anonymous asked:

I know Steve gets in a lot of dumb fights now, but what was the stupidest fight he got into pre-serum?

we grew up mostly during the prohibition, when alcohol was illegal. i mean, it was still pretty easy to get your hands on some, because people like alcohol, but most of it tasted awful, because it was home-brewed to be as strong as possible.
anyway, stevie and i got a bit of some really terrible hooch and squirreled ourselves away to get drunk. it took steve about four drinks to be totally wasted, and it turns out steve is a pretty entertaining drunk, with crazy fast mood swings and a tendency to want to touch things, just to see how they felt. he was wandering around the apartment trying to figure out if dark colors or light colors felt better, and he wanted to see if my hair–a nice dark color, versus his light blonde–felt nice. so i let him run his hand over the top of my head, and i was teasing him because he had all the fine motor control of a baby, so he’d made a mess of my hair. i think i said something like ‘my hair’s terrible now, stevie, and now nobodys gonna respect me’ and steve went ‘NO!! you have nice hair bucky your hair is GREAT it is SO GREAT.’ which was nice of him, because my hair really was a mess.

 and then he punched me.

he punched me several times. 

drunk steve is not much of a brawler so he didnt do much damage before i tipped him over and sat on him. it wasnt much of a fight. but if youre looking for stupid, attacking me to defend my own hair is probably one for the history books.

sometimes i miss wee steve, because big steve thinks my hair is ridiculous. i bet if tiny drunk steve were around, hed try and fight captain america to defend my hair’s honor. now that’d be a fight worth watching

Sensing the Gods

Touch: raindrops falling
Sight: flash of light through the rain
Scent: day after a rainstorm
Emotion: a slight startle when a large thunderbolt lights the sky
Hear: resounding crack of thunderbolts
Taste: the numbing surge of electricity when testing a battery

Touch: the feeling of the wedding ring
Sight: the tears of love as a betrothed walks down the isle
Scent: the welcoming familiar smell of home
Emotion: love as grey as the hair time and passion has aged like wine
Hear: sound of child laughter
Taste: home cooked meal hot from the oven

Touch: the cold pool of tears after a panic attack as sleep calms the suicidal
Sight: a funeral procession honouring the soul to the underworld’s gates
Scent: freshly dug earth in a cemetery
Emotion: peace after a loved one has passed
Hear: the quiet of a cemetery
Taste: salt of tears as a life is not taken

Touch: wind through a open car window
Sight: yellow lines and green lights ensuring a speedy travel
Scent: lingering smell of gas at a full station
Emotion: relief as a long awaited trip arrives
Hear: clinking of coins in a till
Taste: the dryness after a long walk along a gravel road

Touch: long dry grass crunching in the fall
Sight: auburn, reds and golds of Autumn
Scent: pumpkin spice and freshly mown grass
Emotion: solitude and a festival glow as December rolls around
Hear: a lawnmower’s growling as it works through tall grass
Taste: fresh fruits and the taste of nectar and milk

Touch: creamy texture of chocolate in your mouth
Sight: long distance partner smiling after being far away
Scent: lovers perfume/cologne
Emotion: heart pounding, misty eyed love as a smile comes from seeing a love in your arms
Hear: impassioned breaths of intimate moments
Taste: the passionate kisses between lovers forgetting time for a moment

Touch: the long embrace of a soldier and child/love as they come home
Sight: half mast flag
Scent: soldier’s sweat after taking off his uniform from all day
Emotion: pride in your country
Hear: the resounding “Daddy!” of a coming home surprise
Taste: fresh food cooked after time away from your country

Touch: aching feet of a retail worker as they slump in a break room chair
Sight: the clock
Scent: burning embers of a fire, stale ash
Emotion: relief and excitement getting a job offer after searching relentlessly
Hear: clang of an anvil and sizzle of molten iron in a cooling bucket
Taste: cast iron cooked meals, fire cooked steak

Touch: the calluses on your fingertips after months of practice in guitar strings
Sight: beautiful works of art
Scent: lemonades on a day in summer
Emotion: shivering goosebumps as an emotion is struck hard with music
Hear: the sharp and clear melody of a freshly strung guitar
Taste: slight moment of metal and ink as a pen is drawn to your tongue

