#cia au

[arrowheadedbitch]

Okay guys, time for a long overdue post

Welcome to my CIA!Shawn au

And yes most of this is copy-pasted from discord, leave me be

AU where Shawn used to be a spy 👀👀👀

Old spy partner coming to sb to ask for Shawn's help 👀

I'm more interested in how it would affect the *Despereaux* dynamic tbh

And yeah the traveling the world thing with the many many jobs was the perfect cover

Imagining secret agent Shawn au, him and his partner (her name is scarlet but he usually calls her one of those BAD James Bond ones) have a tactic they call Operation Stick It To The Man

Her name changes every mission like he pretends gus does, because she's a spy so sometimes she's Scarlet and other times she Sara or Debbie or whatever, ykniw

Stick it to the man: It's probably just Shawn goes in and fucks shit up, how he does it is up to him, judgement call, but being destructive is encouraged, while she sneaks in

Also, I don't know why I do this to myself but I came up with her real identity and it's Scarlet Featherman, don't ask why, it quite literally came to me in a dream

And yes she is fine with Shawn calling her Pussy Galore, she thinks is just as funny as he does

I love aus where it's like "Yeah, no, Shawn has had a SUPER high profile job before, in fact maybe he still has it now"

This includes but is not limited to "Oh no, he's a cop, just for a different department." "Yeahh Shawn is in the CIA, he's keeping so many government secrets right now" and "Shawn was a spy. He kinda left the organize and kinda didn't, it's complicated, let's go break something!"

The last one is mine btw lol

I've been thinking about it nonstop for daysssss

If I write it I'm naming the fic "Agent P as in Pineapple"

New OC: Scarly Feather

Lesson learned: Don't be eepy when thinking out an au

This is where we got a more specific channel and I moved there so I'll call that a good ending point

PT 1/?

[buuuuuuucky]

I just binge read this series and it’s one of the best things that I’ve read in a long time!!!!!

Under the Radar (completed)

Hi!

This is a Nick Fowler x Reader story.

Reader is a brilliant but shy and awkward CIA employee whose work is often overlooked by her colleagues…she’s blended into the background for so long that she doesn’t think there’s any other way - even if she does have secret aspirations for another life. Unbeknownst to her - a certain blue eyed agent is very aware of her talents, even if nobody else is.

Warnings for: angst, smut, mentions of violence, feelings of self doubt, alcohol. 18+. Please read warnings and proceed at your own risk.

I expect this one to be quite angsty!!

Also the ins and outs of the CIA and the hierarchy/workplace dynamics in this story are very much my own invention - if you want authenticity, this isn’t a fic for you lmao.

enjoy! I’d love to hear what you think 😌

Chapter One - The Mouse

Chapter Two - Beige

Chapter Three - Now or Never

Chapter Four - The Ghost

Chapter Five - Done

Chapter Six - File

Chapter Seven-A - Underestimate

Chapter Seven-B - All of Them

[linkbetweenlinksau]

Chapter 2- Negotiations

Part 2

[mmso-notlikethat]

for a fic prompt, what about primary school teacher tommy and single dad buck meet-cute 🥺🫶

you probably forgot about this, but just so you know Alex started here 😶‍🌫️ Also uh it got to more than just a meet-cute

Also on AO3

“Dad, we’re gonna be late!” Alex exclaimed, his small hands tugging at the blanket Buck had pulled over his head. His six-year-old energy was relentless as he hopped on the bed, shaking his dad's shoulder.

Buck groaned dramatically, burrowing further into the covers. “Five more minutes, buddy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he rolled onto his stomach. “Late for what? School doesn’t even start until next week”

“It starts today!” Alex huffed, climbing onto Buck’s back. “You promised you’d wake up early so I wouldn’t be late! My teacher’s gonna think I’m the kid with the lazy dad!”

That got Buck’s attention. He peeked out from under the blanket, grinning. “Lazy, huh? You’re pretty brave, calling me names when I’m this close to tickling you.”

Alex gasped, trying to back away, but Buck was too fast. With a playful growl, he lunged, wrapping his arms around Alex and tackling him onto the bed. “You think you can just insult me and get away with it?”

