express tights

Cure (intro)

Bucky Barnes x reader 

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, memory loss, recuperating, fluff, angst and obviously, eventually: smut. 

Summary: Bucky comes back from a mission, not remembering who he is or who anyone else is. He doesn’t remember Steve, Natasha or the woman he loves. She does immediately catch his eye, though. He thinks she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he’s not afraid to say it in front of people he doesn’t know anyway. What does he have to lose? As far as he knows, he has nothing. On top of being somewhere he doesn’t remember ever being and being stared at by people who seem to know him, but he doesn’t know in return, he hears a voice in his own head. Because, of course, he must be insane. 

A/N: Here we are! The sequel series to Remedy :) I was gonna go somewhere else with this, but it kinda hit me out of nowhere and I thought this could be as sweet and cute as it could be heartbreaking and funny at the same time. Get ready for some awkward situations (and boners), people! 

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

There’s a woman standing in front of me. She looks sad, scared; but still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She says ‘Bucky’, and I can’t help but think that I’ve heard that before, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where I am, but I feel no threat, not from the man in the blue combat-suit next to me, not from the red head that’s next to him, holding his hand and looking equally sad as the woman before me. Not even from the man with the glasses and a doctor’s coat on my left. They all look at me as if they know me, and.. like me? They look nice enough, I guess. But I can’t help but stare at the woman standing only a feet away from me, tears in her eyes. She looks so sad.

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Bucky’s Plan

Note: the title sucks, but you know. I try. hi thanks for the request! I hope you like it! feedback is welcome! .c

Request: I’d like to request one where you and Bucky are together not necessarily publicly where the team knows but definitely a thing, and Bucky gets it in his head that’d be a great idea to dance with another woman at a party with the intention of making you jealous and leading to angry jealous sex but instead it upsets you making you think he doesn’t consider the two of you to be exclusive and that he doesn’t really care about you? Fluffy ending though after Bucky works for it a little? - @the-one-and-only-vampcake (im so sorry i just realized i didnt tag you in this!)

Originally posted by gliceria

As soon as Tony announced he wanted the team dressed and ready to go to the new nightclub his friend was opening up, you all but bounced in your seat. You were ready for a night out, having been on missions every day for the past few months. It was rare to see 9pm sometimes; your energy was completely gone by the time you got home.

Nights out with the team were always fun and you felt like you’d be able to let loose tonight, enjoy your time with your friends, and maybe even have some alone time with Bucky while everyone was in their own little world or maybe with them around.

You and Bucky have been together secretly for about 3 months and you felt safe to say you love him. But you understand him wanting to keep it hidden from the team. He was still getting through everything, but you were totally okay with taking your time. Or so you thought.

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hablar del amor, y defenderlo

read it on AO3
Yuri!!! On Ice
PAIRING: Otabek Altin x Yuri Plisetsky
TAGS: post-canon, post wttm skate, hurt/comfort, mentions of injury, 5+1

an otayuri 5+1 // commissioned by @rainlikestars // @otayuriwriterscollective

¿quién puede hablar del amor y defenderlo?
¡que levante la mano, por favor!


The first time, they’re not even together yet.

Yuri is in Almaty for a visit, a change of pace. After the exhibition skate fiasco and ahead of Worlds, Lilia has become much stricter about his choreography, while Yuri has become more stubborn about he wants to do for himself. Viktor was the one who’d convinced Yakov to let Yuri take a short break, cool his head.

Yuri doesn’t like being indebted to Viktor, but he’s grateful, however reluctantly. Getting to visit Otabek is a very welcome bonus.

Otabek is accommodating, happy to have Yuri in his home city. He’s lightened his training schedule as much as he can (although with both Four Continents and Worlds coming up, it’s not all that much lighter), takes Yuri around the city at night. Otabek’s family takes to Yuri immediately, showering him in extra food and affection. Yuri even gets to skate in Otabek’s rink, working on his quad flip.

It makes Yuri feel worse about the agitation that gnaws at his ribs, his lungs.

He doesn’t even know why. He’s here in Almaty, he’s with Otabek; he’s away from Lilia and Yakov and their nagging, away from Viktor’s overbearing concern and Yuuri’s overly sincere consideration. But whenever he and Otabek go out, Yuri is anxious and self-conscious; whenever Otabek smiles at him, asks him how he feels, if he’s okay, Yuri gets flustered. There’s a lump in his throat that refuses to go away. It’s driving him crazy.

It’s when they come across some friends of Otabek that Yuri snaps. It’s Otabek’s day off, they’re meandering through a commercial area near Otabek’s home. An unfamiliar voice rings over the chatter of the city, drawing their attention.

“Beshka!” Otabek reacts first, turning around with a big smile; Yuri feels a flash of irritation in his chest. There’s a group of boys, four of them, weaving through the crowd towards them. They arrive and start chatting in – Yuri’s not sure, it sounds like an odd mix of Russian and Kazakh, but he can’t understand a thing and it’s pissing him off.

It’s a while before they notice Yuri standing there, glaring. One of them breaks off with a surprised look and smiles apologetically, says something to Yuri. Otabek puts a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, gives him a quick smile, then turns back to his friend.

“Russian, please, Maxim,” he says with a laugh.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” The boy - Maxim - beams at Yuri. The others are looking at him curiously, shooting each other unreadable glances that only vex Yuri even more. Maxim throws an arm around Yuri’s shoulder and smirks. “And you are?”

Yuri shrugs the arm off with no gentleness and huffs. “Leaving,” he snaps, storming off the way they came.

“Hey, what–” Yuri doesn’t want to hear. He takes off running, missing the way Otabek calls after him, the way the boys exchange concerned looks.

Otabek still catches up with him a few blocks away.

“Yura,” he says sharply, grabbing Yuri’s wrist to stop him from heading off again. Yuri twists his arm petulantly and stomps his foot.

“Let me go.”

“No.” Otabek is searching his face, frowning. The way he holds Yuri’s wrist, his expression, it makes Yuri feel like some problem child who’s being patronized and scolded. He hates it. “Yuri, what happened?”

“I’m pissed off, okay!” he yells. Startled, Otabek lets go of his hand; Yuri hugs his arms to his chest and stares at the ground.

“Why?” Otabek asks. “They’re my friends, Yura, of course they want to talk to me.”

The resentment is climbing up Yuri’s throat and he hates it. “I know,” he mutters, hunching up further. This, whatever it is, it frustrates him. He can’t explain why.

They stand there for a moment, in a side alley that smells vaguely of lamb and smoke, Yuri looking at his shoes and Otabek looking at Yuri.


Yuri cuts him off. “I’m done,” he says quickly, spinning on his heel and walking back in the direction of Otabek’s home. “I’m going back to Russia on the earliest flight, I can’t do this anymore.”

“What–” Otabek catches up with him again and this time actually blocks his way, standing in front of him (and fuck this, Yuri may be getting taller but Otabek is still bigger and in his way). He takes Yuri by the shoulders, trying to get Yuri to look at him, but Yuri won’t meet his eyes.

“Yura,” Otabek says softly, in a voice that makes something twist in Yuri’s chest. “Are you–” He hesitates. Yuri scrunches his face up. Otabek seems to be weighing his words carefully, uncertainly. He purses his lips, then looks at Yuri with an oddly tight expression. “Are you… jealous?”

Yuri’s eyes widen; his next inhale is sharp and painful.  He jerks away from Otabek even as he feels the heat in his cheeks, the chill in his lungs. “No,” he says breathlessly, adamantly, but the lie is obvious. “No–”

Otabek takes Yuri’s hands in his, holds tight despite Yuri’s protests and – Yuri’s breath catches as Otabek presses Yuri’s palms to his chest, over a quick and nervous  heartbeat. One hand moves to card through Yuri’s hair, gentle as every other thing Otabek does with Yuri.

“Kotyonok,” Otabek says, and there’s a laugh lurking in the word. Yuri is still looking down. “There was never a need for you to be.”

Yuri’s hands close into fists, scrunching the front of Otabek’s shirt. He leans forward, pressing his forehead into Otabek’s shoulder. His friend just stands there and lets him, still stroking Yuri’s hair.

After a moment, Otabek asks, “still leaving?”

Yuri sniffs, shakes his head.


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anonymous asked:

How would the boys plus Jaehee react to MC being the kind of person who refuses to wear pants at home?



