#smelly sweaty little goblin

[rfxn-emulator]

Warrior Coffee Date X-treme 2000 (Collectors Edition) 3am Gone Wrong!??1!? (Addendum Tuesday)

[timetowritesomefluff]

Dating Stiles Stilinksi

And voila, I gift you with the sexiest gif to date since ever.

Stiles Stilinksi was first and foremost a detective. A scientist, at heart, who could analyze a situation and decipher the motivations, predict ever possible outcome, who could find the pattern in the clues when everyone else just saw a chaotic jumble of red yarn. 

So the fact that he didn’t pick up on his own feelings was more than a little ironic

Your friendship/early dating days would consist of debating every topic: be it cereal proportions or whether something’s a shapeshifter or goblin or weirdly-misshapen hamster.

Going for rides with him in his jeep late at night, having conversations that range from goofy and silly,

“Do you think there are were-alligators?”

“What?”

“If there are werewolves, why not other animals? We’ve seen werejaguars. Where’s my were-hedgehog?”

“Derek’s prickly enough to count for that.”

And slipping into boldly honest, vulnerable and open with each other as Stiles never could with anyone else.

When Stiles said he loved you, it was totally something that just unconsciously came out. He didn’t even know he’s said it until he saw you staring, and staring, and staring—

“What, what did I do?”

“You said you loved me.”

“Oh. Well, yeah.”

Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world; because who WOULDN’T love you? 

Because it IS the most obvious thing in the world to him. TBH, he’s probs been in love with you ever since you responded to his sarcasm with either a laugh or sarcasm of your own. 

There’s definitely been more than once incident of him bursting out laughing during sex cuz he remembered something funny, stopped everything, just too tell you the joke.

Cute mannerisms would be become a must. The idea of ‘his’ and ‘your’ plates became a nonexistent things (except for curly fries, all bets are off for those suckers). Stiles would definitely BOOP you on the nose, often without reason or even comment. 

Forehead kisses. Back of hand kisses. Congratulations-you-just-solved-the-case-with-one-throwaway-comment-i-love-you-you-GENIUS kisses (surprisingly less rare than you think). This boy is affectionate horny as well as touch starved, so it doesn’t matter if you have sweaty hands, smelly feet, bad breath, greasy hair. This boi just wants to be near you, laugh with you, hear everything that’s in that beautiful head.

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 1: Home

SUMMARY: Reader is a Registered  Nurse in a city hospital. She works usually 3-11pm but sometimes works 11pm-7am. Lately though without the necessary staff, she is asked if she could pick up any overtime hours as a nurse or a nursing assistant/patient care tech. Never one to abandon her patients she complies working more and more and more. Without much family or friends to keep her and her workaholic tendencies in check, her neighbors step in. Sargent James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes-AKA the Winter Solider and his best friend Captain Steve Grant Rogers-AKA Captain America begin passively helping, leaving food on her doorstep, making sure she can walk from the elevator to her place in one piece, keeping tabs on her whereabouts and even using their heighten senses to ensure her personal safety behind the walls. When a fire drill doesn't wake you Bucky Barnes takes matters into his own hands, with Steve and The Avengers' help of course.

WARNINGS: NONE for this chapter

PAIRINGS: Bucky Barnes x Reader      Steve Rogers x Tony Stark

SERIES MASTERLIST // NEXT

CHAPTER 1 (Also on AO3 Here)

The elevator was quiet, blissfully quiet. Completely devoid of the talking, typing, clicking, clacking, cart-rolling, pill-passing noise of the general medicine floor of the hospital you worked at. The bright fluorescent lights were the only thing keeping you awake. If your state of being was to be considered awake, you leaned heavily on the back wall of the elevator using it to keep upright. Swaying, your blinks were long and frequent, pushing off the fatigue until the last possible minute. You were almost home, after your fourth 16-hour shift in a row, you had your fist day off in ten or twelve days. The money from working so much overtime was nice but it left you tired down to your mitochondria.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. You stumbled out and onto your floor paying no attention to anything other than the floor in front of your feet, keeping ahold of all your belonging and finding your key. Your shuffling gait was in a direct collision course with one of the occupants from the other room on the floor. You shuffled on, not aware of him at all.

“Jeez, Y/N, are you okay?” Sargent James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes asked as he side-stepped your swaying shuffle.

“I’m fine. Jus’ tire’ is all.” You slurred. You came to a rough halt, not wanting to lose a moment with you floormate. You didn’t dare turn around knowing that you would see stars.

“Did you work all night again? Do you need some help getting to your room?” Bucky looked at you back, noticed your light trembling and swaying. “Never mind, I am helping you to your room. Give me your keys please, Y/N.”

