y am i coloring so much

Soulmates (AU) Part 2

Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Word Count: 2677

Prompt (AU) : Harry took his anger out in sex-and you weren’t supposed to do that. He would go to the bar and find others just as terrible and lonely as him, drink, and then sink his sorrows into anything with breast and a hole were to put it. Niall always rolled his eyes the next morning and say to Harry “you’re a proper dick, yeh know that right?”, to which Harry would lift his middle finger up and respond with, “if soulmates are real she would love me anyhow.”

“Harry when you meet her your life will change,” Anne says, handing him a cup of tea.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t care to meet her. It’s all bullshit,” Harry grumbles.

Part One

There were very few things that bugged Y/N in life. Y/N hated when people didn’t use their turn signals when driving, or when people walked too slow in front of her, or when people rolled their eyes or stared at her, but she absolutely loathed when people wouldn’t respect her choice and try and force her to talk. It was clear, crystal clear, that she wasn’t much of a talker, and yes or no questions where the good route to go, but when people edged her on she got upset.

For example, Harry just couldn’t wrap his mind around how his other half would not utter a single word to him. Y/N had written down on a whiteboard that she was ‘mute’ and would really prefer if Harry stayed away from the label. She explained that even though he was her soulmate (and she would love to be open with him) talking just didn’t seem like something she was ready for.

She watched as Harry rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, and frowned. She could feel his annoyance (literally) and she wanted to stub her toe on the table just to tick him off, but she felt like it was rude and she didn’t want to put herself through the pain as well.

“So like what? I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with someone who won’t talk to me?” Harry asked, his eyes on her as she walks down the hallway of her apartment complex.

Y/N shrugs, ‘learn asl,’ she signs.

“The fuck does that mean?” Harry spat.

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prays that i didnt do anything wrong with this

Ey I reached 600 followers! :’D Words cannot express how shocked I am on how far I’ve come TWT SERIOUSLY, ARE YOU GUYS LOST-

Anyways XD Thought I’d do a little art raffle for y’all to show my appreciation! It’s not much but I hope by the next raffle I wont be busy and I could provide more choices for the prizes! As of now, I hope this is enough. School kept blocking my schedule for drawing so yeah TwT

Message me with a Full Colored Ref if you’re one of the winners! Any questions, feel free to ask! :D


Thanks again for y’all support! I appreciate it a whole lot  ❤


anonymous asked:

Just here to say that the Serendipity comeback trailer was abt Yoongi sorry I don't make the rules 🤷🏽‍♂️🤷🏽‍♂️ but SERIOUSLY tho like i caought all of those y/m references Jimin, I got u

also this might be Reaching™ but didnt yoonmin say their relationship was like the color yellow? and this video was basically Jimin Singing A Love Song Surrounded By Yellow 😳📝 ik im looking too much into this but 🤷‍♀️… 


The yellow in jimins video…i just keep getting flasbacks to when yoongi said it’s the color of their relationship in :“’)


i LOVE how we’re all on the same page oh my gosh there are SO many ym references like ??? the colour yellow which yoongi said best suited their r/s ??? ‘the universe has moved for us’ THE CAT,,,,  YOU KNOW I KNOW

i’m hoping the blue is a yoongi reference too because it’s been years and i’m still waiting for yoongi to have blue hair

Drunk in Love

warnings: alcohol usage  

words: 1,461

pairings: peter parker x reader 

request: can u do a peter x reader where you get drunk and you try to kiss him and everything but he refuses bc he needs your consent first and he ends up taking care of you until morning please and thank u!

a/n: I was going to go to bed early, but then I stayed up till 3am writing this instead lol. I hope u guys like it!! go ahead and keep sending in requests please! all of your sweet messages have really motivated me to keep writing, so thank u <3

peter doesn’t know whose house he’s at, red cup in his hand as his classmates and possibly other people from schools across Queens fill up the room until he can’t stand it anymore. he sets down his cup, which had been empty from the start when y/n had handed it to him. she had told him it was only for decoration, so he looked like he fit in with the rest of the crowd.

he had lost sight of her 10 minuets ago when another dozen people had shown up. the house is bigger than peters ever seen, which is exactly why he’s having so much trouble finding his friends.

he knows ned and mj are hanging around, but his phone had died just as they had arrived, so he has no way of contacting them. shouting their names is useless, because the music mixed with the loud chatter of possibly over 100 people would make it impossible for them to hear him.

a hand suddenly grabs onto his arm, making him turn around to face mj. she looks slightly disheveled, hair messier than usual and the small bit of lipstick y/n had convinced her to wear is smudged.

“peter,” she says out of breath, like she had been running to find him. “you need to come with me, like right now.”

“what? why? I’m looking for y/n-”

“it’s about y/n.”

peter nods, waiting for mj to take off so he can follow. is y/n okay? the last time he had seen her, she was slightly tipsy from drinking too much spiked punch and hanging off of neds arm. what if she got hurt? peter nervously chews on his bottom lip as mj leads him upstairs, pushing open one of the many doors to reveal y/n sprawled out on a couch, neds party hat on top of her head.

“peter!” she jumps up, nearly face planting until peter carefully catches her, doesn’t miss the way she leans heavily against him with her head against his shoulder. “I think I had too much punch.”

ned grumbles as he picks up his hat. “she’s been calling your name ever since we got her in here, and before that she was flirting with peter m from band class.”

“and I’m pretty sure she scalped me when I told her to go to sleep.” mj rubs her head, glaring at y/n halfheartedly.

“we’re both exhausted, and we’re leaving y/n in your very, uncapable hands.”

“no, wait!” peter holds out his hand as mj and ned exit the room, making sure to wink before they close the door. “oh no.”

“peteeeer,” y/n giggles into his neck. he shivers involuntarily when she runs a hand down his back, nearly jumping out of his skin when her hand slides under his shirt.

“woah, y/n, hold on-”

“shh.” she leans back, eyes narrowed. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, peter parker.”

peter feels like he’s about to explode and he’s pretty sure his entire face is the color of his mask. y/n, the girl he has been crushing on since they had practically first met, is leaning forward to kiss him without warning. he knows she’s incredibly drunk, which makes the situation so much harder to stop, because he knows she’d never want to kiss him sober.

“nope, no.” peter takes a step back. “y/n, please, wait. you’re drunk and-”

“I am not drunk,” y/n’s words slur, proving his point. she seems to have realized that he’s right, but she doesn’t stop making him move back until his knees hit a sofa in the corner of the room.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret!” peter stumbles back when y/n pushes him, unable to stop himself from landing on his back. he swallows loudly as she moves to sit on his lap, but he rolls onto the floor, nervously looking towards the door. “I think I should just take you home, okay?”

y/n sighs, flopping down onto the cushion. “fine, but only if you stay over.”

