Autumn In The Scottish Highlands

Lazy Mornings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: Bucky loves waking you up in the morning. Word Count: Over 600 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (female receiving), Bucky is a giver. 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own

I blame you for this @angrythingstarlight​. You know what you did and I love you for it. Gif by @violadvis​. Enjoy, lovelies!

Waking up beside Bucky was one of the best feelings in the world. It took time for him to get comfortable sleeping with someone else in his bed, but it wasn’t because he didn’t trust you. He didn’t trust himself with the nightmares. Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. You worked through it with him and now you couldn’t remember what it felt like not sleeping in his arms. You always felt safe and warm in his embrace. 

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I’m sold, would read an entire book of this

Soiled

Pairing: Motocross!Curtis Everett x Female Reader Summary: Curtis can't stand you. At least, that's what he tells himself. Word Count: Over 820 Warnings: Very mild eventual enemies to lovers, quick judgement, light banter, Curtis doesn't want to admit he wants you. Motocross!Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Meet Rusty and Princess! My first time writing for Curtis. Excited to dive into their eventual romance. Thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for looking this over, @buckyownsmylife for the Rusty nickname, and @nocturne-pisces for previous discussions. Any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly, banner by the amazing @sgt-seabass and divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

Curtis Everett couldn’t stand you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

When he wasn’t racing or practicing, he worked at the salvage yard that your father owned. He didn’t mind the work and the pay was decent.

Between his job and the tracks, he was bound to be surrounded by dirt and grime.

While he enjoyed working for your dad, who showed time and again that he was a hard worker who respected his employees, you were a different story.

The first time he spotted you at the yard, you walked toward the office with a casual sort of haughtiness that made him sneer.

Your purse likely cost more than his entire paycheck, as did the rest of your outfit.

Glancing at your manicured nails as you stopped walking, he wondered if you ever worked a day in your life.

A princess amongst peasants. He knew the type all too well.

“Excuse me,” you said, sliding your sunglasses down to stare at him with a cool, assessing gaze when he didn’t say anything. “Excuse me.”

“What do you want?” Curtis asked, thankful that it wasn’t his customer service skills he was paid for.

“You’re kind of standing in front of the door and I’d like to go inside.”

“Please, tell me you’re not applying for a job here,” he said before he could stop himself, looking you up and down. “You’re a little overdressed.”

He did not sweep his gaze over you because he found you attractive.

You lifted your chin with a grin. “I have a job, thanks. I’m actually here to see my dad.”

Curtis glanced at the door over his shoulder before looking back at you. “Your dad?”

“Yeah, my dad,” you said, taking a cautious step forward, like you were afraid you’d scuff your shoe. “He owns this place.”

Looking you over again, he couldn’t imagine you as the boss's daughter.

Your blue collar father who tore it up on the track before he stopped racing years ago didn’t seem like the type to raise a spoiled brat.

To be fair, Curtis didn’t actually know if you were a brat. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

But he already placed you in the “first class” section of his mind.

Too good for someone like him.

“So, may I please go inside?” you asked, sliding your sunglasses back up. “You’re still standing in front of the door.”

“By all means, princess,” he said, taking a bow before he stepped to the side.

You scoffed as you brushed past him, the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air. “Aww, if I’m a princess, does that make you my brave knight?”

“Not a chance,” he muttered, torn between purposely bumping into you to get your clothes dirty or shoving you against the door and kissing you.

No, he was not going to think of how your lips would taste. He refused.

“That’s too bad,” you said over your shoulder. “So nice to meet you, Rusty.”

“My name is Curtis,” he said through his teeth, wondering why he bothered correcting you.

“Tell that to the name on your shirt and the dirt on your face. Bye, Rusty!” you said, shutting the door behind you.

"It's Curtis!" he shouted, snatching the hat off his head and almost throwing it in frustration.

He vented later that day to Daisy, one of his only female friends.

