#girl your man has no idea what he's doing because the hand jammed up his sock puppet ass has NO CLUE wtf goin on

[vaultsixtynine]

and the refusal to Do Anything with solas makes the entire solavellan debacle like. absolutely fangless. when it, in theory, is So Good. could be. the dream is alive in my heart but only if i put the work into making either of these people Anything (and tbf. the lavellan part of what i've got going on has very little to do with The DA:I Character Lavellan, The Inquisitor)

[pandorasfavorite]

okay so i had some ideas and idk if you've done them already, but yeah

-reader meets dom in a bar/club/something like that and yk (also grinding while dancing bc ughhhh) (smut???)

-taking care of drunk dom/dom taking care of drunk reader (fluff)

-police!reader/prisoner!dom (smut, can be roleplay) (sub!dom btw) also handcuffs>>>

Wasted or Barely Drunk?

You felt alive and at the peak of your happiness. Dominik told you he was going to stay sober while you celebrated with the rest of Judgment Day for an incredible win. You felt guilty for not being the designated sober person, considering Dominik deserved to celebrate just as much. But the first sip of your margarita changed your mind, any worry vanished. You were a happy drunk through and through, but also an extroverted drunk. You sipped down many drinks and joked around with friends for 30 minutes before your mind wandered to more appealing ideas. And the group only followed your every footstep. Now while you were dancing and waving at your friends (who were right beside you), Dominik held you by the waist. His hands kept you upright each time you had absent-mindlessly stumbled to the left without knowing. You swayed in his arms and raised an arm above your head as you danced, dragging your body down his when the beat slowed down.

His hands accidentally slipped from your waist when you danced to the beat, and his head dropped to watch you go from the floor up. And all the way up to where your back was flush against his chest again. Dominik blows out a breath and averts his gaze from you, in an attempt to collect himself, but he is brought back by you stumbling towards the bar again. You crash against the bar and you lean forward with a dazey smile, thinking of the now sweet taste of alcohol on your lips and the thoughts trickling through your mind. In your time waiting for the bartender your mind wandered to where Dominik was, and why he wasn't beside you. Only to realize he was when he waved off the bartender when he got close.

You turned your head to look up at him with parted lips, your glossy eyes piercing a hole through Dominik. "Why'd ya do that?", you slur and lean towards him while talking, wobbly jamming your finger into his chest. Dominik wraps his hand around your finger and uses his other hand to wrap around your back and have you stumble closer to him. "You don't need any more", he replies and rubs the bottom of your back where he is holding you. You puff out your cheeks and look at Dominik's face, you could make out his face but nothing behind him. The rest was fuzzy, especially considering it took your eyes a few moments to catch up with how fast you swiveled your head. "jus- because you're cute, does notttttt mean you can take my drink SiR~", you take an approaching step towards him but you fall face forward into Dominik's chest with a grunt.

Dominik smiles and raises an eyebrow at you as if he has proven you wrong. You cross your arms, bumping them into his chest, "m' not even drunk" you slurred again. "Mami you are wasted", he laughs lightly and uses his other hand to touch your face. It was a pastime to occupy his hands, one of his favorite things to do while you were in front of him. Your eyes squint and you frown, "waste" you repeat back. Dominik caught onto what you were thinking the instant you spoke. He moves his hands and uses both of them to hold the sides of your face. He kisses your face all over, pulling back with a popping sound each time, "I meant you're really drunk baby, I'd never call you that sweet girl". You lighten up instantly, getting on the tips of your toes to kiss his lips. But you sorely miss, only kiss his chin, you giggled but Dominik was pouting to himself. He pulled your face up to his and properly had you kiss him, it was messy and uncoordinated and you tasted of alcohol but it was a kiss to remember.

When he pulled back you looked dazed but happy. Lost in a trance and mesmerized by the man in front of you. "Let's go home, how's that sound hmm?", Dominik kisses the top of your head sweetly. You nod and you brighten up instantly, turning around, his hands falling from your face as a result. And you are walking towards the dance floor like a fly to the light, with Dominik grinning and following behind you.

[bullet-prooflove]

Worth Waiting For: David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Companion piece to Graffiti & Crime Wave

David is being stood up, he’s sure of it and so is the waiter who drifts past him for the third time with a sympathetic expression on his features. He’s been sitting in the bistro for almost forty five minutes and you still haven’t showed up. He’s tried to call you but it just goes straight to voicemail. He should have known better. A girl like you and a guy like him…

Yea, it was never going to happen.

You’re fun, bright, vibrant and he’s…

The type of guy that turns up fifteen minutes early because if you’re on time you’re late.

He takes his wallet out of his pocket and puts a few bills underneath his empty soda glass before raising to his feet and heading towards the door. It’s a thirty minute drive back to Charming and he’s not looking forward to being alone with his thoughts.

It’s when he gets out onto the street that you run into him literally. You’re wearing a beige, cable knit jumper over black, high waisted trousers. Your hair is pulled back into a messy bun, loose tendrils fall around your features. His breath hitches because  truly you are the most striking woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

The brown, leather portfolio slips from underneath your arm, spilling paper out across the street. You curse loudly and he can’t help but smile because you’ve always had a little spitfire in you. He crouches down to help you gather them up, noticing as a pink flush creeps across your cheeks.

“Sorry, I’m such a mess today.” You say as you try to gather up the paperwork. “My professor wanted to talk to me after class, by the time I got out my piece of shit phone battery had died. I’m surprised you’re still here…”

“I thought you stood me up.” He admits as he tries to sort the documentation into some sort of order.

“No,” You say shaking your head as you raise to your feet trying to jam the paperwork back into your portfolio. “I was really looking forward to tonight. I’m sorry I know I fucked it up, we won’t make the movie…”

You’re spinning out a little, he can see it. He thinks the conversation with your professor has knocked you off kilter. He has some idea of what you discussed, he guesses it’s to do with the brochure for the San Franisco Art Institute he’s currently holding in his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you, handing the brochure back to you. “Over dinner with me?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his and in that moment you realise what he’s giving you. A safe space to work through your feelings, to talk through the opportunity you’ve been presented with. You’ve never had that with a man before, you’ve never wanted it but David, he’s not like those boys you’ve run around with in the past. He gets you in a way that no one else has. He actually wants to listen to you, to understand you.

“I know it can be overwhelming, suddenly having options.” He says as he guides you back towards the bistro. “Options you may have thought were previously out of your reach.”

His palm comes to rest on your lower back as he holds open the door for you. The scent of your perfume floods his senses, dark cherry with a warm amber undertone. It’s a sensual aroma, one that makes him think of summer.

You pause before you head inside, raising up on tiptoes before you press your mouth to his. The kiss is soft, tender. David has never felt something so sweet.

“Thank you.” You say softly, your fingertips ghosting over his cheek. “For waiting for me.”

He smiles as he clasps your hand to his face, his lips brushing over the pulse point of your wrist as he looks into your eyes and says.

“I have a feeling you’re worth waiting for.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[verynastyspoon]

Scout x Fem!reader pt.7

Summary: Christmas with his family

word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

Authors note: I know he’s from boston but shut up

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Christmas season has fallen across New Mexico, the green grass has been covered in bright white snow and the normally hot, sweaty weather has become cold and icy.

