#sorry for this incoherent rambling but I have so many thoughts buzzing around my head right now

[feynavaley]

I finally got to see Oppenheimer.

Truly an amazing movie, I'm still speechless.

First of all, it managed to get me so involved that those three hours felt so short – it felt like a 90-minute movie. I saw it after work, I was completely exhausted, and yet, not even for a second I glanced at my clock or even felt tired at all. I left the movie theatre more awake than I had been when I first entered, which really is something. To be honest, I don't recall ever experiencing something like that before.

I think it has a lot to do with how the movie is structured, the more straightforward narration about the bomb's development intermixed with the two earings later. The first one, something closer to a war movie, the second, almost a thriller in which the real motives of the main actors get revealed only at the end.

Moreover, I got so involved with the emotions the characters were experiencing. Clearly, I know how the story with the nuclear bombs ended. Even so, I couldn't help but feel excited with the characters when they were going to test the bomb at Los Alamos, I was on the edge of my seat – quite literally. An alarmed bell rang at a corner of my brain, whispering, "Oh, this is bad. Is this truly how they want to portray the nuclear bomb? As something so exciting?" But then. As the movie went on, that excitement turned into dread and horror.

I can't help but think that it was an excellent narrative choice. From our cozy homes, pointing fingers and declaring that something is wrong is quite easy. But the movie shows quite clearly how different things are when you're right in the middle of it, how easy it is to forget about the consequences when you're swept up in the middle of the circumstances. Mind, I'm not saying that this is a justification – rather, a warning.

In a way, I felt like this movie wasn't only about Oppenheimer, but about every one of us. With the way the events were framed, the movie asked each one of us a question: if you had been in that situation, what would you have done? What do you think the right course of action would have been?

Even better, the movie does not presume to have the right answer, instead, it leaves the question open. It's a movie that forces you to think – which, in my opinion, is the mark of great movies and books

[bisquett]

7 Hours

He said three hours. His time management was poor and I knew that, but seven hours? Given the fact that he hadn’t seen me in two weeks and swore up and down he missed me, it kinda feels shitty to be sitting in this room alone. He’s not calling me for one of two reasons: his phone died or he’d rather butter me up in person than on the phone. Doesn’t he know that the damage is done.

As I glance at the contents of my hands, butterflies erupt. I scrape the cool metal with my fingernail, trailing along it’s curves. Sighing, I throw the handcuffs on the bed and return to the mirror. I think he’d like this. Blacks his favorite, after all.

The buzzing of my phone disrupts the stillness of the room. Breathless, he immediately says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m almost to your door. Are you gonna let me in?”

I allow myself a moment to roll my eyes before responding.

“Maybe.” I hang up and set my phone on the nightstand. Just a few more seconds and he’s all mine.

A soft knock at my door releases me from my thoughts and a small smile forms before I immediately wipe it off. He needs to know I’m not playing games. As soon as he sees me, his apologetic eyes and clenched smile disappear once noticing my lingerie. Curious eyes meet mine, before squinting and following me into my room. I lay my back against the door as he slides his backpack off and rambles an apology.

“I missed my first flight barely, which was bullshit by the way, and my second was delayed. I’m sorry, I love you.” He finds my face with his hands and lands a sloppy kiss on my lips.

I hum into him before grabbing his hair and roughly pulling him back.

“Seven hours.”

His breath hitches as he opens and closes his mouth. “You look beautiful.” he manages.

I mock a sweet smile and push him forward, towards the bed. He stumbles but remains standing. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me, he doesn’t know if I’m being serious. Because surely I wouldn’t do this as soon as he walked through the door.

“Do I get a hug? I missed you.” He pleads, laughing nervously at my demeanor.

“Clothes. Off.” I reply reaching around him to retrieve his favorite toy.

His face softens with realization. He bites his lip slightly and begins undressing, gaze following me as I swing the handcuffs around my finger. He doesn’t need to ask because he knows he’s not allowed to.

After his jacket and shirt are successfully off, I undo his jeans for him. I can tell his eyes are on me but I don’t look up.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I stand and throw his jeans to the side. “You should’ve thought of that before you missed your flight.”

“I know.” he whispers.

I caress his cheek, giving him a moment of peace. “On the bed, baby.”

He complies and holds his wrists out for me. I want to ruffle his hair and kiss him for being so good but I’ll save that for later. I can’t back down now.

It’s quiet as I secure his right wrist to the far metal column of my headboard. His stomach rises and falls- with anticipation or nerves, I’m not sure.

“You okay?” I ask tentatively.

“Yes.” he hums while flexing his wrist in the restraint.

We share an impassioned look, my eyes darting between his, silently gauging his approval. I smirk and move on to his left wrist, slowly trailing down his arm until I get to his collarbone. Goosebumps are already appearing, causing confusion to his usually smooth skin. I stand at the foot of the bed, admiring his arms held above his head for me. I’ve been dreaming about the next time I’d get him like this. Two weeks was a long time and memories didn’t do it justice.

To say I love the way he’s behaving is an understatement. Just a few minutes ago, he was ready to combat my harsh words with a goofy grin plastered on his face. Now he was completely at my mercy. And loving it.

I move to straddle him, getting a grunt in return. Cupping his face in my hands, I kiss him for a few seconds before pulling back and gripping his face. “Two weeks you haven’t seen me and you can’t even make your flight. Makes me think you don’t care.”

Wide eyes stare back. “No, I do. I’m so sorry. I-”

“I’m not finished.”

He restrains himself as I continue. “You swore you missed me, you couldn’t wait to see me…” I drag my fingertips down his chest. “…how upset you were that we were so far apart. How I’m the most important thing to you…” I stop my movement and coldly state, “And you treated me just like everything else in your life.”

His pained expression reflects mine. “Y/N…I didn’t mean to. Please don’t say that. I never want to hurt you.”

I resume my painfully slow decent on his chest, moving down to his abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers. His attention is still on me, worry present on his face.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna make it up to me.” I lock eyes with him, a smile playing on my lips.

