#if anyone has ideas/suggestions lmk! just tossing out some things that have been on my mind

[good-beanswrites]

I put together a few Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins thoughts! Details about characters, filming, reactions, etc. I doubt I'll get the chance to smoothly work some of them into the drabbles, but I still wanted to share them :)

Post-T1 thoughts:

The first few days out of the prison are really weird and awkward – the prisoners got too deep in the immersion and are slowly remembering what’s real and talking some things out. Before these major emotions can wear off, they’re pulled aside by various writers and teams to make a plan for the next trial. They meet up with deco*27 himself and the songwriting begins

They each have a private bedroom in the facility. The first night, they’re all super excited to not be sleeping in those uncomfortable cells, and then immediately feel really closed off to the others. For some it remains a good thing – Yuno is glad for the isolation, Fuuta’s paranoia about judgment is eased, etc. Still, it’s strange to be separated from the people they’ve been side-by-side with for a year and a half, 24/7. Many of them end up sleeping on the floor of one another’s room or leaving their doors wide open. 

Jackalope is using long distance tech to project his voice into the prison, but the animal in the prison is just a well-trained pet with some hardcore costuming. Freed from its little uniform, the rabbit gets lots of pets and pampering from the prisoners. 

They aren’t allowed to leave and visitors must be for filming purposes only, but each prisoner is allowed a phone call (“hey, just like a real prison!” Jackalope laughs). Haruka calls his sister, and so does Fuuta. They stay on the phone for a really long time. Yuno calls her parents, making sure to say hi to Yura. Muu calls her parents too, and cries hearing their voices. Shidou calls his family; being separated from them for so long only confirms his near-miss intentions. Mahiru realizes too late she should have called her family – instead, fresh off the guilty verdict, she calls her ex to apologize profusely. Kazui considers a few people he could call, but doesn’t take Jackalope up on the offer right away. Later in the hiatus he calls his childhood friend just to say hi; he doesn’t mention any of the experiment stuff going on. Amane wanted to call her father, but she doesn’t want to break the news that she’s not doing a good job because of her verdict. She waits until she knows he’ll be out per his usual schedule, and leaves a brief and formal message on the machine. Mikoto calls his mom and sister, asking about how everyone’s doing (and largely avoiding talking about himself). Kotoko calls her family, surprised at how emotional she gets hearing their voices. 

Jackalope makes the mistake of mentioning updated guilty uniforms in front of the prisoners. Fashion expert Mahiru, designer Mikoto, and just simply nosy Yuno and Muu track down the costuming team to “help.” Though there’s not a ton of alterations to be made, they enjoy being a part of the process. They end up sticking around and chatting about mv outfits.  Mahiru enjoys everyone’s choices and fittings, and promises Amane they’ll go shopping someday and have a proper dress fitting. She asks if Es is going to get a new uniform as well. When told no, she vows she’ll take them shopping as well.

Though not allowed to leave, they’re at least allowed to step outside in designated areas. They enjoy the sun and rain and stars. The smoking group is excited to meet outside. Mikoto makes sure to hang out with them a bit extra seeing as he’s going to leave the group a bit come T2.  

I wrote the drabbles as individual scenes since it was nice to give each prisoner their own time like that, but logically some filming would be overlapped a bit. Jackalope would still want to direct everything as best he could, but there may be multiple scenes filming at once. I just really liked the idea of the mixing of props and costumes. They yell “cut!” as Bee Muu takes a shortcut through the Backdraft set. Yuno accidentally leaves her pink-glasses rabbit in one of the AKAA chairs and Haruka laughs in the middle of a take as he moves it out of frame. Amane is on a quick break from her scene and Mikoto shows her around the train still in full marching band getup. (I just realized these were all back to back videos, but I think any and all can overlap lol)

Shidou is still the one to administer Mahiru and Fuuta’s bandages. Even though it’s fake, he wants it a) to be his real handiwork and b) to be accurate, given the disaster of Throw Down. He’s excited to share his knowledge and explain exactly how each of their imagined injuries would affect them, telling them the proper way to act. Mahiru listens intently, all but taking notes, while Fuuta is bored to death of his doctor-jargon ramble.

Back pre-T1, Jackalope started off telling the prisoners they can choose their song titles (just for organization's sake, Es won’t see them) but he ends up taking over because their titles are really, really bad. It’s a mix of those really long sentence-style titles and cool words/phrases that have absolutely nothing to do with the song itself. Jackalope goes through the files renaming “The Sweet Whispers of A Lost Love,” “Fuck You,” “They say three strikes and you’re out but clearly they’ve never met me before” and “Kotokos_song.mp3”. By the time they start filming second trial videos, it doesn’t phase him to open up files titled “Elegy to a Broken Heart,” “I checked the train schedule five times and still missed my stop,” “I Can’t Be Normal,” and “Kotokos_song(1).mp3”. 

And some post-T2 thoughts:

The verdicts are both easier and harder to handle this time around. This is the second break from the immersion, and it’s easier to separate reality from experiment. However, the videos and interrogations this time around were a lot more raw, so there’s an extra sting of betrayal to them. Es got to look deep – much deeper than most – and still chose not to forgive.

Haruka isn’t really worried about death or harm from the verdict, but he does feel betrayed that Es would throw his life away like that. Muu doesn’t fear the consequences, but is saddened that once again she made someone like her only to turn against her when they saw her true self. The t1 guilties have a little meetup where they breathe a collective sigh of relief and congratulate one another on making it through. Fuuta just kind of sinks in relief, while Mikoto is giving out high-fives. Then they make a beeline for the current guilties to see how they can help.

Mahiru and Mikoto were always helpful to the others, but Fuuta surprises everyone by constantly checking in with the guilty prisoners. He remembers how much the verdict sucked and wants to try and help/prepare them as much as he can.

Red appears every once and a while to force people to take breaks when filming gets very involved/tiring. While Blue is pretty chill and cheery about everyone staying hydrated and getting good sleep, Red is a bit more serious with his approach. 

I think with another innocent verdict and seeing everyone 'behind the scenes,' Kazui would finally, finally start opening up to people. I like to think, as Yuno starts filming another video about very comfortable with her sexuality, he approaches her first with the topic.

When given the chance to make phone calls, most of the prisoners choose the same people as before. Haruka doesn’t want to call anyone at first, but is glad when Muu forces him to call his sister. He’s by her side when she calls her parents. Mahiru remembers to call her parents first, telling them to pass along her well wishes to others. She got the verdict she was hoping for, but Amane can’t bring herself to call home. 

The upcoming videos will likely be even more intense, but that just makes everyone band together more. They give each other confidence. They work extra hard to get silly goofy when it’s in good taste. 

[gardenerian]

i have a request too, please! <3

5 times they say "i love you" after they are married in a not casual setting (like idk how to describe it... important moments? but everything is important for them... so i hope you get what i'm saying 🥲)

❤️ i think i got ya! i love when these saps love on each other. if these don't fit what you were lookin for, please lmk and i'll rework it for ya! (tw for a generic Bad Day for ian in the fourth one [mild!] and a bitty little moment where someone's car gets rear-ended in the last one - everyone is very okay though!)

1.

it starts off as such a little thing, such a normal thing. mickey expects it almost like clockwork at this point. at nine pm on a thursday, his phone lights up with a call from tami.

it's typical, almost mundane: lip had an idea, lip found a way to make it work, but lip didn't ask tami about it first. now tami's pissed and hurt, and lip had to go get some air.

mickey nods along, humming occasionally, tossing in a "oh yeah, been there" every now and then. he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at ian, who hovers around the kitchen trying to pretend like he's not listening in.

ian checks his own phone every few minutes, waiting for lip to reach out. mickey watches him frown and test the ringer when no call comes in. he taps at the screen, firing off a couple of texts - but lip doesn't call.

when he finally hangs up with tami, mickey throws himself on the couch with a long-suffering sigh. "your brother's an idiot," he tells ian.

