#makes a new rule to stop tinkering with shit after that because what the FUCK okay?

[monty-glasses-roxy]

At this point, I’m just gonna give Roxy a hobby she got bored of eventually where she just finds random stuff in the basement and tinkers with them to see what they do and through this hobby, she has accidentally brought Chica’s Cupcake back to life and maybe a lil Helpy as well.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

build a new silhouette in the skylines up ahead

@weneedglitter Parenting!

ok so i wasn’t gonna write a new thing and then @sunsetcurvecuddles and @oldsmobile-hotdogs convinced me to write a new thing, sooooo. Read on ao3 here!

Post-Orpheum. Ray/Rose plus Bobby, can be read as romantic or platonic, whatever you want (though my wip document for this was called Parenting so do with that what you will). Featuring a lot of Puerto Rican terms of endearment cause I could. 

--

Rose isn’t quite sure what wakes her. The alarm clock on the bedside table reads just after 2am. The night is dark and quiet outside her bedroom window. Next to her, Ray sleeps soundly on his stomach, snoring with his face buried in his pillow. But Rose is used to that, reaches over almost without thinking to bury a hand in his hair and gently tug his head sideways so he can breathe. It could be any night, calm and familiar, since they moved in together. It still doesn’t explain what dragged her from her dreamless sleep six hours before her alarm, or why she’s got this odd tingling feeling in the back of her mind—the kind of feeling her abuela would call her “maternal instincts” and set Rose off on a feminist rant about the oppressive expectations of motherhood on women under the age of 30–telling her that something’s wrong.

It takes her another few minutes of breathing into the silence, glancing around her room like she’s waiting for some monster to pop out of the shadows, and then something catches her ear from outside: a distant clanging sound, like metal against metal. 

Her eyes widen, and Rose scrambles out of bed with a muttered curse, hurrying to the window to make sure she’s come to the right conclusion. Luckily, her bedroom overlooks the driveway connected to their little townhouse, so she barely has to flick the curtains aside to glimpse Ray’s junk-bucket van and, just visible from this distance two floors up, the legs sticking out from underneath it. 

Rose sighs, one hand on the windowsill, and considers just throwing it open and shouting down for her insomniatic roommate to go the fuck to sleep. But she knows he won’t listen, and that it’ll only make him feel more guilty for inconveniencing her than he already does, so instead she turns back to the bed and crouches down to place a gentle hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, leaning in close to murmur in his ear. “Ray? Can you wake up for me?” He groans, and a smile plays at Rose’s lips. “I know, papi chulo, but I need you to wake up, just for a minute.”

Ray grunts, but obediently rubs at his face and pushes himself up. “What’s wrong, is everything okay?” he murmurs, his voice a groggy rasp, still clearly half-asleep and yet alert with concern.

Rose’s heart tugs with so much gratitude for him. “He’s tinkering again,” is all she says.

Ray nods, rubs his hands down his face one more time, and then blinks owlishly, his gaze settling on Rose. “I’ll get the coffee, meet you out there?”

“You’re the best.” 

She darts forward to kiss him and then they both reluctantly get to their feet, moving in sync, Ray tousling his already-mussed-up hair as he heads straight for the kitchen while Rose throws on a bathrobe over her pajamas and slides her feet into slippers. She pauses only to grab her keys, a bottle of water, and the bottle of Imitrex from the kitchen cabinet, kisses Ray once more on the cheek where he stands scooping Café Bustelo into the cafetiera, and hurries out the door and down the stairs into the night.

Ray’s bright orange 70s van sits up on blocks in the driveway. It broke down yesterday for about the sixth time this month when Ray was coming home from work; he had to push it the last two and a half blocks. Really, they should’ve seen this coming.

As Rose gets closer, she gets a better glimpse of the legs sticking out from under the van, loose black sweatpants and grubby sneakers, feet tapping the concrete to the beat of music Rose can just barely hear, muffled but pounding like it’s blasting through headphones. She sits on the curb and gently nudges the tapping foot with one of her own. It freezes, the music abruptly stops, there’s the unmistakable clanging of tools being tossed back into their toolbox, and then Bobby rolls out from under the car on his makeshift dolly, tugging off the headphones connected to the Walkman hooked to his waistband. He’s shirtless and almost ghostly pale in the dim streetlights, the dark circles under his eyes standing out in stark contrast as he sits up and braces his hands on the ground behind him, blinking widely up at her. 

“I woke you up,” he says, voice hoarse and crackly like he’s been sick. Or crying. “I was trying to be quiet.”

This is something Rose has learned about Bobby in the last few weeks. He gives reasons, never excuses. And he never apologizes, not directly, not with words. She can’t help but wonder if this has always been true of him, or if it’s a tendency he’s only developed since that terrible night at the Orpheum. 

She shakes her head, forgiving him, and holds out the water and pills she brought. He makes a face but takes them and comes over to sit next to her. “I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly, even as he cracks the water bottle open and takes a sip with a pained wince.

Rose waits until he’s popped two of the pills and drunk half the water before she lets herself relax, scooting closer with a feigned shiver (even though it’s a warm August night and she’s wearing more clothes than he is) so that she can get away with pressing into his side, offering comfort he didn’t ask for under the guise of seeking some extra warmth. “Ray’s making coffee.”

“Shit,” Bobby whispers, rubbing at his forehead. “I woke him up, too.” He doesn’t apologize, but she can tell he means to in the tightness of his jaw, the shadows on his face. 

“Actually, I did.” Rose bumps her shoulder against his, making him blush and duck his head away from her gaze. “I thought you could use some company.”

Bobby shakes his head, drinks some more water, winces with every swallow. For a long time, he says nothing, and Rose doesn’t push him, just sits there next to him, ready and waiting to listen when he can find the right words to say. He frowns into the middle distance for another minute or so, then shakes his head again like he’s refusing some unwelcome thought and says, “I just couldn’t sleep. My head hurt.”

She slowly reaches a hand up, telegraphing every inch of movement, ready to stop if Bobby so much as flinches, and strokes his hair back out of his face. He tenses up at the touch and then sinks into it, a shudder running through him. He drops his head onto Rose’s shoulder and she abandons all pretense, carding her fingers through the silky strands of his hair, gently rubbing some of the tension lines out of his forehead. “Your head hurts because you don’t sleep, muñeco,” she murmurs.

Bobby raises his head just enough to shoot her an annoyed glare—he claims not to like the Spanish terms of endearment she and Ray throw around, claims he doesn’t know what they mean and therefore thinks they’re making fun of him—but there’s no real heat to it, and he returns his head to her shoulder a moment later, nuzzling in closer as she strokes his hair. “I can’t,” he says after another long silence, so quietly Rose almost doesn’t hear him. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I just can’t stop seeing them.”

Rose tugs him closer into her side, presses a kiss to the top of his head, smiles into his hair when he makes a disgruntled noise but doesn’t actively protest. 

This is something else she’s learned about him. Bobby wants so badly to be touched, so badly to be cared for, so badly to be loved. But it must be given freely to him. Because he’ll never ask.

Behind them, the front door creaks open, and Rose turns her head to give Ray a tired but grateful smile as he joins them in his ratty pajamas and socked feet, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He hands one to Rose and keeps the other for himself, then settles down on the curb on Bobby’s other side, pressing in close as he sips his coffee. Bobby sits up and frowns at him, mock-offended. “Hey, where’s mine?”

Ray shakes his head, doesn’t even look at him. “Mm-mm. You don’t get coffee until you sleep through the night. House rules, cariño.”

Bobby makes a face and turns to Rose for help. She just laughs into her own mug, shrugging unapologetically, and Bobby pouts. 

“How can there be house rules when you don’t even own a house?” he grumbles, but shuffles closer, leaving Rose’s gentle hold to press his face into Ray’s shoulder. “God, I’m exhausted.”

Rose drinks her coffee and rubs soothing circles into Bobby’s back, feeling the too-thin, too-cold planes of his shoulder blades. A shudder runs through him that might be from the cold, the touch, or something else entirely. Rose meets Ray’s gaze over the boy’s head, sad and sympathetic and more worried than either of them has any right to be at 21 and 23. They may be older than Bobby, but they’re practically still kids themselves, and yet somehow in the last month they’ve taken this frail, broken boy under their wing, and sometimes they don’t know how to help him, don’t know if they can, but other times, like this, just being there for him is enough.

“They would’ve liked you,” Bobby says into Ray’s shirt sleeve, tensing under Rose’s hand. He doesn’t specify whom he means, and he doesn’t have to. Rose will never forget their names, even if she only heard them once, couldn’t even bear to read the article about them after that damn reporter tried to track Bobby down for a comment. Luke. Reggie. Alex. Bobby’s band. Bobby’s boys.

“If they loved you, nene, then I’m sure we would’ve liked them, too,” Ray says softly. This is what Rose loves most about him, these moments when she doesn’t know what to say, how to soothe, but he does, always. She’s so grateful for him, her sweet Ray who never met Sunset Curve, never knew Bobby before he was broken, not even for the hour that Rose did, and welcomed him into their lives anyway, didn’t question or complain for a second when Rose said, Meet me at the hospital. He can’t go back there. Please, mi corazón, can’t we help him?

Bobby shudders again, and Rose thinks he might be crying, but he makes no sound as he slumps forward, arms around Ray’s waist, face buried in Ray’s chest. Ray startles just the slightest amount, lifting his coffee cup out of the way so that it won’t spill, and then slowly lowers his arms to cautiously wrap around the boy. Rose reaches over and takes his mug for him, places them both on the curb next to her, and leans in to join the hug, pressing her lips to Bobby’s bare shoulder and whispering senseless reassurances into his skin. 

Later, Ray carries a sleeping Bobby back into the house and lays him down in Ray and Rose’s bed, and they climb in on either side of him and hold him close as he gets his first full night’s sleep since the 22nd of July. 

In the morning, Bobby shuffles into the kitchen bleary-eyed and squinty, moving slowly like he always does when he’s coming down from a migraine and doesn’t want to risk making it flare up again. Rose nudges him until he agrees to eat some breakfast, and Ray places a mug of fresh Cuban coffee in front of him with a kiss to his forehead and a whispered, “You earned it, bonbón.” Bobby doesn’t thank them, but he doesn’t need to.

“I’ll finish fixing the van today, Ray,” he promises once he’s finished eating. “And Rose, I noticed some of your guitars need re-stringing, if you want me to take a look.”

Rose exchanges a sort of fondly exasperated look with Ray across the table and strokes Bobby’s hair out of his face. “We already told you, Bobby. You don’t need to earn your keep. You just focus on getting better, and let us take care of you, okay?”

He blushes, ducks his head, but nods and mutters, “Yeah, sure, okay.”

Ray reaches a hand out across the table, palm up, pointer finger extended. Rose grins and links her finger with his, then nudges Bobby’s shoulder. He looks up, confused, and then his face relaxes in understanding and he manages something almost approaching a smile as he reaches out and taps his index finger against theirs, not quite joining Ray’s little handshake but not refusing it either. It’s good enough.

As they sit there, the three of them, Ray and Rose forcing water and painkillers on Bobby and giving him judgmental looks when he pours a second cup of coffee, Rose wonders if this is what parenting will feel like, when someday (in the very distant future, Abuela) she and Ray are ready to have kids (because there is no doubt in her mind that she will marry this man). They’re not Bobby’s parents—not even close—but she thinks he might be good practice for them anyway. In late nights and little sleep. In how to work their lives around someone else’s wants and needs. In caring for someone with so much of your heart you hurt when they do. 

She thinks they’re doing a pretty damn good job at it, too. 

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @nickalicious @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @spidergirl0325 @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @cest-la-vie-de-la-lee @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @moreflowersthanweeds @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique 

[sunflowersteves]

bloody & bruised || subway fiasco

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Boxer!Reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You meet an entitled asshole on the subway before training. After training, Shuri asks you to go get drinks with her. What happens when that same entitled asshole owns the bar?

Author’s Note: So, this series is completely new and improved. I decided to start completely fresh and recreate it. I hope you all enjoy, I’m happier with this series!

Warnings: swearing, asshole!bucky

series m.list // m.list

You entered the Metropolitan Correctional Center in lower Manhattan. You signed in, noticing the girl at the front desk popping her gum annoyingly loud. She never spared you a look as she spoke, “visitor?” You replied which then she continued to not give a fuck about your presence and hit the button that opened the gate. You greeted the guard and put your personal belongings in a tub and proceeded into the hall with the rest of the visitors, waiting to see an inmate. 

You tapped your heels gently on the concrete floor. Fuck, could this take any longer? The loud buzz of the doors that contained the inmates flooded into your ear and made you jump. 

“Line up, boys!” The guards yelled at the inmates to walk through the hallway door. Bucky’s hard glare settled onto his face before his eyes landed on your figure. A playful stare rolled over towards your face, that devious look was always hooded between his eyes. 

Your fiancée looked good, prison had done well on him with his newly cut hair and subtle that was growing longer.

You both pick up the phone, your garnet-colored chipped nails partially scraping against the phone. His eyes flickered to your bloody knuckles, they were thumping hard against your skin. You watched his lips curve into that luscious grin.

“Hey, baby girl.”

                | 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 |                                                                 

You were running through crowds, pushing others trying to get to the subway.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, move asshole!”

You were totally and royally fucked at the moment. Your mind could only seize panic at the idea of being late and facing Carol’s wrath. You had been training with her for five months and the rumors were very much true, she was a tough lady. Carol Danvers, was a famous boxer that allowed you to be mentored by her. 

She saw you one night, walking underneath the stars and bright skyscrapers when a couple of men had paraded you. She almost stepped in until she saw you give three uppercuts and two kick to the balls. Her eyebrow only raised in interest before she asked you if you wanted to be mentored, to be better than you already are. Of course, you recognized her, even the newbies to boxing recognized her so you immediately agreed.

However, today just wasn’t your day. You spilled coffee all over your white shirt, you were held up at work having to do extra paperwork and now you’re going to be late for training. 

Normally, she’d praise you for always being on time and punctual but not today. She would probably yell at you to run a couple of miles more. You ran down the stairs and quickly swiped your metro card, pushing the gate. You were full-on running now, the subway train was already here and about to close.

You were just barely able to make it, a huff escaping your lungs as the doors slammed immediately behind you. You looked at your watch, 8:23 pm it read, your eyes widened and you muttered a light “shit.” 

There was hardly anyone on the subway, which was kind of weird considering that it was only eight. You peered over towards the cart next to you and saw that it was full, people were packed right next to each other. Your eyebrows furrowed and you turned towards the right, noticing a group of people stare at you.

Your eyes flicker towards a brunette, a sly smirk was fitted on his face. He had two women sitting right next to him, they were practically on his lap. They giggled at anything he said and stared at him with bright stary eyes. A sigh escaped your lips, you felt bad for them honestly. You’ve been there as well, craving attention and wanting anything materialistic. You knew there was nothing wrong with that, however, it can become pretty toxic sometimes.

“Wanna join us doll?”

Your eyes rolled over his form, he had an expensive tailored black suit. It was paired with expensive Versace sunglasses that sat right on his fluffy brown hair. It was like his cherry lips were suck in a smirk, cockiness just radiated off of him. He was pretty attractive, you weren’t going to lie but he wasn’t anything impressive as far as his attitude and demeanor. 

You could guess he was a misogynistic prick, thinking that women were just his plaything and money could buy them. You maintained a mundane expression as your eyes lifted to meet his. You could see his jaw was clenched at your bored expression, but it was true. This man was just another dude being called a lady killer while the girls around him were called sluts. 

“No.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, no one had ever denied him before. He got everything he wanted; women, money, territory, and nice things. Even his most trusted friends around him had never denied the things that he asked for. Not to mention his lackeys were always drenched in fear so he got anything he wanted.

He looked over to see Steve holding an amused and surprised expression. So did Natasha and Sam, amusement clouded over their eyes. The girls beside him gasped at your answer and his hands squeezed their thighs.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” That stupid smirk had clicked back onto his face as he continued to stare at you. His eyes traveled down from your eyes onto your form. You were wearing your favorite pair of matching Nike’s leggings and sports bra. For boxing, it was a common rule to wear nothing baggy. 

“No, but I don’t care either.” Your voice remained monotone and your face screamed boredom. You clicked your tongue and went back to scrolling on your phone, hoping he’d just leave you alone. How long will this subway ride take?

A sudden surge of anger filled his stomach at your still bored expression. Who were you talking to the biggest and baddest of New York City like that? You were just some girl, a nobody. Bucky, however, was everything and on top of the world. He had money, could get any girl he wanted, had the most expensive house in Brooklyn, and covered the most crime in the city. He was not just going to let you dismiss the Bucky Barnes like that.

His eyes wandered towards you again. He followed the placement of your nose, your beautiful cheekbones, and pink glossed lips. You are very attractive and Bucky is definitely not hiding his stare despite the two women around him.

“You from around here, doll?” There was a short pause before you answered. You were honestly getting pretty tired of this dude talking to you on an already shit day.

“Do you like prying into stranger’s lives?” Steve and Natasha snickered in front of him, their arms holding onto the railings above them. He just figured you had gotten into a fight of some sort, intrigue hitting him like a brick. 

“Jus’ the pretty ones.” You had to stop yourself from giving him a giant eye roll. You also really wanted to slap that smirk off of his face, it was infuriating. Just because he’s some hotshot doesn’t make it an excuse to be a dick. He was a giant cliche; the big successful man that has a parade of women around him, tattoos, expensive attire, and he probably has a fancy house. It was honestly sickening.

You looked over to see his jaw clenched, his stare was hard and a bit frightening. You didn’t want to be in deep shit with whoever this dude was, he seemed like his lawyers could tear you apart. So, you let your walls down just for a teensy itty bitty second.

“No. I’m from Morris Heights.” His eyebrows shot up, he wondered why you moved to Brooklyn which was on the other side of the city. 

“Bronx, huh?” You just nodded, turning your attention back on your phone. You look up to see signs that signify that this was your stop, especially since the voice on the subway was always inaudible. 

“It’s been a pleasure, doll.” You get up and make your way in front of the door, completely ignoring his sentence. You turn around just before the doors open, looking from the bodyguards, to the women, and then back onto him.

“See you around, prick.”

--

You rush into the gym doors, barely making it past 8:40 on the dot. Great, you were ten minutes late. You dropped your gym bag on the floor, emptying fast breaths from running for so long. You look up to see the only trainee in the room to be Shuri. You noticed she was tinkering on one of the machines. She always had a knack for wanting to improve every single gadget or machine that came before her presence. 

You see Carol waking up to you with a scowl and you knew it was for being late. She patted you on the back as you gulped. “Go run an extra mile, kid.” You raised your eyebrows at the less harsh punishment than expected. You assumed she’d give you five extra miles or something even worse.

“Don’t make me give you two extra miles.” Shuri snorts at the comment which makes you send a playful glare in her direction. You walk out the doors again and start jogging around the block.

You couldn’t help but think about the guy on the subway. It was quite strange to see a whole entire cart was empty just for him and his friends. The other carts were full, sardine-packed is what it looked like. Not to mention his annoying cockiness, what the fuck was up with that?

He was so pretentious like he could do anything to anyone and get away with it. It’s like he’s some trust fund dick who thinks that the world revolves around him. 

Sweat started to drop down your forehead and you realized that you’ve run enough miles. You push open the doors to the gym, going back inside. You see Shuri still tinkering and Carol was in her office with a phone call.

You walk over to the table in the corner and grab the white bands. You start wrapping them around your knuckles and walk over to one of the many punching bags. You started to make small punches at the bags, watching as it swung back and forth from your force.

Shuri then turns to you, looking over at you with excitement. “Hey, tomorrow Wanda, Gamora, and I going to this new bar in Crown Heights want to come?”

“Of course. I could use some fun.” Shuri brightens her smile and continues to go back to figuring out the things in front of her.

You looked down at the newspaper that sat next to her and some parts of a machine. She was required to set newspapers down because of an incident where oil was spilled all over the gym. Needless to say, Carol wasn’t happy and Shuri couldn’t use any of the machines for a month.

You couldn’t help but just stare at the caption, this one was from today. Curiosity always gets the best of you.

MOB BOSS JAMES BARNES RIDES THE SUBWAY, WHAT COULD THAT MEAN FOR THE CRIME IN THE CITY?

Then attached was a small picture underneath the headline. Your eyes widened and you felt like the air had just been shot out of you. You grab the newspaper and get a better stare, just making sure. You had to make sure.

You see the little picture even better. There was the man that was on the subway. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke coming out of his mouth. His sleeves were rolled up which showed the plethora of tattoos that were scattered across his skin. Next to him were two women, giving him neck kisses.

Great, the person you called a dick was the biggest mob boss in the tristate area. 

You were so fucked.

~~

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @kitkatd7 @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan​

chapter two

[hddnone]

Title: Feral  Square: B3 - Fetish : Causing Bruises for @mcukinkbingo Teratober2020 Day 3 : Feral Pairing: Bucky x Tony Rating : Explicit Tags: Werewolves (lupine serum), self-experimentation, sex as wolves, frottage Summary: “He was a - a wolf,” Jarvis said, his voice pitched with nerves. It was the most undone Bucky had ever heard the butler.

“Did Howard do that?” He spat the words out as he held back the bile that rose in his throat. He had to vault a set of stairs, and the gasps of the agents almost masked Jarvis' shaky sigh.

“It looked like self-experimentation.”

Bucky's genius was dumb as hell. Tony knew the odds of survival with the lupine serum and he'd gone and messed with it anyway.

Word Count: 1.7K

Here on AO3 or below the cut

“It’s Anthony.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped.

“Details,” he snapped into the phone as he sprinted for his motorcycle. He bowled over SHIELD agents left and right when they didn’t get out of his way fast enough.

“He was a - a wolf,” Jarvis answered, his voice pitched with nerves. It was the most undone Bucky had ever heard the butler.

“Did Howard do that?” He spat the words out as he held back the bile that rose in his throat. He had to vault a set of stairs, and the gasps of the agents almost masked Jarvis’ shaky sigh. 

“It looked like self-experimentation.”

Bucky cursed. “Be there in twenty.”

Twenty minutes was an impossible drive from the SHIELD base to the Stark’s country estate, but Bucky paid no heed to the traffic lights, rules, or other cars. He sped around whoever and whatever he needed to, leaving flashing sirens behind. He didn’t have to worry - Tony had been tinkering with his bike again, and he easily outpaced his chasers.

