#thanks for droppin in!

[randomfoggytiger]

You answered my question perfectly!! Would you be able to do the same with season 8? Why did it take so long for M and S to get back together?

Yesssssssssssssssssssss! >:DDDD Bit long, hold tight.

Mulder finds his sister in Closure, Scully finds her peace in all things. Both enjoy this new territory briefly: Mulder almost dies in Brand X; Scully discovers an invisible man in Je Souhaite; and they sit on his couch and embrace the simplicity of life... until Requiem. Scully is feeling off-- the symptoms might add up to but don't match with her cancer; and she and Mulder fear (at different times) that her abduction experience is behind what's happening. Mulder watches her hold "that baby" and takes maturer stock of all she's lost... but hasn't yet learned to look inside and assess his own losses. Therefore, he comes to the wrong conclusion: "There so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this"-- "your life" and "you need to" play an absolutely pivotal role in Season 8. He doesn't truly want her to leave... but maybe he's wrong, maybe she's suffered enough. Scully, doubting but afraid, agrees to stay behind but insists, "I won't let you go alone". Her choice turns Skinner into a witness and unshakable ally.

Mulder is abducted. Not only does he see the truth with his own eyes, he finds it grotesque and horrifying-- his abduction and torture strip him of his wonder and bury him six feet under. He wakes in a hospital without remembering this experience, delightedly teasing his partner (happy to see her.) She's pregnant, somehow; she's eight months pregnant, that must mean he's the father; he's been gone six months, abducted three. (Either Scully tells him these facts first or he remembers his abduction first.) Suddenly, the ground flips again: he chose wrong-- going, leaving Scully behind-- and died; he should by rights be dead-- he feels dead, disconnected from life-- but now he must slot into a world that's moved on without him while Scully looks at him hopefully with a hand on her belly. He's let everyone down (he always has, Mulder reasons); and he can't give them what they need. He doesn't care to go back to work-- Kersh'll shut it down, anyway-- and he only obliquely acknowledges the baby (though he keeps as close to Scully as possible.) She has a chance at a better life-- "Scully, you're going to give birth in a couple months. You can talk as tough as you like but you know and I know and they know that in a little while you're going to have more important things than whether or not the X-Files remains open"-- and he doesn't know where he fits in: is he fated for, is he even good enough for, a normal life? Then Doggett; then jealousy and paranoia spur him into action-- he can't be all wrong if Scully, of all people, let a threat waltz into the basement. Seeing this as an opportunity to prove himself, he goes to war with Kersh, Doggett, TLG, Scully, and the DOD. Doggett saves him; Mulder reassesses, he and Scully have an off-screen conversation, he starts to move forward. He brings a family heirloom-- his unspoken sign of commitment-- before the abruption; he sees Doggett in the wake of Luke's death; he reaches forward to feel his own child. Mulder is all-in on fatherhood... but forgets the price of his recklessness and almost dies on the oil rig. He resigns, torn up but clinging to the hope that Doggett will carry on the work. Trying to avoid the pain of losing the files, Mulder ghosts Doggett and tries to keep Scully away from the basement. Both make their peace with moving on, more than ready to be parents as they hand off the Apollo 11 key chain to the new recruits. Mulder's paranoia rears its head with more alien machinations-- he cannot, will not lose Scully or "her baby" (that distancing is an offshoot of his PTSD and reawakened anxious attachment, if you want to read the writing charitably.) Realizing he's made the same Requiem mistake, Mulder does what he didn't do then-- flies home (i.e. wherever his partner is.) Thankfully, all is not lost; and Mulder and Scully address their fears openly-- finally-- and seal their happy ending with a kiss.

[daily-odile]

if isat had colour, what do you think odile’s clothes/hair would look like?

(also ty for doing this daily odile fuels my happiness)

I haven't thought of it, to be honest! So here's something I decided in 10 minutes

[radaverse]

Woke up to this

So

HAPPY RADANNIVERSARY LOL 💖

Thank you so much everyone for supporting my stuff so much

Hugs to all of you ✨

[fisheito]

Hi dear!

You're the single most entertaining person on here for me rn! I wait for your posts like Garu for treats!!

Have a good day!!!