"pretty sure i knew that," ian replies absently, staring down at his phone as if he could will it to ring. "what happened this time?"

"he enrolled at malcolm x," mickey informs him. when ian blinks in surprise, he relays the story from tami's call. "yeah, today. some kinda tech certificate. he thought it would be a good surprise, but now tami's all freaked out about money with the baby comin'."

ian nods slowly, looks down at his hands, fiddles with his ring. "he never mentioned that to me," he says, feigning nonchalance.

"maybe it was a surprise for you, too?" mickey suggests, patting the seat next to him. ian crosses the room quickly, crawling under mickey's arm.

"mmm," he hums, "maybe."

ian's phone comes to life beside them at last, vibrating against mickey's leg. ian scrambles for it, bringing it to his ear with urgency.

"lip," he asks, "everything ok? you need to come by?"

mickey can only just hear the quiet rumble of lip's voice on the other end. he declines ian's invitation, letting him know that he's been laying low somewhere else.

mickey tunes lip out, focusing on ian's responses. ian grows agitated as they talk; mickey reaches out to touch his leg.

"who the fuck is joaquin?"

"oh, right. yeah, i remember."

"you didn't call me, though."

"what? thought i was your best friend."

"you think i don't know what that's like?"

"yeah, alright. no, i get it. call me tomorrow, let me know how it goes."

"you too. bye."

they sit quietly for a moment after ian hangs up. ian settles back against mickey, rubbing at his temple. "lip's fine," he tells mickey quietly. "went to hang at joaquin's for a little while."

"the fuck is that?"

"friend of his from college," ian mutters. "apparently lip needed to talk to someone who, uh, who gets it? y'know?"

mickey shrugs. maybe there are things about him that ian doesn't always understand. but he'd always rather talk to ian, tell him about it, than go to anyone else.

"guess he has more than one best friend now," ian sighs.

he leans further into mickey, who pulls him close and kisses his head. "you know," he murmurs against ian's hair, "he'll always need ya."

"maybe," ian agrees.

"and you're still my best friend," mickey teases.

"yeah?" ian asks, turning to look up at him.

"'course," he promises, leaning down to kiss him. "my only best friend, and i love you forever."

"gonna pinky promise on that?"

"oh, shut up."

"make me a friendship bracelet?"

"what, the ring's not enough? fuck off, let's go to bed."

2.

when ian sees franny fall, he immediately assumes their day is now over.

not because it's serious, and not because franny freaks out or anything, but - mickey. he can't stand to see the kids upset or hurt, and it derails their plans every time something happens on their watch.

a few months ago, franny fell off the monkey bars at the park, banging up her elbow as she landed. she teared up a little as she examined her scrapes, but mickey, who stood helplessly beside her, had a full on meltdown.

he looked wildly around the park for ian, who was pushing freddie on the swings. when he caught sight of mickey, waving his hands desperately and beckoning him over, ian thought for sure franny had broken a limb.

instead, he found his niece sulking in the mulch below the monkey bars, while mickey shook to pieces as he crouched beside her.

"hey, fran," ian soothed, "you doin' okay?"

"i'm fine," franny snapped. "but uncle mickey won't let me move until you look at me."

"well fuck me for makin' sure you ain't dyin-"

"i'm sure everything's fine," ian promised them both. "we oughtta clean up that scrape, though."

she was fine, really, barely flinching as ian bandaged her up. but mickey was done, deciding that park was a stupid place to be, and insisting that they take the kids back home.

ian had to beg a guilt-stricken mickey to come out of their bedroom later, swearing up and down that franny was fine, that it wasn't mickey's fault, that kids fall down every single day.

so when franny trips by the pool today, ian is ready to pack up and head inside. he's about to ask mickey to grab their towels when his husband scoops franny up and balances her on his knee.

she's not actively crying, but her eyes are wide and glassy as mickey looks her over. mickey smiles at her, settles her on the lounge chair beside him, and reaches around in his bag for something.

ian is surprised to see him pull out ian's first aid kit. he's even more surprised when mickey doesn't call him over to help.

it's a simple thing. mickey wipes franny's scraped knees, softly, thoroughly, then places two spongebob bandaids over them. franny giggles when he leans down and kisses them both.

but ian's heart is in his throat.

because here is mickey, whose scrapes were never kissed, caring so gently for his sister's daughter. their niece who looks like him. here is mickey, calm and easy, sending franny back off to play.

here is mickey, using that same soothing voice ian used with his patients, with his family.

he's at mickey's side in an instant.

"that was something," ian tells him lightly.

"not really," mickey mutters, brushing him off. "gotta get used to it, right?"

gotta used to it because of franny and fred, because of lip's new baby, or because they'll soon have kids of their own - ian's not sure, and he doesn't ask. it doesn't matter.

"it was something," ian repeats. "i love you, love the way you take care of us."

"huh," mickey concedes, "guess i love takin' care of you clumsy fuckers, too."

3.

something strange starts to happen in the days leading up to mickey's birthday this year.

ian's a little cagey, throwing his phone down when mickey comes up behind him. he even holds onto the damn thing for a moment before letting mickey borrow it, thumbs flying as he obviously deletes stuff first.

mickey would think that ian's planning a party, but since ian can't keep a secret to save his life, he thinks he would've found out more about it by now.

ian's clearly up to something - and eventually, it starts to freak him out.

on the day before his birthday, ian bounds out of bed early, announcing that he's going to keep mickey in bed all day.

"don't get up," he orders, "i'm gonna bring you every meal in here, and you can watch whatever you want on tv, and later i'll blow you under the covers."

but - the thing is, mickey wants to get up. he suggests going down to the pool instead, or at least hopping in shower together.

"nope," ian argues. "bed. blankets. relaxing. i'll get started on the pancakes!"

"hold the fuck up," mickey commands, grabbing ian by the shirt and pulling him closer. he notes the wince that crosses his face as he lets mickey drag him over. "what's going on here?"

"nothing," ian says, but he notably won't meet mickey's eye. "just wanna spoil you all weekend. for your birthday."

"well if you won't let me out of here, you should come back in here," mickey teases, tugging at ian's shirt in attempt to yank it off.

ian jumps away, fixing his shirt. "it's pancake time, mick," he says seriously. "you need a good breakfast to boost your strength for relaxing."

mickey just flops against the pillows and lets him go. fucking weirdo.

after breakfast, ian reaches a hand beneath the covers, leaning over to kiss at mickey's neck. mickey chuckles contentedly, eager to let ian get this show on the road. he whips off his shirt to give ian better access to his neck and chest, then reaches for ian's.

ian pulls away.

"alright," mickey huffs. "the fuck is up with you?"

"what do you mean?" ian asks, and mickey sees right through him.

"you're being weird," mickey informs him, as if ian didn't already know. "what's with the shirt? you feelin' bad or something? you can keep it on if you really want."

ian softens, runs a hand through mickey's hair. "no," he promises, "no, i just - damn it, i wanted to wait to show you tomorrow. on your actual birthday. when it was less red and puffy."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

ian eyes him for a moment before deflating slightly. "guess the jig's up," he sighs, and pulls his t-shirt over his head. "happy birthday, mick."

mickey used to think that nothing could improve ian's skin. it's perfect, after all, stretched over strong arms and that soft belly. dusted with freckles that mickey loves to kiss. it houses the man he loves, shelters his heart. but this - he'd never imagined this.

the letters are small, but they're bold. right underneath ian's clavicle, curved along the collar bone - that's his name. ian put his name on his skin. mickey gapes up at him.

"when did you do this?"

"last night," ian shrugs, "when you were with sandy."

mickey reaches for ian's tattoo but doesn't quite touch it, knowing it's still raw and healing. "holy shit," he breathes. "holy shit, ian."

