vacant apartments

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


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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Away We Happened || 01

Summary: Jungkook didn’t think that there’d be hardships in your relationship especially with a life that you’ve kept a secret from him.

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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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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We’ll Bleed and Fight for You

(Part Two of “If We Build a Strong Enough Foundation”)


Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: “And then it hit you. It was as if your sister herself had reached out of that journal and slapped you because all of a sudden you knew that Lin was Sofia’s dad.”

Note: This is significantly worse than the first part was so I’m gonna apologize for letting you guys down in advance. It’s also for sure gonna be the last part of this story, I don’t plan to do a part 3. BUT DUDES I’m so so happy that you guys liked the first part and I hope that this is at least somewhat satisfying! Thank you for all the incredibly kind messages, I don’t deserve you people! 

Word Count: 2,860 (I’m the Worst)

Welcome to Disaster pt. 2 

You were something of a pack rat. A big part of you believed it stemmed from growing up sharing a small room with your twin sister. You would always fight to make sure that your things remained yours.

Of course you’d also do anything you could to steal your sisters clothes and books and toys.

The point was, you never quite grew out of it. After Lin had officially moved in with you, he began teasing you about the things he’d find in drawers around your apartment. (Why do you have a subway pass from 2006 in here? Planning a Back to the Future adventure?).

It had never been a problem though, not until you had to start packing up your lives into orderly boxes to move across the pond (the big one, all the way to London). The task was daunting and you spent more time dreading packing than actually doing the work of it. You and Lin would start sorting through a closet only to end up lying on the floor and tossing a two-decade-old rubber ball back and forth while listening to a cassette tape you’d made when you were fifteen.

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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)


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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Learning to Fly

Another commission! I am full of happy. This one is from the wonderful @caped-ace, who commissioned this fic for @cinensis. FallenAngel!Reign AU, with Serizawa? Please and thank you! What a delight.

Cut for length, not for content.

Originally posted by sam2119931

When Mob brought Serizawa into the psychic agency office for the first time, he was struck by how very plain it was, generally speaking. It seemed like any other private business: a small sitting room, a moderately-sized desk, a window that looked out over…well, not much, since they were on the first floor. A few bookshelves. A filing cabinet.

There was only one thing that stood out: the blond, winged man who was putting down two cups of tea on the small coffee table, dressed in a gray suit and purple tie.

At first, the logical part of Serizawa’a brain took over. Maybe the light reflecting off the window from the late-afternoon sun was creating a sort of illusion. But even after scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles, they were still there, massive and feathered and very, very real. So, some kind of costume, then. How were they moving though? Not much, but just so slightly, opening and closing, the muscles flexing as he crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of his desk. “Serizawa, right?”

“Oh. Yes. Um. Thank you for having me, Reigen-san.” He waited to see if he would accidentally sit on the huge appendages, but they shifted, fanning out around him.

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Originally posted by sawyoulovedyoulostyou

Requested by @starbooks13

“Could you  do an imagine where The reader was kidnapped with Elena (At that scene with Rose, Trevor, and Elijah) and Damon goes out of his mind to try and get her back? xxx”

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

I took a breath of fresh air as I wriggled past everyone and out of the Lockwood Mansion, relieved to be out of that cramped, musty house. My feet were aching in my ridiculously tall heels as I dragged myself towards my car as the events of tonight replayed over and over in my head. 

Katherine showing up to the ball, everyone going behind Elena’s back to kill Katherine, Elena showing up, Elena suddenly collapsed with stab wounds appearing on her body and soaking her clothes in blood. 

You hadn’t seen it but Bonnie had said that they had done it, that they had caught Katherine. It was almost to good to be true.

Now you were alone, you weren’t sure where Elena or anyone else was but you weren’t thinking about that. All you were thinking about was what had happened to Katherine. You needed to know. You needed to know if Damon actually went through with it and staked her. You were trying to convince yourself that you wanted to know this purely because you hated Katherine with a passion. Whilst that was true you knew that a little part of you wanted to know because you were hoping he had done it because he didn’t love Katherine anymore.

And you hoped this because you were in love with him.

