the sweet smell of bacon

Little Moments | Sam Holland

Summary: A collage of little moments Sam Holland and the reader share together that greatly affect their love for each other…

Warning: fluff

Pairing: Sam Holland x reader

Type: Oneshot

Requested: anonymously

MASTERLIST


The early morning sun was beginning to peek out over the horizon, and the spring grass shone like it had its own gentle glow from within. The air was frozen, that same coolness combined with the early morning hour. Though it was late enough for bright light, it was early enough for the streets to be completely deserted. It was early Sunday morning.

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What Happens In Vegas: The Epilogue

A Bucky x Reader / AU drabble series

Master List

A/N: Here is the epilogue! After this, this series is totally over and I’m kind of sad. However, this week I will be releasing my prompt list for my AU Writing Challenge, so keep an eye out for that. Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say about this series, and for being so damn supportive. I love you all! Let me know what you think! ♥

Word Count: 1,327

Warnings:
- maybe language.

Tags: (at the end)

*gif is not mine.

1 year later

“Rise and shine, Mrs. Barnes!” a sweet voice rang from the kitchen. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon turned your stomach, as you laid in bed with your eyes closed. “Breakfast is almost ready!”

Today was the day you would tell him. You couldn’t hide it anymore, especially if your favorite breakfast foods made you queasy. You weren’t trying to keep it from him, you just wanted the timing to be perfect.

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Odd One Out Part 3 - Soulmate AU (Jughead x Reader)

Summary: After partying the night away with Veronica in an attempt to forget all your problems, you wake up the next day with a pounding hangover. It would seem that your problems have caught up with you however, you spent the night in Jughead’s trailer.

Approx. 1250 words

Part 1 here
Part 2 here

He smelt like coffee and mint.

Your head pounded ruthlessly, your skull suddenly feeling like delicate china, cracking as the pressure built up. You moaned as your stomach churned and you tasted bile in your throat. You rolled over onto your side, squeezing your eyes shut more tightly for fear of encountering any kind of light and your head screamed at you, protesting at even the slightest movement, you felt like a corpse. A layer of dehydrated saliva coated your chapped lips, you grimaced at the sensation, and your mouth was as dry as sandpaper. Burying your face in the soft pillows, you inhaled slowly to prevent the resurgence of nausea, breathing in the familiar scent of coffee and mint.

Shit.

You bolted upright in bed and your eyes flew open. The room swirled before becoming stationary again, and you clutched at your head as the pounding worsened. Through squinted eyes, you took in your surroundings slowly, realising with horror that you were in Jughead’s bedroom. You had been here often enough throughout your long friendship, but things were different now, now that you knew you were soulmates. You suddenly felt uncomfortable, now that you were supposed to see Jughead in a romantic light you weren’t entirely sure how to behave around him, and you suspected that waking up in his bed with a hangover wasn’t the best place to start. There was a glass of water and two aspirins on the bedside table and you downed them willingly, the cool liquid restoring you parched throat. Looking down at yourself, you frowned as you realised that you were still wearing Veronica’s skimpy black dress from the night before, the stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke lingered in the air around you, making you want to gag. You noticed that Jughead had laid out a towel and a pile of his clothes for you to change into; you swept them up into your arms gratefully and headed towards the bathroom.

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Touched by an Angel

Pairing: You x Wonho

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Length: 2,693 words

Summary: When you lose all ability to walk, you are sure that you will never recover, but there is always an angel around to combat the impossible.

a/n: This one took me a while to write. I got the idea while out for a walk this morning, and the song I’m on Fire by AWOLNation came on. Wonho just seemed to fit the idea of the man in my mind, and I think he did an amazing job.


It is human nature to seek answers for unexplained occurrences. We need a rope of understanding when we are sinking in the incomprehensible. It is also human nature to blame anyone and anything but ourselves for our misfortune. There is comfort in having the weight that burdens you placed on someone else.

But as you sped down the road on that slick spring night and glanced down at the “Where R U” text on your phone from your beloved just long enough for you to swerve into the opposite lane and have bright headlights blind you before impact – you realize that you are solely to blame for your actions.

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Emotional Wreck

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1,455

Warnings: mentions of periods and feminine hygiene products, swearing?

Prompt: After making a joke that goes a little too far, Sam realizes the reason you’re so worked up over it is because you’re on your period. He’s quick to make it up to you, even if it means enduring something he never thought he would.

