writing anything ever

Sweater

A short silly fic, a few days late for kagehina day, featuring a familiar ratty old sweater <3 


 It happens like this every winter.

It’s not like they don’t have sweaters to spare. Hinata has hundreds, it seems, sagging on hangers and folded on shelves and pouring out of the bottom of the closet, and Kageyama’s supply is far from lacking, so he doesn’t understand, really, why year after year when the cold weather creeps in, this has to start up all over again.

This being: the sweater hunt.

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SO THE GIRLS ARE ALL DEAD.
SO THE GIRLS ARE ALL MONSTERS.
OK. FINE. IF THE GIRL WHO LIKES KISSING
GIRLS MUST DIE, THEN FINE. I’LL SHOW YOU
A DEAD GIRL: SHE WILL BE DEAD
AND MERCILESS. GO AHEAD. BURY HER.
THIS TIME SHE WILL RISE. SHE WILL CLAW
HER WAY UP. GRAVE-DIRT UNDER
HER FINGERNAILS. DRIPPING AND DARK-HAIRED
FROM THE WATER. YOU WANTED A DEAD GIRL
AND YOU’RE GOING TO GET A DEAD GIRL.
YOU WANTED A MONSTER
AND YOU’RE GOING TO GET A MONSTER. 
IF THERE MUST BE BLOOD
THEN THERE WILL BE BLOODSHED,
DO YOU HEAR ME? 
IF SHE IS A MONSTER FOR LOVING GIRLS
THEN SHE IS A MONSTER, THIS TIME.
SHE WILL HAUNT THIS HOUSE YOU BUILT.
SHE WILL SHAKE THOSE BONES.
DON’T YOU KNOW YOU LEFT HER HUNGRY?
LISTEN TO ME. IF YOU WANT A HORROR SHOW
THEN I WILL GIVE YOU A HORROR SHOW.
DON’T KILL ANYTHING
YOU AREN’T PREPARED
TO MAKE A GHOST OF.
—  s.s., “bury your gays”

I want you.
I want you in every sense of the word.
I want time with you,
I want adventure with you,
Hell, I want naps with you–
Friends on Netflix in the background.
I want your hand in my hand,
Your lips on my lips,
My body curving into your body;
We fit together so well.
I want laughter with you,
I want conversation with you,
Dear god, I even want arguments with you
Because it means we’re together
and we care.

So let’s do it.
Let’s make the jump
Together.
Take my hand
And love me.
Let me love you.
Because you once said
We could’ve lived a beautiful story,
And I know now that’s the only story
I want to read.

I want to write
A beautiful story
With you.

anonymous asked:

Dialogue prompts: 9, 37, or 47. Love your writing!

Thank you so much lovely anon! Dialogue prompts were  “You’re in love with her.” + “Lie to me then.” 47: “Why are you whispering?” Set in season 6, around Arcadia. 

“What is he doing here?” That’s the first thing Bill Scully says, or spits rather, when he opens the door. He doesn’t look at his sister, who he hasn’t seen in months, but only at her partner. The spooky man who is followed by doom and therefore has no right to be here, at his house, with his family; at least that’s how Mulder interprets Bill Scully’s current expression. Mulder tightens his grip on to the plate with the huge cake neatly tucked into too much tinfoil that Scully pushed into his arms moments ago.

“He was invited.” Scully rushes past her brother, leaving Mulder outside in the cold, fending for himself. When she’s angry she can forget him, sometimes. They’re similar in that way. He knows this. Mulder offers the cake like a peace offering. Or something. Bill stares at it. Then back at Mulder. His eyes narrow and for once they’re in agreement: they both wish Mulder wasn’t here.

“No one told me you were invited.” Mulder isn’t surprised.

“I was told you were fine with it.” He replies; he really should have known better. Bill yanks the plate out of his hands, the only outlet for his anger, and leaves the door open so Mulder can enter. He’s not welcome here, that much is clear, but Bill Scully Jr. is not going to let him rot outside. Mulder closes the door quietly behind him, taking a deep breath. He should have said no when Scully asked him to come with her to San Diego. He should have insisted. He had, if he remembers correctly. Until that moment when Maggie Scully herself called him and told him to be there or else.