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Winter (B.Barnes)


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

Winter’s Witch Part 1

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes
Warnings: Mentions of blood, swearing
Summary: Bucky Barnes had just escaped his captors, Hydra. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do. Somehow, he manages to stumble into a girl’s apartment who he’s met before. The twist is- she’s not your average girl.
A/N: Hiya!! This is going to be a series revolving around Bucky Barnes :~) I got inspired while listening to The Garden & Wu-Wu, if you don’t know these artists, I highly suggest you check them out! They’ve got this mad mystical vibe about them.
Word Count: 2.3K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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Astray -Part 18-

It can’t be you…

Your name: submit

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 I Part 15 I Part 16 I Part 17 I Part 19 I Part 20 I Part 21 | Part 22 I Part 23  | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32

You walked out of class to see Jimin leaning against the wall. You glanced at him first, taking note of his outfit, his black hair slightly covered with a blue beanie, a white shirt, black ripped jeans and black shoes. He noticed you, a smile immediately cracking on his face.

“I thought your class would never end.”

“Did you wait for long?”

“Maybe but I would wait forever for you.”


“Am I being too much? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, let’s grab something before going back to my apartment.”

“Alright.” Jimin’s been your support system since Jeongguk and you fought. He hasn’t talked to you since that night when he made it clear that he couldn’t get past what happened with Jimin.

“Come on.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you into a coffee shop and you walked up to the register with Jimin. You let go of his hand, stuffing it into your pockets and the barista came out. He smirked at you, that gesture reminding you who he was and you avoided his eyes. You were glad Jimin hadn’t noted on the silent interaction between you and him.

“Two lattes and um, Y/N do you want anything else?”

“It’s fine, Jimin.”

“That’ll be…” You couldn’t listen, his hard stare still on you and Jimin pulled you over to a table.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“It looked like the barista knew you or something.”

“We don’t know each other…”

“Alright.” He picked up your order, placed the latte in front of you and you began to taste the sweet blend of vanilla and cinnamon.

“It’s good, right.”


“Y/N, you got a little..” He smiled at you, leaving you confused until he reached over to brush his thumb over your lips slowly. He stopped at the corner of your lips before leaning to kiss you softly. You dissolved in his lips, tasting the caramel and coffee on his lips.

You pulled away, seeing a faint hint of foam on his face and you used a napkin to wipe his face.

“You missed a spot.”

“It looks pretty clean to me.”

“Are you almost done with your drink?”

“Oh, yeah. We should get going to catch the bus.” You pulled him along with you, tossing your cups out along the way and sitting next to each other at the bus stop. He had his hands on his lap, the three silver fingers were gorgeous against his polished skin.

“You can hold them if you want to.”

“Oh, you caught me..”

“You just look really pretty sitting like that and– I sound pretty stupid, don’t I?”

“No, Jimin. It’s cute.”

“Then, do you mind if I..?” You grabbed his hand, the warmth of his hand dulling the cold feeling of metal and you looked forwards. The bus came, the two of you getting on and Jimin sat next to you. You let go of his hand, having to fish out your bus pass and focused on looking out the window.

You felt his fingers slip between yours and you smiled, seeing him slowly breaking out of his shy streak with you. You got home, Jimin following you up the stairs and you unlocked the apartment door. Jimin put his bag along with yours on the coat rack and went to change. You came out the living room in a long shirt and shorts, Jimin wearing a similar ensemble.

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Leftover Chinese.”



“It’s good to cook at home.”

“But I like Chinese..”

“So does Taehyung.”

“What does Taehyung– I trusted you, Jimin.”

“He said thank you.”

“Jimin, you know how much I love Chinese food and you just gave away my precious leftovers to Taehyung. Jeongguk wouldn't–” You cut your sentence short, knowing that thinking about him wouldn’t do you anyway good. He left, his apartment vacant for three weeks now and Sheila still says he pays rent.

“He wouldn’t what? He left you, Y/N. He claimed he loves you but he threw you out and left.”


“Why can’t you see past him?”

“Stop. Please stop, Jimin.”

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know you were crying until you felt a tear on your jeans, wetting the material.

“And you. You owe me Chinese food.”

“I’ll do you one better, come on.” He pulled you off the couch, placing you on the kitchen counter and wiping your tears. He pulled out food from your fridge, slicing and dicing on your cutting board. You watched him turn on your stove and place multiple pans on the hot plates.