“you know I can’t do that, y/n. your parents would literally kill me.”

she looks as if she’s thinking for a moment, then perks up a second later. “then I’ll just stay at yours! problem solved.”

“what? no!” peter climbs to his feet, trying to think of a way around y/n’s plan. “how about I stay at your house until you fall asleep?”

y/n appears to be satisfied with peters answer. she moves to stand as well, barely making it a step before peter has to catch her again. at this point he doesn’t have any energy left to be embarrassed as he bends down and swoops her into his arms. or, maybe he does, because when he passes mj and ned in the hallway, they both burst out laughing and pull out their phones to take pictures.

“yeah, thanks, guys!” he calls out, rolling his eyes as he walks towards where they had first entered.

he doesn’t know how he’ll explain this to y/n’s parents. they had known she was going to a party, but not one on this large of a scale with alcohol practically pouring out of walls. maybe it would be best if she’d stay at his place. her parents trust peter, and may would more than likely understand after she gave him an earful.

he ends up going home, carrying y/n the whole train ride. she had passed out the minuet they boarded, and he’s thankful he doesn’t have to worry about her trying to kiss him again. he does wish she’d try to kiss him again, but sober and completely in control of her actions.

reminding himself that that’ll never happen in this lifetime because she is way out of his league, peter pushes the door open to the apartment.

he cringes when it hits the wall, shaking the frames and what feels like the whole apartment. may walks in right as peter shuts the door, cutting herself off from greeting him when she sees y/n in his arms.

“she’s fine,” he hurries to say. “she just.. drank a little too much at the party.”

may throws her hands up as peter heads for his room. “peter! I told you to watch out for y/n. now I’m going to have to call her parents and explain why their daughter isn’t going to be coming home.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know this party was going to be so.. huge. honestly, may, you should’ve seen it. the house was insane-”

“peter?” y/n groans from his arms, eyes squinting as she looks around. when she spots may, she manages a weak smile. “hi, may.”

“hi, sweetie. peters going to take you to bed, okay? I’m going to give your parents a quick call.

y/n nods and peter takes mays gesture towards his room as a queue to go. he carefully sets y/n down on his bed, shrugging off his jacket then gets to taking y/n’s heals off. she stretches, dress rumpling as she rolls to watch peter pull an extra pillow and his sleeping bag from the closet.

“do you want to change?” peter asks, holding up one of his shirts and sweatpants. “I know you must be tired, and that dress doesn’t look very comfortable to sleep in.”

“oh, it’s not comfortable at all.”

peter snorts as he searches for his phone charger. “then why did you wear it?”

“to impress you.”

his hand on the cable slips as he nearly breaks his neck to look at y/n. she stares him down, making peter, for the seventh time that night, blush up to his ears. “wha?”

“I said, to impress you.”

“you’re drunk.” peter tosses y/n his clothes, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m, uh. going to change in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

peter nearly slams the door, heart hammering in his chest. did that really just happen? he has take a moment to calm himself down by splashing cold water onto his face a couple of times, repeating to himself that y/n is drunk, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. she probably won’t remember any of this by the time she wakes up. god, peter hopes she doesn’t remember, because then she’ll have to explain with a laugh that she didn’t really mean what she had said.

by the time peter gets back to his room, he finds that y/n had laid out his sleeping bag along with his pillow. he assumes she’s asleep when he switches off the light, but when he lays down, y/n moves her hand to hang over the edge of the bed. peter takes it, falling asleep minuets later and misses when y/n whispers for him to have sweet dreams.

Some people lament about how this world will drain you and it’s true. I had no meaningful friendships until I was fourteen and my stepmother constantly tells me that my only worth is my intelligence even though, hell, I don’t feel smart anyway. I’ve never been kissed and I’ve never had someone love me and I’ve always felt like I am a waste of a life but that doesn’t matter. I am rough and ugly but this world is beautiful and every day I promise myself I will throw myself into it with earnest.

I read somewhere that when you go outside and get cold, your small body is trying to heat the whole world. I want to warm this entire world with everything I do, even if it drains me and even if I get cold and tired. I don’t care if life hurts me or if I always fall in love with people who can’t love me or if people use me. I’m gonna keep trying to warm up the whole world and I’ll keep believing people are good and love is real. I want to give everything I have without expecting anything in return. My body is small and I don’t have much warmth to give but I will give it my all anyway. I won’t let my bad experiences turn me cold. I hate myself but there is so much love inside of me; love for the way the light streams through the trees and love for the color of a dusty sunset and love for my beautiful best friend and the way she laughs, all bright-eyed and earnest. I will let everyone and everything feel all the love that I have; I will warm all that I can.

It Might Be Nice // Part 1

…Hello! So, I saw the beautiful fanart of @ bettiquarts, which is amazing and I wish I could link you to it but I dunno how :c I suck, but please check them out, bc she’s amazing????? Again, thank you for letting me write this based on your fanart!!! 

Btw, I WAS going to make Lance wake up and be happy but like …..nah. Let’s wreck the whole situation, go big or go home I say. 

OK, I’m done rambling, I hope you like it!! 

Ps. I’m sorry for any typos or stuff :c 

EDIT Now with part 2: http://bleusarcellewrites.tumblr.com/post/159471153027/it-might-be-nice-part-2

Disclaimer: Voltron doesnt belong to me, nor the fanart this was based on (: 

“You know,” Lance starts softly, letting out a tired sigh as he rests his forehead against the glass and suppress a shiver at the coolness it brings to him, “Now that I think about it, my brother still owes me five bucks.”

Keith snorts at the brunet’s complaint, rolling his eyes when Lance pouts at him, “Lance, they’re just five bucks.”

“It’s about the principle, Keith.” Lance replies as he leans away from the glass, away from the breath taking view of space and its stars that surrounds them and turns to look at Keith, his heart beating hard against his chest as he sees the bright smile on his boyfriend’s face.

“Sure, buddy.”

Lance laughs as he shoves the black haired teen playfully. “Oh, hush, you.”

Keith chuckles under his breath as he quickly catches Lance’s hand and holds it tight against his own. Taking advantage of the brunet’s surprise, Keith smirks and pulls at their intertwined hands until the back of Lance’s hand meet his lips and Keith drops a kiss on it.

Keith could almost coo at the awe and dazed expression on Lance’s face at that.

“You’re such a sap.” Lance says after a few seconds in silence, shaking his head in disbelief but smiling big and dopily at his boyfriend.

