#*circus music playing in the distance*

[idontwannapickausername]

Tom Emmer probably won’t have the votes for speaker but let’s see,

[whaleofatjme1920]

Kinktober Day 8: Step Right Up! Win A Prize! [Laughing Jack X F!Reader]

Warnings: slight degradation, cum stuffing MINORS DNI

AN: look. It’s been a busy day. I started writing this while I was waiting for a movie to start at a movie theatre (I would never be on my phone while the movie is actively playing trust)

AN: I had so much more written. But then. It got. Deleted. And my inspiration went out the window. Whoops.

Kinktober Masterlist

Reblogs are appreciated!

Your eyes widen as you see the tall, lanky clown before you leer over your open legs. He’s got a smirk on his lips as he eyes your pretty cunt, his own cock dripping with precum over how you glisten for him.

“I’m so glad you decided to step up,” he coos as he presses the head of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “The carnival was rather dull before I saw you,” he muses. Laughing Jack hums softly as he slides the tip up and down, coating himself with your slick. It makes him chuckle when he sees you shiver with delight, like you can’t help but give into him.

It was your idea to go to the carnival. Your idea to spend the night looking at ‘all the pretty lights’ and getting some funnel cake because of course you happened to crave some. And it was your idea to listen to the chants and exclamations of one of the carneys in his attempt to rope you in.

His words were sweet and addictive, and he was challenging your ego.

Here you are now, laid out on your back just in order to win a stupid prize. You can hear carnival music off in the distance. You just had to let him challenge you, didn’t you?

Take x amount of creampies and win a prize!

One might be a small plastic dagger, cheap and available at any dollar store. Three would guarantee a small stuffed animal. And five would be one of the big stuffed animals! The big prizes that everyone sees but no one actually expects to get!

“C’mon, open up that pretty cunt for me,” Laughing Jack mutters to himself as he shoved himself inside of you. He revels in how you gasp and claw at anything you can get your hands on, even a little at him in an attempt to ground yourself. It’s cute, almost.

He loves how tight you are. He starts to rut instantly, not caring about how you feel or how you adjust. This is his game to play, and you agreed to his rules! His large, clawed hands move towards your breasts. He thumbs one of your nipples.

“Such a slut, getting hard over something like this,” he giggles to himself as he ruts into you harder. The sound of skin on skin reverberates around his stall. He doesn’t care who’s going to hear him, not like anyone would bother him. It’s his circus, after all.

He ruts harder and harder. Laughing Jack isn’t shy that he’s using your body for his pleasure. He can head you gasp as you take his thick cock even deeper. “Such a tight little hole,” he muses.

You finally sink your nails into his forearms. You listen to him pound into you and try to hold on. Your legs are shaking and trembling. In a vain attempt to find yourself again, you wrap and lock your legs around his waist, screaming when he presses in you harder.

“Oh fuck!” You sob as you feel his balls slap against your ass. He’s going to stuff you as much as he can, that’s for sure. You figured creampie was something kind of… adult… but you didn’t want to assume when you originally stepped up to talk to him.

Turns out that your instincts were right.

You feel your cunt gushing all over you when he slams you into the ground. Your eyes squeezed shut as he fills you with hot, sticky cream. It makes soft little squelching noises from the sheer amount, liquid strings connecting the two of you from where your bodies are intertwined.

“Little cum slut!” He gleefully teases you as he sees your pussy flutter and beg for more. You’re already bursting with his load. He wonders how much more you can take. Laughing Jack manages to forcefully detach your legs from his waist before he folds you like a lawn chair. “Mmm, perfect position for cum sluts, wouldn’t you agree?” He asks rhetorically.

“Wait what—?” You reply in a half daze as you feel your legs rest on his broad, tall shoulders. He curls you more, your body his plaything as he bends you how he pleases. Laughing Jack giggles to himself as he shoves himself inside of you once more.

He hums softly as he pushes the back of your thighs with his hands. “Take it, you slut,” he coos sweetly to you. “Take it. Don’t you want a bigger prize?” He teases.

You feel your eyes rolling up from the pleasure. His cock is so big, girthy in a perfect way, oddly striped in black and white but he’s got wins and his thickness is delicious. So, you look up at him through your haze and nod. “Y-Yeah, I can take more,” you cutely answer him. Your head isn’t all there but that’s okay; Laughing Jack knows your true intentions.

He hilts deep inside of you and groans as his cum fills you once more, almost bursting you with how much of himself he’s stuffing into your overworked pussy. “Atta girl,” he grins, “you wanted the big prize? Keep taking it like the little whore you are and you’ll get it.”

[naffeclipse]

Forget-me-not

Reader x Sun and Moon

Commission Info

Thank you for @robinette-green for the lovely request! I adored writing this and making the boys so sweet to the reader! The reader is a clockwork animatronic who's trapped in an abandoned circus, and Sun and Moon step foot onto the forgotten ground and find someone in need of their help.

———

You watch another golden glow creep into oblivion upon the abandoned carnival and its sad, lonely inhabitants. The sun withdraws soundlessly like a stranger passing by. The Freak Show sign slumps, depressed. The once golden and galloping horses in the carousel have rusted into cruel, dark hues and no longer stamp or throw their wild manes back while children ride their once beautiful, gleaming saddles. The big tent—it hasn’t been big in years. It lies in sore tatters, wet from yesterday’s rainstorm with poles sticking up high and stringing along broken bulbs of once bright, yellow lights illuminating the darkness, promising fun to the humans who stepped onto the fairgrounds. 

You hate the darkness. You hate it more than being bolted down in place and left to host a game of ring toss no one has played in years. Your right arm is still extended in invitation over the green and brown bottles. The carnival owner couldn’t even allow you both of your arms, pinning your stance into place with bolts and leaving only your left hand to occasionally wave and flutter to catch the attendee’s eyes. 

After all the trouble he went to steal you away from your creator, you thought he would at least have taken you with him when the bright, colorful lights and happy, bouncing music came to a halt.

The soft words of your creator ring distantly, like a voice calling out through fog. You are—were his most beautiful creation. He whispered the words to you while he painted your lips red and bid you to take a look in the mirror.

You agreed. You were so, so pretty.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t know what you look like anymore. You don’t want to look upon how rusted your clockwork inner workings have become. Your once pale and milky porcelain skin might be gray and slushy as the dirt along the pathways guests took, and that is not something you wish to know. There’s no doubt your red lips and silky red hair have been forsaken to the elements. You fear you are ruined. 

You are now worthy of abandonment.

In the darkness, you truly are forgotten. A hitch within your clockwork chassis catches and grinds before continuing, but the scraping pain remains.

Your attention is drawn back to the front entrance, a good distance away from you. Half crumbled with support beats cutting over the access in an ‘X’ shape, like a warning to not trespass this decrepit lot, shadows slink over the splintered and rotted wood. Long, lanky umbras move with a silence that is so strange and careful.

You squint your eyes. The urge to tilt your head slightly to peer better at the disturbance is cut short by the bolt in your neck, refusing to let your head tilt save from a slight side to side to give an enthralling smile.

You shouldn’t get too excited. It’s likely mere animals. A pair of raccoons or a stray dog who has lost its owner. Once, you watched a doe deer step softly through the wretched ruins, big wet eyes turning to you for one moment before the blurt of your automated voice lines jumped from your throat and sent the creature bounding away.

Nothing is yours here, not even the moment of daydreaming of you prancing out of this forsaken carnival like a doe deer. Free.

The shadows mingle into the dusky darkness. The blue-gray twilight reveals figures, and your mechanical heart chokes.

Two personages creep along the path winding from the entranceway. The same path leading directly towards the ring toss game; towards you. One dons a thick hood and cape, dark blue like midnight. The other’s head is sharper and unconcealed. A crown of jutting points frame the figure’s disk-like face, and a thick deep brown shawl gathers at his throat and falls down his chest and arms. 

