charcoal shirt

anonymous asked:

Howdy naf! First ask here, I really dig your art and you as a person!! I aint so swift with color when it comes to fashion/outfits and such, i've seen you write a bit about this before but wouldja mind at all givin' some pointers for not falling into the dreaded ditch that is [horror music plays] mismatched blacks?

HAHA ok before I go off on my rant I just want to say that mismatched blacks aren’t universally seen as a fashion crime, even though I know tons and tons of people who don’t like it. There are never any rules in fashion, just guidelines, and if you end up disagreeing with me and my gothic ass that’s a-okay

but the reason I personally don’t like mismatched blacks is because I think it shows a lack of dedication. I know that sounds weird, so I’ll explain.

Let’s start with some examples of good all-black ensembles, and what the monochrome color story does to highlight the outfit.

When the blacks are all unified in an outfit, it creates sleekness and reduces the amount of distractions in order to highlight other things like texture, silhouette, and detail. 

And this is actually one of the ways you can try to avoid mismatching your black clothes, by relying on differences in texture. It’s very difficult for anyone to find perfectly matched clothes, so if you can pair close-enough tones and use enough texture contrast, it helps maintain the all-black ensemble.

A classic example is a leather jacket with a cotton shirt and denim pants

Not only does the change in texture help the outfit and retain the sense of sophistication, the texture contrast is suddenly the entire point of the outfit, bringing attention and focus to it. It has dedication and deliberate curation.

Now let’s look at a bad example of an all-black outfit and some potential edits

The original is giving us 3 separate tones to work with: a deep black shirt, charcoal pants, and an off-teal blue jacket. The similar (but not-quite-the-same) texture and tone between the jacket and pants is distracting, and not letting the unique shape of the jacket sing. And because there’s two midtones (jacket and pants), the deep black of the shirt has nothing to rest on, and ends up just looking bland.

  1. In fix 1, we unify both the jacket and pants to being charcoal, letting them stand out as a unit. The black shirt becomes a complimenting “staple” piece and plays well with both. This is essentially a good one-two punch of visual effect
  2. In fix 2, we actually embrace the color of the jacket completely, letting it be the focal color pop while the shirt and pants take a back seat. Because the shirt and pants are now secondary pieces, they work together because their closeness in tone allows them to exist in the same family. However, the texture and silhouette of the pants still stands out from the shirt, giving the outfit more interest, but not enough to fight for attention with the jacket

Both fix 1 and 2 are more dedicated to showcasing different parts of the outfit, while the original gives us 3 elements fighting for attention.

Again, this is my personal opinion, but I hope it helps you out!  (´//▽//` );;

Imagine...Enjoying Captain America

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

Request: Can you write a dean×reader where reader is really into like captain america and the winter soldier and dean keeps teasing her that she loves them more than him and just fluff?

Pairing: Dean x reader

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The Anti-Valentine’s Day Party

It’s heeeeeere. Happy Valentine’s Day @myst-l-vie​ from your no longer secret valentine! Fluff is not my strong suit but hopefully you enjoy this. <3

Read on Ao3 


“You’re still coming to the party tonight, right?”

Emma rolls her eyes, stabbing at her phone to put it on speaker and tossing it onto her passenger seat. “I’m just leaving the liquor store. Yes, I’ll be there,” she assures Ruby, carefully placing the bag of booze on the passenger side floor with a pleasant clinking of bottles.

“Is Elsa coming with you?”

Emma wrinkles her nose, clicking her seat belt into place and shoving the keys into the ignition. “She’s doing something with Liam.”

“Killian’s brother Liam? When did that happen?”

“Like a week ago? Killian forgot his jacket, and his brother was with him when he stopped by the apartment. Elsa was doing yoga in the living room. Apparently they go to the same studio, but he goes on Tuesday and she goes on Wednesday, and they just started going on and on while Killian and I stood there staring at them like the insane people they are. They decided to go together on Monday, and I sort of haven’t seen much of her since.”

