Reblogged arcane-vagabond
iconic!
this is the plot to mama mia
Reblogged arcane-vagabond
*Scrolls past*
*reluctant sigh*
*scrolls back up*
*rebogs*
Reblogged arcane-vagabond
Reblogged
Sex cannot be that good. Sex cannot be that good that you tell a barely legal girl you want to cum on her face unprovoked or to hold still because you’re almost finished. Or to please start an onlyfans like you don’t know anything about me? Did you know I like foxes? Or i feel things so deeply that when I get excited sometimes I have to jump around? Or that my room is filled with stuffed animals and posters of every celebrity I’ve ever loved? Or that I have two dogs and I’ve never been one to have many friends but when I do have good friends they’re the most important people in the world to me??? Like I’m a girl with feelings and emotions and opinions and I tried so hard to write something good to be smart but I can’t like I’m so hurt because sex cannot be that good that it’s worth me at the end of the day looking at myself in the mirror and thinking I’m dirty and disgusting for literally just existing! I’ve never had sex! Yet men cum to me and I didn’t even allow it I’m not even a sexual girl I can barely say sexual words Or when the other day a man started telling me he didn’t like my piercings and I should take them out like what???? Me liking things ruins your fantasy??? I have to fucking be pretty for you???? THIS IS WHAG PORN DOES TO US. LIKE FUCK. I have wrote paragraphs and paragraphs about this. I’ve said more times then I can count how porn makes women objects how men see women as objects now and look what’s happening to me???? I don’t even know what to do like I feel so gross about myself I didn’t even do anything tho like I tried so hard to not do anything that can be taken sexually and still men jerk off to me I feel so disgusting like is that genuinely all men see me for? To get off? What the fuck is wrong with men
Reblogged
Im genuinely so upset. I love Umbrella academy still and i dont wanna admit that its dead because it shouldn’t be dead yet. But fucking steve blackman made that shitty fourth season and ruined everything. Litterally making many people leave the fandom and delete their works. Im not saying they should come back I’m not forcing anyone but its so genuinely upsetting its ridiculous i don’t want it to die yet. I really don’t. I love writing about five i love writing for umbrella academy. I love everybody that does these stories. I love there stories. I dont wanna leave yet. Im gonna cry i swear to god. I look forward to these stories and im not ready to let go im really not ready. I wish i knew how to save peoples stories so i can save them and go back and read them when i want to its just so upsetting. I love you guys so much thank you for making a fandom that i am so emotionally attached to, and a character that i think i genuinely love. I know its stupid because its on a screen and theres hundreds of other characters but i just cant help it. I love the characters and i love the actors and i will never find another fandom like this i swear to god.
Reblogged
Note To Self, Can't Make Somebody Be Made For You
Tyler Owens x Reader One-Shot
Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Angst
Author's Note: A teeny tiny filler for the series! Read the previous part here!
**********************************************************************
She sat in the back of her father’s workshop, attention focused on the piece of wood she was whittling away at. Her gaze barely lifted as her father walked in and set his cup of coffee on the workshop table, pulling up another chair beside her as he sat down and began reading the morning paper. The morning sun cast rays through the glass panes along the wooden floor, dust shimmering in the warm air, and she sat in a comfortable silence with the man, listening to the sound of pages flicking.
“That supposed to be a duck?” he asked, eyes not moving from the paper he read, and she huffed through her nose.
“Well, I was going for a pigeon,” she answered humoredly, and he smiled, sipping his coffee; she looked at him. “Mom send you out here?”
His nose scrunched. “You’re in my workshop. What if I came out here to do work things?” She simply looked at him with an arched brow and he huffed. “Your mom’s worried, sweetheart. You’ve been awfully…quiet since you came back from Oklahoma.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just dealing with things.”
Reblogged arcane-vagabond
good things will happen 🧿
things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿
passionate-lovely-soul
THIS ONE FUCKING WORKS. REBLOG IT.
tiny-kt
this for real fucking works
Apparently this one fuckin works, and who am I to argue with the collective agreement of tumblr. Will report back if good things happen.
Reblogged arcane-vagabond
Throwback to when I took painkillers and woke up with Photoshop open on my computer to this image I had made
Hi this currently has 37 thousand notes and I just want to ask - why?
