in the box so it takes less room

Oh Sehun//Love Thy Neighbor

Originally posted by wooyoung

Summary: You move into a new apartment after your boyfriend leaves to go abroad, making your relationship long distance. You’re tired, stressed and missing him - and your next door neighbor isn’t making life any easier. (Part 1/Part 2)
Scenario: neighbor!AU, slightly angsty
Word Count: 3,712

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Valentine’s Gift for @peanut-milk for the @aftgexchange.

The one where Andrew and Neil have their first official date( On Valentine’s Day no less. Blame Allison.)

“So, what did you get your monster for Valentine’s Day?” Allison asks, as she idly types away at her phone.

Anger bubbles up in Neil, “Allison, he’s not—“ he begins, but gets cut off by her.

“Sorry, I meant to say Andrew, your boyfriend. What did you get him for Valentine’s Day?” she gives a quick glance up at Neil, whose face appears slightly flushed at the remark. A smirk forms on her lips, “Don’t try and deny that. I won’t let you.”

Neil sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Nothing. Why would I?” At those words, Allison stops typing away on her phone and sets it down next to her. She arches a brow at Neil, “What do you mean ‘nothing,’ it’s Valentine’s Day, Neil. That one day of the year specifically designated by capitalism to celebrate your love with your partner. Which is Andrew, in your case.”

Love. He lets the word wash over him. He doesn’t know if that’s the word he’d use. It’s a word too overused all around him but too underused in his own life for it to mean anything to him.  He doesn’t think any word is fit to describe what he and Andrew have and yet—

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Earned It || Bucky x Reader

Summary → Upon receiving his orders to join the 107TH, your mother insists on throwing your long-term boyfriend a wholesome, farewell dinner. But Bucky has different plans in mind. (Set in the 1940′s.)

Word Count → 3.2K

Warnings → Cursing, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex (use protection, kiddos). 

A/N → Happy #FreakyFriday y’all! This is by far my absolute favorite smut I have ever written. Sergeant Barnes being a tease while wearing his uniform? Yes, please. Enjoy & as always, can’t wait to hear your feedback!

“Y/N, could you fetch the floral arrangement? It’s on the kitchen counter next to the toaster.” Your mother instructed, though she would never admit it to you, she was clearly a wreck of nerves.

You nodded with a soft smile before scurrying off to the adjacent kitchen. You found the centerpiece she’d put together with ease, primarily composed of daisies and sunflowers, exactly where your mother had said. It was perfectly arranged in a circular vase, it’s meticulous beauty undoubtedly coming from your mother’s years working as a florist. You took the vase carefully between your hands, gripping it tightly as you hurried back to her.

“Where should I place it?” You questioned, watching as she fidgeted incessantly with the table settings.

“Just there, between the candles.” She pointed to a small space at the center of the table, not bothering to meet your gaze as she adjusted the utensils. With a few final touches, here and there, your mother straightened up and smoothed over her apron. “What do you think?”

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Teddy Bear

Member: S Coups
Genre: fluff
Length: 818 words
Summary: You’re sick and Seungcheol tries his best to help, in his own dorky way

You weren’t used to waking up this late. Sure, you enjoyed a good sleep-in as much as any other reasonable human being, but even for you, 2pm was really late. How could you even sleep that long anyway?  The next thing you noticed was that you were uncomfortably hot, and uncomfortably alone. 

You tried to sit up groggily, limbs heavy from sleep, but a piercing headache made you collapse with a groan before you were even half upright. You knew you weren’t hung over, so why did everything hurt so much?

“Seungcheol?” You called croakily, throat suddenly completely dry. The sound of heavy, uneven footsteps suddenly started coming in your direction, and your boyfriend burst dramatically into your shared room.

“Y/N, you’re awake.” He stated obviously, slightly panting from running, an apron around his waist and hair messy on his head. “How are you feeling? Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his dramatic composure and endearing eagerness to help. “I’m okay, just a bit hot and thirsty I guess. My head hurts too. Am I sick?” You looked at him wide-eyed and still sleepy, and his panicked expression didn’t fade.

“Of course you’re sick! Your temperature is too high, and you were coughing in your sleep. I’ll go get you some water and a painkiller, okay?” He rushed his words, before darting unusually quickly back out of the room, running again down the hall.

Oddly, it was a few moments before you heard the sound of the tap running. You shrugged it off; it was probably just Seungcheol getting distracted by something on the way. He was soon in your room with a cloth-wrapped ice pack, a couple of painkillers and a large glass of water with a straw. 

“Would you like some tea? Tea helps with colds, doesn’t it?” He asked as he placed the ice pack carefully on your forehead, his frantic tone still present.

“I’m not that sick, Seungcheol, it’s fine.” You giggled softly, closing your eyes with a smile. “Thank you.” You added.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Your boyfriend promised, leaving before you could protest.

He didn’t come back for about twenty minutes, and you were starting to get a bit upset. Here you were, sick in bed, and all he could do was freak out quickly before leaving as fast as possible? You were bored on your own, and the ice pack was starting to warm against your face. 

You pulled it off and tried sitting up again, your head slightly less painful as the painkillers were starting to kick in. You took a sip of water through the straw, coughing a little as you placed the glass back down. You sighed, bored, waiting for your boyfriend to come back.

After what seemed like hours but was probably just another few minutes, Seungcheol crept into your room quietly, carrying a tray full of comfort foods, a box of DVDs and something big and fluffy. “Sorry for taking so long,” he apologised awkwardly, setting down the tray on the floor before coming over to you with the fluffy thing.

He kissed you softly on the head before holding the fluffy thing in front of you. It took you a moment to realise that it was a giant teddy bear, and you grinned as you took it from your boyfriend’s arms. 

“This is so cute, Seungcheol! Where did you even get this?”

Heat rose to his cheeks as he scratched his neck gently. “I woke up a while ago and found you sick, so I thought I’d do a couple of things to help you feel better when you woke up, so I bought it…” 

You met his eyes with a bright smile. “Thank you,” you said happily, hugging the teddy close. Seungcheol smiled back a little embarrassedly, then got the tray of food- which was filled with everything from noodle soup to chocolate to a still-warm slice of cake- and the movies.

“I thought you’d want something to eat, so I cooked a couple of things for you. Oh, and I brought movies so we can have a marathon. But it’s okay if you fall asleep, too. And I can get things for you whenever you need them. And-”

“Seungcheol,” you cut him off in his rambling. His eyes snapped to yours, and you gave him another warm smile. “This is amazing. Really, it’s more than enough. Thank you,”

Your dorky boyfriend smiled back, kissing you on the head again before walking over to put a movie in the player and getting into bed with you. 