As they pass into a silvery slant of budding starlight, metal glints on the crowned one’s face and the other hooded person’s hands spray out while scanning the darkness for threats, silver digits curling and uncurling.

Two automatons. Like you. But not.

A whirl in your servos thrums a loud, exhausted sound, and you stiffen—as much as you can while bolted in place. 

What could two automatons want with an abandoned circus? You were never familiar with the world outside of your creator’s home before you were smuggled out against your will by the circus owner, but at the circus, you learned much. 

You learned of scavengers and automatons gaining their rights. You always wonder if that’s partly the reason you were left here to rot too—are you too human now to own but robotic enough to be neglected? 

They could spy on you in the darkness and decide to strip you for parts. Your clockwork clanks heavily within you like a clapper within a bell, beating against your brass heart. Can they hear it? You have to stop. Be quiet. 

The two automatons prowl forward. Their optics and audio processors strain not unlike hounds searching for a fox. What do they prey upon? The crowned one gestures towards the carousel, the ride well within distance to your ring toss game, and you must clench your jaw tightly to keep from whimpering. The hooded one dips his head but keeps moving forward. Your gears crank in jarring motions, jolting and jerking while you hope they take the parts they desire from the circus and leave.

The hooded one continues down the path. Your chassis tightens, and your fingers tremble in place while you keep your eyes averted, held above the automaton’s head but keeping him in the unfocused corners of your optics.

Please. Please, don’t. Your bottom lip quivers.

“Step right up and toss a ring to win a prize!” The words blurt from your mouth and startle all the ruins and everyone within.

Two pairs of glowing eyes fall upon you. Straightening and alerted, the shrouded automatons stare into your fluttering eyelids as you attempt to beg them to leave you alone. A spark burns in your throat. Your voice lines refuse to give.

One stops and reaches silver and blue digits up and lowers the hood slowly. A face gazes at you, scarlet eyes glowing in the darkness with a face like a crescent moon. A blue nightcap, slightly frayed and worn, and decorated in yellow stars, covers his circular faceplate. 

The other steps closer with a curious tilt of the sharp points framing the automation’s head, and enters the last of the blue-gray darkness before night completely takes over. A yellow face, grinning with round cheeks, observes you. Pale optics beam. 

“Hello, friend,” he speaks, voice bouncing low but with intrigue. “Why don’t you come on out? It’s alright, don’t be afraid.”

Your optics dart side to side. Helplessness settles over you, pinned in place by rusty, dark shame. 

“Do you need help?” The one with the pale yellow sun rays steps closer, his eyes narrowing in the slightest. “Are you stuck?”

The moon-face automaton slips closer. The glow of his gaze sweeps over the game you’re bolted in front of, and he fixates on your right arm stiffly held out in invitation as your fingers curl and clench. You glance down at him, wondering if your eyes plead in the way your mouth cannot.

Biting your bottom lip does not prevent another voice line from bursting forth, and inwardly, you crumple.

“Try your hand! One ring around the neck of a bottle wins a prize!” 

“Not stuck,” the lunar automaton turns to his accomplice. His cloak shifts like shadows under the arc of the moon. “Trapped.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let us help.” The sunny one steps forward, his hands raised as if to pacify a wild creature. “And, if I may be so bold, your voice box sounds like it’s not your own.”

You wish to nod but only succeed in cranking your head halfway to the right, as if in a gesture towards your hapless situation. 

You wonder if they can see the ugly, rusty bolts pinning your body in place, holding you shackled to the ring toss game. They must, for the lunar face man slips closer, stooping down by your feet behind the barrier as he inspects the heavy metal securing you in place. The solar gentleman energetically leaps over the barrier and stops right beside you, hand on his hips. His shawl drapes darkly around him but his grin is bright like a new dawn.

You don’t dare hope. The niceness will fall away like a curtain to reveal the snarling, roaring beast behind it. They will strip you for parts or worse, mock you, revel in your helplessness, and slip back through the night, leaving you with only the daydream of a rescue.

Facing the sunny one, you hold your metaphorical breath as he pauses. He stares deeply into your optics. You stare back into the foggy gray irises he possesses, like a cool, misty fog gathering in the night only to be touched by the sun’s first rays of light. 

“Your eyes are beautiful—the same color as forget-me-nots.” The sunny automaton smiles.

Your servos slow to a calm hum.

“Come on,” he says and carefully reaches for your neck to begin unscrewing the bolt stuck in your throat, “You won’t be left to rust here anymore, starlight.”

Your insides melt, touched by their generosity.

Below, at your feet, the dark blue and silver automaton begins to unscrew the bolts holding your feet down. Rust scrapes away and a harsh squeak of metal echoes. You grunt, jostled but, strangely, you hold to hope like a feathered, tiny thing in your hands, hoping to watch it fly again. 

“We can fix your voice box,” the lunar one speaks in a slight rasp you find endearing. His gaze remains focused on setting you free. “We have a shop. We repair things sometimes.”

“That’s right,” the solar one chimes in, “We scavenge as well. Don’t worry, we’ve repaired a few automatons or two. You can trust us.”

When he pries the bolt from your neck, you can dip your head in acknowledgment. A strange sensation burns through your wires, heating you from the inside out. Emotion. You wish you could ask for their names.

“You look very delicate.” The one at your feet finally frees one of your porcelain slippers with a slow, cautious tug. “We’ll be gentle.”

He tilts his head upwards and flashes a grin. You find yourself warming in the face. Is he being a tease or does he not know how he sounds? By the mischievous glint in your eyes, you fear he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You try to pry your lips apart to find the right words, but all that leaves you is “Enjoy lots of fun! For a small price, of course!”

The automaton of yellow and gray hues glances briefly at you, tilting his heading in confusion while he begins to loosen the bolt stabbed into your right elbow. Holding his gaze, you speak with your eyes, almost pleading.

What are your names?

A spark of understanding answers in his pale optics, and he gasps.

“Moon, where are our manners? I’m so sorry, starlight! My name is Sun, and this is Moon.”

You dip your head again, bobbing up and down in excitement. You know their names. You haven’t learned anything new about anyone in so long…

When they free you from the ring toss game, you can hardly believe how the muddy path now leads you to the outside of the circus as Sun holds you gently in his grasp, how their strides are sure-footed and smooth, and how they look at you with concern.  

You vow silently to speak their names the moment your voice is free too.

*

You haven’t seen anything outside of the carnival in so long, you’ve almost forgotten the sight of dark, shiny paved streets and the lone lamp posts that light the way. Gray and dreary buildings line the streets. One, however, is cheerfully plastered in wooden stars painted bright yellow, and the door is a soft, sky blue with white fluffy clouds along the very top. 

Sun and Moon take turns carrying you. Their hands are careful, cradling you close against their cloak and shawl while murmuring that it’s alright. You’re safe. They’ll get you fixed up in no time. Moon cradles you in his arms now as Sun unlocks the door, and holds it open so you can be carried over the threshold. 

For an odd reason, it triggers your faceplate to heat up more than the colored rouge on the porcelain should allow.

Through the door, the interior of the workshop is set with tools ranging from smallest to biggest, shelves containing boxes marked, and small containers with different, shiny nuts and bolts. There are even some small containers with shiny, bronze gears. You haven’t seen a spotless floor in so long. There were always leaves and mud staining the path serpentining through the carnival. 

A table, coppery under a work lamp, awaits. 

“I’m setting you here,” Moon murmurs close to your audio processor before he lays you softly down with a gentle click of your frame against the metal. 

“I worry about how long you were left there.” Sun loses the shawl and locates a brown leather apron. Tools line the pockets as he swiftly ties it behind his back. His eyes are creased though he still smiles reassuringly. “By the amount of rust, I would guess years. For your sake, I hope I’m wrong.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. What comes out instead is a showy voice declaring “Whoever can ring three bottles wins the ultimate prize!” 

