fandomness-imagines

[fandomness-imagines]

Beyoncé took Blue Ivy to and auction where Blue bid on expensive earrings. I could see Bumblebee doing that at one of her mamas art shows

Wait!!! That's so cute. By the time she starts kindergarten, she's won more auctions than people ten times her age.

I'll definitely have to add this to her list of drabbles.

Just imagine:

Bee sitting in the front row, her little legs dangling from the chair, shoes not even close to touching the floor. Her purse stuffed with stacks of her Papa's money, auction paddle in one hand and she's ready to win.

Bucky's in the back watching his wife get ready. She's nervous about this auction, its her first one and she's convinced its going to be a flop. Bucky knows that's its going to be a success.

So now he has a bet with her that if everything gets sold, she has to say yes to anything he says all weekend. If even one thing is left by the end of the night, then he will do that thing she's been begging for since the Paris trip.

The only rule is that Bucky and his men were not allowed to bid on anything.

Bucky won't bid on a single item.

Of course he may have told his sweet Bumblebee that her mama would be sad if no one bought her pretty pictures.

Bee may have gasped, horrified at that thought and promised to spend all her monies for her mama.

[fandomness-imagines]

Bee is stubborn like Bucky, does she ever act like her mama

Bee copies her mama so much😭

She loves to get ready with her. Malyshka pretends to put make up on her and Bee loves it because she wants to look like her mama.

When her mama's putting on perfume, Bee will ask for some and then walk around all day saying she smells so 'pwetty'.

Bee raids her mama's closet, usually taking her shoes to play dress up.

She loves going to work with her at the gallery because she has her own "office". It's former large storage room converted into playroom but no one's going to tell her that. She's a little business woman dab it.

Bee's a picky eater unless it's the food is one of her mama's favorites in which case she likes it too.

They go shopping together followed by play time at the park. She takes Bee volunteering a few times a month. Bee loves their movie nights and the impromptu play times when she has to 'rescue' her mama from the monsters lurking around the house.

She will repeat things she hears her mama say all the time.

And of course, Bee loves sharing secrets with her, she tells her mama everything first. Even though she eventually tells her Papa the same ones, ahem the watch.

[fandomness-imagines]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cn1ND4MBVQ_/?igshid=Zjc2ZTc4Nzk=

Bumblebee out with her mom 😂🥹

There are a few reasons you dress your daughter in various bear and other animal themed onesies. The main one is that she looks so cute in them. The others are mostly to keep her out of trouble.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader and their daughter.

CW: none

AN: Third sweet sinday drabble. Part of the Bumblebee Series.

You can't get enough of seeing her chubby little face with the adorable little bear ears flopping over her head. Or the way she waddles in her padded suits, precariously keeping her balance as she explores the world around her.

Bee has always been a curious little girl. It’s often a good thing, you encourage her to learn and grow and try everything you never had the chance to as a child. But like most children, the downside is that she tries to touch everything, including random objects she sees on the ground.

To avoid telling her no (because let's be honest here Bucky isn't the only one who struggles to tell this sweet, happy little child she can't have something), you bought her onesies with built-in mittens. They keep her hands warm and away from things she shouldn’t be touching. 

She can't eat something off the ground if she can't grab it.

It's a bright afternoon, you decided to take advantage of the unusually warm winter day to take your baby outside for some fresh air after lunch.

Bee hops in front of you, babbling away as she explores the garden in her pink bunny-themed onesie. She spots an apple on the ground, it must have been leftover from the picnic you had yesterday, it's grimy and dirty and she makes a path straight for it. Her tiny mitten-covered hands try to pick it up but it slips between her hands and falls to the ground, rolling across the cobblestones trailing down the yard.

"Dab it," she mutters, scrambling after it.

You know you shouldn't laugh at her struggles but you can't help it. She's so determined to eat this dirty piece of fruit, despite the fact that she didn't want her grilled cheese a few minutes ago because you cut it into stars instead of circles.

Her little increasingly frustrated'dab it and you get back here' fill the air, the apple rolling further and further away as she keeps trying to grab it. She doesn't give up until the fruit eventually rolls under a low bench near one of the rose bushes.

Bee crawls after it, her little chubby arm reaching for the apple, her body wedged under the support bar.

"Yes, Bumblebee?" You serenely reply, setting the tray of sliced fruits on the bench, looking through the spaces in the wood, you see her smushed face gazing up at you. "Need some help?"

"Oh no," she whispers. You're already next to her by the time she realizes she's stuck. "Mommy?" Her muffled voice drifts up.

Bee doesn't answer, instead puffing out her cheeks, a little pout forming.

You stare at her. She stares at you.

You wait, popping an orange slice in your mouth.

She sighs.

Wiggles.

Doesn't move in the slightest.

Sighs again.

You finish chewing, hiding your amusement when she vehemently wiggles a few more times before giving up.

"You want my help? Just a little?" You offer, already moving off the bench.

"Jus' a wittle bit, mommy." She says, her tiny voice despondent. This is quite the confession for a stubborn little girl who believes she can do everything all by herself.

"I got you." Crouching down, you spot where she got entangled, one of her ears is caught on the underside of the bench and her head pushing against one of the bars. A quick tug and she's in your arms.

"Tank you mommy," she sings out, kissing your cheek with a noisy smack. "Can you gets my apple?"

Yeah that's not happening.

You plop her on the bench and dust off her suit. "How about you eat some of my snacks instead? They're so yummy."

She glances over at the tray, suspicion brewing in her wide eyes. "I dunno..." she trails off, legs swinging back and forth.

Toddler logic deems the dirt-covered apple worthy enough to eat but the carefully curated fruit tray is where she draws the line. You laugh, shaking your head as you take a sliced berry and hold it up for her.

"Alright, I guess I'll eat them all by myself," you tease, opening your mouth. Bee immediately leans forward with a no I wants it and grabs the berry with her teeth, head tipping back like a baby bird, humming as she chews.

Another laugh spills out and you sit beside her, unzipping the front of her suit, you pull her little arms out so she can feed herself. She immediately takes two handfuls and stuffs her cheeks. In between bites, she tells you how happy she is to go to her first 'ballawina' class on Thursday.

You listen intently, encouraging her excitement with your own.

She's going to have so much fun and you can't wait to see your baby girl dancing her heart out.

[fandomness-imagines]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CnifzDYjIhq/?igshid=NDk5N2NlZjQ= 🐝😍

Bee loves her oversized coats and taking her Papa to the zoo.

Your daughter is all bundled up in so many layers she can't lower her arms. With Mr. Tato, her stuffed dino, in one hand and her two stylish parents behind her, she's confidently waddling into the building.

You're taking her to the Zooparc de Beauval for the first time and she's so excited to meet all the animals, she's practically bouncing over the threshold.

It's not until you're inside the first exhibit, that you and Bucky realize that your little Bee doesn't quite understand what a zoo is.

"Papa we has to get a hippo for Mr. Tato, they're his favorites. And I wants two pandas and I wanna give mommy a lion ," she says, hopping to the first display, pressing her face against it until her cold little nose squishes against the glass, wide eyes searching for the animals. "Tank you so much."

Bucky glances down, clearly taken off guard by her earnest requests, a perturbed expression crossing his face as realization sets in. He hates not being able to give her whatever she wants.

"Damn it," he whispers under his breath. He turns to you, mouthing how are we going to tell her.

What does he mean by we?

