i just needed to make a set of just his face okay

anonymous asked:

Yaaaay, Yoosung day!!! I'm gonna request something our poor floofy baby is gonna have to deal with someday: one of the pets in his care dying/needing to be euthanized. Aaaaaangst~

(。•́︿•̀。) Why do you want to hurt me?


- At first, he refused to believe it. There was a brief moment where the puppy was doing well, where it even managed a playful bark once. He’s dead set on figuring out why it was okay for that brief amount of time- What medicine did they use? Did it get sick with something else??

- So for a couple of nights, he’s running on just coffee and determination, but before he can find a new treatment, he gets the news that it’s not going to make it into the next day.

- On the phone he just sounds exhausted, but when he hangs up he’s looking for you and burying his face against your shoulder. He seems a bit calm, just wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight, but he slowly starts shaking, and then he’s outright sobbing

- “What am I going to say to that little girl? I promised her I would- I just. I promised-”

- He doesn’t sleep again that night. He’s trying his best to stop crying, stop being so emotional, but then he imagines the young owner and starts crying again.

- In the morning he’s just a zombie. Two nights worth of bags under his eyes, hand barely holding onto the coffee mug you bought him a few months ago. He doesn’t eat breakfast, but he manages a small smile when you kiss him goodbye.

- And at work he’s stressed. He had a nurse put the puppy down overnight, and he’s just waiting for that little girl and the mother to come in.

- When she does, the mom and the girl take one look at him and realize that the puppy didn’t make it. He can’t even get the words out- He’s never had to explain this situation. All of the animals under his care had lived before this one.

- Of course the girl cries, and it’s hard for him not to either. Especially when she gets mad at him. He just doesn’t know how to handle the situation, and eventually the girls mom takes her away, promising to try and take her somewhere to cheer her up.

- Yoosung gets to sleep that night, but for the next few days he’s depressed. No LOLOL, cute animals, or you can even cheer him up. And for a bit, you get legitimately concerned. 

- Then one day he comes home with a soft smile. When you question it, he tells you about the little girl coming back in. Apparently, the little girl felt pretty bad for getting mad at him and came to apologize. The thing he’s happy the most, though, is that she said it wasn’t his fault. That she knew he tried his best. 

- It’s a bit of a relief that her visit cheers him up, but you secretly try to plan again for this in the future, even if he doesn’t want to accept that it may happen again.

That whole “Bitty never jokes about babysitting” thing absolutely killed me like, can you imagine little southern gay Eric R. Bittle who has internalized the idea that gay men can’t have kids, and even though he’s always wanted a whole mess of children, has just kind of resigned himself to being Uncle Eric to all his friend’s kids. And then one day while he’s in the kitchen baking, Jack comes in and sits down at the counter with a notebook and says, “Okay I know you said you don’t want me to even think about proposing until after you’ve graduated, but I’d really like to start thinking about the house we’re going to buy, so I can set aside some of my bonus for the downpayment”. And Bitty gets halfway through an internal ‘this boy’ when Jack keeps going, frowning down at his notebook. “It really depends on how many kids we want, I guess. For how much space we need.” 

And Jack’s sitting there with his serious face on, thinking about how they definitely have to make sure the backyard has enough room for a homemade rink, totally unaware that he has just murdered his boyfriend. 

It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 1/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match! 

Word Count: 1,723

A/N: This is already planned out and written (in my head). I loved writing this.

Originally posted by imaginingbucky


Nat raised a brow, a mysterious curve to her smile. Steve was immediately suspicious. He felt his shoulders stiffen and his back straighten. He knew he looked like he had a stick up his ass, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when Natasha looked like the cat that had eaten the canary, and wanted to get caught.

“You left your phone on the coffee table,” she said. Her tone was relaxed, which made Steve more nervous.

His eyes narrowed. “What did you do, Romanoff?” he questioned, broad arms crossing over an equally-broad chest.

She merely shrugged before she turned her right-hand palm-up and relaxing it. Steve’s phone was revealed. “See for yourself.”

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Kisses {Harry Styles Smut}

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: R lol
WORD COUNT: 10k y’all!!!
REQUESTED: nope !

this is my longest one shot, it took up like 20 pages on microsoft word lmfao !! anyways it took me a bit longer than usual bc i went through a slight block (rip) but it is finished and i’m quite proud of it!! feedback is much appreciated, it rly motivates me!! ok that’s it i hope u enjoy :-)

~*~ 

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Roommates (M)

Originally posted by bwipsul

╳ Pairing: Jimin x Reader 

╳ Genre: (one shot) smut and kinda fluff & angst ??

╳ Summary: Being roommates with your best friend can be fun until one day you look at him differently. 

(this is something that I found that I had written months ago and just decided to post it!!)


The day you looked at your best friend as more than a friend, you knew you were screwed. It happened out of nowhere. You just woke up one morning and looked at him differently. You were never going to tell anyone, you weren’t stupid. That would just lead to Jimin being freaked out and nothing being the same. Risking your friendship with Jimin was not worth the little crush you had on him.

Deciding that you couldn’t fall back asleep, you got up to start the morning. Walking into the kitchen to get some breakfast, you didn’t notice your best friend standing there.

“Holy shit! Jimin, you scared me!” You yelled, clutching your chest.

“What’s gotten you so jumpy?” Jimin asks, laughing while opening the refrigerator

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The Club (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut with a dash of fluff.
Word count: 3.6k 

Part one: Kitchen Counter, Part two: Laundry Room.

