snoring man

anonymous asked:

For the fluff requests can you do morning cuddles with Reinhardt or Zenyatta? My boys don't get enough love!! :(


“Just five more minutes…”

Your whine was soft and muffled against Reinhardt’s chest, your legs curling up tightly as you pressed yourself even closer to the giant man. His snores were much quieter than one would expect from a man of his size, rumbling through you comfortingly, keeping you halfway between sleep and full wakefulness. The soft twinkling of the room’s ambient alarm prevented you from dozing off once more however, your nose scrunching up at the indignant system that wouldn’t allow you to rest. 

“Agent Y/N, you have snoozed your alarm twice", Athena’s soft lilting voice stated matter-of-factly. “If you would still like to make it to  training, I would advise waking up now.”

“It’s Saturday just reschedule”, you groaned, knowing now you weren’t going back to sleep but you definitely weren’t getting out of bed. 

“Understood”, Athena answered, your phone pinging softly with the apparent new time you would have the training room for. 

Snuggling closer to Reinhardt’s chest you realized that his snores had stopped, shifting closer to the man as his hands began to gently rub up and down your back. You resisted the urge to purr, just barely, sighing in utter contentment instead as his warmth poured over you. You swore this man was a furnace, his heat absolutely engulfing you as most of his body did. He laid on his side, curled almost protectively around you, your head nuzzled against his chest and underneath his chin, his massive arms resting against your waist. This is how the two of you slept most nights with, locked in his embrace, your arms rubbing up and down his arms until sleep overtook you. It was heaven. 

You hummed low in your throat as his hands climbed up from you back and gently into your hair, scratching at your scalp and sending warm shivers down your spine. Gingerly you pulled your hands away from your chest, lifting until one rested on either side of Reinhardt’s bearded face, nails lightly scratching his jawline. 

“Mmm good morning mein hase”, Reinhardt rumbled, twisting his head so he could kiss at your fingertips drawing a quiet giggle from you. 

“Guten morgen my big bear”, you murmured back, tilting your head up and kissing his bearded chin lightly. It had been a long while since the scratch had bothered you, the texture a welcome comfort against your lips. 

“Just five more minutes hmmm”,, he asked, his normally loud voice, low and rumbly with sleep, a soft laugh in his tone. 

“Hmm”, you tease back, chuckling quietly as he take a moment to nip at your fingers. “Well an opening seems to have popped up in my schedule so I think I have a…little bit more time.”

“Ahhh”, he said in mock sudden understanding. “Well mein hase, why don’t we spend a few more moments in bed before breakfast?”

“Sounds heavenly…”


“Good morning my flower. Did you sleep well?”

A lazy smile stretched across your lips at the sound of Zenyatta’s harmonic voice, his hand slowly smoothing over your hair. Being an Omnic, Zenyatta didn’t need to sleep in the traditional sense; he would go into ‘sleep mode’ for a couple of hours at night before waking at sunrise to meditate. Still, he had taken to ‘sleeping’ in your room, petting your head and rubbing your back until you dozed off. In the morning, he would do the same, instead of a brash alarm clock, he’d gently stroke your face and hair until you were brought into the conscious would once more. Nuzzling into his touch, your eyes cracked open slowly, your smile only growing as your saw his faceplate. His head was slightly tilted , able to read the affectionate mannerism effortlessly. 

“I did”, you answered honestly, voice soft and quickly taken over by a yawn. “How was your morning meditation, dearest?”

“I found it quite pleasant”, Zenyatta stated warmly, fingers stilling on your head for a brief second. “Bastion and Ganymede joined Genji and I. I must say, it was a much livelier meditation session than what I am used to . But change can be quite refreshing, no?”

You chuckled softly, nodding in agreement before lightly taking his hand between both of yours and kissing it lightly. His chassis was warm, something that often surprised people the first time they touched him. Full body heating modules were needed when going to the Nepalese temple, the biting winters enough to stop the processors in unwarmed Omnics. He had once joked that coming with a personal heater was a benefit of dating him. You laughed and reminded him that it was just one of so many. 

“Mmm yes very refreshing”, you answered back as you gently tugged his hand so he was pulled further onto your bed, scooting back to make room for him. He chuckled softly, carefully pulling his legs up and crossing them.  Lifting yourself up halfway, you very carefully placed your head in his lap, head placed against his thigh, blinking away the sleep languidly. His hands instantly cupped either side of your face, thumbs stroking in slow downward circles and drawing a pleased hum out of you. “So…tell me about this meditation session?”

“Certainly my flower…”


1. When the group eats, Baekhyun and Chanyeol always sit together. 2. Bought Gauze masks for each other, so they can shut each other up. 3. Whenever Chanyeol beats Baekhyun at a video game, Baekhyun will cry. 4. A fan once saw Kris knock Baekhyun’s head, Chanyeol saw it and immediately hit him back. 5. Chanyeol has said over and over that Baekhyun is his best friend for life. 6. Kai once said that he was shocked, because Baekhyun joined late, but made friends with Chanyeol in one night. 7. Chanyeol likes to call Baekhyun “Baby Smurf.” 8. Chanyeol doesn’t like people touching his shoes, but if Baekhyun does it, it’s okay. 9. Chanyeol feels it is his responsibility to take care of Baekhyun, because he’s small. 10. Chanyeol really likes to compare the size of his feet with Baekhyun’s. 11. EXO’s manager gets easily annoyed with Baekhyun singing and Chanyeol beatboxing in the car. 12. Baekhyun likes to tease Chanyeol by pulling his hair. 13. Chanbaek’s room is always super noisy to the extreme point where Sehun has to bang on the door, in order to shut them up. 14. Baekhyun said he gets on so well with Chanyeol, because of their similar personalities. 15. Baekhyun said that Suho cared the most for him, but that Chanyeol was the one who opened up his heart. 16. Whenever Baekhyun’s phone goes missing, 9/10 times Chanyeol will have it. 17. To wake Chanyeol up, Baekhyun will push him off the bed in one kick. 18. Baekhyun knows when Chanyeol lies. Chanyeol will have a weird expression on his face. 19. Baekhyun has a bad sense of direction, and because of it Chanyeol has to follow him everywhere to make sure he’s okay. 20. Baekhyun’s shirts during practice always look too large, a few day later EXO-L’S noticed Chanyeol wearing the same shirt. 21. Baekhyun cares so much for his fans that sometimes he ignores Chanyeol at fansigns. 22. Baekhyun likes to save money, Chanyeol is the complete opposite, he likes to spend it. 23. If Chanyeol fights with Baekhyun, he will be the first one to apologize sincerely. 24. Chanyeol always lets Baekhyun get out of the car first. 25. Baekhyun says that Chanyeol snores like an old man when he sleeps. /

