vacant apartment

Knuckles : Boxer!Ashton (Part 4)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven  | Part Eight  | Part Nine

[Following anyone/everyone who leaves some form of thoughtful feedback x]

- Knuckles Playlist


It’s over? Finally, it’s over.

You’ve been anticipating the end of it for the last few days but only officially noticed the change when you swapped out of your university clothes for an outfit more comfortable to sleep in. It took too long for your liking, but the strange and unhealthy cravings have finally left your tastebuds, the lower abdominal cramps have finally disappeared, and best of all, you can now feel safe wearing white shorts in public again.

Your period, as nature always seems to plan it, couldn’t have been gifted at a more inconvenient time–just two weeks prior to Ashton’s next fight. They may not sound related, but not only have you been irrationally irritated with him over the last few days for strictly hormonal reasons, sending him off to gym sessions in less than great moods, but you also haven’t shared a night of intimacy together since the beginning of your premenstraul temper. You always hate how uncontrollably turned off you feel when you’re going through the monthly cycle, all the bloating and cramping antagonistic to your sex drive. You’re especially disappointed this time, because while you’re usually able to get back into swing of things once your body returns to its normal status, you might not have the opportunity to with Ashton’s upcoming match being so soon.

There’s a superstition–the origin of it a mystery to you–that has Ashton convinced he shouldn’t have sex in the week leading up to a fight. You know it’s got something to do with staying focused and bottling up the energy, and in the seven months you’ve spent with him you’ve been polite enough not to question it, but right now your hormones are going on a final rampage before they settle back down, and you want your boyfriend bad. Despite his strange rule you figure it’s worth asking since after tonight he’ll still have six more days to abstain, and honestly, what harm could one orgasm do?

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Cherish  [ J.T ]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: 118 and 119 with Jason Todd please Also you’re an amazing writer!!! I love your blog so much

Prompts: 

  • 118: “Are you mad at me?”
  • 119: “Stop ignoring me…”

From This Prompts List

Word Count: 1196

Warnings: ANGST and I kinda wrote Jay a little tiny bit out of character woops

Tagging: @speedypan @chuckennuggets1213 @alwaysinnarnia @just-a-girl-maybe

A/N: I had so much difficulty writing this up because lol this sucks Jason would never. Let me know if you want me to tag you in my works! Also, I really do appreciate feedback!

Masterlist

“Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m mad at you, Jason!” You sigh, slumping down onto the couch of the living room of your shared apartment, running a hand through your hair as you nervously avoid eye contact with your boyfriend. “I never see you anymore. If you’re not on patrol then you’re with her–you’re never home! Never here with me!”

“She’s only a friend, Y/N,” Jason frowns, softly taking a seat beside you with delicate movements. His large and calloused hand lands gently on your knee, fingers curving around the bend of your leg. “I promise.”

You don’t say anything, your eyes trained on the coffee table placed in front of the two of you. It had been longer than you’d liked to admit before you had snapped and yelled at him. In an almost childish move of anger and heartache you had decided to give your best shot at annoying the heck out of Jason by giving him what you hoped would be one of your most stubborn silent treatments.

Minutes pass as you sit in silence, your eyes unmoving from the table as you tried your hardest not to cave in. The man you loved sat beside you, patiently waiting for you to say anything that would reassure him of your love for him. But it didn’t come.

Your eyes water as you remember all the times you had fallen asleep alone. All the times you had woken up without the warmth of Jason’s body curled around yours like you had done so many times weeks before. You hardly remembered the last time you had kissed. You remember the sleepless nights, staying awake as you waited for Jason to come home only to fall asleep and wake up to a vacant apartment.

You remembered the moment Jason had introduced you to his friend. She was beautiful and you hadn’t failed to notice so. You remembered the way she looked at your boyfriend, her gaze longing and filled with almost as much love for him as yours. The girl was the sister of one of Jason’s closer allies and he had been tasked as help to make sure she stayed safe for the first few weeks of her new life in Gotham City. You remembered how you had happily welcomed the thought of Jason helping her settle down.

Your heart ached as you realised that it had almost been two weeks since she moved here. There was no need for Jason to be spending so much time with her. You could only think of one possible reason.

“Stop ignoring me…”

You run your palms over your face, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. Ignoring the pounding of your heart in your chest and the feeling that you were going to spill your insides out, you take a deep breath.
“Just friends?” You ask, your heart breaking as he nods with a blank expression. You almost wince at the lie.

Jason hated this. He knew it was only his fault that he had found himself in this situation. It wasn’t like he wanted to hurt you because he really didn’t. A gut wrenching feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach as he cursed at his luck. Of course, just as he broke off whatever had been happening between him and this girl, his relationship with you would come crumbling down on him. It was almost as if he could hear your heart snap.

It tore him apart to think of all the wasted hours that he had spent with her when he could have spent them with you instead. He was so caught up in her that he failed to realise just how much he missed you. Just how much he needed you in his arms.

Jason was too caught up in the idea of her beauty and charm that he had forgotten that he had the most beautiful and most charming person in his world waiting for him to come back home.

“That’s not what Artemis told me, Jason,” Your eyes finally meet his. He noticeably flinches under your gaze. Jason could see the pain and heartache he had put you through. “She told me that the two of you were pretty damn close.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen-”

“No. Jason, I wasted so much time waiting for you to come around. I wasted so much time so that I could give you a chance.” You let your tears fall, the wet substance tasting salty on your lips. “I can’t do this anymore, Jay. I’m tired–I’m so exhausted and I-and I tried so hard to keep moving forward with us but I can’t anymore.”