» Song: Love In This Club part II

Summary: ”Or we can just do it here.“ He hummed, his fingers immediately latching onto his belt and working as quickly as ever to get it loose. “Jeon Jungkook,” You quietly scolded with a laugh, placing a hand over his and looked around. “People can see you.” Once you looked back down at him, he shook his head slowly, “It doesn’t matter, baby,” He reasoned, his tongue flickering over his lips. “Everyone’s wasted, I promise. I just…I want you so bad.” 


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Just a Sterek drabble I wrote on this rainy Sunday afternoon because I started my day off watching an absolutely SOUL-CRUSHING ep of House, M.D. and needed a little something to cheer myself up afterwards.

In case it’s not your thing: this fic features Stiles/OMC, but not for long. ;) Rated T, under 1k words

Sometimes Stiles’ new boyfriend can be fairly awesome, like when they stay up until three a.m. together playing video games and making out, or like that time… like… Well, pretty much all the examples Stiles can think of right now are sex things, but. But Jake’s a nice guy, kind of. He’s hot. He’s so hot Stiles still can’t believe he wants to date Stiles, and there are times when he can be a lot of fun.

Then there are the times (like today) that have Stiles questioning all his life choices, especially this one.

“Stiles, stop texting Lydia,” Jake says. No—practically whines. Seriously.

“Uh, no?” Stiles hits send, because Jake is not the boss of him. “We’re still on the ground. We don’t have to turn our phones off yet.”

And now Jake is pouting at him, like he’s six years old. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes. “Stop trying to tell me who I can and cannot text. It’s creepy and controlling.”

Jake tries to put his hand over Stiles’, and it actually makes Stiles’ skin crawl a little bit. Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, hands safely tucked into his armpits. In retrospect, inviting Jake along on a trip to Hawaii was probably a bad idea when they’ve only been dating for three months.

Jake crosses his arms, too. “I’m your boyfriend. I’m not allowed to get a little possessive?”

“A little possessive? This is not ‘a little possessive.’ This is annoying and ridiculous and petty and invasive and… Look, yes, I’m bisexual, but Lydia and I are just friends. We’re always going to be friends, and I’m never cutting her out of my life for a boyfriend. The end. So you can stop being a jealous dick—”

“Or what?”

Stiles can’t believe they’re having this conversation right now. “Or maybe we shouldn’t be dating after all.”

Jake runs a hand through his sandy blond prince-charming hair and snorts. “Please, this relationship is over when I say it is. Or do you seriously think anyone else is lining up to date you?”

For a moment Stiles is actually speechless, because how has he spent the last three months thinking this guy was attractive? How did he overlook this level of douchebaggery? Some kind of witchcraft, probably.

That’s when the guy in the row ahead of them turns around in his seat, looks Stiles straight in the eye, and says without even one hint that he’s joking, “I would date you.”

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I was inspired by @lazulisong‘s utter brilliance.

The moment Takeshi learned of Yuuri’s ginormous crush on Victor Nikiforov, he lifted Yuuri’s sweatshirt, took a big handful of belly, and shouted loud enough to wake Yuuri’s dead grandmother, “Keep dreaming, round boy! Victor would never want a tubbo like you!”

Oh, but if only Takeshi knew that Victor Nikiforov not only wants a tubbo like Yuuri but that he cried when Yuuri announced that it was time to drop the weight in preparation for the new season. Cried actual tears. The kind of tears usually reserved for deaths in the family or losing everything in a fire. The kind he shed when he thought Yuuri was breaking up with him. Bitter, heart-wrenching tears that leave him red-faced and heaving, then stumbling around hours later, wrung completely dry.

To be fair, Victor cries like that about literally everything—Yuuri landing a quad, surprise candlelight dinners, children in oversized parkas, murals that feature the color cerulean, dogs in movies (not just when they die, but when they’re there at all), the fourth ringtone on his new phone, daffodils, the word ‘sorbet’, and aerosol deodorant—but what Takeshi doesn’t know won’t prove him right, so.

“Maybe you can postpone it another week,” Victor mumbles into the kitchen table, where he fell into a chair and just sort of… deflated everywhere. He’s lying on top of the newspaper. Yuuri really wants to read it.

“You told Yurio he should’ve started training two weeks ago.”

Victor gives a despondent shrug. “He should’ve. Instead he’s been spending all his time Skyping with that degenerate.”

“You love Otabek. You hugged him and said you were proud to welcome him to the family, then you dumped a bag of condoms in his lap and cried because—and I quote—you were trusting him to take care of your most precious child.” And then a mortified, blushing Yurio slammed the airport shuttle door on Victor’s fingers.

Victor’s bandaged hand lifts and cuts through the air as though it were a tiny boat sailing on a choppy sea. Yuuri isn’t entirely sure what it means, but whatever it is? It’s suitably dramatic. “Yurio’s different.”

“Except not really.” Across the table, Yuuri studies the part in his hair, which looks a little… wider than usual. And sadder. It looks like a frown. He wants to lean forward to touch it, but that would do nothing except set Victor off again, and at the moment there isn’t enough fluid in Victor’s body to sustain him as it is. Instead, he pushes his own glass of orange juice toward him. “Vitya, please, drink something and replenish, would you? I don’t want to even think about what the headlines would say tomorrow if I let you pass out while we’re running this evening.”

At that, Victor lifts his head. Yuuri could skate an entire program based on the sheer betrayal on Victor’s face. “We’re running already? But we can’t! Not yet! I'm—You’re not ready. Another week. I’m putting my foot down, as your coach.”

“You’re a terrible coach,” Yuuri says. “I mean that. I want that on record. I can’t believe I’ve put my career in your hands. Can I fire you?”

“I’m a good husband, though, so it all cancels out,” Victor points out, which, okay, fair point. And he proves it by sliding both of his hands across the table and making grabby motions with his fingers. Well, one hand does. The bandaged one looks like a mummified sock puppet. “Don’t leave meeeeee.”

