#@yourtropegirl

[apileoftribbles]

Thrift Shoppin’

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Star Trek AU

Words: 1527

Warnings: A few swears, but that’s about it

Author’s note: Hi pals! So it’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything that hasn’t been for school, and this is my first ever reader insert fic, so your kind and constructive feedback is very much appreciated. This is for @yourtropegirl and her 1000 follower celebration (congratulations!) and was inspired by my own summer job experiences, as well as my undying love of Star Trek and of course, our dear Leonard. Enjoy!

It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, the Colorado sun beating mercilessly on everything it touched. You stood up and groaned, surveying the piles of clothing and knick-knacks surrounding you, each in various levels of disrepair. Sorting donations at a thrift store definitely wasn’t your preferred line of work, but it paid the bills. After a few moments, you lifted your baseball hat to wipe the sweat dripping from your forehead and went back to digging through the endless piles of other people’s stuff.

You didn’t see him when he walked up, nearly jumping away at the sound of a strange voice standing altogether too close.

“Excuse me, m’am?”

You squinted up at the man, too tired and irritated to respond.

“Where should I put these?” He continued in his southern lilt, looking down at his armful of neatly folded clothes.

You sighed, reaching out both hands towards him, “I’ll take them. Is there anything else you need?”

“That’s it,” he handed you the pile, freezing when he caught a glimpse of the black lines on your wrist.

“Have a nice day!” you turned away quickly, not in the mood for further conversation.

“Wait – I’m sorry, is that a Starfleet symbol? On your wrist?”

“Yes.”

He frowned, studying you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“If you’re a member of Starfleet, then why in God’s name are you here?”

“I’m not in Starfleet,” you snapped, “Not anymore. I mean, I went to the academy, but I never really served.”

“So, are you a dropout or what?”

You dropped his clothes on the ground abruptly, turning to face him. “for your information, sir, I was the top of my class in every subject and graduated with honors,” you stepped back, surprising yourself with the outburst, “I just didn’t… couldn’t…” you trailed off, unsure of how to explain yourself.

He grimaced, staring at his shoes. “My apologies m’am. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You both stood in silence for a few moments, at a complete loss for words.

“My mom died,” you confessed quietly. “She was a doctor for Starfleet and a professor at the academy.” The man’s eyes snapped up.He squinted at you curiously and tried to say something, but you pushed forward, knowing you were rambling but unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“She was on her last mission before she retired. There was an outbreak of a previously undiscovered alien virus on one of the planets her ship visited and she refused to leave until she figured out a cure for the inhabitants. She was infected within a few days and died before they could synthesize the medicine she needed,” you took a deep breath, absentmindedly touching your wrist. “It’s for her. She loved Starfleet, and she died saving the lives of people she had never met. I went to med school and joined Starfleet because of her, because I just wanted to be like her. It was a few months after I had graduated from the academy and I just… couldn’t go back. Everything reminded me of her.”

“Why here?” He asked, still studying you intently.

You shrugged, starting to pick his clothes off the ground. “I don’t really know. I kind of just started driving east and stopped when I felt like I was far enough away.”

He stooped to the ground and started picking up clothes, still frowning with his eyebrows knitted together. You were getting increasingly uncomfortable with this man that asked too many questions, even if his accent was kind of cute and he had the warmest hazel eyes and seemed vaguely familiar and –

“What do you want from me?” you jerked yourself out of your reverie and tried to shove away the troubling thoughts, grabbing the rest of the clothes from him and throwing them into a box.

“I just don’t think this is what Diana would have wanted for you,” he said quietly.

“What?!” you choked out, too shocked to move. “How the hell – who the fuck are you?”

“Dr. Leonard McCoy, at your service m’am,” his frown melted into a smile as he saw a flash of recognition cross your face when he said his name.

“McCoy? As in mom’s favorite student McCoy?”

“The one and only. And that makes you Y/N, right?” he held out a hand for you to shake. “I know we’ve met once or twice briefly but… it’s been a while.”

You shook his hand tentatively. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. She absolutely adored having you in her class.”

“She was a wonderful person and an incredible doctor.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry to hear about her passing.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

He raised an entirely unconvinced eyebrow at you but thankfully said nothing.

“So, what brings you out here?” you asked, “San Francisco isn’t exactly nearby.”

“I’m on shore leave for a few weeks and I figured I should go somewhere I hadn’t before.” He shrugged, “the mountains aren’t bad either. Why are you here?”

