like the water out of my house's tap is from a well

iamdragoonthegreat  asked:

Hey mom, do you have any tips for dealing with sinus pressure and the related face/headaches? I have allergies, and I also tend to get pressure in my face whenever I get a cold or flu or stress or if the wind is blowing or there are stars in the sky, just basically always. Short of decapitation, I've got no idea how to handle this chronic nonsense.

Considering I just sneezed and went temporarily blind from the pressure build up in my skull, same. I suffer from severe chronic rhinitis as well as a pretty much permanent case of sinusitis they can’t cure, we found it when they did a CT scan for my dental exam and my dentist went “omg your sinuses!”. Which is always what you want to hear when your head is trapped in a rotating dome of uranium.

I’m generally in pain 90% of the time from the pressure this causes. So I feel you on the whole face headache thing <3

Not a lot of things help me I’m afraid, but steam facial baths have given me some relief when the pressure is caused by sinusitis (and sometimes allergies, but mostly the sinuses) Some people will swear blind that dropping eucalyptus oil in the water helps but honestly all that does is make my eyes water and most of the menthol solutions you can buy pre-blended don’t actually help you breathe more easily, it just makes your airways think they’re not inflamed (due to the numbing agents menthol possesses) so all you get is a feeling of relief, which is why things like those vicks inhalers are bullshit. 

The majority of the time it’s heat + steam that actually helps the most.

 You can also, if you have the facilities just steam up your bathroom, which is what my parents do for my brother (who has asthma and CF) when he has a bad cold, if sitting with your head craned over a bowl of boiling water is not feasible for you.

Things like sudafed can also offer temporary relief, but my doctor hates it with a passion because of what it can do to your blood pressure. Depending on where you are in the world, you’re not even getting the real sudafed otc because it’s been used to cut meth, so you wind up needing a prescription for the real stuff which again is only for temporary relief and not recommended for prolonged use.

If it’s more caused from allergies, my allergist recommended a nasal spray called Flonase which you can buy otc. You could also try a saline spray.

I’m actually supposed to start using a neti pot on the regular as per his instructions, but I’m really phobic of things going up my nose (bad childhood memory) so I’ve yet to do it, so who knows, it may be the cure for all my ailments. Just always make sure you don’t use plain tap water. Boil it first to kill anything that regular filtration might not have taken care of. Then let it cool. I’d like to say “obviously” but according to my friend who is an ER nurse it is apparently not so obvious. You can buy little kits with saline packets in them too.

You might also want to make sure you’re getting enough fluids, especially if you take an antihistmaine on the regular, like I do. They actually dry out the mucous membrane too well if you’re on them for prolonged periods of time (mine have actually started to affect my menstrual cycle, so that’s a thing) and can start to make the problem worse, so making sure you’ve got enough fluid intake can be really beneficial. If I’m having a particularly bad day I’ll drink hot lemon water rather than cold. It might not be as refreshing feeling, especially in the summer, but it helps my airways not hate me quite as much.

You may also want to look into an air purifier (the $40 ones work just as well as the $200 ones provided you keep them clean) and keep it running 24/7 in the room where you spend the most time. If you’ve got central air, maybe check and see the last time the vents were cleaned, as that can hugely impact your quality of air. If you do have central air and you are the one in control of it, make sure you change the filter on the duct one a month. Don’t bother with the expensive filters. The $2 cheap pleated ones work just as well as the $30+ one, just make sure you change it out every month. We recently had our house air ducts cleaned and my dust allergy is a lot better.

Also check the rest of your environment, is it clean or dusty? Are you at risk from mold spores? Does outside pollution make it worse? I love my vogmask, it’s made cleaning so much easier to deal with, not to mention helping to protect me from the pollen that wants me dead (fuck you too birch trees).

A humidifier might also be beneficial for you too, but again, don’t add anything into the water, I see so many posts saying things like “just add a few drops of XYZ into your humidifier to clarify the air” and I always want to scream because not only are you potentially wrecking the machine, but also quite possibly irritating your nose/lungs more because it’s one more thing for your body to try and deal with processing. So again, plain water is fine.

If I’ve suggested things you’ve already tried to little or no avail, then I offer you my sympathy and solidarity. Cause fuck this shit.

This Is War

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 3077

Author’s Note: I’m kinda cruel in this fic, but it’ll all work out in the end! This is for @mf-despair-queen since I skipped classes today, so here you go babe! She also proofread this for me. She’s great. Salt of the earth!



Lydia was shoving me into my car, throwing my bag into the backseat as I attempted to get out of the driver’s seat when she slammed the door. “Lydia, I’m not following. Why are you trying to make me leave?” I asked and she sighed, running a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. I rolled down the car window so she could speak to me clearly, since I can’t exactly get out of the car.

Keep reading

AU MASTER LIST

So here is a bunch of AU’s that I’ve collected over…. a long time. Enjoy

Awkward Meetings

  • I broke your nose in a mosh pit, sorry
  • I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital, this is sort of awkward, are you okay?
  • You’re getting chased by the police and you just jumped in my car and yelled drive, wtf man
  • You just punched me in the face while gesturing wildly to a friend, your friend can’t stop laughing and im too shocked to respond to your apologies
  • You laughed in a restaurant, but your laugh is really weird and I thought you were choking so I’m awkwardly humping you while attempting to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre and why isn’t this working, you’re just choking harder now this is aweful
  • We met on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame
  • I get really sick on roller-coasters and you are sitting in front of me, im so sorry
  • You’re the bastard who keeps parking in front of my house and you just caught me drawing a dick on your window with a permanent marker… ugh, oops.
  • I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold another fucking shirt and just leave it, I’m going to fucking shove it down your throat
  • You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friends place and I should call the cops by my cat likes you so????
  • You’re my new dealer and you just friended me on Facebook and idk how to react to that
  • You saw me reading the same book you are and now we are arguing about the motives of the antagonist
  • This is a five-hour-long plane ride, we’re sitting together and  you’re deathly afraid of flying. 
  • I got into a cab to find someone already inside
  • You thought I was your friend/sister
  • Holy shit, im in the wrong car.
  • I was walking by a roller coaster and your shoe flew off and hit me in the head and now I’m on the floor trying not to fall unconscious.
  • It’s 2am and I’m drunk and I need some salt for my fries and I know your awake so OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR
  • You fell asleep on me in the subway and I should probably wake you up and its my stop next stop but it’s okay, I can always just catch the subway back…
  • I know nothing about camping and all my friends left me at the site. Please, help me, I think I just heard a bear
  • This has been a shitty week and you just grabbed the last box of my favourite comfort food from the shelf, do you really want to fight me rn?
  • We met in a movie theatre and now you’re clinging to me because your terrified and I’m okay with that because it means I get your popcorn.
  • You had a party and I got really drunk and stole your microwave, so now I’m at your place and your super hungover so here, I made breakfast?

Neighbour/Roomate

  • The guy living below me has a really loud alarm clock that always wakes me up at the crack of dawn
  • I went to investigate a scream and found my neighbour standing on a chair to avoid a rat/mouse/cricket (etc.)
  • My neighbour has a really squeaky bed and my bedroom is below theirs
  • You keep stealing my doormat and HAH, I’ve got you this time thief!
  • The apartment above me has left their tap on or something and water is leaking through my ceiling
  • My neighbour’s sibling got the wrong house number and barged into my apartment on accident.
  • My roommate keeps stealing my coffee so now I make extra 
  • You’re my new neighbour and wow man, you have some really weird habits.
  • You’re my neighbour and you are stealing my wifi to watch porn and can you not?
  • You locked yourself outside of your apartment and there’s a storm rolling in and I pity you so please come into my apartment I’ll make you hot chocolate?
  • I heard you singing at 3 am and joined in and now you’re at my door and wtf mate I think your drunk but your voice is really nice so?
  • I just set the fire alarm in our building off again… sorry. I know its like the fourth time this week…
  • You keep mowing your lawn when I’m trying to sleep and seriously FUCK YOU
  • My new neighbour is really hot and wow I didn’t even like women until now? And now she is in the garden planting flowers in her bikini wow… im in too deep
  • It’s 3 am and you’re blasting off classic rock at full volume and your music taste might be awesome but soME PEOPLE are trying to sLEEP
  • We’ve never met but we shower at the same time and our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we start duets?

Pets

  • I’m out walking and my dog started chasing your dog. 
  • My cat/dog ran away and you just found it but refuse to accept the reward. 
  • We are neighbours and your cat got my cat pregnant… so, wanna raise this little kitty family?
  • My pet tarantula/snake (etc) escaped and I forgot to warn the guy below me who is terrified of snakes/spiders
  • I need you to pet sit my pet for a while and I forgot to mention it’s a snake, the mice are in the freezer. Thanks, bye
  • My cat really hates you cat and that’s the third time this week I’ve had to pry them apart.
  • My cat keeps breaking into your apartment and it ate all your plants… dinner to make up for it?
  • My cat sneaked out on the balcony and into your open window and he has this habit of destroying furniture and pissing everywhere so I followed him inside and you cam home earlier than I expected and found me in the middle of your living room and honestly I’m not a burglar
  • Your dog likes me a thousand times better than she likes your partner and sorry not sorry I love this dog
  • You were walking your dog when you found me passed out on a park bench and thank you for waking me up and buying coffee instead of stealing my wallet

Music

  • I’m on a bus and wow, you’re singing really loudly and everyone is giving you weird looks, hey bud, tone it down, also great choice in music
  • You play Double Bass/Cello and I play 1st chair Violin and we keep making eye contact and damn your super cute.
  • You play in an orchestra and I love these songs so much, plus you’re really cute. Shit man, you’ll never notice me in the huge crowd…
  • Music is kinda illegal and my friend just died and apparently he wrote music and wow I want to know what it sounds like and to play it at his funeral but I don’t know how to. You’re a well-known music dealer, do you happen to understand these notes? Can you help me?
  • I tried to act cool at this concert and I thought I was leaning on a wall but apparently it was a speaker and now it’s on the ground in pieces and everyone’s glaring at me… sorry?