  • “It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before!!”
  • You stood in front of your bright red boyfriend, pantless and proud
  • “I-I know, but…”
  • He trailed off, his eyes still focused on your bare legs
  • You tapped your foot, waiting for his response
  • “My eyes are up here,” you sighed
  • His head shot up, his face even more red than it was before if that’s even possible??
  • “S-Sorry… I just… you’re just…”
  • “Yoosung,” you crossed your arms, “if I’m not embarrassed, you shouldn’t be either.”
  • “But… YOU’RE HALF NAKED!!!”
  • You smirked
  • “Well, I guess you’re right-”
  • You took a couple steps forward until you stood right in front of him
  • “-so let’s make us even.”
  • In one quick motion, you pulled his shirt up
  • As if on autopilot, Yoosung raised his arms to allow you to take it completely off
  • You smiled and ran one hand down his bare chest
  • “Better?”
  • He nodded, shocked into silence
  • You planted a kiss on his lips and turned around
  • Yoosung stared at you as you walked away
  • He let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair
  • “You coming?” you called out behind you
  • “O-Of course!!”
  • He basically sprinted to catch up with you


  • you were curled up on the couch trying to catch up on your favorite show when he came home from work
  • “Zen, welcome back!!”`
  • He set his bag down and gave you his an award winning smile
  • “You too comfy to come and give me a hug?”
  • “Of course not!!”
  • You stood up, letting the blanket fall off your lap
  • Zen’s eyes widened
  • “W-Where-I mean, your-you don’t-“
  • You crossed your arms, “Just spit it out!”
  • “WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?!?!” He gestured to your lower half
  • You shrugged, “I hate wearing pants around the house.”
  • He stare at you as if you just committed some sort of felony
  • “You hate pants?”
  • “…I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”
  • He sighed dramatically and shook his head back and forth
  • “MC,” he held both his arms behind his back and began pacing, “let me tell you a little bit about pants.”
  • Oh god…
  • “Pants are a form of self-expression. Say that one day -and by one day, I mean everyday- I’m feeling good about myself. How would I express that? By wearing tight pants, of course! Or when I feel a little risqué? Pants with holes in them. Bad ass? Leather pants. It’s so simple! That’s what makes it art.”
  • “Did you just say… pants are art?”
  • “I’m pretty sure that’s what I said,” he smirked, mimicking your earlier remark
  • “Interesting,” you walked toward him, smiling innocently
  • Zen took a step back
  • “W-What are you doing?”
  • “Oh, nothing-” you quickened your pace
  • You stood in front of him and gave him a peck on the lips
  • “-just this.”
  • You grabbed the loops of his belt and pulled down
  • He stumbled backwards, covering his mouth
  • His once pale completion was BRIGHT RED it was actually the reddest it had ever been
  • Zen reached down and fumbled around, trying to pull up his pants
  • Your face was twisted into a cheeky grin
  • “Now that,” you looked down, “is what I call art.”
  • After that Zen had a nosebleed that lasted for DAYS


  • “Isn’t it the same as wearing a skirt?”
  • You shook your head at your naïve girlfriend
  • “Oh nonono, it’s much more,” you dramatically looked off into the distant, “…free.”
  • Jaehee rolled her eyes and began unbuttoning her own skirt
  • You watched as the fabric hit the floor
  • You looked back up at and waited for her to say something
  • “…Jaehee?”
  • Her eyes sparkled and her lips formed into a goofy grin
  • “I…I am a changed woman.”
  • She closed her eyes, spread her arms out wide, and took a big breath in
  • This was probably the first time she’s let loose IN HER LIFE
  • “I’m glad I converted you to team no pa-”
  • You were interrupted by the sound of your front doorknob turning
  • “You two should really lock your front door!”
  • Jumin walked into the room with a stack of papers, kicking the door shut behind him
  • “Jaehee, you left these at…”
  • He trailed off when he saw Jaehee’s skirt on the floor
  • almost IMMEDIATELY, his face turned bright red 
  • The three stood, petrified, Jumin staring at Jaehee’s legs, Jaehee covering her burning face, and MC gaping at Jumin
  • After a couple of seconds, each of them opened their mouths
  • “I think I should go-”
  • “I’m never leaving the house again-”
  • “Betrayed by the pants-”
  • They looked around, all of them making eye contact
  • Jumin cleared his throat
  • “I, uh… bye.”
  • He turned around and opened the door basically sprinting out of it
  • Jaehee stood in the middle of her living room mortified
  • “I am never doing that again.”


  • He’s just really confused by the “no pants” concept
  • “Are you too poor for pants?”
  • “No.”
  • “Did you run out of clean ones?”
  • “No.”
  • “Do you want to have sex?”
  • “…Not right now.”
  • “Then why are you standing in the middle of my living room without pants?”
  • You sighed and flopped down on the couch
  • “Because it’s comfy!!! You should try it.”
  • He gave you a strange look and walked back into the bedroom
  • When he came out, he was wearing a casual shirt and his favorite set of cat boxers
  • “This is… interesting.”
  • He sat down next to you and put his arm around your shoulder
  • “I guess I can see the appeal, it’s much less restricting.”
  • “Exactly!”
  • “…You know what would make this even better?”
  • “Hmm?”
  • “If my lovely wife would go and pour me a glass of wine, so I can truly relax.”
  • You glared at him before standing up
  • “Fine.” 
  • he better hope you don’t spit in his glass… again


  • Well then you’ll fit right in his favorite saying is “Home is where the pants aren’t!” 
  • 9 out of 10 video chat meetings, he doesn’t wear pants
  • “But, Seven, that’s yourboss!!!”
  • “I know, but I won’t be able to concentrate with those… leg prisons on!!”
  • He huffed and turned around, walking into his computer room
  • Giving his shirt a quick dust, he plopped down in front of the monitor
  • He turned the camera on and smiled
  • “How you doing today, boss man?”
  • You shook your head as you watched your pantless husband carry on a conversation with his superior
  • “…And I wanted to congratulate you on this myself, Agent 707.”
  • “Congratulate me on what?”
  • “You got the promotion.”
  • Seven shot up out of his seat and waved his arms in the air
  • His smile soon turned into a frown when he saw his bosses face
  • “What’s wrong?”
  • His boss sighed
  • “Where are your pants?”
  • Seven’s eyes widened and he tried to sit down
  • He reached his arm up and felt around for the mouse
  • “I-I’m gonna have to let you go, I’m having some technical difficulties.”
  • “…Interesting word choice for one of the nation’s best hackers… Goodbye, Agent 707.”
  • As soon as the monitor clicked off, you burst out laughing
  • “Long…enough… no pants… told you so,” you said between laugh
  • The only thing that made the situation funnier is that he was wearing his “property of MC” boxers

anonymous asked:

Can we please have the Obitos from all your different stories meeting? It would be soooo much fun.

Oh god. I was not prepared for this level of crack. 

So! Obito = crimanals ‘verse!Obito, Angry = reverse!Obito, Vagabond = Stormborn!Obito, Long-Hair = Stepping Stones!Obito, and Green Thumb = soulmate HashiObi drabble!Obito, bc why not. 

“What the actual fuck.”

“Language,” Kakashi says mildly, but he’s half a step behind and practically breathing down Obito’s neck, one hand on his Glock and both eyes narrowed.

“Fuck you,” Obito retorts. “We just got sucked into some kind of alternate fucking dimension, okay, I am fuckin entitled to whatever goddamn cursing I want. Now I’m late for meeting Rin at the FBI, and I don’t think she’s going to accept alternate dimensions as an excuse.”

“A crossover point, not a separate dimension,” a dark voice corrects, and Obito spins around to find himself staring at…


Well, that’s fucking awkward.

Granted, it’s not an outright copy. This version of him is dressed in a long black cloak with a high collar, decorated with red clouds, and has a purple-patterned white mask on his belt. His expression is tight with anger, and his two eyes are burning.

He looks a hell of a lot like the man Obito used to see in the mirror, and it’s no comfort at all.

Even less of a comfort is the big man looming just behind him, who is eerily familiar but also very much not, and before Obito can help himself he blurts, “Kisame?”

Kisame—with the addition of blue skin, a matching cloak, and a massive sword covered in scales—chuckles, apparently abashed at being recognized. “Hey,” he answers, grinning, and casts a look up and down Obito’s body. Coming from his Kisame, Obito would probably return the look with a knife, but this one doesn’t seem to have quite the edge of cheerfully menacing lechery he’s familiar with.

Before he can say anything, though, Kakashi takes a step to the side, then one in front of him, and warns in his politest voice, “If you keep looking at my husband like you want to eat him, I might take offense.”

Blue Kisame blinks, eyes widening, even as Angry Obito stops dead, eyes widening. “Husband?” he repeats incredulously, and black eyes flicker between Obito and Kakashi like he doesn’t know whether to be appalled or baffled.

“Maa, maa, there are other people here who could take offense at that as well, you know,” a mild—and familiar—voice says, and another Kakashi—this one in a dark blue outfit with a green flak jacket on top—steps out from behind one of the square pillars littering the space. Next to him is another version of Obito, this one with long hair in a braid and the same uniform as his companion.

He takes one look at Angry and blanches, falling back with a hand going to the short sword he’s carrying on his back, and snaps, “Akatsuki?! What the hell am I doing in Akatsuki?”

Uniformed Kakashi casts an assessing glance at Angry, then over at Obito (who feels rather like he should start calling himself Terrorist Obito just to keep things straight) and his Kakashi, and raises a brow. He only has one eye, the other covered by the slanted headband he’s wearing, but the book he pulls out of the pocket of his vest is all too familiar. “I think—” he starts.

“The better question would be what am I still doing in Akatsuki?” yet another Obito cuts in, this one dusty-looking and travel-worn. He also has a Kakashi double with him, this one wrapped in an equally dusty cloak, headband slanted down across his eye and Icha Icha also in hand. Vagabond eyes Angry with something that’s halfway between contempt and pity.

Long-Haired splutters. “No! No, I think the absolute best question is why am I in Akatsuki?”

“Because we’re clearly morons,” a fifth Obito says drolly, tucked back in the shadows of another column. It makes Obito twitch and turn sharply, but this one, in a dark green yukata, sporting a twist of ivy curled around his wrist and a rose twined in his hair, just gives him a faintly amused look and leans back into the hold of the man behind him. Very unfortunately, Obito recognizes him, even in a matching brown yukata instead of a neatly pressed suit. As the mayor.

God, what the hell happened for him to end up with Hashirama?

Apparently he isn’t the only one weirded out, because Angry, Vagabond, and Long-Hair are all gaping. Green Thumb just raises a brow at all of them, amused in a very familiar “I’m having fun watching your brains leak out your ears” way, and folds his arms over his chest. One of the sleeves of his yukata falls back enough to show a long string of zeroes inked into his forearm, and when Hashirama reaches around to touch his wrist gently, wise eyes flickering between the different groups, Obito can see there’s a matching tattoo on his skin. Weird.