Big Things Are Coming
💷🥄🥔 BIG THINGS ARE COMING🥔🥄💷
✨ Abundance Spell✨
Wealth, weal, and plentiful spoons are coming to me 👏
✨💰🪙🥄🥔💰🌟💰🥄🥔🪙 💰✨
Like to charge Reblog to cast
Reblogged arcane-vagabond
cozybug-deactivated20231208
If there are trees you aren’t alone
I can’t tell if this is supposed to be encouragement or an ominous warning
traumadotwav
Reblogged
Closer to Home
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Synopsis: As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think.
A/N: This was supposed to be something else ENTIRELY. But it just unravelled and here we are! Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts about it! B xx
--
Your relationship with Bucky hadn’t started with fireworks or dramatic confessions—it began like any other normal relationship: after drinks and a movie.
It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt heavier after long hours at your desk. You were finally wrapping up for the night, shrugging on your coat and slinging your purse over a shoulder. The clock had just ticked past 10 p.m., though it hardly felt late to you. Still, your shoulders sagged under the tension of the day—hours spent poring over intel, trying to uncover scraps of information that might help Sam and Bucky on their next mission.
“You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”
Reblogged
Closer To Home II
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Synopsis: Somewhere between stolen glances, late-night conversations, and the careful way he protects your space, Bucky Barnes has quietly claimed a part of your heart. His brooding silence gives way to tender moments in the warmth of your apartment on a snowy night, where shared vulnerabilities reveal the man behind the soldier. Slowly, you navigate the spaces between his old-fashioned values and your modern perspective, learning each other one touch, one laugh, and one unspoken promise at a time. As trust deepens and emotions stir, the fragile connection you’ve built feels both delicate and undeniable—something neither of you is ready to let slip away.
Word Count: 12.4k
A/N: Took me long enough and 3 different tries, but here it is - part 2 of 'Closer to Home'. These babies have been my favourite to write and I truly hope you guys enjoy reading them. Let me know if there's anything else from their growing relationship you might want to see... I might have a few tricks up my sleeve as well. B xx
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your knock on the office door echoes in the quiet space, instantly drawing both Sam’s and Bucky’s heads toward you. Sam is leaning against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, but it’s Bucky’s steel-blue gaze that settles on you, pinning you in place. His expression is guarded as always, though the faintest flicker of curiosity softens the edges.
Across the room, Bucky sits hunched over a stack of papers—your papers. They contain the latest intel on a Hydra facility buried somewhere in the European countryside. You know every word, every detail in those documents because you wrote them. You also know the information will keep him tethered to the desk for far longer than he deserves. A twist of guilt knots in your chest, but you push it down as you step inside.
“You guys hate me yet?” Your attempt at humor comes out tentative, your eyes flicking between Sam and Bucky.
“We might,” Sam quips, his shoulders rising and falling in a mock shrug.
“Will coffee make you hate me less?” You bite your bottom lip, stepping further into the room. In your hands, two mugs of freshly poured coffee send thin streams of steam curling upward. You extend them as if they’re offerings of penance.
Sam’s grin widens, but your focus is on Bucky.
He doesn’t say anything at first, but his lips twitch in amusement. You’ve come to recognize this look ever since that night at your apartment—the night everything shifted between you. He’s still Bucky: quiet, brooding, and wrapped in layers of steel, but you’ve managed to find a way through. A small, vulnerable crack he seems to leave open just for you.
“Wilson,” you say, stepping toward Sam and setting the mug down in front of him.
“Thanks, agent,” Sam teases, the title rolling off his tongue with exaggerated weight.
You shake your head but let out a soft laugh. Then, heart thumping just a little harder, you turn toward Bucky. His gaze hasn’t left you, and the air between you suddenly feels heavier.
Taking a steadying breath, you move closer and place the second mug on the table in front of him. You lean in slightly, cheeks warming under his steady gaze. “Mr. Barnes,” you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of teasing formality.
Bucky’s lips curve into a barely-there smile, but it reaches his eyes. “Thanks, doll,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough like gravel, but there’s a warmth in it that makes your chest tighten.
Sam clears his throat dramatically, leaning back in his chair with a playful smirk. “Mr. Barnes?” he teases, his tone dripping with mock offense. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
You roll your eyes but resist the urge to exchange a look with Bucky. Neither of you had told anyone what had happened between you—not even Sam, who seemed to live for knowing everyone’s business. Quite frankly, you weren’t even sure Bucky wanted to acknowledge it outside the safe confines of your apartment.