“Says the one who leaves a sappy post-its and an alien flower that resembles a rose once a week on my bed.” Keith retorts smugly and Lance scoffs.

“Well, excuse me, but I’m a hopeless romantic, babe, it’s on my genes.”

“Is it on your genes to be annoying too?” Keith teases and Lance flicks him on the forehead, “Ow.”

“Meanie.” Lance murmurs but then smiles as Keith pulls him closer by their intertwined hands, making him fall on his boyfriend’s chest comfortably. “Oh sure, fix everything with a cradle, typical.”

“It’s my secret weapon, babe. You can’t deny it works.” Lance hums, burying his head on the crook of Keith’s neck as he snuggles closer to him.

“Dang, it really does.”

“You know,” Lance sighs, his lips twitching upwards as he turns slowly to meet Keith’s eyes, his own eyes blinking tiredly, “Now that I think about it, I never said I love you.”

Lance frowns when he sees Keith sob at his words and he wishes he could raise his hand and break the glass that separates them if it means he could wipe Keith’s tears away.

“Baby, it’s okay.” Lance tries to comfort, his left eye that was swollen shot has gone numb by now and he can’t feel the pain of his dislocated shoulder anymore, which he’s pretty sure that’s a bad sign, but right now, all that he cares about is Keith.

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I Only Want You (part one)

Request: Could you do a Peter Parker X Reader where she’s blind and Bucky and Cap are over protective of her because she’s the granddaughter of one of their (dead) friends. So when she meets Peter she’s scared he wouldn’t like her and he proves her wrong until he gets scared that she’ll leave him when Tony and Bruce announce that if the reader wants she can see for the first time ever and it’s cute and fluffy?

Word Count: 1,090

A/N: Written by Claire! This was so new for me to write, hope you enjoy!! xx

Originally posted by captainaudreystark

Your name: submit What is this?

You hear Peter before you feel him.

The creak of the floor behind you is all you need before you feel strong arms wrap around your shoulders and a soft chin press into your neck, pressing a kiss there.

“Hi there,” you say, clasping a hand around one of his forearms while keeping the other firmly grasped on your cane.

“Hello,” he practically hummed it into your ear and you turned around, eager to get a kiss-

“Woah! This is a PG-13 establishment, kiddos.” The deep voice rang through the kitchen and Peter’s hold on your waist immediately loosened.

“Uh, sorry sir!”

“Steve, are you kidding me?” You focused your voice in the direction his sounds were coming from. His answering laugh felt like a bass note in the close room.

“Yeah, okay sweetheart.” Steve’s hand patted you on the shoulder before you heard the sound of a cabinet closing and footsteps leaving the room.

You immediately faced Peter. “Sir?”

“It still amazes me that you can call him by his first name… He’s so big.” You could sense the awe in his voice.

“He’s a marshmallow.” Your hand found Peter’s face and patted it sympathetically. “If you’re going to worry about anyone, it should be Bucky.”

Peter let out a snort of agreement. “Oh man, you’re practically the only one he even likes most of the time.”

You smiled sweetly. “It’s all part of my charm.” 

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Imagine: complaining about Loki's yellow cape to Tom

Originally posted by homensdoseculo

You glared down at your phone screen, eyes locked onto the offensive yellow of Loki’s cape in the early looks at Thor: Ragnarok.  Most people thought you would have known all about it, as you were Tom Hiddleston’s girlfriend and a rising actress, but you had no such luck.  You were discussing a contract with Marvel, and while you tried to get information about the third Thor movie, Tom made sure you heard nothing.  He wanted the movie to be a surprise for you, as he knew you had a weakness for Loki.

As you walked along the sidewalk, you regularly glanced down at the photo.  Tom looked fantastic as Loki, but you dearly hoped that the other side of the cape was green, or else there was going to be a mountain of angry letters for the costume designer.  You made a mental note to stay involved in the designing of your character, if you and Marvel came to a contract agreement.  You could hear the occasional murmur or camera click as you walked through the light crowd, which drew your attention away from your phone.  The odd feeling of being recognized in the street momentarily distracted you, until your eyes landed on your destination: a lovely little teahouse.

You tried not to storm in, but as you were gracefully seated in the back room, your anger was apparent on your face.  Tom had arrived before you, and when he looked up to your not-so-smiling expression, he knew that you were one of many who had seen the recently revealed Loki first-look.  He chuckled nervously when you sat across from him, huffing lowly when your phone buzzed.  You turned it off, before glaring at Tom, who offered you an apologetic smile.

“My dear, whatever is the matter?”  He asked, ever the gentleman.  He knew exactly what was wrong- you could tell- but he had always been gracious towards you.  The sentiment melted away some of your anger, reminding you why you loved this dorky, glorious man… but you weren’t about to let him get away so easily.

“What’s the matter?”  You began, giving Tom a moment to steel himself for the flood.  “Loki’s cape, that’s the matter!  I love you, but did you say nothing about it?  Did anyone try to stop the fiend who calls themself a costume designer?  It’s… yellow!”  You stated, your hands swirling in elaborate gestures to aid your argument.  “Loki’s signature color is green, and his palette is green, black, and gold.  Yellow is not a part of that combination, and his green cape held so much… meaning!  As the complimentary color to red, his cape represented his separation from Thor as a person… Two brothers, who were very much so opposites.  Is yellow the complimentary color to red?  No!”  You ranted, not even looking at Tom at this point.  If you had looked at his face, instead of focusing on your hands and memories from the MCU Loki scenes, you would have seen his struggle at holding back a massive grin.

“Darling, [Y/N], I am simply an actor.  I don’t make the final decisions for Loki-” He began, but bit his tongue when you sent him a steely glare.  Your nose was scrunched up in frustration, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.  He let out his signature chuckle, closing his eyes and dipping his head.  His contagious laughter got under your skin, soothing your glare and pulling soft chuckles from your throat.  A soft smile grew on your lips, and you shook your head lightly at Thomas.  “Love, you are a treasure!  I’m sorry you’re upset about his, or rather, my cape, but I must say… your reaction was adorable, and absolutely worth it.”  He noted with a cheery grin.

You pursed your lips, and despite still holding resentment towards the color choice, you melted under that smile.  Thomas could drive you a little crazy sometimes, but he wouldn’t have been the man you fell in love with if he had been any different.

Mini Winter Soldier (Bucky X Reader / Bucky X Reader’s daughter)

Title: Mini Winter Soldier ( Big Hero, Little Hero drabble series 2.0 ) 

Pairing: Bucky X Reader and Reader’s daughter

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Bucky seemed occupied about something and eventually realized he worried for nothing. And received the best presents he could get even though it wasn’t his birthday.

