#guys I swear a lot of stuff was nerfed since the last time I played this game

[creative-frequency]

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Bright Time

Word count: 2321 Pairing: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Reader Notes: Thank you all for the support and the lovely messages I’ve been receiving concerning this fic. You guys are definitely what has kept me writing since I never would’ve thought anyone else would be interested in this Inquisitor AU. So, thank you ❤️ This is the third part of the series!

Previous Part

My Writing Masterlist

It’s been another tedious week in Fortress Inquisitorius. Each day has been filled with dull tasks, really making you work for what they pay you. In a sense, you’re glad that there is no shortage of work but still time has moved extremely slowly. You’re anxiously waiting for any sign or a message from a certain Inquisitor.

You haven’t heard of or seen Cal ever since the day you fixed the melted control panel of the door to his quarters. Just thinking about the incident makes your blood boil and the Inquisitor will certainly get what he deserves. Somehow, one day. The details are still a little unclear, but you’re determined.

In the tranquility of your own living accommodations, you can finally strip off the dark overalls and faintly ponder the fact that it’s the only outfit Cal has ever seen you in. The uniform isn’t exactly complementing. Though, he didn’t seem to mind on your last encounter.

You sigh and toss the clothes to where you’ll to pick them up again in the morning, which means in eight hours – a luxury, really, in the light of the recent week.

As you slump on the elevated mattress posing as bed, one of your most faithful engineering droids rolls into the room.

“What’s up, MK?” you ask without getting up to look. Your back muscles are crying a symphony at finally relaxing on a soft surface.

The droid makes an uppish beep and you roll your eyes. This one has a handful of a personality.

“If it’s that important, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you question, full-well knowing the MK droid will be galled by your lack of interested in its business. It lets out a series of drills, which sound a lot like scoffs for a being that has no respiratory channels.

“A message?” You frown lightly and get up to your elbows. A bad feeling creeps into the back of your mind. “Let’s hear it.”

The MK droid boops coolly and plays the recording.

“Hey, uhh, I think there’s a busted light bulb in here? Can you come and fix it today? Thanks.”

You freeze, blinking and staring at the messenger. You only just got away from work and now he wants you to go over to the other side of the base and urgh.

That kriffing stupid Inquisitor.

Ten minutes later you’re dragging your feet, once again wearing the stupid overalls and carrying a small toolbox. Fixing a light bulb shouldn’t be a big deal. You’re as equally vexed about having to get up as you’re anxious about getting to see Cal.

There has been no shortage of subconscious reminders about the last incident in his quarters and the more you try not to think about it, the faster your heart beats. Getting worked up about having to go and do your job doesn’t really help but at least you feel better when you think about all the ways to tell the stupid Inquisitor off. How can he be one of the Empire’s finest if he can’t even fix a kriffing light.

That inconsiderate man-child and his stupid pecs. If he weren’t an Inquisitor, I swear I’d–

It’s so late that the hallways are mostly empty save for the guards that you greet with yawns and earn a few sympathetic nods in return. If Cal isn’t wearing a shirt this time, you’ll give him a good old slap across the cheek, to hell with the consequences.

That perv might actually like it if I hit him. Oh, for kriff’s sake–

By the time you reach the right door, you’re positively fuming.

“How many Inquisitors does it take to switch a light bulb? Oh, I don’t know? None, since they have nerf shit as brains and can’t even– oh, hi. Ahem.” You settle the most perfectly neutral look to your face and hope Cal didn’t catch you muttering to yourself.

He gives you a cursory glance from your head to toes. At least he is wearing a shirt, even though it’s a very snug one.

“Come in,” he says.

Cal’s timid smile and casual tone set your cheeks alight and heart fluttering.

You clear your throat. “…Thanks.”

The sound of the door closing surges you into a mild inner panic but you draw in a breath to hide it and put the toolbox to the floor. Cal stays skulking by the entrance as you look up to find the target, eager to be on your way before he can think of anything reckless like the last time.

“Which one was it?” you ask slowly, craning your neck. All the lights seem fine and staring at them is making you see stars.

“The one in the middle,” Cal says and nods towards the culprit.

The light is as bright as the others and your eyes are starting to water from looking at them. You turn to Cal – his smile is nothing like timid anymore. It’s downright impish.

You should’ve known it was a trap.

“What’s the meaning of this?” You try to hold back the exasperation in your tone but it’s difficult. “Cal?”