“Dad! Nooo!” Alex shrieked between bursts of laughter as Buck’s fingers attacked his sides. “I’m serious! We really are gonna be late!”

Buck finally let him go, sitting up and ruffling Alex’s bedhead. “Alright, alright, you win. Let’s get you to school before your teacher thinks your dad’s a total slacker”

Alex hopped off the bed, already halfway to the kitchen. “You better not make me late, Dad!” he called over his shoulder.

I.

Buck knew mornings were a battlefield, but nothing prepared him for the chaos of getting his son, to his new school on time. He prepared almost everything the night before—laid out clothes, packed the lunch, even double-checked Alex’s backpack—but somehow, chaos still found a way. Between trying to locate Alex’s missing sneaker (it had somehow ended up in the fridge) and making sure the snack he packed met the “no nuts, no sugar” rule, Buck was already sweating before 8 a.m.

“See? Right on time,” Buck said triumphantly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Alex, however, was already halfway out of his seat. “Barely,” he muttered, clutching a slightly crumpled drawing of a fire truck—his pride and joy—ready to show off on his first day.

“Hey, cut your old man some slack,” Buck called after him, grabbing Alex’s backpack from the passenger seat and jogging to catch up as his son bolted toward the school entrance.

The chaos didn’t stop at the school gate. As Buck jogged to catch up with Alex, the coffee cup in his hand wobbled dangerously. He didn’t even notice the man walking out of the classroom until it was too late.

Hot coffee sloshed out of the cup as Buck collided with someone tall and solid, soaking the other man’s neatly pressed shirt.

“Oh, crap—sorry, sorry, sorry!” Buck blurted, immediately trying to dab at the man’s chest with the sleeve of his own hoodie.

The man held up a hand, smiling despite the situation. “It’s okay! I’ve survived worse—though maybe not before 9 a.m.”

Buck stopped mid-dab, his apology dying on his lips as he looked up into bright blue eyes. The guy was gorgeous. Clean-cut, tall, and with the kind of easy smile that could probably calm a room full of screaming kids.

“I—uh—sorry again,” Buck stammered. “First day at a new school, and we’re already making enemies.”

The man chuckled, glancing down at his shirt. “It’s just coffee. Nothing a spare shirt won’t fix.” He held out a hand. “I’m Tommy Kinard, the first-grade teacher.”

Buck blinked, taking his hand. “Oh. Wow. Great. Yeah—uh—I’m Buck— Buckley. Uh—Evan... Buckley. Alex’s dad.” he said, pointing over his shoulder toward Alex.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Buck’s flustered demeanor. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley. Alex seems to be settling in just fine—he’s already making friends.”

Buck glanced at Alex, who was already chatting animatedly with another kid across the room. “Well, at least one of us is thriving.”

Tommy smiled. “You’re doing fine. First days are always an adventure. Just maybe avoid coffee collisions next time,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to their still-clasped hands before meeting Buck’s gaze again.

Buck suddenly realized he was still gripping Tommy’s hand and quickly released it, his ears burning. “Oh! Uh, sorry about that.”

Tommy’s smile widened, clearly amused.

“Fair point—about the coffee! And, uh, if you ever need someone to return the favor and spill coffee on your enemies, I’m your guy,” Buck added, trying to recover.

Tommy tilted his head, his nose scrunching with his smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Tommy turned back toward the classroom, Buck exhaled shakily, his breath hitching as he muttered to himself, Oh boy.

II.

Buck had barely recovered from the coffee incident when he found himself nervously adjusting his shirt in the mirror for Parent-Teacher Night. It wasn’t like him to care this much about his appearance, but something about Tommy—Mr. Kinard, he corrected himself—had stuck with him.

As Buck stepped into the brightly decorated classroom, he immediately spotted Tommy. He was standing by a bulletin board covered in colorful artwork, smiling as he spoke to another parent. Buck’s stomach did a weird little flip.

“Mr. Buckley,” Tommy greeted warmly as he finished up his conversation and approached. “Good to see you again. No coffee this time?”

Buck chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not today. Figured I’d avoid the risk.”

Tommy smiled. “Smart choice. Alex has been settling in really well, by the way. He’s a great kid.”