Supernatural

  • I’m a wizard and I just accidently apparated into your house. Oops.
  • I died over 2000 years ago and you’ve been dead for like 2 hours, man, damn it now I have to explain this shit to you. Great.
  • I’m immortal and you’re mortal and I don’t know how to explain this to you and soon enough you’re going to realise that I’m not aging… shiiittt
  • You’re a greek god and I’m the roman counterpart. 
  • I’m a ghost and your alive and I think I’m in love with you…. Fuck. 
  • You’re a faun and I’m a Satry
  • I’m half demon and people often judge me based on my looks, but your blind and wow you actually like me? 
  • I’m a time traveller and I went back in time and wow I think I’m in love with you, fuck this isn’t good, I just faked being George Washington… wait what? George Washington doesn’t exist here? Shit… I actually am George Washington.
  • I’m a writer and your my character and wtf how the heck did you just literally climb out of my first draft? 
  • I’m a werewolf but I don’t want to tell you because my wolf form might be that really small chihuahua you keep mentioning you see when I go out…
  • I’m an android and you’re a human and wow what is that warmth I feel when I see you?
  • I’m a homesick telepath and you’re the poor soul who is receiving all these emotions, sorry
  • Somehow I’m in your body and you’re in mine and shit man being this close to the ground is fucked up.
  • I’m a genie an d you rubbed my lamp so congrats you get three wishes but you can’t seem to think of shit and why the fuck do I have to be stuck with you? Hurry up and think of some wishes okay?
  • I was an awful angel and as punishment I have to be your guardian angel and wow your super cute and nice but I still hate you
  • You keep having strange dreams that turn out to be us in a past life and you’re determined to fine me again but in this life I’m already dead.
  • We live in the year 3090, you’re a scientist and I’m your assistant. Unfortunately and experiment goes wrong and I die. Now you’re trying to put my brain into a robot but its not the same
  • I’m a vampire and I have a moment of weakness, you’re nearby and lets just say it doesn’t end well
  • I’m a dragon and you’re a really hot prince, that’s right, they locked up the wrong royalty.
  • You’re a pirate and I’m a siren and woah… are you asexual? That’s so cool, hey wait, don’t go I just want to talk
  • Your mirror is a doorway into my dimension and I can see everything…. 
  • Listen I am genetically modified and you WILL let me hide in your house
  • Ok, so I panicked and kissed this human so he wouldn’t drown. And I know you don’t want me to keep him, and we can’t let him leave if he knows about us mere people so what do you want to do?

School/College

  • I just got partnered with you in dance class and I can’t dance for shit
  • You’re my science lab partner and how the fuck did you just explode that beaker?
  • I’m an art student and you just found my sketchbook and you’re going through it. Shit man can you give that back, I don’t care how good you think they are just don’t turn that page…
  • You’re the school dork and I’m the school jock and fuck you can see where this is going
  • We are the only two kids who ride this school bus, maybe we should carpool?
  • I thought you were my roomies new boyfriend so I invited you in but your actually the RA of the dorm and now you think I want to have sex with you
  • I accidently flooded the laundry room and you really need to do laundry
  • You’re sitting in my seat in this lecture and who even are you? I’ve never seen you before… wait what, stop checking me out!
  • We argued so much during a class discussion that we both got kicked out and we’re still arguing outside the class
  • You left your USB in the library computer and I had to go through your files to figure out who you are and in the end I read the entirety of this book you’re working on and wow you’re really good?
  • I’m a traditional painter who has to take a basic Photoshop class, you’re a graphic design major sitting next to me and getting sucked into helping me out because Im so shitty at this
  • My pottery bowl exploded in the kiln and I feel like a failure, you found me crying about it in the hallway and are now trying to comfort me and your sweater is really soft wow sorry
  • You and your friends have been playing the penis game in the library for the last five minutes and none of you have gotten above a quiet yell and fuck it I’m trying to study over her so fuck you I’m going to put an end to this game by winning 
  • We are both teachers and at the end of the year we compare how many gifts we’ve received from student and you’ve won for the past three years
  • Romeo and Juliet of the math and English departments 
  • I want to get along with you roomie… but I like star wars… and you like star trek… this isn’t going to work.
  • I usually talk to my friends through morse code in class but… apparently you know morse too… and now you know I think your butt is cute
  • I got cursed and turned into an animal and taken to the shelter and now I’m being adopted by someone who is really hot OH FUCKING NO

Near Death Experiences

  • Wow I was just in a fatal accident and who the hell are you? What is this I’m I dying? Wait no, I don’t want this, how do I get out of it? A deal you say, I’ll take it.
  • You’re an executioner and I’m about to be executed but you can’t seem to run the guillotine, wait what, why are we running away, man you’re my favourite executioner
  • Our plane/boat crashed and now it’s just us on this island. 
  • I just took a super dangerous job and your trying to talk me out of it, but we really need the money
  • It’s the middle of a war and I’m on a ship that you’re ship just torpedoed. Now I’m a prisoner and wow why can’t I feel my legs. I’m not cooperating until I can feel them again. What the fuck do you mean I’m paralysed?
  • I’m addicted to ____ (drugs/alcohol etc) and you found me in an alleyway due to after effects of my addiction (beat up, overdose etc) and decide to take me in.
  • I sold my soul to bring you back to life and I don’t have long left please make this time count

Mistaken and Secret Identities

  • I’m  a thief/hacker/murder and you’ve found out my identity and have been bugging me for days to take you on as your partner
  • I’m a superhero and you want to be like me but in doing so become a supervillain, what do you mean you don’t understand why I’m punching you?
  • I’m a superhero, you’re a supervillain, but we don’t know each other’s identities and we are actually best friends
  • I’m runaway royalty and you’re a commoner, fuck I’m so screwed I need your help, I’ll explain later
  • You think I’m a celebrity and you’re talking too much for me to explain I am defintely not… that dude. What was his name again?
  • You’re a superhero and I’m your best friend and what the fuck man? Why the hell didn’t you tell me? If you had maybe I would be fucking caught with this stupid ass monologue-ing villain
  • I have a very cute neighbour and very thin walls and one day I call you and err… your moans are very synchronised with my neighbour's…
  • I’m a superhero and you’re a supervillain and I saw you visiting kids at the children’s hospital and letting them act like they defeated you and now it’s really hard to punch you in the face

Profession Based

  • Your my mailman and I can’t help but notice that you linger at my door slightly longer than you need to ever since you saw me that one time. Do you want to come inside?
  • I’m a private detective and your my client and fuck man you’re in some deep shit
  • You’re a protester and I’m a police officer. Seriously can you please calm down a little bit, this is my job not my  beliefs.
  • I’m a make-up artist/hair stylist and I you’re an actor/model and are you flirting or???
  • You’re a celebrity and sorry mate, I have to take pictures to pay rent, I know its invasive seriously, sorry
  • You’re a store clerk and fuck, is that my ex? Can I please hide behind this counter?
  • You’re a lifeguard at my kid’s swimming competition and I fell in the pool with all my clothes on and you awkwardly tried to save me even though I didn’t need it.
  • You work at a pet store and I came in to look at tarantulas but somehow we lost the biggest one and its loose somewhere in the store and it really doesn’t help that you’re terrified of spiders
  • I’m a firefighter and you started a fire in your kitchen but you’re still flirting with me even though you’re not wearing pants and I’m carrying you down a ladder. Stop complimenting my muscles for fucks sake
  • We work at the same company and I kind of had a crush on you until I noticed that you’re the asshole stealing my lunch from the office fridge.
  • I’m a firefighter and you live near the station I work at and we talk/flirt with each other a lot. One day me and my team get called to put out a fire and it’s your home ablaze. You don’t make it.
  • I work at a fruit store and you come in almost every day and rearrange stuff on the shelves and then leave. Today you made the apples spell ‘call me’
  • It’s 2am and I was just trying to get home but I left my sunroof open all day and now there’s a squirrel in my car and it scared me and I drove into a pole - stop laughing! You’re a cop, aren’t you supposed to be helping?
  • You’re drunk and want my name tattooed on your ass.
  • You always bring your dates to the restaurant I wait at and now you’re here alone… you okay mate?

Winter Times

  • It’s snowing and I usually walk to work but that’s not happening, hey roomie, can you please drive me? Yes I know its 4am
  • I accidently gave all my winter clothes to charity over the summer and not its not so much summer, but I’m broke and hey… could you give me your old winter clothes… maybe?
  • I love the cold, but I promised to visit you for a good 4 months and wow, why did I do this? There isn’t snow here?
  • I don’t know you, but you just threw a snowball at my face, mate, its on.
  • I don’t know who the hell you are, but my roommate has someone over and It’s really cold outside…. Can I come in? Or like, have a blanket, or even a towel?

Old Friends

  • I knew you in high school and I ran into you at a renaissance fair wearing full knight regalia
  • I met you once when I was 12, we started a pen-pal relationship across the world and haven’t stopped even though we are a lot older now. 
  • You were my best friend when we were younger but your family moved to the other side of the world, and we haven’t talked in years. But now your back and wow how did you recognise me when I can’t even remember your name?