“Don’t burn down my apartment, Jimin.”

“Y/N, I’m a culinary genius. My food will have you sing my name.”

“Or in the hospital for food poisoning.”

“Have some faith in me.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Just you wait.” You watched his inky bangs flowed down to cover his eyes and his tanned skin. His perfectly shaped rose lips pouting and you swing your feet a bit. Was Jimin always this attractive?



“Can you set up the table?”

“Okay.” You did the table arrangements, placing Jimin beside you and he placed the food on your plate.

“Bon appetite.”

“Wait, you eat it first.”

“I didn’t poison the food, Y/N.”

“But still…”

“Why do I like you?”

“I don’t know either.” He took a bite of his food, making sure you watched and swallowed it.

“Now, will you eat? I put in the effort for you, Y/N.”

“Don’t pout at me like that.”


“Why are you so cute?” You grumbled to yourself before taking a bite of the meal. It was good, but your thoughts travelled to the first time Jeongguk made you breakfast. His food never fails to give a new spin of the simplest meals and you missed it.

Dammit, you missed him.

“It’s good?”

“Well, maybe a little.”


“It’s delicious, okay. I hate feeding into your ego.”

“What ego?”

“Don’t play angel with me, Park Jimin. I know you. Right, like the time we were 14 and I caught you reading those magazines.”

“I was going through hormones and– What about that time I caught you stuffing your bra when we were 12?”

“That’s not the same!”

“How? We were both doing something that we shouldn’t be.”

“Yeah but I didn’t get off to stuffing my bra with tissue paper.”

“I definitely did.”

“Jimin. What do you mean, you did?”

“I mean the magazines. They helped me.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“It wasn’t like you were going to pose half naked for me. Although, I won’t mind.”

“Hey, you little pervert.” You pulled off his beanie and hit him with it. He tried to stop you, eventually handing to run away from the dining table and you caught him in the living room. He tripped and pulled you down with him, landing on top of him.



He leaned up to capture your lips in an embrace and his arms around your waist. The kiss was supposed to passionate but one thought had controlled your mind.

It should be Jeongguk kissing me..

I wonder where Jeongguk went…? 

~Admin Blake


Pairing: Reader x Steve
Word Count: 1,398
Warnings: Mental and verbal abuse, bad overprotective (?)
Request:  hey! I love your writing and was wondering if you could write one with Steve being overprotective over the reader which leads to her leaving and just idk the rest is up to you! Lots of angst please :’)
A/N: The little story about chlamydia that I threw in there was actually something that my best friend did when she was about 6 or 7 so have fun laughing at my best friend,  I sure know I did when she told me that story. Also sorry that this veered toward abuse, wasn’t my intent but overprotective and mental/verbal abuse goes hand and hand. Requests are open.

When you first met Steve Rogers you were over the moon excited. Your grandfather, Dum Dum Dugan, had always spoken so highly of Steve that you could only imagine how amazing he was, but since he was assumed dead you never dreamed of having the chance to meet him in person. A few years after your grandfather passed Steve was found, but still you didn’t think you’d actually meet him. You did however, it happened one afternoon when you were walking to your apartment from a small pizzeria next door. When you got to your door you noticed the vacant apartment across from yours had its door opened and it didn’t look vacant anymore. You took it upon yourself you to meet your newest neighbor, so you knocked on the doorway and when nobody responded you turned to go into your apartment. Although, when you turned around you noticed a man carrying a stack of boxes up the staircase.

“You must be the new neighbor, need some help with those boxes?” you ask the pizza in your hands momentarily forgotten.

“I’ve got these, give me a second,” he said, a deep voice protruding from behind the stack of boxes. You moved from the doorway to allow the man entrance to his apartment. Once he set the boxes down and turned around you nearly fainted.

“Oh my god,” you gasped covering your mouth with your free hand. Steve looked a slight bit deflated at your response, presumably because he thought you were simply another fangirl. He wasn’t wrong. “You have no idea how great it is to meet you, my grandfather always told me amazing stories of you when I was growing up. He would’ve been ecstatic to have gotten to see you again,” you said, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. Once you saw a look of confusion sweep across his face you realized you hadn’t introduced yourself. “The name’s (Y/n) Dugan,” you say smiling at your grandfather’s memory.