“You know, she tried to set us up once.” You rapidly changed the subject, smiling at the memory.

“What? Well I’ll be damned.” He grinned.

“It was my first year at the academy and she wouldn’t stop talking about this student I just had to meet, this brilliant, handsome young doctor with such a promising career…” you couldn’t help yourself from laughing a little at the thought of your easily excited mother.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“So, what did you say?” He asked, reaching over to help you sort.

“I told her I was far too busy with my studies to even consider seeing someone. Also, I had a thing for someone else.”

“Well that’s just my luck isn’t it,” he grumbled.

“It wasn’t worth it, don’t worry. He dropped out after failing too many labs,” you chuckled to yourself. Good ol’ Richard Casey. He was always good for a fun time but wasn’t the sharpest tool in the –

“I think you should consider coming back.” McCoy said abruptly.

“Back to what?,” you shook your head, “there’s nothing left for me. Not here, not there, not anywhere.”

“Y/N, would you stop being so damn determined to be miserable and hear me out?”

“Mom never mentioned you having an attitude problem.”

“She never mentioned you being a quitter either.”

You opened your mouth to retort and he held up his hands, “okay, now maybe that was uncalled for. I myself have quit on many occasions, but that’s beside the point.” He took a deep breath and bent down to look directly into your eyes, “the simple truth is, you aren’t happy here. Anyone can see that. And while I’m far from Starfleet’s biggest fan, it gave me a home when I had nowhere else to go, and I think it can do that for you too,” he paused, “and while I can’t speak for her, I think Diana would want you to go.”

You stared at the ground, not wanting to believe what he was saying but knowing it was true. Mom never would have wanted you to run away, not like this, but the thought of going back to San Francisco and facing the memories that haunted you was too much to process.

“I know, but McCoy I… I can’t,” You stuttered out, wiping frantically at the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s okay, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. Believe it or not, I understand what you’re going through.” McCoy placed a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about this. When do you get off?”

You took a few moments to finish collecting yourself and gave him a small smile.

“Five, why?”

“Can I take you out for a drink after work?”

“Are you going to keep trying to recruit me?”

“Maybe. We do have an empty position on the medical team on the Enterprise.” He shrugged.

“McCoy – “ you warned.

“Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

You could have imagined it, but there seemed to be just the slightest blush creeping into his cheeks and the tiniest fidget of his hands while he waited for your answer.

“Fine,” you sighed, “make it dinner and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He gave you a warm smile, “I’ll be back at five?”

“Yes McCoy, see you at five,” you feigned irritation in a vain attempt to contain your excitement, eventually giving in and returning his smile.

He winked and strode away, whistling a little as he went. You looked up towards the sun, closing your eyes for a moment as a delightfully cool breeze swept across your face.

“Okay, mom,” you smiled up at the sky, “message received.”

[controllingkittens]

Frederick Chilton & The Abominable Present

Happy fan fic writer's day! I really hope to see something new from you soon! 😘

- @skittle479  

It was wrapped up with a burgundy paper. A perfectly rectangular box adorned with a dark simple lace. Placed at the top of his desk. Frederick had noticed it as soon as he came in.

His office was just like he had left it the previous afternoon. The immaculate bookshelves, the dustless rugs and even the leather arm-chairs he had bid on an indecent amount of money were perfectly placed. Just as he asked for. Just as he liked. His fountain pens were precisely situated the one to the other and a selection of his own books was displayed for tantalising eyes. For sure, surviving as many horrendous attacks as he had and writing his experiences, feelings, and post-studies about his attackers, Dr.Chilton had made himself one of the most prestigious and rich writers of the decade. Everybody wanted to know about the Cannibal, the Crazy Doctor or The Dragon. He suddenly became sort of a hero. And he sort of a like it. His scars were remarkable, inside and out. Even though doctors had made a great work with his skull partial reconstruction, providing him with prosthesis he could use daily, his skin was now a patchwork of different grafts and treatments. Some kids (and adults-thing that drove you mad-) couldn't help but stare at him. 

Mentally, he had tried, he had really tried, and he kept fighting every day. The fact the men who almost got him killed were dead helped. But their ghosts still haunted him some nights.

Luckily, the paranoia had decreased over the months; and as the sun rose and fell each day, your man, the one you had fallen for, start to reappear.