Touch: animal’s soft fur like water through your fingers
Sight: doe slowly walking out of a dense forest
Scent: a forest with rich leaves
Emotion: awe as a baby deer and mother wait patiently for your car to pass before crossing
Hear: twang of a arrow releasing from a bow string
Taste: cooling water after exploring in the woods

Touch: stiff spine of a new book cracking open
Sight: a deserved verdict to a defendant
Scent: old pages/books
Emotion: peace inside a bookstore
Hear: hoot of a stirring owl in the evening
Taste: fingertips as they’re licked to turn a fresh page in a book

Touch: embrace of a love come home again
Sight: the first spring flower blooming
Scent: new morning dew in spring
Emotion: relief and glowing love as a partner smiles on a long awaited Skype call
Hear: buzz of bees in the summer
Taste: pomegranates

Touch: tide bringing you in to shore again
Sight: crisp blue of the ocean at peace
Scent: the sour smell of a seafood section of a supermarket
Emotion: awe inspired by an image of the open sea
Hear: hooves thundering along a dirt path
Taste: salt of the sea as it slashes into a smile while swimming

Touch: the padding comfort of a bandage on a healing wound
Sight: seeing a loved one feel well again after sickness
Scent: disinfectant
Emotion: the drowsiness of NyQuil as it lulls your symptoms away to sleep
Hear: fresh air after sickness has clogged your sinuses for weeks
Taste: the sweetness as a sigh of relief escapes your breath

Touch: your cheeks stretching against your teeth as a yawn escaped into the sunrise
Sight: painted reds and oranges of a sunrise
Scent: morning dew in springtime at 6 am
Emotion: excitement for a day ahead, full of possibilities
Hear: the morning birds stirring in the early morning light
Taste: morning coffee next to an open-curtained window

Touch: moments when you can feel comfortable with your body after dysphoria
Sight: the charcoal of a panther, eyes glowing in the night
Scent: draping aroma of a fertile vineyard
Emotion: Pride in being part of a LGBTQ community
Hear: chorus laughter of a raucous party
Taste: sweet tang of a well aged wine

HC that Otabek teaches Yuri that it’s okay to cry. 

When Yuri gets upset he throws punches and screams at the top of his lungs until his throat burns and he can taste blood. He comes home one day like that, smashing his fist into the wall of their hallway over and over until there’s blood smattering his fists. 

Beka had been in the kitchen, doing his own thing, but when he hears Yuri screaming, really screaming he runs to him, his socks slipping on the hardwood floor of their apartment. When he sees how completely battered Yuri’s hand are he tries to comfort him, tries to talk to him but Yuri won’t. He just keeps screaming and Otabek is almost certain that Yuri doesn’t even know he’s there. 

Beka snaps when Yuri storms into the livingroom and picks up the first thing he sees (a framed picture of them together on the coffee table) and throws it across the room, watching it shatter and listening to the crack and the immediate silence that follows after. Beka shouts then, one word, thick and loud. “Yura.” He grabs both of Yuri’s wrists in his hands and Yuri flinches away, frightened and still screaming at the top of his lungs. 

He doesn’t expect Beka to wrap his arms around him. He doesn’t expect the soft whispers of ‘I love you’ or the repeated kisses Otabek keeps leaving on his forehead. He’s confused, so confused, but his body is going limp into Beka’s strong embrace and he’s curling into him, boneless. 

Yuri cries for what seems like hours, but Beka never leaves him. When he’s done, Beka tells him that next time he gets upset to just talk to him instead of destroying their home, their safe space but that he understands. He understands why Yuri gets so upset and how much it hurts him to feel weak. 

That’s the day that Yuri learns it’s okay to cry. He’d take crying over destroying his home, their home, any day. 

it takes a little while to get used to samwell. it’s slow. chris misses home, the beaches, the sun, his mothers homemade chinese food. there’s no homemade chinese food at samwell.

usually, nursey and dex can tell when he’s homesick. they do things like send him a string of emoji hearts, or bring him coffee from annie’s, or just sit with him, watching netflix or hockey.

once, bitty made char siu for chris. it was nothing like his mother’s, but chris ate it anyway. when nursey found him crying in his room after dinner, he slid into bed with chris and listened to chris tell him about all the food his mom cooked, and how the flavors felt more like home than any place chris had ever been.