That apartment had become your sanctuary. The kisses, the quiet conversations that stretched long into the night, and the comforting weight of his hand on yours had transformed the last six weeks into something you couldn’t quite define but didn’t dare let go of.
He’d been at your place in some capacity every day since that night. At first, it was under the guise of walking you home. Then, he’d talked you into getting on the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his waist as he drove you to your doorstep. From there, it grew into more.
He’d brought you coffee and bagels in the mornings, like the good Brooklyn boy he is, sometimes adding a slightly awkward compliment about how you "looked nice today". He’d introduced you to his favorite diner, ordering for you with an easy confidence that made your chest ache with affection. He even showed up one Sunday night with pizza, claiming it was your turn to suffer through a baseball game with him because he couldn’t sleep.
And when the nightmares were too much, and he’d knocked on your door at an ungodly hour, you’d let him in without hesitation. You’d made tea, or sat in comfortable silence, or talked until dawn. Whatever he needed.
It was good. It was comfortable.
It was fragile and new, yes, but it was special in a way you didn’t want to jeopardize. You’d let Bucky lead the way, trusting him to set the pace even when your insecurities gnawed at the edges of your resolve.
Sometimes it was hard not to second-guess yourself, though. The difference in your ages—or as Bucky had once awkwardly phrased it, “your … modern way of thinking”—lingered in the back of your mind. You worried over every good morning text you sent him after that first kiss, wondering if it felt too forward or too casual for someone from his time.
But it wasn’t just that. It was the way his past and his present seemed to clash. Bucky was a man out of time, still anchored to the rules and habits ingrained in him from decades ago. You saw it in the way he always brought something with him—flowers, a bottle of wine, even a book he thought you might like. You felt it in the way his touches stayed respectful and measured, his hand resting on the small of your back or brushing lightly against yours but never lingering too long.
You admired it, even loved it in a way, but it left you unsure of how far you could go—what you could ask for without overstepping some invisible boundary he might not have fully explained.
Would he think you were too bold if you asked him to stay the night? Would he be scandalized if you finally tried to take things further after weeks of holding back?
The doubts circled in your mind, but you said nothing, afraid of shattering the delicate balance you had built together. Instead, you let the moment linger.
Your silence stretched too long, and Bucky remained still, seemingly content to let you stand there, which only made Sam groan dramatically. He let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “Alright, fine, ignore me. What’s this about?” He gestured to the coffee mugs.
“Just a peace offering,” you said with a casual shrug, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your nerves. You were hyper-aware of your position, standing close to Bucky’s chair, his knee lightly pressing into your thigh as he shifted. “...in the hopes you’ll give me a moment with Bucky?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as his voice boomed, filling the room. “Oh no. No, no, no.” He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I’m stuck here till all hours working on this Hydra mess, cyborg brain isn’t moving an inch.”
“But Sam—”
“Nope!” He cut you off, raising a hand as if to physically block the idea. “I’m not doing all this alone while you two sneak off for… whatever.” His grin turned mischievous, and his eyebrows waggled. “Unless you’re finally ready to spill whatever is going on between you two?”
You stiffened, and Bucky’s knee shifted ever so slightly against you. You couldn’t tell if the movement was meant to calm you or if it was his subtle way of tensing.
“Wilson.” Bucky’s voice was calm but firm, cutting through the air like a blade.
Sam rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by the warning tone. “Oh, come on. You’ve got this poor girl standing there looking all guilty, and you’re just sitting there like a statue. This is practically torture for me. Torture, Barnes.”
You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “Sam, please,” you tried again, your voice pleading this time.
Sam looked between the two of you, his smirk softening just enough to make it clear he wasn’t entirely unreasonable. “Fine,” he relented with a dramatic sigh, pushing himself away from the desk. “You’ve got ten minutes. But if I’m still stuck here after that, Barnes, you owe me big time.”
“Noted,” Bucky replied evenly, though his tone held a hint of relief.
Sam grabbed his mug and sauntered toward the door, turning back just as he opened it. “Ten minutes. And no funny business.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but Sam was already gone, leaving you alone with Bucky.
The silence that followed was heavier than you expected. You glanced down at him, and he looked up at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said finally, his voice low, almost hesitant. "You could've just said you need to talk to me."
You shrugged, forcing a smile. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you. Just us two.”
That made him smile—just a little, but enough to make your heart flutter.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he said, lifting the mug and taking a slow sip.
