#and with that concludes run number two

[columboscreens]

columbo - columbo likes the nightlife

[kuiperblog]

Where Star Wars went wrong

Quoting Jason Pargin, who articulates it better than I could:

"In any kind of a sane world, The Mandalorian should have run for 150 episodes at least. They had a formula here that could have worked forever.

"It's a formula that has always worked: a heroic stranger wanders into a strange new land and meets a bunch of colorful characters, usually under the thumb of a powerful threat. The threat is usually in the form of a villain who's played by a famous actor just chewing the scenery. He uses hits wits and his courage to get out of it and then he moves on.

"Have Gun, Will Travel" ran for 225 episodes from 1957-1963. It's where Gene Roddenberry of Star Trek fame got his start.

"The sci-fi space adventures we had years and years ago used to run forever. Star Trek TNG had about 180 episodes, Deep Space 9 had about the same number, even Voyager -- the show that we think of as being a "lesser series" -- had 172 episodes. And here's the thing: most of those episodes were really good!

"But because of the way the business works now, and because of 'corporate synergy,' by season 2 of the Mandalorian, they were brainstorming "how do we get this back to Luke Skywalker and the Death Star?"

"By season 3, fans were lost, because some huge plot events had occurred in a completely different series, because they needed it to connect to their Boba Fett show. And now, the Mandalorian is dead. They're gonna wrap up the story in a movie, and that's it.

And the crazy part is, this was always the perfect format for Star Wars: it always should have been a short form serial! That's what George Lucas was ripping off when he made the film back in 1977: serials like Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon.

These were little 12-minute long episodes that played as one continuing story, but each one was its own little lighthearted adventure that usually ended on some kind of a cliffhanger.

"This is why so many of the most hardcore Star Wars fans who are old like me only like two of the movies, because by the third film they were already just repeating beats: they were attacking yet another Death Star.

They ran out of ideas so fast, because this is not the ideal format for this universe. The Mando and Baby Yoda Show is the ideal format! This should have run for the next 20 years! They even set it up so that the star wouldn't even need to be on set for most of it, because he wears a helmet!

"I think some fans object to this, because they think of it as making Star Wars smaller, that you're reducing it to 'just a TV show.' But it's the exact opposite: it lets you expand the universe, because you're forced to to keep coming up with new places for him to go, and new people for him to meet, new villains for him to face -- you're not forced to just keep coming back to the Death Star again and again, and the Sith, and the Jedi.

In Episode VII: The Force Awakens, the Starkiller Base destroys five planets. That's mathematically five times more tragic than the destruction of Alderaan.

"And if you want evidence, just look at Star Trek! It's the show that expanded the universe. The Star Trek films were just action movies that are very forgettable. But I guess the world has changed, because they don't even do Star Trek that way anymore.

Picard ended its run after 30 episodes. Discovery concluded after 65. Hopefully, Strange New Worlds marks a return to form for the franchise.

"I don't get it, because it seems like a version of this show that runs until the year 2040 would have just printed money. The merchandise sales alone would have covered the production costs. Instead, it's 24 episodes and a movie that I think everyone has already stopped caring about."

[calumcxke]

CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE

yang jungwon x fem!reader

SUMMARY: your rich boyfriend- who you never thought you would have a chance with- loves to spoil you. even with the smallest things.

WARNINGS: none just really fluffy and they’re both down bad for each other

wc: 1.9k

notes! this is mainly based on a dream i had about ricky from zb1 LMAOO so sorry if it’s a bit unrealistic and tooth-rottingly fluffy, this was also RUSHED, i know i usually write about txt but i’ve been on such an enhypen kick lately and i loveeeee jungwon

yang jungwon was rich. if that was even the right word for it.

with a prestigious father- who was rumored to be one of the reasons he got into snu- his whole family was loaded.

he walked around campus like he owned it. realistically speaking, he could probably buy it if he wanted to. everyone knew him. and his friend group. jungwon, jake, and heeseung were some of the most well known people at school.

you, on the other hand, were not. it’s not like no one knew you. you were known, just not popular. not like jungwon. you had friends, aka sunoo, soobin, and karina.

which is why it was a bit weird when jungwon had taken a liking to you. it wasn’t anything special at first. just small smiles exchanged in passing, but it was still enough to have you running off and telling your friends what had happened. they, of course, told you to make a move. you refused. that’s too scary. making a move on the most popular- and the hottest- guy in school? you would rather crawl into a hole.

you didn’t have to worry too much about making the first move, though. a few days later jungwon caught you at the end of class, falling in step next to you as he asked for your number.

you almost disintegrated into a puddle on the spot, masking your shock as you sputtered out a yes, putting your contact into his phone. you tried to ignore how soft his voice was, or how intense his eye contact was, or the way he smiled at you, or how cute his dimples were, or- you were down bad.

when you told your friends, they nearly lost their minds. karina was jumping around you, before sunoo concluded this called for a night out. you still think he just wanted an excuse to eat out. but alas, you spent the whole night making a plan. or, they spent the whole night making a plan while you sat there daydreaming about the dimple-y, cat-eyed boy who you had spoken to earlier that day.

it started out as just exchanging texts back and forth. you tried not to be awkward, but you always were with new people. plus, you were talking to yang jungwon. if things got awkward, you brought up school. lame, but it was the only thing you knew you had in common with him.

you don’t remember when, but the texts turned into calls, then late night facetimes. looking forward to calling him at night, checking your phone constantly with every notification. smiling when you saw his name pop up on your phone. then he asked to hang out.

in person.

you felt like a part of you glitched when he asked, his smile lighting up your phone screen in the dark. you said yes, obviously. what you didn’t expect was for jungwon to say he was on his way, asking you to meet him outside the library in ten minutes. you still said you would be there, immediately calling karina once you hung up, screaming to her about what was about to happen. she calmed you down, but she was just as excited as you.

you cleaned up as best as you could without looking like you were trying too hard, listening to karina’s advice on how to act before you were rushing out the door, shaking from the cold air whipping against you and your nerves.

the night was fun. you two spent it walking around, giggling with each other about stores you could think of. you learned even more about him. he went on a rant about how good aladdin was while you stared at him with an endeared look. the night ended with you two hand in hand, your fingers intertwined and arms swinging as he walked you back to your dorm.

you two stood outside your door awkwardly, you shifting your weight from foot to foot before telling him goodnight. with a surge of braveness, you were on your tippy toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you watched the surprised look on his face that he replaced with a smile soon after, his cheeks turning a pretty pink.

you turned around to go back into your apartment before a hand on your wrist stopped you. you didn’t have time to process what was happening until you were being turned around and his lips were on yours. he pulled away with a shy smile on his mouth, his dimples poking through as he backed away, whispering a goodnight before he was walking off. you stood in a daze, unsure of how this was reality. you finally stuttered out a goodnight, entering your dorm calmly before you were jumping up and down with silent screams, immediately calling sunoo, soobin, and karina. safe to say they had to listen to you rant for about two hours.

that’s basically how it all started. to this day, two months in, there was only a handful of people who knew. jake and heeseung knew, along with your friends. your friend groups had meshed slightly, although you didn’t hang out much at school. at night and off campus were when you would all get together. you and jungwon in your own world, while everyone else conversed with each other.

right now, you were walking along the sidewalk, soobin, sunoo, and karina in front of you while you and jungwon trailed behind, fingers intertwined as you walked to your favorite shake shop. you had been looking forward to it since you woke up, imagining the cold chocolate shake invading your tastebuds throughout every lecture.

“what’re you gonna get?” you asked, turning your head to face jungwon, his eyes meeting yours as he thought.

“whatever you get,” he replied with a smile, his dimples poking through.

“don’t get what i get, get what you want,” you giggled, rolling your eyes at him playfully.

“i like chocolate shakes,” he spoke, your eyes widening slightly at his sentence.

“you remember my order?” you asked, your lips hanging open as you stared at him.

he laughed, turning his head away from you to face forward again, “it’s not like you haven’t been talking about it all day.”

oh. that’s right. you laughed awkwardly, mumbling out a ‘sorry’ as you looked forward again. he gave your hand a squeeze, laughing along with you. a comfortable silence fell upon you two, listening to your friends converse in front of you. there was no need to keep talking to fill the silence. just being around each other was enough.

your eyes lit up as your favorite shake place came into view, the light brown and orange shack standing on its own off of the sidewalk, four little steps leading up to the window where you placed your order. you smiled brightly, subconsciously picking up your steps as you dragged jungwon along behind you. sunoo laughed at the two of you, pointing you out to soobin and karina, who could only roll their eyes with smiles on their faces.

you skipped up the steps to the entrance, turning around to see your friends right behind you. you sent them a toothy smile, pulling out your wallet, “i’ll cover us today!”

you tried to ignore the smile jungwon sent you, or the heat that rose to your cheeks as you spun back around to greet the girl behind the counter, smiling brightly at her, “hi! can i get one- sorry, two chocolate shakes,” you paused as she put the drinks in, looking back up at you, “and then just whatever they want.”

you gestured to your friends behind you, stepping out of the way so they could place their orders. you bounced slightly on your heels, biting your bottom lip as you gave jungwon a cheeky smile, too excited for your shake to function properly. was it embarrassing to get this excited over a chocolate shake? probably. you didn’t care.

when everyone finished ordering, you stepped back up to the counter, pulling your wallet out of your bag and reaching for your card. you looked back up just in time to see jungwon leaning against the counter, sending you a cocky smile as he placed his card on the card reader, before turning his head to smile at the girl, taking the receipt from her.

your jaw dropped, a pout forming on your lips as you looked up at him, “i was gonna pay for it.”

he huffed out a laugh, squeezing one of your cheeks before shoving his card back in his wallet, heading to lean against the wall by your other friends, “it’s no big deal.”

you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to creep on your lips, you steps quickly catching up to him as you stood in front of him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

truthfully, you knew it was nothing to him. $40 was practically like a penny to him, it wouldn’t affect him in any way. when he said it wasn’t a big deal, it truly wasn’t. you still couldn’t help yourself from feeling bad when he bought stuff for you, though. you didn’t want to seem like the girlfriend that leeches off of her rich boyfriend.

“baby,” he started, a smile on his lips as he reached for your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles as he continued, “i would buy you anything. no matter how many zeros are at the end.”

you didn’t know what to say back. your mouth opened and closed, his words effectively shutting you up as your cheeks turned a bright red. you didn’t expect those words to leave his mouth.

smirking at your flustered reaction, he continued, leaning closer to your face as he whispered, “whether it be two zeros,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, moving over to the other one, “three zeros”. another kiss.

he pulled back slightly, a soft smile on his lips as one hand left yours to grab your chin, tilting your head up to meet his, “six zeros.” he pressed his lips against yours, a soft, lingering kiss that had you reeling, his words making your mind spin.

when he pulled away, you couldn’t help the words that spilled from your mouth, “you would spend a million dollars on me?”

he simply laughed, pulling the hand he was still holding so your chest collided with his, wrapping his arms around you, “i would spend all my money on you.”

you smiled, snuggling your head into his chest as you whined, your cheeks burning, “don’t say stuff like that,” you mumbled out, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“why?” he asked simply, and you felt him shrug as he rested his head on top of yours before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the truth.”

and suddenly, the chocolate shake didn’t seem as important, nor did anything else around you. just spending this moment with jungwon, wrapped in his arms, practically surrounded by him, simply being there with him- was all that was on your mind.

all you knew was that he was as down bad for you as you were for him, and that somehow made you fall more in love with him, tilting your head up slightly to press a soft kiss against his neck before mumbling, “you have to let me buy you dinner tonight, though.”

he snorted out a laugh, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “yeah, right.”

[currrsy]

THE OTHER SIDE

This post is about my OC's and the story about them! I have two settings, and this one is about "The Other Side", a horror drama about Floyd Bennett. CHARACTERS:

PLOT: In 2005, the main character, Floyd Bennett, a horror writer, moves to a quiet town called 'name' and settles into a new big house. In the past, Floyd experienced a tragedy — he lost his wife and daughter in a fire. After several years, Bennett decides to start a new life by moving to a different place and fully immersing himself in writing.

After moving, Floyd explores the town and meets the local sheriff's assistant, David Sanders, at a store. David gives him his phone number in case Floyd needs help.

A few days later, Floyd begins to feel worse living in the new house: his migraines worsen, he often has nosebleeds, and he hears various sounds, as if someone is walking around the house, etc.

One day, he encounters a woman named Samantha near the yard, who tries to warn Floyd to leave the house. Bennett doesn’t listen to her, and Samantha leaves, saying that he is making a big mistake. Over time, Floyd's health deteriorates significantly. In the bathroom mirror, he notices the silhouette of a man with a slit throat.

Floyd perceives this as a hallucination and decides to just go to sleep. He dreams of a nightmare in which he gets a hand injury. Waking up in the middle of the night, he discovers that the injury is real. He decides to call David in the middle of the night to check the house. Upon arrival, David listens to everything that has happened to Floyd. He concludes that the writer's imagination has simply run wild and that he needs to rest. As David prepares to leave, he finds he cannot open the front door. Other doors are also locked, and the lights in the house stop working. Something does not want to let them out. Eventually, they encounter the man Floyd saw in the mirror; a long-haired man with a slit throat is approaching them. The walls of the house bleed, and objects shake and fall. In an instant, everything stops, and complete darkness descends.

