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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

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Innocence, avoidance

Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)

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Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent.

It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.

Until somebody does.

The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.

“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put.

Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here.

She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.

“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”

Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.

Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.

“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.

He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.

“It’s Marinette, sir.”

No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.

“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.

Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”

“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--

“They’re dead, sir.”

Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this.

“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.”

“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.”

One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.

“Do you know how to get back home?”

At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”

Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them.

That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be.

He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”

She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”

The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had.

“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”

Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”

She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham.

“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”

The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock.

“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.

Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.

He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.

Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.

He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection.

To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad.

It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size.

“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.

Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl.

However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt.

Which means Marinette made the decision to run.

Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.

“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marinette balks.

Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”

“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.

“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”

She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”

Marinette lets out a watery laugh.

“I like macaroons,” she offers.

“So, how old are you?”

In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.

She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”

Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement.

“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”

“No, I’m from France.”

Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”

“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”

Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”

“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.”

“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”

In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?

“Did she tell you how?”

Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”

Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers.

Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.

He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.

“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”

Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)

Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”

Even better. She’s imprinted on him.

@jasonette-july-2k20

#you bet your ass marinette grows up to kick ass and take names #does the summary fit the fic? not really but none of my summaries do #jasonette july #jasonette #how do you tag platonic ships #platonic!jasonette #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng #maribat #miraculous ladybug #dcu #innocence #child!marinette

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moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

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Hey Neighbor (Epilogue)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3498 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: This is it 🥺🥺 I’m so sad we’re at the end but I couldn’t be happier by all of your reactions, even when things weren’t at their best I loved hearing your screams. Now we can all cry together as we say goodbye. Thank you so much for reading their story. Btw I started a Patreon for those who would like to support me.

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 25 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Breath fogs the window as you stare out of it, a grey haze has rolled over the city, the sky a sunless landscape of thick clouds and cold winds. It snowed the other day and what remains on the streets has become soot covered or murky slush. It’s nicer to stare at the white dusting on the branches of the trees below, taking in the soft peace of the afternoon.

The world has grown quieter over the past few weeks, your world at least. You can’t say the same for the hoards of people in Times Square, packed like sardines as they count down the hours for the ball to drop.

Graduation was behind you. Nearly two weeks ago you finally crossed that stage to receive your diploma. Technically the real one was still coming in the mail but it’s the symbolism that counted. All of your friends cheered as your name was called, tears of joy and relief welling up in your eyes as you did it– you finally did it!

Wanda hugged you tight afterwards, both of you letting your tears fall. She adjusted your graduation cap, decorated with a lightning bolt for Pietro. It was the first thing you did when you received your garments, to make sure a part of him was with you on such an important day. You left her arms for Peggy and Steve’s, then Sam, Natasha and Clint and then there was Bucky.

He grabbed his crutches, lifting himself up from the chair though you didn’t make him walk. A few steps closed the gap between you and you held him, your arms securing around him as a precaution as he balanced on one leg.

His smile was so beautiful as he murmured, “I’m so proud of you,” holding his gaze before you kissed tenderly, humming against his lips.

You’ve been dating ever since that day in the hospital and life couldn’t be better, especially since you and Bucky laid out some terms. From now on you would always be honest with each other, never holding back your feelings. You were a team who loved and respected each other to talk and more importantly listen.

Bucky managed well on crutches but there were still things he couldn’t do, taking for granted days he could have gone outside for a walk. Sure he had muscles, but his arms were killing him, especially on the days he had to go to the doctor for a checkup. He started physical therapy too, to keep up with strength and flexibility for the rest of his body.

It was exhausting but you were there to help him almost every step of the way. Showering was a pain though Bucky insisted on some independence, wrapping up his cast as he sat on a cold plastic chair that extended over the tub. It made him feel like he had aged 80 years but he got over it.

You did what you could to help him heal but the greatest comfort Bucky found was when you were cuddling together. He cherished those moments the most, when you held him, resting your head against his chest, or when his head was in your lap as he stretched across his couch, your fingers lazily combing through his hair.

It was the quiet moments together, crossing the threshold of intimacy in new ways. This was the slowest Bucky has ever gone since he was in middle school, swallowing a nervous gulp before asking if it was okay to hold a girl’s hand.

Life after had been a blur; his guard up, women in and out, no chance to settle, in and out, no connection, faces blend together, names are nothing more than letters on his phone for a good time, in and out. It was all noise, a constant buzzing in his head until you came into his life.

You’ve opened Bucky’s ears and the noise became sweet music. You’ve opened his heart, the melody it sings is a love song and he’s soaring. He doesn’t waste time on regrets, instead he spends each and every day getting to know you and love you in new ways.

You celebrated Thanksgiving together, with his parents coming to your apartment so Bucky didn’t have to travel. George brought most of the food over, it wasn’t barbecue but it was just as delicious. And this year you had the time to bake a pumpkin pie.

Your days were spent working at The September Foundation up until graduation. Elena hired you for Metro-General and you start there on the first Monday of the new year. Ideally, you’d like to still volunteer when you can and knowing Tony it’s something he fully supported. Things couldn’t be better.

“Doll, are you ready?”

Bucky’s voice pulled you away from the window and you climb off his bed and into his waiting arms. The basketball shorts he wears reveals his skinny left leg, paler than the other thanks to the dry flakiness he’s still working on remedying. He was in a cast for almost three months and just got it off a few days ago. You went with him, holding his hand as he beared weight on his weak muscle after so long.

He just finished the strengthening exercises he was supposed to do every day and now he needed to shower. You both did actually since tonight was Natasha and Clint’s annual New Year’s Eve party. You pull your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind you and Bucky follows you to the bathroom. He can shower without his seat now but it doesn’t mean he didn’t want help and you happily obliged. The water ran cold by the time you actually finished and you really didn’t mind at all. Now that Bucky’s cast was off you were looking forward to getting even more physical again.

Though you showered at his place you finished getting ready at yours since you could. Living next door to your boyfriend was obviously convenient. You were able to be together and still have the space you needed. For now it worked though you can see yourself moving in together. A smile stretches across your face when you think of it, Bucky playing his music, no walls in between, a far cry from how things began.

You open your closet to find a dress that would work for the theme of this year’s party which they claimed was winter except they asked all their guests to wear either red or green. You bit your tongue, thinking that sounded more Christmas than winter but you didn’t argue, it wasn’t your party. You pulled out a crimson colored dress that had a beautiful lace overlay. The back was sheer and though it was a little short you felt it was seasonally appropriate with its long sleeves. You finished your hair and makeup, finishing off with gold chandelier earrings and peep-toe heels.

A rhythmic knock rapped at your door and you knew it was Bucky. Opening the door your jaw dropped. Maybe it was the fact that you had mostly seen him in shorts and sweatpants over the last three months, and not that he didn’t make those look good, but the outfit he was wearing now looked incredible. He looked sharp in a juniper green suit with a soft tartan design, a brighter green patterned tie stood out against his light shirt. His shoes were dark brown with a hint of mahogany that reflected in the light and even though he looked amazing you were surprised he didn’t opt for sneakers to be more comfortable with his leg.

“Fuck, you look beautiful,” he spoke first, biting his lip as he looked at you up and down.

He shaved since you left him and your hands went to cup the smooth skin of his cheek. “Not more beautiful than you.”

You pressed your lips to Bucky’s, deepening the kiss with your tongue which was probably a bad idea since it only increased your urge to rip Bucky’s suit off and take him right there. You forced yourself back from him, walking towards your couch to grab your bag.