The Inquisitor holds the eye contact and shrugs. You’re about to open your mouth to give him an earful when a loud crack makes you jump and you turn just in time to see the bulb explode into millions of tiny pieces. The shards scatter all over the floor as you instinctively hold your arms up to cover your face from the shrapnel, but not a piece even touches you.

The energy that was pouring into keeping the light on, no longer has a proper outlet and the fuse blows with a loud pop. You’re standing in the middle of the now dark room with the idiot Inquisitor.

The emergency lights near the floor cast an eerie red light and you can just barely make out Cal’s silhouette. Your eyes will need a moment to adjust to the darkness.

“Happy now?” is what you eventually set into snapping out at him.

The fuse box is in the hallway, but to get to it you need to find a way past the Inquisitor.

“Did you plan this?” The bravery falters in your tone. You swallow.

“Not really,” Cal says but you don’t believe him. “Hold on. Don’t move.”

Light clatter of glass against the floor echoes all around you and while you don’t see what happens, you assume that Cal just cleaned up the mess he made.

“Right,” you sigh, gather the ripples of your anger, and start walking towards the exit in resolute steps. Cal doesn’t move a muscle as you march past him. You’re almost to the door, already heaving out a relieved breath but come to the realization that you’re no longer moving.

In fact, your feet are taking you backwards. You yelp in surprise and almost get knocked over when the back of your legs hits the sofa in the middle of the room. You take purchase from the furniture to stay on your feet. Your eyes are steadily becoming acclimated to the darkness and you can see Cal’s silhouette coming closer.

Your blood pressure will lead to an early retirement at this rate.

“You need to stop breaking stuff to get me here,” you whine, “I’ll give you my personal comm frequency.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Cal huffs amused. He is standing right in front of you. The scarce light reflects enough from his eyes to hint where you should be facing.

“Well, sorry for not living up to your standards,” you quip frustrated and barely manage to finish the sentence since Cal’s hand comes to rest on your neck. The careful touch makes you quiver and your heart beats a mile a minute.

The breeze from Cal’s shallow breaths hits your skin as he leans forward. You would be lying if you claimed you were not waiting for this. He is smiling when your lips touch and you sink to sit down on the sofa back.

At least the door lock is fixed now.

“I’ve been, mmh, thinking… about you,” you confess even though Cal tries to make sure you can’t waste your mouth on talking. His lips move down to your jaw with a thoughtful hum and start trailing down towards your neck. It’s difficult to stay still with your already precarious balance.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Cal husks.

His hands come down to rest on your waist and before you can reply, your world revolves again with a yelp as your back softly hits the sofa cushions. Cal climbs over and lifts you up to straddle him. Faintly, you register that the sofa is really large and comfy, and this man is done playing around.

Cal’s lips find yours again, more demanding and eager. He starts unzipping your uniform and thrill shoots up your spine. A pleasant haze is starting to settle into your mind and you have to strive to keep your wits about you.

“I don’t suppose you have any more requests when the light is fixed?” you ask as you let Cal do his thing with your work overalls and pull down the part covering your upper body. You’re still wearing a tank top underneath it.

“Mm. I want a kitchen droid,” Cal replies and plants his lips onto your shoulder. Pushing your nose into his hair makes you giddy and you don’t at first realize what he said.

“Huh? A kitchen droid? Why?” you fumble to question.

“The meals in the commissary are horrible,” he simply says and continues peppering your exposed skin with kisses. You can’t argue with that point.

“Mm. I’ll see what I can do.”

You ease yourself better into Cal’s lap, perfectly accidentally grinding yourself against him – to which he responds with a grunt and furrowed brows. It’s music to your ears.

Cal stops and straightens up, hands still somewhere around your middle body, rudely interrupted from hiking your top up. Even in the dark, you can see the warning in his eyes and it sends your pulse flying.

“Look. Do you want me to hold back or not? ‘Cause I can’t if you–”

You grind yourself again against the growing hardness in his pants and cut him mid-sentence.

“Who said anything about holding back?” you purr in a bit too seductive tone.

You hide your devilish smile by taking the turn to kiss the side of Cal’s neck. He groans again and you can feel his body going slightly rigid underneath you. Serves him right to taste his own medicine. Stupid Inquisitor.

“Alright. You asked for it,” Cal coos gently. His grip on your waist tightens and he throws you to your back on the sofa.

“Oh!” you yelp but quickly regain your stance even though your positions have been reversed.

You kick your shoes off and wiggle down the overalls with Cal’s help. Gripping his shirt hem, you yank the piece of clothing up to get it off. If you’re going to do this, you deserve to get a glimpse at how well his training has paid off.

