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autisticprentiss · 2 years

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Sleepover

Emily Prentiss X reader.

You and Emily start cuddling to help each other sleep on away cases. It's probably not the best idea when you're both hiding feelings for the other.

Part 1/?

Not edited, and posted from mobile :/

/ Wednesday 7th, 11:55 pm. Seattle. /

You stand with the team watching Hotch talk with the motel receptionist. You can tell from the way she doesn't quite meet Hotch's eyes that you're not getting as many rooms as he's asking for.

You've been with the BAU for 6 months now and have managed to avoid sharing a room on non-local cases up until now.

Hotch takes the offered keycards from the receptionist, and heads back over to the team.

"We got two shared rooms, any volunteers?" He says.

You shrug, "I'll share," it's 5 to midnight and you know you won't be spending that much time at the hotel while you're on the case anyway, so you may as well try and get into a bed quickly.

Emily nods, "I'll room with Agent Y/N."

Hotch hands you each a key marked for room 305 and waits for anyone else to volunteer.

After a moment of silence, Hotch sighs, "Okay, Morgan and Reid; you're sharing too. Everybody get some rest, we'll meet back here at 8am."

You see Rossi and JJ both silently cheer and thank Hotch as they grab their keycards and run off like they're worried Hotch will change his mind.

Emily laughs as Morgan grumbles under his breath as he takes the other matching keycards from Hotch.

"Please, no podcasts tonight." He begs Reid and they walk off towards the elevator with Hotch.

It's just you and Emily left in the small reception area, you quickly look at her then dart your eyes to the stairwell, already starting to move when you challenge her, "Race you?"

You don't stick around to hear her reply, but you can hear her footsteps right behind you as you race up the stairwell.

You're at the door first, but the lock refuses to accept your card and Emily smirks as she unlocks the door on the first try.

"I guess we'll call it a tie?" She suggests, laughing as she drops her go-bag on the bed closest to the window.

You both go about your routines, getting ready for bed silently and whisper your "Goodnights" into the darkness.

/ Thursday 8th, 1:30am /

You turn again, bury your head in the pillow and try not to scream.

You've been trying to fall asleep for over an hour now, and everytime you feel you might be close you jolt awake.

"Trouble sleeping?" Emily asks.

You mumble, "I'm used to a weighted blanket at home, just need to adjust."

You can hear her shuffle about in her bed, before she speaks, "Come over here. Bring your bedding, I'm the big spoon." Emily's voice has a finality to it, and you know she'll just insist if you argue so you sigh and throw your pillow at her, dragging your blanket behind you.

She pulls you to lay next to her, covering you both with the blankets and shifting until she's comfortably pressed against your back.

"Sleep now," She says, throwing her arm around your stomach.

After barely 10 minutes you feel her breathing even out on the back of your neck, and you relax fully against her and fall asleep.

/ 6:40am /

You wake up slowly, warm, minutes before your alarms due to sound off. You and Emily must have both moved around in your sleep, instead of spooning you, she's now on her back with you cuddling her side like a baby koala. You have one leg thrown over her hips and your head is buried in the crook of her neck, you wish you weren't just cuddling as friends or co-workers, you want to wake up with the casual intimacy of nosing along her jawbone, trailing kisses along her skin until she stirs.

Instead, you gently nudge her shoulder, sneak in a quick boop to her nose, "Em, you might wanna wake up soon."

She mumbles something, you're not sure it's English, and pulls herself up to rest on her elbows.

"I think I know what 'well rested' means now, that's the best I've ever slept." Emily sounds surprised, and you hum.

"Maybe we should cuddle more often," you joke.

"I might take you up on that, seriously I don't even think I need coffee this morning."

"That's a shame, I was going to shout you for getting me to sleep last night."

"I said I don't need coffee, not that I didn't want it." She pouts, you pull yourself away and out of bed to where your go-bag ended up and fish your wallet out, throw it towards Emily's bed.

"3 sugars with milk please? I'm gonna grab a quick shower."

You shower quickly, just finishing up when you hear Emily come back in the room. You dry and dress quickly, heading back into the main room.

Emily hands you a coffee cup and small brown paper bag, "I brought you a crossant too."

You thank her and both of you sit at the small coffee table, flicking through the case file and sharing some thoughts while you eat.

At 7:30 Emily crumples her cardboard coffee cup and sighs, "I'll shower and we'll head down to the lobby."

"Sounds good," you nod.

/ 8am /

Emily and yourself are the first to reach the lobby, with Morgan and Reid close behind, playfully arguing with each other as they exit the elevator.

"How and why do you two look so awake and alert?" Morgan asks.

You laugh, "We didn't room with Reid," and Emily makes a mock snoring sound.

You, Morgan and Emily all laugh while Spencer glares. Hotch, Rossi and JJ exit the elevator together and everyone stands up a little straighter, ready to receive your assignments and head down to the precinct.

Hotch clears his throat, "Reid and Y/L/N you'll head to the precinct and meet with Detective Babineaux, he'll show you where we can set up a workspace. Prentiss and Rossi, go down to the mourge and see M.E Chakrabarti and the two victims' bodies. JJ, Morgan, you're with me, we're speaking to the victims' families."

Everyone nods along as he speaks, and you break off into your groups. Since the Medical Examiner's office is part of the precinct, you, Reid, Rossi and Emily share an SUV.

All thoughts of sharing a bed with Emily again are gone from your mind as you focus entirely on the cases, reading over Reid's notes while Emily drives.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #reader insert #criminal minds #i havent posted any writing since Amerikate was the biggest kate bishop ship pls give me feedback? 💕

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slutnali · 1 year

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From my understanding the people on twitter were more upset with her response to biblegirl, who tweeted something along the lines of “the sooner we accept that most adults do cocaine the better” (not the exact wording, she deleted it now cause the response was overwhelmingly negative, but the sentiment was normalizing cocaine use bc it’s prevelant) and Denali responded “tea”. To me that’s a lot more 🤔what do u mean by that🤔 than anything she said on the podcast.

This is long so I'm adding a read more out of curtesy and also because we are talking about drugs [not very descriptive but still]

I remember seeing that earlier while I was out but don't remember it word for word, wish I did tho

But from what I remember, I thought there was some truth to it. Many people do it, it's not just rampant in the lgbt+ community but everywhere else. Does it make it okay? Absolutely not but from what I took from it is that there's just so much shaming for it and I think harm reduction should be discussed. That's not to say that you should glorify it and I don't think they are, however its such a delicate & complicated topic that people are quick to jump at each others throats defending their stance, etc.. With Nali replying 'teaaa' I think also it has to do with the fandom's reaction to it as well.. like, it always gets weird?

I remember when s13 had been announced and people did their digging and found out about her mugshot etc.. the fandoms reaction gave me an ick because people were very much 'omg how scandalous teeheee 🤭" gossiping and theorizing it... and then again when she'd made a joke about her mugshot on the GITMS segment and then people were actually thirsting over it on twt.. like it was weird imo.. and yeah, she was open about it and to some extent you could argue "she made it our business" but I think this'll probably be the last time she does share about it and I don't think she owes us any more stuff about it if she doesn't want to. That's just me though.

Could the tweet have been worded better? Yeah, but again, the tweet from Biblegirl was deleted and I can't really go in depth. But tbh I don't want to go further into depth or back and forth after this ask and another i have, because this blog is mainly for reading [and occasionally writing] drag race fic and thirsting over my faves.

There def is a discussion to be had when it comes to people who have used it and people entirely against it, and there's many points to be shared on both sides. I've seen some of it while I was scrolling twt a while ago bc I follow a bunch of dr girls [obvs] and local queens.

As for Denali, if you no longer want to support her that's fine and your right. If you need/want to separate yourself from that, do it and if you're a follower or mutual of mine that wants to unfollow me there's no hard feelings. If you do wanna keep following me you can black list 'denali foxx' and 'denali' so you wont see posts with her tag. I cant speak for everyone else who may not tag but I can for my blog because I always use them and tag accordingly.

Drug use and talk happens and it's not a cancelable offense, in my opinion at least. There are many many queens who openly talk about substance use but I rarely even see anyone bring it up: Willow and a bunch of s14 girls doing shrooms, Camden talking about how blackout she was while touring last year and not knowing how she got safe to her hotel room, Sasha C mimes sniffing coke or smoking on stage, all the open stoners, etc.. when it comes to this and other topics people are very pick and choose when it comes to their faves so idk..

but again, this is all my opinion and ramble and its okay if we have a difference.

#answered

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batwngs · 2 years

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Hello, How are you doing? I don't know if your requests are still open, but could you do one where each batfam would be like in a night drive (including Bruce, if it's not too much to ask), I hope you don't mind this, I love your blog <3

late night drives with dick are probably a bit chaotic at times. dick is not the best with driving, despite his affinity for cars and bikes; he’s just really messy with it esp if he’s trying to go somewhere. he takes shortcuts but they make the trip longer, he fights with the gps, angrily mutters (and sometimes yells) at asshole drivers, etc. but for those mindless night drives that relieve the stress of the day, dick and you just get lost in the conversation you two would be having, with a curated playlist you both crafted as the soundtrack for the night. the conversations would teeter between meaningless to existential--from each other’s preference for salty or sweet to imagining a detailed life where you two made vastly different choices. sometimes, you both would end up singing along to a song you forgot was on the playlist, and he would laugh at how you try but fail to hit the high notes, and you would yell “green” because the lights turned and he didn’t notice through his laughter. these sort of nights allow you both to forget the lives and realities you’re attached to, and just explore a new time before sunrise together

with jason, he would be sitting in the passenger seat, with you driving instead of him. he likes to look out the window and watch the world blur—something he learned to love when he was a robin sitting in the batmobile. especially on rainy nights, he loves to see the color-stained raindrops slide down the windows of your car, while you both tell stories (of fiction and reality) to one another. sometimes you would have an audio book or a podcast about a movie playing so the both of you could tiredly comment on random facts and ideas. regardless of the words exchanged, these drives are mostly done when exhausted, often dragged out of bed in the middle of the night right before dawn. it helps calm jason’s fear and anxiety from his nightmares, especially to have you with him, talking gently about the movies you want to watch with him one day

bruce would prefer to take night drives by himself- maybe on his way to pick you up. usually car rides with him, even so late at night, are never about the conversations that fill the night but about the silence. bruce is terrible with his words and emotions, but silence is something he can speak well. over the years he’s just gotten very used to the fact that someone is sitting in the car with him (usually a very vocal robin), so there never needs to be a conversation on his end—just the presence of you there brings immense comfort to him. I think he also just enjoys having to hear how your day or week went, since it reminds him of his humanity as if in knowing your humanity, he too remembers he’s human and capable of being loved

steph would love to drive at night, taking you with her on her late night adventures to the remaining open diners. the drives would never be long, usually they were quick to the diner, where the two of you would spend most of your time sharing meals and drinks and laughter throughout the night. she also loves exploring new diners with you at night, and taking the “long way,” especially on cold gotham nights so she never forgets your warmth. just like dick, you and steph love singing in the car, even when neither of you remember or know the lyrics-- the picture of you laughing at your shared muttering of unsure song lyrics stays burned in her mind. steph, though, often finds herself extending those short drives (usually by circling the same block) just so she can hear the song you love until the end because by the time the song ends, she’s also in love with it and even more in love with you.

#dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #bruce wayne x reader #stephanie brown x reader #red hood imagine

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luminarai · 4 years

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the old guard but make it sports i guess??

to the surprise of everyone (mostly me tbh) i actually put some thought into these! read on for weirdly specific meta

some sports lend themselves quite naturally to the old guard (fencing, horseback riding, martial arts etc) but i got to thinking about what sports would they go into that wouldn’t be related to their ‘jobs’ or maybe in a modern au and THUS:

for nile i thought something that would suit her quick thinking and way of pushing her own limits would be rock climbing. it’s the kind of sport that takes a lot of physical and mental strength along with endurance and agility which i think would be a great match for her. also consider her reaching the top of whatever she’s climbing and just standing there, looking out over the landscape, the wind against her skin, at peace, just taking it all in... it’d be a thing she’d do just for herself, a way to cement her self confidence in new areas and experience a combination of adrenaline and intense focus that she can really revel in

for joe and booker the obvious choice would be football/soccer of course but here’s my niche scandinavian take: handball! it’s a team sport, quite fast paced compared to football (we’re talking like. 20 goals per game) and quite physical. (it also enjoys popularity in both north africa and france if that matters!) i also considered tennis, squash (the sport) and even badminton but i think joe would dig the social aspects of it and drag booker along because damn boy, you need to get out of the house and talk to people, ok. i call the pose for their picture ‘don’t throw that fucking thing at me and don’t give me those eyes i can see you lifting it you absolute walnut’.

(nicky dutifully attends their big games and usually drags nile along - neither of them have any real interest in the sport but nicky buys the best snacks and they sit in the back the entire time practicing italian shit talking and listening to podcasts with shared headphones) (andy used to go too but she got a little too uh enthusiastic and got banned. oops)

my knowledge of roller derby is limited to that one ellen page movie BUT holy shit can you imagine andy and quynh tearing up the rink??? fucking lethal my dudes. we know they’re both quick, elegant and strong af so their games would be fast paced, at times brutal and they’d both have the best fucking time. in an au they’d probably meet while on opposing teams and flirt via basically mauling each other - esp with quynh as a jammer, the player who scores points by lapping the opposing team who have to stop her. nobody knows whether to be annoyed when they finally get together because the public flirting gets outright dirty or relieved because the injury percentage drops SO MUCH, oh my god how are they both still standing. and yes, their derby names would be pit wiper and androma kills because get fucking wrecked. the boys all get too caught up at their games and make a lot of stupid bets that nile inevitably wins because she’s the only one with critical thinking skills in these scenarios

nicky’s was actually the one who kicked this whole thing off for me; aerial silk is a very cool type of acrobratics - it’s basically yoga played on Extra mode and also in the air?? it’s all about stamina, flexibility and body strength. it looks super graceful but is also very challenging and it’s a fairly individual sport, which i think would suit nicky very well. i was honestly also inspired by the fact that the most aerial silk guys at my gym (i do pole fitness which has some overlap with the aerialists) have the same kind of figure as nicky: not bulky or cut, but still very strong with broad shoulders, lean arm muscles and strong legs. i don’t think he’d be interested in performances or competitions but he does occasionally invite joe to watch him practice when he has the studio for himself (the first time, joe nearly faints because his blood doesn’t know which direction to go and you know it doesn’t get any less heated from there wink wonk)

all that being said please don’t ask me about sports because i genuinely know next to nothing about most types of it - but i did have a lot of fun making these!