Previous parts: 1.0 My Little Hero 

Next parts: 3.0 Bucky’s Little Spy


Bucky has been acting strangely this past week. He seemed like he had something weighing on his mind all the time, brows scrunched up like he was deep in thought. It took (Y/N) not more than a day to notice something was off about the brooding man. 

After their encounter at the Smithsonian, Bucky and Poppy’s friendship has only become more tight-knit than before. Poppy now spent most of her time in the Stark tower beside when she was at pre-school. 

Bruce was like her own personal tutor and Uncle Tony even set up a nice corner, danger-free corner, of the lab as a study nook for the girl. Bucky has an honorary bean bag placed right next to Poppy’s tiny desk at the tower, where Bucky would read whilst she completed her coloring for the day. 

It was strange for Bucky to be occupied with what was on his mind when he was with (Y/N) or Poppy. (Y/N) couldn’t figure out what it was that troubled him. 

“Bucky?” (Y/N) called out. Seeing no response from the man before her, she light tapped him on his shoulder and called again. (Y/N)’s touch snapped Bucky out of his thoughts as he turned over and looked at her questioningly. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been out of it for the past week. What’s on your mind? Care to share?” (Y/N) questioned as she settled herself on the couch next to Bucky. 

At her question, Bucky flushed bright red, even the tips of his ears were pink. He stuttered for a bit, trying to fumble through his words as (Y/N) giggled lightly at him. 

“Well, I- You see, Poppy’s… Poppy’s birthday is this weekend. And, and I have no clue what to get her.” Bucky mumbled out softly, looking embarrassed. Hearing Bucky’s concern, (Y/N) couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her. 

“You mean all this time, your furrowed brows, deep frowns, and zoning out was because you didn’t know what to get Poppy for her birthday?” (Y/N) asked, a glisten of tears on her eyes from laughing. (Y/N) didn’t think it was possible for Bucky to get any redder, but he proved her wrong as he huffed at her reaction. 

“I don’t know many 5-year-olds alright? I just want her birthday to be perfect.” Bucky grumbled out, tilting his face slightly to avoid showing (Y/N) how red his face got. 

(Y/N) face softened, a bright smile on her face as she saw how important Bucky saw her daughter. She leaned over and brushed a fallen lock of hair away from Bucky’s face as she turned him slightly to face her. 

“It so sweet that you care for Poppy so much, Bucky. I am so thankful you can’t even imagine it. Now, I know the perfect gift you could give her.” she said softly and showed Bucky something on her phone. 

The common room of the Stark tower was decorated with colorful balloons and a big banner with “Poppy’s 5th Birthday” strung across. Tony wanted to go the extra mile, a couple hundred extra miles, and get the area painted a glittery lilac, Poppy’s favourite colour, and order her an eight-tier chocolate cake, but was thankfully stopped by (Y/N), or the Avenger’s headquarters would be decked in a sparkly soft purple everywhere.

Pepper, though, was sneakier and ordered Poppy a brand new glittery lilac study table and chair for her little nook without letting (Y/N) know. Everyone was there for their little hero’s birthday party. 

By Poppy’s request, the party was to be a costume party and everyone had to be decked in some form of costume or another. (Y/N) was dressed up as Mulan, Poppy’s favorite Disney princess and Bucky dressed as Li Shang, Mulan’s prince, as instructed by Nat and Wanda. 

Bucky stood by (Y/N), his face now his signature crimson, as he tried to spot the birthday girl. A loud squeal and a girl wrapped around Bucky leg snapped him out of his search as he looked down and blinked a few times at the sight. 

He imagined Poppy would have picked a nice princess outfit, or be a strong female hero like Nat, or even dressed professionally to a T like Pepper. Never did he imagine her wearing what she was right now. 

Poppy untangled herself from Bucky’s leg and looked up with gleeful eyes as she said to him, “Bucky Bear! Do you like my outfit? I am dressed as my hero! I am dressed as you!”. 

She twirled around and showed him the metal arm that Bruce had designed for her with soft aluminum. Bucky’s eyes slowly filled with happy tears as he broke out into a huge grin. 

“I love it, Pop. I love it so much. You look amazing.” he replied as he lifted her in his arms and rubbed his scruff all over her face, causing her to giggle loudly. 

After having a blast at the party, Poppy is now knackered and sleeping in her room as Bucky and (Y/N) settled down on the common room couch. 

“Hey Bucks, have you seen what Poppy was carrying to bed?” (Y/N) asked, a sly smirk resting on her face. Bucky cocked his eyebrows and gave her a questioning look as she motioned for him to go take a look. 

Opening the door to her bedroom softly, through the small crack of the door, the light softly filled the bedroom. On the bed was Poppy, feet hanging out of her blanket, and in her arms, cuddled close to her, was the tiny Winter Soldier stuffed toy Bucky gave her for her birthday. 

He slowly closed the door and turned to look at (Y/N) as a silly grin hung on his lips. Pulling her lightly by her hand, he led her back to the common room and settled her next to him on the plush couch. 

“So, did you hear what Poppy asked for for her birthday?” Bucky asked, his voice deep. Hearing his question, (Y/N)’s face heated up as she looked away from him. 

“Hmm? So will you go for dinner with me? Tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at 7. What’d you say doll?” he probed again. 

(Y/N) stood up quickly and started to make her way to her room, but as she took two small steps, she lightly turned herself and said, “7 PM, don’t be late.”, leaving a happy Bucky behind. 

Tagging: @itsanerdlife @buckysmusculararm @klaus-is-king @callamint @dryerpet @katbird787 @musichowler @captainfbffangirl99 @thatawkwardtinyperson @cassandras-musings @cleverwatson125 @universal-glitch @draconicuchiha @frickin-bats @smile-sugar @ryverpenrad @buckyywiththegoodhair

Here’s a second drabble in continuation of “My Little Hero”. Thank you all for showing so much love for the previous part and I hope you all would enjoy this part as well! I tagged some people that showed interest but if anyone wants to be off the tagging list please feel free to message me!

For my other writings, search “Ting writes” on my Tumblr!”

i truly, genuinely hate packing. Like, you have to choose out of everything you own a select few things that you KNOW will be useful to you on ANY GIVEN DAY. Not even your favorites, because they might not be completely versatile. So you pack 3 bottoms, 5 light shirts, 3 heavy shirts, a statement item (like, i don’t fuckin know, a scarf?), a formal, yet casual dress, 3 pairs of shoes, undies and socks and shit, and you just. have to be happy with that for however long you’re away.