Right now he thinks or else would have been the better choice.

“Fox!” Maggie Scully downright squeals when he enters the kitchen as discreetly as he can muster. Several heads turn; he recognizes Tara Scully, his very own Scully, and a woman he has never seen before, who looks almost as uncomfortable as he feels.

“Hello Mrs. Scully.” She grabs him and engulfs him in a tight hug.

“I’m glad you came,” she wipes at his cheek, a motherly automatism, “I wasn’t sure.” She adds more quietly glancing at her son, who is busy trying to free the cake from the tinfoil.

“You remember Tara, don’t you?” Bill Scully’s wife offers him a warm smile and a strong handshake.

“Nice to see you again, Fox. Oh, you prefer Mulder, don’t you? Dana always calls you Mulder!” She laughs uncomfortably and blushes deeply.

“I’m fine with either.” He assures her and he is certain he can hear Scully huff.

“And this is my other daughter-in-law, Sandra. She’s Charlie’s wife.” Mulder and Sandra exchange a handshake and a nod that seems to say I’d rather be somewhere else right now.

“Is Charlie here? I’ve never met him before.”

“He’s expected later tonight.” Maggie Scully tells him and he watches Sandra’s expression soften, just thinking about her husband getting here, saving her from the rest of his family. Mulder turns around to look at Scully. She’s leaning against the counter, her arms crossed in front of her. Not even she wants him here. He can’t blame her, not really. They might have the x-files back, might be back together professionally, but the ramifications of the last months are still painfully palpable. Diana, he thinks bitterly, swallowing her name and the thought. Things that were said that shouldn’t have been said. Things done. He stares at her, bites his lip, and she turns away from him, nudging her brother and helping him get the tinfoil off the cake. Mulder is convinced that no one will eat it anyway.

Maggie Scully shoos them all out of the kitchen when it becomes apparent that neither of them is any help. Tara and Sandra are talking about babies; little Matthew is upstairs sleeping. Sandra and Charlie, apparently, are trying. Mulder tries to catch Scully’s attention, but she’s either willfully ignoring him, or truly lost in her own world. He feels anger well up in him. If she really doesn’t want him here then why didn’t she just say so? He is sure she could have come up with an excuse for him. Her brother hates him already, what’s a few more Scullys? He could have taken it.

“Can I talk to you a moment?” Bill Scully’s voice is harsh and it’s way too close for Mulder’s liking. He nods, swallows hard. He follows the other man, wherever they’re going, and now Scully looks at him. Mulder wants to ask her to save him, please, but his mouth is dry, his mind empty. Which is why he doesn’t first notice that Bill Scully is leading him outside. Once there, he towers over him, his hands on his hips, his face dark. He’s going to punch me, Mulder thinks, or worse.

“You’re in love with her.” Of all the things Mulder expected Bill Scully to throw at him this is not it.

“Excuse me?”

“You are, aren’t you? You’re in love with Dana.” It’s not even a question.

“You sure you want to know the answer to that?” Stupid, Mulder. Stupid, stupid. He doesn’t want to make Bill even angrier. He just doesn’t want him to know before he’s had a chance to tell Scully. Well, he has told her. And she didn’t take him seriously. Oh brother, indeed.

“Lie to me then. Make me try to understand why my mother – my own mother – invited you here. If you love her…if you are in love with her… I still couldn’t stand you, but. I saw the way you just looked at her, Mulder.” He used to look at her a million different ways, or so he thought. Depending on the time of day, on her mood, and mostly his. On where they were, or why. On what she was wearing. In the end he realized it wasn’t true. There might still be a million different ways he looks at her now. Except they all mean the same.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Bill,” Mulder begins, “I do love her. I am in love with her. We’re not… we’re not together though, if that’s what you mean. But yes. I’m in love with her. Have been for a long time. She doesn’t feel the same way. Not like… she’s not in the same place. I came here because your mother invited me. If… if Dana doesn’t want me here either, I’ll just leave. I’ll just… leave.” As if on cue, the front door opens and Scully steps out.