This is entirely his fault. She's spoiled because of him. Okay some of its on you but mostly him. Sure you could help him or you could have a little fun at his expense.

Bucky knows you better than you know yourself most days and he does not like that smug little grin on your pretty lip. His gaze narrows, taking in the mischievous glint in your eyes that can't quite hide from him. His face slowly falls, his Adam apple bobs twice as he swallows. "Don't you dare, Malyshka."

Without breaking eye contact, you call out to your daughter, who's currently entranced by the hippo floating by.

"Bee, I think I want two lions and some flamingos." You take a step away from your glowering husband, pushing down your laugh. He shakes his head, reaching for you, he's not fast enough. "They're my favorites."

Your words have the intended effect. Bee spins around with a loud yes. It doesn't matter that she has no idea what you're talking about, if it's your favorite, she knows it must be something good.

"I loves 'mingos. Our favorites Mommy." She runs over as fast as her little legs will go, wrapping her arm around Bucky's calf and smiling up at him. "We needs three 'mingos pwease, one for mommy, one for me and one for Mr. Tato." She lists off, holding up three small fingers.

"I'll do it," he warns, his smooth tone lowering so she doesnt hear. "Don't underestimate me, Malyshka."

You scoff, not blinking. He's bluffing. You think.

"What about your Papa? We can't forget about him. He'll be so sad." You up the ante, laughing as Bee claps her hands, nodding enthusiastically.

Bucky raises a brow, glaring at your amused face as he bends down to pick up his beaming toddler.

"You're right Mommy." Bee snuggles into his side. "You needs a 'mingo Papa," she decides, patting his shoulder.

"Oh and a tiger like the one from Aladdin," you chime in.

Bee immediately agrees. "Yes. For his office."

You laugh, leaning over to kiss his sullen expression off of his face. Looking at your sweet child, you ask where she wants to go next and no one is surprised when she says she wants to see the otters.

The rest of the trip is spent with you and Bee shopping for more animals and Bucky wondering how serious you two are because he knows a couple of guys who can make it happen.

When he casually reveals that on the way to the bird exhibit, you decide that Bee would be happy with some stuffed animals instead.

"That's what I thought Malyshka." Bucky grabs you by the waist, his chin on your shoulder, fingers splayed across your belly as you watch Bee run up and down the paths surrounding the enclosure. "And since you want to play with me, let's see how much you like it when I play with you tonight."

[fandomness-imagines]

Bee wants to be like her mama obviously

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Com_MdurqF2/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

All it took was one time for you to offer little Bee her own version of your coffee, sans the caffeine, and she was hooked.

After that first time, she always asks to have 'coffees' with you before she has to get ready for school or to go work in her office. She'll race ahead to the kitchen, bouncing with each step as she tells you about her plans for the day including how Mr. Tato is about to talk to a certain bear about the monies he owes her.

She's ecstatic to share these moments with you, helping you make the drinks and carefully pouring them into the respective glasses. Her chubby little arms aren't quite strong enough to hold the containers by herself so it's almost a given that she'll spill some but you never get upset when she does, instead gently encouraging her every time, helping her clean up until she can do it on her own.

As fast as she walked to the kitchen, her steps are slow and cautious leaving it. Her eyes focused on her cup as she follows you to the sunroom and her voice lowers to a whisper as she continues to tell you about her plans for the bear; she thinks speaking too loudly will cause her to lose her valuable coffee.

You make your way to the chaise beneath one of the tall windows, the sun-warmed seat feels good under your legs and you help Bee up after placing both cups on the small side table. She snuggles beside you, takes a sip of her 'coffee', tilts her head back and let's out an adorable little 'ah'.

The two of you stay there for about fifteen minutes or so. Talking about Frankie and his shenanigans. Her office and how she needs more confetti because it keeps disappearing from the floor. The tricks Daisy learned this week. All of Mr. Tato's 'ventures around the house. And of course, her ballet classes and her new dresses.

You don't know it yet but the way you pay attention to every word, truly listening to her, encouraging her excitement are forming some of her favorite memories.

Even when she gets older, Bee is going to find time to have 'coffees' with her mama. And you'll never turn down the chance to spend time with your baby.

[fandomness-imagines]

"Even when she gets older" stop no Bee is never gonna grow up, she's gonna stay a chubby little baby forever😭😭💕

Bucky and Bee made a deal that she's going to stay a baby forever. It's a binding agreement.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

AN: Blurb about the night they brought Bee home.

Part of the Bumblebee Series.

Bucky cradles his newborn to his chest, swaying back and forth, strands of moonlight pour through the open windows, following his steps across the nursery. He has no idea what he's doing. All the talks with his grandparents, all the hours spent reading through the parenting books, all the private classes he arranged for the two of you—none of them prepared him for this.

He can't believe how tiny she is, her hand fits in the middle of his palm. A little Bumblebee that could get swept away in the cruel winds of the world. The thought renders him still. No, he will never let that happen. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the sweet baby smell.

Bucky thinks about his childhood, the violence, the hunger, that shaped him and he vows right there, that she'll only know the softer side of life, that she'll be spoiled and sweet. And happy.

And in return he only asks one thing from her.

"You promise to stay my sweet little Bumblebee forever okay." It's spoken softly under the faint music playing from her new music box, the ballerina twirling as the notes filter around them.

Bee yawns, her hand closing over his index finger when he adjusts her arm. Bucky chuckles, kissing her head again as he shakes her hand. "Alright that is a binding agreement Bumblebee. In our world, your word is law so you can’t change your mind later. So no growing up. Your papa can't take that stress. Now let's talk about how we're going to convince your mama that I can buy you whatever I want."

Walking endless circles around the nursery throughout the night, content to spend as much time as possible with her, Bucky tells his sleeping Bee everything he has planned for her. And for you. A life full of adventure and comfort and happiness.

Bucky may have no idea what he's doing but what he does know is that this little girl and her mama are going to have the best life possible.

[fandomness-imagines]

Laughing at the idea of a pizza guy showing up to Mafia!Bucky’s house unexpected and security thinking it’s some sort of a trap.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader (and their daughter, nicknamed Bumblebee.)

AN: Unbetad drabble. Written on my phone without my contacts in so excuse any errors.

Part of the Bumblebee Series

You have the worlds best security protecting your home. No one gets past them. Including the pizza delivery guy.

You and Bee watch from the front door, exasperated. She's on your hip, clutching the money in one hand, pointing at the end of the driveway with the other. "I'm hungwy. Mommy, tell them we needs our pizza."

You're trying.

The guards are too busy interrogating the poor delivery driver to answer the phone. You are not about to run out barefoot in this weather, it's cold enough just standing here.

Switching tactics, you call Bucky's office line, he's finishing up a few things before dinner. He picks up on the first ring, you speak over his greeting. "The guys aren't letting the delivery driver in. I keep trying and —"

"We needs our pizza Mr. Nino. Pwease let him go, I has his monies." Bee yells out the door, waving her hand at the guard staring down at the lanky driver. "Mommy tell Papa to help us."

Her woleful little plea make Bucky laugh, he imagines how you both must look huddled in the doorway, you glaring at the men while his baby bargains with them.

You and Bumblebee fall silent, looking in unison at your phone. He cuts himself off, cringing under the weight of the affronted quiet air seeping through the line, wrapping around the mobster. Bucky is an astute man and he realizes where he messed up without saying a word—no joking when his girls are hungry.

Clearing his throat, he grabs his cell off his desk, firing off a series of rapid texts. "Your food will be there in less than a minute Malyshka."