Bucky picked up more speed as the traffic thinned, careening around corners as his road twisted deeper into the woods.

At least Tony was smart enough to experiment someplace other than downtown New York City, but then Tony was brilliant.

But he was also fucking dumb as hell, and Bucky was going to kill him.

He pulled up to the front of the Stark’s house - more of a mansion, towering into the sky - and leapt off, letting his bike skid on until it crashed into a tree. He was halfway up the entrance steps when Edwin Jarvis came hurrying out, face flushed.

“He’s out on the grounds. I let him out because he - well, it seemed best.”

“Thanks,” Bucky grunted, knowing it wasn’t polite enough but all he had time for. He turned and leapt off the stairs.

He transformed in mid-air, shifting into a wolf and landing on all fours onto the driveway. His clothes were torn to shreds, scattering in the breeze. He dug his paws into the gravel and sprinted for the trees.

“He headed to the backwoods!” Jarvis shouted after him, pointing.

Bucky circled, and he tipped his head back and howled. It wasn’t his best song - he was angry, but it was still a greeting.

One Tony might not yet know how to interpret, and while Bucky perked his ears he heard no response.

Tony, Tony, Tony. The first transformation was the worst, only shortly followed by the second because then you knew what pain would come. It racked the body, bones snapping and reforming, muscles restringing. Tony should never have been alone for the first shift.

Not like Bucky had been, in Hydra’s clutches. Not like Steve had been, in that bunker under the city. Tony should’ve had pack around him, but then of course Tony knew they’d have stopped him. It was a miracle Steve and Bucky had survived the lupine serum, and Tony was aware of the odds.

Dumb as hell. His brilliant genius was dumb as hell.

Bucky howled again with no response, but he picked up a scent trail. It had to be Tony - similar to his human scent, but richer and tangier. It slithered up Bucky’s nose and down his throat, and he sprinted along the trail so that it got fresher and wilder and even more delicious.

His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he thought about bathing in that scent. It had been hard enough keeping his hands off Tony when Tony had been a human. He didn’t know how he was going to do it with Tony as a wolf.

And Steve wasn’t here to keep him in check. Steve was overseas, attending a week-long conference with MI6, and Bucky had been moping and missing their pack of two.

Now they’d be a pack of three.

Something slammed into his right side, and he snarled and found his feet as he whirled on his attacker.

Tony.

Tony as a wolf, with rich, chestnut brown fur that gleamed under the sunlight. He was on the small side still, with perfectly proportioned legs and hindquarters that made Bucky’s ears perk forward.

He was gorgeous, and he was snarling a challenge at Bucky with wild eyes.

Bucky’s blood went hot, and he paced to the side. Tony matched him step for step, circling and circling as they waited for the other to make a move.

Tony struck first, leaping for Bucky’s throat.

Bucky dodged the bite and twisted on Tony, but Tony was quick and agile. He danced back, growling, and Bucky followed.

Tony was pack, but he was feral. Bucky needed to calm him down so he could shift back to human, regain some of his senses. He’d have too much input with sights, sounds, and smells dialed up to overwhelming proportions.

He needed Bucky to show him how to handle and process it. To train him, to teach him how to be pack.

But Tony was making him work for it. Tony was leaping and attacking and dodging as Bucky tried to make him heel. He ran off, leading Bucky on a merry chase before whirling and standing off again.

Bucky’s heart pounded, panting, as he cornered Tony another time. The thrill of the chase was pulling at him, the desire to catch, to bite, to take. Staring at Tony’s wagging tail only pushed him closer to the edge.

Tony was brilliant and fast, but Bucky waited him out and wore him down.

Tony danced too close and with surprising speed for how big he was, Bucky reached out and snapped his jaws around Tony’s neck.

Tony whined, tugging, but Bucky squeezed. Tony whimpered but he didn’t release the hold, climbing on top of Tony to secure it. Tony stilled underneath him and he growled his approval.

Tony relaxed, then gave a surge of energy to wiggle out, but Bucky yipped and held him fast.

Tony was his. Fur coated his mouth, scent clung to his nostrils. He pushed until Tony was forced to the ground, pinned under Bucky’s weight.

Tony whined, something high and sweet and begging, and Bucky rewarded him by rutting along his back.

Tony’s paws scrabbled at the dirt, but he panted and stayed. He rucked up against Bucky, hips lifting, and Bucky rewarded him with another thrust.

His cock was poking out of his sheath, filling and lengthening as it pressed into Tony’s fur. 

Bucky needed to know what Tony would smell like covered in him, how delicious a mix of their scents would be.Tony yipped and whined and shimmied against Bucky, his tail wagging.

Bucky let go of Tony’s fur to howl his claim to the sky as he rutted against Tony. He growled and fucked Tony’s fur, showcasing what a good mate he would be. How hard, how fast he could fuck, how good he’d make it for Tony.

Tony stretched out on his front paws, arching back as much as he could under Bucky, showing how good he’d take it. 

Bucky came, snarling, spilling onto Tony. His cock filled as if to knot, but there was nothing to hold. It undercut the orgasm, but next time they’d be prepared. Next time they’d -

Oh fuck.

Bucky shifted back to a human, crouched over Tony. He tumbled to the side, not even able to enjoy the way Tony smelled like him.

Steve was going to kill him, right after Steve was done killing Tony. Tony wasn’t only Howard’s son, a ‘friend’ from the war, but also Steve’s godson. Bucky didn’t give a flying fuck what Howard thought, but Steve could be overprotective. Bucky was dead. 

Tony panted, tongue hanging out of his mouth, looking dazed.

“Tony, are you - shit, are you okay?” Bucky reached out, but pulled his hand back.

Tony crawled over and plopped his head in Bucky’s lap. He licked Bucky’s thigh, and Bucky carefully threaded fingers through his fur. For that Bucky was awarded Tony’s cold nose pushing into his hip, but then Tony’s tongue warmed up the skin.

Then Tony turned and started licking up the spend that coated Bucky’s cock.

“Okay, that’s -” fantastic, Bucky didn’t finish. His cock twitched under Tony’s attention, and he dug his fingers deeper into Tony’s silky strands.

“You need to -” Bucky gasped, tugging Tony’s head away, “- turn back into a human. Can you? Just think of -”

Tony’s jaw receded, then the fur. His spine twisted, popping, and there was the crack of bones. It took more than a few tries to do it fast and smooth, the pain the blip of a moment instead of the screaming transformation of several seconds. But then Tony was human again, naked and gasping in his lap.

Bucky gathered him in his arms and cradled him. “You stupid idiot,” he said, voice too fond. “You shouldn’t have done this to yourself.”

“Curious. Had to see what all the fuss was about. Kill the cat, so to speak,” Tony mumbled into Bucky’s chest.

“You fucking stupid idiot.” Bucky sighed. “You’re not supposed to be the cat. How you didn’t die -”

“’M brilliant.” Tony nuzzled into Bucky’s skin. “And now I’m pack. Right?” Tony pulled back, alarmed. “I’m pack now?”

“You always were.” Bucky kissed him, hard and desperate. “You right fucker, you were. And you are.”

Bucky clutched Tony, laying claim to Tony’s skin with his hands. His mouth watered with the urge to bite, to leave bruises on Tony’s flesh that told the tale of where he’d been. Mine.

“Tell me we’re doing that again.” Tony kissed a line on Bucky's jaw. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Bucky possessed Tony’s mouth, using his tongue to own every inch. He couldn’t wait to show Tony how capable a long, agile wolf tongue was. What strength and speed and ferocity came with the lupine serum, with chases and fights and fucks. 

“Should have time for a few rounds before Steve comes back.”

Tony groaned, hiding his face in Bucky’s neck. “He’s going to kill me.”

Bucky patted Tony’s back, running a hand down Tony’s spine until he hit his dried come right above Tony’s ass. He licked his lips.

“He’s going to kill us both,” Bucky admitted, and let his hand continue down until he palmed Tony’s firm, full cheeks. “So we better enjoy it while we can.”

[prettyyoungtragedy]

Written in the Stars (9)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Violence, bad language, angst for days!

A/N: Okay so naturally you’re all mad at me for the last chapter, but here is the angsty follow up! This one is just pain and panic and nothing good especially at the ending. It’s angry Bucky and a whole lot of tears! If you want me to make it better, say something nice? hahaha jk thank you all for reading it!

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 , without whom this fic wouldn’t get done!

Links are being a bitch so you can find the whole fic in my WIP masterlist in my bio!

Taglist is closed!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

James you fucking idiot. You dumb stupid fucking idiot. You moron. You distracted foolish fucking idiot! 

His mind berates him. 

Panic, anger, terror, pain all flash through him the second that bomb goes off, he feels the heat of the bomb, pain as the air is knocked out of him and he is thrown across the landing. Bucky had not felt terror like that in a long time, not since he woke up strapped to that table almost eighty years ago. He feels helplessness like he’s never felt before when he sees your eyes shut and the debris starts to fall, he feels terror when he sees your body slam into the wall and he feels anger when he can’t get to you in time.

His ears are ringing, a dull throb starts on the side of his head and his vision is blurred by redness before he rubs his eyes furiously. Blood covers his metal arm when he looked down at it after touching his face, but he doesn't care. He needs to get to you, the smoke and dust from the bomb cloud his senses and Bucky violently shakes his head to rid himself of the lethargic feeling that's settled over him.

The first thing he sees is you laying a few feet away from him, and everything else is forgotten. Bucky surged to his feet, stumbling dizzily towards you he scooped you up into his arms and cradled you close.

“Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes,” he begged softly, there’s so much blood he doesn’t know whether it’s yours or his, but your eyes remained firmly shut. He dropped to his knees and fumbled for his phone in his pocket, but when he pulled it out the screen was smashed to shit.

He cursed loudly and touched the comms in his ear. It crackled to life and he heard Sam’s frantic voice on the other end.

“Bucky? Bucky?! Fucking hell Bucky!”

“Yeah, Yeah Sam I’m here, there was a-”

“We’re coming, hold on. Steve is already there.”

As Sam said that, Bucky sees Steve charging across the hallway from the fire escape stairwell. He’s already got his shield in his hand and the moment he saw Bucky crouched there with you in his arms, he rushed towards him.

“Give her to me,” Steve demanded urgently, and for a moment Bucky doesn’t want to. He’s too scared to let you go, he’s scared if he does and you die it will be his fault.

“Bucky, please. We have to get her out of here, the smoke inhalation could kill her.” Steve urged again his hands reaching for your unconscious body in Bucky’s hands and Bucky relents, letting Steve take you.

There’s an exchange, Steve gave him the shield and he takes you. Sam breaks through the nearby window, letting some of the smoke out of but it does nothing to help them.There is smoke rapidly filling the hallway, the heat from the fire that has started prickled over Bucky’s skin and he knows they have to get out of here before the fire hits a gas line.

Sam is beside him, he quickly moved to help Bucky up grabbing him by the arm and slinging it over his shoulders, the other wrapped around his waist. Bucky stumbled and coughed up blood wiping it away without a second glance,  he feels pain lance through his side and both him and Sam looked down and see an ugly metal rod protruding from his abdomen.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, “That is going to hurt coming out,” 

“Yeah no shit,’ Bucky groaned, he placed his hand around the metal, and hissed slightly as he jostled it in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

Outside the wail of fire truck sirens and people shouting can be heard, and then another explosion rippled through the floor, knocking Sam and Bucky to the ground. 

They needed to get out of there, and fast.

~~~

Bucky Barnes had never been so fucking terrified in his entire life, the terror had burrowed itself so deep within his soul at that moment that he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Steve rushed you off to the medics at the tower the moment they got there, Sam forced Bucky to sit through a medical checkup himself. Helen Cho had one of the nurses look him over, and he tried to argue that he was fine, but no one would listen to him.

Sam firmly placed a hand on his shoulder and warned him that if he tried to get up again, he would knock him out and this shuts Bucky up.

He cursed loudly, resisting the urge to punch Sam in the face as he helped the nurses pull out the metal that had plunged itself into his body and he shut his eyes, breathing through the nausea as he refused anesthetic and forced them to stitch him up. 

Once the wound in his abdomen had finally stopped bleeding, he threw back two of Tony’s special concoctions he whipped up for the super soldiers to speed up their healing. 

He waited with irritable patience as one of the nurses stitched up his head wound wincing every few seconds as she jabbed the needle less than gently into his skin, and the one of his jaw, and the various cuts and wounds he had elsewhere. Bucky continually flexed his metal arm in an attempt to stave off the panic attack that was building inside him every time he thought about you.

“You’re good to go,” The nurse said nodding at him, “But I’d recommend a week’s rest before getting back into the field.”

“Those stitches on your abdomen need more than a few days of healing, so careful not to rip any of them.” She added as he brushed off her offer for painkillers. 

“Thanks,” he muttered before he shakily stood up and walked off. As he made his way down the hall of the med-bay, Bucky saw Steve and Sam standing near one of the rooms. They seemed to be engaged in a serious argument of sorts, but the pair immediately stops when they see Bucky.

Relief floods Steve’s expression as he regards Bucky,

“You doing okay, pal?” He asked walking towards him,

“Yeah fine, what’s the verdict?” Bucky replied brushing off his question even though he knew he probably had a good few broken bones and contusions and his entire body screamed at him in pain. He didn’t care, his serum would heal him in a couple of hours.

“C4 wired to trip when the door opened, on the floor thankfully there were no casualties. The Iron Legion managed to get everyone out the building in time but the top three floors are gone.” Sam said,

“And…” He hesitated looking between the two men before him,

“And she is fine, well not really, a couple cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder, bruises, slight burns here and there and a concussion. But she will live.” Steve said nodding knowingly,

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered running his grimy bloodied fingers through his hair, “I should go see her,”

“No no, that’s not a good idea yet.” Steve shook his head firmly,

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because you need answers for her and you don’t have any besides she isn’t awake yet. Cho is keeping her in a sedated state in case she you know, freaks out.” 

“Yeah not everyone is used to almost being blown to bits,” Sam added, “That’s more of an us thing.” 

“Glad you can still joke about this,” Bucky said to Sam with a glare, 

“You’re supposed to protect her and if you walk in there thinking with your heart and not your head you’re going to look like a real idiot.” Steve said firmly. 

It sounded harsher than Steve had intended but Bucky fell silent, he had a fucking point and that irritated Bucky. He was thinking with his heart and not his head that’s why they ended up in this mess in the first place. He’d forgotten the cardinal rule of being a bodyguard, survey the area before you take your protection detail into a room and he’d been so wrapped up in you that he didn’t think to do that.

“Do you want to talk-” Steve started to say when he sees the look on his face,

“No,”

“Bucky,”

“Shut up Steve. I am fine.”

“Okay, well, you look like shit, go shower or something,” Sam stated, he was trying to lighten the mood but this doesn't help Bucky in any way. He just wants to see you. “How many stitches did they give you all together?” 

“Seventy six,” 

“Damn new record,” 

“Is she still with Cho?” Bucky asked ignoring Sam’s comment,

“Yeah,”

“Let me know when she’s done, I’m going to see Tony.”

A curt nod from Steve before Bucky walked off in the direction of Tony’s lab. He needed advice and for someone to yell at him. Tony Stark was candidate number one for both at that moment.

“Tony?” Bucky’s voice sounded through the lab, it's dimly lit but he can hear the Ironman tinkering away at something.

“Back here,” A muffled voice called out, and Bucky followed the sound until he finds Tony beneath a table, a screwdriver in his mouth and multiple wires sticking out of one of the Iron Legion suits.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Tony exclaimed quickly getting up when he sees Bucky’s appearance.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Bucky quickly ran through what had happened that night, he left out no details. Down to the fact that he’d kissed you and fully intended on sleeping with you, and Tony just listened with a thoughtful expression on his face.

When Bucky was done, Tony sighed deeply and shook his head.

“You can’t blame yourself, Manchurian,” He said softly, “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Then whose was it? Because it was me that was supposed to protect her and I got fucking distracted because I want to fuck her, I lost focus on the purpose of why I’m here.” Bucky retorted, he was madder at himself than anything.

“Yes but you couldn’t have known about the bomb, which makes me think who the fuck had access to the system in the safe house and how’d they get in and out without us knowing or alerting FRIDAY?”

Tony asked some good questions, and both men looked at each other for a moment, before Bucky’s mind kicked back into work mode.

“We need to see the footage from tonight, everyone who had access to that building. Run facial recognition and bio metric patterns on every single person, I want to know the name of everyone who was in that building.” Bucky demanded, and Tony just nodded already pulling up a screen to get to work. “Sam said it was C4 rigged to go off when the door opened,”

“It’s an insider, it has to be. There is no one else that could have known about that safe house.”

“There were a lot of people there today,” Tony commented as he went through the footage.

“Yes, yes, but I ran background on all of them, there has to be someone we missed.”

“But you don’t miss things,” Tony pointed out arching an eyebrow at him,

“Yeah well, I was a little distracted today, fuck.”

“Hmmm who was assigned to her today?” Tony asked,

“What do you mean?”

“Her detail? Who was in charge?”

“Sam, myself and Steve, why?”

Tony frowned at the screen, “So who's the STRIKE agent who’s doing a very good job at hiding his face from the camera entering the apartment and leaving without being seen?” He mused,

Bucky immediately moved to Tony’s side and peered down at the footage on the screen. He stared at it for a good minute rewinding and re-watching the footage again and again, there was a familiarity to the way this person moved and walked and for the life of him, Bucky could not place who it was.

“I have no fucking idea who that is,” He muttered defeated.

~~~

The first thing you felt when your consciousness woke was just radiating pain across your skull. It’s like a sledgehammer being battered against your head. You groaned and tried to move, the memory of what had happened before you were knocked unconscious shattering through the lethargy that occupied your consciousness and you jolted awake. 

Heat, smoke, fire, pain, debris, that was a fucking explosion. Your eyes force themselves open and your head immediately spins in protest. 

You gasped for breath and forced your body upright, the muscles screaming in protest and pain wracked through your body.

A strangled cry escaped your throat as your eyes registered your surroundings, white walls, metal single bed, you were hooked up to various IVs and other machines, everything smelled sterile and lemony. A hospital and your first thought was Bucky.

Bucky.

The last thing you remember was being throw across the room and you seeing him take the brunt of the explosion as he tossed you behind him. You knew you fucked up, you should have been behind him, he was going to yell at you for that. 

Your mind is scrambling through the memory of the explosion, how many hours had passed? where was Bucky? What the hell had happened to you? Your eyes looked down at your body clad in a cotton hospital gown and you see the various injuries on your body, cuts, stitches, wounds, all gauzed up.

The watch on your wrist was going off incessantly as was the heart rate monitor you were hooked up to. Ignoring the shooting pain in your shoulder and side of your head you pulled out the IVs and other machines hooked up to you.

“FRIDAY?” You spoke to the watch on your wrist,

“Yes?”

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Sergeant Barnes is in the lab with Tony,” She responded,

“Call him for me,”

“I have been given orders not to do that yet,”

“What the fuck, by who?”

“Captain Rogers,”

“He can’t do that,”

“Unfortunately he can, he outranks Sergeant Barnes and my programming doesn’t allow for anyone to override an order once it’s given,”

“Fucking bullshit,”

“I am sorry,” The AI said softly and you ignored her. You got out of the bed, wincing in pain as your bare feet touched the cold floor, your legs buckled slightly and you gasped. Pain wasn’t even an apt word to describe how you felt at that moment, your ankles feeling like they had seen better days, your whole body is screaming in protest, head spinning, ribs tender, your eyes watered from it.

“I would advise staying in bed, you have multiple contusions, a dislocated shoulder, several stitches and staples and a concussion” FRIDAY stated but you ignored her grimacing again at the pain radiating through your left arm.

You looked around the room and spotted clothes that had been neatly folded and left there. Assuming they were for you, you quickly make your way over to them and pull them on. A black sweater, dark shorts and a pair of sneakers. Every movement you made, your arm screamed in pain the sling it was put in didn’t help for shit and the brace your wrist was in was in the way and annoying so you pulled it off. 

Your body was still covered in dust and blood, you needed a shower and badly but you wanted to get out of here first.

As you moved towards the door, you tried opening it but it didn’t budge. You tried, again and again, jimmying the handle becoming increasingly frustrated.

“FRIDAY?”

“I’m here.”

“Why is the door locked?”

“Sorry, Captain’s orders.”

“Open the door, please.”

“You do not have the authority to override Captain Rogers orders, I am sorry.”

“Open the fucking door,” You insisted through gritted teeth,

“No.” The defiant response from her makes you grown in frustration and kick the nearby chair only to groan in pain and keel down to your knees. You were suddenly feeling dizzy, the blood rushing to your head. Of course, you were, you had a fucking concussion and had just survived a damn bomb blast.

You sat down on the cold floor for a moment and curved your one free arm around your waist and were suddenly choked with emotion.