When you reach his pants and open the zipper for access, the fervent undressing slows down and molds into a make out session. This time horizontally, on the sofa, with the Inquisitor on top of you and your legs tangled with his – and hands in each other’s pants. It’s hot and messy and you can’t see a thing, but who needs eyes when his fingers dip inside you and it feels so good that you want to cry out loud. The hums and moans Cal makes against your mouth as you massage him drive you deeper into the moment. With each passing second you fight the regret about still having your underwear and top on.

You’re feeling so dizzy and elated that you’ve completely forgotten who you’re playing with. You’re in the den of an Imperial Inquisitor. The kind of who is not known for his mercy or empathy.

“You should stay for the night,” Cal utters suddenly.

In a motion so quick and nimble that you didn’t think you’d have it in you, you’re up and away from Cal’s arms, heart drumming in your ears and panicking. Every breathe is a drag and your hair must be in upheaval. Your underpants are uncomfortably damp and the room feels chilly when Cal’s body is no longer warming you.

“S-stay? You mean like… I, uh, wouldn’t want to impose… on your…” Your eyes skim the Inquisitor’s almost naked frame in the dark. “Hospitality.”

Cal straightens up but you bounce away from the reach.

“What? You’re not imposing. I’ll make you coffee in the morning,” he says slyly, clearly not understanding what is going through your head.

You almost give in. Your very soul hurts as you shake your head. If he wants you to risk life and limb and stay, he will have to do better than high-end coffee and what presumably would’ve been the beginnings of amazing sex.

You grab your overalls and almost fall onto your nose trying to put them on as swiftly as possibly.

No, this is bad. Worse than what you should get yourself into.

“So, uhh, sorry! I’ll fix the bulb tomorrow!” You snag your shoes, tugging them under your arm and take the toolbox from the floor. With a free hand, you fumble for the button to open the door before Cal can retaliate. What were you even thinking? People who get too involved with the Inquisitors disappear and you wish to keep existing.

“Wha– Hold on!”

“Nope. Bye!” You wave as you tiptoe into the hallway, praying that it’s empty. It’d be fun explaining to a Stormtrooper why you’re barely dressed behind the Inquisitor’s door.

Cal stays sitting on the sofa in the dark, looking after you, pants halfway down and utterly confused. He cannot comprehend what he did wrong.

//

Tagging (please lmk if you want to be tagged or not! I probably forgot someone cause I couldn’t find the list anymore OTL): @europhiacs @froyuhh @sinner-effy @droidrights @annoyedguildmaster @mysteriouswritingzonthewall @boxfullofcats @maulblr @sevansheart

[patchdotexe]

explorers of arvus: now what? / 2.2.21

LAST TIME ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS: we kicked the shit out of a witch, a murdercow, and a tree, and nearly got murdered by a broom! also i exploded the tree, which was pretty fucking poggers. we also did have to hold taure down to feed her some healing elixirs but yknow

silje, meanwhile, was spaced the fuck out the entire time (bc of being a dmpc last time) and has no idea what just happened or that he commited gratiutous amounts of tree violence.

And Then We Slept For 24 Hours (we didnt)

thorne rolled a nat20 on drawing the tree blight on fire! which is EXTREMELY COOL. im glad we have a memorial of the coolest thing ive done on arvus so far (and also hopefully the fire wont spread bc it would suck if we set all of arvus on fire) oh nvm we're in a swamp so we good. hard to set things on fire in a swamp.

i swear im paying attention but green is talking about dreamout in 772 rn and has some very interesting theories about how the eggpire plot would go down so i am just. side-eyeing it. i am Looking. i swear im paying attention.

oh man i havent collected my notes from last session bc i was liveblogging in discord for nyx's benefit. that's gonna be interesting to compile.* i wonder if i should put these in gdocs instead of wordpad lmao (wait no i use wordpad bc its easier to just pop open and have layered over discord / roll20) * [ AND THEN I DIDNT DO THAT FOR LIKE 2 MONTHS ]

michael: ...burn the house down charlie: ~ we're gonna burn the whole house down! ~ thorne: [confused] how do you know that song? we dont have any bards charlie: [buffering] ...BITCH I MIGHT BE

what if i took a level in bard, would that be fucked up or what

tiny hut tiny hut tiny hut tiny hut. TINY HURT (sieron casted Leomund's Tiny Hut bc we burnt down the only nearby shelter)

lots of discussion about the hut. hut talk

thorne: sieron, why havent we been doing this? charlie: great question! hey sieron, what the fuck? sieron: i guess i just havent thought about it? charlie: you're lucky you're cute >:/ sieron: AA??