"i love you," ian says seriously, confidently. "thought it was time i tell you you're under my skin, too." he brings a hand to brush over mickey's own tattoo.

"always been under my skin, mick," he promises.

and mickey knows. he knew, he always knew. but the idea that his name could be worthy of a place on ian's skin - it bowls him over. it settles some distant unease, some worry he thought he'd put away.

and he feels nothing but peace.

4.

it's not a thing.

he just wakes up feeling a little off. a little down, a little unsure.

ian hits snooze on his alarm until he can't anymore, then stumbles into the bathroom to get ready for the day. mickey's already pouring coffee into a to-go mug when he makes it to the kitchen.

"grab a banana or somethin'," he says distractedly, hunting for his keys, "i let you sleep but we gotta go now."

the coffee is sweet and hot, but it does little to perk ian up. once they're in the ambulance, he leans against the window and dozes as mickey drives to their first pick up.

he's startled awake when mickey puts the car in park. ian blinks heavily when mickey reaches out to put a hand on his knee. "you stay here," he murmurs, "i'll take care of this one"

and the day rolls on like this: ian sits quietly, not thinking much of anything as mickey shuffles them around town. sometimes he gets out of the ambulance to help, sometimes mickey instructs him to stay put.

mickey talks a little as they drive, just babbles on about their clients or something funny mandy said on their last phone call. ian's not really paying attention; but it helps to hear his voice.

their workday wraps up without ian having experienced much of it at all. and all day long, mickey is patient.

it's alright, it's alright, he knows it's alright. the last couple of weeks have been good, and ian has felt well. none of the telltale signs of a slump. he'll wake up with his alarm tomorrow and join mickey for breakfast.

but today - well. it's just a bad day.

mickey heats up some soup when they get home, and they eat quietly together at the table, slurping and thinking and getting warm.

"sorry about today," ian says at last. he's not even sure what happened today. but his chest feels sad and heavy, his skin fragile, his head foggy. and he's sorry for it.

"i wish you weren't," mickey tells him. "we did alright today, you and me."

"maybe, but - "

"we all have shit days, man."

"your shit days don't usually involve sleepwalking through an entire shift," ian sighs.

"don't they?" mickey argues. "did i not pitch a fit and sit on the couch for the whole day when carl stole my hat last month?"

"i guess you did," ian laughs, and mickey beams at the sound.

"we did our best," mickey tells him. "you did your best, and i love you for it."

sometimes it feels like ian's best is next to nothing. sometimes it feels like his best is worse than not trying at all. but if mickey wants it, if he'll take it and love him for it, then ian will give it every time.

5.

mickey's drifting off for a well-deserved nap when his phone buzzes on the coffee table. he silences it - this is his designated nap time, and he won't tolerate any interruptions.

ian is off with debbie today, picking up supplies for more work at the gallagher house. mickey has resolved to take this time to rest, so he's ready for date night and good pounding when ian gets back.

but his phone keeps fucking ringing.

it's ian, because of course it is, no doubt calling with some chore for mickey to do. but he won't leave a voicemail or send a text, so mickey gives up on his nap and finally answers the call.

"i love you," ian breathes before mickey can say anything.

"what?"

"mickey, i love you," ian repeats solemnly, seriously. mickey is reminded of his proposal, when ian knelt down on a broken leg and offered mickey the world.

"why are you bein' so dramatic, what happened?"

"nothing, really," ian deflects, and mickey doesn't buy it for a second. his voice is light, shaky, and mickey can hear debbie ranting about something in the background. "think i'm gonna have to miss date night, though."

"why? ian, what's going on?" dread settles in his stomach: something's wrong.

"we're fine," ian starts, but mickey can't relax until he knows more. "we, uh, we just got rear-ended?"

that's not so bad. it's not that bad. but - it could be bad.

"are you hurt?"

"no, not really," ian promises, but it doesn't soothe mickey at all. "just some bruises, a little whiplash. the guy was texting, slammed right into us at the light."

"what about debs? was franny there?"

"debbie's okay, kinda the same. franny's with lip today."

"you need me?"

"no, mick," ian says quickly - too quickly. "don't bother, we'll be home soon. we got patched up and we're waiting for a tow truck."

"tell me where you are," mickey demands.

ian sighs, knowing mickey will sniff him out if he has to. "actually," he tells him, "we're kinda right outside our building? we were so close to home."

mickey finds ian and debbie sitting by the main road outside their apartment, a little worse for wear but still whole, still safe. ian holds debbie's hand as she leans against his shoulder.

"you guys okay?"

they both smile when they turn to see him, and ian's in his arms before he can blink.

"we're okay," ian whispers against his hair, "you didn't need to come out here."

"were you scared?"

"no, not - "

"ian," mickey interrupts softly, "were you scared?"

ian sags against him. "yeah," he admits. "yeah, for a minute there i really was. scared debs was hurt, scared something would happen and i wouldn't be able to tell you - "

he cuts himself off then, clearly not wanting to entertain the idea any further.

"you did tell me," mickey reminds him. ian breathes harshly through his nose, nods his head slowly. "and i love you, too."

debbie sniffs loudly beside them. ian looks up at the sound, reaches out a hand for her. she comes easily when ian pulls her in, and mickey holds him as she holds her.

and they hold each other, love each other, as debbie's truck is loaded up and taken away.

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter two)

A/n Chapter twooo!! I cannot believe the support I’ve been getting on here im so excited to share my six of crows/shadow and bone fics with y’all!

 Lmk if you’d like to be tagged when I update this story!! And just letting y’all know I take requests so if you have an idea you’d like to see me attempt feel free to comment it or send it in :)) 

--

At least Kaz’s claimed ‘wraith’ (which is such an odd thing to just have) is a girl, and a seemingly kind one at that. She was quick to find me, body pressed into wooden shelves and glass bottles, and subtly gesture for me to follow her. It had been difficult to keep track of her flighty form through the crowd, but I think there was a point in her strange raveling, to make sure no one was following me. 

She’s not particularly talkative, but she doesn’t seem bothered by me. She tossed me a random oversized shirt to pull over my dress when she saw how I kept adjusting the fabric and crossing my arms. That was kinder than she needed to be. I think I’ll like her. 

“So you’re a wraith,” I manage, breaking the nervous silence, “Like a full time, constantly on-call wraith.” 

The question seems to puzzle her, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Yes.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly, a smile. “A full time, constantly on-call wraith.” She hesitates, perfect stance adjusting. “What were you doing before?” 

Great. This question. “Nothing important.” It’s not a fair cop-out. Especially since she answered my question. “I um...I’m indentured to Rollan Kenya.” 

I watch her reaction to the name. Some know of him. Some revere him. Some loathe him and everything he’s associated with. “His religious interpretations are controversial.” 

“If you think what he says to the public is bad you should hear what he says in private.” I push myself further into the chair I’m in. 

Something strange flickers over her features. “I can imagine.” 

Shaking my head, I hope I’m ending this conversation. “What’s your name?” 

A hesitation. “Inej.” 

I nod once, “I’m y/n.” 

“Do you need water, y/n?” 

I scratch my still exposed knee. “That’d be nice. Thank you.” 

She’s quick to leave, feet making no noise. A minute later she returns with a cup. I have no reason to suspect her, but I still sniff the cup before taking a cautious sip. I wonder if Anya made it back home. I wonder if she’s worse off for it. 

Before I can fall into a pit of debating despair, the door to the room Inej took me to squeaks open. On instinct, I snap my gaze towards the door, tensing. The first person I notice is Kaz, entering the room with a determination too intense for this time of night. Jesper is quick to follow, and I drop my stare. I’ve never had to interact with anyone I’ve lied to after taking their money. 

“Are they gone?” Inej asks, clearly accustomed to such brooding tension. 