You survived a bomb blast …

There was a fucking bomb in your home, and suddenly you felt hot tears falling from your eyes as a guttural sob erupted from your throat.

~~~

It was almost sunrise when Bucky finally found himself making his way to the med-bay you were in. He felt like shit for not coming to see you sooner but the moment Fury had arrived he’d been pulled into a tactical meeting and practically interrogated about the incident. 

Arguments ensued, Steve yelled, Fury yelled, Sam yelled, and Bucky just sat their quietly watching them all argue. He couldn’t focus on this meeting not while you were a few floors down in a med bay alone, he had no idea how you were feeling or if anyone had spoken to you about what had happened. 

“Barnes! Are you even listening?” Fury snapped at him and Bucky lifted his head, his chin was resting on his fist, he looked at Fury with a blank expression. 

“No, no I am not,” He replied almost mutely, 

“Do you really think now is the time for shit-” Fury started but Bucky cut him off with a sigh as he rose to his feet, 

“Frankly I don’t care about what any of you have to say right now, I have seventy six stitches across my body, a splitting headache and a protection detail in the med bay, I have better things to do than argue logistics with someone who wasn’t there.” Bucky said calmly before walking out. 

Needless to say, Fury wasn’t happy and Bucky had to figure out a way to explain this whole mess. Steve advised against telling Fury about his feelings because the last thing they needed was the wrath of Nick Fury raining down on them while they were trying to figure this whole thing out.

After scouring every frame of footage from the apartment, outside and even the street the only thing they had come up with was a partial glance at the suspects face. Other than that, he was like a ghost and this worried every single one of them.

All Bucky kept thinking was maybe all those experiments Hydra had been doing had created another Winter Soldier and this thought terrified him.

What if they’d made them stronger, better, faster, smarter than him and whoever they were succeeded with their task.

Shoving those thoughts aside when he stopped at the door to the room you were in, he inhaled a deep breath before speaking to FRIDAY,

“Hey FRIDAY, can you open up med bay seven please?”

“Right away, Bucky,”

At first, he doesn’t hear anything and his heart jumped in his chest but then he heard a soft hiss and a thud before the door mechanically unlocked and he pushed it open. The moment he stepped into the room Bucky’s heart felt like it had been ripped out of his body as his eyes landed on you in the dim light.

You sat on the bed, an IV drip in your arm, the other cradled against your body in a sling. You were looking down at the phone in your hand, a frown on your face. He could see from the top you wore the multiple cuts and bruises on your body but it was when you looked up at him and he saw the bruise on your cheekbone, the split lower lip and the bloodshot in your right eyes just above it where an obvious blood vessel had burst that made him freeze where he stood.

“Bucky,” You said, your soft voice fracturing him for a moment as he took you in. This was his fault, you almost died because of him, because he was fucking distracted. “Thank God you’re okay,”

Why the hell were you worried about him, he should have been asking if you were okay. He has to practically force his legs to move towards the bed where he takes a slow seat on the chair beside the bed.

“Fuck, fuck…I’m...Jesus. Are you okay?” His voice cracked slightly, his eyes roaming over your injuries.

“You’re Jesus?” Your giggle surprised him, and he lets out a quick chuckle before concern runs through him again when he sees you wince and hold your side again.

“What’s wrong, what hurts?” He asked concernedly he reached out to touch your hand but stopped himself quickly.

“I’m fiiine,” You almost drawled out, sounding slightly lethargic, “Just a few broken ribs, nothing compared to how painful it is to look at myself in the mirror and see what a mess I am,”

Bucky looked at the IV beside the bed and then back at you, realizing you were probably on a seriously heavy dose of painkillers at that moment and high as a kite and he released a shaky breath.

“I’m so sorry,” He muttered softly,

You didn’t say anything, your pretty eyes meeting his and you give him a small smile. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bucky,” 

“No I do, i was supposed to protect you and I-” 

“Bucky, stop, we’re both fine. You were protecting me, I mean you tossed me back pretty good never had a guy do that to me before,” 

A light laugh comes form you and you winced again, Bucky feels a small relief that you were still yourself and that you were not mad at him but the guilt inside him just grows as he looked at you. 

Bucky reached up and feather lightly brushed the bruise on your cheekbone before dropping his hand away again.

“Do you need anything?”

“I’d like to leave this stupid room,” You replied nodding, “Can I go home Bucky? Please?”

“I can’t take you home...” His voice is soft but he understands what you mean by home. You needed familiarity, something comforting in this situation.

“Please, just get me out of here,”

When he sees the tears in your eyes all Bucky wanted to do was hug you, and tell you it was okay and he’s so sorry but he knows he’s got to think with his head at that moment and not his heart.

“We can’t leave just yet, we have-”

“Bucky please…” You cut him off, grabbing his hand. There’s a pleading tone to your voice and his eyes move down to your hand that now gripped his tightly and then back up to your eyes.

“Sweetheart just listen to me, please.” He tried to say but you shook your head, vehemently. There are pain and panic in your eyes, you looked like a caged animal terrified of your surroundings and Bucky felt a surge of panic rise through him.

“No, no, Bucky, you promised you’d always be there for me. So, please, take me home!”

He closed his eyes for a moment then slowly pulled his hand out of yours and looked at you again. “I’m sorry, you have to stay here for your safety.”

His voice was harder than he intended it to be but he had to think with his head and not his heart which was screaming at him telling him to hold you, to take you home and just help you, it’s what he promised himself he would do. 

The sob that escaped your throat broke his heart and Bucky reached for you but you shied away from his touch.

“Just get out,” You snarled,

Your anger startled him and he sighed deeply. He deserved this, but it didn’t mean he hated it any less. So slowly rising to his feet Bucky walked towards the exit, he gives you one last lingering look before he shuts the door behind him. Exhaling a deep breath the moment the door closes, Bucky sagged against the door and gripped the handle so tightly he was worried he might snap it and then he heard it.

Your sobs coming from the other side of the door and suddenly his chest felt tight like he couldn’t breathe and before he knew it he was running, he had to get out, away for just a second.

He needed to breathe.

~~~

Bucky stood on a terrace of the tower almost fifty floors up, he breathed in the cool evening air relishing the way it felt on his bare skin. His mind is buzzing, he can’t keep his thoughts quiet. He tries to steady his rapidly beating heart, he feels panic rise inside him.  The sound of your sobs echoing in his mind again and again, and he releases a shuddering breath.

He feels himself slipping down that slope, the one that teeters on the edge of a dangerous cliff. Where his memory dam held back all those thoughts that haunted his existence and he felt it break. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, this wasn;t him, he shouldn’t feel this helpless. Bucky had spent so long fighting for control and he had it now, he had all of it. 

So why did he feel so helpless, why the fuck couldn’t he control his emotions when it came to you. He wanted to desperately to feel like this was okay, but he was failing nonetheless. It was frightening, and turned his mind to panic.

His chest constricted, Bucky placed his hand over his heart and took a slow, deep breath. Why the hell did he have to fall for you, why the fuck did Steve have to be right and why the fuck was his chest hurting so much every time he replayed the memory of you and him in that hallway.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He cursed loudly whirling around and slamming his fist into the concrete wall behind him. The concrete cracked and cracks spider up the wall, Bucky hit it again deepening the crack before he dropped his metal fist to his side and ripped open the door stalking back into the darkness of the hallway.

[gvnbreaker]

CHARACTER SURVEY || Aja Hyskaris

@yascaret​ edited/removed some of the questions to make this more FFXIV-friendly. I made a few of my own changes as well.

RULES.  Repost, don’t reblog! Tag 10! Good luck!

TAGGED BY.  @yascaret​ and @wood-warder​

TAGGING. If you’re reading this, you’re tagged!

BASICS. FULL  NAME :   Aja Hyskaris

NICKNAME :  None (yet?)

AGE :  Appears around late 20s/30 by hyur standards

BIRTHDAY :   Midsummer

GENDER : Non-binary; she/they

ETHNIC  GROUP : Viera (Rava)

NATIONALITY :  Ivalician (?)

LANGUAGE / S : Common

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  Homosexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : Homoromantic

RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :  In a relationship with Lofn Yascaret & Pjel Qoet

HOME  TOWN / AREA :  The Hyskarian Deepwood, Golmore

CURRENT  HOME :  A small house in Shirogane.

PROFESSION : Mercenary. Bounty/monster hunter & occasional bodyguard.

PHYSICAL. HAIR : Vibrant red, wild, curly, falling to mid-back; undercut. Sideburns and widow’s peak.

EYES :  Amber.

FACE :   Square with a sharp jawline. High cheekbones, thick, arched eyebrows, and a prominent, aquiline nose. Often smirking insufferably or flirtatiously, prone to great expressiveness and wide smiles but just as easily brooding. Sharp teeth.

LIPS :  Full. Her smiles are crooked to begin with and deadened nerves on the left side of her mouth add to the effect.

COMPLEXION : Deep brown with warm undertones, lighter palms and soles of her feet, a lighter smudge underneath her nose and around her nostrils. Freckling around her shoulders, arm, the tops of her thighs and her lower back.

BLEMISHES : None of note.

SCARS :  Covered in scattered scars of varying age, depth, and severity, particularly on her left side and near her prosthetic arm. Ceruleum burns on torso; old, ringed scar around throat; vertical scar on left corner of mouth; small scar across nose; edge of left eyebrow; three scars beneath right eye.

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS :  Blackwork tattoos around forearm and legs, among others (design with art to come); white tattoos (curve, three dots) beneath eyes; Several gold rings along outer shells of ears; gold septum ring

HEIGHT :   Just under six fulms, not counting her ears.

WEIGHT :   Average.

BUILD :   Muscular and stocky, with broad shoulders tapering to a strong waist and thighs. [body type reference]

FEATURES :  Her left arm, from the start of the bicep, is a mechanical prosthetic, appearing to be of magitek-or-close make.

ALLERGIES :   None that she knows of.

USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  Worn loose and wild, not so much a style as a thick mane.

USUAL  FACE  LOOK :  Bare-faced, wearing tinted red pince nez. Smirking, grinning, flirting--generally looking like a complete asshole.

USUAL  CLOTHING :  Loose, open shirts, trousers, long coats, heavy, knee-high boots, leather jackets.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : Imprisonment, isolation, drowning, Garlean war machina.

ASPIRATION / S :  Stability, helping others, belonging. In her younger years, she had romantic visions of knighthood, but those have since quieted with the years.

POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Adventurous, Passionate, Brave, Charismatic, Strong, Empathic

NEGATIVE  TRAITS :  Cocky, Bull-headed, Self-destructive, Reckless, Impulsive

MBTI : ESFP

ZODIAC :  Leo

TEMPERAMENT :  Sanguine

SOUL  TYPE / S :   Warrior

ANIMALS :   Wolf

VICE HABIT / S :   Brooding, drinking to excess, recklessness, impulsive decisions, using sex as validation.

FAITH :  She spares it little thought.

GHOSTS ? :  Yes.

AFTERLIFE ? :  Maybe.

REINCARNATION ? : Hopefully.

ALIENS ? :   When she met her first hyur man, she knew aliens were real.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Garlemald bad, fuck cops.

EDUCATION  LEVEL :  Average for a viera of her village. She's taught herself to read between the lines better after being conned out of a full hunt reward once or twice in her early days in Rabanastre.

FAMILY. FATHER :   Fleeting contact a lifetime ago.

MOTHERS :  Still in the Wood.

SIBLINGS :   Several, no contact. She was close with one, but has made peace with never seeing any of them again.

EXTENDED  FAMILY :  Still in the Wood--as far as she knows.

NAME MEANING / S :  Aja, from the Hyskarian Deepwood

HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : She was born in Golmore, but as far as she knows her name has little meaning.

FAVORITES. BOOK :  Adventure stories and romance novels. She’d never admit it, but they can be found hidden in her satchel or underneath or inside other things.

DEITY :  She tries not to think about them.

HOLIDAY :  Moonfire Faire, ????

MONTH :  Summer

SEASON :  Summer & Fall

PLACE :  A grassy field. The back of a cycle. On top of someone or between someone's legs.

WEATHER :  Thunderstorms, rain showers, clear skies and bright sun overhead.

SOUND / S:  Rain, thunder in the distance, the soft breathing of a woman asleep.

SCENT / S :  Metal, cedar, rain, leather, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

TASTE / S :  Meat, whiskey, curry, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

FEEL / S :  Furs, leather, grass, rain, girlfriend ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ANIMAL / S :  Cats, coeurls, dogs.

NUMBER :  7

COLORS :  Red, browns, black, gunmetal

EXTRA. TALENTS :  She's a blunt instrument, so beating the shit out of things. Flirting. Fixing things, usually the mechanical variety. Making friends. Diffusing social conflicts as often as she creates them. She's a good cook, but it's suitable really nowhere else but over a fire with a beast's flank in one hand and a metal spit in the other.

BAD  AT :  Love. Understanding and accepting her feelings. Has a chronic case of Foot-in-Mouth Disease. Has a long fuse, but her temper can spin out of control when pressed. Terrible at restraint and not being reckless and impulsive.

TURN  ONS :  Stockings, especially with the seam up the back. The nape of a woman's neck. Banter. Compliments. Smiles. Give her a smile and a coquettish eyelash flutter or make her feel strong and she's useless putty in your hands.

TURN  OFFS : Flirtatious men, cowards, cruelty, Garleans.

HOBBIES : Fishing, tinkering, gambling, trying new foods, sparring and training, exercise.

TROPES :  You Can’t Go Home Again, Badass Longcoat, Dark-Skinned Readhead, Cannot Spit It Out, Hot-Blooded, Scars Are Forever, Everyone Can See It, Artificial Limbs, Berserk Button, Unusual Eyebrows, Dark and Troubled Past, Rage Breaking Point, Cool Bike, Hot-Blooded Sideburns, Fiery Redhead, Red Oni Blue Oni, Gun Blade, La Résistance, Spell Blade, Love Epiphany, Bruiser with a Soft Center, Didn’t Think This Through (Gonna stop now or I’ll be here all night)

QUOTES : “Ah, fuck.”

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 :   If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called,  what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  John Wick mixed with Final Fantasy VIII mixed with Drive but with Garlean soldiers, turncoats, gay bro content, a sorceress, and also heaps of gay in general.

Q2 :   What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 :  Chromatic rock, Nightrun, hair metal, a lot of Deftones, Tool, the Weeknd, indie and acoustic rock for angst.

Q3 :   Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 :   When viera were teased at Fanfest, I lost my mind and have been unable to concentrate on any other character since. Aja was actually going to be a hrothgar, but when they genderlocked them and the model and general design didn’t fit her body type, well… plans changed.

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :   Much like @yascaret’s answer, getting my gay hands on viera in FFTA and being obsessed since then. I wanted to write a warrior, a little battered but unbroken despite everything. She came out differently than originally planned, but in a good way. She’s just an even bigger himbo now.

Q5 :   Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :   I worry about Flanderizing her too hard, because while she is a big flirtatious himbo idiot I also want it to come across that she has depth.

Q6 :   What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :   Not a lot. I guess we're both stubborn idiots with very long fuses that nonetheless eventually explode and/or destroy whatever is on the receiving end. Also what's gender precious

Q7 :   How does your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :   She probably wouldn’t acknowledge me at all, but we might bond over spicy noodles.

Q8 :   What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :   Lofn and Pjel are the obvious choice, but��� Lofn and Pjel. I really love writing her alongside and against them because their personality traits both complement and chafe against one another, often in the same scene. Also I love their chemistry and look forward to how that plays out.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Q9 :   What gives  you inspiration  to write  your muse ?        

A9 :    B u n y  d e a t h  s q u a d. Just in general seeing my RP partners and roleplayers I haven’t interacted with yet writing and posting content for their characters really inspires me. As far as writing Aja, I take a handful of aesthetics, design elements, and themes and smash them together until something clicks. Listening to music and rolling through a prompt generator usually kick starts me into writing a drabble or developing something, and the FFXIV Write challenge has been great for that this month.

Q10 :  How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 :  About an afternoon and part of an evening. I fell into TV Tropes a little too hard near the end.

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

WIP Meme

Tagged by @belleslettres-love, thanks hun =D

Rules: post the first line of your wip and tag as many people as words.

And since they did a paragraph instead of a sentence...👀 y’all know how I love to overshare while working on stuff, and I’m working on multiple things at once, most of which are different parts of my mdzs mer!au series...

1. 

This is kind of...my current main wip is actually combining 4 finished oneshots/drabbles into one piece and adding transitions and filler scenes to make it flow as best I can and make it a more coherent multi-chapter piece (who am I kidding though, I’ll end up probably doubling the overall word count in new added scenes), here’s the first paragraph of that:

The sound of cricket song fills Wei Wuxian’s ears, the clear, starry sky is filling his vision, and Lan Zhan’s hair is like silk against his fingers. It’s probably the most peaceful and content he’s ever felt. A moment he wishes could go on and on, endlessly.

But, since that was already technically finished as a standalone piece before I started combining these pieces, then the more correct ‘first line/s’ of this wip would be the new scene (which I’m still working on) I wrote to connect that first piece to the second one.

In which case:

Wei Wuxian stared at the ceiling for some time, his reaching hand long fallen back onto the bed. Another dream of seeing Lan Zhan again. Like all the others, it had felt so real. He had stopped visiting that pier in the hopes of seeing Lan Zhan again, but his mind kept sending him back there, night after night.

Still driving myself nuts over the tense change and transitioning it, but...present works really well for that initial dream sequence and I don’t want to re-write it XD wouldn’t be an issue if the first moments of waking weren’t also in present tense, making the transition super awkward, but I refuse to change them because it’s so beautiful and sad, I can’t mess with that 🤷‍♂️ I’ll just probably smack a chapter break between the two and torment my poor readers by leaving it on those sad lines for a few days before uploading the next chapter 😅

Oh man, though, if this was a ‘last line’ of your wip meme, y’all readers of my mer!au would lose your shit, I still squeal and flail whenever I look at the last lines of the last part that’s going into this multi-chapter set XD 

2.

Lan Xichen turned his face into the breeze. It ruffled his hair a little, what few strands weren’t smoothly pressed back, at least. It was still an almost uncomfortable sight, how similar their features were.

👀👀

3.

Wei Wuxian waited until Jiang Cheng was out of sight, and then his shoulders slumped. He lifted his hands to cover his face and inhaled slowly. He could barely contain himself, remembering Jiang Cheng caring for him like a younger brother, or maybe even a son. After the suspicion had passed, at least, but even then, he had been kinder to Wei Wuxian than he would have expected.

I went and started a mini-follow up to my 27k de-aged wwx fic that I may or may not have finished and may or may not still end up deleting, which was itself an alternate of an unposted oneshot focusing on lwj and lxc’s part of this same story and which I may or may not end up deleteting since I didn’t like it and that’s why I went and wrote jc and wwx’s side...sometimes it just be like that 🤷‍♀️ and god i want to write jin ling’s pov of the whole fucking thing too but yikes NO i need to stop

4.

Kasen turned from the sheets he had just hung to dry, just for a moment, to see if Ookurikara’s distasteful state continued. He was resolved to say something if it did. There was only so much he could stand, and there was established etiquette for such things.

Whoops, also started a Kurikasen soulmate au cos I was throwing soulmate headcanons around with someone at like 2 in the morning and that’s a surefire recipe to get me writing (and in fact that’s how I started writing kurikasen in the first place, we were talking about them and I went onto ao3 and saw there 3 fics about them, went and was like OMG WHY to them, starting headcanoning with them and then hey next thing I knew I’d written 2 drabbles and it was 3am). But then while I started writing it we kept talking about it...so I sort of plotted the whole thing out and now my interest in writing it has plummeted so I’ll probably never finish it...but I’ve still been tinkering with it anyway...

5.

“Pick herbs?”

“Yes. Herbs, mushrooms, anything. Just send him out of the castle for a day or two. If he stays a moment longer he’s going to cause an incident and—” Arthur stopped speaking abruptly.

Gaius raised both his eyebrows. “You are the prince, your highness. If you wish him to be gone for a time, why not order him yourself?”

“Oh, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my useless servant, it’s that the only person he will actually listen to is you, Gaius,” Arthur said, sounding uncharacteristically bitter.

Sooo, @april-thelightfury115 I haven’t forgotten I owe you a merthur fic, and this isn’t technically the start of it, but it’s the start of the doc it’s in, I’m sort of writing bits of it out of order as they come to me. I haven’t written Merthur for so long and I don’t usually write with such a clear idea outline in my head so...we’ll see XD but I’m trying =)

ANYWAY

There’s a couple more small things here and there, I’ve been having such a hard time maintaining focus so I’ve just been hopping around my wips doing a little here and there, but let’s leave it with those 5 main things =)

And, I dunno who to tag @rockmarina and @sarah-yyy come to mind...anyone who wants to be tagged in things like this leave a reply and I’ll note it down somewhere for future reference, I really can’t rely on my memory to recall who I know that writes, and the writers I’ve been talking to lately are all on discord or twitter...and I’m never sure if I should tag all the HP writers I know when I do these and they’re not about HP anymore 😅

[damarcore]

fics i need to write: au edition

last updated: 4/16/2020

this is SO LONG, i am SO SORRY, but once again i am welcoming all questions about any of these! come poke me with a cattle prod until writing/headcanons fall out.

aerin: hey corlath, catch *throws harry*

tags: aerin drags harry au

here is the single post about it. it is long, so i will not be copy-pasting.

life???/death gods au

tags: gods au

(was once a hades/persephone au but i have no chill, so it Spiraled.)

the land of the dead is being harassed by a mortal but powerful group of necromancers. corlath, king of the dead, goes to the god of diplomacy to ask him and his queen for assistance, and is soundly denied. on his way out, he sees a goddess he doesn't know, and his long-forgotten heart whispers that she's a dead god, too; but why would she be in the living gods' realms?

harry can't remember anything before waking up in the desert between the lands of life and death, but she does know her brother is calling her the wrong name; when she asks him why he won't just call her harry, or why she isn't allowed to set foot in the desert, or how she's supposed to be a goddess of plants when he barely lets her go outside, he only gets a pained look and changes the subject. eventually, fed up, she walks into the desert just to see what he's forbidding her from; there she meets the dead king, who asks how she's brought life into a place that hasn't seen it in a thousand years.

daemons au

tags: daemons au

blue sword edition: settling is when you just decide what form you want your daemon to take, right? it's proper for a lady's daemon to be small and elegant, so cystennin-call-me-tenny is a robin, soft and sweet. sure, it's bad form to turn into other things once you're an adult, but harry figures that being kidnapped is the exception to the rule.

(corlath’s folstza daemon, very carefully carrying a little bird in her mouth, is Not Expecting him to suddenly grow twice her size; corlath’s jaw aches in sympathy.)

(now what, says everyone who is not corlath, staring at the massive fucking wolf laying on the desert sand, knocked out with his human.)

(uh, says corlath, and zhadia stares at him judgmentally as only a cat can.)

(i couldn’t fit it in the blurb, but: luthe’s daemon is a badger, courtesy of @luxpenumbra. this information needs to be in the world.)

hero and the crown edition: it's taboo to have reptile daemons, so of course on top of everything else wrong with aerin, while she's still recovering from the surka her daemon settles as a massive lizard like a flat, wingless dragon she can barely lift to go upstairs.

when they tire of galanna’s pointed barbs about how dragon-like he is and finally finally finish the kenet and get around to killing real dragons, they stretch the limits of their bond over and over, until one day aerin realizes she’s walked twenty feet from kian without noticing and horror dawns on her, and she remembers stories of witches and their range and how her mother’s daemon could fly higher than the tallest castle tower without flinching.

they lose track of each other, with maur. it's just too big, and they're both too injured to move, and at the end of those agonizing few weeks apart they can’t tell the physical aches from the ones in their soul. later, they find it’s almost a blessing; kian can’t climb the steep stairs of agsded’s tower, and aerin can’t carry him and gonturan and all the surka leaves all at once. it’s safer to be apart, for now.