Little gestures, like the one you had to do that day, were the ones that used to drove him crazy back in time.

Before taking a single step more inside his working space, Frederick rose his normal voice tone. Brandom, his secretary, answered him from the other room. "Mrs. (Y/L/N)  came in early this morning and left that for you, Dr." The tension in his neck relaxed instantly. Just the mention of your name made him feel better. The thought of your dazzling presence in his workplace just to leave him what it seemed to be a gift was enough to draw on his face the biggest of the smiles. Swiftly heading to his imperial style desk, he grabbed his phone to text you.    "You should have given it to me this morning"

A soft vibration alarmed you at work. Your heart had been running twice as fast as normal since you had decided to put that mischievous idea into action. Just by reading the text, you knew he hadn't opened the present yet. You were so impatient for that night you had even thought about telling you were sick at work. But that was not how it used to be before. Not the rule games. You had to keep it cool. "You're welcome, my love" Another vibration.     "Don't be mad. A gift? Is it my bday?" "You know it's not. Don't be rude and open the damn box, ok?"

In order to have access to the insides of the rectangular container, Dr.Chilton used the help of his personalised letter opener: a rare piece of silver and gems. Since his encounter with Francis Dolarhyde and the fire, he had had numerous surgeries and almost daily meetings with physiotherapists to bring back his full sensitivity and stimulation of several muscles, including a few fingers. Not wanting to make a -more than possible- mess with your -more than possibly perfect- present, he decided for the opener rather. Inside the box, a dark velvet bag adorned with a small bow almost claimed to be opened. Once carefully opened, the doctor could just not believe his eyes.

He was calling you know. 'Hello, darling' you answered trying to flat your voice. 'Darling' the voice repeated from the speaker 'can you explain to me what kind of monstrosity is this?' A triangular cloth with a bright animal pattern was now laying on his desk. Plus, it had a thick waistband was adorned with the word "BOO".

"It's a jockstrap!" 'I know it's a jockstrap, (Y/N)!' he looked at the piece of men underwear with uneasiness and the realised with terror that his door was still open. With dopey big steps that were assisted by his cane, he reached it and closed it loudly, barking he didn't want to be molested until he said the opposite.

'If you know what it is, then why ask, you silly?' after hearing him howl, you couldn't help to add how he should be more polite to the poor Brandom.

'Don't interrupt me!, I wasn't asking about the object, I was asking about the whole situation itself!' he stated wobbly 'Is this some kind of joke?' 'Oooh ,boo!' -maybe, you have been wrong? maybe it wasn't the time?- 'I'm so sorry! It's been a while since you and I started... doing stuff again you know? And you remember that time when I asked you about how you felt about starting our games again? Well, I thought you'd like a small game...

The other line stayed silence and you knew you had made a terrible mistake. An invisible hand punch your stomach and tears began to fall.

'Honey, I'm so sorry, maybe it's too soon... I'm so stupid..I-'

'Shut up, and tell me what do I have to do.'

What? 'What?' 'You heard me! I swear to God you are way worse than all those maniacs confined in Baltimore...I may not work there anymore' he lowered his voice' but I come to you every night and that's much of the same' he smile widened he heard you giggle 'the rules of your demented game, I demand them now!'

They were pretty simple: Frederick had to put his "lingerie" on and send you a picture with it modelling in his bureau. Afterwards, he would put back his designer clothes back on, leaving the jockstrap on the whole day, and send you bathroom pics every hour just to check.

A message came with a possible way of revenge came with every one of them and you aimed for the night like you hadn't in a few months. During lunch-break though, Frederick sent you something that made you had to excuse you from your fellow coworkers and run to the bathroom to try and stop your laughter.       "I feel my buttcheeks touching each other. I like it, baby"

"I'm glad you do, boo"       "I maybe even get used to these things after all! It even says Boo! I can have one with your name on it!" "That one was personalised, my babe"       "...how much was it?" "...699$...but Boo letters are made in those crystals I love so much!"      "I can live without my buttcheeks touching"

Part 2??-I’m thinking of making a smutty sassy part 2, I don’t know... DON’T KNOW!

[kaunis-sielu]

The Sheriff

A snowstorm brings you an unexpected guest for a few days. But when those few days with the Sheriff make it hard to imagine life without him will you give up your freedom to love him?