“I’m not leav—” Yuuri pauses, then rolls his eyes so hard he’s almost positive that he sprains something. “Oh. You were talking to my—”

“Squishyyyyyy.”

It comes out on the back of a long, sinuous whine. At Yuuri’s feet, Makkachin stirs, and he places his foot gently on her back and rubs until she settles. “I’m not going to bust my ass twice as hard just so you can manhandle me whenever you want.”

Victor’s head thunks back onto the table between his outstretched arms. “But you’re so soft and squishy, and it’s my favorite, and soon you’re going to be all bony and hard.”

“You’ve never once complained about me being hard,” Yuuri deadpans, then hides his face in his hands, because honestly. Victor cackles dementedly. “Look, I know you like my… well. I appreciate it, but I really need to start training yesterday if we’re going for the gold.”

Victor throws himself off of the table and drapes himself backward over his chair with a groan that honestly deserves an award. “Fine! Fine. Nobody ever told me that so much of being married is making sacrifices.”

It would be so easy for Yuuri to just turn his head and stare at the framed cross-stitch on the microwave that reads Sacrifice is one of the purest and most selfless ways to love someone. Practice it daily. Instead, he nudges the glass of juice a little closer, because, well. Sacrifice.

“Buck up,” Yuuri says cheerfully. “I’ll be back to being squishy before you know it.”

With a grumble, Victor reaches for the glass.

And while no one could ever accuse Yuuri of being the type to hold a grudge, he can’t deny the small, dark part of him that wants to call up Takeshi right this second and crow, “Round Boy got his, you jerk!”

By Way of Spontaneity (Part 8)

Summary: On a whim, Bucky declares you to be his girlfriend to his grandma and mother. They’re eager to meet you and he asks you to pretend to be with him for just one dinner with his family. But is that really all?

Word Count: 1,074

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

A/N: INBOX IS HERE. I know you wanna scream. :) 

Originally posted by pandasubaru


Bucky snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, calling out your name. After what seemed like hours, you blinked and looked up at him, your face crestfallen. He slowed down the car significantly as he leaned over to you, to try to see your screen.

You shook your head and brought the phone to your chest. “No.”

“What’s wrong with you? What did you see?”

Before you could answer, Nat’s screeching voice tore through the device’s speaker and you startled, bringing it up to your ear.

“H-Hello?”

“Did you see it? Oh, my God! Did you see the freakin’ picture?”

“Yes,” you answered curtly. “I saw it.”

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Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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A Babysitting Love Affair | Zach Dempsey x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff
POV: Reader’s/First Person

A/N: This was requested by anon! I hope you guys will like this as much as my first one. I kind of ramble on but please bear with me lol.
Request: could i request a zach dempsey x reader where the reader is babysitting zach’s sister, and zach haven’t met the babysitter yet and one day he goes home early and falls in love with her?

—–

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning Mrs. Dempsey.”

“Alright love, thank you so much!”

I smile as I close the door after Zach’s mom who asked me to babysit Zach’s little sister, May. She mentioned that she will have to go to Chicago for the weekend to take care of something and I was assigned to be May’s companion overnight since her brother is an extremely busy guy. The Dempseys are a close family friend, too bad I’m not really that close with Zach or May. It’s probably because we go to different high schools and it doesn’t really help that I can be anti-social at times. I know nothing about them, and they know nothing about me in return so it’s all good.

—–

The next morning

“I’ll be leaving now or else I’ll miss my flight! Thank you so much again Y/N for babysitting. I’ll see you girls tomorrow morning alright? Feel at home love, my number’s on the fridge if you need me and I left money for any emergency. Zach won’t be here until dinner tonight. He has basketball practice.” Mrs. Dempsey says as she bids goodbye to Zach’s little sister and I.

“Got it Mrs. Dempsey! We’ll see you tomorrow.” I finally say with a smile.

“Bye mom! I’ll be good, I promise!” May puts her right thumb out to her mom and waves goodbye.

“So, what do you want to do today, May?” I ask her as we’re left alone inside the house.

“Hmm, I don’t really have anything in mind. Oh wait I know! Let’s style each other’s hair.” She suggests with a gleam in her eyes; she looked so excited.

“Sure kiddo.” I reply with a smile and we proceed to the living room to watch TV. May got all of her hair accessories from her room for us to use. She decided that it’d be fun to start with my hair first and put them in pigtails and so she did. She chose these pink puffy hair bands to tie my hair. May had long, black and shiny hair which reminded me of Katniss Everdeen so naturally, I chose to put her hair in a fish tail braid.

“Wow Y/N, you’re really good at this!” she beams after her make over.

“Why thank you, Miss Everdeen.” I reply with a bow and she giggles in response.

A couple of hours later and it was almost lunch time. May wanted to order pizza and so we did. She didn’t like vegetables so we opted for a classic cheese pizza instead. A few minutes later and the doorbell rang, I ran to the door to open it, with the money in my left hand.

“Thank you so–” I begin to greet the pizza man but a ginormous, muscular guy hovered above me instead.

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Break-Up Novella.

PART ONE: I WON’T GIVE UP.

Here we have the very first part to a very anticipated, very emotional, very long-winded, very angsty-filled break-up story where we see the missus and Harry split and cope in ways that only bring them back to one another, closer than before and deeper in love than ever before. A little novella(?) that I’ve been working my hardest on and spending my free time perfecting just for you guys. 

I cannot thank you enough for being patient with and understanding that it’s been something I want to be 100% happy with. It’s been tough, I’m not going to lie. It’s been hard to find motivation because I’ve not written very many sad stories whilst being on here; I’ve read them! But, not written many, so, I hope this is the start of something new (cue High School Musical reference).