“Huh.” Ruby’s surprise is evident in her response, but then she adds, “Wait, Killian forgot his jacket? How does someone forget their jacket when it’s negative ten?”

Emma groans, because she knows this tone of voice, and she knows exactly how Ruby is going to react. “I might have been wearing it, and I fell asleep.”

Keep reading

With You

Summary: The very fabric of a relationship is unfamiliar and terrifying to Jughead. Will fear win or will he decide you’re worth it?

Word Count: 1314

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I was inspired by Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran. I hope you enjoy!

“I don’t understand, Jughead. You’re fine one minute and the next you’re gone.” You sighed, your emotions wearing you down.

Life hadn’t been easy for Jughead. He’d had a nuclear family until things went nuclear and tore it apart. He’d known a great childhood regardless of wealth. He’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks. Maybe escaping south side was a triumph in itself, but Jughead couldn’t escape his own mind.

He was careful not to meet your gaze. Maybe he thought he could avoid the situation if he couldn’t see you. His face was stern. His once soft features hard. The cold demeanor gave you a physical chill.

“Maybe,” he kept his voice low,” I don’t need you being nice to me.”

Your forehead creased with slight confusion and disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jughead leaned further back into the booth. His jaw moved back and forth in thought. His green eyes were dark and focused on a neon sign.

“Jughead, what does that mean?”

His eyes found yours and the look physically shook you. ” I don’t need you to pity me, (Y/N). I’m not a charity case.”

You were trying to wrap your head around the situation. You were completely lost. The emotional fatigue had taken a toll on you physically. You were ready to crawl into bed and stay there. While that idea seemed tempting, you weren’t giving up Jughead.

“Charity case? Where is this coming from? You’re my boyfriend, Jughead, not some kid who I feel like needs pity.” You reached to grab his hand, but he moved it further from you.

“Until what? Another guy comes along, like Chuck or better yet Archie, and says he wants to be with you?”

You stared at him, your eyebrows subtly pulled down. You were reeling emotionally. The devastation hit you physically, sinking your chest. Your eyes glistened as they began to water. Your lips trembled, but nothing came out. There was nothing else to say.

You blinked away any tears that may have been forming. You sucked in a cold breath trying to stop the flood. You removed yourself from the booth and left. You let the ring of the welcome bell over the door drown out Jughead’s calls.

Your phone had been buzzing for hours. You hadn’t the strength to look at it. You stayed there under the covers. Your limbs heavy with dejection. You laid there and watched time elapse.

At some point, you became bothered by the buzz and turned the phone off. You managed to leave bed to briefly grab something to drink. You still felt too sick to eat.

“Veronica and Betty came by to see you. I tried to call you. Were you sleeping?” Your mother asked from her laptop.

You nodded,” Mhm. I’m just really tired. I think I’ll spend the weekend at home.”

“But honey, we’re supposed to go visit your aunt and uncle.” She looked up.

You frowned,” I’m just feeling really run down from school and hanging out.”

You couldn’t dodge your mother’s concern. She rose from her seat and came to check your head. No fever. Your hands were cold.

“Are you okay?”

“I promise, mom. I’m fine, just super tired. No reason for you not to go, I can take care of myself.”

She held your cheeks in her hands and studied you carefully. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nodded in her hands.

“Okay, but if you need anything call us immediately.”

You promised her and returned to your bedroom. You got back in bed and waited for sleep to take you. Shadows stretched across your ceiling and disappeared with the fading light.

Sunrays tickled your skin. The brightness caused you to squeeze your eyes. You groaned. Your eyes popping open. You scowled.

“So this is what sleeping beauty looks like up in her tower.”

Your heart ached suddenly. You tried to rub the headache forming in your head. You weren’t doing this right now. You glanced at the alarm clock: 10. Nope. You still had another two hours until it was unacceptable to be in bed.