You hum non-committally while Bee huffs.

It gets there in less than 30 seconds.

The ruffled, only slightly bruised, delivery driver is apprehensive until Bee hands him the very generous tip that she picked out by herself. Apparently the stack of bills is more than enough to make up for being roughed up judging by the way he's thanking your daughter. Your jaw goes slack when he promises to not say a word and the next time you order to please ask for him personally. The man practically skips back to his car, waving as he drives away.

Bee waves back, yelling out a happy 'tank you for my pizzas.'

At least you're not banned from Antonio's.

Closing the door, you balance the boxes and your wiggling baby, making your way to the warm, dim living room. Everything is ready. Her movies are queued up, blankets piled on the couch. Daisy sleeping on a cushion next to Mr. Tato.

You get about five steps in when the boxes are lifted from your hand and a soft kiss is pressed into the side of your neck. "Smells good. What are we watching?"

"Who said you could join us Mr. Barnes?" You tease, brow raising as you glance at your husband.

Bee chimes in. "Me. I did mommy."

Her cheerful answer has you giggling. Bucky grins at her, mouthing Thank you Bee. She continues, beaming at her Papa before turning her gaze to you. "I loves when Papa watches movies with us. And—and we has to make sure he isn't hungwy cause if he is Papa'll eat all my froot woops Mommy."

His grin slips off his bearded face. A smirk slides across your lips. An unperturbed, unaware Bee scoots down your leg. Balancing on her tiptoes, she takes his hand.

"It's okay Papa, you can have 'em too but we needs to share," she offers, hopping into the living room. "You has one woop and then I has two woops. Mommy says that's how we 'pose to share with you."

It does.

That's not exactly what you said. Close enough. Bucky follows his bouncing toddler, his eyes narrowing in your direction. That giggle building in your chest turns into a full blown laugh at his faux offended look. "Sounds fair."

Bee pulls him over to the couch. "You can sit with me and Mr. Tato"

Bucky continues staring at you over his shoulder, his dark gaze brimming with unspoken promises of revenge and a tinge of yearning as they drop to your stomach, every mention of the froot loop incident is a stark reminder of your little secret.

He can wait until you're ready to tell him.

Until then he's going to enjoy movie night with his favorite girls. And Mr. Tato.

[fandomness-imagines]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/ClVwOb1qs8L/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Bee??

Summary: You and your mobster have the sweetest, prettiest baby. She's also the most stubborn child you've ever met. Of course, considering her father is Bucky Barnes, you're not the least bit suprised.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

CW: fluff with a glimpse of angst.

AN: Don't yell at me. Written on my phone. Unbetad.

✧Part of the Bumblebee series✧

Bee doesn't like to ask for help. Bucky claims she gets her stubborn streak from you but you know that's all him. She's definitely her father's child.

You've lost count of how many times you've found her wedged between furniture because she was chasing Daisy, her equally as stubborn puppy, around the living room.

You've caught dangling off one of the tall chairs in the kitchen, her little hands gripping the edge of the seat because she has too much pride to use the little step stools strategically placed throughout the house.

"I'm okay."

"I gots it."

"I not stuck."

"I can do it."

One afternoon, you had put her down for a nap, the sleepy little toddler was out before you finished reading to her.

When she woke up an hour later, Bee decided that she could get out of her daybed by herself. She rolled over and scooted backwards across the downy soft sheets until her feet slid over the edge. She kept going until she realized her little toes were still in the air. Her eyes widened as she tried reaching for the floor. But she doesn't feel the soft plush rug she's used to.

A tiny pulse of panic flares to life. The bed doesn't seem so tall when she's being picked up by you or Papa. She doesn't want to fall. Also doesn't want to ask for help. She just wants to get her Tato, she left the stuffed dinosaur with her Papa to keep him company and have her afternoon snack with her momma.

You stroll into the room, immediately tamping down a laugh. She looks adorably frustrated in her tiny dinosaur onesie. She's about a centimeter away from the ground but considering the way her hands are holding onto the sheets for dear life, she must think she's up higher than she really is.

"You okay Bumblebee?" You serenely inquire as if you don't know the answer.

Bee huffs, briefly hiding her face between her arms. "M okay mommy." Her voice muffled by the blanket under her does nothing to hide the pout in her tone.

This girl. God you love her more than anything.

You raise a brow, murmuring an amused sure you are. Deciding to call her bluff, you plop down on her bed, stretching out across the princess themed sheets and turn your head to look at her.

"So you're not stuck?"

She shakes her head, her chubby little arms begin to shake from the effort to keep herself from slipping. "No I not stuck. I...wike this mommy."

"Uh huh, if you say so." You move to your side, propping your chin up on your palm, tapping her hand with your finger. "And you're not afraid of falling?"

This is such a small thing but when you're young and the world is all new to you, nothing is small or meaningless in your eyes.

She sighs, puffing out her cheeks. "I don't wanna fall. It's scary," she softly admits.

She's a brave, stubborn child. Your brave, stubborn child. And you're going to foster that independent, fiery streak of hers, encouraging her to be fearless without being reckless.

"Let go."

Bee stares at you, confusion plain on her face, a deep wrinkle forming between her brows. "I—mommy I don't wanna fall."

"Trust me. Let go sweet Bee. Mommy won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

The fear that was swimming in her eyes is overtaken by her faith in you. She nods, scrunching up her nose, eyes closing and her hands open.

She shrieks, stopping abruptly when her feet land on the soft rug below. Her eyes snap open and she beams at you, a wide grin that reminds of you Bucky. "I did it," she laughs. "You see me mommy? I fell all the way down!"

"You did. I'm proud of you" Does it matter that she was close to the ground? No. Not when all she's going to remember is that she trusted you to help her when she afraid. "Your papa and Mr. Tato are ready for break, go get them and I'll make you two snacks since you were os brave today."

"Tank you mommy," she yells over her shoulder, running out the room.

Laughing, you push yourself off the bed and follow her down the hallway. You know she's reached Bucky's office when you hear a tiny "dab it."

Several months later.

"Bee I need you to trust mommy and let go. Everything is going to be okay. I promise but you have to let go baby." Keeping your voice steady, and calm, you gaze down at your daughter with a smile hoping it masks the terror wrapping around youe chest.

"Then its your turn mommy?" She asks, her small hands clutching you. Her gaze swings to the room behind you down to the grassy knoll below. "You gonna go home with me."

For the first time in your life, you look your sweet daughter in her eyes and you lie.

"Of course I am Bumblebee. Now let go."

[fandomness-imagines]

Sam: Ok y/n, wanna play smash or pass?

Y/n: Smash

Sam: …I’ll take it as a yes. *Clears his throat* Soo, Stark?

Y/n: Uuuh, pass

Tony: Heeey, why not? I’m literally *points to himself* this hot! Whatever, your loss honey

Sam: Oook…Steve?

Y/n, now dead serious: “I’m WiTh YoU tIl ThE eNd Of ThE lInE”. Bitch no.

Steve: Oh come on, that happened ages ago! Now I’m here!

Y/n: AH, DO NOT INTERRUPT ME. No.

Pass.

P-a-s-s.

P? Ass. *Looking at Bucky* I’m awfully sorry James, you didn’t deserve that.