He barely has time to react before I enter his boxers, watching him throw his head back, emitting the most beautiful sound. I pump him slowly but quicken my pace as his eyes flutter. Such a simple action has him so easily worked up. Could be the handcuffs he’s been wearing proudly. They never fail to speed up the process. I feel myself getting wetter the more he’s enjoying my hand around him. Finally, I tear my eyes away and detach my hand. He lifts his head to find me removing his boxers completely.

I walk around the bed to tend to his wrists. “How does it feel?”

“Mhm.” he nods.

I tighten his cuff and watch as his eyes close and reopen, a familiar desire forming.

“What would you like me to do?” I ask, crawling over him, my head hovering over his stomach.

He emits a small laugh, the irony of him having a choice being obvious to us both.

“David.” I drag out when he fails to respond.

“Uhm.” He speaks, voice timid.

“Okay, I’ll choose.”

I reach for his length, already hard and needy, as I pump him faster than before. He swallows and bucks his hips, trying to get some release.

“How many times did you touch yourself?”

“Hmm?” he incoherently replies.

“How many times did you touch yourself in LA David? I want a number.” I continue my rhythm, twisting at the tip and dragging my spit to the base of his cock.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Think.”

Watching the battle between his mind and body was something else. I give him a moment to collect his thoughts as I collect the precum at his tip.

“Maybe f…maybe four.” He guesses, head lifting just in time to watch mine go down on him, filling my mouth. “Oh God.” he moans, biting his lip. “Y/N.”

My hushed name falling from his swollen lips sparks an unearthly desire to make this boy more sorry than he ever has been. I can feel how close he is. Just a few more seconds.

“Look at me.”

His doe eyes find me quickly, trying and failing to stay open. “So good for me. Are you gonna cum?”

He whimpers a yes, sweet moans escaping his lips with each pump. Our rhythmic breaths turn erratic as he begins to let go. Big brown eyes bore into mine as I feel his orgasm approaching. With one last buck of the hips, he moans loudly as I swiftly pull away.

“No, no, no.” He cries. His head falls forward, wrists pulling at the cuffs.

One last ‘no’ quietly escapes his mouth as I finish reveling in the sight.

“Don’t strain yourself. Remember when you had to wear bracelets for two weeks straight?” I ask, knowing he either can’t or won’t attempt an answer. As I grab his damp hair and pull him up, I’m met with flushed cheeks and heavy eyes. We lock eyes and for a brief moment, I see a shimmer in them.

“That’s one out of four.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a year of reading smut about David, this is my first time writing and submitting! Love your sub!david posts and love that there are people out there like me lol. -anonymous please 

[anxiouslymalicious]

Until you see the truth.

Summary: A continuation of Until the time is right in which the reader takes care of Frankie and ends up with a rather unexpected guest.

Word Count: 3,584

Warnings: None. Literally none. Except maybe bad writing.

A/N: What is up, my dudes? I actually didn’t want to end like this, but I felt like it was getting too long and boring so I decieded against it. Anyway, I hope that I’ll be able to post the next chapter soon, but it’s currently almost 1am and I’m getting kinda tired. Anyway, I hope you like it! Oh and a huge thank you goes out to @lakef for helping me out!

Tags:  @mamaskillerqueen @yourealegendroger @lakef @mcrmarvelloki @oh-well1 @sam-mercurry-sixx @queen-turtle-boiii If you want to be tagged, message me please! And I’m truly sorry if I forget to tag you, but things get kinda messy on tumblr at times. 

It had been a few days since you found out that you were pregnant. The thought of it had started to settle in, although you still did not feel like any of it was real. You had tried to come up with a plan of how to tell Ben that he would be a dad but were discouraged every time. Whether it was by him telling you how happy he was with his life right now, him going out with his friends and having drinks or him telling you about this new role he had gotten. Meaning, he would be gone for quite some time again. Meaning, you only had about three more weeks to tell him and figure out what to do with him.

You felt pressured. Your anxiety had been gnawing at you for days anyway, making you consider so many different scenarios of how Ben would react once you told him you were pregnant. From him being ecstatic to him telling you that he never wanted to hear from you or the baby again, your mind was making you go crazy. All the time, you tried to tell yourself that you were being irrational, but Ben had fucked up your relationship before.

‘You know him’, you told yourself. ‘He loves children. You’re just being irrational. The worst he could do is tell you that he is not ready to be a father.’

You pushed your hair out of your face as you walked through the streets of London towards the building in which Ben lived. He had asked you to come by and maybe stay with Frankie for the weekend, as for why, you didn’t know. But as you were desperate to see Ben again and maybe catch a calm minute to talk to him about your predicament, so you gladly accepted.  

As soon as you rang the bell, Ben had buzzed you inside and once you made your way upstairs, you found Ben eagerly waiting for you by the door. But not only Ben was eagerly waiting for you.

Frankie ran passed her human, straight towards you. You giggled and kneeled to her level and gladly accepted her affection as she jumped at you and tried licking your face. Gently, you pushed her away from your face and she started curiously sniffing you, like you smelled differently. Then, she took a step back and eyed you carefully.

“What’s up, Frankie? Everything alright?”, you asked her.

“Did you use a different body lotion or something?”, Ben asked, confused at his dog’s behaviour. She had never acted strangely towards you, she had quite literally been affectionate with you since the very beginning.

“I think I did.”, you said and shrugged, then got up and greeted Ben with a hug.

“So why did you need me to come over? I mean besides to take care of my beloved Frankie, of course.”, you asked as you sat down on the couch with Ben, Frankie, however, sat down a little further away than usually, her head tilted lightly as if she was wary of you.

“A mate of mine’s in a bit of trouble and needs help. Nothing too serious, but he needs someone to support him emotionally. I told him I would be there, but I really don’t want to drive with Frankie for so long. You know how she gets on car rides. And- “

“Alright, Ben, calm down. It’s alright, I was just being curious.”, you interrupted his rambles which almost sounded panicked. You placed your hand on his knee and moved your thumb over it slowly. He placed his own hand above yours, squeezing it gently. Your eyes met his and you felt your heartbeat speed up. That’s when you decided that enough was enough. You needed to tell him, or you would explode.