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missmentelle · 4 years

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How do I know if I'm burnt out and what are signs of being burnt out? In relation to both university and work?

Unfortunately, burnout is a very common problem among both university students and people in high-stress jobs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, “burnout” is effectively where people reach a breaking point after being in a high-stress occupation (like a demanding academic program or a high-pressure career) for too long. Being “burnt out” is not an official diagnosis, and you won’t find it in the ICD-11 or the DSM-V. But it’s something that an increasing number of people are experiencing every year.

Not everyone is at equal risk of experiencing burnout - many students and workers never really deal with this. Factors that put you at high risk of burnout include:

Having poor work-life balance. If you spend huge portions of your time working - working through weekends, doing tons of overtime, working late, not taking vacation, working through lunch - you are at high risk of burnout. Humans need rest, relaxation, hobbies and time with friends, and when you sacrifice those things for work, it will eventually take a toll.

Having very little control over your day-to-day tasks. No one has perfect control over their daily work tasks - not even the self-employed - but having some element of control is important. If you have a say in things like when to schedule meetings, when to book client appointments and which task you are going to work on when, you have a lower risk of burnout than someone whose tasks tend to just be dictated to them.

Having perfectionist traits or holding yourself to very high standards. People who experience burnout tend to be overachievers. They constantly try to go above and beyond because they put immense pressure on themselves to do their best work at all times. If you’re the kind of person who beats yourself up over getting an A- instead of an A and makes a point to be the last one out of the office every day, you are at risk of burnout.

Having a dysfunctional work or school environment. Is your workplace plagued with bullies and office gossip? Do your lab members take pleasure in ripping each other’s research and writing to shreds, without really being constructive about it? Does your boss take their bad moods out on the rest of the office, even when you haven’t done anything wrong? A dysfunctional workplace creates burned-out employees.

Having unclear instructions or directions. It is extremely difficult to be in a work environment where you are expected to do be productive, but you aren’t given clear expectations, a clear list of tasks or instructions for how those tasks should actually be performed. It leaves you constantly feeling like your work isn’t good enough and isn’t done properly, without actually giving you a route to improve; you often end up working twice as hard to get half as much done, which is a recipe for burnout.

Working in a helping profession. Nurses, social workers, therapists, paramedics, psychologists, caregivers and caseworkers have some of the highest burnout rates of any profession. These jobs often combine long hours and low pay with incredibly stressful work environments, and burnout is a huge problem.

Burnout is more than just feeling tired or bored of what you do. It’s a state of complete and total exhaustion. Putting more energy into your job isn’t possible when you reach that point - you have nothing left to give. “Burnout” isn’t an official diagnosis, but it is a fitting description - trying to push through burnout is like trying to re-light a candle that has already burned all the way down to the bottom. It’s just not going to happen.

Some signs that you’ve reached the point of burnout include:

Your performance is suffering. You can’t keep going full steam ahead when you’re running on fumes. When you’re burnt out, your work performance will one of the first things that starts to slip - you may find that you are missing deadlines, forgetting things, half-assing tasks and making careless mistakes.

You constantly feel drained. Burnout is a perpetual state of exhaustion. You’ll start to feel like you just don’t have the energy to do everything that you’re supposed to do. You’ll find that you feel tired all the time, regardless of your sleeping habits, and that just forcing yourself to do the bare minimum leaves you feeling totally depleted and unable to do much else.

You feel disconnected and cynical toward your work. Even if you once enjoyed your work or felt passionate about it, when you’re burnt out, you become disillusioned with what you do. You may find that you’re cynical about your work, or just so apathetic that you can’t bring yourself to care about it anymore, even when you accomplish things that once mattered to you.

You can’t concentrate. Burnout can make it difficult - if not impossible - for even the most dedicated person to focus on their tasks. You might find that you spend a lot of time just sitting in front of your computer, unable to even start tasks because you can’t focus well enough to begin something.

You have become irritable and short-tempered. People who are burnt out have a tendency to become impatient with the people around them. When you’re running on empty, you have no energy left for social interactions. You might find that you’re snapping at coworkers or getting visibly frustrated with clients if you work in a helping profession.

You feel anxious. Burnout is often accompanied by feelings of indistinct dread that you just can’t seem to shake. The fear and anxiety is often tied to work, and can be completely overwhelming.

You can’t sleep. Ironically, people with burnout often have a hard time sleeping. Their minds race all night, and they find that they cannot settle down or get comfortable enough to drift off. If you can sleep, you may find that you are only able to sleep in short bursts and cannot sleep through a full night.

Your eating habits have changed. Some people experiencing burnout find that they lose their appetites. Others find that they begin to comfort themselves with food. Significant changes in appetite and food intake can signal a serious problem.

You feel physically ill. Being under high amounts of stress for long periods of time can destroy your health - you might find that you have a lot of symptoms with no direct physical cause, like headaches, stomach pain, nausea and body aches. You might also find that you get sick more often and get more infections as the stress wears down your immune system.

You feel like you have to drag yourself through the day. Even if you once enjoyed your job or your school, you might start to feel like even showing up is a huge chore, and dread having to go in. You might find that it takes all of your energy to even make it through the front door each day.

The good news is that burnout is not a permanent state; there are things you can do to recover. However, recovering from burnout is not necessarily easy - this is not something you can quick-fix with a self-help book, and you may need to make significant lifestyle changes. Some things you can do to fix or prevent burnout include:

Set firm boundaries. If possible, stop taking work home. Stop signing up for extra shifts and overtime every time it’s available. Don’t volunteer to organize every single office party and baby shower. Stop answering work emails after 5pm. Don’t check your email on the weekends. Don’t respond to emails on vacation. Set firm boundaries between “work time” and “me time” - especially if you work from home, where it’s easier for work and life to bleed together.

Use every minute of your paid time off. A lot of people just don’t use up all their PTO every year because they’re worried they’re letting the company down by taking vacation. Stop that. If you have vacation days, use them. Use your sick time too - if you don’t get sick that often, use them as mental health days. If you’re a student, ask professors for extensions when you’re sick - more and more professors are getting on board with cutting students some slack for life events.

Unplug from productivity culture. Our culture has a pathological obsession with productivity, and it’s killing us. We consume books and blogs and podcasts about how to squeeze as much productivity out of ourselves as possible. It has to stop. Unsubscribe from this kind of content. You don’t need to put more pressure on yourself to optimize and monetize every second of your day - it’s not healthy.

Seek support. Talk to a therapist, a doctor or a friend. Get professional help or just find people you can vent to. Try to form friendships with some of your coworkers or fellow students, especially if you work in the helping professions - they know better than anyone what you are going through.

Prioritize your physical health. When you neglect your physical health, you are more likely to burn out - you run out of fuel faster when you have less in the tank to begin with. Prioritize eating healthy meals and getting all the nutrients you need. Make a habit of exercising. Practice good sleep hygiene and try to improve your sleep.

Talk to your supervisor, advisor or boss. Are there things about your specific work or school environment that could be improved for you? Could you be transferred to a new team? Do your roles and responsibilities need to be clarified so you know exactly what is expected of you? Do you need additional training to do your job well? Are you dealing with harassment that could be reported to HR? See what can be fixed.

Consider a change. Sometimes you just need a change of pace after a while. Many social workers, for instance, eventually leave the profession - a lot of people simply have a lifetime limit on how long they can do that kind of work before they need to switch to something that doesn’t involve human horror every day. If burnout is a consistent problem, it might be time to think about taking a leave of absence, changing to a different role, or switching careers altogether.

Hope this answers your question! MM

#Anonymous #AnsweredByMM

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interact-if · 3 years

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Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!! 😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well!

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go! I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm...

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe.

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell.

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so...

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10?

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10)

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late.

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

#mod talk #long post #interact if: asks

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years

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Dreams, Chapter 7

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 7

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4184

Summary: Life moves toward normalcy for Sam and the reader, regardless of emotional turmoil.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

A few days later the Kaisers came into the bar for a nightcap and asked you and Sam to come to their house for dinner. You couldn’t think of a reason not to, and honestly thought maybe it would be nice to have something to structure the week around. It had been quiet, just barely beneath solemn while the dust settled and Sam stayed mostly silent while you moved around each other throughout the day. At least at the Kaisers’ Sam would have to talk to you, maybe even sidle up close to you during waking hours to keep up the couples’ charade. A little zap of guilt moved through you as you politely agreed to a time, that the second thought you’d had was about getting closer to Sam under this guise. In any case, the Kaisers were kind, it wouldn’t hurt to have a nice meal with someone else, and if you were going to stay here, it would be a good idea to avoid appearing standoffish. You bought their last drink and were waving after them when Sam came upstairs from changing a keg.

“We’re going to the Kaisers’ for dinner tomorrow,” you offered, trying to keep your voice even and making a point of not staring at Sam too long. It was a challenge; since Sam had kissed you and even more since he’d divulged that longing was part of the tangle of emotions he was feeling, it was on your mind nearly constantly, adding a murky stripe to the ever-present grief.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sam jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them. “What time?”

“They said 7:30. Don’t let me forget; I think we should bring a bottle of wine or something, so I can grab one tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that works.”

You wanted to drag out the conversation but couldn’t think of any way to that wasn’t cloying or desperate. If this (hopefully temporary) emotional distance was what Sam needed, it was unfair for you to try to take it from him. A quick nod and you returned to washing glasses.

The rest of the shift passed agonizingly slowly. Sam put on a podcast about Jonestown for the drive home.

You’d decided to walk over to the Kaisers’ with Sam the next day, bundled up on top of a presentable sweater that you hadn’t worn in a few years. Biting wind sliced through your jeans and seemed to creep into your coat even as you dug your chin inside the collar like a turtle, and when Sam noticed he threw an arm around you. His side blocked a bit of the wind and he rubbed your shoulder to warm it with friction. The impulse to curl up into his ribs was fierce, but you fought it down to wrap your forearms around the bottle of red wine that looked the fanciest of the midrange bottles at the grocery store. Where seconds before you had been wishing the walk were shorter, now you could’ve stayed out in the ice forever if it meant Sam would allow himself to be close to you again without being asleep. You’d made peace with the want, trying hard to decide that feeling crazy on top of your grief wasn’t helping anyone.

“Ready?” Sam asked with a tentative smile at the doorway. The Kaisers lived in a version of your cabin, in the sense that many of the houses in the area were log-hewn and rustic. However, they were clearly here to stay. Window flowerbeds filled with pinecones for the season and delicately carved shutters framed warm casts of light streaming onto the snow through gauzy ivory curtains, and their door opened to a tiny front porch where yours simply had a small ungraceful cement platform. For a moment, you thought about how comforting it would be to come back here at the end of a shift. It didn’t feel like somewhere as darling as this could have a half-broken boiler that rattled all day or plastic-coated countertops. This was a home and not a hideout.

You gave Sam what you hoped was a reassuring grin and watched as his long finger pressed an old-fashioned doorbell encased in wrought iron.

Mike answered the door. He had on a fuzzy pullover that made him look even more like a teddy bear than he normally did, nubbly wool spanning his belly like fur. He had the kind of rosy full-cheeked smile some jolly men combined with their booming voices to seem like the Ghost of Christmas Present, and a well-groomed beard with two starkly delineated streaks of gray-white dropping straight down from the corners of his mouth. From previous neighborly hugs, you knew he smelled like piney aftershave. He was a little taller than average, and built former-linebacker solid. You would’ve bet anything he was the perfect dad to call to help move you into a college apartment or scare an ex-boyfriend, and the thought of it made you cheerful and sad all at once. The hand not holding the doorknob had a pint of dark beer. “Great, you’re here! Babs, they’re here,” he added over his shoulder, gesturing an arm to welcome you into the home.

Sam waited for you to go first, shuffling his feet along the doormat in tandem with you as Mike closed the door. You followed Mike’s socked initiative and gently toed your boots off while you handed him the bottle of wine somewhat shyly. For all the years you’d been on your own, there was something so decidedly adult about bringing wine over to the dinner party of a middle-aged couple that felt like those first few meetings of your parents’ friends after college, when you’re not sure whether to call them by their first names or resign yourself to a life of Mr This and Mrs That. Mike seemed to pick up on it, thoughtfully appraising the bottle and squeezing your shoulder, humming about how you didn’t have to bring anything. He clapped Sam on the back and asked him how he was doing before teasing gently about how long his hair had gotten, and you took in the house.

It was bigger than the cabin you were staying in, the staircase to your left suggesting an upstairs that yours didn’t have, but what was far more striking was how warm it felt both in mood and literal temperature. A fire crackled straight through the main room in front of you, surrounded by giant river rock stonework that offset caramelly beige walls. A deep, plush canvas sofa faced the fireplace, flanked by two equally overstuffed armchairs upholstered with burnt sienna stained leather. Quick visual survey gave you a count of 4 throws in the room of various weights and patterns.

The kitchen was over to the right through the dining room. Barbie was wearing an apron covered in piglets and appeared to be basting something in the oven, turning toward you and absentmindedly wiping her hands. Fluffy, soft-looking hair was held back from her face with a pair of no-nonsense tortoiseshell barrettes. “Oh, perfect! I thought I hadn’t left enough time for the roast, but it looks about done. Can I get you two a drink?”