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/169638631028/the-sheriff

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/169726773413/the-sheriff-2

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170026376818/the-sheriff-3

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170145909838/the-sheriff-4

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170217946743/the-sheriff-5

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170220295153/the-sheriff-6

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170317580308/the-sheriff-7

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170409349203/the-sheriff-8

https://kaunis-sielu.tumblr.com/post/170447567328/the-sheriff-end

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Awww! I do the same things sometimes!! Especially when I am stressed out. Hubs always calms me down and figures it out. At least the monitor will work for now. So Yay!!!

It was because I have commissions to do and people to write for and fics to post for you guys - so I had a five year old meltdown. Steve, over the years, has learned to help me calm down too. He always laughs it off afterwards, even though I usually feel like a huge asshole. I’ve learned to relax more quicker and apologize faster too hahaha

yeah its an older one, but its fine

[rauliskafan]

The Doctor and His Doll

Authors’ Note: Better late than never!!! Here is my contribution to @yourtropegirl‘s Alternative Coffee Shop AU challenge!!! Originally I planned to have the good doctor meet someone at a thrift shop, and I went through several drafts. It just wasn’t clicking. But then this came to me!!! Hope that you enjoy (and this story might keep going)!!!

Tagging @yourtropegirl, @vintagemichelle91, @mrschiltoncat

At least it was only a seasonal job.

In two months’ time, the space would be transformed into Decked Halls, a store bursting with fiber optic trees, wreaths of every size, and stockings seemingly discarded by a series of giants. Once all the gifts were unwrapped and this year became the next, it would change into The Spirit of Spring. Which was always kind of a cruel joke given the grayest days of winter. Fun in the Sun would rear its head after that with so many sunglasses and towels and displays of sand that tended to stick in shoes and turn one off to the very idea of spending a day at the beach.

But for the moment, it was The Devil’s Den, a business bursting with costumes for men and women, boys and girls, dogs and cats of every size. Add to that decorations for front yards suggesting doors to other dimensions, kettles that brewed dried ice seeming like the misty home of Macbeth’s three witches. When filling out the application, it seemed like such a smart idea. Because autumn was and always had been your favorite time of year, and the hours fit like a glove around your current course load.

It only took one shift of rowdy high school boys who seemed twenty and not three years your junior making rude noises behind the many masks to lift the spell. Add to that the animatronic fortune teller speaking in a loop that only made you want to ask when the world would end, hoping that the answer was tomorrow. Just a few more weeks. You could hack it; you’d been through worse. At least this day was somewhat quiet save for the young mother wanting her daughter to be a butterfly. The lovely little lady kept gravitating to psycho clown. One more reason you were never having children. The two older girls in the back seemed harmless enough while debating which kind of princess they would portray. You could tell them some stories about the pink dress and the violet…

Trying to get lost in your homework, you heard the door open and close without looking up. Footsteps drew nearer… along with a tap that started to grate on your nerves. Lifting the eyes that began to roll in your head, you stopped short of scoffing when you saw him.

He was older. Like the professors that always caused you to lick your lips as they explained epistolary novels or the line from Socrates to Plato to Aristotle. Maybe it was the light passing through the windows, but this man was so much more. Wavy dark hair, a proud roman nose, green eyes that called you to kick off your shoes and run through a forest. Why the cane? It seemed an odd accessory. But then you saw the limp. Suddenly your heart felt heavy at the thought that something or someone horrible must have hurt him. Wanting to know the where and when and why and if there was a way that you could help, you let Richardson’s Pamela fall aside and left the counter to meet him up close.

“Anything I can help you with, sir?”

As soon as he heard your voice, the man stopped short in front of a display of multi-colored wigs and even wilder hats. Focusing of his face, your eyes drifted towards his left cheek. A mark... a blemish bordering on a scar… was the man already wearing makeup? Was he practicing for All Hollows’ Eve, or did he wear this mask the other three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year?

“Did I ask for your assistance?” he replied in a curt tone before you could ask even one of the questions bubbling on your tongue. You wanted to hide your head in an over-sized Stetson or Elvira’s discarded tresses. Swallowing hard, you stuffed your hands in the pockets of your khakis and shuffled your feet.

“I… sorry,” you muttered. “I get it.”

“You get what?” he inquired.

“I mean I always kind of hate it when I’m in a store and someone’s right on top of me. It’s a total turn off.”

“Then why did you approach me?”

Now his green gaze made you feel like you were drowning under water, the seaweed shimmering and strangling your speech despite its beauty.