When they come to, the men notice that the house has changed significantly: there are more rooms, the corridors have deformed and elongated. In simple terms, everything looks like a nightmare. They cannot find a way out, so they are left to explore the strange place (the other side) in hopes of finding another exit.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

special report | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

next: (cheers) to the future (slight nsfw) | scavenger hunt | intermission (mild nsfw) scenario: ever wonder how the VIPs watch the games before they arrive on the island? reporter!reader delivers the highlights of each game to viewers around the world. and a certain someone is their biggest fan.  setting: in seoul between the second game (dalgona) and the special game during season 1 warnings: reader can be any gender, but this was originally written with fem!reader in mind; reader also works for the games; they're both just not nice people lol (but we love them anyways!); no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 629 notes: someone in a reddit thread had a theory that the VIPs would watch highlight reels of the first few games and this story popped in my head. salesman is called recruiter here since that's his official title. i love this guy sm (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please enjoy! borders by��@strangergraphics-archive

“And that concludes our coverage for Day 2 of the Games. Please stay tuned for the Special Game, which will take place in two hours.”

You bowed to the camera, only straightening your back upon hearing the director yell “Cut!”. You shuffled the papers on the desk in front of you, then checked your phone. 

Three missed calls. 

You snorted, a small smile forming on your lips. You pressed on one of the missed calls, the number redialing on your screen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the recruiter to pick up. It didn’t even ring once before his smooth voice came through the speaker.

“Finally.”

You sighed, leaning forward to prop an elbow on the desk. “You know I’m at work. You of all people should know that.”

You could picture his cocky smirk.

“Care for a bite to eat? My treat,” he offered, which you accepted. There was still an hour and a half before you had to return to prepare for the Special Game.

You met at the tiny kimbap shop down the street. While you both could afford a fancier restaurant, a cheap, filling meal was all you needed right now.

“So,” you started, pouring hot barley tea into your teacups, “Did you catch any of the last game?” 

He nodded, resting his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table. “Very entertaining, as always. You never cease to impress me,” he praised.

Taking a big sip of tea, you scoffed, “Oh please. I’m the least interesting part of the show.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

Shooting him an unimpressed look, you spoke, “Did you not see the same footage I did? The utter fear when they had to carve out the dalgona?” You laughed, “And when that guy got shot and slid down the slide… You just can’t make this stuff up!"

Pouring some more tea into your cup, you continued, "Seriously though, watching those players carve out the umbrella shapes was priceless. They were so scared!” With a shake of your head, you sighed, “I can’t believe some of them actually passed.” 

The recruiter chuckled, leaning closer to you. “While that was amusing, I found your performance to be far more enticing.”  

A blush crossed your cheeks, but you quickly shook it off, clearing your throat.

“I try my best. By the way,” you motioned towards him, “You’ve outdone yourself with the players this time. A perfect mix of competent and woefully tragic players. I’m not sure which I like more.” You shot him a smile, which he returned.

“Oh, and the group with the Host? Hilarious,” you grinned. “I can’t believe that 218 and 456 were childhood friends.” You tapped your fingers against your teacup. “But I guess, at the end of the day, trash is still trash.”

The lady running the shop arrived with your food, and the two of you ate in comfortable silence. However, you couldn’t help but notice the recruiter’s intense gaze lingering on you.

Once the recruiter paid, the two of you left the restaurant, and he walked you back to the office. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked, briefcase in hand.

You hummed, “Tomorrow is Tug of War, and there’s still lots to prepare before the final games.” You took a step towards him, a teasing smile on your face, “Why, miss me already?”

He huffed, “I can watch you any time.” Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispered, “But I prefer being near you instead.”

You tilted his head to look at you and kissed him on the cheek. Turning to enter your office, you looked back and called to him.

“Until next time, my dear recruiter!”

He flashed his signature smirk.

“Take care, my lovely reporter.”

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (2)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (1)

How to cure a grump masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky to his friends, prides himself on not being a petty man. He believes in second chances. So, when storms toward his private jet, he tries not to be too angry.

One day before Christmas he must fly across the country to find a missing employee. Or rather, ex-employee.

Bucky grits his teeth, barely acknowledging the petite blonde welcoming him with a French accent. He always had a thing for French women or women in general.

Today, he doesn’t care, too angry at you for spending Christmas with your parents and not waiting for his call.

“That woman! The audacity! How dare she block my number!” He’s fuming. If this was a cartoon, steam would come out of his ears.

Bucky barks orders at the pilot and the stewardess before sitting down. He hates Christmas and everything that comes with it. From the cheery attitude to exchanging gifts. James Buchanan Barnes is the Grinch in flesh and blood.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Bucky loses his temper for a second, or like, ever. He glares at the poor girl telling him there’s only one left at the car rental. “I wanted an SUV, not a fucking truck.”

“Sir,” the girl sniffles, “I reserved the best car for you. It’s the Christmas season, and it's difficult to even rent out a car. We are booked out for months.”

“I don’t care! Is that how you do business?”

“Sir, I must ask you to lower your voice,” the owner of the car rental steps in. “We did our utmost to find another car for you. It’s the only one left. Take it or leave it. If you want to walk, it’s fine by me.”

Bucky grits his teeth. He’d love to go at the man like a missile but doesn’t have the time. If he wants to find your house, get the password, and leave within two hours to fly back to New York, he must swallow his pride and accept one defeat for today.

“Fine,” he growls at the man. “I’ll take that one.”

Bucky is beyond pissed. No one in your sleepy little hometown wants to tell him where you are living, or rather your parents. On top of all, his feet are hurting from running around town for hours.

He cracks his neck before entering the bakery, his last hope.

Bucky opens the door, forcing it to swing open. The little bell above the door rings, catching the other customers' attention. Your former boss, in his expensive slacks, coat, and slippers, sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Good day, Sir,” the owner chirps. She’s a short woman in her early fifties, wearing a brown mini dress shaped like a gingerbread man cookie, with icing details and colorful candy accents. It has a slightly flared skirt and appears to have a tulle underskirt. “What can I do for you?” We have a special offer for Christmas-themed cupcakes and muffins. Or do you prefer classic gingerbread cookies?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Bucky cuts her off. “Y/N Y/L/N. I think she’s at her parents’ house.”

“OH! OH! You must be the handsome fiancé she was hiding for so long!” The owner rounds the corner to wrap Bucky in a hug. He stiffens, not used to unwanted affection from strangers. “But… didn’t you come with her?”

“I—I,” Bucky stammers. If he tells the owner the truth, she’ll not tell him where your parents are living. “Work kept me busy last minute.”

“—and now you came here to surprise her,” she concludes, and Bucky doesn’t correct her. What else can he do? “Wait, I’ll write her address down. And, oh, you must take some of the cupcakes and cookies with you. They are on the house.”

All the women in the bakery sigh. They believe the handsome man in his expensive clothes came to surprise you on Christmas.

Well, in a way, he will surprise you.

“Mom, I’ll go and pick up the things you ordered. Do you need anything else?” You call for your mother, already halfway out of the house. “Mom?”

“Can you bring some cupcakes and cookies from Aunt Y/A/N’s bakery? Bread too. We don’t need to bake it this year. She offered to bake mine at the bakery!”

“Sure thing, Mom. Anything else? We don’t want to forget something, especially with the approaching snowstorm.”

“No, I got everything else, Munchkin. We will survive for at least three weeks or more with all the things in the pantry. You can stay for months if you want to.”

“Mom,” you sigh. Since you told her about your boss and that you lost your job, she offered you half of the house. She already talked to people in town. Within not three hours, you got four job offers. “We can talk about it after the holidays.”

“That’s not a no,” she coos. “You know, I’d love to have my Munchkin back at home.”

You smile because your mom means well and loves you unconditionally, but you know moving back home is not an option. After the holidays, you will attend a few job interviews. You already had a look at a few free positions and applied to them.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom. Call me if you need something else.”

“Coming,” your mom coos as someone impatiently rings the doorbell. She carries a plate with cookies toward the door, assuming it’s one of the neighbor’s kids. “What can I do for you?”

She opens the door, meeting stormy blue eyes. Bucky looks her up and down, humming as she’s the spitting image of you. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he clears his throat, “I’m looking for your daughter, Y/N. I know it’s a busy time, but I need to talk to her.”

“Wait—” Your mother sizes Bucky up while trying to remember the picture you sent her some months back. The one of you and the guy you dated for a few months before he broke things up with you. “You must be…” She struggles to remember the name you gave her too.

“James,” Bucky offers, and holds out his hand. He chuckles as your mother is still holding a plate with cookies in her hands. “Sorry, can I help you with that?”

“Where are my manners!” She gasps. “It’s freezing, and you are standing on my front porch. Come in and get warm. Y/N is picking up some groceries for me. She’ll be back soon. Do you want coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?”

Bucky reluctantly enters your mother’s house. He looks around before taking off his coat. His hands are ice cold thanks to the lack of hand gloves, and he cannot deny that he doesn’t feel his feet any longer.

“Yeah, the weather caught me cold,” Bucky and your mother chuckle at his bad wordplay. He takes off his shoes to wiggle his toes. “I didn’t expect the snow to be so…persistent.”

“We get lots of snow at this time of the year,” your mother says while preparing a hot beverage for Bucky. “Do you want some cookies too, or a sandwich maybe?”

“That’s too kind,” Bucky says. He doesn’t want to risk getting kicked out of your mother’s house. He’ll be waiting patiently for you to return, get the password, and be on his way.

You hurriedly get inside the house. The snowstorm already arrived, and you barely made it back to the house. “Mom, I’m back,” you call for your mother. “I guess we won’t be able to get in town anytime soon.”

“Munchkin,” your mother calls from the living room. “We have company. Can you come here?”

You frown. The last thing you need after fighting your way through snow masses is neighbors wanting to catch up with you. You love them, but explaining that you lost your job is something you don’t want to do again and again.

“Coming,” you take off your boots, coat, scarf, and hand gloves before walking into the living room. You suck in a breath watching your former boss get comfortable on your mother’s couch, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

“Look! He came to see you for Christmas.” Your mother gets up to give you and your “boyfriend” time. She still doesn’t know he’s your boss, or now ex-boss, not the guy breaking up with you weeks ago. “You can catch up while I take care of the groceries you got.”

Speechless, you watch your mother leave the room. “What are you doing here?” You spat at your former boss the moment your mother was out of sight. “How dare you come here to bug my mother!”

“She invited me in,” he dares to say. Bucky shrugs as you look at him, murder in your eyes. “I think she confused me with some other guy. She mentioned a boyfriend or fiancé.”

Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. “Not even close,” you snap at him. “I was seeing someone, but my mom knows that it didn’t work out. What did you tell her? Did you lie to her?”

“Whoa, calm down,” he slowly gets up. “I’m here because you forgot to reset the password. I cannot access the files.”

“What?” You cock a brow. “I left my current password and the PIN to reset the password along with my keys. I gave them to the security, as suggested by Mr. Rogers the day I left.”

“Mr. Rogers—” Bucky huffs. “That punk! That goddamn motherfucker let me fly down here to get the password and knew you left it?”

“Problem solved,” you grunt and point toward the door. “If you’d leave me the fuck alone now. It’s almost Christmas, and the last thing I need is for my mom to believe you are the guy I dated!”

“Munchkin, will your boyfriend stay for Christmas? Do you want the guestroom to have more privacy?” You love your mother dearly, but right now, you’d love to tell her to shut up. “Y/N?”

“No!” You say. “He will fly back and spend Christmas in New York.”

“Oh, Munchkin, I don’t think he can,” your mother says while walking back inside the living room. She shows you her phone. “See, all airports are closed, and the streets are, well, you know the streets in winter. “I think James is stuck here.” She smiles softly while you start to sweat.

“I think he’d prefer a hotel!” You are quick to reply. “Right, James.” You clear your throat and furrow your brows. “You want to sleep at a hotel.”

“Nonsense,” your mother insists. “We have more than enough space. Let’s get his luggage inside before it gets even colder. I’m sure he’s tired and needs a rest.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll go to a hotel,” Bucky jumps in, wanting nothing more than to get out of your mother’s house.

“All hotels are booked up. I talked to Mrs. Brock yesterday. There are no free rooms left. Your boyfriend can sleep here,” your mother chuckles. “I know you are all grown, Munchkin.” She kisses your cheek before leaving the room.

Awkward silence spreads through the room. You look at your boss, the man ruining Christmas and your career for you within a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell her?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” You throw your hands up. Dropping another bomb at your mom is the last thing you want. Maybe she forgot that you told her about the breakup some weeks ago.

“Uh—you know, I wanted the password and feared she’d kick me out getting to know I’m your boss.”

“Ex-boss,” you point out. Putting your hands on your hips, you huff. “Okay, we will survive one night. You’ll sleep in the guestroom, and tomorrow morning we will find a way to get you out of my hometown.”

“Good,” Bucky mutters.

“Good,” you snap at him before storming out of the room.

How to cure a grump (3)

More tags in reblog.