“I take it you know where we are, then?” Hashirama asks Angry courteously, with a polite smile Obito’s seen him use when bullshitting Madara, who always fails to notice.

Thankfully for Obito’s own sanity, Angry doesn’t seem to fall for it. He scoffs, short and sharp, and takes a step back like he’s trying to get them all in his sights. “I can guess,” he growls, and Obito is detecting one or two anger management issues here. Maybe also a desperate need for therapy.

Kisame chuckles again, patting his massive scaled sword almost fondly, and says, “We were headed somewhere else. Guess we got sidetracked.”

Long-Hair is still eyeing them warily, but he straightens slowly, releasing his tantō, and tips his head in agreement. “We were on our way back from a mission and something went…sideways when I tried to use Kamui.”

Vagabond just narrows his eyes at them, and it’s Vagabond Kakashi who offers, without looking up from his Icha Icha, “Same, right, my cheerful little unicorn? We were on our way from Uzushio to Suna and ended up here.”

An entirely relatable expression of intent to murder flashes across Vagabond’s face, and he turns with a growl, slapping the book to the side, then throwing a blinding-quick punch at Vagabond Kakashi’s stomach. Vagabond Kakashi catches it with one hand, and uses his grip to twirl Vagabond around and pull him into a loose approximation of the hold Hashirama has on Green Thumb.

Obito is entirely unsurprised when Vagabond elbows Vagabond Kakashi in the gut, smacks him over the head, and pointedly steps three paces away.

“Would you look at that,” Kakashi murmurs in Obito’s ear, sounding far too amused for having just watched his double get beaten up. “It looks like some things are innate.”

Obito rolls his eye. “If you ever even think about calling me your cheerful little unicorn, I’m murdering you. Sasuke will help me.”

Kakashi makes a face. “Using your cousin against me isn’t playing fair, Obito.”

“You say that like any version of him would play fair,” Uniformed Kakashi says cheerfully, and casts a glance at Green Thumb and Hashirama. “I take it you were traveling too, then?”

Hashirama flushes faintly, ducking his head sheepishly as he rubs at the back of his neck, but Green Thumb just rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Madara walked in on us having sex last week and now he’s on a mission to never let us be alone together. We came here to fuck.”

Hashirama makes a noise like he’s dying and drops his head to bury his face in Green Thumb’s shoulder. “Obito,” he whines.

“I’m feeling out of place,” Kisame says cheerfully to Angry. “Just a little.”

“Don’t,” Angry tells him flatly, eyeing Green Thumb like he’s wondering if their double has lost his mind. “Clearly I’m the only one in this room with taste.”

“Excuse you,” Long-Hair says, deeply offended. “My sexual preference isn’t fish, so I think I’m doing just fine.”

“You’re with Bakashi,” Green Thumb and Angry retort in stereo, then glance at each other.

Obito snorts. “That’s fair,” he allows, and ignores the wounded noise Kakashi makes behind him. When Long-Hair looks like he’s going to protest, he meets his double’s eye and arches an eloquent brow.

Long-Hair deflates with a sigh. “Yeah, no, that is fair.”

“Maa,” Uniformed Kakashi objects, finally lowering his book. “Obito, I think you’re being very rude to your husband—”

There’s a very loud splutter, and Long-Hair rounds on Uniformed Kakashi, flailing. “WHAT. We’re not married! You’re not my husband!”

“Well, we’ll fix that as soon as we get back,” Uniformed Kakashi says cheerfully. “But as I was saying, rude—”

Obito turns to give his Kakashi a dark look, only for the man to raise his hands. “Clearly, Obito,” he says, tone trying for innocence, “I’m genetically predisposed to proposals like that—”

“You’re unbelievable is what you are.” Obito rolls his eye, and turns to look at Vagabond, who’s seeming like the only semi-normal one. Well, Green Thumb seems fairly mellow and well-adjusted, but Obito can’t look straight at him without thinking about Hashirama and sex and Madara walking in, and he’s had nightmares and been in war zones that were less traumatizing. “We weren’t going anywhere, and I have no idea what Kamui is. Any chance of getting back home before Rin decides to call in the army? Or worse, Kagami?”

Something raw and painful flickers in Vagabond’s expression, and Vagabond Kakashi lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Vagabond casts him a faint smile before turning back, and says, “There was probably resonance, with so many versions of Kamui in one place, and you had just enough chakra that it pulled you in as well. I can get you back, though, don’t worry.”

Angry snorts quietly, turning on his heel. “Kisame, let’s go. I’ve had more than enough of the selfless hero types.”

Kisame chuckles, even as he turns to follow Angry into the darkness of their surroundings. “Kurama’s hard to top as far as hero types go,” he agrees, offering a careless wave before a vortex in the air swallows them.

“And we’re going home to talk about this!” Long-Hair hisses at Uniformed Kakashi.

Uniformed Kakashi looks nothing less than cheerful. “I have a ring, if that helps.”

“NO IT DOESN’T. If you have a ring, why ask me like that?”

Vagabond rolls his eyes and steps away, tipping his head to make Obito follow. “They’re probably going to be there for a while.” Half a glance at Green Thumb, like it’s hard for him to look at the way he’s wrapped up with Hashirama too, and he asks reluctantly, “You’re staying?”

Madara,” Green Thumb says, like that explains everything, and Obito supposes that it does. “Besides, Hashirama’s been working on building the village for weeks now, and I finally convinced him to take a day off. I’m not about to waste that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Hashirama says whimsically, offering a brief wave and a smile. “It’s good to know that Obito has people who love him in other worlds, too.”

This is apparently what it takes to make Green Thumb flush, and he elbows Hashirama lightly, only to immediately be wrapped up in an encompassing hug as the big man laughs.

Vagabond and Obito trade looks that can be summed up as well at least they’re happy but it’s still fucking weird, and then Vagabond shakes his head and turns away. His eyes flicker to red and black pinwheels, spinning lazily, and he passes a hand through the air, making another vortex bloom.

“Through there,” he says, and then pauses. A glance at Uniformed Kakashi, and he smiles, just a little. “Good luck.”

He definitely means for more than the trip through the portal. Obito smiles back, tipping his head in agreement, and returns, “You too.”

“We’ll get there.” Vagabond curls his fingers into Uniformed Kakashi’s, and Uniformed Kakashi’s visible eye crinkles in a smile as he very clearly squeezes back.

The sap is choking, even after weeks of having to put up with Rin and Konan being sickeningly sweet girlfriends. Obito hides a grimace and ducks forward, reaching for his knives automatically, and feels Kakashi right behind him. The portal is a lurching wrench, but Obito twists in midair and lands on his feet, half-crouched and ready for anything.

Anything happens to be their living room, bullet holes still in the door, his cell phone on the table and vibrating angrily. Rin’s name is on the screen, and Obito winces.

Kakashi leans forward to pick it up, eyeing it like it’s a poisonous snake, and then glances at Obito. “Was that weird enough to earn us a day off, do you think?”

Obito casts a look back at the portal as it vanishes into nothingness, and feels his original sentiment still entirely applies.

“What the actual fuck.”

seleneremusravenclaw  asked:

'Was this just like a game to you?' + 'get out of my sight' for iwaoi?

Tooru’s exhausted, heading home after his latest volleyball game. He can feel it seeping into his bones, and he’s longing for a hot shower and a nice long rest in bed.

He isn’t expecting to walk up the sidewalk to his apartment and see Hajime sitting on the stairs, hands pressed together, expression tight.

He’s happy to see his boyfriend, and a smile brightens his features.


“Was this just a game to you?” Hajime’s voice is low, and shaky. Tooru’s never heard him talk like this before, the hurt in his voice cutting through Tooru like a knife, completely cutting off what he wanted to say.

Tooru freezes, still in front of the steps. He drops his bag to his feet. All of the excitement he had felt about coming home, seeing Hajime, fizzles away, leaving acid in his stomach. No, no, of course not-

I saw your interview,” Hajime cuts in, closing his eyes, and inhaling sharply. He looks pained, and Tooru can see how hard he’s clenching his hands into fists. How hard he’s shaking. No, this isn’t right-

“No, I’m not involved with anyone,”  Hajime repeats, the exact lines from Tooru’s interview that had ended just hours prior. Tooru can feel the bile building up in his throat. This is wrong-

“No, Hajime-”

“Seriously?” He stands, voice raising. “I-I know that we talked about it, and decided that we’d keep all this quiet… for your career - a gay pro athlete would cause a stir… and you can’t do that, and I get it, I really get it, but…” He lets out a frustrated groan, covering his face with his hands. “But, fuck - you pretending, so easily-”

Tooru pales, “It wasn’t easy-”

“That we haven’t been together for the past five years? I… I didn’t expect it to hurt so badly.” Hajime sighs, and he sounds.. defeated.


And, god - Tooru caused that.

Tooru swallows, biting back tears. He takes a step closer, reaching desperately for Hajime - he needs to explain this, fix this, now. He touches his face, fingers pressing familiarly against his cheeks and jaw, but Hajime does… nothing.

He doesn’t lean into him. He doesn’t push him away. He just doesn’t react.

Somehow, that’s even worse.

Tooru drops his hands to his sides, fingernails digging into his palms. He feels blood pearl around each finger, and it only pushes him to press harder. They’d talked about this. Hajime had promised him, he’d told him it was okay - he’d lied. “Hajime, this isn’t fair, you said it was okay-

“For fuck’s sake, we can’t even share an apartment! We’re still visiting each other every other weekend like we’re still in college. I don’t even have a key to yours. I want to be with you, Tooru. I don’t want… this. Hiding. Being too scared to be seen together too much in public. Lying to the world..” Hajime’s voice breaks, and he closes his eyes. “I’m… tired, Tooru. Tired of never feeling like we’re going anywhere. Like I’m not enough. Like… we aren’t enough for you.”