Originally posted by baekhyunsama

Originally posted by nexttoyoularrystylinson

anyways fleurmione is where it goes hard in terms of gay hp pairings like… remember how hermione hated queen femme fleur delacour little miss amy dunne ? thats a red signal. and I know hermione didn’t settle w fucking ronald weasley for anything excepts for comp het like that’s exactly the type of man that snores and give terrible oral no book smart girlie would miss those signs… she knew

merle and davenport on the soul searching journey

merle forgot his sleeping bag and davenport offers his, saying hell be fine, he doesnt get cold easily

merle says no, they both could probably fit together, davenport nods in agreement

merle falls asleep quickly, hes a loud snorer, davenport stays awake, staring at the starry sky, noting how different from his own planet it is, he thinks about what constellations the inhabitants could have come up with, he thinks about if they even have any to begin with

he thinks about merle. he thinks about how his face is becoming warmer with that train of thought

he falls asleep, his mind still on the man snoring sleeping next to him and wakes to the man cooking bean soup over a newly-built fire

Cool Down- Steve x Reader(f)  Chapter 3

Authors notes: So, I didn’t think I liked writing fluff… but I’m loving this series. Hope you are too. Feed back is always helpful!!

Note/Warnings: Nerves, headache, and a crap ton of fluff at the end.

Originally posted by chrisxchrisxchris

Your flight had been uneventful. Well, if you could call three hours of a screaming baby, a man who snored like a freight train, and a thoroughly grumpy flight attendant uneventful. You landed in Summerville, South Carolina and took a cab down to Charleston. It was an hour drive to your parent’s house so, you pulled out your phone and plugged in your headphones.

 While you listened to your music, it was interrupted by a soft ping. You smiled to see a text from Steve.

 - Have a good flight?

 Oh, the best…

Keep reading

~ Make A Wish ~

Originally posted by mahmah-tee

Originally posted by heartsnmagic

Request: Insomnia fluff with Bones -  @bkwrm523

Words: 2347

Warnings: //

Beta’d: No and I’m terribly sorry for that, but it took me so long to write this fic (I had way to many ideas and like three different stories I had to put into one) and I just finally wanted to upload it for you. I hope that there aren’t too many (or at least not really bad) mistakes.

A/N: I hope you enjoy! I never actually suffered from insomnia, so I don’t not if the methods I mention here would work for someone who does suffer from it, but it works for me when I’m not tired enough to go to bed.

Tags: //

Annoyed you huffed out as you turned onto your back again and stared at the ceiling. You’ve been laying there for a long time, trying to fall asleep but weren’t able to do so. You weren’t even able to close your eyes. You thought that they would’ve grown accustomed to the darkness by now, but you still couldn’t see your hands in front of your eyes. Even if they were, the table and the vase you thought you saw weren’t actually there. They couldn’t be.

The table and the vase belonged to the interior decor of your quarters on the Enterprise, but you were at home right now, on Earth, which was probably the reason for your insomnia. You missed the constant humming of the machinery on the Enterprise, the hushed voices that sometimes passed your quarters and you missed being able to open up your eyes and look out of the windows to see the stars so close and beautiful.

Something you didn’t miss, because you weren’t lacking it at that moment, was his warmth. On the Enterprise he had to sleep near the med bay in case of an emergency and you, as a bridge crew member, were stationed a few floors above him, so you rarely got to sleep together. Right then though, you were almost ready to kill him. You weren’t really sure as to why you never noticed it, but boy, that man snored! Pinching his nose or shaking him a little only caused him to scrunch up his face or move a little bit, but he stayed asleep and snored on.

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okay but solangelo with bpd and theyre both eachother’s fp

• nico takes frequent depression naps and even though will is the one who tells him “aw, neeks, yes take your nap, darlin!! my boy deserves rest” he always immediately regrets it once nico falls asleep. a snoring man can’t give you his attention, solace! you big baffoon. he sits by nico as he sleeps, knowing he could be using this time productively, but he doesnt care. he needs nico and he needs him now but it would be wrong to wake him up. “i hate you for sleeping right now” he whispers to nicos closed eyelids. it isnt the truth, but its a Feeling, and he curls up next to nico, pouting and lonely, waiting for him to wake up.

• will works long hours sometimes stitching everyone up because he’s the head healer and everyone in camp half blood just has to go and get life-threatening injuries, great googly moogly, cant everyone have their usual amount of limbs for like, 2 seconds?? and nico hates that will is busy so often and resents him a little for things out of his control and he knows its ridiculous but he just cant help it…. what would he even say to will to explain this feeling? “how dare you save our friends and family countless times over!! we could have been holding hands, you heartless hick!!” he rolls his eyes at himself and considers helping will in the infirmary again, just so he can see that mop of yellow curls bouncing around from injury to injury


Originally posted by coldrainy

And the Hard Rain Fell

The hard rain fell.

I wrapped my coat tighter around my body, the sheets of rain pouring off my hood like a steady waterfall, masking my face.

Good. It hid the tears.