I’m still very iffy over the argument scene. So, bear with uit, haha. It’s the first piece of angst that I’ve written…

But, I’m finally SO happy to be sharing it with you! For the next 5 days, you’re going to be taken on a journey of emotions between the two of them. Enjoy! x

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Second chance

(A/N): I just really needed Bucky fluff so

Summary: (Y/N) gives Bucky a home, a family, love, a second chance.

Warnings: fluff

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor, @livandlilah, @callmeoncette


Originally posted by veestronger

   Bucky winces as the front door creaked; he’d have to change the hinges soon. The floor boards ached underneath his boots, making awful creaking noises with each step. Goddamit, he was trying to be quiet for fucks sake and his 7,000 year old house was making that nearly impossible.

   “You’re back early,” Bucky looks up from the old wooden floor to look upon his wife, standing at the foot of their stairs with a robe wrappedaround her body. Bucky can’t help but smile as he lowers his bag to the ground, immediately enveloping (Y/N) into a tight hug.

   “Mission went off without a hitch,”

   “Mmhh, that’s good,” (Y/N) hums softly as she runs her fingers through Bucky’s sweat matted hair. “No bruises, cuts, broken bones?”

   “My leg has a small scratch, nothing to be too worried about,” (Y/N) releases Bucky from their hug instead taking his hands as she quietly led him up the stairs, stopping when the floorboards would creak gently. It took a few minutes but (Y/N) finally got them up the stairs and into their shared bedroom.

   (Y/N) immediately drags Bucky to their bathroom, gingerly forcing him down onto the side of their bathtub, a vintage claw foot that Bucky spent years trying to install.

   “Clothes off,” (Y/N) states matter of factly as she reaches under their sink, grabbing the first aid kit she always had on hand.

   “(Y/N), it’s really nothin’ to worry about doll, just a little scratch-”

   “Don’t make me tell you again Mr. Barnes,” (Y/N) clucked her tongue at him, smiling just a bit. Bucky smiled as he unbuttoned his vest, letting it droop to the floor as he began worming his boots and pants off. Before his pants were even off his leg (Y/N) pounced upon him, inspecting his wound thoroughly as though she were some kind of surgeon. She might as well have been a surgeon given how often she was stitching Bucky up, making him feel better and okay.

   “I don’t think it’s going to need any stitches- this time,” (Y/N) adds the last part with a soft smile. “Probably just some cleaning and a bandage.”

   “See, what did I tell you-”

   “But you need a shower, you smell horrible,” Bucky chuckles gingerly as he shakes his head, still being mindful enough to be quiet.

   “Only if you join me,” (Y/N) smiles softly, chuckling herself.

   “I have to go make breakfast soon-”

  “We’ll help each other, promise,”

   “James Buchanan Barnes, the last time you tried to cook in my kitchen you nearly burned our entire house down,”

   “Yeah, but then we got to renovate, remember how fun that was?”

   “I remember you nailing your hand to a piece wood, that’s for sure,” (Y/N) chuckles again, shaking her head fondly at the memory.

   “Well, I have experience now and I promise I won’t burn our kitchen down,” Bucky smiles softly, his eyes twinkling with a warm sort of fondness for his wife. “Please join me?”

   “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” (Y/N) slides off her robe as Bucky turns their tub on, letting it fill up with warm water before he and (Y/N) clambered In.

   Bucky looks back as (Y/N) slides her bra off, leaving her completely vulnerable to his gaze. It felt like Bucky’s breath had been taken away; it didn’t matter how many times he looked at (Y/N), every time he did it felt like the first, every single time.

   “You’re gorgeous,” Bucky whispers as he settles his hands on (Y/N)’s waist as his gaze rakes up and down her body, taking every chunk of her in. “So gorgeous,” Bucky leans forward, pressing a series of kisses along (Y/N)’s hips, stomach, and sternum. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat and her hands immediately fly to his hair, gripping it gently.

   “Bucky, bath first, sex after breakfast,” Bucky smiles as he pulls back, looking up at (Y/N) adoringly.

   “You’re no fun,”

   “Get in the tub you loser,” (Y/N) chuckles as they give his shoulder a gentle tap, before she clambers into the tub, taking up almost half the thing.

   “God, we need a new tub,” Bucky mutters as he slides in, right between (Y/N)’s legs.

   “And you’re not installing it,” (Y/N) presses a gentle kiss to his forehead as she grabs his shampoo bottle, flipping the cap open and squirting some onto her palm.

   “Why not?” Bucky pouts adorably as (Y/N) uses her free hand to work some water into his hair.

   “I don’t need to remind you of what happened the last time you tried to install something,” (Y/N) chuckles as she works the water into his hair, soaking it before working the shampoo in. Bucky hums in delight, sighing as he relaxes against (Y/N)’s body.

   “It was my first time, I can do it so well now-”

   “Bucky,” (Y/N) title his head up enough that she can lean down to press a kiss to his lips. “No more repairs or installations for you, we’ll get a contractor to come out and help,”

   “What the hell kind of contractor is going to come all the way out here?”

   “Bucky, stop squirming or you’re going to get shampoo in your eyes,” (Y/N) chuckles as she fondly strokes her husband’s scruffy cheek, just a barely there touch that she knew he enjoyed so much.

   Bucky settles down, enough for (Y/N) to wash his hair, condition it, and manage to cover some parts of his body in soap.

   “And I’m sure uncle Clint wouldn’t mind coming in to help fix the tub,”

   “You’d pick Clint over me?” Bucky looks almost appalled as he looks up at (Y/N), his eyes narrowed and mouth open. (Y/N) smirks as she hands the soap over to Bucky, smacking the soapy bar into his outstretched hand.