“Thanks,” Buck said, his chest swelling with pride. “He loves it here—and he won’t stop talking about you, by the way. ‘Mr. Kinard is so cool. Mr. Kinard can draw fire trucks better than me.’”

Tommy laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve impressed him. Though I think his fire truck skills might outshine mine soon.”

As they chatted, Buck shifted nervously, trying to look relaxed. But in his fidgeting, he bumped into a small table holding a stack of construction paper and art supplies, sending them toppling to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Oh, no,” Buck groaned, crouching down immediately to try and fix the mess. “Sorry—sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Tommy crouched down beside him, biting back a smile as his shoulder brushed against Buck’s. “It’s fine, really. Happens all the time. These tables are magnets for chaos.”

Buck glanced up, meeting Tommy’s amused gaze, his face flushing. “I swear I’m usually more coordinated.”

Tommy chuckled, handing him a pile of papers. “You’re doing fine, Mr. Buckley. Though I might have to ban you from coffee and art supplies.”

They both laughed, the tension easing as they stood. They chatted for a few more minutes after that, Buck feeling more at ease with every word. By the time the evening ended, Buck was walking out of the school with a smile he couldn’t quite shake—and a lingering warmth from the way Tommy’s shoulder had felt against his.

III.

A week later, Buck was rushing back to the school, Alex’s forgotten math worksheet clutched in his hand. He burst into the office, breathless and slightly disheveled, his shirt untucked on one side and his hair sticking up in a way that suggested he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

Tommy was already there, sitting behind the counter with a mug of tea. He looked up, and his smile widened when he saw Buck.

“Mr. Buckley,” Tommy said, his voice tinged with laughter. “In a hurry?”

Buck groaned, straightening his shirt with one hand while clutching the worksheet in the other. Of course it’s you who’ll see me like this, he muttered under his breath, low enough that he thought Tommy wouldn’t hear.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What was that?”

Buck flushed. “Oh, uh, nothing. Just… Alex forgot his homework,” he said, holding up the crumpled paper as evidence. “I had a long shift last night—barely managed to get him to school on time this morning—and I was about to crash when I noticed the homework on the counter and—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “—you don’t want to hear that. Sorry.”

Tommy stood, taking the worksheet from him. “Actually, I don’t mind,” he said, his voice calm and genuine. “It’s not every day I get to hear about someone pulling off the superhero double shift—saving lives and making sure forgotten homework gets to school. Alex has a pretty awesome dad.”

Buck let out a breathless laugh, his face heating up. “I don’t know about awesome… but thanks.”

Tommy smiled, his tone light as he added, “Seriously, you’re doing great. Alex talks about you all the time—it’s obvious how much he looks up to you. I’ll make sure he gets this.”

The compliment caught Buck off guard, and he found himself stumbling over his words. “Oh, I—I just try not to screw up too much.”

“You’re doing fine,” Tommy said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Though I have to say, Mr. Buckley, you do have a knack for keeping things interesting.”

Buck blinked, momentarily speechless. Then, with a slightly awkward chuckle, he added, “You can just call me Evan, by the way. ‘Mr. Buckley’ makes me feel old.”

Tommy’s eyes twinkled. “Evan it is.”

As Buck left the school, still red-faced and brushing his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, he couldn’t help but smile. Despite the chaos of the morning, there was a lingering warmth in his chest—and a growing determination to get to know Tommy better.

IV.

When the school’s fall fair rolled around, Buck found himself roped into volunteering after Alex came home with a flyer and an excited plea. Buck agreed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to pitch in—and, if he was being honest (which he wasn’t), he was also hoping to see Tommy again.

Buck signed up to contribute to the bake sale, spending the evening before the fair elbow-deep in flour and sugar. By the time the fair kicked off, his table was piled high with cookies, brownies, and pumpkin bread, all neatly arranged and drawing plenty of attention.

Sure enough, Buck spotted Tommy running the face-painting booth. Alex insisted on getting a firefighter painted on his cheek, and Tommy obliged with steady hands and an artistic flair that left Buck impressed.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Buck said as Tommy finished, his gaze lingering on the neat little firetruck.

Tommy glanced up, smiling. “Multitasking is part of the job. Though I’m not sure my painting skills are gallery-worthy.”