(if they’d known “for now” would end up being a few centuries aerin would have dragged him up the stairs, everything else be damned, but she’s a little glad kian doesn’t have to hate someone with her face.)

the lady king

tags (eventually): corlath-sol au

(or “the one where corlath is a lesbian, because the author is queer and has no chill, and also homophobia doesn’t exist in any universe i write because i said so”)

corlath is seventeen when her father dies. the priests hem and haw and arrange a marriage to some powerful man or another; someone, they reassure her, who will take the throne of the king and lead damar when she is still grieving. every other sovereign has ruled perfectly fucking well while grieving, she thinks, and writes her own name in the book of kings before anyone can stop her. when she first pulls gonturan from its sheath it sings in her hands, calling yes, yes, i’ve been waiting for you,  and corlath says oh and cries for the first time in too long.

the meeting at the outlander post would almost be funny; no one in her own country has dared look down on her for her gender in at least a decade, And Yet. she decides within half a second that forloy won’t be speaking for her, not when the big soft thing that calls himself commissioner hems and haws and says my dear madam—hmm—your highness and explains like she’s a child why he can’t help her.

(harry. has never had to look upwards at another woman before. it’s definitely a new experience, and it must be the reason for the strangeness in her chest every time she looks at corlath, right? right. of course.)

dadjack au (until i get a better name for it)

tags: dadjack au. also on ao3, but i’ll be heavily editing those chapters.

(wherein jack is harry and richard’s father, and their mother is a damarian woman who makes somewhat questionable choices about her daughter’s powers.)

miran’s family has been builders and fixers and tinkerers since before the lady aerin killed her first dragon, and so when she sees the glint of kelar in her baby daughter’s eyes she resigns herself to harry taking apart anything with moving pieces as soon as she figures out how to walk. then harry screams, the windows shatter, and the only thing she and jack can think to do is leave the desert in hopes distance will cool the heat of harry’s power. she still carves a blessing into metal chains, begging it to protect her daughter from herself. 

(in her fear she forgets the first lesson you learn when dealing with any magic: it is not your friend. choose your words carefully.)

(what does it mean, to be protected from yourself?)

modern au: the blue sword

tags: modern au, twitter au

part one: harry, bored out of her goddamn mind, is Good With Computers. so good that her brother gives her two options: come to daria and switch her major to something harmless, or face the consequences of accessing government secrets for shits and giggles goddamnit harry what the fuck. because she’s not stupid, she goes. then the damarian king comes to visit and she thinks, what the hell. why not. what’s the harm. richard only babyproofed english secrets, and pokes her nose through his phone, just to see.

corlath finds out that someone hacked his phone while he was meeting with the english and is angry for all of ten seconds until he figures out it was some college student, then curious, then horrified and elated. he offers harry a choice, too: he can press charges for her hacking him, or she can tell him how she did it, because damarian code is meant to be unhackable except to those with a Gift, and she can come help him win a war. because she’s not stupid, she goes.

part two: sometime after and during All That, social media exists. corlath loves his wife, aerin is good at being places she shouldn’t, and luthe is cryptic as always.

steampunk(?) au: the hero and the crown

tags (eventually): steampunk au

connected to the modern au! i can’t find my notes on it but it features aerin pioneering clean energy and being a tinkerer, luthe the toymaker, and northern automatons. just all of the automatons.

“my ot3 gets to nap in the sun away from all the bullshit” au

tags (eventually): ot3 au

i don’t have notes for this one either but you should ask me about it anyway because it’s Good. aerin, tor, and luthe navigate this whole relationship thing while one party is an antisocial hermit and the other two are royalty. featuring tor rightfully going What The Fuck at mage bullshit, luthe pulling pigtails, and aerin sighing a lot.

[withercat-writes]

To Lose It All

So I got inspired, prepare for angst and Flux Buddies Spoilers, done in my usual rambling style! Its based on the idea I had on what if Blackrock was after Flux Buddies! Ao3 Link

Lalna was never the same after that fateful moment in Mother’s dimension, he wasn’t sure where The Doctor had dumped him to scold him, not that Lalna remembered anything really from this time, every moment from leaving that dimension was a blur, all he knew was eventually he found his way back to the others. He never let himself get close to them though, building a new base and locking himself away. The others tried to get close, to talk to him, to get him to at least acknowledge them more then mildly, none succeeded, Lalna didn’t want to risk getting attached again. He never tried to get back to the tower, Lalnable could live there for all he cared, better away from him then nearby anyways. Hopefully Tiddles had long since ran away from the maniac.

He knew Nano told him to be good, to be better then this, but he just couldn’t find it in him to care. It’s not like she could see, she was gone, poof, vanished, no respawn, someplace Lalna may never be allowed to reach, and with that fact in mind, it could be so hard to care. So he tinkered away, building and making mild pleasantries at Xephos who just wouldn’t leave him alone. He found himself quicker to violence, though it both sickened him, and intrigued him how little he cared anymore about the pain of others, he did his best to resist this sure, but sometimes the apathy would claw at his heart, and he’d go looking for a scrap to just feel something.

Soon his hands had him build that same weapon that killed Nano, and a faint wonderance past in his mind, would if he detonated, would his respawn fail? He couldn’t bring himself to test it, but he could never bring himself to take it out of his inventory either. So there it sat, before eventually the apathy clawed too much and he went out to look for a scrap, and saw Sjin. Everyone knew what happened next, the two got too heated, literally, fire burning all around. Lalna couldn’t stop, the adrenaline like wine to a dehydrated soul. It kept getting worse, explosions and death. He saw Rythian eyes wide in shock as one of Sjin's arrows plunged his throat, before another shot through his head, killing him instantly, he felt nothing to it. He saw Zoey take an arrow through the heart through the corner of his eye, and he felt nothing to it as well.  

And why should he care anyways? They’d just respawn, they’d be fine, no worse for wear, maybe a bit annoyed, but who cares about that. There was no real consequences for them dying, they wouldn’t suffer, wouldn’t truly die, so why would death matter? They’d still be here, like Nano should have been, but she wasn’t. Nano wouldn’t be proud, but she was gone, so why care about that either. He wished they would permanently die for a moment, so they could never realize the curse they were all under.

He set down the explosives and set them off, retreating back a bit, he wasn’t fully ready to die, natural aversions to that and all that. It unfortunately did not kill him, and soon he noticed Sjin in his base and he rushed to fix the damage, he wasn’t trying to blow up literally everything, fucking Sjin! He was too late though, and the world turned white, and he couldn’t stop the smile. 

Alas, he woke up all the same, a new world yes, but he knew it was just more of the same, he clutched the sapphire in his pocket tight as he couldn’t stop a few tears. He got back to work though, building up a castle, throwing himself into his machines. No one cared beyond a few dirty looks about the end of the past world, and why should they? Everything that mattered was fine, they were alive, unharmed, with infinite potential, instead of gone, lost, dead. Everyone still had there friends, and loved ones, the lucky bastards.

He isolated himself once more in his castle, he decided this time to craft it to remind him of the first base with Nano, to hopefully inspire some emotion as he kept to himself again. This time no one cared about this isolation, it seems they’d finally given up on him, and he grew further into apathy, he learned Rythian wanted revenge, he shrugged it off, okay whatever why should he care? Then he learned about Zoeya.

Then rage bubbled in his chest for the first time in months.

How DARE he do this, how dare he come to face him for revenge with an apprentice that FELL FROM THE SKY, with an apprentice with a CHEERFUL GO LUCKY ATTITUDE, an apprentice EAGER TO LEARN, an apprentice with UNIQUENESS and OPTIMISM, and still SASS. Really the only way Rythian could have made it worse is if he gave her a sapphire, he shuddered at the thought, hand clutching her sapphire again.

How dare he get revenge with someone that reminded him so much of Nano. Revenge he could ignore? But this? THIS?? This was an insult, a grave cruel insult! To rub it in his face that Rythian has what he lost, that Rythian could do it so much fucking better, what a joke, what a piece of shit! He threw himself into his research, fine, it had been too long since he felt anything anyways, and rage and sadism was something familiar. A part of him wondered if this is the kind of thing that created Lalnable, Lalna crushed those thoughts, no, he was better then that, he would always be better then that.

He ignored every warning, buried himself even more in his castle. Came up with the ingenious forcefield idea. Then he waited, and waited, but the first one at his door was not an angry mage, but a girl, so fiery for a second he saw Nano. He blinked it off though and gave her the warmest smile he could, he wished he could say something new bubbled in his chest, but they didn’t the now well known rage and sadism just souring more, as he thinks about what could have been as he pretended everything was alright for her. The dinosaur he just kinda, ignored for the most part, gave him the creeps.

He was surprised when he heard she and Rythian got into a spat though, ha, he’d never have thrown Nano out for being a technomage, really Rythian was terrible, an awful mentor, couldn’t even give his apprentice the attention and knowledge she clearly needs, and just LETS HER SUFFER and SLOWLY FADE, doing NOTHING TO STOP, because he's a COWARD. What a terrible mage, a terrible friend. Truly Zoey deserved better. Not that he’d really be a better choice, he could pretend, but he knew they’d end up crawling back together, it’s not like anything could keep him and Nano from each other for long. Even if Zoey deserved better.

He cheerfully dodged her interests and set about crafting a gun, a gun for a dinosaur, hm past Lalna would have been thrilled, the dinosaur also seemed a bit familiar but hey what does he know. He acted how he knew he was supposed to act, cheerful if a bit distrusting, he didn’t want to drive her away after all, she’d be safe in his castle, plus it’d rub it in Rythian’s face, oh the hate Rythian would feel at the thought that stupid flux mad scientist, the dangerous warped scientist who broke respawn, was doing a better job protecting her then he could, ha. 

He handed over his laser to her, that, he didn’t know why, he did never use it though, so he didn’t really think it over, it was, kinda nice talking to someone, but he knew it wouldn’t last, besides he preferred to be alone, alone was safer for everyone. It was almost easy to forget he was explaining things to a stranger, not to Nano as he talked about his forcefield, but he didn’t forget, he couldn’t forget. So he just kept playing his part. 

This went on for a few hours, but soon, his moment of true reckoning began, and Rythian had fallen into his forcefield trap. He hoped this would be short, that he could get Rythian away before he truly gave into his anger, his one mercy, Nano would be proud. That changed, though, when he started talking, and his anger grew into a full blown rage in his chest.

Retribution????? Justice????? What a laugh! Everyone was fine, no one lost anything real, nothing tangible, what Rythian were you upset that you lost a few pieces of wood?? Pathetic. He kept his cool though, nothing would be achieved if he lost his top, worst of all Rythian might just start pitying him instead, and augh he hated pity.

He bantered with him, shoved it off on Sjin, and he knew Rythian was buying it, buying his faux calm. He internally aughed as he kept going, if no one else cares Rythian, that means that maybe they understand things more, that maybe you’re just a mad man screaming about a loss of a base, that everyone’s long past. He couldn’t resist name-dropping Zoey.

Oh how Rythian’s face just fell, oh yes it felt good, a sadistic glee curling in his chest, the pain in his eyes. Rythian always thought his eyes were guarded but it was so easy to pry them open into pure emotion. Rythian truly did understand nothing about this world, about respawn, about being a mentor, and about love. He wasn’t even the one who killed him, Sjin did that.

He rubbed his face as Rythian just kept going on and on about murder, bullshit that was. Utter bullshit, he’d only murdered one person and that wasn’t Rythian that’s for sure, Rythian dared to equate his minor inconvenience of respawn to what happened to her? Bastard. Murder no one comes back from, murder permanetly erases people. If Rythian had been murdered, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. 

Rythian hurled accusations of him, accusations of evil, of planned cruelty, of going down the same path, all from what? A force field designed to keep a clearly vengeance driven mage away? The fact he had a castle? Really at this point Lalna was pretty sure at this point everything he would ever do to Rythian, could easily be ruled self defense. He let himself smile, good, the nuke was already planted anyways, he got bored and it was too easy, sure he hadn’t armed it yet, it originally was supposed to be an empty threat but he could do that later. He brought it up, see how far enraged he could make this mage, a new project really, an experiment, and he was a scientist after all, sure it had been a bit, but he was.almost curious.

Smirking he went on and on about how he just needed insurance, that he can’t get rid of it, and loved the horror in his eyes, sure he couldn’t really feel emotions, hadn’t for what, a year now? Making others feel them though he found? Was pretty close of a substitute though, he liked that substitute, made him feel warmer, he poked fun at a mage fish take, and watched Rythian desperately try and make his way out, how silly, how fun, it felt good to have control, as he ignored Rythian’s edgy talk about trust.

Seeing Rythians face at the comment about him eating grass, he rushed in for the kill, talking about how he didn't know how he’d get Rythian food, not that food mattered either, a lack of food wouldn’t kill him, he knew that one personally, not eating would hinder you greatly, but alas, you’d live. Food was just one of many luxuries in this world, enjoying the horrified and sick look Rythian gave him, a face one would only make at one truly evil, that was wrong though, Rythian didn’t understand evil. Never met evil, he was just a child, a child whose mad his sandcastle got kicked, never felt true heartbreak, spoken to any truly rotten, he was just, too big for his britches. He wandered off, planning to return in a few hours, he hoped Rythian had noticed it was easy to shut off the forcefield, it was never meant to be permanent after all, like he said, talk, in safety of forcefield, that was all. 

He rubbed his face but couldn’t stop a mad grin when he found Rythian gone a few hours later, escaped, seemed he knew more about tech then he let on, good, it’d be too easy if he just let himself be caught forever, that’d be boring, no that’s not what he wanted. He’d make Rythian understand Retribution and Justice, he’d make him learn what it means to lose it all, what it means to truly feel pain and sorrow and loss. To truly understand. He felt so good reveling in Rythian's emotions, he wanted more! He wanted to truly be the scientist he knows he is and finally research into what breaks apart respawn, what sets a skeleton’s arrow apart from an explosion to kill Mother.

Alas poor Zoey though, she didn’t deserve what he was planning, to be in pain, to understand what he feels. This wasn’t about her though, and Nano didn’t deserve what Mother planned either. The fiery ones just always seemed to be the ones to burn out the fastest, what a shame, this story would not have no happy ending, his didn’t, and Rythian wasn’t allowed his either, and maybe it’d prompt the endermage to teleport him to hell.

Lalna couldn’t wait to find out what was going to happen next as he put on his favorite sapphire necklace.

[marvelous-heroimagines]

Visitors From 616

Requested by: Anonymous (Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Avengers (Platonic!) Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Swearing, meta

A/N: Reader is 16 years old. Set before Infinity War.

"Just give me a second honey,” your father notes to your mother before turning to address you, “Now, Y/N,” he says while staring at you intensely, and as your mother tugs on his sleeve and complains about being late, “I would say don’t go into my workshop, but as you are my daughter, I know you’ll do it anyway. And I would say don’t fiddle with any of my inventions, but again... My daughter,” he chuckles before trying to look stern, “So, my only rule is this: Do not, under any circumstance, messy around with the Stargate,”

You nod at his words, trying to look as innocent and trusting as possible, and luckily your dad believes you; he finally gives in to your mum’s pulling and bids you a goodbye with a hug, “Be good while we’re away, kiddo... And try to brain storm some new names for the Stargate, there’s got to be something better,”

You can’t help but laugh - he was definitely right about the dumb name - and sweetly wave at your parents as they leave. They were going away for the weekend, and you couldn’t wait to finally get your hands on the beta versions of Anthony Stark Tech. Your dad had been promising to allow you to help with his inventions for years now, but he never stayed true to his promise. You’d been throwing around some ideas that you think would actually make some of the inventions work.

It took only 30 minutes of you attempting to follow your dad’s rule to break it. Now you were hunched over a steel desk, your eyes darting back and forth between his notebook on the Stargate and your own - he had no idea that you had been secretly sneaking into his lab and fiddling with his inventions for 5 years now.

You had your dad’s genius mind - maybe it was genetic, or maybe because you’ve spent almost all of your spare time with him for as long as you can remember. You knew that you still had a lot of study and learning to do before you were as smart as your dad, but he was convinced you were smarter than he was at 16.

Scribbling down your newest idea to get the Stargate to work, you push off from the desk and glide over to the invention in your chair. Grabbing a few tools, you begin to tinker. You’re not worried about what punishment you would receive if your parents discovered you’d broken your dad’s rule - ‘he’ll be thanking me for making it work,’ you cockily think to yourself as you start working on the machine.

You wake from a nap you don’t remember taking - you must’ve passed out. You wipe drool from the side of your mouth and huff a sigh, realising you weren’t gonna crack this tonight. The lab was creeping when it was dark and silent, so you hurriedly leave and take the well lit elevator to the Tower’s penthouse - your parents house.

“Jarvis?” you call into the intercom,

“Yes, Miss Stark, what can I do for you?” the Tower’s night time head security manager’s voice sounds back,

“Can you please double check the private levels are locked down,” you request,

“Triple checked,” he replies, making you feel reassured you were safe in the big Tower, alone,

“Thank you,” you say, “Over and out,” you add with a tone of amusement. Your parents had employed Jarvis long before you were born; you’d known him for as long as you can remember and you thought of him as an uncle,

“Sleep well, Miss Stark,” you hear his voice from the intercom at the elevator as you make your to your room, “Over and out,” you can help but let out a small snicker - the two of you had upheld the ‘over and out’ thing ever since you were older enough to understand that the intercom connected to the security managers, and it wasn’t a weird robot stuck in the metal panel in the wall.

Loud blaring and shaking jolts you from sleep. It takes you a few seconds to shake off the sleep before you’re springing out of bed and racing to see what was happening. A monitor in the lounge room tells you that a fire has started in the lab, and your heart jumps into your throat as you begin to panic.

“What the fuck did I do?!” you curse yourself as you desperately punch the elevator button.

You sprint out of the elevator and desperately search for the fire extinguisher. That is until you realise there isn’t a fire, but instead a white cloud settles and reveals 5 figures standing around the Stargate invention.

“Hey!” you yell. But that only sends your heart racing as you realise that you had absolutely no way to fight off 5 fully grown adults - you could hardly carry a 10kg weight for more than 3 metres, you were a nerd!

As the white cloud settles - which you deduce is the fire extinguisher powder - your mouth falls open as you recognise the 5 people in front of you. They all look very confused and almost like they were ready to fight at a moments notice.

“What the fuck,” you drawl out in a whisper,

“Who are you?” Captain America asks - not a man that looked like Captain America, not Chris Evans (he had a full beard these days) - but actual Captain fucking America.

Your brain practically short circuits as you stare at the Avengers. You’d think that Mark Ruffalo, Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Hemsworth were all standing in your father’s lab if you didn’t know for a fact - thanks to paparazzi photos and Instagram - that all of the actors had changed their look after filming the latest MCU film.

You can’t fathom how you managed to fuck the Stargate so much that you created living beings from one of your favourite franchises, but some how it happened. Or were you dreaming? A thought hits you as you remember why your father had created the invention in the first place, and without even thinking, you step forward and reach out. You poke Tony Stark, making him jump back and the others tense.

“Okay,” you say out loud, even though you were talking to yourself, “You’re real,”

“Who are you?” Thor booms, jolting you from your catatonic state,

“M-My name is Y/N Stark,” you stammer, your mind still moving at half speed.

Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner and Thor all whip around to stare at Tony Stark; their faces conveying different shades of confusion. Tony Stark’s eyes dart from staring at the others to you with a look of horror and confusion painted all over his face.

Tony leans forward, “W-Who’s your mother?” he whispers, his eyes wide and full of terror,

“Virginia,” you state, oblivious to his confused and scared demeanour, “Virginia Potts,” Tony makes a chocking sound before forcefully coughing - as if he’d chocked on his own saliva, “Oh, shit,” you add, realising why he was so taken aback, “I always thought it was a coincidence,”

You were speaking to yourself, and get lost in your thoughts for a few moments before you realise that the Avengers are staring at you expectantly, “Right,” you note, trying to think of how to put your thought process into words, “My father’s name is Anthony Stark and... I-I think I proved the multiverse theory... By accident,”

“The multiverse theory,” Tony breathes out, clearly impressed. Bruce’s eyebrows have disappeared behind the rim of his glasses and Thor just nods.

“The what?” Steve asks, looking like he was the only one that was truly lost by your explanation. Natasha looks as if she kind of gets what you mean.

“Multiverse theory,” Tony turns to you and mockingly rolls his eyes, “We’ve been transported to a different universe,” Steve and Natasha’s mouths drop open with shock,

Bruce turns to Steve and Natasha, “Ah, okay,” he starts before clearing his throat to speak louder. Knowing the simplistic explanation for the multiverse theory, you quickly grab a nearby white board and start drawing - remembering how your father had illustrated it to you when you were younger.

“Imagine there are multiple versions of Earth,” he continues as you draw circles on the board to signify different Earths, “One where, let’s say, the Nazi’s won World War 2. Another where Loki won the Battle of New York-” your eyes bug out of your head as you hear about these fictional characters talking about fictional events in real life as though they really happened, “-One where, uh-”

“Where we’re all evil,” Tony offers.

Bruce just nods and continues, “So all of these Earths,” he points at the few circles you’d drawn on the board, “Occupy the same space, but they vibrate at different frequencies so they can’t see one another,”

“Then how the hell did we end up on a different Earth?” Natasha asks, her head tilted to the side as if she was trying to make proper sense of the science,

“Uh, I think that was me,” you pipe up. Your stomach knots as all of your favourite superheroes stare at you, “Well, it’s my dad’s invention... I just tweaked it a little,” you point to the Stargate invention behind the heroes and they all turn to look at it.

“That looks like your machine, Stark,” Thor notes. You’re confused for just a second before you realise he isn’t talking to you.

“That’s because,” Tony sighs, “I was working on the exact same invention... Well, kinda. I was trying to create a portal to the different realms,” he explains, “Mainly so you could stop ruining my lawn, Thor,” you can’t help but laugh at Tony’s annoyed tone.