the next morning, chris found a piece of notebook paper folded up in one of his sneakers. it was a poem about the taste of missing home. chris taped it on the wall next to his bed.

he is homesick, and that never goes away. missing home is second nature, but eventually it begins to fade.
not because he misses it less, but because he’s found a second home. here, at samwell, with ransom and holster shouting over each other, and shitty’s hugs and sloppy kisses, jack’s quiet words of encouragement, bitty always making sure that chris is okay.

lardo lets chris sit with her while she’s painting, and chris doesn’t know how to describe the way it feels to watch a work of art bloom onto a blank canvas, the way it feels to have a sanctuary, but it’s good. nursey writes more poems, and they talk about what it’s like to feel distant from the cultures they were raised on. dex tells him about his own family, manages to keep chris laughing with stories of his sisters when the two of them start to feel sad again.

he meets caitlyn farmer. she’s fierce and funny and understands chris in a way that makes him breathless. he fits into her life like there was a place created just for him. they talk, and they dream, and she makes him smile even when he thinks he can’t.

chris starts a new set of roots, across the country, for his second family. it’s not like california, of course. it’s different, but it begins to feel like home just the same.


They called it The Sight, in the whisper soft conversation outside the darkroom or in the iron-guarded walls of the metal shop. The ways to peel back the glamours that wind around them and see what should not be seen. But my senses have always been a bit crossed, and what maybe should have manifested in silver tracework and parted veils just… never did.

I’ve never seen the fae beneath their glamour. These eyes weren’t made for anything beyond the mundane.

But I’ve smelled them.

I’ve tasted the loam and pollen and salt in the way light glints off their smile.

I’ve felt, cold against my palms, their laughter and their mirth.

I’ve heard the electric crackle of their confusion, and the shattering glass dischord of their triumph.

On cold nights, buried in blankets and furs to fight off the last lingering remnants of winter chill, I’ve played guessing games with myself. Are the girls across the hall burning incense or did the changeling downstairs bring someone home? Are the songbirds who took up residence outside my window trilling a few late night messages or did someone’s eyes and eyes and eyes catch just right in the moonlight? Did my arm fall asleep from laying on it wrong, or are there eyes watching through the window again, and now I have to get up again and triple check that there’s still a few iron nails on my window sill and that my washer-strung necklace got left over the doorknob and that the ramen flavor packets I’ve saved up haven’t been knocked off the four posts of my bed…

It was curious, and then it was frightening, and then it was boring. I learned not to eat lunch on the front lawn, because the laughter of the boys playing ball out there made my teeth ache and my tongue flood with lemon. I learned how to identify them by sight, or smell, or at worst case touch, by the music that started echoing in my ears. 

It was a good tool. Useful, beautiful more often than not.

And when I found them, the one with a voice like honey and gravel and a smell like the deepest safest forest, I couldn’t see but could feel the curve of great arching horns over their head and the curl of a tail against my leg. I traded a picture for a story, and drew them while they told it, and when the exchange was made they stared at the creature I’d drawn, curling fur and light hooves and goat-slit pupils curled up in delight, like they were seeing a ghost.
“The colors are wrong,” they said at last. I didn’t respond, but I worried I’d stepped too far, shown too many of my cards. “I like them,” they murmured, and leaned forward to peck a kiss on my nose. “Don’t die, sweet thing.” They turned and left, the smell of honeydew and lavender still curling in my nose, and in that moment I would have given anything to see them true, the shift and curl of their too many limbs as they walked, the glint of light off smooth horns.

They gave me a ream of origami paper, I sang them the sounds of the texture of their skin.

They gave me a marble paper weight, I gave them a chunk of wood carved to the texture of their smile.

They gave me a flower that bloomed in starlight, I mixed soaps from a trip to Lush until I could mimic the smell of their embrace.

I gave them a kiss and they offered me sight, and they tasted like hope and home, and I couldn’t have said no if I’d wanted.