Fake Dating

  • I hired you to be my date for a wedding but your super cute, maybe we cannot fake-date? 
  • I’m fake dating you to have someone to vent to on family gatherings while also pissing off my conservative uncle that I never liked and wow… have your eyes always been this nice?
  • We’re both cosplayers and we somehow always manage to meet each other at cons dressed as a popular ship and people always want photos of us in compromising positions and so we always end up fake-dating the entire day but you’re actually really hot and I’m head over heels for you
  • My friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex, quick make out with me, I’ll pay you.

Miscellaneous

  • I’m blind and wow your voice is absolutely beautiful can you just keep talking? Forever? Please?
  • My younger sibling is besties with your sibling and even though we hate each other I guess we’ve got to start hanging out a little
  • We are both at a grocery store at am and you offered to arm wrestle me for the last box of cereal, its on!
  • You’re sleeping on my best friend’s couch while your house is being renovated and you have really weird habits like attempting to sing opera in the shower and you keep eating all my Nutigrain 
  • We bump into each other every Friday at the supermarket to buy the same ice-cream and maybe we should eat it together?
  • Our parents are dating and thank god I’m not the only one pissed off about this
  • I went to museum to get some inspiration and then I saw you staring at one of the paintings in awe and wow you just noticed me drawing you and this is awkward
  • I decide to take a shortcut home that involves crawling through a really tight hole in a fence and I end up getting stuck and you just happened to pass by and now you’re laughing at me
  • I took a bunch of free condoms from health services just because I could and they all fell out of my bag at once and now you’re staring at me weirdly
  • We are trapped in a bank during a robbery
  • Your country is trying to take over mine and I might be a little attracted to you and stop this it’s really hard to retaliate okay?
  • I was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting romeo and juliet at me
Rivals? || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 2238 words

Request by anon: hi, can you please do a peter parker x reader imagine where the reader is tony starks daughter or something and she and peter hate each other but they low key have sexual tension or something like that? and the imagine ends with them kissing or something? idk sorry if that didn’t make sense

No spoilers homie

Originally posted by peterbparkerr


Y/N Stark always wanted a normal life. She hated being known as Iron Man’s ​daughter. She hated not being a normal teenager. For her entire life, she was home schooled,being taught from the best in New York. So of course, she wanted to go to a high school, to have the experience of hating her teachers and falling in love.

The first day of freshmen year was strange at Midtown High, most people didn’t know who she was until she told them her name. Rumors had been going around about the infamous Y/N Stark was attending Midtown, but nobody thought of it to be true.

Teachers would kiss up to her, not wanting to face the wrath of her father, Tony Stark. Everyone wanted to be her friend by the Friday of her first week in high school, everyone but one person, Peter Parker. He hated how she got treated like royalty by the teacher and the students, especially Flash, who did anything to get her attention. He hated how her grades were as good as his. The whole school knew about their rivalry quickly into freshmen year.

After Peter got bitten by the radioactive spider that gave him his powers, he knew he had to do something with his ability. Like his Uncle said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” This only convinced him more that he should be out there, protecting the people of New York. He was also happy that he finally got something that Y/N didn’t have.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. When she was around him, he was captivated by her beauty. They would share glances in the hallway but would both quickly look away from embarrassment.

Y/N didn’t hate him, she tried to be nice to him. She didn’t like how her dad gave Peter all of his attention, but she understood it was for a good reason. The two teens were always battling for first place for everything such as science fairs and debates. They were always neck and neck, him beating her as much as she did him. But, she thought it was cute when Peter did little things like tap his fingertips on his desk when he was nervous or whenever he spoke, she was drawn to his lips. She thought Peter was cute in general.

Most people saw his ‘hatred’ for her as love masked with hate. Everyone thought that by the end of high school the two would be dating. Peter’s friends tried convincing him to talk to her, nicely, but he wouldn’t. Y/N’s friends tried to get the two smartest kids at Midtown High together, but it just failed.

“Hey Dad?” Y/N asked while she sat at the dinner table alone with her father. He looked up from his food, “Hmm?” He mumbled back to her, with food in his mouth.

“Can I go to a-a party tonight?” She questioned, playing with the food on her fork.

“Where is it?” Tony asked, stuffing food into his mouth. Y/N looked up at him, “Queens. In the suburbs. A lot of my friends are going.” She added.

Tony nodded his head, “Fine you can go.” Y/N looked at her dad, eyes wide. “Really?” She exclaimed.

“Yes. But no drinking,” He stated, pointing his finger at her but paused, “Okay. Minimal drinking.”

Y/N smiled widely, nodding her head muttering, “Yeah, yeah of course. Thank you.” She ran up to Tony and hugged him.

She left her chair and went to hug him. “Let me take you.” He said as he hugged her back. Y/N pulled away furrowed her eyebrows, slightly confused at the man, “Why?” Usually if Y/N had somewhere to be, Tony made someone else take her so the act was strange.

Tony smirked, “Come on, you’d be the coolest person there because I have sweet cars.” Y/N nodded her head, agreeing with him. “Okay, well I’m gonna go get ready.” She beamed, running up the stairs.


Tony pulled up to you’re friends house, music blaring and red solo cups already littering the ground. He looked at Y/N, wondering where all the time went. “Ugh, you’re growing up, guess it had to happen sooner or later,” He joked, making Y/N giggle.

“I’m gonna go, I’ll call you when it’s over, or text you if I’m staying the night, alright?” She asked, exiting the car. Some of the teens who were standing outside or just got dropped off were staring in shock. Tony Stark just dropped his teenage daughter off at a party in a, most likely, a very expensive car.

Y/N slammed the door shut, “Bye Dad!” She waved with a smile, waiting for him to drive away.Tony smiled at his daughter, bidding his farewell before speeding away.

“God, she irritates me. She would obviously have her rich daddy drive her here in a cool ass car just to make herself look good.” Peter groaned as he went inside with Ned.

“Or maybe he wanted to take his daughter to a high school party?” Ned suggested, realizing that the statement didn’t make much sense. The boys walked over to the drink table. Booze, booze, booze. Whatever. Peter soon found the fridge and got water, in a red cup so people wouldn’t call him so prude.

Y/N had found a couple of her friends to hang out with. They were already buzzed, she wanted to stay sober just to make sure her friends got home safely.

Halfway through the party, Flash, the host, shouted, “Yo, if anyone wants to play seven minutes in heaven, bring your ass over here!”

About half a dozen people followed him. Everyone at the party was either too drunk to car about his statement or didn’t want to play the game where they were locked in a closet with a stranger. “Come on, let’s go.” One of her friends exclaimed.

“Yeah let’s go.” Herr other friend yelled.

“Um, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She shouted over the loud music. Her friends rolled their eyes and grabbed either of her arms, dragging her in Flash’s direction. The group of people who wanted to play were already there, sitting in a circle, around a bottle that was resting on a table. She looked at the faces of all the people, and was met with the grimace of Peter Parker.

Her friends found an open spot in the circle so naturally, Y/N sat with them, sitting diagonally across from Peter. “You all should know how the game works. But, to those of you who don’t [cough] Peter Parker [cough].” Flash boomed, making his friends laugh. Y/N felt bad for him, he didn’t deserve to be treated badly. No one does.

“Whoever wants to start, will spin the bottle. Whoever the bottle lands on, you have to go into that closet,” He said, pointing to a closet nearby, “for seven minutes with that person. You can do whatever you want in there cause it’ll be locked. After seven minutes I’ll open the door and yeah. Start the process over again with the person next to you. So, who’s first?”

It was about 4 rounds into the game, and Y/N was getting bored. But she was glad she didn’t have to go in yet. After a pair came out of the closet, with lipstick smeared all over their faces it was Peter’s turn. “Be cool about it, there are a lot of hot girls in this circle man.” Ned whispered when Peter spun the bottle. Peter nodded his head, agreeing with his friend.

The bottle spun slower and slower, Peter’s hands were starting to get clammy. The bottle stopped and he looked up from the green glass. The person sitting in front of it was none other than Y/N Stark. All the teenagers froze, shocked at what had happened. “I-I gotta go,” Peter mutter, standing up from his seat on one of the couches.

“Na-na-na-na no,” Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to see Flash, “You’re gonna go into that closet with your best friend Y/N.” Flash finished sarcastically, pulling Peter over to Y/N, before grabbing her arm and pushing them into the closet. Flash slammed the door closed, making the two flinch.

“Seven minutes starts now,” Flash shouted from behind the door, before walking away towards the group of teens.

It was quiet for about thirty seconds, the two both scared of talking to the other. There was enough space in the closet to leave you both a couple inches apart, but only a couple inches. “Um, I’m sorry you had to do this,” Y/N apologized sympathetically, “I should’ve never come to this stupid party.” She muttered the last part, shaking her head. Peter stayed silent, holding one arm with the other.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Y/N asked, desperate to know.

Peter sighed, “I-I don’t hate you. It’s just,” he paused, not knowing what to say, “I was so used to being the smartest kid in class and suddenly you show up, beating me in nearly everything. I guess I was just, jealous of what you had.” He admitted honestly, slightly frustrated. Looking down in between the two to look at his shoes. “You have everything in the world. You have a lot of money, a rich dad, and a bunch of friends.You’re fucking perfect. I don’t have anything like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N apologized again, feeling bad for him. She started playing with her thumbs, “But, I’m not perfect, I hated what I had. My rich dad gives you more attention now than he gives me because of the whole, superhero thing.” She whispered the last part, not knowing if anyone was listening, “My friends only want to be friends with me because of my name and the money I have. It sucks, ya know?” Y/N finished, a few tears leaking from her eyes.