“Please, Y/N,” Jason’s hands move to take yours into his, his own eyes watering as the scalding words fall from your lips. He wasn’t going to give up. “I-I made a mistake. And dammit, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry, baby.”

“I thought about us, Jason. You–you obviously don’t love me anymore and she-she’s obviously got your heart the way that I once had it.” You let out a quiet sob as you watch him shake his head, tears staining his cheeks as he gazed at you with agonizing eyes. “She must have been able to give you so much more than I could.”

“No. No, don’t say that,” Jason runs a hand through his hair, his blood running cold with fear of the consequences of his mistakes. “I love you and I always will. How could–”

“Her hair is longer. Her eyes are prettier. Her teeth are straighter. Her skin is clearer. Her laugh is cuter. If I were you, I wouldn’t choose me either.”

Jason purses his lips as he pulls you into his chest, his tears falling onto your hair as he cried. He was sure you could hear the cracks forming in his heart, your ear pressed against the positioning of his heart. He scolds himself silently for letting you come to think like this. The amount of pain that had laced your voice was enough to make him want to curl up under the sheets of your shared bed with you held tightly in his arms until the both of you grow old.

“Y/N,” Jason almost hiccups. “You’re so much more than she’ll ever be to me. Yes, she was stunning. Yes, she was beautiful. But she could never compare to you. God, Y/N, I’m so sorry I didn’t realise sooner because dammit we were so perfect before I-before I fucked up so badly.”

He lets your tears fall onto his chest, your arms wrapping around him as you curled into him. Jason’s hands hold you tightly, his strong arms pulling you as close to him as possible. Jason was going to make sure you never felt this way again. He wanted you to be the happiest you had ever been with him and this was finally the moment he had realised just how much he needed to cherish you. Jason wouldn’t ever let you fall asleep alone again and he would make sure that he was by your side every morning that you would wake.

beautiful

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: you’re sick, but that doesn’t mean peter doesn’t want to see you. also: he’s a total dork who’s really in love and very much enjoys making you blush.

author’s note: i don’t know how i feel about this but it’s ok!!!!! also look at me actually posting!!!!! good job em!!!

Originally posted by parkers-myth


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Ugh P.6 [Peter Parker] [Soulmate AU]

Originally posted by peteyprker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, more angst, mentions of pain etc

A/N: I don’t know shit about helping patch someone up. Also- I’m an ass and I know it and I’m not sorry asdfghjk I love you guys! Seriously, when I wrote the first part to this, I had no idea it would lead here or become so well liked! <3 This ones a little long to make up for the shit I may or may not pull 👀

Part 5.5, Masterlist


There he was, fingers weakly tangled into the end of your shirt, gently pulling with what strength he had left. He was face down and obviously beaten. Why did you always meet in such frustrating or bad ways? The first time was because you screamed. The second because he slammed his foot upon his own and broke his toes- and now this.

He was bleeding.

“God- you idiot.“, you whispered to him after you’d calmed yourself. It seemed like he loved to find you at the worst times- like he lived for causing you pain and frustration. Slowly, you pulled him further into the alley, not wanting him to be seen in such a state. Any thug would take the opportunity to kick him while he was down and you would not have that. You weren’t sure if you could protect him- but you’d try. You’d try with all your might, and damn anyone who had the audacity to try you.

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November 16, 2017: On what was supposed to be his last day of trial, Marcel Hesse’s murderous plans were further detailed. As you might recall, three voice messages Marcel sent to his friend surfaced on the internet following the murders, in one of which he says, “I really wanted to bring a girl here to rape her.” Apparently, this wasn’t a passing remark, but a planned offense he tried to put into action. The girl he named among potential murder targets in messages with his friend, Arne H. revealed on his previous day of trial was his intended victim, and he specifically mentioned plans to lure her to his former home, where he would then assault her. Fiona K., a 16-year-old student from Gelsenkirchen, considered Marcel a friend. She testified the two of them met about twelve times in the spring of 2016, bonding over their shared interest in Japanese anime, and they spent time talking and watching YouTube videos, even cuddling on one occasion. Their friendship soon became distanced and once summer arrived, they lost contact completely. On March 1, 2017, Marcel unexpectedly sent her a message. Fiona stated they first discussed his family’s recent move from Herne to her city, and she said being without internet was “terrible for him.” He then asked if she wanted get together the next day, where he said they could destroy things in his old, vacant apartment, “or something.” She ultimately refused, likely a decision which saved her life.

The court also heard four unreleased voice messages Marcel sent to a friend following the first murder, which were introduced by homicide investigator Michael H. The first message lasts two seconds, and he asks how his friend is doing. In the second message, he says he needs to get rid of the SIM card in his cell phone. The murder of nine-year-old Jaden is detailed in the following message. In 13 seconds, he describes how he lured the young boy over and stabbed him repeatedly, at one point laughing at how “easy” the murder was. The last message is the longest at 15 seconds, and he tells his friend he’s had a whole bottle of wine, then says, “Let’s see when the neighbor notices what has happened.”

Furthermore, eight more dates have been added to his trial, due to the testing Marcel is scheduled to undergo. A verdict is now expected to be reached on January 25, 2018 at the earliest.

Iron Man & Mrs. King (10/?)

Pairing: Tony x Reader
Word Count: 1,312
Warnings: Domestic Abuse, fluff, some swearing. JARVIS is still an AI, Bucky is part of the team.
Chapters post on Mondays and Thursdays.