“Well, Alex looks thrilled, so I’d say you’re doing great,” Buck replied, watching his son beam at his reflection in the mirror Tommy handed him.

Later in the afternoon, they crossed paths at the bake sale. Tommy stopped by Buck’s table, raising an eyebrow at the neat array of treats. “Wow. Did you make all of this?” he asked, picking up a cookie.

“Guilty,” Buck said with a grin. “I figured I’d try to help out—and Alex swore my cookies would sell out.”

Tommy took a bite, his eyes widening slightly. “Okay, these are really good. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Buckley.”

“Evan,” Buck corrected, his grin widening. “And thanks. Coming from the guy who paints flawless firetrucks, I’ll take it.”

Tommy chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at the growing line of kids waiting at his booth. “Well, my clients are building up. Better get back before they riot.”

“Good luck,” Buck said with a laugh as Tommy waved and headed off.

Some time later, a commotion near the tug-of-war game caught Buck’s attention. Tommy was helping referee, holding the rope as a group of kids giggled and yanked on the other end. It was clear he wasn’t pulling too hard, letting the kids think they had the upper hand.

But then, with an enthusiastic pull, the rope slipped from his grasp, snapping against his hand. Tommy winced, letting out a soft “Ow,” as he instinctively shook his hand.

“Everything okay over there?” Buck asked, already making his way over.

Tommy looked up, his ears pink. “Just a little mishap. I didn’t want to yank too hard and send them flying, but they got a little too into it.”

“Let me see,” Buck said, reaching for Tommy’s hand. When Tommy hesitated, Buck raised an eyebrow. “Come on. Let the firefighter take a look.”

Tommy sighed but extended his hand. “It’s really nothing—just another day surviving the battlefield of a school fair.”

Buck smirked, gently turning Tommy’s hand over. There was a faint red mark on his palm, and Buck’s thumb brushed over it lightly. “You’re gonna live, but I think you’ll survive this with your reputation intact.”

Tommy’s lips quirked into a dry smile. “Good to know, Doctor Buckley. Should I get a lollipop for being brave?”

Buck laughed, releasing Tommy’s hand. “Depends—do you want me to write you a note to get out of face-painting duty too?”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Tempting, but I think I’ll soldier on.”

Before Buck could reply, a small voice interrupted them. One of the kids from the tug-of-war group had approached, his big eyes teary as he looked up at Tommy. “Mr. Kinard? Are you okay? We’re sorry.”

Tommy’s expression softened immediately. He crouched down, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just be careful, okay? And watch out for your friends, too.”

The boy nodded, sniffling as Tommy smiled warmly. Buck stood back, quietly observing the moment, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As Tommy stood up, brushing his hands off, he gave Buck a look. “I think that officially makes me a tug-of-war casualty. Should I get a medal?”

Buck chuckled. “How about some hot choco instead? Seems like a safer bet.”

By the end of the day, Buck and Alex found themselves at the hot chocolate stand, where Tommy offered them steaming cups. Tommy handed Alex’s cup over first, crouching slightly to meet the boy’s excited grin. “For the hardest-working kid at the fair,” Tommy said with a wink.

“Thanks, Mr. Kinard!” Alex chirped, taking the cup carefully with both hands.

Tommy straightened and handed Buck his cup next. “And for the guy who apparently doubles as my personal first responder,” he added lightly, their fingers brushing briefly as Buck took the cup.

“Thanks,” Buck said, feeling a warmth spread through him—not just from the hot chocolate. For a moment, their eyes met, and Buck thought he saw something unspoken in Tommy’s gaze.

Alex interrupted the moment, taking a careful sip and humming in approval. “This is the best hot chocolate, Dad! Right?”

“It’s pretty great,” Buck agreed, smiling down at Alex before glancing back at Tommy.

As they lingered there for a moment longer, Buck decided the fall fair had been well worth the effort.

V.

A month later, during pick-up, Buck arrived at the school later than usual, his steps hurried as he made his way to the playground. A call at work had held him up unexpectedly, and he hadn’t been able to send anyone else to get Alex. He spotted Alex and Tommy laughing together near the swings, and the tension in his chest eased slightly.