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

You were sexually active, there was no denying that, but luckily you weren’t pregnant and this week was proving to you that you were, thankfully, not. The only issue was, it had come a week early and you were not prepared for it at all.

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FIC: CLOSER (5/30)

A Chris Evans fanfic

Summary: A day full with emotions led to a terrible ending.  

Warnings: NONE 

NOTES: So, here it is…It took a while to post this because I wasn’t so convinced about this chapter. I don’t know. I still don’t like it. Maybe that’s why I was gone for a few weeks (”Lola you’ve been gone for more that just a few weeks”) because I wanted to try again and write something different, but nothing came out. So, i was about to loose my shit (AGAIN) and I decided to post it anyway. SO SORRY AGAIN (”stop apologizing, and post the damn chapter, Lola.”)

If by any reason you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know! 

SONG: Dream a little dream of me - Ella Fitzgerald   


                  CHAPTER FIVE: Dream a little dream of…

PHOTO: (credits to owner)

                                         CHRIS- Tuesday 7:10 pm

                                       Pickles, I’m back. Where R U?

                                         CHRIS- Tuesday 7:45 pm

                                                     Pickles?

                              -3 missed call- 8:15 pm- from CHRIS

                                         CHRIS- Tuesday, 9:38 pm

                               Lori, please answer me. Where are you?

                              -1 missed call- 11:00 pm- from CHRIS

                             -1 missed call- 11:15 pm- from EVE

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The Silent One - Part Thirteen

You can find the other parts of this story and my Masterlist HERE!

Synopsis: Negan makes your breakfast and thinks about what he’d got himself into

Ships: Negan x Reader (the slowest burn)
Words: 1,480
Warnings: Curses

When you woke up you stayed still and kept your breathing steady. You could feel the piece of paper which held the note you had received earlier than night in the back pocket of your shorts. You could hear the sound of sizzling from the kitchen that lay behind the couch that you were currently curled up on. You smelt the sweet smell of bacon. You felt your stomach rumble loudly like a growling lion. You cautiously sat up, very much aware of your puffy red eyes.

You turned around slowly to see the tall, lean form of Negan. He had his back turned to you as he whistled a tune happily under his breath. In one hand he had a china plate with blue patterns lacing through it and in the other, leather clad, hand he held a frying pan which the sizzling sound was emanating from.

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anonymous asked:

Can you give me tips on writing about electrocution?

Note: I had to sit through a 45 minute electrocution lecture courtesy of a teacher I asked about the history of electrocution. See how I love you?

Anyway, sure thing! I was going to just give you a paragraph on writing it, but then one thing led to another, and I decided to go ahead and write a small guide on electrocution and electric shock, as I couldn’t find a tumblr based one myself. (If all you really care about is writing it, just scroll down to the end of the post.)

Let’s start out with what electrocution is and basic information about it.

Know the difference between electrocution and electric shock. (I’m bringing this up because people often confuse electrocution and electric shock.) The basic difference is that one kills you, and the other doesn’t.

  • Electrocution - “death caused by electric shock, either accidental or deliberate. The word is derived from “electro” and “execution”, but it is also used for accidental death.”
  • Electric shock - “a sudden discharge of electricity through a part of the body.” (non-deadly)

Current is what kills in electrocution. The current level is determined by the applied voltage and the resistance of the material (i.e., your body) that the current is flowing through. Depending on the individual, the resistance of dry skin is usually between 1,000 -100,000 W.

(image courtesy of my digital electronics teacher)

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING?: If you’re interested, take a look at this post. It shows a dead body after electrocution

Most electrocutions are done accidentally. It’s actually rather rare that you are electrocuted on purpose. In fact, electrocution in general isn’t all that commonplace. One count that I found expressed electrocution with a lifetime odd of 1-in-5,000 for Americans. (I’m almost sure that the website was referring to a high current electric shock, but I’ll let it slide.) I don’t know what sort of situation your character is in, but keep this in mind when writing.

  • Electric Shocks

An electric shock is usually painful. A small shock from static electricity may contain thousands of volts but has very little current behind it due to high internal resistance.

Their danger levels depend on:

  • The amount of current flowing through the body.
  • The path of the current through the body.
  • The length of time the body is in the circuit.
  • The voltage.
  • The presence of moisture.
  • The phase of the heart cycle when the electric shock occurs.
  • The health of the person before the occurance.

