I Hate This Place I Want To Go To Build A Bear

i hate this place i want to go to build a bear

gives goodnight kisses: cody, rex, hunter

cannot sleep without getting goodnight kisses: fox, echo

refuses to sleep without goodnight kisses: wrecker

wants goodnight kisses but doesnt know how to ask (shy): wolffe, tech

wants goodnight kisses but doesnt know how to ask (bastard): crosshair

goodnight kisses to making out until 2am pipeline: jesse, fives

Lovers End Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, emotional abuse, threats, minor depiction of violence, toxic reader and unhinged Bucky.

Words: 1128.

Summary: Your marriage is falling apart, and you’re done trying to save it when all your spineless husband does is crying at night when he thinks you can’t hear him. Little do you know how horrifying Bucky can be.

P.S. It’s not me, it’s magnificent @navegandoaciegas and her awesome ideas! Also inspired by TDDUP!

Just in case: this story (hopefully series) doesn’t involve beating or death of major characters!

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“Seriously, Bucky? Fired?” You clenched your fists, glaring at your gloomy husband furiously and thinking of throwing something heavy at him out of frustration. “This is the second time in just one month. Second fucking time! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He said nothing, lowering his gaze to the floor: he knew well you were tired of him being unemployed for over half a year now. Since he left active duty, nothing came off like it was supposed to, and Bucky could understand why you were getting more and more impatient with him.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered under his breath, but you cared little for his constant apologies. 

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Collar, for Diluc or Childe from genshin impact please?

Prompt: C for Collar.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin Impact).

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Financial and Emotional Abuse, Slight Intimidation, Slight Manipulation.

Diluc's always been a giver.

It comes naturally to him, to the boy who flourished under his father's undivided attention, to the man who still likes to play dress-up and challenge all the the monsters and criminals and evil-doers who find their way onto his beloved city's streets. He makes donations to the Favonius Library, ancient scrolls discovered by adventures in Inazuma and the newest studies from the academies of Sumeru, sends the bards who play at his tavern off with double their promised payment and a spare bottle of their preferred drink, and even if he denies it until his dying breath, you know he still has a soft spot for Kaeya, enchanted swords and foreign wines and the polished, silver ornaments he seems to be so fond of, delivered anonymously, under the guise of a bashful admirer or a younger knight with an affinity for hero-worship.

He's used to being a provider, and he has the resources for it, the connections, the mora. He's good at it, and he likes it, even if you doubt you'll ever hear him say as much out loud.

He's a giver, and as his lover, it only makes sense that you receive the brunt of his chosen form of affection.

It probably has something to do with how distant he can seem, how difficult it is for him to be close to you in any other way. He's a busy man, and you've never been his priority, but for every morning you spend in a cold, empty bed, every evening you're left alone in the corner of a ballroom, there's a bouquet of all your favorite flowers, a note with an apology and a promise to do better, next time, to be more attentive. He goes a little too far, more often than not, fills your tiny apartment with trinkets you mentioned months ago and clothes made of a fabric you might've glanced at once, and when you laugh, when you express an interest in sharing his company rather than his fortune, he panics, overcompensates, stumbles over his words as he tells you that you could always move into his estate, where the ceilings are high and the rooms are endless and you have all the space in the world to grown in his fondness for you. It's cute, in a certain, specific way. He wants to take care of you, and this is the only way he can.

That's why you let him, even if it's wasteful, even if you'll never be able to touch most of what he gives you, let alone make good use of it. That's why you agree to stay at his manor, more and more, for longer and longer each time, why you let him spoil you with silk sheets and expensive bath salts and his affection, his real affection, soft kisses when you wake up and arms around your waist, at night, when he finally comes home and holds you against his chest until he sun rises and he's forced to attend to his responsibilities, again.

That's why you let him look at you the way he does, his focus always on the parts of you he already owns, the braided silver around your wrist and the delicate, golden pins in your hair and the rubies strung around your neck, pulled taut to your skin, giving him something to wrap his fingers around as he mutters sweet nothings to you, mumbled whispers about nice it is to see you enjoying yourself, how beautiful you are, how helpless you'd be, without him. Something to mark you out as his, if only because it draws attention to how much of your current life is only possible because he loves you, because he cares about you, because he likes giving and he's good at giving and he's kind enough to take pity on something so far beneath him, something so clearly in need of his charity.

Because he's a giver, and who better to give to than his favorite pet.

this is probably my favorite piece to date, the emotions, the way i wrote it-

i cannot explain to you how proud of myself i am :)

i know we all just fell in love with Captain Howzer, but Ner Ram’ser still has ahold of my heart :) ❤️ Once again, if you wanna be added to the taglist, just let me know in the comments ☺️

Wolffe encouraged for me to write this because of how i said Crosshair would smell like the ocean, and i just need to get my feels out :) i also used some word prompts for this, so please…

enjoy :) 🥰❤️

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Crosshair x GN!Reader Drabble: He was gone all the time. It felt so… empty. Some days you even wondered if he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. Some days he came home, in the doorway to your apartment, pulling you into the living room, arms wrapping around you. Those days were the days you knew he was real.

Genre: Fluff, and a tad bit of angst, but not a ton, I promise.