“No. I can’t let my patients suffer.” You fisted the keys to your apartment, which was across from the one Bucky shared with the one and only Steve Grant Rogers-or as most knew him, Captain America-and lurched away from him. You tried to put more effort into speaking so the slurring wouldn’t be too heavy, a day nurse had told you that you were practically unintelligible. Your suddenly clear speech did not distract him from the fact it took you three tries to fit you key in the lock.

“What am I going to do with you?” Bucky sighed. You figured it was rhetorical and even if not, it was getting harder to stay awake. Bucky nudged you out of the way, unlocking your door for you and guided you in. You inelegantly threw your stuff on the counter, heaving a deep sigh.

“SArgent Barnes, thank you for helping me get home. I should be fine from now. I am going to sleep a bit and get a shower. I am off today. I hope.” You faced James totally, wanting to convey your thanks properly. “I don’t mean to be such a burden to you. Let me know how I can repay you.” You flashed him a bright grin.

Bucky felt his breath catch. Even run down as you were, even dressed in wrinkly and smelly and sweaty and stained scrubs, your hair a greasy pile on your head and speech almost undecipherable. You were beautiful.

“Repay me? Y/N, there is no need. You are my friend. You are Steve’s friend. I am doing what anyone should do, being a nurse is hard and demanding on a full-time schedule, let alone the insane one you have.” Bucky said. You just shook your head and smiled.

“Fine, you win, mister. Now, if you don’t mind, I need a shower and to clean up my apartment and a nap. So, go do your ‘Avengers’ thing.” You made a shooing motion with your hands. Bucky held his up and walked backwards out the door laughing lightly.

“You shouldn’t lie to your elders. That isn’t polite. If you need me just knock. We just got back from a mission. Steve is still at the compound, but I came straight here” Bucky said. “Do you want anything to eat? I can whip up some eggs for you. You are looking a little thin.”

“I’m not ‘ungry. Have a few chores. Then sleep. Later?” You were slurring again. Bucky took your answer as a question. From sharing your floor, the last few months, he knew you were prone to skipping meals too often.

He and Steve used their heightened senses to keep track of you. Left to your own devices you slacked in the self-care department. He had learned that you worked 3pm-11pm most days but some days it was 7pm-7 am or even 3pm-7am, and the latter seemed to be happening more and more frequently. He knew you didn’t have much family or friends to alleviate the workaholic tendencies you displayed.

“Okay, Y/N. Why don’t you come over for dinner? We can watch Blue Planet. If you need us, we are across the hall.” Bucky offered.

“Thank you again, Sargant Barnes. Without your help I would still be sitting in the hall asleep.” You focused on his face once more. He peered closely at you and seeming to believe that you weren’t in danger of passing out, He ruffled your messy hair and left. He closed and locked the door behind himself.

The second the door shut it felt as if he took all the liveliness with him. You sagged where you stood, exhaustion catching up with you. You looked around and sighed, your place looked like a goblin had been living here for a month. The last two and half weeks especially had been rough on your floor at the hospital, being a general medicine floor, you took anyone eighteen years or older for anything at all. You could have a 20-year-old with the flu or an 89-year-old with a fresh hip replacement. You had the beds for any patient the hospital had to admit that didn’t need a specialty room (unless overflow happened). The floor had 60 beds for usually 6 nurses and 8 nurse aides, however, there was a low supply and high demand for healthcare workers. Recently, you have been the nurse for 30 patients and having to help the aides since there are only four or five of them a night. And even shorter staff on the overnight shift, leading to you picking up or needing to stay over because no one was there to relieve you. You also picked up shifts as a nursing assistant or patient care tech, believe that no nurse is above their aides and you understand you patients better.

“Okay, let’s get changed and then shower. We can clean up after that.” You nodded firmly, pulling from the almost empty energy stores to get moving.

You pulled off your filthy scrubs, not even beginning to identify the mysterious stains and added them to the dirty laundry. After a quick shower you pulled on sweatpants and a shirt, feeling like a functioning member of society and not a dirty trash goblin. You gathered all your dirty clothes and began on of the many loads of laundry, while that went you did dishes and cleaned out the fridge, took out the trash, changed sheets, swapped the throw blankets on the chair and couch. You even wrote a grocery list for the next week or two. After doing a second load of laundry you called it quits. It was 9:30 in the morning and you needed some sleep before tackling the rest of your chores.

“Two melatonin and two-night ibuprofen should do the trick. I can sleep. I can sleep and not have to get up for work until tomorrow.” You said to yourself. You took the medication and curled up on the couch with David Attenborough lulling you to sleep.

“Some arteries of the blue whale of big enough for adult humans to swim through.” Was the last thing you heard.