And just as you opened your mouth to drop the bomb, Frankie ran off and you heard the sound of something being broken echoed through the flat.

“What the fuck, Frankie?”, you sighed, rubbing your hands over your face as Ben went after Frankie to see what amount of damage she had done. According to the incoherent curses from Ben, she must have broken a vase in the hallway.

“I think I’m gonna get going now. If you want, there are still leftovers from what I had for dinner yesterday or you can just order something. It’s on me, you still got my passwords, right?”, he told you and you involuntarily giggled. You did, for a fact, and Helen had tried her hardest to make you use them for food orders. It felt wrong, though, and so you decided not to.

“Yeah, thanks. But I can pay for my own food.”, you replied.

“I know you can. Doesn’t mean you have to. Anyway. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it. Use whatever you want, I hope you still know your way around here.”, Ben’s smile was small with the thought of what had happened earlier that year.

“No need to thank me. It’s my pleasure staying here with my love. And yeah, I think I do.”, you told him and got up to hug him again. This time, a little longer. Your arms wrapped around his waist, your face snuggling into his chest. Ben’s arms wrapped around you, his hands slowly moving up and down your back.

“Everything alright?”, he whispered.

“Yeah. Just promise you’ll get home safely. I need you here.”, you told him and once more felt tears well up in your eyes. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for you to cry these days. Not only because of your whole predicament, but mostly because your hormones were going batshit crazy. Once, you cried over accidentally killing a spider by stepping onto it in a moment of shock.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”, Ben asked once more, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your back, his gaze sceptical.

“Yeah. Let’s talk about this later, your mate needs you.”, you told him with a kiss to his cheek. Ben still eyed you warily, but nodded, grabbing his bag and shoes.

“Okay. Y/N, I promise you, I will make it back home.”, Ben told you honestly, and you felt some kind of ease on your heart. Like a heavy stone had been lifted from your chest. He wasn’t making fun of you, not in any way and you appreciated that. Ben kissed your head before he walked to the door.

“Oh, and Roger might come by tomorrow. I forgot something at his a few days ago and he told me that he would bring it around during the weekend.”, Ben added before leaving. You nodded and watched him go.

A sigh escaped your lips as you turned around to face the flat. You felt like a foreigner in a place you once called your home. Like you didn’t really belong anymore even though you once did.

Frankie watched you with those huge eyes of hers as you wandered through the flat. Your mind felt restless, yet you felt at peace. It was strange.

At some point, you laid down on the couch, watching a random Netflix show as your hand rubbed over your belly. Someone was growing in there. It was still a strange thought and you were still not showing, but you had somewhat built a connection with the little being in there.

Little footsteps sounded through the flat. Frankie eagerly came closer to you again, sniffing at your hand once more, almost like you were a stranger to her. You were confused at her actions, nonetheless you gave her the time she needed to get used to you again. Google would surely give you some answers later, so you shrugged it off and instead focused on gaining your favourite dog’s trust again. It didn’t take her long, though, to jump on the couch next to you and crawl onto your legs, lying down on your thighs with her head and paws gently resting on your stomach. You watched her in awe, tears shooting back into your eyes. You tried to hold them back but failed miserably.

And so, you were wailing on the couch with Frankie trying to calm you by nuzzling her head into your stomach as a Black Mirror episode was playing. A Friday evening almost exactly how you wanted them to be. Only Ben was not there to cuddle with you.

The constant crying tired you out. So much that you kept drifting in and out of sleep and settled on heating up Ben’s leftovers for dinner, this time, settling for something easier to watch. Something that was guaranteed to make you laugh. Ben made you laugh, meaning that the only logical conclusion was to watch Bohemian Rhapsody. Watching four of your closest friends harmonise like that on screen warmed your heart. It made you proud. And if you were to drift off again, there was nothing better to lull you to sleep than Queen songs.

You actually drifted off into a merciless slumber full of nightmares and when you woke up, Frankie was gently licking your face as she whimpered, trying to pull you out of your own dream. With your hand, you wiped her saliva off your cheek before you pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and stretched. Frankie jumped off, nervously plodding and dancing around in front of you, signalling you that she needed to go out for a walk.

A little smile crept onto your face.

“Hold on for one more second, will ya? I need to put on a sweatshirt before we can leave. I imagine it’s not too warm outside and we don’t want for anything to happen to your little sibling, right?”, you asked Frankie as you made your way to the bedroom- Ben’s bedroom- to steal one of his sweatshirts and threw it on. It was comfortably huge on you and with that, you grabbed your wallet and phone, stuffed them into the pocket, and got Frankie and yourself ready to go, then left.

You walked a route you usually took when Ben wasn’t taking her on a walk. Everything still felt so familiar, like you had never stopped walking Frankie, walking through the still quite brightly illuminated streets. Street lights and the different lights of the many shop windows you passed kept the streets casted a warm light over the cold street, making you feel safe. And all that despite the lack of people walking through the streets. Most people spent their Friday nights near the pubs and clubs rather than the antiquaries and book stores you passed. It was crazy how a place that was usually so full of life could suddenly be so quiet and deserted.

Once you returned to the flat, both you and Frankie were exhausted and too tired to do too much. So, you put your empty plate into the kitchen sink, stole one of Ben’s shirts to sleep in and curled up under the covers, along with little Frankie.

The bed smelled like him. It was soothing. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how you might be able to sleep in this bed on a daily again soon. The feeling was perfect, the only thing missing was Ben, your personal heater. But Frankie tried her best to replace him, curling up at your stomach, almost like she was trying to protect the unborn baby from the world. Once more, a few stray tears made their way down your cheeks, but you quickly wiped them away before you snuggled into the pillow, pulled the blanket up to your chin and drifted off into a much more peaceful dream.