He sat on your window seat. He was wearing a charcoal grey shirt. It was as undoubtedly soft as he was. He was wearing his beanie as per usual. His thick, luxurious hair peeked out from under the beanie, curling off to the side where he pushed it. The way the light came through, he looked like an angel.

His smile caused a twinge of pain.

“Go away, Jughead.”

You rolled over and pulled the covers over your head. This used to work for monsters. It might work on teenage boys.

You felt the mattress sink with his weight. He wrapped his arm around you. His grip was firm even under the blankets. It should have made you giddy or comforted at least, but it didn’t. You tried to burrow deeper into the mattress and away from his grip.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was gentle.

“I want you to leave.” Your voice choked holding back tears.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned his lips close to where yours hid under covers.

You were suffocating under here. This is why monsters could have snatched you. You couldn’t stand the hot air. You pushed the covers back from your face.

You looked at from over your shoulder. Your lips pinched in a slight pout and your eyebrows pulled down.

The corners of his lips stretched into a smile.

“Stop being cute. I’m trying to be mad at you.” You muttered.

He chuckled softly, running his thumb along your cheek. “You have every right.”

“I’m not good at this.” He moved his eyes around, swallowing the nerves in his throat. “I freak out when people do nice things for me or are nice to me for long periods of time.”

You rolled over to listen further. You looked up at his face, observing the soft curve of his jaw and the prominent cupid bow. He met your gaze and brushed some of your hair out of your face.

“I’m not used to it. I’m scared. Of rejection. Of losing you. People who know me don’t stay.” His words faltered at the end.

You reached a hand up and pulled encouragingly at his neck. He leaned down. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbones as you pressed your lips to his. Your lips moved slowly over familiar terrain. He was tender. You were comforting.

You held his green gaze,” Jug, I’m with you because I love you.”

“Not this beanie,” you discarded the hat,” Not your stories. Not your history or your incredibly soft shirts. I’m with you because you’re witty and philosophical. You’re sarcastic and you make me laugh. You’re soft.”

His eyes were full. They were warm and sparkling with a revitalized life.

“Soft?” He smiled with a laugh.

“Yes. Soft.” You ran your fingers through his inky hair. “Your eyes and your skin. Your heart. You’re one of a kind, Jughead Jones. Better than you or anyone else in Riverdale will ever know.”

You lifted your head to kiss him. Pushing him to settle into your bed. You leaned on top him. You pushed a hand through his hair, toying with a curl at the end. He watched you with attentive eyes.

Your smile grew when you noticed. You nestled into space between his arm and his side. You leaned your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You breathed him in like a window through a field of wildflowers.

His fingers played with your hair. You closed your eyes against the comfort. The two of you remained in comfortable silence. His fingers tracing small patterns on your arm.

“I love you.” He stared up at your ceiling.

You looked up from his chest before lacing your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand softly. You squeezed back.


You were at the launch party for Mr. Mendes’ new company. It was quite a prestigious get together, The New York socialites were all present, eagerly awaiting the moment were they would be able to congratulate him on his successfully launched new enterprise. You felt so out of place surrounded by all these business men and sharks. You worked for human resources goddamnit why had you even been invited? You caught a glimpse of Mr. Mendes shaking hands with a business partner, a cocky grin on his lips and a glass of champagne in his hand. The man commanded attention; his towering frame clad in a dark suit that should not make him so much more attractive. A dark blue jacket with a flower pattern bled into the fabric, a charcoal shirt underneath and a dark tie. Lord have mercy on you. He looked so at ease in the stiff clothes, while you felt unbelievably uncomfortable in yours… His gaze swept over the crowd, you sucked in a sharp breath as his searing eyes land on you. He looked you up and down subconsciously licking his lips. You knew right then that you wouldn’t survive the night…

picture taken from @reportingmendes 


Michael Clifford::: Video Games and Bug Bites Pt 2

Pairing: Michael and Y/N

Word Count: 4.3k+

Rating: Smut

Requested: yep :)

PART 1 (smut)

This part is all about how fucking cute he would be after taking your virginity and you’re all sore. This whole mini series things just hits me right in the Michael feels. 