“You’re not making him leave, Bill.” She tells her big brother and Mulder knows that tone all too well. It means business. He’s been on the receiving end of it often enough.

“I wasn’t going to make him leave.” Bill mumbles and stomps past Mulder. He stops in front of Dana and for a moment the siblings stare at each other, then suddenly, they’re hugging and grinning. “Glad you could make it, sis.” With that he disappears inside. Scully walks towards Mulder and he watches her, wondering what she’s thinking. But he’s always wondering.

“What makes you think I don’t want you here?” Her voice is soft, as are her eyes.

“I thought… I don’t know, Scully. We haven’t talked much lately, have we?” She shakes her head no, takes a step closer. They’re almost touching. The urge to take her into his arms is almost unbearable.

“But just so you know, I do want you here. I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now and Mulder lowers his head to hers, just to hear her better. He tells himself that’s the only reason, anyway.

“I’m glad to be here, too.”

“You’re not the only person in that place, Mulder.”

“Hm?”

“You said I’m not in the same place you are. But I am, Mulder. I am.” She’s lost him. He stares at her, not understanding a word she’s saying. She watches him, hoping he’ll catch up, which he doesn’t, and takes his face into her hands.

“I’m in love with you, too, Mulder. You’re not the only person in that place.” With that, she puts her lips on his softly, just a test, merely a tease. Her hands remain where they are, her thumbs gently caressing his cheeks.

“You are?” He’s whispering now, too, too scared to say it out loud. She nods, grinning. “Why are you whispering? Wait, no, how do you even know what I said?”

“We could all hear you and Bill,” Scully tells him, still whispering, “the baby monitor.” She points at the colorful monitor sitting there in the grass. “Tara forgot to bring it inside after playing with Matthew. I’m glad she did.”

“Oh, so am I.”  

@percyyoulittleshit prompted: Cinnamon, a welcome sign, a well worn leather jacket

Summary: Percy welcomes Annabeth home after some misadventures travelling

He’d wanted to stay up until she got home, but figured out that he’d failed to do so after being awoken by the soft WHUMPF of a body flopping next to him sometime around two in the morning.

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Whump Inspiration: Superpowers

-Superpowers that have a downside that’s opposite of the power, for example:

a) healing shifts the injury from the injured to the healer
b) a person with supernatural strength slowly loses muscle mass
c) a person who can manipulate others loses control of themselves after using their gift
d) a person who can freeze time blacks out, missing time themselves

-Just… Their powers causing them pain!!!

-A person with regenerative skills gets tortured, and because they heal fast, the torture never ends.

-A person who only dies for a brief moment before waking up again is killed over and over again.

-A healer who gets the injury they heal watches their best friend get fatally injured. They choose to save them, risking their own death.

-A person who can control fire is badly burned every time they use their gift / A person who can control water almost drowns (their lungs will up with water) every time they use their gift.

-Character A, who can turn invisible at will, only escapes getting caught by the Bad Guys by turning invisible, but their friends aren’t as lucky, and now they have to find a way to help their friends escape.

-A person who can inflict pain at will is forced to use their gift on a friend.

-There’s a mysterious illness spreading that only affects people with (certain) powers. It gets worse if they continue to use their gift. Character A is ill and has avoided using their power because once more and they might die or lose their power for good, but then a friend gets caught/hurt… And Character A needs to use their power to help them.

coreviolet  asked:

Karaoke night post-squip - feat. Boyf riends

It was a Sunday night, and Michael and Jeremy were at yet another party.

Jeremy said ‘another’ because it was a week until school was out, and their new friends really liked throwing parties. He hadn’t really minded at first – parties were fun! But it was starting to wear on him. You could only puke your guts out under an alcohol-induced haze so many times, he guessed. 

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jeremy and Michael were ambushed by Chloe, already drunk off her ass, and Brooke, hanging off her arm.

“You’re here!” Chloe squealed, giggling drunkenly. Then, she nudged Brooke. “Here, Heere. Get it?” 

Brooke smiled lazily and patted Chloe’s bicep. “Yeah. Nice.”