By now you and Scout have been together for almost a year, and he has the brilliant idea to bring you to meet his family. Now you two are on the road to his childhood home.

“I’m nervous, what if your mom doesn’t like me?”

“Trust me, she will,” He reassuringly puts a hand on your thigh with a small smile. “Its my brothers you have to worry about.”

“How so?”

“There are 7 of them and let’s just say they dont know how to treat the ladies like I do.”

“Ya because you’re just so good with the ladies.” You say, sarcastically teasing him.

“Hey! I’m great with the ladies, that’s how I got you.”

You smile at him in defeat. “True.”

You two pull up to the boisterous house, it is jam packed with cars so you have to park in the road. You open up the car door and you both walk to the front of his childhood home

Scout knocks on the door, you wait a few moments before a door is swung open “Jeremy!” His mom kisses his cheeks “I missed you so much!”

“Ma don’t embarrass me infront of my girl.”

She gasps in shock. “Is this the girlfriend i’ve heard so much about!?”

“Hi i’m y/n, Jermemy’s girlfriend.” You put your hand out for a hand shake but quickly pulls you into a hug.

“Don’t be a stranger come in!” His mom says energetically.

You and scout walk in to all of his brothers drinking, screaming, fake fighting, and playing baseball in the house. But it all stops the second you walk in.

The eldest brother is the first to speak up. “Hey tiny who is this babe?” He says checking you out

Jeremy frowns at this statement, taking a step forward cover you. “This ‘babe’ happens to be my girlfriend.”

The whole room goes silent again before laughter erupts. “You cant be serious! Why would such a sexy young girl date a loser like you?!”

As the night wears on the insults, and the flirting only get worse. All of his brothers try to swoon you over to no avail, Jermey has tried to keep his cool but he’s about to snap.

One of Jeremys copy and paste brothers try a different approach of winning you over, a more touchy one. “Come on baby lets got out of here.” He puts his hands on your waist. “We both know he’s a little loser twink, he might even be gay. How about you try a real man.”

Jeremy turns around to see the jarring scene unfolding, that’s when erupts. “DONT FUCKING TOUCH HER!” He punches his brother in the face, hard enough to hear a crack.

“Jeremy stop!” You yell, scared of what he might do to him.

“No im not gonna fucking stop! Somebody has to stand up to these guys since you clearly don’t care. All of them flirting, telling you i’m a loser, all these other fucking things and you just sit there! You probably even fucking like it, having all these men fight for your attention!”

You stand there shocked at what your boyfriend just said, mouth covered by your hands, with tears in your eyes. “Fuck you.” You say weakly, then run outside crying.

“Y/n wait! I’m sorry!” Jeremy starts to run after you but is stopped by this mother.

“Give her a few minutes, trust me”

Jermey think for a moment, with a sigh he nods.

“And all of you,” His mother says sternly. “should be ashamed of yourselves. Go outback and think about what you’ve done. Jeremy you stay here.”

All of them men grumble in disapproval but oblige.

Jeremy’s mom sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to her. “Sit.”

Jeremy sits down with his head in his hands. “I never should have said that.”

His mom thinks for a moment. “That’s true but you were just upset at your brothers being immature.” She gives him a hug. “It’s gonna be okay, I know you love her. Now go explain why you did that and how sorry you are.”

Jeremy nods then walks outfront. “Hey.” He says softly.

“What do you want?” You say, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He sits down next to you. “They were just,” He sigh “being assholes.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to be one to me!”

“I know I know” He takes a deep breath. “When I was little I would always try to woo the girls, give them flowers, chicken, compliments, anything I could think of. But one of my brothers would always swoop in and take her from me. I’m just scared they’re gonna do that to you.” He says weakly.

“Jeremy, you know I would never do that.”

“I know but I don’t know, you know?” He groans “I’m so sorry I just love you so much, and when you weren’t telling them off and just going along it freaked me out.”

“I wasn’t trying to just go along, I was scared. I didnt wanna make a bad impression. I plan on being around for a long time so I just wanted them to like me.”

“I guess they liked you a little too much.” He says trying to add some humor to the situation.

You dont reply, still just staring at the ground.

“I know I fucked up,” He takes you hand. “but please forgive me.”

You take a deep breath in and nod. “Okay but never do that again.”

He quickly pulls you into a hug smiling brightly. “Thank you!” He kisses your cheek. “I’ll never act like that again.” He holds you a few more moments before letting go. “Now how about we go tell my brothers to go fuck themselves.”

You giggle and nod.

“Nice, let‘s go.” He takes your hand and runs outback. “Hey assholes!” He yells at all his brothers.

They turn to listen. “Watch this!” He pulls you into a deep kiss with lots of tongue. “This is my girl and she doesn’t want any of your sorry asses!. Now excuse us im gonna go home and fuck her better than any of you ever could. You’re all welcome to watch if you wanna see what a real man looks like.” You and Scout start to walk away when he notices his brothers are following. “I was joking about watching you freaks.”

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º••º•º•

[therealslimshakespeare]

Okay I've see your post on Brady and Clevens talley whackers so I just needed to be the one to ask for the Hambone girls and dudes. Like what do you think his you know would be like, because your posts have really painted a picture.

I'm also slightly curious on what you think Bubbles and Douglass have going on but that's beside the point.

My curiosity is peaked.

Reading the words “Talley Whackers” in my inbox sparked such joy. You’ve no idea. Literally wheezed in mirth. So happy you’re enjoying this prestigious and highly scientific series. Thank you for your own submission.

No intimate Hambone discussion would be complete in my own canon if I didn’t consult the darling genius who I consider the Howard Hamilton Oracle: @mercyedes . Enormous thanks are due to them for the majority of the contributions herein.

Now to business. Cock-versations || Hambone Hamilton edition

nsfw (AF!) below the cut:

Length: don’t ask me why but often it’s the tall, slightly underfed, corn raised depression era rizz dudes who have the big dicks. Now I’m not saying Hammy would be huge, he’s no Third Leg Egan but he’s tall, he’s lanky, he’s got largish hands and a sizable nose -so I’m gonna declare it bigger than average, but not crazy girthy.

Color: Pale, as he himself is pale, and pretty uniform in color but with a pinkish/beige tip rather than the shocking petal pink you sometimes see on white dudes. A smaller head in comparison to the rest of him, and not many veins. However, the veins that ARE there, are quite prominent/noticeable

For your endearing consideration: he has a mole/beauty mark on it, a lil spot perfect for kissing on the underside halfway downish

A note on the pubes: blonde and just a tad darker than his hair. He bleached them once to try to make the carpet match the drapes and it burned so badly he went running stark naked through the bunks seeking help from Murph who then poured Condensed milk on his gential region in hopes to put the burning out. Brady brings this anecdote up whenever Hamilton gets disgruntled about his bright ideas being sidelined and under-appreciated by his crew

A note about the wielder of the instrument: Hambone has got “resourceful sleazebag” written all over him (affectionate). This man loves to watch you do the work, I hope your thighs are strong he’s gonna want you riding him allll the time. Furthermore and more into the freaky side, he's definitely got voyeur/exhibitionist tendencies, doing shit in public places where the risk is super high of getting caught is his jam. Hope you like weird ass foreplay, because it’s all he’s got to offer. He’s one of those guys who you’ll either vibe so well with you’ll drink his blood for funsies or it’s a hard no on the first date.