Shock effects include:

  • Psychological
  • Burns
  • Neurological

Fun fact: electric shocks are used in electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). General anesthesia and a muscle relaxant ensured that the patient doesn’t feel a thing, even though enough electricity to light a room for one second passes through their brain. Patients do, however, experience (typically) temporary memory loss. ECT is known to be used on severely depressed patients or patients with boipolar disorder. (x

  • Electric Chair:

Alright, so I’ll start off with some early history on the electric chair, because who doesn’t love background information?

New York built the first electric chair in 1888 (figures). (William Kemmler was the first to be executed in 1890.) Others began to adopt this method, though it is not the sole method of execution in any state today as it was then. (The electric chair remained the only method in Nebraska until February of 2008.)

(1890, used to kill Kemmler)

(2005)

What happens in the process, you ask?

Well, the person is usually shaved and strapped to a chair with belts. The belts cross the prisoner’s chest, groin, arms, and legs. A metal electrode is attached to the scalp and forehead, over a sponge that has been moistened with saline (it can’t be too wet or too dry). An additional electrode is moistened with Electro-Crème and attached to a part of the prisoner’s leg. The prisoner is blindfolded, and the execution team leaves the room. The warden tells the executioner when to pull the handle to connect the power supply. A current jolt of 500 to 2000 volts for about 30 seconds is given, but this varies from case to case. (Robert Gleason Jr. received 1,800 volts at 7.5 amps at TWO 90-second cycles.) The body relaxes when the current is turned off. The doctors wait momentarily, and then go check to see if the heart is still beating; if it is, another jolt of electricity is given, and this continues until the doctors can officially proclaim that the heart is not beating. (Multiple physicians check this.)

Give me gross specifics on what goes on, maybe?

The prisoner’s hands usually grip the chair. They may violently move their limbs, causing dislocation or fractures. Their tissues swell. Defecation occurs. Steam/smoke rises, and the smell of burning is in the air. At postmortem, the body is hot enough to blister if it is touched. An autopsy has to be delayed so that the internal organs can cool. Third degree burns with blackening are present where the electrodes met the scalp and legs.

Quotes! I want quotes on what happened, I command you to give me quotes!

U.S. Supreme Court Justice William Brennan had this to say about execution by electric chair: “…the prisoner’s eyeballs sometimes pop out and rest on [his] cheeks. The prisoner often defecates, urinates, and vomits blood and drool. The body turns bright red as its temperature rises, and the prisoner’s flesh swells and his skin stretches to the point of breaking. Sometimes the prisoner catches fire….Witnesses hear a loud and sustained sound like bacon frying, and the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh permeates the chamber.”

I wanted to talk a bit about botched executions as well. 

  • William Vandiver- He was still breathing after an initial surge of 2,300 volts. The execution took a total of 17 minutes and five jolts of electricity.
  • Wilbert Lee Evans - When hit with the first jolt, blood spewed from the right side of the mask on his face, covering his shirt with blood and a sizzling sound could be heard as blood dripped from his lips. Evans moaned continuously until a second jolt of electricity was applied. 
  • Pedro Medina - Foot-high flames shot from the headpiece during the execution. The execution chamber was filled with a stench of thick smoke. It gagged the two dozen official witnesses. An official flipped a switch to cut off the power to end (early) the two-minute cycle of 2,000 volts. Medina’s chest continued to heave until he died after the flames went out.

Gruesome? Definitely.

  • How do you apply all of this in your writing?

Take the information I have given you in stride. Understand what electrocution and electric shock are. Know your character. Some people are scared of death, some aren’t. Know how your character would react in such a situation when they’re face to face with the person who, with the pull of a switch, will send a lethal amount of current running through their body. 

On an ending note, I highly recommend you READ THIS ESSAY. Not only does it send goosebumps down my arm every time I read it, it will help you understand the psychological aspect of electrocution as well. 

Forget the Bacon

Title: Forget the Bacon

 Prompt: This story is for @chelsea072498 to celebrate her birthday!  I know you love Dean smut…so Happy Birthday! :D

 Summary: It’s your birthday, and Dean is happy to give you whatever you want as a present.

 Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT.  Language (because of smut).