I didn’t want to be here. I’d have chosen anywhere in the world to be, rather than here. But sometimes, you don’t get to choose your moments. Sometimes, they choose you.

He would be home soon. I watched as headlights passed me by, one by one, none of them him. My eyes looked to the street-light above, hoping for some guidance; some light on whether I was doing the right thing. It didn’t even acknowledge me, but simply hung its head, unmoving, across the river below.

I watched as old winter leaves, floated along the streets, destined for the world below. An endless whirlpool of dizziness and cold. I knew its pain.

The water rushed forth, sending a small tidal wave to cover the sidewalk, soaking my shoes. I simply watched as the water parted round the leather, carrying along further down its path. I looked up to watch the car settle, but the engine still ran. Would he need a quick getaway?

I swallowed the tears down my throat as he exited the cab. Was there someone on the other side? Did I see blonde, or was it a figment of my imagination? My exhaustion. My eyes fought to adjust, like in some drunken stupor, a kaleidoscope of memories, fragmented throughout my brain.

He closed the car door gently, not moving far from its grasp, and just stood. I swallowed once more, too old for childish games, but in this moment, I could have been all of fourteen, my heart breaking for the first time.

He stole a glance to the sky as his red hair quickly lost its curl to the violence of the skies. Some strange wonderment in the back of my mind suddenly sent my mind whirling in a pool of curiosity. Why did he not put his hood on? It just lay there, cradling his shoulders, but he made no move to shield himself.

Instinctively, my hand reached out, a desire to cover and protect him, always close at hand; always the most natural of thoughts. But I didn’t walk forward; my arm just hung in the rain like some forbidden touch.

I slowly dropped it, as he closed the distance separating us. I could see his tears through the rain. They fell…differently, down his face. I suspected they did the same for me. He tilted his head to the side, and with barely a moment in time, his finger crossed my cheek to fold his open palm around my head, pulling me to his breast.

Still, the rain fell.

I sank into his body, the tears turning into full weeps. He didn’t try to hush me. Didn’t try to make it something other than what is was. There was no easing of pain. No words he could say, that would change the outcome of this day.

I gripped his coat, turning my head to the side. No. No blonde in there. Not this time, anyway.

I pulled back, my mouth opening, begging to call out his name. But if my voice had crossed my lips, it was lost in the sounds of the flooding night.

He took my hand, guiding me into the building. I vaguely recall the cab pulling away. She wasn’t in there. I know. I would have seen. But my mind played tricks, weaving along a spider’s web, from little white lie, to a magnificent trap of deceit.

The fluorescent light from the hallway, initially harsh and offensive, softened in my haze-filled mind. The fog of tears, making it almost ethereal. I sighed, my eyes closing as I listened to their soft hum. Angels singing? No. Angels weeping.

He pulled me from the hall into his dark flat. The heavy rain, snarling at the windows, casting a moving abstract across the shadowed floor.

I don’t remember the hitch of the door, leaving us in the glow of the watered-down streetlights outsides. I don’t recall him tugging on my sleeves, ridding me of my drenched coat. What I do remember is the coolness of his lips against my wet skin, almost reptilian, cold, like some demon, seducing me back into its grasp. I was aware of it all, and yet, my feet did not run.

His lips travelled around my neck, and with each moment, I felt the chill of the room grow colder. A new piece of clothing falling heavily on the floor.

And still, the rain fell.

I never turned to him. I never made a loving gesture or gentle caress. He did, though. He played me like a man picking up a finely tuned instrument, feeling its curves and flesh for the first time. Falling in love with each detail and dying inside as he played it, all the while, never feeling so alive. He knew the strings to play and the notes to pluck. And when he laid me down, my naked body below his, he conducted my body as if I were his magnum opus.

My legs around his thighs, sliding along his sweat like a steel guitar as he pushed inside me. His fingers, frolicking atop my clit, like a pizzicato on a violin, before the long, slow, push, deep inside me, joining his manhood, opening me to the first climax of our opera.

We were mostly silent, our gasps coming out in short breaths, but no words were spoken. It was rough and soft and all the wonderful things in the middle. It was racing to the end, and loitering around the beginning. It was two teenagers, learning each other’s’ bodies for the first time and it was two people, that had loved each other their whole lives and couldn’t bear to let go.

His body, blanketing mine, was still, save the shallow thrust of his hips. We had climaxed several times; the sheets, stained with all we had left to give, felt cool and tainted. No longer sexy and erotic.

I turned my head to the window as he held me tight, his lips imprisoning a taut nipple. I couldn’t go back. Too much had happened. My heart, bruised and tattered like so many before, had ceased to beat. At least, for him, anyway. There was a numbness when his name was spoken, like some distant song you struggle to hear, as the rest of the world falls away. Too many stories were told; too many photos scattered across the floor.

I couldn’t hear him anymore. His voice, no longer the sound of happiness and titillation inside my body. His lips, no longer speaking the words of passion and beauty. His caress, like icicles forming across my skin on a cold December night.

Ever still, the rain fell.

He had fallen asleep inside me, as he had often done before. But the faintest of memories, told me I had once loved that feeling. Held him tighter still. But now, now there was this unyielding, cruel, weight across my breast. He felt wrong. A momentarily sadness floated through my mind that I shouldn’t feel this way, but I pushed him off anyway. When he fell alongside me, I breathed an air that felt fresh and invigorating, like a drowning child, being pulled from the waves.

His eyes jumped, like a frog leaping from stone to stone, as I watched him sleep. What was he dreaming of? After weeks – months - of strain, I finally saw it there. The curve of his lips as his body relaxed in sleep. The rumble of his chest as he softly snored. A man, that only found true peace, when the rest of the world fell away. I etched out his form in my mind, memorizing and cataloguing every ripple of muscle and each vein, strong and proud. Each slope of his knees and freckle upon his flesh. The way the curve of his hips, guided your eyes to his groin, and the sharpness of his collarbone, you wanted to slice you lips on as you tried to bury yourself in his body. And his fingers, with their gentle stroke and whip of pleasure, his thumb drying my tears, before the middle and index fingers joined in a marriage of pleasure, pushing inside my body, calling forth the ecstasy that lay hidden deep within me.