My modern day side note: probably has a dick piercing in 2024, he also passed out while getting it but, no regrets

[terriblesportsimagines]

GOM’s reaction to their female s/o giving them flowers? Because boys deserve to get some flowers too!! <3

I tried to keep these as in character (my interpretation of course) as possible, while also honoring the spirit of the ask. Hopefully it worked!

Akashi Seijuro

He’s confused at first, but only for the span of about three seconds.  Looking at your hopeful face, with your pretty blush, tells him everything he needs to know.

He gives you the softest smile.  It’s the kind of smile literally no one gets to see.  He’s very polite, but he kisses your forehead and runs his fingertips down your jaw.

Depending on how many you give him, he’ll keep one on him and put the rest in some kind of vase.  The majority go on his desk in the student council room.

The one he keeps, he carefully trims so that it fits through a button hole on his school jacket.  Wears it without shame and then presses it when he gets back to his dorm.

God help anyone who so much as gives it a look.

Aomine Daiki

He stares at the flowers like they are going to bite him.  At first, he doesn’t even realize you’re trying to give them to him, and when he gets it, he starts to turn red around the edges.

What the fuck, ____-chan?

A lot of bluster, and a fair amount of grumbling lectures about how guys don’t want flowers, etc.  However, if you tell him you’ll take them back in that case, he gets defensive and annoyed.  Absolutely snatches them from you the moment you start to pull away.

Those are mine.

Outwardly he’s grumpy and embarrassed about it, but inside his stomach is doing flips.  He’s torn between his ‘masculinity’ and the fact that you’d given him something, especially something that reminds him of you.

Won’t wear them or anything, but secretly asks Satsuki to teach him how to preserve them.  Also clumsily jams one in your hair, if you are wearing it up.  If you aren’t, then don’t rule out it going in your cleavage instead lol

Kise Ryouta

He squeals.  Like literally squeals like a little girl.  He flushes, but he’s too busy grinning and smelling the flowers to notice or care.

He is effusive with his praise.  Really, somehow makes it about you and how you are the best, most beautiful, amazing girlfriend in the entire world.

He’s the only one of them that appreciates them for what they are.  He likes flowers and thinks they suit him.  He’ll probably spend a break with you in his lap, weaving the flowers into crowns for both of you.

Doesn’t want to take it off and gets scolded by teachers until he does.  Knows better than to try to wear it during practice.  But he demands a date after practice and will be elated you match as you end up at a dessert café or something.

Anyone tries to laugh at either of you?  Well, you learn then that he’s not always the cheerful, bubbly young man you love.

Murasakibara Atsushi

Has absolutely no idea what to do with flowers.  Thus, he has no idea how to respond.

Has a tendency to speak and react without actually thinking, so the chances of hurt feelings are pretty good.  He holds them like they are going to bite him and frowns.  Why?

He does think he would have rather had something yummy.

He’s not that slow, especially when it comes to you, so he sees your disappointment right away.

A bit pouty, but he makes up for his poor reaction.  Being the handsy sort, he probably picks you up so he can kiss you without bending so far.  It’s one armed too, since he’s still holding the flowers in his other hand.

Mutters a thank you between kisses and nuzzles, and then, of course, demands Buy me something yummy?

It seems like he doesn’t care about the flowers, but he has them in his dorm on display and gets sad when they start to wilt.  Himuro helps him preserve a couple of them.

Midorima Shintarou

Dies.  That’s it, he just falls over dead in front of you.

Jk, but he is dying inside.  Blushes brightly, but that’s the only indication of emotions on him.  A lot of fiddling with his glasses ensues.

Has no idea why you would get him flowers, maybe if they were his lucky item, but as it happened, they were not.  Will demand an explanation.

Takes them grudgingly, because he’s a tsuntsun and god forbid he actually say what her feels.  You can see how flattered and happy his, however, by the way he fusses with them and treats them very carefully.  He even thanks you shyly.  There’s embarrassment, but he’s very soft in that moment and will actually reach out to hold your hand.

As embarrassing as it is to receive flowers, he’s secretly happy, behind the bluster.  He feels special, after all, how many boyfriends could say their girlfriends gave them flowers?

Kuroko Tetsuya

Is a bit confused for a moment, but he smiles at you right away and thanks you in his quiet way.

He used to help his mom with her garden, so he knows how to take care of them.  Bonus points if you got him living flowers, they would sit in a place of pride on his desk.

The gift brings you closer.  He doesn’t expect things, even when he buys you little things because they make him think of you, so when you do give him something it tickles him pink and he treasures whatever it is.

If any of his friends try to tease him, he gives them his deadpanned stare and asks in a completely straight voice What did your girlfriend get you?

Knowing full well that none of them have girlfriends.  He’s savage when he wants to be.

He knows how to save flowers, and so he does.  He eventually puts one in a frame so it’s like having them on his desk forever.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1, 27 (details at bottom) Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: Best friends Bradley and Jake arrive in a snowy forest for one of their monthly trips together. And now that everything is all set, it's time to let the fun begin... Word Count: 1523 TW: The warnings are in the tags and at the bottom of fic, but please avoid if possible due to spoilers Notes: This is the first part of a mini-series (linked below). I am EXTREMELY round and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @lorecraft for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

“Come on, man. I’m freezing my balls off out here.” Jake jams his hands into his jacket pockets as he bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, his breath pluming in front of his face. “Can’t we wait and do this during the day when it’s warmer?”

Pulling the Army surplus bag from the backseat of the pickup truck, Bradley rolls his eyes at his friend. “What, and increase the chances of someone stumbling across us? Don’t be stupid. Just be glad it’s a full moon so we can actually see what we’re doing. We don’t need a repeat of last time.”

“I told you we were starting too close to that cliff but, of course, no one ever listens to me,” Jake mutters under his breath, looking around the clearing. Then, louder, he says, “Can we at least build a fire or something? Just while we’re setting up or waiting for them to get here?”

“You know we can’t. Stop acting like this is our first time doing this and just help me already.”

But Jake ignores his request as he throws his hands up in the air. “Well, whose bright idea was it to do this where there’s snow? We could have planned a trip to Florida or Texas o-or California. You know, someplace warm where I can actually feel my fingers and the girls are still showing some skin. I swear, every person at that bar had at least four layers on and that one chick looked like the kid from A Christmas Story.”

Finally unable to put up with Jake’s whining any longer, Bradley hurls the bag at his feet. Jake scrambles back with a yelp, his eyes wide as he throws his hands over his face. But after a moment when he realizes the snow has cushioned the bag’s landing, he relaxes but glares at Bradley. “What the fuck, man?”