Tony flashes a glance at you but Steve talks before anyone else, “But how does that explain her being your child?”

“I’m not his kid,” you speak first, cutting Tony off, “My parents just have the same names as Tony and Pepper - oh and our night security manager is named Jarvis - but none of them look like your versions,”

The room falls silent as the Avengers stare at you, confused and worried. You don’t know what you said wrong until Bruce speaks, “How do you know our names?” a deep frown is set between his brows,

“Uhh...” you can’t think of a lie fast enough, and with all the intense pairs of eyes staring at you, you just telling them the truth, “Well, here on my Earth, you’re all comic book characters,”

“What? Like Superman and Batman?” Steve asks with a frown.

His question surprises you, you would never have guessed that their Earth had DC comic books, “Uh, yeah, exactly,”

“Thor, look at this,” Tony hands the Asgardian a comic book, “Jane takes your throne in this one,”

Thor frowns down at the comic as he mumbles something inaudible to himself. You’re sat in the corner of the room, your head resting in your hands as you watch on in horror.

The Avengers had insisted they see the comics you claimed they were from, and for the past 3 hours they had been combing through them.

“Why don’t we see what these movies are all about?” Natasha states as she moves to grab your laptop.

You’re out of your seat and snatching the laptop from her extended arms before she can even blink, “No!” you practically scream, making all the Avengers stare at you, “U-Uh, I have the DVDs, let’s watch it on the wide screen,” you hope you’ve successfully covered your ass.

You dabbled in writing fanfiction about the MCU characters, and the last thing you want them to find is anything the internet writes about people presumed to be fictional.

Luckily, the Avengers shrug off your outburst and follow you out to the living room. You put on the first Avengers film, figuring it would the most exciting for all of them rather than going through each and every solo film.

It only took 30 minutes for your new guests to start pointing out the differences between what the film portrayed and what actually happened. You’re glad you’ve seen all of the film multiple times, because you can hardly hear the movie as they all complain about the inconsistencies.

After watching Avengers, Age of Ultron and Civil War, you finally put your foot down and voice the worries that had been bugging you all day. You’d convinced the Avengers to follow you back to the lab and help you fix the broken Stargate. You didn’t need your parents coming home tomorrow and finding out that you’d broken your dad’s rule, and that the characters you were ‘obsessed with’ - their words, not yours (but they probably weren’t wrong) - we’re sitting in their living room, eating popcorn and watching themselves on the tv.

Bruce, Tony and yourself work all night and well into the morning to repair the Stargate, but eventually it seems to be in working order. You did have to stop Steve from leaving the penthouse - you had to remind him that he looks exactly like a famous actor that would be swamped the moment he stepped outside, not to mention confuse every one of your Earth when they saw Chris Evans grow a beard back in a matter of days - but thankfully, nothing went wrong.

“Alright, fire her up,” Tony instructs, causing you to pause, “What?” he asks as he sees your hand hovering about the machine’s interface.

A frown is set between your brows as you think, “I didn’t do anything to transport you here the first time,” you note, “I don’t even know what to punch in to send you back to the right Earth,”

“Shit,” Bruce mutters. You cock an eyebrow at Steve, waiting - and kind of wishing - for him to say his iconic ‘language’ line from Age of Ultron.

But Steve only scoffs, “I have the biggest fucking potty mouth out of everyone,” the others laugh as your cheeks flush.

“What does it matter what you put into the machine?” Natasha asks, staring at the machine as if she was waiting for it to suddenly show something other than a blank wall through the circular frame,

“Without the right Earth code,” Bruce helpfully explains, “We could be transported to any Earth in the multiverse,”

“Well, how many can there be?” Steve queries,

“Infinite,” both you and Tony say in unison.

The others begin to worry that they won’t get home, ever, but you begin to think. Without saying a word, you punch in E-616 and the Stargate begins to whir.

The circular frame transforms and suddenly, instead of a blank wall, it looks as though a mirror was reflecting the lab back at you. But none of the 6 of you were reflected.

“What the-” you hear a familiar voice and you have to hold back an excited squeal when you see Bucky Barnes step into view in the machine.

Tony punches the air with both fists in triumph as the others visibly relax.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, squinting at you and the Avengers,

“Hey, pal,” Steve smiles, “Missed us?”

“Where the hell are you?” Bucky asks in confusion, “Sam has been driving me fucking insane,”

Everyone laughs and you see Sam Wilson step up behind Bucky, “Woah, there you guys are! Who’s the girl?”

“Long story,” Natasha simply says,

“We’re famous here!” Thor booms,

“We’re famous there too, Thor,” Tony states bluntly. Sam and Bucky look to be growing more and more confused by the second.

The Stargate’s frame begins to shake and you begin to panic, “Oh no,” you say as looking at the interface, “It’s not going to hold for long,”

The Avengers bid you quick goodbyes, thanking you for your hospitality and for getting them home, and cross back over to their world. As you wave back at your fictional heroes, the view of Tony Stark’s lab blinks away and the Stargate sparks before bursting into flames.

“Shit!” you promptly extinguish the flames before slumping back against a nearby chair, “Dad’s going to kill me,”

You were exhausted and now you only had 24 hours to fix his invention, again. But you can’t help but smile to yourself - knowing that you’d met the Avengers. Even if you could never tell anyone - for the risk of being labelled as crazy - it was something just for you to know.

Tags: @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th, @multifandom-slytherin, @redstarstan, @rosyfluffyprincess, @heismyhunter, @coffeeismylife28, @klutzly, @leahhavoc, @invisible2niall, @addictwithafandomblog, @hantu369mc, @thegreatestpilotinthegalaxy, @impala-moose, @stratmoxphere, @bearded-bucky, @meep-meep22, @caitsymichelle13, @pleasefixthepain, @strangermarvelthings, @specs15, @sebstanwassup, @sebstanismylife, @wunnywho, @thedarknesswarrior, @girlwith100names, @melconnor2007, @ipaintmelodies, @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked, @spookydoritos, @fanboyswhereare-you, @yoinkpeter, @tcmhollnd, @providence-impoverished, @lilya-petrichor, @hells-princess, @sarahp879, @indecorousthoughts, @geeksareunique, @courtneychicken, @peter-spider-parker-man, @mizzzpink, @lovely-geek, @httpmcrvel, @glitteringsarah, @stardustandbucky, @lena-stan-xavier, @princess76179

Tags that didn’t work: @mo320, @hesitant-poison, @xplumsceptrequeenx, @spn-worm, @addictionmarvel, @mrs-stan-barnes, @yoyolovesbucky, @janellexox0, @impossiblyteenagestudent96400

[ironemrys]

The Mission

Pairing: Tom Holland x OC

Word Count: 5.1k (I’m sorry it’s long again)

Tags: #OC x Tom Holland, #Secret Agent AU, #loosely based on Taken, #tom holland fanfiction, #there’s also characters from different fandoms, #and other artists that I used as characters, #you’ll know them when you read ‘em, #Tom Holland, #Alternate Universe, #again

A/N: Hello. I’m back with a secret agent AU. not like my other work is finished but meh... I like this one so hi. Oh and I used canva for the poster thing.

Warning: There’s a lot of cursing. Possible lemon. Violence and drug use. This is just a story so please treat it as such.

Summary: Tom Holland is careful in everything that he does. He's patient and organized and in order for him to be the best at his job he always follows the rules, always thinks of a plan and always prepares a backup plan.

Tom works for a secret government agency known as SHIELD, he usually works alone but is not one to shy away from any assistance offered by whosoever is willing.

When a Class S mission arises, he is suddenly forced to work with another agent named Catherine Silverton who is his exact opposite. Catherine is a reckless hot head who uses most of her gut feeling when dealing with unimaginable situations. She's not one to plan, she doesn’t like waiting around and she hates working long term with other people. 

With the lives of many at stake, will they be able to put aside their differences and learn to work together?

Chapters: 2 | 3 

 In an old storage house near a loading dock, a group of armed men were busy hauling crates onto a ship that is set to leave after midnight.

"How much longer?" A tall, balding man asked as he walked towards the ship. He wore a thick long sleeve covered by a bulletproof vest. His boots and pants were dirty with mud, sand and blood. His one good eye looked towards the ship and then at the men who continued on their work.

"We're almost done boss. After this batch, we'll be ready to move the weapons to Siberia." A young man answered. He wore a plain shirt and black cargo pants, his gloved hand held a black mask and in the other he held a gun.

"Excellent. These weapons will secure our position in the black market. Make sure everything is in place." The tall man said and walked away to the storage house. Inside, there were a more of the armed men, storing the different kinds of weapons carefully in crates and then covering them up with straw.

"Boss. Mr. Stone, sir." Once the name was spoken, all of them stopped what they were doing and gave a salute to the man in charge.

“At ease.” Stone replied and the men continued on their work. Once he and his men were done here, they would move to Siberia and sell to the highest bidder the weapons of war they acquired by infiltrating different military bases around the continent.

"Storage this is the perimeter, we found an unconscious body near the west entrance of the loading dock.” One of the men’s radios suddenly started.

“Perimeter, investigate the matter quickly and dispose of whoever is responsible.” Stone said after grabbing a radio off of one of his men.

“Copy that.”

Stone walked over to a table full of unpacked weapons and he grabbed one in his hand.

“Stay sharp. Kill on sight.” He ordered and the men nodded before taking their own guns. Suddenly, gunshot after gunshot was heard right outside the storage house. The men inside formed a barrier to protect their boss and their trade. They all pointed their guns at the closed entrance, waiting for whoever was behind the commotion.

"What the hell is going on out there?" One asked when something suddenly struck his neck and he fell forward unconscious.

“Hey! Jason!” His ally nudged him with a foot and but there was no response. The armed men looked around the place and pointed their guns here and there.

“It’s become quiet outside.” One then said and looked to two of his peers. They nodded at each other and slowly walked towards the entrance. The first of them opened the door and pointed his gun but he felt something hit him in the forehead and he fell unconscious just like the other one.

“Shit!” The other two jumped away from the door and on cue two small grenades came rolling in and filled the place with smoke.

“What the fuck!” The remaining men cried out and covered their eyes while coughing violently because of the smoke.

Suddenly, a shadow moved in quickly between the smoke and the armed men, knocking them out and taking away their guns.  After a few blind punches and curses, Stone was the only one left standing in the middle.

"Bastard! SHOW YOURSELF!" Stone yelled in the air, his gun pointing in a meaningless direction.

"Baron Stone." A voice perked up and Stone saw a dark shadow standing in the smoke. He aimed his gun and fired all the bullets towards the unknown presence. The fog died down but there was no body found on the ground where he shot at.

"You are under arrest for the larceny of military owned weapons, murder, aggravated assault, arms trafficking and shall I go on?" The voice asked but the person speaking still cannot be seen.

"Show yourself!" Stone demanded again and looked around the storage house when someone grabbed his gun and quickly disarmed him. Stone tried to aim for a punch but it was skillfully blocked and a strong blow came in contact with his chest and he dropped to his knees before losing consciousness.

"Capture: Complete." The young man pressed on his earpiece and sirens of police cars were heard closing in on the location. A team of armed men all wearing special police uniforms came walking in to take the suspects in custody.

"Great work Tom. You’ve done it again. I thought with this many men under Stone's you'd have trouble in dealing with them." A tall man with brown hair wearing a police vest over his red and black long sleeve snickered. He held a sniper gun to his side and he reached his other hand towards the agent for a handshake.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help Harrison.” Tom nodded.

“Nah. I’m pretty sure you could’ve done better on your own.” Harrison laughed and gave Tom a pat on the back.

"Maybe. But like I always say: Two heads are better than one." Tom replied with a smile.

"Right. Anyway, we’ll finish up here, you get back to base. I heard there’s another mission waiting for you." Harrison answered and Tom gave him a nod before walking outside to his car and driving back to SHIELD.

Tom Holland is careful in everything that he does. He's patient and organized and in order for him to be the best at his job he always follows the rules, always thinks of a plan and always prepares a backup plan.

At the age of twenty-four, Tom has accomplished missions more than those older than him. The thing about him is that he has dozens of plans up his sleeve. Whenever there is a situation that is hard to handle, he quickly thinks of a way in detail before putting it to action. He's young but he’s very professional. Tom started working for SHIELD right after he graduated from the police academy and he’s been there for six years. He started first with a partner; Agent Harrison, but now that he’s good enough to go on his own, he does. But Tom isn’t one to shy away from any assistance offered by whosoever is willing so whenever Harrison doesn’t have a mission of his own, he and Tom usually do cases together.

"Oh hey Tom. I see you're back from the Stone Mission, good work." Ethan Hunt; the commanding officer in charge of SHIELD’s England Base, looks up from his desk as Tom walks in his office.

"Yeah Mr. Hunt, it was quickly dealt with thanks to Harrison’s help.” Tom replies and looks around Ethan’s office. It was full of papers and unfinished cups of coffee. “Harrison says you have another mission for me?" He then asks after a moment of silence.

“I do. But rest first for a while and I'll see you back in the meeting room after six." Ethan replied and got back to his paperwork.

Tom made his way to the agency's shower room and decided to freshen up. As usual, it was empty and quiet since no one uses the shower room at three in the morning. But it was normal now for Tom to have such late missions and he didn’t mind. Crime never sleeps and it was part of his job to adjust.

After cleaning up, Tom walked out wearing a set of casual clothes; a black hoodie and jeans. He fixed his now blow dried hair and walked to the agency's gadget room which was found at the lower levels of the building.

"Hey Holland! Welcome back!" The short and blonde gadget expert named Benji, greeted Tom once he stepped foot inside.

"What's up?" Tom asked while walking over to Benji's work table.

"I'm making a new item. Jacob over there is helping me." Benji replied and nudged his head to where a young man about Tom’s age was shooting arrows from a crossbow across a firing range.

"A crossbow?" Tom asked and raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yep. But I'm making it to be automatic, so you won't have to add bows for every fifty shots. And then you refill it with this, so it’s kinda like a gun. It’s supposed to be lighter than a gun and with a few more modifications I can induce sleeping serums inside the bows." Benji replied as he showed what looked like a bullet magazine, except it was filled with tiny bows.

"I see. How's it going so far?" Tom asked again while examining the weapon.

"Pretty good. It's almost done." Jacob answered as he walked away from the firing range. He and Tom gave each other a high five followed by a very elaborate handshake.

“You kids are weird.” Benji said while tinkering with the crossbow.

“We’re literally twenty-four.” Jacob responded to the remark while rolling his eyes.

“Like I said, kids.” Benji snickered earning a laugh from Tom. It was true though, Harrison, him and Jacob were the youngest agents in the England Base and the three of them started at the same time in SHIELD after graduating together from the academy.

"Hey, you know what I heard?" Jacob suddenly said so Tom and Benji turned to him.

"I heard that this next mission of yours is pretty big."He added and Tom raised a brow.

“How do you mean?” He asked.

"Yeah. All of Tom's missions are big. I mean, there’s nothing new about that." Benji retorted but Jacob shook his head.

"I know that but I heard Ethan talking to Colin, you know? The head of the New York Base? So I'm guessing you'll be leaving England for a while again." Jacob said and this got Tom more interested in his next mission since he's been in and out of England lots of times and he enjoyed going on missions in places he's not really familiar with. 

"Well, whatever it is, I'll deal with it like how I always do." Tom replied and the other two nodded in response.

"So this mission, where am I going exactly?" It was eight o’clock in the morning and Ethan had just finished debriefing Tom on his new mission.

"You'll be going to Las Vegas to meet the agent sent by Colin. You two will work together as a team and finish this mission with extreme vigilance. Colin will add more to what I have laid for you, he has the complete story on this mission.” Ethan answered and Tom nodded.

“This agent, do you have a file on him? I’d like to know someone before I work with them.” Tom said and Ethan handed him a folder.

“This is Agent Silverton. She’s about your age and she’s been in the agency for four years. Also an academy graduate.” Ethan started and Tom opened the folder to view the file.

"Your plane leaves in sixteen hours so I suggest you get ready and get some rest." Harrison said since he too was inside the meeting room.

Tom gave them a nod and left to set his affairs in order. Once he was sure he didn’t forget anything, he started to read the file on Agent Silverton until he fell asleep.

Meanwhile, in an underground cellar, a deal was being made between two parties.

"It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Jones." A large dark haired man surrounded by equally large men with firearms shook hands with a sharply dressed lanky fellow.

“Likewise Mr. Brown.” Jones replied before exchanging a duffle bag for a sealed briefcase. The duffle bag contained illegal drugs and the two parties are well known dealers but are also skilled assassins that are hunted by the local police.

Suddenly, gunshots and shouts were heard from outside their trading room. Brown’s men held on their guns and ran out to see the commotion.

"The fuck is going on out there?!" Jones asked and took out his own gun.

"SHIELD followed us in! All men at the gate are down!" Someone from the outside ran towards them.

“How many agents?" Brown asked through gritted teeth. They were so careful not be caught but it seems that SHIELD has picked up their trail.

Before the man could answer, the sound of a gun going off echoed in the cellar and the man was shot down.

"Well, well... Jones and Brown. Finally." A voice spoke and the leaders looked up to see a single agent standing on the doorway. Brown aimed his gun and quickly shot fire but missed the agent who hid behind a pillar.

"LET'S GO!!" He shouted at Jones and they ran to the back door. They scrambled outside the building and got in a parked van. The agent then came out of the building but Jones shot fire and the agent ducked down to avoid the bullet. Screams from people within the area scattered as they ran for cover.

"DRIVE!" Jones ordered and they sped off.

"Well fuck. This is just great." The agent sighed and ran to the street before seeing a man in a motorcycle.

"Hey!" The man stopped abruptly before the figure standing on the street to block his way.

"Yeah, hi, I need to borrow your motor for a while." The agent said before flashing a badge. The man quickly got out and was about to hand over his helmet but the agent had already driven off.

"Catherine. Where are you? We're at the site. It’s a fucking mess back here, the fuck did you do?" A voice perked up from the agent's earpiece.

"I’m in pursuit. And shut up Bradley they shot at me first.” Catherine replied before taking a sharp left. “Oh and, you might wanna buy a new motorcycle for this guy. I’m pretty sure you can still find him right outside the building." she added with a grin that was followed by an exasperated grunt.

"God damn it woman! That's the fourth bike you took this month!" Bradley yelled.

"What? Not my fault those guys made a run for it..." Catherine answered so the latter just sighed.

"Just make sure you don’t do too much damage this time like what you did in the tower. That was hard to cover up." Bradley reminded and Catherine chuckled.

"Yeah, sure thing." She replied before speeding up upon seeing the van where Jones and Brown were.

"Gotcha." She whispered and turned to the right for a shortcut in order to cut them off.

She passed by a small street and noticed a bunch of street vendors and their stalls set up with onlookers shopping here and there but since she can't stop, she knew what she had to do in order to pass.

“Outta the way people! Good guy chasing a villain here!” She yelled and honked the motor horn. The people around shouted in panic as she passed with her speeding motor, they jumped and scrambled away from the small street, causing them to tumble over the kiosks.

"SORRY!!" She yelled but kept on going.

"Colin’s gonna kill me." She mumbled before taking a left turn and saw the van right in front of her. The cars honked but she didn’t mind and followed the van behind, she sped up a little and once she was closer to the van, she reached for the door and slid it open before jumping inside.

"WHAT THE!?" Jones yelled and turned around only to be kicked in the face and knocked out.

"Shit!" Brown shouted and pointed his gun at Catherine who wrestled with him for the wheel.

“Hey come on man! You wanna add reckless driving to your list of crimes?” She quipped and disarmed him before punching him in the face. Brown was out cold and Catherine tried to catch the steering wheel and maneuver the truck but the briefcase that fell with all the commotion pushed down the gas pedal and the truck came crashing to a fountain in the middle of the street.

Catherine was able to save herself with the airbag and she stumbled out of the van with just a few scratches. She then saw the people running away from the chaos and destruction while others were too scared to move from their spots. Police sirens suddenly filled the place and a team of agents and officers stepped out of their vehicles.

"Damn it Catherine, I thought I said don’t make such a mess! Colin will kill you." Bradley; a tall man with short blond hair wearing a bulletproof vest over his red polo shirt approached her and hit her on the head.

"Ow! Fuck you Bradley, I barely got out of that speeding van and you greet me with a hit on the head?! I swear I'll shoot you, you ass." Catherine glared.

"Oh shut up. Me and the others need to clean up every damage you did – again.” Bradley replied sourly.

"Both suspects are unconscious; we'll be taking them in." An officer then interrupted their banter and drove off while the others stayed and took photos of the damage that needed to be repaired.

"Come on slick. I wanna see your face once Colin finds out about all this." Bradley teased before ducking away to avoid a strong kick.

"Fifteen street stalls, one civilian motorcycle, one giant fountain and one six storey building." A tall man with short black hair glared at the pictures and then at the agent in front of him.

"Sorry..." Catherine whispered.

"I understand the stalls and the motor but the fountain and the building? Really?" Colin; Catherine and Bradley's boss, the head of SHIELD in New York said with a raised brow.

"Well, the building was old. And because of the shootout earlier, the collapse was unavoidable." Catherine replied while air quoting her last remark.

"Your improvisations always make the cleaners' works harder." Bradley sighed.

"Oh shut up. You're a cleaner for a reason." Catherine shot back.

"Knock it off. Catherine get some rest, but I need you in the main room after dinner. We need to discuss something." Colin said and Catherine nodded before leaving the room with Bradley.

Catherine Silverton is a reckless hot head who uses most of her gut feeling when dealing with unimaginable situations. She's not one to plan, she doesn’t like waiting around and she hates working long term with other people. But despite all this, she’s the best at what she does and no one has ever said otherwise.

For a twenty-three year old, she has accomplished missions that are harder than those given to her seniors. The thing about Catherine is that she comes up with plans on the fly and she loves to improvise. Whenever there are missions that trap her in a pinch, she sees the easiest way out and acts on it, what happens right after her actions will then determine her next move.

That is why most of the time, her missions always lead to a shootout or a car chase, but despite those do or die situations, Catherine always manages to get away and capture the bad guys.