I inhaled his smell, my own sex, twisting and catching in my senses as well. I closed my eyes, sealing each piece in memory, like strands of hair nestled in a locket.

I eased my way from the bed, gathering my clothes from the floor, my eyes never leaving his sleeping face. He was beautiful once. We were. But too many lies and too many schemes, had taken their toll. He wasn’t mine anymore, but I suspected, I would always be his. In his thoughts, late at night, when the world is asleep, and the phone is set to silent as the glow of the computer is extinguished, and all he has left are his thoughts that he fights so hard to rid himself of; he’ll recall me. And I might just come crawling back, like a wounded animal, begging for love and mercy. Or, just maybe, I may hear his haunting voice calling my name on the breeze, calling me for comfort, to lay in his bed and in his arms, and promptly shut the window.

And with the twisting of a handle, a tug on the door and the strongest will I could gather to not look behind, I left the dark, and welcomed the light.

And the rain fell silent; its rapping on the walls, no more.

anonymous asked:

Hii, could you please do more Fanboy!Tae HCs please???

Yoongi remembers the first time he ever saw Taehyung jealous. It was actually so hilarious and a fun time for him. Yoongi’s usually the only to pout and glare at the boys Taehyung pulls with him to events and for once it’s Taehyung being pouty and grumpy literally Yoongi wants to milk it for all it’s worth because the younger is so fucking cute!!!

It’s during a fan sign in Seoul. Taehyung arrives at the usual location dressed up in his best outfit and carrying his favorite camera to capture any cute poses his boyfriend might do in his direction. It catches him off guard for a moment, though, when he lines up and none of the normal fan masters he interacts with come up to say hello like before. 

His eyebrows scrunch together and he looks around to notice that most of the fan masters are in a circle a little further ahead of the line. 

“Hey, Yoona! What’s going on over there?” 

Taehyung smiles as he spots and talks to one of the Seokjin fan masters he’s gotten close with. She’s a cute girl who always has a Mario plush with her and wants Soekjin to call her baby girl and also one of the few persons that knows of Taehyung’s and Yoongi’s relationship. The girl giggles and covers her mouth before her eyes shut into half moons with her grin and Taehyung himself can’t help but grinning. 

Until she speaks. 

“There’s a new Yoongi fanboy! You remember how wild it was when you first came, they are just excited to see another boy.” 

The grin on his face falls and he wants to say something else but before he can the staff is asking them to line up and of course, of fucking course, the boy lines up right in front of Taehyung. He doesn’t even try to hide his frown. The boy is fucking adorable as fuck. His hair is dyed silver, to match Yoongi’s Taehyung notices, and his almond eyes are lined in sharp dark black liner with light red shadow covering the lids. Really if Taehyung thinks about  it the boy looks similar to himself and that thought only pisses him off more when he sees the boy wearing a shirt that reads “Suga’s boyfriend!” on it.  The boy grins when he sees Taehyung. 

“Hello, I’m Baekhyun! Are you a fanboy too? Ah i bet your girlfriend dragged you here right?” 

Taehyung just points to his camera that hangs around his neck and more specifically the card taped to the camera that reads “Sugas_Sweets.” Baekhyun’s mouth drops open.


Thankfully before Baekhyun can try talking to him more the line begins moving and the fans are aloud to enter the building. Taehyung quickly looks for Yoongi and his mood instantly brightens when he notices Yoongi is already staring at him with a gummy smile on his face. His mood again is dropped when he hears Baekhyun squeal followed by “Holy shit Suga hyung is so handsome!!” 

He’s really not normally the jealous type but something about Baekhyun gets the possessive juices in him flowing. The boy is pretty, fucking gorgeous really, and Yoongi’s type. It makes Taehyung frown.  

“Did you get Hyung a gift? I got him this signed Eminem cd and some of his favorite candies!” 

Baekhyun is tossing an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder as he talks and Taehyung tries to focus on getting quality pictures of his boyfriend, and some of Namjoon for Kyungsoo, he really just wants to toss his camera because he knows Yoongi is going to fucking love that gift. It’s not a competition but Taehyung wants nothing more than to casually toss out a “I sucked his dick last night that’s a good enough gift.” but he stops himself. Instead he just smiles and shakes his head. 

“I go to every event. Yoongi asked i stop getting him gifts because my love and support is enough for him.” 

It’s their turn to meet the boys at the table and he counts it as a win when he sees Baekhyun look a bit jealous at the way Yoongi lights up when he notices Taehyung is in line. Most fans themselves have just figured Taehyung is Yoongi’s favorite fan site and that’s why the rapper lights up whenever he sees him. Taehyung knows it’s really because his boyfriend is a giant sap that loves when Taehyung shows his fanboy side. Sadly the way the line is set up has Baekhyun going to see Yoongi before Taehyung does. 

He watches with a frown as Baekhyun hands his gifts to Yoongi and Yoongi’s eyes shine when he sees the Eminem cd. Baekhyun raises his hand and Taehyung assumes he’s asking for a high five until he sees Yoongi link their fingers together for a few seconds. It makes his stomach turn unhappily as Baekhyun blushes when he makes eye contact with Yoongi and Yoongi himself laughs at how fucking cute Baekhyun is. 

The staff push him along and Yoongi laughs again when Taehyung sits in front of him with a pout. 

“He’s cute.” 

Yoongi teases his boyfriend and Taehyung huffs. 

“I’m turning into a Namjoon fan site.” 

Of course they both know he’s lying and Yoongi laces their fingers together as he coos. 

“Kyungsoo would kill you if you did.”