🔥🔥🔥🔥🐍

the flavour of my posts will vary wildly from raw meat fresh off the creature to maximum-legal-amount-of-dust-as-filler stale biscuits from the back of great granpapa's cupboards healthy garus cannot sustain themselves on such a diet. here, have some vitamin Fruit 🥝🍉🍊

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

∞

(for the music lyric ask)

hello!

lyrics are from Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave by Will Wood:

[todayisafridaynight]

This might not be anything, but while writing about your fics, the way you have the characters' mannerisms down PERFECTLY got me thinking about mirroring...

There's a lot of it in 7 (Horii is a directorial genius etc etc), most of it more intentional than these probably are, but there's something so interesting about mirroring that takes the tone of a (relatively) fond memory, a familiar gesture, and inverts it in the way shown here.

OH I'M GLAD YOU'VE NOTICED THESE TOO I think I mentioned it months back (or I drafted a post 'bout it but didn't think it was anything noteworthy) but I always really did like how the Arakawa Family mimicked each other's mannerisms (also circling back to how Jo and Masato calling Ichiban 'Ichi' presumably after picking it up from Arakawa)!

Aoki actually does the same sitting gesture too! I went back to double check and skim through the rest of the game's cutscenes, and as far as I could tell unless I skipped a scene, it really is only these three that do this specific pose:

It's such a small detail but I love it immensely and it really does highlight their connections with each other and it drives me insane

[chuuyrr]

i just discovered your blog AND YOUR TTPD THEME IS GORGEOUSSSS ! makes me wonder what your favourites are from the album? ^^

maeve, hi <3 such a pretty name omg !! tysm and welcome to my lovely blog◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜₊˚⊹

aaa im so so sorry for the late response my university hasn't been kind as of late.. but to answer your question my current favorites are:

down bad

guilty as sin

but daddy i love him

so long, london

alchemy

fortnight

who's afraid of little old me

[riaki]

your theme is so pretty!! 💗💗

ahh thank u soso much vera!!!! u have no idea how happy it made me to see this in my inbox 🤍

[wortverlust]

Wow auto correct messed up. 6 more hours. I've been off the last 3 days. Still busy because school, but easier because it's study at your own pace.

OOOOO sounds intriguing, hopefully it's going well? 🖤🖤🖤

Stigandr.... Stigandr!!! eufhuwohefuhu I am so late SO LATE for the reply...URGH!!! It's goin'…uhm not so well….but I still have time xD (I work on my own story atm… a webtoon… but srsly I have no idea when I'm able to post something for it... and... like idk if people would be even interessted in seeing random OCs I made ^^;;)

[satorisoup]

LENE <33 HIIIII i’m finally on a study break ‘n i wanted to drop by to thank you for tagging me in that adorable picrew >.< can’t wait to be done w my exams so i can do it </3 ANYWAYS HRUUU?

EEEEP MIKA MA LOVE !! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) SOB pls of COURSE !! you’re too sweet teehee :> YIPEEE I HOPE EXAMS ARE GOIN’ GOOD !! m’ wishing you the best of luck !! <3

WAHHH im doing pretty good !! m’ supa tired but other than that im stupendous >//< i might attempt to write today ( but who really knows teehee ) SO THAT’S FUN !! but HOW ARE YOUUUSSS ?! anything fun going on lately or just exams ?? </3

[re-ikrmso]

*Comes by in a helicopter, drops my army of cats into your house and leaves*

woah…

welcome to being the 3-4th ask ever anon! ill be sure to babysit them for you as you surely need a well fed army for global domination !

thank you for your visit.

(awww cutie kitties ahhh so many cattos, a-)

x_x

[randomfoggytiger]

Argh! Watching "The End" and from her wicked eyes to deceitful introduction, can't stand Diana Fowley! Boy, she sure tries to throw Scully under the bus and tries to get Mulder to say something negative about Scully and tell her that he misses her. So glad that Mulder didn't take the bait and just tells her that he's been fine without her.

I want to see the kill shot of Diana in her car. Prove that she is dead. She, no we the audience, deserved her death scene.

Yup!

I looked up other versions of the script, and it seems that Mulder's rebuff of and discomfort with Diana was present at every stage:

--and--

--and--

(Diana was also supposed to be in her mid-thirties and overtly sexual competition to Scully, if I recall; but I'm glad Mimi Rogers played her as a more serious, staid, calculating figure.)