“Uh… it’s my job,” you feebly replied. “And you looked like you needed... so I---”

“So you thought the best use of your time was to pester me,” he mocked.

Feeling your face flush and wishing that you had resigned yourself to admiring him from afar, you nearly slithered away.

But just as quickly recovered your words, ready to tell him a thing or two.

“Happy not to help you over there,” you said, pointing to the counter and starting to turn on your heel. The split second before you twisted around, you swore you saw his green gaze quiver like the glare from a traffic light catching on a piece of rain swept pavement. The angry line of his lips and the way his large hand curled around his cane still made it a signal to leave. You hurried back behind the register and buried your nose in your book. After ringing up the little girl who won the psycho clown battle, you were left with the tapping of his cane. A few stolen glances as his firm back, his lean legs, that haunted face that could be molded into a tortured mask all on its own still had the power to make you tremble. But his eyes stayed angry, frustrated, and you tried to tell yourself that he was best left to the realm of your fantasies. 

…until your daydreams were broken by the sound of laughter.

Creeping out from behind the counter once more, you spied the two would-be princesses giggling quietly and pointing at your mystery man.

“Is he for real?” the blonde asked.

“My grandfather wears a tie pin or whatever like that.”

“Maybe he’s a promotional thing.”

“Sure scary enough.”

You froze, watching the man tense and look to the mean girls, expecting to see the fumes that eradicated the Great Sept of Baelor at Cersei’s command falling from his eyes. But despite the cane and the scar and the faint lines suggesting a life lived long if not well, he took on the shape of a little boy, scared and shy and shocked by so much abuse. It hurt to think that the passing of the years failed to quell that kind of fear, and he looked ready to run and hide.

Not like this… not on your watch.

“Hey!” you chirped in your best bubbly voice, standing strong in the face of the girls...

…and the stranger’s sad stare.

“Can I help you gals?” you asked, the last word stolen from your late grandmother.

“We’re good,” the blonde said, rolling her eyes at her friend. Looking to the stranger once more, you sensed that something could snap if the stars slid out of line… and while a small part of you was curious to see such a sight, you suddenly longed to protect him…

…and you also wanted your shot at these lousy ladies.

“Good?” you echoed, cracking the brightest of smiles that burned with a hollow light. “Great! Going for the scary sorceress look!”

“Excuse me?” the blonde challenged. “Are you crazy? That’s not even on the label.”

Cutting your eyes back to the man with the cane, you managed a small smirk, your stare willing, hoping that he would stay silent. The scarred man followed your lead, and your smile morphed malicious as you cracked your knuckles and grabbed the pink dress.

“Course not,” you continued. “But I can show you the secret…”

Your voice trailed off as you dug your fingers into the hem of the gown. The girls fell silent, and a sideways glance caught the stranger raising one eyebrow as you winked in his direction and sent a sea of spiders spilling to the floor.

“Holy fucking shit!”

The blonde screamed first and practically pushed her friend down as she fled the shop. You watched the other girl stumble behind her with arms flailing and saw your remaining customer slightly shocked as you grasped a bug and held it close to his face.

“What are you---?”

“They’re plastic!” you said with a sneaky smile. “Some kids were in here… thought it would be a good joke.”

Watching, hearing his breath calm, he took the toy spider from your hand, examining it carefully before emitting a low laugh.

“How would they be sure if they never saw the results of their efforts?” he queried, leaving you stumped.

“Um… good point,” you finally conceded. “Guess they didn’t see the plan through to the end.”

“Not at all,” he said, leaning closer so you caught a hit of his cologne and thought that you would swoon until his smile turned softer… sweeter. “But you picked up the cue and marched to the final curtain. To that I say bravo.”

Forgetting the plastic bugs, not caring if they truly came to life and crawled up and down your legs, you gestured towards the rest of the store.

“I’ll take a bow after I figure out what you need and how I can help you get it.”

Was that a mistake? He looked like he might turn cold or beat the crowd before the conclusion of the curtain call when he spoke fast.

“I have to attend a costume party,” he started. “On Halloween. It is not by choice. Certain people would rather I stay home. I do not wish to give them that sense of satisfaction.”

And now you liked him even more. A misanthrope wanting to beat the world at its own game. You could relate and lightly touched his arm, smiling at the electricity humming over your skin.

“Well then let’s make you the best-dressed man at the ball.