 Tags: @grace-for-sale , @lucifer-in-leather , @thewicked-end , @chelsea072498 , @nerdwholikesword , @chaos-and-the-calm67 , @percywinchester27 , @pizzarollpatrol , @cici0507 , @wayward-mirage , @charliebradbury1104 , @melonberri , @bellastellaluna , @pinolief2001 , @feelmyroarrrr , @girl-next-door-writes , @twoboys-and-afallenangel , @fangirl-faye , @the-assbutt-impala , @impalapossible , @pumacat69 , @thecrossroad-demon , @kristaparadowski , @jussb , @isis278 @savingapplepie-eatingthings 

Let me know if you want added to a tag list! :D

Originally posted by black-little-demons

The first thing that registered in your brain when you woke up was…Bacon.  That sweet smell of nice, warm bacon.  You took a deep breath in and let out a deep, happy sigh, and then heard your boyfriend chuckle.  

“Diggin’ the bacon, huh?”  Dean asked you ask he set the breakfast tray down on the nightstand.  

Your eyes fluttered open as you saw him sit down next to you, wearing his fitted T-shirt and his bagging sweatpants.  “Breakfast in bed?”  You asked him with a smirk.  “What’s the occasion?”  You ask, sleep still well settled into your brain.

Dean chuckled as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss.  “Come on, babe.  Don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday.”

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@rubentheruler

He doesn’t speak at first, but his heavy footsteps coming round the corner in the upstairs hallway is clearer than day- that and the little whines and clanking of dishes from the kitchen. The sweet smell of pancakes wafts up the stairway, bacon and eggs, toast and much more decorating the table tops. The first day with the little one in his home, he wanted it to be special.

He creeks the door open, peeking in to see the sleeping form beneath the mounds of warm, cozy blankets. The white of the snow and sun outside shone through the windows, sloshing of the streets and the cars passing quietly. “You awake, sweetheart?” he whispered, though when he saw no response, he moved forward and leaned low over them.

Big warm hands, smelling of pancake batter and syrup, gently pet over their hair, his other moving to pat their shoulder. “Petals, ya gonna sleep the day away?” he chuckled.

“.....?” It couldn’t be much of a surprise that they were having a hard time waking up, the blankets were sooooo comfy. It was nice and toasty under all of them too, they almost pouted at first when he touched and disturbed them. But any gripe the child might have had about being woken up from such a comfortable sleep was immediately when they caught a whiff of sweet pancakes, and heard Ruben’s voice more clearly.

Oh thats right, nice mister Ruben brought them to his home...they wouldn’t mind waking up for him.

So after giving a big yawn and stretching their arms up behind their head, they slowly push themself up from the bed and stare at the big skeleton with half-lidded eyes, still looking very drowsy after being so cozy. But, they give him a little wave while trying to wipe the sleep out of their eyes, showing they were ready to get up, especially if there was a tasty breakfast waiting outside.

fallen--child  asked:

🌅

Send “🌅” for your muse to wake mine up in the morning.


He doesn’t speak at first, but his heavy footsteps coming round the corner in the upstairs hallway is clearer than day- that and the little whines and clanking of dishes from the kitchen. The sweet smell of pancakes wafts up the stairway, bacon and eggs, toast and much more decorating the table tops. The first day with the little one in his home, he wanted it to be special.

He creeks the door open, peeking in to see the sleeping form beneath the mounds of warm, cozy blankets. The white of the snow and sun outside shone through the windows, sloshing of the streets and the cars passing quietly. “You awake, sweetheart?” he whispered, though when he saw no response, he moved forward and leaned low over them.

Big warm hands, smelling of pancake batter and syrup, gently pet over their hair, his other moving to pat their shoulder. “Petals, ya gonna sleep the day away?” he chuckled.

anonymous asked:

prompt: Sheldon describes to Meemaw how he met Amy, and when Amy comes they cook together

Sheldon trudged out of his childhood bedroom and down the stairs. Rubbing his eyes and wrapping his dressing gown tighter around himself, he made his way towards the kitchen. He was greeted with the familiar sound of his nickname echoing throughout the house.

“Morning Moonpie!”

Through Sheldon’s sleepy eyes, he could see the blurry outline of his grandmother.

“Meemaw! What are you doing here?” he wrapped her small frame in a big hug.

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KaraMel Fanfic #15

Title: Someone Who Became Her Home

Prompt: Mon-El has a special surprise for Kara on her birthday.