“You’re Dum’s grandkid?” Steve asked and you nodded. “Wow,” he mumbled to himself.

“I have pizza if you want to join me and you could tell me embarrassing stories about my grandpa, believe me, it would definitely be revenge on how many he’s told me of you,” you offer, lifting the box of pizza you were carrying.

“I’d like that,” he said, giving a half smile.

From then on you and Steve had gotten very close, and eventually he asked you out, leading to your relationship. No matter what he had always seemed to be one step ahead of you in your relationship, when you were only friends he acted like a boyfriend, he would get very protective of you when you went out to a bar for drinks or tried to take him to a club, which you originally found endearing, but it only got worse when you started dating. He insisted on knowing your precise location every moment of the day, you originally wrote this off as him being worried that Hydra would try to take you so you ignored it. If you were texting someone he wanted to know who, at first when you responded with no one because it truly was nobody of importance he would accept that but as you dated longer he became pushier and even insisted on knowing your phone’s passcode so he could get in. You eventually met his team but god forbid you talk to anyone on it besides Natasha or Wanda because he would get super jealous and say the guys liked you and, even though you knew they were only being friendly, you originally assumed he knew what he was talking about because he had known the guys much longer than you and probably knew their ticks. Although you stopped believing him when it became a regular thing for him to assume any guy you talked to liked you, and on the off chance thy did he would not let you live it down, and treats it like it was your fault. These were only a few of the signs to a much bigger problem that had developed over the year and 3 months that you had been dating him.

“Stevie can I talk to you?” you asked meekly, scared of how he would respond because of how unpredictable his emotions had been as of late.

“Sure honey, what’s on your mind?” he asked softly and you almost felt safe. Don’t be fooled, there were good times in your relationship and those are what had kept you clinging to hope for so long, but it was time to face the music. He wasn’t always the Steve that bought you flowers or told you how much he loved and valued you or the Steve that took you to the carnival, won you the biggest teddy bear he could then kissed you on the Ferris Wheel, or even the Steve from that first night you met him who laughed uncontrollably at your story of when you thought getting chlamydia meant getting pregnant so you told your moms to nail person congratulations when you overheard her tell your mom she thought she had it. Sure you had some great times where you genuinely believed he loved you, but there were also times you had wished they had never unfrozen him.

“You’ve been really on edge lately, are you okay?” you asked, hoping you can resolve the problem without having to go to extremes. This comment seemed to have changed his mood and you suddenly regretted saying anything at all.

“What, are you saying you think something is wrong with me? Well, I’m just fine (Y/n), no thanks to you,” he replied the harshness in his tone cutting like knives in a fist fight. The force behind his words and the way he said them made you feel like his mood was your fault for a second but you knew this to be otherwise because you had been nothing short of the perfect girlfriend recently. So you knew he was only blaming you because he felt it easiest.

“You always do this Steve; everything is always my fault no matter what. Ultron could come back online and destroy the world and you would somehow find a way to blame it on me and I am tired of it,” you say angrily, feeling your heart pumping faster.

“I do not (Y/n)! “ Steve yelled and you could’ve sworn you saw a glass shake from the force. Normally you would’ve cowered in fear but today you were feeling bold.

“Yes, you do Steve. That’s not the only thing you do either, I can’t talk to guys, ever or you’ll just keep telling me how every single guy I have ever spoken to or will speak to has a crush on me. I have tried so hard to overlook how overprotective you are but I just can’t anymore,” you say angrily.

“I’m protective over the things that belong to me, ca-“he started but you cut him off.

“Steven Grant Rogers, did you just refer to me as you property? I am nobody’s property. I am a living, breathing, human being who belongs to herself and nobody else. I was trying to make you aware of a problem and you just turned it back around on me. I am done, Steve. This relationship is venomous so I’m chopping the head off, and believe me when I say, two heads won’t grow back this time. My grandfather would be disgusted if he knew you turned out like this. I am breaking up with you Steven. Goodbye,” you said as you grabbed your keys and left his apartment, tears streaming down your face as you ran out of your building.