Also guys the first part of this was posted on Wattpad without my permission -.- but I promise you this is my original idea and story.

Keep reading

You’re a mess, Ren.

I’m on a spiral slide right into hell with this art school AU tbh

anonymous asked:

for the sugar daddy au, what is Rhys embarrassed to do for Jack?

i’m not totally happy with this but i wracked my brain and i couldn’t think of a better idea

“Jack….I don’t know about this…” Rhys murmured softly as he smacked the sticky, strawberry gloss against the lips and looked over at Jack with a frown. The lacy, baby pink lingerie shifted softly against his skin as he pushed himself up off the bathroom counter, leaning shyly on the doorframe as he watched Jack fastening the last couple of buttons on his charcoal dress shirt tight against his throat. 

The elegant, turquoise dress that Rhys had ordered with Jack’s blessing was laid out on the bed, alongside a pair of silver shoes that glimmered in the light from the bathroom. The sight of it excited Rhys, but his nerves made him dread actually putting it on. 

Jack’s looked up to his lover’s body at the sound of his voice, letting out a low whistle of appreciation at what he saw. 

Daaaaamn, kitten, you clean up real well. I don’t see any problems from here.” Jack purred as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt, sauntering up to Rhys and placing a broad hand on his hip. 

Mmmm,” Rhys simpered anxiously, cradling his prosthetic hand against his chest, “I’ve just…I haven’t dressed this way in public before…” Despite the tension in his body, he tried to relax into Jack’s hand. It wasn’t Jack he was worried about, after all. Jack’s fingers pet affectionately at Rhys’ skin, sliding sensually underneath the sheer fabric of his underwear. 

“You nervous? Don’t be, Rhys, anyone tries to give you shit then I’ll kick their head in and whizz on their corpse.” 

“Ewww, Jack,” Rhys laughed through a grimace. “Okay, like, I don’t doubt that but…just think I might feel….bad about it?” 

He felt pretty stupid just saying it, especially since it’d been something Jack had wanted to try, and something Rhys had been on board with until some sliver of doubt had penetrated his usual unshakeable confidence. He really didn’t want to ruin their whole night just because he was having cold feet. 

“Bad? Kitten, you don’t have to feel bad about it…I’ve seen you wear stuff like that before, and it’s awesome.” Jack’s hands gradually moved up Rhys’ front, palms tickling over his stomach and up to his chest. 

“Man, I know, I look really good in just about anything I wear,” Rhys managed a smirk, “I’m just kind of….I dunno…” 

Jack’s eyes leveled with Rhys’, flitting over his face, studying him in that way that always made Rhys either nervous or horny, and for a moment he worries that Jack’s going to get pissed about him backing out and fucking up their dinner plans. 

“Tell you what,” Jack instead cupped Rhys’ face, thumbs stroking at the corners of his mouth, “if you like, we can just stay in for tonight. I can get my chefs to—no, wait, I’ll throw something nice and tasty together myself, and you can prance around and look pretty just for me, ‘kay pumpkin? Don’t need to try to impress people who wouldn’t even appreciate you.”

Rhys brightened considerably at the suggestion, throwing his arms around Jack’s neck and bringing him in for an affectionate kiss. 

“Okay, handsome,” Rhys chuckled as he pulled apart from Jack’s lips, “but you better throw dessert in too while you’re at it.”