@cjand10, @nofingjustaninchident, @pettyjayy

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Saved

Thanos / Choi Su-Bong X M/GN!Reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.004 - Saved]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Saved" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Tip: Feel free to support the Archiver |

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》 Summary: Instead of dying to a damn utensil, you were there to save his ass just when things were about to take a turn for the worse on his behalf. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 6 SEASON 2, Swearing(On the archiver's behalf), Archiver(writer) speaks in between scenes through parentheses, OOC, Blood, Violence, murder/killing, Change of Storyline, Aversion of Story, Mention of Drug Use, MxM but can also be seen as MxGN it's just that reader can go to the men's bathroom, Reader's choice in the voting is unspecified but leans more in the 'X'. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

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As the 3rd game came to a close, all 100 remaining players came into a voting of 50 by 50, making it a tie. It was then told how another voting were to occur the next day, giving the players time to choose their options once more.

As things died down between groups, you were peacefully doing your own thing in the restroom until you suddenly heard a commotion outside the stalls, followed by another voice that you recognized all the while ago.

During your time throughout the 3 games, one particular man stood out, Su-bong, aka the rapper Thanos. Although you've heard of the man before the games, you weren't particularly a fan of him to the point you would clutter him like the others during the start of the 1st game. Despite that, you couldn't help but feel something towards the chaotic and high man.

Going outside your stall, you were greeted to the men split into two groups, one siding the ones who chose 'O' last voting and the other group being the ones who chose 'X'. One of the players in the 'X' went in front of the scared man who was you concluded as the man Thanos was after. Yet it seemed to worsen the situation as the player, numbered 333, was the infamous MG coin, the same man who 'milked'(Archiver doesn't know if this is the right word, but I'm rolling with it) his fans of their money for a crypto coin.

Soon, a fight broke loose within the restroom, and none of the guards came in to stop them. The guy originally Thanos was after had already run off, while Thanos was currently choking player 333.

Not knowing what to do or which side to go or help, you ended up knocking and punching a few who tried swinging their fists at you. You just decided to help the person, to you, you knew the most, and that is Thanos.

As Thanos choked out player 333(Myung-gi, but screw it, he'll become irrelevant in this entry anyways), you noticed the player holding something in his hand. You soon noticed it as a fork, 'Shit,' you thought to yourself. Forks are sharp enough to pierce skin with the right pressure. You immediately screamed towards Thanos, tackling and pushing him off the man.

Thanos looked at you confused and irritated, "What the fuck, man?-" He cursed, you took a deep breath, trying to gauge your perspective at him, "He has a fo-" you were about to say until you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder blade. Turning around, you met the same player lodging the same damn fork in your shoulder. You groaned as he pulled the fork out, wanting to aim at another area in your body.

"Why are you helping him?!" The player screamed, about to plunge the fork again.

About to expect the worst, someone behind him pulled him back and started to punch him again and again. It was Thanos' friend, you presumed as you've recognised the man often beside the purple-haired.

Taking a deep breath, completely forgetting the pain in your shoulder for a moment before exhaling heavily. That's when you heard a voice admists the chaos.

"Hey, hey!" Thanos called out, not knowing what to do other than check the wound. "Tsk, dammit!" He cursed before roughly pulling you up and into one of the closest stalls to the two of you. Locking the stall behind him, he made you sit down on the toilet.

Trying to ignore the pain, you spoke out, "You should've ran out," I wheezed out, taking my jacket off before ripping a piece of my shirt to use as a bandage from the wound. Wrapping the cloth around your shoulder, you noticed that he's just standing right there, not doing anything with his head down at the floor. Not knowing what's on his mind, I continued to wrap the item around.

It was until you had to tie the cloth together to prevent it from coming loose, but with your shaking hands and inability to move area from your shoulder to your arm. Wincing, you still attempted until you felt another pair of hands grabbing over the cloth and tying it for you. You looked up to see Thanos tying the cloth for you, an uncharacteristically focused look on his face, but you couldn't help but gaze at him even further.

At this time, as Thanos finished tying the cloth secure, the fight outside the stall had quieted down. The purple-haired man peeked out to see four players dead, with the others being led out by the pink guards, followed by the announcer announcing the player number of each person who died.

Coming out along with the rest, Thanos kept behind me before muttering a 'Thanks, man', you nodded and continued walking until both of you reached the dormitory.

Thanos came back to his friend after such a situation, and you went into your original bed location until you heard someone scream your player number.

"Hey, ■■■!(You guys choose your number)" Thanos called out, waving his hand up as he looked over to you. He hopped and waved his hand, gesturing you to come over, and you not knowing what to do anymore, you decided and fuck it, join them.

As you approached them, Thanos hopped and swung his arm on you, but you quickly noticed how he was careful about his action and considering your wound.

"Welcome, my friend!" Thanos welcomed you to his friend, "This guy right here, they saved my damn life there!" He announced, shaking me lightly, "It was nothing... Really," you tried to start, averting away from them.

"What do you mean it's nothing?! My life was on the line, man!" Thanos replied, patting your chest as he spoke.

After that, the three of you waited for the next day to come by for the revoting of players. Coincidentally, you couldn't help but notice a shift in Thanos' attitude when he speaks to you alongside how his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher that isn't his typical high-on-drugs gaze.

As the announcer reminded everyone of the night's out in half an hour, everyone got to their respective beds with you being made to sleep near your now new friends('friends' yeah right).

As you slept on your accord, you didn't notice Thanos on his side, gazing at your sleeping figure. Somehow, a random stranger like you made him feel something other than the high feeling of his 'candies'. Quietly chuckling to himself, he laid back on his back.

Awaiting the next day, little did they know that other players had their own plans for the night rather than sleeping.

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》 Archiver's Notes: Do not mind this as your dear archiver, me, still can't seem to wrap their head around the fact that someone like his character died inside of a damn restroom with a fucking fork.

[slaybey]

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY, THE RENAISSANCE WORLD TOUR WAS BORN

The Renaissance World Tour was the ninth concert tour by American singer and songwriter Beyoncé. Her highest-grossing tour to date, it was staged in support of her seventh studio album, Renaissance (2022). The tour comprised 56 shows, beginning on May 10, 2023, in Stockholm, Sweden, and concluding on October 1, 2023, in Kansas City, Missouri. It was Beyoncé's first tour since the On the Run II Tour in 2018, and was her fourth all-stadium tour.

The concerts lasted between two and a half and three hours and were split into six or seven acts, with Beyoncé performing the tracks from Renaissance in order, interspersed with songs from across her discography. The stage consisted of a giant screen with a large "portal" in its center, and featured sculptures, robotic arms and ultraviolet technology.

According to official figures provided by Billboard Boxscore, the tour broke ticket sales records worldwide, becoming the seventh-highest-grossing concert tour of all time, the highest-grossing tour ever by a female artist, and the highest-grossing tour by a black artist. It also achieved the two highest monthly tour grosses in history and ranked at number one on the Top Tours Year End 2023 list. The shows received critical acclaim, with particular praise for the production value and Beyoncé's vocal performances. The tour boosted both local and national economies and was a sociocultural phenomenon. Renaissance: A Film by Beyoncé, which chronicles the creation and execution of the tour, was released in cinemas on December 1, 2023.

[leashybebes]

If it sparks joy:

Cuddling in a blanket fort for BT ☺️

it sparks so much joy. also for @mediocre-mee, because great minds think alike. warning: remarkably little cuddling, but lots of blanket fort

"You guys are really bad at this," Denny says as the third blanket in a row flutters to the floor. He has his hands on his hips, eyeing them critically.

"Give us a break, kid," Tommy says. "We had sad childhoods."

Buck fights a wince but Denny just rolls his eyes at Tommy, picks up two blankets and starts issuing directions. It was Tommy's idea, when they started talking about fostering, that they should start looking after the 118 kids in larger numbers, kind of a series of trial runs. He called it practice, but apparently he doesn't need practice. Maybe Buck does though - he's starting to think Chris is the exception that proves the rule. Once they get past around five years old, kids think Buck is embarrassing. Tommy, though? Tommy's cool, even if he can't build a blanket fort to save his life, even if he's saying objectively uncool things.

They move furniture around under Denny's watchful eye, repurpose lamps and chairs and picture hooks to build the blanket fort of Jee and Mara's dreams.

"Okay. Not awful," Denny concludes. "I'll go get the girls."

"I'll start the popcorn," Buck says.

Jee and Mara are delighted with their blanket fort, and rightly give Denny most of the credit, the three of them piling into the fort to watch a movie while Buck and Tommy work on dinner. 

When Karen arrives to pick up the kids later, Tommy, Buck and Denny are drinking root beer on the porch, while the girls are sleeping off dinner in the blanket fort. 

"Oh, they have you wrapped around their little fingers," she crows at the sight of their living room. 

"Yeah," Tommy admits, completely unembarrassed. 

"This is why we're the favorite uncles," Buck says, from where he's sorting through backpacks, making sure all three of the kids are leaving with everything they brought with them, apart from the friendship bracelets that had been earnestly delivered - Mara's been on a kick lately and Jee is, as ever, delighted to learn from her.

Once they've waved them off, Buck claps his hands together and says, "Okay. Should we put the room to rights?"

"Absolutely not. C'mon, get in the blanket fort with me, Buckley."

"You're kidding, right? It barely fit Denny and the girls. We'll have a structural collapse within five minutes."

Tommy tugs on Buck's hand, pulling him in for a kiss and then leading him into the living room. It takes a bit of effort, but they manage to crawl through the blanket tunnel Denny had carefully constructed and Buck lets Tommy pull him into his arms without protest. He looks so good in the glow of the string lights Jee had cooed over, so handsome and so big and so steady, smiling happily at Buck.

"You know," Buck says, "I used to think I'd hate anything that promised this level of mess on a regular basis."

"And now?" Tommy asks, smiling like he absolutely already knows the answer.

"I'm going to be a wildly indulgent father," Buck admits. "Stick-on stars on the ceiling, redecorating on a whim, cake for dinner. You're gonna have to hold me back."

"Good luck with that," Tommy says, tucking Buck closer into his arms and kissing the top of his head. "They learn that pout from you and I'm a goner."

"Our kids are gonna be demons," Buck says with a sigh.

Tommy strokes his back. "But they're gonna be happy."

In the cosy warmth of the mismatched blankets, in the endless safety of Tommy's arms, Buck smiles.

[mysindividual]

Unknowingly, hers | Aaron Hotchner

MASTERLIST

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: A rainy night in a bar, an undercover task, coquetting with your boss — what else could you wish for? After days of trying to catch the murderer, and one stagnant investigation without any solid leads, the team ultimately uncovers how their unsub targets his victims. You could only think of one strategy: set up an ambush. An ambush that put you and your supervisor in an uncomfortable position, leading in the need to engage in flirtatious interactions.

warning: boss x subordinate, age gap, MUTUAL PINING, pre-established rship, mentions of alcohol, rape, killing.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

Aaron Hotchner was not a man who would allow himself to be distracted from a task, much less a man who enjoyed sitting and sipping beer in some smoky bar, flirting with women — even if it was just for show. His work always came first — that was why he agreed on this charade. He was devoted to work more than his own self, always his number one priority, and his now ex-wife could attest. So knowing that fact and knowing himself, there was absolutely nothing that could distract him from work. Or there ought not to be. So what had changed now?

In his line of work distractions were never good. They could be, what one would say, fatal.

Chilly droplets of dew trickled from the glass surface, down into his pocket where he tightly grasped the bottle, giving him the sensation that it was his own cold sweat running down his temples.

He might not have even noticed it was getting overly hot until the moment you sat down beside him. About to ask you for a drink, his what was supposed to be a flitting gaze paused on you and in that agonizing moment he watched as you took off your jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, leaving you in a red t-shirt and jeans that hugged you around your waist and hips.

The taste of his cold beverage was not enough to quench the fire in his throat.

What on earth was the matter with him!

He swallowed, his eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Irritated by the mere idea, with a frown on his face as dark as the weather outside, he looked back at the bottle he was holding. Why was he staring? Why was he even thinking about it? He needed to focus. You were embarking on a mission that held importance for the whole team. The case was put on hold due to a lack of information and leads for days, weeks. Until two days ago when you showed up in his office, with newspaper in your hands and sugary crystals glued to your lips — why did he remember that? — and finally provided him with the first solid lead in a long time. Concluding this case meant a sense of relief and a good night's rest for the team.

God, he didn't even notice or hear when the bartender approached. Or when in the midst the cacophony of noise you ordered your drink, then how could he carry out this task?

He stole a side-glance at you, only then wishing he didn’t.

There was something almost hypnotic about the way your fingers tenderly curled around the glass and brought it up, pressing to your lips. Despite the surrounding and background noise that busted around the bar — clink of bottles, soft music playing, the hum of conversation, the men cheering for their football team playing on the TV — Hotch found himself able to discern the sound of that shot sliding down your throat in a slow motion, just momentarily tingling beneath the sensitive skin on your neck.

While you were not paying attention, he allowed his gaze to move from your face, down the skin of your neck and arm, to the glass held in your fingers, then finally settling on your lips.

“Just one." You made two promises there.

You promised the first time, setting your glass down on the bar counter once you felt his glance on you, disapproving your way of handling. However, much to your shock, he remained silent.

Just one. You promised the second time — but this time to yourself — once you caught a glimpse from the corner of your eye that he was giving you one of those looks that initially shook the earth beneath your feet and then stabilised you.

Just one because one was needed to put you in a right mood — the ideal ambiance in a corner of your mind, not as distant as one might assume. Just one because you were scared to risk how’d you behave yourself in his presence in this atmosphere.