discussion of sieron's alter appearance and how its probably somewhat awkward bc thorne is just. openly a horc. unfortunately, sieron's hometown is super racist

HELLO I HAVE BEEN DISTRACTED BC RUBY DID A PANEL REDRAW FROM ASP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA aa a a a a a

time for taure and thorne to chat on watch! frenship taure hasnt noticed her hair colour bc shes been busy doin stuff, like killin people taure misunderstands thorne asking abt her hair and thinks he has a tragic backstory of being a hairdresser before becoming a warlock DOES TAURE KNOW WHAT THE FEYWILD IS yes she does! war of the veils was a thing, where the feywild invaded the material plane and honestly i should read all the worldbuilding again bc its been forever but i thought all that was neat

oh shit thorne called taure a uhhhh eladrin? OH BOY TAURE ROLLED A 1 we're on the same page here TIME FOR THORNE INFODUMP eladrin are feywild elves! as in closely related to the fey, as well as living in the feywild. their hair changes with the seasons, like taure's does :O !! taure and thorne have not had a fucking one on one conversation before

thorne: taure. taure: yes, hello that is me i am taure [..] taure: now, counterpoint, the sun makes hair change colour-- thorne: Taure.

thorne is trying so hard i love they everyone else is sleeping through this convo so theyre spared the awkwardness but ooc we are having a great time :o eladrin hair colour changing stuff related to mood / seasons / powers?? thorne is admittedly confused bc Weird Documentation but this is really neat to hear about taure, meanwhile, has no idea why this is important.

thorne: if i had told you this, and you had-- transcended-- into your next phase-- id be very concerned taure: hold on [loud grunting] okay no

why havent we been doing tiny hut this whole time. sieron.

oh right taure has a tragic backstory and her mom ditched her as a babby. MEANWHILE, THORNE DOESNT EVEN HAVE PARENTS michael: there are two types of people in the world: those who're kidnapped as infants, and those that kidnap infants WAIT IS THIS LIKE, THE FIRST TIME ANYONES HEARD ABT THORNE'S BACKSTORY BESIDES "LIVED IN THE FEYWILD" thorne is very chill about it though. god i love thorne. i love the entire party

thorne: ...after the third or fourth prophetic vision, they all sorta blur together.

god i wish id written down more about the magical mystical adventure OH. THE ORACLE FORESHADOWED THE ELADRIN THING. NEAT thorne: oh, the oracle! is that the guy with the, uh... [snaps fingers] the gryphon fart orb?

IREL IS HERE YAY IREL i have forgotten how to spell their name. how about i split the difference and spell it Yirel. michael is rolling to see if thorne and taure woke yirel up-- OH OKAY yirel just. sleeps for fun. god i wish that were me

charlie's hair can hold many small pets of dubious sapience.

I LOVE YIREL,,, thorne is just pleasantly confused. WAIT IS YIREL PURRING yirel: you are confused by that action! :D taure: ...yes. what were you doing? yirel: i was performing magic! i can now detect your minds! i can hear your thoughts. :D OKAY SO YIREL WAS. NOT PURRING. yirel has cast Detect Thoughts on thorne. thorne's train of thought is now "???"

we need to teach the snake consent. we have now taught the snake consent.

YIREL IS GOING TO VERY POLITELY ASK THE BIG BAD IF HE CAN READ THEIR MIND its okay i love them. thorne is SO CONFUSED yirel is attempting to be helpful YIREL LITERALLY DISCOVERED THEY COULD CAST DETECT THOUGHTS SO THEY CASTED DETECT THOUGHTS. thorne is hoping yirel wont learn to cast fireball on themself. yirel: there's two timelines where that could happen. i will do my best to avoid them! :D

okay its really hard to get across in text but yirel is basically just. permanently happy/excited sounding. like a puppy! or like the ":D" face in winged snake form.

ooh, a celestial serpent location! off in the mistwall mountains. they are Extremely Dead but yirel told thorne+taure where it is on the map and said we can learn stuff abt time! and then went to sleep. goodnight yirel. i will kill for you

S. S. BIG BOAT (it is 60 miles across. big boat. thank you jorb)

WHAT IS WRONG WITH JORB'S CAMERA, WHY DOES IT KEEP ZOOMING IIIIIIIIIIN

it rained overnight so all the water that collected on the tiny hut got dumped on everyone, and THEN silje shook off like a dog and charlie is MISERABLE