A whirl in your servos practically screams out your embarrassment. You lower your gaze. The stiffness in your joints is almost as unbearable as the voice lines the circus owner forced upon you. 

“Shush,” Moon says, his cloak falling away as he snags an apron similar to Sun’s off of a hook. “Wait for a moment, pretty thing, then you may have your words back.”

“That’s right,” Sun nods and shifts to stand close beside you. He grows still for a moment, his bright disposition falling behind a somber cloud. “We’re very lucky to have found you.”

You smile—not the forced, showy smile that has been plastered on your face while you lie in the ruins, but a true smile for the ones who rescued you.

Moon moves to the other side of the table. His hands, now gloved in black leather, hesitate. 

“We will open you up now.” The automaton turns flush along the spindle support of his neck. “Is that alright? It’s the only way we can fix your voice box.”

Sun leans forward, his smile still cheery while he modestly averts his eyes, “As well any other damage done from being exposed and negligent for… however long you were out there.” 

You never thought the solar automaton could be shy, and yet. 

You nod your head as it rests on the table. You feel safe, so much more so than when you were bolted in place. The circus owner did not ask you what you wanted then.

Moon and Sun move in tandem. It’s strange and beautiful, how effortlessly they weave their fingers to begin work. Sun unlocks your chassis and Moon gently lifts it open. You throw your gaze to the ceiling. You don’t want to know. You know they will find it horrible and awful, but you don’t want to see it and have it seared into your mind.

“You’re beautiful,” Moon utters.

You blink, as breathless as a machine can become.

“Your clockwork—is very beautiful,” a slight stumble from his raspy voice seals your fate. You say nothing. You press your lips together and wonder if you might overheat right here and now. 

“You are pretty,” Sun continues effortlessly, though there’s a slight trill to his voice that may give away his nervousness or bashfulness, you can’t decide. “Clockwork automatons are rare.”

The circus owner made mention of that.

You close your eyes as Sun and Moon narrate their every movement. Hands held down by your sides, you only occasionally shift or softly buzz as they clean and fix your voice box nestled within the bottom of your throat. They are so gentle. You never knew hands could be so kind, even if they are rummaging through your inner workings. 

Could they possibly let you stay?

The absurd thought enters your processor and you almost immediately shove it into a box and bury it deep into cold, black soil. 

“You’re doing so good.” Sun grins as he looks down into your chassis. “There. That should do it. Moon?”

“I’m done.”

Slowly, carefully, as if finishing a sacred rite, the two close up your chassis and tighten it back into place. You haven’t opened your eyes yet. A part of you wonders if you’ll only look out into the ruins of the circus again, and find this was all one blissful moment of a daydream. 

“Can you say something, starlight?” Sun’s voice washes over you.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready,” Moon answers in a low sound of comfort.

It falls past your lips before you realize you are not ready, but you so terribly want to speak anyway.

“Thank you.” Your eyes flash open, and you gape—the echo. Your soft, demure tones no longer strained into shouting and calling attention. 

It’s you.

Your hand touches your lips, and a sound between a laugh and a sob emerges from your voice box. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” You look between the two of them, overwhelmed. With the overhead lamp now touching their features as they sit back, grinning, you get to admire their handsome features. 

You two are very striking.

“Oh, my,” Sun chuckles, bleeding red in the cheeks, “Thank you!”

“You’re very sweet,” Moon murmurs, touching his nightcap with a slight bashfulness.

And you realize you spoke your thoughts out loud. You called them striking.

“Oh,” you begin to burn.

“It’s alright,” Moon says swiftly, interrupting your apology. “We would like to know what your plans are after this. Now that you’re free.”

“Free,” you whisper back. You clutch at your chest, over your clockwork heart, and marvel. “I…”

You have your voice back. Use it.

“I—if I may be so bold, may I ask to stay with you both? I won’t be a burden. I won’t stay longer than you will allow, and I—”

Sun sighs, dramatic and cheerful, as he finds your hand to hold it. 

“I thought you would never ask, starlight!”

Moon’s hand slips under your anxious fingers. His nod echoes his solar counterpart’s enthusiasm. You turn your head between both of them, your lips parting in awe.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Sun. Moon. Thank you.”

[artficlly]

king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow. 

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king. 

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes. 

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be. 

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch. 

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence. 

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat. 

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments. 

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful. 

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all. 

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze. 

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes. 

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour. 

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest. 

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense. 

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair. 

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent. 

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east. 

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.” 

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch. 

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage. 

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness. 

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs. 

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest. 

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket. 

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised. 

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh. 

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin. 

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth. 

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first. 

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil. 

How fitting. 

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him. 

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles. 

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles. 

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.” 

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you. 

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card. 

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords. 

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat. 

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing. 

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return. 

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage. 

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat. 

You shrunk back. “I don’t, I just read the cards—” 

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you. 

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him. 

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes. 

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt. 

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?” 

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back. 

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body. 

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys. 

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking. 

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body. 

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair. 

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground. 

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled. 

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage. 

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle. 

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.” 

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady. 

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing. 

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him. 

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate. 

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl. 

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on. 

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges. 

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together. 

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?” 

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal. 

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip. 

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night. 

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist. 

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast. 

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants. 

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising. 

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt. 

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh. 

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length. 

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw. 

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction. 

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper. 

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet. 

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him. 

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva. 

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm. 

His breath stutters. “Yes.” 

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip. 

“Louder.” 

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him. 

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips. 

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him. 

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees. 

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist. 

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself. 

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously. 

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone. 

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch. 

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear. 

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you. 

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin. 

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you. 

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes. 

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

[thefrogdalorian]

Maybe I'm a clown, but I still truly think we're going to see him rule Mandalore some day... 🤡

I feel like him trying to seek some peace and quiet on Nevarro isn't going to last for whatever reason. Maybe it'll be because of the threats he encounters when working for the New Republic (like Thrawn returning) or maybe something will happen to (yet again) end Bo-Katan's rule.

Either way, I think he will feel compelled to return to Mandalore to help out. He's too honourable not to if the planet was under threat. Plus, I don't think the quiet life necessarily suits him. He might enjoy it for a while but I feel like Din would be ready to leap back into battle at the drop of a hat!

I think they've been foreshadowing him riding the Mythosaur since the very first chapter with the blurrg. We saw how Grogu can communicate with it in season 3, so I think that's still on the cards. When it does happen and all the Mandalorians will be too stunned to do anything other than pledge allegiance to him.

Plus, Din has been making so many allies around the galaxy...(Boba, Greef, The Duchess/Captain Bombardier, Carson Teva) I feel like they're sewing the seeds ready for his eventual reign 👀

Season 3 was flawed and all, but it's not the end of Din's story, it's one chapter of his life and I think it will all make sense when we see his final ending.... whatever that may be!

I'M GONNA SAY IT

We should've gotten reluctant leader Din Djarin in The Mandalorian season 3

[orshii]

Will I Ever See You Again? CHAPTER 1: Last To Fall

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader

Warning: cursing, violence, blood

Word count: 4,6 k

Summary: You were left alone with your brother, Yunho, and his best friend Hongjoong, after your parents' death. Yunho had someone to grieve with, but you? You had no one as your brother and his best friend pushed you away, singing becoming your only savior. There was one rule that Yunho made inside his friend group: “Don’t touch my sister”. And for this reason, Hongjoong had always kept his distance. But one night, you find yourself in danger. And from then on, Hongjoong does not leave your side. He is suddenly overprotective of you, and your relationship shifts and becomes fraught with tension and unspoken feelings, with secrets lurking beneath the surface and a painful past haunting you. Will you find out the secrets your brother and best friend have been keeping away from you? Will you be able to finally free yourself from your cruel past?

Will you fall in love amidst the chaos around you?