Originally posted by fanfic-shiz

9:30am Saturday Morning, Stark Tower

Tony’s mouth open and closed a couple of times trying to formulate an answer for Y/N when Nat walked into the room, coughing into her elbow.

“Morning everyone,” she said softly as she got a cup of coffee and sat at the counter on the other side of Y/N. “Steve’s making pancakes? Nice! How are you feeling this morning, Y/N?”

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#39 | 100wtsily

#39 | “Don’t cry” + neighbor!jimin
word count: 3,162
masterlist

They say that life is defined by the little moments in life, those small and seemingly insignificant  incidents that take someone out of their usual trance, their typical day-by-day play and routine, something presented to serve as a reminder that life can have variety and that in itself is what makes life interesting. It introduces new emotions, emotions that cannot be experienced alone, emotions that give someone more—aforementioned ‘more’ being something that most won’t even realize they needed in their life until it actually goes out of its way to happen.

That’s sort of what it’s like to meet you. It’s not necessarily butterflies and fireworks and heart races, shy smiles and lingering glances like the movies, but more where he first sees you outside the recently vacant apartment space across from his own and feels that usual compulsive desire to help you. Maybe it’s because you appear to be struggling with the key on top of trying to balance a box in your arms or maybe it’s because you’re the first friendly face he’s seen in this apartment complex since… forever.

“Hi there,” Jimin greets brightly, watching the way you jump slightly at being addressed and turn suddenly towards the sound of his voice. Your eyes are wide, clear and soft around the edges; you hold such a trusting and naive touch to your features, as if you haven’t quite learned how to hide all your feelings. It relaxes the boy slightly. “Do you need any help?”

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Un Mal Pour un Bien

Originally posted by caps-bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Out of Bad Comes Good. As a hitman, you have seen and committed various crimes. Assignments have always been easy for you, but when you get to know one of your targets, things suddenly become more difficult. What happens when that target finds out your true identity?

Warnings: probably cursing idk. death, trauma, mentions of rape/cheating/drugs.

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: If this gets good feedback, I’ll continue it. Let me know what you think!

You slow your breathing in attempts to focus on the task at hand. The sniper in your grip feels heavy as you peer through its scope. Your finger finds its place over the trigger for the hundredth time this morning and you can hear your pulse. The man turns, his face perfectly aligning with the center of your scope. With a simple flick of your finger, you could end this.

But for some reason, you cant.

You remove your finger from the trigger and click the safety on but continue to watch him through the scope. He casually strides down the vacant street. He was gorgeous to say the least; long hair tucked into a bun, chiseled jaw line, broad muscular shoulders. Appearance never stopped you before, though.

So why can’t you end his life?

You cringe as you watch him stop to pet a tabby cat who seems more than pleased to have such attention. The animal rubs against his legs and he grins, stroking his neck in adoration. Why would anyone want this man dead? He seems perfectly kind. He rounds the corner and you lose sight of his figure.

You unload the gun in your hands before placing it at your feet. The wind picks up causing you to shrink into your hoodie. You eyeball the nearly empty streets of New York City and can’t help but feel slightly serene. No wonder that man was out. This is the only time in which the ‘city that never sleeps’ is actually submerged in slumber.

A slight buzzing in your pocket causes you to jump. You roll your eyes at your reaction before answering the call.

“Is it done?” the gravelly voice at the other end causes your skin to fill with goose bumps. “He wasn’t there.” You lie through your teeth. “What do you mean he wasn’t there?” The voice all but shouts into the phone. You pull it from your face, glaring at it as if the man on the other end could see you.

“I mean you either gave me incorrect information, or this man decided to switch up his morning routine. I’ll find another date in the next week when I’m free.” You mutter out, already fed up with this conversation.

“No, you’ll do it tomorrow morning, same time, same place.” He hisses at you and it takes everything in you not to lash out.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you seethe, “I have a schedule. I have other clients. You’re not the only one paying me, and quite frankly, you’re not my highest bidder so therefore, I work on my own time. You want the job done on your own schedule? Do it yourself. Otherwise, I’ll let you know when I have time.” And with that you hung up the phone and tucked it into your backpack.

The events of your morning absolutely exhausted you. You slowly meander back to your small apartment. It wasn’t lavish but it was nice to say the least. It was one bedroom, one bathroom, with a living space, a dining space, and a kitchen. It was the one thing you were absolutely proud of.

You shuffle to your walk in closet and enter the combination to the large safe hidden behind an array of clothes. You place your gun on its stand, and remove your knife belt, just shoving it in its designated compartment. You were covered in different weapons and it felt absolutely incredible to remove all the extra weight.

After slipping into comfier clothes, you plop yourself backwards onto your king sized bed. You reach for the laptop on your bedside table and decide to do more research on your most recent target. James Buchanan Barnes.

He was the perfect target. Previously known as The Winter Soldier, you were familiar with the long list of awful things he’d done. He was iconic. Practically a God of the Criminals. Between torture, theft, and murder, he’d done just about everything that you would usually target.

As a hitman, you were around a lot of death and a lot of destruction, but it never really bothered you. You never killed an innocent human being. Whenever anyone requested you take someone out, you did a very in depth background check on them. So in depth that you learned about little things: who they’ve had affairs with, their childhood fish, how often they visited bars, secret negotiations with artillery companies, etc.

You would only agree to someone’s request if you learned the target had a bad history. If they were involved in any sort of murder, government corruption, rape, things such as that. So agreeing to the extermination of Bucky Barnes wasn’t difficult for you, given his history with Hydra.