“First of all, dipshit,” Bradley says, stalking over to drive his finger into Jake’s chest. “It also snows in Texas and California. Second of all, we didn’t drive all the way to the middle of fucking nowhere just for you to drool over every pair of tits you see. You know the rules. No fucking random girls on these trips.”

“I wasn’t gonna fuck them. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little look—”

“And third of all, we decided to come up here because you were tired of the same old, same old, and proposed changing it up. You wanted more of a challenge than empty desert plains or summer mountainsides, so we said we would either try the snow or the swamp this time. But since you were too scared of gators—”

“I didn’t say scared, I said concerned—”

“Scared—we decided on snow. So if you have a problem, you have no one to blame but yourself.” Bradley jams his finger deeper into Jake’s chest before turning around and walking back to the truck. “Now, if you’re done complaining, we have work to do. And the sooner we get everything ready, the sooner we can have some fun.”

Jake swears under his breath, but this time he sulkily trudges over to help. Bradley gives him a small smile and a nod as he hands him another one of the bags. Jake could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted to be, but the two of them had been friends since the first day of college so Bradley had gotten used to it for the most part. And at the end of the day, there was no one else in the world he trusted more. Plus, with everything Bradley was dealing with at work and with his family, it was nice to be able to just get out in nature with his best friend and let off some steam every month or so. 

And, despite the cold, this location is perfect. The moon reflects off the fresh snow illuminating the area and the pale trees surrounding them stand like silent guards as the two men unload their supplies. Twenty miles or so from the nearest town, it is the ideal place to set up camp with little chance of being disturbed. 

Bradley closes his eyes and takes in the sounds of the forest around him: the rustle of the frosty wind, the soft creak of the trees as they shift and bend, the low hoot of an owl as it takes off somewhere in the distance. The only man-made noise that can be heard is the crunch of snow beneath Jake’s boots as he walks over to place his bag next to the one already lying on the ground. They couldn’t have asked for a better spot.

Though he wasn’t going to admit this to Jake at the moment, Bradley is excited at the prospect of trying this in the snow. For the past ten years or so, he and Jake and occasionally a few other friends had been organizing these trips. And while he still enjoyed each and every one of them, things had started feeling a bit repetitive. He wanted more of a challenge, an extra layer of excitement and thrill that he just wasn’t feeling anymore. And this feels like it might be just the thing to recapture that spark. 

They haven’t even finished unloading the truck and already Bradley can feel a crackle of energy in the air that usually isn’t there. It’s as if the entire forest is holding its breath, just waiting in anticipation for the real event to begin. 

And who was he to keep it waiting?

As Jake places the last bag on the pile, Bradley scans the surroundings one last time before giving it his nod of approval. “I think we’re good to go. We still have to wait for them to get here, but I don’t see why we can’t get things rolling until then.”

“It’s about fucking time!” Jake whoops loudly, charging over to the truck. 

“Idiot,” Bradley mumbles softly to himself as he shakes his head, yet he can’t deny the adrenaline pounding in his veins at the thought of what comes next. He had been waiting almost two months to do this again, and now the time had finally come.

Jake runs over to the truck's left so Bradley takes his place on the right. As they both rest their hands on the massive metal toolbox in the back of the truck, Bradley catches Jake’s eye. The blonde is grinning like an idiot and practically vibrating with excitement. Bradley smiles back, and on the count of three, they both open their side of the toolbox.

As the winter air rushes into the box bringing the falling snow softly floating down inside of it, you begin to stir with a low moan. The drugs Jake had slipped in your drink must be beginning to wear off. You shift slightly in your cramped container but the ropes tightly securing your hands and bare feet prevent much more than that. 

Bradley watches with rapt delight as you flinch at the cold kiss of snowflakes settling on your cheek and, with what seems like a great effort, your eyes drag themselves open. For a moment, you stare up at Bradley and he sees nothing but hazy confusion in your gaze. But as Jake comes around the truck to stand beside him, twirling one of his knives as he grins down at you, that delicious dread-filled look of terror blooms in your eyes and you begin thrashing around in the toolbox, pulling on your bonds. 

So predictable, and yet, Bradley never got tired of it. The fear and helplessness that radiated from their prey was like a drug to him with a high that no other experience could match. Already, he feels the endorphins and dopamine rush flooding his system and he hasn’t even laid a finger on you yet. But once he had…

You begin hollering for help at the top of your lungs, the sound muffled slightly by the wonderland of snow all around you. It’s an understandable response and one that each and every girl they had captured over the years had tried. However, this time something is different. This time there are no tears or sobs mixed in with the screams. There is still fear, yes, but along with it is a determination, a fire they had only ever seen in a handful of prey.

Jake chuckles and nudges Bradley, his knife spinning faster as he soaks in the screams that only the two of them will ever hear. Bradley nods back, knowing they are thinking the same thing. This one is special. This is going to be a hunt to remember.

Several minutes later as your voice grows hoarse and falters with the realization that no one is coming for you, you curl into yourself as much as the box will allow—as if that could save you from them.

Climbing up the side of the truck so he towers over you, Bradley smiles, his eyes roaming every inch of your body. “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Part 2 coming soon! TW: Dark!Bradley, Dark!Jake, Locked Away, Drugged, Explicit Language, Hunted for Sport, Mentions of Past Kidnappings

Taglist:@valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @sugarcoated-lame, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @chouricojr, @king-of-milf-lovers, @high-fidelities, @shaded-echoes-recs, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @thescarletknight2014

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵Disco Elysium, Pt 1

Yellow moss on these stones... they're probably stolen from someone's garden.

ACELE - "Hello again." The girl looks up at you for a moment before turning back to her work.

4. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

...

2. (Give her your hat.) "Here. You need this more than I do."

ACELE - "Thanks." She puts it on. It's a bit large for her.

Item lost: Amphibian Sports Visor

+5 XP

That had little benefit except giving us a bonus on a check we've already passed, but it made me feel better. And since we bought that hat from Siileng, we could always just go get another one.

🎵 Protorave

EGG HEAD - The large-headed youth has closed his eyes, lost in the music. Sensing you, he opens them...

"Good morning, comrade! Yeaaaaaah!"

"I found this reel of tape, maybe you can use it to hard-up Eyck's jam." (Give him the fixed hawthrone tree tape.)

EGG HEAD - "Yeagh, re-mix time!" His voice booms through the church as he takes the tape and attaches it to the empty reel slot. "Tape goes here -- into deck B." He clicks a switch, the tape starts spinning...

A hand on his ear, he listens to the audio through his headphones, and shouts…

"Wow..." His face lights up with delight. "Did you get this from Arno himself?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - A great excitement is bubbling to the surface within him. This is *big*.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, no, actually I found it tangled up in a hawthorn tree..."

EGG HEAD - "Listen, I'm just going to show it to you... Ready?"

"Ready."

EGG HEAD - "Whooh, hear that?!" He wipes his brow. "The sines match perfectly!"

"Now if only we had the beat for the *full assault*. It would be unbelievably hyper!"

ANDRE - "Intriguing. The way I see it... van Eyck based his remix on some famous original piece. Like, a folk song? Something local. Seems you found an initial part with the main melody."