A/N: Finallyy...the adventure starts everyone!! Yayy, I really hope you are going to like this whole rollercoaster, I really tried with this one. Please look forward to this story, as it has a really special place in my heart. Before reading, or while reading, please listen to WTF by Sasha Sloan, as it is included in the story. Okaay, enjoy!! hehet.

Taglist: @bvidzsoo @vixensss @deltamoon666 @scarfac3 <3 (taglist is still open if you are interested)

I stepped onto the stage, darkness tightly hugging around me as I became one with it. I stood by the microphone, waiting for my bandmates to settle down. They nodded once they were ready and the lights suddenly blinded me as everyone could see us now. I felt vulnerable for a second, but when Yeosang, my best friend, started playing the acoustic guitar as he gave me a reassuring look, I finally got the courage to start singing.

♪ Sometimes I got a hard time seeing the point to existing ♪

My vocals resounded around the enclosed space as Yeosang accompanied me with his guitar, representative of our real-life connection. He has always followed after me, guiding me, holding my hand if I needed a little extra support. 

♪ Sometimes I got a hard time

Seeing the good in the chaos ♪

And then Jongho joined in with the drums that sounded like thunder, followed by San, who was our bass guitarist. I looked over to him as I sang, our gazes connecting as he smiled at me, telling me everything was alright with his soft eyes. These boys gave me the strength I needed to step out in front of the world and sing about my feelings.

♪ Am I the only one losing my mind? 

What the fuck am I doing here? ♪

It was weird singing about my feelings right in front of so many strangers, who came to the pub either to get laid or just have some fun. The thing is, that I feel more comfortable singing in front of people who I don't know, because I know they won't judge me. They are only here to enjoy themselves, listen to my singing, which is more like background music to them after a certain amount of alcohol has made it inside their systems, however, sometimes they would sympathize with the lyrics, I could easily see it in their eyes.

♪ Stuck in a one-man circus

Trying to find some purpose

But it’s unclear  ♪

Singing, was the only thing that kept me going after all the bad things that have happened in my life. I could escape my feelings like this, letting them out into the world. This was the only time when I allowed people to see the real me, my real feelings, because the second the music was over and people cheered, my mask was back on and my emotionless self was back again, showing no interest in anything at all. I was back to the state of not feeling, of being a robot who had to just simply survive. Days mushed into one, monotone and repetitive, there was no fun in being alive anymore. But still, something kept me going, something kept me alive, and I wasn't allowed to leave, yet. 

I had nobody except my brother, Yunho, whom I love the most, and my only purpose in life is to make his easier, so he doesn't have to suffer like me. We went through tough times together, and we had to stick to each other in order to survive. I have always tried my best, and I still do everything I can to support him. 

Speaking of him, I have to be at his boxing match in ten minutes. I quickly hurried backstage, where my bandmates were and hugged them tightly. I was happy to see them, and grateful that they were doing this with me. We have created our band just for fun, no serious intentions were put into it, however, we got an opportunity to perform some nights at a pub called, MIST. We asked the owner a few times to let us play, and in the end he allowed it. I guess it was an escape for all of us. An escape from a cruel world in which we couldn’t truly be ourselves. 

I ran towards my car with Yeosang trying to keep up so that we wouldn't be late to the match. 

"Are you okay?" Yeosang asked me as I drove off fast once we were seated inside the car. I really didn't want to be late.

"Yeah, of course." I briefly glanced at him. He saw how tired I was, so he was worried. I haven't slept well at least in the past three years, so my face kinda always looked like. Some people may think I was a living zombie, so I get it.

"You sang beautifully tonight." He smiled at me proudly.

I felt the urge to smile back at him, "Thank you, for being there for me too." I didn’t look at him, but I knew he was still smiling.

"I had no choice, I was the one playing the guitar." Yeosang teased with a chuckle.

"Mhm, so I am forcing you to play now?" I gave him a quick side glance.

"No, no." He put his hand on mine as it was on the gearstick, "I'm glad I can play alongside you, it's an honor, Milady." He grabbed my hand and gently pecked my knuckles. 

I chuckled as after running a few traffic lights and avoiding traffic as best as I could, we finally arrived to the Boxing Club. A few people were still outside, smoking a cigarette or waiting for someone, so this meant that the match hadn't started yet. We went inside the building and there were already a lot of people sitting in the grandstands. The air was a bit cold in the big hall. Some people stood around the boxing ring while behind them there were seats available, our reserved ones being among them. We went over to find them as I could feel excitement overcoming my whole body. The atmosphere was full with anticipation as everyone was here to see some fist fighting between bulky and angry men. I had no idea what the rules of these boxing matches were, but when my brother was in there, I felt like if anyone tried to harm him, I was going to get inside that ring and punch the motherfucker until he’s passed out. But to my luck, Yunho was one of the best boxers here. He was tall and well-built, and he didn't have enemies in this little town that would come to challenge him. Everyone feared him.

And he rarely lost too. One of the few occasions when he did lose, was against his best friend, Kim Hongjoong. He was shorter than Yunho, but he was strong still, and since he was smaller, he had the advantage of being quicker as well, so, he outplayed Yunho. Even though Hongjoong lost one of his teeth that one time, he was still smiling proudly over his win. I had a feeling that Yunho maybe let him win.

Yunho and Hongjoong have been best friends since forever. Hongjoong was kind of part of our family at this point as he had lost his own family in a car accident, and my father was there for him, together with Yunho, trying to breathe life into Hongjoong again. After a while, my dad started taking care of Hongjoong as if he were his own son, and one day I woke up to him suddenly living with us. Yunho and Hongjoong were like brothers and I was so envious of their relationship, because Yunho never told me anything, he never told me what he was feeling, he pushed me away, only letting Hongjoong in. I hated it, I hated that I was left alone, alone with my thoughts, with my feelings, after our father died. It was tough for everyone; the three of us were left without a parental figure for good now. Everything just seemed so suspicious to me, I didn’t know anything about how my father died, about what happened to him. Yunho and I were alone now, but he had another sibling to grieve with and I had to stay strong, alone. It was the three of us, yet they pushed me away like I was some stray cat, unworthy of their time and attention anymore.

I looked over at Yeosang, and I smiled as he sat next to me, looking around with big puppy eyes, taking in the atmosphere. Suddenly, I felt the urge to hug him. He was by my side from the second we met last year, when we bumped into each other as both of us were trying to find our next class, realizing in the process that we both were music majors. From then on, we did everything together. He kind of brought me back to life, he was a real sunshine in my life as his blonde hair lightened his beautiful face with a glow always to it, his birthmark under his left eye making him look even more ethereal. I have always admired him, and felt lucky that I had bumped into him. So, I hugged him, hiding my face in his neck, his scent enveloping me, offering me peace. He smelled like orchids, that's why my favorite flowers were orchids. 

He chuckled, "Okay, you’re acting strange, Y/N. Are you sick?" He pressed his palm against my forehead, checking if I had a fever. 

I smiled, "No, I’m not. I just wanted to hug my best friend, is that such a bad thing now?" I moved closer to him, not wanting to let go just yet.

"You never hug me, sorry, but it is strange." He looked down at me, smiling.

"I know…that's why I'm doing it now, because I'm glad you’re here, with me." It was rare that I expressed how I felt, I wasn’t the type to vocalize my thoughts so easily. 

"Yeah, me too." He hugged me tight and warmly. I felt safe in his arms, never wanting to let go of him.

After we killed the time by goofing around, finally the match started and we were waiting for my brother to appear in the ring, so that we could cheer for him. Kim Hongjoong was the first to compete against a big guy, so buffed up that I was kind of worried he would break Hongjoong into pieces. Both participants prepared for the fight, and when it started, Hongjoong looked like a little bunny next to the big man. However, Hongjoong never failed to surprise me with his strength as he attacked his big opponent with two perfectly timed strikes. The guy had no choice at all, Hongjoong didn’t even give him time to try and attack him. The man just blinked, and then he was on the floor. The crowd cheered for Hongjoong as he fist bumped the air as he celebrated his quick win with the crowd. 