The amount of information on this man hurt your head. You suppose a lot can happen in 100 years.

However, when looking at his actions while apart from Hydra, you have zero reason to try and kill him. He’s been working alongside the Avengers. This man was very contradictory in all of his recent endeavors. You shut your laptop in frustration and decide to sleep it off.  


Once you’ve napped and eaten some mac n cheese, you suit back up for yet another assignment. You slip into your sneakers and attach your belt to your black leggings. You disassemble your gun and store it into a backpack before placing a bandana over your nose and pulling your hood up.

Having two assignments in one day used to be uncommon, but recently, you have had request after request after request. Apparently you’ve become top dog with no intention of coming down.

You set up atop a nearly vacant apartment building. You reassemble your gun and set it on the edge of the building. You check the time, 3:45 PM. You have quite a few hours to spare so you waste time reading a book and watching some Netflix.

As 7 PM approaches, you decide to check your bank account, no money has been transferred causing you to sigh. You grab your phone and dial your client’s number.

“Hello?” “You gonna wait until the last second to pay me or have you backed out?” you question, leaning against the side of the building. “I planned on paying you once the job was finished.” He explains causing you to roll your eyes. “That was never the agreement. You have 10 minutes and I better see $10,000 in my bank account or your guy is going to sleep like a baby tonight.”

You hear a groan on the other end, “I can’t get it to you in 10 minutes. But I’ll get it to you, I promise.” Your fist clenches around your work phone and a slight cracking emits from the cheap plastic. “That seems very unfortunate, Dale. I have been sitting out here for 3 hours only for you to tell me I was wasting my time? You must be joking.” You seethe. “Okay okay! I transferred the money to you.”

You notice only $5,000 has been transferred into your account and you can’t help the anger that rolls from your shoulders, “Dale, you have 24 hours to get me an additional $10,000 or I won’t reschedule with you and I’ll come for your head instead.” You demand, ending the phone call and sighing.

Two unsuccessful missions in one day. You’re beyond pissed. You look through the scope of your gun and train it on your target. He was a heavy man by the name of George Palmer. He has engaged in many activities such as treason, having multiple affairs on his wife, and even aided in the violent removal of innocent homeless people in various areas of the city (so violent that many of them didn’t live to see the next morning).

He waddles toward a limo that visibly sank upon his entrance and you cringe. You hate people like George.

“You know, killing innocent people is a crime.” You whip around, clicking the safety off of your gun and training it on the source of the voice. Two men stand in front of you and your eyes narrow: Captain America and Bucky Barnes himself.

“Why aren’t you behind bars then?” you voice out, watching as two sets of blue eyes harden. “You’re the infamous Persephone?” Bucky questions, seeming surprised. “Yeah I guess, but I never chose to be called that, it just kinda happened.” You get a bit distracted and lower your gun.

“You’re a hitman?” Bucky still doesn’t seem convinced. You roll your eyes and snort, “Why do you seem so unconvinced there, James?” He visibly tenses at the name and your chest swells with triumph.

“You know we have to take you in right?” Steve questions and you immediately turn the safety on your gun and strap it to your back. “As fantastic as that sounds,” you begin, slowly moving backwards onto the ledge of the building, “my mother always told me not to go anywhere with strangers.”

“Does your mother know you’ve murdered people?” Bucky’s demeanor has completely changed and his face is stone cold. Your jaw clenches at his question.  “Does yours?” you challenge and smirk when he falters at your words. “Listen fellas, I’m not a saint, but I’m not a bad guy. You have more important people to worry about. So how about this, you let me do my job, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

“We just can’t do that, ma’am.” Mr. Patriotic sure as hell is getting on your nerves with his ‘righteous’ act. “Well. I understand that. Which is why you have to understand this.” With that, you hold your arms out and step from the side of the building.

The wind whips past your face and you genuinely wouldn’t be upset if your plan didn’t work out. But just as you had calculated, you land roughly in the back of a trash truck. You grin as the men’s forms fade into the darkness and the truck drives off.

That was weird. Who would have thought, the Avengers showing interest in you. You really have made a reputation for yourself. It puts a sour taste in your mouth. That or it could be the rotting food surrounding you. Either way you don’t like it.

You stealthily find your way back to your apartment, paranoid at the idea of confronting the ice princess and his patriotic pal once again. When you finally do get inside, you place your weapons inside of your safe and lock it. You slide into your bed and groan into your pillow.

It wouldn’t be the first time you have had a run in with the law, but with a quick change of identity and the right kind of makeover, you were back on track. But the Avengers are too smart for that. They are a group of elite, genius humans who aren’t easily fooled. How do you avoid them?

You’ll figure it out in the morning.

You are booked with clients this week, the last thing you need to worry about is having the avengers breathing down your neck. You’re going to have to be more cautious than ever before and that puts quite the damper on your mood.

That night, you really didn’t get any sleep.


While you’re eating breakfast, you receive a text on your work phone. ‘Let me know when your schedule opens. Hoping it will be soon with my new bid on Barnes.’ Your eyebrows shoot up and you slurp another spoonful of cereal in your mouth while you respond.

‘And what is this new amount?’

‘$5 Million if it’s done in the next month.’

Cheerios launch across your table as you choke. Your face becomes red and you’re still sputtering as you attempt to fathom that amount of money. 5 Fucking Million Dollars. That would give you enough money to quit work and go on a long overdue vacation.

You quickly reply saying you’ll find when to clear your schedule and you dance around your apartment in complete and utter joy.

You didn’t care that James Buchanan Barnes was on the road to redemption. He had done horrible things and deserved to pay for it.