Masterlist // Next

*******************************************************************************************

Welcome to my first published Bucky Barnes X Reader fic. I am very attached to this. I wrote a lot of myself into this story. I am a Certified Nursing Assistant near Pittsburgh, PA. So I have some experience but I work with the elderly in a nursing home. Please leave a comment or kudos, I am not sure how well received this will be, and I don't really know what I am doing.

[imaginexhobbit]

A Fine Gesture

Imagine | Author

When you stole away from everything you knew in the Shire to follow a band of dwarves to goodness knows where, you’d been imagining the far off lands that you would be visiting. Mountains tall as the sky, still lakes wide enough to encompass all of the valley, forests so tall and so thick that the sun never reach the ground. What you hadn’t imagined visiting was a goblin pen, miles underground, filled with grumpy, smelly dwarves. 

“Keep still Ori,” you intoned. The cage was in almost complete darkness, but there was a little bit of light from a nearby torch by which you were patching up a huge gash that had been opened on the youngest dwarf’s head. The poor lad was staring ahead, trembling as you did your best to minimize the damage. You had barely finished dressing the wound, when suddenly you thought you heard your name being spoken amid the buzz of dwarvish grumbling. Despite yourself, and your intentions of discretion, you pricked up your hobbit ears. 

Thorin, Balin, and Bofur were speaking in low voices. You could not make out the expressions of their faces. Patting Ori gently on the shoulder, you crept closer to the trio of whisperers. The pen was so steeped in shadow, that you were able to stay out of sight with ease. 

“This was all a grave mistake,” Balin was saying. “We should never have left Rivendell without Gandalf." 

"You think he would have fought off those trap doors?” Thorin growled. 

“He probably would have led us past the trap doors altogether." 

Thorin likely had a retort for that, but Balin wouldn’t let him say it. 

"Anyhow, enough of what might have been. We must look to what will be." 

"We must escape this place!” Bofur’s voice cut in. 

“Aye, and sooner rather than later.” Balin agreed. 

“For us I do not worry, we are dwarves after all. The goblins will likely put us to work in their black mines and their wicked forges. But for (Y/N), I fear it may be a different story.”

At these words you felt your blood run cold as you recalled that grey goblin who had sniffed at you earlier with such interest. 

“If we don’t act soon, those black savages will…..they’ll…” Bofur’s voice broke, unable to finish. 

“They’ll eat her alive.” Thorin said gravely. 

“We’ve got to do something…..but what?” Bofur sounded so lost.

“If we were to fool the goblins into believing she’s one of us….” Balin said slowly. “At least for a little while, it might buy us enough time to figure a way out of here." 

"How do you suggest we do that?” Thorin broke in. “A blind orc wouldn’t mistake her for a dwarf. She sticks out like a sore thumb. Even more than the burglar. Wherever he may be." 

"It’s not her appearance that’s giving her away.” Balin replied. “It’s her smell.” “Goblins don’t see very well, they rely primarily on their noses. If we covered her scent, made her smell like….well like us…it would probably give her a fighting chance." 

"I’ll do it.” Bofur sounded eager, a little TOO eager. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“You’ll do what?” you stepped into the torchlight. The three dwarves jumped and scowled in surprise. 

“Lass….” Balin began. “How much did you hear?" 

"Enough to know that I apparently have body odor.” You said wryly. Nobody laughed. 

“It’s not that you smell bad…” Bofur said reassuringly. “You smell very nice!” He blushed, realizing what he had just said. 

“Too nice.” Thorin murmured.  "They could smell you before we even reached the cave.“ 

"Mind you, they smelled us first.” Balin added. 

“What must I do?” You were almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“Just….hold still. Don’t move.” Bofur’s voice came close to your ear. Large square hands closed around your shoulders, so large that they covered them completely. Hot breath on your face, something soft tickled your cheek. A pungent, musky scent filled your nose. It was like you were drowning in sweaty fur and tobacco. And then, you felt something warm and soft brush against your face, just below your left eye. Out of instinct, you jerked your head backwards. 

“Bofur? Did you just-MMF!” As if to answer, the moist something fastened itself over your moth. IT was now that you realized what was happening. You could only stand there in a daze as Bofur kissed you. Those soft lips seemed to be everywhere, on your face, your neck, your shoulder. Not an inch of exposed skin was left untouched. Not that you were a immodest lady. Inside, you were on fire. A squall of different emotions raged within  your head. Fear, panic, confusion, and a strange fuzzy tickly feeling that you could not identify. You tried to stay quiet and still, but sometimes little sounds escaped from you. A squeak, a gasp, a fidget. But whenever you squirmed, those big soft arms would be there to pull you back to the rain of nuzzling and kissing. You felt guilty for not obeying Bofur’s words, but you couldn’t help it. The bizarre combination of his soft, moist lips and the scratchy feeling of his whiskers tickling your skin made you warm and tingly all over. His kisses were gentle, mere caresses at first, but little by little they became fiercer and fiercer. After a while you began to worry that he might leave a few marks behind. 