You shouldn’t let the fae see you have the sight or they’ll scratch your eyes out.
When the perception’s not in your eyes they have to get more creative.

one of the first things even notices about isak on the first day of school is his hair. they’re in the school yard and it’s still summer and the sun makes the lock of hair covering his forehead appear golden. what even doesn’t expect is for isak’s hair to be as soft as it is, not only when he runs his fingers through it, but also when isak nestles his head against the crook of his neck, rests it against his chest when they sleep. he doesn’t expect it to smell the way it does, like men’s shampoo and sweetness and isak, but he can’t get enough it, finds himself nuzzling isak’s hair and inhaling deep, finds himself looking for traces of his scent in his pillows when isak doesn’t spend the night at his place

he notices isak’s mouth, the shape of his lips, his cupid’s bow and how soft his bottom lip appears. even doesn’t expect the feeling of isak’s lips forming a smile against his left cheek, doesn’t expect the sensation alone to pull a smile out of him. he doesn’t expect the words isak whispers close his neck to land on his skin like soothing wafts of springtime breeze. he doesn’t expect him to plant so many kisses on his shoulder when they watch a movie and cuddle, wrapped up in each other (ten, fifteen, forty - even stops counting). he’s not surprised by the wisdom that comes out of isak’s mouth, but he doesn’t expect it to reach his soul the way it does. he’s also not surprised by the fact that he enjoys kissing isak so much, but he doesn’t expect isak’s mouth to taste like coming home, every single time

even notices isak’s eyes, notices how gorgeous their shape and their colour are, is quite mesmerized by them. he doesn’t expect isak’s eyelashes to tickle the tip of his thumb as he flickers his eyes open, even’s hand cupping his cheek as he watches him wake up. he doesn’t expect them to hold isak’s most beautiful smile and his most sincere i love you. he doesn’t expect them to speak to him the way they do, doesn’t expect to be able to read isak like an open book simply by looking into his eyes, doesn’t expect to be the only one to have that ability (isak asks him ”how do you do it?” a bit of confusion and a lot of wonder in his voice). he doesn’t expect isak’s eyes to be able to read him the same way, too

even notices isak’s hands, how they’re never quite still, often holding something. he doesn’t expect isak’s hand to hold his in public the first time it does. he told himself he’d let isak make that step. and once, as they were taking the bus home, they sat next to each other, and isak placed his hand over even’s, interlacing their fingers. he doesn’t expect his hand to be so comforting when he runs it up and down his back, and when the tip of isak’s fingers softly stroke the skin behind his ears. he doesn’t expect isak to gently squeeze his forearm one time, randomly, doesn’t expect to immediately understand that it’s one of his many ways of saying i’m glad you’re here

even notices that isak always looks beautiful. but he doesn’t quite expect to be amazed by his beauty without having to look at him, doesn’t expect to so quickly realize that isak is even more beautiful on the inside. he doesn’t quite expect isak’s heart of gold and his selflessness, his patience and his kindness. his forgiving nature and his desire to become better, always. he doesn’t expect isak’s love to be so genuine and pure and always growing. even doesn’t expect this love to be something isak could feel for him, all of him. but it is, isak reminds him. and although isak’s love is something he has learned to expect over time, it’s still something that fills heart with happiness and contentment and gratitude, every single day 

A Summary of Tokyo Ghoul:re Chapter 115

- Nothing tastes better then mom’s home cooking right Seidou

- Amon and Seidou whisper sweet nothings to each other in prision

- Seidou if your gonna bring Amon home with you at least buy him dinner first

- Amon so bright y’all gonna need some sunglasses

- Seidou can no longer be straight 

- Seidou: Akira our threesome is going to lose a member aka me

- Kurona gets Amon and Seidou high

-Matsuri gets a new headache

-Next time on Tokyo Ghoul:re: Somebody give that Matsuri a bandaid

Mute Part 13

Part 12

Genre: Fluff
Words: 4,059 (oops)
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: The fluffiest smut you will ever read, blood
Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to do when traumatizing events result in your witty remarks dying down to nothing.

Before you knew what was happening, Bucky had pushed you to the ground, covering your body with his own. You could hear a rapid fire of gunshots going on around you, and you rushed to move forward to take cover. Bucky could surely feel you attempting to move from under him, so he let on his weight slightly, still covering you as you both ran behind the bar.

Screams and cries were echoing off the walls, urging you to hurry your actions further as you pulled a large knife out from one of the drawers.

“How many are there?” You looked up at Bucky as he tried to scope out the area. He turned to you at your words, eyeing the weapon in your hands.

“No, you’re staying here.”