There were two things you knew for sure:

Bucky Barnes needed to die.

And you we’re about to be a lot richer.


A/N: I don’t think I will be doing any tagging for this series. Still debating though!!

A New Moon (Part 1)

Originally posted by epikcry


Part 1

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Werewolf!AU

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

***WARNING: Violence, fantasy, language, pregnancy***


Anonymous asked:

(1) Hellooooo, I have an ideia for werewolf jimin! Maybe something with a y/n pregnant, fluff and a little bit of angst too. Oh and sorry for the bad english.

(2) Is it bad that I want to see Werewolf BTS get in a crazy battle against a group of rogues because of the OC? Haha

(3) Omg the werewolf stories are freaking amazing! Admin J would there be a story about a New Moon or a Solar Eclipse?? Thank you guys for all your stories~ 


After the blood moon, life was definitely different. The boys were different— wiser. You were different— stronger. They began to acknowledge you on a different level, equally, not as human to werewolf rather as being to being. But as you sat upon the piercingly cold tile of your bathroom floor, the sound of nothing but your frozen heart’s beats hammering through the air of your vacant apartment, you felt anything but strong. Trembling as you desperately tried to grip onto the object in your hands that you wished no more than to throw it out of the window, to forget its existence and have it erased entirely from your life, there was no strength to do so. Confusion. Fear. Happiness. All of these intense feelings shoved you around, screamed in your ears, not allowing you to think because fuck, how is this even possible.

How could you be pregnant with Park Jimin’s, your werewolf boyfriend’s, child?

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For @liancatmeow who asked for more

Interested (Sequel to Pretty)

Yuuri let out a sigh as he finally made it to his floor, he couldn’t believe that the elevator was down again – he was certain that it had only started working again a week or so ago.

It was his first day off in nearly two weeks and it was a school day, meaning he was also childfree for at least five hours.

Despite the urge to crawl back into bed and actual rest on one of his off days, he had a list of chores that he needed to do. One of which, included at least three loads of washing that weren’t going to disappear if he did chose to ignore it.

A soft bark caught his attention, causing him to glance further down the hallway. Standing three doors down from his apartment was Victor Nikiforov with his beloved poodle, Makkachin.

“Victor?” he called out in confusion when he caught sight of the world renown skater. The Russian skater had his forehead resting on his door, a defeated look on his face from what he could see. Makkachin sat obediently beside her owner, wagging her tail wildly as he slowly approached the pair. When the Russian failed to respond, he walked over and placed his hand on the skater’s shoulder, startling him and causing him to squeak in surprise.

“I didn’t do it!” Victor shouted before freezing and finally taking notice of him, “Yuuri!”

“Are you okay?” he questioned while taking in the skaters dishevelled appearance. He knew it was the middle of skating season and that Victor appearance probably had something to do with practice or competitions.

“Fine, just a little tired,” Victor ensured him while letting out a small, fake laugh.

“A little? You have bags under your eyes,” he pointed out while gentle reaching over to rub his thumb over the black circles under Victor’s right eye. Victor stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, before clearing his throat and taking a step back, walking straight into his door.

He stared at the Russian skater for a moment before holding his hand out.

Victor glanced between his face and his hand for a moment, a look of confusion on his face.

“Give me Makkachin and go to bed,” he explained while reaching over and taking Makkachin’s leash from her owner.

“What! No!” Victor cried while trying to take the poodle back.

“Victor, go back to bed,” he insisted while moving to open Victor’s apartment. Unsurprisingly, the front door was open, something he had learned was a common occurrence if his missing child had anything to do with it.

He often found his little apartment vacant of its normal child, only to find said child curled up on Victors couch with the skater not always there. He had lost count of the amount of times he had had to apologise for his own child’s new breaking-and-entering habit – though Victor honestly didn’t seem to mind that much.

“Sleep,” he repeated while pushing Victor into his apartment.

“Yuuri, no, I can’t,” Victor tried to argue, only to stop and pout at him once he was inside the apartment.

“Sleep. I’ll look after Makkachin. You can come pick her up and have dinner with us tonight,” he said while giving the skater a gentle smile.

Victor stood in the entryway of his apartment for a long moment, simply staring at him before giving him a small nod.

“Dinner, Makkachin, tonight,” Victor mumbled while nodding his head.

“Yes, tonight, I’ll see you then,” he said, pulling the door shut before Victor could protest. He turned to Makkachin, who stared up at him with big, brown eyes.

“Is your papa always this silly?” he cooed at the poodle, who gave a soft bark and hurried over to him for kisses. He laughed as his chin was covered in adorable puppy kisses before leading the poodle towards his apartment.

“Let me give the house a little bit of a tidy and then, we will go on a walk,” he told the poodle as he unlocked his door.


“Oh my god.”

Yuuri muttered under his breath as he leant against the wall beside the washing machine. With no room in his apartment for a washing machine, he was forced to use the washing facilities on the ground floor like most of the people in the building. Which meant guarding the machines he was using with his life to ensure his clothes got washed and cleaned without anyone fiddling with them.

So, he sat on the ground next to the washing machine he had chosen with a poodle curled up in his lap.

“I invited Victor Nikiforov over for dinner,” he muttered to the poodle, who just stared up at him with big, brown eyes and wagged her tail.

“Am I going to have enough food to feed him? I’m going to need to go shopping. Crap, that means I won’t be able to afford my new shoes this month,” he groaned while leaning his head back.

“But I should still be able to get Yura a winter jacket,” he conceded with himself while playing with the poodle’s ears.