“We’re doing charaoke,” Chloe slurred. “Jeremy, your voice is decent. Come on.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house, Brooke and Michael following close behind. Soon enough, they were swallowed by flashing lights and the bass line of an old nineties love song, and Jeremy tried not to breathe in the stench of teen body odor and alcohol. 

As they neared the end of the den, Chloe muttered something unintelligible and climbed up onto the miniature stage. To Jeremy’s mortification, she grabbed a microphone and said, “My boy Jeremy could be on fucking broadway and we’re gonna give him a shot tonight!” Only her speech was slurred and she drew out her vowels, so it sounded more like “weeeeee’re gonna give him a shoooot toniiiiiight!”

Behind him, Michael whispered, “Good luck!” and shoved him forwards. Jeremy stumbled up onto the stage next to Chloe.

Chloe grabbed his arm again and said, “I’m picking.” 

Jeremy groaned as her song selection popped up on the computer screen in front of him. “When I Was Your Man? Bruno Mars? Really, Chloe?” 

Chloe leaned towards him, swaying on her feet. “Just fucking sing, Jerry,” she said, and then Jeremy was alone on the stage. 

Jeremy glanced over the crowd, spreading his arms helplessly. “I am so, so sorry for what you’re about to experience,” he said. He prayed that nobody could hear the tremor in his voice. “But since I value my life, well…” He breathed a sigh of relief as chuckles spread through the gathering crowd before him. The first notes of the song spilled from Jake’s expensive-looking speakers, and Jeremy began to sway to the gentle piano against his will. The first line of the song appeared on the screen, and Jeremy inhaled. He shut his eyes against the strobe lights and faces below and started to sing. “Same bed, but it feels just a little bit bigger now.”

Somebody in the crowd whooped. He heard Michael mutter, “Holy shit.”

Our song on the radio, but it don’t sound the same,” he continued, pulling sound from deep in his chest.  “When all my friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down.” Jeremy opened his eyes and looked out over the crowd. “And my heart breaks a little when I hear your name. It all just sounds like –” His gaze fell on Michael, whose mouth was hanging open. “Oooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.” He sailed through the rest of the song, singing louder and louder, keeping his eyes on Michael. As the music faded out, Jeremy felt better and more alive than he had in ages. He couldn’t keep the dorky grin from spreading over his face.

Suddenly, all that as left was silence. Jeremy let out the rest of his breath. Everything was still for a moment. And then the crowd erupted, and Jeremy was bowing, and Michael was up on stage, hugging him and talking faster than Jeremy had ever heard him.

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jesus Christ, that was amazing, why don’t you sing more often? Dude, you have to do that more, you could be a professional, wow–” 

Jeremy felt himself redden. Then, he had an idea. Maybe it was the natural high, or maybe it was something in the air, but he opened his mouth and said, “We’re going to do the next one together.”

Michael never really enjoyed parties, but he usually tagged along anyways. There needed to be at least one person with a car who wasn’t as high as a kite or drunker than his grandmother on New Year’s Eve. And maybe he had jumped around a little, shouting lyrics to the songs he liked, but he didn’t – couldn’t sing. 

He stepped back. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no.”

“I’ve heard you sing before. You’re good,” Jeremy said.

“Have you heard me sing?” 

Jeremy cleared his throat. “When you’re high –”

“Okay, okay, point proven,” Michael cut in. “But still, no.”

“Come onnn, Michael.” Jeremy poked him. “I’ll go with you!”

And then the song was starting and it was too late to save himself. Michael read the title on screen. Carry On, by fun.. He kind of knew that one. 

Deep breaths, he told himself.

Jeremy started. “Well, I woke to the sound of silence the cars, cutting like knives in fistfights.”

Michael glanced at the crowd and felt his legs tremble. 

Jeremy continued. “And I found you with a bottle of wineyour head in the curtains and heart –

Like the Fourth of July,” Michael sang. He was sure he was by now visibly shaking, but he told himself to keep going. He adjusted his voice to match Jeremy’s, and kept going, growing more and more confident with every line. 