You shifted on your feet, nerves bubbling in your chest. “Bucky…” you started, unsure how to approach the growing weight of what you wanted to say.
His gaze never left yours, and after a moment, he set the mug down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got something on your mind,” he said, his voice steady. “What is it?”
Your heart pounded as you considered your next words. “I just… I wanted to ask if…” You hesitated, biting your lip before taking a deep breath. “If maybe you’d want to stay tonight? At my place?”
The words were out before you could second-guess them, and your stomach twisted as the silence stretched between you.
Bucky blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment, which sent you spiraling into a rambling mess. “It's supposed to be a snowstorm tonight, and I’ve stocked up on everything. I’ve got food, beer, and… I even bought that whisky you like.”
His lips twitched, just barely, but he started to shake his head. “I wouldn’t want to impose—”
His words were soft, hesitant, and his flesh hand reached out instinctively, brushing against yours. Without thinking, you twisted your fingers into his, holding on.
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” you said quickly, the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I want you to. Come over, I mean. You never impose.” Your voice softened, your eyes searching his. “And it’d make me feel better knowing you’re somewhere warm instead of that cold, empty apartment of yours.”
For a moment, he just looked at you, his steel-blue eyes scanning your face like he was trying to make sense of your words. His hand tightened slightly around yours, the warmth of his palm grounding you.
“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe, or caution. You both understood what an evening alone might lead to, yet neither of you was certain of how the other felt about it.
“I’m sure,” you said firmly, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”
His gaze lingered on you, and then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed. The faintest smile curved his lips as he nodded. “Alright,” he said, his voice as steady as the snowfall outside. “If you’re sure, then… yeah. I’ll come over.”
The relief that washed over you was immediate, and your grip on his hand tightened briefly before you let go, your fingers brushing against his in a lingering motion.
“Should we go?” you asked, your stomach doing flips as Bucky pushed up from his chair. He stood tall, his presence magnetic as he stepped into your space. His arm sliding around your waist, pulling you closer.
“Before Sam comes back—”
“Time’s up, lovebirds,” Sam’s voice rings out from the doorway, cutting through the moment like a blade.
Your head snapped toward him, heat rising rapidly from your chest to your face as you caught Sam’s amused expression. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, one brow raised in playful judgment.
“It’s not—” you start quickly, your hand pressing against Bucky’s firm chest in an attempt to put some distance between you. But Bucky doesn’t budge; he’s an immovable wall, steady and unrelenting. His arm tightens slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him.
“Not what you think, Sam,” you say, your voice tinged with panic as the words rush out.
“Sure it’s not.” Sam’s grin widens, his eyebrow quirking higher. “Should I just ignore the fact that there’s an entire vibe happening here?”
You groan audibly, closing your eyes in mortification as you drop your forehead against Bucky’s chest. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing do little to ease your embarrassment, yet the circle of his arms feels undeniably safe, comfortable, and intimate in a way you hadn't experienced before.
“Wilson,” Bucky warns, his tone sharp and commanding. The sound rumbles through his chest, and you don’t need to look to know he’s glaring daggers at Sam.
Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. “Just saying, man. You two are about as subtle as a brick wall.”
Your cheeks burn hotter, and you busy yourself with straightening the papers on the desk, refusing to meet Sam’s knowing gaze.
Bucky sighs, the sound low and exasperated, his fingers curling around your waist in a protective way, maybe even possessive. You can feel the tension in his body, the subtle shift as he tries to rein in his own frustration.
“So,” Sam drawls, clearly enjoying every second of this, “are you telling me what’s going on, or should I just assume the worst?”
Your head jerks up, incredulous. “The worst?”
Sam crosses his arms, his smirk widening further. “Yeah. Like, I don’t know… that cyborg brain over there took advantage of this poor girl. That you swooped in here all broody and mysterious, and now she’s trapped under your metal arm spell or whatever.”
You can feel your face flush, your stomach twisting in discomfort. You groan loudly, throwing your head back in disbelief. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of Bucky’s jacket as you prepare a scathing retort, but before you can, Bucky beats you to it.
He huffs, a sharp sound that carries both frustration and amusement. His tone drips with sarcasm. “Yeah, that’s exactly it, Wilson. She’s helpless, clearly.”