You only lasted forty minutes into the movie before you were fast asleep, your head resting comfortably on Seungcheol’s shoulder and your arms wrapped loosely around the teddy bear. 

Seungcheol grinned at the sight and turned stroke a strand of hair off your face. “I love you,” he whispered softly. 

anonymous asked:

The picture of Harry in the GNS where he has his arms crossed,looks like he is mad af,can you imagine him telling toddler P to pick up her toy mess,and she doesn't do it,and starts to misbehave,and Harry give her that look

Are we talking about this one?

Because, oh my Christ, I see it too, haha. He looks so god damn sexy and the little freckle/mole on his jaw makes him so cute… It’s like a cute-sexy.

It’s “The Look”.

The missus would be heavily pregnant with Alfie, a few weeks away from her due date, and she wouldn’t be able to bend down and pick up the mess of toys that Persephone would leave behind when Harry puts her to bed. He’d be sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone to answer any unanswered text messages that sat in his folder, as his little girl sat on the floor. Playing with any toy that she could get her hands on, squeezing in a little play time before she went to sleep, ready for school the following morning.

“Poppet, d’you wan’a put away your toys now? Let’s go and brush our teeth and go to sleep,” Harry would say as he sat up and leant closer to Persephone, “c’mon, baby. I’ll read you another story.”

“Wan’a play some more,” she’d lisp, “please, daddy?”

“Sweetheart, we’ve already let you stay up past your bedtime, haven’t we?” He’d remind her, reaching for a toy that sat on the carpet, frowning when she snatched it from his hand and held it tightly in her own grasp, “Persephone, we don’t snatch. Now, come on. It’s bedtime.”

“No, daddy!”

“Poppet, stop misbehaving and put your toys away. It’s bedtime,” he’d fold his arms over his chest and give her a stern stare, “put your toys away. Because mummy can’t do it herself, can she?”

“Then you do it, daddy,” she’d frown, a pout on her face as she’d throw the toy in her hand towards him, the object landing by his feet after it hit his knee, “don’t wan’a put them away.”

“Persephone Anne Styles, do you want me to take away your toys so you can’t play with them after school? Because naughty girls get their toys taken away,” he’d warn her, her eyes widening as she shook her head and let tears pool in her eyes, “are you going to be a good girl and put your toys away for mummy? Or are we going to go story-less tonight?”

“Fine,” she’d cry out, her bottom lip wobbling as she stood to her feet, grabbing at the toys littering the floor and pushing them into the box set in the corner of the living room, “don’t like it when you angry at me, daddy.”

He’d sigh softly and fall to his knees on the floor, shuffling over to her, “daddy wouldn’t angry if you listened to what daddy said, would he? But, it’s all okay now.”

“Do I still get a story at bedtime?”

“Of course you do, Poppet,” he’d smile, kissing her forehead, “shall we go brush our teeth?” xx

something paradise

cs au. ‘there’s something about breaking an engagement and leaving the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with and finding yourself roommate-ing with the man who’s loved you through years and boyfriends and breakups and uncertainties that makes a person a little weepy, a little off balance, a little unsure.’ 

(i’ve been working on this for at least six weeks, and it’s finally, finally finished, and i’m something like pleased with it. (thanks to swallowedsong​ for looking over it and helping me and stuff.) so, enjoy whatever this is. (really long, among other things. just a head’s up.)

recommended listening: majesty snowbird by sufjan stevens.) 

don’t stop, don’t break

you can delight because you have a place

quiet room

I need you now


            She leaves him on a Tuesday.

            Packs up her share of the apartment instead of going to work, keeps Henry home from school so he can help. Wraps picture frames in scarves and sweaters, shoves books and DVDs into boxes, throws pots and pans and casserole dishes into the back seat. One trip to unload these small bits, another for Henry’s bed and dresser and nightstand.

            It takes just over 6 hours to remove every trace of them from this apartment that was supposed to be theirs and is now just his, but she doesn’t cry as she sweeps through one last time. As she takes her key off the chain, locking the door behind her and slipping it underneath. She doesn’t feel broken or empty. Isn’t sure what it is pulsing through her, something that tastes like regret or maybe failure.

            “Sorry, kid,” she says, eyes still dry, once they reach the car. He just shrugs. Smiles a small, sad thing.

            “It’s okay.”

            It’s not.

            But maybe it will be.

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choose your battles iii

a/n: ooooo steve. also reader is mother hen af and i love it. 
word count: 2.6k
warnings: none

pairing: do u SEE IT

pt 1 here

pt 2 here

tag list: @bobbdylan, @tomorraw @marvel-music-books @deeper-in-my-mind

When you woke up, Becca was still asleep. You knew it would be a weird day for her as part of the team was going out on a mission today so you decided to let her sleep a little longer as you went down to the kitchen.

“You look a bit worse for wear.” you said as you encountered Tony, sitting on the counter with his head in his hands. “Wanna talk about it?” you offered, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge, setting one on the counter next to Tony and pulling yourself up onto the counter across from him.

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you love the sea: part one, clotho [creation]

setting: non-magical, mythical AU
pairing: marcus flint/oliver wood
word count: 2981
A/N: finally, we’re here! this fic is the result of my giveaway from a few months ago. dedicated to the brilliant and lovely @flintwoodandco, who suggested an amazing idea about selkies that I just kind of…. ran with. ;D there are four parts to this thing, and I’ll be posting the rest of them for the next three days (part 2 on sunday, part 3 on monday, and the final part on tuesday - if all goes to plan). I hope you all enjoy reading this one, because I’ve absolutely loved writing it! (as always, a big shoutout to my beta and cheerleader @nymphadoraholtzmann!!)

(you can also read it on ao3!)

I’m not excited, but should I be?
is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?
I know I love you
and you love the sea
but what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?

- unbelievers, vampire weekend

The last of his bags landed with a thud on the wooden floor of the old cottage, and Marcus dropped ungracefully down beside it with a loud huff of exhaled air. He took a moment to catch his breath before he glanced around the room - there were boxes on every available surface and two duffel bags beside him at the door. His entire life, packed up and carefully wrapped and it looked like so much less stuff than it should have been - shouldn’t twenty five years take up more space?

Shaking away the morose thought that he had nothing that mattered and no one who cared, and that’s why this room looked so woefully empty, Marcus forced himself to his feet. He grabbed a small box from the living room couch, then padded into the small kitchen of the cottage, surveying the space as he went. He had purchased the place with the furniture included but this was his first time seeing it in person, and it was certainly as… quaint… as had been advertised.