When they reached the first “carry on”, Jeremy grabbed Michael’s hand and held it above his head. Michael felt his face flush, and hoped that everybody still watching would attribute it to his nerves, or maybe alcohol he hadn’t drunk. As the verse ended, Jeremy brought Michael’s hand down, but didn’t let go. Jeremy started swaying to the music, and Michael felt himself follow suit. He kept his fingers wound through Jeremy’s. 

The second time they came around to “carry on”, some of the crowd joined in. Michael started to understand people who performed for a living. Part of him felt like he could fly. On a whim, he grabbed one of the microphones from its stand and held it in front of his mouth, bending his knees as he started the “Whoa!”.  Michael was singing like he hadn’t known he could sing. He shut his eyes and let his voice go.

The song ended. The crowd turned away, and slowly, the low buzz of mindless conversation returned. Jeremy’s eyes were bright, and Michael couldn’t help but admire how beautiful his eyes were. Jeremy hugged Michael, and pulled back, beaming. He looked Michael directly in the eyes, and Michael couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away.  They were breathing hard, and their faces were flushed, and Jeremy’s hair was adorably rumpled, and Michael felt his face redden again –

And then he was kissing Jeremy. No – Jeremy was kissing him. Michael stiffened, wondering for a split second if this was some kind of elaborate joke, before melting into the kiss. 

It was far from perfect. Michael’s glasses got in the way, and it wasn’t like either of them were experienced, but when they pulled back, Jeremy’s eyes were shining and Michael was the one beaming. 

“I love you so much right now,” Jeremy whispered, and Michael squeezed his hand.

“I love you too, Jer-bear.” he leaned his head against Jeremy’s shoulder. “I love you.”

anonymous asked:

the batboys and jealousy head cannons?

Romantic Jealousy:

-Bruce gets very very cold towards anyone, including his s/o. He doesn’t know how to voice how he feels so he tries to get everyone to not want to talk to him, which can result in arguments with his s/o (which he then needs to apologize for and hesitantly explain why he acted like he did)

-Dick has faith that his s/o would never cheat on him, especially if someone kind of sleazy is hitting on them. He will, however,drape an arm around their shoulders or wrap it around their waist, basically try to maintain physical contact and assert that he’s with his s/o so that everyone knows not to even try to hit on his s/o

-Jason gets really angsty because he definitely has self-worth insecurity and looks down on himself, so he gets mopey and self-deprecating. It’s kind of up to his s/o to bring him out of this mood and tell him that none of the things he seems to think about himself aren’t true. He won’t hesitate to fight someone though if he thinks that they’re getting too too close.

-Tim tends to get depressed and think that maybe his s/o would be better off with someone else while he begins to think about all of the things he does “wrong” in life. His s/o would have to remind him that they willingly chose to date him and that even if any of the things he thought were remotely true, they would still stay by him to the end of the earth

- Duke would get kind of quiet and try to act like it doesn’t bother him that his s/o is getting hit on or anything. Sometimes people don’t realize that he’s jealous, but his s/o will notice that he’s not as effervescent and give him a peck on the cheek and squeeze his hand to reassure him

Non-Romantic:

- Damian gets jealous if someone monopolizes time with his family, say, at galas and he’ll shoot dirty looks and give mean comments to get the aforementioned offender away from him and whatever family member they’re swarming around. This happens often with girlfriends and boyfriends. Just friends in general.

-Tim sometimes gets jealous if people have really good food that he can’t have and he’ll do the longing side eye that people do, especially in restaurants and when it’s his siblings’ food

-Damian also gets jealous if someone else gets praise and he isn’t commended at all for his efforts, even if they did the same thing. He feels that his efforts go entirely unnoticed while someone else gets all the glory, which leads to his fuming internally but composed and cold on the outside

-Dick gets jealous when he thinks people are choosing to leave him behind and go to someone else, especially when it’s his close friends. His jealousy will often turn to melancholy reminiscence when he realizes that he can’t prevent or change what people do (even if he’s completely wrong and nobody is leaving him)

-Jason gets jealous and angry when people beat him in competitions, even if it’s something totally meaningless like who can get the most high scores on an arcade machine. Cue him being really pissy and shunning whoever he was competing with

-Duke gets jealous when someone gets something that he wants (ie nerdy merch, a cool book, etc.) and he’ll kind of hint that “oh hey, that’s cool. Did you just get it? Can I look at it?” until they get that he wants to borrow it for a while (he usually gives it back. Usually)

A Hairy Situation

Anon Request:  This is probably soooo typical.. But can I request a BuckyxReader where they end up having to share a bed (mission with limited sleeping space?) And she gets her hair tangled in the joints of his mechanical arm? *has long hair and wonders about this*

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Explicit Language, and you may die laughing.