But the thing is, it gets WORSE the LONGER and FURTHER you’re staying away. Like, for say, a year, in Europe. You have to keep all of that in mind still, because you can’t make your suitcases too heavy, so you take 6 bottoms, 10 light shirts, 6 heavy shirts, two statement items (like, i don’t fuckin know, t w o  s c a r v e s) 2 formal, yet casual dresses, STILL 3 pairs of shoes, because shoes are bulky as shit, MAYBE a nice jacket??? and of course undies and socks and shit and that’s gonna be your whole wardrobe. for a y e a r. cuz you’re not about to go and spend money on getting new clothes once you get there that you’ll have to stuff in your bags coming back when you could use it for, uh, food and shit. And mailing things is just the worst™️, like unless you’re staying there permanently, there is no need to be Sharpay Evans and ship everything you own to you, but there’s that harry potter slytherin sweater that you love and you WILL be going to London at least once (???) so you want to bring it but, w h o o p s, it doesn’t fit in with your strictly black, grey, and blue color scheme, (dear god why couldn’t I have been a ravenclaw) and, mainly, is h e a v y. so you have to be happy with the cheap paper, thin snake t-shirt you got from Target©️ 6 years ago

can i just snap my fingers and i’m already packed and on the plane? please?

Y’know what?  I used to be ashamed of how pale I am naturally.  People used to praise how tan I was when I was little, but that was only because I spent so much more time outside then than I do now.  My natural skin color has always been this pale.  And now that I spend much of my time indoors because of my work… the only time my skin color comes up in casual conversation, it’s to point out “wow, you’re REALLY pale.”

I get dismissed for being white a lot.  I get told my opinions on things don’t matter, or that I can’t possibly understand things… because I’m white, and therefore not anything else.  As if my skin color was a reflection of who I am, who and what I could be.

But… I have good skin.  I don’t burn easy.  My skin has a nice slightly-olive, slightly-yellowish cast to it, and it makes me look good in yellow clothing, which is my favorite color.

It contrasts well with my dark hair.  I don’t have much of a natural blush, but my skin looks good with a little bit of salmon-colored rouge applied on my cheeks.  I can wear lipstick that ranges from cherry red to burnt orange to bright pink, and it doesn’t look silly on me.

I’m still admittedly a little jealous of people who have darker, richer skin tones.  Beautiful, sunny skin that looks healthy and vibrant, even when they don’t spend much time outside.  But I have good skin, too, and I shouldn’t be so self-conscious about being naturally pale – something I can’t really help.

The House That Built Me

The Reader returns to her childhood home looking for more than memories. What she finds is more than she expected. 

Word Count:

Warnings: Mentions of parents dying, a little flangsty, a little fluff, Dean (always a warning)

A/N: I have been listening to this song by Miranda Lambert over and over for weeks. I finally sat down to write it and I am pretty proud of how it turned out. Thanks once again, always and forever, to @just-another-busy-fangirl, for being my beta, and really whatever I need her to be. And also to @iwantthedean, the world’s bestest cheerleader. I am only the Duchess of Fluff because I learned from the Queen. Love you Boo!

A/O/N: This was written for @wayward-oneshots, Brook’s First Times Challenge and I picked kissing. I am pretty proud of how this turned out. Feedback is appreciated. 

I brought the rental car to a stop on the side of the dirt road, my eyes wandering into the distance. It was just as I remembered it; storm gray with bright white trim. The house my mother always dreamed of still stands after so many years. The new owners have taken good care of her. I could tell by the classic car parked in it’s stone driveway that they cared deeply for things of beauty.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to center myself and my thoughts. This is where I need to be, I thought and put the car in drive, taking the right turn and making my way slowly up the drive. I put the car in park and took one more look before I got out, grabbing my case and walked the path through the manicured lawn and well kept landscaping. Reaching the stairs, I crouched down, placing my hands over the small, weathered prints I placed there over twenty-five years ago. I grinned at the memory of a six-year old me allowed to get messy as my tiny hands pressed into the cold, slimy concrete. I stood and continued up the steps to the front door.

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Hey y'all, so I need some funds and relatively quick. I don’t take donations and I very much dislike asking for money, so I settled on this as a good compromise.

  • I am now offering $5 colored sketch commissions, which can cover anything from a headshot to a bust. 
  • Only ONE character will be drawn per $5, but they will be sketched out and fully colored (this includes shading and embellishments like glitter or metallic gel are still available per request). 
  • This is OPEN TO ANY OC OR FANART, with the only exception being I do NOT do nsfw/overly gore-y art.
  • For regular commission inquiries, feel free to look here!

If interested, please IM me or contact me at stylecheetah@gmail.com That is all. Thank you!

Return (Pt.3)

Pairing: Loki/ Reader

Summary:  (Loki Imagine: Imagine Thanos targeting Loki’s lover to punish him for his failure to get the Tesseract.) Taken from tumblr. Thor finds you during an intense mission with the Avengers. After disobeying Steve’s orders and saving you, Thor is cornered. Who are you? What were you doing there? How did Thor know you? Knowing he has to answer all of these questions, Thor explains everything.

Words: 1629

Tag: @newtycuty

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7616194/chapters/20639431

Originally posted by multifandomfantasychild

She stared at Thor only for a second until the sting of the IVs hit her. She looked at herself more. She saw an IV hooked up to her left hand. Her right hand looked perfectly fine, and her body was covered in blankets upon blankets. Looking around, she saw the bright light above her shining down on her like a spotlight. Besides the bed, there was only one chair and it was scooted all the way up next to her. She had a visitor. Did Thor stay with her all this time?

She looked through the glass. Thor and the person he was talking to did not notice her yet. (Y/N) tried yelling at the glass, but no luck. She tried waving her arms around still no luck. She thought of a way, but it would be slightly painful. She tugged at the IVs and winced.

‘No, I have had worse pain than this. I can do this. It’s just a tug,’ she thought. She closed her eyes, and tugged harder. The needles came out of her skin and the machine beeped loudly enough for Thor and his conversation partner to notice. Thor saw (Y/N) awake and rushed to her. (Y/N) giggled a little bit and smiled to herself. Thor was always being dramatic.

“(Y/N)! You’re awake! How are you feeling? Are you still cold?” Thor asked all at once. (Y/N) let out her laughter and held out her arms for him. Thor joined her in a hug. Thor was about to crush her when he heard a wince. Thor let go and looked at (Y/N). She was so much warmer now and more color returned to her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) said. “I think I’m still sore.”