Sam’s soft, encouraging smile was enough to make you feel a little weak in the knees. “Sure! It smells great in here.”

“How about an old fashioned? We’ve been working through a great bottle of bourbon.”

“Works for me,” Sam agreed, and you nodded as well.

A few moments of small talk later, Sam offered to help Barbie with the food. She graciously accepted, giving him some job you knew she could’ve easily done herself as a way to make him feel more comfortable. Mike noticed you looking at the variety of pictures on the wall and started talking about their kids, putting names to each cheerful face. They were a good-looking family, the Kaisers, all big beaming smiles and limbs protectively wrapped around each other over the course of different seasons and major events. You’d had to let go of this idea years ago, long before Dean was gone, but it still made you ache in a nondescript way to see a family so happy and so each others’, not only in the way they loved but also in the way they so obviously belonged. Mike and Barbie were good people, and they deserved this. You tried to focus on the affection in Mike’s face as he talked, asking a few clarifying questions as he went. A few moments later, Sam came up behind you.

“Barbie says we should go sit down.” There was a pinkness to his cheeks and you couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of the kitchen or residual windburn from your walk over.

The table was one of those single-plank, live-edged ones you’d always coveted and knew were far more expensive than they looked. It fit the elevated rustic feel of the Kaisers’ house and the delicious, rib-sticking meal you were eating off of it. As you fawned over the roast and Barbie did the requisite Midwestern dance of ‘oh it’s nothing I’ll give you the recipe’ it was easy to fantasize about belonging somewhere like this, having parents like this, pictures of your cousins and nieces and nephews lining the walls of your childhood home. Indulgent, clearly, even more so than the rich food and smooth liquor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it.

“So, have you two always worked in the bar industry? That always seemed so fun to me—but I’m too old to do anything like that now,” Barbie asked.

“Oh, come on, you’d be a great bartender,” Sam insisted, always coming down on the exact right spot between flattering and politely flirtatious. “But uh, no. This is the first bar I’ve worked in for more than a few weeks, actually.”

Mike raised his eyebrows in an indication to continue but Sam artfully avoided his gaze. You couldn’t tell what the cue was—how honest was Sam planning on being? An old classic, the technically-true, seemed like the best option. “I worked as a bartender through and a little bit after college.”

“Silly me, I guess I had always thought that’s how you two had met; you seem like such a good team there! How did you meet, then?”

You artfully popped an entire fingerling potato in your mouth to force Sam to take over. “Uh, our, ah, families were friends.” In the sense that Bobby had been like an uncle to you both, maybe. A complete non-answer that sort of encompassed the barebones of the situation if you squinted at it right, but neither Mike nor Barbie seemed to recognize the opacity of it.

“That’s great. I bet your parents were excited then, seeing you get together,” Mike suggested before taking a sip of bourbon. Both you and Sam smiled affirmatively—not together, many of those parents long dead before we had even met—and hoped the moment would pass. “How long has it been, then? Since you got together?”

That one you couldn’t even guess what the right pretend answer would be and prepared to joke ‘too long’ before Sam said, “About two years. We knew each other for a long time before that, though.” It made sense, as far as answers went. ‘About two years’ since Dean was gone, since your lives changed, but it still ripped through you like an electric shock and sent you reeling. You could have spent an hour looking at that statement from every angle but snapped out of it when Barbie gave you a basket of rolls to pass to Mike.

“So that explains why she doesn’t have a ring,” Mike winked, playfully knocking Sam’s arm with his fork still in his hand. “Two years isn’t that long.”

Two years is a lifetime. Sam blushed and looked down at his plate. “Be nice. Kids don’t get married at 20 like they used to,” Barbie teased from across the table, smirking at her husband with so much love behind her eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would’ve looked at Dean like that across some dining room table if things had been different and your mind flashed on the kitchen counter a few nights before, silently clinking rocks glasses together over pie and wanting to hold Sam until the world got more fair.

The plates were cleared and an amazing, sticky bread pudding was brought out. Mike and Barbie coaxed each other into telling stories that made you genuinely belly laugh until finally you couldn’t suppress a tiny yawn and the final drink was poured with a joke about how it wasn’t like you were driving home, so what was the harm? You all moved to the living room in front of the fire, sitting next to Sam on the couch when Mike and Barbie took what must’ve been their normal spots in each armchair. Old cushions folded up around you comfortingly and rolled you slightly into Sam’s weight next to you, lining up the firm stretch of his thigh along yours. Warmth from the fire and Sam, the pleasant sounds of your hosts’ voices and Sam’s answers to them rumbling through you as vibrations when he spoke were so sweet and heavy under the bourbon, and your eyelids began to droop.

Sam’s hand gently covered your knee. “Ready to go?” he asked, low with a private smirk.

You made a conscious effort to sit up straight. “I’m so sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open! Where are my manners?”

Mike laughed a big belly laugh from his armchair. “Babs, we’re outlasting the bartenders!”

Everyone chuckled as you all got up from your chairs, Sam accepting a Tupperware of leftovers before the at-the-doorway conversation of people who didn’t want to go and hosts who didn’t want them to either. You’d been so nervous about the dinner and now you didn’t want to leave, honestly hadn’t really wanted to leave the sofa, just doze against Sam in the heat and company like a child. It had seemed before like maybe Mike and Barbie were just asking you for dinner because it was the thing to do, but they had been genuinely welcoming and you realized that these were the first non-hunter or hunting-related relationships you had made in literal years as you zipped your coat up all the way to the top and followed Sam outside into the quiet night.

“Man, they are really nice,” he remarked, walking closely enough next to you that your sleeves brushed together.

You could barely see his face when you looked up to him. “Yeah. We should have them over sometime.”

“Our place looks like a flop house.”

You giggled, the sound falling softly on the snow around you. “We can fix it up first.”

“No real point in fixing it up if we’re not staying here for a long time.”

“Maybe we could stay a while.”

Sam looked down at you, slowing to a stop even as the icy wind whipped around you. “You want to stay?”

“I mean, I—yeah, I think I do. Unless you think we should go somewhere else.”

“No, I just…I guess I hadn’t really considered it here, the whole “roots” thing.”

“It’s fucking freezing, can we talk at the cabin?”

Sam’s laugh rang out across the woodsy surroundings as he clapped an arm around you and shuffled you both home.

That night you tucked your cold toes between Sam’s flannel-clad legs and tried to imagine Dean as an old man.

If you’d thought December and January were bad, the intense cold snap of February sent you for a loop. Something about the months of darkness and frozen fingers was making you more stir crazy than normal; the idea of coming home to the cabin seeming less and less enticing as the days went on.

And then the boiler broke.

Well and truly broke, not just making the horrible clanging sounds it was prone to, but no heat at all. It had only been a couple weeks since going to dinner at the Kaisers’ and the experimental conversation with Sam about investing time into the cabin which had since fizzled out. A lack of heat at the border of the Upper Peninsula in winter was obviously untenable, and it forced the topic again as you grumpily helped carry in the remnants of another dead tree Sam had felled to heat the home with firewood.

“Is it worth fixing or is this a sign?” you huffed through the tiny clouds of steam coming out of your mouth. “How much would it cost?”

“I don’t have a ton of experience with boilers, but I’m pretty sure it’s the heat exchanger. And I have no idea how much it would cost to fix, but I can try to do it myself if the parts aren’t too much.” Pragmatic, genius Sam with the patience for machinery that you didn’t have. He snaked a long arm out from the bundle of wood he was carrying to open the door and hold it for you to scurry under his arm before closing it after both of you.

Generally, you thought a landlord would probably fix this kind of thing but it always felt a little scary asking him for anything, knowing you paid cash every month and the owner had never asked for a background check. It could have been fine, but every potential conflict seemed like it might be an opportunity to be unceremoniously evicted. Better to either leave before it could happen or solve the problem yourselves. You put a hand on Sam’s chest before he could go back for another bundle of wood. “Let’s talk about it for a second.”

Sam put his hands on his hips and it accentuated the broad span of his shoulders in his thick jacket. “Okay, right. What do you think?”

“Well, I mean, do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go somewhere else, or start moving again or something? We haven’t even really talked about it.”

He seemed to be weighing the options before biting his lip. “Here seems as good a place as any in a lot of ways, you know? Off the beaten path, probably not going to get spotted by anyone we know—knew—and the money is honest.”

You cut him off with a flippant wave of the hand. “Right, but I’m not talking strategically. Do you want to stay here? Do you like it here?”

A moment of silence fell as you searched his face for clues. “I—yeah, I do. I like being in the woods, I like the bar, I like people like the Kaisers and Steve and Jake. Maybe I’ll feel differently in the summer but right now I do.”

The grin cracked open your face slowly. “Good. I like it here too. Do you think the hardware store would have the stuff you need to fix it?”

“Definitely the first place I would check.”

After getting the rest of the wood inside and leaving it next to the small fire already burning to dry out, you started to follow Sam to the car before he turned around a step before the door. “Where are you going?” he asked as you almost bumped into him.

“Hardware store, I thought?”

“Nice try, we can’t both leave with a fire going.”

“Oh, I get it. So you get to go sit in the warm car and hang out in the warm hardware store while I turn into a popsicle over here.” You were half-joking, but it was genuinely freezing in the cabin, even with the fire going. Sam rolled his eyes over a smirk and strode around you, pushing the couch tight to the fireplace before retrieving the down comforter from the bed and throwing it on top. He grabbed a rinsed plastic bottle from the top of the recycling bin and filled it with water hot from the tap before throwing it in the microwave for a second.

“Unless you feel like learning a lot about boilers today, then yes.” He gingerly pulled the bottle out of the microwave and tightened the cap back on, deftly shifting it between hands before tossing it under the comforter on the sofa.

You were having a hard time holding onto your anger as you watched him make a cup of peppermint tea, still wearing his boots and coat as he moved around the tiny kitchen. Reluctantly, you shuffled over to the couch and removed only your boots and gloves before getting under the blankets, tucking your socked feet around the poor man’s hot water bottle and finally smiling only when Sam brought over the steaming mug of tea with more than a touch of affection under the exasperation coloring his face. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

When he came back, you were well into a worn paperback and had put two more logs on the fire already. “Do you need help?” you called over your shoulder from within the comforter cocoon.

“I think I’ve got it, thanks.” His words came into the room on a gust of cold air while he tapped snow off of his boots.

“Think you know what you’re doing?”

“Actually, yeah. The woman at the hardware store—you’d recognize her, Diane I think—knew a fair amount about it. I’m pretty sure I have it under control.” He brought a paper bag weighted with supplies over to the utility closet you knew held the boiler and got to work.

It was nice watching Sam in this element, always had been. As much as Dean had loved doing little projects and fixing things, both Winchesters were far handier than your average bear and Sam’s natural interest in learning lent itself well to tinkering with all kinds of things. Evidently boilers were not an exception. He shucked his coat off to lie flat on his back, looking up at something you couldn’t see with his hands gently resting on his ribcage before reaching to grab a wrench. The twisting motion raised his elbow and tugged his shirt a bit up his torso to reveal a few inches of Sam’s lower abdomen, the trail of hair tracing to his belt buckle in slightly sharper contrast to the taught skin around it given the consecutive months spent without sun. It made you blush and you quickly looked back to your book, grateful for the heat that the fireplace was bringing to your cheeks as cover.

About forty minutes later, Sam tapped your shoulder and startled you out of the goofy historical fiction of the paperback. “Wanna see if it works?”

He had a stripe of oil or something on his cheek but you resisted the impulse to swipe it off, instead nodding and extricating yourself from the heat of the blanket and couch around you. When you turned it on, the boiler clicked loudly twice in a way you thought might be a bad omen before going silent again. You let an extended beat pass and placed a palm on the side. It was already on the edge of being too hot to touch and you momentarily forgot that you and Sam had decidedly not been continuing your new normal level of comforting affection lately before throwing your arms up high around his neck excitedly. He chuckled into your ear and closed the embrace, forearms crossing your ribcage and hoisting you off the ground as he stood up in your hug. You could feel the fingers of one hand splayed out over your back and side through your jacket, the other still holding the wrench tightly.

“Okay, no promises it’s going to last, but I think that was it,” Sam offered as you released each other.

“Crank it! I want it to feel like the Caribbean in here.”

“You say that now, and in 3 hours you’re going to be whining about how hot you are,” Sam grinned, clearly feeling a little proud of himself even if he wouldn’t admit it. He tapped the wrench absentmindedly against his palm for a moment, considering whether he wanted to say something. “When I was at the hardware store she said our landlord might be open to cutting our rent if we offered to fix up the place.”

“Who’s we?” you teased, holding your frozen fingers close to the boiler like it was a campfire.

“I thought you might say that. But seriously, I know you don’t like the color of the walls or the shower pressure or whatever, could make it feel a little less…sterile.”

You tried not to remember that the last time you’d picked out paint was for a bright pink bedroom at age 12. Sam was right, it could be nice. Even more than that, it would be great to have some leftover cash around, and an extra project to kill a few hours of daylight wasn’t a bad idea.

“I kind of like the sound of that. I’ll talk to him about whether he’d be game.” Sam squeezed your shoulder before massaging your neck, admiring the boiler distractedly when you continued. “And seriously, thank you for fixing it.”

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 8

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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katiebug445 · 3 years

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All Along There Was Some Invisible String Tying You to Me

Jearmin week day 3: first meeting

@twoboys-onesoul

Since he was a little kid, Armin had always found the park near his home to be the most romantic place he knew. It was nearly a mile walk from his small home he shared with his grandfather, but he didn’t mind. Especially not on days like this.

Armin sat on his favorite bench that overlooked the large rose garden in the center of the park, the faint smell of the blooms hitting his nose and bringing a sense of calm over him. In his hands, one of his favorite books sat open with a small bookmark marking his page, and beside him on the cool iron sat a cup of steaming tea. Around him, people walked their dogs or with other people, but he couldn’t make out much of what was said. The noise faded into the background as he read, getting himself lost in the story spread out across three hundred pages.