Marcus dropped the box onto the small kitchen table and pried it open, digging through until he pulled out something that felt mug like. It took him entirely too long to pull off the paper that had been wrapped carefully around it to prevent breakage in transit, and he silently cursed Pansy for her over-the-top precautions, especially since it was just a stupid plain mug anyways.

He reached the sink and cranked the tap on, pleased that the water that came out looked drinkable. As his cup filled he glanced up to look out the window and when his eyes focused he nearly dropped the mug in awe. It was stunning. His friends had all looked at him like he’d grown a second head when he sat them down and explained that he’d purchased a small cottage in the Orkney islands in Northern Scotland, but now that he was here he knew he’d made the right choice. The cottage was a little ways from the nearest town and up on a piece of higher land, and from his kitchen window he had the most incredible view of the ocean. His property sloped downwards and ended in a sandy beach interspersed with large boulders, entirely private according to the girl who had sold him the property.

After Marcus’s father had died, he stepped back to take a long look at the life he was creating for himself. His father had been part of the Death Eaters, one of the most notorious gangs in London, and Marcus was set to join up as soon as he, according to Thoros, “pulled his head out of his arse”. Then there’d been a major raid, organized and carried out by some orphan police officer whose parents had been murdered twenty odd years ago by the gang, and now Marcus was an orphan with no prospects. By the time the press had figured out where he lived, he had fallen so deeply into depression he almost walked out into the madness of it all and surrendered to the inevitable.

And then Adrian had, quite literally, smacked some sense into him and told him to get out of town for a bit, move to the coast, recollect himself, and come back when he was ready.

Adrian hadn’t quite been expecting him to go this far, but something had tugged at his heart and this cottage showed up for sale and everything just… fell into place.

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The Practical Uses Of Slug Spit (Wonwoo x Mingyu Hogwarts AU Smut)

Summary: In all the drama their years at Hogwarts held for them, Mingyu and Wonwoo liked to… fly under the radar. They preferred to have their lives play out in private. All the deep discussions, chocolate sweet kisses, and cheek-pinking moments. Hogwarts AU. Boy x boy. Smut. 

(A/N: okay so i am the queen of getting carried away. i saw this prompt and i felt so inspired, i wanted to write something about it. i originally intended this just to be a little blurb but then it shaped up in my head and as i was writing it, it grew past a thousand words and it came to be a full blown scenario. a short one, but still. this is probably the fastest i’ve ever written something like this, and i honestly think this is the first piece on the blog with absolutely no reader character. but i still hope you all enjoy it. i really really enjoyed whipping this up quick, and i think it helped to get me back in the swing of writing all the time. plus, meanie is one of my favourite ships from seventeen. and i always love going crazy with my hogwarts aus. warnings for: extreme fluff, smut, gay smut, gayness, nutella, a brief jun cameo, and yeah. enjoy. -Tanisha<3)

“You’re in my spot.”

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Silver Silence Part 4

Pairing: Bucky x shy enhanced reader

Summary: Bucky finally finds himself able to live at the compound with the team, but finds it difficult to repress his feelings for his new very shy and gentle teammate.

Word count: 2,066

Warnings: Fluff and slight anst, Very shy reader, swearing mentions of social anxiety.

You woke up, blinking rapidly at the hovering lights above you and letting out a groan from the sting in your head. The surface you where lying on was cold, and stiff, but there was an obvious softness propping your head up. As you turned your head to the side you noticed you where in the med bay, and naturally you assumed it was because you passed out and Bucky had brought you in. As slowly as possible you sat up, causing light whimpers to cascade from your mouth. No one was around, and the room carried with it, an eerie silence that you honestly felt the need to get away from.  So with that to motivate you, you pulled yourself off the table and began to head to the door. In the hall you where met with that same silence that you found in the lab, not a single drop of noise was forming in the air, all except your delicate footsteps.

Feeling slightly out of breath, even with the fact that you had only walked to the living room, you propped yourself up on the door frame.  There was no one in the site, not even in the kitchen, just scattered papers and game controllers on the coffee table and abandoned boxes of protein bars and plates strewn about the kitchen. Taking all this in you knew exactly where everyone had gone, they were out on a mission, and judging by your surroundings, a urgent one.

You slid your hand into the back pocket of your jeans to grab your phone and noticed it wasn’t there. Figuring it was most likely in your room you began to walk towards the elevators and pressed your floor button.

It felt weird being in your room for some reason, like you had been out of it so long that it was almost less appealing then it normally is, but none the less it was a strange sort of safety from the rest of the compound.  

You searched all around your room but there was no sign of your phone, and even more unusual no sign of its charger either. After retaining this information, and redressing yourself for the day, you ventured back into the elevator, and found your finger hovering over the button for the upper floor.

You hadn’t been out of the compound since you arrived there and it felt like you where just pretending to be a caged animal that could just as easily break if outside your padded cell. With one quick thought you pushed the button for the lobby and walked out the front doors.


Buckys POV

A commotion in the front of the helicarrier snapped me out of my exhausted daze and caused me to rise to my feet.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Steve as he made his way back to where I stood, his face slightly panicked but trying to remain calm.

“That was Helen, she can’t find (y/n)” he took a deep breath before answering the obvious question etched on my face. “She went to the lab to check on her after moving her from the bed to the table to run tests and she’s not there, she isn’t even in the compound.”

I took a long slow breath and glanced around at the faces behind him, “how long until we land?”

“About an hour” he replied, sighing as he took a seat next to me.  I could feel his eyes on me as I slowly sat next to him, carding my hands through my hair, then feeling his hand on my shoulder.

“She’ll be okay Bucky, she may have just went for a walk.” He reassured me.

I turned my head to look at him, stress already radiating from my chest. “But what if she’s not Steve, what if something bad happened? She’s the most venerable person on this team, she’s the easiest target.” I swallowed.

Steve smiled at me softly ready to reassure me even though he himself was freaking out inside. “She’s tougher then you think.”


“HEY! Watch where you’re going asshole!” You shouted as a bicyclist nearly ran you over on a cross walk.  It almost surprised you how vocal and outgoing you felt all of a sudden, but then you remembered you where always less shy when it came to the city, and especially when the people around you weren’t world renowned super heroes.

Yes, you do suppose maybe sneaking out of the compound after being hospitalized from over exertion was a bit of a risk, but on the other hand you had previously been on your own for almost 7 years.