With his cane tapping again, he followed you down an aisle where capes made like curtains blocked out an unseen sun.

“I… I suppose that something like this makes the most sense,” he said, his voice even more sorrowful as he brought a white half mask to one side of his face. He concealed the scar, and you felt your lips curl into a frown.

“Why would you say that?” you asked. “Phantom of the Opera is so last century.”

“It’s timeless for me,” he sadly explained. “Come now; I promise it will not compromise your commission. Simply be straight with me.”

Understanding why he had a want to strike out, wondering how many times he had to endure cruel words muttered under cold breaths, you still thought him handsome and snatched the mask from his fingers before tossing it to the back of the shelf.

“Why hide the battle scar?” you asked.

“Excuse me? You do not know how---”

“Not important,” you cut in. “Whatever happened, you wear it well and…”

Your mind spun towards the next aisle.

“And what?” he asked. “Would you be so kind as to finish your thought?”

“I’d rather show you.”

Taking his free hand as his cane started tapping on the tiles again, you turned another corner and paused before a rack of feathers and pearls, wide-brimmed fedoras over pinstriped suits.

“Well… here we are,” he said. “I fail to understand your intentions.”

“Really?” you asked. “Come on! With the right hat and a snazzy jacket…”

You affixed said items of clothing to him quickly, basking in the feel of another one of his warm’s sighs hitting your neck and gently braiding through your hair. Fighting the urge to fall into him right then and there, you found a pocket square colored in crimson, placed it in his pocket, and smiled.

“Scarface!” you said.

“Excuse me!”

The emphasis on every syllable turned your blood to ice, and you wanted to kick yourself for saying too much when your reached for a plastic Tommy Gun and pressed it under his free arm.

“Who is like the toughest guy ever,” you said. “No one messes with him. He takes down empires. The world is his.”

“Until the final act,” the man said.

“You know it?” you asked.

“I have not been living under a rock, my dear.”

For that much you were glad; less so when he tossed the gun aside and looked ready to exit the shop.

“This is never going to work,” he grumbled.

“Why not?” you asked. “It looks so good on you.”

His eyes drifted towards a mirror, and for a second his smirk returned.

“I almost do not want to argue with that,” he began.

“Then don’t,” you said, surprised that you liked him a little vain when he lost the hat and hung his head.

“But I am hardly the type to shoot up a room… despite everything…”

What was the secret to his story? The tips of your fingers just grazed against his when he shot away and looked ready to rush to parts unknown that you never had any hope of finding.

“Or get the girl.”

Leaning on his cane, he aged in the span of your sight. You remembered an eighth-grade dance where you were Esmeralda only to lose your Quasimodo to a genie, your gypsy not standing a chance. No one deserved to feel that way.

And given the chance…

“You got her.”

His cane stopped and threatened to fall as you touched a strand of pearls.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m up for a party,” you said.

“I---”

“Look I know it sounds forward or whatever,” you continued. “But I clean up pretty nice. And I can dance. Bet you have a plus one, right?”

“Yes I---”

“So let’s do it! What’s a tough guy without his doll?”

You smiled brightly with wide eyes… and saw his face twist. Fuck. Why did you do that? Step over every line ever drawn in the sand. He wasn’t some eighteenth-century-styled brooding male just in need of the love of a good woman. Or you. You wanted to hide under every mask in the shop, bury your head in the smell of sweat and rubber until the sound of his cane faded into the distance. Even after that. Blushing while your palms began to sweat, you gasped ever so slightly and glanced up at the sound of rustling plastic…

…and you saw the chain of faux pearls in his hand, held just shy of your neck, and you blinked fast..

“Perhaps you are on to something,” he said. “I hardly want to go alone.”

The lines in the sand leftover from the summer became ropes pulling you through the seaweed, back to the forest and the first and best version of his gaze.

“You don’t have to,” you offered softly. “I don’t really have any plans.”

Oh Christ! That sounded so pathetic and---

“A pretty thing like you?” he said.

And your heart exploded in your chest. Because no one, not one family member or friend ever called you pretty… to the point that you believed the word was meant for puppies before it could fall on your shoulders. But here he was, calling you something close to lovely and smiling as you shook your head.

“Guess I was waiting for you to come calling,” you said, biting your lip at the end of the sentence.

And it worked when he blushed, highlighting his scar as he draped the boa over tour shoulders.