Before you could retaliate, Bucky was over the counter, diving into battle and leaving you to scope out the enemy for yourself. Fine.

You noted the number of guards, their protective gear, and weapons, and watched them fight off the Avengers who were coming to the rescue. You took mental notes before nodding to yourself and sliding over the counter, landing right behind an enemy.

Keep reading

In her lips
I taste healing
For the bruises that live
Beneath the surface of my skin.

In her lips
I taste understanding
I taste the loving
That is embodied in the person before me

But, in my lips
Does she taste the desperation
The craving for her touch
The need for her

In my lips
Does she taste home
Does she feel alive in every kiss

Or do you simply
Taste my lips
As skin
To rest yours for awhile

—  These are more than kisses
Matt Murdock Boyfriend Headcanons: Matt meets the Avengers.

A/N: Pietro is alive, just like in the movies, however instead of being on a very long vacation after all the shit that went down with Ultron he decided to join the team. Also you work at a bakery because reasons. Word Count: 1393

  • The first Avenger he ends up meeting is Clint. 
    • The two are you are in your apartment making out on your couch after coming back from a wonderful date when Matt suddenly pulls away and tells you he can smell blood.
    • 5 minutes later, after you both have double checked all your injuries to make sure that it isn’t coming from either of you Clint barges in; clutching his left side tightly and muttering an apology.
      •  “Sorry about this Y/N but your place was closer then the tower.” 
    • You quickly rush over to Clint’s side to help him make his way to the couch, giving the pair a quick introduction before telling Matt to grab your first aid kit. 
      • “Matt this is Clint Barton aka Hawkeye. Clint this is Matt Murdock my boyfriend.” 
      • “Nice to meet you.” “
      • “You too, wish we’d meet when I wasn’t bleeding out though. Like at a bar or something.”

Keep reading

Jessica’s proper legend chocolate cake recipe

Buckle your seat belts kids because we’re about to go on a Willy Wonka-style chocolate adventure.

This is a basic chocolate cake recipe that I’ve used for the past couple years, paired with a recently-discovered chocolate frosting recipe that you’re basically going to want to make by itself and eat the entire thing. And I won’t judge you.

And - get this. The cake recipe uses a premade cake mix. “SACRILEGE!” I hear you cry. “THATS CHEATING.” Well if you’d kindly get down off your high horse a minute, I’m going to teach you how to turn any bog-standard cake mix into the best bloody cake you’ve ever eaten. It takes less than ten minutes.

Keep reading

anyways do not deny that at least one point in time alec arrives at the loft and opens the door, exhausted from a mission and ready to kiss his boyfriend and eat some mac and cheese and put on some soft pjs and cuddle up in bed with said boyfriend when he’s met with the sight of magnus in the living room, his face makeup free and wearing only boxers and alec’s comfy swearer and he’s gracefully dancing around the coffee table, jamming out to some rock song from the 70s playing from a huge stereo and pretending the spoon he is holding in his hand is a microphone and his voice is so gorgeous and his dancing is incredible and alec is so enamored and he can’t help but smile at how beautiful magnus is and he laughs out loud when magnus starts doing the electric slide, causing the warlock to whip around. magnus’ face melts into an embarrassed yet happy smile and he puts his hands on his hips, the two men just smiling sweetly at each other in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“didn’t know you were here.” magnus says after a while, the expression on his face reminding alec of the awe and tenderness one feels during the springtime when the flowers are in full bloom and the skies are blue and the clouds look like pillows and the sun is radiant, and walks over to him immediately, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in for a kiss and alec swoons at the feeling of magnus’ soft lips on his that taste like cinnamon and home. “didn’t know you were a queen fan.” alec brushes his nose against magnus’, nuzzling him, and magnus laughs. “not to brag or anything, but freddie mercury and i were very close. i also may have even inspired some of his fashion choices, as he did with mine.” magnus replies with an air of confidence and drama, and alec rolls his eyes playfully. alec smiles at magnus. “not to brag or anything, but bohemian rhapsody is my go-to karaoke song and i am fantastic at singing it.”