*Steve tries to talk*

Y/n: AAAAAH, NO. SHUT THE HELL UP, I DO NOT CARE THAT YOU CAME BACK. YOU- you let that- *pointing at the supersoldier* that- precious, thoughtful, loyal, brave and- attractive, generous-

Sam, whispering: And then she comes to me saying “DoN’t TeLl AnYbOdY oKaY?”

Y/n: charming, passionate, sincere and smart and mature, humorous, friendly-

Nat:*Chuckles* You lucky motherfucker

Y/n: hard-working, loving, reliable, determined, agreeable and very handsome man…AND FOR WHAT?? A DEAD WOMAN??

Clint: *aggressively gasps* SHE DID NOT…

Tony: GO GET HIM QUEEN! *to Bucky* y'know metal arm, I would keep very close a girl like her…she’s also pretty attractive👀

Bucky, trying to hide his smile: Yeah, she is..

Y/n: BITCH, HE WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND. YOUR PAL.

Steve: Come oooon! Y/n!! Pleaase I am sorry-

Y/n: UH-UH AND GUESS WHAT? I DON’T FUCKING CARE. APOLOGIZE TO HIM, NOT ME-

[fandomness-imagines]

Congrats on the 3,000 followers. I know he’s not on your list but I miss your way of writing Sherlock.

The prompt from the cliche list that caught my eye was drunkenly confessing feelings because of those damn photos from the Enola Holmes set

It’s totally okay if you’re not feeling it. I’ve just been rereading your stuff lately because I’m in the Sherlock mood

Thank you so much!! I had a lot of fun writing this, I've kinda missed writing him! *Half-shot and crocked are Victorian terms for drunk. Also the method described herein is how people used to make coffee, though apparently at some point the prevailing method was to strain it through...A sock? ANYWAY Warnings: Public drunkenness, Victorian Impropriety™, a bar fight, cursing, Fluff™

He’s heard that this is what the average man does when attempting to sate his desire for a particular woman, and while he’s never been one to tread the routes that other men have gone, in this one instance, he’s willing to give it a try. Sherlock is determined to forget you, and to find his solace at the bottom of a bottle.

All goes well until he gets himself in trouble with the barkeep. Apparently the man doesn’t like being told which of his patrons is clearly cheating with his wife. The patron that he rats on doesn’t particularly like it, either—but Sherlock has found it rather hard to keep a hold on his tongue since he’s cleared his fourth pint.

Everything that follows seems to happen too slowly and too quickly.

The bartender manages to land a punch before Sherlock pushes him harshly back against the bar. Sherlock manages to land a single punch on the jaw of the man that’s started toward him with a broken bottle, sending the assailant sprawling. But before he can take on the next, several men are on him at once, wrestling him toward the door. Sherlock finds himself in the cool summer night, on his ear and on his ass, staring up at the irate barkeep. “Don’t you ever darken my doorstep again,” The man barks at him. It takes Sherlock a moment to draw himself up off of the ground. His head spins, and the flat sidewalk seems to tip back and forth like the deck of a ship. He manages to get to his hands and knees, rests one foot on the ground, and after a moment, up into a standing position. The laughter of the people on the street around him falls on deaf ears—the jeers, and the taunts bounce off of him as he brushes himself off, beginning to walk away from the pub. For once, Sherlock isn’t sure entirely where he’s going. His feet seem to move on their own accord; his head swims and tips from time to time. His lip hurts just a little—why is it doing that? Sherlock reaches up, touching the agitated point, wincing at the sting. He draws his hand away, peering at it beneath the sidewalk’s light. He spies two dots of red along his fingertips. Blood. “...Hm,” He hums to himself before his feet begin to move again. When they stop again, finally, he finds himself in front of a house. Your house. Sherlock’s brows furrow for just a second, and then he must stop. Frowning seems to make his head ache now. That’s a damned nuisance. His eyes blearily wander over the house’s front before he spies light in your room. Sherlock reaches down, finding a pebble on the ground. He rears his arm back, forces his focus, aims—misses. Damn. He crouches down for another, wobbles a touch, finds another pebble. He raises his hand, focuses, aims—Aha! A hit…A hit with no response. Sherlock pouts, crouching down and picking up yet another, raising his arm, throws, hits—and nothing. Sherlock pushes a frustrated breath through his nose, crouching down. Another pebble, there must be another around somewhere— “Sherlock!”

“Not now,” He mumbles.

“Stop it!”

“I’m busy.”

“Sherlock—what on Earth—” A hand groups his shoulder, and he rears back too far, landing on his ass again. He seems to wind up here much more often when he’s drinking. He doesn’t like it down here. He looks up, planning to ask who's bothering him— But it’s you. It’s you. Sherlock’s hands stop grappling the ground for another pebble, blinking up at you—in your robe and nightgown. “...Aren’t you cold?” He manages to ask. “Sherlock—” “You’re shivering—” “Get up. We have to get you inside before anyone sees,” You order, gripping his hand and tugging. He has to help you lift him. His body feels like a stone on the ground, but he manages to prop himself up—and then he’s being dragged up your front steps. His feet stumble heavily under himself as he follows you inside. The door is shut behind him, and he blinks into the dim light of the hall, looking around. “Where—” He starts before he’s shushed rather forcefully. You’re still holding his hand, still leading him along downstairs, around a corner (a left), and then around another (a right) before he is nudged onto a stool in the kitchen. Sherlock watches you turn on the gas lamp in the corner of the room before you turn to him. He watches you take in his state—his rumpled and dirty clothes, and, no doubt, the blood at the corner of his mouth. You buzz over to the stove, setting a pot of water on the stove and taking a canister down from the cupboard. He watches you measure out coffee grounds, one—two tablespoons are dropped into a small container on the counter before you tuck the canister away again. “What have you gotten yourself up to?” You ask, rounding to the cupboard and pulling out a clean rag before you cross to a pitcher of water, pouring some onto the rag. “I…Went to the pub.” His admission stills you in your step, but you move closer to him after a moment. You take his jaw in hand, tipping his head up. His heart leaps into his throat. He’s never felt your hands without your gloves before. They’re soft, and sweet-smelling. You must rub some cream or lotion into them before going to bed. As you focus on his cut, leaning close to ensure that you’re cleaning it thoroughly, Sherlock has an excellent view of your face. You look tired, and concerned. Sherlock’s gut twists with remorse and guilt. He glances around the kitchen. “Have you anything here?” He asks. “Water is all you’ll get from me. Water and coffee.” He can’t help but smile, though it agitates the split in his lip. “If you insist,” He murmurs. “I do insist. I found you in the middle of the street after you threw rocks at my window. You don’t need any more than you’ve already had—Stop smiling.” When Sherlock forces his face into a serious set, a frown, his brows drawing together, you can’t help but smile yourself, shaking your head. “Just relax your face, Sherlock,” You order, “I’m nearly finished.” Sherlock relaxes his face again, forcing himself to focus on the details of your face—your eyes, the sweep of your lashes along your cheeks, the way you bite your sweet lip as you concentrate…Yes, he’s always thought that your lips must be quite sweet— All of the sudden, you’re drawing away again, dropping the rag into a bin as you head for the stove. Sherlock lets himself watch you in a brazen manner, one that he would never otherwise allow himself. His eyes sweep your body in your nightgown—white, lacy…Is it soft? He’s certain it must be quite soft. Would you think him terribly impudent to ask to touch it, just for a moment?

Sherlock is snapped out of his daze as he watches you pour coffee grounds and water through a cloth bag, straining and squeezing the excess carefully, so as not to burn your hand.