Kaz nods once, “It took too much convincing--the Inferni’s more than she’s letting on.” 

I’m literally in the room. “I’m not--we’ve spoken two words to each other, sorry my abilities didn’t come up.” 

He turns towards me with a deadly grace. My grip on the cup tightens. What the hell is wrong for me? How deeply instilled is that god complex Kenya wanted in me? It must be as part of me as my name if I felt comfortable enough to speak that way to Kaz Brekker. 

I keep my eyes on his cane, waiting for some kind of physical retaliation. “Maybe the grisha hunting you would appreciate your sense of humor more.” 

It’s a bluff. He needs me. He’s desperate for something that can mimic a Sun Summoner. Still though, I’m not in the mood to poke a bear with a stick. “Speaking from experience,” I clear my throat awkwardly, “They tend not to.”

“Then I suggest you begin explaining before I decide I’d rather take my chances and you lose your worth.” 

Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last eleven years of my life with Kenya, his words would haunt me. I keep my expression set, but the lanterns in the room flicker. “It’s not as impressive as they’re making it seem--Inferni can produce fire, regular, red, bright fire.” I pause, feeling energy in my palms. “I can do the same, but I can also,” I extend a flat palm, “Do this.” 

I focus my energy on restraint, forcing the fire on my skin to remain there, covering my palms in a cold, blue glow. “It’s still fire, just blue--and that matters to them because blue light is the only kind you can use in the Fold.” Do they know anything about the fold? “Kenya, the man I’m indentured to, believes that this ability makes me eligible for Sainthood. He specializes in collecting people he thinks are eligible for Sainthood.” The low flame coating my palm licks upwards as I remember what disappointing Kenya means. “And if you don’t meet his standards, he’ll find a way to make sure you do. That’s why the grisha want me. He made me more and they believe that if they give me to someone who can give me an amplifier I’ll be able to produce enough blue light to protect an entire fleet.” 

“What do you mean ‘he’ll find a way to make sure you do’?” Inej’s voice is cautious. An attempt to be respectful. 

I drop my palm, letting the fire disappear into nothingness. “I wasn’t born with the ability to control the blue light so well--It’s difficult enough to produce for longer than two seconds let alone keep it from burning everything in sight. By the time I ended up in Kenya’s control he had learned that certain stimulants. Some scientists are working on a more grisha-targeted kind, but Kenya has managed to work with the generic well enough.” Hands shaking, I wipe the condensation off the side of the cup and hold out my wrist. Using the condensation, I begin to wipe at my wrist and forearm, smearing my makeup and revealing the needle bruises. “The key is withdrawals.”

Thoughts of begging Kenya, crying and screaming for another fix as he promised to give me that as soon as I showed some control of my abilities, make the shaking in my hand worse. I clasp my hands together, squeezing them in hopes of hiding the signs of withdrawal. 

I stare at the ground, not wanting to take anyone’s reaction in. I handle pity as well as I handle kindness. 

“Do you think you could produce enough blue light for one ship?”

Looking up, I take in Kaz’s measured expression. I’m glad he’s sticking to business. I’d rather that than deal with unpacking all of that with a group of strangers that don’t care if I live or die. 

“I could try.” I’ve never tried to protect anything that large. “Even if I can, it doesn’t mean a voyage like that will be safe.” 

“There’s no real safety in the Fold,” he replies easily. Realistic expectations. That will make this easier. “No one finds out about her--especially not Pekka Rollins.” 

I pull my arm towards my body, glad for the opportunity to hide the bruises. Signs of my weakness. The worst part was always the way Kenya would speak to me after. Pathetic. Weak. Trapped within the restraints of my flesh. 

“Who’s Pekka Rollins?” 

Kaz briefly turns his head in my direction. “No one that will ever concern you.” He ignores my annoyed huff. “We’ll use the Inferni to get to Alina Starkov.” 

Alina. Alina Starkov. “What do you want with Alina?”

 At that, the room seems to drain. I feel weirder than when they were seeing my abilities. 

“You know her?” Jesper’s surprise reveals more than Kaz wants him to. I don’t miss the glare he receives.

I half-shrug. “We were in the same orphanage for awhile.”

“How did you get to Ketterdam?” I don’t trust Kaz’s urgency. 

“I don’t remember, I was a child and I--I hit my head that night I think. I just woke up and I was with Kenya.” 

“How well do you know Alina?” 

There was a point in time in which she was my best friend. We learned how to braid hair by practicing on each other, we would draw maps together, and I was the only one who knew about her crush on Mal. “Not that well.” 

He takes a step forward, eyes almost squinting. The touch of distrust is evident on his face. “If you’re lying I’ll find out.” 

I owe Alina at least this. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not.” 

I’m not naive enough to believe that I’ve convinced him, but his intense gaze does not remain on me. I’m relieved when his attention is off of me, but he’s only moving on to start planning the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. 

-- 

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black 

[neopuppy]

Preview-

Hot Sauce (M): Deeply Dip That

Hot Sauce: Intro—>

Hot Sauce: Part 1–>

Hot Sauce: Part 2–>

Hot Sauce: Part 3–>

Hot Sauce: Part 4–>

a/n: To thank you for 2000 followers(little under 100 away atm), this happened so fast and I never expected more than a few 100 followers. I’m very appreciative for all your messages and support! I’ve decided on one last Hot Sauce installment to celebrate🥳 The fivesome that was requested more than a few times, hopefully will wrap this up nicely for you all😮‍💨(not that I do requests but..)

This will be a lengthy one shot- and filthy. Reader be mindful, always read to your level of comfort💙

please do not ask when I will post- if you would like to be tagged just lmk!☺️

There is also this.

“Why’s he always gotta be such a dick? What does he want? He won’t fuck any of the girls we bring back. Now he’s pissed we got his sister here..” Haechan scoffs. Hands busy behind the little bar set up by the pool mixing a drink. Renjun sighs, leaning in on his elbow.

“Step sister, when you just say sister it’s kind of weird. After what we all had to watch..” he rubs his sweaty nape with a smirk. Other hand snapping at Haechan for a beer.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. You came faster than all of us.” Haechan lets out an appeased laugh. Pouring golden bubbly liquid into a red cup. Under his breath, he whispers quietly “wonder why.”

“Fuck you dude, talk about Jeno being a dick.” Renjun snatches the cup out of Haechan’s hands, sniffing the contents cautiously. All too familiar with his stupid pranks by now.

“Renjun.. hear me out.. if he’s not gonna fuck her..” Haechan’s brows lift suggestively. Eyes darting back and forth between where you stand. Tension evident in your body language as irritation overcomes you the longer Jeno ignores your presence. “Been awhile since me and you shared right?..”

“Haechan, he almost killed us once already. You really want to risk that chance again for some pussy?” Renjun leans back, contemplation passing his eyes none the less.

“You know it wasn’t just some pussy. Love me a good freaky bitch.” Haechan’s grin grows. Sipping alcohol through a straw, having started early today. Slight buzz reaching his head already. Maybe with a clearer state of mind he wouldn’t dare test Jeno again- yea right.

“We’ve been 6 feet deep in ass since we got here. You just love to piss him off dude.” Renjun stands up from the bar stool, hands smoothing down his t-shirt. “I’m not completely opposed to the idea though..”

“You act like Jeno doesn’t deserve it. Look at him seething away over there like some big baby. He needs to learn his lesson already, just cause he’s hot and has chiseled abs doesn’t mean he should always get what he wants.” Haechan says shooting a lazy glare Jeno’s way.

“You have to stop watching those enemies to lovers movies. You’re one more hour of Jeno walking around shirtless away from proclaiming your undying love.” Renjun responds with a disgusted tone. Tossing back the rest of his drink. Combination of summer heat and alcohol causing sweat to pool in the crevices of his body.