Bucky followed you as quickly as he could considering walking still felt a little strange. His arms went around your waist pulling you closer to him as his lips began to kiss your cheek, trailing down your neck. You hummed in delight, exhaling stuttered breaths, almost losing yourself to his touch before you pulled yourself out of it.

“We can’t,” you stressed, reluctantly. “We’re gonna be late, come on.”

He sighed acceptingly, waiting for you to unplug your phone and grab your keys. Just before you were ready to leave his arms wrapped around your waist one more time and Bucky spoke before you could say anything.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The swell of your heart reached your lips as you gazed into Bucky’s eyes repeating the same words you’ve known and felt for so long. After another sweet kiss you locked up your place to take the long trip up one flight.

Clint greeted you at the door, his arms pulling you and Bucky into warm welcoming hugs. Unlike his guests, Clint was dressed in a white suit jacket, with black pants and a matching bow tie. He welcomed you into the apartment that was not filled with as many people as you expected.

There were familiar faces in your friends, including Sam who was able to take off this year. Right away Bucky teased him about his red suit calling him Elmo.

“Yeah whatever Kermit. And what about this one?” Sam teased, pointing at Steve. “That’s all you had?”

Steve blushed pink, feeling insecure about his outfit choice, a cozy forest green cable-knit sweater. “Like I’m supposed to have a fruit punch suit in my closet?”

“It’s cranberry and I look good,” Sam declared, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket.

You let the boys continue to have fun as you said hello to Wanda and Peggy, both looking beautiful in their dresses. “Where’s Natasha?”

They shook their heads. “Haven’t seen her,” Wanda said, heading towards their marble island to grab a drink.

It was decorated with a row of mason jars, each filled a quarter of the way with coarse sugar mimicking crystal snow, with a candle in every other one and a chunk of bright red cranberries and sprays of cedar leaves sticking out of the others.

“But we just got here, so I dunno,” she finished.

You were looking around for familiar guests, surely the partners of her law firm would be coming again. An older woman sat on the couch talking to another unfamiliar face, the back of their heads glowing thanks to the curtain of twinkle lights that decorated the large walls of the living room. In the corner was their Christmas tree, a tall spruce decorated with frosted pine cone garland, matte red ornaments and thick burlap ribbon.

Clint brushed passed you, kneeling in front of the older woman who looked curiously familiar. Nervous energy was pouring off of him, from the way he kept chewing his nails to the constant tremble of his leg. He smiled as he passed you again standing near the door. With Natasha still not in sight you decided to do a little digging, by way of introducing yourself.

You walked over to the woman Clint had been speaking to, standing in front of her and the two people she was mid-conversation with. The man was big, his Santa-like belly was testing the buttons of his red shirt as it stretched across the material. His eyebrows were bushy and his brown hair was long in the front, looking a little messy as if it had been brushed through with only his fingers. He had a long beard that matched the color of his hair though it had a lot more grey in it.

The woman was beautiful. The emerald top she wore brought out the green flecks of her hazel eyes and her red lips drew you right into her beautiful smile. Her dark hair was braided with a crown, the rest of the locks falling onto her shoulders.

You caught their attention, extending your hand with a smile as you introduced yourself. The older woman spoke first, her voice as soft as a songbird as she told you her name, Edith, followed by the fact that she was Clint’s mother. Well, that explains it. You see the similarities now, the glasses she wore didn’t hide the fact that they shared the same eyes. Even her mouth was the same, thin lips that grew into the same beaming smile.

“I’m Melina,” the beautiful woman said with a Russian accent. “This is Alexei.” She pointed to the man who smiled at you. His grip was strong as he took your hand in his meaty paw. “We’re like family to Natalia,” he grinned proudly.

“It’s so nice to meet you all!” you said, sitting beside them to talk all while in the back of your mind your brain was working to put together why they were here. Sure it’s a holiday but family members have never come to Clint and Natasha’s for New Years before. In fact, Natasha doesn’t even have family. The only “family” you knew of would have to come from Russia to–

Holy shit.

You find an acceptable way out of the conversation, rushing over to Bucky and pulling him away from his conversation. Your hands are jittering with excited energy, eyes as wide as your mouth is open.

“Bucky, don’t you see what this is?!”

He looks confused for a moment before his attention is diverted. Bucky looks past you to another unfamiliar person that walked in. It’s a man with brown skin dressed in all black. A dark goatee framed his face and the straps of an eye patch secure comfortably around his hairless head. Though Bucky tried not to stare he couldn’t help but notice the veining of scars stretching out across his temple and cheek. He stands tall and silent with his arms clasped behind his back waiting.

Clint cleared his throat, a nervous smile settling on his face. “Now that everyone’s here I’d like to welcome you to… our wedding.”

Gasps of surprise fill the room with everyone rushing up towards Clint as he tries to field questions, hoping no one was truly mad at the abrupt announcement. “I knew it,” you whispered under your breath, gently slapping at Bucky’s arm.

The man in black walked towards the front of the living room, clearly the officiate who asked everyone to get settled as they were about to begin. Clint knocked once on his bedroom door, before taking his place beside the man who introduced himself as Nick.

A young woman with blonde hair slipped out of the door. She nodded to him, cracking a hint of a smile before she settled next to Melina. A moment later everyone’s eyes were drawn to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open again.

Natasha stepped out looking like a dream, in a floor length shimmering ivory gown that showed off her well sculpted shoulders with its high halter neckline, embellished with beautiful beading. She clutched a delicate bouquet of white roses and winter greens with cranberry sprigs woven throughout. Natasha walked up to Clint without fanfare, just the audible sighs of those around her admiring the back of her dress, dazzling and tasteful cut outs that showed off more of her toned body. The fabric cinched above the small of her back, a small train sweeping around her feet.

She handed her bouquet off to the blonde girl, her “sister” you presumed, remembering an old conversation with Clint. Brushing back a loose tendril from her face, Natasha smiled widely as she stared at Clint, bringing her hands forward to connect with his.

Nick began speaking and you took out your phone to capture a quick picture as the impromptu ceremony began. Bucky’s hand found yours, lacing your fingers together as you watched your friends exchange their vows.

Clint’s hands communicated his words in sync as he spoke them. “Natasha, what more can I say to the person that knows me better than I know myself. Because of you the sun shines a little brighter each day, flowers have a sweeter fragrance and my heart is filled with treasured memories. Even the not so great ones like that time in Budapest that I know we remember very differently.”

A chuckle simmers amongst the small crowd and Natasha dips her head down to laugh.

“Because of you my heart found a home, and like my stomach, it will never be empty...” Clint smiled, taking Natasha’s hands in his. “...because it will always be filled with your love, a love that I promise you I will never let go.”

Natasha sniffs, brushing aside a tear as she gathers her thoughts. “Clint, you’ve given me a second chance in life, you’ve shown me what friendship and love truly mean. I promise to trust and respect you and give you the best of myself. I promise to always fight for you, never against you, to be by your side through whatever life brings. I promise to make sure we always have snacks in the house and to clean up all the stains from your shirts when you drop food on them.”

Clint’s shoulders shrugged with acceptance as he chuckled under his breath, “It happens a lot.”

“Yes it does,” Natasha repeated, smiling wider. She exhaled a deep breath before continuing. “I promise to love you through the good times and bad and to choose our love every single day. You are my best friend, my soulmate and I'm the luckiest person on Earth to be able to call you mine.”