Word Count: 1,488

A/N: Just, promise me you guys will tell me how hard you laughed. Because my stomach hurts. Enjoy! - x.T

Your name: submit What is this?


           You, Bucky, and Steve had all been shipped out to a seaside town in Greece. You were supposed to take down a leader of a large terrorist group that happened to be in the area. Well, you usually arrived the day before at the destination, before receiving the full set of orders the next night.

           The three of you guys had been squished into a small two bedroom house, which was fit specifically for missions. You don’t know how HQ managed to get all the tech in the house so early, but you didn’t want to know.

           After a long day of scouting stealth routes to the target, you were ready to shower and go to bed. It was hot in Greece, and being in the sun all day left you sweaty and baking in your uniform. The two soldiers came into the house smelling heavily of body sweat and something else that wasn’t very appealing to a woman’s nose.

           Steve unclipped his shield and sighed, “I’m going to shower.” He then disappeared down the hall, carrying his shield with him.

           You muttered, “Good, you smell like ass.” Bucky was downing a glass of water and managed to hear you, he choked on the water, and slammed the glass down. The water sputtered out of his mouth and into the sink, and he began coughing and laughing.

           “You okay there, Barnes?” You asked, trying not to smile as you raised your brows at him. He was leaning against the granite counter and recovering from the coughing fit he had. Bucky wiped his mouth and nodded, his eyes closed, and a huge grin on his face.

           Bucky’s voice shook, “Y-Yeah, I’m good, Y/N.” He sat up and set the glass in the sink, not trusting himself with drinking water at the moment.

           “Alright, I’m going to go change,” You pointed to the hallway, “Promise you won’t choke on water out here by yourself?”

           “Yeah, Y/N. You can go.” He rolled his eyes, and you shook your head as you made your way down the hall. At the end of the hall, there was only three doors, and one door was for the bathroom.

           You groaned, “I don’t want to share a room…” You opened the door nearest and saw that Bucky had already put his stuff on the bed, and you guessed Steve would’ve put his stuff in the other room. The real decision was who you would rather spoon. You bit your lip and decided on Bucky, because knowing Steve, he would be suffocating you against him.

           “You left your stuff on the couch.” Bucky came walking down the hall behind you with your duffel bag for the mission slung over his shoulder. He brushed past you into the room he claimed, and set the bag next to his. Bucky turned towards you, “We are sharing a room, right?”

           You nodded slowly and moved over to the bag, getting your mind off the fact that you will be sleeping next to the amazing specimen beside you, by hoping Steve saved some warm water for you. You unzipped the bag and finally replied, “Yeah, just promise me you don’t sleep naked.” You would actually really enjoy it if he was naked, but you had to keep up your façade.

           “I promise, I don’t sleep naked.” He chuckled, before he shot you a wink, “Sometimes.” You gaped at him, before lightly punching his metal arm. Bucky had a shit-eating grin on his face as he bent down and kicked his boots off, he picked them up and set them next to the nightstand. He then began unstrapping his vest and you quickly grabbed your clothes, knowing damn well that Bucky would have no shame, and get changed in front of you.

           You ducked out of the room and saw Steve’s bedroom door was closed, so you were glad he was finished in the bathroom. Locking the bathroom door, you sighed, and kicked your shoes off. You were going to enjoy this shower, before you head off to bed.


           By the time Bucky slid under the covers next to you, you were already passed out cold. He watched your peaceful form, a tender smile garnishing his features, as he took the moment to really admire you. You were vulnerable and Bucky enjoyed seeing you like this; your features slackened, your hair sprawled over the pillow, and soft snores escaping your mouth.