As Buck approached, Alex looked up and ran toward him. “Dad! You’re late!” he said, crossing his arms in exaggerated frustration.

Buck crouched down, ruffling Alex’s hair as he unbuckled his backpack from the fence. “I know, buddy. I’m sorry. I got caught up at work.”

Alex huffed but let himself be buckled into the car seat, his earlier frustration giving way to excitement as he started rambling about his day. Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to Tommy.

“I keep messing things up with him,” Buck said, shaking his head. “Sorry about this.”

Tommy shook his head quickly, his expression soft. “Don’t worry, Evan,” he said, then hesitated, glancing at Alex. “You were working. I got yo—him.” He corrected himself with a small smile, his ears turning slightly pink.

Buck chuckled softly, the apology and correction taking the edge off his guilt. Tommy must have noticed, and he leaned against the side of the fence, trying to lighten the mood.

“Alex was just telling me about your firehouse,” Tommy said, his tone casual. “It sounds like you’ve got some pretty cool stories.”

“Oh, plenty,” Buck said, grinning. “Maybe I’ll share a few someday.”

Tommy tilted his head, his expression playful. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Buck stood there for a moment, shifting on his feet, reluctant to leave. Finally, he mustered the courage to ask, “Hey, would you want to grab coffee sometime? You know, somewhere that doesn’t involve spilling it all over you?”

Tommy’s smile widened. “Only if you promise to stop calling me ‘Mr. Kinard. It’s Tommy—and yeah, I’d like that.”

[nell0-0]

En route

Part 1 | Next (soon... I hope)

[smilesrobotlover]

Thinking about how in my timeline, hw happened for Midna after tp, which means she’d either be pregnant with kori or will have him there. So take a PISSED off momma and a clueless child :)

[writing-for-marvel]

A Solid Foundation

Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader

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

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

Word count: 2.4k

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

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, care for a drive?”

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s building you a home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

��Of course, my love.”

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

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

[kheprriverse]

@that-one-loz-nerd HELL YEA SHE'S A RITO!!! Here's a peek for u <3

[tomialtooth]

Still working on that project Artichoke post. In the mean time, here's a list of drugs tested under MK-ULTRA and related projects. Some of these such as Cannabis and coffee are just funny, others like Heroin, Ergot and Scopolamine are more concerning. Any of these could have hypothetically been used on Bell.

[skyward-floored]

He is furious.

Volga storms into Cia’s lair, shoving monsters and minions out of his way as his gut burns with rage. His mind is focused on only one thing, and nobody dares try and stop him as he approaches the sorceress. Cia is reclining idly on a chair as he enters, but Volga is unconcerned with whatever she’s doing, striding to her side as his chest heaves with anger.

“Oh Volga, I didn’t expect you back yet,” Cia hums, sounding only mildly interested. “Was your mission a success?”

Volga glares at her.

“You knew he was my son.”

Cia slowly blinks, and she flicks her gaze up, red eyes unreadable.

“Who?”

Volga slams his spear into the floor, a snarl escaping his lips. “The Hero. He is my son. And you did not see fit to divulge this information to me.”

“Oh that,” Cia hums, resting a hand on her staff, almost casually. “It never came up.”

“He claims you told him,” Volga hisses, feeling the urge to shift into his dragon form and demand answers. “Weeks ago. You saw it fit to inform him, and yet kept this information a secret from me?”

Cia has the audacity to laugh.

“It changes nothing,” she says with a wave of her hand, meeting his gaze. “I knew it would serve only as a distraction to our goals. That is why I informed him, and not you— it now consumes his thoughts, and the Sheikah leader’s as well. Their minds are filled with distractions, which makes them more susceptible to mistakes.”

She strokes a hand along the length of her staff, and her eyes flash.

“And Link is the Hero, and therefore mine. His relation to you is of no concern.”

She waves her hand in a clear dismissal, and turns back to whatever it was she was doing before.

Volga narrows his eyes, smoke trailing from his nose as he stares at her. He had not concerned himself much with Cia’s infatuation, focused only on the goals which she set before him. But now, learning his son is the object of such lust...

There is a different sort of fire in Volga’s chest now, one that he has not felt in nigh over eighteen years. Something that burns not only for himself, but for the hatchling he did not know existed until mere hours ago.