“Just because she dresses well doesn’t mean she’s stuck up. Maybe she just likes to look nice."

"No, she's a stuck up pretty princess," he argued.

"You just called her pretty."

"When are you gonna ask Steve out?" he asked, changing the subject because he refused to focus on the fact that you were pretty.

No, he already made his mind up about you.

It didn’t matter that you started stopping by the yard more to bring your dad and the crew food, which he grudgingly accepted after Edgar gave him a hard time.

"She's just sucking up," Curtis said, wiping his hands before he grabbed a sandwich.

"It's working," Edgar said with a mouthful of food.

It never once got under his skin that you still called him “Rusty” with a smirk whenever he called you "Princess".

"You know my name, Princess. Watch where you're stepping."

"Careful, Rusty," you teased. "I'll start to think you care if I get dirty."

And it didn't mean a thing when you stepped into the office late one night to help sort your dad's paperwork when he had to leave early.

Which was the first time he saw you look less than perfect when he caught you wiping a stray tear away as you headed back to your car.

He thought of calling after you to see if you were okay, but he didn't. He was probably seeing things.

Besides, it wasn't any of his business. You weren't his girl.

A princess like you never would be.

What do we think, lovelies? And, yes, Daisy is another reader who is totally crushing on Steve Rogers. Curtis approves. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Dialed In Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

Excuse me wtf?!

I was do soft and then ...

okay so... when geralts on the road and doesn’t have a lot of money for a while, his hair grows right? so imagine this: geralt with shoulder length or longer hair, and it’s so long that his classic half down half up doesn’t keep it out of his face anymore. after watching him grumble about it for days, jaskier steps in. he had four sisters and can do hair pretty well, if he does say so himself.

jaskier, watching geralt rip tangles from his hair after a fight and cringing: come here

geralt: what

jaskier: just do it

geralt: fine but wtf

jaskier gently takes geralts hair and brushes through it with his fingers, undoing all the knots and smoothing it out. he then starts braiding it, a single, simple braid that goes down geralts back.

it becomes a tradition. geralt keeps his hair longer, and jaskier does it for him. increasingly complex, multiple braids that end together, messy buns for when they’re camping. jaskier humming his newest song and braiding small strands all over geralts head while geralt sharpens his sword at his feet. it relaxes both of them, a moment of vulnerability after the excitement of the road every day.

heads turn while they walk down the town road and into the tavern because is that a Scary Witcher(™) with dandelions braided into his hair???? what the goddamn fuck. (geralt had been unsure but jaskier insisted he “needed some color contrast because all he wears is black leather honestly geralt” and geralt didn’t want to start that argument plus a part of him was glad, it made the children less scared of him)

geralts hair is always wavy when he takes the braids out at night (jaskier has yelled at him reminded him any many times that he can’t sleep in them because it’s bad for his hair)

and geralt gets used to it. (a part of him loves enjoys it)

and then one day jaskier leaves, and he doesn’t come back.

geralt cuts his hair with a sword and hates it almost as much as he hates himself.

Wouldn't mind playing laser tag if it ended like that

Laser Tag

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,664

Summary: You play laser tag with your boyfriend Steve and his best friend Bucky. Since you’re just a plain ole civilian, you gotta use what non-Avenger skills you have to avoid losing. Hint: those skills involve Steve and kissing.

A/N: Look, I just want Steve & Bucky to be happy and do fun things, okay? So, this is obvs AU, and I regret nothing ;)

“Why do I have to wear purple?” you scowled over at Bucky.

He laughed, looking entirely too smug in his red vest. “Red’s my color, crybaby,” he said, gripping his bright red gun like only an ex murderous assassin could.

“And I can’t not wear blue,” Steve said, fastening the last strap on your vest. He wasn’t even being gropey, which made you pout.

“You guys are taking this laser tag thing waaay too seriously,” you huffed, glaring at Steve as he readjusted your grip on the purple gun until you held it properly.