You woke up with the urgent need to pee. It was ridiculously urgent. A groan escaped your lips as you made your way to the bathroom, freshening yourself up once you were there. As you knew Frankie, you knew that she felt the same need as you did, and so you quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face with a bit of cold water and threw your hair up into a ponytail, then got dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt once more, property of Ben. You couldn’t help it, though. They smelled like him and made you feel comfortably small. Once you were all set, you once more walked Frankie through the city, this time on a slightly different route to pick up something for breakfast at a bakery.

And as you stood there, a hazelnut croissant caught your eye and you felt your mouth start to water. Just like your eyes. You remembered how Ben bought you one shortly before your relationship failed. The day he tried to make you feel better about yourself. And you did. You truly did.

After you paid for your breakfast, you hurried back home, the tears aggressively made their way down your cheek as your mind forced you to think about Ben’s words that day once more. Reliving his actions.

It was no wonder that you ignored Ben’s call and instead told yourself that you would answer to his text with a lame reply about how you binge watched a show last night, stayed up too long and slept well into the afternoon today.

One thing you completely forgot about, was that someone was meant to come over. And not just a friend of Ben’s who you had met several times before, but Roger fucking Taylor.

Let’s just say it was an unpleasant surprise when you opened the door in Ben’s sweater and sweats, your hair dishevelled and tear streaks all over your cheeks, only to be met with Roger Taylor looking as gorgeous as ever. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as Roger chuckled lightly.

“I take it you haven’t had a good night’s sleep?”, Roger asked with an amused grin on his lips. You just nodded as you felt a fresh wave of tears in your eyes. All of this crying was so unlike you and you felt disgusted, almost, but you couldn’t help it.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Need someone to talk to?”, Roger asked. You hesitated, anxiously rubbing your hands together.

“It’s nothing, I guess. I’ll deal with it.”, you mumbled, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“You know, love, I hate to admit it, but I’m an old man. I’ve spent some time with people and I know that what you’re dealing with is not ‘nothing’. You don’t need to deal with it on your own. Ben’s still head over heels for you.”, he told you sincerely. You nodded once more, sighing deeply.

“That’s the thing though. I can’t tell him. Not right now at least.”, you said as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to find some comfort. Roger looked at you, his eyes showing just how sorry he felt for you and how much he regretted that he wasn’t really able to help. Tears stung in your eyes as you watched his expression change from happy to concerned. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, desperately trying to hold back the tears.

“Come here, sweetheart. Can I hug you?”, Roger asked, his voice soft and you nodded, leaning into him. It felt nice. Like a father’s hug. You just broke down further.

“Let’s get you inside, hm?”, Roger whispered as he led you back inside the flat, looking around Ben’s place to find a place to make you sit down comfortably. Noticing his distress, you nodded towards the living room and sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to you, motioning for Roger to sit down. He did as he was asked. Meanwhile, Frankie sat down next to you again, resting her head in your lap.

As Roger sat down, he placed a bundle on the armrest of the couch.

“Ben’s sweatshirt. He forgot it at mine and told me that he needed it back as soon as possible. Don’t know why though.”, Roger replied to your silent question. A watery chuckle escaped your lips.

“Because it’s my favourite sweatshirt of his.”, you mumbled, playing with the hem of the sweatshirt you were currently wearing. Roger let out a hearty laugh.

“He’s always been a huge softie, hasn’t he?”, Roger asked.

“He was. Then he wasn’t. Now he’s getting back to being one.”, you replied quietly, quickly slapping your hands in front of your mouth to stop yourself from talking. You were well aware that talking like that about Ben in front of any of his friends was inappropriate. A hand on your shoulder made you look up, though.

“If you want to talk about it, I won’t stop you. I like Ben. He’s done quite a good job on Bohemian Rhapsody. I doubt that what happened between you two will change my mind. Not when I hear him talking about you like this. Always asking for advice, trying to do everything right, asking for ideas. Even that party was his idea. Told me he saw how you didn’t fully enjoy yourself at Gwil’s wedding and wanted to give you the opportunity to let lose. I didn’t tell you though.”, Roger looked at you with a playfully threatening look. A light giggle bubbled up from deep inside you as you wiped furiously at your tears.

“It’s just… I don’t know… Everything’s a little too much right now. I don’t know what to do. I mean I’ve got my friends’ opinions, but they are my age and all kind of… Have the same thought process I guess? But my parents, they are…” You took a deep breath. “They are not in the picture. Not anymore. They haven’t been since I started dating Ben. And it’s tough in times like these.”, you tried to explain. Your fingers trailed over Frankie’s soft fur, drawing random patterns to distract yourself.

“Times like these?” Roger’s confusion was obvious. You took a shaky breath.

“Roger, you can’t tell Ben. I want to do it myself eventually, but I’m pregnant.”, you whispered, anxiously awaiting his reaction. But instead of the dreaded negative reaction, Roger grinned from ear to ear.

“That’s fantastic, sweetheart! Why wouldn’t it be?”, Roger pulled you into his shoulder, giving you a tender hug. It was almost fatherly.

“Because we’re not even dating at the moment.”, you told him in a broken voice.

With that, you told Roger everything. From how Ben told you to leave, over how he fucked up, all the way to Gwil’s wedding and the situation you now found yourself in. It felt different than talking to Helen. Maybe because Roger wasn’t too biased. Obviously, he knew Ben a lot better than he knew you, but you felt like Roger was trying to stay neutral. He wasn’t there when any of it happened and both of you were aware that your perception of the events differed from Ben’s, so he wasn’t trying to be on your side only, but he wasn’t going to purely defend Ben’s actions either.

Roger told you that he did understand Ben for some part, being the centre of attention was hard, and especially when something as big as Bohemian Rhapsody happened to you, however he also told you that you had every right to keep your distance.

“If there is one thing I know for sure though, it’s that Ben won’t leave you alone with the child. But just in case, although it’s highly unlikely, I promise to help you.”, Roger told you truthfully. You were shocked.

“Absolutely not. Roger, you barely know me.”, you scolded Roger and stood up.