You felt Bucky press a kiss to your temple, leaning his head against you as the ceremony continued. When it was time Alexei dug into his pocket, pulling out the rings. With Nick’s concluding words Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck, and his held her waist; their love sealed with a kiss as everyone cheered in celebration.

They pulled back from each other, Clint resting his forehead against Natasha’s. He brought his hand up, bending his middle and ring finger into his palm. Natasha did the same, their fingertips touching as they signed “I love you” before turning to face their friends and family.

Edith was the first to hug the newly married couple who made their way through everyone until they got to you. Bucky and Clint hugged as he congratulated them. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can.” Natasha laughed, pressing her cheek to Bucky’s as they hugged. She moved to you and you wrapped your arms around her tightly. “We’ve been planning this wedding for so long it was never going to happen unless we did it this way.”

“It was perfect,” you said, pulling back from your hug with a huge smile. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you both.”

As the night went on you formally met Yelena, the blonde who Natasha grew up with, and learned about her exciting work. You were in similar fields as she worked to free people of human trafficking, mostly young girls that were to be indoctrinated into radical terrorist groups for forced marriage or even espionage.

Her work was more hands-on as she physically raided underground bunkers or warehouses. It made you feel like you weren’t doing enough even though you knew that wasn’t true. All the years spent working towards your goal reaffirmed that, and in just a few days you’ll officially move into your office in Metro-General, across from Elena’s as you begin doing what you’ve always wanted to do, help people.

You’re lost in a comfortable stare as you look at the Christmas tree, realizing the countdown to midnight had begun.

Ten! Nine! Eight! ...

You turn around, looking for Bucky in the small room that was crowded with everyone standing so close together, huddled around the TV that showed the view from Times Square.

Seven! Six ...

The shimmering ball was descending and you were alone until….

Five! Four! ...

“Hey neighbor…” A voice called and you spun around relieved. Bucky smiled, bringing you close into his arms.

Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!

He leaned in, his lips hovering above yours, pausing as you spoke above the roar of cheers. “Have I ever told you how happy I am that you moved in here?” you purred.

“Every day. It’s like music to my ears.”

Bucky smiled tenderly, sealing the small gap between you, kissing you softly as he poured all the love from his heart out and into yours. Your hearts beat to the rhythm of your own symphony, a song that had a rocky beginning of notes that stretched high and low, but now it was a steady ballad you would continue to create together with your love.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years ago

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Fic: You, The Boy, and The Golden Shoes 1/1

Title: You, The Boy, and The Golden Shoes

Pairing: Henry Cavill X YOU (AU)

Word Count: 1890

Summary: Girl you are a fucking mess. How you managed to keep a top tier lad such as Henry, your sanity and a flagging perfume company is beyond me.

Rating: Nothing you wouldn’t share with mum. Slice of life, fluff, reality, tiny bit of angst, but it has a happy ending. :)

Note: This is a bit different than my usual fare, and of course AU, so I hope you like it.

You knew that if you stood there one moment longer, sodden in the cold drizzle, bare knees scraped and bleeding, face illuminated by the sickly pink neon Girls Girls Girls sign, and staring drunkenly at the plump old ladies eating ice cream inside the sweets shop, you’d likely start screaming.

What else was there to do on a wet Friday night, but scream into the void?

‘Show us yer tits!’

A man’s ugly voice jerked you out of your despair.

It took a moment to force focus from the ice cream ladies to the window’s watery reflection in time to see the raggedy white car crawling along the edge of the kerb, slow enough so that the equally as raggedy man in a splotchy tie dyed shirt could give you a right old shouting at. The driver behind him leaned on the car horn and with tires hydroplaning on the wet road the white car moved on.

I deserve it, you thought, and tried to push your wig upright on your head again.

The synthetic strands were waterlogged and the entire thing had begun to make its migration down one side of your head as if searching for dry refuge.

You are a fucking mess, girl, your mouthed to your reflection.

Making a sour face, you tried to use the edges of your dirty fingers to clean up the oozing mascara. But you only succeeded in smearing the sticky water proof khol down your cheeks and ended up looking as if you were preparing for some concrete jungle camouflage.

Maybe becoming one with the macadam was a good idea. It was the perfect time to just disappear and never come back, especially considering how you’d just ruined your life. The strap of your shiny gold dress slithered off of your shoulder and with a growl of frustration you hooked it with your thumb and dragged it up again.

You then glanced down at your dirty gold lamé pumps. The sudden shift of your booze heavy head caused your stomach to roil unpleasantly and wanting to prevent seeing those 5 whiskey sours and cherries make an encore appearance, you looked up at the ice cream ladies.

They seem to be enjoying themselves, you thought, miserably. I hope they rot.

In the reflection you could see yet another car slowing and coming to a stop directly behind you.

‘Oh fuck me,’ you muttered, when you saw a tall dark haired man get out and pop open a clear plastic umbrella to shield himself from the drizzle.

A vague thought drifted like a fluffy cloud across your drink addled brain.

Looks like the same umbrella that I have. Really, similar… hmm I wonder where I left it. I really liked that umbrella.

The man walked close and a painful tension clenched between your shoulder blades. You hoped he was either heading for the candy shop or the porno house and not about to harass you.

‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ he shouted.

The anger was clear and sharp in his voice and mingled with an overlay of concern. In the window’s reflection you watched him drag a hand through his curls.

Henry.

‘Why did you run off like that?’ he asked, quieter this time and moved close to hold the umbrella over you.

You watched the old ladies abruptly burst into laughter over something. Then the one with her back to the window suddenly turned round to look you directly in the face. They had obviously been talking about the nutcase who was watching them through the window and embarrassed, you turned to face the man behind you.

‘How did you find me?’ you asked him and messily palmed the rain from your face.

Henry sighed and looked heavenward as if asking for deliverance from your special brand of crazy.

‘You’re not hard to miss,’ he said gesturing to your ruined and mud splattered evening gown.

You looked down at yourself and self consciously dragged the slipping strap back up onto your shoulder again.

‘Well, that’s what happens when you go crawling through the hedge.’

Henry gaped at you a moment then one-handed, shrugged out of his evening jacket and draped it about your shoulders. His hand drifted to your lower back and it was such a familiar gesture that it couldn’t be more of a Henry-move if he tried.

Mmm, he smells good though, you mused, catching his scent from the jacket and clutching the lapels of the jacket tighter.

Although you were grateful for his chivalry, you didn’t allow him to exert that soft, manly pressure against your back to hurry you along to the car. You wanted to wallow for a moment longer.

Henry stopped trying to guide you to safety and just stood there, observing you sympathetically and fortunately, silently. He had a tendency to talk every problem to death until he felt better about the situation, no matter how you felt about it. But, he was getting better about that and you put a hash mark on his side of your mental scoreboard.

Wanting to explain yourself and your outlandish behaviour, you spread your hands and tried to speak. But you couldn’t find a coherent explanation for why you did what you did.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said finally.

‘Why did you run away?’ he asked, jumping at the chance to get the conversation rolling.

Looking up at him, you scoffed with disbelief.

‘Why did I run away?’ you sneered in response.

The fundraiser had been a disaster. You had been a fucking disaster.

All you needed was for the earth to open you up and swallow you up to your neck, leaving your head free for birds to perch on. But no, you had to deal with the ramifications of the worst moments of your life.

It all started at the beginning of the year when a recluse aunt dropped a strange and failing fragrance company into your lap. Did she give you actual ownership where you could reap the benefits of being a company woman?

No.

She’d made you the figurehead who did all of the work to keep the business afloat whilst she did whatever recluses did in the south of France.