It had been roughly 2 hours since you left the safety of the compound and so far you had walked around the park, got ice cream from a vender and even stroke up a conversation with a complete stranger on a park bench, all with only one near death experience. And by near death, of course you meant the skinny prick on his bicycle that almost broke about 5 of your bones if he had hit you.

Luckily though, everything was going according to plan, well a plan you didn’t really have but let’s call it a strategy, as in don’t break yourself.

As you rounded a corner you saw a little movie store tucked in between a boutique and a coffee shop. You didn’t necessary need any more movies, but there was someone who you knew would enjoy some of their own copies. You made your way through the plethora of bodies and pulled yourself into the store, hearing a ring of bells as the door opened and closed.  The shop keeper greeted you with a friendly smile and an almost animated “Good evening!” which he followed with the usual “Can I help you find anything?”

You thought for a moment before asking him where you could find older movies.

He pointed his finger in the direction left of you. “All the way down second to last shelf” he said.

You nodded curtly at him and made your way down the rows of shelves until you stood in front of one labeled “vintage”. You scanned the tittles until you found a copy of ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’ along with ‘The Maltese Falcon” and ‘How Green Was My Valley’. Two of which you didn’t own, but were sure even if you gave them to Bucky that he would let you borrow them when ever.

After checking out you left the shop and glanced at the horizon. Noticing it was beginning to approach night fall, which meant you probably woke up in the lab around late afternoon.  Deciding it was most likely a better idea to head back to the compound now, rather than wait another hour in line for coffee and pastries like originally planned. You found where you parked the car you had conveniently borrowed from tony and began to drive back home.

You felt your bones ache with sleep as you took the last couple of steps through the doors and into the elevator. You’re sure you had a content smile on your face the whole way up that is until it was metaphorically smacked right off as the elevators doors opened to reveal all your team mates standing around the living room with their arms crossed.

“I see you had fun” tony was the first one to speak, making his way over to you. “And really? My Havana?” he asked.

You shrugged sheepishly, shrinking down and mumbling “I like vintage things”

“Where have you been all day?” you heard a voice from behind tony and glanced around him as Bucky began to walk towards you. You felt his gaze wonder down your body, checking for any sign of injury.

“i-I I just wanted some air…” he looked at you with hurt eyes and then shook his head as he passed you and walked into the elevator.  Steve pushed past tony and stood in front of you.

“You should have told us, we were all worried sick, all we had was footage of you walking out of the building.”  He said softly.

You sighed softly. “I didn’t have my phone, and you all were gone I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Anything can happen to you out there.” He replied more sternly.

That caused your blood to heat up. “Yeah well ‘out there’ is where I spent seven years of my life alone.” You seethed as you started to back up to the elevator again. “I can handle myself, just because I have you all here to help me does not suddenly make me any more fragile then I was before.”

And with that you went back to your room.  When you laid you bags down on your bed you felt an overwhelming tight sensation in your chest. They were all disappointed. They were worried about you, and as much as that filled you with warmth, it also filled you with guilt.

You knew what hurt you possibly the most was Bucky’s face when he approached you. You couldn’t really explain it, but the handsome solider admitted a feeling in you. Maybe because he didn’t treat you like glass all the time, or the fact that he made the effort to get you out of your room but he was definitely growing on you.

Taking all the courage you could muster up you grabbed the movies you had gotten for him from the bed and headed down to his room.

It took you about 10 minutes of standing at his door to finally gather enough adrenaline to actually knock and when you did all you heard was a soft “come in” from the other side.

You entered, finding Bucky sitting up against his beds headboard, with one foot draped aimlessly off the bed and a book in his hands.  His face held slight confusion but still looked at you almost disappointingly. You clutched the movies tighter to your chest, looking down to the floor in short glances.

“I’m sorry” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “I just… I’m sorry”

He sighed, looking down at the book then closing it and laying it on the bedside table, before nodding and patting the spot beside him on the bed.  You shuffled over to him, sitting on the side near his legs carefully, facing him instead of where he pointed at.

“I was worried you know” he spoke, causing you to nod. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You nodded again and then looked down at your lap. “You have reason to worry…” you started. “I know I’m the equivalent of a china doll, but I’m honestly capable of a lot more then you think.” You shifted your gaze to his eyes. “Don’t forget I was on my own for seven years before I came here.”

He let his eyes linger on you as he softened his features. “I know, I know I just have this primitive need to protect you… And I’m not even sure why, I don’t even know you all that well but…” he trailed off.

“You’re broken in mind, and I’m broken in body.” You finished for him. “We are both a little fragile. And maybe you are to me, as Steve is to you. Someone to lean on.”

He sat there with you in the silence that seemed to drag on for centuries, but it was the kind of silence you felt content in, and honestly it felt all the more peaceful knowing his energy resided in it.

“I uh… Got you something” you felt your voice become nervous as you handed him the three movies, with shaking hands.  He took them from you and looked down, reading the tittles and letting a warm smile rest on his face.

“Thank you.” He replied, looking up into your eyes in sincerity.

“I just thought you’d like to have a few movies of your own since you enjoy mine so much.” You smiled back at him.

As you made your way to leave you felt butterflies form in your stomach.

“Oh and (y/n)” he called, making you turn around. “The mission today… We went to a hydra facility for a couple of files.”

You nodded, your eyes fixed in confusion at what he was getting at.

“We know how to cure you.”

TAGS: @avengershavethetardis


Neil Hilborn, “This is Not the End of the World”

I’ve been hearing that the world is ending.
I’ve heard it so much these days i can either completely ignore it or never leave my house again,
that is if I actually left my house for things that don’t directly enable me to keep my house, 
I’ve been thinking about driving nowhere. 
I’ve been thinking about becoming a box inside a locked room inside a dark house at the dark end of the street.
I want to go away until i’m gone
it takes so much less energy to not exist than it does to exist and get burned.
I’ve been burned so much i’m not me anymore, I’m a stupid puppet version of me 
I’ve got strings that lead to nowhere,
nothing is pulling on me
I wish someone would drag my hand out of hiding and sign my name on a dotted line
There are days that I cannot find the sun even though its right outside my goddamn window. 
when getting out of bed feels like the key in the doomsday machine,
so on those days this is what I tell myself:
Whatever you’re feeling right now there is a mathematical certainty that someone else is feeling that exact thing. 
This is not to say you’re not special
this is to say thank god you aren’t special
I have kissed no one good night
I have launched myself from tall places and hoped no one would catch me. 
I have ended relationships because suddenly I was also exposed
 Isolation is not safety, it is death. 
If no one knows you’re alive, you aren’t. 
If a tree falls in a forest and no one’s around to hear it, it does make a sound but then that sound is gone.
I’m not saying you will find the meaning of life in other people,
Im saying other people are the life to which you provide the meaning,
see we’re wrong when we say
I think therefore I am.
The more we say it the more it sounds like 
I think therefore I will be.
You cannot think yourself into a full table
You cannot think and make walls and a roof appear around you
I have thought
and thought myself into corners made of words and nightmares
and what has it gotten me,
but more thoughts.
a currency that only buys more currency,
so please
if you want to continue existing 
do something 
learn to make clouds using only your breath
build a house even if every wall leans to the left
love it anyway
just like a season
just like a child
love how you hate yourself sometimes because goddamn at least there’s still something to hate 
I know how easy it is to think and keep thinking until you’re the last person left on earth
until the entire world becomes no larger than the space between your bed and the light switch
I hear the world is ending soon.
when we go, and we’re all going to go
I will be part of it.