After Hongjoong, more men fought inside the ring and it was becoming boring. They were playing the cat and mouse game, but finally one of them punched the other one and he was knocked out so hard that the ambulance had to be called. Nothing too unusual. 

Finally, Yunho appeared inside the ring with a confident smile, his opponent being Song Mingi, his other best friend. They had a very interesting dynamic, always glued together, they acted like I imagine soulmates would. I have always adored their friendship; it was unbreakable and full of respect. I really wouldn’t be surprised if one day they announced they were in love, really, I wasn’t blind, I could see the tension between them. I could see the way Yunho looked at Mingi, his eyes having a particular glint in them as if Mingi was his whole world, Yunho always only saw him. Yunho not only had Hongjoong by his side, but Song Mingi as well.

It was shitty when you had to compete against your best friend, but, may the better man win. They were standing in front of each other, both tall, but their bodies shaped differently. Mingi was always quick to dodge the strikes, but Yunho was merciless, and he never stopped. The crowd went silent as the thick tension between them made everyone shut up and follow their match on the edge of their seats. I knew Yunho well, and I was sure he did not care about the fact that he was going to kick his best friend’s ass in no time, because he only wanted to win. He was addicted to the rush he felt when winning. May you be lucky enough to never encounter Yunho after a match he lost, his rage scary and dangerous. I saw how Yunho and Mingi murmured to each other, something only they could. Mingi seemed a little off today, like he wanted to be anywhere, but here. Yunho, on the other hand, continued smiling confidently and quite smugly, not even noticing the expression on Mingi’s face, which seemed to be screaming that he didn’t want to fight against his best friend. 

Yunho was the first to attempt strike against Mingi, and he hit him straight in his ribs. After a few more tricks and moves, all we could see was Mingi trying to hit Yunho, but my brother dodged all of his poor attempts. Mingi seemed to have loosened up a bit as a smile appeared on his face. Suddenly, they smiled at each other, it seemed like a friendly match between the two, until it wasn’t anymore, until Yunho suddenly managed to strike some counter kicks and hits at Mingi and he was on the floor, his mouth bleeding. Mingi looked mad, disappointment showing on his face. But he suddenly got up and hit Yunho straight in the face. Yunho was taken aback, so he couldn’t fight back for a moment, and Mingi managed to hit him once or twice. But Yunho was the type to never give up, even if he had only one unbroken bone. The crowd around us suddenly roared with such loudness I wanted to cover my ears, especially when they cheered because my brother got hit, I didn’t like that. But Yunho suddenly got the strength to hit back, and that was Mingi’s last chance. He was on the floor after getting showed against the iron bars aggressively and roughly, now barely able to move from the pain. I felt sorry for Mingi. Yunho was so blinded by the rush of adrenaline he got, that he didn’t even realize that his best friend was on the ground, bleeding, because of him. This side of Yunho had always scared me, I didn’t recognize him when he was like this. And I was sure Mingi was fighting his inner demons as well, trying to understand Yunho somehow. In the end, the referee raised Yunho’s arm into the air, announcing he had won against his best friend, who had stormed off angrily towards the changing room. 

A few more matches passed, and then in the next one Hongjoong lost against a guy who seemed to know every calculated move of his. The guy easily dodged Hongjoong’s attempts, and quickly gave a few strikes back, straight into Hongjoong’s face and ribs. Hongjoong was breathing quickly, and my heart started to race. I was a bit worried for him as the guy tried to hit him again, but he dodged it, and punched the guy’s solar plexus. The guy fell to the ground, but it seemed he was a tough guy, and he got angry as I watched Hongjoong tell him something. That was when the guy moved forward quickly and stroke Hongjoong in the ribs with force, immediately making Hongjoong pass out. The crowd stood up at once, myself included, as Yeosang followed with a gasp, all of us shocked as we couldn’t believe the fucker knocked Hongjoong out.. The referee announced the guy as the winner, and finally, Hongjoong slowly opened his eyes, barely moving as someone helped him out of the ring. So, Hongjoong was out of the competition. After that, Yunho had a few more fights, Mingi as well, but in the end, Yunho was announced as the number one winner of the night. 

When the matches were finally over and the crowd started to slowly disperse, I waited for Yunho so I could congratulate him. Yeosang had already left as he needed to go home for some unknown reason to me. I was near the ring, but nobody was in the room as I read briefly over the history of boxing displayed on the walls. There were a pair of old boxing gloves on a shelf and I took it into my hands, wanting a closer look.

"Wanna learn?" A sudden voice from behind made me jump a little.

I turned around and saw Hongjoong coming my way, freshly showered, wearing a black tank top that tightened around his upper body perfectly, paired with black sweatpants. He had some fresh bleeding cuts on his eyebrows and lips, his two-colored, black and blonde hair was still wet, falling into his eyes. The colors of his hair kind of represented his personality. I knew he had a bright side that he only allowed Yunho to see, and whom he felt close with. And he had a dark side, which I have known from the beginning as he was always unnecessarily protective and mean with everyone. He had a really bad reputation, and he was a bad influence on Yunho. That’s why I hated him as he made Yunho become part of some dangerous gang, the two doing some illegal shit together. These things never ended well…

"Not really." I shrugged, and placed the old gloves back in their spot. 

"Come, I'll teach you some tricks. It may come in handy, and who knows, you may have to knock out some bastards." He said, motioning with his hands to follow him as he jumped up into the ring.

"When is Yunho coming?" I asked, looking up at him.

"In a few minutes. He is currently yelling at Mingi, so until they finally figure their shit out, come." He reached his hand out towards me, so that he could pull me up beside himself.

I sighed, and with a frown grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull me up. I suddenly felt worried about Yunho, I didn’t want him to fuck up whatever had been lately happening between him and Mingi. On the other hand, I didn't understand why Hongjoong was suddenly acting like this. We were never really on good terms, but we also weren't on bad terms. It was always as if the other wasn’t there, like we grazed past the other. Most of times, it was Hongjoong doing this, so, after a while, I started doing the same. And yes, I started hating him as well, because I felt jealous of him stealing my brother away from me.

I put the gloves on Hongjoong handed me. It was a weird feeling, but if I’m being honest, I would gladly punch him in the face with these gloves on or off. Preferably off, would feel more real.

"Can I punch you?" I blurted out without thinking much. 

"No? Why would you?” He looked at me with a frown, “Wasn't it enough when that other guy just knocked me out like I was nothing but a feather?"

"No, it wasn't. I want to be the one to knock you out." I tried to scare him as I hit the air in front of his face.

"Okay, okay, chill out, sugar." He grabbed my wrists, "You'll have another chance to take me out, but it’s not now." He said with a smirk, and I scoffed at the realization of how he meant it. Hell, no. I wanted to punch that smirk off of his face.

He started explaining how to hit someone in the solar plexus so that you knock them out immediately. I could practice as he held his palms up. I held my right hand in front of my face, because like he said, one hand must be there to protect your face. With my other hand, I punched his palm. Left-right, then right-right, and so on. After a few strikes he said that I could practice some more on his abs as he pulled his tank top up. I gulped seeing his toned abs, bruised with black and blue marks on his ribs.

“God, you are so bruised. I’m not merciless enough to hit you in this state, Hong.” I said, my eyes still on the cruel bruises. 

“Don’t worry, sugar. You only need to hit my lower stomach now. Try and find my solar plexus, but you can’t hit me strong enough to knock me out.” He smiled confidently and took his lifted-up top between his teeth, his hands held up behind his head, waiting for me to strike. 

Oh, so I couldn’t hit him strong enough? At first, I softly punched his stomach as he was watching me with eyes that made me feel like I was his prey and he’d pounce on me any minute now.

“C’mon, sugar. You can do better.” He said, taking the top out of his mouth just so he could talk to me.