They don’t have much time together and Taehyung knows Yoongi has a packed schedule so they won’t get to have any secret dates anytime soon so he tries to smile as he hands over some sticky notes with questions for Yoongi to answer. One of them has a question that reads “Hyung what is your ideal type?” and he winks as he writes down “Pretty boys that pout when they are jealous and have purple hair.” 

Taehyung leaves with a blush on his face as staff ask him to move on. Damn Yoongi can be so smooth sometimes. 

Yoongi laughs the moment he reads the text. He knows, thanks to Taehyung, how much the fans are fearing for his hair now that a new comeback has been announced and although Yoongi already knows he’s keeping his dark hair he decides to tease Taehyung. 

He uploads an old selfie he has on his phone that was never posted onto twitter with his hair a bright orange, from when he was in the middle of bleaching it, before texting Taehyung back. 

“You haven’t checked Twitter?” 

A little bit of worry runs through him when twenty minutes pass and he’s gotten no reply from his boyfriend.  Another ten minutes go by and finally Yoongi texts his Taehyung again. 

“Are you okay?” 

What he receives is a picture of Taehyung in front of the bighit building with the words “BRB fighting Bang PD.” under it. 


It’s hard on them sometimes. Not always sunshine’s and rainbows. Sometimes they fight and it’s so ugly because they care for each other so much. Yoongi has idol friends that are just so fucking rude sometimes and there the ones that know about him dating a fan and they put words into his head that normally he wouldn’t think about. 

“What if he’s only with you because of the fame?” 

“He only likes you because you’re Suga.” 

“Once the excitement of being with an idol wears off he’ll leave you and go to a magazine about your relationship.” 

Yoongi’s so stressed out when Taehyung calls to tell him about how much he loves the new mv and talk about it he just snaps. 

“Can you please just shut up about the music video.” 

Taehyung goes silent for a moment before trying to change the subject to maybe cheer Yoongi on for his next concert. Yoongi knows he’s being a dick but again the stress it there and the lack of sleep and the words from his friends creep up and he just can’t handle it. 

“All you ever want to fucking talk about is concerts and music videos and it’s so fucking annoying can you just stop being such a fucking fan for once! I’m sorry i don’t want to be your idol boyfriend Suga today you can leech from me later.” 

The line clicks as Taehyung hangs up their call before Yoongi can even realize he’s taken out his stress on his boyfriend. Of course the younger doesn’t answer any attempts Yoongi makes to call him back. It just makes everything hurt more when a few days pass and Yoongi doesn’t see Taehyung at the fan event that he knew for sure the younger had tickets to. Yoongi checks twitter and his gut drops when he sees the top tweet. 

Sugas_Sweets: Hello it’s admin of S_S, for the first time ever S_S will be going on hiatus. Thank you for understanding.

He tries one more time to text Taehyung. “Am i really losing my favorite fan site?” and of course he feels like a dick when Taehyung text him back. “Clearly it bothers you that i’m a fan so i’ll stop.” 

That same day he nearly runs to Taehyung’s apartment as soon as he gets the free time. He has no idea what he’s going to say or do but he knows he needs to fix things with his boyfriend. He never really realized how much he looked forward to seeing Taehyung at events and concerts until the younger hadn’t showed up. He sees it coming when he knocks on the door and Kyungsoo answers just to slam the door back shut when he sees who it is. He’s always been protective over Taehyung and Yoongi is ready to fight his way into the house if he has too to get to Taehyung. Thankfully the younger opens the door a few minutes later. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything before pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry i’m a fucking asshole. I love your support and i love that you’re my fan and that you are there to cheer me on and i didn’t mean anything i said i just let some stupid words some people said get to me and i’m sorry.” 

He hates that Taehyung’s eyes are red, probably from crying, and the younger sighs as if he’s given up. 

“You know i’m dating you because you’re Yoongi right? I love Min Yoongi the man that snores too loud and is picky about his ramen. I don’t care if you are Suga of BTS i love Min Yoongi and i only talk about your work so much because i want you to know how proud i am of you.”

Yoongi nods. He does know that he just fucked up and he says so as he holds the love of his life to him. Taehyung finally hugs him back.

“I love you, stupid. If you make me cry again i’ll get Kyungsoo to kick your ass.” 

Yoongi just chuckles.

“I love you, too brat.” 

You and Tequila Part 1

You and Tequila  Part 1

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Little smut,(lots of) language, unprotected sex

Summary: At one of Tony Stark’s parties you drink a lot of tequila and have to face the consequences of your actions.


If Tony Stark weren’t your boss you would have never have been caught dead at one of his infamous parties. Working in his R&D lab gave you a level of anonymity that you enjoyed, never wanting to be the center of attention. Yet, last week you had accidentally caught his attention with a breakthrough you had stumbled upon in the field of bio-mechanics that could help the former Winter Soldier with upgrading his metal arm.

Tony, as he requested you call him had insisted that you needed to be at this party to meet Bucky Barnes so you had shown up and said hello just to appease your boss. When you were ready to leave after five minutes Tony had grabbed your arm smoothly and asked that you hang around for the “After party” so that you could get to know the team better and  being your boss you agreed immediately.

Walking toward the bar you sighed and figured you’d make the most of the evening. Ordering a shot of tequila you looked around the room noticing one of your coworkers had draped herself around Bucky Barnes. Thor’s booming laugh drew your attention to where he was standing with Steve Rogers, passing a flask back and forth then over to Bucky. You couldn’t help but wonder what that was about.

By the time you were on your fourth shot of tequila you were beginning to relax. The crowds around you seemed to be thinning marginally and maybe your night wouldn’t be a total waste. You could hopefully get this over with and go back to your lab.


You awoke slowly, noticing it was still dark. When you started to stretch you realized there was a very heavy arm cuddled around your waist and a warm chest pressed against your back. The pounding headache told you that you shouldn’t have kept drinking and the body behind you that you had seriously messed up.

Moving slowly you scooted to the edge of the bed, gently removing the arm around you and looking around. You found the bathroom and flipped on the light, looking back at the bed at the man snoring lightly and said “Oh,shit” under your breath.