The Upper Hand: Jefferson x Reader {Part 3}

Part 1 | Part 2

Hamilton - Modern AU (Law School) 

Jefferson x Reader

2404 words

Hey, guys! I just wanted to say wow I can’t believe people are actually reading this and, even more shocking, you actually like it! I’m having a blast writing this and the feedback I’ve been getting is super awesome. I hope you enjoy part 3!

Originally posted by yummyfoooooood

With a groan Thomas throws the pen on his desk and rubs his eyes, cursing Y/N and her ambitious, overworking, 110% effort personality. The pressure she is putting on him combined with his other classload is starting to get to him. The two had had a total of four meetings after that first one, and each time she reminded him how much this project was worth and the amount of effort he needed to put into it (he can recite her inspiring (in her opinion) speech with her at this point). Doesn’t she know that he already puts a lot of pressure on himself in his studies? He didn’t become the second-ranked student in their class of 500 by smoking joints and partying all weekend or playing hacky sack or whatever she thinks he does in his spare time.

Her accidental admission of her class ranking had surprised him. He always assumed that she was average, maybe slightly above, that Hammy or one of the other HamilDorks helped her with her homework. Perhaps Thomas could find it in him to respect her enough to accept her suggestions and opinions about their project. She had definitely shown him that she was worth her salt by correcting his misinterpretation of a statute and quoting several laws and precedented cases from memory, which all helped strengthen their defense. One of the HamilDorks is actually useful—surprise!

He groans again just as James walks past his open door. His best friend/roommate lets out a chuckle and leans against the doorframe.

“Having problems?”

Thomas throws another pen against the wall over his desk, disappointed that it didn’t puncture a hole in the wall. “Yup.”

“Let me guess,” James says. “The little milkmaid from Kansas made another schedule for your case?”

For some odd reason, James’ condescending tone creates a little tickle of irritation in Thomas’ chest. His mind conjures an image of Y/N pulling her hair into a ponytail as she leans over her notes, her teeth working her rose-colored bottom lip as she concentrates. “She’s from Nebraska, James.”

“Does it matter?” he scoffs. “I think she needs to pull that stick out of her ass and relax. You’re top in the class. You’ll get it done no problem.”

Thomas clenches his fist and struggles to keep his voice even. “Perhaps you should focus on starting your own project, James. You know Hercules Mulligan isn’t going to be much help.”

He doesn’t see James furrow his eyebrows in thought, wondering why he is suddenly defending Y/N instead of joining in on making fun of her.

“You’re right,” James mutters after a pregnant pause. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with her tonight?”

In a panic, Thomas checks his watch, realizing that he’s lost track of time. It’s already eight. “Oh, shit!” he yells, hurriedly gathering his case papers and defense notes and shoving them into his bag. James thoughtfully observes Thomas as he quickly grabs a jacket and pulls on his shoes. His friend pauses in front of the mirror, runs a hand over his shortly cropped beard, and swats at a few rogue curls.

Thomas pushes past his roommate and jogs to the door, pulling it open hurriedly when his phone rings. He answers it, standing in the doorway to their two-bedroom apartment. His eyebrows meet in a frown as he listens to the person on the other end.

“What? The library is closed? Why? … Water pipe maintenance? Sounds like a bunch of—sorry… Uh, I don’t know where else to go. A lot of the local restaurants close at nine, so that would only give us an hour of work… Yeah, I know we need to keep on schedule.”

James appears in Thomas’ peripheral vision and clears his throat to grab Thomas’ attention. “I’m going to Aaron Burr’s for the evening to study for the Theories of Civil Law exam tomorrow,” he announces.

Thomas nods, his face brightening just enough for James to notice. “Okay, how about we work at my place? Madison is gone for the evening so he won’t distract us… Perfect! Let me give you the address…”

“This is where you live?” you ask, following Jefferson into the living room. “This is so…normal.”  

He laughs and motions for you to sit on either of the mismatched  couches (one dark brown leather, the other a god-awful blue and green plaid—you choose the leather). On the light wood coffee table are pens, pencils, and highlighters, along with a variety of sweating unopened root beer and orange soda cans. The perpendicular couches face a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Under the TV is a long thin table with what looks like an XBOX, a Wii, and two ugly red and black striped vases.

“What did you expect?” he asks, smirking. “Designer décor? An open floor plan with hardwood floors? A bear skin rug? A roaring fireplace and a wet bar? Four-car garage?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I heard you lived in France for a couple of years, so maybe baguettes and wine? Miniature Eiffel Tower sculptures?”

“Actually, these—” he gestures to the two red and black vases under the TV— “did come from France. What do you think?” he asks excitedly.

Should you tell him your real opinion or lie through your teeth? He looks so innocently happy, like a kid who made a picture frame made of macaroni noodles for their parent. You can’t squash on that kind of pure, unadulterated pride.

“They’re very nice,” you say politely.

“You hate them.” He shrugs. “You’re from Nebraska. What do you know about taste?”

Instead of yelling at him for insulting you and your home state like you would have a week ago, you laugh. Your amiability shocks both of you, and your laughter quickly dies on your lips. Awkward silence. He shoves one hand into his jeans pockets and rubs the back of his neck with the other. You smooth your skirt and lick your lips, looking anywhere but at him or his red French vases.

“So…” Jefferson finally breaks the silence. “I think we have everything we need here. Help yourself to a soda. Unless you want something else to drink?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no thanks. This is fine.”

“Okay. Let’s get to work.” He takes a seat on the other couch and spreads out his defense notes.