magnus chuckles and smirks at alec. “you’re framing your sentences just like mine, you little tease.” he whispers, kissing the corner of alec’s mouth. alec’s cheeks turn pink but he’s smirking as well. they stay like this for a few minutes, just holding and breathing each other in. “you look fantastic like this, you know. dancing around, in my clothes, by the angel.” alec says suddenly and frames magnus’ face with his hands, stroking his thumbs along his cheekbones. “not that you don’t look fantastic all the time but….you’re exquisite, magnus bane.” alec kisses magnus’s forehead and runs his fingers along magnus’ jawline. “absolutely exquisite.” magnus shivers a little at the intensity of alec’s gaze and the feel of his fingers on his skin and the sincerity of his words. “as are you, alexander lightwood.” magnus replies softly and touches his forehead to alec’s, and then suddenly walks away, turning on the stereo again with a snap of his fingers. “are you going to just stand there all day or dance with me?” magnus raises his eyebrows and alec giggles and lets magnus take his arms and spin him around and pretty soon they’re both jumping up and down and holding onto each other and dancing around the loft, singing bohemian rhapsody at the top of their lungs with tears of laughter in their eyes and love in their hearts.

Tastes Like Love

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Three different sweet treats for a very sweet day.
Genre: Romance/fluff
Rating: T
Warnings: Swearings
1,925 words

Notes: So…it’s been too long…LMAO. I haven’t been happy with my writing lately and I can’t seem to put any ideas into words but last night I got this little idea and ran to write something before it escaped! It’s not much but at least it’s an update. Here’s the visual of the cookie I mentioned down there, if you want. Happy (belated) Valentine’s day y’all! <3 Enjoy!

It’s around 9 in the morning when the team finally lands at the Avengers facility, having flown an all night flight after a mission in a remote place in the globe. Everyone is just so tired and so damn sleepy that the usual formalities are forgotten and Steve settles for a late debrief, after they’re all rested and fed, at least.

All Bucky can think about is taking a shower and hitting the sheets.

He knows it’s Valentine’s Day and he knows that it’s likely that his doll would be anxiously waiting for him to come home, but the idea of a shower and a nap is just too appealing for him to pass away.

That is, until he finally arrives home.

Keep reading


Because why not, right? Read it all on AO3

[x] will open the fanfics


- Like a Drum My Heart Never Stops Beating For You [x]



- Winter’s Winter Love [part 1] [part 2]

- Mistaken Secrets [x]

- Junk Food [x]

- Stay With Me [x]

- Read It, Doll (smut) - Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky, for @bucky-plums-barnes [x] 

- Winter is Coming (mentions GoT) [x]

- Whenever You Need [x] (request)

- Cuddles [x] (request)


- Concentrate [x]

- Say It Back [x]

- Pizza [x]

- Adore You [x]

- Gorgeous [x]

- Clingy [x]

- Sore [x]

- Coffee [x]

- Everything [x]

- Family [x]

- I Ship Us [x]

- I’m Pregnant [x]

- Drawing [x]

- Heroic Actions [x]

- Drunk? [x]

- Real Talk [x]

- Heights [x]

- Scars [x]

- Teach Me? [x]

- Night Calls [x]

- Sad Movies [x]

- Want Some? [x]

- Then Leave [x]

- Ticklish [x]

- Solo Mission [x]

- Smile [x]

- Always [x]

- Rain [x]

- Guilty [x] (request)

- Player 2 [x]

- Sad Beeps [x] (request)

- Puppy Dog Eyes [x] (request)

- Dumb Cute Face [x] (request)

- Scratch [x]

- Table [x]

- Carnival [x]

- Movie Marathon [x]

- Glad [x]

- Mad Donut [x] (request)

- Record It [x]

- Punches [x] (request)

- Nighttime Ideas [x]

- Hair Cut [x]

- Enough [x]

- Taste [x]

- Come Home [x]

- Hilarious [x]



- Best Buddies (And More) [x]



- I’ll Be Your Boyfriend Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Final

You have to go to a family meeting, but your family isn’t exactly the warmest. Some very annoying aunts want to meet your boyfriend, even though you tell them there is none. TJ, as your best friend, offers to pose as your boyfriend for a few days. Can the façade become real?

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid


- Let Me See [x]

- I Made You Something [x]


- It’s Okay, Princess [x]

- Don’t Go, Snips [x]



- The Reckless and the Brave [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] (finished)

- Cheater [x]

- I Dream About You [x]

- Concern [x]

- Glass [x]