They may be enemies, but the boy is his kin.

And Cia seeks to chain him to her side, without any choice on his part.

“He is not yours,” Volga growls finally, the fire growing in his chest. “I am his kin, and therefore if he is anyone’s, he is mine. I reject your false claim on him.”

Cia’s hand tightens on her staff, and the fire in his heart stalls, a creeping fog overtaking it.

“Make no mistake, dragon,” she says in a low, cold voice. “You are only here by merit of your usefulness. And I do not tolerate meddling with what is rightfully mine.”

The fog creeps deeper, soft and inviting as it spills in. It beckons him to sink into it, but Volga resists, glaring at Cia.

“Witch,” he spits, starting the transformation into his dragon form, “you have no honor, using magic to persuade me. Curse you—”

Volga’s grip on his spear loosens, and he grunts, his transformation stopped as pain ripples up his chest and through his head. The fog follows it, dark and thick as it spills through, and the conversation and reason he had stormed in sink away into it, lost in the mists of his mind.

Cia smiles.

“Leave me, dragon. I have work to do. I will call you when I have another mission that requires your skill.”

Volga grunts again, a distant buzz of pain in his head. His anger is gone now, the fire nothing but embers whisked away by Cia’s magic, and he nods, giving the sorceress a small bow.

Then he turns and leaves the room, Cia watching him go with that same small smile.

[arrowheadedbitch]

Cia!Shawn: I've been to two therapists in my life but only because the first one refused to continue seeing me after I tried to shoot her- I mean, what

[mirensiart]

poking you about the shared pain au…. wars but with trauma from cia…. emotional pain from certain scenarios like people flirting with him or unexpected touches perhaps 👀

Ooough anon, yes !

I hc that he's not good with people getting into his personal space unless he sees them coming or he's the one getting close first

The others learned early on that patting him on the back, approaching him from behind, or putting a hand on his shoulder suddenly, is not a good idea at all

I do hc that he mostly has this problem with adult sized people or people who're around cia's height, the little ones like wind or four don't trigger him since he subconsciously knows that they're a child/too small to be her

It's also why I hc he's so nightmare pilled, since both the cia and war trauma haunts him still

In the context of the shared pain au, since the others have learned not to upset him with sudden touches, etc, the nightmares he has + the emotional pain from them would be transferred to the others, yeah

[linkbetweenlinksau]

Here’s the puppeteer and a design for Cia since they now have appeared :)

[waroferas]

destiny :3 (said with agony)

here are some thoughts i want to share

i wanted to share the gifs bc i like them. weee look at tthem spin

Cia

the background is a darker tone of the blue i associate with the hw royal family. there is purple overlay/shading on her because of ganondorf's influence on her. there is a soft yellow light highlighting her face- this is the glow of the triforce. i'm also using my own design :3

Link

i associate the general tone of blue in the background with the hw royal family due to the scarf included in the hero’s tunic, plus the same material/blue of the scarf is used on the flags of hyrule castle. this is the second time now (in art i’ve posted) that i have obscured his face- i like doing this to invoke a weak sense of self, which is something these two have in common in my mind.

misc.

originally this was going to be 16 frames with 4 little "scenes" of these two. Cia before she started to realize her plan wasn't going to work -> Link before he got the master sword OR Link just before fighting Dink (does not make much sense now with where it ended up but it's important to the original thought) -> the 8 frames that i Did end up making. I think it's interesting if these two struggle with similar things but show off the opposite ends of the spectrum of reacting to it. Cia knows her fate and creates a self fulfilling prophecy in her anger and panic, Link knows his fate and gives himself up to it too readily, which not only leads to a kinda blank slate persona but also turns the power that the master sword gives him into the catalyst for the Dark Link fight. they don't spend enough time together in canon for this similarity to ever really shine, but i like to think it's something that they eventually talk about after the war there are several versions of this post that could have existed. i have had army dreamers associated with link for a while now so the trend was very convenient LOL but there is also an animation draft for over & over by rio romeo that would have been hell on my wrist!! but trust me it's really good

there is a single frame at the end of cia's segment that i can't get rid of it actually drives me nuts

[diejager]