Your patience snaps. “I am a consenting adult!” you shriek, the words coming out in a rush. The urge to throw the nearest stapler at Sam’s head is almost too much to contain, but you force yourself to stay composed. “Anything he’s done to me or with me was discussed and agreed upon. Not that he has… done anything, that is. We haven't, he--”
You immediately regret those last words, the heat in your cheeks flaring up even more as your stomach flips with embarrassment. You want to sink into the floor and disappear, but Sam’s grinning face makes it impossible to hide.
Bucky’s arm around your waist tightens slightly, as though sensing your discomfort. “Sam,” he says with a low growl, warning in his tone. “You can stop anytime.”
“Relax, man,” Sam replies with a wink. “I’m just messing with you. Though, seriously, you two need to quit acting like you're the only ones in the room.” He pats his stomach with exaggerated flair. “It’s a bit much, yeah?”
You groan again, but this time, it’s a mix of frustration and amusement. “We’re not doing anything!” you insist, hands held out defensively.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Sam says, his voice teasing but not unkind. “Just remember, I’m not as oblivious as you think.”
Bucky’s hand slips from your waist as he steps toward Sam, eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. “You need to go before I let her loose on you, Wilson.”
Sam laughs and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two to… whatever you’re not doing. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He gives a dramatic wink before backing toward the door. “Remember—I know. I’ve seen the vibe.”
Once he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him, you exhale, your shoulders finally relaxing. You turn to look at Bucky, who’s still watching you closely.
“I swear, if he says anything to anyone…” You trail off, the rest of your thoughts hanging in the air.
Bucky just shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “If he does, I’ll make sure he regrets it. I have a vibranium arm.”
You laugh, feeling the last of the tension melt away. “You really know how to make a girl feel protected,” you tease.
He shrugs nonchalantly, though his eyes are soft. “Just doing my job.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Your job?”
“Yeah.” Bucky’s hand brushes your shoulder lightly, his voice lowering. “To make sure no one messes with you. Not even Wilson.”
Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his tone, and you can’t help but smile. “Well, I appreciate it,” you say, your voice soft. “Really.”
Bucky just nods, his hand slipping into yours as he gives you a warm, steady smile. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back with more jokes.”
“Agreed,” you reply, the warmth of his hand in yours calming you in a way you didn’t know you needed.
Reblogged
Closer To Home III
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word Count: 8.9k
Synopsis: Snowed in with Bucky Barnes, you find comfort in playful banter, lingering touches, and the quiet intimacy of a morning spent wrapped in each other. But beneath the teasing smiles and warmth of shared laughter, something deeper stirs—something neither of you are ready to name. When a visit to his empty apartment reveals just how much he still struggles to believe he deserves more, your carefully guarded feelings come crashing down. And as walls crumble, as confessions slip through the cracks, Bucky begins to understand: maybe, just maybe, he was always meant to find home in you.
Trigger Warnings: Smut (duh); A lot of dirty talk; Discussions of Hydra & their experiments; Emotional breakdowns; Angst, banter, and all the feels.
Author’s Note: I can’t tell you how much I love writing these two. This chapter has it all: smut, banter, angst, and a whole lot of feelings bubbling to the surface. Things are shifting between them, and I have a feeling neither of them are ready for what comes next… Let me know what you think—I love hearing your thoughts! B xx
--
When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the soreness. It was everywhere—radiating from the stickiness still lingering between your thighs, stretching to your hips, and even tingling faintly in your shoulders. It wasn’t unpleasant, though; it was the kind of ache that came from being touched, held, and claimed in ways you hadn’t realized you craved. It was a reminder of how thoroughly Bucky had made you his.
The second thing you noticed was a dawning realization—this was going to be a problem. Not just the sex with Bucky Barnes, though that alone was a problem worth having. It was everything about him.
Sleeping with Bucky Barnes. Waking up with Bucky Barnes. Breathing the same air as Bucky Barnes.
It was as if your body and mind had conspired in perfect unison, conditioning you in a single night to crave him in a way that felt intoxicating. The realization hit you like a jolt —he wasn’t just someone you wanted. He was someone you needed. Somewhere along the way, he had slipped past your defenses, carved out a space in your heart so large it felt as if it had always been his to claim.
He’d stirred feelings in you that you couldn’t yet name, sensations so profound they defied words. But beyond the fire he lit in your veins, there was something far more disarming—he made you feel safe. Truly, deeply safe in a way you hadn’t ever felt with anyone.