Describing Noah Shaw :
Shoes: gray Chucks
charcoal tweed
slim cut, untucked, thin and pinstriped dress shirt. Super skinny tie, knotted loose around his open collar, exposing the shadow of a screen-printed t-shirt beneath it.
Days unshaven: somewhere between three and five
Eyes: blue and infinite
a beautiful, beautiful mess


original post by  @hiddenpolkadots

||❥ locker room dates (m)

s e o k m i n ! s c e n a r i o

b a s k e t b a l l  p l a y e r ! a u

Originally posted by j1nwoo

word count: 2,677  

genre: smut mixed with minor fluff? 

request: seokmin being a basketball star on the college team and one day he (meaning teammate hoshi) accidentally hits the reader and friendship/fwb starts idk

✎ finally completed this seokmin request :^) i already have another planned for him and it’s a combination of two requests so thank u to the anons who suggested!!

When Kwon Soonyoung had angled his elbow and placed a concentrated palm atop mahogany leather, he certainly didn’t expect the three point shot to bounce right off the rim of the net. It was simply a practice, a mere exercise before the tournament rumbled like a stampede of bulls around the corner. His coffee flecked irises feathered after the basketball’s jump off the net, sharp enamel piercing a soft lower lip as he watched it land directly where it shouldn’t have.

Your head.

Now Soonyoung didn’t mean to imbue the deathly fizzle in your glare, how you grasped the basketball and pulled back a swift leg before booting it toward his chest. It was by all means an accident, his feet lightly shuffling over a polished gymnasium floor as he barely stopped the leather from plastering his flesh poppy red. But what sunk everything even further into murky waters was the basketball team’s star player, Lee Seokmin, sauntering over to check of your state. Soonyoung studied the situation with pupils a thin line, eyelids nothing but tiny slits. You and him were somewhat friends after all, at least enough for Soonyoung to be aware of your heart’s content for Seokmin.

Keep reading

The EIFF (Edinburgh International Film Festival) Part 1

Caitriona had a date. Not a date-date, but a date, a +1. And he wasn’t Sam. This was unusual, but was now a necessity because journalists were starting to suspect that she had more than a professional relationship with her hunky co-star.

Tony was a friend from way back, and she trusted him completely. After she and Sam discussed their options, she called Tony to see if he was game. He was, and joked, “This sounds like a terribly difficult job, Caitriona,.” But it was a difficult job. It required someone she could trust, someone flexible, and someone who could mingle well in professional crowds. Thank God he said yes. She promised to provide him with plane tickets and a nice hotel room if there was any travel involved.

As for Sam, he was still figuring things out. Tonight, he’d bring his lovely mum as his date.

This would be Sam’s first time walking the red carpet at the EIFF, a big deal for a Scottish actor, and she was touched that he insisted she still pick her outfit first. Once she did, he worked with a stylist to match his outfit to it. She’d chosen a beautiful, figure skimming dress in black. She wore a lot of black, but couldn’t stop herself. It was so classic and elegant. Sam wore a dashing black suite with a charcoal grey shirt and black tie. His hair looked exceptionally long and red next to the blue hue of the shirt.

Before leaving their hotel, she’d kissed him softly. “This is going to work perfectly.”


Sam felt sick. He didn’t think he’d feel great seeing this arrangement play out, but he didn’t expect it to feel this bad. A cold ball of nausea lodged in his stomach. Tony was a good bloke. Cait had introduced them before and he trusted him not to cross any lines, but when he saw them emerge from the same car, and heard the crowd of fans asking “Who’s with Caitriona? Is that her boyfriend?”, he lost his cool.

The studio didn’t want them to be together publicly. Fine. This was to protect their privacy. Fine. Okay, they weren’t “together”…but he realized he didn’t want people to think she was with anyone else. He turned away and decided he would avoid looking at her. His face was so connected to his emotions he knew he would cause a stir without saying a word.

She was his. HIS. It bothered his modern sensibilities to feel this way because it was so primitive. He would never consider a woman property but he wanted to grab her by the hair and stick his tongue in her mouth to show the world “She’s MINE. She belongs to ME." 

She walked over to him in that sexy dress that hugged every long curve of her body. It took all his willpower to avoid looking. "Going to visit with the crowd” he murmured, then was away in several long strides. 