So, who could blame you for taking a little credit here and there as your hard work began to increase market shares. Who could blame you for slipping into her vacated persona and eventually into her name? It helped the business, for Christ sakes!

It definitely helped to have a face with the name so that people could deal directly with you, rather than by carrier pigeon, of whatever archaic method of communication your aunt liked to use. You never understood what she wanted anyway, so you ran things the way you saw fit.

From that point everything had proceeded swimmingly. You had a flourishing career, a bright future and a handsome lad. Henry was amazing and the sex…oh Jesus.

That was, until your reclusive aunt decided that the reclusive lifestyle just wasn’t for her any more. She’d turned up at a fundraiser you’d organised, in order to steal your spotlight once again. Word had spread like a raging grease fire that you were a fraud and you had tried to swindle a poor little old lady out of her fortunes. When in truth, it was you who saved the drowning business with its foul scent combinations and turned it a healthy, popular and thriving company.

So what did you do? When all accusing eyes were pinned on you?

You ran. As usual.

It really didn’t help that the house where the fundraiser was being held, was on a steep hill surrounded by thick hedges. It also didn’t help that you’d tried to leave through a balcony door that dumped you right out at the apex of that hill. It was a long way down and your rump became acquainted with every rock and bump and mudslide this side of the Mississippi.

You ripped your dress, muddied your 5000 quid shoes and dislodged your fabulous wig. And it was only later that you found refuge and solace on a high street off shoot road that boasted curries, candy and naked girls.

And that’s also where Henry found you.

‘If this is about what your aunt said,’ he began and you stiffened, waiting for the blow of his disapproval and eventual breakup. ‘It… doesn’t make sense.’

You looked up to meet his unbearably fond gaze.

‘You did all of the work. If it weren’t for you, there would be no business. You are the rightful head of it. Not her.’

‘Henry,’ you sighed, relief choking off your words.

You cleared your throat.

See? Amazing lad, isn’t he.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest. I–‘

‘You didn’t lie to me,’ he said, smiling a little to reassure you, his hand sliding about your waist to pull you close. ‘If you had to stretch the truth a little to succeed well…’

He shrugged lazily as if it all didn’t matter one whit to him.

Holding your wig so that it wouldn’t slide forward, you leaned in to kiss him, grateful that you still hadn’t ruined everything. At least in his eyes, for Henry always saw the best in you.

‘Thank you. But… I still trashed my reputation.’

And in business, reputation was Queen.

Henry was about to say something, but the soft ring tone of the beginning of the 80s song ‘Take on me’ interrupted him.

It was your publicist.

‘Hello?’ you asked, defeated and hesitant, bracing for the fury.

Henry righted your wig and mashed it down on your head to prevent it from shifting like an awkward cake.

‘Why did you run off?’ she laughed. ‘I saw you! You took a swan dive out of the window! Are you coming back?’

‘Coming back?’ you asked, looking at Henry.

He pointed to himself with brows raised as if asking, /me/?

You shook your head.

‘Well, yes. This is your company and your fundraiser, right? We can’t make the final toast with you.’

You were flabbergasted. Surely you weren’t welcomed back after what had happened.

‘But, my aunt,’ you began. ‘She… I… I shouldn’t have said that I was–‘

The publicist cut you off.

‘Look, honey. It’s true, her name is on the deed, but we all know who’s the star. You can write it off as a publicity stunt and come out with a new perfume called… Escape or something. With notes of tobacco , mud and whiskey. They’ll love it.’

You stood in stunned silence and the knot in your chest slowly unravelled as the realisation that you hadn’t ruined your life began to dawn.

‘I can’t come back now. I’m a mess. I’ll leave you to do the toast for me. Just tell them something. You’re good at that.’

‘Ok, honey. I’m going with the Escape thing, ok? So you’d better come up with something amazing.’

You disconnected the call and stood there, leaning against Henry and contemplating this peculiar turn of events.

‘All right?’ he asked and you nodded.

‘Can I at least get you into the car?’ he continued gently. ‘You’re shivering. Let me take you home.’

‘I’d rather have some ice cream, if you don’t mind.’

You saw him look through the window behind you and smile.

‘I could go for some as well,’ he replied and together you walked into the shop.

Suddenly life wasn’t quite so bad.

-end

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #reader insert #august walker #clark kent #man of steel #geralt #the witcher

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beingvv · 4 years ago

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Hakukai / indulgence

I, too, am excited at how the Hakukai tag on AO3 is lively this week <3 Here be my humble offering for these two lovable dorks!! You can read on AO3 or under the cut... *contains suggestive themes and crossdressing. Can be read as Hakukai or Kaihaku

“A bet is a bet, Sa-chan,” Kaito says, saccharine sweet, “Come now, be a dear and put these on.”

“You just want to put me in a skirt so you can flip it,” Hakuba says accusingly.

“Do I? Hmmm,” Kaito says, eyes glinting, even as he waved the dress around like a piece of red cloth for a fighting bull. “And these, please.”

Hakuba appears entirely unperturbed by the lace underwear Kaito’s brandishing in his other hand, but he eyes them with distrust, nonetheless. “These look like they chafe.”

“They don’t,” Kaito says breezily. “Trust me, I’d know.”

Hakuba glanced at him in interest, a faint blush upon these cheeks, and Kaito laughs. “Mind going places, my dear detective?”

Hakuba rolls his eyes. “Fine, but no pictures.”

Kaito grins cheekily. “No need, I have an eidetic memory.”

Hakuba gives him a look that’s dripping with sarcasm, even as he shrugs out of his shirt and works open the dress’s zipper. “Mind going places, my dear thief?”

Surprised, Kaito barks a laugh and steps back, allowing his boyfriend to get to work.

Hakuba changes into the dress he’s prepared for him, with less grace than how he usually dress with suits in the mornings, mostly because a lack of practice. Kaito watches him struggle with the back zipper a few times before grinning and stepping in, overlaying their fingers and giving the zipper a gentle tug.

Hakuba sighs, and nudges his cheek long sufferingly against Kaito’s nose. “This is very cliched, I’ll have you know.”

“Says the guy who insists on doing my necklace every time,” Kaito smirks. He inhales unapologetically in the crook of Hakuba’s neck and steals a small kiss there, revelling in the way Hakuba’s breath hitches for an almost indiscernible second.

Hakuba turns, but Kaito has already jumped away, laughing. “Let’s have a look then,” he says.

Hakuba steps in front of the mirror reluctantly and sighs. “I’m — not sure whether,” Hakuba says. The tips of his ears are dusted with pink. “I think it suits you better.”

It’s true, at 174cm and 50kg Kaito’s frame is much smaller and more lithe, he can easily pass off as a high school girl, no second glances spared. Hakuba’s taller and broader at the shoulders, even with a killer dress like this that Kaito’s picked out, he looks like a university graduate who’s trying to reinvent himself. Kaito beams.

Hakuba sighs again. “You just want to mess with me,” he says, though it’s without heat.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, detective,” Kaito says, eyes glinting and mischievous, “Let me see you first.”

Hakuba scowls and blushes prettily. He does a turn under Kaito’s finger, then another, all the while wearing a long suffering, indulgent expression. Kaito grins wide and runs a hand through his boyfriend’s hair, down to the shoulders, down to Hakuba’s sides.

“So maybe a wig,” Kaito says. “Shoulder length, what do you think?”

Hakuba rolls his eyes. “If you are going to dress me up like a doll, at least put some effort into it.”