You had slept with Bucky-fucking-Barnes.  

Everyone in your department knew his reputation. He had worked his way through almost all the attractive women in the tower and had been known to troll bars for one night stands. Captain Rogers called him a lady’s man but to you he had always been know as more of a man-whore. And now you were one of the long list. Damn it!

The ache between your thighs as you slithered back into your dress was a reminder you really didn’t need. The last thing you remembered was being at the bar. How had this happened?

“You fucked up Y/N” you muttered when you found your underwear ripped on the floor. Grabbing your shoes you took one last look at the man on the bed and quietly let yourself out of his room. Heading for the elevator you stopped short when it opened and there stood Natasha Romanoff. This night just keeps getting better and better you think.

“Hey Y/N” Natasha says with a smirk, “You doing the walk of shame too?”

“I guess I am Agent Romanoff.” You reply, your face flaming.

“Call me Natasha. We’ve worked together for two years, I think it’s time to be less formal.” She grinned and you felt yourself relax a little.

“Thanks Natasha, but at the moment I am just ready to go home and hopefully forget this night ever happened.” with a sigh you pressed the elevator call button and it opened immediately since Natasha had just exited.

You were surprised when she got on the elevator with you and asked, “What’s wrong?” Seemingly genuinely concerned.

“I drank too much and I guess I blacked out because I woke up in bed with Bucky Barnes and I don’t do one night stands but here I am looking like an idiot at God-knows-what-time of the morning sneaking out of the Avengers tower.” As you started to tear up the doors open at the parking level and she follows you toward your car.

“Are you sure the two of you…” she trailed off

“Very sure”, you said, feeling the ache between your thighs with every step. “Now I have to come to work every day and feel like one of his conquests”

Natasha seemed sympathetic to you and nodded her understanding, and seriously surprised you again when you unlocked your car and she got in the passenger side.

“What are you doing?” you asked confused as you got in the driver’s seat, turning to look at her.

“I’m going home with you and we are going to get some sleep since it is 4AM and in the morning we are going to go to brunch and have a girl’s day with Wanda. And you are going to forget tonight ever happened.” Natasha said as she put on her seat belt then pulled out her phone to text Wanda to join you both for brunch.

The ride home wasn’t a long one and when you and Natasha got to your apartment she made you drink water and take pain killers then laughed as you nervously pointed her to your guestroom/office. “I’ve slept worse places Y/N.” she said as she jumped on the full size bed and said goodnight.

Once in your own bed with the headache beginning to wain you had a couple of flashback of your night with Bucky. Hands gripping your hips, one flesh, one metal as he drove into you. His lips on your neck. His hands on your breasts while you were on top of him, then him sitting up to take your nipple into his mouth. Groaning you rolled over and pushed him out of your mind to get some sleep.

At 10AM you woke again and headed for the shower. After getting dressed and throwing your hair up in a messy bun you wandered to the living room and were shocked to find Wanda and Natasha sitting on your couch. How had you forgotten that there was an assassin sleeping in your guest room?

“Y/N!” Wanda said clapping her hands. “I’m so glad you’re up. We have so much planned for today.”

You went to brunch with them and laughed and talked. They were nicer than you would have ever suspected since most of your interaction with them to this point was at work. They then took you shopping, Natasha helping you pick out some clothes that were more flattering than anything you had ever owned. Her sense of style was flawless. Wanda then had the idea of mani/pedis and you went to the spa with them in a daze of happiness, pushing Bucky out of your mind whenever he happened to pop up.

Bucky Barnes woke up with a slight hangover and an empty bed. It was just before 8AM and he lay there listening to see if the girl from last night was in his bathroom but when he heard nothing he got up and checked. She was gone.

He frowned to himself as he started the water in his shower trying to remember whatever he could about her. He knew she had told him her name but for some reason he couldn’t think of it. She had definitely been hot. He remembered her hair brushing his chest, her hands on his ass, the way her (Y/C/E) eyes looked up at him when she had his cock in her mouth. For some reason her face was fuzzy in his mind but he could still smell her perfume on his bed. He remembered her laugh as he had playfully tickled her with his stubble on her thigh. That sound seemed to ring in his ears even now making him smile.

As he got in the shower he realized something big. Bucky wanted to see her again. Now to figure out who she was.

Piano!lock AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4ao3

He hurtled in his room crying out in frustration and anger that you rarely see in an eight-year-old child. His sister watched him wide-eyed cuddled under the covers of her bed at the other side of the room. The boy spent some time with his eyes directed at the shut door furiously before darting to his own bed and falling face-first on the pillows.

After a while his sister forced her blankets over her head trying to ignore her brother’s muffled sobs as tears rolled her soft cheeks silently.

His fingers twitched unoccupied. He was sitting in a car at a corner of a dark street. Music could be heard from the nearby club. Music his ears painfully recognised and his mind reminded him of. The man beside him was crouched to the wheel with a pair of binoculars stuck in his eyes. Stake out. What could be worse in their line of work? His ear caught another melody and his head turned almost violently to glare at his partner incredulously. Ah, yes, of course that was the only thing missing. Sherlock Holmes humming on his own rhythms that dangerously resembled Bach. Damn it, this wasn’t a good night for him.

‘Sherlock.’ He managed.

‘Eyes on the subject, John.’ Came back the low voice commanding, not even granting him a glance.

Doctor John Watson sighed in his eternal turmoil of a situation. How did this man always manage to make him unnerved in the end? His leg was twitching in anticipation now. This was officially the Worst.Night.Ever. Weeks afterwards he might actually reconsider that decision of proclamation but now it seemed quite appealing.

They were on a crazy, unusual case as was usual with them about a mysteriously stolen antique this time and honestly John couldn’t comprehend what was so special about that one. The way that was stolen was pretty obvious and the thief as well, already caught by the police. However, as always, Sherlock insisted on a stake out at the other side of town, of some utterly irrelevant salesman’s house.