“Whatever..” Haechan laughs to himself, finishing the rest of his drink off. With a spin, he grabs two cans of beer making his way out from behind the bar. “You in or what?”

Renjun sports a hesitant smile, eyes bouncing between you and Jeno. He should know better by now than to let Haechan talk him into these messes. Against his moral judgment, he nods, smile spreading wider into his cheeks. “If we get caught, I’m blaming it all on you.”

“We’re not gonna get caught. Jeno’s too busy pretending she doesn’t exists.” With a roll of his shoulders, and an elbow nudged into Renjun’s side they make their way over to you. “Act cool. Don’t make it obvious.”

Renjun scoffs, stepping ahead of Haechan. If anyone knew how to be inconspicuous out of the four of them, it’s him.

“Why are you standing here all alone? Are we not friends now?” He steps into your space under the roofs ledge where you’re trying to catch shade. Pulling a can of beer from Haechan’s clutches, earning a scoff. “We got that sugar free kind, girly spritzer stuff? You thirsty?”

“First off- ew, we are not friends. Second off- why would you idiots invite me to this party?” You spit out, snatching the can from his hands. Haechan’s expression turning amused over Renjun’s shoulder muttering- “Should have let me handle this one.”

“God she’s just like Jeno..” Renjun tucks his chin into his shoulder whispering to Haechan. Face turning back to you quickly with a kind smile. “Let’s be friend then? You’re here right? We all know each other well.”

“You know fucking doesn’t equate to friendship right?” Your tone laced in annoyance. Hand swatting at mosquitos circling around you. Haechan’s eyes light up, the bulb in his mind sparking to life.

“Bug spray!” He shouts out, a little too enthusiastically. “We have bug spray inside.. come on let’s get you some before you turn into a mosquito feast.”

Renjun looks at him with confusion. Haechan motioning for you both to step inside the house. Majority of the party goers outside by the pool- a pool party after all. He throws Renjun a look indicating ‘I got this’, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Jeno doesn’t spot the three of you. You make your way inside, Haechan placing a hand on your lower back.

“Still can’t believe Jeno ruined your summer plans over something so petty..” Haechan mumbles, throwing another knowing look at Renjun behind your back. You take in the gorgeous beach house, anger building up inside of you the more you think about it. Unable to stop yourself from picturing all the surfaces Jeno could have been fucking you into mindlessness on.

“He’s so immature.” You sigh, slumping against Haechan’s hand. Renjun nods in return, wrapping himself around your arm.

“You have no idea. He’s just lucky we all agreed to help him pay this off.” Renjun bites back his smile. Leading you down the hall toward their bedrooms.

“I know you guys are like besties, but Jeno’s just..” your hands shoot up, groaning in frustration. “Why would he even bother to rent this place out for us. It’s not like I wanted to go out with that Mark guy!”

“Oh I know..” Haechan pauses, turning you to face him. “He told us all about it.” He tsks, head shaking.

“He can be such an asshole right?” Renjun strokes your arm up and down, free hand brushing hair off your shoulder. You slump into his pets, soft warm hands sweeping up and down your bare skin.

“You need to get back at him, give him a taste of his own medicine.” Haechan’s tone deepens. Hands finding their way to your hips. “Let us help you.”

“Help me?” Your eyes widen, Haechan’s lust filled gaze pulling you in. This can’t happen again, or can it..

“Jeno abandoned you for weeks to come fuck around out here with us. He doesn’t deserve anything from you.” Renjun leans into your ear with a hushed tone. Fingers finding the tie on your bikini bottom, toying with the strings.

“I think it’s only the right thing to do..” Haechan slides a hand down your fluttering bare stomach. Fingers reaching for strings on the other side of you. His mouth falls open comically, pulling the tied knot free.

“Wait..” you look around the hallway with slight panic. Thighs squeezing together, clenching the fabric of your bottoms between you. “Here? Isn’t this..”

“What? You’re shy all of a sudden?” Renjun bites your earlobe, tugging free the other knot. Bikini bottoms betraying you as they fall to your feet. Eyes drifting down, toes kicking the cloth aside. Stomach heating up, fiery heat coiling around inside of you.

“I’m not.. I just.. what if he..” Swallowing, head tilting as Renjun’s tongue slides down your neck. Soft lips leaving hot pecks on your burning skin.

“What if he what?” Haechan clasps your chin, eyes blazing with intent. “Jeno deserves this..” fingers drag down your neck, between your chest. Lips pulling back, sucking air through teeth. “You deserve this.”

A whimper passes between your lips, legs trembling holding you up. Haechan’s head tilted down, hand slowly stroking between your abdomen. Eyes look up, half lidded and menacing. Fingers sliding in-between your squeezed thighs, tapping at your clit.

“Don’t you?” The questions dangerous, almost threatening. Biting down on your lip as Renjun’s teeth dig into your neck, humming in agreement. His fingers running along the dip in your back. Giving in you nod rapidly, cocky smirk on Haechan’s lips spreading.

“That’s right. Nasty little whores like you love getting fucked where anyone can watch.” Haechan’s grin grows. Fingers gliding between your folds. “As expected, dripping wet.”

“Let me” Renjun steps in front of you, lips pouted with a sheen of spit. Lust hazy filled eyes racking across your body. He swiftly falls to his knees, arms wrapping around your thighs.

“I got you” Haechan steps behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. “He loves to eat.”

Renjun’s face dips down, nose shoving between your shaking thighs. One of Haechan’s hands squeezes your hip, landing a smack loud enough to echo against the walls.

“Stop acting shy, that pussy’s hotter than my ps4” lips drag across your nape. Teeth skimming down skin, tongue lapping at your shoulder. Hips jolting forward Renjun’s nose pressing against the hood of your clit.

Sandwiched between their bodies has your temperature rising quickly. Haechan pressing flat against your backside. Licking the top of your back, tongue languidly dragging up and down your spine. Renjun pulls your thigh forward onto his shoulder, you tense up reluctant to relax your body weight against him.

Haechan slaps your hip again, firm hand landing on your ass after. “Stop acting innocent, where’s that whore that begged for cock in front of all of us huh?” He hisses against your ear, hips thrusting forward against your lower half with emphasis.

Pathetic whimpers fall from your lips, body slumping as you release control, giving in. Renjun’s eyes shine bright below you, cheeks bunched up with eagerness. His jaw stretching open, mouth enveloping your mound. Hot tongue forcing between your wet folds. Loud sounds of wetness burning at the tips of your ears.

“That’s more like it, dirty slut” Haechan lets out a laugh, teeth digging into the crevice of your neck. “You gonna let me fuck this ass?” Fingers reach between you, tips circling around your clenching up hole. Gasping in surprise, instinctively rolling forward against Renjun’s mouth.

“Fuck..” your eyes squeeze shut, biting down a moan. Tongue finding it’s way to your entrance, moans shivering up your core.

“Ride his tongue baby, he loves that shit” Haechan slaps your ass again. Finger prodding at your backside. Mouth marking up your neck with endless licks, sucking and biting over every expanse of flesh. Haechan thrusts forward, Renjun’s tongue gliding inside with a firm wiggle. He doesn’t stop thrusting, finger running up and down between your cheeks. Face growing hotter as you speed up, neck dropping back against Haechan’s shoulder.

“Feel good? Come on, tell him how it feels.” He hisses meanly into the back of your ear, teeth nibbling.

“Yes! Oh fuck, yes yes” eyes dropping open, the ceiling spinning above succumbing to the pleasure. Renjun knows what he’s doing, hands squeezing around your thighs. Tongue relentlessly working away inside of you. The combination from Haechan’s torment and Renjun’s stimulation too much. Haechans fingers not giving your ass a break, hole fluttering against him with each pass.