   “Mhm, yes I would,”

   “I’m offended,” Bucky mutters as he washes all the parts (Y/N) wasn’t able to get, namely anything past his pecs.

   “Boohoo,” (Y/N) chuckles as Bucky begins to work on his legs, having to sling one of them over the edge of the tub to clean it. “I’ll make it up to you later,”

   “Yeah,” Bucky grumbles as he works on the other leg. “I’m sure you will,” (Y/N) smiles as she tilts her head, just enough to kiss the side of Bucky’s head.

   “How about waffles for breakfast and me for dessert?” Bucky hums as he sets the soap down, tilting his head up to smile at (Y/N).

   “That sounds heavenly,”

   “Well let’s get going then Big guy,” (Y/N) chuckles softly as Bucky clambers out of the tub, grabbing a towel for himself and two for (Y/N).

   “Thank you,” (Y/N) gets on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips before quickly pulling away again. “You’re running out of clothes to wear,” (Y/N) comments as she throws him a pair of boxers and loose sweats. “We’ll have to go shopping soon,” Bucky Hums as he gets dressed, sliding his clothing on as he watched (Y/N). God- he could just look at her all day. She was beautiful in his eyes, any little imperfection that she hated Bucky loved, any stretch mark or unwanted mole, any “fat” that she claimed to have he loved it.

   Bucky can’t help but wrap his hands around (Y/N)’s waist as she slips a shirt on, letting it bunch around his arms.

   “I missed you,” Bucky whispers as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck. “I missed this,” (Y/N) sighs as she settles her arms over his, grasping his hands gently and giving them a gentle squeeze.

   “I missed you too…how long will you be staying this time?”

   “Whenever Fury calls me back,” Bucky presses his lips to (Y/N)’s neck, giving her a series of open mouthed kisses. (Y/N) hums pleasurably, tilting her head to the side a bit to give Bucky better access.

   “We miss you,” (Y/N) whispers, stopping Bucky dead in his tracks. We. (Y/N) and their children; their children. Sometimes Bucky forgot he had a life here, a loving wife, three amazing kids, he was so caught up with Shield and missions and hydra that he forgot that he was past that part of his life; he didn’t have to worry about hydra, shield and missions weren’t his day and night anymore but (Y/N) was, his family was.

   “I know baby,” Bucky sighs as he breaks away, rubbing at his forehead as he does. “I need to resign, I need to do something-”

   “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, I don’t want you to feel like you have to give up shield for us-”

   “But I want to,” Bucky hangs his head, sighing once again. “I want to leave that chapter of my life behind. It’s like I’m stuck on the same damn page twenty four seven and I hate it. You guys are my new chapter, I just need to stop going back and rereading the last ones…” (Y/N) smiles softly as she reaches out, holding Bucky gently.

   “Then take a break, stay at home, learn how to cook, fix our tub and walls-”

   “I thought you said no more renovations for me?” Bucky smiles just a bit, one quirk of his lip is all.

   “Mh, I’ve changed my mind, plus if you’re going to be here all the time you’re going to need to learn how to do some work,” Bucky chuckles as he holds (Y/N), a sweetly almost earthy sound filling the air.

   “You’re rude to me,”

   “Yeah I am,” (Y/N) smiles as she gently kisses Bucky’s bare chest. “And you love me for it,” (Y/N) pulls away, taking Bucky by the hand as she gently guides him down the stairs and into their kitchen.

   “Yeah, unfortunately I do,” (Y/N) gasps, feigning hurt as she clutches at her heart.

   “I’m hurt, wounded,” Bucky chuckles as he wraps his arms back around (Y/N)’s waist, smiling as he squeezed them gently. “No, stop, I’m mad at you,” (Y/N) laughs as Bucky nuzzles his scruffy face in the crook of her neck, tickling her gently. “Bucky, stop, we have to make breakfast!” (Y/N) whispers harshly to the soldier but her smile betrayed her tone.

   “If you keep yellin’ like that you’re gonna wake the kids up,”

   “Yeah, and it’ll be your fault-” (Y/N) smiles as she waddles towards their fridge, dragging Bucky with her as he refused to let go of her waist. “I thought you said you were helping,” (Y/N) smirks as she reaches for the milk and eggs, holding them both in one hand while the other retrieved a small pack of bacon.

   “I am,” Bucky chuckles as he grips (Y/N)’s hips gently.

   “Then get me some flour and salt,” Bucky smiles as he presses a kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek before sauntering off to retrieve all the necessary items for waffles.

   Bucky’s hand stalls as he reaches for a bag of sugar- He stared at the metal plating, stained with years of wear and tear, bodily fluids, and plenty of chalk and paint from both Steve and his children. It didn’t seem like too long ago when he’d used that same hand to choke innocent victims, it didn’t seem like years ago when one day a certain woman came up to him, held his hand, and begged him to help her. That’s how he had met (Y/N). She was being followed by a few shady men and she came to Bucky’s side for comfort. She didn’t even know him, he looked like an ex con for fucks sake and yet she still took his hand and begged for help. He remembered looking into those shining eyes of hers and feeling his heart clench as he was met with a fearful gaze. She begged him to pretend to be her boyfriend, which he gladly did.

   They had walked around, stopped at a cafe, talked, and eventually stopped at Central Park. Bucky was having such a fantastic time that he didn’t even notice when the men stopped following the two of them, and apparently so did (Y/N).

   “They stopped,” (Y/N) had whispered as she looked around the park. “Oh my god, thank you so much Bucky, thank you so, so, so much. How can I repay you?”