NOID - "I think it's just happenstance. Chaos in action. Contingencies of our limited existence. That and Egg Head's fantastic talent." He nods to his friend behind the turntables.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - Noid's right, Egg Head's technical talent is the key.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - No, this is definitely part of the same song. Something cut from it. It fits too well.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Something *mysterious* is going on here...

"Maybe Arno van Eyck lives around here and just threw a part of his song away, because he thought it was shit?"

"Andre's got it. Sounds like a local song re-mixed."

"I agree with Noid, it's just luck -- *and* Egg Head's incredible mixing skills."

EGG HEAD - "Be how it may -- if it fits, it fits!" He pumps his fist in the air. "Bring up the volume!"

Thought gained: Arno van Eyck

ANDRE - "What about the bass? Do you have any ideas for that?" Andre looks back at you.

NOID - "Yeah, I remember -- you said it needs more bass!"

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] - You can't just leave it without a bass track!

"Honestly, nothing springs to my mind right now. But I'll see if I can come up with a solution down the lane." (Proceed with task.)

"I think it's good enough the way it is. Adding that melody has already been a *massive* improvement. It's pretty hard core now." (Finish task.)

EGG HEAD - "You're *THE WARRIOR*! THE WARRIOR OF DANCE MUSIC!"

ANDRE - "Don't be too hard on yourself if you don't figure it out. I think the jam's already pretty ultra."

EGG HEAD - "But it could be hyper, HYPER HARD CORE!"

5. "Alright. Goodbye, Egg Head." [Leave.]

ARNO VAN EYCK

Temporary research bonus: +1 Interfacing Research time: 0h 50m

The question won’t leave you – why did the melody line from a broken and discarded tape fit perfectly into a song played by some speedfreaks in a frozen tent? Can it be a coincidence? Maybe it’s the hand of the Man-Machine himself, in his attempt to craft a perfect song. Maybe Egg Head is actually Arno van Eyck in disguise!? Eyck? Egg? Hmm...

CHURCH DOORS - Heavy wooden doors more than twice your height stand shut in front of you. The rectangular, sea-worn ornamentation appears in stark contrast to the padlock carelessly drilled into the wood.

Open the padlock with the key.

CHURCH DOORS - The lock turns easily. You hear a click as the shackle pops open.

SHIVERS [Challenging: Success] - Feels like electricity and a very small piece of nothingness.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Let's go." The lieutenant nods at you.

+1 Reputation

Pull on the doors...

CHURCH DOORS - A great whoosh of air rushes into the dark innards of the church, as though rushing to fill a great vacuum...

... in the heart of the city.

[askthechronoverse]

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

“Kit!” Vito shouted to his cousin as she joined them at the bottom of the cliff. Donkey Kong put her down and she walked back to the two other game travelers. Donkey Kong nodded to the girl and waited for Junior to speak.

“Thank you for your help, guys. Kit, I want you to have this.” He handed her the key for Donkey Kong’s cage. She put the key in her bag. “I hope you can save your dad, too. I don't know if the key will help you, but maybe having it with you will be a good luck charm or something.”

“I hope so. I have a feeling I'm going to need it.” Kit turned to the others.

“I think we're good.” Johnny said, looking up to check the score. “Between the tickets I've been gathering since I started playing video games and now, I think we have enough of the go-kart.” He gestured for them to follow him to the arcade cabinet, where it reset to a Defender facade. Kit waved goodbye to the pair of apes and within the blink of an eye, they were back in the arcade. Kit looked at the price rack and saw that the go-kart was still there. They weren't too late just yet. She ran over to Bellamy, who was playing pinball in the corner.

“Hey, Kit. I don't think I can play much more pinball, kind of glad you came back when ya did.” They grabbed their tickets from the dispenser box attached to the machine. “We almost have enough to get the giant teddy bear.” They gestured to Charmy, who was playing a Pac-Man machine and Ken, who was deep in a skee ball game. “Ken is some kinda skee ball savant. Took him a few tries to get the rules right, but it's oddly impressive.” Kit leaned in and whispered.

“We need to pool our tickets. The go-kart is the foundation element.” Kit watched Vito and Johnny explain the same thing to Charmy and Ken. Bellamy nodded and handed Kit a handful of tickets. The others did the same, though Ken seemed reluctant. He pointed to a very large teddy bear, but the overflow of tickets was soon relinquished. Johnny took the tickets Charmy had from Vito, then approached Kit.

“Thanks for helping me win this, kid. I know your old man will get a kick out of learning his kid got to play ColecoVision to save the world.” He chuckled as he was handed the tickets Kit had. “He keeps telling me the Atari 2600 is the better console. Doubt he’ll be able to deny the arcade experience now.” He approached the counter and the change attendant practically vaulted over to serve him.

“Johnny! Long time no see! It's been, like what, almost 12 hours?” She leaned her head on her knuckles, grinning. “So. Did you enjoy the ColecoVision spotlight we've got going on? That was my idea.”

“Yeah! It's not every day you get to play classic video games on one of the best consoles of early gaming.” The words he spoke almost made the change attendant swoon. “Guess what I finally have?”

“Enough to take the go-kart off our hands? I just knew you could do it, Johnny. But you know I got to see the tickets. Dad would get upset if I short changed another prize again because of how cute you are.” She slid the mountain of tickets to her side and began the tedious process of feeding them into a ticket counter. As she did this, she was startled by a slam on the counter and an equally large mountain of tickets. She looked up to see Master Apocalypse push the tickets in front of her.

“Looks like it's a race to the go-kart today. You just have to wait your turn. Johnny was here first.” She was completely unfazed as she counted the tickets. She turned to Johnny. “So, did you see that new game we installed?”

“NBA Jam? Totally! I've been hoping to play a good two on two two basketball game. Did you know that there's a limited edition version that has Michael Jordan in the roster? I hear he has the only copy!”

“I love when you talk about games like that.” She sighed as the counter continued to sing a song of exhausted ticket feeding. “We're also looking to get a new cabinet for Mr. Do!. Can't believe some kid broke it.”

“Right? Some people have no respect for a game that was the first to be distributed as a conversion kit! You're so lucky you know somebody who can paint old cabinets so convincingly. You had me convinced that Mr. Do! was its own cabinet for years!” The ticket counter eventually ran out and Johnny's blood went cold. They were one ticket short. The change attendant saw this and ripped a ticket from Master Apocalypse’s pile. She dropped it into the ticket feeder as he started to protest.

“Would you look at that? Looks like you finally earned enough to get that go-kart! Let me go get it packed up for you.” She turned and headed into the employees only room behind her to get the box. Master Apocalypse turned to Johnny and glared.

“I'm getting that go-kart.” He folded his arms.

“Nah. It's mine. It ain't yours. Go find something else.” The attendant quickly returned with two boxes and a ladder and began to pack up the go-kart. She handed the boxes over to Johnny when she was done. The smaller of the two boxes was silver and had the word “Colecovision” in rainbow lettering. Under this was a card that had a waving tapir that wore a toy soldier's clothes with neat cursive that stated the console was donated by Daydream Toyworks.