“Here,” You set the coffee mug in front of him, “Give it a moment to cool.” Sherlock watches you step away, taking up the pitcher again and getting down a glass from the sideboard. You pour the water before setting it down alongside Sherlock’s coffee. He takes the water up, takes a sip, and then draws the rest down in greedy gulps. He didn’t realize just how thirsty he was.

“Slow down,” You hiss, but there’s a tinge of laughter in your voice, “You’ll make yourself sick.” “Why were you awake?” Sherlock asks as sets the water glass down. “I was reading.” Sherlock reaches for the coffee next, and freezes as he hears you gasp softly. “What did you do?” He hears you ask. His brow furrows at the question, and his eyes drop to his hand where you’re staring. “...Ah,” He mumbles, eyeing the irritated, red, swollen skin of his knuckles. You sigh, standing again and taking up another clean rag, covering it in water before ringing it out over the basin. You join him again, sitting on the stool beside his hand taking hold of his hand. Sherlock focuses on your hands holding his. It’s a lovely sensation, even if it is simply for the purpose of bringing the swelling down. He holds his hand as steady as he can as you wrap the cool, damp rag around his knuckles. “Why did you go to the pub?” You ask. “I was…It was an experiment.” “Oh?” You ask, arching a skeptical brow, “What experiment would that be, exactly? How long it takes you to become half-shot or how long it would take for you to get thrown out of a bar?” Before he can ask how you could possibly know, you nod to his jacket. “You’ve dirt all along your side, and on your knees. It’s smudged, but you couldn’t wipe off all of it.” Sherlock can’t help his awed little smile, damning his split, throbbing lip. “I love you.” Well. It would seem that his lack of a leash on his tongue will lead him to say the most ridiculous of things, if not the truest. He watches you go still, your eyes darting to his face. He sees something there that he’s never seen before: wariness. It’s not quite drawn enough to be fear, not quite light enough to be excitement. He watches you set his injured hand back on the table before you nod to his cup. “Drink your coffee,” You mumble. Sherlock obligingly takes the cup up, draws in a sip before setting it down again. In the moment that it takes for the warm drink to slip down his throat and splash down in his stomach, his tongue decides to escalate the conversation: “I said I—” “I know what you said, Sherlock.” He blinks owlishly at you. “Then—” “If you mean it, tell me again in the morning. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that from a man that’s crocked.” Sherlock considers for a moment before he gives a short nod, looking into his coffee. “I will,” He swears quietly, “I’ll say it as many times as you like.” Sherlock feels your fingers smooth along his cheek, and he turns his head to look at you. You’re smiling, just a little, and it makes Sherlock grin. “Go on,” You nod to your cup, “We have to get you out of the kitchen and somewhere quiet before any of the servants find out you’ve been here.” --

Sherlock opens his eyes and then he immediately shuts them again, wincing against the brightness of the morning streaming in still through your light curtains. He grunts, raising an arm to shield his eyes. “Are you finally awake?” Your voice makes Sherlock stop breathing for just a moment. He manages to draw his arm away from his eyes, peering around and spotting you at your vanity. You’re putting on an earring, glancing back in his direction. You’re in your dressing gown; Sherlock can see a flash of your neck, your collarbone, your sternum— His body flushes with the twin heats of embarrassment and arousal. It’s only made worse as you stand from your vanity, walking over to the chaise lounge in your room and sitting on the edge beside him. “Did you sleep alright?”

Sherlock nods just a little in response, not wanting to increase the throbbing in his head. “How are you feeling?” You press. He grunts, wincing, and you smile just a little. “How did I get up here?” He asks. “You walked, like a big boy.” Your teasing isn’t lost on him for a moment. “What time is it?” “Just past ten. You’re lucky my parents are in the country visiting my sister. They would’ve had a fit last night.” Sherlock pushes himself to sit up, wincing as he feels a twinge of pain in his hand. He lifts it, eyes the rag—and the dust-up at the pub comes back to mind. Maddening. He carefully unwinds the rag from his knuckles. The redness has come down, though they’re still a touch swollen and sore. “I can get you a new one,” You offer, but he shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary.” “Would you like some water?” “Please.” Sherlock watches you rise and cross to the breakfast tray in the corner of the room. “Has anyone else…Been in here?” He asks delicately. You laugh, shaking your head. “Of course not. I’m not stupid. I told them to leave it outside.” Sherlock watches you return with the glass of water, takes it with a mumbled thanks, draining half of it quickly. “Honestly,” You mutter with a fond smile as he lowers the glass, “If that’s how quickly you down alcohol, no wonder the state you were in last night.” Sherlock lowers his eyes into the glass. “I am sorry,” He says, “I shouldn’t have turned up as I did. It was impolite, and improper, and I know that I put you in quite a delicate position.” “...Yes,” You agree, “But I’m glad you wound up here and not in some back alley God knows where.” Sherlock raises the glass, draining it before pressing the cool glass to his heated cheek. “More?” You offer. Sherlock nods, holding the glass out to you. Before you can take it, he catches hold of your outstretched hand, holding your gaze as you meet his eyes. “I do love you,” He swears softly. He watches, relieved, as a smile blooms on your lips. “I know, Sherlock,” You reassure softly, “I love you, too.” It takes a moment before that truly sinks in. He manages to ask, “You do?” “Do you think I’d risk bringing just any man inside, let alone up to my bedroom in the middle of the night?” Before you can tease further, and before he can second-guess himself, Sherlock sets the empty glass down on the chaise lounge and uses his grip on your hand to draw you closer. He stops as you regain your balance, resting your hand on the cushion behind him.

The two of you search one another’s faces for a moment, hesitance locking you both in limbo. Sherlock takes the plunge first, tipping his chin up and brushing your lips with his own. Your eyes slip shut as you lean against him, raising your other hand and cupping his cheek. Sherlock’s arm curls around your middle, drawing you against him and smoothing his hand over your back, reveling in the cool, silky fabric against his hand. He groans softly as your tongue teases over the seam of his lips before you draw away. He takes in your astonished smile, grins as your thumb sweeps his cheekbone. “I knew your lips would be sweet,” He mumbles. “Oh?” You laugh just a little, “Perhaps you’re still drunk.” Sherlock shakes his head, leaning up and kissing you gently. “I’ve never been more clear-headed in my life.”

[fandomness-imagines]

Tea and an Utter Lack of Sympathy

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Prompts: Scarf/ Flu / Hurt/Comfort

“I told you to take a scarf.” 

His chastisement is loosed with such a casual, bored tone. If you had a little more strength, you’d throw your book at him. As it is, however, your head throbs, your eyes are watering, and your throat hurts from trying to hold back and muffle your coughs. You sniffle slightly, wincing a touch. Your nose is so stuffed that it’s making your teeth hurt. You tip your head into your hand, letting your eyes close for a moment, leaning more heavily into the back of the armchair. 

“I was running late,” Is your mumbled excuse. You wince at the soreness of your throat, and shiver as you’re hit with a wave of chills. Your entire body is sore. For once, you’re grateful for your corset—it’s the only thing keeping you upright in that chair. 

“You wouldn’t have been late if you’d done a better time of organizing your time."

“I wouldn’t have had to organize my time if you hadn’t brought me on that damn pointless excursion to Coventry.” 

“It was not pointless,” Sherlock sniffs; you can hear the offense clearly in his tone. “We were able to eliminate one of the suspects.”

“Which is something that you very well could’ve done on your own.” 