Also posted on AO3.

Note: So initially, I had a completely different plan for this fic, but something I wrote in the beginning just kept coming back at me, and I just had to change it lol :) Sometimes you gotta go with your gut I guess.

I hope you enjoy this!


Kara woke up to the sweet smell of pancakes, combined with bitter coffee and bacon frying on a pan. Her eyes fluttered open with surprise as she tried to pull herself together, staring at her room’s window. Sunlight was seeping in from the slight crack where the two curtains met, illuminating her hair and making it glimmer as if it was made of gold. It couldn’t have been later than 10 a.m., which, once she thought about it, was later than Kara ever woke up in a long time, since trying to manage both DEO and CatCo meant she slept too little and woke up too early. She enjoyed the sun on her face for a couple of moments.

A smile pulled her lips as she straightened up, listening to the soft music coming from the living room. It was rock, she assumed, which was the kind of music Mon-El liked. They had many arguments about what kind of earth music was the best, and no matter how much they talked none of them changed their minds. But Kara had to admit, rock also had a charm about it, just as country and classical music.

She didn’t know what was the occasion that day that made Mon-El wake up early, prepare breakfast, and let her sleep in, yet a bubble of happiness filled her chest, lifting her mood as if she was flying, carefree, weightless, and loved. She definitely felt loved. After all those failed attempts at relationships, she really couldn’t believe she found the “one” with Mon-El, a Daxamite no less; however, she wouldn’t want to change it to any other way. For the first time in a long time, she was truly happy, and she cherished that feeling, not wanting to let go at all.

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When Sam and Dean return to the bunker after a long fight, bandaged and bruised, Cas is there to greet them. Dean walks straight into his arms and collapses, silent, and the angel slips his fingers through brown strands of hair, whispering calming sounds into the older Winchester’s ear.

They don’t say anything.

And later, when Sam passes by Dean’s room, the door open and ajar, and peeks in to see the angel curled up next to his brother, trenchcoat laid haphazardly over them both, he just shuts the door and thinks about how tangled their legs were, and how at peace Dean finally looked.

He doesn’t say anything.

A few days later, Sam wakes up to the smell of eggs, bacon, and something sweet. He stumbles into the kitchen, hair a mess and barefoot, to see Deansmiling. Genuinely smiling, with no broken pain hidden behind those pearly white teeth or no aching heart behind those bright green eyes. His arm is on Castiel’s, demonstrating by physically showing him how to properly flip a pancake as not to splatter the batter everywhere. Their touch lingers before he pulls away to greet Sam.

He doesn’t say anything.

It’s winter now, and Sam wakes up in the middle of the night, mouth parched, only to find the pair he’d been travelling with dancing slowly in the dark to some Christmas song – probably put on by Cas – with steaming mugs of hot cocoa left on the counter, forgotten about. He stares for a bit, then smiles, and walks right back to his room.

The next day, he doesn’t say anything.

Cas loses his grace, and everything gets quiet. None of them speak much anymore, though the battle they had long fought was won recently. Sam tries to help Cas, but nothing seems to work, and every now and then he can hear the ex-angel crying into his brother’s shoulder. He believes he even sees Dean kiss his forehead every now and then, rubbing his back as he shows him the finer things in humanity.

They don’t say anything.

Sam has a dog now, a border collie that is a year old. On the way out, he passes by Dean’s room, door closed, and hears familiar noises coming from within. He figures Dean must really be teaching Cas the “finer things” of humanity, and grins on his way out, happy for the unestablished couple.

He doesn’t say anything.

Dean shows him a ring, small and silver, with two dates etched into the inside. One was the day he and Cas had met, their relationship rough and hostile. The other was the day that Sam assumed they confessed to each other, the day they realized how hard it is to find what they had in this life and threw away all their qualms with the subject. Sam congratulates him, promising to support him all the way. Cas walks in and the box is shoved in a pocket, and beer on the table is drank.

They don’t say anything.

He proposes, and it’s accepted with a teary-eyed Cas, who still doesn’t quite understand the concept of marriage (but Dean promises to explain it). Nonetheless, the two are happily engaged, matching silver bands on their ring fingers. Sam watches them leave for bed early, closing the door behind them with drunken giggles from the used champagne glasses that lay on the table.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not many people show, after all most are six feet in the ground by now, but the wedding is nice nonetheless. Flowers of all kinds are assorted amongst white cloths, and a pastor has them repeat their vows. Sam is the best man, so of course he has the best position: standing right beside Dean as his two companions declare the marriage official with a kiss. And this time, he hears it. The three special words.

