No, seriously, y’all think I’m kidding?
I was going to find a gif for this, but I can’t find one to illustrate my anger, so I’m just gonna let you guys handle this one.
let’s get him.
And let’s not forget the one person who could possibly be angrier than any of us about this:
^^^And this is what I was looking for. Thanks guys.
when your otp is in an intense argument and their faces get closer together but then they stop talking
and they look at the others’ lips
Please stop and read this.
I’m doing a project on gay rights in today’s society.
So if you believe that same sex couples should be allowed to get married, please reblog this.
This would be a lot of help, thank you.
Sometimes, Jim just gets in a mood.
There isn’t always a reason. Sam used to make fun of him for it when they were kids, before Tarsus. He’d say Jim was on his period, because that is the sort of bizarre thing that 13-year-old boys say to their 9-year-old brothers when they’re sad for no reason.
But Jim’s not 9 years old anymore. (He’s not a brother anymore,either).
During his years alone in Riverside, he’d tried just about everything he could think of to shake the hopeless, useless, breathless feeling that would sometimes slip over him. He’d run until his legs gave out, drink himself into oblivion, get the shit kicked out of him in a bar fight.
(That last one almost worked, once, but the relief faded the second they stopped the bleeding and told him he was going to live. Being alive is what got him into this mess in the first place. Being born. Living, when so many others around him had died).
Over the years, people have offered him a lot of different solutions: Drugs, sex, adrenaline. He’s tried everything once.
So the first time Bones finds him curled into himself on his dormitory bed, unshaven and unshowered and unable to even lift his head and acknowledge that he’s alive, he knows what to expect. He’s sure Bones will have some hypospray tucked away for an infectious case of the blues, and it won’t work, but he might as well let him try.
Bones doesn’t try.
Instead, he climbs into the bed beside Jim. His arms anchor them together, legs tangling with Jim’s own beneath the covers like the roots of an ancient tree. He tucks Jim’s head under his chin, against the warm, delicate, Bones-smelling skin of his neck.
Jim breathes him in, and it feels like the first real breath he’s taken in days. Bones breaches the surface of his misery without a word, one hand impossibly large and warm against the back of Jim’s head.
He feels his chest start to loosen and thinks that there might be a cure, after all.
Part 1 of a way-overdue comfort!fic for my lovey, thebestpersonherelovesbucky
and this may also interest shanology and rocksaltedcaramel as well as many other fandom friends only I am delirious from exhaustion and have to pause and post this before I pass out.
The smut is coming next, I promise. Cuddles first.
You knock on the door of the apartment next door, a little embarrassed. You can’t remember the last time you locked yourself out of your apartment and you’ve had a terrible day and just need a little help… and maybe to borrow a hair dryer.
This is your second month living next door to Steve and Bucky, and your moments passing them in the hallway always left you with a blush. The boys were forever being affectionate with each other - holding hands, nuzzling in the elevator (even with you there!) and so on. But the boys were always friendly to you - hell, they even helped out when you were moving in and then ordered a pizza and insisted you join them.
Today though, you were caught unprepared for a nasty storm and it’s been such a long day… you feel like sobbing. Just then, the door pops open.
"Hey sweetie, you okay?" Bucky asks, standing there in soft gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
You’re not sure where to start, so you just start crying. Great, you think. More embarrassment.
Bucky, for his part, is unfailingly kind. He pulls you inside, where he quickly grabs you a towel to dry off a bit and makes you a mug of hot tea.
Steve emerges into the kitchen with a cozy-looking quilt over his shoulders. “Buck, did you wanna come finish the movie? Or are you making - oh!” he stops as he sees you.
Steve comes over, patting you on the back gently as you share the tales of your terrible day - from the shouting in the office that might mean you’re fired to the unexpected downpour that soaked you to the bone - and the keys that are likely in your gym bag, in your locker at the gym.
Steve pulls you into a warm hug.
"It’s pouring out, so I don’t think you ought to go looking for the keys now," he says. "You can borrow something warm and dry, and come have some food with us," he adds sweetly.
Bucky nods in agreement, vanishing then reappearing a moment later with a cozy t-shirt and some smaller sweatpants.
"Natasha left these here when she was staying - helping me get better," Bucky says with a slight blush. "She helped both of us, really."
You take them gratefully and look up at Bucky. “Helped how?”
Bucky blushes deeper. “We needed to get better with touch - I went through so much torture… and Steve… he needed to be able to connect with me. She helped bring us together.”
Bucky took Steve’s hand and squeezed it, before heading over to the stove and starting to fix some pasta.
"Go get a hot shower and get changed, sweetie. You need a little TLC tonight."
You smile at them both, setting your shoes by the door and going into the bathroom. You turn on the faucet and let the steam heat up a little before getting in.
The shower soothes you, heat curling into your bones, and you’re already starting to feel better.
You wash your hair with Steve’s shampoo - minty and strong American Crew, of course - and the scent of it fills your lungs, strengthening you. After a little conditioner and soap, you rinse off, good as new, then wrap yourself in a towel and dry off, getting dressed.
The boys are sitting on the sofa, but when Bucky sees you emerge from the bathroom, he gets up and brings you a bowl of delicious-smelling pasta and chicken in a cream sauce.
You thank him and join in on the sofa, sandwiched cozily between Steve and Bucky. It makes you smile a little when you realize they’re holding hands behind your back.
You’re feeling heaps better with a full stomach and settle in a bit more between them.
Steve takes your bowl to the kitchen, returning with iced tea for all of you. It’s sweet, but not overly so, with just a hint of lemon.
You sip the tea happily, and the boys settle in next to you once more.
Bucky rests his hands on your shoulders. He’s gentle with the metal one, but firm.
"Sweetheart, let us take care of you," he whispers softly, leaning in to sweep aside your hair and brush a kiss onto your neck.
You glance at Steve for any sign of disapproval, but find none. He looks calm and serene, even pleased. He tips his head to one side, catching your gaze.
“This okay with you, sweetie? Do you want us to take care of you?” he asks, no pressure or urgency in his voice.
You nod slowly, eyes calm and relaxed. Bucky threads your hair through his fingers, brushing it off your neck. He kisses your neck gently, right at the nape. You sigh softly, head hanging forward.
Steve takes both your hands and holds them, bringing one to his lips for a gentle kiss. You gasp a little at this, and without warning, Steve leans in and captures your mouth. His lips are warm and sweet from the tea. He licks his way into your mouth, and you grant him entrance, letting yourself relax fully into Bucky’s arms.
Steve leans over both of you, knees on either side of Bucky’s hips. You feel Steve moan a little as Bucky’s hand reaches up to squeeze his ass possessively.
Slipping a hand behind yourself, you get brave and give Bucky’s cock a good rub, through his soft gray sweatpants. It’s already hot and hard, pressing into your back.
Bucky sighs as you touch him. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, nuzzling at your ear. “That feels so good. But right now… we’re meant to be taking care of you.”
on a scale from bucky barnes to fall out boy how successful has your comeback been