It's interesting: though CC didn't make her an unambiguous villain here, he did write Mulder subtly withdrawing from her presence and continually choosing Scully (defending her, staying by her side while Diana was in the hospital, etc.) Of course, he also wrote in a scene that Scully could misinterpret, but where would Chris Carter be without his miscommunication angst fic?

And yes, I would have loved a definitive "BYE, FELICIA" scene.

[missdynamighttt]

AGHHH sitting on bf! katsuki's shoulders while he cooks to make up for skipping the gym.

katsuki was supposed to hit the gym today. he really was. but the moment you wrapped yourself around him in bed, all thoughts of training went out the window.

“shit,” he muttered, stretching his arms above his head. “didn’t even work out today.”

you, still groggy but entirely unrepentant, grinned and nuzzled into his neck. “you worked out your patience.”

"yeah? and you worked out my ability to say no.”

you grinned wider. “exactly.”

even after every time he tried to move to adjust himself, you clung to him like a koala, nuzzling into his chest, whining about how warm and comfortable he was. and damn it, how was he supposed to leave when you looked so damn cute?

so yeah, gym? skipped. gains? delayed. but cuddles? so fucking worth it.

now, in the kitchen, katsuki is making up for it. sort of. with you sitting comfortably on his broad shoulders.

he'd already deadlifted you a few times while waiting for the pancake to cook, grumbling half-heartedly when you cheered like he was performing in the olympics.

"you're way too happy about this," he muttered, flipping a pancake with precision despite your weight balanced on his shoulders.

"that's because you're my personal chef now," you teased, playing with the strands of his hair like you were styling them. "and i'm basically remy."

"tch... the rat from ratatouille?"

"yeah!"

he snorted, shaking his head slightly to mess up whatever you were doing. "the hell you are. you ain't cookin’ shit."

"excuse you! i am the mastermind behind this whole operation, thank you very much. you're just my hands."

katsuki rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "yeah? then where's my little chef hat, huh?"

you gasped dramatically. "oh my god, we need to get you one!"

"like hell we do," he scoffed, adjusting his grip on your legs as he effortlessly lifted you up again, just because he could. you let out a small squeak, gripping onto his hair, and he chuckled.

"okay, okay, you're strong, we get it," you laughed, ruffling his hair. "now, my strong, muscular, incredibly attractive boyfriend—flip that pancake before it burns."

“i ain't lettin’ you control me," katsuki clicked his tongue but did as you commanded, all while holding you up like you weighed nothing. he should’ve gone to the gym today, sure—but honestly? this was way better.

"i practically do," you tug lightly on his hair, and to your delight, his head moves slightly in the direction you pull.

katsuki freezes. “...did you just try to steer me like a damn car?”

you laugh. “maybe.”

“hmph, you’re lucky i love you,” he mutters, adjusting your weight like it’s nothing. “but if you try to puppet-master me again, i’m droppin’ your ass.”

you grin, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “i love you too. and no you won’t.”

katsuki sighs, but you feel his shoulders shake with a quiet chuckle. yeah, okay, maybe he won’t.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ saw this on twt but i cant find the video again☹️☹️ hope you enjoyed!!💜

[pathologicalreid]

kryptonite | s.r.

in which all roads lead to Spencer's apartment, at least they do for jareau!reader

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: fluff (some comfort (god knows spencer needs it)) content warnings: reader went to a bar, but she's not drunk, creepy guy follows her around, abandoned by her 'friends', takes place following 6x12 "corazon", spencer and reader's first tea date, spencer's migraine arc, jj is in the middle east, this fic definitely wasn't inspired by a 3 doors down song, ffofa!spencer, reader feels out of place in the BAU, sexual innuendo word count: 2.97k a/n: MY GIRL IS HOME i have been wanting to go back to jareau!reader since ffofa ended. i genuinely have their whole lives planned out.

Screwed. You were so totally completely screwed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” The guy behind you asked once again, but he’d had more to drink than you. You wouldn’t trust yourself behind the wheel of a motor vehicle right now, much less a man who had leeched himself to you in a dive bar.