“I love you.”

Years later he is sitting in his front yard, the same border collie laying next to him. He eyes the red shirt walking up his driveway, and a man in black following behind. He greets Dean and Cas, and they talk for hours, eating TV dinners and drinking beer and watching a re-run of some cop show, just like the old days. They reminisce and look back on their lives, thinking about the past and how far they have come. And finally, Sam takes a breath, smiles at the two, and says it.

“I’m proud of us.”

anonymous asked:

to be executed by the electric chair, would the person feel anything or die instantly?

Execution by electric chair is one of the most inhumane and barbaric forms of execution, hence why they got rid of it. They do not die instantly and feel excruciating pain. A lot of executions by the electric chair were botched - sometimes the inmate didn’t die with the first jolt of electricity so would have to have multiple. The inmate would often defecate and bleed because of the pressure of the expanding tissue. Their temperate becomes so hot that smoke would rise out of the body, and they would often receive third and fourth degree burns. Sometimes the eyeballs could pop out due to pressure. Afterwards, flesh could blister and fall off if touched. They are essentially being cooked alive.

Here it is described by US Justice Court William Brennan:

“…the prisoner’s eyeballs sometimes pop out and rest on [his] cheeks. The prisoner often defecates, urinates, and vomits blood and drool. The body turns bright red as its temperature rises, and the prisoner’s flesh swells and his skin stretches to the point of breaking. Sometimes the prisoner catches fire….Witnesses hear a loud and sustained sound like bacon frying, and the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh permeates the chamber. (Ecenbarger, 1994)”

Happy Birthday, Phil.

A/N: Happy 28th Birthday to one of the most wonderful human beings I have ever come across. Phil Lester, you have changed my life and made me happier without even trying. As for the rest of you, two people demanded a birthday fic…so here you go! 

Title: Happy Birthday, Phil.

Genre: Pure fluff/mentions of smut. 

Description: It’s Phil’s birthday, so naturally Dan wants to make the day extra special for him. Fluff and adorable moments ensue.

Word Count: 2300 

—————————————————————

Dan takes a final, satisfied breath and nods approvingly at his work.

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Banana Pancakes

Banana Pancakes
Pairing: Bucky/reader.
Warnings: Swearing.
I got the idea for this while listening to a Bucky playlist on 8tracks. Will link when I get on a computer.

—————

Bucky wakes up in a bedroom he doesn’t recognize. His body goes tense, he’s alert and looking around for clues. He hears upbeat music coming from somewhere. He can also smell coffee, bacon, and something sweet. This confuses him. He looks to the nightstand and sees a picture of himself with a woman. They are both smiling and have their arms wrapped around each other. He can’t remember her name. He doesn’t remember meeting her. Who the hell is she? Is this some kind of trick or dream?

If it was a dream he wouldn’t have a metal arm, he thinks as he looks down at his shirtless body. Maybe it’s a nightmare then.

“Fuck!” He hears a woman yell.

He jumps up out of bed and runs to find out what caused the noise.

“Fucking, fuck you, you fucking evil bacon grease.” He sees the woman from the picture scold the pan full of sizzling bacon while she runs her arm under cold water.

He continues to stand there and watch her from a few feet away. She hasn’t seen him yet. She turns off the faucet, dries off her arm, and then returns to cooking. He watches as she flips some pancakes onto a plate that has a pile of bacon on it. She’s humming along to the music and shaking her bum when the song ends and switches to something more mellow. A song that almost sounds familiar, something about staying in on a rainy day.

He can’t help but smile. She’s adorable and seems harmless. He wishes he could remember her. What is her name? What IS it? He’s so frustrated with himself. He looks to the wall where there are more pictures of them together. Sometimes Steve is in the pictures. In one, it looks like they are outside while it’s snowing and Bucky has his hands on her face while he is kissing her. The picture was taken on Bucky’s left side, his metal hand gently holding her face.