“I, I didn’t know you felt that way,” He said, regretting the way he has treated this girl for the past couple of years. He moved forward, closing the space between them, moving his hands to cup her cheeks, brushing away her tears with his thumbs.

“You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. I didn’t know what things were like for you. I am so sorry I was so rude to you.” He apologized, leaning his forehead against hers. Y/N reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing reassuringly.

“You didn’t know, it’s alright.” She whispered, her breath fanning against his cheeks, and a small, understanding smile on her lips.

“But it’s not alright,” Peter murmured, rubbing one of his thumbs on her cheek. Y/N closed her eyes for a second, “If you kiss me, I’ll forgive you.” He looked at her slightly shocked. But he closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to the right before leaning in and capturing her lips with his. She closed her eyes once again, putting her arms around his neck and her hands into his hair.

His lips were soft, and hers tasted like candy. Her nose brushed against his cheek, but the act went unnoticed. She started playing with his hair, twirling it around her fingers.

Unbeknownst to Peter and Y/N, Flash shouted that the seven minutes were up. He moved towards the wooden door, not hearing anything coming from the other side due to the loud music. He went to unlock the door. When it opened, he froze. “Holy shit!” Flash shouted making the two kissing immediately pull apart, out of breath.

Peter had a blush rising on his face, mimicking Y/N’s. Most of the people who were playing were curious at what was happening, a crowd forming around the door. “They were just making out!” Flash shouted with a smirk on his lips, making the blush on Peter and Y/N’s face deepen.

“Alright Parker!” Someone in the crowd of people yelled, making Y/N stifle a laugh. Peter glared at her playfully. The crowd of people began to fade away, Flash telling the two to get out of the closet for the next round of people to go in.

Peter and Y/N walked to a place in the house where there wasn’t a herd of people. “So, do you want to go to the movies with me sometime?” Peter stammered, nervous about what her answer might be. Y/N smiled, “I would love too, Peter. Now, go enjoy the rest of the party. I have to go deal with my drunk friends.” She chuckled starting to back away. 

Peter nodded his head understandingly, “I’ll text you then. Yeah?” 

Y/N tilted her heard to the side slightly. “You better. You don’t want to make a Stark angry.” She said with a chuckle, walking back towards her friends.

Peter fist bumped the air, before whispering to himself, “I have a date….. awesome.”

Part Two

Obey (Jimin/Reader)

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Prompt: OH GOD WEREWOLF JIMIN AU SMUTSMUTSMUT I’m trash for dominant werewolf Jimin + Can you please write a smut (werewolf! jimin and reader) where he goes into heat, and gets really horny/possessive with the reader? Thank you very much~

Genre: Smut - Werewolf!AU (In Heat)

Words: 2.1K+

Author: Admin Kaycie

Summary: Everyone has a bit of sadistic nature buried deep within the confines of their most intimate desires, a dark sensation that consumes the mind, body, and soul when the time is right. For Park Jimin, that animalistic desire was something that had cursed him since the day he first turned eighteen years old, a spark reigniting with each full moon. It devoured him whole, taking complete control of his body until he could quench the nearly insatiable thirst for dominance. 

Tags: Dom!Jimin, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sub!Reader, Orgasm Denial, Dirty Talk, etc. 


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bashfyl  asked:

*incoherent screaming* You opened prompts! Sterek: Not yet together sterek. The idea is a bath and Stiles how did you get that there?!? Thank you.

Taking Sterek Prompts | Filling Prompts Live

———

“Are you going to get in?” Stiles asked, peeling out of his last shirt, his words a little slurry around the edges. “In a- a- a-” He paused, trying rather unsuccessfully to shake his hand free of his sleeve. He started laughing uncontrollably and collapsed to the floor to work on his shoes. “The water, are you?”

“No,” Derek groused, pointedly not looking when Stiles flopped onto his back and began to shimmy out of his soaked pants. Black slime coated almost every square inch of the floor. “This is your bath, not mine.”

“Mine,” Stiles echoed, now just lying on the floor in a puddle of black, his pale skin coated head to foot in the gunk. “This is not my house.”

“Yes,” Derek agreed, as patiently as he could, checking the water’s temperature before turning off the tap. It had to be extra hot to affect the stuff. “This is the clinic.”

Deaton had explained that even minimal contact with the ichorous substance gave a contact high. Stiles had been practically drenched in the stuff when they had killed it. Luckily it was not deadly or even toxic- which was the problem. Someone had been keeping the creature as a pet, drawing out the fluid and selling it, and it had escaped three days ago to wreak havoc.

Very, very unfortunately, Derek had drawn the short straw for ensuring Stiles got cleaned up and came down from the high safely. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were taking care of disposal of the body while Scott and Allison swung by Allison’s house to return weapons and report to her father. Deaton had been kind enough - or perhaps had enough self preservation - to give Derek the key to the clinic so he could get Stiles washed up away from his father’s questions.

“Come on,” Derek said gently, slipping from the edge of the tub to crouch at Stiles’ side. It was, he reflected, a very good thing that werewolves were not susceptible to the substance’s effects. “You gotta get cleaned up.” The effects wouldn’t wear off until every drop of the ichor was gone.

Stiles lifted his head, looking all the way down his lean form. “Oh, no, no that’s too far,” he told Derek, head falling back with an audible clunk he was probably going to feel in a few hours. “Wow, this is the best floor ever. Do you think I could take it home with me?”

“No,” Derek said with a sigh. Looked like this was going to have to be the hard way. He shifted, kneeling beside Stiles, and grabbed at his wrists to haul him up.

Despite that they slipped and slid a bit, Derek managed to get a very naked Stiles upright and across the three feet to the tub. For a second Stiles stood very still, holding tightly onto the edge of it like he was going to resist going in. Then he tipped forward and faceplanted directly into the basin so quickly Derek had to scramble to keep him from drowning.

“Hoooooo!!!!” Stiles shouted the second his mouth was above the surface, water sluicing away the ichor clinging to his skin. “It’s hot, Derek! This is really hot, why is it so hot? Oh my god, I’m melting!” He started grabbing at the black liquid coming off his skin.

Closing his eyes, Derek counted to three. Then five. Then ten, for good measure, and when he opened them again, Stiles had fallen very, very still and was staring wide eyed into the middle distance. It was not exactly an improvement, but at least he’d stopped thrashing, slopping water and ichor all over the floor and flinging it onto the walls and- and was that- on the ceiling?

“Stiles, how did you- you know what, nevermind,” Derek grumbled, reaching for the spray nozzle.

This setup was supposed to be for cleaning dogs, but it would work just as well for ornery, tripping humans. He began to run the spray over Stiles’ hair, watching the black give way to brown. When the tub had filled completely, Derek pulled the plug and let it drain. Diluted like this with water, it wouldn’t hurt the general populace; at worst, they’d all have a really good day soon.

Stiles’ eyes slid closed, and he relaxed into the gentle touches Derek used to turn him this way and that, to get at the last of the ichor still clinging to strange places like inside of his ears and between his fingers and- well, at least Stiles was unlikely to remember any of this very well tomorrow.

By the time he had gotten the last of it, Stiles had turned to putty in his hands, making a soft, pleasant humming noise that might have been purring on a cat. Derek swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. He still needed to get Stiles someplace to wait out the high, and get this place cleaned up so no one else would be affected.

Difficult to think of anything beyond the way Stiles pressed himself into Derek’s touches. “Feels good,” Stiles murmured, unwilling or unable to keep his eyes open. “You should touch me more.”

“Tomorrow,” Derek mumbled back, prodding Stiles to his feet. The floor was still covered in ichor, so Derek just leaned over and scooped a completely unresisting Stiles into his arms. Immediately, Stiles looped his own arms around Derek’s neck and burrowed his nose against Derek’s shoulder. “If you still want me to touch you tomorrow, I will.”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed muzzily.

He wouldn’t remember. No one else had. Still…

He allowed himself a small smile, and a measure of hope. Stiles had never been one for following the rules, after all.

Whiskey

A Bucky Barnes One-Shot

Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,717 (yup…)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Smut! Sexual penetration, oral (male and female receiving), face sitting, dirty talk, language, drinking, Bucky being everyone’s wet dream…

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, but I worked HARD on this one and I’m totally proud of it! (and before anyone asks, Howl at the Moon is a real bar in Indiana!) Enjoy. :) 



You stood in the street and looked up at the new sign that was being hung up in front of the building.

Howl at the Moon

Your pride and joy. You smiled with a shake of your head. This bar had just started out a little hole in wall. Nobody knew about it, and you were barely making ends meet with only 2 people on staff.

Now, it was a world-renowned biker bar. People from all over the globe have stopped in. You have worked hard to make it what it is. The many roaring engines from motorcycles and loud laughter rule this spot.

It kept your life interesting.

The alcohol stays flowing all night long and the grill stays hot. Your most popular item on the menu? Beer served in buckets. You would be surprised at how many buckets these burly bikers can put away.

Sing-a-longs, dance-offs and dirty humor keep your patrons coming back for more. Your lady bartenders have been known to jump on the bar to dance to some old rock n’ roll. Yourself included.

Ashley, your best friend, came up beside you and looked at the sign as well. “It looks fantastic.”

You poked her with your elbow, “Well I would hope you think so, you drew up the concept.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her head, “I’m a genius.”

You looked up at the black wolf, nose pointed up at a blue moon with a howl. It was really going to stand out at night when it was all lit up.