After a little while, he set his book down and brought the paper cup to his lips, taking a miniscule sip of the warm drink to make sure it was cooled down enough he wouldn’t burn his mouth, and sighed in contentment as the tea hit his tastebuds. This was perfect, he thought. Nothing could hope to get better than this.

As he sat there, he caught movement from the corner of his eye, and a bubbly couple made their way down the path through the center of the garden, the gravel crunching pleasingly under their feet. The man took the woman right to the heart of it and spoke soft words that Armin couldn’t hear, but thought he had a good idea of what was about to happen. Sure enough, after another few seconds, he dropped to one knee and pulled a small box from his pocket, holding it out for his girlfriend. Armin set his cup down and focused his attention on the couple, waiting with bated breath to know what she would say. It took a moment, but eventually she nodded, and both he and the new fiance breathed a sigh of relief. He watched the two of them for another moment before going back to his book, a soft, happy smile on his face for having witnessed such a magical moment.

Jean slumped against the counter, exhausted after a busy dinner rush. It was the beginning summer, the greenhouse’s busiest time of year, because every idiot in the city decided that June was the perfect time to propose or get married, and they always had a tough time keeping up with the amount of orders and walk-ins that came looking for flowers. He ran his hands back through his hair, his head propped up on his palms, and let out a deep, exhausted sigh. It wasn’t near time to go home yet, but part of him considered leaving early just so he didn’t have to deal with anymore people.

Once the last of the stragglers headed out, he took the opportunity to tend to some of the newer plants, the ones that had just started to sprout within the last week. He picked up the watering can they left by the hose and filled it, walking it over to the buds in their pots, and gave them all a good drink. This was one of the best parts of his job. Jean had always been known in his neighborhood to have a bit of a green thumb, thanks to growing up with his mother and the blessing of a corner lot that was mostly a massive garden that she’d tended since she was Jean’s age, and had made sure to teach her young son how to care for the plants they grew. He always loved watching the flowers sprout up at work, offering them quiet encouragements that they would be perfect once they showed themselves to the world.

He watered the sunflowers first, then moved the pots into the sun a bit more, dissatisfied with where they’d been left, then moved onto the roses. Those were his favorites to watch grow. He loved watching the sprouts begin to grow and climb the small trellises they placed in the pots once they were big enough, and always wished he was able to take some of them home to grow on the one he had at the house. He couldn’t, though, because roses were in such a high demand, there were never any left for the employees to bring home by the end of the wedding season.

With a small sigh, Jean watered the roses and then took the can back to its usual place, just in time for the door to open and the cycle to start again.

Armin sat near the window of the cafe downtown, the sun shining in and desperately trying to warm him back up. He was sat directly under the vent and cold air blasted him in the face, making him freeze despite his cardigan. It was the middle of summer, his favorite time of year, and he couldn’t wait to be outside watching the birds and listening to the people around him enjoying themselves. In his pocket, he had a small bag of seeds that he could feed them, and looked forward to hearing them chirp excitedly.

A small smile crossed his face at the thought of it, and wrapped his hands around his cup, grateful for the hot tea that was quickly cooling thanks to the AC. Outside, people walked by, but Armin didn’t pay them much mind, preferring to get lost in the pages of his books or the podcasts on his phone. Today, though, he found himself glancing longingly out the window for something he didn’t know. The longer he sat there, the stronger the longing got, and eventually began to turn sad.

He couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but the comfort he normally found in the cafe was just upsetting him now. His tea forgotten for the time being, Armin propped his head up on his hands and let out a long breath, trying to figure his own emotions out.

Jean was enjoying a rare day off from the greenhouse and decided to stroll the town, even though the sun was hot and it was starting to get to him. He didn’t mind sweating, but he hated how suffocating the heat was on his back. It made it hard to breathe, and every step he took felt like it added ten pounds to him. He wanted to step inside one of the shops and cool off a bit and hide from the summer sun.

He longed for the cool of autumn, the chilly breeze that knocked leaves from the trees and scattered them on the ground like a monochrome mosaic. Jean loved it. He loved the brisk morning walks with those same leaves crunching under his shoes, the air just beginning to nip at his cheeks and nose, and the flowers that would be in bloom: helenium, pansies, chrysanthemums, asters… it was always beautiful to watch them grow and compliment each other with their deep, rich colors.

With a sigh, Jean pulled himself from his thoughts and back into the blistering heat, and sped up a bit when he saw the sign for the local cafe coming up on his right. Jean booked it, wanting to get into the cool air as fast as possible, and almost bumped into someone as he opened the door.

They were wearing a cardigan of all things, and it struck Jean as so odd, he couldn’t help but watch them for a moment as they disappeared around the corner, perfectly comfortable in long sleeves despite the near hundred degree heat. With a shake of his head, he walked inside and ordered himself an iced coffee.

It was a rare night for Armin, having been dragged out of his house by his friends, to let loose. Eren and Mikasa had talked him into getting dinner at the German pub downtown, and he found himself enchanted. Booths and a few tables made up one side, and a bar on the other, it was loud and boisterous and surprisingly a lot of fun. The walls were covered with photographs and maps of Germany, newspaper clippings in both German and English, and faded black and white pictures of men, women, and children from the 1800s on were scattered here and there, giving a quick glimpse into their lives from when they were taken. Everything else was covered in plows and tools from a simpler time, and beer steins with intricate artwork depicted on the bodies.

While the others ordered food, Armin walked around, eyes scanning everything they could take in and finding a huge smile crossing his face and getting lost in the culture surrounding him until his friends called him over to their table.

Jean collapsed on his couch after getting home from work, exhausted and ready to be off his feet. He could smell food from the kitchen and hear his mother bustling around, and a little smile crossed his face at the thought of getting to eat some of her cooking. He let himself rest for a moment before getting up and going to help her out.

A half hour later, and they were sharing some käsespätzle and Jean was telling her about his day, and how busy the greenhouse was, and she listened with a proud smile.

“It’s so nice to see you doing something you enjoy so much.” She said, clearing the plates and putting them in the sink, getting ready to do the dishes.

“Mama,” Jean started, getting up and going up to her, “let me worry about it. Please?”

She stared him down for a moment before finally relenting, letting Jean take over. “Thank you.”

With a smile of his own, Jean got everything ready, and a silence fell between them for a moment before he spoke again. “You should come with me to Schmidts sometime to eat. It’s not as good as your cooking, but it would save you some work…”

“Is that the place downtown?” She asked, giving him a curious look. “Maybe someday.”

Armin was sat at his favorite bench once again with another book, the stresses of his day beginning to melt away in the warmth of the sun, and after reading for a little while, marked his page and closed it, setting it in his lap and closing his eyes. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but he knew he must have dozed in and out a few times, given how drowsy he was when he finally came to. Armin picked up his tea and blew on it before taking a sip, and really gave himself a moment to savor it. Jean decided to take a quick walk through the park before having to go to work, wanting to be out in the fresh air as much as possible since it wasn’t so hot. It was a beautiful day; the sky was light blue and covered in fluffy white clouds, birds chirped and sang and chipmunks scurried across the path and into the trees for safety, and seeing them made Jean smile. They were a rare sight, and he always enjoyed seeing the little critters running around. He was about halfway done when he caught sight of someone sitting on one of the benches with a cardigan on in the middle of summer.

Jean let himself wonder about it for a second before realizing he’d seen this person before, and with curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to say something. He walked up to them on the side, seeing they had a book in their lap when he was close enough, and chuckled a little bit. “Hemingway?” He commented, and the man on the bench jumped, looking up at him in surprise. He was gorgeous, Jean realized quickly, with big blue eyes and fluffy hair that looked so soft he had to really restrain himself from reaching out to touch it.

“What’s wrong with Hemingway?” Armin asked, looking up at the man with a little bit of a blush in his cheeks, feeling a bit defensive for his taste in literature.

“Nothing, if you like a snooze fest.” Jean said, unable to help himself from teasing a little. “Aren’t you hot in that thing?”

Armin looked down at himself, realizing then that Jean was talking about his cardigan, and tugged self consciously at his sleeve. “No.” He admitted. “I barely notice it, honestly.”

“Well, looking at it is making me hot. You realize this is summer, right?”

Armin just nodded, a bit embarrassed to have so much of himself called out by a total stranger.

Jean saw the blush in his cheeks and thought to himself that he’d never seen something so cute in his entire life. Taking the plunge, he decided to sit down with him on the bench, gently moving his tea a little closer to him so he didn’t spill it. “I’m Jean.” He introduced.

Armin hesitated, looking the man up and down and trying to gage what he was getting at in telling him his name, but after a few seconds, he decided to give in, and took a breath. “Armin.”

“Armin…” Jean repeated, smiling a little when he said it. He really liked the sound of it. “Well, Armin, can I ask what you’re doing sitting in the park with Hemingway for company, and a cardigan on when it’s so damn hot?”

Armin thought about it for a moment, running his fingers over the well worn spine of his book, and shrugged. “I’m just enjoying the day.” He said after awhile. “What are you doing going up to a complete stranger and just sitting down uninvited?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Now it was Jean’s turn to think. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to talk to the weirdo boiling himself to death.” He chuckled.

Armin chuckled, too, unable to help himself, and turned a little so he was facing Jean more directly.

They sat there together most of the day, Jean calling into work and explaining that he couldn’t come in, just talking and getting to know one another. Jean was German, as it turned out, and loved the same pub that Armin was becoming obsessed with. Armin loved sitting and smelling the flowers while he read, and Jean invited him to come visit him at work sometime so he could give him a tour. They both loved the cafe where Jean had first seen him, and after an hour or two, both decided to go get something to drink from there.

As time wore on and Armin found out more and more about Jean, it felt like more than just a coincidence that they’d met there. When he thought about it later, he would almost say it felt like fate, that a single thread tied them together and got shorter and shorter as the days went by, until it was finally small enough that they had no choice but to run into each other. That was fine in his opinion, given how much he really did find he liked Jean, and wondered if that little string would be strong enough to bind them in each other’s lives forever.

#jearmin #jearmin week 2021 #katie's writing #twoboysonesoul

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: 18+ only - smut (fingering), some cursing

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: I can’t believe I wrote 3.6k words of what basically amounts to Netflix and fingering, but this is what Bucky Barnes does to people (you’re welcome Kris). Anyways, here is my first-ever smut - in which Bucky’s girl has a bad day at work and he does his best to make the night a good one. Bonus points if you can guess which show they’re watching ;) As always, feedback is appreciated! Since I’ve never written smut, please tell me if it’s bad lol. Thanks for reading!

A fuzzy vibration in his pocket alerts him to a text.

Kill me.

Unable to hold back a snort, he bites his lip and swipes at the screen. His thumbs flutter over the keyboard.

No can do, babydoll. Not an assassin anymore, remember?

Merely a few seconds pass, little dots floating in the conversation bubble, before her reply buzzes back.

I’m sure you’ve retained some of your skills…or maybe I should ask Natasha?

Please, I taught Nat everything she knows. And I’d still take her out before I’d let her kill you - your butt is too cute.

So is yours, Handsome ;)

The muscles in his cheeks hurt from the silly grin stretching up the corners of his mouth, but he can’t help himself with her, it’s just too easy. Too fun.

Well, if you’re NOT going to put me out of my misery…then you at least owe me a good night tonight.

Done and done. The whole team knows - and teases him frequently - that he spoils her, worships her, bends over backwards at her every request. It’s not his fault; she wrapped him around her finger the day they met, and it’s such a sweet place to be, he’s never bothered untangling himself. And she always gives as good as she gets, every time.

What did you have in mind, sweetheart?

Pizza and Netflix. Preferably with your hand down my pants.

Oh and there it is - that lovely little tingle down his spine, warmth in his belly, ever-present between them. His funny girl, always teasing. Teeth tug at his bottom lip as he deliberates over his response, thumbs poised over the screen.

It’s a date.

He tacks on that little emoji with the winking kiss face and hits send. Glances at his watch - a little past 3 in the afternoon; she’ll be off work at 5, probably straight out the door if she’s having such a bad day, but if the traffic is bad or she gets stuck at her desk, it’ll probably be closer to 6 when she gets home.

Slipping his phone in his back pocket, he looks around at the apartment, a quick survey of the last 5 days’ damage - a few dishes in the sink and on the stove, dirty socks peeled off in the hallway, a basket of clean clothes waiting to be folded. He nods to himself, prioritizes his task list, and tackles the kitchen first. After loading the dishwasher, he goes back to the bedroom, digging in the side pocket of his backpack for his headphones; he slips them in and turns on the next episode of that conspiracy theory podcast he’s become obsessed with (not that he’ll admit it, but she thinks it’s hysterical) and gets back to work, giving their home as deep a clean as he can in the couple of hours he has. On an afterthought, he lights a couple of scented candles - her favorites, the ones that smell like roasting marshmallows - throughout the place, letting the rooms fill with a warm scent.

A few minutes past 5, he stands in the living room, hands on his hips, and surveys his work, feeling pretty pleased with himself. Their home looks and smells deliciously clean and inviting, a warm embrace for her to fall into when she walks in the door. He glances at his watch and decides he should go ahead and order the pizza, and as he swipes at the app on his phone, he double checks the champagne chilling in the fridge. Check and check.

Perfect. He smiles to himself, the smirk turning a bit wicked as he walks down the hall to light candles in the bedroom.

A perfect night for his perfect girl.