“You barely know me either and you didn’t hesitate to tell me half of your life story. Besides, it’s my money and I’m an adult. I can decide what I want to do with it.”, Roger mumbled the last part. You sighed, walking around the room. Frankie watched you, her ears perched up in curiosity, but also worry.

“We’ll talk about that one again if Ben tells you that he won’t support you. When did you plan on telling him anyway?”, Roger asked, now moving closer to Frankie to scratch behind her ears absentmindedly.

“Definitely before he leaves for filming.”, you explained, stopping in your tracks. But what would be after that?

“If you can’t tell him when he’s awake yet, why not practise while he’s sleeping? Or tell him after he had a glass of wine or two, that’ll loosen him up and you will have less to worry about.”, Roger suggested, and you nodded along.

“Better than any ideas Helen or I came up with.” you shrugged, considering his idea. Yeah, that didn’t sound so bad.

“And if you want me to, I’ll tell you more embarrassingly adorable things Ben said about you. He truly likes you, Y/N. And I will keep on telling you that it won’t end up too bad. Ben is absolutely in love with you. There is something about the way he talks about you, the things he says, how worried he gets. You know that I’m not a fan of Ben’s actions, but he regrets everything. And I’m sorry to say this, sweetheart, but I will keep on telling you all these things until you see the truth. That he’s not such a bad boy after all.”, Roger told you, sensing your uncertainty as he hugged you close once more. This time, it truly felt like a father’s hug.

And with that, a tense conversation was imminent.

[avengersassemble-fics]

There’s Still Time (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: AU! Doctor Barnes wakes up every morning next to the woman of his dreams, and goes to work and saves lives. One day when his older mentor has to leave for a family emergency, he meets someone who will change his life forever.

Word Count (1,838)

AN: Uh yeah another story with my fave metal armed assassin but it’s an au?? i want fluff god damn it! alsoooo i watched a lot of house as a kid ok but damn daddy bucky coming to save the world

They call it the city that never sleeps for a very good reason. At just 4 am the sounds of car brakes and stores opening for business filled James Buchanan Barnes’ apartment, and he was up before his alarm even went off. But he stayed in bed, not wanting to disrupt the gorgeous red head sleeping next to him.

Natalia Romanoff laid naked beside him, Bucky’s arm clutched around her waist, and he just stroked her arm. God she was beautiful, and he was so lucky to have her. She was smart, independent, and didn’t really need him but wanted him anyway. There was only two minutes left before his alarm was to go off and he used every last second to savor this moment with her. It may have been like this everyday but it never got old to him.

His alarm rang once and Bucky was out of bed, making sure to shut it off before his fiance even moved an inch. She was a light sleeper, but he knew how to work his ways around her ever cautious self. It’s one of the things she loved about him. Bucky walked to his closet, which housed a few of Nat’s things as well, and picked out a nice white shirt and trousers for his day.

With a quick shower and a cup of coffee, Bucky placed a kiss to Natasha’s head and headed down to the garage, going over his daily checklist. His tools were already in his car, his phone charged, with a backup battery, he knew he had pens in his bag as well.. As he opened the door to his Ford Raptor and climbed inside, he figured he had everything he needed. It was just another day, another perfect day in his perfect life.

He tapped his fingers to whatever music he was playing as he sat in traffic from Brooklyn into Manhattan for exactly forty-three minutes, and hummed the beat to something as he walked inside the hospital he worked at. People smiled at him, greeting him and he nodded back a reply, and pushed open the door to his own office. The blinds were still closed and with the press of a button the began to retract upward, letting in the rising sunlight and he sighed in happiness.

The first two hours of his shift were spent making the rounds from the emergency room to patients coming out of their surgeries from the previous day. Each patient nodded their understandings of the following procedures, agreeing to keep up with their medicine intakes, and he occasionally set up physical therapy days for those who needed it. After taking a quick lunch break, Bucky was headed back to his office, when he heard his name called.

He knew who it was, it was Dr. Bruce Banner, motioning for him to come over. With a big smile on his face, he greeted his old pal slash mentor with a pat on the back, “What can I do for you?”

“Well this is Emily, she’s six,” he began and Bucky already wanted to cower into himself. Kid cases weren’t his things, neither were terminal cases. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, it was that he didn’t think he could do it in enough time. Guilty? Yes. But Banner could solve it, he knew he could. Bucky was always afraid of letting his feeling get in the way, and he couldn’t risk that.

“Admitted for a bloody nose and passing out, my team determined it could be an experimental drug her mother used which has recently been revealed to cause Kidney failure-”

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs and Bucky sighs.

“Ultrasound showed it wasn’t her kidneys, so we’ve determined that it was her liver but..”

“Is it clear?”

Banner nodded and Bucky ruffled his hair,  trying to think, “Well.. I think a lumbar puncture might determine if that’s true or not, so that should be your first step.”

Banner was quiet, thinking over the suggestion and he grinned, “I knew you’d have a fresh look on this, kid. Thanks,” he gathered up Emily’s case and paused, “you wouldn’t mind seeing over that would you?”

“Of course not,” Bucky smiled, although he felt like kicking himself. Bruce Banner knew how he felt about kids and terminal and near impossible cases, but he walked down the hallway to the elevator anyway, figuring this little girl could use his help.

Emily’s case turned out to be so much worse than anyone had thought. The lumbar puncture was going fine until her vitals started dropping and she began to stroke. It began so much clearer that she had a heart tumor, but why it was affecting so many organs made Bucky dig deeper. Emily was such a strong little girl, waking up on life support and still had this adorable smile on her face, and her green eyes looked at him with hope.

Carefully looking at her x-rays, he didn’t know how anyone could’ve missed it. The tumor in her heart had spread through her blood stream and into her liver and kidney. He ordered a surgery immediately with Doctor Strange (the best heart specialist Manhattan Medical had) and hurried down to Banner’s floor.

It was almost 6 o’clock, almost time for Bucky to go home, but he wanted to update his friend. After speaking with a nurse, he almost jogged down to an examination room, the door closed and Bucky opened it quickly, “Hey man, I just wanted - oh.”