“...I was under the impression that you enjoyed accompanying me on my cases.” 

“I do, Sh—herlock,” You stutter and wince as your throat goes tight with a cough, “I’m merely ma—aking a point—” You turn your head, coughing roughly into your handkerchief. You wince as it goes on, feeling as if bits of metal are scratching at your throat. You sniffle, shifting in your seat and lowering your handkerchief to your lap. You scrub your hand over your eyes, sniffling again. Perhaps you ought to go home—

You glance up as you feel something being lowered across your lap. You open your eyes sleepily, watching as Sherlock covers your lap with a blanket, and wriggling a little as he tucks it on on the sides. You blink hazily up at him, a small, stunned smile overtaking your lips as he walks away again. You lift your book from under the blanket, resting it on your lap. You clear your throat a little, wincing and forcing yourself to refocus on the text. 

You don’t quite succeed. You can feel yourself falling asleep, your head tipping forward as your eyes flutter shut, then pop back open.��It's been far too quiet.

“Did you work out who it was, then?” You manage to ask. 

“...Hm?” 

You glance back, frowning when you hear how far away Sherlock sounds. 

“If it wasn’t the gentleman from Coventry!” You wince as the strain of raising your voice makes your throat hurt. 

“Don’t yell.” 

You roll your eyes at his further chastisement. “Because it’s unladylike?” 

“Because you’ll worsen your throat.”

You look up as Sherlock’s voice grow closer, surprised when you see him holding a steaming teacup on a saucer. You sit up straighter, setting your book aside and holding your hands up. 

“I didn’t know you’d put the kettle on,” You arch a brow, glancing up at him.

“Mm.”

You take hold of the cup and saucer, raising the cup to your nose to take a whiff. 

“What kind is it?” 

“Licorice root.”

“That’s rather butter upon bacon, isn’t it?” 

“Hardly.” 

“I’ve never heard of it.” 

“It’ll help your cough.” 

You give him a wary look before raising the cup to your lips. The flavor is strong, but not entirely displeasing. 

“Move to the fainting couch if you’re going to fall asleep,” He adds, sitting in the armchair across from yours. “You’ll be more comfortable.” 

You nod a little, muttering your agreement before raising the cup back to your lips. 

“Thank you,” You tack on softly. 

“Mm.” 

“I’ll try not to cough in your face too much.” 

“If anything, aim for the fire. You may fan the flames.” 

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

[fandomness-imagines]

When We Were Young Part One

Part Two | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Rating: T

Notes: Enola Holmes got me, guys, what can I say. I mean seriously, look at that curl. I’m considering writing more, still kinda sussing it out. Not sure yet.

Warnings: Uuuuuh none

Summary: You were an only child, a girl (which had disappointed your parents), and while you loved to learn, you hated your governess. You were curious, a little wild, and lonely. 

As a child, Ferndell Hall was a second home to you. You lived down the road from the Holmes’ and tended to hide away there whenever you got into a fight with your mother (which was often). You were an only child, a girl (which had disappointed your parents), and while you loved to learn, you hated your governess. You were curious, a little wild, and lonely. Not that you were any less lonely with the Holmes boys. Mycroft was always making up games with ridiculous rules and amendments to try and keep you from playing them. Sherlock usually stayed out of yours and Mycroft’s arguments - you could hold your own against him anyway. When Mycroft couldn’t be bothered with you anymore, you’d trail behind Sherlock, trying to hold his hand to keep up with him, asking him a thousand questions about what he was reading, or what he was doing. He’d indulge you some of the time, but others he’d ignore you in favor of a book, or a drawing. It was those moments that you ran to Eudoria and Enola. “Never mind them,” Eudoria would tell you, when you were pouting over Mycroft making over some additional stupid rule, or Sherlock not even bothering to look at you from behind his book. “Why don’t they like me?” You asked one day, watching Mycroft and Sherlock fence with one another in the front yard. Eudoria looked down at you. “Why does it matter to you how they feel?” “Everyone wants to be liked,” You rationalized. Eudoria hummed thoughtfully, smoothing a hand over your hair. “Focus more on the company you would like to keep, dove. Not on the company that will not keep you.” – When their father passed away, it was clear that both Mycroft and Sherlock would be sent to boarding schools. Your parents allowed a brief lapse in your studies so that you could spend more time with them before they left Ferndell. Mycroft was sent away first, and Sherlock would be sent soon after. On the day he was set to leave, you and Sherlock waited in the front hall, watching as his things were packed into a carriage. “Will you write?” Sherlock asked quietly. You turned to him, surprised. “…If you like,” You said after a moment. He didn’t meet your eye, just nodded. –

Keep reading

[fandomness-imagines]

Y/N: I will not hesitate to strangle you on a Monday.

Bucky: Can you even reach my neck?

[fandomness-imagines]

Missing

This is so dumb. Imma post it anyway. This is more of a pure ridiculousness and fluff fever dream with grumpy mob Bucky and sunshine reader, was in the mood for a lil sassy Bucky. 

A silly part 2 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE”

Bucky’s men swallowed thickly, staring lowly at their feet while he glared at them, their silence angering him more. How could they let this happen. 

“So none of you. NONE OF YOU thought to keep an eye on her to make sure nothing happened to her?!”

Silence.

“I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU TO TAKE CARE OF HER WHILE I WAS GONE”

Sam and Steve shook their heads a the group, they should have known better than to be so careless, this wouldn’t have happened under their watch. 

“Fucking hell, I leave you idiots in charge for 5 days, 5 FUCKING DAYS, and that was some how too much?!” 

Bucky sucked in a breath, storming to his office, deciding he could tell them off later. Right now, he had bigger problems and the longer he waited, the harder it would be to get her back. His baby. His sweet heart. His angel. His everything. Steve and Sam followed, ready to search the entirety of New York all day and night if they had to. 

“Buck, what do you plan on doing, she could be anywhere, we can send the team to look-

“I’m not sending those idiots” Bucky rubbed his temples before pulling up his laptop. The scowl from his face dropped when he saw the little blinking red dot on the screen. “Thank fuck, her tracking device is still working” 

“You put a tracking device on her?” Sam gawked, before snorting and shaking his head. Of course the mobster did, how could he expect any less. 

“Well, now you see why I did”  Bucky shrugged, turning the laptop for the other two men to see. The coordinates weren’t near them but it didn’t matter. “I don’t get how the fuck she ended up there, but we have to go now, lets go” 

Keep reading

[fandomness-imagines]

Attuma x “warrior” reader.

Basically the whole okoye thing except he’s basically a stalker always blocking reader from doing something yelling “WARRIORRRRR” and reader’s just like: oh yeah that’s just the guy who likes me don’t worry he’s like that

WARRIOR

attuma x reader

warnings - cussing

you could feel the blood dripping down your knees, but that didn’t stop you. you grabbed your spear and charged towards one of namors many soldiers. they had more of an advantage as you were fighting on a beach, but that did not stop you and your small army from trying.

you could hear someone rise from the water, you sighed. already knowing who it could possibly be.

“warrior” he said, tilting his head towards you.

you continued fighting your opponent, trying to pay no mind to the man who had risen from the water.

“warrior” he spoke once again, growing impatient with you, seeing as how you were ignoring him.

you hit your opponent in the arm, slamming him straight to the ground knowing it wasn’t going to hold him for much longer. but in the meanwhile it did hold him down, you turned to the man watching you.