With his arm draped over you and the steady, reassuring rhythm of his breathing beneath your cheek, your body had surrendered in a way it never had before. Tension melted from your muscles, your mind quieted, and you slept. Not just sleep—rest. The kind that seeped into your bones, filling the cracks of exhaustion.
The third thing you noticed was that Bucky was already awake. His hand traced slow, idle patterns on your back. His gaze was fixed on something on the ceiling, his expression unreadable in the soft, muted light filtering through your frost-dusted window.
Your legs were tangled with his beneath the sheets, your body half-sprawled over his chest. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep on him like this, but he didn’t seem to mind—if anything, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly against the line of your spine told you he didn’t want you to move.
The chill in the room was undeniable, the frosty patterns snaking along the glass a stark reminder of the bitter cold outside. Yet none of it touched you. His warmth, it was overwhelming in a way that stole the breath from your lungs and left you dizzy. Every inch of you seemed to respond, like a live wire humming with his presence. Your thoughts, your senses, your very being seemed to narrow until all that remained was him—Bucky. He was all you could feel, all you could think about, all you could want.
You didn’t want to break the fragile peace of this moment. But the heaviness in your chest, the sheer weight of your feelings, made you sigh softly as you shifted, propping yourself up just enough to meet his gaze.
His eyes flicked down, catching yours, a faint, lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Morning, doll,” he murmured, voice low and scratchy, rough in a way that made your insides twist deliciously.
Your heart squeezed painfully at the sound, the sight of him. The depth of your feelings was already too much, inexplicable tears prickling at your eyes as you studied him.
“Shh,” you mumbled, pressing your fingers lightly to his lips. His stubble grazed your fingertips as you trailed them down, and you couldn’t resist scratching the roughness of his jaw. Leaning down, you nuzzled against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. You heard the way his breath caught at the touch, the subtle hitch that made a small, satisfied smile bloom on your lips. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again. “Let me just… watch you for a bit.”
“That’s creepy,” he said, laughing softly, the sound rumbling beneath you as his fingers found your waist and pinched playfully.
“It’s romantic,” you countered, wriggling against him with a huff. Your fingers wandered over his temple, brushing his hair back and smoothing your thumb over the arc of his brow. “You look so different in the morning.”
His brows furrowed, a small frown forming that made you grin. “Different how?”
Reblogged
it’s not a date, we just kinda fuck around.
june baby - victoria canal
Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader.
summary: the two youngest BAU agents go on a first date
genre: fluff💌
word count: 8.5k
warnings: no use of y/n, none! (this is all foreplay for the smut that’s coming)
You never thought Spencer Reid would actually work up the courage to ask you out. Yet here you were, standing in your apartment with only ten minutes to spare, staring at your closet like it held the answer to life itself. Nothing seemed good enough, and you still had no idea what to wear. If you’d had even the slightest inkling that this day would come, you would have pre-planned outfits for every possible scenario—a casual coffee shop, a romantic dinner, even an impromptu museum date. But you hadn’t, because as much as you’d daydreamed about it, you never thought it would happen.
Spencer Reid had always been a harmless work crush. Brilliant, kind, and charming in his uniquely awkward way, he was the type of man you admired from a distance, assuming he was far too shy—or uninterested—to make a move. Yet somehow, against all odds, you were, nervously getting ready to go on a date with him.
The memory of how it all unfolded still made you smile. You’d been in the work kitchen, fixing your usual afternoon coffee, when Spencer had wandered in with his signature blend of distracted focus and nervous energy. You glanced up as he approached, expecting nothing more than a quick hello and maybe some small talk about the latest case. Instead, he surprised you.
Reblogged
Super Soldier Support Group Masterlist
Summary : Sam Wilson starts a Support Group for Super Soldiers. You and Bucky sit next to each other during the sessions.
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings/tags : Slow Burn. Trauma. Just a bunch of Super Soldiers who really wanna get better :)
Notes : Hi all! I wrote 11 chapters of this. Each chapter is a different support group session talking about adjusting to the modern world as a super soldier, while Bucky develops a crush on you. All the chapters have been written and drafted, so I will post updates to this frequently (every 2-3 days) let me know if you want to be tagged in this, or added to the General Bucky Taglist. Enjoy!
Latest Update : 18/01/25
Session Four
Session Five
Session Six
Session Seven
Session Eight
Session Nine
Session Ten
Session Eleven