He stopped mid sentence, seeing a woman hooked up to an IV, being helped up by Banner. He cleared his throat and her eyes shot to him, as well as Bruce’s.

You were a looker, very easy on the eyes. Your hair fell perfectly to frame your face and your (e/c/l) orbs seemed to look directly into his soul, you didn’t smile or anything but the nurse in the room sure did. Bruce smiled, motioning him to come in, “What can I do for you, kid?”

“It’s about Emily, her case, uh well,” he stammered, for some reason not being able to think straight, “it can wait I’m sorry to barge in.”

“Ah we were just finishing up, James this is (Y/N), my favorite patient and highlight of my week.”

You laughed as Banner unhooked your arm, rubbing the spot with his gloved hand to relieve any pain, and Bucky nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

It was like you didn’t care about his presence, but nodded your hello anyway, “You too,” you turned back to your doctor who handed over a bag of your blood to his nurse, “so what’s the plan, doc?”

Bruce wrote on his clipboard, which was heavily filled with your paper work, and spoke as he wrote, “Results should be back in a week tops, I’ll call you if it’s earlier. Same time next week?”

You nodded, grabbing your bag from the floor and slung it over your shoulder, and walked out the door, and Bucky watched, shaking his head out of his daze, and Banner chuckled, “If only I was 6 years younger.”

Bucky laughed, “You’re married old man.”

“And happily so.”

Bucky went on with his week as normal, but on Friday he kissed his beautiful fiance goodbye, her arms wrapped around his waist, “I’m gonna miss you, beautiful,” he mumbled between kisses, and Natasha grinned.

“It’s only for a week, two tops. I’m sure you’ll be able to survive without me.”

But she was so wrong, it had turned into one of the worst days he’s had in a long time. Mid surgery someone flatlined, only to find out the doctor before him didn’t relay an important piece of information. He clenched his hand so tight to make sure he didn’t knock him down to the floor. Bucky found himself sitting at a bar, hunched over on a stool as he downed drink number three, not even feeling a slight buzz. He mumbled something incoherent, earning a couple glances from people.

“If you keep talking to yourself like that people will think you’re crazy.”

Bucky looked up at the soft voice, glancing down at the bar at a familiar face. There you were, the patient Banner was with a few days ago, sipping on your drink a few seats away from, casually being checked out by a few other men. It had to have come from you, and when you set your drink down your eyes met him, still looking at him with a stoic expression. Stoic but warm, your eyes were lighter than he remembered, and he shrugged, “Bad day?” you questioned.

“Yeah, pretty bad,” Bucky mumbled, looking down at his drink. You, on the other hand, motioned for whatever clear liquid that was in your glass to be refilled and Bucky glanced up again. God what he’d give for Natasha to be here. He didn’t even notice the words that came out your lips, and he blinked.

“What?”

“Well whenever you burst into my examination room, you mentioned an Emily.. What happened?”

So Bucky told you the story, about Bruce telling him about this little girl, about him going into surgery and her seizing... He also told her about how she had the biggest smile on her face when she woke up later that night, and how he sat with her for almost an hour talking about how she was excited to go back to school in a couple weeks.

Bucky was feeling better, and he found himself smiling. You were sitting beside him at this point, just letting him talk, nodding when needed. The man went quiet which prompted you to look over, and he was smiling into his glass, so you spoke slowly, “I’m not sure what happened today but those are the days you want to remember.”

“But that was so dumb! He could’ve killed that guy-” he rambled and you hesitated before touching his arm and he seized immediately, his metal arm shattering the glass he was holding.

Your hand shot back and mumbled, “Fuck man,” below your breath and Bucky stood quickly, grabbing napkins to wipe up the mess, “I am so sorry, I didn’t-”

You laughed, and he stopped wiping the mess up and looked over at you, you were just giggling at the mess and stood, helping him wipe up the wet surface. He wasn’t sure what happened next, but Bucky was feeling a lot better and laughing at a joke you had made. And he found himself standing outside with you as you slid your coat on, and he stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks for.. that, I needed a little pick me up,” Bucky said, and you nodded, pulling your hair out from the fabric.

“It’s no problem, James. Everything could be worse.”

Bucky let your words sink in as you waved a small goodbye and headed down the street. Bucky walked the other way, pulling out his phone to call Natasha, eager to hear her voice.

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Nightmare’s Bite

The Warden finds herself in the midst of a rather violent archdemon dream.  When she wakes it’s Alistair she turns to for comfort.

Alistair x Warden Surana (pre-relationship)

I’ve been sitting on this one for quite a while because I thought it was waaaay too indulgent, but dangit, I’ve grown to like it... so here it is.

Or read it here on AO3

She stood at the peak of a steep valley, peering down below her.  Masses of Darkspawn swirled below and filled every space between the two walls. Even the sides of the cliff seemed to writhe with them.  They lined the bare rocks like fur on the back of a Mabari.  Some even attempted to scale the precarious rocks around them.

Despite better sense she found herself creeping closer to the edge, drawn by some unseen force.  Down in the middle of the horde she could make out something different, something not rotting and seething with the Blight. It glinted with clean steel.  The sun above her was dying, orange and weak, but she could make out a shield.  Alistair. With widening eyes she began to notice the distinct color of his hair, the blue and white gryphon pattern sprawling across the face of his shield, and the familiar movements of his sword.

There were hundreds of Darkspawn pressing in on him.  They reached for him, pawed at him with oily hands, their claws marring his armor. They pushed and thrashed against him, pinning his sword and shield against his body where they became useless no matter the effort and strength he poured into repelling them back.  They were pressed so thick he was struggling just to lift his sword and shield to defend himself.

She threw out her hand to cast a barrier over him, but nothing happened.  She struggled to find the thread of magic within her but it was dark and full of droning whispers.  The longer she searched, the louder the whispers grew, the more pressing and urgent they became.  They called to her, coaxed her, bid her come closer.  They lulled and sang and made promises like demons across the Veil.

She shook the thoughts away. Alistair fought on below her, disappearing a moment as the Darkspawn surged against him.