“i’m a little busy here attuma, i’ll get to you in a second.” you told him. just as you had finished that sentence you were knocked on your back but he same man you were fighting.

you flinched as the man prepared to strike you again, but quickly stopped as attuma muttered something in mayan to your opponent. you opened your eyes to the man walking away from you, and going back into the ocean.

you got up, your skin burning against the hot sand as you looked at attuma, a smirk plastered against his face.

“what was that?” you asked, “i don’t need you to save me. i get it you’re like obsessed with me or whatever, but that was my fight.” you mumbled, getting up and facing attuma.

attuma still looked at you, smirking, “well why should he get to have all the fun? warrior.” he told you, his smirk turning into a smile as he struck you in the leg.

you bent down in pain, grabbing your leg and shouting. for a moment, attuma was worried, but he knew he should never underestimate you. he was right, you quickly grabbed your spear from the sand and hit attuma in the chest, pointing the spear right at him.

attuma smirked at you, before pushing the spear down and landing a blow to your shoulder. you quickly grabbed his arm, wrapping him around you and pushing both of you to the ground. you on top of him and he stayed silent, staring at you.

he flipped over, holding your hand in the sand as he smiled at you. you quickly kicked him, getting up and hitting him with the end of your spear, knocking him backwards before you struck him again with the sharp side, cutting only slightly next to his mask.

he stopped, touched the blood and looked at you. “careful warrior, you’re cutting to close.” he said.

as the two of you were about to continue fighting your fellow soldiers shouted, meaning that the fight was now over.

“we’re not done.” attuma said quickly, as your attention was drawn away from him

“general y/n! we need to retreat!” they shouted, you looked at attuma before beginning to walk away.

attuma grabbed your wrist, causing you to turn and look at him confusion.

“bik xi'ikech” he told you. you stared at him in confusion, before quickly moving your wrist out of his grasps and running back to your fellow soldiers.

“warrior!” attuma shouted, causing your friend to look at you in confusion.

“oh ignore him he’s just obsessed with me.”

translation - Bik xi'ikech: don’t leave

[fandomness-imagines]

Imagine being Shuri's older sister and Namor asking you to marry him

Warning: Spoilers for Wakanda Forever

The first time you saw him you swore that you were hallucinating from ocean water poisoning or something. If that was even a thing you had fell asleep on one of the more isolated beaches in Wakanda, after spending the entire day. Learning how to better wield your elemental powers and when night fell. You were way too tired to trek back home plus it was nice to just sit and really enjoy nature. Before you knew it you were gone in deep slumber, but sometime in the middle of the night. The sound of waves crashing up against each other as if the ocean was raging a war against itself woke you. And when your eyes opened to the night sky there was a figure hovering above you masked by the night.

That made you come to your senses pretty quickly, and you sat up rubbing your eyes. But the figure was gone when you checked back to see what or who it was. So you kept the encounter to yourself thinking no one would believe you. Besides your country had more important things to worry about like the increasing attacks on the Wakandan Outreach centers. The last thing your mother needed was to believe her eldest daughter was losing her mind. She would probably think it was your way of trying to deal with T'Challa's death. While you hadn't locked yourself away in your room, or thrown yourself into work. Like your little sister Shuri had spent the past year doing doesn't mean you were faring any better than her. You spent most of your days either on that same beach, or out in the wild connecting with nature.

It wasn't just about learning control over your newfound abilities that didn't surface until. After the Battle of Thanos, but it was also your way of feeling T'Challa's presence. He was the only one who know about your powers, because you didn't know who else to turn to. When a mission with the War-dogs went wrong, and finding yourself cornered without a weapon. Something in you was awakened and next thing you knew the area surrounding you was on fire. You called out to the flames pleading for them to disappear, before the forest was completely burned down. And just like that the fire went away confirming that it was your doing. He promised to keep your secret, and help you train until you were ready to come forward.

The second time you saw him proved your hallucination theory wrong. Because this time you weren't half-asleep when he came nor was you alone. Romanda and Shuri were present as well when he rose from the water. You nearly forgot that your mother and sister had no knowledge of your powers. At the sight of this man with wings on his ankles flying over to where all of you were trying to hold a grieving ceremony for your deceased brother. You placed yourself between him, and your family.

He tilted his head to the side with a teasing smirk on his face. There was a look in his eyes as if he knew exactly who you were and what you could do. You knew right then that night wasn't a hallucination and he was the figure you saw in the sky. Which meant he did know you.

The next day while Queen Romanda met up with the Council to see what plan of action should they take, and Shuri studied the machine to see if it really could detect vibranium. You managed to sneak off back to the beach alone. As if he could sense your presence his head appeared above the water. When you walked over to take a seat in the sand close enough to where the water would kiss your bare feet. Namor needed no invitation to know you wanted to talk to him, and made his way out of the water to join you. His shoulders brushed up against yours as he took a seat beside you. You pulled away shivering at the small amount of contact.

He gave you a devilish grin showing his perfect teeth. "Don't worry mi amour I mean you no harm would you be here if you thought I did?"

"I'm here because I want to put an end to this before it even starts." You told him looking out at the waves.

"And exactly what are trying to prevent?" He asked you.

"A war" You said turning your head to look him in the eyes. You wanted to see them soften and assure he didn't want that. But all you saw was the truth and his conviction.

"As long as your mother upholds her end of the deal and hand over the scientist. Wakanda will be fine but I can't say the same for the rest of the world" Namor said.

"Where does the hate come from?"

"The surface love has never shown any love for me or my people. So why would I have anything else for them except hate?" He shot back.

"The world doesn't even that you and your people exist raging a war is a hell of a way to bring your existence to the light." You arched an eyebrow at him.

"If Wakanda refuses to turn over the scientist like I predict you will. Then it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the world discovers us, and we both know they wouldn't leave us be. I mean look at the way they try to bring Wakanda down for your resources." Namor told you giving a look daring you to challenge him.

As much as you hated to admit it deep down you knew he was right. Your mother nor your sister would turn over a innocent person to Namor to be killed. For simply being too smart and creating the vibranium detector. If anything they would attempt to keep the scientist in Wakanda permanently to prevent them from building another one.

"You know there is another way to get what you want" Namor said bringing you out of train of thought.

You blinked and nearly fell back at the sight of him leaning in so close. You could his breath on your face. "And exactly what do I want?"

"Peace" he answered.

You nodded at him and continued. "How do you propose we get that?

"A formal alliance between Wakanda and Talokan a bond that your country cannot defy."

You had a feeling you knew what kind of bond he was talking about, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. "What kind of alliance?"

Namor gave you that grin again sending chills down your spine. "The purest one of them all." He paused to move his lips to your ear "a marriage."

"Who would marry?" your voice quivered a little bit making him chuckle.

"Oh mi amour you know you're the only one in Wakanda worthy of my love. I saw you that night on this very beach commanding the water, and other times before that bending nature to your very will. You would make the perfect wife and queen to Talokan."

You jerked back away from him with a worried and surprised look mixing into one on your face. Namor chuckled again raising a hand to cup your cheek.

"What do you say Princess? Will you be my queen?"

[fandomness-imagines]

I just saw black panther and let me tell you that I fell in love with Namor and everytime he appeared on screen I was screaming internally, I was wondering if you could write something silly like the reader gives him a rock every time she sees him because on a trip to the surface she saw a couple giving each other gifts and hugging at the end and she thought a rock was the equivalent of that, please please please

I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it (Namor x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A tiny gift that almost drove him to madness.