“Steady on there, Bofur.” You heard Balin speak out from the shadows. 

“You’re disguising her scent, not taking her to bed.” You were glad of the darkness, because it hid the fact that you had turned redder in the face than Bombur after one pint too many. 

“Sorry Lass, guess I got carried away.” Bofur’s voice thrummed in your ear, a tad sheepishly. 

“N-no no, it’s f-fine.” You stammered, still a bit flummoxed by the omnipotent awareness of the warm, hairy presence that was still mere inches away, permeating that smell.“ 

"Enough chatter,” Thorin’s voice growled. 

“Mahal knows when those goblins will be back. No time for niceties, just get it over and done with!”

“Right,” Bofur’s hands returned to your shoulders. 

“Right,” You echoes, mentally steeling yourself into a puddle of nerves. This time, Bofur’s thick arms pulled you forward to meet what seemed in the dark to be a wall of pelts. Your face was buried in woolen fabric and fur trim. you felt the cold shock of metal fastenings and bone hooks creating indentations in your cheek. You closed your eyes, enveloped by warmth and the smell of dwarf. Bofur’s arms squeezed you tight, so tight that you barely had room to breathe. His cheek rested on the top of your head, the end of his mustache lightly tapping against your eye lid. You were surprised to experience and unexpected surge of emptiness when at last Bofur released you from his iron embrace. 

“Better make her look the part.” Balin said. 

“If they spot those ears, she’s done for." 

"Aye.” You heard Bofur mutter. Then something soft and heavy was covering your head. The flickering light of the outside torches disappeared behind a fuzzy cowl that fell past your eyes and nose. You reached up, hands searching. Your fingers came into contact with a shape that felt very familiar. Big leather straps, rustic stitches. 

“How’s that?” You could barely hear Bofur’s voice through the layers of wool and leather A hand nudged you into what you could only assume was the light. 

“That’s perfect.” Balin’s voice seemed even further away. 

“Can’t see a thing, problem is, neither can she.” That sounded like Thorin. Abruptly the yawning brim of the hat was pulled back to rest on your forehead. You blinked at the sudden ray of light as it hit you in the face. 

“What about the rest of her? Dwarves don’t wear dresses. Even goblins know that." 

"That’s right. Here lass.” Bofur’s hands took hold of you one more time. 

“How do you feel lass?” Balin asked when the flurry of hasty fumblings had ended. 

“How do I feel? Like a coat rack!” You felt rather weighed down. Bofur’s overcoat hung well past your knees, with your tiny hands utterly lost in the sleeves. The woolen scarf wrapped thrice around your neck, leaving only your eyes peering out between them and the hat. Your remark was met with genuine laughter this time. It seemed that the transformation had concluded, until Thorin’s voice broke through the quiet affirmative din. 

“Wait! What about her feet?” All eyes, including yours moved downwards to your feet, which were peeking out from below the hem of the coat. Your feet were considered tiny and quite dainty according to Hobbit standards, but were still woolly enough to make all but the most in-observant of Goblins suspicious. Bofur had already got down on one knee, tugging at his enormous fur-lined boots. 

“Bofur no!” You grabbed at his arm. You argued with him briefly but a tiny voice cut through, interrupting you both. 

“It’s alright Bofur, she can take mine.” You turned to find Ori standing there, his little boots already tucked under his arm. 

“Ori….” words failed you. He said nothing, but simply fixed you with his dark eyes, pressing the boots into your hands. 

The silence that followed as you clumsily tried them on was unbearable, but it was soon broken by something worse; the sound of footsteps. 

The cage door swung open and you were blinded by the cruel light of goblin torches. Dazed and blinking, you and the company were pulled one by one out of the pen. 

You were forced to run along in clothes that were too big and boots that were a little too small. Bofur’s hat kept slipping over your eyes and you were constantly tripping over the coat. All at once you were suddenly scooped off your feet and found yourself on Bofur’s back. Squeezing your arms around his neck, you whispered in his ear. 

“Thank you Bofur, for everything.”

If he heard you, he didn’t have time to reply. Just when you were starting to get used to the jostling, the company was suddenly halted. Plucking at your fingers, Bofur slipped you off his back and put his arms out behind him in one last ditch effort to hide you from the biggest, and the ugliest Goblin you had ever seen in your brief Hobbit life.