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Bygones of the Sun | 05 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 4.3k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

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Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen

(complete version)

Alternate Universe where Bitty is a figure skater at Samwell. He and Jack meet for the first time at #Epikegster 2014.

warning labels: Alcohol, mentioned homophobia, Parse. 


 Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loup thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

 He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscated. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

 ‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

 Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

 Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

 ‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

 The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

 He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

 ‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

 Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

 ‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

 ‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

 The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

 ‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

 ‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

 ‘You’re crying.’

 The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

 ‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

 ‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

 ‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

 He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

 ‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

 ‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

 ‘What’s her name?’

 ‘Whose name?’

 ‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

 ‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

 ‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

 He burst into tears.

 Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

 ‘Dude, what’d you do to him?’

 ‘Nothing!’

 ‘D’you break up with him or something?’

 ‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

 He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

 ‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

 ‘Like what?’

 ‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

 Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

 Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

 ‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

 He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

 ‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

 ‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

 ‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

 ‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’


(more under the cut!)

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She’s Just Not That Into You » Part III (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two

As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you so much for reading the first two parts!  I hope part three is just as enjoyable for you all.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by glamour-divine

Although Harry had been disappointed to not receive your personal phone number, he still called “Megan” the next day to set up an appointment to see you. The earliest you can see him for a consulting appointment is in two weeks, and when Megan breaks the news to him, he nearly chokes on his morning tea.

Two weeks?

There wasn’t a logical way to see you sooner. There wasn’t a way to spin it in order for him to pop into your shop, especially considering he still had to sign the final papers to make the house his. How could he explain to you that he hadn’t quite sealed the deal yet, so you’d be decorating a completely hypothetical space? He’d already felt like an idiot in front of you, getting caught snooping around your bookshelves, and he wasn’t too keen on feeling like that around you anytime soon.

So, he waits.

He busies himself with packing up the items he knew he wouldn’t need: small, decorative sculptures, a majority of his books, the picture frames that littered nearly every spare surface of his home, his summer clothing that he knew would be completely unnecessary for at least five more months. Once he gets news that the final papers are ready to sign and the house is his, he cleans every nook and cranny of his current house, figuring it might as well be good to spruce it up for the new owners. He meets old friends for lunch, he takes his mother out for dinner, and he begs his sister to come over for a movie night.

And, of course, he reads. He reads the book you spoke so highly of, immersing himself within the worlds of each character, wondering which one you connected with most. Did you cry at the same parts he did? Did you have the same pit in your stomach that he experienced whenever the subject matter turned particularly dark? He needed to know what happened next, reading late into the night, promising himself he would go to bed after he finished the page he was on, but knowing he wouldn’t stop until he could no longer open his eyes.

The two weeks pass, but they feel more like a month and a half than they do a fortnight.

When the day of the meeting comes around, he peeks into the storefront, smiling at your name on the door. He meanders around your shop after checking in with Megan. She nods when he states his presence - a meek little thing with big brown eyes and a nervous giggle - and notifies you that “Mr. Styles is here,” via the bulky black telephone on her desk. He can feel the girl’s eyes on him as he walks around, recognizing some of the pieces from your website.

“Hi!” your voice echoes from behind him, your heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Harry turns around, fully expecting a normal salutation to escape his lips, but instead, his voice catches in his throat. You’re wholly professional, the version of yourself he saw in the magazine shoots. Cropped black pants with pointed-toe heels, a blazer rolled up to your elbows.

You look like you run the place - which, of course you do.

“How are you?” you ask before kissing his cheek and bringing him in for a hug.

That’s a bit better, he thinks to himself, remembering how previously, you’d greeted Nick more lovingly than you had Harry.

“Good, good,” he takes a step back from you, hoping your perfume had transferred onto him so he could smell you on him later - so he could pretend that reality wasn’t against him and that your scent was stuck to him for reasons other than a professional greeting. “Yourself?”

“Excited!” you clap your hands together. “Before we go back, let’s walk around a bit so you can get a sense of where I’m coming from, design-wise.”

He nods, pretending not to have already extensively researched “where you’re coming from,” and follows you until you stop in front of the mock room setups, pointing out some of your favorite pieces.

“Marble is really in,” you explain, tapping a stone coffee table. “But I try not to overdo it. If you like the look of marble - if you like this exact table, even - this would be the only marble piece I’d choose for whatever room.”

Taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger, Harry nods, inspecting the table and picturing it in his new living room. He likes it. Come to think of it, he liked everything. And it wasn’t just to appease you - there was no reason to like a chair just because you liked it - but he could envision nearly every piece in his new home.

“Just got these lamps in,” you turn one on. “I’m obsessed with them. Might snag them for myself,” you smile, clicking the remaining lamp on.

“How often does that ‘appen?” Harry smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“More often than it should,” you laugh. “I’m on this kick of deep greens, navy blue, and gold. Realize it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea, but if you see anything you like, there will almost always be different colors available,” you fluff a throw pillow, adjusting its position next to another.

Harry nods, imagining what his new place would look like decorated with a darker color scheme. He’d never been one for bold rooms - white was his go-to, with him being more concerned about how comfortable the furniture was instead of the color of the walls. You’d done Nick’s living room in bold, dark colors, and Harry loved it. It was his home, he’d told Harry. It wasn’t just a place he stayed and passed the time until he found somewhere else to live. It somehow felt right, even in the summertime, which Harry had initially worried about after seeing it for the first time. The home had Nick Grimshaw written all over it, and Harry was envious of how easily his best friend’s personality was packaged within every room.

He’d wanted that for himself, and you would be the one to give that to him.

He relishes in watching you work the room. You’re completely in your element, answering a couple of questions from Megan when the girl timidly approaches, letting her know that she was free to take lunch just as soon as your meeting with Harry wrapped up. You thank a middle-aged man for his order when he stops in to retrieve a rug, running to hold the door open for him as he heaves the rolled-up carpet over his shoulder. You make a joke with him as he leaves, winking at him with a smile and a wave of your hand.

Were you always this beautiful, or had Harry neglected to see how effortless your charm was?

No, that couldn’t have been the case. He’d noticed right from the second he laid eyes on you that you were something special; something different.

You lead him to the back of the expansive store, asking him questions about his current living space, wondering what pieces of furniture he wanted to keep and which he wanted to ditch.

“Oh my gosh!” you stop abruptly in the doorway to your office, clutching Harry’s shoulder as your eyes widen. “I didn’t even ask you if you wanted anything to drink! Water, coffee, tea?” you shuffle to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, opening it and then closing it again. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I jump the gun sometimes. Get excited over the idea of a new space to transform and all that,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Water would be great, thanks,” Harry smiles. He tries not to touch a hand to where you’d touched his shoulder, but he was worried you’d burned a hole through his shirt, what with how hot the area felt to him now.

He notices the familiar smell when he walks into your office, nodding his head when he sees that you’ve got yet another Diptyque candle burning on top of a filing cabinet - he can tell it’s pomegranate without even reading the label. He inspects the decor, loving the juxtaposition of clean lines set against rustic elements which make the room feel comforting and clean.

You pull out a chair with brightly colored fabric across the cushions, offering it to Harry before placing a bottle of water in front of him and walking to the opposite side of your desk.

“Okay,” you wake your computer up, scooting your chair closer to the screen. “I normally take clients through my portfolio so they can see the spaces I’ve completed, before and after I’ve gotten my hands on them.” You adjust the large monitor so Harry can view the screen as well. “Does that sound alright?”

“Of course,” he rubs his hands on his knees. “Whatever you normally do.”

You click on a file, asking Harry if he could see the screen properly. You show him your bigger projects - cafes and restaurants, along with office buildings - as well as clients who had hired you to renovate their houses. You mention how you tend to be inspired by patterns and colors, along with custom fabric you use to reupholster vintage, antique furniture.

“Do you reupholster them yourself?” he asks.

“The smaller pieces, yeah,” you nod, taking a sip from the cup of tea in front of you. “Like that chair you’re sitting on. I usually spend my free time refurbishing the pieces I find. I’ve done chairs, side tables, desks - all that,” you go on, clicking open a picture of one of your completed pieces. “Stopped doing the big stuff when my schedule got busier. Now, I work with a father-and-son team and they do the couches and loveseats,” you click again, a picture of you and two men sitting on a couch in what seems to be a workshop. “There we are,” you chuckle, quickly moving on to the next picture.

Harry knows that he can’t ask you to go back - what would you think of him if he’d insisted upon you showing him the picture again, just so he could see the way your legs crossed one over the other at the knee; how you smiled so easily, your eyes bright and your arms wrapped around the shoulders of both men. You were happy - genuinely happy - and it was a look you wore well.

“So which pieces from your current place do you want to keep?” you ask, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looks up from his lap. “If any…”

“Thinkin’ maybe,” he pulls at his bottom lip. “I’d wanna start fresh? To keep consistent?”

“Perfect,” you nod, minimizing your portfolio and bringing up a calendar. “Okay then,” you begin, moving the monitor back to its original position. “I’ll need to see your new place before I do any work-ups for you. Is there a time this week I can come and see the space?”

Harry’s heart jumps at the thought, even though your intent is purely professional.

You’d said the words, though.

You wanted to come over to his house. To his place. To his home.

“All I ‘ave is time,” he smiles. “So whatever works for you.”

Two days later, Harry finds himself waiting for you at his new property, the wintery London rain keeping him indoors as he paces back and forth in front of the large window overlooking the drive. It was just like London to rain on such a day - a day that should’ve been filled with bright sun to match the occasion - but he was used to the drizzle, no matter how much he didn’t agree with it.