Makkachin seemed to be having a ball with him. Not only had she happily followed him around his apartment as he cleaned up after his adorable – but destructive – child. But she had been all too willing to help him collect the mail and chill with him in the laundry as he did his huge basket of washing (he had somehow been able to condense all three of his baskets of washing into one giant, overflowing basket. It had been a pain, but he managed to get it to the ground floor, though he was a little more worried about getting it upstairs now.

“I still need save up for Yura’s birthday, that is only a few months away. God, Makkachin, my baby is going to be six soon.” He sat there quietly, a little in shock.

He still remembered the moment that Yuri, as a drooling twelve-month-old, was dumped in his arms as his mother walked away, declaring that she wanted nothing to do with the child.

How anyone could walk away from a child was beyond him, especially one like Yuri.

He was such an expressive child. That and his hair was a gift from the gods, he always hated cutting it because it was just the most perfect shade of gold and was always so silky.

“God, what am I going to get him?” he sighed while shaking his head. He knows that Yuri would want nothing more than to get a cat, but he just couldn’t avoid it.

Between rent, food, clothes for Yuri and ballet shoes for himself, he didn’t have much money to spare. He often had to push each pair of ballet shoes he got to their limit before he had enough to buy another pair.

At least Minako looked after him and always bought all the ice he needed.

He let out another sigh while nuzzeling his face into the poodle’s fur.

“Do you think Victor would like Katsudon?” he questioned the poodle.


“PAPA, VICTOR IS HERE.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes at Yuri’s shout, wondering why Yuri had found it necessary to shout when he was barely a room away.

“Yurio! Look how big you have gotten!” Victor’s voice cooed before he heard a cry of dismay from the small boy, indicating that Victor had probably scooped the boy up in a hug.

He turned down the heat on the stove as he wandered over to see what was going on in the entryway of his apartment.

He was greeted by Victor holding his son on his hip, smiling at each other like they were sharing a secret.

“Good evening, Victor,” he greeted the Russian, catching the pairs attention.

“Papa! Papa! Victor came!” Yuri told him while pointing towards the man.

“Oh, really?” he gasped, earning a chuckle from the man in question.

“Yes, I have to collect my puppy-child and to eat dinner with my two favourite Yuri’s!” Victor declared while nosing Yuri’s cheek, causing the boy to squeal and try and squirm out of the man’s grasp.

“No!” Yuri shouted, causing him to chuckle softly and shake his head in amusement.

He almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Victor Nikiforov was standing in his entryway, holding his child, giving his child love and attention, and was about to sit down and have dinner with them. Surely, he was dreaming.

But the small pinch he gave himself only gave him a moment of pain.

Victor Nikiforov was standing in his doorway, was holding his child, and was totally smiling brightly at him.

“We are having katsudon for dinner,” he told Victor while returning the Russian’s smile.

“Cat-what?” Victor attempted to repeat, earning a gasp from little Yuri.

“Katsudon,” the blonde child said slowly and clearly for Victor, “It’s like the bestest.”

Yuuri shook his head as he retreated into the kitchen to finish up dinner, leaving Victor with Yuri as he explained the meal that was katsudon.

Maybe next time he invited Victor over, he would try to make it a childfree night.

What was he thinking?

Victor Nikiforov? Interested in him?

He finished plating up the food and turned around to find Victor standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes locked on him despite the chatting child in his arms.

Or maybe he was interested in him.

Skater Next Door AO3

Skater Next Door AU

Away We Happened || 01

Originally posted by sugutie

Summary: You’re everything he’s ever wanted but when you disappear, everything begins to unfold; a whole new world he never knew about because you’ve kept it a secret until now.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader + (another pair soon to be revealed)

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Drama

Word Count: 2,399


“Jungkook,” the way his name came out of your mouth made it feel like it was an everyday thing and he loved the sound of it. But, it was only his imagination that had woken him up. The sun blazed through the curtains as they would try to keep it from beaming in but it was a fail as it had shone brightly onto his lids. The empty bedside next to him was a sign of reality because you weren’t there.

It was like any other day, monotonous filled with tedium. He’d spare a few glances around his room as he sighed, his eyes stopped upon frames that were filled with memories and they weren’t supposed to be considered as happiness because they were all pictures of you. A fragment of his subconsciousness told him that he wanted to leave the thoughts of you alone but he couldn’t as he was already suffering without your presence and what else could he have done?

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We’re Looking for Something Dumb to Do

for @loball22! thank you for reading and for your sweet words, and i hope you enjoy this! (title from Bruno Mars)

ao3


At first, she thinks she’s dreaming.

Because waking up in his arms, Bellamy half-hard against her back, his hand splayed across her stomach, his breath warm on the back of her neck– she’s definitely had that dream before.

But then her bladder is protesting, her head is pounding, and her mouth tastes like a fireplace, and as soon as she connects those things with being naked in bed with her best friend, she groans and rolls away from him.

“Bell, wake up,” she grunts, smacking him gently in the arm.

“Too early.”

“You don’t even know what time it is,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Did she drink no water last night? How far gone was she?

“Yet I still know it’s too early.” He rolls onto his back, and she can feel the precise moment when everything hits him because he stiffens noticeably. “Why am I naked?”

“Why are you usually naked?”

“Fair point.” He clears his throat. “Do you remember much about last night? Because I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

So they aren’t talking about it yet. Cool. Clarke can roll with that.