“Detective!” Kaito says with mock affront. “It takes a lot of effort to make it look effortless, I’ll have you know. Don’t forget your accessory,” he adds helpfully, dangling the piece of lace from his fingertips.

Hakuba’s blush rises higher. “Fine,” he bites out, “So turn around.”

Kaito raises a mischievous eyebrow.

“Oh no,” Hakuba says, “You don’t get to watch, this isn’t part of the deal. Turn around.”

“I won, so I get to decide what the deal is,” Kaito says cheerfully. “Get on with it.”

Hakuba stares at him, and finally, finally looks flustered. “Are you — Kuroba. That’s unbecoming.”

Unbecoming. Kaito can’t help but grin; his detective is totally ridiculous. “Do you want me to magick your pants away? ” he says sweetly, “Because I will,” relishing in the way Hakuba’s face flushes.

Hakuba makes an aggravated sound and falls onto the bed, kicking off his slippers, and yanks his boxers down.

“That’s not very lady like,” Kaito comments, cheerful.

Hakuba gives him a dirty look. He does, however, put on the lace underwear with precision care, fingers moving gentle and slow as if he’s afraid of ripping them if he let his frustration show.

Hakuba pointedly lowers the hem of the dress and sits up, staring daggers at him. “Happy now?”

Kaito licks his lips. “Immeasurably.”

Hakuba rolls his eyes, even as the corner of his lips quirk into a small smile. “Of course you’d get off on this, Kuroba.”

“On what,” Kaito says, distracted. Hakuba has really long lashes.

“Mischief,” Hakuba says, looping an arm around Kaito’s waist, welcoming Kaito to his lap.

“Is that what I like?” Kaito says, arching a brow. “I don’t know, are you sure you’re good at this detective thing?”

Surprised, Hakuba glances up, and Kaito doesn’t look away. After a few seconds, Hakuba’s eyes softens, and his smile turn indulgent. “I see,” he says.

“Do you?” Kaito asks again, dipping his head low and allowing a small smile to grace his lips.

“This doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Hakuba says, somehow sounding impossibly smug again.

“You are weak for me,” Kaito says cheekily. “You’ll do anything I say, won’t you, detective?”

Hakuba raises an unimpressed brow at him. “I will always honour the terms of my bet, against my — admittedly extremely vexing — adversary. Who sometimes has no sense of propriety at all,” Hakuba adds, finding his wandering hand and prying them away pointedly. “This is no way to treat a lady, my dear thief.”

Kaito laughs, delighted and all warm inside. “You are so ridiculous.”

“I love you,” Hakuba says easily, eyes smiling. “You can always indulge in this.”

Kaito sighs and presses their foreheads together, even as the corner of his lips quirk hopelessly upwards. “You are ridiculous,” he says again, softer this time, sincere.

Hakuba lifts his head a little and noses at his cheek, angling their mouths close, breathing each other in. It’s intimate and heady, being this close, seeing Hakuba like this, knowing he has a form of hold over his detective, knowing he has access. Kaito rubs a thumb over the seam of the dress he’s picked out for his boyfriend reverently, feeling warm and content, happy, loved.

“Well?” Hakuba says softly, “Don’t let a lady wait too long.”

Kaito laughs and surges forward, capturing waiting lips in a kiss.

END

#hakukai #kaihaku #hakuba saguru #kuroba kaito #magic kaito #my fic #dcmk fanfic

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butterfly-winx · 5 years ago

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Next baybee, is Mirta Wingert, in her pink punk barbie Enchantix, glow-ing!

In this AU, she is the Fairy of Emotional Illusions and very, very gay. Let’s hear the rest below! 😁

Mirta is the same age as the Winx, but through her mid-year transfer to Alfea that only got finalised after the Trix’s megalomaniac attack had been dealt with, she repeated a year and graduated while the girls were away in Gardenia.

Mirta is from an influential family in Magics that has brought forth many a council member, industrial and landowner. All of them witchcraft users, though. When Mirta manifested with magic it was not a question which stream she would pursue and that she would do it at one of the top schools of the Magic Universe. Mirta’s parents don’t immediately belong to the creme de la creme, but have enough influence to make things like this happen for their daughter.

Being part of the upper class industrialists, but at the same time being removed enough from them to allow independent thought shaped Mirta’s personality greatly and contributed to her explosive rebellious teen stage. She wholeheartedly believes in what the punk anti-capitalist philosophy stands for and has alternately tried either to change her family’s ways from within, or to break away and distance herself. Her generous allowance was always spent on local youth groups, anti-discrimination organisations and personal drives for people in need. Many a times had her parents have to drag her off the streets where she chilled with punk buskers and their dogs before they could set an end to it by sending Mirta off to Cloud Tower.

Could Tower, now that was something else. Despite growing up in a family of witchcraft users, her home was still just basic, good old Adquistes. She has never lived in an exclusively witchcraft using society like the Cloud Tower coven, so a lot of things came as a culture shock to her. The school preserved a lot of things that modern witches in an integrated society don’t observe anymore, just for the sake of teaching history. Not all of it became Mirta, especially not the antagonism towards the fairies. Her heart is huge and as a true punk she stood up to the system and what she believed was not right. This didn’t make her many friends among the hard-core traditionalist witch*ers and combined with her very short statue, got her pushed around a lot.

Her only comfort and friend was Lucy, a childhood friend of hers. They met in an LGBT youth shelter organised event where Lucy had been tentatively seeking help for transitioning. Mirta was there to volunteer and the two girls hit off really well complaining about the world and uplifting each other where they could. After that they stayed online friends and talked on various forums, not having much of a face-to face relationship before becoming dorm mates at Cloud Tower. There it became obvious that some of their attitudes towards life and witchcraft were very different.

Mainly the Trix, they argued about them incessantly before Mirta left. Despite their horrible treatment of her, Lucy saw an opportunity in staying in the good graces of the Trix, as there weren’t many career opportunities open to witches at the time, so she thought it would make more sense to conform to the stereotypes. She was tired of fighting just to be recognised as a girl, why add to that plate? Mirta empathised with that to some extent, but she had unwavering faith in that she could do good, and she would do good regardless of what people thought of her magic stream. She decided to start that by passing on what she knows about the Trix’s doing in and out of school to the Winx. They met at the start of the year at the school’s joint ball that very few witch*ers actually showed up to. Flora immediately swept Mirta under her wing and the five girls frequently invited her to hang out. Mirta knew how the Trix have made Bloom’s life hell and wanted to help out to give the girls an upper hand. Until then she had been under the impression that their antagonism was nothing more than bulling, but the Trix pretty openly discussed ripping stuff from Bloom’s chest, so she felt they needed to know and warn teachers. Not Cloud Tower teachers though, them Mirta didn’t trust. She was discovered sneaking out and the Trix cast an advanced spell on her turning her into a pumpkin.

Flora and Miss Faragonda cared for her while she was in that form at least for a few weeks before Faragonda was able to turn her back using her fairy dust. After reporting what she had intended to, which has by then become outdated, Mirta was hesitant to return to Cloud Tower. For one because of the Trix and the bullying, but also because of how she and Lucy had broken off. By that point Mirta had been nursing a giant crush on her friend and their angry parting words to each other broke her heart. While at Alfea she learned more about fey magic from the Winx basically by osmosis. She even had success with a few basic spells that absolutely amazed her. She was never the best student and she had to work so hard to keep up with witchcraft. This in comparison was a piece of cake. Faragonda then sneakily slid her a transfer slip before sending her home to her family in Adquistes. It took some convincing for them to come around to the idea of Mirta being a fairy, but Mirta was allowed a trial period which she aced with stellar notes, much to her parents’ surprise. She became a full time student the next semester, starting fresh with a new leaf.