“Hajime, no… I can’t… I don’t… Please, I love you…” Tooru pleads desperately, unable to even cry, he’s too shocked. His own skin is cold as ice; Hajime finally looks at him, and his gaze feels like a needle piercing his heart.

“I don’t know if that’s enough anymore.” Hajime takes a step back and his shoulders sag. “I… I can’t do this right now. I need you out of my sight.” He shakes his head, biting back tears. Tooru chokes on a sob; Hajime doesn’t cry. “Please.”

Tooru doesn’t move. He can’t. Hajime is everything - he’s the one who lifts him up, makes him strong, keeps him safe. He’s the one who talks Tooru off the ledge when everything else seems lost, he’s the one who goes above and beyond to help him, love him-

And Tooru just unknowingly dealt his finishing blow.

It feels like time is standing still. At least that way, Tooru doesn’t have to face it - the openness, the nothingness that he can already feel ebbing in, swirling around, threatening to swallow him up. It’d be easy, just to let himself be consumed by it.

But Tooru looks up, and Hajime is still watching him. Waiting for his reaction.

So he figures out how to move his limbs again. Feels the blood start to pump back into his system, leaving him dizzy. He turns, making room for Hajime, who walks down the stairs and out of Tooru’s life.

It isn’t until Tooru walks back into his apartment that he falls to the floor, and breaks.

Part 2 | Part 3

the old broken down cathedral was thick with silence. it was that heightened over aware kind of silence that made every breath feel a little harder to take. it was dark, save for the artificial light that spilled up one of the statues at the center of the main dais. the rest of the room was cleared out, save for a few broken down pews. everything seemed to be tipped with gold and that gold had a dull shine in the light from the candles burning at the five points of the circle around magnus’s feet.

that candlelight was a warm glow in the midst of grey murky darkness that smelled a bit like mold. the candlelight was the only thing bringing any warmth to this space, casting long dark shadows on the walls, the light licking up magnus’s bare torso as he stood readying himself, magic already flickering at his fingertips.

it was lighting up alec was well, his tight concerned expression, the worry that was hanging around his jaw as he stood there with his arms crossed, bow and holster still on. the orange light crawled up the edges of his wild hair, catching on the inky blackness of his runes. but it didn’t make his distress any more sinister, mostly because magnus knew exactly why he looked like this. he fought the urge to try and placate him again, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes as he snapped his fingers and started to cast in a circle.

Keep reading

Sweet Creature

Originally posted by immortalle

Read “Ever Since New York” first

Check my series masterlist for updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Jughead and (Y/N) have their first late-night talk.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,968

A/N: okay so first of all for those of you who didn’t know, we hit 8000 followers this week! i am floored by the amount of support i’ve received, so thank you all so much! i’m really glad you guys are liking this series so much, enjoy!

Sweet creature
Had another talk about where it’s going wrong
But we’re still young
We don’t know where we’re going but we know where we belong

This internship was no simple task.  It was more than delivering documents, writing short articles, and being torn apart by critics.  Jughead and (Y/N) poured their hearts and souls into their internship, and the only thing fueling them by the end of each week was their raw passion for writing.  It was no wonder that they were the only two participating in this internship because not many others would be able to handle the emotional and surprisingly physical toll this took on Jughead and (Y/N). Had they not loved writing so much, they would have left weeks ago; had they not loved writing so much, they wouldn’t have met.

The third week was the most tiring.  Throughout the first week, the adrenaline of being a part of such a prestigious internship motivated (Y/N) and Jughead to give all of their effort.  During the second week, it was the hope that things would get easier to adjust to that kept (Y/N) and Jughead going.  By the time the third week rolled around, they had lost all their energy.

Jughead and (Y/N) barely had any time to talk to each other during the week; they were each always running around the building, trying to get things done.  The only time that they found time to chat was over dinner and during the weekends.  Even during their lunch breaks, there was not a second to spare.

Jughead would not trade this opportunity for the world.  Although he was separated from all his friends and family, and he was constantly working, he was doing what he loved with a newfound friend.

And ohhhh, we started
Two hearts in one home
It’s hard when we argue
We’re both stubborn, I know

“Do you ever think what would happen if you dropped this internship?” (Y/N) asked over dinner one night. She jabbed at her sushi with her chopsticks.  “Like just walk in one morning and slam your shit on Mrs. Williams’s desk and quit.”

Jughead shrugged from across the table.  “I mean, I guess I do,” he admitted, poking at the small mound of wasabi on his plate. “You know, it gets tiring.  Coming in day after day just to get your work torn apart.  But at the end of the day, I wouldn’t trade this opportunity for the world.”

“Of course I wouldn’t either,” she agreed, “but… I don’t know.  This is exhausting.  I love writing, obviously, but I’m so tired and it’s hard to find reasons to stay sometimes.  I barely even get to see you, and you’re one of the best parts of this internship.”

Jughead tried to fight the warmth creeping into his cheeks.  He waved off her compliment.  “I wouldn’t say that.”

“But you are,” she insisted, setting down her chopsticks.  “God, I don’t know what I’d do without you here.  I think I’d go crazy.”

He bit back his giant grin. “I’d go crazy without you here, too.”

(Y/N) smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could form any words, their waitress approached their table and interrupted her.  

“How are you guys doing?” she asked, offering a friendly smile to Jughead and (Y/N).  “Anything else I can get for either of you?”

“No thank you,” (Y/N) shook her head.  The waitress nodded and smiled again, walking off towards the next table.  “See that?  We can’t even talk here without being interrupted.”

But oh
Sweet creature, sweet creature
Wherever I go, you bring me home
Sweet creature, sweet creature
When I run out of road, you bring me home

“So yeah, they fucking closed down the Drive-In.  It was where I earned my money, where I lived, and they closed it,” Jughead finished his story as he and (Y/N) walked back to their hotel, hand-in-hand.  

“Where did you go after that?” she questioned, completely absorbed in his story.  She swung their arms back and forth.

“I slept at my school.”

“Your school?” she snorted.

Jughead sent her a pointed look.  “Are you laughing at my homelessness?”

“No!” she immediately stopped her laughter.  “No, of course not, I just,” she paused to let a little giggle slip out of her mouth, “out of all places, you decided to stay at your school?  Isn’t it hellish enough having to spend seven hours a day there already?”

“Well then, where do you suggest I should have gone?”

“You have friends, do you not?” she sassily inquired.  “Did it ever occur to you that, I don’t know, maybe you could crash at one of their places?”

“I was trying to not be selfish.”

“Well you ended up being an idiot.”

“Archie caught me eventually,” Jughead decided to continue his backstory, “so I guess I did end up crashing at a friend’s house.”

(Y/N) remained silent for a moment as the two of them entered the hotel lobby.  “Well,” she broke the silence, “I still think you were stupid.”

Sweet creature
Running through the garden, oh, where nothing bothered us
But we’re still young
I always think about you and how we don’t speak enough

“Well, I guess I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” (Y/N) sighed as she and Jughead stood in front of her hotel room.  She offered him a stiff smile.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Jughead mirrored her tight expression. The two awkwardly stood in front of (Y/N)’s door, not wanting to leave each other’s presence.  Finally, she broke the tension by taking the key out of her pocket and unlocking her door.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated, entering her room and closing the door behind her.  Jughead remained standing outside for a moment and stared at the spot where (Y/N) just was.  He slowly edged away from her room and trekked towards his room.  His hands were stuffed in his pockets, shifting through the items stuffed in there to find his room key.  His fingers brushed against the smooth plastic card, so he pulled it out and slid it into the card reader.  When the little light flashed green, he turned the doorknob and stepped into his vacant room.  He tossed his phone onto the bed and paced around his room, running his hands through his hair.

And ohhhh, we started
Two hearts in one home
I know it’s hard, we argue
We’re both stubborn, I know

Jughead knew that he had to wake up early the next morning, but that night, he couldn’t seem to be able to make himself sleep.  It wasn’t even that he couldn’t stop thinking about something; he had no idea as to why he couldn’t fall asleep.  He stared at the white ceiling and waited for fatigue to wash over him.

He didn’t know how long he was staring at the ceiling for when his phone buzzed, signaling he had received a text.  He had no idea who would be contacting him so late, surely all of his Riverdale friends were asleep by now.

“I can’t sleep,” he read aloud the text sent from (Y/N).  He typed back a response saying that he, too, could not sleep.  She did not respond for a few minutes, and Jughead figured that she final fell asleep.

He was proven wrong when there was a soft knock on the door.  He threw his blankets off of himself and stood up.  Cautiously, he unlocked the door and opened it to see (Y/N) sporting some loose pajamas and holding one Styrofoam cup in each hand.

“Sorry,” she quietly apologized, handing him a cup.  He peered at the liquid inside to discover that it was hot chocolate.  “Would you mind if we talked for a bit?”

But oh
Sweet creature, sweet creature
Wherever I go, you bring me home
Sweet creature, sweet creature
When I run out of road, you bring me home

“Of course not,” Jughead answered, opening the door wider to allow her to enter. 

She smiled thankfully at him as she walked inside, lightly sipping on her hot chocolate as she moved. “I know it’s late and this is stupid, but I figured I’d come over since you couldn’t sleep either.”  She glanced at the clock that indicated that it was almost midnight.  “Honestly, it’s not even that late.  If I were at home right now, I’d totally still be up and kicking.”

“Me too,” Jughead agreed before taking a sip of the hot chocolate.  “But we’re here.”