Warnings: None, besides established relationship, but not mentioned

Word Count: 1,033 words, 5,633 characters

*Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to the Star Wars universe, nor do I own anything relating to the Clone Wars universe. I do not own any characters, places, or things unless they are of my own creation.*

Picture is from Pinterest

Word Prompts: Cuddly, Warm, & Soft

(Proofread)

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I am so scared that some days you don’t even exist. But then you walk through the door, and I know it’s going to be okay. - Moons

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// In The Tide Of Warmth //

//

It was the days when he came home, home in your arms, to your sweet kisses and languid touches. Where you would open the door of your apartment, hope bubbling in your stomach that perhaps it was the one you had been waiting for all this time. Tearful gazes and arms thrown around necks. Cradled bodies against the other, and a whisper that came from his lips:

“I’m home, my love. I’m home.”

Those were Crosshair’s favorite days.

They were yours too.

He had come home late in the night, the Coruscant traffic glowing through the bay windows of your apartment in the night. The sky was blue, deep in the hue, lighting the sky with a color that looked like that blue that was reflected off of a raven’s wings. Pearly stars scattered the night, neon greens and cherry reds from signs all around.

Then there was the warmth.

He had instantly led you right to the living room, clinging you to his chest in his moment of need. For you.

There would always be a void in your relationship with the sniper. He, away in active battlefields and war zones. You, tucked safely away in your apartment, going down to the farmer’s market in your neighborhood every Thursday.

It was an ache in his heart, one that he carried as soon as he left the threshold of you, his home. One that Hunter felt when he met his brother the next morning in the barracks. One that kept his eyes open as his brothers slept peacefully around him at night, unaware that he was missing his own peace.

One that stayed in the muscle behind his ribcage until he came home once again. One that was staved off in the short time you two were able to be in the other’s embrace.

The void couldn’t be filled, but you made the most of the little time you received with him. Always.

It was in your living room, the one that had shadows casted on the floor from the signs outside, where you clung to the other.

Swaying oh so gently. No music, but then again you never needed music. The traffic outside of the glass was music in itself. Shouts and beeps, the rushing of engines and motors clunking.

Warm. Your nose nestled into his neck as it had so many times before, his hands wrapped around your back, fingers softly tracing your waist. Your fingertips gently play with the curls in his hair. Supple lips pressed delicately to your collarbone, then your neck, resting for a short time on your shoulder before repeating the cycle anew.

It was quiet, save for the music of speeders coming through the walls. An occasional mumble, tired, soft hums. There was no battlefield here. No aching hearts here.

Only serendipity.

“I made cookies earlier.”

It was a whisper from you, barely audible.

A quiet chuckle, one that barely reached your ears. A smile on your lips, unknown to him. You begin to pull away to grab the treats you had baked in the early afternoon, the grip on your waist tightening.

“No, no yet.”

You could have cried at that moment. The guard he had so meticulously built around everyone else, including his brothers, falling before your eyes as you snuggled your way back onto his arms.

You breathed in his scent, the smell of blaster fire filling your nose. Even in your home, in his arms, the battlefield still lingered. Always waiting, watching. Never quite leaving you. Or him for that matter.

There was something else.

It was a breezy aroma, one that reminded you all too well of the planet he had come from, one he told you that haunted his dreams.

It wasn’t a bad smell though.

It was… comforting.

“You smell like the ocean.”

The swaying did not stop, nor did his soft touches, but the kisses halted. Breath hitched, lodged in his throat.

“Is- is that bad?”

You pull back from his neck, missing the fragrance instantly. It was a nervous gaze that met yours. Scared, unsure.

It was a quiet laugh and the softening of your heart as you gazed back at him.

“No, it smells like you. Reminds me of you as a person.”

“Oh?”

It was a soft giggle from your mouth, a smile that almost struck him straight through the heart before your explanation finally came.

“The ocean is rough, right? Perhaps a bit mysterious? When people first meet you, you’re mysterious and a little rough.”

You chuckle softly once again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes look fearful, panic quick to swoop in.

Your reassurance comes faster.

“After a while though, the ocean calms down. It becomes serene. You open up, you’re funny and nice-”

“Nice?”

It was a soft smile from you that made his eyebrow raise higher.

“Yes… you’re sweet.”

He was sure the butterflies in his stomach were stuck in his lungs.

You smiled at him sweetly. Sweetly. Just like you said he was. Out of all the words you could have chosen, he didn’t expect the one you did choose.

He loved it.

“Well, I think you're sweet too. Very beautiful, and… sweet.”

A sutter in your heart, some beats skipped. Neither of you were quite sure who leaned in first, or who nuzzled their nose against the other’s.

What you did know was that when your lips met, it was pure bliss.

Lips that were a tad chapped captured yours, soft and gentle. Slow, he took his time, just like always. It was his way of trying to savor every feeling he got, the feelings of which he carried in his bones while he was away.

It was him that pulled away, nestling himself back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder. It was you who cuddled back into his hold, pulled so close that your hearts beat as one.

Swaying oh so gently, with the scent of salty waters filling your nose. The nightly traffic continued, but the stars still shone bright in the night sky.

Shining softly on two lovers, gently swaying in the moonlight.

//

taglist: @loth-wolffe @dreamingofclones @ahsokasleftbicep @hellothere-generalangsty @and-claudia @monako-jinn-stories @teletraan-meets-jarvis @kybacrystal

Being called pet 🤝 Being called doll

The need to be dependant

and looked after