Bro have you ever seen chainsaw man? I genuinely think it’d be scary as fuck in the monster au if the reader was like any type of the devils 😭 the control, blood, war or chainsaw devil, like bro how do you even counter that when they could just spam heal with a drop of blood no matter how bad their injury is and get stronger the more they are feared? Also the whole lending their abilities by contracts. 💀 if you haven’t watched chainsaw man id recommend ♥️

Cw: blood and gore, devils, injury, violence, tell me if I missed any. Note: Okay, so, I will shamefully admit that I haven’t had the time to read or watch the anime despite having the first 8 books at home. I’m just always doing something and leave the TV on for ambient sound, but when I watch anime, I like being able to concentrate on it and I haven’t been able to do that. I do, however, know a little about what I’ve seen in clips and all.

There wasn’t much you could do in this moment —anything human. There was hell to pay and none of which you wanted part of. Sure, they would pay for what they did, but you weren’t interested of dying and possibly loosing all that you’d worked so hard to accomplished as someone seemingly human in both nature and being.You weren’t fond of the though of reincarnating into a different person and winding up in hell, you’d seen the place, it was dreadfully boring and cramped, and you were not excited to wind up there under any circumstances. 

You had worked - somewhat - hard to keep your devilish mannerism under lock and key, wanting to form a relationship with people rather than make them, to force them and control their minds into becoming friends with you. You had gone through so many challenges to keep your past a secret, to separate yourself from it : from your eerie eyes, the striking red spirals over your yellow iris, to the impulsive need to foster fear and control. Manipulation. Be it the higher ups, the lesser men and women, or anything that seemed to bother you, you worked hard to bury the unconscious need to make them fear you. 

Fear worked best for a Devil than respect did. Fear created you, the conception of it had birthed you and the death of it would call your end. Perhaps that’s why you always had the urge for it. 

Though you willed something to happen, you couldn’t exactly fix incompetence in dead men, the contracts you’d seen them made with other of your kind coming to an end because of sheer hubris, thinking they could beat a better equipped army or outplay more experienced people. You could always hide and last long enough for them to move on, but, in your situation, the enemy wanted to use this building. So hiding was out of the question.

You could always use the weapons you were given, the simple handguns often strapped to your sides or your back, but even they would eventually run out before you’d gotten rid of everything. It made you wondered where the million dollar budget the CIA received went; which department did it go to? You weren’t certain of it, but you suspected personal spendings and expenses wired towards the information department. Granted, you depended on it as an agent, but your- the human agents had a high risk job and required better equipment. You knew you should have went with the military, they were less bureaucratic and uptight. 

You figured you’d simply have to alternate between using your gun and… your powers.

Soap had no fucking clue what he’d stumbled into. Laswell had told them all that this was a search and rescue, possibly a retrieval. A group of four agents were sent to collect a hard drive, but all had gone dark, no reply, no command and no call backs. So it only made sense if this was a retrieval mission rather than a rescue. 

They were warned of enemy interference and of the dangers, but not this: a fucking bloodbath. Blood pooled around the corpses of men decked in thick body armour, whatever left of it was splattered on the walls and a few limbs scattered around them. Weapons, goggles, headsets, magazines and even chipped cement littered the ground, making the floor a hazard to walk on. 

It wouldn’t have been such a shock to see, they were used to the bloody mess and the violence that broke arms and necks as much as it did lives, they weren’t a stranger to it, rather frustratingly familiar. It wouldn’t be so eerily strange if it wasn’t for the sole fingered standing over a mass of bodies and shattered bones, listening to the disgusting sound of cracking bones compressing down by an unknown force. 

They were bathed in red, a - what he could assume used to be white - crimson button up shirt and drenched suit and slacks covered whatever skin wasn’t as red as the ground. They held a gun in one hand, pointed down while the other hand was raised towards the squirming body, cracking and bending in unnatural ways. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” he cursed lowly, the words hissing through the air, “That’s who were supposed to rescue?” 

Whatever monster - devil - this was, Soap - now - added another thing of CIA agents to fear.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[verdantcreek]

au concept that has taken me by storm .. cia soap who is working on the downlow after the events of mwiii :) i have a few comic/drawing ideas for this and i am quite excited. it is my personal canon also btw