The two of you alternately bounce ideas off each other and work in silence for the next hour. You discovered that sitting on the carpeted floor and using the coffee table as a desk is more comfortable than leaning over it while sitting on the couch around the twenty minute mark. He realized that chugging two root beers and one orange soda leads to a lot of bathroom breaks halfway through the orange soda. You both found out that listening to a classical study mix on Pandora through his TV increased productivity after he yelled at you for humming an obnoxious popular hip-hop song you’d listened to on the way over.

“Do you have any more pieces of paper?” you ask after an hour of note-taking and paging through your textbooks.

He looks over the table as if he expects it to be there, frowning when he doesn’t see any. “I thought I brought some out…”

“All I see are pens and highlighters here.”

“I have some paper in my room.” He pulls his long legs out from under the coffee table and stands, groaning as he stretches his muscles. “Ahhh, man, you should really get up and stretch. We’ve been sitting too long.”

He disappears down the hall toward his and Madison’s rooms as you push yourself to your feet, echoing his groans. You start walking, slowly, across the living room floor, stepping over books and your backpack and your shoes, when you hear a crash and Jefferson’s strangled yelp. It sounded like a rainstorm.

Curious and concerned, you follow the sound of his cursing down the hall and into the bedroom on the left. You clap a hand over your mouth as you try to stop the laughter at the scene in his room. Jefferson glares at you, lying prostrate on the floor, partially buried under an avalanche of hundreds of boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese. His closet door reveals another hundred identical boxes stacked on high shelves.

“What on earth…” You shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you try to hold in your laughter. “I have so many questions.”

He curses again and sits up, pushing macaroni boxes off of him. “I can’t believe my precious betrayed me..” he murmurs breathlessly.

“Okay, first question. Why do you have so much boxed mac ‘n’ cheese? This is really unhealthy.”

“Um, excuse you?” Jefferson leaps to his feet, indignant, and begins pacing back and forth in front of you. He reminds you of Washington when he gets really passionate during a lecture.

“Macaroni and cheese is the food of the gods. This is the perfect food for any occasion—birthday, Christmas, christenings, job interviews, bad days, good days, you name it! It should be everyone’s comfort food. It’s cheesy goodness with soft pasta, carbs and dairy, so it’s totally healthy. It’s easy to make—takes less than fifteen minutes. Plus, I memorized the directions so I don’t even have to look at the box. Are you impressed yet?”

“You are insane.” You look over the boxes in disbelief. “How much did this all cost?”

“I buy it in bulk, so less than you think.” His smile widens as he nods eagerly.

“Why was it in your closet?”

“Not enough room in the kitchen cupboards. Madison hates it anyway, so he told me to keep it out of his sight. I have another box of boxes under my bed, too.”

You suddenly realize that you are standing in his bedroom. You take in the décor, the grey-and-white-striped comforter on the bed, the magenta throw pillow, the Eiffel Tower poster hung over his side table, the bookshelf full of books (lots about France and one curiously titled The Miracle of Macaroni and Cheese: Variations of the Best Comfort Food), the desk in the corner strewn with textbooks, papers, and writing utensils. Above his desk handwritten notes, printed quotes, and pictures have been taped or tacked to the wall.

“That’s my Wall of Inspiration,” he says, and you realize he’s been watching you as you look around his room. You take a step closer and read quotes about success and hard work from Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Steve Jobs before finding one printed on magenta paper in a large, fancy script:  

Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude.

That’s really true, you think, wondering who wrote it. You read the author’s name in smaller print under the quote:

–Thomas Jefferson

“Ha! You quoted yourself on your Wall of Inspiration? That’s a lot of ego, Jefferson.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.”

You shake your head at him reproachfully but you can’t knock the satisfied smirk off his face. His inflated sense of self makes you want to slap him but you also kind of admire him for it. He believes in himself and his abilities. He is comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t care about what other people think about him, which is evident by the magenta T-shirt with the words Qu’est-ce que j’ai raté? You find yourself secretly wishing that you had half the confidence he had.

Beside his quote on the Wall of Inspiration is a picture of Jefferson and a pretty girl with long curly hair and sunkissed skin. She is smiling at the camera, her nose crinkling cutely as Jefferson kisses her cheek. His girlfriend, you realize. You feel the smile on your face fade.

“That’s a cute picture,” you say, trying to act normal. “Who is she?”

His eyebrows move closer together as he follows your finger to the picture. “Oh, that’s Martha,” he says tersely, as if that answers your question. Technically it does, but it also produces more questions. Is she his girlfriend? Are they broken up? Why is she still on the wall? Is she around? Why haven’t you seen her around?

Wait, it’s none of your business, why do you care? It’s not like you like Jefferson. He’s an insufferable, overconfident jerk who wears too much magenta and has insulted you too many times for you to ever like him as anything more than a classmate. That’s what you two are—classmates and partners on a school project. That’s it. There’s no way you could ever be attracted to him.

Almost as though he had heard your inner monologue, Jefferson bends down to begin picking up the boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese strewn across his floor. His jeans tighten around his ass, giving you a front-row view of how round and—for lack of a better word—perfect it is. You can see the muscles in his back as his magenta shirt stretches with his reach. How had you never noticed how fit he was? It was as if someone had given you glasses that suddenly cleared up your vision so you could notice small details that you hadn’t before. Like the swell of his biceps as he lifts a big cardboard box full of boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese back onto the top shelf of his closet. You’ve always been an arm girl, you admit to yourself as you admire his toned muscles.

He glances over his shoulder at you and smirks as if he can read your thoughts. You shake your head hard, clearing your mind.

“We should probably get back to work,” Jefferson says, holding out a blank yellow legal pad.

You nod dumbly and take the pad from him, cursing your face as it betrays you with a deep blush. The blood makes your face hot and pounds in your ears as you follow him back to the living room. You fan yourself with the pad when he isn’t looking. Now you can’t help but watch his muscles as he sits back down, his back against the plaid couch and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Shit, you think. This can’t be good.


this is not the end of the world / neil hilborn.

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The office health check-up doesn’t quite go as envisioned but at least Kurt finally learns more about his co-worker’s relationship status.

A/N: This is the original Klaine-as-Vogue-Interns oneshot I mentioned at the end of my Klaine Advent Vogue Verse! :) The two fics are completely different except for being set in a verse where Kurt and Blaine both intern at

beta’ed by @a-simple-rainbow who saves my fics from being scientifically inaccurate ;)

Rating: PG

Read on AO3

“Alright, preppy interns, ready for your health check-ups?” a voice says right behind Kurt’s ear, making him flinch and literally jump up from his desk chair.