This only confuses him more. He’s clearly comfortable enough with her to not hide his metal arm and to touch her with that hand. But he can’t remember anything about her. He knows he’s been with Steve, he remembers Steve and the Avengers. But he can’t remember this woman who must be important to him. He starts to relax, even in his frustration. It’ll…come back. The memories will come back…right?

Then there is a scream and he is back in his defensive mode.

“Oh, sweet Jesus Bucky. How long have you been standing there?” She says as she clutches her heart. “I was just about to wake you for breakfast. I guess the smell of bacon worked though.”

She’s chuckling and smiling at him brightly. But when he looks at her…he’s so confused. The only thing showing on his face is his struggle to remember. “Bucky? Rough morning?” She asks gently, slowly approaching him.

He backs away, not sure if he can trust himself or her. “Who are you?” He asks, his hand held in front of him in warning.

“Your girlfriend. Y/n.” She says, continuing her calming tone. “I made you banana pancakes, you’re favorite.”

His eyes flicked to the food, then the wall, then back to her. This was…starting to seem familiar. “Do you remember last night?” She asks.

He shuts his eyes and thinks. It feels like all there is is blackness and he’s so lost. He’s so lost and he can’t find his way to any kind of light. He puts his face in his hands and groans in frustration.

After a moment he feels a very soft, tentative, touch on his flesh arm. The touch brings him back, the feel of a slim piece of metal on her one of her fingers. Suddenly his heart is racing but not in fear. Flashes come back, memories, not just from last night. Old memories of being with her and Steve. They went to movies, to a bar, to the park. He walked with her through the park all the time, he remembered.

Last night the two of them had gone out to eat and walked through the park as usual. Bucky had planned something special, something that had taken help from his friends. They’d decorated an area in the park, where Bucky and y/n always ended up sitting and talking for a while. The area was decorated with white fairy lights and flowers. Sam had set up music for them. A playlist of their favorite songs to dance together to.

“I remember.” He says as he lowers his hands. “I remember…”

“Good.” she says and wraps her arms around his middle, breathing deeply.

He catches a flash of the ring on her left hand. The memory was right, last night was real. “You aren’t my girlfriend.” he says as he gently drapes his arms over her short frame.

“Well, yeah, true. My bad, I’m your fiance.” she says, looking up at him with a beaming smile before burying her face into his chest.

“Pancakes.” He says.

“Mhmm.” she hums against him.

“No, I mean, they’re gonna burn.”

“What? Oh shit!” she exclaims as she lets him go and runs back to the stove. “Only a little crisp. At least these were the last ones.” She huffs as she pulls off the last pancakes.

It’s all come back to him, every detail. He gives her a broad smile and goes to grab his plate, the one piled high with bacon and pancakes. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He says and kisses her on the cheek as she grabs her own plate.

anonymous asked:

Can u do a headcanon (or fanfic which ever u like) about Eisuke from kbtbb being jealous because MC was making breakfast for all the guys while making his? Or can u make a headcanon about Eisuke becoming a toddler? Thanks <3

Sure thing! I’m kind of bad at writing about children so I’m gonna go with the first one, it’s a cute idea :3

Eisuke yawned while walking down the stairs to the main floor of the suite. Faintly, he smelled bacon and a sweet scent of… oranges? After getting downstairs, revealed in front of him was the bidders gathered around a table. 

Ota was the first to speak up, “Hope your hungry, there’s plenty to eat!”

Beside Ota was Baba, stuffing his face with toast. Baba made a satisfied mumble with his mouth full. Hesitantly, Eisuke made his way over to the table and sat down next to Soryu, who was sipping a glass of orange juice.

“Where did all this come from?” Eisuke asked, a suspicious glare on his face. 

“From the kid, she made it for us. She said it was thanks for letting her off the hook last week.” Mamoru piped up. The looks on all their faces said that the breakfast was very delicious. 

“She did wha-” But Eisuke was cut off by the door to the suite opening and her walking in with a tray of biscuits, 

“Oh hey Eisuke! Would you li-”

“Did you make all of this?” he asks sharply.


“Y-yes… I didn’t want to wake you up so they came to eat when they smelled the food. I made extras for them.” she explained. 

Suddenly, Eisuke’s hands grabbed everyone’s plates and the trays of food on put them on his side of the table, leaving everyone without their food. Eisuke sat back down in his seat, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey, what the hell?” Mamoru asks. 

“What are you doing?!” Baba yells at him, a single piece of toast in hand. 