“You are,” said Thor’s conversation partner. He was tall, blond, and very handsome. (Y/N) never saw a Midgardian look so Asgardian in beauty. Her mouth opened a little bit at him, but she shook her head. The blond held out his hand. “I’m Steve, Steve Rogers.”

“(Y/N). Where am I?” (Y/N) asked both of them, but she directed the questions towards Thor.


“I know that. I’ve been here for a while,” (Y/N)’s brows knitted together. She played with her fingers as she looked down.

“How long have you been here?” Steve asked her. He crossed his arms and looked more serious. (Y/N) suddenly didn’t feel so welcome in the warm bed she was in.

“I’m not exactly sure,” (Y/N)’s eyes could not meet Steve’s.

“(Y/N), tell us what you remember. Captain is not here to hurt you. No one is,” Thor sat down in the chair beside her. (Y/N) was more comfortable with Thor around, but still hesitant to say what happened to her. She bit her lip trying to find the right words to start.

“You remember me when I was at my lowest, brother,” she told Thor. “After you left, I felt numb. Sif did not want to leave my side. She had thought I was going to…” (Y/N) trailed off. Wanting to get off the depressing subject, Thor pried more.

“What do you remember about Thanos?” Thor asked. (Y/N) cringed at the sound of his name.

“I met him. I came face to face with him many times. He told me what Loki did. What Loki tried to do. How Loki failed him, and how it was my fault.” (Y/N) held back a sob. She did not want to cry now. Thor reached out to her and took her hand.

“None of what happened is your fault. You know this. You had nothing to do with Loki’s actions.”

“But why was I punished? I do not understand!”

“Thanos was using you to punish Loki,” Steve cut in. “We are gathering as much intel as we can about him. He is still very new to us. Anything you can tell us would be extremely helpful right now. Do you think you can tell us more right now?” Steve looked at (Y/N)’s hands. They were shaking.

“Captain, do you mind giving us some time? I think we’re done for today,” Thor answered for (Y/N). Steve nodded.

“By the way, (Y/N), Thor was right. You are very graceful; it reminds me of someone I care about very much,” Steve smiled at her and left. (Y/N) smiled back at Captain Steve, maybe she was wrong about him after all.

“We are in Avengers Headquarters, in New York. You have been here for a few days. You were unconscious for all of it. How are you feeling?” Thor sat on the side of her bed.

“For the first time in a while, I feel safe. I feel warm,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You would not believe what I went through, Thor. It was–I felt so. I can’t possibly explain it.” Tears started to come to her eyes. Thor took her hands.

“You are safe now. I promise you from this day forward I will not lose you again,” Thor kissed the top of her forehead. (Y/N) smiled and the frowned. “What is it, (Y/N)? Tell me.”

“I saw the hair pulled up next to me. Did you stay here with me all this time?” (Y/N) asked.

“No, I did not,” Thor admitted. “For the last few days, I was in constant meetings with Captain and the Man of Iron. Your constant visitor was Loki.” (Y/N)’s heart dropped when she heard his name. Loki? Here? What happened to him? Could he still care about her? More importantly, where was he now? Thor laughed a little bit. (Y/N) snapped back into reality.

“What? What is it?” (Y/N) said feeling a little frustrated.

“I know you, sister,” Thor started. “You may be cleverer than I am, but I know you. You’re in your head thinking of all of the questions in the world, and you’re going to try to make this harder than what it really is.”

“Where is he? Why isn’t he here now?”

“He’s a prisoner. He is being punished for his crimes against Midgard. He was allowed to see you for some time, but he still needs permission to get out of his cell. That’s why he isn’t here now.” Thor explained. (Y/N) felt a tightness in her chest. The love of her life was a criminal. Not just any criminal, but criminal in two realms.

“I want to see him. Take me to him,” (Y/N) said. Thor smiled.

“Now you sound more like yourself. I don’t think I can take you to him now, but I will go and ask—

“No. He needs me. I want to see him now,” (Y/N) demanded. Thor knew his almost sister well. He helped her up, and both started towards Loki’s cell. Thor knew (Y/N) to not tell her no when it came to Loki. They past guards and agents who tried to tell the God of Thunder no, but they were unsuccessful.

Meanwhile, Loki sulked in his cell. Guilty thoughts went through his head. The dream he had had affected him greatly. What if (Y/N) no longer cared for him? What if she woke up and she would not be forgiving? When he had attacked New York, he did not think of (Y/N). In fact, he’s not so sure if he thought at all. He may have broken her heart that day, and seeing her again broken would only hurt him more.

Loki heard people walking around franticly, but he paid no mind. He wanted to shut off the world. Not to ignore the world, but to punish himself. He did not feel the gravity of his crimes, but he felt the gravity of guilt for (Y/N). He had failed her so greatly. He sat against the glass wall and looked up at the bright lighting. He thought maybe if he stared into the brightness of the lights long enough it would blind him. He thought he deserved that much.

Then there was a tap.

Loki kept staring at the lights. Surely, it was just some noise he heard outside of the cell.

Then another tap.

Loki took his eyes away from the bright, white lights of the cell. He looked behind him. He eyes adjusted to the darker room outside the cell. That’s when he saw her. (Y/N) had one hand on the glass, and the other holding a blanket around her like a shawl. Her eyes filled with tears, but she had a sad smile on her face. Loki put both hands on the glass, and his pupils dilated.
“(Y/N)!” Loki shouted. “You’re-you’re awake! You’re alive!” Loki heard a hissing sound from the cell and stood up and stood back. The cell was opening, and he couldn’t wait for it to open all the way. As soon as he could fit through, his arms reached for her and held her there. His hands tangled in her hair and he pressed his nose against her. Taking in every smell he could.
“(Y/N), my dove, my pretty dove, I’m so sorry,” Loki whispered into her ear. “I’m so sorry.” (Y/N) grabbed onto him and refused to let go. She started to kiss his face. Loki chuckled and returned her kisses.

“You’ve returned to me,” Loki said quietly.

After the reunion between the two lovers, Thor had petitioned for Loki’s release upon one condition: Loki and (Y/N) work with the Avengers gathering and providing intel on Thanos. After a good argument from Thor, Steve, and even Natasha, Nick Fury couldn’t deny the idea. Having Loki and (Y/N) providing intelligence on the bigger enemy would prove to be helpful in the future. Loki and (Y/N) were given a place to themselves away from Avengers Tower. They were both to remain on Midgard until further notice, but for now they both needed time to heal.