She fell out of tune with the Winx a little bit after that, as their curriculum diverged greatly and they had each their own social circles to stay involved in. Tough a bit distrustful of her at first, Mirta’s room and classmates turned out to be good sport and she often hung out with them even after graduation. Mirta patched things up with Lucy eventually, both of them overcoming their shame over what had happened. As Mirta continued her work trying to bring the two schools together, their relationship seemed to grow even closer than it had been before and Mirta flirted with the idea of flirting with Lucy, before inevitably chickening out of it every time too afraid to ruin what they had. The year was over before they knew it and Lucy and Mirta went on their first sort of date at the end of the year ball. It was sweet and sapphic and filled Mirta with hope for the future. Then of course Valtor struck and everything went to shit.

When Valtor and the Trix took over Cloud Tower, Mirta was ready to bang down the Winx’s door just as they were coming to her to do the same. Inspecting the castle they of course stumbled into the monsters left for them and the brain-washed Lucy. Mirta was horrified, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t free her from the trance. Lucy herself seemed to resist the pull though and her eyes clear, momentarily looking at Mirta. Later, when the horror was over and Valtor had been defeated, Lucy shared that hearing Mirta’s voice cut through to her and made her fight against Valtor’s control. She felt like she had to come back to Mirta, to see her, to fight for her. There was only so much a girl’s heart could handle and before she knew it, Mirta was kissing Lucy. Lucy broke an incredibly powerful witcher’s spell on her because she loved Mirta so much, how could she not? How could she not love her back? They laughed it out telling each other about all their insecurities and pining, thinking the other didn’t feel the same and decided to go on a lot of dates to make up for that.

In the S6 AU timeline, she is settled in Magics City with Lucy, who is pursuing further magic education at Cloud Tower as a teacher assistant, ready to get her Master Witch exam and become a potions teacher. Mirta is therefore at the front line when Lucy’s voice message comes in telling her that the Trix have returned to Cloud Tower with a strange new witch and something about them being different. More sharp and dangerous. Mirta spends the rest of that story arc trying to free Lucy, then survive in a hostile witch infested Cloud Tower after she becomes trapped in there. (wink a good ending is in sight for her however)

Magic wise she is definitely competent, though not as battle hardened as the Winx. She gained her Enchantix in a very characteristically her situation. During the time of the reawakening of magic on Earth Magics was also experiencing unrest with a lot of people protesting how Magics planned to handle the situation, leaving Earth magic users to their own devices once again. Counterprotesters crashed the scene and escalated the violence, endangering bystanders and protesters alike. Mirta stood her ground way before peace keepers responded and her initiative saved a lot of people, triggering her Enchantix. With emotional illusions she could pacify people for the time being and allowed for vulnerable people to scurry away. Mirta’s powers don’t change someone’s heart like Believix powers do (though after she hears what Believix can do, she becomes keenly interested in it), however it overlays an overpowering layer of what Mirta wants them to feel in the moment. If her concentration fades, so will the feeling. In that way, her power is actually very similar to Darcy’s psychic illusions. Using witchcraft with this aspect always made Mirta feel predatory, offering power bearing items in order to control someone else’s emotions. With fey magic, it is more like she extends what she feels into the mind of other people. All her spells turn out stronger if she herself is feeling the emotion and has an immediate reference to draw on what it feels like to experience it. Unconsciously she sometimes spreads her stress or dread, which took Lucy a while to figure out after they moved together. Now she isn’t as freaked by it and just tuts when she recognises that the jaw-clenching stress isn’t actually her own. Mirta is working on it, she swears! The two of them then cuddle it out, though they always look for excuses to spend the day on the couch, so that doesn’t say a lot. :)

I have a lot of love and plans for Mirta, I think this has been going on for a while. All of this is also poured into my S6 AU, which is a “coming soon” kind of project atm.

#winx club #winx redesign #winx mirta #locally sourced art #punk fairy

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pokeydapuppy · 4 years ago

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The groups I’m cheering for this DRB ovo

Pfft, I am suuuuper late

But my final thoughts!

As you can see from above, I want BB, M, and FP to win. I only realized that I just needed Samatoki in there to be TDD haha Honestly a bit disappointing that I didn’t but lemme explain myself for my reasons.

While I do love the new divisions (I’m a hard DH fan tbh lol), I mostly wanted to focus on how it would affect the story and then the group’s performance. Since the start, before the lives, I wanted to support BB, M, and MTC. As you can see, It’s been changed from MTC to FP X”D

(Black Journey is too powerful imo it has me rolling every time. Though ramuda’s first beginning aprt definitely caught me off guard and that lil intro had me laughing. That chorus??? Freaking <3<3)

Buster Bros, I think I only got around to talk about the first two groups never the next two pfft. As much as I would like to see our favorite comedy duo win, I really want them to beat their father and get a sense of victory as well. I won’t forget the fact that they were the first to go first DRB rip Re:Start is ultimately better than Wara Osaka in my opinion, even if its tacky dance lives rent free in my mind and I think about them often lol. Jiro’s Aniki is going to take some time to get used to, but I think that development (all of them, save Ichiro tbh ??) in the drama track has pulled my heartstrings and they’re adorable.

Hmm, honestly when it does come to M vs BAT, my sibling has had me conflicted many times. (She’s also the one that converted me from MTC to FP blame her lol) It’s true- if BB is going to win, wouldn’t we want a Naughty Busters like reunion? If we aren’t going to get it from DH and MTC that is. Kaigen and RIP are also superb compared to Tomoshibi... (it was a good song I swear- just come on, BAT had more energy this time around XD It fit the hype I was looking for in the 2nd DRB) Rip for Kuko’s scream that isn’t in the actual recording only in the live ashdjkk. If he doesn’t do that future lives still Imma be sad lmao. Anyways I don’t think the “champions” should just go afterwards either. Also les make that inferior complex worse ehhhhh jkjk Also, overall I just feel like M’s popularity and that Drama track might secure them that win. I think the plot might be cleaner then?? Of course, it’s all debatable and Im sure that if either team won, the story could still develop just fine.

Dear goodness, Jyuuto’s part in Hunting Charm actually haunts me. Anyways, Fp doesn’t deserve to lose, what was that one joke floating around about the pink one getting it. Please. Just let them trick or treat form other clones, he doesn’t deserve this ajhsjkkk While as much as I think Samatoki deserves that win and revenge for Nemu (Also potentially meeting her?? But ig he doesn’t have to win to have that opportunity) I feel that FP’s stronger bond and passion to live might push them for that win.

As for the versus songs themselves-

Ohhh dear Most favorite to least favorite:

Reason to Fight - Light Shadow - Joy for Struggle

I’ll be honest, for the amount of hype that I had for the 2nd DRB, DhvsBB disappointed me... In the sense of energy of course- I still find it a heckin good bop. But I think what I wanted was just them spitting fire at each other, just fire XDD It was cute- their lil manzai and joking, but I think it would’ve been cooler to throw heat in there. Seemed more to DH’s vibe than a mixed battle vibe.

Now the other two songs, much like the past DRB songs were LIT. I absolutely loved them. That banger part in Reason to Fight that makes me throw my hands in the air to go with the beat (Yall know it lol) is killer. Doppo’s scream -beautiful as always (but also Jyushi’s and kuko’s lol)- including just the raw energy I felt from Light Shadow was absolutely phenomenal.