Warning: Prepare yourself to be attacked with fluff

A/N: At this point, I think I'm really in love with Tenoch, you feel me?

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

Namor was beginning to noticing this strange thing about you, no matter where he was or what was he doing, if you passed him you would stop and give him a small rock with a huge smile on your face.

It had started the moment you first were put in charge with helping him recollect a few things from the sinking boat that was closer to his city. Namor was waiting for you at the borders, his hands on his back as his eyes were looking at the calmness of the waters when he heard you humming a soft tune as you approached. He turned around and watched you struggle with at least ten bags on your arms. When he told you that he needed you to bring a few bags to carry the stuff, he was imagining you would bring two, not ten. He couldn’t help but smile at your determination.

“K'eeban tumen k'uchul chúunk'iin!” Sorry for being late! You quickly swam to his side, his eyes watching curiously as you tried to suppress your labored breaths. “Utia'al u completamente honesto, k'uchen tu k'iinili' ba'ale' in distraje.” To be completely honest, I was on time but I got distracted. You cheekily smiled. “Ya'ab in wu'uyik K’uk’ulkan.” I’m really sorry.

“English.” He told you once again and had to bit his tongue to suppress his laughter when you huffed. “You asked me to teach you and I am doing that.”

“Stupid English.” You muttered under your breath. Your hands quickly adjusted the bags on your shoulder. “Can we just go?” Your hand motioned the waters. “I do not want to be there when is dark, sharks bite then.”

Namor held out his hand so you could give him a few bags but you held them closer to you. “Let me help you, and sharks do not bite if you do not annoy them.” He managed to take a few bags from you, adjusting them at his shoulder and began to swim.

You gasped at his words and at his actions. “Sharks do bite! One bit me a few days ago on my leg, I have a scar to prove it…you even saw it, you said it was amazing.”

“Those words have never left my mouth.” Namor was smiling at your tantrum but managed to hide it as his face never left the waters.

“Uh, yes they have.” You managed to caught up with him, swimming at his side. You noticed his smile. “What are we recollecting?”

“Whatever we find useful.” He stated as que stopped, you following suit. “I will check if there are threats, stay here.” Namor didn’t wait for your answer as he quickly swam away, leaving you there with all the bags once again.

You huffed but decided to listen to him, your eyes looking at everything that surrounded you, there were a few fishes out there, thankfully no sharks, the corals looked bright and the sand too inviting to lay just there. But then you saw it, it was shiny and a beautiful turquoise color, you quickly tried to find Namor but he was still away, you bit your lip in concentration and decided to just go for it.

Your hands quickly grabbed the tiny and shiny object, your thumb carefully swiping away any left-over sand, your eyes widening before quicky putting it inside of one of the bags and swam to where Namor was calling you.

As you would expected, the recollection of things from that boat was completely boring, your eyes often diverting towards Namor, you admitted that he looked quite good, completely concentrated in this activity. When he was completely secure that there wasn’t anything more to salvage, he nodded at you and both of you left.

Namor took the bags from you when he left you at your home, you bit your lip and without thinking you grabbed his arm. He looked at you in confusion.

“I have a gift.” You quietly said. Your hands fumbled with one of the bags that you refused to give him. Finally retrieving the tiny rock. “Found it there, I think you will love it.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes following your hands as they put the rock on his palm and close his fingers against it. You gave him a last smile before entering your home and leaving him there, watching at the door.

And so it began.

Every single time you saw him, you always gave him a rock, it didn’t matter the size, the color or the weight, you always gave him one. At first he was confused at why you were giving them to him but he began appreciate them after you failed to give him one after one day.

He was swimming with Attuma at his side, the later telling him about the improvements they were making with the protection of the barriers, Namor was glad that everything was going within the plan.

“Táan in planeando bisik u kantúulo'on ti' leti'ob utia'al inspeccionar u máquina u kajnáalilo'ob le superficie decidieron túuxtik tak ka'anal.” I am planning to take four of them to inspectionate the machine the surface-dwellers decided to send from above. Attuma stopped for a second, pointing to the ones he wanted to take. “Chéen k'áabet u t'aan aprobación bey ma' táanil.” Just need your word of approval before proceeding.

Namor was about to speak but he managed to see you approaching them, his fingers were tingling with anticipation, imagining what kind of rock you would give him today, the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards, a smile he wanted to suppress at the presence of Attuma. But he failed.

Attuma watched in amusement at how his king was acting, he would have laughed if you hadn’t approached them. You smiled at them before swimming away. That’s when he saw his face and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bejla'e' ma' jach juntúul roca, huh?” Not a rock today, huh? Attuma patted his back. “Ma' xaan ka' leti' a ts'áaik juntúul sáamal.” Perhaps she will give you one tomorrow.

“Bix a wojel?” How do you know? Namor asked him, his voice completely annoyed at the missing rock on his hand.

“Tu ya'alaj teen ka tu yilaj le kajnáalilo'obo' le superficie ts'a regalos, tu tukultaj u a gustaban le tunicho'ob ken aceptaste le primera.” She told me she saw the surface-dwellers give gifts, she thought you liked rocks when you accepted the first one. Attuma simply said, trying his hardest to not laugh again.

“Juntéen, wáaj bix supiste?” Again, how did you know?

“Leti' tu ya'alaj teen, ku pinchamos kaaye' globo sáastale'.” She told me, we usually poke pufferfish at dawn. He shrugged, swimming away.

What?

Namor was pacing through his cave, he was going absolutely mad, it now has been twelve days since you had given him a rock. He didn’t know what was happening, why did you stopped? Had the rocks you been seen weren’t up to your standard? He didn’t care, he wanted them.

He couldn’t help but sighed, his eyes turning to his small (HUGE) collection of rocks, he had been keeping them protected since you had given him them. But he wanted more, was he being selfish? Hell yeah, but this was something you had given the thought, you searched each one of them, you put your mind into looking for the perfect one before giving them to him.

So he went to look for you, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the city, a few of his people were looking at him strange as he began asking for you. But your mother was kind enough to point at your location.

Near the corals, she had said.

So he quickly swam there, and there you were, poking at pufferfish with Attuma. He needed to give you a reminder to not do that.

“Cha' k.” Leave us. Namor told Attuma, it was more like a order.

Attuma watched him and then you, before nodding. A huge smile on his face as he left.

“K’uk’ulkan?” You asked him confused, a stick on your hand. “Tu láakal ba'ax ma'alo'ob.?” Everuthing alright?

“English.” He told you, you noticed how tense he was, but still huffed and nodded. “Why did you stop?”

“Stop?” You tilted your head. “Stop what?”

“Rocks.”

You stared at him, you simple shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

“You have not given me any rock in twelve days, why?” He took a step closer to you. “Did something happened? Are they not in your standards? I do not mind what kind of rock you give me.”

“Oh.” You whispered, adverting your eyes. “Is not it.”

“Then what is it?” He grabbed your hands. “I do not care what you give me, but please do not stop.”

You sighed. “My mother say it is not nice to give rocks to someone…so I stopped.”

“Do not.” He whispered, “Please.”

You stared at his hands before looking upwards at his eyes. A tiny smile formed on your face. “Stick?” You gently raised the stick you were holding.

Namor couldn’t help but smile, taking the stick on his hands. “Thank you.” You smiled. “But now, why are you pocking pufferfish? Did you don’t know the dangerous things they could do to you?”

You sighed.