Hey guys! I’ve been listening to sad cello music all day and reading Credence fics. I’m crying. He deserved so much better. I hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: Credence Barebone x Reader 

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Body image issues

You and Credence were curled up on your couch in the afternoon sun, his head in your lap as you played with his inky black hair. His eyes had drifted closed a few minutes before and you took the opportunity to take in his features.The way the sun streamed in from the window directly onto his face made everything more defined.  High cheekbones, a strong jaw, straight nose, and soft lips made you wonder why he wasn’t a model. You smiled at the thought. Credence was beautiful, especially with the delicate tip of his lips into that sweet, comfortable smile that you didn’t see often enough. You felt yourself laugh lightly. 

“What?” He asked, sitting up and opening his eyes. 

“I was just laughing at myself, Credence, that’s all,” You said, smiling. He tipped his head to one side. 

“Why?” You’d found that he asked a lot of questions once he’d gotten comfortable with you. Running your fingers through his hair again, you closed your eyes and let your smile widen. 

“You should be a model,” You said, opening one eye. He sat up, pulling away from you. 

“I can’t be a model,” He mumbled, curling into himself. 

“Sure you can. I mean, have you looked in a mirror, lately?” You laughed. He watched you like he was sure you were joking.

“That’s why I know I can’t.” You snorted a laugh, but it put you in near physical pain knowing that he didn’t see what you did. Leaning forward, you placed your hand on his cheek. 

“What’re you talking about?” You chirped. He shook his head, hunching his shoulders so he looked smaller. 

“I have a funny face. Ma used to say so.” You flinched. It was awful what that woman did to him. It was an absolute crime that he couldn’t see what you saw in him.

“You’re absolutely handsome, Credence, magnificently so,” You said, putting a sweet look on your face. He refused to meet your eyes as he shook his head. 

He pulled his knees to his chest and hunched up his shoulders, like he was afraid of you actually seeing him. For a moment, you cursed yourself for ruining one of his rare moments of peace. You thought for a moment. Suddenly a thought hit you. You’d just have to show him what you saw. 

Popping up off the couch, you began to walk away. He raised an eyebrow in question, but you only offered a smile in return. You held up one finger and half jogged to your bedroom. Just to the right of the door was an old full length mirror. You plucked it from it’s spot and lugged it out to the couch where Credence was waiting with a puzzled expression. Still, he said nothing as you arranged it so he could see himself. 

Reaching out, you motioned for him to give you his hand. Sometimes he was a little skittish with his hands, but you were patient. He looked at your outstretched hand for a few moments. You knew that he had to think about it. That was okay. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew his eyes up to meet yours with an anxious expression. You tried your best to look encouraging. Eventually, he placed his scarred hand in yours. Offering him a soft look, you pulled him to his feet. He still stood the way he had when you’d first met him when he was nervous; head down, hands tucked behind him, and shoulders hunched. He was nervous. You slipped behind him, nudging him a little closer to the large, oval mirror so his face was close.

“Do you want me to tell you what I see, Credence?” You asked quietly, resting your chin on his shoulder. He nodded, just barely though. 

“I see high cheekbones, an incredible jaw line, a straight nose, and soft lips. I see hair darker than any I’ve ever seen before that reflects light in extraordinary ways. I see some very cute, slightly pointed, ears. I see a pair of haunted, gentle, brown eyes so dark that they’re almost black. I see a pale, beautiful work of art,” You said, running your fingers through his hair again. 

“Art,” He breathed. You frowned at the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes, art.” He tipped his head, looking at the mirror. Thinking. He always had to think about things. 

“Art,” He said again, sounding just as surprised as he had the first time. Now you were registering that he had begun to blush.

“A masterpiece, really. I don’t know what you see, but that’s what I see.” Blinking slowly, he stared at his own reflection. 

“You really see all of that?” He asked, cautiously. 

“I see so much more than that, honey,” You laughed. “Standing right in front of me is an unbelievably strong young man. A kind, gentle soul who didn’t deserve any of what happened to him. A person with scars and stories that they’ll never tell and valuable life. There are so many good things about you, Credence.” 


Just one little word, but it said so much. The way his voice trembled when he spoke and how his breathing had shifted like he wanted to cry made you want to cry to.You wished that you could find better words to express how wonderful you thought he was. He still stared into the mirror. Glossy eyes gave way to tears and you reeled back. You hadn’t meant to upset him. 

“I’m sorry, Credence. I shouldn’t have…” You trailed off. 

Slowly, he turned around and looked at you. You wiped tears from his face with the pad of your thumb, beginning to cry as well. A single finger came up and tentatively brushed a tear away from your eye. He looked confused, but happy. As much as you hated to see Credence cry, this time it didn’t seem so bad. Unlike any other time he cried, he seemed grounded. His obscurial form wasn’t blurring around the edges of his body and his eyes were still the deep coffee color you were so fond of. You smiled at him. He offered a shy one in return. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” He whimpered. 

“Just telling the truth,” You said. He shifted around for a moment, beginning to hold his arms out.

“Can… am I allowed…?” He asked, arms twitching towards you. 

“If you want a hug, Credence, just know that you’re always allowed to hug me. You don’t have to ask,” You chuckled, pulling him into your arms. He clung to you like he’d never been hugged before, though that was probably a sad truth. 

“Really? Ma always said-” You cut him off and clutched him a little tighter. 

“If you want affection, just say so. I’ve got it in spades,” You giggled. He pulled back, eyes shifting around from your face to the floor, flitting back and forth. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. His cheeks flushed red and he dipped his head down so his face came closer to yours. Finally, you understood, or you thought so. 

“Um,” He mumbled. 

“A kiss?” You asked. Again his eyes fluttered away and his cheeks flushed an even deeper red, but he nodded shyly. 

Turning your face up, you pressed your lips to his lightly. It was no more than a soft brush of lips, but it caused him to squeak. You breathed a laugh. Credence connected your lips as second time. Then a third. Then a fourth, staying longer this time. Smiling, you kissed him back. You let him get used to the feeling of your lips on his, glad to let him figure things out. Hesitantly, he put his hands on your waist; you could feel the roughness of them through your shirt. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when he pulled away.

“Ma said that was a sin,” He said, thoughtfully. You raised an eyebrow. 


“Maybe she was wrong,” He finished. You smiled, nodding in agreement. 

“She was wrong about a lot of things,” You said, leaning your forehead against his. He started shifting around again and you looked into his eyes. 

“Will you h-hold me?” He asked, stumbling on the word hold. He’d probably never been held in his life. You smiled, gently pulling him back onto the couch so that he was laid next to you with his head on your chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you kissed his hair. 