He gave you his ‘aw shucks’ grin as he stepped away and pulled his own gun from across his back. “Every man—“

You raised an eyebrow.

“And gal,” he quickly added, “For him or herself, okay?” His smile slowly faded and was soon replaced by Captain America in the Field face.

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I wouldn't mind help conditioning his beard

Conditioner

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count: ~500

Warnings: Smut! Explicit sexual content, oral- woman receiving, dirty talk, explicit language (must be 18+)

Summary: You help your boyfriend with beard care and it leads to much more!

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Turning white kitties into orange kitties

A little Help

Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation- male and female, explicit sexual content, explicit language, dirty talk (must be 18+)

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: You work at a gym that Captain America frequents regularly. One night you come upon him taking care of things and you can’t turn away.

A/N: not beta read. Sorry for any mistakes

• you never meant for it to happen

• it was really late one night at the gym you worked at, you were restocking the towels

• you thought you were alone, but then you heard the shower turn on

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missionary is truly an intimate position. okay some freaky bitches shit on it because it is so "vanilla" but the beauty of being face to face, watching your lover make those expressions, having to witness the vulnerability is just so romantic. when your lips crash because you just can't take how pretty they look. when your foreheads meet, nose brushing as they thrust. when your fingers intertwine, holding onto each other like the world is ending tomorrow and you don't want to let go. and if the world does end, you wouldn't regret dying as two souls in each other's embrace.

Why This Chris Must Go

I didn’t post this until I’d waded through seventeen different sources - including The New York Times and California political donor records (which are public) and wasted too much time that should have been spent harassing my daughter about her homework. But there was a joking little Twitter poll about Which Chris Must Go? that went viral when people starting posting about Chris Pratt’s political and “spiritual” leanings. I was on the fence about Pratt since he abruptly divorced Anna Faris and left their special needs son to hastily marry Katherine Schwarzenegger. Then, he joined the GOP Schwarzenegger family’s church, The Hillsong Church, which considers LGBTQ+ an “offense against god” and advocates for electroshock therapy to get rid of the gay. (Remember that barbaric shit? Even my backwards ass state banned it.) He also works with Jews for Jesus, who attempt to convert people from the Jewish faith to Christianity (I guess with electroshock therapy, since that’s working for the gays, right Chris?) Aaaand, he and his adorable bride donated a heavy chunk of change to Trump’s 2020 re-election campaign. I’m no political scientist, but that sounds like a pretty staunch support for this psycho to get re-elected. Frankly, I don’t care. That’s not why I’m disgusted.

It was quite the backlash. And so guess who leaps to his defense? Some of the rich, white straight guys from Marvel. Robert Downey Jr. who initially posted “Fuck you all.” in response on his Instagram account deleted it before adding this lovely moment of concern. My sweet Mark Ruffalo (oh, Mark, how could you?) did as well.

You know who didn’t leap to his defense? Brie Larsen. Tessa Thompson. Zendaya. (Nor any of the other Chrises, by the way.) So, where was the support when these women were viciously bullied online? Brie got death threats for daring to become Captain America. Tessa and Z were ruthlessly subjected to racism and misogyny for acting in the Marvel Universe. Not a fucking word of defense for these women- who were truly being brutalized. So, RDJ? Fuck you, kitten. Fuck you for being a hypocrite and defending the guy just because the public learned about his leanings and “spiritual” activities. And Mark, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. And for the other rich, white, straight Hollywood guys to leapt to his defense? Brie, Tessa and Z are still waiting for your passionate words of support.

You are perfect the way you are.  There is no “too much” or “too little” way of being you. 

You are not too loud, you are not too proud, you are not too visible or too obvious or too You. The fervor with which you live your identity is a beacon of light for those who love you. You are not too silent, you are not too secret, you are not too discreet or too tame or too You. The truth of your identity is always carried within you every single day.

You are never wrong in the way that you live your Pride.