“Fuck you.” I snapped, getting angrier. Suddenly, I struck him with all the strength I could muster up, aiming at his solar plexus only. It felt good. I started cackling loudly when I successfully hit him hard enough that he hunched over, trying to catch his stolen breath.

"Okay, okay, I think you've got this now." He raised his hands in the air in surrender, "But next time, you have to get it right away. It hurts, but it has to be the perfect timing if you want to knock the other one out." 

He stepped closer, reaching his hands out, one settling on my lower back and the other on my lower stomach, "You have to hit right here, without missing." He said it in a low voice, whispering it into my ear, his warm breathing sent shivers down my body as it tickled my skin.

“Your strikes are good, but if I wasn’t an unmoving target, I could’ve knocked you out in seconds, your left-hand needs to be here.” He raised my left hand slowly to hold it in front my face, “You need to protect that pretty face of yours.” His face was emotionless, I couldn’t read his features.

“You couldn't protect your dumb face, from that guy who knocked you out.” I said, getting angrier.

He chuckled, “Okay, sugar, fair enough.” He stepped even closer, watching me with an unnerving hunger in his eyes.

“One last thing.” Slowly, he let his hands travel down to my inner thighs, close to my knees, and made me stand in a wider stance, “You need to stand balanced so that you can put all your power into your fists.”  

Fuck this, I didn’t sign up for this. He really just touched me without asking for permission first, acting like he could do anything to me without it there being repercussions to his actions.

“Can you like, not touch me every time you try to explain something?” I snapped with a glare as I got more furious because of his actions.

Hongjoong looked at me with a surprised look on his face. I guess he didn’t even realize he made me feel uncomfortable. I was seconds away from recoiling and hitting him hard, showing him just how easily I could knock him out if I really wanted to, but suddenly Yunho was shouting at us.

"Hands off my sister, Joong!" Yunho approached the ring just as Hongjoong quickly jumped back, putting a great distance between our bodies.

"I just wanted to teach her some techniques she can use in the future." He raised his hands again in the air, genuineness showing on his face as he slowly walked near Yunho. Now he was acting like he was the hero and I was some damsel in distress needing his help, how funny.

"Let's hope she won’t have to use them, then." Yunho looked at Hongjoong with deadly eyes. This always happened when I was the subject of their conversation, they acted like I wasn’t even there, they talked about me like I was an object. 

There was a stupid rule that Yunho had come up with, “My sister is off limits, if you try to touch her, I'll just simply kill you.” And this rule did work because no one really dared to even as much as look at me. I hated it because I never had the chance to have fun. Yunho was always there in the shadows, letting others know that, “If you touch her—well you know what happens.” 

I have always felt like I was a princess held in a big tower, wanting to desperately escape...

"Let's drink something at MIST." Yunho said, sounding a bit angry and tired. He reached his hands out towards me, helping me off the platform.

"I thought you were coming home, that's why I waited for you." I jumped off the ring, accepting my brother’s help. It was alarming how cold I felt without Hongjoong by my side.

"I want to celebrate, come drink with us." Yunho looked at me through his dark eyelashes, his black hair still wet from the shower. 

"Nah, I'm tired, I'll just go home." I said, rubbing my face as I fought against a yawn.

"Do you need a lift? Hong can take you home, I came by bike." He pointed at Hongjoong, who finally jumped off from the ring, ready to take me home.

"I came by my car, so I don't need a lift.” I said, looking at Hongjoong with a sharp glare, “Alright then, see you at home, don't get shitfaced." I turned around and walked towards the exit.

"Drive safely, and send me a message when you have arrived!" Yunho shouted after me.

I just lifted my thumb up in as a silent way of telling him okay, and left the building. The weather was a bit chilly this evening as I was headed towards my car, trying to find my keys in my backpack full of notebooks and torn out pages. As I was walking towards my car under the moonlight, my mind was whirling around with thoughts accompanied by an unfamiliar melody, that I have noticed I started making up lately very randomly. The words that came to me had the potential to be even some lyrics, but it wasn’t anything I have heard before. It was my own song.

≫ The feeling of being drowned in your thoughts,

Trying to find someone who’ll jump to save you. ≪

I have never wrote music before, I thought I wasn’t talented enough for that, but this melody that lately had been playing in my head made me want to write these random lyrics down, so that maybe I could create something special too one day..

I finally found the keys to my car, and I sat inside my black Honda Civic, igniting the engine to life. I suddenly felt hungry, so I decided to stop at a restaurant, called Granny's, on my way home to order some takeout. It was a fifteen-minute drive from where the boxing matches were held, and after I arrived, I went inside the restaurant and ordered some chicken wings with french fries. I patiently waited around a bit for my order to be finished, then I paid and said my goodbyes.

I was currently headed to my car, grabbing the keys from my pocket, food in my other hand, when suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. I had no time to think as I suddenly found myself on the dirty ground. I hadn't even reached my car, it was blocked by two tall figures dressed in all black, and as I looked behind myself, I saw two other men staring at me like they were going to kill me right then and there.

A/N: Ty for reading, just one thing, if that Yungi fight scene caught your eyes (wink), my best friend @bvidzsoo, wrote a behind story for them on AO3, I recommend it is very good, I died.

「Series masterlist」 <Next part>

[prettyoddfever]

Hey, sorry if you've already done a post on this but do we know why Ryan ross stopped wearing stage makeup /makeup in general? I haven't seen any pics of him during pretty odd with any makeup on xx

Ryan only wore stage makeup from June – December 2006. It was just a short phase and then he was totally over it.

The Pretty. Odd. era started in 2008. Ryan and Jon talked a lot that year about how they wanted to make music that was more “honest” and authentic. At that point they viewed all of the Fever-era performers, costumes, makeup, and elaborate sets as “distractions” that weren’t necessary if the music was good enough to speak for itself. There were times that year when Ryan would almost look down on the Fever-era’s dramatic stage shows in a condescending way, as though those things were totally beneath him now. He certainly wanted to distance himself from all of that. He also made comments like “I think we’d be silly if we were wearing the circus outfits again. I don’t even know how we got on that kick.” He also told Cosmogirl in spring 2008 that “I think we’re playing a lot better than we used to... I guess you could say we’re more about sounding good than looking good.” Even his comments that weren’t dismissive of the Fever era still made it sound like the previous version of the band was inferior.

I loved that Ryan had found a direction he was happier with! But he didn’t seem to care that a lot of us were kind of hurt over how he was treating the Fever era. He had moved on. Ryan was more focused on establishing & defending the new version of the band in 2008 (and making it clear that fans didn’t own P!ATD; the band members controlled it and could take it in whatever direction they wanted). A lot of us were definitely interested in the new era, but we were loyal to the old familiar one. I wanted to be able to like both, but many of Ryan’s comments sometimes made me feel silly for ever thinking the Fever era was cool. 

Ryan changed so much every year. He also seemed to like to shake things up and make changes to the band so he could feel a stronger sense of ownership & control in something that was more authentic to who he was at each point. Like we had seen many other times, Ryan wasn’t interested in doing something for approval and he didn’t care what other people thought (which could be a strength). He was just going to move ahead with what he liked. Ryan told NME in 2008 that “Fever was a moment in time and it’s not who we are anymore.” Basically, his interests & focus had changed by 2007 and he wasn’t interested in looking back. Here’s something Ryan told Alt Press in 2010 when they asked him if he regretted any decisions from his years in P!ATD:

“At the time, I wouldn’t have changed anything, whether it be the weird makeup or whatever. Now would I do that? No. But at the time, that’s what I felt like I should do, so I did.”

I’ve seen some people these days make comments about how they wish the modern P!ATD had the Fever-era makeup/aesthetic and that its absence is somehow connected to Ryan’s absence? I have no idea how that conclusion works. Any hint of theatricality that the band had after the split was because Ryan was no longer there. Take a Vacation by TYV is basically what Ryan & Jon had in mind in 2008 for PATD’s third album... and that’s a far cry from AFYCSO. 