Soon the music died out, the last people from the pub passed their car oblivious of their presence, overwhelmed in music and alcohol, the hours drew ahead of them like endless pauses on a pentagram. John’s agitation soon left when there was no more music (thankfully his detective partner had got bored of humming hopeless tunes), and his body was soon sliding lower, his head fell on the side and his eyes slowly started to close in the small hours before dawn.

Sherlock let him drift off for a while. He didn’t need much sleep anyway but John slept indeed much more even though it was uncoordinated and scarce for a proper normal person, it still was more than Sherlock. The detective smiled softly hearing the impalpable snore from the shorter man and wondered if it would be like that when he slept in a proper bed. He quickly shoved the thoughts away and focused on the task at hand somehow frustrated that nothing had happened yet.

It happened when he was seven. His mother had gotten sick. The grown-ups wouldn’t talk about it in front of them but both him and his sister knew. Soon she couldn’t get up from bed. Father wouldn’t take her to the doctors at the hospital. He had been there once. They had helped his leg mend. He was sure they could help Mother.

Their walks on the park had stopped long before that though. Father said he should concentrate on his lessons from now on. He didn’t mean Mother’s lessons, just school. The child had done everything he could to finish everything early every single day so he could at least proudly go to Mother and ask her to teach him again. She would just smile and guide him through every single challenge. He loved it. He didn’t mind that he wasn’t allowed to go to the park anymore. He loved her. Now she was sick.

His little sister had whined and complained and cried about the park. She wanted her friends and their games back. She blamed him for spending time with Mother rather than fighting like her. She was little then… No more than four years old. He didn’t blame her. One day she would understand the beauty of it. One day he dreamed of her admiration. One day he wished he could teach her too.

Their little childish dreams hardly mattered in reality though. Once Mother was sick the music was gone. Father forbade him of practicing, of even getting near Mother’s game. The little boy hated him for it. He told Mother, he begged her to get to the good doctors, to get up and play with him. She just smiled as always and dried the tears from her son’s eyes whispering he should be strong. She told him a story of a prince that never gave up his dreams and one day he won against the dark wizard and came back to his kingdom victorious.

John woke with a start, trying to get up. Damn it, Sherlock is humming again. That was the first thing he registered, the tremor in his hand visible now. John grunted trying to hide it by pressing his fist against his thigh. It didn’t work. In the meantime, Sherlock was looking at him.

‘John, alright?’ The detective frowned at his hand before looking directly into his eyes.

‘Yes, alright. Thanks. What did I miss?’ The doctor said with a stiff voice and pretended to look around as if something would happen exactly because he woke up.

Dawn was almost upon them. A faint light that spread through the clouds of London. The road in front of them was hopelessly the same. John’s hand stiffened when a warm touch on the wrist was applied to it. He glanced down and saw Sherlock observing intensely. John shivered and tried to pull away but Sherlock was already resisting the force with a steady tug of his fingers.

‘John.’ He said letting John’s hand free after a close examination.

‘Sherlock.’ John replied as if nothing at all was concerning.

‘I hadn’t seen your hand tremble like that in years.’ Sherlock knew where not to push John with his immediate deductions anymore.

‘Yeah, well, it never stopped.’ John provided looking away.

‘Yes, it had.’ He persisted.

John knew he could see the tensed shoulders and clenched jaw. He knew Sherlock had already thought of all the possibilities. John was hiding something important at the moment. Sherlock must have realised from the moment the doctor woke up, maybe even before, that he was having a nightmare. It wasn’t one of the usual ones of war and Afghanistan, this was something else, something Sherlock hadn’t seen before. However, John didn’t give in. Sherlock sighed deciding to keep it for another time. John Watson always surprised him. What could possibly be new and unknown about the good old doctor for Sherlock after all those years? This wasn’t exactly new after all. Sherlock could see the lines stressed across John’s face, the elevated pulse, the reluctance of acknowledge. This was deeply rooted. How could Sherlock miss something like that for so long? Still he would like very much to take it slow and find out while John grew accustomed to the idea of him knowing. The detective didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past on something clearly important. How could it not be? Everything was important about John.

She died not a year after. The little boy had prayed and wished to all the stars he could see in the sky to let her live. He hadn’t forgotten her tale and so hoped his Mother meant that the victory would be theirs and the bad sickness would leave their home soon but that never happened. His sister hadn’t said a word to him or anyone else for a long time even before Mother died. Now she was utterly quiet. He had stopped trying to talk to her or explain to her how school and friends worked and how small numbers were not good in the paper that the teacher would send to Father. He was tired.

The day she left, Mother had taken her son’s fingers in her palms. They were already stiff from almost a year of non-usage. The boy was ashamed for he had forgotten all she had taught him to play. But Mother just smiled… as always… and whispered.

‘Promise me, you’ll never give up, Johnny. Promise me, you’ll take care of your sister. Promise me that one day you’ll be great at playing and you will teach her as you always wanted. Promise me, Johnny. Promise me.’

‘But I’m not the prince, Mother.’ His voice had cracked. ‘You are not getting well. I am not the prince. I cannot make my dreams come true.’ tears were streaming from his grey eyes. Mother only smiled.

‘I am not your dream, little one. Promise me, now.’ She had fallen back to the pillows that almost engulfed her and buried her whole. The little boy straightened his shoulders and nodded that day.

‘I promise.’ He had said, and he broke that promise.

The stake out was proved pointless. John was driving them home glancing at a very grumpy Sherlock beside him from time to time rolling eyes. The detective was crouched in his seat buried in his coat, legs bent and curled to his chest. You could only see some black curls standing up from the end of his coat collar. John humphed in exasperation. He would have to deal with this for quite possibly a whole week. Crime was slow this time of year and this was the only case Lestrade could come up with that might get Sherlock out of the flat for a few hours. He was right on the practical part, but failed to look further ahead. Sherlock didn’t like being wrong and he liked being fooled much less. A small smile appeared on John’s lips remembering the last time Sherlock had a shouting match with Greg at the police station. He only hoped Sherlock will be more discreet this time and call him to Baker Street.