His phone rings, the vibration in his back pocket causing him to jump. An unknown number flashes on the screen, and when he picks up, he’s surprised to hear your voice on the other line.

“So sorry, Harry!” your plea causes him to smile. You sound different on the phone - your voice is less smooth, but he lets the sound of it was over him, regardless. “I promise I haven’t stood you up! My shoot on the other end of town ran long, but I swear ‘m on my way! The GPS says ten minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “I’ll be here. Drive safe, alright?”

You say you will and apologize again before hanging up. He grins as he looks out the window, biting his lower lip and furthering the dimples in his cheeks.

You’ve got his number saved in your phone.

He’s got your number now.

Whether it was your business phone or your personal phone didn’t matter. He had a direct line to you, and you to him. Knowing that he’d most likely never use it for reasons other than strictly professional, he felt nearly giddy as he saved your number, creating a new contact for you.

When you arrive, he’s surprised to see that it’s in a van with your logo on the side. Why - based on everything he knows about you thus far - is that the thing to make him hard? And why does his stomach flip so dramatically when he sees you step out of the driver’s seat, dressed in a worn-in flannel and jeans with paint splatters on them? You shuffle quickly over to the passenger’s side, shielding your eyes from the rain. When you emerge into sight again, you’ve got your arms full of materials like folders, tape measures, and a ruler. You laugh as you run up to the front door, shielding your papers beneath your plaid shirt.

How was Harry supposed to make it through the afternoon without a full-on stiffy with you looking like that?

“Hi,” he smiles when he opens the door, the security system beeping throughout the empty house.

“Hi!” you jump into the foyer, trying to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry - I hate being late!”

“Not a problem,” Harry assures you, noticing the pencil tucked behind your ear.

“And I’m sorry for looking suck a mess,” you peel your boots off with one hand, clutching your supplies close to your chest with the other. “Just set up a shoot and didn’t want to be even later in the name of looking presentable.”

Harry looks down at his hoodie and torn jeans, his hair flopping down onto his forehead, “Look more presentable than I do,” he chuckles.

You scoff, placing your boots neatly together, just as Harry did at your flat. He smiles at the unnecessary gesture, appreciative that you didn’t even bother ask whether or not he’d prefer you take your shoes off. Not that he’d have a problem either way - you could traipse mud and leaves all over his new home and he’d thank you for it.

“‘ve got the measurements and whatnot,” he explains as the two of you walk into the kitchen. “The original contractor has the blueprints and sent them over so we’d ‘ave ‘em.”

“Great,” you nod, inspecting the cabinetry from afar. “Think today’ll just be me scoping out the rooms, taking some measurements just to double-check,” you run your hands through your hair after setting down your armful of materials onto the counter. “Not that I don’t trust the contractor’s numbers. I’ve got my own system, though. Years of doing this makes me a creature of habit,” you smirk, flipping open a folder labeled STYLES, H. in bold letters. His heart jumps, thinking that you could’ve been the one to write it. “Wanna help me measure?”

“Of course,” he nods - maybe a bit too eagerly - as you reach for your tape measure and clip it onto the back pocket of your jeans.

The two of you walk through the empty house in your socked feet, Harry remaining quiet until you say something. You inspect each room, writing down how many windows are in each, commenting on where some crown molding will need to be replaced, recommending that the carpet be taken up and replaced with real hardwood to give it a more modern feel.

“Which colors are we thinking so far?” you inquire, unclipping the tape measure. Pulling out the free edge, you hand it to Harry, your fingertips touching his while you cock your head to the other side of the room with a smile. He’s frozen for a moment, willing you to reach out and grace your hand over his once more, but he’s snapped out of it by you walking away from him. He follows your lead, walking to the opposite wall from the one you’re standing against, holding the bulky measure down against the floorboard.

“Like the thought of a dark blue for this room,” he looks around, squatting on one knee when he reaches the wall. “Cozy livin’ room ‘n all that.”

“Good, good,” you grin. “Don’t want you to be swayed by my own likes and dislikes, but I promise you it’ll look good.” You make a quick chart with the ruler you’ve brought on the inside flap of the manila folder, muttering something about always needing to have straight lines, no matter if it was written in on an official document or the inside of a folder. It makes Harry smile, the admission of your quirk. “And if not, we can always change it. Paint is easy to change.”

“Don’t think’ll want t’ change it,” Harry assures, walking slowly backwards with the free end of the tape between his fingertips, crouching down once you’ve met him to measure the width of the room. “Whatever you’ve shown me so far, I’ve loved.”

You peek up through the hair that’s fallen down into your eyes as you scribble more numbers onto the folder, smiling at him in a way he forces himself to remember. His heart pounds in his chest - so much so that he hopes you can’t hear it - and he finds it difficult to swallow the lump that’s housed in his throat.

You work easily together as walk through each room, speaking vaguely about the initial ideas both of you had for the house. You don’t try to sell Harry on one idea or another - you offer a suggestion and if he doesn’t like it, you offer another until he’s comfortable. He feels relaxed, especially once you assure him that nothing is set in stone and that your feelings won’t be hurt if he doesn’t like something you suggest. This is his home, you remind him. It’s all up to him.

“What was the shoot about?” Harry asks as you measure the windows in what will eventually be his bedroom.

“Uneven decorating. Odd numbers look better,” you explain, sniffling slightly. “Always want to have one, three, or five of something, unless it’s like a side table or lamps. But anything on a wall - like framed art or pictures - and table decorations like figurines or candles look best when there’s an odd number of them.”

“You allowed to tell me which publication?” he smirks slyly, leaning up against the wall.

You twist your mouth, trying to conceal a smile. You think on it for a second, tucking your pencil back behind your ear. “Promise not to tell?” you reach out with your pinky, a pseudo-stern look on your face.

“Promise,” Harry links his pinky with yours, trying to conceal his smile by keeping his lips pressed tightly together. How could he say no to a pinky-promise imposed by a gorgeous woman? There were laws against it, he thinks.

“I’m serious!” you scoff, dropping your hand to your side. “I’ll know it was you if you say anything. If you even mention it to anyone - especially Nicholas Grimshaw - I’ll never speak to you again.”

He clears his throat, rubbing his nose twice. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to wear the same stern look you’re sporting. When he opens his eyes, you’re still staring at him intently.

“Swear,” he nods.

“And then you’ve gone and broken a pinky promise, too. Which in my books…” you raise your eyebrows and shake your head with a twitch of your pointer finger in front of you. “It’s HGTV Magazine. From the US.”

“That’s like a major TV channel there, innit?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, your eyes widening at the thought. “Now they’ve got magazines. And paint. And furniture. And decor. ‘ve got the market cornered over there. Huge, huge company. Like…massive.”

“And you’ve never been featured in the States, ‘ave you?”

“No,” you nearly whisper.

“That’s a big fuckin’ deal, then!”

“Guess so,” you chuckle, running your hands through your hair. “Thanks for that.”

“Absolutely,” Harry laughs, knocking your shoulder with his knuckles. “Congratulations. It really is a huge deal.”

He knew you were successful, but hearing about how you set up the studio to look like a living room today and would be going back tomorrow in order to get your portrait taken in the room makes him realize just how successful you are. A four-page spread, including an interview on how you’d taken London by storm and your influences would be seen within the American market soon. Their words, not yours, you assured Harry.

As the two of you walk through the rooms on the second floor, he asks how you started within the industry. You explain to him that you went to school to be a financial advisor and specialized in small business accounts. You were a pencil-pusher, you told Harry, and you were stuck in an office all day long. You’d spend your weekends refurbishing antique furniture, finding that you’d had a knack for it. It made you happy - so happy that it was the only thing that got you through the monotony of your work week. Although you loved your clients and always enjoyed the pride that came with their wins, you weren’t especially happy in your job. Something had to change.

After agreeing that all of the light fixtures upstairs would have to be replaced, you went on to talk about how even though you saw how much stress your clients were under running their own businesses, you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to begin your own business.

“Put my life savings into my first shop,” you flick off the hallway bathroom’s light. “I was eating Ramen nearly every night. Went without electricity in my apartment for a week because I didn’t ‘ave enough money to pay for lights at the store and lights at home,” you laugh. “Feels like such a long time ago…”

You started out selling furniture and other decor items. It was tough, but little by little, you made progress. Eventually, one of your regular customers asked if you were interested in working with her as an interior design consultant for her company. It helped get your name out, and soon you were redesigning spaces for people you could’ve never imagined.

Harry admires how smart and brave you are - he can understand how scary it is to go it alone without knowing the results. He was going through it right now. He was in a more privileged position, sure, but he was still unsure of what the future held, and he could appreciate how much courage it took to start over. It made him look at you in a different light - a light that allowed him to see the struggle you’d gone through, working you way from nothing to one of the best in your field. He’d envied the confidence that you sported when it came to your work and wondered if he, himself, would ever feel that.

Once you’re finished taking down all of the information you need, you follow Harry back downstairs.

“Still raining,” you frown, gathering all of your materials. “Does wonders for the hair.” You pretend to flip it over your shoulders. The natural state of it brought out by the weather makes Harry want you all the more.

“Ye’ look great.”

You tut, rolling your eyes a bit, but thank him nonetheless. “So, ‘ve got to take off,” you state, your body language pulling you back to the foyer. “But I really am so excited to get started on the mockups,” you hop a little. “It’s a beautiful space and we can start from scratch, which is when I have most of my fun.”

“‘m excited too,” Harry smiles.

“‘ll have Megan call you when I’m done with the renderings,” you slip your boots back on. “Should take no longer than a week. So count on next Thursday?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And congratulations again on the magazine - really is a big deal.”