And he let you take just one because he knew the two drinks did the charm for you.

One was absolutely harmless.

Two… made you into a fiddler.

2 days ago

"Advertisement?" He paused in the middle of flipping a page in his file, glancing at you skeptically from beneath his dark eyebrows, weighing the possible veracity behind your words. Then, you watched as his gaze dropped to your lips only then being hyper-aware of how you’d left your office.

You found yourself muttering an apology, glancing sideways, your fingertips ever-so-slightly brushing the sticky sugar away. And offered, "Take a look."

Minutes ago, inside the privacy of your office, surrounded by 4 walls, you were enjoying your lunch break.

To be quite frank, it was not how you typically chose to spend your time off. You would be out or in the cafeteria with the rest of your team, but the situation in the last few days was a little different. Venturing outside — past your office — provided a great opportunity to run into your boss, which you’d been attempting to steer clear of recently. And so you were sitting in the comfort of your chair, your legs crossed on the table, a doughnut in one and the newspaper in the other hand.

Rising fuel prices.

California wildfires.

British police find car bombs in London.

You found it impossible to continue reading. The purpose of a lunch break was a time-out from work. So you flipped through a couple of pages to reach the back section of the newspaper where the advertisements were located. You’d been wanting for quite some time now to find yourself another car. And so, you skimmed through some advertisements, while others you carefully read, until one finally caught your attention.

It was one of the less prominent ads, and the yellow letters and caption were the one that allured you every time. Every 4th of a month.

Find love! Find gay friends! Find you! FIND OUT! If you are looking to find more about sex, love, or relationship with other guys — congratulations! You've just found it!

You sat upright in the chair, the heels of your boots echoing off the tile floor. With the doughnut firmly gripped between your teeth, you held the newspaper with both hands now and brought it closer to your eyes.

An ultimate guide on how gay men get guys.

"Oh, God!" You exclaimed, hastily taking the doughnut out of your mouth and putting it back in the box on the desk, grabbing the newspaper and making your way to Hotch’s office.

“That has to be it.” Leaning back deep in his chair, Derek played with the pencil in his hands. "We have already analyzed and investigated into all the rational methods that the unsub could’ve used to reach the victims.”

"Absolutely." Garcia added and hurriedly continued speaking in a barely understandable manner, as if reluctant she might acknowledge her mistake. "I checked everything: their online activities, credit cards, surveillance footage... Nothing."

"We know that none of these victims used online-blind-dating sites, or whatever. We know they've never set foot in a gay bar before. So how did the killer get to them? Their family and friends never suspected, let alone knew, that they were gay." Rossi explained. "The victims themselves weren't aware of their homosexuality.”

“And this ad right here…” You unfolded your arms and leaned forward on the desk, glancing at Hotch briefly before focusing down where your finger tapped the new, textured paper. "It provides exactly that. To find themselves from within. This has to be it.”

“We also know the profile." Hotch finally replied, not taking his eyes off you. "I want you to find all the previous newspapers in which these ads can be found. The meetings’ location, time and place, must be announced somewhere in there. There’s a possibility the messages will be encrypted, so take Reid with you. And Garcia…” You nodded in agreement, and he stared at you for a minute longer before shifting his focus to Garcia, who stood behind you, picking at her nails. “Find everything you can about this ad and how the victims were able to contact the advertiser."

The murder seemed linked to the ad, and Hotch’s instincts were usually accurate because they were not mere guesses, but predictions based on numerous factors, all considered in light of his experience.

Gathering all the needed information, the team agreed on the strategy.

“We need someone inside. Someone who will play a confused young man, curious, eager..." Rossi didn't even get a word out, and everyone's gaze — some sneakily, some more openly — were fixed on Reid who was ready to protest but decided otherwise. Arguing with all of you was pointless. Besides, he was the only young man around — he’d remember this and gladly rub it on Derek’s nose.

On the other side of the table, Derek and Emily quickly agreed on teaming up.

"I agree. But if possible, I would like to avoid this long-awaited undercover mission, and be the one to stay behind with Garcia. My stomach still hurts." Waving his hand at his stomach, Rossi grimaced.

“Do you realize we are discussing a man who managed to overpower four men, rape them, and then kill them?" Reid objected.

"Y/L/N and I will join." Hotch said expressionlessly, interlocking his gaze with you just for a second.

Join how? You wondered, your elbow on the armrest, your chin resting on your fist. Garcia stood up, placing documents atop each other, muttering under her breath. "Nothing easier… just be the two of you, but together."

Hotch's eyebrows snapped together, meeting your eyes briefly once again before he looked to the side at Garcia with barely tamed fire in his eyes. "I'm sorry?"

“I- um- sir…” Garcia stuttered and you seized the opportunity to leave the office before Hotch unleashed that smoldering fire on all of you.

Glancing behind your shoulder, Garcia ran after you with a swift pace you'd never seen her take before. Together you both hurried down the stairs and rushed through the glass door, cursing each other before parting ways in the hallway — each heading to your own den.

And that was how you got here.

“So… A gay man in a straight people’s bars.” You finally spoke, trying to sound casual even though this meeting wasn’t. “Finds his victims who are also gay and kills them the same night. At first glance it doesn’t make much sense.”

“Without knowing what we know — it doesn’t.” Hotch replied, then took a sip from his bottle. The victims had never before crossed the threshold of the bars in which they met with the unsub. The unsub found them the same night, and then killed them. “But it was a smart move to throw the cops off to a wrong path.”

“Definitely.” You agreed. “In this modern digitalized world who’d even bother to check the newspapers.”

When he didn’t say anything in return, you sighed, leaning towards the bar, pushing the empty glass away.

"You two look like a date gone wrong." Even with the music playing, Derek's amused voice could be heard loud and clear through the small earbud piece. You leaned back slightly to catch sight of Derek and Emily dancing lavishly together.

“Like every date Y/N goes to.” Emily added, smirking at you.

That earned them a reproachful look from their boss.

Nice, now your boss knew how lame your dating life was.

But nonetheless, you laughed, and the warmth of your laughter enveloped Hotch's heart. Looking back at you, he softened and watched as you swirled the ice cubes in your fresh Coke with a small red straw. Then bringing the straw up to your lips, you took a sip. Now it was his jaw that clenched.

“Incorrect…” you playfully remarked, your eyes sparkled as you held his gaze determinedly over the rim of your glass, and that victorious grin on your face transitioned into something affectionate, something intimate. “This one takes the cake."

“Sir! I told you gotta act!”

"Garcia." Aaron warned.

“I can multitask, sir.” She quickly added, with a hint of reverence. “I have a reputation I intend to keep. So no, no developments as of now."

"Could he possibly know we've found out?" You asked.

"I doubt it."

While talking, Aaron usually had the tendency to look around the room, examine the faces and look for any signs of trouble. The bar had an overall sense of amusement, with sporadic bursts of loud chatter and individuals savoring drinks such as beer, neat whiskey, or some mixed drinks and sodas with straws. Couples, friends, loners — everyone was busy either drinking, dancing, or... kissing.

His hand trembled, holding onto the beer tightly as he brought it to his mouth and chugged, grimacing. "What happened with Brad?" He finally asked, taking you aback just a little.

It’d been a few days since that conversation with him about Brad, and it had quite bothered you that he hadn’t asked you anything about your final decision.

"Who is Brad?" You chuckled, your head dropping slightly before looking up at him again, a warm smile forming on your lips that... It stole something from him, something he couldn’t express crisply enough. In this very casual manner, you appeared …beautiful while brushing back the hair that skimmed your cheeks.

He frowned, glancing down, collecting his thoughts. At some point along the way you had become a distraction. Pushing that realization aside with a blink, he couldn’t afford to be distracted now. He looked at the beer he was holding like it was an escape — a safe haven from your gaze. He had nearly consumed all of his drink. Hotch had been refraining from alcohol for some time, now it was starting to affect him. He did drink stronger drinks alone in his apartment or at Rossi’s after his divorce, and even then he noticed he couldn’t keep up with it the way his younger self used to. Yeah. It had to be it.

“Well, I suppose it was the right thing to do.”

“Well, in fact it was you who helped me realize. Some mistakes aren’t worth repeating twice. So cheers to that, sir.” You swivelled sideways and towards him, holding your glass up before taking a sip.

Sir. There that came again. It was not that he hated being called ‘sir’, damn, Garcia called him that too many times and the thought never appalled him. He was just not used to hear you call him ‘sir’. It was mainly ‘Hotch’, sometimes even ‘Hotchner’, or if you were being a little tease then you referred to him as ‘boss’.

“Sir!” Garcia’s voice came through, cutting his thoughts in half. “He’s here!”

You shared a knowing glance.

And then suddenly, some guy sauntered in, physically placing himself between you and Hotch. The action was unexpected, quite bold. However, you then realized that to most outsiders, the two of you probably didn't appear to be a couple. In this very bar, couples around you were doing…things, and the two of you hardly spoke at all.

“Hey there sunshine.” He drawled, leaning against the bar, looking down at you. The tall man didn’t mind or acknowledge Hotch at all. He had black lush hair, probably devastatingly blue eyes, in his late 20s – early 30s. Closer to your age than Hotch was anyway, he thought to himself. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Finding yourself in this awkward position, before you could even answer, Hotch cleared his throat. The latter turned around peevishly just enough to give Hotch gray glares, and arching an eyebrow, replied disgusted. "I didn't ask you... pal." And he turned to you again, a jolly smirk on his face.

So Hotch was right. The man had devastatingly blue eyes.

Aaron glanced annoyedly at his beer. If he could have, he'd have smashed that bottle on his head. But decided to go with a more rational option and patted the man’s shoulder.

"It's showtime." Derek's voice sang in the bug.

"She's busy... pal." Your boss countered, his voice low and tinged with warning.

"Doesn't seem so..." He now addressed Hotch over his shoulder, choosing not to let your companion bother him or to take his eyes off of you. “…pal.”

The man’s finger made way under your chin and he tilted your head backwards, hovering over you.

“Oh ‘xcuse me…” You scoffed disapprovingly at the boldness of his action, moving your head away from his touch. Bristled.

The crease between Aaron’s eyebrows deepened further, keenly resolute. He felt the bubbles of anger simmer inside him, waiting for the right sign to explode. He smothered a sigh, steeling himself. If he had been on assignment somewhere on the field — any other, or on a real date with you — he'd have handled the situation in a much different way. Instead, he put his hand on the man's shoulder again, but this time firmly, and pushed him away from you.

"I said..." The baleful timbre of Aaron’s voice carried the same threat evident on his face. He reached out and grabbed the stem of your chair. The tiles beneath creaked as he dragged the chair towards himself, closing the gap between the two of you. Your knees accidentally brushed against his leg and the familiar warm sensation returned to your stomach, causing your pulse to quicken. "She's with me." Something ickered in Aaron’s eyes. You were unsure how to interpret it.

"And what could a woman like her want with a grump like you?" You heard the guy say, stepping towards Hotch, his chest puffed out.

You had to stop it before it escalated.

Deliberately, you inched closer, your gaze meeting Aaron’s. Behind your flashing eyes, he could see both — a permission and an apology for what you were bracing yourself to do.

“It’s okay…” You began gently, swallowing as you placed your hands on Aaron’s knees, stroking his legs. You couldn't look away from your boss's eyes, and as you smiled, subtly wrinkling your nose at him, you could have sworn that the muscles under the denim fabric hardened even more than they had just a moment before. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Being in such proximity, it was impossible to ignore all the things Aaron noticed about you — the depth of your bottomless eyes, shiny lips, the peachy scent of your hair was the only scent worthy in this noisome crowd. He was definitely drunk, a bit tempted. Never had he ever been intoxicated solely by the subtle scent of a shampoo.

"Well, if you wanna have real fun, I'll be sitting over there." He winked at you, pointing somewhere behind you.

You both watched as the man walked away, only then ending the charade. An awkward tension set between you two that made you feel every beat of your wilding heart. In a profound quietness, you both swivelled around and towards the bar. In a deafening silence, both of you, reflected on it without acknowledging that you longed for that intimacy.

“I-…”

“Do you see him?” Hotch spoke over you, back to business. You quickly glanced over your shoulder and back to Aaron, nodding.

“Ok. Good.” He pressed the earpiece with his finger. “Morgan?”

“He’s talking to Reid.” Garcia spoke instead.

“It’s definitely him, Aaron.” Rossi confirmed.

“We have a bit of a situation here.” Both of you looked at where you last saw Emily and Derek. You couldn't get the proper view at the two of them sitting in the booth now, but it looked like a group of women stood beside their desk.

Morgan, you rolled your eyes playfully. And then…

"Wait..." You frowned, and Hotch watched as the gears in your head turned before recognition dawned on your face. You looked up at him. “Isn't that Joseph Moetski?"

Hotch glowered, thinking. The newsdealer. He still hadn’t had a chance to look back and see for himself, but it would make perfect sense. After all, Joseph was a newsagent and the team had known about him —you had worked with him in an occasion or two when you first started working for Hotch. He had the access to all the media: magazines, newspapers, television, and so on.

Aaron drew closer towards you, not wanting to blow your cover away, now his whole body facing you. You felt a dangerous flutter in your heart as you looked at him squarely into eyes, never anticipating what he was about to do. He reached forward to move the hair from your face back over your shoulder and then tucked some behind your ear. His gaze was dark and intent — you could see the concentration in there, maybe even slight tenderness, and it sent your mind in wild directions.

