravity Falls ended, Deadline reported in 2018 that Alex had signed a multi-year exclusive contract with Netflix. Not long after, Netflix announced the opening of its own animation studio, alongside a reel showcasing some of the artists they’d recruited. The reel highlighted that this group of artists included industry legends, young talent, and diverse voices; each artist in the reel talked how excited they were for what the studio itself meant the future of animation, and for the opportunity to work there. Alex was in this reel, too.

Although I’ve moved on to other fandoms and my own creative work, I’ve kept up with movements in the animation industry. If you have, too, you may know about the massive cuts and cancellations Netflix has made in the last several years, especially to its animation department. Alex has produced and consulted on a few projects at Netflix since his contract began—chief among them Inside Job, which was initially renewed by for a second season before Netflix reversed their decision six months later and cancelled the series altogether. Shion Takeuchi, the creator of Inside Job and previous writer on Gravity Falls, confirmed the cancellation, saying “I’m heartbroken.” Alex, in a reply, expressed the same, adding, “Grateful to have had the chance to help on one of my best friends shows, for however briefly”.

In the six years since Alex signed his contract with Netflix, there have been hints that he’s been working on a series with his name on the masthead. In late 2020, he tweeted about staffing his new show:

But if his project was among the cuts Netflix made a few years after that, he gave no sign of it in his answer.

It’s jarring, and saddening, to watch that reel from 2018 with the knowledge of what has happened since. Outside of Netflix, things seem just as dire, with the dragging of AI into animation giants like Disney and Dreamworks by their corporate executives—notably, as The Animation Guilds’ contract approached its expiration date. In 2023, Vulture published an article which included testimonies from four artists who worked on Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse about the unsustainable working conditions at Sony while the film was in production. Over the last few years, Warner Bros has shelved two animated films and one hybrid for multimillion-dollar tax write-offs. In addition, their subsidiary HBO Max purged multiple animated series from its catalogue, denying the artists who worked on them access to their own works—and for some of them, residuals as well.

The final question at the Q&A was from a fan who said that they’re currently in school for animation. They asked Alex if he had any advice for new animators trying to break into the industry. Immediately, my mind went to all of that news I linked in the paragraphs above. I listened intently…

Alex’s response did not have hopelessness in it. He did talk, foremost and with humor, about how risky it is to pursue art as a career, especially at this moment—laughed, as he ended a sentence with, “Don’t go into the arts.” But he moved on from that, and gave an even more honest reply: hone your skills, put your work out there, and don’t give up. Be persistent, share what you make, make what you love. Make sure it’s easy for people to contact you, explore feelings through your work even when it’s uncomfortable, and show your work to others, even though it’s scary. Alex also remarked on creating itself being hard work, from the raw process to putting your art out there to taking criticism to learning from what didn’t work and applying it to your drafts and future projects. Hard work, challenging in more ways than one, on top of an unforgiving cultural moment, yes—but keep going. Keep creating.

Keep making art.

Then the Q&A ended, and the signing began. I found myself at the end of the line, but I didn’t mind; neither did anyone else waiting with me. In the moments when I wasn’t chatting with other fans, I thought about that last question and Alex’s response.

There is little that is easy about being an artist these days. I have come to know this by having friends who are artists, by following the careers and accounts of other artists, by reading the news, and—since becoming an artist myself—finding out firsthand. But I have come to know, just as well, that the best remedy for these ills is community. Whether you create art as a hobby or you have a career in the arts, whether your medium is collaborative or solitary in nature: in the face of intolerable working conditions, cutthroat corporations and corner-cutting clients, the advantages they take, the instability and uncertainty, and what all artists can relate to: the challenges of the creative process itself—it’s the support of your fellow artists that helps you survive. It helps art survive. A community that creates alongside you can give trusted critique, celebrate with you, stand up for you, introduce you to other artists you can learn from, and give what is necessary for so many of us to create at all: encouragement. A voice that says, keep creating. This gives to the world what is necessary for us all: more art.

If tech companies develop their AI by stealing from artists, if the c-suites who own the studios see artists as disposable, with the way freelancing can throw water on creative fire, if popular opinion increasingly trends toward art only having as much value as money it makes, then we must support each other. Helpful, practical advice given by a successful artist on how to succeed in the arts in this particular moment is a gem to anyone who is reaching for that goal. But invaluable and eternal is example; not just of success, but of how to be good to your fellow artists—and in turn, to yourself.

And I just think that’s how an artist ought to be.

As the line moved, and I got close enough to see the signing table across the room, I watched Alex greet the fans ahead of me. I found that he was as sweet to people as I always have heard he is, as I remember from watching the Periscopes he appeared in during Cipher Hunt: generous with his time, genuine, and good-natured. One fan skipped away from the table with their book, and a big smile on their face.

And then it was my turn.

When you meet him, he looks you in the eye. I always forget, until I shake someone else’s hand, how small my own hands are. I told him my name is Holly. He asked, “Spelled how it sounds?” I spelled it for him, reflexively, before I could fully process the question and simply say yes. I said lightheartedly that he must be extra happy to see us, being that we were at the end of the line—it was over three hours after the event had begun—and he said, “I’m sorry you all had to wait for this long.” While he was signing my copy, I asked if he was enjoying Portland—though what I really meant to ask was if he was happy to be back in the PNW, in the summertime. He said yes, he loves it here.

It all happened so fast, with me completely forgetting that I’d passed my phone to a kind father of some fans waiting near me in line, and I almost walked away without getting a picture with him. When you meet a celebrity crush from your younger years, it has you reckon with how the part of you who crushed back then has walked with you through time—in what ways who you were back then is still a part of who you are now, and who you want to be. And, of course, it gets your heart beating a little faster, too.

There was much more I wanted to ask him (this has never stopped being the case), but there were other fans waiting for their turn, and he had given his time to just shy of 150 people already. So I smiled at him, and said thank you, and moved along.

I am, and always will be, excited to see anything Alex makes. Hearing him talk about his art, and artistry, and being an artist, was beyond wonderful; not only young Holly’s wish come true, but inspiring for Holly, today—as an artist in my own right. In the years since I retired this account, as I’ve read all this news about the industry, I’ve often wondered how Alex has been. I am very happy and grateful I was lucky enough to get a ticket to the signing, and meet him.

And finally…the Cipher Hunt news.

First: the fan waiting in front of me in the signing line (I’m so sorry I didn’t get your name, but if you’re reading this, I hope you had a safe and smooth flight back home!) said she had been to Confusion Hill recently, and that Bill and the treasure box are still there. I haven’t been to Confusion Hill since I last went in 2017–before COVID—but I think about Bill and the treasure box all the time. It made me so happy to hear that fans are still visiting and exchanging treasures. I hope I get to go again, someday soon.

The second announcement: by chance, I happened to meet a fan who is working on a documentary about Cipher Hunt. I introduced myself and said I’d be more than happy to help out with the project! The creator, Keyan Carlile, can be found on both Twitter and YouTube. I hope you’ll follow along!

I met so many other lovely fans while waiting in line, as well. There is still so much affection and excitement for this series, and it was so nice to step back into the fandom, if only or a moment. If we spoke with each other: it was so nice to meet you! Maybe our paths will cross again, someday. And to everyone, all of the fans who were there, and all of you out there with The Book of Bill:

happy reading!! ∆

#gravity falls #alex hirsch #the book of bill #cipher hunt #cipherhunt #logs only

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