**********

Her feet drag as she climbs the stairs up to their apartment, cursing herself all the way for moving into a building with no elevator. As if she weren’t tired enough from the absolutely hellish day she just had - even thinking about work has her massaging her temples with a groan. And she absolutely, positively, has to get new shoes for work, her feet hurt so fucking bad it’s insane-

Nope. Nope! Completely done, she stops on the second flight of stairs with a huff, removing her heels one at a time and shoving them into her work bag. Files and various loose papers wrinkle in the process, but she doesn’t care at all; so what if the little blue fleck of gum on the bottom of her pumps gets stuck on the official copy of a contract? At this point, she’s practically daring someone to say something about it. Biting someone else’s head off for a change would be just delightful.

She continues up that flight of stairs and the next, barefoot, her bag heavy and awkward on her right shoulder with the addition of her shoes, toes pressing into the worn and dated green carpet covering the steps. In her head, she’s counting them, counting down - 10 steps to Bucky, 9 steps, 8 steps, 7, 6…

When she unlocks the door and pushes it open, he’s waiting there, sweet smile curling up his soft lips. Of course, he must have heard her coming up the stairs - and she sags in relief, practically falling into his arms without even closing the door. He chuckles, tugging her closer while shuffling their positions in the hallway so that he - ever responsible and paranoid - can close and deadbolt their door.

“Hi,” she mumbles into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers back, lips against her temple. “Rough day?”

She groans, shaking her head with her face still pressed against him.

“You’ve got no idea, Buck, it was just the worst-”

“Shh, shh,” he hushes her, rubbing her back with firm strokes. “You don’t have to talk about it. You can just relax, honey. I’m here.”

A heavy sigh puffs against his shirt, the heat of her breath felt through the fabric, and her shoulders drop a little further, the tension slowly melting as he softly sways her from side to side. They stand like that for a while, just breathing each other in, letting go of the day, coming home to each other. Though she’s never said it aloud, she lives for moments like this, when there’s nothing that matters outside the circle of his arms. Nothing else at all.

The insistent growl of her stomach interrupts them - loud and gurgling, and he chuckles in spite of himself. He pulls back a bit from their embrace, looking down with a fond smirk tilting up his mouth.

“Hungry?”

“Starving, Buck,” she pouts, a little dramatic, a playful whine coloring her tone. “Did you make dinner?”

“Even better.” A light press of his lips to the tip of her nose, his voice continuing in a whisper. “I ordered out.”

A soft gasp.

“Gusano’s?” Her eyes are sparkling and he wonders if she gets as excited for him as she does for pizza.

“Mhm. Got all the toppings you like, too.”

Touched, and sensitive from such a long day, her smile is so big it makes her tired eyes tear up just a bit. Sometimes, it just hits her - how lucky she is, how one-in-a-million her sweet super-soldier boyfriend manages to be every single day. It swells her heart full to bursting every time.

He doesn’t say anything else, just kisses her forehead and turns, keeping an arm wrapped around her shoulders and steering her to the bedroom.

“C’mon, babydoll - you go change,” he urges gently, stroking her arm. “Get in your comfy clothes, take your makeup off, all that jazz - I’ll grab the pizza and then we’ll see what we wanna watch, yeah?”

Her answering sigh is dreamy as she drops her head back to his shoulder.

“Where have you been all my life, Bucky Barnes?”

“Mm. Mostly in cryogenic storage,” he whispers, eyebrows wiggling as he leans in for a kiss. With a roll of her eyes she dodges his lips, letting them land on the side of her head as she smacks his chest and walks off to the bedroom. Chuckling, he lands a playful swat on her ass before skipping to the kitchen.

What a man, she thinks, shaking her head as she digs through her dresser for a pair of soft college sweatpants. One-in-a-million.

**********

Pizza box on the edge of the bed, bottle of champagne on the left nightstand. She’s settled between his legs, feeling full and pleasantly soft from the bubbly drink in her hand.

“We’re gonna keep watching this, right?” she hums as the credits roll on the first episode, button in the bottom corner counting down until the next one plays.

“Sure - as long as you don’t spend the whole night ogling that guy’s ass,” he huffs, pinching her hip.

“Hey! It’s not my fault he’s got a great ass - but I never said it was better than yours,” she offers, sweet and apologetic, reaching up to pat his cheek. Even with her head only half turned, she can see the pouty scowl on his face, her hardened assassin looking more like a frustrated two-year-old. Adorable. What a man.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, shifting a little on the bed and tightening his arms around her, as though that might keep his girl in his lap rather than jumping through the screen and into the arms of the wig-wearing hunk whose strapping biceps currently have her attention.

The second episode plays, she relaxes a little further, finishing her second glass of bubbly. When he murmurs in her ear, she lets him take the glass and set it on the nightstand, out of the way. He shifts forward and grabs the pizza box, too, moving it to the other nightstand - both of them have eaten their fill and all that’s left in the box is a scrap of crust, nibbled all the way up till there’s nothing left but seasoned bread.

There’s a little shifting, a little wiggling, as he settles them both back against the headboard. In true “Princess and the Pea” fashion, Bucky’s got no less than three pillows fluffed behind his back, cushioning him against the hard wooden headboard. When he’s finished shuffling around, he strokes her sides for a moment, pulling her back flush against him and wraps his arms around her waist, sighing in contentment.

“Comfortable?” she giggles. His only reply is a low hum and a squeeze of his arms.

They go back to watching episode two, trying to follow the separate timelines and magical rules that have yet to be explained in the story world. She’s got her eyebrows drawn together, puzzling out where the hunchbacked mage might fit in to all of this; while the women on screen test their magic powers, she feels warm lips travel to her neck.

At first, she tries to ignore him, intent on watching the show; but the warm, wet kisses trailing up and down the side of her neck have her tilting her head, silently asking for more…

“Watch your show, baby,” he whispers, husky voice sending a delicate shiver down her spine. The tip of his tongue traces over the shell of her ear. “Don’t want you to miss your man.”

She intends to make a derisive snort, but it comes out as more of a hiccuped gasp when one of his hands slips just under the hem of her t-shirt, fingers spider-walking up the skin of her stomach. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow and bring her hazy eyes back to the TV.

It works for a few moments, maybe minutes, as he softly strokes the warm skin of her belly, his other hand tracing the waistband of her sweats. His mouth never leaves her neck and shoulders, switching from one side to the other, gently letting his teeth scrape over her sweet spot and her earlobe. All tender, unhurried caresses, and she sinks further into him, into the warmth of them both in their room, their world.

She chokes on her gasp when his hand slides up to cup her breast.

“You still watching, honey?” he hums, a smile pressed against her jaw.

“Uh-huh,” she manages when his finger circles her nipple.

“Good.” He nuzzles her cheek a little bit, stubble scratching along her smooth skin as his hand continues to massage her breast - his fingers still soft, barely squeezing, just enough to tease.

His other hand finally wiggles past her waistband - but stops at the seam of her underwear, just a few inches in. She’s watching, she is, she is; her eyes are on the screen, on the very handsome monster hunter with a jaw that could cut glass, her hand gripping Bucky’s thigh. She’s absolutely paying attention to the show, and not at all frustrated with the light strokes of his fingers across her hips and mound, still outside of her panties. Fingers stretch a little further, so he’s massaging her inner thigh in time with the squeezes to her breast. It’s getting a little hot in here - maybe she shouldn’t have worn such thick sweats and fuzzy socks…

This time, she can’t help herself as she digs her nails in his thigh, his index finger lightly tracing her folds over her underwear. It almost tickles. She almost whines. Bites her lip instead to hold it back, her breath hitching in her chest.

“Bucky,” she huffs.

“Hm?” He licks her neck.

“Are you going to do something?” It comes out weaker than she meant it to, more desperate than demanding.

“I thought you wanted to watch your show?” he suggests, feigning innocence. “Don’t you wanna watch Netflix with my hand down your pants? You can have both, honey.”

Her thighs twitch when his fingers press a little firmer, just an ounce more pressure - still barely anything, still not enough. She does whine this time, trying to wiggle her hips closer to his hand.

“Go on, admire his ass some more, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “I know you think it’s cute.”

The hand in her shirt switches to the other breast and tweaks her nipple, just on the pleasant side of painful. She licks her lips, blinking to regain focus on the screen, feeling way too hot. Bucky seems unbothered, though, continuing his ministrations and ignoring the TV altogether.

Her teeth sink into her lower lip when his hand slides around to grab a handful of her ass, gripping tight then playfully popping the seam of her panties with his finger.

“You’ve got a pretty cute ass, too,” he teases, his hand gliding back to its place between her thighs.

She huffs again, unable to stop herself from arching into the hand that’s attentively playing with her breasts. Alright then. Two can play at this game - she releases her death grip from one of his thighs and slides her hand back, just behind her, letting her nails drag over the prominent bulge in his sweats.

He hisses through his teeth, releasing her breast to grab her wrist. His other hand slips out of her pants to snatch her hand that remains clasped to his thigh

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he nips at her shoulder. With a firm grip, he moves her hands up behind his neck, letting her fingers tangle in the sweaty strands at his nape. “You keep those right here and enjoy your show, alright? I ain’t done with you yet.”

Satisfied that she would stay put, he lets his hands glide back down - over the length of her arms and down her sides, before gripping the hem of her shirt and hiking it up above her breasts, both hands immediately giving them a firm squeeze. Lower lip trapped between her teeth, she barely holds back the low moan in her throat and fights to refocus her eyes on the screen again, a herculean task with his fingers plucking at her nipples like that.

The heat between her legs continues to build, despite both his hands occupied with her chest, and she can’t help but lift her hips a little, a blind, desperate search for friction, attention, anything. A particularly hard tweak of her nipples had her whining loud, a jolt of electricity going straight between her thighs. She tries to rub her thighs together to get some relief, but Bucky’s too quick - he hooks his own feet on the inside of her ankles and keeps both their legs spread open wide.

She moans his name, heady and desperate, arching into his hands.

“S’alright, I gotcha,” he hushes her, his lips still fastened to her neck. Always wants to take care of his girl. He’ll always give her what she wants…eventually.

Achingly slow, he drags a hand down from her breasts, tracing over her stomach and into her sweats again. He snaps the waistband of her underwear again - once, twice, what an asshole - before sliding down further to rub her core through her panties. Her breath hitches at the feel, the friction, her thigh muscles tightening as he uses his knuckles to firmly stroke her up and down. Wetness pools in her underwear, more and more as he rubs little circles around her clit with his thumb.

“Can feel you gettin’ so wet, honey,” he rasps, breath hot on her ear. “This all for me? Huh?”

All she can give is a nod and an “uh huh” as his fingers press her clit and pinch her nipple at the same time. A tiny whine escapes her lips, sweat breaking out along her back where they’re pressed together, his erection impossible to ignore as she wiggles against him.

Panties soaked now, ruined, when he finally, finally slips inside, cupping her pussy with his warm hand. With his thumb and pinky, he parts her swollen folds and traces his index and middle fingers up her slit.

“Fuck, you’re fucking soaked, sweetheart,” he moans, his fingers running through her folds, circling her entrance before bringing the wetness back up to rub her clit. His fingers spread her a little further, tugging back the hood, and he draws firm circles around her bud, just the way he knows she likes.

“Oh, oh fuck, Bucky-” she pants and whines, hips rolling into his hand, his other fingers still working over her breasts. Her head feels light, almost dizzy, and a tight feeling grips her low in her belly, her toes starting to curl and twitch. Fingers yank hard at his silky soft hair, the strands wrapped in her fists. “Bucky, please.”

“Don’t gotta beg me, honey - don’t gotta beg for anything,” he coos against her sweaty cheek. With his hand now soaked, he slips two fingers inside, curling them against her upper wall into that spot that makes her-

“Oh my god, oh god, right there-”

“I know, baby, I know.”

His hands working her over like an instrument, there’s no more pretense of even glancing at the TV screen - her eyes flutter as he rhythmically strokes her higher, gushing wet sounds as he drives his fingers in and out, dragging the heel of his palm against her clit. All the while, his other hand plucks and circles her nipples, palms her breasts, his tongue and teeth attached to the sensitive little place on her neck. Her mouth hangs open, gasps and moans that sound vaguely like his name, fingernails raking down his scalp and the back of his neck.

“Come on, honey, come for me - come for me.” He pulls his fingers from her and goes back to circling her clit at a frenetic pace.

It’s enough - the coil in her belly snaps and she arches back with a cry, her legs shaking and hips rocking up against his fingers, head falling back against his shoulder. His fingers don’t stop as he works her through it, holding on to her high, his lips pressed against her temple as he murmurs sweet words into her skin.

“Good girl, oh good girl - there’s my sweet girl, huh?” He presses little kisses down her temple to her cheekbone, following the path of the sweet-tasting sweat beading on her forehead.

He lets his fingers slow against her, and finally removes them when she starts to twitch away from him, sensitive and sated. Letting his hand fall from her breasts to her stomach, he rubs softly over her skin, feeling her ribs expand under his palm as she catches her breath. His other fingers go straight to his mouth, sucking obscenely, not letting a drop of her wetness go to waste. She peels an eye open at his appreciative groan, the corner of her mouth tilting up in a tired smile.

“You perv,” she laughs, her voice low, content. She pats his cheek with one hand at the indignant look on his face, but he merely shrugs and dips his finger back down for a second helping, licking off his fingers with a loud smack.

“Can’t help it. You’re too damn sweet,” he grins, smug and lusty, loving the way she’s still a bit breathless and soft in his arms.

She rolls her eyes and catches a glimpse of the TV screen, where the credits are rolling on their show.

“Whoops…I think I barely caught any of that,” she giggles, slapping his leg. “Which would be your fault, by the way.”

“Eh, we can just rewatch it if you want to-”

“Later,” she interrupts, sitting forward and turning around on the bed. Her limbs still feel shaky from her orgasm, but she plants her palms on his chest and straddles his lap, landing firmly on his still straining erection. Bucky moans low and grips her hips, his eyes blown dark with need. She leans in close, her lips brushing lightly over his.

“I think it’s your turn,” she whispers, tongue tracing his lower lip. He dives in with a growl, devouring her mouth.