Your hair was very silky and soft under his palm, the focus of his vision shifted from the man who was seated beside Reid a few meters behind, to you.

“Garcia?” His spoke coolly, professionally. But there was nothing professional about the way he was watching you. You ducked your head and gently stroked the skin on your neck, a lively red blossom of color rose up your cheeks, a hesitant smile stretched across your face. It was such a small gesture. And then his big hand rested on the side of your neck, using the opportunity to feel your skin — something he’d never admit to himself. Hoping he couldn’t feel your telltale pulse, you had to remind yourself that he was your very professional never-crossing-a-line boss.

It was a dangerous game to even think about something like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. For years you’d been harbouring feelings for him — platonic or not, and this was not going to help.

“Bingo! It’s him!”

“Sorry to interrupt you, birdies.” A bartender interrupted and you both turned around, almost jumping from your seats. “The politics around here are: you have to order another drink… or get the hell out of here. And as I can see, you drank all of yours.” Crossing her arms on her chest, she asked. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

As Hotch took the chance to order new drinks, anxiety creeped up your back, and you looked back over your shoulder just in time to see Spence holding the back of his head as well as the unsub running toward and past the two of you.

Gripping your gun close under your clothes, you reached out and tugged on Hotch's shirt. “Hotch!” You promptly got to your feet and chased after the suspect.

You heard a chair fall onto the dark tiles of the floor somewhere behind you, disgruntled and angry shouts and remarks from people who were bumbed or knocked down by the man you were running after.

Fortunately, the unsub cleared a way for you, allowing you to quickly catch up with him, grab him and push him. His face met the ground, and hastily you sat on top of him, pushing his hands and securing them on his upper back. But to say you were struggling would be an understatement. The unsub was a strong man, twice your size, so when he managed to free one hand from your grasp it was a no surprise. He attempted to pull you upwards and you sat unsteadily on his back, swaying like you were at a rodeo, a quick "whoa" slipping out of your mouth. Hotch rushed to help you, kicking the unsub’s feet, and without a second thought, his chest pressed against your back as he leaned closely from behind you, his arms wrapped around you as he assisted in restraining the suspect before Emily approached and put the handcuffs on.

The third party — Reid, watching it all unfold in front of his eyes, couldn’t help but smile at you both even through the throbbing pain in his head. You were just like Mulder and Scully. Tangled and messy, unable to see it, yet still fantastic as a team.

Now the only thing left was, he concluded, for you two to realize it finally.

In all that rush and adrenaline kicking in, neither of you did have time to process or relish the way your bodies melded together.

But this whole night was something that would keep you both up tonight and wouldn’t let you get that well-deserved good night’s sleep.

[robo-milky]

Twisted Target - Killing Game AU

[CW: Death, Gore(? in future content)] *Subject to change

In an alternate timeline, after the events of Ch. 6 and before Ch. 7, S.T.Y.X. is granted permission to run a simulation on the overblottees (including Idia) for a rehab program. That simulation gets hacked, and is changed into a killing game. All the real players are Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, and Idia. The rest of the 21 players (or more) are extremely convincing simulacrum of NRC students*. The simulacra are neutral players, simply programmed to fill slots and prolong the game when needed. The total number of players is unknown, and new simulacra may be added occasionally. Simulacra are unmarked and cannot be told apart from real players.

*Another real player may be brought into the game, and gets revived as a simulacrum after elimination or vice versa, starting out as a simulacrum then their real counterpart is forced to join the game.

The premise of the game is simple, everyone is given one target to eliminate and one to protect in secret. Players can be eliminated if they are killed in game, or the target they’re protecting is revealed*.

*If a player thinks they know who another is protecting, they have one chance to make a declaration before the next round. There are no consequences for a wrong guess. The targets remain the same each round, so there may be another chance.

The rules of the game get more complex when two or more players share the same target (to eliminate/protect). Some players can be doomed from the start if they have a paradoxical target.

Paradoxical targets:

• A: A that player must eliminate themselves and protect themselves. They can be protected by others, which stop them from their goal of eliminating themselves. (Best Strategy: Wait out the rounds until you’re one of the two players left.)

• B: The player must eliminate and protect the same exact person.

• C: Player A must protect Player B, but Player B must eliminate Player A.

Each round will conclude when at least one player is eliminated. If nobody is out of the game by a certain timeframe, then a loser is randomly chosen.

The game will run until a winning pair is recognized. A winning pair includes a player and the one they’re protecting as the last players standing, regardless if the protected player’s conditions are met (failed to eliminate/protect their target). If a winning pair does not emerge by the time two or less players are left, new players are brought in until there is a winning pair.

FAQ:

• What organization could have possibly bypassed the Cerberus System?

“:3 Why would we dox ourselves?”

• How are we expected to kill our targets if we don’t declare who they’re protecting?

“Magic, barehands, you can be creative! What, you think we’ll baby you and give you the tools? We’ve already provided you all with this beautiful playing field!”

• What happens after a real player is eliminated in game?

“Electric chair! …Or something. You probably don’t want to lose.”

• Will the winning pair be free once the game is over?

“Sure, if that’s what’ll motivate you to participate and not wait for RNG to randomly pick y’all off.”

• What’s with these janky rules and loopholes?! What’s the point in playing if you’re set to lose?

“It’d be boring if everything is clean and organized.”

• What happens if one of those imposters win?

“Then they win. Sucks to lose to an NPC.”

[irisintheafterglow]

satoru got his big break with the library desk employee. so what? university!suguru lost the bet, sure, but for some reason his interest in you didn't leave his mind. he'd known his best friend was crushing hard since the first time they'd entered the library and the pretty student smiled at satoru from behind the front desk.

i think i'm in love. suguru, hunched over a chemistry textbook, glances at satoru from the corner of his eye.

it's literally their job to make you feel welcome, genius.

but what if they, like, truly love me? he's dumbfounded by his friend's rose-colored delusion.

you're a doofus.

he continues thinking about it long after the study session concludes (a one sided session, since satoru insisted how he could woo the front desk assistant for the next two hours) and follows his normal routine of heading to the rec center to blow off some steam. he barely thinks twice about scanning the barcode on his phone at the entrance gates when the hairs on the back of his neck stand stick-straight. someone is watching him.

he scans the lobby and finds a pair of eyes across the floor, halfway hidden by a large counter for the member services desk. the eyes disappear before he can register who exactly was staring and you hope he didn't spot you as you duck behind the safety of the counter. suguru narrows his eyes but doesn't think twice about it.

the following week is when he makes the bet and hatches his plan to get satoru to shut up and take some of his money in the process. it felt like an easy victory: suguru knew he wasn't terrible looking, and you must've been interested considering how much you stared at him. he wasn't big on the school's dating scene and reserved his limited energy for whatever makeouts he found at his frat house's parties; to him, winning your naive affection would be a piece of cake. all he had to do was get your number and satoru's money would be his. simple enough, is what he thought.

but for the life of him, he could not catch you.

since the day he caught you staring, he noticed every time he entered the gym that you were looking and would duck away before he could so much as blink. at first, he lingered and waited for you to pop back up from behind the counter, but ended that strategy when he was asked if he was loitering on the property. the one time he approached the counter, you had conveniently disappeared to throw the intramural jerseys into the dryer...for the ten minutes he was waiting around for you to return. again, he was accused of loitering and forced to move on.

any progress with the rec worker? satoru whispered as he browsed for an interesting-enough looking book that he can make up small-talk over. he picks up a random one, something about technological advancements in ancient china, and tucks it under his arm.

i wish, suguru lamented. it's like they know i see them and are purposefully avoiding me so they don't have to talk to me.

i told you, i'd give you 'worst resting bitch face' if we could choose senior superlatives in high school, satoru reminds him with a thoughtful expression. also, you're in a frat! frat guys' reputation on campus isn't exactly the cleanest.

you're saying i need to look nicer? he examines his hoodie decorated with large iron-on patches of his frat's greek letters. it didn't look too dirty, he'd run it in the wash just last sunday...

i'm saying you need to look friendlier and less like a fuckboy.

oh. makes sense.

that's rich coming from you, suguru counters without acknowledging that maybe his friend was right. if he was going to woo you and hopefully knock down satoru's ego a few notches, he needed to be a little less...frat-like?

wordlessly taking the advice, he skips the loud philanthropy week shirt and opts for a plain muscle tee for his next gym session. black shirt and grey sweatpants shouldn't be too arrogant, right? he even practices his smile in the toothpaste-stained bathroom mirror until it's warm enough to save the titanic from the iceberg. tying his hair back so you can see all of his friendly face, he doesn't give you a moment to duck away when he steps through the doors at exactly 5:30pm.

he turns his head as soon as he steps into the air conditioning.

you're already staring.

he stares right back for a moment before pulling the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly, just like he practiced.

you gasp slightly and he thinks today is the day that you finally let him approach you.

unfortunately, his clothes, hair, face, and smile are enough to induce a nosebleed.

fuck!

by the time he rushes to the counter, eyes wide with panic, you've already shuffled away into the back and another worker informs him of your bloody-faced status. a little coyly than to go unnoticed, he notes to himself, but accepts his loss anyway and plans how to try again the next day.

after two weeks of putting on his plainest clothes, tying his cleanest hairdos, practicing his warmest smiles, and hurrying his fastest steps to get to the counter, suguru is absolutely ashamed to report that he's made zero progress.

interestingly enough, other girls at the gym had started to notice his changes in behavior and wardrobe, but he couldn't muster any energy to return their flirtations as they brush their fingers against his exposed biceps. all he could think about is you, and the way your eyes seem to sparkle when he meets them from across the lobby. he's snuck glances at the pens you abandon when you escape, the stickers on your water bottle, and the way you wear a special button on your uniform shirt every friday. you seem to always have a granola bar wrapper lingering on the desk, the same flavor each day but changing every week. he was learning so much about you without ever uttering a word, and it was killing him.

when satoru announces triumphantly that he finally got a date with the library attendant, suguru doesn't even blink. with his lack of progress, it was only a matter of time before his plan ultimately backfired and satoru was the true, smug winner of the bet. still, despite the earnings paid and the yapping continued, suguru wanted to talk to you. he wanted to learn about your interests, your goals, your life. he wanted to solve your mystery that he'd unknowingly forced himself into, and he'd be damned if he didn't at least get your name before the semester ended.

after months of waiting for you to talk to him, he swallows his pride and goes to the gym half an hour early.

"hi," he says carefully while you finish up whatever was on your computer screen.

"hi there, how can i help y--" when you finally meet his eyes, your practiced smile drops into pure shock and you take several moments to snap your face back into place. "i...um...how can i--oh!" you whirl around to your nearest coworker at a whiplash-causing speed, rambling quickly about how you forgot to inflate the volleyballs for the playoffs or some bullshit. thankfully, your coworker just blinks at you and then says that they can take care of it, patting your shoulder reassuringly and giving suguru a knowing look. before he knows it, it's you and him, just the moment he's been waiting for, and he has no idea what to say.

"i'm sorry that i--"

"i was wondering if you--"

you both tumble over your words at the same time and he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. his bicep flexes with the motion and he catches your eyes rake it over. fearful of another nosebleed, he drops his arm abruptly and blurts out whatever words he can before you can scurry away.

"get dinner with me."

"i-i'm sorry?"

"i was wondering if you wanted to, you know," he shrugs sheepishly and is suddenly glad that none of his friends are there to tease his embarrassment, "get dinner sometime."

"you want to go on a date with me," you echo in disbelief. he nods slowly like any sudden movement would frighten you. "but...but why?"

"i think you're really pretty," he replies simply.

"but i've been hiding from you for the past--"

"two months, one week, and four days," he finishes for you before he can think about what he's saying. "i mean, not that i'm counting." your face finally breaks its shell of surprise and you burst out laughing. suguru thinks it's the best sound he's ever had the privilege of experiencing.

"so, just to be clear," you confirm when you've caught your breath. "i've been avoiding talking to you because seeing you look so good gives me nose bleeds. and now you want to get dinner with me?"

"i can bring copious amounts of tissues just in case, but yes." his expression becomes gravely serious, like he was giving you a request on his death bed. "please, say yes."

if it meant seeing how brightly you smiled when you finally murmur a yes, he would go through the entire bet with satoru three times over.

here u go @damb-it <3 hope you like it - sincerely, a library guest services attendant

[creaseevans]

Jujutsu Kaisen Headcanons - Suguru Geto

Suguru's the type of guy...

SFW: 

Suguru’s the soccer/hockey mom type of guy: he carries snacks, band aids, ibuprofen, tissues, gum, hair ties, and a spare set of socks in his bag at all times. That’s actually how you met him: you were at the coffee shop and asked several tables around you for a band aid (after the barista said they didn’t have any) until Suguru came over with one. He also offered a couple of alcohol swabs to clean things off before applying it.

Suguru’s the type of guy to forget to introduce himself. He gets so engrossed in the person in front of him and what they’re saying that he completely forgets how social interactions are supposed to go. You had to ask him at some point what you’re supposed to call him. He had to think about it for a moment as if he’d forgotten his own name.

(After chatting for almost an hour, he asked yours and you, very forwardly, also gave him your number.)