You laughed nervously, crossing your arms in front of your stomach protectively as you checked for passing cars before walking across the street. “Yeah, I’m sure,” you called over your shoulder, dreading the image of him following you around.

Slowly, you began recognizing your surroundings, the street name that you were turning onto ringing a bell—but which one? Somewhere you had seen the name, but as you glanced around, nothing triggered a memory. “I don’t want you to get left walking all around at night, could get dangerous,” he offered, slurring his speech.

It was the green canopy that finally jogged your memory, you picked up your pace as you recognized Spencer’s apartment complex. “I’m really fine,” you insisted, cursing your friends for the nth time for leaving you in the bar.

You faltered at the door, the blood draining from your face as you realized you’d need Spencer to buzz you in before you could finally lose the creep on your tail. “You’re supposed to push the button,” the guy—whose name you could not recall for the life of you—instructed you.

Smiling anxiously, you reached forward and pressed the button next to Spencer’s name, tapping your heeled boot on the sidewalk as you hoped he’d come let you in. For all you knew, he wasn’t even home.

“If your guy isn’t here, we could always head back to my place,” the drunk guy offered, looking around aimlessly, “it’s over… where are we?”

With wide eyes, you pushed the button two more times for prosperity’s sake, hoping that the world would take pity on you and get you away from him. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, pushing the button again before resigning yourself to an evening with this guy. Turning around, you gave him your best attempt at a smile, “Look, I’m really sorry, but somewhere we got our wires—“

He nodded behind you, “Hey, is that your guy?”

You could’ve cried. Honestly, your eyes might’ve welled up at the sight of Spencer Reid, it looked like he had dragged himself out of bed to come get you. “Yeah,” you breathed, “That’s him.”

Spencer peered out the window, the frustrated look on his face softening when he saw you in the dim lamplight. He opened the door and stood, “Y/N, hey,” he greeted, brown eyes flickering from you to your unexpected guest.

“Hey, man,” the guy said from behind you, “I’m just droppin’ your girl home. I wanted to make sure she got home safe, there are a lot of weirdos out there.”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised in acute irritation, “Sure are,” he responded dryly. He took one look at your widened eyes and reached into his pajama pockets, holding his keys out for you to take, whispering his unit number to you as you swiped them.

“Thank you,” you breathed, squeezing through the doorway behind him and making your way up to apartment twenty-three. You unlocked the front door, faltering when you made your way inside.

You’d never seen Spencer’s apartment before, the entire space perfectly curated so that every nook and cranny was just so… Spencer. His bookshelves were crammed full of old texts, books that collectors would go to the mat for were piled up on the hardwood floor, waiting to be placed on a shelf.

The walls were painted a dark shade of green, and you wondered if Spencer had chosen the color himself or if the apartment had always been this color. You walked inside, placing your dead phone and Spencer’s keys on the coffee table before taking a seat on the supple leather. Tonight had been a nightmare, a story torn right out of the book about your college years.

You stood up as the doorknob turned, and Spencer walked inside, kicking his shoes off before locking the door behind him. “Spence, I am so sorry,” you insisted, walking around the couch and approaching him, “My phone died, and I didn’t know where else to go. I was going to take the metro, but then I remembered that you live near Van Ness, and I thought having somewhere to go would be better than potentially bringing that guy back to my place.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking you over quickly, checking the state you were in.

Nodding, you nervously ran a hand through your hair, “Yeah, that’s just… not how I wanted to spend my night.” Finally able to get a good look at him, you inspected his flannel pajama pants, a blue Madras pattern conflicting with the orange emblem of his CalTech shirt. You had never seen him so at ease, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

He shook his head dismissively, “You didn’t, I was still awake.”

You hummed, “Reading?”

Spencer faltered, “Oh, yeah,” his voice softened, looking over at the bookshelves as if he was missing something.

Part of you wanted to mention the odd behavior, but the two of you only ever interacted within the confines of the BAU. Maybe you don’t know him well enough to say that to him. “Do you have a phone charger that I can use? Once I get enough charge, I can just take the metro back to my place.”

Frowning, Spencer looked at you as if you had grown horns, “I’m not letting you take the metro, it’s the middle of the night.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked the time displayed on his microwave, if you plugged your phone in now, you’d be able to make it before the metro shut down for the night. “I only need to get on one line to get back to my place,” you informed him.