“Exactly.”  They fell into a silence as they both drank their hot chocolates, enjoying the warmth it provided them in the AC-blasting room.

“So did you want to talk about anything?” Jughead inquired, setting his half-empty cup down.  “Or did you just feel like coming over?”

“Kind of both I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged, copying his actions by placing her cup on the ground.  She sat on the floor with her legs crossed.  “I just… I don’t know, I feel like we don’t talk much.”

“It’s not either of our faults,” he said, sitting on the floor across from her.  “We just don’t have time.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. Like I was saying at dinner, this internship just gets to be a bit much sometimes.  And don’t get me wrong, I’m not gonna quit, I just want to vent about it.”

Jughead smiled at her. “Vent away.”

She took in a deep breath before starting.  “I get so sick of it sometimes, the repetition of it all.  Every day, we go in and run papers all over the building from one person to another, and we always get our work torn apart.  I swear, we almost never get praised.  And I understand that they don’t want us to get cocky, and, as Mrs. Williams always says, ‘You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have talent,’ but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Hey,” Jughead softly interrupted her, grabbing her hands.  “You’re so incredibly talented.  You know they’re ripping you apart to make you an even better writer than you already are. And if you ever need a confidence booster, then come to me.  You know I’ll always praise your writing.”

(Y/N) glanced at the floor with a smile.  “Thank you, Jughead.  I’ll praise your writing too, whenever you need it.”

And ohhh, when we started
Just two hearts in one home
It gets harder when we argue
We’re both stubborn, I know

They talked for another hour before they realized how late it was.

“It’s past one o’clock?” (Y/N) questioned, picking up her empty cup and standing.  “I should probably get to sleep.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jughead greed, following suit and standing up.  “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“In just a couple hours, yeah,” she laughed and exited, leaving a grinning Jughead behind.  He marveled at his closed door for a moment before he remembered how late it was, so he flopped onto his bed.  He glanced at clock’s bright red numbers, the ones that were practically screaming at him that it was late.  Almost immediately, he fell into a deep slumber, a small smile still gracing his lips.

But oh
Sweet creature, sweet creature
Wherever I go, you bring me home
Sweet creature, sweet creature
When I run out of road, you bring me home
You bring me home

Both of them thought that night would be a one-time thing.  But the internship remained stressful as ever, and about a week later, (Y/N)’s poor attempts at falling asleep were interrupted by a light knock on the door.  She had a pretty keen idea as to who stood outside, but that didn’t stop the shock of seeing Jughead standing outside her room, holding two hot chocolate-filled cups.

“I’ve got hot chocolate,” he stated, handing her a cup with a grin.  “Let’s talk.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! :D you're super awesome and your voltron headcanons have given me like 50 years on my life, okay, and I was wondering, Lance is pretty chill but do you have any headcanons abt what's he's like when he's, like, genuinely angry and upset???


  • like you said, lance appears at first glance to have no chill but he’s actually one of the chillest people on the team
    • i mean he’s easy to irritate, but really difficult to anger
    • he’ll “fight” you over stupid shit but there’s no fire behind it
  • he’s absolutely the type of person that’s more likely to get angry on the behalf of others than on his own behalf
  • when it comes to himself, he’s more likely to feel hurt than angry
  • but if you actually get him mad,,,,, hoooooo boy
  • when lance is angry, it’s like half cold rage, half boiling rage
    • his expression is tight when he’s mad. clenched jaw, furrowed eyebrows. he takes deep breaths to try to calm himself down (it doesn’t work)
    • he’s quiet. you’d think he’d be loud but no. you know you really fucked up when lance shuts up
    • if he’s mad because someone hurt his feelings he goes all out. he’s usually super shitty at roasting but he can read people when he’s angry, knows how to hit where it hurts
      • he’s the type to regret the things he says once the moment passes
      • Argument!Lance doesn’t give a fuck though
    • if he’s mad at someone he doesn’t let them speak while he’s talking, he’ll put up a hand to shut them up and everything
    • like I said, usually doesn’t yell. but you can hear the rage in his voice
    • he only starts to yell when someone keeps interrupting him
      • totally an angry crier
      • if he’s yelling, he’s crying
      • this is part of the reason he doesn’t yell during arguments, because it’s hard to be taken seriously when you’re crying
    • also the type of person to cry after getting mad at someone
    • he cries at some point, is what i’m getting at
    • it’s really difficult for him to hold a grudge bc anger passes relatively quickly for him so he’s pretty forgiving once the fight’s over
      •  people have probably taken advantage of this
    • if he’s mad in a battle situation (like, one of the paladins got seriously hurt or something) it’s different
      • he’s not the type to get revenge
      • but if he’s in a situation where a friend is hurt and he has to get them to safety and the person who hurt them is standing in his way. well.
      • most of lance’s mistakes in battle are because he’s being goofy or talking or generally getting distracted by other things
      • there’s no distractions when he’s angry
      • he becomes scarily concise
      • i’m still on the fence about whether or not he could kill someone in cold blood in a situation like this but……. maybe

anonymous asked:

could you do 52 "i don't think he loves me anymore" with some angst? + andreil

Dan gets home late from her coaching gig on Tuesday night, and they eat thai takeaway over styrofoam containers and cheap wine.

The TV’s the only light in the room, and it’s almost like the flicker of a fireplace, if they don’t look at it directly. Dan’s laughing and smooching stray noodle off of Matt’s cheek when there’s a knock on the door.

They make faces at each other. “It’s 10 pm,” Dan says. “This had better be life or death.”

Matt groans. “Don’t tempt fate.” He struggles out of the couch and passes his ginger beef off to Dan. “5 bucks says it’s Allison back from Guadala-whatever. Timezones mean nothing to her.”

“Bet denied. You know gambling isn’t the same when we have a joint bank account,” Dan complains and Matt laughs, dodging their side table and heading for the front door. He busily cracks open all of their locks and rattles the door until it unsticks.

“Hey!” he says, surprised. Neil’s scuffing their doormat with the toe of his shoe, dressed in old PSU colours. “A house call from Neil Josten, what an honour,” he jokes. Half-jokes. A visit from Neil is a confession that he missed you enough to actually do something about it.

Neil looks up at him blankly, and something is so obviously wrong that it shakes Matt. He takes silent note of the bag slung over his shoulder, the mottled redness of his eyes and face.

“Allison?” Dan calls, and Matt shakes his head without thinking.

“Neil,” he replies softly.

“Get out of town,” Dan says, voice getting louder as she floats towards them. She appears at Matt’s shoulder and grins. “Well if it isn’t our favourite competition.”

Neil usually says something obnoxious about Matt’s team not even counting as competition, but this time his mouth stays thin and snapped shut. Matt and Dan exchange a loaded glance.

“I need to ask you a favour,” Neil says finally.

“Anything,” Matt says.

“I need to stay somewhere,” Neil says, and Matt watches him gather himself like he’s finding his balance on a slick of ice.

“Where’s Andrew,” Dan says slowly. Neil looks at her, and then at Matt. He hasn’t seemed quite this small since he first showed up at the foxhole court with all his lies clenched between his teeth.

“I can find somewhere else,” Neil says, already turning to go. Matt catches him by the strap of his duffel.

“Oh no you don’t. We’ve got a couch with your name on it.”

“If Matt hasn’t destroyed it with peanut sauce,” Dan chirps. Neil looks back and forth between them again, his face in knots. Matt bodily pulls him over the threshold.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We get how it is.” He looks over at Dan and she’s already nodding.

“Thanks,” Neil says, and he drops his bag heavily just inside the door. He eyes the TV. “What were you watching?”

“Not exy,” Dan replies. “You might have heard of it.” She flops back onto her side of the couch and tucks her feet under herself. Matt settles down opposite and watches Neil perch on the armchair like it’s made of something sharp.

“We can change it?”

Neil shakes his head, and his eyes drop. Matt feels metaphorical eggshells crunching under his heels. It’s never been this uneasy with Neil, even when they first met.

Neil picks at his armbands until he seems to realize what he’s doing, and he reaches under the sleeves of his hoodie to peel them off altogether. Dan shoots Matt a frantic look.

“Not to pry,” Dan starts, “but do you need us to call anyone?”

He looks up. “Like who?”

“Like…” she looks at Matt. “Your coach? Nicky, maybe? Kevin?”

“How would they help me?” Neil says flatly.

“Man, your Andrew impression is killer,” Matt grits, nerves pricking with frustration. Neil’s expression goes tight, distorted like canvas stretched to fit an oversized frame.

Keep reading

It didn’t matter how much I loved you. It still wasn’t enough to make you love me back.

My fingers aching to intertwine with yours could never be enough to make you share my gaze.
My poems written solely about you could never be enough to make you try to read my expression.
The tight hugs I gave you could never make you stay with me.
My brown eyes could never hold the universes you wanted to get lost in.
That lovely winter night spent with your jacket around my shoulders could never keep you from driving away.
My love for you could never make you fall in love.

—  gone

decembercamiecherries  asked:

I don't know if you're still doing the "Travel Drabbles" buuuuut if you are, would you be interested in writing a drabble with the prompts of 'killugon' and 'royalty'? I really love royalty aus haha ^^ If not just ignore this whole thing! (you're really great and an incredible writer by the way and every time you post anything it makes my day okay bye)

[shows up with prompt fill two weeks late] so uh, hallo, anyone want cookies? dc, this prompt was excellent. fun fact: I had the last two lines done basically since this hit my inbox, I just had to figure out how I’d get there. killugon, royalty au, 600 words

It takes almost a week for anyone from the Zoldyck castle to finally track Killua down after he’s kidnapped. Not like it matters really: even if he hadn’t been able to take care of his attackers—which he was, he’s a prince not a weakling—traveling mercenary and accidental freer of princes Gon Freecss has been more than capable. Once he’d cut Killua’s bindings and put a small dagger into his hands, the two of them had cut a swath through the bandit camp. The following week has been…

For Gon, it’s probably been an irregular but otherwise acceptable week of mercenary work—although he hasn’t gotten paid at all, and the gold offered by the Zoldyck butlers is turned down with an awkward laugh. He’s certainly taken Killua being the heir to a small but almost hilariously affluent kingdom with barely a blink.