“Dirty slut..” he mutters, reaching around you. Hand sliding down your stomach. Your eyes follow the motions, head dropping forward. Eyes locked on Renjun’s squinted crazed look. Practically fucking down on his mouth. His head moving up and down with each thrust of his tongue inside.

“I’m..o-oh..oh fuck…stop stop!” You squeal out. Still too aware of your surroundings trying to control your vocals. Haechan smirks behind you, hand swiping down. Thumb teasing at your clit.

“Gonna cum?” He presses down on your clit harshly. Roughly circling it, working you from both ends. Your head shakes, waist curling forward in his hold.

“No! I’m… I’m gonna..oh f-fuckk” your face contorting tightly. You grind down on Renjun’s tongue, legs shaking around him. Body jumping forward, squirting out past his tongue. He groans beneath you, eyes falling shut in ecstasy. Continuing to work away, licking all over your drenched folds. Heavy sounds of slurping mixing in with your panted drawn out moans.

Foot steps sound around as they reach closer, stepping into the hallway. Bottoms of feet pattering down on the wooden floor approaching. Moans and a tongue swirling in your ear much louder. Distracting you from hearing any warning. A displeased huff of shock paired with a deep voice breaking your thoughts— “Are you two fucking serious right now?”

ps- they are so going to get caught🤓

pps- 💙love you all💙

[fkingsteverogers]

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short 

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

                                                        ****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest.  (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are. 

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood. 

“You have to talk about her sometime.” 

“Who?” 

“Whoever makes you frown like that.” 

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor. 

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!” 

Day One; New York City: 

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t. 

“Just go, Stevie.” 

Four Days; Eastern Europe: 

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human. 

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written. 

You’d been good enough for Steve. 

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City: 

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.” 

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich. 

Two Days; Louisiana: 

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.” 

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.” 

He didn’t, not really. 

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply. 

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

 It makes Bucky physically sick with rage. 

Day Four; New York City: 

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business. 

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place. 

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--” 

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on. 

The nights had been quiet since he left. 

Twelve Hours; New York City: 

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches. 

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug. 

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head. 

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..” 

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City: 

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about. 

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall. 

Thirty Minutes; New York City: 

Bucky gets thrown through a wall. 

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome. 

Two Minutes; New York City: 

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors. 

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky. 

Now; New York City: 

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away. 

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself. 

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.” 

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch. 

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up. 

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy. 

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls. 

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you.  Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again. 

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it. 

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position. 

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.” 

[monaownsmyass]

And They Were Roommates

Requested fic by anon (if you have any fic ideas or requests you'd like me to write, you can leave me an ask!)

Book: Queen B, (after) Chapter 13

Pairing: Zoey Wade x MC (Bea Hughes)

Genre: Fluff

Rating: G, none

Word count: 3,140

A/N: Zoey and MC have a impromptu sleepover after making up from their fight a few weeks ago. Took shorter than expected cuz I wanted to get it done today so here it is! I think this might be my fav fic of mine so far :)

Tag list: @ineedskyecrandall @kamilahsayeet2063 @avalawrencefl @lovekamilahsayeed @thequeenkamilahsayeed @heygmicheelle (lmk if anyone would like to be included or removed in my next fics.)

"Have you gotten the chips yet?"

"Yeah, do you have the chocolate?"

"First thing I grabbed!"

Zoey wrapped her arms around my waist from the back and rested her chin on my shoulder. Together we peered into our shopping cart, almost overflowing with snacks. Underneath was our weekly grocery but it was entirely hidden.

"Babe, this is a ridiculous amount junk food," Zoey laughs.

"I mean, it's not like we're gonna finish it in one night. We could always keep it for some other time or even throw a party or something," I protested with a smile.

"This is basically an invitation for diabetes and an aneurysm."

"I don't see you making any effort to put some back though," I challenged.

She just laughs and lets go of me as we continued making our way down the aisle.

It was past sundown and we came to the grocery store with the only intention of stocking up our fridge with groceries. However, on the way, Zoey suggested we have a 'sleepover night' since we made up even though we live together and it's been weeks since the fallout. I'm not complaining though, I thought it'd be really fun especially if it means spending more time her.

And of course I suggested on getting some snacks 'cuz what's a sleepover without 'em? But we may have went a little overboard.

We headed towards the checkout and unloaded all the items onto the conveyor belt. My phone kept going off so I pulled it out to check it. Poppy was spamming my notifications again. The bitch just won’t leave me alone.

I scrolled through the 52 messages and rolled my eyes. I turned my phone on silent then looked back to Zoey who was already paying. I helped her place all the foodstuff back into the cart. Before leaving, I caught Zoey place the tips of her outstretched fingers to her chin and then bring it forward in the direction of the cashier. The cashier returned the gesture.

Wait, did Zoey know sign language?

As we made our way out of the grocery store, I turned to Zoey. "Were you communicating in sign language to the cashier?"

"Yeah, they had hearing impairment. You know ASL too?"

I shook my head. "I mean, I only know the basics like 'yes' and 'no'. I didn't know you knew sign language."

I loved finding out new things about her. It was a pleasant surprise every time.

Zoey let out a small chuckle. "You still have lots to learn about me, babe." She gave me a mischievous look. "Which is exactly why this sleepover is vital!"

I laughed at her as we reached our car and transferred the grocery bags once again. We drove back to campus, blasting music and jamming out to it on the way. I looked over to see her singing her heart out and making exaggerated facial features while bouncing up and down. Moments like these with Zoey made me so glad I was dating my best friend. I smiled at her and joined in.

When we arrived, Zoey and I piled the groceries onto our arms, refusing to make a second trip to the car and back.

We almost made it to our dorm room when Zoey stopped dead in her tracks. I bumped into her, causing me to almost loose my balance and drop everything I was carrying. Fortunately, I managed to prevent myself from falling.

"What the hell, Zo?"

"It's here!"

"What's here?"

She was looking down so I tried to peak over her shoulder to see what she was staring at. Being taller than me, it was no use.

Finally, she stepped aside to unlock the door and I saw what she was talking about. It was a package right at our doorstep.

"What's that?"

"You'll see." She entered and placed all the food on the kitchen counter before going out to retrieve the box.

I put the bags I were carrying beside hers and followed her to the dining table where she took a knife to cut open the tape sealing the box.

"Voilà!" she exclaimed and flip the lids open in a flourish.

The object inside was still wrapped up in plastic but I could make out some fabric through the clear wrapping.

"Here, this is for you! Catch!" She tossed me a plastic bag with the fabric in it and took one for herself.

I held it up and finally figured out what it was.

"Zoey Wade, you did not!"

"But yes! I did!"

I ripped open the plastic the same time she did and we unfolded the material to show it off to the other.

"You got us matching onesies?!"

She nodded enthusiastically with the biggest, cutest grin ever.

"I got us penguins 'cuz I remember you saying you like them. Also, they're so cute! Just like us!" she said with a laugh.

I didn't even bother with a reply, I was too excited. I pulled her by the face into a kiss. Her soft lips met mine, kissing me back. It was brief but if I wasn't already giddy with excitement, I definitely was now. "Thank you, Zo!"

We quickly changed into our respective onesies and modelled for the other.

"Aww, you're the cutest penguin ever," Zoey spoke in a soft and gentle voice that made me blush.

"No, you are!" I rushed to her to embrace her in a hug. "You're so soft," I giggled into her shoulder.

"Now we know our cuddle game is gonna be strong later," she laughed along with me. "Come, we have to set up the pillow fort."

I nodded but refused to let go off her. Human Zoey was a fantastic hugger but Penguin Zoey only made it better.

"Maybe I should've gotten you a monkey onesie instead," she teased and turned her head to kiss my temple. Then, she gently pried me away. "I promise we'll continue this later."