“That’s irrelevant, it’s past eleven and you’ve already been followed around by one creep tonight,” he reminded you, leaning against the column in his entryway and giving you a knowing look.

Your heart pounded in your chest, “Will you drive me home then?”

Running his hands through his hair, Spencer mumbled something unintelligible before he answered, “No, I shouldn’t drive right now. Just… I’ll go find you something to sleep in,” he told you, pushing off of the wall to go into what you assumed was his bedroom.

You sat back down on Spencer’s couch, skimming your palms over the knit blanket that had been thrown over the back of it while you waited for his return. Spencer Reid was something of an enigma to you, there were times when you thought he’d be your closest friend in the unit, and there were other times when he seemingly wanted nothing to do with you.

He came back out of his room, balancing a sweatshirt in his hands and presenting it to you, “Hey, this should fit.”

Checking the tag on the sweatshirt, you nodded in response as you inspected the rest of the crewneck. An old academy emblem was embroidered on the front of it, but the year didn’t match the timeline of when Spencer did his training at the Academy. You hummed, “Whose sweatshirt was this?” You tried to act nonchalant, thumbing the loose threads on the cuff.

“I’ll check my desk for a charger,” he swerved around your question, leaving you holding the sweatshirt in the middle of his living room.

You watched him walk away, “Uh, where should I change?”

He nodded his head in the direction of his room, “My room is fine. The bathroom is connected if you need it.”

Quickly, you slipped into his room and stripped off your dress, laying it on his bed while you pulled the crewneck over your head. At the very least, the fabric smelled like Spencer instead of smelling like another girl’s perfume. The navy blue sweater skimmed the top of your thighs, falling over you comfortably.

Rolling your dress into a ball in an attempt to hide your bra, you opened the door and jumped when you were met by Spencer. “Is that good?” He asked you, looking you up and down—not for the first time that night.

“What?” You asked, peering up at him with wide eyes. Obviously, you hadn’t expected him to be waiting for you outside of his bedroom. You would’ve mentally prepared yourself to be in your underwear in front of him—you’ve had dreams that started much like this.

He smiled softly at you, “The sweatshirt,” he whispered, “Does it fit alright?”

Mystery girl’s sweatshirt fit you just fine, and you nodded a confirmation up at him, looking at your iridescent reflection in his glasses.

“I live by a lot of nightlife, and that’s gotten out once or twice. So, there’s a small box of clothes that people have left behind here. For all I know that sweatshirt was Morgan’s,” he told you, holding a charger out for you to take.

Your face warmed with embarrassment, “You don’t owe me an explanation,” you murmured before taking the charger from his hand, letting your fingers linger a bit too long in his palm.

The soft smile that remained on his face was enough to make you weak at the knees, “I know, but you asked.”

Holding the charger to your chest, your head bobbed, “The sweatshirt’s great, Spence,” you told him meekly, stepping around him to plug the charger into the wall, and setting your phone next to his on the kitchen counter.

“Do you want to call your sister?” Spencer asked, loitering in the doorway between his room and the living room and sticking his hands in the pockets of his pajamas.

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “No, she’s probably busy. Still uh… adjusting to her new job.” You looked over at him, each of you staying on one side of the room. You weren’t sure what JJ’s new job entailed. She had been acting cagier than usual on most of your phone calls.

He finally kicked off his shoes, prompting you to take a seat on the couch and unstrap your heels. “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?”

Leaning back into the cushions, you tugged the hem of your sweatshirt down on your hips, “There’s really not much to tell.” You watched intently as he turned the corner, sitting next to you on the couch, so close that you felt the heat emanating off of his body. To your surprise, Spencer was one of those people who was built like a furnace—the lanky stature was misleading.

“Did you go out alone?” He asked, matching your level of relaxation and leaning back on the couch. Grabbing one of the pillows from the end of the couch, you set it in your lap and wrapped your hands around it.

Shaking your head, you frowned at your phone, which still hadn’t powered on, “No, I went out with a group of friends for a birthday.”

Concern pinched his brows, “Your friends left you in the bar with that guy? Why would they do that?”

You shrugged in response, skimming your fingertips over the stitching on his pillow, “They think I need to get laid.”