Blaine has a similar reaction a desk away from him, though the person who approached him was much kinder, merely touching his shoulder to get his attention.

Still. Blaine is almost always so deep into his work that one could talk to him about aliens and dragons and whatnot, and he would nod and mumble, “Yeah, sounds great.”

And not just theoretically – it actually works. Kurt knows this because it’s his regular five-minute break entertainment.

“Wait, what health check-up?” Blaine asks, thankfully just as confused as Kurt.

The girl behind Blaine’s chair frowns. “The whole office is doing health check-ups today.”

“We just assumed that would just be for actual employees,” Kurt replies, trying to be kind. After all, she wasn’t the one who scared him half to death after all. “We’re just interns here.”

He spares a look at the other girl – and, yep, still scary. She has her hands on her hips and a piercing gaze, seemingly ready to roll her eyes at people 24/7.

And then she actually does roll her eyes at Kurt. “Interns have bodies, too, you know? Even Vogue interns. So, health check-up. Now. Deal with it.”

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Pent Up Anger//Kunpimook Bhuwakul

Originally posted by jypnior

Pairing:Bambam x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary:Anonymous said:
Some BamBam angst/fluff please ?? Maybe an arguement or something, one of them has an off day and their temper gets the better of them or something, but then fluffy freaking cutie cuddles or something !! Thank you for taking the time to do these !!

Author’s Note: concernedbambamisreallycute thereisaidit

xoxo Sara

Today had been a very, very rough day. You had woken up late and in turn, were late to work, making both your manager and boss angry at you. You had left important files for a presentation you had to do at work at home, making the company angry at you as they almost lost very important clientele. You forgot to pack a lunch on your rush, so you would go ten hours today without eating as you also forgot your money at home. You were done with the whole day as soon as it started, and all you wanted to do was walk home and sleep with your boyfriend.

But once you got home, your anger continued. The place was a complete mess. You understood your boyfriend was tired; he had just gotten back from a long World-Tour, and was already preparing for a next come-back. But you saw a half empty pizza box one that made your stomach growl when you saw it. You realized the pizza was cold and hard; probably left there around six hours or so. His clothes laid all over the floor and couch and the television was still on, wasting your electricity. You groaned, putting your keys and bag down on the table as you put away drinks, which had gone flat from being left out in the room for too long.

“Bambam!” You called out, your anger boiling inside of you as you cleaned up and closed the boxes of food he had forgotten to, the food probably gone stale from being left our for so long, but you could care less.

“Jagi!” You heard your boyfriend shout, “I just got out of the shower!”

That’s exactly what you needed. A long, long shower, to rinse away the stress of the day. But you knew there would be little to no hot water now after Bambam, as he takes longer showers than you could imagine.

You saw your boyfriend of three years walking down the hall towards you, a wide smile on his face.

“Hey beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “What’s up?”

“What’s with all of this mess?” You asked, gesturing to the boxes of food and clothes on the floor.

“After you left, I got hungry. So I looked through your cabinets and then ordered a pizza. I’m sure there’s some left,” he said, looking behind him at the pizza box that was still open.

“And the clothes?” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I unpacked a little to find some dry clothes.” He mumbled, eyes searching your face slightly. He could tell by your face that something wasn’t right, but he couldnt pin point as to what it was.

“Why can’t you clean up after yourself?” You barked at him, turning around and grabbing yet another box of food to close it, “Not only is the pizza that you left out stale now because its been sat there for so long, but I’m positive that all of my food is stale too.”

“I’m s-“

“And why can’t you do your dishes after you eat? You’re a big boy, Bambam, I shouldn’t have to clean up after you,” you groaned, gesturing to the sink which was surely full of dishes he had used but didn’t bother to clean.

“Jagiya, I-“

“And your clothes are all over my floor,” you sniffed softly, tears stinging your eyes, “I’m going to have to do your laundry as well, and then go take a cold shower because after you shower there will be little to no hot water left.”

Bambam’s eyes widened as you went on your rampage, his heart breaking as he watched you pick up his clothes as tears stained your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed softly, voice as smooth as butter as he grabbed you arm softly, pulling you into his chest as his hand combed through your hair. “It’s okay, okay? I’m here. I’ll clean up my mess, okay?” He whispered into your hair, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you nodded, wiping your tears with your hands.

“Bad day?” He asked softly, continuing to rub your back softly as you cried into him. Nodding softly, he took your hand and led you into the bathroom. Cupping your cheeks, wiped your tears away with his thumbs. “Hey, look at me okay?”

Looking up at him, he smiled at you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your nose. “There’s plenty of hot water, I promise okay? Run yourself a bath and i’ll clean up.” He gave you one last kiss before leaving the bathroom, allowing you to get undressed and run yourself a bath.

He was right, there was plenty of hot water. You felt all of the stress from the day slide from off of your skin as the water engulfed you, relaxing your body immensely.

Once you were out of the bath, you made your way into your bedroom and there waiting for you on your bed was a pair of your sleep shorts and one of Bambam’s sweaters laid out for you. Smiling, you slipped the clothed he set out for you on and towel-dried your hair a little bit, before walking out into the livingroom.

The place was now nearly spotless; Bambam’s clothes picked up and away in his suitcase, the food from him cleaned up and the boxes of food put away. Bambam stood towel drying the dishes as he smiled softly at you.

“I told you I’d clean up,” he said softly, setting the dish down and opening his arms for you to walk into. Squeezing his waist, you nuzzled your nose into his chest.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to take out my anger on you.”

“That’s okay, Jagiya. You were right, I was a pig and left everything old, and i’m sorry for making a mess. But it’s all clean now, you’re all clean now, so we can go cuddle, okay?” Cupping your cheeks, he raised an eyebrow as he looked into your eyes, causing you to smile.

“Okay,” you mumbled, leaning up slightly to connect your lips, before mumbling, “I have a headache.”

“There’s pain killers and juice on the bedside table,” Bambam said as he held your hand, leading you to your room and sliding into your bed, “I thought of everything.”

“Oh shut up,” you smiled, taking the pills and taking a sip of the juice before crawling next to him in bed, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you onto his chest.

“Now rest, Jagiya, okay?”

“I love you so much,” you murmured, tucking your face into his neck as you felt your eyes shut, already calmer than before as you felt him lace his hands through your hair.

“i love you more.”

Nessian/Feysand HS/College AU

So this fic is in medias res of a larger idea I may or may not expand on in November (*cough*). I chose this particular moment to share because it’s the most Nessian of what my brain is working on and this is Nessian Week after all, but alas, there is SO MUCH Feysand in it, I’m sorry. But kind of not?