“You heard the woman, this was made for me. Back off, beggars.” Eisuke retorted sharply. 

“Uh…” Ota says, more confused than ever that suddenly his plate had disappeared.

It was Soryu who stood up from his seat wordlessly, and left the room. But not before grabbing a biscuit off the tray she was holding. 

“Hey you better be willing to compensate for that, whatever she makes is my property!”

The rest of the guys laugh and get up to leave the room. Then all that was left was her, Eisuke, and a small banquets worth of food.

Bad Little pet

Bad little pet
Original Imagine: “Imagine Sam Punishing you By Making You Get Off in Front of him and Dean”
Author: 
Reader Gender: female
Word Count: 1550
Warnings: Swearing. If you don’t like being called pet, this isn’t for you.

Sam was pissed. 

“Seriously, you can’t be pissed at me for that!” I shouted at him across the bed. He shook his head hard and looked up at me.

“That’s my brother!” He put his hand out in front of me in a dramatic fashion.

“It’s not my fault, you both are attractive.” I snapped, “Next time don’t ask who my free fuck would be.”

Keep reading

11: Mornings

Jack G: Mornings are usually spent in the shower, where the steam condenses on the cool glass and the smell of coconuts wafts out the bathroom door. And his hands are everywhere, pretending to help you wash, when in reality his efforts are useless. But it’s okay, because the way the droplets of water drip from his hair and down his back and chest make you feel things that you shouldn’t be feeling at 7am on a Monday morning.

Carter: Mornings are usually spent asleep, neither of you too keen on awakening until late afternoon, when lunchtime is over and the majority of the day is gone. But you don’t mind too much because you’d much rather remain wrapped up in the warmth of his arms, wearing one of his baggy sweaters and the heavy duvet cover acts as a shield to the rest of the world.

Aaaron: Mornings are usually spent on the sofa, reruns of your favorite cartoon playing on the television screen but you’re not exactly paying any attention because you’re still really, really tired. And the warmth of his body beneath yours and the hot cup of tea in your hand really aren’t doing anything to assist in relieving your fatigue. But you eventually let yourself succumb to the exhaustion in your body and he kisses your forehead and lets you be.

Cameron: Mornings are usually spent wrapped up with each other, his name falling softly from your lips every few breaths. And pretty purple love bites are dotted along your chest while your nails leave long, red scratches down the length of his back. But despite the markings, everything is soft and gentle and relaxed because you’ve both just woken up and he wants to make you feel good, so good that you’ll yearn for the following morning to arrive.

Shawn: Mornings are usually hazy and blurry because, no matter how hard you try you can never wake up before him. And when you do wake up, you’re still exhausted and you turn over to find him looking at you. Eyes tired and cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, he offers you a lazy smile and it never fails to make your heart flutter softly in you chest because he’s yours and always will be and you know that you’re destined to wake up like this every morning for the rest of your life.

Matt: Mornings are usually filled with the sweet smell of pancakes and the mouth-watering smell of crispy bacon. And you traipse downstairs, feet padding along the wooden floors, to find him with his bare back to you, standing at the oven. Face pressed between his shoulder blades and your arms wrapped neatly around his waist, he continues to flip the pancakes while animatedly telling you about the dream that he had last night. And you listen contently. 

Jack J: Mornings are usually spent making faces at each other in the bathroom mirror as you both brush your teeth. And then he’ll sit, fascinated as he watches you get ready because he finds it astounding the efforts that you go to to get ready for the day ahead. And every now and again he’ll pout his lips, waiting for you to kiss him, and you do because he looks really, really cute when he makes that face and it makes you blush a little, because he really does love you.

Nash: Mornings are usually spent walking along the beachfront next to your home after you’ve eaten your breakfast. And it’s so beautiful because there’s nobody around and the sun is just rising along the horizon and it all sounds a little corny but you don’t care because his hand is in yours and your content. Sand runs between your toes and it’s still a little cold from the night before but it’s almost refreshing in a way.

Taylor: Mornings are usually spent desperately trying to wake him up. But time and time again the task proves to be almost impossible because no matter how many times you hit him over the head with a pillow, and no matter how many times you jump on the bed and call his name, he refuses to budge. And when he does wake up, his eyes remain closed and his hair resembles a nest and he constantly walks into doors but it’s okay because if you were honest with yourself, it’s really, really cute.