I honestly wish there was more anger(?) in Dh and Bb But I also get why it didn’t lol Either way, although they're like my top favorite divisions, that’s my reasoning. I’d chat about the Drama tracks too, but tbh I haven’t seen the translations yet so I don’t wanna spread misconceptions lol

This has gone long enough- Imma try and throw up some more art of hypmic though. I had this done a couple days ago but just wanted to post it anyways. You can sort of tell the rush because while I made some of the top transparent I didn’t erase the overlay LOL

Also I had 2/3 BB icons done, but I really want to post the three of them together... Hopefully I’ll pull myself up soon to finish Saburo pfft

#I'm sorry this is such a long rant ashdfkjk #I shoulda done this earlier LOL #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypmic 2nd drb #yamada ichiro #amemura ramuda #jinguji jakurai #I didn't read over this because I have notes to do #Sorry for the mistakes lol

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need-a-fugue · 5 years ago

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Why Not? - Chapter Nine

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SUPER fluffy. Always some language.

The beginning of the week – and all of Wednesday thus far – passes slower than molasses in January. Slower than a herd of turtles in a marathon. Slower than rush-hour traffic in downtown Boston. Slower than…

“Hello?” rips into her periphery, tearing her focus away from the melancholy countdown percolating in her head. “Angela,” Tony intones thickly as he glides into her small office. There’s a sly, knowing smirk brewing on his lips, his voice full of innuendo when he goes on to ask, “What has you so… deep in thought?”

“Sorry,” she mutters, straightening upright and beginning to shuffle papers back and forth erratically in an attempt to make herself look busy. “Nothing.”

A long, haughty laugh, a lingering pose by her desk, a deliberate quirk of his brows followed by a clever wink… and Annie’s done. She rolls her eyes, pushes back in the oversized office chair, and rises to leave. “What? No chitchat? No coffee klatch?” Tony almost whines as she grabs her cell and prepares to head out. “Where’s the gossip, huh? C’mon, kid, spill the tea!”

She tries – tries damn hard – to keep from laughing as he sputters next to her. But the corners of her mouth tick up nevertheless, even as she works to keep her lips pinched firmly shut.

He steps slowly over to her, looming in front of her. “Is tonight the night?” he asks with a wiggle of his brows. Then, eyes tracing down along her frame, expression setting in something akin to disappointment, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Tony!” she gushes, her shoulders drooping. All at once, a wave a trepidation rolls over her, pushing all of the impatience and excitement to the far back corner of her mind. She glances down at her black cropped trousers, eyes catching the hem of her flowy red, silk tank. “Wh-what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

He shrugs. “Guess it really depends on what’s underneath.”

Wide eyes fly up to meet his smug, grinning face. “Tony!” she exclaims – for probably the twentieth time today. “How many times do I have to tell you? You cannot talk to employees about… what lives under their clothes.”

His nose twitches, lip pulling into a disgusted snarl. “I hope to God there’s nothing living under there,” he states with a snort. Annie lets out a huff and rolls her eyes yet again. “I’m just saying that there better be some lace and silk between you and those really unsexy pants if you want to get laid tonight.” He cocks his head assessingly, his posture and expression – and attention on her body – eliciting a thick, hot blush along her cheeks. “Or maybe something… edible?”

Her jaw drops, an short gasp popping loose from her chest and bringing a swift howl of laughter from her terribly inappropriate boss. “I can’t… I don’t… Why would I…”

Tony waves a dismissive hand through the air – “Relax, kid. I’m just messing with you.” – and turns on a sincere, if still jovial, expression. “You look great. He’d be crazy not to want to – ”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” she murmurs – almost begs – as a look of humiliation washes over her face.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs out, dropping a hand to her shoulder and giving her a small shove towards the door. “You’re the one who said you had to be gone by five today. No matter what. Now look,” he intones, flashing his hundred-thousand-dollar watch in her face. “It’s 5:04.”

She huffs out a reluctant goodbye and spins to leave, doubts about her clothes – and her less than exciting underwear – clouding her mind as she meanders to the garage. But the minute she makes it to her Bronco, the minute her fingers turn the key in the ignition, one wonderful, beautiful thought spills out into her consciousness and overtakes all of the trivial worries and pesky nerves. It’s Wednesday. Finally, it’s Wednesday.

Annie spends the entire – too damn long – drive over to his place thinking about Bucky’s face and the way his stubble felt beneath her fingertips. About his lips, plump and just slightly chapped, and the way they pressed so urgently into hers. About the soft tenor of his voice – Got to spend the day with my two favorite girls – low and husky and just for her.

It is all that she can focus on. Throughout the drive out to Brooklyn. And the brief stop at the Indian place down the street, where she looms for ten minutes waiting on her order, looking every part the dreamy, doe-eyed – possibly creepy – love-struck teenager. For the several minutes it takes to gather all the food – and the bottle of wine that Tony had gifted her this morning – precariously in her arms. And for the too long trudge down the block – because parking is miserable out here – and up to his door. She is positively fixated on all things Bucky Barnes.

But the spell is swiftly broken – and the silly, goofy smile she’d been wearing all day long vanishes in an instant – the moment Bucky sharply swings open the door to his apartment.

“Shit,” he groans, the single word barely audible over the piercing cries of the little girl in his arms. He spins away from the door – away from a rather stunned Annie – and gently sways Lana in his arms, soft shhhs continuously falling from his lips despite getting thoroughly drown out by her pitiful sobs.

Annie’s jaw drops, eyes blinking rapidly as she takes in the scene. The cluttered room, not yet tidied, though she’s certain he planned on cleaning up before she came. The echoing misery of a sobbing child reverberating off the walls. The shirtless specimen in front of her, his perfectly toned back rippling distractedly, each and every painfully defined muscle shifting as he cradles his baby closer.

She shakes her head vaguely – sloughing off those desirous thoughts – and steps through the door, casually bumping it shut with her foot behind her. Bucky turns back to her when he hears the click of it closing, looks at her with what can only be described as utter desperation in his eyes. Now she sees that Lana is shirtless too, wearing only a pair of pink pajama bottoms. And she smells – mixed in with the heady scent of the Tikka Masala still in her hand – the sickly tang of vomit in the air.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters over the top of Svetlana’s head, his right hand creeping up to gently weave into her curls and tug her screaming face back down to his shoulder. “Nat’s running late. And…” A long, languid, completely depleted sigh falls from his lips before the rather obvious declaration of, “Lana came home sick.” He steps back, moving toward the hall where he carefully kicks away a small pile of discarded clothing, soft utterances of shhh and It’s okay, baby repeatedly tumbling from his mouth and into the inconsolable creature in his arms.

Annie sets down the food and wine on the breakfast bar and follows on his heels, still silent, still unsure of quite what to say.

“She just threw up again,” he breathes out, his voice a mix of frustration and sadness, a put-on gentle tone overlaying it all for his daughter’s sake. He stops at her bedroom door and turns to face Annie, sees her reaching down to collect the felled – vomit-covered – shirts from the floor. “No,” he snaps, a single, stilling hand dropping from Lana’s back and shooting out towards her. “Don’t. Just… I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s okay,” she issues out, face contorting into a closed-lip grin that doesn’t quite manage to convey the reassurance she’d been aiming for. “You’ve got your hands full.”

Lana’s cries begin to wane – if only the slightest bit – but Bucky can still feel her hot tears steadily cascading down his shoulder and chest as he offers Annie a quick nod and steps into the dimly lit room.