“I don’t remember much after the first casino,” she admits. They’re in Vegas because Murphy somehow got on one of those nationally televised poker tournaments. How he did it is a mystery (as is his way), but Clarke and her friends weren’t about to miss an opportunity like this. She’d been looking forward to all of them goofing off on the strip together. Little did she know she and Bellamy would be stripping and goofing off together.

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jimin; summertime sadness

got my red dress on tonight, dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight. done my hair up real big beauty queen style.

[lana del rey insp. drabbles]

The night began with shots lined up on the coffee table with a few familiar looking bottles completing the whole setting. On your end is a displeased sigh, on the other is a smile urging you to drink because he’ll be here to catch you when you fall. Usually, you don’t listen.

Tonight, to Jimin’s surprise, you do.

Full bottles down to the last drip to another, Jimin’s pulling you up when you request for a dance. He thinks it’s silly but he does it anyway with his arms snaked around your waist to get you onto your feet. He’s not too stable himself, a bit woozy but past the blurry vision that focuses every now and then, he thinks you look pretty all the time through it all.

He chuckles when he hears you giggle, feeling it against his chest as your hands manage to go as far as it possibly could to his shoulders. Holding yourself there, he gently sways you around in the living room to two completely different melodies playing in your minds. At the rate you went in drinking, he’s certain the playlist in your mind could jump from turn down for what all the way to that’s what i like and what Jimin does like, he starts to hum a tune to a song he has on repeat nowadays.

The familiar tune of Ed Sheeran’s Dive echoes into your ears and the first thing you do is whine. Jimin laughs and pulls back to look at your reaction.

“Bad?”

“…no,” You breathe against his neck when you fall forward, shaking your head, “Kinda like that song…”

“So do-”

“…kinda like you too,”

Jimin’s a grinning fool, who kept humming the song the whole night as you follow his leisure pace to move about in the vacant apartment apart from the couple of you, hearts together as one, full of love radiating all over.

Winter (B.Barnes)

Winter

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: swearing, possible angst??, Bucky being a total creep


“I’m doing this to keep you safe.” Bucky repeats for the fifth time from the doorway, his eyes casted downwards, set with grief and determination. He watches as you nod slowly, pulling your knees to your chest to make room for him on the couch. 

Bucky never intended to hurt you, he always made it one of his missions to keep you out of harms way. After escaping HYDRA, Bucky was lost, unsure of how to navigate his own life without someone telling him what to do. He kept to himself, kept his apartment laced with multiple get away bags and ate more plums than he’d care to admit. He lead a simple life, trying to rid himself of his horrific past.

His simple life was turned upside down the day he heard a ruckus outside of his apartment door. He had peered out into the hallway through his peephole, his hand sporting a shiny black gun. And then, in that moment, James Barnes was completely and utterly ruined. His jaw became slack, his eye widening to get a better view and his hand released the gun, letting fall onto the floor. 

He had seen your smiling face, boxes piled up in your petite arms as you lugged them into the seemingly vacant apartment only a mere six feet from Bucky’s front door. He watched you intently that day, not leaving his perch as you and your sister packed the apartment full of boxes with different labels.

Bucky learned your schedule fairly quickly but in his defense the walls were paper thin. You woke up at 6 every morning, left to take a two hour run and returned with a cup of coffee and an apple. Then you’d shower, rustle around your kitchen for a bit before turning on the television.

He watched you come and go, his mind telling him that what he was doing was indeed the creepiest thing he had ever done, but a small part telling him that you were different, you were someone to be noticed.

So, Bucky listened to that small part of him and kept watch over you. He made sure to scope out any guys you brought to your apartment, kept a careful eye on your door whenever you left it open to run down and get your mail and always made sure to listen to the lock click every night.

That peephole had become Bucky’s best friend and had stayed that way for three months. Bucky thought he had a pretty solid system going for him, making sure to calculate his moves so he wouldn’t run into you and scare you off with his arm.

Bucky would awake at 6 right along with you, listening to the small sound of you feet padding over to your bathroom. He’d get his breakfast and coffee ready while he waited for you, then made his way to the door to make sure you left your house okay. He’d putter around for the two hours, checking and rechecking his guns, clean the three week old mac and cheese dish that he left in the sink or even attempt to figure out what to do with his hair. Then, he’d return to his perch and watch you make your way back into your apartment. 

It was a routine that gave Bucky a sense of authority, as if he was personally responsible for your safety. As if he was taking a weight off your shoulders by watching you like an absolute creep.

Bucky had prepared for essentially everything ranging from an attack from HYDRA to some douche bag refusing to leave you alone. He was fucking ready. What he wasn’t ready for, however, was for his doorbell to ring at 7:38 at night.

He never had any visitors, he had no clue who it could’ve been. But, he peaked through the peephole nonetheless and was momentarily stunned. Your bright eyes were peering at him through the glass and he had panicked for a split second if you could actually see him.

You were donned in a mid thigh black robe and some slippers with your hair in a messy bun atop your head. Your makeup was removed to show the natural flush of your cheeks. A coffee mug was in your hands, seeming huge compared to your small fingers. 

He had stumbled over his figure trying to open the door, his face turning harsh and demeaning when he saw you. “I know we don’t really know each other but I ran out of sugar and i already poured my cream in, do you have any?” Your voice surprised him, he didn’t know what he expected but he hadn’t expected the velvety music to flow through his system.

After that encounter, you tried to pry Bucky open. He was quite reserved the night you met, something that intrigued you beyond words. After months of knocking on his door, asking for some random object that you knew very well you had in your kitchen, he finally cracked and started to joke about you leeching onto him for his money.