“Hullo! How are ye?” he asked one woman with a picture she wanted him to sign. It was of him and Cait, in character, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Fuck. It was a struggle for him to think of anything happy that didn’t involve her. Every good thing in his life was now attached to her–working with her, laughing with her, being with her. She was in every moment of his day and every crack in his heart.

“Sam! Picture time!” one of the coordinators beckoned. He took a deep breath and charged forward.

This would be short. Thank God. He couldn’t wait to get inside and grab a drink. Maybe three drinks. Cait took her usual spot at his side and was shocked to not feel comfort in it. 

He saw his mum standing behind the photographers, beaming with pride. That finally got him out of his head. She’d been so supportive of him, and now that the gamble had paid off, he felt so happy to share it with her by bringing her to events like this. Cait had helped her pick out something to wear…fuck, don’t think of Cait. Her nails dug into his side and he realized she was calling him “Sam?” But he couldn’t do this now. “Sam” She was insistent.

He turned halfway so she could see his face in profile, “Later.” He hoped she’d heard the finality in his voice. The conversation he wanted to have could not happen here, or anywhere someone could hear them.


This was a short red carpet. Thank God. Something was up with Sam and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. He’d never been so cold with her, it wasn’t his way. Before they’d left for the evening he’d run his hands along her hips and waist, enjoying the feel of the dress around her body. “You look amazing”, he’d said, voice husky with want. “I can’t wait to get you out of it.” When she walked over to him and received little more than a nod and a quick departure, something caught in her gut. 

They took some individual pictures, then stood together. His hand around her waist and his body close to hers, but he was stiff, as if he was refusing her flesh. She studied his face through her own mask of cheerfulness and saw that he seemed well. His smile was big and he looked handsome as ever. Still, there was something off, something she felt more than saw.

“Sam?” she whispered. Nothing. “Sam?” His head still pointed away from her. “Sam.” This was more forceful, and got his attention. 

He turned to her in profile, his eyes not meeting hers, “Later.”

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back and squeezed his arm before walking away to lead Tony inside the venue.


Parts & Services

It’s all about the legs in this look because I’m gonna be sad to retire the summer 16 no pants uniform 😭👋🏼🌞👀❄️ Being that I was born and raised in Hawaiʻi, I feel most comfy when my legs are free so I’m milking the warm/cool SoCal Fall weather as long as I can.

This look is mega basic but it’s fun because it’s all about the tomboy glam! Mixing something feminine with something more masculine is my go to. The charcoal gray T-shirt dress is the perfect femme canvas for the oversized navy windbreaker. Went for my disco ball choker because I am obsessed with it atm and it just makes me feel like a bad bitch ya know 😎🤔🙃. These cutout boots are a statement piece so they really get their moment paired with this super simple outfit.

+ Blue lipstick for my alien soul👽🙌🏽💙.

T-Shirt Dress: >$7 (H&M)
Esprit Windbreaker: $8 (Thrifted)
Cutout Boots: $35 (F21)
Nine West Backpack Purse: $4 (Thrifted)
Disco Choker: Gift

Ride (Part Three)

Read parts one and two here:

Part One  / Part Two  

Part Three : You Can Take My Breath Away

Firstly before I launch into it there are some people I have to thank. My bother for literally sending hours putting up with me running ideas for all three parts of this by him and for encouraging me to start publishing my works. @marvelgoateecollection for encouraging me to start this and keep going, your comments on the last two parts literally gave me so much joy! And finally the sweetest @moreinfinite for letting me borrow the name Lucille, I hope I did it justice, and thank you for just being amazing in general. And finally thanks to everyone who has read these works so far I hope you enjoy the final piece.

Feedback is always, always appreciated and requests are open!

Based loosely around this music video and the title for this chapter comes from this song, so please watch and this will make a lot more sense:  Enrique Iglesias - Hero

Warnings: Mentions of violence, Bucky is beaten up by Brock. However if you watch the video it basically follows along the lines of that. Potential character death- I don’t want to spoil anything. 