She may not be much of a professional since she has no plans except for one and no backup plan right after, she still manages to finish a mission completely. Catherine's been working in SHIELD for four years and her plans aren't always full proof, but whatever tough situation she gets herself into, she can get out without thinking that much and just improvising her way through.

"Vegas?" Catherine asked once Colin debriefed her on her new mission.

"Yes. You will meet another agent and you will work together to accomplish this mission." Colin said and Catherine shook her head and stood up from her eat.

“No. No way. I do this mission alone, Colin.” She insisted but Colin gave her a look.

“This is a Class S mission, Catherine, we need to keep this on the down low since there would be panic and chaos if this situation ever gets out.” He replied and Catherine slammed her hands on the table.

“Then find someone else to do it. I’m not partnering with anyone, never again.” She grumbled and Colin sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Catherine, there is no one else. Everyone has their own missions and I need you on this.” He said and Catherine was silent. She then took a breath and snatched the documents from Colin’s hands.

“Fine. But this other agent better not piss me off or I’m gonna shoot him where he stands.”

 SHIELD; Las Vegas Base. 7 PM.

"Welcome. You must be Tom." Colin greeted as the agent walked in.

"Yes, pleasure to meet you Mr. Morgan." Tom replied and offered his hand to shake.

"Please, just Colin will be fine. I trust your flight was pleasant?” He asked and Tom nodded before taking a seat at a round glass table.

“Yes. I read the files on my way over here but Mr. Hunt said there was more that I needed to hear.” Tom replied and Colin gave him a quick nod.

“Yes. There’s a lot more about this mission that I’ll discuss once Catherine gets here.” He said.

“Agent Silverton.” Tom added when on cue, the automatic sliding doors opened and in walked Catherine who was followed by Bradley.

“Agent Holland, this is Agent Silverton.” Colin introduced and Tom stood up before offering his hand but Catherine gave him a look and just nodded and took a seat that was well away from him. Tom wondered why he was turned down so quickly but dismissed it and sat back down, he saw Colin sigh before turning towards the big screen inside the room.

“As you both know, we have called you here since you are the best agents in your respective agencies and we need your help in accomplishing this task." Colin started.

The screen flashed pictures of girls, about thirty of them and then followed by pictures of a man getting in a black van.

"We have received word that girls from different countries are missing. Parents are worried that when contacting their children, they get nothing from the hotels they are supposed to be staying in. We believe the girls have been abducted, for what purpose, we don’t know. That is until one of our agents who was previously on the job managed to pinpoint a location. He found out the girls were being sold for prostitution." He continued and the images changed to what looked like a tall building where the girls are in a line, surrounded by men with guns.

"Unfortunately, right after he had sent us the information. Our agent went MIA. We think he's been captured or he's been killed. We need to finish this monstrosity before it gets bigger and the situation, worse." Colin finished and the big screen turned off.

"So these girls… where were they last seen?" Tom asked.

"At the airport according to our agent. Specifically, the airport here. Our agent also managed to narrow down a bar where he believes the girls are taken." Colin answered. He then handed them both a picture of the bar.

"This guy in the van was the same guy our agent saw inside the building." He pointed out to another photograph.

"So, let me guess, we need to infiltrate the bar and see where the girls are and rescue them." Catherine said and Colin nodded.

“That seems simple enough. Why can’t you just send the cavalry on this guy?” Catherine asked and pointed at the man in the van.

“It’s not that simple. If they have the girls, who knows what they’ll do to them once they found out they’ve been compromised?” Colin replied.

“They could kill them, or hold them hostage, making it harder for us to rescue them.” Tom added and Colin nodded in response.

“I need you guys to be careful, find out where the girls are and call for back up once you’ve secured their location. But we need to this mission discreetly, we don’t want the public to panic.” Colin added and turned to Catherine.

“The hell are you looking at me for?” She snapped.

“There’s a reason.” Bradley grinned so Catherine punched him in the arm.

"Whatever. Let's get going, Mr. Holland, bars open at around this time right?" She said before standing up.

“Just Tom would be fine.” Tom said softly and stood up as well. "But we need to think of a plan first, like how do we get in without getting too much attention? How do we get the girls out? What if they're too many of them? There's only two of us. We should have a backup plan in case - ”

"We're gonna waste time if we plan now. How about we go to the bar, then you can plan while we watch the premises. It's a bar and casino, we can go in and out whenever we want to, this is Vegas." Catherine replied as-a-matter-of-factly and Tom just looked at her.

"Well? Are we going or not?” She asked getting impatient.

“Right. Yes." Tom replied still bewildered at how Catherine shot him down twice now.

"The car is downstairs. You can take it." Colin said and tossed the keys to Catherine.

“Gotcha. We’ll make contact when we’re there. Come on Mr. Planner.” Catherine grinned and left the room. Tom was glued to where he was but he shook his head and put his agent mode on before following the latter.

"It's been ten minutes since we started driving and you still haven't said anything." Tom then said as he and Catherine drove quickly towards the casino they're supposed to infiltrate.

"Should I be saying anything?" Catherine asked.

"Well no but you and I are gonna be stuck for quite a while with this mission so might as well get to know each other." Tom replied and Catherine turned the car to stop on the side of the street.

“Okay listen here, Tom.” She started with a glare and Tom actually felt a little intimidated.

“You and I are gonna get along just fine if you stop asking questions and just do your job as an agent. I don’t like working with other people but I have to grin and bear it because Colin asked me too. If you have a problem with that, take that up to him because I don’t have time to get to know you and I don’t want to either. Got it?” She said and when Tom was rendered speechless, she continued on to drive.

"We're here." Catherine said before stopping on the side of the road right across the casino.

“Anyone familiar?” Tom asked as they both looked at the people coming and going in the vicinity.

“No. I’m going in.” Catherine said and proceeded to take her seatbelt off but Tom stopped her.

"No, wait. Not until we see the guy they tracked down to this place. It'll be easier to follow him from then on." Tom replied and she was about to retaliate when she remembered what Colin said to her before leaving so she stayed put much to Tom’s surprise.

Thirty minutes had passed and there was still no sign of the guy the base has tracked down.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom finally said after moments of silence.

“What now?” Catherine asked.

“I’ve read before that people usually shut themselves out because of an experience they were traumatized with before, they refuse to let others in their lives and establish a relationship in fear that they will end up hurt by the same thing that has happened to them before.” Tom started.

“And your point is?” She replied and turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Uhm… I guess what I’m trying to say is we’re both working for the same cause here and you and I have to learn to trust each other if we’re going to make it work.” He replied which made Catherine chuckle.

“Trust? The only people that I trust are Colin and Bradley. You better be a damn saint before I even begin to trust you. But fine, since your annoying little self is persistent I’ll give you a chance.” She smirked and Tom smiled.

Just then, a black van stopped right in front of the casino and out came a man in a black leather jacket, jeans and combat boots.

"That’s him!" Catherine said before looking down at her phone to see the photo once again.

Tom and Catherine watched as the man opened the van, only to have girls in lingerie and masks pile out.

“Do you think those are the girls?" Tom asked and Catherine shrugged.

 “Really can’t tell with those masks their wearing.” She replied.

The man led the girls inside casino and Catherine knew she had to follow them quickly. She looked around and saw a stall that was selling masks, hats, shoes and different articles of clothing so she grinned and got out of the car much to Tom's surprise.

"Hey where are you going!?" Tom asked but Catherine was already at the stall. She bought a pair of heels and a black and white mask with feathers and glitters all over. She got back in the car and started to strip off her pants.

"WHAT… WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Tom turned bright red and proceeded to look away.

"Oh please, don’t flatter yourself." Catherine scoffed as she took off her pants and threw them at the back. She undid the first two buttons on her polo and removed her jacket before putting the mask and shoes on.

"Put this in your ear and I'll guide you once I get inside." Catherine said, shoved a small earpiece in Tom’s hand and opened the car door.

"Wait. WHAT?! GET BACK HERE!" Tom yelled after her but it was too late, Catherine already made her way to the line of girls and casually made her way inside.

"Fuck." Tom cursed as he helplessly watched the entrance of the casino close.

tagging: @silverofthunder I did it again... I wrote... Hahaha

[goldenscript]

for the requests, i really like the idea of a fluffy freelance web designer idea - title would be something like "the cryptography of your heart" (oh god that was greasy nvm) with namjoon?

pairing: kim namjoon | readergenre: slice of life au / tooth-rotting fluffy fluff, youtuber x freelance web designer word count: 1,529 author’s note: the title isn’t stupid at all!!!! i think it’s lovely

How to tell someone I like them, the Google browser reads.

Cluttered around the stark white screen are the search results consisting of endless results for tutorials, articles, and even Pinterest boards about how to go about the perfect confession. While some are witty, tempting even, there are others that actually elicit an abrupt strangled sound from the researcher.

“What do I do?”

“Just tell her,” Jimin tells him dumbfoundedly. The younger man’s expression matches his tone, looking at Namjoon as if this was simply ordering a caramel macchiato from the coffee shop down the street. As if casually telling his client that he likes them and wants to date them and hold their hand and kiss their cheek and take them to his favorite bookstores and listen to their music recommendations and their childhood stories and—! (Well, you get the picture.) But from Jimin’s tone, it is as though telling Y/N is easy. As if it weren’t enough that you were severely out of his league as it is.

In response, he simply frowns.

“What?”

“It’s not that simple…” Namjoon sighs, already knowing what the conversation that will ensue engails afterwards. He decides he would rather nip it in the bud now than listen to the incredulous accusations later. “And before you ask me how it isn’t that simple, then you gotta understand that I’ve never told anyone that I liked them before.”

Jimin blinks, tilting his head to the side. It is the first he has heard of this sort of thing from Namjoon, but then again relationship talk just hasn’t been the hot topic between the two of them. Jimin knows that Namjoon isn’t keen on leaving his apartment unless it’s for coffee and his job, sometimes if he’s forced out by him or Jungkook (on the days that Jungkook isn’t tempted to sit in and tinker with film editing software, of course). It’s strange to consider though.

When Jimin really thinks about Kim Namjoon and his dating life, it hits him how nonexistent it is. He realizes the great deal of lacking that he never once considered, and a sympathetic look glosses over his cherub-like features before contorting in confusion.

“What do you mean you’ve never confessed to anyone before?”

It’s the dreaded question. One that Namjoon feels the anxiety prickle on his nerves as he glances back at the screen, taking mental notes of the successes and failures that have come with confessing to a crush. That is why. He has heard the horror stories, watched them unfold in adolescence, and dreaded suffering from the same fate.

He is no brave man, you know. Laying his heart out on the line is a hefty deed that makes his stomach queasy and his heart the exact replica of mush. Instead of going into any elaborate detail, not that there is a huge amount to talk about in the first place, he simply shakes his head.

“I just haven’t.”

“…Like not even once though?” Jimin tries once more, wanting to comprehend this statement. Surely, Namjoon had done this at least once.

“Really, I haven’t,” he repeats, looking a little more distraught. He is so new to the idea of romantic love that it’s actually kind of debilitating. And he knows he likes you a whole fuckton. When he thinks about going over to a café to work on your website with you, he can’t help but feel butterflies flutter in his stomach. When he hears about your day, he wants to keep hearing you talk. And god, when you ask him about his and about what he likes and dislikes, it’s… different. In the best way possible. “It never occurred to me that I should. At least until now.”

“You really like Y/N that much?” Jimin muses, eyes flickering to Namjoon’s second screen where your website is pulled up.

Namjoon nods, “A fuckton.”

“She’s supposed to double-check your code before it goes up right?”

Namjoon nods slowly, trying to comprehend. Of course, he’s quick to answer, “I mean she has another comp-sci friend to check it for her though.”

“But she’d still look it over too, right?”

“Yeah, she can be pretty anal about that stuff.”

Jimin giggles, earning a glare from Namjoon as he asks, “So, what are you getting at, pervert?”

“I’m not a pervert!” Jimin pouts, though Namjoon can tell he’s still trying to stop his quivering lip. “But why don’t you just confess to her in the code?”

Namjoon’s jaw drops, “You’re shitting me right? That’s so cheesy…”

“Well, do you have anything better? Can you go up to her and actually her to her face that you like her?”

“Well… no.”

“Then? What else do you have to lose?”

Namjoon considers Jimin’s words as carefully as problem sets from Professor Lim, knowing that despite all his certainties, some attempts are still a hit-or-miss. He knows that whatever happens, happens. He either takes that leap of faith or stays by the ledge, wondering what-if.

His gaze flickers up to the second monitor right then.

He sees your smile etched in between the little symbols, the memories of conversations spent just deciding on a color theme, and a hope that maybe you saw something in him through all that time too.

And with that, he comes to a decision.

“Might as well just leap. It might hurt less.”

/

“Check your code.”

You blink at Yoongi, almost alarmed at the sudden drawl of his voice. As soon as you got the green light from Namjoon, you had Yoongi come over to look it over for one more final look and you’re not sure how to feel about the blond’s curving lips. “What? Why?”

His brief amusement melts away as soon as he clicks his tongue at you.

“It’s a rule of thumb to always check your code, dipshit.”

“You say this like I was the one who created it. I hired someone to do it, y’know. And, I’m having you check it. For free. Like the good friend that you are.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well, still. Check it.”

“Is there something I should know about?” you ask, wondering if somehow Namjoon made a mistake. Is that why he made you pay less than the estimated amount? You frown at the thought, wondering if maybe he was having an off day the last time you both finalized the code. Though if you’re being quite honest you do know you’re going to miss meeting up with him.

“Er… well, I’ll let you be the judge of that—it’s definitely something you needa check out though.”

You even receive a shake of the head, a deflection that doesn’t go unnoticed, earning your long-time friend a small glare before you change tabs from YouTube to your website’s url. It piques your interest knowing that maybe this might be another reason to see that adorable chestnut-haired man again.

“Alright, fine.”

You scroll to the lines where Yoongi instructs you in the Python program.

‘’’

Hi Y/N. I’m sure you won’t overlook this message, and I’ll understand completely if you decide to delete out or if you never talk to me again, but that last day we spent together I wanted to tell you a lot of things. I wanted to know more about you. Not just from your videos, but from you. The real behind-the-scenes. I think about it a lot. I think about you a lot. Um… God. This is my first time so have a little mercy, okay? I like you. A lot.I’d like to take you out for an espresso. Wait. You hate those. What about brunch at  flâneur? I hear it’s great. I honestly don’t how this works, really, so if this goes completely wrong, please put all blame on Park Jimin, a dance major at Seoul University. Anyway…. um, good luck! (God, please tell me if I just fucked up my first confession, ever, because I could take all the pointers I can get.)

‘’’

A smile curves on your lips when you look at Yoongi, who only snickers at you.

“I told you so, dipshit.”

/

A ding emits from his nightstand.

Namjoon has to hold his breath, wondering if maybe it was another message from Jimin asking if you talked him about what he left for you in the code. He admits it was pretty lame and stupid, but was there really another way? Could he really face you without being tongue-tied and pink in the cheeks? His visages contort in embarrassment at the thought, releasing a deep sigh before unlocking the phone without a second thought.

[11:34 AM] y/n interesting final touches on the code. I have to say I accept. I think flâneur is perfect. how does today at 2 sound?

[11:34 AM] y/n btw, no pointers or pointed fingers needed. it was pretty perfect already

He grins to himself, unable to contain his cries of joy or the flopping of his limbs. The sun is bright and the day is so fucking beautiful.

He tells you that it’s perfect and that he can’t wait.

The leap isn’t so bad after all.

[amethystina]

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP meme WinterIron #19 Summer Camp AU + #38 Grief Fic

Oh GOD. SO MUCH PAIN. WHY? 

But sure, I’ll do my best ;) My story idea is below the cut because I shit you not this ended up being 3200 words. I just… I give up on writing short things.

(I want to add the disclaimer that I know nothing about summer camps and have never attended one, but heck, why should that stop me, right?)

SO. Let’s lower Tony’s age a little and say that Howard and Maria die when he’s seventeen instead of twenty-one. The grief isn’t exactly easier to handle when he’s in the middle of puberty and Tony acts out in the months following their deaths (well, more than usual). It reaches the point where Obadiah just doesn’t know how to handle him and eventually loses his patience. So, since he doesn’t want to deal with Tony’s anger and self-destructive tantrums, Obadiah sends him off to summer camp for four weeks.

It’s not a rich-boys camp by any means, but rather one of the few that could take him on such short notice. Tony hates it instantly. He has no interest in doing outdoorsy things and no amount of Obadiah’s “it builds character” makes up for the fact that Tony can’t bring his tools and gadgets. He’s not allowed to tinker and, frankly, he’s not sure how he’s expected to survive the summer.

So it’s an incredibly angry, frustrated, and grieving Tony that arrives at the summer camp in question and his only goal is to get sent home as quickly as possible. He figures that if he breaks enough rules, it won’t matter how much money Obadiah paid them to take him in with only a couple of day’s notice.

Bucky is, of course, one of the camp counselors together with Steve. They’re just above twenty and figures that being counselors is a fairly easy way to earn money, so why not? Hilariously, all the teenagers — at least during the first couple of days — always assume that Steve is the nice one. He’s tiny, blond, and wholesome, so of course he has to be kind, right? And he is, of course, but he’s also strict as hell when it comes to certain things (morals, mostly, and treating each other with respect and kindness) and once a camper has earned themselves a Steve Rogers Is Disappointed In You Rant™ they usually behave for the rest of the camp. And are also rewarded a badge Bucky had made that they then have to wear for the rest of the day.

With this in mind, Tony decides that Bucky is the one to hassle. There are other camp counselors, sure, but Bucky is the one who looks like he’ll get angry the fastest and would be more inclined to dole out punishment.

That, clearly, is Tony’s first mistake.

Still, Bucky gets pretty frustrated with Tony’s comments that are always just a little too hurtful to be playful sarcasm, no matter who he speaks to, and he’s pretty fucking tired of Tony’s general attitude. The first week is like pulling teeth. Tony refuses to participate in any of the activites, no matter how much they coax or subtly hint about disciplinary actions. He’s rude to the other campers, his mood swings from lofty superiority to snarling anger, and the counselors have no idea what to do. No matter what they try, Tony blows them off and acts as if he’s better than them — as if him being there is a punishment of epic proportions (which is how he sees it, really).

Things escalate to the point where the other campers start avoiding Tony (mostly out of self-preservation) and Tony gets more and more isolated, and more and more angry. Except the anger is hiding a lot of pain that he still hasn’t dealt with. Inside of him the grief is just growing and the fact that he’s far from home just makes it worse. He’s not able to sneak over to his mother’s closet and bury his face in one of her dresses and, if only for a second, smell her scent again. Or step into his father’s workshop and marvel at the brilliance he had always hope to match someday — perhaps even surpass if he worked hard enough.

It hurts so much he can barely breathe, but he refuses to break. He refuses to cry. He refuses to let any of it show. It festers and grows deeper and darker until he’s just so tired of it all that he snaps at anyone daring to come close.

Fortunately, Bucky and the other counselors are pretty sure why Tony is acting out. Howard and Maria’s deaths made the headlines, after all, and they all know that Tony is Anthony Stark, so it’s not hard to put two and two together. It doesn’t mean that they know how to handle it, but at least they know the reason. 

Well, Bucky has some ideas on how to handle it, since he was there when Steve lost his mum and while they react to it differently, he’s at least seen the grief before.

So he decides to befriend Tony. He knows that might backfire spectacularly, but he’s not willing to give up on Tony, either. They could send Tony home, sure, but what good would that do? He’d still be angry and grieving and probably spiral even further down into despair.

Tony doesn’t like it. He gets frustrated when Bucky starts trying to talk to him. Not about the grief — Bucky is much smarter than that — but regurlar things. Tony doesn’t want to get pulled into conversations and replies with comments so hurtful they would make some people cry.

Bucky just purses his lips — occasionally replies with something snarky of his own — and keeps talking. Tony has no idea what to do with that. After all, he has no idea that this is the man stubborn enough to remain friends with Steve Rogers, despite all the shit that little punk gets into.

Tony is bewildered.

But, little by little, he also kind of grows to enjoy it. It IS kind of nice to have another person close, even if it’s one of the camp counselors. Tony still tries to rile Bucky up every now and then — confused and almost insulted that it’s not working as well as he thought it would — but by then Bucky just replies with a grin and a witty retort. They strike up a friendship of sorts, be it one founded on snarky remarks, and Tony starts to cool down considerably. Bucky even manages to convince Tony to join one or two of the activities, even if it requires bribery or sneakily playing on Tony’s competitiveness.

Things actually start going well and, by the time week two is over, Tony is not exactly happy, but civil. He can be around the other campers without scaring them off and he clearly favours Bucky over the other counselors, to the point where he willingly seeks Bucky’s company. All in all, things are progressing nicely.

Until the day they try to make Tony play the piano.

The counselors don’t mean anything bad by it. Tony just happened to let it slip that he knows how during one of his and Bucky’s conversations — not mentioning that he does so because of Maria — and they suggest it as something he can occupy himself with, seeing as he still refuses to take part in most of the other activities. Tony refuses, vehemently, but not even Bucky can tell that this isn’t Tony being unreasonable just for the sake of being a little shit, but because he is genuinely upset by the thought.

Bucky realises it only when Tony suddenly turns and runs off. Never has Tony done that. He’s been rude and mean and caused enough conflict to last them the entire summer, but he has never backed down or left a conversation before he was sure that he had won.

So Bucky, naturally, follows Tony. He finds him only because Tony sucks at moving quietly through the woods and Bucky can hear him from a mile away, but, as far as Bucky is concerned, he almost wishes he couldn’t. He hears Tony’s panicked, hitched breaths long before he finds him sitting curled up into a little ball behind a tree. Bucky knows the situation is delicate — he might fuck up royally — but he knows that there’s only one way for him to handle this situation.

He sinks to his knees next to Tony and hugs him.

Tony stiffens, holding his breath, but eventually just breaks. As much as he hates it, he can’t hold back the grief anymore.

So he cries, desperately burying his face against Bucky’s shirt, and just let’s go for the first time in months. Since his parents died, basically. And Bucky holds him, gently petting his hair and whispering that it’ll be okay, even if he knows that it probably won’t. It will get better, though, but Bucky knows Tony probably doesn’t want to hear that either.