I finally let go and we got to work, building our pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It took us longer than we'd like to admit to set up the blanket as the tent. Whenever we'd secure one side, the other would come undone. It only made us crack up harder the more often it happened.

"Okay, okay, I got this side, you go grab the other!"

I rushed to the other side and made sure it would stay in place. We cautiously let go of the blanket and backed away. To our surprise, it didn't fall.

"Yes!"

We tossed a bunch of pillows into the blanket fort and hung fairy lights all over, including inside. We switched off the main lights a took a step back to admire our handiwork. We snaked an arm around each other to side hug.

"Good job, babe," Zoey smiled, squeezing me into her.

"You too, beautiful." I gave her a peck on the cheek in reply.

"Alright, time to call for pizza now!"

"Can you do it on your phone? Poppy has been blowing up mine so I'm avoiding it at all cost."

Her eyes widen. "Still? It's been so long!"

"I know," I sighed. "I'll probably block her tomorrow or something. Tonight, it's all about you and me."

"You got that right," Zoey murmured and gave me a small kiss on the lips.

She grabs her phone and dials up the pizza place. Once she was done, she went into her room and came out holding a folded picnic blanket.

"C'mon," she said and stretched out her other hand for me to hold.

I accepted her warm hand in mine instinctively, loving the way it fits perfectly. "Where are we going? What's up with the mat?"

"The delivery guy said he couldn't come up to the dorm to deliver it. The best he can do is meet us at the courtyard. So I thought we could maybe stargaze while we wait."

My heart skipped and my breath hitched. Stargazing with Zoey? How could I say no? Who in their right mind would say no?

“In our onesies?”

“Only if you want to.”

"Of course I want to!" I blurted and immediately dragged her out the door with her chuckling at me.

At the courtyard, Zoey spread open the picnic blanket and laid it on the ground. She sat on it and reached up to grab my hand, pulling me down to sit beside her. We laid down on our backs and looked up at the sky. It was clear and the stars seemed to twinkle extra bright tonight.

Zoey's hand moved around in search of mine and interlaced our fingers together when she found it. I gave it a squeeze and smiled into the night, never felt so contented before. Just two people in penguin onesies under the night sky, holding hands.

"Do you recognise any constellations?" I asked her.

"I can't say I do, are you some kind of astronomy expert that I didn't know?"

I laughed. "No, but my dad used to point some out to me when I was a kid. He'd take me outside and we'd just sit and watch the stars."

I glanced at her and saw a small smile play on her lips. That in turn made me smile. I was sharing a meaningful, nostalgic moment with her and that sent a thrill through me. I couldn't express how grateful I was that I could share this with her.

"Tell me about them." She looked at me and then back at the starry sky.

"That one is the Ursa Major, or the Great Bear," I said softly, just loud enough for her to hear. I pointed to the sky and traced the stars with my finger. She moved in closer to me to see where I traced.

"And that’s the Big Dipper. It consists of the seven brightest stars of the Ursa Major." I continued to move my finger in the air.

It was really cute that her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she was listening but the she squinted. "That doesn't look like a bear."

I laughed again and said, "Almost every constellation doesn't look like their names, darling. You should see Corvus."

"That's a little weird."

"Why don't you go ahead and name one then," I insisted.

"Okay," she replied and pointed to the brightest star in the sky I could see. "I'm calling that Bea Hughes."

I started giggling and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach flutter furiously.

"Then that one should be called Zoey Wade." I indicated to the star that was directly beside the one she chose.

She grinned at me and I squeezed her hand once more. "Perfect."

She rolled into her side and I followed suit. Facing each other, we stared at the other for a while with our hands still interlocked. I brought my other hand up to brush the stray strands that fell in her face. I rested my hand against her cheek and gently stroked her smooth skin. She closed her eyes.

I looked at her in unabashed adoration. It wasn't the first time I was blown away by her and I was certain it wouldn't be the last time. My eyes trailed over the features of her face. She was perfection.

She opened her eyes and I gasped as a wave of emotion flooded me. My heart was beating a million miles an hour as realisation dawn on me when I gazed into her brilliant eyes.

I loved Zoey Wade.

I loved the way she tossed her head back when she laughed. I loved how her eyes lit up when she was talking about something she was passionate about. I loved the way she looked at me. I loved that she remembers the smallest things about me even when I don't recall mentioning it to her myself. I loved getting to know new things about her. I loved the way she brightens my day just by seeing her

I was in love with her.

I reacted the only way I knew how to; I pulled her into me to hug her and immediately buried my face in her neck.

"I adore you, Zo." I kissed the skin where her neck and shoulder meets.

"I adore you too."

We stayed like that in comfortable silence until we heard someone shout 'oh my god!' and footsteps coming closer.

I felt her turn her head to the source and sigh. Me with my face still in her neck whispered, "Is that the demon I hear?"

"Unfortunately."

Poppy stopped right over us and crossed her arms. I looked straight up at her and Zoey shifted to look at her too.

"This is why you've been ignoring me?!" she practically screeched. "You've been ignoring me to lie around in the middle of the lawn in stupid animal suits? With her?"

"Why? Jealous?"

She scoffed. "As if, Farmsville!"

"Shoo shoo, we're in the middle of something," Zoey said unamused while waving her hand at Poppy.

Poppy started shouting at us but we weren't paying attention any longer.

"Ughh! Fine! You will regret this!" she huffed and finally stomped away.

"Oh, just in time," I said as I saw the pizza delivery person.

We paid for our pizza and headed back up to our dorm.

Once we stepped passed the door, I heard Zoey's phone buzz and then laugh.

"What's up?"

"Check your phone."

Still on silent, I whipped out my phone and saw the notifications. My eyes widen when I saw both Zoey and I's ranking on The T increase. I scrolled through the feed and saw a picture of us from just now at the courtyard, cuddling.

"Poppy thought she could submit this and ruin us!" Zoey said between giggles. "Obviously it backfired 'cuz now everyone at Belvoire thinks we're the cutest couple on campus."

I went through the comments.

'Omg, they're so cute!' 'I didn't know they were together but they look good.' 'They're perfect for each other!' 'And they were roommates...'

I snorted and glanced over at Zoey who looked beyond ecstatic. "Suck it, Poppy!"

I laughed at her and wrapped my arms around her waist.

"Y'know, we do make a pretty cute couple."

"Only 'pretty cute'?" Zoey teased and returned my hug. "We're fricken' adorable!"

I brought her in for a kiss and she grabbed onto me a little tighter. One hand was on the back of my neck and the other went around my waist, gripping it. The way she kissed me was electric. Surges of energy ran through my veins, making me come alive. The passion and yearning poured into the kiss made me breathless. Being in love with her only amplified the feeling.

Zoey broke the kiss, panting but mostly laughing.

"Sorry, babe," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I just remembered we're both in penguin onesies."

I broke into a fit of giggles. God, I loved this girl.

"Damn right we are," I confirmed, beaming. "Must look pretty ridiculous but it's sure as hell comfy."

Zoey grinned back at me and grabbed my hand to lead me into the pillow fort. We took the pizza with us along with a bottle of wine.

"Cheers!" We clinked glasses and took a swig after she poured some out.

Even though we had a TV in the living room, Zoey brought out her laptop 'cuz our pillow fort was blocking it. She set it up and started playing 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'.

I turned to Zoey. "How did you know this was my favourite classic?"

"Who doesn't love a good Hepburn movie once in a while?"

We dug into the pizza while enjoying our wine. After we were done, we got into a comfortable position. She laid back, propping her head up using the pillows as I laid my head on her chest, arms wrapped around each other as well as our legs. Some of the snacks we got earlier surrounded us for easy access. She was right, cuddling with the onesies was on a whole other level.

"Can we just stay like this, forever?"

"I'd love to but I think we have other obligations," she joked.

"Can we at least do this every weekend then? Penguin onesies, pillow forts and all?"