SILJE GOT A NAT20 FORAGING the survival squad are gonna get the fuckin best breakfast ever

oh yea the poison / disease was stored in the tree blight! so now that we've incinerated it it's all good. still gonna take time for the whole river to clear, but with the source of it gone we should be golden. fuck yea

oh man today was hourly comics day, wasnt it. or was it feb 1? fuck shit damn uhhhhh i have done. nothing. besides work on the PMV, talk about dreamout, and now play d&d. this is unrelated to everything im just Thonkin

TIME FOR SWAMP FACTS solar knows So Much about swamps. time to discuss cattails (please no) these are cattails............. ME WANT BITE. ME WANT PLANT CORN DOG DELIGHT. ME WANT DEEP FRIED. ME THINK WATER TWINKIE NICE

oh shit thorne has spotted a ufo. yuufo time OMINOUS YUUFO silje, with an armful of frogs and a lizard in his mouth: [looks up] mrrp? poor silje cant see for shit. NEITHER CAN THORNE its either very small and close, or very big and far away

HRM. actually this MIGHT be related to the vision bc the ominous yuufo was heart-shaped, and the vision was of a necromancer on a floating bloody platform raising all kinds of undead

its been forever and i didnt take a lot of notes on the mini-session but the last time we saw the oracle was a cave on theral! so, unrelated to the place yirel marked on the map. which michael marked down as "seat of the oracle"!

TAURE THINK OF THE CHILDREN THAT WE DONT HAVE (we have yirel!) TAURE THINK OF THE CHILD THAT WE HAVE

ahoyhoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i wanna go to ahoyhoy. we are not currently going to ahoyhoy but maybe some day

i had to stop paying attention because buttons wanted to see my Horrible Streaming Setup and apparently something terrible has happened. also honse

we are potentially dealing with a salad katamari.

thorne: could that be what the object in the sky is? silje: ...a lettuce?

we have voted to ignore the salad katamari for now. this action will have consequences.

charlie and silje take watch! charlie wants to know what silje's deal is! silje is a monster hunter. charlie misses bein a thief ): SILJE WAS A MONSTER HUNTER SINCE HE WAS 12?? charlie realizes that perhaps becoming an adventurer and doing a huge amount of murder on a regular basis, especially as a child, is Maybe Not Great silje likes books! charlie offers to lend him her books :D charlie, quietly: i am totally doing the friendship thing so good. RATS RATS RATS RATS hehe rats.

uh oh, nyx has died. NVM NYX IS OKAY nyx's power has not gone out again

we've been on arvus for 13 days! neat.

OH SHIT FLOATING ISLAND its also shaped weirdly like a heart. YEP IT LOOKS LIKE ITS BLEEDING probably bc of clay or iron oxide in the dirt but still that looks ominous as hell SIERON'S A SMART BOY he rolled 20+ on the 3 rolls he had to do, fuck yeah. this fucked up island is an Earth Mote! which are lil sky islands. or like, just general dirt chunks thatre in the sky. theyre either natural events or wizards showing off! also they usually move, but this one is just kinda... tethered. not like Literally but its locked in place. this is apparently the "Heart of Arvus"! which is . at the heart of arvus. or at least the centre of the continent.

solar: leo, we've found the ruins of mumbo jumbo's base. leo: [leans over and thwaps solar on the leg w nerf sword]

penn: i swear to god, if i look out my window and i dont see jorb in the sky, im going to be disappointed that hes not doing his job. jorb: slowly rotating.

we are now thinking about how to get up on the rock. TINY HUT STAIRCASE solar: could i featherfall the wrong way? wand of wonder / wild magic surge! NOPE mage hand! charlie is 41 pounds. mage hand is 5 pounds limit. korred rope! we have enough rope to tie together and tie to the korred rope, BUT the korred rope cannot fly. OH THE ROCK IS INHABITED there's an elf!

sieron & taure: [worried about the necromancy] charlie: HOWDY~!

[party arguing about who's gonna go up bc not all of us can fit up there] [leo and solar start swordfighting in the background]

sent kaepora through the portal to the heart of arvus aaaaaand end of session! CLIFFHANGEERRRRRRR

michael: DID YOU FUCK MY MOM, DUNGEONMASTER?

[mercedesbarnes]

The Five Things You Know, and the One You Don’t

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2567

A/N:  back for round twoooo…..I feel like we all need some Bucky fluff right now

“Dammit!”

You lost your second out of four lives in this Nerf war, thanks to someone—someone most likely named Steve.  He’s a sneaky one. It’s pouring outside and nobody was in the mood to do anything productive, naturally the first suggestion had been a Nerf war.