There was a ledge that wound its way down into the valley.  It was narrow with few handholds, but was the only way to traverse down short of falling.  She scrambled to reach him, to be of some help.

The path was dangerous, the cliff face crumbling and corroding beneath her as she stepped with as much haste as the treacherous ground would allow.  It was hundreds of feet to the bottom.  Rocks splintered beneath her feet, making her slip and fall in her urgency to descend down to where the Warden fought.  She caught herself on bloodying hands and knees, but pushed herself up and forward each time.

Above her a shadow darkened the sky.  A great dragon soared over the opening in the valley, blotting out the sky above and casting a cold shadow over everything below.  It was not the dragon of fairy tales, with gleaming green and iridescent scales, but a dragon of nightmare.  The creature was mostly bone and where skin remained it was leathery and peeled away like armor that had seen too much sun.  Beneath lay rotting bones that protruded in unnatural ways. The whole beast seemed held together by cottony webs, sticky puss, and perverse shadows that shimmied under her gaze.

There were hundreds of Darkspawn below, but she felt the beast’s eyes fall upon her alone.  It roared and she felt her teeth clatter together.  It roared again and she felt her bones answer, traitors within her own skin.

The dragon folded its wings against its body and descended into a steep dive.  It was headed for Alistair.  He was so busy fending off the Darkspawn around him he had not noticed the dragon above.  She screamed his name; screamed for him to run, but the dragons cry blotted out her voice.

She reached for her magic again, searched for any tiny thread of it within herself that might be hidden away.  Instead of magic she found the hum of the Darkspawn below her again.  The screeching and buzzing became almost melodic the longer she listened.  The clamor and clatter soared and pulsed like the finest Chantry choir.  The melody of their hive grew so loud it was all she could hear.

The dragon flattened out its dive as it reached the bottom, on steady course for her companion.  Its great jaws opened, gaping and endless.  Steaming green ichor dripped off its broken teeth. She screamed out for Alistair again, begging him to look up, tears blotting her eyes.  

The dragon landed, shaking the ground and nearly sending her tumbling forward into the crevasse.  It lunged at Alistair, taking up a mouthful of Darkspawn with him and snapped its teeth shut, dropping her into a fog of darkness.

The darkness was a welcome.

Something was pulling at her.  Darkspawn? Had they come to drag her down to be the dragon’s dessert?  She struggled to push the hands away, to pry them away from her skin, but she felt so weak.  There were voices around her, familiar, but frantic.  They pleaded and implored and overlapped so she could not make out their source.

The hands were shaking her now, trying to shake her loose.  

“Perhaps we need something more extreme.  Cold water? I’ve woken several drunk comrades with a sharp slap.  Could that work?”  The voice was familiar, but she could not wade through the fog to locate its owner.

“No!”  She could hear someone begging.  “Don’t hurt her!”  That voice, so full of worry, it pulled and tugged at her.  It cleared away the clouds and mire that held her within nightmare’s bite.  That voice she recognized.  Alistair? He was alive!  The haze in her mind lifted.

She threw her eyes open, gasping and reaching for her bearings.  She was in camp.  The fire had burned itself down to only embers.  There was someone holding onto her shoulders, keeping her from launching herself onto her feet.  She fought it a moment, eager to get her legs beneath her, but her body was so tired, so fatigued she was stalled with little effort.

Wynne knelt next to her, offering a soothing hand that smoothed the ruffled hair back from her sweat slicked face.  “There you are, Astaria.  We were worried.”

She stared at Wynne a moment, eyes wide and panicked, before searching around her with frantic fear.  

Alistair sat beside her, it was his arm that sat across her shoulders supporting her trembling form. His eyes were wet and full of worry. He opened his mouth to say something, something clever, something sweet perhaps, but she threw her arms around him before he could speak.  He accepted her without question.  His arms wound around her and drew her close, nearly knocking the air from her with the sudden force of it.

She wanted to explain, wanted to tell him and warn him about what she had seen, but each time she tried it only came out as choked sobs.  Maker, she was a mess.  The most she could make out was a repeating, incoherent question asking if he was alright.

Alistair held her in a fierce embrace, grip almost painful.  He was murmuring soft things into her hair she could not quite make out.  She gave in, burying her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder and let herself break.  He kept her close, his warmth and strength a comfort she could not measure.

It had been so real. Never in her life had a dream felt so real.  She had sat by and watched, helpless, as that great demon had snatched her friend alive. The images replayed in her mind over and over, little flashes that she knew would haunt even her waking hours for days to come.  She gripped the back of Alistair’s shirt, clenching her eyes shut to try and blot them out.  He was still mumbling to her, rocking her back and forth in a gentle rhythm. Alistair was never very good at remaining quiet and she was thankful for it now.  His voice reminded her that he was alive, that what she had seen had been just an awful dream.  He was still there, whole and healthy.

Her sobs dwindled to sniffles and she relented the clawed grip she had maintained.

Alistair did not let go. He had not seemed to notice that the tears that had shook her had subsided into only tremors.  She could make out more of what he was saying now that she was calmer.  It was a rambling litany of assurances that he was fine, of how worried he had been, and for some reason it included how sorry he was.  What did he have to be sorry for?

“Alistair…” she finally whispered, voice cracking from abuse.

He gave a great suffering sniffle of his own and let her pull back, just enough to look up at him and meet his eyes.  She noticed her other companions had retreated to their own beds again.

“You called for me,” he whispered, shame creeping into his voice.  “You called my name and I couldn’t wake you.  I couldn’t help you.”

That time she had screamed for him to run, it must have been out loud.  Was that why he had been apologizing?  She shook her head, gripping his arms, frantic to make him understand that it was not his fault.  “It was… there was a dragon.  The archdemon.”

He nodded, eyes filling with understanding.  “I saw it, too.  A Warden dream.”

“I saw you... you were in a valley with so many Darkspawn and I couldn’t reach you,” she was blubbering, words stringing and tripping over each other, calling up new tears to her still damp eyes.  “There were so many.  My magic wouldn’t work and the archdemon came.  It came down and… and it…”  She dropped her gaze, unable to face him, and shook her head, frustrated with her inability to explain, haunted by the memories of the dream.  The images were still so fresh in her mind, but she struggled to form the horror into words.