But for Killua, it has been everything. Because for the first time, someone didn’t give a shit about who he was supposed to be, and only cared about him.

“Will I see you again?” Gon asks, expression tight with unspoken nerves. The idea of never seeing Gon again is utterly inconceivable. The realization that Killua doesn’t want to live in a world without his new friend hits him like a felled tree. It’s been a week. How has Gon turned his world on its head in a week. What would it be like with a month? A year?

“Of course, idiot.” Gotoh, Canary, and Amane are all glaring at him as though channeling Queen Kikyo and Prince Illumi all at once, but he doesn’t care.

Gon doesn’t look like he’s ready to let Killua go. “Then, take this as a promise!” he says, and holds out the same dagger that he’d shoved into Killua’s hands almost a week ago. The worn leather sheath is incongruous with the blue steel of the blade. It had been Gon’s father’s, once, and now it’s Gon’s—from Killua’s experience, he uses it more to slice meat and clean his nails than as any sort of memorabilia.

“Will you take it?” Gon asks again.

Killua grins. “It’s a promise,” he says, and tucks Gon’s dagger—his dagger into his belt.

Gon closes his hand over Killua’s, hot as a brand, and Killua’s heart flops over. He can’t stop smiling, though, not in the face of Gon’s grin. And then he’s gone, back into the forest, and Killua can breathe again.

Gotoh’s glare deepens. “Do you know how furious your brother will be,” he says.

Killua shrugs. “You found me, right? And Gon found me first. So there’s no harm done.” Not if he can convince Gon to visit at the palace soon. Maybe he’ll come for Killua’s birthday? Or a feast day? Or maybe Killua can make something up…

“My prince,” Canary says in a tone that might as well be saying you complete idiot. “You are aware the Freecss family is from Whale Island?”

“Of course. Gon told me all about it. He even invited me to visit his aunt—which I’m going to, first chance I get.” He dares them to challenge this, one of the sparingly few things Killua’s ever wanted for himself.

Gotoh’s expression falls into bemused frustration, making Amane and Canary both cough back laughter. He says, “Then you must also know that for the people on Whale Island, willingly accepting a personal dagger is equivalent to accepting an engagement for marriage?”

Killua chokes.

TOG Headcanons (kid edition)

hello my lovelies these have been on my mind for quite a while and I’d love to share them with you so let’s begin :D Please note that these headcanons are the basis of my fics and that everything i say here has been or will be touched upon in my fanfic.

(these are mainly Elorcan bc i’m trash but other ships too so hold on)

-Elide and Lorcan are the first to get pregnant and it is PURELY by accident. 

-Like the war is over and both of them are v happy with each other, but her mind gets muddled about a few things and she forgets to take the birth control tonic that she and Lysandra usually share and BOOM since she’s not High Fae and doesn’t have the thing where it’s hard to conceive.

-When she finds out she FREAKS but knows that she’s gonna keep the baby no matter what. She seeks Lorcan out and immediately talks to him about it, no dancing around and no useless emotional conflict bc this is a serious thing. 

-Lorcan is dumbfounded and needs a few minutes to fully process that he’s going to be a father. He’s never particularly wanted kids himself but he does love them and show them affection every time since he himself was an unloved bastard child so he has a soft spot for them.    

-But when he does fully process it and Elide is a bit nervous since he hasn’t said a word since she told him. He kisses her forehead and says it would be an honour to have children with her.

-Lorcan is surprisingly good at tending to her needs, like you wouldn’t think a brute warrior would know about nightgowns and bras and generally all the things that come with pregnancy but he does and what he doesn’t know he asks Elide and keeps that info in his mind for later. The only thing he lacks is that sort of caring and loving element that should accompany him taking care of her so Elide teaches him by hugging him long and hard and snuggling upto him at night and giving little caresses throughout the day, Lorcan catches on and starts doing this as well and Elide loves him all the more.

-Aelin and the Terrasen gang come to Perranth to visit and congratulate them since traveling is a no-no for Elide and the girls all gush with her about what the baby will look like and what it’ll be named and Aelin starts discussing fashion and maternity clothes for Elide and they all coo after the designs she brought of baby onesies. They both feel so happy since the cadre make numerous toasts to them and even though Lorcan isn’t the social type he still enjoys himself with the simple company of his friends and nothing else like they aren’t bloodsworn members of anyone’s court and they aren’t legendary warriors. They’re just guys that are celebrating about one of them becoming a father.

-Everything happy dandy? NOPE.

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cuiwi  asked:

fluffy shidge ficlet, uhh... pidge and shiro playing a videogame together? pidge is losing and she cheats by trying to distract shiro, maybe :3c

“Just write a super quick ficlet,” I said to myself. “It’ll take no time at all,” I said to myself (PS OMG THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT):

There were a lot of things Pidge would do for love. In fact, she kept an updated and enumerated list of things should would do to love which, as of her most recent count, contained 37 items subcategorized as “Under Any Circumstances” and 12 items listed under “Only Under Extreme Circumstances and Probably with Some Bitching Involved.” As she wiped a sweat-sticky hand across her shirt and tightened her grip on her joystick, she reviewed said list for not the first time that hour. Things she had done for love included but were not limited to:

  • Chopping off her hair and putting up with the reek of teenage boy BO and Axe-soaked dorms for six months
  • Barrelling lion-first into the path of a massive bolt of quintessence despite having damaged both her particle barrier and cloaking shield in battle
  • Occasionally relinquishing the last slice of Hunk’s homemade pizza
  • Learning an alien language, traveling half-way across the universe on her own, and fighting a Druid on her own before Keith could show up for extraction
  • Sharing the blanket and going to bed at a reasonable hour at least three times a month
  • Trading her last Mars bar to Lance, who in return agreed not to needle Keith for a week, as part of a bargain she made with Hunk over a batch of his scaultrite cookies, which she then took to the Swap Moon after bribing Coran with a rubber duck she’d knicked from Lance, where, after some hard bartering, she was finally able to trade the cookies for a classic, mint-condition Earth Atari gaming system and three games, all because Shiro had mentioned once that he used to enjoy spending hours playing his grandmother’s old Atari games.

Pidge squinted at the screen, yanking back and forth on the joystick as she attempted to get her paddle in place in time. The tiny white dot on the screen sailed past her rectangular paddle, and a low, blaring tone announced her epic miss. The score on the screen - the wrong side of the screen - jumped from ‘5’ to ‘6’.

“Halfway there,” Shiro said. “But you can still catch up.” 

Her glare shifted from the big, fat ‘0’ on her side of the screen to the tight-lipped expression on Shiro’s face. Pidge wrinkled her nose; she knew that expression like she knew the back of her own sore and sweaty hands. He was trying, and near failing, not to laugh at her plight.

There was a long list of things Pidge would do for love. But nowhere on that list was “Getting her ass handed to her in a game of Pong by her boyfriend.” Gritting her teeth, Pidge jammed the single button on the controller to start the next round. The ball drifted across the black screen, hit Shiro’s perfectly placed paddle with an electronic blip, and once again missed her paddle by a mile.

“I swear you’re cheating,” she grumbled. With a harumph, she slouched down further into his lap and started the next round.

“I swear I’m not,” he replied. “I guess it’s just like riding a bike.”

 The vibration from his laughter may have coursed down her spine with a pleasant warmth, and he may have placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head right before he landed another point, but no matter how affectionate, and handsome, and stunning he was, Pidge was not going to let his endless charm get the best of her. She’d fought Lance tooth and nail for the title of “Voltron Video Game Champion” and she wasn’t about to lose it to Shiro over a game that was probably as old as Coran or something.

She had to do something.

Shiro’s score hit ‘10’ and the idea hit her. As they played the next round, she stretched up in his lap until the top of her head came just above his chin. Loose from its usual ponytail, her hair clouded up and out in all directions - including right under Shiro’s nose. Without tearing her eyes from the screen, Pidge tilted her head up a fraction of an inch, then shook it ever-so-slightly.

And just as she’d hoped, Shiro reared his head back to get away from the tickle of her hair and dropped his concentration just long enough for her to score her first point.

“Nailed it!” she cheered, pumping a fist. She turned her head and looked up at Shiro, only to be met with a set of eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Lucky shot,” he muttered.

He hunched forward the best he could with her in his lap and wrapped his hands back around his joystick. All of the casual ease drained from his face, replaced with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. 

“Just be more aware of where you put your hair,” Shiro continued as he pressed the button to begin.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding far-from-sorry. “The damn thing has a mind of its own.”

The next round started. There was no way Shiro would be fooled by the same thing twice, so this time, Pidge went low. As if trying to get into a more comfortable position, she began to squirm and shift in his lap.

There was nothing Pidge loved more than a smooth, predictable system of operations: Pidge rolled her hips in his lap; Shiro let out a sharp exhale; and a second point went up in Pidge’s favor.

Shiro set the joystick down next to him and planted his hands on her hips. His lips dipped down to brush the shell of her ear, and despite herself, she squirmed against him again.

“Let me guess,” he breathed, fingers flexing. “This thing has a mind of its own too?”

“Yup.” She let her head fall back against his chest to watch his reaction. It was hard to tell in the dim, bluish light of the screen, but Shiro’s eyes seemed to darken as he took her in. His fingers dug into her sides, and he pulled her closer against him.

“You wouldn’t be trying to distract me so that you can win, would you?” he asked, leaning in.

She rolled her eyes, but knew she’d given herself away when she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’d never.”


Shiro’s lips brushed her cheek. Was it her blush or his touch that burned across her skin?

“Never,” she echoed.

The word sounded distant to her own ears, as if she’d half-forgotten what she’d been saying. When his mouth captured hers, any remaining half-thought vanished, replaced by the sweet slick of his tongue gliding against hers. Firm against hers, his lips pressed hard and moved in slow circles. His hand skirted under the hem of her shirt and slid slowly up her side. He matched her low moan with an unsteady inhale, then broke their kiss.

“Too bad,” he panted. “Because I would.”

Pidge’s brain slogged through the wave of fresh endorphins, trying to grasp at his meaning. A moment later, the 8-bit bong of a ball hitting the edge of the screen cut through her thoughts. Whipping towards the screen, she watched in horror as Shiro’s score turned to ‘11’ - Game Over.

“Y-you-” she stammered.

“I?” Shiro’s lips curled into a grin.

Given her devastating loss, Pidge had no choice but to seek immediate retribution.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said, grabbing him by his shoulders and dragging his lips down to hers.


To Feed A Flame - Part I

I’ve collected a ton of prompts asking for this kind of fic by now and here it finally is: EreJeanMarco ABO au, for all you kinky little shits out there

“Wait…”, Jean mumbled fingers stilling where they were tangled in Eren’s shirt, slowly blinking down at the shorter boy he had shoved against the wall. “You’re not … you’re not a Beta?”
Eren huffed, eyelids fluttering as he looked down, cheeks red and lips glistening. Jean had expected many things to come out of this, but not Eren dropping that kind of surprise between frantic kisses.
“I’m not”, he growled, gaze stubbornly cast down. “So can you start that gloating thing you always do and … get it over with?”
Jean blinked. He would have been offended at the suggestion alone if the topic hadn’t been so obviously painful for Eren to talk about. The way he was bracing himself for ridicule and rejection said everything and Jean felt a painful sting in his chest realizing how afraid Eren must have been of his reaction.

“That’s not … I wouldn’t…” There were no words, really. Not when Eren clenched his jaw tight and turned his face away, hands falling away from Jean’s hips.
Jean didn’t know how to explain this to Eren. That he’d never laugh about him for something important the way he did for countless other, tiny things. That their sarcastic banter wasn’t supposed to get this personal. For a second he wondered why the other boy would ever think it even could. But with the way Eren seemed to withdraw further from him every second he needed to do something, anything, to save the situation.

“Does Marco know?”, he asked instead of keeping up his attempts at assuring Eren he wouldn’t make fun of him or gloat. Eren shrugged.
“He will when you run home and tell him about it”, he muttered, still not looking at Jean and okay, that stung. But he couldn’t even start to imagine the kind of scenarios Eren’s mind had spun thinking about coming out to them.
Maybe that was the reason it had taken them this long. They’d been dancing around the border of officially dating for months now, giving Eren the time he needed while growing increasingly more and more frustrated and worried. Apparently it wasn’t just the idea of joining a couple that had already been dating a long time that had kept Eren at arms length…

“I won't”, Jean said, careful to keep his voice level and calm as he reached up with one hand, nudging a finger against Eren’s chin to carefully coax him into eye contact again. It was tentative and guarded but good enough for the moment. “I won’t tell Marco anything without your consent. But … you could come home with me and we could talk to him together?”

It took Eren a long while of gazing critically into Jean’s eyes until he started to accept that this was it, that Jean wouldn’t laugh about him or leave or break off the whole, budding relationship.
“Okay”, he finally breathed and even though he didn’t seem too convinced just yet it had to be enough for the moment.


“I understand you were nervous”, Marco said, kind and gentle, holding hand between careful fingers. “But thank you for telling us. We really appreciate it, that must have been so hard for you…”
Eren nodded, lips still tight but expression way less guarded after they had promised him that, no Jean and Marco weren’t dating because they were only really attracted to other Alphas and that no, of course they wouldn’t send him away after finding out he was an Omega. Sure they would have to learn a few things but that was far from impossible. And now that they knew about him they could take even better care of him and understand his behaviour even better.

“But Eren…”, Marco continued, eyebrows pulled together a bit. “Why did you tell us now? Did something happen?”
Jean had wondered that as well. Been wrecking his brain if they’d said or done anything that could have made him worry like that. But it had been way more important to get Eren home and onto their couch so that Marco, sweet, gentle, patient Marco, could take care of the delicate situation before Jean said something stupid that drove their almost-boyfriend away completely.

Eren bit his lip and nodded. He looked so tiny right now, like a “proper” Omega. Jean only noticed because usually their friend looked anything but demure and submissive. On the contrary, he was strong and opinionated and he always got what he wanted.
Seeing him like this, scared and embarrassed, was weird and made an odd protectiveness crawl through Jean’s chest.

“My heat’s close.”
The words were so quiet Jean almost didn’t catch them and he only knew he heard right when Marco’s eyes opened just a bit wider.
“You’d have found out anyway and I thought … if you wanted to end it because of … you at least wouldn’t have to see me like that…”
“Oh darling…”, Marco hummed, raising Eren’s hand to his lips to breathe a soft kiss against bruised knuckles. “We don’t mind at all. All we want is for you to be comfortable around us.”
“I am!”, Eren said vehemently, almost startling in the soft, quite atmosphere. “I’ve never felt so safe around anyone before, let alone Alphas! I was just so scared of losing this when you found out…”

Jean had to swallow. All this time he didn’t have the slightest idea.
“Well, you won’t.” His voice sounded a little raspy but the tiny smile he got for his efforts was enough. Silence fell over them for a while after that but it was far from the oppressive kind that had hung in the air before Eren had started to talk.

“Where will you spend your heat?” As soon as the words were out Jean wanted to take them back, overcome with the strong urge to hit himself in the face. That sounded so cliché, so perverted and lusty and … Alpha. Just what Eren didn’t need right then. He wouldn’t have been surprised if their friend got up and left.
But instead Eren shrugged, a light hint of pink creeping back onto his cheeks.
“I don’t know yet…”, he mumbled and his voice sounded so small and adorable Jean wanted to kiss him. But he stayed firmly seated in the armchair across from them.

“Well, you do know two guys who’d love to take care of you…”, Marco offered with a mischievous smirk and Eren blushed even more. “No pressure, no expectations. Just an offer. Think about it?”
Marco hadn’t even finished before Eren nodded, a small, careful movement but it didn’t look uninterested at all.
“I will”, he promised, voice strong and even again. Jean really, really hoped he would.

Part II

[If you enjoyed this story, please consider buying me a coffee <3] 

Force - Castiel x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Sometimes you both forget just how strong Castiel is. One of those times, it leads to breaking one of the home appliances. 

Words: 726

Warnings: Smut, getting caught.

A/N: Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem, also too much force  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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Guardian (XIII)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongdae / Baekhyun

Rating: R

Word Count: 3,668

Summary:  You keep seeing the same guy everywhere you go. In the coffee shop, on the streets, in your philosophy class. It’s getting to the point where you think he’s stalking you - only to realize that maybe there’s something much more mysterious at play here. (AU: Jongdae is your guardian angel)

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Bond-age (Theo)

no whips WASSUP GUYS I’VE GOT ANOTHER PART THANKS TO THE LIL ANON WHO ASKED AND BECAUSE NEW THEO IS A DELIGHT. ofc this is a second installment so it’s not as good as the first, but what do you expect?

“Is that a nightlight?” Theo stares and you freeze, pausing in sifting through your clean clothes pile. Rolling your shoulders, you continue searching, though you’re more focused on him across the room than the clothes in your hands now.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“And you sleep with it on, every night?” He asks, still eyeing it and you groan a long sound.

“Yes, I hate the dark, jeez.” You snap, finally locating his shirt and pulling it from the pile. “Here’s your shirt.”

“Cool.” He smiles, taking the soft grey cloth from your fingers without looking at it. “I- Yeah, okay, thanks.”

“All good.” You nod, leaning back on your heels and glancing around. “So when are you-”

“I should go- Oh were you-?”

“Nah, nothing, okay. See ya.” You smile, waving him to the door and he nods, seemingly to himself, before exiting.

A soft tap hits your window and you jerk awake, the deep blue patterns of your nightlight decorating the walls. Carefully, you pad across the room, claws coming unsheathed on one hand.

“Whose there?” You hiss, stretching and curling your clawed hand. You’d never technically had to use them before. Your mom made sure the both of you were safe from fights and you’d missed out on most of the fights the pack were a part of. Scott tended to keep you hidden, more of a symbolic werewolf than a real one.

“It’s me, open up.” Theo demands and you can’t help snorting. That’s a joke. Last you remember he was chained up every night. So no. You’re not opening up to some shapeshifter freak.

Ha. Shapeshifter freak. Works both ways, even if it is really Theo and not some monster wearing his skin.

“Please leave so I don’t have to cut your skin off, Skin Stealer.” You hiss, twitching the curtains a little to see Theos face peering through your window. Hell, he’s so cute. You’ve got to resist. To save yours and Melissas lives.

“Seriously, Y/N? It’s me.” He snaps and you drop the curtain, crossing back to your bed and eyeing the fish patterns on your roof.