Basically, people change as they grow up nbd.

[wilted3sunflowers]

Meet gigi!

She is a circus performer that sometimes appears on the show in very rare occasions Usually her puppet is a 3 arm use puppet, with only her long neck and head showing along with two pairs of arms behind a curtain. However thanks to a few sparse storybooks there were recreations of her full appearance to be shown.

She's also semi used to help teach shapes to the younger audience of the show and in books.

She's a bit of a silly giraffe who likes showing her purple tongue in a bit of a childish manner but loves listening to rock music. She laments there's no electric guitar version of the circus theme Gigi and Barnaby would be long distance pen pals, gigi always does bring Barnaby back new balls to play fetch, juggle or some so big he can roll around on them like how Gigi performs "A dog always needs a new ball!" Gigi would say, each ball is different to represent the different places She's been while traveling

[wrengrif]

It's not as much a need...

As it is the deepest desire of my soul to have a power ballad playing over the scene where Crowley and Aziraphale are re-united again. Like not bitchy-petty 'They're not talking' but BIG reunion scene. The one where they remember they are the loves of each other's lives and someone almost DIED-died and someone else got taken and Here We Are, Episode 5 and things have gone to ... Hell? Heaven? Ohio? One of these.

Not just any power ballad though. I'm talking Celine Dion levels of Power Ballad. That moment - that powerful moment when they look at each other from across .... something, some kind of distance - battle - empty British road - Alpha Centuri. Whatever.

The music begins as their eyes lock. Aziraphale starts to tear up, because why wouldn't he, and he starts stumbling towards Crowley. Pushing things - people - angels - demons - zombies - out of his way.

Then we cut to Crowley who pulls off his glasses d r a m a t i cally and starts to walk towards Aziraphale, just mouthing 'Angel' softly and then louder and louder until he's SCREAMING it as the music POUNDS out.

Crowley starts to run and shove --- I dunno, whatever is stopping him. More zombies, probably. Aziraphale lets out a tearful 'CROWLEY!' and they crash into one another and it's all LIMBS and CYMBALS and someone's SINGING 'It's all coming back to me now!' (Celine, naturally) and they just HUG It OUT while the ballad just shakes us all to the CORE. They can kiss. Like. It's cool. It's not like I want them making out on my screen while the ballad croons to it's finish - who am I kidding THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I DESIRE.

Cue six months later and we're all still watching that scene over and over again, wailing our tears of joy as we sing along brokenly.

And it's not romantic. It's goddamned therapeutic.

... no one tell neil. he must not change this to benny hill circus clown music. he'd do it.

[moonstonexgallery]

Acai Berry Tea Cookie - They are the host, and ringleader of the Cake Berry Circus, a poetically cheerful attitude, and a very soft side for Cake Hounds, they're romantical in their own, sweet way, mostly know for bringing smiles in Berryberg Street, and The Hollyberry Kingdom in their circus, with such a romantic remarks for a very sweet cookie, something about her caught their attention, they tend to have some chaos in their soul whiles hosting the circus for their audience, during starless, restful nights, you'll hear their laughter in the distance, and the fairgrounds music begins to play, sometimes at midnight, if ticked off, thats when a more monstrous side is seeking to attack...

RARITY: EPIC CLASS: Ambush POSITION: Front SKILL: A Cake Berry Performance!!🍰🍇🎪 Relationship Chart

Plague Doctor Cookie [TRUST] - "One of my best performers yet!!~"

Blue Velvet Cookie [FRIENDLY] - "Oooh!~ Such talent!!"

Ruby Choco Cookie [FRIENDLY] - "I remember you from last year!"

Battenberg Cookie [ADMIRATION] - "My dearest, beloved buttercup~"

Shadow Milk Cookie [FRIENDLY] - "You inspire me so much!"

Cinnamon Cookie [TENSION] - "Let's see if that magic is REAL!"

Coffee Jelly Cookie [FRIENDLY] - "You, and your crew is invited to come see my show anytime!"

So this was an old OC i forgot to post about here btw

Anyways enjoy them :3

[y-junghyeok]

Synopsis: Something has changed about Satoru, you don't know whether it's good or bad.

Timeline: Second year, at the end of Hidden Inventory.

Characters: Gojo Satoru.

Relationship: Friends with a romantic undertone.

Your mission concludes after Satoru and Suguru's. Fighting a Semi-Grade 1 takes more out of you than you would've wanted, but at this point, if you can't handle it then the idea of running a mission alone would be out of your reach. Then again, it might not be too bad.

You haven't gotten a chance to go on a mission with any of your friends for a while. It'd be nice for a change of pace.

At least, that's what you thought before you return to school. Something has changed since you were gone and you can't even put a name to it since nobody enlightens you about what went on. Suguru was tight-lipped when you asked him, the only information you pried from him was the failure of their mission.

Beyond that, you can't surmise what had shaken both him and Satoru. Asking Shoko is an even more futile task. She wasn't there and from what you've heard, they were no more open with her than they were with you.

It is only when you corner Satoru when he sat down after practice that you have the hope to learn what happened. The two of you are alone on the field, Suguru will arrive later and Shoko would be stuck with her healing duty until the hour after. There'd be no better chance for you to talk with Satoru.

But with his glasses down and his energy fluctuating at a weird pace, you don't know if it's a good idea to have this conversation at all.

You try anyway.

"Satoru, what happened?"

"Hm?"

"Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about."

Satoru answers you with an exhausted smile. The absence of his vigour sits wrong with you, but you can't pinpoint what is exactly wrong with it. He looks at you, but you don't feel perceived. It is the distance behind you that he looks at, a vision far beyond your reach.

You've always wondered what goes on in that head of his. At times, you were convinced that there is nothing but circus music and clown honk going on in there. Then there are times when his eyes are too empty for you to even interpret anything coming out of his mouth without worries.

With that continued silence, he closes his eyes and opens his arms to you. For a moment, you're at a loss for what he wants, but when Satoru shakes his hands up and down, you can only sigh. The answer is obvious, but the fact this request comes from him out of anyone is strange to you.

You step into his space and Satoru wastes no time to pull you closer to him. His face is buried into your stomach while his arms cling to you tight.

"You smell nice."

"You stink of sweat."

"And now you smell like me."

You smack his shoulder to push him away, but Satoru only holds you tighter. Suddenly, you become acutely aware of the difference between this and the normal him. With another sigh, you relax in his arms. Satoru hugs you for long enough that you begin to feel the weight on your feet from standing.

You let him stay there until he's ready to let go and once he does, the smile he gives you no longer carries the earlier fatigue. His hands remain on your waist, but you say nothing about that.

"...Thanks," he says, "I need to feel human again."

Honestly, what the hell happened...

The thought rings loud but by no means do you want to push before he's ready for that conversation. In the end, all you can do is ruffle his hair and hope that would bring the energy back to his face. "Fine, keep your secret, but remember that I'm here if you need anything."

There is a smirk on his face now, one too familiar yet unfamiliar at once. "Even impromptu stinky hugs?"

You stop your lips from forming a smile. There are damp patches on your shirt because of him and you can't say whether you want to whack him for that or not.

Yet, somehow, you can't find it in your heart to say no.

"Even impromptu stinky hugs."

[entities-of-posts]

sometimes i hear faint circus music in the distance. i live nowhere near anywhere a circus would be?? and i've never seen any ice cream trucks around my area either, unless they're on the highway, but why would you play the music on the highway??? I'm like 80% sure i'm not hallucinating but

You should go investigate; perhaps there is a Strange music box abandoned somewhere… or even a potential friend:)

[tinyinvadr]

I’ve got another chapter of my TADC story! This one’s pretty short, but there’ll be more to come!

Here’s the link to the first chapter

Hide & Shrink

Chapter 2

“I dunno… I’m just saying Caine shouldn’t have let Pomni pick the adventure. Where’s the excitement? I’m already getting bored looking for her.”