“Do you?” He asked, likely before he was able to process what he was saying, based on the shocked look on his face.

Smiling softly at him, you teased, “Jeez, Spence, buy me dinner first.”

Spencer’s cheeks turned pink as a result of your jest, shaking his head quickly, “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure you have plenty— er… I’m sure you’re very successful in that area of your life.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips, the light feeling of laughter a stark difference from how you felt twenty minutes ago, “I’m just messing. I know what you meant.” At least, you thought you knew what he meant. You kept watching him, his body turned away from the lamp, neck slightly craned forward. “So,” you began, “If you weren’t sleeping, and you weren’t reading, what were you doing before I buzzed?”

His expression went tight, and you worried you had somehow stepped over an invisible line, “Can you keep a secret?”

Your heart jumped at the prospect of becoming Spencer’s confidante. You’ve spent your first few months in the BAU hoping someone would invite you in, but they all seemed too preoccupied with losing your sister to the State Department to even acknowledge the fact that you were floundering. Trying not to seem too eager, you nodded at him, “You can tell me anything.”

His eyebrows knit themselves together, “I’ve been getting these… headaches lately. Migraines really.”

Your expression softened, mouth going slack in surprise, “Have you been to a doctor?”

He nodded in response and leaned his head to the side, so close to you that you could feel his hair touching your shoulder, “They can’t find a physical cause.”

Your stomach flipped, eyes widening ever so slightly as you found yourself glad he wasn’t looking at you. If there wasn’t a physical cause for Spencer’s migraines, then you knew exactly what he was worried about, “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment, not saying anything else for a moment. There was just the two of you on his couch, and you wondered if there was any way you could make this a normal occurrence. You’d give away every night out for the promise of nights like this.

Bits of the puzzle started to fall into place. The way he had acted on the case in Miami, all of the time off he had taken, and even his newfound aversion to coffee—he was drinking less caffeine. He hasn’t been sleeping, the bags under his eyes told you that much.

“I’m gonna make tea,” you announced, resting your hands on the tops of your thighs and pushing up. “What kind of tea does Spencer Reid drink on a Saturday night?”

With his head buried on a couch cushion, you hear an almost pained response, “Lavender.”

Your back was to him as you smiled, “I like a guy who drinks lavender tea,” you said, your voice too soft to carry into the living room. Turning on his electric kettle, you started going through his drawers, hoping to find a stash of tea bags somewhere.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Spencer called over from the couch. “I just… needed to share.”

You hummed as you found the tea, grabbing a lavender tea bag before lifting up a box of chamomile, checking the production date before tossing a bag on the counter. Your next challenge would be mugs. “You took me in like a stray cat in the middle of the night, making you tea while you have a migraine is the absolute least I can do.”

He didn’t respond, but you felt his eyes on you as you worked in the kitchen. Dropping the tea bags in the mugs—an air and space museum one for him and a Snoopy one for you—you picked up the kettle before it let off its high-pitched beep, pouring the hot water into the mugs.

Carefully carrying the mugs back to him on the couch, you set them on the coffee table and returned to your spot next to him, “Here we are,” you said, flattening out a napkin for the two of you to place your tea bags on.

“Thank you,” he responded timidly, reaching out for the mug. “Since I shared about myself, I think it’s only fair that you share something with me,” he told you, a ridiculously serious look on his face.

You raised your eyebrows, using your tea bag to stir the tea in your mug, “Oh, a quid pro quo?” A soft smile grew on your face when he nodded, “What do you want to know?”

He thought about it for a while, taking a sip of his tea while he considered his options. “Why does JJ call you Ducky?”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes in response, “Oh, Spence, if you wanted the answer to that question, you should’ve asked while I was drunk.”

“You were never drunk,” he responded easily. “Y/N—” he faltered, frowning before he had the chance to continue.

You incline your head toward him, “What is it? Is it your head?”

He shook his head carefully, “Would you mind if we watched something? On the TV?”

“It’s your apartment, you can do whatever you want,” you told him, your volume hovering just over a whisper.

Spencer reached forward and took the remote off of the coffee table, hitting the power button and bringing the television to life. To your surprise, the pictures that showed up were cartoons. Old reruns from when he would’ve been a kid, he must’ve noticed your surprise, because he whispered, “It gets too hard to focus on anything else.”