“We could make a handsome pair,” he reasoned, still blushing and moving just a few steps down the aisle when two red eyes and a low moan caught him off guard.

“What is that?” he asked as you hurried toward him and touched his shoulders.

“Fortune teller,” you said. “When you walk by it, it sets him off.”

“It… is it…?”

He shivered under your hands, and you steadied him until he stilled.

And spoke once more.

“Do the tea leaves tell the truth?”

Trailing your fingers down his arm and finding your fingers clasped in his, you looked to the skull with red eyes resting under a turban.

“Will… will I… will me and… what is your name?”

“Frederick,” he said. “Dr. Frederick Chilton.”

“Doctor?” you echoed. “Oh boy.”

“It is not all that it is cracked up to be,” he said. “I could tell you stories…”

And you were ready to read them cover to cover when you held his hand tighter and took a deep breath.

“Will the doctor and his doll have an absolutely astounding time at the masquerade ball?”

The silence didn’t bother you as your eyes locked, his green gaze seeming like the cover page of all those stories you were dying to dive into and puzzle over and over again.

“Doll,” Frederick said. “I think I like that.”

And before you could answer, the mechanized voice filled the aisle where you stood, the pair of you seeming like the only two people in this world or any other.

All signs point to yes.

[hides-in-the-shadows]

yourtropegirl reblogged your post and added: “Yes, Captain Rogers”

I loved it!! Awesome job!!

Thank you dear!!

[theenchantedgalleryofstories]

@this-kitty-has-claws was nominated by @tilltheendwilliwrite. They celebrate all things Sebastian Stan and you should definitely check the Steve Rogers story Sweat.  

@rauliskafan  @pinkamour1588  @auduna-druitt @captainsbabysitter-blog @randomlittleimp @viioletdelights @eyeofdionysus

[captainsbabysitter-blog]

top 6 breed of dogs

Oh man...

1.) Huskey

2.) Samoyed

3.) Malamute

4.) Irish Wolfhound

5.) German Shepherd

6.) Pitbull

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

I loved my drabble. I could totally see Scotty doing that. I would be afraid of what he came up with next. That gave me the inspiration to make our resident grump go see Christmas lights mood boards.

YAY!!! I’m glad you liked it. We were out at a friend’s new house the other night, and they just moved into a more... spendy neighbourhood...

There was a house there that had just as many lights as the photo you submitted. It was amazing.

[commander-writergirl]

Ode to Holidays Writers list

1. @kaunis-sielu - link to photo

2. @nobodys-baby-now - Rafael Barba/New Years Photo

3. @yourtropegirl - Tony DiNozzo with Mistletoe in Christmas and Rafael Barba with Snowman in Winter for Moodboards

4. @auduna-druitt - Jim Kirk/ New Years Photo

And if you need reminds for the rules here are the links to the original post LINK. Have fun writing and creating :)

[kaunis-sielu]

Bake-Off: 2

Part 2 for the challenge from @yourtropegirl

"Welcome to Quiver Cupcakes. So good they're Cupid's new arrows. How can I help," you look up and realize the man who's walked in is the owner of the bakery across the street, "you?" You trail off. "Hi." He gives you a bright smile and you're pretty sure butterflies have taken up residency in your stomach. "I'm Steve. I co-own the new bakery across the street." "Come to check out the competition?" You ask cheerfully, one brow raised. No need to alienate him but you do want to know what he's doing in your shop. "Oh you're not the competition." He says, same smile on his face. When your other brow raises too his smile drops off. "No, no no, no." He says quickly, his hands going up fingers splayed, "what I meant was we're a bakery. You're just a cupcake shop." "Just?" You ask, irritation evident in the word. "I can do more than cupcakes." "Oh god. No that's not what I meant either." Steve groans. "Then maybe you should think before you speak." You advise, your arms folding across your chest. You're thankful no one else is in the store right now because you're flat out pissed. "Oh god I'm messing this up so bad." He groans softly, and you have to agree. "Did you want something or what?" You ask, you've got work to do and now that you've had to deal with this jerk you're ready to beat some fondant. "I-" he falters, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. His shirt comes up and gives you a glimpse of his stomach and the muscles there. "Never mind." Steve says before turning suddenly and hurrying out of the shop. You watch him jog across the street then turn back to the computer screen in font of you. You've got three more orders to fill all for the following weekend so you've got plenty to keep you busy. Clint comes in a few hours later with a basket full of goodies. "Where did these come from?" You ask before really getting a look at what's in the basket. "Across the way." "Oh no. Not Star Spangled Bakery." You groan looking up at him from the batter you're pouring into the tin. "What's wrong with Star Spangled Bakery?" He asks unwrapping a patriotically decorated cookie. "Steve. The blonde action figure came over here this morning and informed me that we're not the competition because we're just a cupcake place." Clint chokes on the cookie he was actively stuffing into his mouth. "Wow. What an ass." He says dropping the rest of the basket into the trash. "She's nice though. Natasha. They're not dating." He says with a little smile, "Alright. What are we working on?" He asks before grabbing his apron from its hook.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