You tilt your head to the side, all of your features softening. “Thank you, Harry,” you smile coyly. You squeeze him a bit as you hug goodbye, the materials in your arms pressed between the two of you creating a barrier that Harry would rather be without. “I had fun today.”

“I did, too.”

He watches you run to your work van, leaping over a particularly large puddle. He laughs to himself as you struggle with your keys before unlocking the driver’s door, diving into the vehicle with a sigh that he can’t see. He watches as you push your mussed-up hair back, noticing him standing in the front window. You wave with a knowing smile before turning on the engine and backing out of the drive.

It’s that smile - that sly smirk - that pushes Harry over the edge that night.

He didn’t want to touch himself, but he’d been rock hard ever since he saw how beautiful your ass looked in your paint-splattered work jeans as you ran to the car. He didn’t want to defile you in his mind as he stroked himself in the shower, water running down his shoulders and back as he faced away from the spray. He didn’t want to moan your name as his balls tightened, the images of you naked and begging for him littering his mind to the point of no return.

But, he did.

He had to.

Nobody would know - it would be his secret - but if he didn’t jack off to the thought of you, he was sure he’d lose his damn mind.

He pictures you sporting the same upturn of your lips from earlier as you ride him, your flannel from that day still on, yet unbuttoned to reveal your breasts as you grind down against him. You know what you do to him, and your smile tells all. He imagines how beautiful you’d sound as he gripped your hips, slowing your movements to nearly a stop while he pushes up into you, groaning at the gasp you give him in return.

He’d never wanted to be inside someone as much as he wanted to be inside you. He wants to feel your breath against his ear, his name across your lips, your fingertips gripping his shoulders. He wants to know what you taste like - sweet, probably, like the candles you burn. He wants to know how warm you are; how wet he can make you by just the touch of his lips to yours. He wants to hear your moan - feel it vibrate down his cock while he’s in your mouth, that gorgeous pout of yours wrapped around the head of him.

He wants it all, but he can’t have it, so his hand will have to do.

A part of him feels guilty when he cums on the shower wall, his splotchy vision and ringing ears indicating that he gave in too quickly. But, fuck. What was a man supposed to do? You’d smelled so good; your stories never bored him; you were becoming a global success and you’d accepted to work with him.

And your ass? In those jeans?

He was done before he ever began, as far as that was concerned.

He walks out of the shower on shaky legs, a white bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he takes his head in his hands and grunts.

“Fuck’r you on, Styles?” he asks himself.

He leans back onto the covers, his feet dangling off the edge of his bed that he’ll soon replace with another one, based upon your recommendation. He falls asleep that way - sleeps deeply, too, his hair wet and his towel coming undone after he shifts slightly in his slumber. It’s a deep sleep, one that doesn’t produce a memory of a dream, and Harry is thankful for that.

He doesn’t think he could take another night of dreaming of you.

Not if he wasn’t able to turn those dreams into a reality so that his mind could stop wandering day in and day out…

Not if he wasn’t able to get what he wanted…

Not if, he knows, he wasn’t able to make you his.

Tentacle Boyfriend

I got a lot of requests for a tentacle story, which is one I’ve be wanting to do! Thank you anons! Keep requesting!

   Your cousin came for a visit and gave you a strange potted plant as a gift. She claimed it was a small succulent but you had never seen anything like it before. It came out like thick leaves that formed tightly together into a long cone, going from green to a soft pink color. Your cousin simply told you to keep it watered and sometimes give it sugar water.

   You did so, watering it when the soil got dry and once a week you would use the sugar water on it. You weren’t sure how well you could keep it alive, you had never been a plant person. You had tried keeping herbs gardens and even house plants, but that always ended in tragedy. You had even tried planting wildflower seeds and as it did was result in a bald patch in your yard.

   You were intent on keeping this little plant alive. You did everything the old ladies at the garden shop told you to do, you even talked and sang to the little plant. You kept it on a clear spot on your windowsill and even switched out the pot for it when you were worried it was getting too small.

Keep reading

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,”

A White Actor Grows Some Bollocks - Quill’s Scribbles

You may recall that movie studio Lionsgate got themselves into a bit of hot water last week when they announced the casting of Ed Skrein as Major Ben Daimio in their upcoming Hellboy reboot. The problem was Major Ben Daimio is a Japanese character in the source material, making Hellboy the latest of numerous sci-fi and/or comic book adaptations to whitewash a prominent Asian character. I and many others made our views heard, voicing our strongest and angriest objections to this blatant bit of racist erasure (for whitewashing is objectively racist and totally inexcusable) just as we did with the likes of Doctor Strange, Death Note and Ghost In The Shell. But unlike those projects I just listed, the most extraordinary thing happened. Somebody listened.

Oh not the studio obviously. No, it was Ed Skrein himself. Realising the hornet’s nest he had kicked, Skrein actually announced via his social media accounts that he was dropping out of the role.

This open letter has received a positive response from fans and readers. Hellboy producers Larry Gordon and Lloyd Levin made a joint statement in support saying:

“Ed came to us and felt very strongly about this. We fully support his unselfish decision. It was not our intent to be insensitive to issues of authenticity and ethnicity, and we will look to recast the part with an actor more consistent with the character in the source material.”

Even Hellboy creator Mike Mignola chipped in to offer his praise for Skrein’s decision to step down.

Now it would be easy to take a very cynical approach to all of this. Perhaps claim that Skrein only stepped down because he realised the damage all of this backlash could do to his career, but for once I’m willing to put aside my cynicism. I do actually believe Ed Skrein’s sincerity here. He seems to be genuinely apologetic, initially not realising the implications of what he was doing and now seems determined to make amends.

However I’m not exactly willing to praise him for his decision. At least not to the same extent others are. I can understand why people are praising him so heavily. This is an almost unprecedented move. Having put up with loads of A list white actors giving the weakest and most pathetic excuses to justify their own racist bullshit, the idea of a white actor growing some bollocks and actually stepping down from a whitewashed role purely on moral grounds is a novelty. He quit a tentpole movie purely because it was the right thing to do, and I am grateful for that. But can we try and keep this in perspective? This decision wasn’t courageous or brave. It’s just an actor turning down a role. A role that should never have been offered to him in the first place. While I’m pleased that Ed Skrein did the decent thing in the end, the fact is this entire situation should never have happened in the first place. Asian characters should be played by Asian actors. That should not be a difficult concept for filmmakers to wrap their heads around, and I feel I should point out I still don’t trust Lionsgate in the fucking slightest. Oh they’re going to cast a Japanese actor as Ben Daimio now if they know what’s good for them, but if Ed Skrein didn’t take the moral high ground, they wouldn’t have learnt a damn thing. Let’s not forget the studio’s initial response to the controversy came from this now deleted tweet from Hellboy executive producer Christa Campbell:

We don’t see colours or race. The slogan for closet racists the world over. 

See this is what so many white people in positions of power and authority within the industry need to understand when it comes to POC presentation. Being colourblind sounds good in theory, but in practice it can be very dangerous. When you make an actor’s performance or marketability the only criteria, you end up making stupid mistakes like this. When you racebend a white character, it’s fine. We already have plenty of representation, plus 9 times out of 10 being white isn’t actually integral to the character. For characters of colour on the other hand, you’ve got to take these other factors into consideration. Usually the culture of said character is integral plus it’s important for non white characters to be portrayed on screen not just for equality, but also for variety.

Recently I finally got to watch the Disney movie Moana, and I’m currently slightly obsessed with it. Not just because it’s a fun, smartly written musical with a great female protagonist, lovable characters, funny jokes and a heartwarming message behind it. It’s also because it explores myths and cultures I’ve never got to experience before.

Moana takes a lot of influence and inspiration from Polynesian culture and mythology, most notably adapting the stories of the demigod Maui (played by Dwayne Johnson). I have no idea how accurate this is, but I still loved it because it was something different. After seeing so many fantasy stuff like Lord Of The Rings and Game Of Thrones, which are essentially variations on Norse mythology, as well as the trillions of Christian inspired fantasy stories, Moana feels incredibly fresh and unique. I found all the stuff about Maui and Te Fiti fascinating, and I would love to see more movies exploring these Polynesian myths and legends. There’s such an incredibly rich vein of creativity you could tap into here.

Something else I loved about Moana was they actually cast Polynesian actors as the characters. I’ve already mentioned Dwayne Johnson as Maui. There’s also Jemaine Clement as Tamatoa the crab, Nicole Scherzinger as Moana’s mum, Jango Fett himself Temuera Morrison as Moana’s dad, Rachel House as Moana’s granny, and newcomer Auli’i Cravalho as Moana herself. This is why diversity is so important in films. Not only does it give actors of colour more exposure and allow new talents like Cravalho to emerge and flourish, but it also exposes general movie going audiences to stories and cultures we wouldn’t normally get to see. And that’s why whitewashing is so offensive. It takes job opportunities away from actors of colour and also causes creativity to stagnate. When it’s an Asian character in an Asian inspired story, there’s lots of different directions you can go. When it’s a white character in an Asian inspired story, there’s only one story you can tell. The outsider. The stranger. The foreigner to their ways. That’s not interesting. We’ve seen that done loads of times. Plus if you truly want to immerse the audience in another culture, isn’t it better to have a character that actually represents that culture rather than some white dweeb who knows jackshit about it?

Basically what I’m saying is we need more movies like Moana and less movies like…

No I’m never dropping this. Fuck this movie and all who support it.