“But it’s only been ten minutes.”

“And? You think I have the attention span for that?”

I could hear the others looking for me. It sounded like they were all traveling in a group, so at least it would be easier to avoid them than if they had split up. Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to any of them finding me.

“Caine did say she would be somewhere unexpected. Maybe if we split up we’ll have an easier time finding her.”

A wave of panic came over me at Ragatha’s suggestion. I knew one of them would have to find me eventually, but there was a part of me that was hoping they never would, and Caine would just call the whole thing off and change me back. But realistically, this game could go on forever.

Maybe it would be better off to let someone find me and get it over with.

Of course, that raised the question of which person would be the safest option. On the off chance that Caine didn’t come back right away, I could be stuck with that person for a while.

Definitely not Jax.

Out of everyone else, Ragatha was the one I talked to the most, but I still felt so awkward and guilty around her. Being even more vulnerable with her would just make me feel worse.

My best bet had to be Gangle. She seemed harmless enough, and with her having ribbons for hands, I doubted she would be able to easily pick me up. I’d just let her find me and hope for the best.

That was the plan at least, but nothing ever works out the way you want it to.

I was about to go plant myself somewhere for Gangle to find me, when suddenly, a tall shadow fell over me.

“Oh! Everyone, I found an insect!”

Guess I was going with Kinger.

“That’s great, Kinger. Though, last time I checked, I’m pretty sure Pomni’s not an insect, so I don’t think that’s relevant to what we’re doing here.”

Ragatha sighed. “Leave him alone, Jax. And you never know, it could be a clue. Kinger, come show us what you found!”

Before I could even try to run, Kinger’s hands clamped around me and lifted me up.

“Gotcha!”

I was completely enclosed by his hands, and my claustrophobia was out in full force. I wanted to try and squirm out, but I knew he would probably drop me if I did that, so I just curled in on myself instead.

He opened his hands, and I was met with the sight of the other circus members, all gathered around to look at me. Realization hit them all one-by-one, but Ragatha was the first to notice.

“Pomni?!”

Kinger let out a startled shout and unintentionally tossed me in the air, but quickly caught me afterward.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, just got a little surprised there!”

I struggled to catch my breath as everyone looked at me. I didn’t want to imagine how pathetic I looked in that moment. Somehow, this was playing out even worse than I expected.

“Well, I take back what I said earlier about this adventure being boring. Heh, and just when I thought you couldn’t get any shorter.”

Ragatha glared at Jax as she moved closer, and I slowly inched myself back, trying to create a distance between us. Though, there wasn’t much I could do with Kinger still holding me.

“Hey, don’t worry. Now that we’ve found you, Caine should be here any second to change you back to normal.”

As if he had just been summoned, Caine appeared behind everyone else.

“Congratulations, my superstars! You’ve completed another adventure! Wow, and in record time, too, haha, that was fast. Is there anything you all want to do for the rest of the day? Another adventure? Activities? Mini games? Spontaneous musical numbers?”

I raised my arm, waving it back and forth to get his attention. He noticed right away and flew right over, once again taking up way too much of my personal space.

“Uh… before we do anything else, can I go back to my regular size?”

Caine chuckled, then flew backward with a dramatic flair.

“Of course!”

He snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He snapped them again, nothing happened. He started rapidly snapping at a rate that no human could ever achieve… but nothing happened.

“That’s odd… but don’t you worry, Pomni! I’ll get to the bottom of this! Until then, you’re all free to spend the day however you’d like! Just reach out to me if you need anything!”

Just as I had come to expect at this point, he disappeared before any of us could ask any further questions. Not that I could’ve formed a coherent sentence. My mind went numb the moment I realized I wasn’t going to change back.

Not only was I set to be trapped in this digital world forever, but I was doomed to be tiny and even more terrified of everything while I’m trapped here.

It just kept getting worse… I couldn’t keep this up much longer…

My vision started to blur and slowly fade to black as I heard the voices of the others incoherently talk over each other. It sounded like they were worried, but I couldn’t process any of it. My mind was done, and I passed out.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Kinktober Day 17: Carnival Ride [Laughing Jack X GN!Reader]

Warnings: Dildo/object used as a connected dildo, praise and slight degradation, masturbation, MINORS DNI

AN: to that person who asked for a bowling pin, here we are

Kinktober Masterlist

Reblogs are appreciated!

You try to relax your body further as you and Laughing Jack splay out in front of each other. He's got a comically large silicone bowling pin between the two of you, edging the thinner part of it to your body as you push your legs apart further. For himself, he's decided he wants to take the base.

"Come now, dear heart, don't be shy," he grins, his shark-like teeth glinting in the yellow lights of the carnival above you. The sound of circus music plays off in the distance. You feel the thinner part pressing into you and take in a deep breath when his hips push it in.

"Oh fuck," you whisper as your head falls back and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your nails dig into the ground and you take in deep, labored breaths to calm your beating heart as it pounds away.

Laughing Jack moans softly as the wide base the bowling pin pushes into himself. He feels precum bead at the tip of his black and white striped cock. He ruts his hips forwards and shoves the other end of the bowling pin further into you. "Take it, there you go," he purrs, "such an obedient, good toy. A little whore," he giggles in his saccharine tone that almost smells like cotton candy.

You moan in response while your body opens up for him and flutters. You take him as best as you can, living for the praise that spills from his black lips. "LJ-," you mewl in pleasure as you slowly roll your hips upwards to meet him. You moan again, a guttural sound as he encourages you to take the toy deeper and deeper in your body. You eagerly squeeze around it and rut your hips in time with his.

Laughing Jack coos softly, his piercing gaze locked onto how the toy pushes inside of you, "you look so pretty, riding it like that," he compliments, his tone deep and lusty, "wonder how pretty you'd look riding on my cock." He giggles this time, his large, clawed fingers reaching to grab your thighs before he pulls you towards him. Delight and ecstasy fills his body as he meets your warm body in the middle.

"Do you wanna ride it?" He asks, his voice low and husky as the two of you buck helplessly on the bowling pin. His cock twitches a little bit and you can't help but fantasize about him and how good he'd feel.

"Yes," you whisper.

Laughing Jack giggles again and grips your thighs, his claws indenting down in your skin as he pushes the wider part of the bowling pin inside of you and himself, your legs kissing as you meet once again in the middle, "make me cum first and then I'll reward you."

[cod-dump]

Modern Warfare Bloopers and BTS PART 4

___

AQ baddie: There’s a shark in the water

AQ baddie, pointing at Gaz who was doggy paddling towards him with the prop knife between his teeth: Oh my god dude you look insane!

Gaz, taking the knife out of his mouth: *laughs*

___

(Between takes)

Price: *doing a dad pose without even thinking about it*

Gaz: *looks at him before mimicking him, even putting a grumpy face on*

Price, without looking: You think you’re funny, don’t you?

___

Laswell during a closeup: *stands there silent, looking serious*

Laswell: Would be great if I remembered my line

*extras snicker as Laswell dramatically opens the script disguised in a folder on the table*

___

*Soap is on his phone, recording Price from a distance*

Soap, whispering: Look at him

*zooms camera to focus on Price’s waist*

Soap: Why his waist so god damn slutty? Bro’s snatched!

*Soap moves to camera to focus on Shepherd*

Soap: That’s the opposite of snatched

___

*they’re outside shooting a scene when a strong gust of wind suddenly snatches Price’s hat*

Price: MY HAT *chases after it while everyone laughs*

*soon enough multiple crewmen and Price are running around trying to catch this hat. Gaz is recording while laughing*

Soap: Definitely post that with circus music playing

___

[scattered-irises]

Circus music is playing somewhere in the distance. No, it is not the dulcet tones of an ice cream truck.

I don’t know where it is coming from.

I think the circus is finally coming for me.

I don’t want to go.