   “How about a real date, one where we don’t have to worry about men following us around?” Bucky knew it was a long shot, he was the infamous winter soldier after all, there was no way (Y/N) would ever agree-

   “I’d love that,” (Y/N) had whispered, giving his hand a good squeeze. It was in that moment Bucky realized for the first time in forever he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t afraid he was going to hurt (Y/N), he wasn’t afraid that hydra was lurking around the corner, he wasn’t afraid of what the next mission would be, for once he could finally just be.

   “Buck, I need that sugar,” (Y/N) smiled tenderly at Bucky as she held a whisk in her hand, parts of it dripping in thick batter.

   Bucky clears his throat as he reaches for the sugar, snatching it up before handing it to (Y/N).

   (Y/N) had given him a second chance. He had been a broken shell, something of the man he once used to be but when (Y/N) showed up the pieces slowly started to fall back into place. He didn’t feel so scared anymore, he slowly adopted the old Bucky Barnes back into his life, the fun, playful, loving one that everyone had missed so much. (Y/N) had given him a second chance at life.

   “Daddy!” Three high pitched voices break him away from his thoughts. Three pairs of feet hit the hardwood as Bucky’s kids come barreling after him; Elizabeth, Collin, and Ben. Ben and Collin were his first two kids, twins, and Elizabeth was the youngest, daddy’s princess.

   All three kids latch onto Bucky immediately, shouting happily as they climb all over him. Bucky laughs as he picks up Elizabeth and Ben, letting Collin climb (more like Jump) up onto his back.

   “Yeah, yeah, daddy missed you too you goofballs,”

   “Daddy, I drew you a bunch of pictures!” Elizabeth cries happily, pointing to the fridge with a small finger. Bucky looks surprised as he looks at them, smiling widely when Elizabeth giggles.

   “They’re beautiful baby,”

   “Daddy! I finally hit our baseball into that meadow!”

   “Did you now?” Bucky looks at Ben, who was looking up at his father adoringly.

   “Oh yes he did, he went in to retrieve it and I couldn’t find him for half an hour,” Bucky laughs as (Y/N) continues to whisk and fold the batter.

   “And Collin,” Bucky tilted his head backwards, smiling at his son. “What have you been up to Buddy?”

   “Mommy’s been teaching me how to read big boy books!”

   “Like what?”

   “Harry- Harry-”

   “Harry potter?”

   “Yes!” Colin smiles excitedly.

  “That’s so cool!”

  “Yeah!” Collin nods as he wraps his arms around Bucky’s head, making it impossible to see anything.

   “Kids, why don’t you go play on the swing and daddy will come play once breakfast is almost done?” The children squeal happily as they jump off Bucky, rushing to the back door and out into their endless backyard.

   Bucky smiles fondly as he watches them scurry off, his heart clenching just a bit. Years ago he never would have believe he’d settle down, get married, have a family, he had been too dangerous for that but here he was, making breakfast for his wife and children and in his own home too, not some tower or sanctuary, his own home with rooms and a kitchen and a backyard.

   Bucky can feel the tears burn at his eyes but he ignores them for now. Instead he wraps his arms around (Y/N) once again as his lips find purchase on her temple.

   “Thank you,” Bucky whispers hoarsely, making it obvious he was on the verge of tears. (Y/N) immediately looks at him, her beautiful eyes shrouded in worry.

   “What for?” Bucky smiles gently as he rubs his nose against (Y/N)’s, inhaling her comforting scent deeply.

   “For giving me a second chance,”

radio-poem  asked:

I like your hc about Yuuri only wearing shirts and Victor only wearing pants to bed bc 1)they could match every single time (or clash terribly) and 2) together they make a pajama set and i find that weirdly endearing (also, would you be up to sharing more thoughts about sleep talking Victor? Please?)

The full headcanon for the only pants/only shirts thing is basically “Viktor and Yuuri go to the store and jointly decide which pajamas they are going to buy” which means that between the two of them they own only five pajama sets and also they’re all in Viktor’s size because he’s the larger one. This also means that Yuuri sometimes walks into the bedroom wearing a red-black plaid pajama top and Viktor looks down at his own canary-cream (It’s not yellow and white, Yuuri) polkadot bottoms and just says, “No, this can’t happen.”

“But we’re just going to sleep–”

“What if there’s a fire, Yuuri? What will our neighbors think of us, if they see that we can’t even coordinate our sleep clothes? They’ll think we’re dysfunctional. On the brink of divorce.” 

“Oh?” Yuuri’s eye twitches. “Is that what they’ll think?”

“Or worse–that I have no fashion sense.”

Yuuri doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that their neighbors have seen Viktor wearing Lululemon yoga pants with a sweatshirt saying DADDY’S COLD and that any misconceptions they may have had about Viktor’s sense of fashion long ago imploded.

Eventually, Yuuri returns to the closet. He can’t find the canary-cream polkadot shirt. Instead, he tosses on an old practice shirt of Viktor’s so worn and old that it’s almost see-through. The fabric has stretched unevenly along the hem and almost hits his knees in places. He returns to the bedroom and crawls under the blankets. Viktor melts on the spot. By the time Yuuri falls asleep that night, he isn’t wearing anything.

On the subject of Viktor sleep talking, it goes like this:

Yuuri walks in the door on a very cold day in mid-January and Viktor has been sick so he’s been sleeping rather fitfully, tossing and turning and having weird dreams. Today his fever broke, and he’s in what seems to be a deep sleep for the first time in days. Yuuri is very quiet as he makes his way into the kitchen and puts the groceries away.

“Yuuri?” comes from the couch, pitifully, and Yuuri feels shame like he has never felt for the sin of waking his poor sick Vitya.