Finally, at home. John parked nearby at a lonelier street and got out desperate for a good snooze on the couch with morning tea. Cars and buses were already moving almost hectically to the streets and it wasn’t even properly working hours yet. Sherlock took a bit of time to gather himself and although it frustrated John immensely, he couldn’t help but smirk at the detective’s dishevelled form struggling out of the car as if drunk. They both quickly paced towards 221B feeling the cold creeping up their exhausted and unfed bodies. Once in, John alerted Mrs Hudson knowing she’ll be well awake by now and by the time he got to the stairs he could hear Sherlock’s door shutting closed with a loud bang.

‘Bastard…’ he whispered through gritted teeth. Now he would have to make tea on his own along with almost a dozen experiments on the kitchen table. Good luck to him finding the real sugar.

The earlier incident was all forgotten and especially for John that sounded something like good news. The last thing he needed was Sherlock looking into his most sacred and deep past. There was a reason it was buried and should stay that way. Gosh, that music earlier must have triggered the memory in the dream. John should really be careful next time. He couldn’t quite name a date for when his memory started to fight back at him by recognises pieces and notes randomly wherever he went as if looking for stimulation. He could either let it alone or steel himself in case it happened again. John knew the second could quite possibly make him prone to those incidents even more but he could not risk leaving it to mere chance. He had to do with Sherlock Holmes after all. Definitely the last thing he needed.

So yeah, decided to write this because it was so damn cute <3 Part 2 coming soon, I stayed up all night to write as much as I could and it is not beta-ed so sorry for any mistakes. Going to post it on Ao3 as well, I’ll soon get a link here especially for when it becomes smutty but we have time for that ;) a few people were interested so tags below the cut

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Rainy Day Starters
  • “It’s never going to stop!”
  • “I think there’s a leak in the roof.”
  • “Rain drops keep fallin’ on my head.”
  • “And I’m singin’ in the rain, just singin’ in the rain!”
  • “We should get the candles in case the lights go out.”
  • “It’s cold. Scoot over and cuddle with me.”
  • “Ugh!! My socks are soaked.”
  • “I left my umbrella at home and now it’s coming down a flood.”
  • “It’s thundering so loud.”
  • “I have a confession. I am afraid of storms.”
  • “Well, I was going to go, but then water soaked through my shoes and got my socks wet so fuck that.”
  • “I love the sound of rain on the roof.”
  • “I think I’m going to sleep this rainy day away.”
  • “I love the rain.”
  • “Why don’t you kiss me in the rain?”
  • “Watch out for the mud puddles.”
  • “Can I borrow your truck? My car is stuck in the mud.”
  • “Let’s sleep in today.”
  • “I’m thinking it’s a movie and cuddled on the couch in a blanket type of day.”
  • “If you don’t come back inside, you’re going to catch a cold”
  • “I wonder if it’s going to get cold enough to snow.”
  • “It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring…”
  • “Rain, rain go away. Come again another day.”
  • “Come dance with me in the rain.”
  • “Just our luck, it would rain on the actual parade.”
  • “Can I sleep with you? I’m afraid of storms.”
  • “You know you can count how far the storm is by the thunder.”
  • “Lightning never strikes in the same place twice.”
  • “The weather said there was a chance of a tornado.”
  • “I hate rain.”
  • “The roads are flooded. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

anonymous asked:

14 please uwu

also for @aarondingel, who also requested this one!

“they’re so cute when they’re asleep, aren’t they?”

Adam raised an eyebrow at his wife, who was currently cooing over Aaron and Robert. “You what?”

“The two of them, they’re cute when they’re asleep, aren’t they?” Victoria repeated herself, a soft smile on her face as she looked at her brother and his husband. The four of them and Liv had gone away for the weekend, renting a cottage in the Lake District for a few days. 

Liv had gone to bed ages ago, tired of the ridiculous game they’d been playing. Aaron and Robert were competitive at the best of times, but the beer fuelled game of heads up Victoria had suggested had brought out the worst in them, the two of them determined to wipe the floor with Victoria and Adam.

(They had.)

Now, the two of them were passed out on the couch, Robert’s face buried in Aaron’s chest, the blonde man snoring softly, his arms around Aaron’s middle. In an even more surprising display of affection, Aaron had a hand knotted in Robert’s hair, another hand shoved up the back of Robert’s shirt, the material long since untucked from his trousers.

They’d never really seen the two of them like this, completely at ease.

Completely happy.

Adam smiled at his best mate’s sleeping form, tugging Victoria close. “Yeah.” he agreed. “They are, aren’t they?”

send me a number and i’ll write you a drabble

Trail Mix

the series read as follows:

SupermanMondayCheezy PouffsBacon … Stumbling


Thirteen days later, after another quick stop in Barstow, California for some stupid ass background check on some asshole who ended up needing arresting for his massive stash of illegal guns and even more illegal immigrants, they were in the air over Colorado, relaxing with four bags of peanuts, two of pretzels and one vending machine bag of M&Ms between them, all poured into an empty cup to create a munchable trail mix. They were surrounded by a dark, hushed 12am (2am at home … Scully always put them on home time the moment they stepped on the plane) peacefulness broken only by the hum of engines and the snores of the man across the aisle.

Tucking the armrest up and away, Scully shifted her legs and dipped her head to rest on his shoulder, digging for candies in order to eat in rainbow order, “I would like to request no cases that involve air flight for the next few weeks, okay? Nothing more than 30 miles away, tops.”

Mulder snagged a red one, handing it to her with a weary smile, “Tired of racking up the frequent flyer miles?”

“Just tired. I could do with some home cooking, some loud family and some uninterruptable sleep next to you.”

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