He became your friend fairly quickly, then the man you ran to whenever you were cold at night, then the man you spent most of your nights tangled in the sheets with, then your proper boyfriend.

Bucky loved you more than anything, you loved him exactly the same. So, when he came to you telling you that he couldn’t stay there anymore and he had to leave you - you broke.

You had always been a calm person, never having a rude comment towards anybody. But, the idea of the love of your life leaving you made you feel a huge array of emotions. You screamed and cried and all around became a total bitch to Bucky for a solid three hours until you collapsed into the sofa and refused to acknowledge the fact bad things were happening to you.

Bucky broke our train of through with a touch on your shoulder, his metal fingers grasping the bare skin showing from his your oversized shirt. He slides over the couch easily, his thigh brushing against your toes.

“I used to love the winter. There’s something about the snow that just captivates me. Maybe it’s the way it turns to water against my skin despite how many times everyone tells me I’m freezing all the time or maybe it’s the way the sun reflects off it. I don’t know, I just used to love the winter. And then,” You paused, speaking your first words to him in the past few hours. “Then, well, you came along. And you loved me and I loved you more than my own life. And then you went and broke my heart in the dead of winter.”

Bucky sighs, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I guess it is funny though. People always say love will ruin you, I just didn’t believe them because theres no way that something so good could ruin someone. But, it did. You ruined me.” You finish, looking to the window to see the snow falling fresh on the ground.

Bucky watches you, his heart shattering at your words. “You know I love you.” He stops short, watching the way you chew your bottom lip, something you do when you’re trying to hold back your tears. “Fuck, come here.” Bucky mumbles, pulling you into his hard chest.

He holds you tight to him, letting you cry into his teeshirt as he sobs into your neck, clutching you as if his life depended on it. “Why can’t you just stay? You’re the only good i’ve ever had in my entire life - why the fuck can’t you stay?” Your words come out as mumbled sobs, muffled against his skin.

He places his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I love you, so fucking much. More than i ever thought was possible. I want you to be safe, to not have to worry about someone finding out you’re with me and trying to kill y-”

“Yeah and what if they try to kill me while you’re gone because they know you’ll miss me, huh?!” You cut him off, slamming your fists onto his shirt. Bucky hadn’t thought of that, the idea putting him on edge. “Why are you doing this? You’re just going to leave me after two years?”

He shuffles under you, pressing his lips to your temple. “I can’t hold you back from living a beautiful life, I want you to find someone who can give you everything can’t.”

You shake your head in his heads, tears streaming down your cheeks. Bucky does his best to hold his in, sniffling every few seconds as he watches you break in his arms. “You’re the only man I’ll ever want. I’m going to spend the rest of my life comparing people to you only to find that they come up short. That they don’t hold me the way you do or they don’t make me feel like even though everything is shitty, somehow my life isn’t. I only want you.”

“I want your life to be fulfilling. I want you to marry someone and have beautiful babies with them and then grow old with the love of your life.You’ll always be mine, the love of my life, but I need you to find someone else to be yours. I need you to move on from me and forget all about me.” Bucky doesn’t realize he let some tears slip until he feels your fingers brushing them away. 

“I fucking hate the winter.” You mumble, resting your head on his shoulder. “And i fucking hate you for making me hate winter.”

“You don’t hate me.” Bucky corrects, his hands rubbing soothingly up your back. “You deserve to hate me, but you don’t. If you did you would have pushed me out of this apartment.”

Nodding, you look up at him. “Please, please stay.” Your voice is barley above a whisper, your bottom lip trembling. “I don’t know if I can do this on my own. It hurts, Bucky. It hurts so fucking bad.”

“Lets just forget about it right now. We have all night together, let’s just make the most of it and see how things play out in the morning.” Bucky consoles, laying on his back with you on top of him. His mind battles with itself as you cuddle into him, his thoughts about leaving you alone, susceptible to danger darting around his mind.

And then, in that moment, once again, James Barnes was completely and utterly ruined

anonymous asked:

caretaker, im a painter. i paint mostly vacant apartments. i fill in their nail holes, paint over the scuff marks and crayon on the walls, and go to my next apartment. my job is to cover up what their life was in the past years so new people can move in just to ruin the walls again. i wanted to share this feeling with you, and i ask for nothing in return.

A BLESSING IS A SUBTLE SUBTLE THING BUT THERE IS A MAGNETISM TO IT I FEEL SOMETHING ON YOU SIMILAR TO A BLESSING BUT COMPLETELY NEUTRAL 

SOMETHING HAS GIVEN YOU SOMETHING BUT I CANT REALLY TELL WHAT

Stories (Namjoon x Reader)

Writer’s blocks are never fun.

fluff, 3.2k words, namjoon/reader, writer au


Your neighbor is a mess.

He only just moved into the vacant apartment across from you, and already he’s dropped two of his boxes and broke about half of his dishes.

“Um, excuse me?” you say carefully, stepping out of your room. “Do you, uh, need help?” You gesture to the great stacks and rows of boxes that line his doorway.

He turns and looks at you in surprise, and you swear to god his face is the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long while. “Wh-Oh, yeah, I mean, if you want, yeah,” he sputters. “That’d be uh, really great.” Awkwardly, he reaches up to scratch the back of his head, shooting a few glances towards the makeshift trashcan. It’s already half full with broken items.

You laugh and head over to one end of the stack, lifting up a cardboard box. “So where do you want me to put this?”

He looks over at you, and then points to the staircase. “You can leave it there, if you want. I’ll bring the box up later.”

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