He’s the type of guy who drinks anything BUT plain coffee with milk and sugar, you conclude by the fourth date. The man will drink matcha, he will drink hot cocoa, he will drink iced or warm lattes with butt loads of cold foam or sweet syrups drizzled throughout, and he will drink LOTS of fruity teas. But a plain coffee with just milk and sugar may actually kill him?

Not only is Suguru the type of guy to paint his own nails, but he also insisted on teaching you after discovering how badly you do the edges (it’s hard!!!!). He likes for you both to have matching or complimentary manicures. It’s also a complete waste that he taught you how to paint because he never lets you do it and always wants to do your manicures and pedicures himself. Sunday nights are for the fingies and toes.

(Coincidentally, he HATES the smell of polish and remover. He has to wear a clip on his nose the entire time that makes his voice all high and nasally.)

Suguru is that guy with a seven-step skincare and five-step hair care routine. You can’t even describe the face he made upon discovering your simple shampoo-and-conditioner, face wash-and-moisturizer antics. But you do wish you’d taken a picture of it.

He totally forgets to eat sometimes. You wonder how it’s possible for him to be the size and height he is if this has always been the case. That is until you share your first real dinner together and he eats nearly five thousand calories in one sitting. He then proceeds to finish your leftovers as well. When you ask him about this deranged behaviour, he just shrugs and says, “I don’t know. I love food, but I don’t really think about it unless it’s in front of me.”

Suguru hasn’t worked out in a gym in almost two years, apparently. He just does runs and “generic labour” at the farm he works at. The solid abs and bouldered deltoids he hides underneath baggy clothes would beg to differ.

Suguru is a total plant princess. The first time you went to his place, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t a greenhouse. Potted wonders and vines and vases were all over the place. This came as even more earth-shattering when a little white cat tinkered her way through the hall and snuggled her butt right up against your ankles. “Oh, no, she knocks things over all the time. But I can’t exactly get mad at her, so I just re-pot everything. That’s why all of these are melamine or recycled plastic.”

That’s another thing about Suguru: he has tremendous amounts of patience. You’ve never met anyone as kind or forgiving as him. You’ve asked him to share his meditation routine with you but he keeps lying about not having one.

(The cat’s name is Dandelion; Dandy for short. She’s a white domestic short-hair with blue eyes and a pink button nose.)

Suguru’s a very formal type of guy. You didn’t expect it, but he took you out on a proper date and verbally said the words “Will you be my girlfriend?” and then proceeded to clarify with “Like, romantically. Not like a friend who’s also a girl—which is totally fine, if that’s what you prefer to be, I just—” and that’s when you cut him off with a kiss and he settled down.

He’s the type of guy to love openly and quickly. It’s less than two months in when he just casually drops an “I love you” on you one morning as you’re on the toilet and he dips his head in to grab a hair brush. Then he simply leaves you to marinate in it while you sit there in shock, unmoving except for the plop-plop-plop in the toilet.

In contrast to how casually he’s able to deliver the sentiment, he’s entirely floored when you return it in bed that same night. He’s so taken that he stops moving and has to wait a moment to get it back together. But after that one still moment, the rest of it feels like you’re being attacked by a tornado.

Suguru’s the type of guy to leave “I love you” sticky notes by your bedside or on your door. One time, you decided to keep the note and stuck it on something at his place before leaving. It was returned to you on your laptop the next day. It’s now become a sort of game between you; sometimes the notes get passed back and forth so long that the adhesive on the back completely dissipates. After writing a new one, you both toss a coin to decide who gets to keep the old one. Suguru’s won seven out of ten tosses, so far.

He’s not the type to gloat when he wins. Somehow, he finds a way to turn his wins into yours. Like how he ended up with most of the old “I love you” post-its but folded them into paper flowers and put them on artificial stems. He gave you the bouquet on your one-year anniversary. You bawled like a little bitch.

Suguru hates seeing you cry or hurt. It’s the only time you’ve seen him distressed. It makes him physically sick and you can tell by how pale and sweaty he gets. He banks his sick days at work since you started dating. Every month when you get your period, Suguru hibernates at your place with you for the first three days because he knows they’re the hardest. He cooks for you, keeps you showered and clean, massages you, naps with you, cleans for you, and he’s at your general beck and call otherwise. Your favourite part is always ordering in impulsive cravings and watching your favourite shows or movies. You also enjoy breaking into the piggy bank of sweets and candy he saves up for you all month.

He’s the type to slowly move you both in together without your ever realizing. Roughly a year in, you discovered just how much of your stuff was now filling in his otherwise spacious new place. The only things left at your apartment were a few pairs of clothes and your mattress (everything else was part of the owner’s furnishings). This little scheme dawned on you when your lease was up and instead of helping you look for another place, Suguru conveniently chimed, “Oh, why don’t you just stay with me? All your stuff’s here anyways.”

(As formal as he is, turns out he was too shy to ask you to move in. He thought giving you a key to his place as a Christmas present was a big enough hint and has no idea how you didn’t clock it. You tell him you would have said yes if he’d just asked. He just blushes and smiles.)

Suguru is a big tipper at restaurants and cafes. He often tips more than the actually meal or drink costs. You fear this may have detrimental effects on his finances, but he somehow manages to keep things running more than smoothly. Suspiciously smoothly.

Turns out, he doesn’t just work at the farm. He actually (very successfully, too) co-owns it with his best friend Satoru, which leads to the next point: Suguru’s just the type of guy to downplay exactly how well he’s doing or how much he has. (He has a lot.)

Since he wakes up ridiculously early most mornings to tend to farmwork, Suguru’s the type of guy to cook you an elaborate, three course breakfast each time and leave it covered in the oven with a note on the door for you to enjoy. Meanwhile, he shoots back a creamy, sugary beverage or two and just raw dogs the rest of the day on an empty stomach until the late lunch or dinner you share together. You’re trying to help him remember to eat more often, so you’ve started packing him just as elaborate lunches and snack packs at night once he’s gone to bed. You have to text or call him to remind him to actually eat out of them. He always enjoys them when he does.

NSFW:

Suguru takes his sweet time initiating sex for the first time. Upon reaching week four of the relationship with not a lick of intimacy, you had to break the ice on the subject. Suguru was surprised, then laughed it off. “No, I’m not asexual. I just didn’t want to weird you out or get right into sex without your deliberate consent.”

(You gave it to him instantly.)

Since his middle name is basically serenity, you were a bit worried as to how the sex would go. You don’t altogether mind the notion of “love making,” but you’re also not a purely vanilla person by nature.

Suguru’s generously girthy and lands in the seven-inch range. He’s uncut and always shaves everything clean off. You’ve never seen a crotch as hairless as his. There’s a thick vein that runs from below his belly button, down his beautifully carved pelvis and right up the length of his shaft. You like tracing it with your tongue and watching his reactions. He gets real breathy and sensitive about it.

Suguru can last a while, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take the time to service you in at least two to three other ways before finally giving you what you want. He’s quite the skilled tradesman with both his tongue and his hands, but you prefer his long, knuckly fingers over the former. Something about the veins and muscles in his arms when he endlessly plunges palm-deep inside of you drives you right over the edge. While he’s quite humble otherwise, getting you to orgasm is one thing he’s quite smug about. The way he smirks when you fall apart for him is absolutely sadistic.

Contrary to his soft, silky personality and demeanour, he’s quite the devil in arms behind closed doors. (Sometimes, those doors aren’t even closed.) 

He’s a biter (genuinely shocking). He likes to mark you in places where nobody would be able to see it and find out just how rough and territorial your sweet, doting boyfriend truly is. Such places include your back, your tits (specifically, right around your nipples), the plush of inner thigh right at the apex of your legs, the outer skinfolds right next to your “perfectly suckable lips” (no, NOT your mouth), and all over the meat of your ass.  

Suguru doesn’t eat pussy; he makes out with it. He French kisses and has an affair with it. Just let him do it and expect to be there for the better part of an hour, probably. Nothing you say or do can deter him from his “favourite meal in the whole world.”

He has no problem putting you in your place when it comes to sex. It’s genuinely some alter ego type shit. The change is a complete 180, to the point that you sometimes feel like you’re cheating on your amazing, loving boyfriend with some sex-crazed maniacal psychopath that leaves you shuddering and unable to stand on your feet for a good few hours afterwards without buckling knees or trembling thighs. The only part that reminds you they’re the same person is when he gently cleans you up afterwards and apologetically kisses all the places where he’d bit, clawed, smacked or choked only moments ago. The comedown is nearly as thrilling as the experience itself.

Suguru loves mocking and demeaning you with simultaneously praiseworthy titles. Phrases like “My precious little whore,” “Perfect fucking slut,” or “My stupidly pretty princess” roll off his tongue just as easily as “My little baby,” “Good fucking girl,” and your personal favourite: “My little pussy fairy.” It’s quite the whiplash.

Suguru fucks like his life depends on it. All the calm and peace behind his foxy monolids drains the moment he realizes what’s about to happen. The fire and hunger that replaces that calm is enough to make your heart plunge down and drop out through your ass every single time regardless of how often it happens. He is not a gentle lover, and you couldn’t be more thankful for how viciously he strokes or how diligently he chokes or how shamelessly he orders you to open your mouth so he can fill it with his fingers and spit into the back of your throat while the head of his cock breaks the rim of your cervix and your eyes roll like a slot machine into your skull.

He wasn’t as vocal at first because he was shy and anxious that you would get turned off by it. Turns out, when he moans and whimpers it’s so fucking delicate that your pussy flutters just at the sounds that come out of him. While you enjoy his gruff snarls and grunts and the tone of his poetic degradation, you take every chance you can get your hands on to have him undone and vulnerable, shivering and trembling and nearly sobbing from ecstasy at the worship you deliver.

Suguru never makes you beg or ask for it. He does like to hear you say what you want, but he often readily delivers your services on a golden platter. He’s just so generous like that.

While he gets to address you with all kinds of pet names and kinky titles, he only ever wants you to call him “Suguru” between the sheets. “Baby” is too vague, and nothing else quite establishes his dominance over you the same as hearing gasps of his name over and over again while you convulse and shatter against him, so soft and weak and vulnerable that it makes his heart stop.

He makes you keep your eyes open and on him at all times. “Keep your focus on me,” “Look at what I’m doing to you, keep watching,” “Look at me with those pretty eyes, I wanna see how big they get when you come for me,” “Don’t you dare look away,” all of that. Even when you’re kissing now you’re both always looking at one another. You don’t think you can go back to kissing with your eyes closed again.

He asked you in the beginning if you want him to use condoms just so you wouldn’t have to deal with contraceptive side effects. You used them a few times before realizing how badly you wanted to just fluid bond with him. He has never complained about this; he’s ready to face any consequences, should they happen. And while he loves going to pro-choice rallies with you, he does fantasize from time to time about a little version of you running around the farm, driving him crazy with worry.

Suguru’s favourite place to come is on your face, because your face is his favourite sight in the entire world. Yes, he loves your body. But it was your nervous smile and hopeful eyes that caught his eye the very first time and kept him looking back again and again. Seeing his cum streaked across your gorgeous lips and dripping down your cheeks and chin is a mental image he frequents regularly throughout the day.

(One day, you make him lick the cum off your face and feed it to you by kiss. This changes his brain chemistry forever. You’re definitely the one.)

[callmeagardengnome]

˚ʚ dreamy believer ɞ˚ | JEONG YUNHO

pairings ᯓ idol!yunho x fem!reader

genre ᯓ soulmate au, one-shot

synopsis ᯓ being an insomniac who rarely slept, you nearly missed discovering your soulmate. yet when you finally fall asleep, meeting your other half, you didn’t realise that the person you were talking to in your dreams is a k-pop idol.

w.c ᯓ 2.8k

author’s note: remember to like and repost if you enjoy!

not proofread!

masterlist

the numbers ‘01:27AM’ glowed dimly in your dorm room. your final year of university was really taking a toll on you. your days were packed with classes, part-time jobs and endless assignments. sleep had become a luxury you could barely afford.

yawning, you closed your laptop. you had been running on 3 days worth of caffeine and your body was (obviously) shutting down.

you shuffled to your bed, collapsing onto the messy sheets. you felt your eyelids getting heavier by the second, tempting you to fall asleep. despite the stress that was at the back of your mind, you gave in - drifting into a deep slumber almost immediately.

you woke up in a bright garden you’ve never seen before. the air was thick with the smell of flowers and the sky was an endless blue.

you got up from the metal bench you were lying down on, straightening your back. “hello?” you called out.

suddenly, you heard a groan coming from behind you. you turned around quickly, seeing a (handsome) tall man lying down on the bench you just stood up from. he slowly got up, scratching his head. his eyes adjusted to the light before he finally took notice of you.

“uh-“ he spoke, revealing his deep and clear voice. “who are you?” he asked cautiously, scanning you up and down.

“me?” you pointed to yourself as you faced him completely. “who are you?”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. he glanced around at the scenery, taking in the surroundings. “where are we?”

“i don’t know..” you mumbled. “i thought i was sleeping.. but for some reason, i woke up here.”

“same..” the man stood up, his face concerned. “is this a dream?”

you shrugged, just as confused as he was. the two of you exchanged an awkward glance, unsure of how to deal with the situation.

you let out a sigh. “well, i’m-“ you began, attempting to introduce yourself. just as you were about to say your name, you throat tightened, causing you to enter a coughing fit.