“Y/N, you will be avenged!”

Pietro vaults over the couch, very action movie-esque, which would have been impressive if he hadn’t been shot right after.

“Oh. Sorry, I’m out,” he sighs.  

“It’s okay, I appreciate the backup,” you say, sending your teammate a smile. By your count, it was only Bucky and you left on your team, versus Steve, Sam and Wanda on the other.  You weren’t sure how many lives each of them had, but you all promised to be honest.

“Y/N,” Bucky hisses. He waves his Nerf gun in a complicated circle.

“What?”

“Shh!”

If there was a way to see your face, it would read ‘???’.  A floorboard creaks behind you, and Bucky grabs your wrist and covers you until you’re safely behind the bar. A spark runs down your forearm but you attribute it to your socks shuffling on the carpet. 

He turns to you. “Didn’t I tell you the code?”

“No, it looked like random flailing—“ You raise your gun over the bar and shoot Wanda.  

She slouches. “How’d you know?”

You point behind Bucky. “The floating red stuff around the bullet about to hit him gave you away. How many more lives?”

“None.” She lowers her voice. “Sam’s got one more, but Steve’s got all four. Hurry, this game’s gone on long enough.”

Bucky mumbles ‘Steve’ under his breath and rises to go hunt for his best friend. It’s a good match, Bucky has all his lives too. Sam is yours. You tiptoe around the floor searching for any place that might house Sam.

“Oh, Bird Man,” you coo, knowing the nickname riles him up, “come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Just as you suspected: a poof from a gun misses your elbow. Bending down to pick up the foam bullet, you smile. Based on the trajectory, Sam was hiding behind the bookshelf.  Quietly, you sneak up on him and bombard him with foam before he can retaliate. Good ol’ physics, who knew it actually comes in handy?

You feel the spark again the next morning while getting your coffee, but this time you’re nowhere near a carpet.

“There’s my partner in crime!” Bucky announces when he sees you, “Have I told you about her?”

“Multiple times,” Sam says, clearly miffed, he’s swirling his tea bag more than usual.

“I’ll tell you again.  She kicked ass.”

“Is this coffee bitter, Sam?” You took a sip. “No. It must be you.”

Bucky throws an arm around your shoulders. His touch burns where your tank top can’t cover, and you have to concentrate on breathing properly. It’s like you had just come back from a run, your breath is completely knocked out of your lungs. Bucky’s holding onto you so his legs don’t give out from under him from the speechless look on Sam’s face; he’s laughing and declaring that you made his day.

First; he touches you and you light on fire. Your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin.  The burns don’t show, but it’s hard to breathe with ash in your lungs.  It’s so hard to breathe. You’re suffocating daily.

“What’s up with you?” Nat asks, “I was talking to you and you zoned out.”

“She’s drooling over Barnes,” Wanda replies, nudging you lightheartedly. You confessed to your crush on Bucky at the weekly girls lunch. Wanda wasn’t surprised.

“Yes, Bucky is over there, and yes, I happen to be staring in that direction, but I wouldn’t call it drooling.”

“You’re so smitten! Y/N, I can see it even without my powers.”

“He doesn’t know, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

Bucky’s on the patio, settling in a chair to play cards with Steve and Pietro.  You were staring at him, more specifically at his chest, since he had just emerged from the pool. Each droplet of water was having the time of its life trying to find its way through the maze of muscle definition, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away.  You’re starting to get hot and bothered imagining your fingers as the droplets.  

“Hey,” Nat murmurs.  

She jerks her chin at the guys. Bucky is waving at you to come over and greets you warmly when the three of you pull up seats at the table and Pietro deals you into a game of blackjack. You’re sitting two seats away from Bucky; here he’s barely a head tilt from being in your immediate vision, and you have a full view of the six—no, eight pack. Yikes.

You don’t want to get caught staring, but you can’t not stare.  Cruelly, the universe dips the sun lower in the sky, and its rays spill on Bucky like a goddamn spotlight.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you swear under your breath.

“Bad cards, Y/N?” Nat asks, and you jump on her excuse, nodding. You notice her subtly pointing down to her abdomen, then up at her face.  It’s a silent way of saying, ‘his eyes are up there.’

Bucky stretches to grab his towel, and you can feel yourself blushing when his muscles twist and contract. At the same time, Pietro makes a joke and Bucky’s smiling in that cute way where his nose scrunches. It’s too much too much–

You put on your sunglasses.

Second; it hurts to watch him. He shines. He’s brighter than the sun, he’s too beautiful for your eyes.  It’s hard to look at him.  It’s even harder to look away from him.  You’re going blind.