He must’ve changed the settings on the TV, bringing down the brightness in a way that was comfortable to his eyes. You thought of all the times Spencer had been in a bright or loud space for work in the past few months, and the sympathy made your chest ache. “Thanks for saving me,” you murmured, watching to catch him before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

Extending his mug to you, you gently clinked your mug to his before giving your undivided attention to Inspector Gadget.

As the night went on, you remained in your place on the couch, because when Spencer fell asleep on your shoulder, you didn’t have the heart to wake him up.  

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Z

hmmmmmmm....

oh! zlabia!

Looks a bit different from how we make it at home, but it's basically a fried dough-based dessert - very fluffy and a little too oily for my taste, but still very good!

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Reader (maybe Tony’s niece?) is just making fun of Bucky.

I’m not exactly Russian around to make fun of you, but I’m Lenin you know that I’m not Stalin, either— I’m not feeling Tsar-y about these jokes— so Soviet, I guess.

Nat and Sam are impressed that she got five puns into one sentence, laughing while complimenting her comedic work.

Tony’s just like “I knew there’s a reason you’re my favorite niece!”

When everyone else leaves the room, Bucky leans over and lets her know that there will be a discussion (correction) of such behavior

To Be Corrected » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Tony Stark x Niece!Reader with the Avengers

Summary: You don’t know how to speak Russian, but you try to make fun of Bucky.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of implied Smut (18+), language, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“Everyone this is my niece Y/N. She’s thinking about becoming an Avenger and will be sitting in today’s meeting.” Tony says, introducing you the Avengers.

“Hi.” You say politely, waving at everyone.

“Take a seat anywhere, munchkin.” He says, patting your shoulder.

You looked around the table for an open seat, finding one next to Bucky. You smiled and sat down in the chair next to him.

“Hi.” You whispered to Bucky.

“Hi.” Bucky whispers back.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Bucky.” He answers.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You whispered and smiled.

“Barnes, stop flirting with my niece.” Tony says.

Bucky rolled his eyes at him and you giggled. As you sat in the meeting with the Avengers for their upcoming mission, you understood some things, but not everything. After the meeting, you looked over the Avengers Compound and found yourself in the lounge room. Bucky, Steve, Sam, Tony, and Natasha were in there.

“Hi.” You say, walking further in the room.

“Hi.” They say.

“What do you think so far?” Steve asks.

“I love it!” You tell him.

“Does that mean you’re joining us?” Natasha asks.

You opened your mouth to answer her, but Bucky interrupted you before you could say anything.

“I didn’t know we were hiring 13 year olds.” Bucky jokingly says.

“Bucky, be nice to her.” Steve says to him.

You narrowed your eyes at Bucky, smirking to yourself when you came up with a good comeback.

“You speak Russian, right, Bucky?” You asked.

“Yes. Why?” He asks.

“I’m not exactly Russian around to make fun of you, but I’m Lenin you know that I’m not Stalin, either— I’m not feeling Tsar-y about these jokes— so Soviet, I guess.” You say.

Bucky’s jaw dropped at your comeback. Steve was trying not to laugh. Natasha and Sam high fived each other and laughed at your comeback to Bucky.

“You’re my new favorite person.” Sam says.

“You’re definitely my new best friend and I’m most definitely teaching you more Russian terms.” Natasha says.

“This is why you’re my favorite niece!” Tony says proudly.

Bucky finally chuckles and smirks at you, shaking his head at your comeback. After a while, everyone left the room, leaving you and Bucky alone. You sat down next to him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you, doll face?” Bucky asks, leaning over towards you.

“I know my way around jokes. So yes, I do.” You say, smiling proudly.

“Just know, there will be a discussion for your behavior.” He says in your ear.

“Name the time and place and I’ll be there, Bucky.” You say seductively.

Bucky was about to kiss you, but a voice over the intercom interrupted you two before his lips met yours.

“Sergeant Barnes.” The voice over the intercom starts. “Mr. Stark told me to advise you to not put the sexual moves on his niece.” It said.

Bucky groans loudly, dropping his head against your shoulder, making you giggle.

“My room. Tonight.” Bucky whispers in your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

“I’ll be there, Sarge.” You say seductively.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll