gonna prepare my feels for saturday

To my followers

I apologize in Advance!! For the next few days my blog is gonna get crashed with comic Con related stuff. Feel free to unfollow if you don’t feel like seeing a bunch of dumb posts about my trip. It’s totally fine! Again I’m so sorry, but I am so excited!! I didn’t document the last two trips Enough and I don’t want to make that same mistake again. I’ll be Cosplaying Skadi Thursday and Saturday. Then Hanji (attack on Titan) Saturday and Sunday.

Prepare your butts.

ficlet: Wrong Window

Anonymous asked you: So I just read about an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au… Just, ya know, putting that out there while subtly falling in love with your work…

Keep reading

thekingandthelionheart  asked:

sleepover saturdaaaaay! assuming drabble suggestions are cool, i'd love to see your take on the aftermath of "he remembered you, you know. your pal, your buddy, your bucky." :D

(I feel like a terrible human because I’ve actually not REALLY paid attention to the whole D23 thing, because there was no trailer. I know who said this and to who so, forgive me if there’s something inconsistent) 


Steve stumbled back, Rumlow’s words literally rushing at Steve like a tidal wave. Cold tendrils wrapped around Steve’s spine, pulling him down. He suddenly felt so heavy

Rumlow sneered, standing and spreading his legs, gearing up for the fight that hadn’t even really begun. 

Steve’s mouth was hanging open, memories playing before his eyes like a movie. He saw Bucky’s face, sleepily looking at him as they hunkered down in a raggedy tent out in the middle of Europe on a Commando mission. 

“Rain’s pretty loud, huh?” Bucky offered, stretching. Steve’s gaze trailed along the gentle arch of Bucky’s lithe back. He wanted to reach out so badly, to graze his fingers against the smooth curves along the muscle that flirted with Steve’s eyes. 

“Y-yeah. Havin’ trouble sleeping?” Steve asked with a sticky throat. He swallowed hard. Maybe going out into the rain and just staring up and letting the water trickle into him wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“You know I’m a light sleeper,” Bucky teased, casually slapping Steve’s thigh. It was brotherly, a gesture that Steve hated because it drew a line in the proverbial sand and Steve hated it. He hated it because he loved Bucky Barnes. He wasn’t just a brother, he was half his heart, half his soul, the other lung residing in his body. Steve literally could not function without Bucky Barnes. Bucky was his… Bucky just…didn’t know it. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked, cocking a brow. He propped up his head in his hand, turning to look at Steve fuller. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m hot,” Steve abruptly said. He shimmied out of his sleeping back and out into the rain. He’d always admired Bucky, ever since they were children. That admiration turned to jealousy and desire and suddenly to reverence and love. Real love. The kind that grabs you by the gut and yanks you in that person’s direction, dragging you kicking and screaming till you’re nose to nose and left reeling with what to say. 

Steve let the cool water droplets soak into his skives. Staring up at the dark sky, no one to see the betrayal on his face, the love that poured from his soul, that pined away and cried when it thought no one was looking. He loved Bucky far too much. Bucky was his. 

He started as his pal… running around as children. 

Became his buddy, till the end of the line; best friends. 

Bucky was his… He just didn’t know it. Steve never wanted to say it. He knew the harsh reality. Bucky liked dames with thick thighs and large breasts. He liked women that he could hold onto. Steve, for all his scientifically enhanced perfection, was not female and therefore, Bucky would never really be his. 

“You sure you’re feelin’ okay?” Bucky called over the sounds of heavy rain. Rain clung to his face, slipping down his angular jaw and off his cleft chin. His skives completely soaked through, exposing each dip, each muscle. 

Steve whined, thankful the roar of rain blocked it from Bucky’s ears. “I just got hot, James!” Steve yelled over the rain. 

Bucky titled his head to the side, chewing softly at his bottom lip. Steve wanted to press the pads of his fingers against that mouth, to know if it was as silken as it appeared to be. 

“I know you!” Bucky insisted. “You don’t call me James unless you’re upset or I accidentally left the milk out!” 

Steve felt his heart lurch into his throat, attempting to claw out of his mouth. He turned away, only to feel fingers wrap around his wrist. 

“Hey!” Bucky pressed. “Talk to me, Stevie!”

Steve closed his eyes, sighing heavily through his nose. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now. All of America was rooting for them, they couldn’t fight now if Steve was forced into revealing how he really felt! 

“I’m just scared!” Steve half-lied. “I don’t wanna lose you, or any Commando!” He figured that was safe. This was common in war, the idea of losing a friend, a fellow soldier. But Steve was scared. He didn’t want to lose Bucky…because he knew Bucky was his, Bucky just didn’t know it yet. 

Bucky’s face softened. He stood closer, cupping his hands over Steve’s cheeks. 

Steve’s eyes opened wide, his lips silently parting. 

“You’re not gonna lose me, Stevie!” Bucky exclaimed over the rain that pounded mercilessly against the ground. “I’m always gonna be here with you. You’re stuck with me!”

Steve laughed. “You my Bucky?” he asked sarcastically, knowing full well he was leading Bucky down a murky path, a path of deceit and only half truths. 

Bucky laughed fully, exposing his perfect teeth and letting the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Yeah, Stevie! I’m your Bucky. And you’ll always be my Stevie!” 

So Bucky did know after all. Bucky knew he was Steve’s. It was just slightly off and not quiet right yet. But maybe…when the war was over…maybe…

“You still with me, Rogers?” Rumlow’s voice cut in, sharp as a knife and rough as gravel. “We ain’t gonna dance all day. I’m on a tight schedule!” 

Steve blinked, feeling his heart squeeze as the memory faded and Bucky was gone, still just barely out of Steve’s reach. Steve hardened himself, curling his fingers into fists as he prepared to take another swing at Rumlow. 

Damn right Bucky was his and he’d remind Bucky of that…the moment he saw him again.


So, I hope that was okay? Idk. I feel bad cause I don’t really know what all went down at D23! But that’s my take on the play on words? 

It’s Sleepover Saturday come hang out with me!
(I’m tagging holahydra so she can see this cause I feel it’s applicable to her and I’m always a slut for her tags)