Netflix entirely forgotten.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you

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jokers-of-the-impractical · 4 years

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Brian Quinn Mini Series “One and Only” Part 2 of 3

(A/N: Hey guys! I hope you’re enjoying this series so far! This part is inspired by “One and Only” by Adele. Part 1 can be found here. Part 3 will be out hopefully soon!)

Word Count: 2200ish?

This past year and half with Brian had been a total romantic whirlwind. It seemed like a total dream, your relationship was truly amazing. You were so comfortable with each other right away, he knew all of your secrets, and you knew his. A month after the live show where he asked out on a date, you two were an official item. By that time the fans already knew who you were from a recording of that night going viral in the fandom. You and Brian were quite surprised by how quickly the fans took to you as well, but that was partially due to the other jokers and their girls always raving about you and the relationship. Plus Brian and the others would swoop in for protection when someone decided to be not so nice.

Speaking of the guys, your friendships with them were amazing too. Each bond with the guys was completely unique and special. Each one had its common interests, shared activities, and inside jokes too. Since that night in the diner the laughs, support, and fun with them had not stopped. At least once a month you and Brian were at one of their houses with the rest of the gang for dinner, you always counted down the hours of the work day when these were taking place. And Bessy and Melyssa were some of your closest friends now. All the time when the guys were off they were put on babysitting duty so you three could hang out and have some girl time. When you girls get together the possibilities are endless! Shopping, brunch, beach day, even a girl’s trip was currently in the works. Just the other day the guys had a last minute segment to film so the girls took the opportunity and decided to take you to go get mani-pedis together after work.

On a date at a trendy and snazzy new restaurant in the city where you two spent celebrating three months together you both said I love you for the first time. Both of you were so nervous, then when the moment was right, you jinxed each other by saying it at the same time. By six months of dating during a late night movie marathon at his place after asking for the last two weeks for you to bring your cat over for playdates all the time, he asked you to move in with him and presented you with a key. You squealed and hugged him so tightly you were sure he was going to snap in half. You were also so supportive of one another when it came to work. All the time you were promoting the show, his podcasts, and his beer brand. You had become a social media fanatic when it came to supporting him and his many ventures. Q had made it a habit of visiting your classroom, on a few occasions he brought the other jokers with him too. You had to admit that seeing your boyfriend surrounded by your students and playing with them made your heart melt. He had the perfect balance of toughness, funniness, and nurturing, when he interacted with them. He had even told you he had begun to love being around children more and more when he started being a frequent visitor in your classroom.

Not long after your one year anniversary, Brain took you to meet his family for the first time and you clicked with them instantly, just as much when Brian met your parents eight months into the relationship, but you knew that they’d love him long before they got to meet. One moment you were talking with his dad and brothers about sports, and the next you were exchanging baking ideas and recipes with his mom. Now visiting his parents all the time was the norm. Two weekends ago you were over at their house for a big cookout when Carol brought you into the kitchen and you two shared a really emotional and meaningful heartfelt conversation. She hugged you extra tight and told how much she adored you and told that she thought you and Brian were perfect for each other. She said she saw you like a daughter and was so happy that you made her son feel love again. Then she pulled away and gently held your arms and began to tear up when she admitted to you that since you two had begun dating she was thrilled that things didn't work out between him and his ex fiancé, of course she hated the pain the situation put him through, no parent would wish anything like that on their child, but not that long ago he confessed to her on the phone and she couldn't agree more that he was willing to go through that amount of heartache a thousand times if it meant that he got to be with you, because you meant that much to him. Now it was your turn to have tears in your eyes and you hugged her tightly again. As your conversation was nearing its end Q came in to find you and heard the tail end of the conversation, when he came into view he was looking at you super nervously. You headed back outside and he stayed in for a moment to talk to his mom, all you heard before stepping outside was something about not yet and not to ruin it.

Since that weird encounter at the cookout, Bri has been acting all jittery. Any time there was time to relax just the two of you, he would always suggest you do something or go out. It was a little concerning, usually if you guys disagreed or upset the other you would talk it out and fix it as soon as possible. But today was a date you both had been planning for the past month so you figured you would time to talk to him about it sometime today. You got out of bed and left your cat and Brooklyn sleeping on the bed. You trudged downstairs to see Q already dressed and sitting on the couch with Benjamin and Chessie with a cup of tea. You wrapped your arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek, with sleepiness still in your voice.

“Mmm Good Morning Baby.” Q lifted up his arms to touch yours and leaned his head to plant a kiss on your cheek and then look at you.

“Morning my love. Do you want something to eat before we go? I already have coffee ready and waiting for you too.” He handed you your favorite mug from the coffee table filled with coffee just the way you liked it. You thought it over for a moment while you took a few sips of the coffee.

“Nah I’m good. I’ll just have this while I go and get ready.”

“Okay sounds good to me. I’m ready when you are, but don’t rush. Also, I picked out an outfit for you to wear today.” You smiled when he told you that, every so often he would do this for your dates and it would always make you smile. You headed back upstairs and sure enough your chiffon floral maxi dress and light denim jacket was waiting for you in the front of your closet. You love that the outfit he picked worked so well the manicure from the other day. You then decided to do a no-makeup makeup look topped off with your favorite pink lipstick, then while sipping your coffee, you pinned a bit of your hair back and left the rest down naturally. After your hair and makeup was done and slipped into your outfit, you saw your nude strappy sandals, diamond stud earrings, and off-white cross body bag waiting on the desk chair for you. You went to meet Bri downstairs when you were done getting ready to see him still being kinda weird, and you left for the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Ever since you binge watched Gossip Girl you had become enamored with the MET, you used to go here all the time and Brian knew that. Sometimes you would even just sit on the steps and people watch on days you were in the city. You went in and Q paid for both of your tickets. You spent the whole day wandering around going from exhibit to exhibit and showing him all of your favorite pieces. After what seemed like hours and were getting ready to head out, you figured now would be the right time to finally talk to Brian about why he had been acting so odd lately. You took in a quick yet deep breath and decided to get it over with.

“Hey Bri?” You could hear the nervousness in your voice, and he must have heard it too by the way you noticed him tense up and slowly turn away from the painting he was looking at to be facing you. It almost seems like he’s shaking.

“Uh, yes Y/N?” You let out another breath as you were unsure of where this conversation might lead since you have never seen him act like this.

“Are you okay? Ever since the cookout you’ve been acting pretty weird.”

“I have?”

“Yeah you have, and I was thinking maybe it was because you heard what your mom said to me. But, I want you to know that I feel the same way, I would have dealt with Dean tons more if it meant I got to be with you, that’s honestly how much I love you.” As soon as you finished, he let out a deep sigh of relief and was now smiling.

“Y/N, I am fine I promise, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. But I’m glad you told me that, it means so much to me. How about we head home and order some takeout yeah?” You smiled looking deep into his gorgeous dark eyes and nodded.

You walked your way back through the museum and once you both got outside you saw a section of the MET steps had been blocked off and was filled with red roses. You were in awe of this beautiful little scene that you didn’t realize Q was dragging you into this small area. Then all of the sudden there you were, holding hands with Brian facing you in the middle of all of these dozens of roses. Then Brian took a deep breath and began in the most gentle and sweet voice, almost like the night you met.

“Y/N, these past eighteen months have been pure heaven for me. From the moment I saw you I knew I was laying my eyes upon the most beautiful woman in the world, and then to know you admired me even a tenth of the way I already admired you when I read your letter made think I may actually have a shot with you, even though I was so unworthy of this angel before me.” You let out a giggle as he said that, and the gears in your head started turning, why is he being super romantic after being really weird and nervous? “Then I really got to know you and found out we had so much in common, and you helped become an even better version of myself, and I hope I do the same for you. The reason I’ve been so weird since the cookout, is because I didn’t want my mom to ruin this surprise. And I’ve been so nervous because… well...” What surprise? It was then it finally clicked as Brian let go of your hand and got down on knee, the manicure, the weirdness, the special date, the roses, everything! You felt your eyes well up with tears, and your hands flew to your mouth in shock, he was proposing! He pulled a small wooden box out of his pocket and opened it to show a gold ornate banded ring with an Emerald cut diamond in the middle with a small baguette diamond on each side as well. It was the most magnificent ring you had ever seen.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, would you be willing to spend the rest of your life with me, and do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Now the tears were starting to stream down your face and a smile permanently was plastered on your face. You heard cameras clicking and lights flashing around you as you took in this surreal moment with the love of your life.

“Yes Brian, of course I will marry you!” With that he put the ring on your finger and stood up to embrace you and placed a delicate kiss on your lips as cheers erupted from the small crowd that had gathered around you. You looked over to see photographers taking photos of the priceless moment, and your family that Brian must have flown in for the occasion were all thrilled with Bessy and Melyssa standing with them smiling as well. Then you both heard a loud and dramatic voice ring through a megaphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Make way for the happy couple who is now engaged!” You and Q looked over to see Joe holding a megaphone and Sal and Murr with him too. You and your now fiancé both giggled at the hilarious touch they added to this moment, realizing they must have been the ones to set it u while you both were inside. You looked back and Brian you knew that you were both excited to spend the rest of your life together, just you, and your one and only.

#Brian Q Quinn #brian quinn imagine #brian quinn #celebrity crush imagine #impractical jokers imagine #impractical jokers

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pctrichvrs · 4 years

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* emma mackey, cis woman + she/her | you know celeste laurent, right? they’re twenty four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, seven years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cry baby by the neighbourhood like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole watching the phone ring to avoid picking up, unintentionally locking eyes from across the room and dark circles further accented by pale skin thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 9th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

mun.

wow ..,. hello ! i’m jay ( she&her ) and i’ve been eyeing this group for days .. *nicki minaj vc* i’m obsessed . celeste is my only muse but give me 2 business days and i’m sure that’ll be vastly different . i feel like i should give the disclaimer that although i adore plotting, i’m super slow with messages so feel free to just ..,. let my oddball child interact and go with the flow . < 3

quick stats.

full name: celeste rosalie laurent.

sexuality: bisexual.

occupation: youtuber/podcaster.

neighborhood: lives in port apartments.

mbti personality: intj.

about.

celeste was born and raised in lyon, france . her mother was an art curator and her father was an architect. they passed along their desire to be surrounded by pretty things which resulted in celeste dabbling in nearly every art form imaginable from a young age .

sure, some of her work turned out better than others but it was clear that she had a real knack for anything that didn’t really require the left side of her brain. if it involved creativity and didn’t have much structure, she was drawn to it and excelled. she was fourteen when she ended up making her first short film. sixteen when she earned a spot at cannes film festival, sparking quite a bit of buzz and earning funding to a school of her choosing .

celeste knew she wanted to go to america and it helped that she had a few cousins in north carolina . she went to UNC school of the arts for two semesters before throwing her scholarship away . . . her distaste for structure getting in the way . she’s also pretty fickle so when that chapter closed, she decided to give up short films and put her energy into youtube .

her channel was an absolute clusterf*ck at first but she made a ridiculous conspiracy theory video and it just kind of stuck. i’d consider most of her channel to be similar to buzzfeed unsolved ( conspiracies, ghosts, etc ) with like a sprinkle of ridiculous challenge videos and maybe the occasional cooking/painting video ?? if you’re her friend, you’ve probably made a cameo in a video at some point .

if it wasn’t obvious enough, celeste’s biggest flaws are her need for freedom and her fickle tendencies which affects nearly everything in her life . everything is very sporadic for her with very little consistency . she’ll go weeks without working on anything and then have a deadline and have to finish it in 2 days . romantic relationships are very hard for her because by the time you’ve gotten comfortable with her, she’s probably moved on a bit . friendships are admittedly a bit easier but she’s definitely not a friend you’d expect to be present a lot ?? phone is always on do not disturb and she takes hours to text back . if you want her, you’d probably have better luck just showing up on her doorstep .

kind of spacey too like even if you show up, good luck getting her undivided attention . she’ll be there physically but mentally ?? who knows, really . the type to occasionally cut you off mid-convo with a question that just popped into her head that’s unrelated to the original topic .

overall though, not too hard to get along with if you give her some room to breathe and have some patience . celeste despises confrontation and does her best to stay pretty lowkey . i feel like she’s kind of drawn to people that stand out and are unique in one way or another and LOVES to hear people tell their story or talk about themselves . she hates being the center of attention ( she used to love it when she was making films ) and is nearly a bit reclusive at times but doesn’t even realized she’s been tucked away in her apartment until someone points it out .

basically the human embodiment of Gifted Kid Burn Out(TM) . #relatable

tldr ; a youtuber ( think buzzfeed unsolved ) originally from france who was once incredibly gifted in film . flighty, fickle and spacey but has a genuine curiosity for everyone she meets .

headcanons.

still has a french accent but it’s not nearly as prominent as it was when she first moved to the states .

has a super odd sleep schedule ? sometimes she’s pulling all nighters and sometimes she’s in bed by 9pm. it usually depends on the amount of work she has to do but sometimes she’s just like fuck it, let me binge this show or start this book at midnight .

a “look at the sky!” ass bitch ..,. loves to stargazing or take a minute to appreciate a pretty sunset. yes, she will be pulling out her phone to document it .

her youtube is pretty successful with about 400k subs ..,. although she’s started branching out into making podcasts and neglecting youtube a bit .

still a bit of an aesthete ? like very drawn to pretty things/people which may make her seem kind of superficial but she literally just has such a deep appreciation for things that are appealing to the senses .

i’ll add more later but it’s 1am and i’m getting sleepy .

wanted connections.

roommates ; arguably some of my fave plots are roommate plots ! bonus points if they don’t get along for some reason but anything is fine with me .

will they/wont they ; another dynamic that i’m a sucker for ! doesn’t have to lead anywhere like maybe they just have ridiculous chemistry when they’re around each other ? maybe they’ll go on a date and try it out at some point ?

long-term friend(s) ; someone who she’s been friends with since she was 17 ? i don’t think celeste’s social circle is very big so they probably mean a lot to her .. ride or dies .. best friends .. platonic soulmate vibes . yes pls .

exes ; i don’t think she’d have many but maybe one or two ? could be on good terms, bad terms, one/both of them still aren’t over it ..,. the options are endless .