Words: c. 3,400.

You spent the next couple of weeks moving between different motels, but Bucky’s money was slowly running out so you knew you would have to come to a more permanent arrangement somehow.

Bucky slipped out of bed one morning leaving you with a kiss on your forehead and a coffee in a to-go cup left on your bedside table.

When he returned you were sitting on the bed, legs crossed, sipping your coffee in your underwear with his charcoal coloured AC/DC shirt and for a moment he wanted to forget what he had come back to tell you and just devour you right then and there but then you were looking at him with those beautiful eyes and his breath caught in his chest for a moment as he bent down to capture you in his arms. 

He pulled your giggling form off the bed and began to haul you outside, placing both hands over your eyes as you reached the door, and placing a quick kiss to your soft bed messed hair and slowly guiding you outside.

Once he had successfully manoeuvred you to where he wanted you, he removed his hands and said softly “Okay you can look now doll,” and your eyes opened and focused on a beat up convertible that was parked in the motel lot.

“What is this?” you questioned looking back between the car and Bucky.

“It’s ours,” he said grinning, moving to rub his hand along the smooth lines of the driver side door, grinning widely at you, “Do you like her?”

“But. Where’s your bike?” you questioned aloud, still a little groggy and trying to process the situation.

“Sold it,” he said simply with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“But you loved that bike Bucky!” you protested.

“But I love you more,” he answered honestly “This offers us a little more safety, we won’t have to worry about trying to hide the bike every night. Plus, I can hold your hand while I’m driving, it’s worth it for that alone. But you never answered my question doll, do you like her?”

“She’s real pretty!” you smiled making your way towards Bucky, wrapping your arms around his torso in silent gratitude.

“She is pretty,” he agreed “I named her Lucille.”

You scoffed looking up at Bucky and laughed “You cannot name her Lucille!”

“Why not?” he asked feigning offence “Lucille is a fantastic name, she is a lady and she deserves a lady’s name.”

“You already love her more than me,” you joked with a roll of your eyes.

“No doll, you’re winning by this much,” he placed both of his hands about two inches apart and grinned at you cheekily.

“I love you, you giant dork,” you joked, before a more serious expression crossed your features and your smile dropped a little as you told him, “Thank you for Lucille.” You explicitly named Lucille but the look in your eyes was thanking Bucky for everything. For keeping his promises to you. For loving you. For just being Bucky and the look he returned told you he’d understood it all, particularly when his response was “Anything for you.”

Keep reading

norwegian-fox  asked:

(pre-serum or post) Date night w/Steve where you're drawing on a giant sheet of paper together with charcoal, it gets messy but it's nice to see something you've made together. the table will have to be cleaned, and you'll both have to shower, especially Steve who has your handprints on his cheeks from the kissing he received from you. Also, your clothes definitely need to be cleaned ASAP bc Steve couldn't help but hold you as tight as he could, the charcoal transferring onto your shirt 🙏🏽💙

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES TO ALL OF IT

okay so we all know atsushi is always dapper as hell in public right

but what if in the safety and privacy of his Rich Ass™ apartment it’s a completely different story

like todomatsu calls him on his cell and atsushi’s asleep so he leaves a voice message saying “daddy i’m on my way you better be ready n shit”

atsushi wakes up but doesn’t get the message

totty walks in cuz atsushi gave him a key like on the second date

and there’s atsushi on the black leather couch in a white t-shirt and charcoal black sweatpants, hair uncombed, bowl of popcorn at hand, watching some netflix

he turns and sees totty

“oh shit” he says



and totty’s just like

“you know i was hoping we could go out for cheesecake today but this gave me another idea”

totty changes into some pajamas atsushi has and the two spend the whole day and the following night lazing around under the same quilt, watching tv, snacking, listening to music, and cuddling the whole time

and that was the night they had their first fuck

the end