If you like it, let me know so I know if it’s worth continuing to work on. I should also note that it’s a tad long and would probably be broken up into more than one chapter maybe if I did write it properly. It’s still a work in progress and there are a lot of muddy details I’m still deciding on, but I hope ya like it anyway.

Moving Day

I awoke to a heavy slam! of the front door downstairs. My eyes flew open at the same time my hand groped for the clock on my nightstand, one of the few remaining items I had yet to pack.


My eyes sank shut with a silent growl as my chest deflated. Voices several decibels too high for such an ungodly hour reached me from the living room.

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Room (D.O.)

Originally posted by kyvngsoo

“Kyungsoo did you bring in all the boxes?”

“Yes baby, everything’s out of the van.”

You and Kyungsoo have been dating for a while now, and you both agreed that it was time to take the relationship a bit further. You already practically lived with him, so moving in permanently would save on rent and gas. You were there almost every day and spent more nights at his place than your own.

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Jimin Scenario: Little Blue Notebook.

Request:  I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of Jimin finding a notebook you used in your teens to write little songs when you were bored, needed to put your feelings on paper or feeling creative, and he ends up showing the rest of they boys it, all of them seeing the songs you had written and then their reaction to seeing this?

Genre: Fluff / Friendship

Placing your hands on your hips you took a look around and smiled pleasantly. Even though everything still looked a bit messy you knew you had actually done some improvements, your room wasn’t a battle ground anymore.

You had chosen to fix the mess that was your room this weekend and by now you could say you were succeeding, you rearranged your clothes, moved your bed to the opposite wall and cleaned up your desk. You had to admit that part of this success wasn’t yours alone, because your boyfriend Jimin had willingly volunteered himself to help you, he was kind like that.

-Where should I put this?- it was a medium sized box, you had put there some papers and old notebooks you didn’t want to throw away yet.

-Just place it on the top shelf of the closet please- you signaled the empty space and Jimin nodded.

You placed the folded clothes you had between your arms on the top of your bed. -Babe, are you hungry?-

Jimin turned his head and smiled. -I’m starving-

You laughed. -Then why didn’t you say so? Jiminie babo- you stuck your tongue out and he pouted.

-Don’t call me babo, I’m too cool for that- he said lifting the box like it was a weight.

You giggled walking towards him to peck his lips. -I’ll go to the kitchen to make something for both of us-

He pecked you again and nodded. -Alright, I’ll be there in a second, let me put this here-

You walked out of the room leaving Jimin there so he could finish placing the rest of the boxes.

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anonymous asked:

hipster!bucky and punk!steve au?

!!! cute idea!!

  • Steve and Bucky still grow up together as kids, and they’re still best friends into their teens and early twenties
  • Bucky is academically gifted as we know, and he takes a huge interest in photography (taking pics of Steve in particular, just like Steve draws Bucky) literature - he tells everyone who’ll listen that his favourite novels are  On The Road, The Great Gatsby, and The Picture of Dorian Gray cause he likes to stir up conversations about them. He’s got one of those asymmetrical haircuts that’s floppy at the front, and he wears thick-rimmed glasses
  • Steve is supposed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t (there’s no point, they only help a little, my eyesight’s still shot to bits, Buck) - Bucky hopes that by wearing glasses he’ll normalise it for Steve, and make him feel less self-conscious (plus they look really cool). 
  • He wears sunglasses a lot too
  • As i say, Steve’s vision is poor - he doesn’t read much for fun, cause his reading speed is slow at best, given that he has to take a while to decide what each word actually is (they all just look like blobs, merging into each other, to him).
  • But Bucky’s enthusiastic about these novels - so, he reads them to Steve on afternoons after school, putting on some Vampire Weekend or something old on vinyl quietly in his box room in his parents’ apartment. They’re supposed to be studying, but Bucky would much rather re-read the dog-earned books, and Steve would much rather listen to him do it (and fall asleep with his head in Bucky’s lap, usually, seeing as how he doesn’t sleep very well at night - he gets cold, and his thoughts are too loud)
  • Steve is angry at the world. He’s not unpleasant about it, but he’s a bit of a stickler for social justice - he doesn’t like the way society treats minorities, and women, and people with disabilities (and not just because he’s got a whole bunch of health problems)
  • He likes angry music (though he does have a soft spot for the gentle folk music Bucky puts on when he’s at his apartment, he suspects Bucky hopes it will lull him to sleep). 
  • He loves the punk aesthetic: he’s got half his head shaved, and he draws on his own tattoos from his own designs, changing them all the time at will. He mentioned that he might get an actual tattoo done, and Bucky threw a fit: do you remember how you almost passed out when you got your nose pierced, Steve? Do you remember the shade you went when you got all those ear studs? I thought I was gonna have to take you to the ER, there’s no way i’m letting you get a tattoo
  • (Bucky gets tattoos though - watercolours and birds and stags and miles to go before I sleep - he doesn’t mind Steve teasing him about them, though, he’s just upset that Steve can’t join him in getting them
  • Steve does fight him on the issue of a motorbike, though - he insists he’ll get one when he’s older, and Bucky can’t persuade him out of it (though he does insist he wears a helmet if he does get one) (i did write a little stucky biker gang AU once btw)
  • Steve almost boils, wearing his leather jacket daily even when it’s hot; all those ripped layers add up, in the summer, and Bucky has to bodily remove them sometimes - although in the winter, they’re a blessing, cause it means Steve is wrapped up warm no matter what, which is always a good outcome for Bucky
  • They do argue about music - neither of them will admit their fondness for the others’ taste (the songs remind them of each other) (they won’t admit their fondness for one another, either)
  • Bucky occasionally smokes, but never around Steve - it’s Steve’s turn to be protective over Bucky, insisting he quits, it’s expensive as hell, apart from anything, Buck
  • Despite their conflicting tastes and styles, they still get on like a house on fire (they’re always texting if they’re apart, and they’ve been crushing on each other for years). 
  • They’re pleasant and nice to others, too - Steve especially, which surprises people, given that he’s a punk. They smile at little kids, and they’re polite to their neighbours, and they pet dogs. They reserve their sarcasm for each other, and Steve saves up his anger for bullies (no matter who they are)
  • Bucky doesn’t mind pulling him out of brawls at school, and at the cinema (and in the street sometimes) - if he didn’t pick fights, he wouldn’t be Steve. But Bucky would probably still find him cute as hell. 

pop an AU in my ask box and i’ll (try and) outline a plot for it with mcu characters 
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