Tony cries until he’s too exhausted to be embarrassed and Bucky gently takes him back to his cabin where he can sleep it all off. Then Bucky finds the other counselors and explains that piano is a bad idea for Tony. He doesn’t tell them about Tony’s breakdown — that’s not his to tell — but that Tony reacted negatively and they shouldn’t bring it up again.

The next day the embarrassment has caught up with Tony but Bucky refuses to let that stop him and just acts as if nothing has changed. He doesn’t behave as if it never happened — he can’t help that he looks at Tony with a hint of gentleness now — but he doesn’t bring it up or make Tony talk about it. Bucky he stubborn — he can wait for Tony to do it.

And eventually he does. It takes another week of steadily more serious conversations — Bucky opening up too, about his wish to join the army, his family, and what it’s like to be friends with someone like Steve for the majority of his life — but Tony gets there.

He didn’t even know he needed to talk about it until he’s already halfway through the explanation of how he got the news — the fear and denial he felt at the thought of losing both his parents in one fell swoop. Bucky listens and lets Tony talk, not interrupting even when Tony starts crying again. He just listens. 

Tony definitely didn’t know how much he needed that.

He feels awkward at showing such weakness, yes, but there’s relief, too, and a fair share of gratefulness. Bucky is so kind and gentle, never pushing but always supporting, and Tony has never really had that. Rhodey is an amazing friend and Tony loves him very much, but their relationship is a bit different. Not to mention that Tony has made sure not to speak to Rhodey as much these past couple of months, simply because he couldn’t handle it. He tried to do the same with Bucky, clearly, but that didn’t work. Bucky was simply too stubborn and much too caring for his own good.

And, right there, after telling Bucky about his dead parents, is the moment Tony realises that he’s falling in love with Bucky.

He’s not exactly surprised, but he’s pretty sure it’s going to cause problems, too. He tries to ignore it during the next couple of days, but he’s seventeen, horny, and impulsive, so three days before the end of camp, he kisses Bucky.

It’s not glamorous or romantic by any means. Tony is helping with the firewood, not because he enjoys it, but because that’s what Bucky is doing. And they’re trading snarky comments like usual and a particularly inventive one of Tony’s makes Bucky laugh and Tony is just gone.

So Tony kisses him.

Tony knows right away that he shouldn’t have. Bucky is stunned for a second, then gently but firmly pushes him away. Bucky doesn’t have time to do more than draw a breath before Tony cuts in with: “I know. That was stupid. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tony is too young, not to mention grieving and in no position to make those kinds of decisions. Bucky is the camp counselor and an authority figure — kissing one of the campers will get him fired without a doubt. And when Tony seems to think that Bucky isn’t interested, well — Bucky does nothing to convince him otherwise. It’s partly true, after all. He’s never really considered Tony in that way, much too caught up in helping him with the grief, but now that they’ve kissed it’s a whole lot more difficult to ignore. Some part of him might actually be interested, but Bucky refuses to acknowledge that part.

They agree to never talk about it again.

The last three days of camp are awkward and a little bit miserable, but nowhere near as bad as it was from the beginning. Tony has had time to heal, no matter how much it hurts to know that Bucky doesn’t feel the same, and he’s not angry anymore. Still snarky and frustrating, sure, but that’s Tony.

The end of camp rolls around and Tony is mortified when he feels like crying. Bucky has been his sole support for almost three weeks and he’s terrified at the thought of going back out into the world without him. He has to, though, and tries to act as if it’s no big deal.

Bucky sees through it, of course, and pulls Tony aside to give him his phone number and email, just in case. Bucky knows he’s probably crossing some line he shouldn’t be crossing, but he can’t stand to see the desperation in Tony’s eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

Tony just swallows and nods, unable to reply, and Bucky pulls him in for one last hug. Tony clings to him longer than he should or is appropriate, but Bucky doesn’t push him away.

He lets Tony hold on until he feels ready to let go.

Eventually, Tony does, and he only manages another nod before he turns and heads for the car. Jarvis is there to greet him and Tony tells himself he won’t look back.

Except he does, and Bucky gives him a crooked smile and a little wave, while pretending that he’s not upset at all. The thought of never seeing Tony again isn’t agonising at all. He’ll be fine. Steve, wisely, says nothing.

So Tony leaves. Bucky eventually goes back home too. Tony has already graduated from MIT so he starts tinkering instead. Bucky joins the Army.

Tony doesn’t call.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but that summer at camp almost starts feeling like a dream to him after a while — like it was too good to be true. He handles the grief better, though. Bucky taught him a thing or two, after all, and Tony is more willing to listen to Rhodey now. Rhodey manages to steer him away from some of the wilder parties and Tony focuses more on his projects. Obadiah isn’t quite sure what to do with that, but he lets Tony be for now, seeing as he isn’t a threat.

A year passes. Then another. Then another.

Bucky wonders every now and then — especially when handed a gun or piece of armor from Stark Industries — what Tony is doing. Why he never got in touch. Despite Tony’s behaviour at the start of the camp, Bucky remembers him fondly. And that little seed of what could have been — the beginning of an attraction that Bucky can’t quite deny or ignore — lies dormant but not forgotten. 

Sometimes, when on leave, he catches sight of Tony in the newspapers. There’s a lot of gossip, as always when it comes to the rich and famous, but most is about his inventions and accomplishments. The young genuis who showed all the signs of becoming a rich, spoiled playboy turned out to be a dedicated, hard-working young man with a passion for everything that can help and improve people’s lives.

Most assume it was Tony’s parents’ deaths that made him change — that Tony was forced to grow up when he lost Howard and Maria — and Bucky isn’t someone who would assume otherwise. He’s proud when he sees what Tony has become, sure, but he doesn’t quite realise the impact he had. That he was one of the main reasons that Tony managed to turn his life around, especially during such a painful stage.

Another year passes. Then another. Then another.

Bucky is twenty-seven when he’s sent to Afghanistan a second time. Seven months later he’s sent back home without a left arm. He’s not entirely sure what to do, disoriented and alight with phantom pains and the echoing sound of gunfire and explosions and the heat of fire against his skin and pain pain pain in his arm.

Having Steve helps. It takes two months before Bucky feels stable enough to even consider daily chores, but he gets there. His new life stretches ahead of him and its daunting, but he’s stubborn and not one to give up, so he’ll get through it.

One day there’s a knock on the door.

Bucky doesn’t expect much, yet when he opens the door, there is Tony. He’s older — twenty-three now — and looks the same but different. Despite his surprise and general disorientation, Bucky’s heart skips a beat, like a jolt of awareness suddenly shot through him, startling him awake after years of slumber.

He hasn’t seen Tony in ages.

And Bucky knows he should say something nice or profound or perhaps even witty, but what he ends up saying is: “I like the beard.”

That seems to work, though, since Tony grins, and he looks calm and healthy — so unlike the angry, shielded-off teenager that Bucky knew. He’s beautiful, though — Bucky isn’t ashamed to admit that.

He invites Tony in, too happy to see him to do otherwise. He knows Tony is probably there because of the arm — Bucky isn’t sure how Tony found out and he probably doesn’t want to, either — but that’s okay.

Seeing Tony again feels really good.

The conversation is a little stilted at first as they feel their way, trying to bridge the years they’ve been apart. Tony doesn’t stare at Bucky’s missing arm, which helps, but the warmth in his eyes and the soft smile on his face is distracting. Bucky can’t look away. He’s not sure if he can blame what he blurts out next on his injury and the PTSD that followed, but he’s definitely going to blame Tony — he shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautiful.

“It’s okay to kiss me now.”

Bucky realises a split second later how stupid that is. How insulting. As if he can assume that Tony still has a crush on him? As if Tony would actually want to kiss someone like Bucky? Tony might have a significant other, or simply just moved on with his life.

Tony looks surprised and Bucky is about to apologise when Tony fires off another one of those grins and says: “Let me take you out to dinner first. I wouldn’t want you to accuse me of not treating you right.”

The confidence is very different from the false bravado that Tony had shown as a teenager and Bucky likes it. He knows that they’re going to have to talk about his arm at some point — Tony probably had a reason for showing up all of a sudden — but that can wait. Bucky has lived the past two months in a daze of nightmares and disorientation, and he’s definitely enjoying this new-found clarity. He doesn’t know how long it will last or if Tony will stay for more than one dinner, but they’ll figure that out along the way.

They’ll get there, Bucky is sure.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Part Three

A/N: I’m a little addicted to writing this and while I have the time to update frequently, I will. Don’t get too used to it though, my sweet babies. I’m about to be really busy coming up here soon. Oh and I forgot to mention this last time, but I actually got the name of Lance’s sister from a fic I read a while ago! Brooklyn just fits so perfectly, I feel like it should be cannon! So kudos to that author because I now think of Brooklyn Tucker as a real character lol.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: All the cursing and Yonce listening in this one.

Summary: Lance Tucker has come back to his hometown with his ego bruised and his look on life more tainted then ever. When he runs into Y/N; a vibrant plus size woman he went to high school with at her bakery ‘Cake Faced’, he leaves the shop with the taste of sugar on his lips and a hunger that has nothing to do with the cupcakes.

💘💘💘💘

You wake up the next morning, still fuming.

A bottle of wine, six hours of sleep and a scalding hot shower later and you still feel like you could swing on that mother Tucker.

You try to push it our of your mind as you brew a pot of coffee and prepare for work but you just cant. You cant stop the thoughts that are sharp and assaultive.

How dare he?

Who did he think he was?

Who the hell did he think you we’re?

Some sad pathetic fat girl, an easy fuck? That he could ask you, rudely, to drink with him and you would just accept because, what? He was the only man who ever made any advances, and you should take his pity attention. You audibly scoff as you slide into a pair of pointed toe loafers and shrug into your camel coat, flicking your hair out of the collar as you do, assessing your appearance in the mirror by the front door mindlessly.

Yeah, you weren’t a supermodel. Yeah, you we’re over weight. But you actually liked your self, something that had come with years on years of hard work. You liked your fat ass and your curvy waist. You liked the way your eyes looked when you lined them with sharp eyeliner and the way your hair tumbled after you doused it in smoothing oil.

You stomp down your porch steps, irately slamming the door of your jeep after you get in. As you make the drive to the shop, you have to remind yourself that life is short. And you’re not going to let an asshole like Lance ruin you entire day. Because yeah, you liked all of those physical aspects of yourself, but what you liked most about your life; is that you had worked damn fucking hard. You owned your own business. You we’re your own boss.

Boss ass bitch.

So you crank up your Beyoncé playlist and let Queen Bey serenade your morning drive. By the time you get to work, belting out the lyrics of ‘Flawless’ you feel better, and you unlock the store and start morning prep- the stones in your stomach all but gone.

“You look good today Mrs. Thang” Shane, whose opening with you comments as he enters and you just hum and lick a bit of frosting from your knuckle.

“Why thank you, kind sir. You’re looking good today, too. I like the new hair” gone was the beach blond and in was a pretty lavender shade that highlighted his cheekbones. It was almost sad to think that it probably wouldn’t last long. Shane went through hair colors faster then the then the changing seasons, never keeping the same tone for more then a month at a time.

You loved it. Encouraged it. Because you weren’t one of those cunt-y bosses. Yeah, you had rules but mostly they we’re enforced with friendship and mutual respect. Not fearmongering and superiority.

You think that’s why most of your employee’s had worked for you for so long. A couple, like Shane, had been with you from the very start.

“Really, it was an accident” Shane shrugs, running a hand through the fluffy purple locks as he does the chores, straightens and preps before flipping the open sign over just as Ashleigh, one of your girls runs in- whimpering “sorry’s” as she hurriedly grabs her apron from the back and clocks in. You make her explain it to you, obviously, why she was a half an hour late and she goes into a frantic story about having to drop off a sister somewhere.

“Ash, it’s okay” You place your hands on her shoulders, placatingly “Just give me a call next time”

Your firm, and warm at the same time. She wasn’t known for being a flake, and everyone deserved a break sometimes. You weren’t going to bust her balls for her first offence. She looks so grateful it’s almost comical.

“Thank you, I love you, thank you”

“Bitch, go set up the display up front. I’ve done everything else this morning” Shane snaps playfully at her and you chuckle, clucking about language(even though you had the WORST mouth) before going to check on your cinnamon rolls.

It was going to be a good day, you encourage yourself…

And it was.

Even through the intensely busy hours that came with breakfast and lunch, your shop frequented at least thirty-forty people at any given moment at those times. But you couldn’t complain, how could you? Your business was booming. So you were on your feet all day. Boo hoo, the price of success was never promised to be cheap. Luckily you have a near full staff today so you can focus on things behind the counter.

Which def isn’t as much fun. You’d rather be baking, or working the register, but the books aren’t going to balance themselves and you have some business calls to get done. You also may or may not text Courtney and bitch about the night befores endeavors.

-I told you, he’s total piece of shit. Fucking dick-

She messages you about Lance and your nose crinkled. Yeah, he was. Which is sad, because you hadn’t always believed that.

“Hey, Y/N” Your head rises to look at one of your girls, she’s peeking her head into your office “There’s a problem with the corner mixer again”

You sigh through your nose, you’d just had maintenance in a couple weeks ago “Okay, I’ll be right out”

Still, you think, it had been a decent day.

Even when you get splattered with batter as you help fix the mixer. You agree to take Shane’s place at the front counter because he’s better at tinkering with the machine then you are and your only there for what seems like five minutes when your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. There’s a tall head of dark hair, and broad shoulders that have just walked in.

And bright blue eyes that meet yours.

You feel a flash of heat spread through your body and you probably would have told him to get the hell out- but of course Lance Tucker never played fair.

At his sides are two young girls, who you know are his nieces because you’d seen Brooklyn around with her kids before.

You meet his stare, determined not to back down. Your eyes are scowling harshly at him as he approaches you, and really, you wished you hadn’t left your office.

As much as you dislike Lance in that moment, those girls didn’t do anything to you and their giggling excitedly as they get up to the glass, looking at the extensive display of sweets with eyes bigger then their stomach’s.

“Hi” You grin at them, genuinely. Brooklyn Tucker really had reproduce well because her two daughters are gorgeous, some of the prettiest children you’ve ever laid eyes on. The younger one even has those hypnotic baby blues you figured must run in their family line.

They both chime their hello’s at you, the older girl holding the youngers hand in a way that makes you ache- missing your own sister dearly at that moment in time.

“Hi” That’s from Lance, but you don’t even acknowledge him.

“Do you guys see anything you like? Just point out anything you want to taste, okay?”

Both girls press even closer to the glass at that, their foreheads all but plastered to it. The little one seems to be having trouble though, she’s on the very tips of her toes and she’s still not quite tall enough to see all of her options. Lance doesn’t warn her, he just scoops her up in his arms and she squeals as he lean’s her down haphazardly so she can get a peek at all of the pastries.

“Thanks, Uncle Lance”

Your eyes meet his, just for a moment before you quickly divert them again.

So he did one cute(ass motherfucking) thing?

That didn’t pardon last night’s…and all the nights before that’s sin’s.

“I never know what to get when we come in here there’s just soooo many options. I’m going to have a mental break” The older girl blabbers and you chuckle. How old was she? Ten? Oh, sweet child, you want to tell her. You don’t know anything about mental breaks yet.

“Why don’t you ask, Y/N. She really knows her stuff” Lance chances a peek at you, but your still refusing to look at him.

“Really? Please halp me” The young girl balks and you laugh out loud.

“Okay, kiddo. what do you like? Are you into fruity flavors or are you more of a chocolate girl?” you start the process of helping her choose, one you’re well acquainted with.

“Give me all of the chocolate”

“A girl after my own heart, I like you” You smile as you start collecting samples for her to try.

The Mud Slide, the Dirty Old Man, and finally the Cookie Monster.

You knew she’d like that one, it was a hit with kids.

“What about you, sweet pea?” You ask the little one in Lances arms.

“Well I was thinking I would just take another one of those one’s I got last time” Lance answers you cockily, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“I wasn’t talking to you” you say at the same time that his older niece says “She was talking to Lula!”

Lance’s gives her a pointed look “Don’t team up on me now. You’re supposed to be on my side”

Again, ignoring him you ask “Lula, do you see anything you want to try”

You can tell she’s quieter- maybe not as bold as the other Tucker’s in the shop and you don’t want her to feel left out. When she points to the Strawberry Crunch Bar you smile and give her the little tester spoonful, your eye brows wiggling friskily at her. She giggles and tells you that, that’s the one she wants.

“Well I’ll try it too then” Lance decides and you hand him a tester, not nearly as nicely. He wraps his lips around it, his eyes glued to yours and smiles.

Fuck.

Why is his smile still so gorgeous?

“Mmm- it’s okay”

You glare at him and he chuckles and holds his hand that’s not occupied by holding the child up “I’m kidding, jeeze”

“Will that be all for you guys?” you’re not trying to rush them- but you really are. He was already getting on your nerves.

Lance wants to sigh, and reach over the counter and shake you because obviously he was throwing up a white flag, couldn’t you give him a break? He’d spent the entire morning, with a gnarly head ache(because he, in fact, had finished that case of beer) and an itch he couldn’t scratch. An annoying one that had led him back to this shop. Luckily, he was babysitting the girls while Brooke was at work so he knew you wouldn’t turn him away.

But that didn’t stop you from being really damn difficult.

“No, actually. It wont. Le'mme try that one” He points to a swirling green cupcake with chocolate sprinkles. And then five more after that. It get’s a little ridiculous because you can tell he’s not even really into it. He’s just doing it to annoy you.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” You ask tensely after his sixth taster, your really trying to be professional but he’s really getting under your skin.

“I don’t know you tell me”

You huff at his answer. Why was he tormenting you?

“Uncle Lance I want to eat my cupcake!” The older girl pulls on his arm, hurrying him.

“And you can, when my friend here tells me that she’ll join us”

Has he lost his damn mind?

“I’m working” you instantly snap.

“Well isn’t one of the perks of being your own boss being able to take breaks when you want to?” Lance pushes “Just a quick one, we’ll eat in the store”

“No”

“Come on”

“Please miss- it’ll be really fast I promise” The older girl begs and you could hit him for doing this to you. The store was quiet enough that you couldn’t use that for an excuse…and really, you owned the place. You had no superior to look out for.

“Fine. But I cant hang out for long, It’s almost four, it’ll start to pick up again” You bend with a sigh as you ring them up and Lance stands a little straighter. The shit eating look on his face makes you want to puke. You sit at one of the tables with them and watch with fond amusement as the girls begin feasting on their cupcakes animatedly.

You learn that while Lula isn’t much of a talker, her older sister Zoey is. The girl, who tells you that she’s nine and a quarter, is maybe the most talkative child you’ve ever met. You cant even really absorb all that she’s giving you.

“Jesus, Zo. Give the woman a chance to breathe” Lance teases her, wiping a stray bit of frosting away from her cheek with his thumb.

“You don’t mind, do you Y/N?” Zoey asks around a bite “We’re friends now”

You smile widely at that but very seriously tell her “Of course we are”

“See?” Zoey shoots at Lance “You’re just mad because she’s my friend and not yours”

Lance covers his grimace with a smirk as he looks down. The kid’s not wrong.

“Maybe your on to something”

“Don’t be weird” Zoey alerts at the sound of his gruff voice “We can all be friends, right?”

She looks at you with a child like innocence that renders you speechless for a moment, grasping for the right words.

This was so unfair,

“I don’t make friend with boy’s. Their gross” Lula is a godsend you decide as she breaks the silence with her comment.

“Live your entire life by those words” You advise the younger girl and Lance chortles.

“That’s a little sexist” Zoey is something else. The girl spoke like she was far older then her nine years.

“I promise that when you get to be my age you’ll understand”

She just goes back to her cupcake and idle chatter after you tell her that.

“What if the boy really wanted to be your friend?” Lance asks lowly as his nieces debate something between themselves, not paying attention to the two of you.

He’s leaning into you a little bit, his shoulder is nearly touching yours and his knee brushes your thigh.

You knew what he was doing. And you weren’t amused in the least.

“I don’t think the boy knows what friendship is”

“C'mon Y/N. Don’t be like that”

You snap your eyes in his direction warningly.

“I’m not being like anything. Like I told you last night-”

“You don’t give a shit about me. Yeah, I remember”

You chew on his words, they taste sharp and bitter and ugly.

“I didn’t mean it like that” your voice is softer, softer then you’d meant it to be.

“Then be my friend”

The way friend rolls off his tongue is suggestive and almost sinful and even though you refuse to look at him, his eyes bore into the side of your face and you attempt not to squirm in your seat. Hating that he was getting this kind of reaction out of you.

“Y/N!” Saved, once again by the bell. Or fate. Or Shane. You scoot out the chair to stand instantly, extremely relieved to have an out.

“It was really nice to meet you guys, I hope you liked your cupcakes” You bid fare well to the girls.

“It was nice meeting you too. We’re friends now, so I’ll be back” Zoey informs you, matter of factly and you bite a laugh.

“I’ll be waiting” you salute her as you prepare to leave.

Your not expecting Lance to be so…bold. Which is stupid. Because bold is pretty much who he is. He reaches out to block your path with his long, toned arm and your thighs bump into it.

You look down at him, irate.

“Thank you” He looks up at you, that insanely pretty jaw tensing and his eyes literally cutting holes into you.

You shake your head, trying to banish the feeling.

Really, it just looks like your shaking your head at him being a total ass hat.

“Your welcome” You mutter, but his arm doesn’t drop. He’s still caging you in, in a way that’s making your chest flutter uncomfortably. It’s like he can sense it, because he grins and his voice comes out smooth as butter.

“It really was delicious”

Was he fucking with you?

He had to be fucking with you.

“Yup. It’s my job, now move” if the children weren’t there you would have been a little more…colorful, but the way you say move is enough for his arm to retreat.

He cant decide whether he wants to smile, or glare. Whether you’re actually annoying him by being so stubborn or turning him on. As he watches your hips sway he thinks it might be the latter.

“I like her” Lula announces, as she licks at the cupcake wrapper for any remaints of icing and Lance’s mouth twitches as you toss your head back and laugh at something someone said to you. He did too. He thinks he always had.