“Like I said: I knew you could do it. We'll probably put a TV up there for the next big prize. We'll have to see.” She grinned. “Oh! Almost forgot to mention: The Colecovision is the prize for playing the showcase. Glad you got it and not someone else. Now, can you take your new friends out of here before I have to kick that blonde beauty over there for abusing our skeeball setup?” Johnny gave Bellamy the go-kart and Kit the Colecovision, which went into her bag, and the group left the arcade for the food court.

The area was set up in a circle. In the center of this circle were green metal tables and chairs full of people eating everything from fried chicken to burgers and more. Some of these people had purchases in bags that declared they came from places like The Bon•Bon and Gloamingdales. The area was filled with the same lush greenery that was seen in the center court, with the only items that weren't green being the sunset orange trash cans that dotted the area. At the furthest point, another fountain could be seen, the sounds of the water a calming force. Before Kit could fully take in the scenery, a voice snapped her into the present.

“Give me the go-cart. I'm not asking again.” Master Apocalypse folded his arms. Johnny turned to face himself, mirroring the gesture.

“That is not happening and I'll tell you why. You're in a shopping mall. The best one in Sunset View. This shopping mall has really good security and an honestly eagle eyed guy who loves this place and enforcing its rules more than anything else. The second you take this go-kart from me or make a move to touch it, he's telling the security guard you're trying to steal it. They're not going to believe you.” Johnny headed for the nearest fast food restaurant in the court, a place called Louisiana Crispy Chicken. “I'm going to treat these kids to lunch. You're going to back off.” The aura the cloaked stranger was putting off was oppressive.

“I'm going to get what I need one way or the other. I guarantee you that, by the time you're done with your little lunch, the world around you will be mine for the molding.” He turned to walk away. “Although, I may just have to convince the right people to give your father a wonderful welcome to life in the Awntawp Correctional Center as the prison punching bag. That might be enough of a change to this world.”

“What are you saying, kid?” Johnny folded his arms.

“I know people. The people I know run Awntawp. They can make Emmet’s time in Undar look like a tropical vacation.”

“Are you threatening us?” Bellamy stepped forward, between Johnny and Kit and Master Apocalypse.

“Maybe. I see it as leveraging my assets.” Apocalypse turned to Kit. “Well?”

“Yeah, Kit. Which do you choose? The rock or the hard place?” Bellamy rolled their eyes. Kit held the key she was given by Junior in her hand from in her bag and steeled her gaze.

“What do you mean? You still never told me who you are, so I don't know why I have to see anything you've done as a threat.”

“You really don't need to know. All it needs to be understood between you and I is that we are enemies. As my enemy, I know your weaknesses. Your weakness is your family. I mean, look what you've gone through so far to make sure your father stays out of prison. He's trained you well. But I was trained a lot better. I know people who can make your father's life a miserable mess in prison. Because he let himself be captured, it's only a matter of time before the court puts him away. All that has to happen is one little push. And once he does get sentenced, he's in a domain I can control. A domain I will make sure he will never come back from. I want you to choose, Catherine Brickowski. Choose between the world as you know it or your father. I know what you're going to pick.” He grabbed a chair and sat.

“Kit.” Charmy put a hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “Please think this through. I know you love your father. That's never been a question. But you need to walk away.”

“Your father can take care of himself. The world might not be able to handle the change. Don't be too rash.” Vito added. The pause between words was long and awkward, moving like a newborn deer. Eventually, Kit spoke.

“Master Apocalypse. I'm not playing this game. You can- Hey!” While she spoke, Master Apocalypse had rolled his eyes and snatched the go-kart out of Bellamy's hands.

“Don't worry. None of you are going to remember any of this. No one's going to remember how selfish you are.” A portal opened behind him and he stepped away. The portal closed quickly, causing the others to be unable to chase after. Kit didn't turn to face her travel companions. She instead put her head in her hands. A voice in the distance cried out, “HEY! STEALING IS NOT TOLERATED ON MALL PREMISES!”

[yesyourstalker]

Sheldon: excuse me is this the store of Neta ... Uh

Mahi: yeah this is his store.....we don't allow weapons in- oh Hey Sheldon

Sheldon: yeah I have his E-liter..... And I must say this is the finest weapon I've had in my shop. This is a real weapon!! Ahem I do work on other real weapons but mostly for inkling Splatoons but octarian made weapons are rare!! A bronze military grade 2k. It's an old model with an attachable scope. This back lining weapon has a farther distance than the average liter used in turf war with a stronger ink pressure valve. Even when it's not fully charged it takes out opponents with one shot. The downside is that the charge is incredibly slow and a lot heavier so it makes movement a lot harder but with it's power makes up-

Mahi: that's really cool Sheldon. I'm gonna get Neta

Neta: ayyyy Shelly! You got my weapon!!

Sheldon: yep, it's cleaned. I fixed the ink jam, the pressure valve is weakened and the range was shorted. it's perfect for turf war. I also fixed some of the dents and scuffs It looks brand new.

Neta: aww thanks man here's a tip. When my little Cirrina walks on the field with the only bronze e-liter they're going to be so jealous. *Sniff* My little girl's taking after her daddy.

Mahi: that used to be yours right?

Neta: yep. This used to be my weapon when I was her age............ Except she'll actually be using it for fun

Sheldon: The rumors are true! You were in the military! please I must ask.

Mahi: No Sheldon please don't do that he gets weird if you bring up that shi-

Sheldon: What was the military like! Was combat as glorious and thrilling as I've been told.

Mahi: Cod damn it

Neta: I mean it was fun sometimes......I'm not sure what an inkling Splatoon is like but I'm assuming it's very different from an ontarian Splatoon......... The first 4 years was just gruesome training. 4-hour runs intense obstacle courses, shooting drills. We got up at 7:00 a.m. and went to bed around 12:00 a.m.

Sheldon: fascinating and what was discipline like?

Neta: they had this thing called the pit. It was this concrete room filled with ink and they pushed you in. You become one with that ink and you have no idea how long you've been there It could be days, hours, weeks. By the time you get out of it you kind of forget how to revert back to normal for a while.

Sheldon: that sounds... Interesting

Neta: yeah they do that to break your spirit so when you actually go into combat and kill someone or someone next to you gets killed you don't feel anything...... It kind of worked I still feel numb sometimes

Mahi:.............. I'm sure there were some good memories you know why don't we change the subject a little bit.

Neta: yeah I get good memories with some friends especially during project Z Cod I love my old Splatoon..... I lost some friends and colleagues. Injuries and stuff like my ear. Sometimes at night my ear starts to ring and I get this piercing ghost pain like it just got shot off. I start shaking I start hearing noises and my room starts to be filled with ink.

Mahi: Neta that's enough

Neta: my hands are covered in my own blood and I just look at my hands because if I look up I sometimes see a body floating. They don't respawn like they do on the turf wars field. They just float to the surface never in one piece-

Mahi: NETA!

Sheldon: .................