Parent Friend(TM) ; someone who checks in on her to make sure she’s eaten a proper meal and has slept fairly recently would be super cute, i think ! she’s the type to drink iced coffee at noon and be like : ) thank u . i’m stuffed and then neglect doing self care .

i do not have a cute name for this but basically the exact opposite of the parent friend(TM) and someone who makes celeste go out and have fun bc she’s a tad reclusive ...,. drags her to parties / on roadtrips / other spontaneous shit .

enemies / frenemies / former friends ; always fun . always a good time !

literally anything like u can send me a musing post and be like ‘do this with me�� and i will probably do it

#irvingintro #literally the tiktok audio that's like 'now that we're done with that . do u wanna see my renegade ?'#*smiley w sunglasses emoji*#okay it's nearly 4am . i am about to sleep but . i'm letting myself celebrate finishing this . as a treat .

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banashee · 3 years

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i"I have way too many stories already planned" I said. “I can’t write in multiple fandoms at once, it will throw me off” I said. “OK so I’ll just get this out of my system real quick” I said. “Well shit, I’ve gotten more ideas now that I’ve started…” I said, determinded to face it - I have a problem. Just a small one… Who am I kidding. Send help.

Also, this is the first time I’ve written for this fandom. I’ve loved and enjoyed TMA for a while now, not just the pod but also fanworks. And now I’m joining in on the fun and you folks will have to deal with it :D ♥

This story got inspired by a conversation on Reddit with Swiftysmoon. Thank you very much for the inspo! This one is for you :)

edit. sorry about the missing ReadMore cut, Tumblr is programmed like a pile of garbage and removed it after I edited a typo...I’ve added it back in now.

please mind the tags and warnings

Into the Void

Truth be told, Jon never planned on this to happen. Of course not - it is ridiculous and more than a little embarrassing, but he can’t help himself.

See, the thing is, Jon is a restless, anxious person in general. He’ll hide away in his office for hours, typing away or recording statements in solitude, only interrupted when someone actually wants something from him. That, or when Martin brings him yet another cup of tea, checking if he’s still alive or starved to death on his desk.

No kidding - Martin had told him this, once, and although he’d been half-joking at the time, the underlying message had been very clear.

‘Please take care of yourself, you worry me.’ - it had been oddly sweet, and Jon still has no idea how to even react to this kindness.

But the thing is - Jon has nervous habits. While his mind is wandering and he is buried neck-deep in his work, he tends to fiddle. Mostly with pens, or anything else he can reach on his desk. That would be fine - no one notices it, unless they stand right next to him. But Jon had almost choked on the pen he’d been chewing on, lost in thoughts while reading his notes, omn more than one occasion. Mostly thanks to Tim bursting into the room like the whirlwind he is.

For one, Tim Stoker just doesn’t knock. Ever. He enters a room as loud and cheerful as he does anything else, and it can be a bit unnerving. Still, he somehow manages to be a professional and be really good at his job. That and the fact that there is ‘Chaos’ written all over him makes for an odd combination sometimes, but they’re all somewhat used to this.

So, when Tim suddenly sticks his head into the room with a cheerfully casual

“Hey, Boss!”

Jon startles and nearly stabs himself in the throat with a pen while he scrambles to make it look like he didn’t chew on it the entire time. He needs to preserve some sort of professionalism around here, even though he feels a little bit lost sometimes.

He glares halfheartedly, trying to keep whatever is left of his composure in place. Tim shoots him a bright smile with finger guns, then he rattles off the information that Jon had asked him for not long ago.

Thankful that he doesn’t have to explain himself, Jon launches onto it.

As time goes on, things around the institute get more and more weird. One thing adds to the other, and suddenly, they’re at war against worms all over the place. They spend their days at the institute armed with fire extinguishers and in Martin’s case, a corkscrew. Martin even lives there now, which adds a whole different level to it all.

Really, it is not surprising that they rarely ever get any outside visitors down in the archives. They have a bit of a reputation for being weird, and truth be told, Jon can’t find any fault in the people who assume that. If he wasn’t involved - if he didn’t know what lurks out there, in the shadows, he’d have thought the same.

Pushing his own dismissive, sceptic act is getting harder and harder these days, but it doesn’t stop Jon from trying.

Even after Jane Prentiss’ attack, Jon tries to keep up that act. It’s clearly faltering now, though, which may or may not be partially due to the fact that he confessed to Martin that yes, he does believe and he is terrified. It’s been an awkward conversation, to say the least, and not just because Jon pretty much asked if Martin was a ghost and despite Martin stabbing him with the corkscrew. To be fair, he’d apologized profusely for that, and while Jon is not happy about it, he is thankful for his attempt to get the damn worms out of him. Just thinking about it still makes him shudder, makes him lay awake at night.

On the plus side, their team in the archives has grown much closer to one another - it eases the anxiety and paranoia, just a bit.

Jon finds himself busy, not to say, utterly distracted. Time flies, and he takes even less care of himself than he did before. He practically lives off tea, and whatever food is offered where Martin, Tim and Sasha drag him along to.

Jon acts prickly and annoyed as always, but in reality, he appreciates their efforts. Lord knows, he isn’t sure he deserves this kindness, but he still makes an effort. These three people are all he’s got, after all. They’re the only group of allies who have any sort of idea what is really going on in the archives, and that alone is enough to have him lower his walls just a bit.

One day, Jon keeps blowing an annoying, grey-streaked strand of his otherwise dark hair out of his face. He didn’t have the time or energy to get a haircut lately - there are much more pressing matters to take care of. But his hair is currently at the awkward in-between length that he hated years ago, when he decided to grow it out. He’d kept it long, up until shortly before his promotion to head archivist. Only then he parted with the shoulder length ponytail in an attempt to be perceived as more professional.

It doesn’t feel right - never did. And as much as he hates the annoying strands falling in his face, it makes him feel like he is back on the way to himself. Or at least as much as he can these days.

Especially in the face of, well, everything else, it is a small comfort. Right now though, Jon is annoyed - he takes a pen from his desk, and sticks it behind his ear to hold back the constantly falling piece of hair - it works.

Jon only notices the pen again when he is about to go to bed that night - he huffs, places it onto the small desk in his bedroom and then crawls under the covers. Once he is in bed, Jon is waiting for the insomnia and the nightmares to keep him awake, despite his best attempts to fall asleep.

He is long used to both, but the last few months have been significantly more stressful.

The next day, Jon is exhausted. He barely makes it into the kitchen for some coffee, then he drives to the institute, the pen forgotten back home. Oh well - he’ll bring it back in another day - no big deal.

Except, it becomes a Thing, with a capital T.

Jon is chewing on and fumbling with his pens as usual, recording statement after statement and doesn’t exactly realize what he is doing. He hides away, until one of the others drags him away from the desk for inconvenient human needs like food and company, but really, he goes willingly now. All he needs is a small reminder.

The bit of human warmth and company means a lot to Jon, and he soaks it up as much as he allows himself to. Trusting people is a struggle for him. His relationship with each and every coworker is definitely a work in progress, but he is willing to try, anyway.

One night, Martin points to the side of Jon’s neck in quiet amusement.

“Oh, you’ve got ink on you - yes, right there.” he touches the spot behind his own ear. Jon blinks, and when he tries to wipe it away, his hand comes away with yet another goddamn pen.

It joins a small pile of accidentally stolen pens on Jon’s desk back home - he’s been meaning to bring them back ages ago, but he keeps forgetting. At this point, he refuses to drop them all off at once, because that would definitely catch someone’s attention - and attention is the last thing he wants right now. Add in the fact that this is, well, ridiculous and embarrassing… No. Just no.

Jon looks around the room, heat creeping up his face even though there is no one around to look at and judge him - then he opens an empty drawer in his desk. The pens disappear with one swift movement of his arm before Jon slams the drawer shut. There - done.

And this is how, what Jon secretly calls his “Desk Drawer of Shame”, comes into existence.

Occasionally, a small handful of pens will make its way back into the archives. But at this point, they’re way, way too many to bring back at once, at least not without pissing off Elias. That is, if he isn’t chuckling at the ridiculous and mysteriously high cost of office supplies in the last few months.

At the very least, Jon would be at the receiving end of some good natured ribbing from his coworkers in the foreseeable future.

Jon is reading the last few lines of a statement, when the door to his office opens up after a quick knock. He looks up with a frown, which is more habit than anything at this point, and quickly drops his feet back on the ground. At least, he isn’t chewing on a pen this time.

Standing in the doorway, shooting him a small smile, is Martin and he is waiting for Jon to finish recording the last few lines. Only when the familiar

“Statement ends.” marks the end of the recording session, he starts talking.

“Hi! Uh, did you have lunch yet?”

Jon didn’t, and Martin knows it, but he is trying to go the polite route before his motherhen-mode is activated and he physically drags the man away from the desk in an attempt to make him take a break.

So, Jon smiles back, which still feels a bit foreign in a work context, but he secretly enjoys the spark of happiness on Martin’s face when he does. Not like he focuses on that or anything…

“No, I- I didn’t. Did you have something in mind?” he asks as he gets up and pulls his jacket from the back of his chair. It’s a welcome distraction from his work.

Jon didn’t sleep, again, and he can tell that he is getting sloppy and way more irritable than usual. Chances are, getting a bite to eat and spending some time out of the institute with a friend will do him some good.

On the way out, Jon falls comfortably into step with Martin. Plenty of thoughts cross his mind, and he chooses to ignore all of them. In fact, he’d been so busy staring up at a cluster of freckles on Martin’s cheek that he doesn’t even notice what he tells him about the little café that he was planning to visit. Only when he stops talking, obviously waiting for an answer, Jon nods, hoping that Martin actually asked him a yes-or-no question.

For now, it seems to be enough, and they enjoy their lunch break. Jon is still lost in thoughts though.

That night, he is unable to sleep once again, as his mind keeps him wide awake and Jon is shaking apart under the blanket. There are two new pens on his desk, and it feels like they’re glaring at him. It’s ridiculous - they really are the least of his worries. Jon is just distracted, that’s all.

There is ink on his neck. Again. Jon swipes at it in mild annoyance, inwardly cursing himself for being so careless. His movement catches Tim’s attention, and then his eyes wander to the pen that is stuck halfway to Jon’s ponytail - it’s for convenience, really - but it’s clearly the cause for the ink scribbles on his skin.

Tim puts the pieces together and grins. He is way too easily amused about this, but to be fair, they get their laughs whenever they can these days. And this is still much better than the silent, angry version of Tim that tends to come out more and more and the last few months. At least, when he’s laughing, he isn’t that.

Small favors.

The more distracted Jon grows, and the longer his hair gets, the more pens he keeps losing - or more like, forgetting - in it.

He doesn’t realize that he is doing it, really, until someone - mostly Martin or Tim these days, because Sasha is (gone) (different ) absent - walks up and plucks one of the pens right out of his hair in order to use it. Jon should be annoyed, but he can’t bring himself to be. It’s oddly comforting that the two of them are still willing to seek him out. Because that’s what this is - there are plenty of pens around, of course.

There is no need to come into his office, to come close to him just to get office supplies. They’re here because they want to, and that honestly means the world to Jon.

As much as he’d tried to keep them at arm’s length, he’s failed miserably. Thankfully so - things would be much, much worse if they had to deal with everything on their own.

“Hang on - how many bloody pens are in there?” Martin asks one day, calling over from the other room. He looks up in utter confusion while already cracking up with laughter.

“Wait, are those-?”

Oh goddammit.

Apparently, that’s what happens when Jon answers absentmindedly when asked for the location of a pen in his apartment.

He needs to renovate his kitchen, because the landlord just won’t do it in any reasonable amount of time, so Jon is in old jeans and an even older T-shirt, packing dishes and kitchenware into boxes with Martin and Tim. The two of them had been kind enough to offer help, so that’s why they’re all piled in Jon’s small apartment on a Saturday morning.

Partway through, they realize that they should probably label the boxes, and soon after, Martin stands in the bedroom, opening not the stationary drawer, but The Secret Drawer of Shame With Accidentally Stolen Pens From The Institute.

“Oh, good lord.” With an audible ‘thump’, Jons forehead collides with the kitchen table. His glasses sit crooked now, and he doesn’t lift his head up while he tries to explain, and despite being flustered, he manages to keep that certain tone of voice that’s usually reserved for work hours.

“I, yes. I may have accidentally taken a pen or two with me and only realized it here. Coming back into work with all of them at once seemed… well. Not ideal at the time.”

“No wonder when you keep storing them in your hair.” Martin comes back, with a handful of pens and a bright smile.

While walking past, he pulls another pen out of Jon’s bun, just to prove his point. A long strand of hair slips forward and falls back into Jon’s face. Meanwhile, Tim has snuck off to peek into the other room out of pure curiosity, then he proceeds to laugh his arse off for the next few minutes.

“You know, we should make it a sport at this point. How much stationary supplies can we steal until Elias catches wind of it?” Tim offers, because of course he does.

It is ridiculous and childish, so naturally, it quickly becomes A Thing.

Anything to get a tiny bit of satisfaction is a valid option at this point, and besides, it’s not like Jon is trying to be sneaky or anything. It just happens , like so many things these days.

As it turns out, Elias doesn’t care. None of them is stupid enough to assume he doesn’t know - the bastard knows everything, that’s part of their problem. He just never calls any of them out on it - if it is because it’s too unimportant or if he is getting a chuckle out of it as well, they never find out.

At some point, late at night when all three of them had a few drinks, they’re brave enough to joke about what fear entity would be responsible for a never ending void filled with pens (“A.K.A you desk drawer of shame, Jon. Have another drink, you’re annoyingly sober for this conversation.”)