Two days later, you’re sitting on a bar stool tugging at the hem of your dress.  Nat swears it makes your legs look a mile long when you walk, but you’re tired of standing and are in dire need of a drink. Preferably something strong.  

“Tony, is your floor strong enough to handle this many people? I’m genuinely concerned,” you ask when Tony whizzes by, his arm around Happy Hogan, who is looking a little too happy.  You have to duck when he tries to hug you, claiming you’re too pretty to be sitting on the sidelines.

“Yeah, I designed it, it’ll even withstand Banner if someone pokes him. Stark guarantee.”

“Come dance with me!”

“I’m okay here, Hogan, but next party, alright?”

Tony chuckles and guides his tipsy friend over to a couch. Once he’s sure Hogan has a water bottle to sober up with, Tony hops on stage. “Introducing our entertainment for this evening!”

“Here’s your vodka cranberry.” The bartender hands you a glass as a gorgeous woman walks up to the microphone.

You thank him and take a few sips listening to the woman singing a slow ballad. You scan the crowd, looking to see if Hogan likes the music, but then you see him. It’s common knowledge that if you are looking at someone you can hear their voice better, though with you it’s like your ears are always plugged in to the Bucky Barnes Radio Show.

“Stevie, when do these things end?”

“Late, Buck. Around two.”

“In the morning?!”

You want to unplug the microphone so you can hear Bucky better, his baritone voice is heaven to your ears.  As the singer hits an impossibly high note, you wonder why people are clapping, impressed. Why is anyone listening to this, this noise when he’s speaking?

Struck with a sudden idea, you down the last of your drink and weave your way around the mesmerized guests. You squeeze past two middle-aged men—who, if you’re not mistaken, invented Google; they’re probably smart as hell, but they seem to like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, so you can’t give them too much credit—and find yourself behind the two supersoldiers. You poke the brunet’s bicep.

His bored face lights up at the sight of you.

“Y/N!”

“Hey, Bucky? Want to go play Monopoly?”

His reply was instantaneous. “Yes, absolutely. I’d love to play Monopoly with you. Bye Steve.”

“Bucky no—“

Bucky takes your hand and you’re around the corner before Steve can finish.  

“You’re the best, Y/N,” he says, and the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings to the rhythm of his words. “I was dying in there.”

“I know the feeling.”

An hour later, you’re losing. Badly. Despite being from the 40s, Bucky is annoyingly good at real estate.  You count forward three spots and land on Boardwalk, one of his properties. Slowly, hoping he’s not paying attention, you move your piece four spots, bypassing the danger of triple hotels.

“No, no, that’s four, not three!”

“Did I roll a three?”

“You did.”

You cover the die nonchalantly.  “No, I didn’t.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and suddenly it’s a war, he’s trying to pull your hand up, and you’re trying to keep it down.  To nobody’s surprise, he wins, and the number three is revealed.

“Mwahaha,” he grabs at the last of your pitiful money pile, throwing the coloured bills up in the air. “You’re bankrupt!”

The floor-to-ceiling windows around you show the stars, twinkling magnificently bright in the clear night sky. But Bucky’s singing We Are The Champions and he’s messing up the lyrics and he’s completely off-key and you’re positive it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Third; your ears are tuned to his voice. You could pick him out in a sea of thousands. His voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. His voice makes everything else ugly.

Bucky’s eyes should be a crayon colour, you decide.  

He has a habit. Whenever anyone says something ridiculous, Bucky looks to you like you’re the camera in The Office. And when they say a ridiculous paragraph, he widens his eyes in disbelief, pursing his lips to avoid cracking a smile. This happens a lot when Steve’s feeling particularly adventurous. It’s in these moments where time seems to slow, and you wish it would stop completely so you can study his eyes longer. Bucky has a myriad of blue that swirls to create a whirlpool of taunting winks and irritated smirks.  The wrinkled smile lines and long, dark eyelashes accentuate it perfectly.

After all, if you email Crayola, you better have a description.

Your favourite shade is when he scrunches them up from laughing.  They’re so blue they literally glow, as if they repel light instead of absorbing it.  You’re rooted to your spot when this happens.  Like you’re on a ship, and those eyes, blue like an ocean sea, are begging you to set sail with them, to cast your doubts away and leave the mainland behind.  

You’re writing this fantasy into your journal when you realize how deep you are: you’re not on the ship anymore.  

Fourth; the color of his eyes is blue enough to drown in.  He is turning you into a cliched love-wrecked being. You’re drowning, always sinking. Down, down, down.