"Sounds good to me."

The movie continued and eventually, Holly Golightly started singing 'Moon River'. I heard Zoey singing along softly.

'Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style someday.'

I gazed up at her and she looked back at me, still singing.

'Oh dream maker, you heartbreaker, Wherever you're going, I'm going your way.'

Mesmerised by the beautiful sound of her voice, I just stared at her in wonderment while she sang the rest of the song.

"You're unreal," I spoke in amazement when she was done.

She giggled and kissed my forehead. "That's you, darling."

I laid her head back onto her chest and listened to the gentle thump in her chest as the movie carried on. A while later, I looked up to peer at Zoey only to find her eyes closed.

She must have fallen asleep. Thinking back to my recent revelation when we were stargazing, I started speaking quietly, just above a whisper. I couldn't hold it in.

"You probably can't hear me, but I have to get something off of my chest," I said. "Kinda funny that were in penguin onesies. 'Cuz penguins mate for life. Not that I'm saying we'll be together for the rest of our lives even though I really hope we do."

I exhaled slowly and continued, "What I mean is that, after the whole situation at the Zeta's, I thought I lost you for good. I can't tell you how lucky I am that you're giving me a second chance. We're in this together and I mean it. I'll always be by your side no matter what."

I closed me eyes. She may not hear this part in person but I hope she hears it in her dreams. "What I'm trying to say... what I'm saying is that, I love you, Zo."

Instantly, I could hear her heart begin to pound rapidly. My eyes shot open as butterflies invaded my stomach. Did she hear me?

I felt her hand that was resting my my thigh twitch. I look down to see the barest movement of her fingers. Her ring and middle finger down while the rest were stretched out.

My own heart started racing in recognition. One of the only signs I knew.

I love you.

I squeezed her, hugging her tighter to let her know I saw it. I felt her tighten her hold on me in response.

We drifted off to sleep in each other's embrace with me being lulled by her heartbeat, knowing that my love loved me back.

(More fics!)

[urwarriorangel]

‘your tears wanna kiss me, too’ (danny williams)

my first danno fic!! i really hope you guys enjoy this! i love danno and i love that he calls everyone babe and that was basically the inspiration for this fic. as always, please lmk what you think! (and yes, this is loosely vday based!)

w: language, mentions of blood loss, character injury, angst (!!!no gifs r mine!!!)

The first time Danny called you babe, it caught you off guard a little. You were trying to decide what takeout to get and he asked if you wanted suggestions… babe. You almost asked him what was going on, but the next day, you caught him calling Steve babe too. He called Chin babe when he got hurt, Kono when she teased him about Grace, Catherine when she thought Doris hated her. So you thought Danny calling you babe was his way of welcoming you to the team and you thought nothing of it.

Well it’s been a few years and Danny still calls you babe offhandedly. You’ve accepted as part of the job, Danny doesn’t really think he likes you, and the rest of the Five-0 is hell-bent on setting you two up... with no luck thus far.

The team set you two up on a blind-double date for Valentine’s Day (where there really are no double dates, it’s just you and Danny) and it was going well until work happened.

The team is currently playing a game of cat and mouse with a gang of bank robbers: they’ve got 17 hostages inside and are threatening to kill them one by one if anyone on the outside makes a move. To make matters worse, you and one of the robbers got into a shootout when his dumbass decided to take a peek outside… and now you’re hurt.

“You got hit pretty hard, babe. You okay?” Danny points to your wounded shoulder and you just shrug, not paying any mind.

“I’ll be fine once we catch this jackass,” you whisper, ignoring the mind-numbing pain in your shoulder.

“No, Y/N. There’s a bullet dodged in your shoulder. We need-”

“What we need is to catch the moron who did this. My arm does not hurt, my brain does. And it will all get better once, whoa,” you stand up and for some odd, very unknown reason, you’re dizzy. You feel the world spinning and as the team rushes over to help you, you shake your head and stand tall, hoping to deceive them. “See? I’m fine. I… am…. fine.”

And, of course, everything goes black.

You wake up sometime later to this constant beeping, this annoyance that you needed to stop. You slowly open your eyes, blinking a few times as you register your surroundings and remember what happened: you got shot by a bank robber and now you’re in the hospital, which means that incessant beeping is you. So you rip off the bandages and the heart monitors and the needles and that’s when you realize you’ve made a mistake: the beeping turns into a flatline and wakes up Danny.

“What is-?” He hears the noise and wakes up, terrified that something has happened to you. Once his eyes land on you, he lets out a relieved sigh. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you give him a soft smile as he all but runs to you, wrapping his arms around you to reassure himself that you’re awake.

“How are you feeling, babe?” He holds you at arm's length, lifting a hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“Like I just got shot. But also oddly alive. McGarrett’s rubbing off on me,” you shoot him a smile and he laughs, shaking his head.

“You’re insane, you know that?” You shrug, ready to respond but this is the time that Danny chooses to yell at you. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, please tell me something: what the hell were you thinking? What were you thinking shooting him from where you were? You couldn’t possibly have thought things would end well. And if you had gotten the moron, then what? Do you think they would have been okay with it? That they would all just agree to let the hostages go because one of their own was hurt?”

“Danny, please just-”

“No, I am not done yet. You know what? Forget about the hostages, forget about the jackass robbers. Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in? You could have died. Those robbers? They were all in the military. If you hadn’t caught him by surprise, you would have been killed. You could have died,” he whispers that last part and you see him nearly break in front of you.

He turns away from you. Guilt courses through you and for the first time in a long time, you feel your heart drop. Tears rush to your eyes as you consider everything that could’ve gone wrong, anything that could go wrong now. What if Danny hates you? What if you’d hit the shooter and they killed the hostages? What if he’d killed you? What if Danny hates you? What if they remove you from Five-0 because of this one stupid mistake? What if you’re stripped of your badge and everything you’ve ever known is taken away from you? What if Danny hates you?

“Please don’t hate me, Danno,” you whisper, voice cracking as Danny turns back to face you. You wrap an arm around yourself, embarrassed to be in this state in front of your coworker, your friend, the man you’d always hoped you’d be more with.

“Babe, what?” He furrows his brows, immediately walking back to you and placing a hand on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Danno. I’m so sorry,” you whisper and silent tears run down your face. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Babe, no no no,” he wraps his arms around you, a hand rubbing the back of your head as you cry on his shoulder. “Shh, I’m sorry. I don’t-I couldn’t hate you. I promise.”

You keep apologizing and for some reason (maybe it’s because you’ve pushed everything down for the past 15 years) the tears won’t stop. Danny kisses the top of your head, assuring you that he doesn’t hate you. He promises you won’t get kicked off Five-0, that everyone is fine and the robbers have been arrested. He even teased you about getting shot to avoid Valentine’s Day festivities.

“You’re fine. I was just-I was just worried that you wouldn’t be,” he whispers and pulls away, a small smile on his lips as he studies you. “I was worried you wouldn’t wake up. You lost a lot of blood, and I guess that just put me on edge. I’m so glad you’re awake, babe. I don’t know what I’d do if-if we lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you whisper, a smile creeping onto your face as you lean forward and finally, finally, kiss Danny. His hands immediately cup your face and yours rest on his chest, smiles on both your lips as your mouths work as though they’ve got a mind of their own. And your tears do the same.

“God damn it,” you whisper and pull away, seeing as the tears won’t fucking stop. “Danno they won’t stop and I just really wanna keep kissing you but I don’t want saltwater in my mouth.”

“Looks like your tears wanna kiss me, too,” he laughs and you shake your head, tossing caution to the wind as you kiss him again.

“It’s about damn time.”

“Are you serious?”

“Did it seriously take a fatal gunshot wound to get you two to admit your feelings?”

“Ay brah! That’s what I’m talking about. A Kamekona special.”