I am making Fanfiction Fight Club Rules.

hahahaha I love this.

[rauliskafan]

A Little Loveliness for She Who Is Spectacular!!!

In honor of the fabulous @yourtropegirl who makes this corner of the world such a brightly lit place!!! Her mood boards are marvelous masterpieces, and the time she takes to support so many talented writers is astounding!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I wanted to thank you for every incredible thing that you do and for the amazing person that you are!!! Here’s wishing you the Happiest New Year!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Midnight - Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Tony Stark

Warnings: N/A

Request: @yourtropegirl: “could I request a one shot with Steve Rogers kissing on New Year’s Eve”

Word Count: 480

Author: Hannah

New Year’s Eve could be both good and bad.

It was always a good thing because it was a celebration of what was to come in the next year, and how things could change or they could be so different but for a good reason.

However, it was bad because of the parties Tony always threw – they were extravagant, over the top and always filled with alcohol.

Which wasn’t unusual for Tony.

He’d been planning his New Year’s Eve party for a month, roping Pepper in to help him too, and of course all of the team was invited which meant any significant other of the team was dragged along too.

You loved Steve, and got on well with the team despite not working closely with them whilst you worked at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Whilst you were getting dressed, Steve came into your bedroom and stood behind you “You look gorgeous.”

You smiled at him in the mirror, moving your hair aside so you could clasp your necklace, “Thank you,” you answered him “As always, you clean up nicely too.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Come on, we better get going.”

You nodded in response, the two of you making your way down to where the car that Tony had sent was parked.

When the two of you reached the tower, Steve opened your door for you and you linked your arm through his.

“As always, Tony has gone over the top,” you stated as the two of you walked into the lounge to see all of the decorations, the DJ was set up in the corner with music booming, the balcony was open to everyone and of course the bar was surrounded.

Your boyfriend chuckled, “It makes for a good night though.”

You couldn’t disagree with him, as many of your good nights had been spent at one of Tony’s parties.

Natasha noticed you from where she was sat with the rest of the team, bar Tony as he was probably finding more alcohol, and waved the two of you over.

Steve sat down, allowing you to sit gently on his knee as there wasn’t another seat available.

“How have you two been? We’ve missed you around here Steve,” Bruce spoke up with a smile on his face.

Steve chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist, “Sorry but I needed to take a couple days off to, you know, sleep.”

His words caused your group of friends to laugh “Have you heard this guy snore? I was glad I had work so I didn’t have to hear it,” you joked.

“Gee thanks Doll.”

You laughed but turned to kiss his cheek, “You know I love it really.”

He smiled and then kissed you properly “And I love you.”

Clint wold wolf whistled, having a smirk on his face, “Kissing her a bit early Cap – gotta wait for midnight.”

[fireladybuckley]

Supergirl

Hi Heatherrrrr thank you for asking!!!

favourite female character: Alex Danvers (as though anyone had any doubt)favourite male character: J’onn J’onzz (SPACE DAD)least favourite female character: Hmm… good question. Probably Leslie/Livewire or Siobhan… they were both incredibly annoyingleast favourite male character: Mon El (I don’t *hate* him but I don’t particularly like him either) - this is not counting the villains, of course… there’s plenty of slimy male villains all the timefavourite ship:  Now that Sanvers is over (and honestly I’ve lost my taste for Maggie…) Supercorp (Kara/Lena)least favourite ship: Karamel (Kara/Mon El)film/tv show rating: 7.5/10

Ask me a TV show or Movie and I’ll tell you this!!

[kinkykinard]

Congrats on 1250!!! That is so awesome!!!

Thank you so much, love!

Thank you for sticking with my blog for so long!  You were one of my very first followers, requesters, and cheerleaders! 

You’re the best!

XoXo