You had planned on moving to a new apartment but when you finally left your best friend’s house to go get some clothes you found Steve’s apartment empty, and now, six months later, somebody has finally moved into the apartment across the hall. He is tall, very well built and has longish brown hair. “Hey there neighbor, I’m (Y/n) Dugan, I live across the hall. Welcome to the building.”

fantasy-zelda  asked:

KurooDaiSuga: gardening is some way involved *-*

The table is covered in potted plants.  There are the planters of herbs, a deceptively delicate looking pot of African violets, the creeping wispy leaves of Suga’s English Ivy, the pointy sprouts of Daichi’s aloe plant, and the sharp spines of Kuroo’s various cacti.  There are so many, and Kuroo loves all of them.

“It’s almost done,” Daichi tells Kuroo from his spot on the floor, hammer in hand and wood planks still sitting at his feet.  

“I think you need a better definition of ‘done’ Dai,” Suga says with a smirk as he pulls out a chair next to Kuroo.  

Suga presses a warm mug of tea into Kuroo’s hands.  It smells amazing.  Suga always has a way of picking tea blends that make Kuroo’s mouth water.  This one has just a hint of floral tones, the suggestion of fresh summer peaches, and the spiciness of cinnamon that tickles Kuroo’s tongue as he takes a long, appreciative sip. 

Kuroo lets out a contented sigh as he breathes in the aromatic steam rising from the cup.  “Thanks, Koushi,” he murmurs. 

“Well, I figured if we have to sit here and watch Daichi try and put the plant stand together, we might as well have some warm drinks to help pass the time.”  The smile Suga gives Daichi is a cross between mischievous and grateful.

“Or, you know, you could come down here and help,” Daichi says, his voice dipping into that low, disapproving tone that he usually saves for his his high school students, particularly the volleyball players he coaches.

“You are the one who said we needed it.  Therefore, you are the one who gets to build it,” Suga says, turning in his chair to take a long sip of tea, as if it is all the explanation needed.

“We did need it.  We practically have a damn greenhouse in here,” Daichi grumbles and drives a nail into a plank.

“We could have gotten a plant stand that was pre-assembled or one that just easily snapped together,” Kuroo says, propping his chin into the palm of his hand and giving Daichi a disinterested, lazy look.

“Those were all shit quality, and they looked awful too,” Dachi told Kuroo, rotating a board in his hand, trying to determine if he was about to secure it correctly to the other boards.  “I want our apartment to look nice.  If we can’t afford a house with a big back yard and a garden yet, then I want our apartment and window garden to look its best.”

Daichi is cute whenever he is in his take-charge, authoritative mode.  Perhaps that is why he looks up to find Suga and Kuroo watching him, appreciating him with quiet fondness.  It makes him blush.

“You don’t have to stare,” Daichi mumbles and drives a nail down into the solid oak board with a few strikes of his hammer.

“Tetsu, staring isn’t polite,” Suga says as he playfully swats at Kuroo’s arm.  “Good thing we aren’t polite,” Suga adds with a wink before returning to staring at his handyman boyfriend and the plant stand project.

That’s them in a nutshell–the doctor boyfriend, the teacher/handyman boyfriend, and the (im)polite business man boyfriend.  Suga is good at maneuvering through the office politics required to rise to a high level in his company, Kuroo is a successful doctor who works too many hours and is lucky to have understanding boyfriends, and Daichi does what Daichi does best–lovingly yell at teenagers all day because he cares about their future well-being.  

Daichi also takes on a lot of the tasks that a normal building superintendent would, because that position is currently vacant in their apartment complex.  Everyone knows Daichi is good with his hands, and they tend to come knocking on the door asking him to help fix such-and-such or replace this-and-that.  Kuroo finally asked the building manager to compensate Daichi until she filled the superintendent position, and she did.  It is a nice chunk of money that goes directly into their ‘save up for a house with a big back yard for a garden’ fund.

Suga interrupts Kuroo’s thoughts as he leans over and whispers, “Tetsu, I think we need to come up with more do-it-yourself projects around the apartment for Dai to do.  Watching him build things is kind of hot.”

“We do need a new bookshelf,” Kuroo whispers back, continuing the little act that makes Daichi look up at both of them to glare as if he is completely aware about their conspiratorial handyman plans.