“Nothing would make me happier.” He snuggled into you, pressing his nose to your chest. Arms wrapped around your middle as he made himself comfortable. The late afternoon sun bathed both of you in a warm, golden glow and you began to admire him again. This time he was looking back. There were still tear tracks on his face, but he was smiling at you. Just a soft tip of the lips. You sincerely hoped that he’d keep that expression for the rest of his life. Credence Barebone, especially with that smile, was a true masterpiece. 

Pretty Little Head

A photographer always needs prints. To make light into ink. But there was something off. // Word Count: 981

A/N: Not necessarily a Stefano x Reader, but close encounters.

A soft ring of a bell called your attention to the door of the print shop where you were working. You had been brought on because you excelled at handling color prints, both on film and digital, and you got along just fine with black and white images too. What excited you the most was bringing other people’s visions to life (sometimes even bigger than life) and being one of the first people to see the images before they’re introduced to the world.

“Hello, Mr. Valentini,” you smiled at the man who walked in. The last time he had come in, it was to develop his last photograph of his last shoot abroad. You remembered his eye was still all bandaged up when he walked in. Despite that horrific injury, he seemed excited to get his photo developed and printed. His work was always stunning and thought-provoking. To be always in the midst of war and capturing every single side, be it terrifying or tantalizing took true grit. War photography has always been such a burning topic, but it captured something not everyone would want to look at, bringing on more and more conversations. But that was months ago. You didn’t hear anything about him since and you were afraid he had stopped doing photography.

“Are we back to ‘Mr. Valentini,’ sweet Y/N?” he smiled with a low chuckle.

He had changed so much in the last few months. His hair had grown out to cover the left side of his face and he seemed to continue the excited attitude he had months ago. You remember the first time that he walked in, he was definitely carrying the weight of war on his shoulders. But now he seemed more vibrant, but almost maniac in a way. You didn’t know how to feel about the new him just yet.

“Sorry, it’s just been so long, Stefano! How are you?”

He gave you a shiny, new smile. Did you know how pretty you were? The red on your cheeks were just so enticing and oh, your bone structure framed you so nicely.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” he smiled.

His eye scanned you rapidly, fervently.

“I have a few rolls I’d like you to develop and print,” he noted, handing over the film canisters.

You took them and put them in a container so they would stay together.

“You do specialize in color, do you not?” he asked.

“Yes, I do! You shot in color this time? I’m excited to see your color work!”

Stefano felt himself glow at your excitement. You always were enthusiastic about his work. Black and white photography seemed to suit the old him: un-awakened and uninspired. But now he used that to highlight the rich reds he began to love so much.

“Then I think you will love what I’ve been shooting. Color is such a difficult thing to control. I trust you.”

With that he reached over and grabbed your hands that were resting on the counter. He gave a faint squeeze.

Your heart raced, maybe because of the slight infatuation with this charming version of Stefano or because you felt something lurking, making you want to leave.

“To think I didn’t ask you to use your skills until today is preposterous. I truly am looking forward to seeing your work, Y/N.”

He liked seeing you fidget under his touch. Fight or flight was such a gorgeous thing. It made for wonderful photographs and it was an unappreciated spectacle.

You nodded, speechless. He grinned, retracting his hands.

“Anything else, Stefano?”

“Perhaps a drink together would suffice?”

“Only if you tell me what you’ve been doing for the past few months.”

“Are pictures not worth a thousand words?” he joked.

“I’d like to hear your words, Stefano.”

He shot you a smile and he tilted his head a little. What a little charmer. He calmly told you when he would come to pick you up and touched your arm before he left.

You didn’t know whether the feeling was feather soft or prickling like needles.

Infatuation and intimidation were hard to tell apart.

After printing some of Stefano’s work, you called him in to see the prints before the rest of his photos were processed. Your “date” was a few days away, but as he told you later when he phoned in, these were for a gallery hosting his new work.

You were surprised at his new work. You never took Stefano to be someone who would use props and mannequins for his photos. The eerie thing is that they were incredibly realistic. Some you believed were models he paid to photograph, but the headless ones you couldn’t quite place. It scared you to think maybe it was a real person, but you were sure it was just some photo editing and excellent model-making. You could make anything seem so real these days.

He came in sooner than you expected and ran to show him the prints of all sizes.

A smirk never left his face while he fingered through the work.

“Y/N, these are absolutely magnificent. The crimsons…the richness you give them transports me to that moment. It looks so real, no? Breathless…”

You blushed at his compliments. You wanted to tell him the printer gave the color, you just made sure that it would be as vibrant as intended, but that coming from him meant a lot to you.

“I’m glad you like it. I’ll have the prints for you soon.”

Stefano put down the print and his gloved hand danced to yours.

“Perfect, darling.”

“I know our date is soon, but you must tell me how you did your composition. Everything looks so real.”

He smiled down at you, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. All will be revealed.”

And when he caressed your jawline, you felt a lump in your throat.

Bad Reputation

Author: @dylan-trash-tbh

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Words: 3,8k

Warnings: bad parent stuff.

A/N: my sweet Lele asked me two weeks ago if I could do a song inspired fic to Shawn Mendes - Bad Reputation and I said “of cooourse” I started it 3 times and deleted it every time. Plus : I never wanna listen to that song again. ❤️ @golddaggers iloveyou

Also: I’ve got a prompt request from @parislight - I really hope you like it :)


Originally posted by imaginesofeveryfandom

Stiles knew who Y/N was long before he actually got to know her. He saw the Y/H/C haired girl in the halls of Beacon Hills High, mostly walking alone. Her head held down to avoid eye contact with her fellow students. It was like most people new who she was but nobody was actually friends with her. Y/N kept to herself during the school days, the weekends whatsoever were a different story. You would meet her at every party, always happily dancing to the music, drinking and laughing. She was like a whole different person and Stiles always wondered what kind of girl she really was. But he never really had enough courage to approach her. The seventeen year old boy loved nothing more than to solve a mystery. What he didn’t know was, that she would become the biggest mystery he would ever try to solve.

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Time After Time (Part 6a of 10)

Summary: AU. When the reader’s parents divorce, her mother moves her to a new town, right next door to Bucky Barnes. This is their love story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,051

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: I want you to picture your own face in the one part, smiling brightly. You’ll know what I mean.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6a - 6b - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Age 20

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hello this is part 1 :D

 this was inspired by @bijellyfishy‘s post about a gods!au. this au was so goood!!! like  i am in love with the idea that they’re gods and stuff. and the SHANCE!!!

again i apologize for my crappy handwriting that’s too bubbly for the serious-y theme i wanted to portray… so it looks like a kid is narrating it (-_-)