Part Four

——————–

@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @zombiewerewolfqueen @spookyscaryscully @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @peacefulwriter88 @pegasusdragontiger @yslbucky @iamwarrenspeace @maximum-effort-minimum-life @booklover2929 @ultrafangirl000 @sophiealiice

Okay, what did we think about this one? I know their relationship is slow burning and for all intents and purposes Y/N still isn’t his biggest fan but isn’t that realistic? Lol he’s sooooo full of shit and I think the woman that finally caught Lance Tucker would def know that. Please leave me some comments, some feedback about what you think. Even if it’s constructive criticism. I really like this story and I want to know if you guys do too!😭💛

[yakumtsaki]

Welcome, dear readers, to the much anticipated Union Season 1 finale, featuring the diverse cast of well-developed characters we’ve all come to love, such as cheating whore #1, cheating whore #2, and my personal favorite, cheating whore #3. Also starring purple Hannibal Lecter, Melody Tinker’s sunglasses, and Leon Trotsky. Last update saw the erotic tension between resident porn-king Gunther and his brother’s intended, Regina George Brittany Upsnott finally boil over, leading to this harrowing image:

GOOD TIMES. Let’s pick up right where we left off..

.. namely precious Gunther immediately jumping into bed with Melody not two minutes after his close encounter of the Brit kind. Guns has been suspiciously loyal and un-gross ever since we moved out of the dorms, but apparently his goal for senior year is to out-worst everyone else in the house. What a comeback!

Meanwhile Brit is depressingly bowling her frustrations away under the unforgiving desert sky. Whaddup Brit, you must be dealing with some pretty complicated emotions right now.

-What?? No way, I’m totally, totally fine!

I mean sure, why wouldn’t you be, it’s not like you’ve fucked literally everything up. After spending half of college dealing with fucking HaremGate all I wanted was an uneventful senior year I could speed through, but that would be too easy now, WOULDN’T IT.

-The pins are you well-laid out plans for the future!

UGH Brit seriously, this isn’t happening. As in we’re gonna pretend it literally never happened, you’re gonna marry Daniel, Gunther is gonna marry Mel, everyone will live happily ever after and that’s the last I’m gonna hear of this bullshit.

BRIT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY

-I’m just heartfarting, GAWD

Yea you’re also about to fucking serenade him in front of Mel, have you legit lost your mind??? Is this how the rest of this year will go, me chasing you around cancelling your dumbass actions?

-Probably! lolol!

-Aww Brit, if there was an award for best couple, we would definitely win it <3

-Oh please, Gunther and I have you totally beat!

-Yea right Mel, bet you §10 me and Brit are gonna move in together before you and Gunther do!

-…So how you liking that pizza, Gunther?

-…Oh it’s good, Brit, thanks for asking.

Meanwhile it looks like my restless Jojo/Wyatt reconciliation efforts have finally borne fruit! Good job, Wyatt!

-It’s no job, I’m just following mon coeur!

Nice, follow it all the way to redemption!

YASSSS. I can’t stress enough how many times Wyatt had to apologize to get us to this point, I’m talking half their awake time for 3 days. God. The whole thing has been an extremely repetitive nightmare but finally we can put it to rest. Much like we put Frances! BURN IN HELL

Finally, the universe has responded to my desperate pleas. I will even forgive the creepy ass llama because for once the cheering is completely appropriate. Reunited and it feels so good! Especially for me because if I had to press the apologize button one more time istg.

Well.. The universe giveth and the universe taketh away. Literally can’t leave these dicks unsupervised for more than a minute before they start slutting it up. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO

-Oh oh oh oh oh OH, caught in a bad romance <3

STOP SINGING INTO EACH OTHER’S MOUTHS. It’s time for drastic measures. Gunther is obviously unfamiliar with the concept of decency but maybe there’s still hope for Brittany..

..especially after Daniel gives her a high-class romantic evening! Looking great, Dan. Please stop picking your teeth.

-I’m so uncomfortable, my hair hasn’t seen the light of day since I was a toddler! I’m putting my cap back on.

DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. Also suppress your gag reflex + every instinct in your body because it’s time-

-to hit Londoste! OOH LA LA

-Brit, I feel like we’re.. ridiculously overdressed.

-No such thing, darling!

-I’ll be having the filet mignon and a glass of the Veronaville ‘64, thank you.

-And I’ll be having chicken nuggets and a detailed report of the working conditions in this bourgie hellhole.

-DANIEL YOU PROMISED

-Let’s raise a glass to us and our magical evening together-

-Yes, and this delicious food, stained with the tears of the working farmhand-

-Daniel, please.

-My beloved ice queen, even though the diamond engagement ring “tradition” is another completely made up, SHAMELESS CAPITALIST SCAM, I just couldn’t bear the thought of wounding your gigantic, aggressively materialistic ego.. Marry me, my darling, be my Nadezhda!

-OH baby of course I’ll marry you! Everything before this moment doesn’t count, right?

-I mean.. sure?

-Great!

Yes, what a wonderful, subtle night.

-Oh Brit, you make me the happiest worker alive, which of course is a completely paradoxical state under capitalism!

AWW MEANT TO BE <3 Finally we can put that gross, freckled chapter behind us.

THAT’S RIGHT YOU BETTER RUN

-WOOO congrats for not cheating for an entire day, Gunther!

Our greek house is currently at a pathetic level 3 and it’s not hard to see why. As if the graves of Jojo’s former flames weren’t enough to put people off, imagine walking by and seeing this.

This shit is still going on and has reached the hate-boner point where these two have permanent wants to see each other’s ghost. So much for nice points!

Also going on: this bizzare, inexplicable feud that appeared literally out of nowhere.

-SHUT UP WYATT MAGIC ISN’T REAL

-IT SO IS MAGIQUE IS ALL AROUND US

Finals are upon us! Only one semester of this fuckery left. There are of course two kinds of people, the kind pictured above..

..and my peeps.

Gunther, who hasn’t done anything college related since we were back in the dorms and Blue Meatballs et al were writing his papers, somehow still has a 4.0 gpa. Wow Gunther, what’s your secret??

-It’s no secret, I banged the half-alien professor.

Oh right lmao. You’re looking pretty down boo, what’s wrong?

-Man idk, I’m struggling with what might be like.. legit feelings for Brit.

WHAT. WELL PUT THEM BACK WHERE THEY CAME FROM GUNTHER AND DRINK YOUR SORROWS AWAY LIKE AN ADULT. GOD

YOU TOO BRITTANY. ISTFG YOU ASSHOLES ARE NOT FUCKING THIS UP ANY FURTHER.

CAUSE HERE’S WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LAST PERSON WHO WENT OFF SCRIPT. Looking good, Fran!

…………………………poor Brittany obviously suffered a stroke at some unspecified point in time. As if she didn’t have enough problems.

SO. CLOSE. We just have to get through this one semester without the entire charade imploding, is that too much to ask????

APPARENTLY YES. GODDAMMIT GUNTHER

-The heart wants what it wants.

What DOES it want tho, Selena, cause last time I checked you were in love with Mel you GIANT ASS

-Yea, hell if I know! Huhu!

IF I HEAR YOU PEOPLE HUHU ONE MORE TIME

In equally distressing news Mickey Dosser was passing by and I invited him in just to see if he would go straight for the bubbles, which he of course did..

..a move so irresistible that Wyatt had to stop and swoon over him literally in the middle of his millionth Jojo apology. I’ve honestly never had a sim court death as persistently as Wyatt, dude straight up WANTS TO DIE.

-HOW DARE YOU WALTZ IN HERE AND TRY TO SEDUCE MY BOYFRIEND RIGHT BEFORE MY VERY EYES YOU VILE DISGUSTING SLOB

-Wut

-GET. OUT. BEFORE I STUFF YOU AND PUT YOU ON MY PORCH FOR HALLOWEEN

-Wyatt.. I sensed it was you.

-Of course, Jojό <3 I got your message, why did you send a raven, I’m just upstairs-

-SILENCE. I invited you here, to my favorite place on this entire wretched planet, the center around which revolves my very existence..

-..to ask you a very important question that I want you to CAREFULLY consider, taking into account that you’re standing next to the graves of the last people to betray me..

-Wyatt Monif, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Almost from the earliest moments of our acquaintance, I have come to feel for you a passionate admiration and regard, which despite all my struggles and your whoring around, has overcome every rational objection, and I beg you most fervently to relieve my suffering and consent to be my husband. Also to please ignore my brother woohooing in the hot tub behind us and ruining the moment.

-MON DIEU JOJÓ, OUI, OUI A THOUSAND TIMES OUI!! <3

-Wyatt.

-Oui? <3

-Please don’t make me murder you, ok? Promise?

-Never, Jojό!

AW, what a beautiful engagement you guys, I’m tearing up.

AND FINALLY, IT’S OVER. Gunther seriously graduated summa cum laude, how in the fucking world I legit dk but whatever!

The last supper.. The Union bros have all graduated and I’m gonna speed-play the rest through their last year. Also Daniel and Melody are bffs now, I didn’t even know they were talking but nice.

Time to go back where we came from! Ah, all grown up. It seems like yesterday they were toddlers surviving on cat food.

Brit is the youngest of the bunch and has the whole house to herself after Mel and Wyatt graduate, a situation she takes advantage of by ALMOST CHEATING WITH THE FUCKING LLAMA. BRIT ISTG

Finally, it’s time for Brit to leave our gross, incestuous cocoon. We’re gonna need a placeholder for the next generation tho, so as much as it pains me to say..

..it’s Frances time. Bitch literally scares Brit as she’s trying to resurrect him, way to make me doubt my merciful decision Fran!

Ugh great. Welcome back, Frances. I really did prefer you dead.

Yea, can’t make any promises there. I don’t know what kind of wave of kindness overcame me, but I felt bad for Fran being all alone so…

-I’M BACK BITCHES

Can’t believe we wasted 20k on these assholes but whatever. Time to grow up, Brit!

Oh yea, looking good! Taking the ‘on Wednesdays we wear pink’ rule to extreme lengths.

And we’re out of here, leaving the place in the capable hands of Fran and Ti-Ning, who immediately reconnect for a hot tub celebration of life.

So normally you’d think that would be the end of it and we’d get to the heir vote, right? RIGHT?

WRONG. Please bear with me through this incredible bullshit. So I’m taking the heir vote portraits, specifically Jojo’s, and everyone else is hanging around on the edges of this empty photoshoot lot, when suddenly the fight cloud appears. At first I think it’s Wyatt/Daniel aka business as usual but then I make the horrifying discovery that it’s.. DANIEL/BRIT.

As expected, the MINUTE I looked away, Gunther/Brit went for it in plain sight, leading to the eruption of a massive shitshow. I’m like ok w/e we’re basically in pre-heir vote limbo so it doesn’t count, I’ll just quit without saving. But THEN I take a look at Daniel’s panel.. AND SEE THIS:

I’ve literally no idea WTF HAPPENED, HOW IT HAPPENED, WHY, WHO MADE THE FIRST MOVE but the fact is that right after catching Gunther/Brit cheating, Melody and Daniel somehow got together even though they have never given any indication of being into each other and have one sole pathetic bolt. My best guess is 4-nice-points Melody went for it as a revenge but seriously WHAT THE FUCK

GOOD TIMES. At this point I’m obviously even more like ‘I’M GONNA QUIT WITHOUT SAVING’ so I’m just taking these pics for shits and giggles, but THEN I look at Gunther’s panel… and see probably the most disturbing want I’ve ever come across:

OK THEN. Reminder that Gunther’s secondary is PLEASURE so there’s literally no explanation for this shit except for legit. true love. As much planning as I did for these couples I’m like who am I to refuse A ROMANCE SIM’S engagement want???? I mean I also planned for Jojo to marry Frances and we all saw how that went. So I decide to save the game, even though it’s kinda unorthodox since it didn’t happen during actual gameplay but w/e, you just can’t ignore shit like that!!

So I revisit the lot the next day and am faced with a shitshow of cosmic proportions. The whole thing is like a bizzaro parallel universe, I mean you have Brit and Dan legit looking like they crossed over from the set of NLL..

..Gunther and Mel heartfarting over each other while also wanting to beat each other up..

..this torrid affair out in the open..

..AND WHATEVER THE FUCK THIS IS. I changed their turn-ons and now they have 3 bolts cause it felt like they really got the short end of the stick but I still can’t get over this bullshit happening in the first place. At least Jojo and Wyatt are having a good time! I guess at this point there’s only one thing left to do..

..simultaneous break ups! The couple that dumps their fiances together stays together.

Moving on to simultaneous crying/sighs of relief. If it seems like I’m halfassing this by not writing any dialogue it’s because I am, but I legit can’t, the whole situation is just too absurd to dramatize.

And now to complete the wife-swap..

Incredible. Now, hold on to your seats, everyone.. because the red ring memory..

IS NOT GUNTHER’S. WHAT IN THE NAME OF HELL. BRIT GOT A RED RING FROM HER ROMANCE SECONDARY BUT SOMEHOW GUNTHER DIDN’T??? Honestly I’m hardly a romantic but. TRUE LOVE. Or a glitch. Let’s go with true love.

And there you have it. The end of generation 1, which will live in the annals of history as the one where literally no one ended up with the person I had in mind for them and I might as well haven’t been there for all the control I had over these assholes.

NOW. TIME TO VOTE.

WHO WILL IT BE????

Head over to my lj for a handy guide to voting + the link to the poll. Thank you all for reading! <3

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

WIP tag meme

aaah, I was tagged over 2 months ago by @parkkate O.O sorry for not doing this sooner @parkkate​ XD I’ve been offline for a few months! Just now catching up on everything I missed! but I’m ignoring asks for now because my inbox is a mess

The Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I’m gonna cheat and only do this for my drarry wips, since I post everything else on another account now, and tbh I have so many drarrys it’s still gonna be a long ass post XD

Oh man *sweats nervously* I’m a bit of a hoarder in all aspects of my life...I don’t even know where to begin! 

I’m not tagging anyone cos I was tagged 2 months ago and I have no idea who has and hasn’t done this and don’t want to be a pain. But if you wanna do it, go a head, and please tag me so I can be nosy and hopefully find someone with a wip problem as bad as my own so I can be less embarrassed XD

Also I’m putting this under a cut for reasons

1. 4th year au idea 

Sooooo, right off the bat, I often open a new file to jot down an idea even though I have docs specifically to dump ideas...and then at some point during the process of jotting down basic details of the idea...I start writing it....? This is one such occurrence...but I had to open it to check...and now I want to keep writing it XD

But also yikes it’s super dark

2. ... 4th year au idea

I swear, this is an entirely different wip and I am going ‘wtf’ at myself because wtf that’s confusing! I had also totally forgotten the existence of this before opening it....probably because of the name of it and the only reason I apparently have 2 files the exact same name is that one is a word doc and one is a libre office doc XD

3. drarry character death idea

Soooo, I need to stop turning idea files into wips without changing the names because I actually forget they are wips apparently

Also, I really want to finish this RIGHT NOW IT HURTS SO GOOD GIMME GIMME GIMME

4. Veela fic followup

LOL LOL LOL I’m rewriting my veela fic so I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to end up doing with this XD I might have to try and merge it with the re-write if the story has a similar outcome when I’m done. or maybe I’ll just turn this into its own thing....

5. Veela fic present tense

I really need to get back to working on this, this is actually the full re-write that re-doing the tenses spawned...I was binge writing this before my life went to hell but then my life went to hell and I went offline for like three months and didn’t do any writing or anything XD

although, the last time I looked at it I got the itch to change it back to past tense so who fucking knows what I’ll do with it now

6. Veela fic Draco pov

Curse my obsession with alternate povs of the same story and Draco for being such a good angsty pov

7. Veritaserum idea start

At least this one has ‘start’ in it so I know it is in fact a wip and not just an idea outline XD

7. Veritaserum

So, turns out I started that fic over in a new file and just left the old one lying around XD I do that too often. I should delete that other one...

Also...this better not turn into another ‘Amortentia’ with me unable to think of a fucking title and going with the file name because lame

This is also my first time trying to do god’s eye 3rd person instead of 3rd person pov...also first time trying to do this weird structure thing...I dunno but I like it XD

8.  CTS followup

9. CTS sequel

Two separate followups set at different times in the same story verse... I hate myself. I love them both. I can’t pick which one to stop writing so I’m gonna keep them both around and try and make them merge at some point...

10. MMB saying sorry

11. another erase the shame

12. next erase the shame

I work on followups and lose interest so often (usually because people bug me for followups and I get very ‘fuck you’ about it and stop writing them...but I keep them around and tinker with them every now and then soooo they’re still technically wips

13. Tea and Coffee oneshot series (Tea and Coffee, Coffee and Dark Marks, The Cottage Kitchen, next untitled one)

There’s also a present tense version of the first one of those *sweats nervously* first 3 are finished, of course, but my original purpose is lost to them becoming a long fic soo....gonna merge them into one long fic soon...once I decide what tense I like better......kill me now

14. Communion of the Soul (folder name)

This is the sequel to One Touch and this is spread across 5 files because apparently I did that and even though each time I got to work on it I have to figure out which file holds which part of the sequel timeline and which I feel like working on...I have yet to merge them into one file to make my life easier...

15. Crumbling Facade

ugh working on this always makes me want to re-write restraint and actually put in the major plot line, or what was supposed to be Harry’s major plot line before the relationship crap got away from me and I had to cut out all the plot stuff because by the time I got around to addressing it, it started reading like a completely different fic and I had to cut a huge chunk and end it instead, because back then I sucked more than I do now and couldn’t juggle

sooo...I still work on this in starts and stops and then get frustrated for having to stick to Restraint’s chain of events when I have better ideas now for working in Harry’s plot about his damn magic problem and ARRGEHGEHGFVEDHDBVUIOFNBFKDB EFBVJ

I should just let Crumbling Facade take me where it wants to take me and fuck Restraint

16. Potter’s Insatiable Heart

This is my longest wip at 130k XD and I’m stalling now because if I keep going with it where I was intending to go it will end up my longest fic and I’m getting intimidated by the length and how much work it will be to edit that long of a fic so I just go in and write a few paragraphs now and again, get scared of the length and move on to another wip XD

I also periodically binge read this bitch because I love it to death even though it’s severely flawed XD

17. Corset Drarry

oh boy, when I started writing this this I was weirded out by writing a kink I didn’t understand and kind of tailed off and left it...then I did kinktober for voltron and now I’m laughing at myself because corsets and lingerie is so fucking tame after that kinktober list and all the the crap I wrote for it XD

18. Music in the Periphery

Emily bugs me about finishing this a lot...I bug me about finishing it, progress is non-existent because I have a clear plan for it and when I have a clear plan I can’t write for shit

19. Saying Sorry (Round 2) (MMB)

I gotta kick that habit of starting over with something but keeping the first attempt and still working on it parallel to the second attempt, because then I wind up with 2 fics too similar to each other to post both and I’m completely unable to pick which one I like more *facepalm*

Also, MMB is dead if I can’t stop turning the next fic attempts into angst, I just look at that big fluffy mess and want to angst it all up

20. scrapped MMB ficlets - theo’s letter

not technically drarry thought the greater series is drarry...torn between making it mmb or making it its own fic for a rare pair

21. Weather the Storm

*cries* my 6th year war au, I have such plans for this, but the plans get in the way of writing =(

22. Soulmate AU (folder name)

fucking hell, this is 10+ files and I’m not naming all of them, current count is 5 completed versions 60k+ each, 1 incomplete alternate version, all of which I’m seriously unsatisfied with, none of which I can bear to delete, all of which I periodically go and tinker with, thus leaving them all wips i’m such a fucking hoarder but also I have never gotten over all the awful comments that were on the original soulmate fic on ffnet before my purge and now I can’t ever be satisfied unless it is perfect and wont result in such horrible comments again

23. Turnabout (folder name)

Once again, multiple wips in here of the same 60k finished fic I’ve been unhappy with since the moment I finished it and keep trying to fix by starting over and changing things here and there to change the course of the story. Honestly ready to hit the delete button with this one unless my latest attempt pans out, liking it so far buuuut I’m a mess about my writing so who knows

In the Ways that Matter was based off this fic XD

24. Dependency 

Oh boy, I abandoned this cos it was so dark I got too uncomfortable writing it...I’ve since started revisiting it after being in the Voltron fandom gave me a new tolerance range for dark content XD

Plan on posting this on anon if I ever finish it, obviously changing the title XD it stopped being relevant after the first 30k anyway 

25. Dependency V2

LOL light version of the above that removes most of the dark aspects while maintaining the core plot, but I’m finding it a bit dull XD not sure how long I’ll keep trying to chug along with it

26. *censored title*

hahahaha omg why is this in a different subfolder, this is actually one of the soulmate au ones only it’s actually a spin off au of the original soulmate one I from ffnet and therefore it’s new ground and I’m less unhappy with it

.....I’m probably going to stop working on turnabout today and work on this instead now

(censoring the name because I might post this on anon because I’m too scared to post another drarry soulmate fic under my own name)

27. Retrospection

Sooo, I’m always on and off this fic cos it triggers my anxiety and depression, but fuck that I want to write it so I keep trying XD

I’m also thinking of splitting the two main plots and only going with 1 and using the other to write another story....see if that eases how difficult it is for me to write without self triggering

28. Sequel to mornings

29. Sunrise (loose prequel to mornings)

30. Surrender

I had no idea what this was, opened it and then holy shit THIS BITCH, THIS SLOW BURN FRIENDS TO LOVERS PIECE OF BULLSHIT. I DON’T WRITE SLOW BURN! I DON’T WRITE FRIENDS TO LOVERS. I REFUSE.

but also I really really really love what I wrote so far and now I’m itching to write more *cries* making this list is leaving me with so many open files to work on

31. day 2 ass worship

32. day 3 sensory deprivation

*laughs nervously* the kinktober oneshots that starting turning into a long fic hahahaha cos I really needed more wips

33. Perception of Angels

*wistful sigh* one day I will be able to finish a heavily plot driven story full of fantasy elements and creatures and magic I made up, and when that day somes, Perception of Angels....or that timetravel war au drarry fic idea I have sitting around.....which isn’t on this list only cos I’m not stupid enough to start writing it

So that’s all the drarry files in my wip folder.... I also have heaps more for other ships and fandoms, but I’m keeping that separate =)

And...now I have some writing to go do, cos after 2 months of being unable to write thanks to the bullshit in my life, I started binge writing again 2 days ago =) and opening a few of these to remind myself what they were has a lit a fire under my ass