“Whale, whale, whale.” You whisper, snickering softly and curling up under your blanket. If you ignore the skin stealer, maybe it’ll go away and not murder you.

“Y/N!” It calls through the window and you squeak softly, despite yourself. Curling tighter, you duck under the blankets and breath loudly. Maybe it’ll drown out the sounds of whatevers out there.

A thud sounds and you hear the back door open, your body unclenching. Scotts home. Maybe he even killed the thing at your window. Wouldn’t that be nice. Your door snicks open softly and you peek out of the covers, expecting Scott to be glancing in on you with an affectionate goodnight.

Theo face monster.

Your lips part to scream and it leaps across the room, landing on you, it’s palm covering your mouth as the weight of it takes your breath away.

“Be quiet, it’s me.” Theo whispers, his lips brushing your ear and you inhale a panicked breath, only to relax and nearly melt into a puddle. No one smells quite as good as real Theo. His eyes meet yours for a long moment before he removes his hand, setting it on the bed beside your head.

“Sorry.” You whisper and he smiles, glancing toward your wall, only for his gaze to travel over your walls and roof.

“It’s so cool.” He marvels, gaping at the giant whale above your bed. You can’t help yourself from watching his expression avidly, the utter delight almost an aphrodisiac. His gaze returns to you and you force a bright smile and nod happily.

“Really cool. And sorry again that I didn’t let you in. I thought someone had stolen your skin.” You mumble and he laughs quietly, sliding off you and stretching across your blankets.

“I like this bed.” He observes, rising to his side and you nod, silently. How else can you respond? Theo, pretty Theo, is here in your bed. And he’s on his side staring down at you. When moments ago he was on you. And if he just flopped his arm out, it’d be across your waist. Then it’d be one of those moments, the really cute ones.

“Why’re you here?” You ask suddenly, the thought like ice water over your too hot body.

“To see your nightlight.” He shrugs, laying back with his head on your pillow, hair brushing yours. “I wanted to see it at night.”

“Didn’t think to just ask for a snap, say?” You hum and he chuckles softly, sliding his arm under your neck and pulling you close till your head rests on his shoulder.

“But then I couldn’t do this and feel fantastic that I’ve got an adorable girl all over me.” He teases, still watching the still patterns above and you chuckle. Idiot.

“Scott will get angry.”

“Let’s see him do it, I like your company enough to risk it.” He counters, turning and pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. Your breath rattles out softly as he pulls away and you shift, curling into his side tighter and letting your eyes fall closed.

“Don’t wake me when you leave.” You warn softly and he smirks audibly, kicking his shoes off and pushing himself under the blankets.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Scott snaps and you jerk awake, your palm resting on Theos chest as your eyes slowly focus on Scott in the doorway.

“What?” You croak blearily, rubbing your eyes with the hand that isn’t holding Theo down and blinking at the boy in the doorway.

“Theo. What is he doing here?” Scott snaps and you glance down at him, the ex-villain looking somehow more sleep rumpled than you. And sure, it’s cute, but it’s not cute too. Like Goldilocks porridge.

“I wanted to-”

“That’s my sister, dude. First you had to try and kill the town and now you’re gonna try and hook up with my sister too? Where does the betrayal end, man?” Scott groans, rubbing his face tiredly and you snicker, letting Theo sit up. Your body wavers a moment before you lean against your bedmate, your eyes falling shut.

“We didn’t hook up, Scotty. He wanted to see my nightlight and sleeping together makes bonds better. I’m ingratiating him.” You blather, waving your hand in circles and yawning widely. “He’s too pretty to date me- this isn’t an argument, and I’m too bad to be tied down.”

Theo laughs softly, the sound a little off, but Scott grins at the two of you.

“Sorry, kid, I forgot.” He laughs, eyeing you both with a keen interest and you wave your hands at him. Once he’s been shooed out, and your door is closed once more, you flop back against the sheets and groan.

“You leaving now or staying?” You ask, yawning again and tugging on the blanket.


“Cool.” You murmur, pulling him back down beside you and half crawling onto him.

“How the hell did you slip them?” Liam shouts, shoving into your room and you can’t help hissing at him and dragging the blanket over yours and Theos heads.

“If we stay quiet he might leave.” You whisper to Theo, who’s smiling with his eyes closed.

“Maybe.” He agrees, his voice warm, sleepy and affectionate. Shuffling closer, you smile as his arms wrap around you and his face tucks against your neck.

“I can hear you.” Liam snaps from the doorway and you snort, squeaking as Theo nibbles on your neck. “Oh god.”

“I’ll return him once we’re awake.” You call through the blankets, scoffing at the disgusted noise Liam makes. The door shuts hard and you throw the blankets off your head, pulling away from Theo some. “That was a snake move, you- murder puppy!”

He laughs, his grip around your waist pulling you back toward him lightly.

“I won’t do it again,” He promises and you sigh, relaxing into his arms. “Unless you ask me to, of course.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You laugh, snuggling into his chest and closing your eyes, only for your phone to start ringing. “Dammit!”

“Ta-da! The murder puppy, rumpled, but still completely virtuous.” You beam, gesturing grandly to Theo beside you, who watches you with half a smile. Scott sighs, Liam scowling at the pair of you. That is, until he realizes what you’ve said.

“Wait- wait- He’s a virgin?” Liam snorts, staring at Theo with a deviously delighted expression and your eyes narrow. Theo doesn’t react, but you can’t help yourself.

“So am I, something funny about it?” You snap, moving forward half a step, only to pause as Theo gently touches your elbow.

“No but-”

“No buts, asshole. Some people are too busy living their lives to have sex.” You hiss, glaring at him dangerously as you flounce to Scotts side and throw yourself onto the couch beside him.

“You mean, too busy being raised to be evil by a group of nut case doctors?” Liam shoots you a scowl, but rises from the couch and jerks his head to the door for Theo to follow.

“He can stay.” Scott orders, not raising his head from where he’s staring at the carpet and you blink, the other two staring too. “Theo can stay here, for now.”

“Where?” Liam points out helpfully, reminding all of you of the limited space but you’re already beaming at Theo. Theo watches Scott fixedly, expression tight and you watch Liams face darken at the other boys reaction.

“Here.” Scott snaps, raising his head to meet Liams eyes with a quelling look. “He needs somewhere to stay, since he technically died.”

Theo stands stock still, not even moving his gaze between the two of them like you are and you push to your feet.

“Theo.” You call softly, glad when he looks up and crosses to your side. His silence makes you nervous, as if the moment means something to him.

“But-” Liam starts, his voice cut off my Scott.

“I can keep an eye on him. He’s staying.” Scott snaps, his gaze shifting from his beta to the omega at your side. “He’s not going to cause any trouble.”

“No.” Theo promises quietly and you beam at him, then at Scott.

“See?” Scott says to Liam, who watches the two of you with a sick fascination in his eyes. Nodding tightly, Liam pulls the front door open and disappears through it. You grin at the two boys, watching Theo relax some.

“You two are on probation. A wrong move from either and it’s over.” He warns and you gape, looking Theo over before retuning your gaze to Scott.

“But I’m good!” You whine, cringing when Scott laughs.

“Didn’t you just say a few hours ago that you’re “bad”?” He counters and you growl.

“Oh whatever, lets go, murder puppy.” You snap, pushing Theo toward the stairs and he bounds up them without looking back, the tension only leaving his shoulders after he crosses the threshold of your room. “Better?”

“Much.” He sighs, collapsing onto your bed and you nab your laptop from the desk and crawl onto the bed beside him. “Netflix and chill?”

“Downloaded and bonding.” You counter, laughing as he rolls his eyes and groans.

there we goo

Feeling Alive- Part 7

Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.


Part 1 (Slow Hands)

Part 2 (Stay)

Part 3 (There Will Come a Time)

Part 4 (Weapon of Choice)

Part 5 (Came Here For Love)

Part 6 (Where the Sky Hangs)

When Can I See You Again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter 8/?: When Can I See You Again?

Word count: 3159

It’s time for Open Practice… Gosh you guys. You’re so sweet and wonderful and I’m so grateful to every single one of you. This one’s pretty long, but I think you’ll enjoy. (I hope you’ll enjoy!). Let’s do this!

It’s four o clock on Friday morning and you’re holding a hushed conversation with Lola over large mugs of coffee.

“But that’s great! Aren’t you excited?”

You nod, then stifle a yawn with a hand.

“I just hope I don’t fall asleep… But yeah. It feels like this big part of his life and-”

“And he’s letting you into it,” Lola nods in a satisfied kind of way. “I’m so pleased for you, Y/N.”

“Let’s not get too excited,” You tell her, more to manage your own expectations than anything else, before getting to your feet. “I’m going out on blanket patrol.”

“See you in a bit, then,” Lola turns back to her computer screen. You pick up the bundle of blankets from the spare chair and walk out, waving to Nahid who’s currently manning the front desk.

OK, so when you had said you were free on Friday, you had sort of neglected to tell Bucky that you were also on the night shift at the library until seven in the morning. You hadn’t wanted- well, to give him any excuse to tell you not to come. And you’ll be fine. It’s not like you haven’t been tired before.

You tread softly through the carpeted alleyways of the library, checking all the spots you know are favourite haunts for exhausted students looking for a spot to nap. Although sleeping in the library isn’t officially encouraged, the faculty had eventually recognised that not only was it an inevitability (especially during exam season) but also that the air conditioning in the building was so ferocious that students would find themselves waking up half-frozen. Hence blanket patrol.

You give out six blankets: some to sleepy, but still conscious friends, some you have to carefully drape over the curled-up forms yourself. After you’ve checked every inch of the library, you return to the office and sit down to go over the inventory lists for the month. Just three more hours to go…

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