He pulled her back into another crushing embrace.  “I’m alright. No teeth marks.”  He was struggling to add a hint of playfulness into his voice.

She sat back again, swiping her forearm across her eyes, fighting for composure.  He gave her an encouraging smile.  She nodded, slow and more sure.  “It was just… so real.”

He reached out to push some of her hair back behind a pointed ear.  The action surprised her and she almost pulled away from him.  It was not something she would have ever let anyone else do, but Alistair, the way he was looking at her right now...

She dropped her eyes again. Her emotions were still tumbling. She could not let him see them play out in her eyes.

The fire had died to only a glow and she found herself shivering now that the adrenaline wore down. Alistair rubbed his hands over her upper arms to bring some warmth back and she could not restrain herself from peeking up at him.  

There was a playful little smile beginning to draw at his lips, a hint of the usual Alistair.  “You know, I don’t think I’d taste very good to a dragon.  I hear bastards are rather gamey.”

“What about elves?” she asked in a small voice.

“Oh, elves taste even worse.”  He nodded, sage like and wise.  “Like… like mabari feet.”

“Mabari feet?”  She tried to sound indignant.  It coaxed some of a smile to her lips and she was glad to return to their comfortable banter.

“Mabari feet that haven’t been washed since the Blessed Age.”  He spoke as if he held the authority of knowledge everyone knew.

He gave her a wink and then stood, adding firewood to the dying fire.  The embers began to catch the logs alight and the warmth crept toward her.  She arranged the tangle of blankets and pulled them over herself.

Alistair was watching her, the former humor gone from his face, replaced now with some expression she could not read.  He rubbed at his shoulder, thoughts flickering over his eyes and the furrow of his brow, before seeming to make some important decision.  He crossed to his bedroll and pulled it over, dropping it not more than a foot from her own.

“There.”  His smile had slipped into something quite sincere, tone softening.  “If you wake up and you’re unsure if I’m alive or not, you can just reach over and slap me.”  His voice held a hesitant quality to it.  He was waiting for her to send him away.  

She curled up beneath her blankets, laying out on her side facing him. When she did not reprimand him or shoo him away he laid down opposite of her, setting his sword beside him.  She snaked an arm out from beneath her blankets to touch his arm, checking the distance.

“You just gave me permission to slap you.”

“Hmm, blast.  You’re right.  I did,” he whispered.

Her eyes felt swollen and dry.  Despite the terror that still loomed behind her lids, she felt them slip closed.  

“Goodnight, mabari feet.”

“Goodnight, Alistair.”

 The morning crested over the trees and lit the fog in a welcoming glow.  Alistair woke before the rest of the camp.  His muscles were sore, but they had been sore since leaving Ostagar and no longer gave him notice.  He rolled over to check on his fellow Warden.  She was curled beneath the blankets, like a cat, tufts of hair standing out in awkward angles revealing the elegant slant of an ear commonly hidden in daylight.  Her eyes were still dark and puffy from the night before.  Ugly tracks of tears lay dried upon her cheeks.  For now, though, she looked peaceful, lips slightly parted and hands resting curled beneath her chin.  Some wistful part of him wanted to acknowledge that she looked rather adorable asleep like that.  And some desperate part of him begged to reach out and hold her again, as he had last night.  Desperate and stupid.

He rose from the unforgiving ground and stretched.  Something popped in his back.  He deposited his cache of blankets over the sleeping form beside him, slow and gentle as to not rouse her.  She sighed and curled up even tighter, head disappearing beneath the covers, leaving just a few locks of hair as clues that the only other Warden in Thedas was hidden below.

Alistair set himself to work packing up camp.  He coaxed the fire back into life to be ready for breakfast, then broke down his and Astaria’s tents, stowing their belongings back into the appropriate bags. By the time their other companions crept yawning from tents and blankets he was ready to begin breakfast.

Leliana regarded him with a curious eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing.

Morrigan crossed into camp from her smaller one, tying her bedroll to the bottom of her bag with skilled fingers.  She paused as she neared the slumbering woman near the fire, reaching down to the Warden’s shoulder.  Alistair intercepted her, reaching out to stay her hand.  Morrigan shot him a lurid look, admonishments rising to her lips. He lifted a finger to his own and shook his head.  Where he might joke and insult his eyes now implored her silence.

“Just give her a few more minutes,” he pleaded.

She stared at him a heated moment before nodding and withdrawing her hand.

Alistair finished up the few remaining things needed to pack up and then made up two plates of heaping breakfast.  He returned to the last sleeping member of their group.  She was still coiled beneath the blankets.  He reached down to touch her shoulder.

“Astaria?” he called out, keeping his voice low to not startle her.  She rolled over onto her back, squinting her eyes shut with a tired whimper that tore into his chest as sure and piercing as a dagger between plates of armor.

The usual clamor of camp caught up with her and she sat up, blinking bleary eyes at the morning halo.

“I overslept?”

Alistair plopped himself beside her and shoved the plate into her hands.  He did not wait for her and began eating, shoveling large bites into his mouth.

“It’s ok,” he replied around a mouthful of eggs.  “Everything’s ready to go.”

She turned to stare at him, a slice of toasted bread halfway to her lips.  She knew.  She somehow knew what he had done that morning.  Would she chide him?  Would she see the gesture as an insult?

“Thank you.”  It was a soft response, unsure, unusual for their leader.  But it was genuine and the emotion in her eyes made it hard for him to chew his food without biting his tongue.

He felt like something passed between them at that moment.  Some shared understanding, some promise.  He could not put a name to it or explain it, but it was time for him to take a closer look at the feelings he had been so diligent in stowing away. The blossom tucked safe and secure in his bag sang to him.  Suddenly instead of terror it filled him with excitement.

But now was not the time. He gave her a knowing wink and flashed a charming smile before digging back into his plate.  But soon.