Neta: and then I'm just there again. On my hands and knees My weapon knocked out of hands after the shot, far away from me. And they're there right in front of me an inkling. Probably a year older than me. They're just standing there staring at me with an N- zap pressed against my head. At that moment I just accepted death, I didn't want to die but it's not like I didn't deserve it tho. All the shit I did because I was ordered to do it. For half an hour we just stayed in that position. Eventually they just put the gun down and left.......... To this day I don't know if they did it out of pity or they realized that we were both victims of this war that we didn't even start.

Mahi: you see what fucking did Sheldon! He's going to be like this all day now!

Sheldon............. Uh

Neta: I mean you get tons of benefits. Like a lot of good medical perks your kid gets free life insurance, free prescriptions at any time. they just mail me insulin pumps I don't even have to pick it up anymore. Yeah there's benefits of the military and shit. It's pretty fun..................I'm gonna stay in bathroom until we close. If anyone asks the bathroom is out of order.

Mahi belongs to @fish-at-fish-fish-resort

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[bullet-prooflove]

Remy Scott for the NSFW Alphabet with the letters G,F,L,Y?

F - Food play (do they like using food in the bedroom? are there any foods they prefer to use during sex or foreplay? any they’d like to try?)

I think Remy firmly believes that food stays in the kitchen, he hates the idea of it messing up the sheets he’s going to sleep in.

At one point I do think he has brought booze into the bedroom with previous partners, poured it on and licked it off however that’s out of the question with you due to your past addiction issues. He’s very careful with that and keeps a dry house these days.

Ice is probably as close as the two of you get, he uses it to trail over the more sensitive parts of your body, before heated mouth follows suit. Sometimes he lets it melt a little on his tongue before he goes down on you and it drives you absolutely crazy.

G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?) 

I think in the past he’s been part of a few three ways but it’s always been with casual partners, not someone he’s committed to. In a relationship he is quite territorial, he would hate the idea of seeing another person’s hands on you so sharing is out of the question.

L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?) 

He definitely has a mood lighting set up, kind of a clap twice Alexa dims the lights kind of thing. If he’s had time to prepare, probably music on the vinyl player and a few candles.

If you’ve both been working, he’s content to fuck to the light of you nightlight because he feels it gives a romantic glow and he likes to see exactly what he does to you.

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?) 

Very much uses the pet names he already has for you “baby girl, baby, sweetheart, honey.”

Doesn’t subscribe to shit like master or daddy because he has a lot of insight into the psychology behind the usage of them and it’s not his jam. He doesn’t view himself as the type of man who needs that.

[tommyspeakycap]

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

[theroomofreq]

can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest.  He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion.  She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER

[nerdyfangirl67]

With a Little Help From the Team - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tim McGee x fem!reader, Gibbs x daughter!reader (brief/vague)

Word count: 2717

Warnings: this was a pretty fluffy piece! (not gonna lie), mild language, reader is Gibbs’ daughter

Request: @ncisfan​ “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

A/N: I know I’ve told you this @ncisfan​ , but I absolutely love this idea! And a McGee x reader? Yes please! I did put this in both McGee’s and the reader’s point of view and changed it up a bit. (Yeah, I got super involved in this one and it got longer than I thought…and took far longer than I thought) I hope you enjoy it darling!!

Tim stands in the bullpen, nervously trying to find the right words to tell the team about you, the team of which just so happened to include the one man capable of making him feel like a young schoolboy still wet behind the ears, especially since that one man had a lot to do with what Tim was about to say.

Tim takes a deep breath to gather his last bit of courage and confidence, which promptly fades away the moment he starts talking.

“I uh…well you know that I’ve been seeing, no dating…dating Y/N.” Tim stutters out as his nerves get the better of him, completely fumbling the carefully planned out speech he had come up with prior to meeting with Gibbs.

Gibbs narrows his steely blue eyes as he wordlessly nods his head, telling Tim to continue.

“Things have been going well, really well actually. And I’ve been wanting to, or meaning to…not that I was putting it off, because I wasn’t. That’s the last thing-”

Gibbs cut him off with a “Spit it out McGee.”

“What I’m asking is for your permission, no..that’s not - I want to propose to her.” He was speaking so fast, his words were nearly running together, his sentences jamming together into one that didn’t make much sense.

Gibbs doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he continues to stare at Tim, looking for any trace of deception in his face. “Why?” He asks gruffly, startling Tim.

“Wh-why?” Tim squeaks out, an uneasy feeling weighing on his chest as he tries to find the right words to answer a question he hadn’t prepared for.

“Yes, McGee. Why? Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Gibbs pauses, still evaluating Tim and his reaction. “Why should I want you to marry my daughter?”

Tim takes a deep breath, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him as he realizes that the answer to such a question was right in front of him. “Because I love her… honestly, I have for a long time, even before we started dating. And, more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend every day that I have left in this life showing her I love her and cherishing her the way she deserves. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

Gibbs surprises him then, with a small smile and a hearty clasp to his shoulder. “Alright then, probie. Now all you have to do is tell her that and of course, ask her to marry you.”

Had it been any other girl, McGee might not be struggling as much to find the words. But you weren’t just any girl. You were not only Gibbs' daughter, something that caused him far more fear than he’d ever admit (he was dating the boss’ daughter after all), but you were also close with the other members of the team, which made this whole ordeal all the more nerve wracking.

You had come to know the members of the team through your job as a technical analyst for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, meaning you spent most of your time hunting down case leads in a cubicle. Then, as you grew better at your job, and closer to Abby (who had had something to do with getting you on Gibbs team, although she’d never admit to it), you had been moved from that cubicle to a desk in Gibbs’ bullpen, unceremoniously joining the team, although not full-time as you still worked with the cyber/tech unit, your father thought so highly of (something he would never admit out loud, even to you).

You eventually became just as close to Abby as your father was, something Abby always attributed to ‘a Gibbs thing’, - “It must be a Gibbs thing because Y/N is just as great as Jethro and we just click.” Many times, if you weren’t working on a case, you could be found hanging out in the lab with Abby.

You and Tony were best friends, spending hours talking about movies and pranking each other. And, despite your “geeky background” of tech analysis, Tony never once teased you (a courtesy Tony had never given him). In fact, he had become something of a big brother to you, filling a role in your life you hadn’t ever thought you’d needed filled.

And then Ziva had joined the team, filling in little by little that hole that had been left after Kate’s death. Even with the high tension existing between Abby and Ziva, you and Ziva had hit it off right away, becoming fast friends. Eventually, despite the perceived oddness of your friendship, you, Abby, and Ziva became an inseparable trio, even occasionally ganging up together against Tony or Gibbs.

Suffice to say, you were important to the team, just as they were to you. And now Tim was faced with telling these people that he not only had been dating you (a relationship the two of you had decided to keep relatively quiet because of your line of work and the fact that you were often times coworkers), but that he was going to ask you to marry him, a proposal of which he was seeking the team’s help with.

“So, uh...I-well, I’ve been seeing, er...dating-” Tim starts, his mind scrambling as he tries to form a coherent sentence.

“McGee, the chickadee is out of the bag. We all know you’re dating Y/N.” Ziva says matter of factly,

“Cat, Ziva, the cat is out of -” Tony starts reflexively, before pausing and turning to Tim and then to Gibbs, his mouth hanging open. “Wait-what? You’re the one Y/N has been dating?” He asks incredulously.