“Oh Vitya, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri coos, creeping closer to the couch. He’s forgotten about the box of kasha he’s clutching. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, love. Go back to sleep. I’m gonna make dinner.”

“I want soup,” Viktor mumbles. His face is still buried in the back of the couch.

“Okay, baby, I’ll make you some soup.” Yuuri abruptly realizes that he’s holding the box of kasha out in front of him like some sort of offering; he sets it down on the coffee table and kneels beside his languishing husband. “Yakov and Yura send their love.” When Yuuri told them that Viktor had taken sick over the weekend, Yakov grunted and let a look of concern cross over his features for exactly six seconds before clearing it and grunting, “Mustard plasters.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mustard. Mix it with flour and water, put it on his back–it clears the system.” Yakov waved vaguely in the direction of his own chest. “Is he coughing? Yes, mustard plasters.”

Yura just rolled his eyes. Yuuri knows enough about him to understand that this is Yura’s reaction to any and all emotions. When Yuuri gathered his things at the end of the day, he found in his bag a recipe for chicken soup featuring intense amounts of garlic, and also a list of five stores in the area where red caviar is available at a reasonable price. 

Russian remedies are just as odd as American ones.

“Yakov,” Viktor mumbles presently, and seems to nod. “He’s good?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri coos, tracing his fingers softly up and down Viktor’s back. “He told me to put mustard on your back. I think he was trying to help.”

“No,” Viktor mutters, burrowing his face closer to the couch. “No mustard.”

“Why don’t we try it, baby? You sound so miserable. It could help, he said it clears your lungs.”

“No mustard in the soup,” Viktor grumbles.

Yuuri’s hand stops on his back. “What?”

“Don’t let Yakov put mustard in the soup,” Viktor insists. He rolls over then, and Yuuri sees that his eyes are closed. The flush high on his cheeks says his fever may have returned. “Don’t let him, Yuuri.” He sounds distressed.

“Okay, shh, I won’t. It’s fine.” Yuuri leans down his kisses his head. “You’re fine, Vityusha.”

When he pulls back, Viktor’s eyes are open. Cloudy with sickness, but aware. he roughly murmurs, “Kitten? When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago.” Yuuri brushes back Viktor’s hair.

“I was having the strangest dream,” Viktor mumbles, blinking hard and clearing sleep from his eyes, “About Yakov…and he was in our kitchen…”

It takes a lot of effort for Yuuri not to laugh. 

This isn’t the last time Yuuri hears Viktor talk in his sleep. Viktor’s subconsciousness has some interesting opinions on figure skating politics, and also Yuuri once convinces a sleeping Viktor to tell him where he plans to take them on their third wedding anniversary because He Doesn’t Like Surprises and he needs to know if he should pack a jacket, for God’s sake Vitya.

Sleep-Viktor also likes to lovingly coo into Yuuri’s ear in the middle of the night, “I love you, marry me.”

“We are married,” Yuuri tells him, patting his hip. 

“Really?”

“Yes, for about five years now. Remember? I wore white. You wore a blue rose in your lapel. Yakov was there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Viktor mumbles. “That was fun. We should do it again.”

“Go to sleep, Vitya.”

“Mnph.”

In the Heart of the Storm (Part 5)

Bucky x Reader

Summary – You are house-sitting for some friends on the Chesapeake Bay in the middle of a hurricane. Unbeknownst to you, you’re not alone. Takes place immediately following the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 

Warnings – None

Word Count – 1,260

Notes – As usual, I’m taking a lot of liberties with Bucky in this fic.  None of us know just how much he actually remembers, or when those memories starting coming back.  I have a plan on where I want this fic to go, so I need him to remember certain things to get us there.  As always, I appreciate all of your feedback and questions!!!

Part 1  

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Previously:

At the mention of the Helicarriers, his head shot up.  His eyes were wide, and you could practically see the memories flooding back into his mind. “Steve.  Oh my God, Steve.  Is he dead?”

“Steve?  Do you mean Steve Rogers, Captain America?”

With every word you spoke, his face seemed to crumple.  He looked down at his left arm in disgust as he flexed the metal fingers.  “What did I do?”

“Oh my God, you’re the guy that almost killed Captain America.”  You didn’t wait for him to confirm or deny your statement.  Without thinking about the consequences, you turned and ran for door behind you.


 

You made it to the back porch, your feet mere inches from the grass when a cold metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up against a solid wall of muscle.  His right hand clamped over your mouth as he effortlessly carried your struggling form back into the house.  

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11. “Why are there four dogs in our house? We don’t own four dogs. We don’t even own one.”

Sebastian Stan was a hardworking guy. Over the last year and a half, he gotten booked on more movies than ever before. At first it was a tad overwhelming, but it was his passion. He absolutely loved what he did.

He worried that the more traveling he did, the more of a strain it would be on your relationship. The two of you had been together for almost three years. You met because of a mutual friend who had a feeling that the two of you would click. Your friend had been right.

It started off slow but the relationship picked up speed when you both realized that there wasn’t anyone else on the planet that you’d rather be with. You felt like you knew absolutely everything about him and he felt the same about you.

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anonymous asked:

Inquisition companions react to Solas taking the unconscious inquisitor with him when he leaves at the end of trespasser. Romances too please! (Solas can be excluded if it's easier.) The companions could arrive just in time to see. ;)

Exclude Solas?? Well, now you’ve just issued a challenge. I accept!