Screaming wakes you from sleep.  Throwing off your covers, you don’t have to follow the heartbreaking sounds to know they are coming from Bucky’s room.  When you knock, you find that the door opens at your touch.

“Bucky?”

Bucky is thrashing in his bed, the covers pushed down at his feet, the sheets underneath him dark.  Your eyes rake over his anguished face; he’s sweating, and fighting some sort of invisible monster. Recently you’ve been helping him with his nightmares and you can tell, it’s a bad one tonight.  

You climb onto the mattress and nudge him gently. “Bucky, wake up.”  Nothing happens, so you shake him harder then duck as his metal fist flies at your head. It hits the wall with a sickening crunch, and this is what wakes Bucky up.  He sits up, gasping.

“Y/N? Oh my god.” He reaches out like he wants to lift you up from your flattened position, but before he does, he sees the dent in the wall and recoils.  The anguish turns to horror, and you can’t tell which one is worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You take his hands from behind his back and intertwine your fingers. You push his chin up so he meets your eyes.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“I nearly hurt you.”

“The key word here is nearly,” you soothe, “Let’s get you into new clothes.”

You slip over to his wardrobe and open his drawers to find another shirt.  When you turn around, Bucky’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands.

He’s in pain, and you feel it too.  You are also angry, angry at the world, because they victimized him; angry at Hydra, because they caused Bucky to feel this way. You want to track down each and every person who hurt him and rip them apart in increasingly creative ways, but you settle for collecting Bucky in your arms and wiping away his tears.  

During your nights with him he’s confided in you the process of getting over his guilt and the fears that still haunt him.  It didn’t happen right away, oh no, it took time to show him you would stay no matter what.  Knowing Bucky, truly, bad and good, past and present, it could never push you away. Nothing could. You’re here for the long haul.

You’re lying on your back when he calms enough to fall asleep.  Bucky’s torso is on top of yours, hugging you, and his face is angled so you can feel his breaths on your skin; you’re satisfied when you confirm they’re even. Playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, you glare at the ceiling like it’s going to come attack Bucky too.

“No more. Don’t try anything.  Or else you have me to deal with,” you growl to the world.

You’ll fiercely protect this man with everything you have, with every word, every muscle, every breath. Adjusting your hold on his back, you match your exhales to Bucky’s and drift off, mentally making a note to take him to the zoo soon.  He loves feeding the penguins.

Fifth; you know him. You love him. Through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him. You’d never leave. You love him. Till death do you part.

Bucky wakes to a rhythmic beating sound.  

Opening his eyes, he sees he’s lying on you, over your heart, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards. Bucky recalls last night. Not the nightmare, no, because you chased it away—he remembers you.  You being here for him, you saying the words of affirmation he so badly needed to hear to calm down, they further solidified the place he had carved for you to be forever in his life. He was so nervous and scared that you’d leave once you saw what he was capable of, but you stayed, and here you are.

On an impulse, he kisses your temple and you smile in your sleep. You’re so beautiful, he thinks.

Bucky watches your eyes move under their lids, and he wonders of what you’re dreaming. Hopefully it’s something good. You deserve it; you deserve the world, in his mind.

The sun is not yet up, so he relaxes again. He’s so comfortable and you’re so lovely, Bucky never wants to move. Your heart, with every beat, pumps into him more peace, and more clarity.

Bucky’s sure of one thing. It’s the one thing you don’t know.

Sixth; he loves you, too.

{insp}

still new, still small, still really love you all

@fxckmebuck @buckyywiththegoodhair @avengerofyourheart @bovaria@wndas-romanoff@thejamesoldier @caplanbuckybarnes @papi-chulo-bucky @buckybarnesismypreciousplum@redgillan  @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @langinator @secondstartotheright-imagines

[ffxiv-fennel-florence-blog]

Hi everyone! I'm very new to FFXIV here on tumblr but I want to be a part of the community and maybe make friends?

Anyways, my character is Fennel Florence and i'm new-ish to the game - I actually played FFXIV around 2.5 almost 3 years ago before Heavensward came out but since my memory sucks I might as well be a complete newbie at the game! I'm on the Siren server and I'm usually online on the weekends and sometimes during the week on evenings.

If anyone wants to be friends or do raids/dungeons (or help me do anything after the main scenario quests) HMU! I might get into the RP community but I'd have to flesh Fennel out a lot more.

Anyways, FFXIV blogs please reblog/like this post so I can follow you! Even if we're on different servers!