Gibbs takes a step forward, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Close your mouth DiNozzo.” Tony’s jaw snaps shut at the command.

“Keep talking McGee.” Gibbs says gruffly, his piercing blue eyes settling on Tim.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Tim blurts out.

“We kind of knew that McGee.” Abby states, her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been stealthy about ring shopping. Or buying the ring. Or getting it inscribed.” Abby lists off, earring a few incredulous looks from the other members of the team. “Y/N’s my best friend, okay? I had to make sure the ring was a good one.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McRomeo getting married? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Tony steps forward to give Tim a good-natured shoulder shove. “You like it so you’re putting a ring on it, huh?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Ziva is the one who moves to slap him in the back of the head this time.

“Ow, Ziva. What the hell was that for?” Tony asks, a hand already rubbing the spot Ziva had just smacked on the back of his head.

“When will you ever shut up and let McGee finish?” She questions, giving Tony a pointed glare. He opens his mouth to respond, but a hard look from Gibbs keeps him quiet.

Tim timidly clears his throat before continuing. “I’d like to do it here. And, um...I’d like to do it here, with all of you.” Smiles spread through the group at Tim’s words, several ideas already being blurred out by the more enthusiastic members of the team (it was Abby. Abby was already excitedly sharing ideas with the person sitting next to her, which just so happened to be Gibbs.)

——— You squeeze Tim’s hand before letting go, reaching for the handle to your car door. “See you at work.” You say with a soft smile before turning back towards your car.

“Let’s, um, let’s ride together today, to work I mean.” Tim stammers nervously, a hand on top of your driver’s side door, stopping you from leaving.

“Are you sure? I thought we were trying to keep this, us, quiet.” You ask, stepping away from your car and closer to him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Just once, okay?” He asks quietly, a sheepish smile on his face.

You let out a small laugh. “Just this one time, alright Agent McGee?” You say with a smile, letting him take your hand and lead you towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before getting in the driver’s side. The entire ride into work is marked with Tim either giving you a huge dopey grin or a quick nervous glance, which only serves to make you suspicious, as if the insisting to ride together didn’t already.

Tim pulls into his usual parking spot, shutting off the car before turning to you. “How about we walk in together?” He asks hesitantly, a shy smile accompanying his question.

You quirk an eyebrow up at his question before responding, “Tim, it might make it pretty obvious what’s going on between us if we do that.” “Let’s do it anyway, Y/N.” He reaches over to squeeze your hand before climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and making his way to your side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, offering you a hand to help you out, which you graciously accept. He continues to hold your hand after you are out of the car and as the two of you walk into the building, only letting go as the two of you go through security.

The two of you are the only ones on the elevator and for the entirety of the short ride, you can almost feel Tim vibrating beside you with some sort of nervous energy. You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before murmuring, “You okay?” He gives you a tight nod in response just as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival on your floor of the building.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Have a good day Tim, I love you.” You say, moving towards the open doors of the elevator. Tim reaches a hand out, grasping yours and stopping your exit out of the elevator.

“I, uh, I’ve got to give you something. It’s in my desk drawer, in the...bullpen.” He stammers out, quickly retracting his hand to wipe it against his suit jacket.

“Oh, can I get it at lunch?” You ask, turning back towards the front of the elevator and pressing the button to reopen the doors.

“No.” He shouts, startling you enough that you take a step back away from the sliding doors. “I mean, come with me?”

“What is up with you today Tim?” You demand, his unexplained, unnatural behavior causing your suspicions to rise, a million questions running through your head.

“Just...please.” His voice is thick with emotion, his words coming out barely above a whisper.

You silently nod your head, stepping back into the elevator and allowing the doors to close as you press the button for the floor that the NCIS team resided on. You spare a look over at Tim, whose is rubbing his hands up and down his slacks, his face turned towards the ceiling of the elevator and his lips moving in silent words.

“Tim, what is going on? You’ve been acting weird all morning and I just-” The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the floor of the bullpen and effectively cutting you off.

Tim puts a hand over the doors, stopping them from closing as he looks at you, his kaleidoscopic eyes pleading with you to understand and to trust him. You give a small nod, taking his outstretched hand in your own and following him to the bullpen.

Right away, you notice the lights over the area of the office you’d come to know as your father’s, as Gibbs’, were off. A flash of fear settles in your chest as you begin to picture all the possible scenarios as to why your father’s part of the office was empty and dark, none of them positive. You start to walk faster, almost pushing past Tim, to get to the bullpen. You suddenly stop short when your eyes fall on Tony’s desk.

Instead of finding your best friend seated at his desk or even finding his desk empty, you see that Tony’s desktop is covered with picture frames. Your curiosity wins out over the rising fear in your chest and you step closer to the desk to inspect the framed photos.

“Oh,” A breath of surprise leaves you as you realize that they were photos of you and of Tim, taken at different times in your relationship. A series of pictures of the two of you from your second date, taken in one of the photo kiosks that you find at the mall. The two of you making goofy faces at each other in the bullpen. You and Tim bent over a computer, faces serious as you both stare at the screen. You turn to Tim’s desk next, finding it filled with vases of flowers in your favorite color.

You move towards them, leaning down to inhale their fragrant scent, your gaze landing on your father’s desk and the photos scattered across the desktop, similar to Tony’s desk, except these were pictures you’d taken of the two of you. One of the pictures from your first trip together, from the date when Tim had told you he loved you, and the first case the two of you had worked on together and a series of selfies you’d taken with Tim at various times; all laid out like a timeline of your relationship.

After a few long moments, you lift your gaze towards Ziva’s desk, curiosity seizing you as you find her desk almost empty. You quickly make your way to the front of the desk, your eyes landing on the single piece of white paper, with only one small paragraph scrawled out in the middle of the page.

Y/N,

I love you and I have something I have wanted to tell you, or rather ask you, for a long time now. I know you’re probably wondering what that question is, so if you’d turn around, I’d like to ask you it.

You slowly turn around, the paper clutched to your chest and your heart racing in your chest as your eyes find Tim’s. He gives you a small, honest smile as he takes a step forward, his hands clasping around yours before he kneels down on one knee in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what is happening.

“I’ve loved you for years. First, as a friend, and then as a boyfriend, and now...now I want to love you as your fiance, and eventually as your husband. Would you, Y/N Gibbs, do me the honor of being my wife?” In his hands is a modest red velvet ring box, a platinum band adorned with three small diamonds nestled on the inside of the open box.

A lump forms in your throat and as you try to speak, to say yes, nothing comes out. Instead, you nod your head vigorously and close the distance between the two of you. Tim stands fully just as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in against you. You vaguely register noise in the background, noise you later learn is from the various members of ‘your’ NCIS team, as you feel him kiss your cheek.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“And I love you.” He gives you a deep kiss in return, leaning in to cup a hand along the back of your neck. After a moment, you pull back enough to smile widely at him, the realization that this man would become your husband, the man that you got to spend the rest of your life with, starts to dawn on you, filling you with elation and excitement, not only for your wedding but for the future you’d had with the man you loved.

Tagging:

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