“Just wait until we have a house and a garden and we can send him outside to build things shirtless while covered in dirt and sweat,” Suga says, lifting an eyebrow as he obviously imagines Daichi doing just that.

“I can hear you,” Daichi says, his voice flat and unamused.

“A big garden,” Kuroo replies to Suga with a wink.

Cuddle Material (CHEN story)

Originally posted by everybodyloveschen

January 3th, 2014.

“The weather forecast doesn’t look that good for tomorrow, what the scientists call “a mini ice age” will be rearing up on the east coast…” the cheery voice of the reporter announced the scarily low temperatures for the next three months and you cursed loudly, trying your best to control the horrible need to throw popcorn at the TV.

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(Part 1)

Part 2:

As you slightly swayed in your bar stool, happily humming and laughing at the idiotic little dance off that Tig and Bobby were engaged in, you turned to find not only one Juice, but three of him. Maybe you were a little more drunk than you thought.

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         A note. Folded neatly on the kitchen table where he knew Scott would see it when he returned from work ; scrawled quickly and anxiously , the pen still sitting beside it with the simple name SCOTT scrawled on the outside – as if there would be any doubt who it was written for. A WEEK . It had been a week since Scott had plucked Stiles off of the streets. And now, the apartment was vacant ; the only proof that Stiles had even been there at all was the single note. 

             Scott ,

     It’s killing me. It’s killing me to leave, and it’s killing me to see you. Because I’m taking advantage of you – of what you’re giving me. I know you’re doing it out of kindness, out of the goodness of your perfect heart. For who we used to be. What we used to be. Two halves of a whole that was broken, and I don’t know if it can be mended.

   But, I’m not your burden to bear. You don’t have to take that on yourself ; but I know you won’t fight it - so that’s why I left. To take that burden away from you ; because you’re too kind to do it yourself. You’re too kind to see that I’ve overstayed my welcome. Because it’s hurting me. It’s hurting me because I still care about you. It’s hurting me because you made a life for yourself, and I made mistakes with mine. But, they’re my mistakes, not yours. I don’t want to bring you down with me. 

   It’s better for you this way – because I care about you. Because I love you. And I think I always did. Please don’t come looking for me ; don’t ruin your life because I ruined mine. 

                       Mieczyslaw Stilinski 

a glass heart, and all its parts

Yo I wrote some college au victuuri 

Title: a glass heart, and all its parts

Summary: Katsuki Yuuri comes to study in America with the hope that a change of environment will give his mental health the break he needs to finally write that book he’s always wanted. Viktor Nikiforov is there because he can’t think of anywhere better to be, sitting on a novel draft with zero inspiration to finish it. This is the story of how they struggle with themselves and their stories, and how they maybe find love in the process.

Read on AO3 or below!

Maybe, Yuuri thinks as he drops his last suitcase on the floor of his new bedroom, it’ll be easier this time around. He’s left everything behind to come study in New York, and he’s still not sure if he’s just made the best or worst decision of his life. There’s still an ache in his chest left over from the painful goodbye he’d exchange with his family twenty four hours ago in the airport in Fukuoka, but he feels surprisingly light here in a foreign country where there isn’t a single familiar face. The familiarity of Hasetsu had been as stifling as it had been comforting, full of faces that were just as likely to jeer as they were to offer a smile. Being the chubby gay kid with weird hobbies hadn’t done him much favors in a small town, and there’s a big part of Yuuri that’s excited for the anonymity of a big city.

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“I got evicted from my apartment in the summer of 2011. I was working on commission as a real estate broker, and I hadn’t made a deal in a long time. I had master keys to a bunch of vacant apartments, so I slept in those for a while. But that came to an end when two prospective tenants walked in on me buck-naked at a unit in Harlem. I got out of the shower, and the superintendent was standing there with two African guys. Luckily they didn’t report me. After that I tried sleeping in the office. That worked for a couple years. My colleagues saw me so much that they joked about me sleeping there. They had no idea it was true. But they fired me for good in 2013 and deactivated my entry card. That’s when I started sleeping outside. I bought a gym membership so at least I’d have a place to shower. Last winter was the worst. The cold would get through the sleeping bag and I’d wake up feeling like somebody had hit my hands with a hammer. All night I’d pray for 6 AM because that’s when my gym would open.”