           Bucky leaned over to kiss your temple, before he whispered, “Goodnight, darling.” He then flipped over and let out a deep breath, allowing himself to relax, and yet hoping he would wake up with you in his arms.


           Your eyes fluttered open and you shifted, before you froze. You and Bucky had gravitated towards each other during the night, and you were tucked against his body, with his metal arm draped loosely around you. Bucky was nuzzled into your hair, his warm breath fanning over your neck, and your legs were tangled with his.

           You went to lift your head and your hair was yanked roughly, you yelped, and collapsed against Bucky. He jolted beneath you and he moved his face out of your hair. Bucky shifted his metal arm and you whimpered, “Bucky! Don’t move!” He froze and looked down at you, his face awfully close to yours.

           Bucky furrowed his brow and asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

           “My hair is stuck in your arm…” You sighed resting your head against his bare chest. He bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but his stomach kept convulsing. You knew he was struggling to stop himself from laughing at you. You groaned, “Go ahead, laugh your ass off..”

           Bucky chuckled and shook his head, “No, I can’t. I’m sorry, but how did this happen?”

           “I don’t know?” You shrugged, “I guess we sleep cuddled.”

           “You sure about that, darling?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow, and you glared up at him. He then looked at his left arm, seeing your hair knotted within the metal divots, and he visibly winced. “Let’s try and get you free.”

           Bucky clutched you to his chest, with his arm wrapped around your back, trying to help you get your hair out of the divots in his metal arm. He kept chuckling every time you made a painful yelp, when he accidentally tugged your hair too hard, and you finally slumped against his chest. The body heat between the both of you made it hot, and Bucky’s skin was clammy.

           “Buck, we might have to get Steve..” You whined, your forehead was pressed against his bare shoulder. He smiled and rested his cheek against your hair. 

           Bucky chuckled, “He’s not going to let me live this down, darling.” He rubbed your back, keeping his metal arm as still as possible for you. The metal was locked up tightly and he hadn’t been able to relax the arm.

           “Who cares at this point?” You huffed, “I already ripped half my hair out with it stuck in your damn arm.” Bucky rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

           He then shouted, “STEVE!”

           It was quiet for a few moments.

           The soldier blasted through the door, shirtless, and pant-less with his shield in hand. He looked around the room frantically for any signs of danger, before his gaze fixed onto you and Bucky clinging to each other in the bed. Steve furrowed his brow and asked, “Why did you yell for me?”

           You turned your head, wincing when your hair was being tugged, and said, “Because my hair got stuck in his metal arm and we can’t get it out.”

           Steve set his shield against the wall before a huge grin spread over his face. “Your hair. Got stuck. In his arm.” He then doubled over in laughter, and Bucky snorted.

           You glared at Steve, and snapped, “Can you just help?”

           “Yeah—Yeah, just…I’ll be right back.” He chuckled, before stumbling out of the room. You sighed and relaxed against Bucky, knowing things will be a bit different now that you had been sidled up to each other for thirty minutes straight. Possibly, all night.

           Bucky asked, “Now that we’ve been like this for a while, can I say something?”

           “Go for it, Barnes.”

           “I’m surprised you haven’t felt my boner yet.”

           “JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!” You screamed, and scrambled away from him. He threw his head back and began laughing so hard, that he didn’t even realize your hair was freed. You forgot all about what he said, and leaped off the bed, raising your arms in victory. “I’m free!”

           Steve came walking back in with a pair of scissors in his hand and stopped when he saw you standing in the middle of the room, and Bucky about pissing himself in laughter on the bed.

           You pointed at the scissors in his grasp and asked, “You were literally going to cut my hair?”

           “Yeah?”


A life with you

Summary: More cries echoed nearby, bodies fell on the ground. It should be raining on a day like this he thought. The air stood still. His body felt heavy. Too tired to move. So he laid there. Hearing it all. Hearing him. And the rage in his voice.

A life with you

Pairing: He Tian x Mo Guan Shan

Rating: T (violence)

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the year is 198X.  the internet doesn’t exist, weed, cigarettes and alcohol aren’t that moderated and boomboxes are still a thing. four high school misfits. an alien menace. teen angst. everything is against you, but keep trying your luck, kiddo.