“woahwoahwoah,” the man ran and kneeled next to you. “are you okay? what happened?” he asked worriedly.

“i think-“ you wheezed out, catching your breath. you tried to say your name again, but it led you to another violent coughing fit. you dusted off your clothes, looking up at him in shock. “i can’t say my name,” you said, gasping for air.

“really?” the man’s eyes widened. right after you said that, you watched him start to choke on air, struggling to say his own name. “we really can’t say them..” he concluded, shaking his head in disbelief.

“that’s weird..” you remarked quietly. after a brief moment of silence, you stuck your hand out, offering a handshake. “anyway, it’s nice to meet you..?”

he chuckled softly, accepting your handshake. the moment your hands touched, a rush of electricity spread through the both of you, almost as if an invisible bond was forming. once that was over, your hands passed through each other, as if there wasn’t anything there in the first place. the man’s face was stunned, mirroring your speechless state.

“what the hell was that?” you said, instinctively pulling your hand away.

you both looked at each other, trying to understand what just happened. “wait-“ he muttered suddenly.

you nodded, prompting him to continue. he led you back to the bench that you woke up on. he breathed out, “i know this sounds crazy, but i think we’re soulmates- and this is our soulbond.”

“soulmates..?” you repeated, the realisation sinking in. you remembered writing a paper on soulmarks for an assignment a while back. there was a soulmark called ‘DREAM-SYNC’, where if both you and your soulmate sleep at the same time, you’re able to enter each other’s dreams. “you’re right..” you trailed off.

as you sat together on the bench, the garden around started to change. the flowers around you seemed to bloom even more, and the grass appeared to be more green and vibrant. you looked at him, seeing him in a different light.

“so what do we do now, soulmate?” you asked, breaking the silence.

he reached for your hands, trying to hold on to them before they passed through each other again. he chuckled warmly before saying, “let’s get to know each other.”

“sure,” you nodded, feeling slightly nervous. “but how do we find each other outside of this place?”

“we’ll figure it out,” he reassured you. “let’s just enjoy the moment. i mean- for the longest time, i thought i didn’t have a soulmate.”

you chuckled, embarrassed. “sorry about that,” you said, trying to get more comfortable on the bench. “my sleep schedule isn’t the best, i haven’t slept in a while.”

“really?” he arched his eyebrows. “what do you do?”

you sighed. “i’m a uni student, but i also work part-time at a 7/11. what about you?”

“oh, i’m an-“ he said, before choking on air again.

concerned flashed on your face. “are you alright?” he nodded before chuckling awkwardly. “i guess i can’t say anything about my job.”

just as you were about to ask more, you were pulled out off your dream, waking up in your bed as you gasped for air. you quickly looked at the clock which displayed ‘03:00AM’. strangely enough, those two hours of sleep turned out to be the best sleep you’ve had in a while - you don’t remember the last time you were this energised. you decided to take the time to clean up your room and do your work properly with your brand new energy.

yunho was pulled out of his dreamscape by one of his members, mingi, who was shaking him aggressively.

“hyung, wake up and sleep properly. we have a radio show later,” mingi grumbled as he continued to tap yunho.

yunho groaned, rubbing his eyes. “i’m awake, i’m awake,” he muttered, sitting up on the couch, feeling breathless.

“are you okay..?” mingi asked.

yunho exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. “i think i just met my soulmate..”

mingi’s eyes widened. “seriously? but weren’t you just sleeping?”

“yeah,” yunho nodded. “i.. i have that one dream soulmark- mingi, it felt so real.”

mingi looked at his dazed friend for a moment before sitting down beside him. “what’s she like?”

“she’s nice..” yunho said softly before leaning back into the couch. “and really pretty too..”

the both of them sat in a brief silence, before mingi spoke up. “sorry for waking you up,” he apologised sheepishly, scratching the back if his neck. “you’ve been talking about finding your soulmate for ages.”

“it’s okay,” yunho replied, sounding a little disappointed. “but what do i do now? should i find her?”

mingi sighed. “you should, but now’s not a good time. we have the a lot of performances coming up, our company won’t be happy if you’re distracted.”

yunho nodded reluctantly, recalling the busy schedule ahead of him. mingi added, “but who knows? maybe you’ll see her again in your dreams.”

“let’s get some rest, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” mingi patted his shoulder before getting up.

yunho went to his room, going straight to his bed. he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he finally found his soulmate - sure, it was in a dream, but that didn’t matter. he knew that he had to be patient if he wanted to meet you again, whether in a dream or real life.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

“girl..” you began as you chewed on your granola bar. you called your best friend over to your dorm, wanting to unpack the weird night you just had. “i just met my soulmate,” you giggled.

“what!” your best friend jumped from her seat. “how? i don’t remember the last time you went out..”

“you remember that ‘DREAM-SYNC’ soulmark i told you about? when i had that project?” you asked her, receiving a nod in return. you saw how her faced morphed into realisation as she processed your words.

“holy- you mean it happened?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

you nodded eagerly, grinning. “yes! i met him in a dream and everything.”

“tell me more,” she urged, scooting closer.

you started to tell her about the garden, the man you saw, the weird coughing and how your hands would pass through each other whenever you touched. “and- he’s so handsome..” you groaned before chugging the cup of coffee next to you.

“of course, he’s your soulmate,” she snorted as she ate her bowl of cereal. “how are you going to finding him?”

“i don’t know.. he couldn’t tell me anything about himself because of the stupid coughs,” you sighed. “and it’s not like i can go around trying to find this one guy. what if he doesn’t live in our country?”

she laughed. “true. but can’t you just meet him again? all you have to do is sleep.”

“that’s the hard part,” you muttered. “i’m barely getting any sleep as is.”

“well, you have to try. this is your soulmate we’re talking about,” she looked at you, seriously.

you stared at your now empty coffee cup, lost in thought. the idea of trying to find your other half through a dream felt impossible. though, the memory of his face kept appearing in your mind, telling you to meet your soulmate.

“i know it’s a lot, but you’ve got this,” she said, finishing her cereal. “we’ll figure it out together.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

weeks passed and you found yourself adjusting your schedule to get more sleep. it wasn’t easy, but the thought of seeing him motivated you. you drifted off to sleep, feeling the familiar pull into your dreamworld. you opened your eyes to see the same beautiful garden.

“hello?” you called out again, just as you had the first time.

“over here,” he responded. you saw him standing near a rose bush, a smile forming on his face.

a wave of relief washed over you. “it’s good to see you again,” you said.

“i was afraid it wouldn’t work this time,” he admitted, walking towards you.

days turned into weeks. each night you met in the garden became a part of your routine you loved. the both of you laughed and even had moments of silence that felt way more intimate than any conversation.

you learnt about his favourite colour, favourite movies and shows. the two of you bonded over the little things, talking for what felt like hours before you had to inevitably wake up.

you went over to your best friends dorm room, only to find her squealing over the cardboard box on her table.

“‘____’, my package came!” she said excitedly, pulling you from the door.

“huh?” you glanced between her and the box. “what’s inside?”

she took her box cutter and started to open her package. “i know you don’t keep up with k-pop, but my album just arrived!”

you let out an ‘ahh’ as she held the bubble-wrapped album in her hands. “which group is this one again?”

“ATEEZ,” she replied, her eyes wide with excitement. “i’ve been waiting for this one for weeks!”

you watched her carefully unwrap the album. “are they good?”

“girl- are they good?” she echoed, raising her eyebrow. “they are so talented and their music is amazing.”

“plus, they’re all really cute,” she explained, flipping through the album.

you leaned over her shoulder, looking at the photo concepts that were being displayed. just then, a familiar figure caught your eye. “wait-“

your best friend hummed, stopping on the page. “hm?”

“who’s that..?” you muttered, pointing at the member.

“ahh that’s yunho. is he your type?” she asked teasing.

“i know i sound delusional.. but that’s the man i’ve been meeting in my dreams,” you said in disbelief.

she turned to you almost instantly, her jaw dropped. “the man, as in, the one that’s your soulmate..?”

you nodded, still trying to process it yourself. she grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “do you know what this means? your soulmate is an idol!”

feeling overwhelmed, you asked, “that’s good, right?”

“uhuh, yunho is one of the sweetest idols out there,” she exclaimed. “you’re really lucky, ‘____’.”

you sat down next to her, not knowing how to deal with all of this. figuring out your soulmate was already a miracle, but the fact that he was famous? it exceeded any and all expectations that you had.

“you need to meet him,” your best friend spoke up. “do you want to try going to a concert?”

“i’m broke,” you groaned, leaning back into the seat.

“oh right same..” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

most, if not all of the ways to meet yunho involved money, something that you were lacking at the moment. you and your best friend tried to brainstorm ideas to meet him, but none of them made sense.

“why isn’t anything working,” you sighed.

she moved closer to you, pulling you into a brief hug. “we’ll find a way. wanna try again tomorrow?”

you nodded reluctantly, feeling slightly disappointed of the outcome of your hangout.

when you entered the dreamworld again that night, you desperately tried to tell yunho that you knew who he was. however, that only ended up in coughs and short breaths filling the garden.

“do you think we’ll ever meet each other,” yunho asked, sounding hopeless.

you paused, not knowing how to respond. “we will,” you ended up saying.

yunho looked at you confused, about to ask you what you meant. suddenly, the two of you were pulled out of your dreamscapes, being brought back to reality.

you were unfortunately woken up by your 12am alarm, reminding you to get to your night shift at the convenience store nearby. sighing, you started to get dressed and walked to your job.

a few days pass by and yunho started to get restless. while he tried to be patient, he couldn’t help but feel annoyed that there wasn’t a faster way to find you. even his members noticed how distracted he was.

“hyung, you’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” san remarked as they were practicing their new choreography. “is everything okay?”

yunho sighed, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “i’m just frustrated. i keep meeting this girl in my dreams but i don’t know how to meet her in real life.”

mingi patted his shoulder, consoling him. “you’ll meet her soon.”

“i hope,” yunho said before finishing his drink. he grabbed his wallet that he put to the side and started to walk towards the door. “i’m going to the 7/11 down the street. you guys want anything?” a chorus of ‘no’s was heard as he left the practice room.

meanwhile, you were organising the bills in the cash register at the 7/11, your mind drifting to yunho and the dreams. the bell above the door chimed, signalling a customer’s arrival. you glanced up, not thinking much of it and continued with your task.

yunho made a beeline to the refrigerators, picking out a drink before going over to the shelves and grabbing a snack. he walked over to the counter, setting his items on it when he finally looked at your face and saw that you. the girl in his dreams - his soulmate. shocked, he forgot to let go of his drink that he was placing on the counter.

you wanted to scan the man’s items as quickly as possible, but was stopped when you noticed that he didn’t release the grip on his drink. looking up, you were met with your soulmate’s wide eyes.

for a moment, neither of you moved. it felt as if time stood still.

“yunho?” you whispered.

“it’s really you,” he breathed out, still surprised.

the both of you stood there, staring at each other. none of you knew what to do, how to approach each other.

“i can’t believe this,” yunho murmured, a smile forming on his face.

“neither can i,” you replied. he eventually released his grip on the drink he was holding, passing the can to you.

your fingers brushed against each other, and finally, they didn’t pass through each other like they did in your dreams. an electric feeling spread through the both of you, confirming your soulbond.

you began to shakily scan his items, barely recovering from what you just discovered. “it’s good to finally meet you, yunho,” you said as steady as you could.

“likewise,” he replied with a smile on his face. as you were about to hand him his bag of items, yunho stepped towards the counter, leaning closer to you.

“i still can’t believe that you’re actually in front of me,” he said, his expression softening. “can i try something?”

you gave a small nod as he gently cupped your face with one hand and leaned in, pressing his lips into yours. it was a shy, yet loving kiss that showed his feelings for you. your heart raced as you kissed him back, feeling the familiar electric sensation spread through your body once more.

when you finally pulled back, there was a wide grin on his face. “you don’t know how long i’ve been dreaming of this moment.”

any and all feedback appreciated <3

other fics

series taglist [OPEN] - @cara-rey @hwasbabygirl @chngbnwf @passerbyforfun @butterfliesinthenightsky @ismelllikechlorine247 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

[holylulusworld]

Dinner for found family

Summary: You host another dinner for your found family. Your “real” family doesn’t like it one bit.

Pairing: Biker(Alpha)Bucky Barnes x Neighbor (Omega) Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Brock Rumlow, Yelena Belova, Okoye,

Warnings: fluff, a/b/o, courting, cocky Bucky, protective Bucky, awful family

Catch up here: Dinner for a pack

“Hey, neighbor,” Bucky grins as he lazily leans on your door frame. “Do you mind lending me some sugar, Y/N? I’m out of sugar, and no one has the good stuff.”

You giggle at his playfulness, even slap his chest because his eyes roam your body in your simple sundress.

Over the last few weeks, you and the alpha have been going steady. This doesn’t mean you’ll allow him to undress you with his eyes.

After the dinner you hosted for his friends and Bucky, he finally declared he wanted to court you like a good alpha. “I don’t know, sir. You never bring my cups back.”

“Well, you could just move in with me and have them all back,” he challenges like the cocky man he is. “I told you; my omega can have everything I own.”