It’s a half-serious debate, and one which they continue every once in a while. Most notably so at the institute’s christmas party, huddled in a corner where they’re mostly being left alone. And if that is mostly due to Jon glaring holes through anyone daring to come close, just a hair away from actually hissing and snarling, well. He didn’t get his reputation of being rude and prickly for nothing.

All of this turns into fond memories, once everything has gone to hell.

Jon is freshly awake from six months of coma, and the world around him has changed. Martin is barely around and Tim is dead . So is Sasha, even though they never knew, for the longest time.

All of this hurts badly enough to stop him from breathing every once in a while, and after a series of even more tangled and unfortunate events, Jon finds himself huddled close to Martin on a train.

They’re on their way to Scotland and neither of them talks much, but they’re unwilling to let go of the other’s hand. The air is chilly, even inside the wagon, and Martin is still shivering under layers of jumpers and jackets.

The Lonely has settled deep into his bones, and sometimes, it’s like he is fading away again. Every time this happens, the steady warmth of Jon keeps pulling him back.

Jons hand is smaller and bonier in Martin’s own large, soft hand, but it’s grip is steady and warm. His thumb keeps stroking gently over the back of his hand while he is holding it, and it is the most loved Martin has felt in a long time.

Eventually, he manages to relax enough to doze off for a bit. While his head find’s it’s way down and onto Jon’s shoulder, he can feel the slight poke of a plastic pen that is sticking out of his hair.

Martin almost smiles, and squeezes back when Jon tightens the grip around his hand and settles against him.

They keep finding the damn things around the safehouse, because frankly, they’re everywhere. And that’s just whatever Jon had on his person out of sheer habit. Lord knows, his hair has grown way past his shoulders by now, and more often than not, he keeps it up and out of the way with whatever is around him at the time.

Mostly, it’s pens.

At first, they’re just there , and both Jon and Martin have about a million other things to think of and to deal with than a few too many office supplies laying around.

The exhaustion, both physically and emotionally, leaves them absolutely drained and dead to the world.

It is bad enough so that they crawl into bed almost as soon as they have arrived and inspected the small cabin. The question of whether or not they’re going to share the bed isn’t even raised - neither of them is willing to let go of the other. All the way from London to up here, they’d held hands to reassure themselves that they wouldn’t lose each other, and they’re not about to stop now.

It is a lot easier to remind each other that they’re not alone when all they need to do is focus on the breath and heartbeat of one another. Focusing on the heat radiating under the blankets, where they are embracing throughout the night to keep the nightmares and the ever growing anxiety at bay.

They have plenty of bad days when everything just creeps up at them and even talking is too much. Those days, they spend curled up in front of the fire or in bed, holding on tight for as long as they need to in order to feel more alive again.

After a while, they’re able to relax more. Martin is much warmer and solid now, doesn’t fade away into the fog without noticing. It’s happening less and less now - whether or not he will be able to shake off The Lonely entirely, neither of them knows, but he is happy about every step in the other direction.

Jon is just as happy to see him doing better, and he tells him as much over breakfast, smiling as he tangles their legs under the table.

There are two pens already stuck in his hair, holding it up in two buns. It’s probably from when he read a statement from the stack of files and tapes that Basira sent over the other day.

The statement has definitely taken the edge off of things for Jon. Now he can sit at the kitchen table with his boyfriend and enjoy a cup of tea instead of growing weaker and weaker with hunger for statements. As ironic as it is, it makes him feel more human, even though he is no longer fully human. He’s pretty sure of it.

“I love you.” Martin tells him, because it is true and he likes saying it as often as possible, now that he can. It sends a spark of warm happiness through his chest, and it is bright enough to chase away the cold fog that’s still lingering sometimes - just for a bit.

“I love you, too.”

He’ll never get tired of hearing this.

“I love you” they say, as they drink tea in the morning and eat freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven.

“I love you” they say, as they walk hand in hand through the cobblestone streets down in the village, on their way to buy groceries and look at the little local shops.

“I love you” they say, as they step around each other in the tiny kitchen while cooking dinner, distracting one another with kisses until one of them remembers the food or notices the charred smell of something burning. It’s only then that they break apart, cursing and laughing all at once.

“I love you” they say, as they spend nights wide awake, holding on tightly through their grief and fear. They say it out loud or whisper it into the darkness, comforting one another as best as they can.

“I love you”, they whisper through silence and tears, but they say it just as much through smiles and laughter.

“I love you” they say, after every single argument. Their love for each other is strong, so much so that they’re certain they will be able to figure out the rest. Whether that’s the end of the world as they know it or anything else doesn’t matter.

“I love you” Martin says, after he walks up behind Jon and plucks one of the pens out of his hair. There are at least two more, and besides, Martin woke up this morning with a few lines of poetry in the back of his mind. He wants to write them down before he forgets - maybe, just maybe, he can turn them into something beautiful.

“I love you.” Jon says, and he pulls Martin closer by the front of his pyjama shirt, turning around just enough to be able to press a quick kiss to his lips. The movement leaves them both in an awkward position, hanging over the back of the sofa with their glasses askew.

Martin has one of his arms wrapped around Jon, who is holding on tight, happily leaning into him with a quiet, happy satisfaction on his face. Clearly, he is enjoying this an awful lot.

No doubt, if it wasn’t for the hold onto the sofa Martin has with his other, he’d have toppled over and fallen right into the smaller man’s lap. And maybe that’s exactly what Jon is trying to do - who knows. He is way more affectionate than either of them would have thought possible, really.

They remain wrapped up in the tight hug, and neither of them wants to let go yet.

Notes:

Warnings: - Off-screen canon character death mentioned - insecurity - Loneliness - Trust issues - if you want me to add anything please let me know

#banashee writes #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #JonMartin #mentioned character death

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fanfic-collection · 5 years

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Loki x Reader: Quarantine

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‘And this is Captain America, signing off, reminding everyone once again, stay safe, stay strong, and stay true to America. Please, buy only what is necessary, if you’re quarantined, stay home for the assigned days, get a lot of rest if you’re sick, take the necessary precautions, and we’ll get through this, we always do.’ Steve smiled, saluting the camera on his laptop then looked at Bucky.

Bucky gave a tired thumbs up.

'Signing off, I’ll see you all tomorrow.’ Steve clicked the end transmission button and the feed ended. 'That was really good Bucky, I really think we’re making a difference, I hope we can keep people calm in this trying times.’

Bucky raised his eyebrow and leaned back in the seat groaning as he covered his face, 'Are you seriously going to drag me through these podcasts every day?’

Steve stood up and stretched, 'Until the quarantine ends, it’s the least we can do for the public, so yes, yes I am.’

You snorted into your vitamin enhanced energy drink, watching the two super soldiers across the counter.

'Don’t start.’ Bucky muttered, looking at you, raising a warning finger.

You set down your glass and held up your hands defensively, 'Not a word.’

'It’s day two and I’m stir crazy already.’ Bucky groaned, running his hand through his hair as he stood up and began to pace.

The big screen turned on and Tony appeared, poolside with a margarita in hand, shades halfway down his nose as he squinted at his phone to see the three of you in the kitchen. 'Cap! Other soldier, teddy bear.’

'Why does he call you teddy bear again?’ Bucky asked, glancing at you.

You sighed and shook your head. The automatic kitchen doors slid open and the two norse gods walked, mid conversation, stopping only when they saw Tony on the monitor.

'Oh excellent,’ Tony continued, 'thunder bros, anyways, Steve, loved the pep talk, my stocks stopped their nose dive, they’re still dropping but not nearly as bad, I heard one of the local grocery stores even had toilet paper on the shelf too.’

Steve rolled his eyes, 'What do you want, Stark?’

'Can’t I check in? One quarantinee to another?’

'You’re pool side in Malibu.’ Bucky grumbled.

'And you’re in Stark tower with tons of friends in New York, your point?’

'Tony? Lunch’s almost done!’ You heard Pepper call from somewhere within the house.

'Yea just a second honey.’ Tony grinned, 'Quarantine is awesome, am I right?’

Thor grumbled, 'I don’t see why I have to be stuck in this building.’

'Thor, we’ve told you countless times, people are worried you could transmit the disease.’ Steve replied.

'No Midgardian illness is a match for me.’ Thor replied, fist on his chest.

Loki rolled his eyes, 'And yet, the disease may cling to you and travel to the mortals, brother. How our physiology is compatible to theirs is unknown, must we go through this again?’

You made eye contact with Loki and smiled softly.

Loki’s irritation seemed to fade somewhat and a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth before he turned his attention back to Thor, folding his arms.

'So are you guys going to have a party then?’ Tony asked, 'Wait, where’s Hawkeye? Two of you are missing.’

'Hawkeye and Nat are around.’ You replied. 'Nat was taking a nap last I knew and Clint’s… lurking.’

Tony shook his head before abruptly touching his phone, 'yes, what is it? Kid, I told you to only call in emergencies. What, wait, say that slower. You’re quarantined? Do you have enough supplies to get you through the next two weeks, just calm down. No, I’m on the phone with the other Avengers. Yes, most of them, the ones that are quarantined at the tower. Yes that includes Loki. Why do you call him Mr. Loki. Kid… Focus. Yes, ok good, you have supplies, yes you’re not sick, I know, Aunt May is pretty young, yes I know, she’s fine, you’ll both be fine, it’s just a quarantine, keep entertained with Cap’s podcasts, they’ll keep you calm, he posts them each day, yes you’re talking too fast for me to understand you. Kid. Peter. Listen to me.’ Tony sighed. 'Kid.’ He sighed again. 'Listen. I will hang up on you. Kid. Listen, stop it. Stop. I’ll send over a suit with groceries. Yes, I’ll send toilet paper. Yes, I know all the stores are out, I have connections.’ Tony smiled weakly, 'I got you covered, you’ll be fine. You’ll get through this. Now all of you, I’m hanging up and getting lunch with my hot date. Bye.’ The screen went black.

'That spider kid got quarantined?’ Steve asked, looking around the room.

You blinked, 'I guess so.’

Loki crossed the room, moving away from Thor and came over to sit beside you. He left a respectable distance, peering into your glass curiously before easing himself into the chair next to you.

'I could bring him supplies.’ Thor grumbled.

'Brother we have dealt with plagues, as has humanity before, if their response is to lock themselves away to deter the spread of it, we are not to interfere. Their healers, doctors, have made their demands,’ Loki looked up from your drink, 'We do not interfere.’

'We are protectors of humanity, we must safeguard the realm in whatever way possible.’ Thor urged.

'You cannot fight a disease with your hammer.’ Loki replied. 'Or are you suggesting culling the sick to limit its spread?’

Thor creased his brow.

Loki raised his eyebrow, 'Such action has been taken in the past and will likely take place in the future.’

Steve and Bucky watched Loki uneasily.

Loki continued coldly, 'Tell me brother, would you risk more lives or take them because you are uneasy with patience?’

'Loki…’ You said slowly.

Thor growled softly before turning and stomping from the room.

'He’s never patient.’ Loki muttered, shrugging.

You sighed and touched his forearm hesitantly.

Loki glanced down at you somewhat surprised. You slowly pulled your hand away as Loki’s eyes trailed your hand, watching where you had been and slowly staring at your hand where it lay a few inches from his arm.

Steve cleared his throat. 'Well I was thinking I might start drawing again, I haven’t had a chance to sit down and just sketch in a while.’ He managed a smile, 'Anyone have any suggestions? Maybe I’ll do some skylines…’

Bucky sighed, 'I haven’t had a lot of time to hone any hobbies.’

'Well now is a great time to start!’ Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, 'C'mon, Stark is bound to have plenty of things lying around this musty old tower. Let’s go digging.’

You finished your drink, staring at the empty mug. 'Do you think there will be a culling?’ You asked, looking at Loki.

Loki shook his head, 'Not at all. Thor is too quick for action, this disease is easily controlled by your mortal means. Stay clean, take care of yourself and avoid too many people. The spies staying to themselves are smart, the three of you are the only regular humans in this tower, otherwise it’s nearly empty on the top floors. Between the soldiers and myself and my brother, you’re the only mortal really.’

You nodded slowly, staring at him with concern.

Loki carefully touched your hand, a bit of color rising to his cheeks, 'I doubt with the chemicals running through their bodies and my brother and myself and our genetic make up, we seem to be safe from this disease. I fear only for you falling ill, but we will keep you safe and even so, there are many more cases of recovery than there are fatalities.’

You nodded, 'Yea, you’re right.’

The black screen flipped on. 'What motherfucker, is stealing all of SHIELD’s motherfucking toilet paper?’ Nick Fury’s voice roared over the speakers as he glared out around the screen, staring down at you and Loki. 'Where is Rogers?’

You blinked, quailing beneath his glare. 'He went looking for art supplies, sir.’

'Someone got it in their funny little head that it would be a good idea to ransack the SHIELD bathrooms for toilet paper and now I got nothing to wipe my ass with. HILL, get me Hill on the line.’ Fury continued, barking orders at someone out of view.

Loki rolled his eyes, 'I don’t know what you expect us to do about it, we’re under quarantine.’

You snickered, fighting back a laugh.

Fury looked down at the two of you, 'Oh right, I’d forgotten.’ He sighed, 'Do I have any Avengers or SHIELD agents I can call into duty?’

'Not that I know of, sir. I’m pretty out of the loop.’ You waved your hand, indicating the quarantine.

'Fine, fine, carry on.’ The screen blanked out again.

Loki looked at you and you looked back at him before the two of you started laughing weakly. You both quickly looked away.

'Want to go check out the library? It’s going to be a long quarantine.’ You offered your hand to him.

Loki looked at your hand hesitantly before taking it, 'Certainly.’

It might be a long quarantine, but perhaps not a terrible one.

#Loki x Reader #ficbit #quarantine fic

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