Solas: High Approval: His friend is lying there, hurt because of him. His friend, who has stood by him through it all and wants the best for the world. He can’t just leave it like this. The Inquisitor would be a very valuable ally, after all. He doesn’t want them as his enemy. Low Approval: He sneers at the Inquisitor’s prone form before him, everything he hates about the world he created embodied in this one person. This one incredibly valuable person. True, they don’t get along, not even remotely, yet to have the Inquisitor with him, even as a prisoner, would be invaluable to him. And if the Inquisitor could be turned to his side? Thedas would never see them coming. If Romanced: His vhenan is lying there, vulnerable, hurt, maybe even broken. It was not supposed to happen this way. And he can’t just leave them there, even though he knows he should. In his arms, they feel smaller, more delicate, than they really are, and he can’t help but kiss their face. “Ar lath ma,” he whispers as he steps through the glass. It isn’t over yet.

Cullen: The Inquisitor, unconscious in Solas’s arms, is disappearing through the eluvian. And he isn’t quick enough to stop it! He paces in front of the mirror for hours, calling out to the pair, trying to understand. Why would Solas take them? If Romanced: No! His spouse, married for only days, is disappearing through the eluvian in Solas’s arms. He can’t let it happen! Yet it’s too late. He beats his fists bloody on the glass, careful not to break it, and yells for Solas to come back with the one he loves.

Josephine: She was placating the Exalted Council so she didn’t see, but the reports from the others are disturbing, to say the least. The Inquisitor is gone? What do they do now? She tries to put aside the personal loss and deal with the political nightmare that will result. How can she spin this to the council? They will damn the Inquisition for it! If Romanced: She sobs. Gone? Why would the Inquisitor be gone? She doesn’t understand, it doesn’t make sense! They wouldn’t leave her like this! Would they? Dealing with the political crisis is much harder for her and she can’t just set aside her own feelings this time.

Leliana: Her arrow struck the glass only moments after it closed behind them, her scream of frustration following Solas to wherever he’s disappeared to. Why take the Inquisitor? They’re still needed! There’s so much to do!

Blackwall: He yells, running, and nearly shatters the mirror as he tries to follow. The Inquisitor is still needed! If Romanced: He stands in front of the mirror, his forehead pressed to the glass. He needs to get through, but it’s closed. He knows this, but still he doesn’t move, only presses harder against it. The Inquisitor must come back.

Cassandra: She’s furious. She rages at the empty mirror, and it takes all her strength not to simply shatter it. The Inquisitor is still needed! The Inquisition still needs its leader. The Exalted Council is still unfinished! If Romanced: She’s sobbing as she weakly beats on the glass, begging for her lover back. She only just started to live that dream.

Iron Bull: He doesn’t know what to do. He’s surrounded by statues that used to be his people and the Inquisitor just disappeared through the eluvian. He just stands there, completely uncertain for perhaps the first time. If Romanced: Once the initial shock fades, he starts frantically searching for another way through. There has to be another way! There’s always another way. He won’t let his kadan go that easily!

Dorian: No! His spell slides uselessly off the glass, all the knowledge Tevinter stole from the elves useless as he tries to open the way. The Inquisitor is gone, and he mourns. If Romanced: For hours he stands in front of the eluvian, searching every pieces of knowledge he has to find a way through. Tevinter must have taken something from the elves that can help! “Amatus, don’t go…”

Vivienne: Like Dorian’s, her spells are useless. Her power is useless. The Inquisitor is gone, and Thedas might just fall for it. The Exalted Council will never be appeased now. They are doomed.

Sera: Her arrow shatters against the glass, but another one follows it anyway. She keeps it up until there are no more arrows in her quiver. Then she simply stands there, shaking, bow in hand. What now? If Romanced: The end of her arrows means it’s time to pull out the knives. Her throwing knives are exactly as useless as the arrows, but she has to do something! Inky is gone! Honeytongue got taken through that friggin’ mirror! She can’t let it go!

Varric: “Shit, shit, shit,” he chants to himself, pacing in front of the mirror. He knows which way the wind is blowing now, and they are all completely screwed. Without the Inquisitor, the Inquisition is doomed. And probably Thedas, too. And he’s lost another friend. Are they even okay? Alive? Should he mourn? Or search? He doesn’t know.

Cole: “Haunting, hiding, old magic in a mirror. They won’t be followed. We can’t help.” He knows there’s nothing he can do for the Inquisitor and Solas, so he turns his attention to the others. There’s so little he can do to help, though.

gospel around his fingers

Dex slams the door shut and presses against the wood, leaning his head back and sucking in a deep breath. He stares blindly up at the ceiling and–


“Nurse, I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the room. Not counting me.” Lardo pretends to flip a lock of hair over her shoulder. “We all know I’d smoke you bitches,” she adds, grinning. Her teeth flash in the low lighting, and she knocks back the last of her drink as the gather group lets out joking boos.

They all “ooh” at Nursey as he raises a challenging eyebrow and smirks at Lardo. He makes a show of looking around the room, leering slightly at the other players of spin the bottle – Holster, Dex, Tango, Ollie, Wicks, and a few members of the volleyball and soccer teams. Bitty is grinning from his spot on the floor next to Lardo and Dex, watching as Nursey catches the eye of each person.


“Dex!” The memory is abruptly interrupted as Chowder’s voice comes from beyond the door. “Come on, man!” Dex tries to straighten up, but his legs refuse to work. He sinks down to the floor, back still pressed against the door, trying to suck in deep breaths of air. He drops his head between his knees, squeezing his eyes shut and–

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Understand

MASTERLIST

Request: y/n being insecure about herself and about love.

Word count: 2,534

Cracking noises from the flames in the beige brick fireplace hanging on the wall, filled the otherwise silent living room. These faint but warm noises always made me feel somehow calm.

I loved the heat filling up the room, I loved shutting my eyes and listen to the flames crack slowly, I loved how it all felt like home to me.

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