“I told you that I need time to think about it, Bucky,” you whine when he purrs low in his throat for you. “No, don’t use your alpha moves on me.” You stand your ground. “I want this to work out, and for us to bond, but…”

“You’re scared,” he concludes, seeing the uncertainty in your eyes. “They really did a number on you.” Bucky nods slowly, a little disappointed that you do not trust him yet. “I’m here to stay, Y/N. But I understand that you fear that I’ll let you down, too.”

“It’s…” You avert your gaze, wringing your hands. “I told you how they always left me outside alone. Even on my brother’s wedding day, I was an outcast. I wasn’t allowed to sit with the family. People asked who I was because I sat in the back with his colleagues and his neighbor.”

“Assholes,” Bucky grunts, making you chuckle. “I mean it, Y/N. Who does this to his sister and daughter? You outdid yourself preparing the anniversary dinner. The food, the pie, the decoration, and you even had little gift bags for all guests.”

“Brock got the good stuff.” You snicker. “Shaving cream and strawberry jam with lavender.” You wave at Brock, who looks your way. “Did you already try the jam, Brock?”

“I ate it all, sweet cheeks. Do you have more for Brock? I like me some good jam.” Brock makes his way toward you and Bucky before you can stop him. “Morning, do you have more?”

“Sure thing,” you wink at Brock before grabbing Bucky’s wrist. “Buck will bring you some later. He needs some sugar first.”

“Can I have it now?” Brock’s stomach growls loudly. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.” It almost looks like Brock pouts when he looks at you.

“Dammit, Brock. Get off her back,” Bucky grunts at his friend. “She’ll give you some later. Have a little patience.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll get you some,” you laugh as Bucky makes a face. “Don’t be like that, Bucky. He’s hungry and hasn’t eaten yet.”

“Y/N is an angel. You must keep her around, Bucky,” Brock grins wildly when you move inside your house only to come back with two jars of jam in your hands. “More jam!”

“Here you go, Brock.” You place the jars in his hands, smiling softly. “I grew the strawberries in my backyard. I hope you like these too.”

“Thank you, sweetness.” Brock hurriedly runs off with the jars in his hands. He shoos Sam and Yelena away. He won’t share his prey with any of them.

“Do you want to come in now, Bucky, or do you want to wait here for the sugar?” You crook your finger to lure Bucky into your house. “I want you to help me decide on what to cook for dinner tomorrow night. I want it to be perfect.”

“It will be perfect because you are going to be there.” Bucky moves closer, cupping your face with both hands. “The gang already loves you. You can feed them dry bread and water, and they’ll praise you.”

“I want to give them something better than dry bread, Bucky,” you whine. “You know them better than anyone else. I need your help.”

“Brock is easy. He eats everything edible. It doesn’t matter if it tastes good.” He grins at you. “Just saying, give him food, and he’s your best friend.”

“I thought about…” You want to tell Bucky about the menu you put together for your dinner when your phone vibrates. You ignore it and retrieve your cookbook, explaining the ingredients and details of the main dish.

“Your phone,” Bucky points at your phone, furrowing his brows as you ignore your phone once again. “Angel, don’t you want to see if it’s someone important?”

“What is it now?” You huff when your phone vibrates again and again and again. Message after message pops up, but you still don’t unlock it.

“Your menu sounds delicious, Y/N.” Bucky nods, not giving away that he understood only half of the recipe. “So…will you check your phone or…just ignore it?”

“What?” You look at Bucky, blinking a few times. “Oh, my phone. I guess it’s one of those apps wanting to tell me about the latest updates or something.”

“Six times in a row?” He huffs. “If there’s someone else…just tell me.” Bucky sniffs when you unlock your phone.

“Bucky, there is no one else. It’s just that…” You take a deep breath and show Bucky the latest messages you received. “It’s my family not leaving me alone.”

“What? Why? Do you want me to break someone’s face?” Bucky looks at the messages, mostly from your brother and parents, blaming you for the shitstorm they got online. “What happened?”

“Yelena and Okoye posted some pictures from our dinner and explained that the food and everything else were meant for my parents’ anniversary. Apparently, the daughter of my parents' best friend found the post, and well…” You shrug. “I didn’t know about the post, and I don’t mind. It’s the truth. We had a wonderful evening after they stood me up last minute.”

“I should do something about this,” Bucky grinds his teeth. “Give me their address, and they’ll leave you alone.”

“No…no,” you grab his wrist, shaking your head. “They soon will lose interest. I told you, they never wasted much thought on me.”

“That’s not right, and you know it, Y/N. They are the assholes in this story, not you.” He thumbs through the angry messages from your family, getting angrier with every line he reads. “Maybe you should block them.”

“I tried a few times, but—” You sigh deeply. “They are still my family, and it’s hard to cut them out of my life forever. I’m not saying you are wrong in this. I only need a little more time.”

“I get it.” Bucky wraps his arms around you, gently holding you in his arms. “Family can be shitty, but it’s still family. I want you to know that you have a new family waiting across the street. They won’t let you down, I swear.”

Everything looks perfect. Bucky helped you prepare the table while you and Okoye checked on the food. She was a great help, unlike Brock, who tried to steal food more than once.

You are in a good mood, ready to serve the first dish, when your doorbell cuts through the cheers and happy chatter. “Who is this?” Brock grunts. He was so close to finally tasting your food, only for someone to ruin his chance to get a filled plate.

“I don’t know,” you reply, looking at Bucky. “Everyone we invited is here. Did you invite someone else?”

Bucky looks around the crowded room. Natasha, Yelena, and Okoye shake their heads. Brock is busy stealing some potatoes while Sam, Clint, and Steve fight over the best seat. Thor and Loki fight over beverages, but shake their heads.

“Guys, did you invite someone else?” Bucky asks. “I didn’t invite someone, either.”

“Hmm… I guess we should check.” Brock is quick to get up, if only to grab a chicken leg before he walks toward the door, ripping it open.

“Brock…wait…” Bucky groans as he follows Brock close behind. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know, man,” Brock replies, taking a large bite of the chicken. “They are yelling and told me to get out of their way.”

“What?” Bucky shoves his friend aside, only to face your angry family. They scream at him and try to enter your house. “What do you want here?”

“My sister is holding another dinner, and we are not invited,” your brother snaps at Bucky as if this explains why they came here tonight.

“Yeah, for a reason,” Bucky bites back, squaring his shoulders, ready to fight your brother. “You let her down and didn’t invite her for your fancy dinner. She cooked and baked and got all these nice gifts only for you to ignore her. So, get fucked.”

“Get … what?” Your brother splutters. “I want to hear it from her.”

You step next to Bucky, looking at your family. They act as if you did some horrid thing. All the times they let you down and ignored you come to your mind. You laugh and say, “Bucky is right. Get. Fucked.”

Slamming the door in their face, you smile. Bucky and Brock watch you walk off. They are both stunned, but Bucky, he’s damn proud of you too…

[lucentloo]

Beautiful Boy

Summary: You find James singing Harry back to sleep in the middle of the night and James apologizes for how he's been acting.

Wc: 1302

Content Warnings: Lily died, sorry folks, sad James for the tiniest bit, some swearing at the end, after the war, kissing, cuddling, apologies, making up, no real argument but implied argument, important question: Waffles or Pancakes? I think that's it, please tell me if I should put other warnings.

James Potter x Fem!reader

A/N: Good morning/night! Thank you for stopping to read this fic! This is the sixth one that I've written and I'm gonna be so honest when I say that I did not think I would be spouting this many but so far I've posted a fic every day! Anyway! I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night!

The sharp, lingering chill that seeps into your bones is the first sensation to wash over you as you rouse from sleep. Even though the blankets cocoon you in a snug embrace, a cold draft slips in, leaving your skin prickled and yearning for warmth. As your mind awakes fully, the unsettling absence of your husband, James, becomes apparent. You stretch your hand out towards his side of the bed, fingers brushing against the empty sheets, cold and untouched.

With a faint groan, you pry your eyes open, squinting at the harsh beam of light that spills in from the hallway, casting a bright glare across the dimly lit room. Rolling over, you glance at the alarm clock perched on the bedside table, its numbers illuminating the darkness. Two in the morning. 

A resigned sigh escapes your lips as you rub the sleep from your eyes, shaking off the remnants of dreams. Maybe James had been tormented by nightmares of that fateful Halloween night, or perhaps Sirius had sought refuge here again after yet another explosive quarrel with Remus. Rebuilding relationships in the wake of war is no simple task, and you and James have learned that all too well.

Reluctantly, you peel back the heavy blankets and swing your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool floor beneath your feet. Your gaze falls upon James' sweater draped over the chair—a cozy, familiar garment that you had insisted he wash before sleep claimed him. A soft chuckle escapes you as you slip it over your head, welcoming its warmth while allowing yourself a moment of nostalgia for simpler times.

You quietly creep out of the dimly lit hallway that leads to your and James’ room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. As you start to make your way downstairs, a beautiful melody wafts through the air, pulling you to a halt. You slowly turn around an irresistible urge guiding your feet toward Harry’s room. With each step, the tender sounds of singing grow louder, enchanting and soothing against the backdrop of the night.

Peeking through the slightly ajar door, you catch a heartwarming sight: James sits in the old rocking chair that once belonged to his mother, cradling Harry against his chest. Harry clutches his thumb in his mouth, his tiny cheeks glistening with remnants of tears that are gradually drying into faint trails of glimmering moisture. You lean against the doorframe, a soft smile blooming on your lips, your heart swelling at this serene moment.

“The monster’s gone, he’s on the run, and your Daddy’s here,” James sings in a gentle, raspy voice, the exhaustion of sleep still clinging to him. The enchantment of his lullaby lulls Harry, whose eyelids flutter and finally close in sweet surrender to slumber. You tiptoe into the room, scanning the cluttered space around you for Harry’s soother. As you find it tucked behind a plush toy, James looks up at you with a quiet, warm smile, his eyes sparkling with love and relief. 

Kneeling beside them, you plant a soft kiss on James’ forehead before gently placing the soother in Harry’s mouth, replacing his thumb with a tender precision. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy,” James concludes the song, his voice trailing off as Harry drifts blissfully into dreamland. 

With careful hands, you lift Harry, allowing James a moment more to rest in the chair, undoubtedly more fatigued than you. You place him gently into his crib, tucking him in snugly to ensure his pajamas are fully on—after all, there was that one morning when you awoke to find him almost choked by his sleeves, twisted and tangled in his sleep.

Glancing back, you lean down and kiss Harry’s soft cheek before you feel the familiar warmth of arms wrapping around your waist. You straighten up, turning to find James right in front of you, his face buried in your shoulder as he exhales a shuddering breath. You run your fingers through his tousled hair, feeling the tension begin to melt away.

“I’m sorry,” you hear muffled into your skin, a heartfelt confession that resonates deep within you.

With a tender smile, you’ve been anticipating this apology all night. “It’s all right, my love,” you whisper gently, enveloped in the stillness of the room. “I know you have a lot on your mind right now; it’s okay.” 

James raises his head, his weary eyes meeting yours, searching for reassurance. “Thank you for understanding,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion. “But I still shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as your heart aches for him. “No, you shouldn’t have,” you agree, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his forehead. “But we’ll work on it together.” 

James nods silently, the weight of the night still clinging to him. You take his hand, leading him gently out of Harry’s room. He winces as the hallway light hits him, but once you both step into your darkened sanctuary, he visibly relaxes. With a youthful eagerness, he practically jumps into bed, prompting a laugh from you as you admire his vibrant spirit.

You switch off the hallway light, watching as James is enveloped in the comforting shadows of the room. After closing the door, you slip off his sweater and hang it on the chair, only to crawl back into bed. Your arms open wide, and James eagerly welcomes your embrace, his warm skin melting the chill that has settled on you.

Silence envelops you, and just as you feel yourself drifting away into sleep, James speaks softly into the stillness, “Can we have waffles tomorrow? Harry wants some.” His voice is a mere whisper, but it tickles your heart with warmth. When you chuckle, he leans in and kisses your shoulder gently, sharing the affection of the moment.

“Of course, baby, we can have waffles tomorrow. Why not invite Sirius and Remus as well? It would be delightful to see them again, and I’m sure Harry would love it.” You suggest, and as you glance down at him, you catch a glimpse of a wistful smile blooming on his face, a spark of love dancing in his eyes that hadn’t been there in days. It sends your heart soaring.

“If Remus comes over, we might have to make pancakes instead; he’s quite picky,” James comments, his tone playful yet serious. At first, you think he’s joking, but when his expression remains unchanged, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“Wait, he still hasn’t gotten over that?” you ask, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

James shrugs, a teasing grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “He’s the only person I’ve seen hold a grudge for nine long years.” 

You smile at his humor, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’ll make both waffles and pancakes; how does that sound?” you reply playfully, and in response, James leans forward to kiss you.

It’s not a kiss ablaze with heat but rather one laced with tenderness and affection. His slightly chapped lips softly brush against yours for a fleeting moment before he pulls back, his smile wide and radiant. “That would be lovely, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his voice silky with warmth. “You’re such a sweet girl.” The depth of his feelings wraps around you like a cozy blanket, making you wonder just how much love resides in his enormous heart.

You chuckle, hiding your face in the soothing scent of his hair. “Shut up and go to sleep, Jamie,” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head. He hums contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut at the same instant as yours.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles with a sleepy tone, surrendering to dreams as he drifts off into the soft embrace of slumber.