So while I’m pleased that Ed Skrein decided to do the right thing in the end, I’m still going to judge this Hellboy reboot with the suspicion and scorn it deserves. Sure they’re probably going to cast a Japanese actor as Ben Daimio, but only because they have to now to save themselves from further embarrassment. It’s not because they want to. If it was someone like Scarlett Johansson or Tilda Swinton, the studio would still be sticking to their guns and trying to justify their racist bullshit. 

I’m glad Skrein managed to fix things and reveal A list white actors like Swinton and Johansson for the selfish, racist, privileged pricks that they are through his own selfless actions, but until the industry properly recognises that whitewashing is NEVER a good idea, nothing has actually changed as far as I’m concerned.

His || Jungkook || 0.5

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5

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Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen


Here’s the first part of a fic- AU where Bitty and Jack meet for the first time at the EpicKegster. 

Note that the second part of this is not written yet, and I’m crushed under my to-do list, so don’t expect it soon and please don’t ask when the next part will come, I don’t know. But I wanted to share this with y’all, so I hope you enjoy. 

I apologise for errors, typos or weird sentence structure, all my editing power is and will be concentrated on my own novel, so ha. 

pairings and warnings: pretty much what you get from the canon





Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loud thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscathed. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding his phone.

Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

‘You’re crying.’

The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

He burst into tears.

Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

‘Dude, what’d’you do to him?’

‘Nothing!’

‘D’you break up with him or something?’

‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

‘Like what?’

‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’

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Having a baby with Tom Holland would include:

@rachel-mariah-lynn requested: I was wondering if you could do a ‘having a baby with tom holland would include’ because im unable to find that certain one anywhere.

this was fun to write but im not sure if i did a good job, i wrote this while my wifi was out at around midnight!! i hope you enjoy, all criticism is welcome this is my first time writing a piece in this format.

requests are open!! 

Originally posted by tom-holla

  • when your cravings kick in tom rushes to make whatever you need, even if it’s pickles and peanut butter saying something along the lines of “babe ill cook whatever and if i have to look up the recipe i will.”
  • while picking out names tom obviously says, “well if it’s a boy y/n jr and if it’s a girl y/n jr! it’s the most logical thing darling”
  • when you can’t sleep because the baby keeps kicking tom stays up with you to read it a story. even if he got home from work late or has to go in early he is by your side through it all.
  • when the baby kicks for the first time the smile on his face is glowing proudly and a tear runs down his face.
  • “boy or girl me and mama will love you till the end of the world” while tom is cooking he sings horrible free styles to the baby.
  • “y/n i’m gonna be the best dad ever. not just that we’re gonna be the best parents ever”
  • painting the baby’s room a light pastel green because that suits a boy or a girl, tom thinks that it’s a good idea to paint your tummy as well just so the baby can get an idea of what his/her room will be like.
  • when shopping for baby clothes tom can’t help but grab the spider-man onesies.
  • “but please babe!” “you can have two spider-man’s running around the house”
  • when you finally give in tom has the largest smile on his face as he walks around the store, while your pushing the cart tom would wrap his arms around you tapping your belly lightly as he’d hum in your ear.
  • even if it’s 2am tom would fetch you a large fry, large iced tea, and a big mac from mcdonalds and just because he loves you so much he would go the extra mile and get an oreo mcfleury for you and a caramel sundae with extra caramel for him.
  • when your water breaks tom would first ask why you dropped your water bottle before realization hits him.
  • “oh fuck!” he’d shout “it’s really happening i’m gonna be a dad!” tom would get overly excited.
  • “tom i’m not having this baby in a bath tub call the damn ambulance for god sake” you would have to shout at him.
  • toms hands would be shaking as he dialled the three numbers. tom would try to soothe you saying thing like, “soon you will be a mother”, “they’re coming soon hold it together”, “in here with you every step of the way, y/n darling your never alone in this journey.”
  • after the child is born tom would be in the room with you secretly wondering what it is covered in before it gets washed.
  • when you’re told it’s a baby boy you and tom decided that mitchell harrison holland will be the full name of your baby boy.
  • while tom is holding him, tom and you sharing the hospital bed he would say cute things to him, “hey mitchy welcome to the world”, “this is daddy and that is mommy”, “i love you mitchy, daddy loves you.”
  • tom would look at this little boy in awe and in complete shock wondering how he and you could make something so beautiful and pure.
  • tom trying to figure out breast feeding.
  • “so he just gets to suck your nipple?”
  • when harrison comes to visit tom is overjoyed that he gets to introduce mitchell his son to his godfather harrison.
  • when it’s finally time to take mitchell home tom can’t wait to show him his room.
  • mitch is already in his spider-man onesie and tom can’t wait to wear this suit knowing that his son will be matching him.
  • when it’s late at night and the baby starts screaming you begin to get up hoping that all he’s just hungry or needs a diaper change.
  • tom also gets up telling you “no it’s okay babe i got it” or “i’ll go check on him you get some sleep love” he’ll even place a light kiss on your forehead trying to get you to lay back down.
  • after some three am bickering tom and you both get up to assist a screaming mitchell.
  • when you pick him up he continues crying but when tom takes him from your hands it immediately hushes into small sniffles.
  • tom then takes a seat in the large rocking chair that has a large comfy cushion at the bottom and one supporting the back.
  • with mitchell in his arms tom pats his lap tiredly looking at you, you go and sit on his lap, “lay down and get some sleep.”
  • you would rest your head on the arm rest of the chair that had a soft cushion and your bum would be right in toms lap as he would let his arms rest on what’s left of your small baby bump.
  • slowly you would hear toms breath begin to slow and you knew he was asleep, mitchell obviously was sound asleep and now you could be sound asleep because you knew that both of your boys were safe and sound right here with you.
8 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

WORD COUNT: 5,158

series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as alcohol and violence, description of injuries

Originally posted by jaesbum

masterlist | ask | prev | next

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In Sickness and Health

kat on AO3 asked: “could you maybe write one where derek travels for business, and stiles is home with the kids. when he gets really sick and the oldest calls derek to come home?”

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: G, Word Count: 1449
Human AU, Sick Stiles, Writer Derek, Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, POV Derek

Read on AO3

There’s only one person in line in front of him when Derek’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s probably Stiles, calling him on the way to TJ and Carter’s school. The person in front of him steps through, to the airplane. Derek grabs his phone from his pocket, and looks apologetically at the flight attendant checking everyone’s tickets. He looks at his phone. A sense of foreboding creeps up his spine. A picture of Stiles and their kids in front of their house is on his screen. Someone’s calling him from their home number. Why would he be getting a call from home? There shouldn’t be anyone there.

Oh God. Something’s happened.

Trying not to let his panic show on his face, he steps out of the line.

‘Hello?’

Daddy’s dying, TJ whispers.

TJ’s just being dramatic, Derek tells himself. Stiles probably just bumped into something, or cut his finger, maybe he overslept, lost track of TJ in the rush to get their kids to school, and now she’s messing with the phone.

‘Why would you say that, little whelp?’ he asks, swallowing down his heart that somehow lodged itself in his throat.

He looks gross,’ is TJ’s unhelpful answer.

Derek can’t really blame her, she’s only four.

Give me the phone! You’re explaining it all wrong!

‘Give it back!

‘No!

Derek gnashes his teeth as he listens to his children struggle for the phone, feeling helpless, until finally Carter comes on.

‘Daddy’s sick. He’s coughing and breathing funny. And there’s a giant pile of snotty tissues by the bed,’ Carter explains. The six year-old is trying to sound firm and grown-up, but Derek knows his child, and can hear the tremble underneath the bravado. ‘And he’s moving around all slow, and keeps bumping into things like he’s drunk or blind or something.

That doesn’t sound like Stiles is dying, more like he’s got a really bad cold or, god forbid, the flu. Derek thought Stiles’ voice sounded funny on the phone last night, but assumed it was a bad connection. Not that Stiles would’ve admitted anything was wrong if he had asked.

‘Alright, little cub. Can you give me daddy?’

Sure. Carter sounds a little sullen that they don’t get to report further on one of their fathers’ imminent demise.

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Hair, Sex, and Make-up

Being the youngest hair and makeup artist for the idol boy group BTS was your dream. Since you finally got to achieve it things were great and although it was hard being the youngest on the crew you knew that they loved you. You became close to the boys, but more so to Jungkook since you were the same age. However it seemed like things were going to change.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 6k


Originally posted by officialwookkibby



“Yah, ___. Can you grab my makeup bag for me?”

“Yes, unnie.” You frowned in concentration and looked at Yoongi apologetically before running across the room and grabbing the forgotten make-up bag. Being the youngest hair and makeup stylist for the idol group BTS had it’s ups and downs. The boys loved you and you were close to many of them but the older girls bossed you around a lot.

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guess it’s just another night alone

part two in the frat!ABO series for @kevystel (part one here)

The summer between Junior and Senior years Victor Nikiforov becomes completely unavoidable.

Victor is on principle, Yuuri suspects, an unavoidable person.  Last year he became the first Junior to run and be elected student body president.  He’s the lacrosse team’s star midfielder, leading the team in three undefeated seasons since Freshman year.  He’s president for Alpha Chi, one of three pre-eminent alpha-exclusive fraternities on campus.  His best friend is Christophe Giacometti, which means he’s always present at crew parties, usually hovering in the corner of Yuuri’s eye.  He’s the kind of unavoidable where he’s always catching his sleeve on Yuuri’s as they reach for the same cup.  Their elbows smell like the same chalk, their fingers smell like the same brand of tobacco.  It’s a sign of spending three years on the same campus together and developing habits, Yuuri is absolutely sure.  

But then Victor becomes a different type of unavoidable.

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