It hadn’t been like this all day… thank God. She had seemed fine this morning, bouncing around as usual, making it nearly impossible for him to comb out her hair and secure it into the requested pigtails. She ate her breakfast – or as much of it as she typically might – and scurried off into her pre-K classroom the moment he dropped her off, very nearly forgetting to give him a kiss goodbye. So it was a surprise to say the least, when the daycare called around noon and told him that his little girl wasn’t feeling well.

Truthfully, he didn’t think too much of it. Just asked Steve to cover for him and took off to go gather his baby up.

Now, Svetlana Barnes is no stranger to the fine art of temper tantrums and manipulative weeping. She is a four year old after all. She can cry and scream and wail with the best of them. But it’s honestly pretty rare – especially with a you know that wobbling lip won’t work on me mother like Natasha. And what’s rarer still is their tough little cookie crying in discomfort. She’s more the type to get angry when she’s tired or under the weather. And silently broody – though utterly clingy – when hurt.

So Bucky knew something was wrong when she started softly crying just as he began to buckle her into the car seat. In a breath of a moment, instinct kicked in and he frantically tugged at the buckle to release her, to pull her back out of the car and… aim her somewhere else. But by the time he realized what was about to happen, it was already too late. As soon as his fingers bent around the seatbelt, she upchucked into her own lap. He had managed to flip his hands up in time to catch most of it – and not-so-sneakily dump it off to the side of the daycare parking lot – but the very act of getting sick had turned the poor little girl into a wailing heap of flushed cheeks and trembling limbs. He wiped his hands on his pants with a disgusted grimace, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, and jumped into the front seat, driving as fast as he felt safe doing to get his baby back home.

One bath and a too-long battle over children’s Tylenol later, and Lana had finally fallen asleep, giving Bucky just enough time to shower, change, and finish a load of laundry. But not five minutes after Natasha called to say she was stuck in a meeting and would be late picking her up – I’m so, sorry, James. I know you have plans and… Just tell her I’ll be there soon. – he heard the short, pathetic cries resume.

He tried to get her to the bathroom in time, but no such luck. Less than an hour before Annie was set to arrive – and she was always early for everything – and he and Lana both were covered in vomit in yet again. Not that any of that really mattered when he had his despondent little baby cradled so tightly in his arms, her steady weeping ripping through to his very soul.

“Shhh,” he tries again, patting her warm, sticky back before reaching down to open a drawer, grabbing a clean T-shirt and tossing it out onto her bed. The only light in the room is from the early evening sun filtering in through the edges of the closed blinds, and from her pale yellow monkey night lamp off in the corner. He slowly lowers himself into the old rocking chair near the door – the one that used to be his mom’s… used to be for her to soothe him and his little sister all those years ago – and hikes Lana a little further up his chest, guiding her head down to his shoulder once again. “I know, baby,” he utters absently, one hand slowly swiping along her back, the other softly petting at her sweaty hair as he begins a methodical rock. “I know. It’s okay.”

From the hall, Annie can hear his tender whispers only vaguely. But that almost makes it worse… harder to take in. The softness in his voice, the subtle desperation, not only breaks her heart, but makes her feel terribly out of place. Like an interloper in this sad, sweet moment. She finishes gathering the soiled clothes and pops them into the washing machine next to the bathroom, next to Bucky’s bedroom. The door is wide open and she chances a glance in, sees the neatly made bed, smiles softly to herself, and then realizes all at once that this may well be as close as she’ll get to that bed tonight.

She slowly saunters back to Lana’s bedroom, looming listlessly in the doorway for a moment, watching as Bucky’s hulking shoulders lean back into the small wooden spindles of the rocking chair, tiny fingers grasping at his flesh. He rocks with a slow, practiced rhythm, like he’s done this dance a hundred times before. Of course he has, she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes. He’s a father.

Tony’s words from the other day come back to her, urging her to consider whether or not getting involved with a dad might be too much. You’ll never come first, you know. The utter truth to those words, and the frightening simplicity of the all-too-obvious statement, cause her gut to clench.

He didn’t call to cancel, she reminds herself. He didn’t text to say not to come. He didn’t turn her away when she arrived either. She may be on the outside looking in at this moment in time, but at least she’s here. Can’t that be enough?

A knock at the door rips her from her reverie, her eyes shooting down the hall for a beat before veering questioningly over to Bucky. Through the dimness of the room, he locks onto her curious gaze and gives a gentle nod, a silent command – a plea – to help him out by seeing who it is.

She hurries down the hall and pulls open the door to find Steve, a sweet, almost nervous smile splitting his face when he sees her. “Hey, Annie,” he intones, stepping blithely into the apartment. He’s several paces in before he spins back to face her. “I am so sorry about this. Nat got caught up at the office… she should’ve been here an hour ago. I know you and Buck have plans.” He ducks his head meekly in apology. “He was really… excited about it.”

A fleeting trill of elation shoots up her spine – he was really excited – before swiftly flickering away. “No, no, it’s nothing,” she mutters, winding her arms tightly around her middle. “I just feel bad for Lana.” She ticks her chin towards the hall – “They’re in her bedroom.” – and heads over to the living room to start picking up, absently tidying to both pass the time and quell her nerves.

He gives a nod of thanks and disappears down the hall, breathing out a soft, “Hey there,” as he steps through the doorway to the little girl’s room.

Bucky looks up at him with weary eyes, never stopping the slow, steady rocking nor his gentle stroke up and down his daughter’s back. “Hey,” he says simply, his voice rumbling though his chest and into Lana, causing her to stir.

She rubs her face sleepily into his him, warm tears and saliva causing a slick beneath her cheek as she turns to see Steve lingering in the doorway. He ducks his head to make eye contact, offering a small, crooked smile before stepping into the room and dropping to one knee by the rocking chair. “Hey, bud,” he says, reaching out and swiping at the sweat-laden hair sticking to her forehead. He tenderly nudges it from her face, letting his thumb drift down to wipe away a thick, salty tear track. “Heard you don’t feel so good.”

The sobs had all but stopped, leaving only small moans and shuddery hiccups in their wake. But still, it seems it’s too difficult for her to speak, nothing more than a short nod and sniffle being offered to her uncle as he flattens his palm on her cheek to test her temperature.

“She puked in the car when I picked her up,” Bucky mutters, the hand atop her back now moving in a rhythmic pat to help quell her hiccups. “Got her cleaned up and into bed… then she blew again about twenty minutes ago.”

Steve cringes in a sort of awful solidarity. Then he raises a brow, teasing glint in his eye as he leans back and looks assessingly at the pair before him. “And judging from the lack of clothes, I’m guessing she nailed you?”

He releases a dejected huff. “Both times.”

A small laugh spills from his lips and he leans in close, locking onto Svetlana’s dull blue eyes. “Well, buddy, what do you say? You want me take you back to mommy’s? She should be home real soon…”

“She was supposed to be here a fucking hour ago,” Bucky seethes as he presses Lana’s head back down to the crook of his neck. He feels her hot skin slide along his and lets out a small hiss. “Probably time for more Tylenol.”

That gets a bit of a rise out of her, tiny limbs pulling together to push back on her father, form writhing as she struggles and whines out, “Nooooo,” in a hoarse, pathetic tone that very nearly breaks his heart.

He looks down at her as she pulls away, raises his brows in a listen to your father way, and says simply, “Yes.”

The tears start up again, her face twisting and reddening. And she leans further away, tilting over the arm of the chair as she reaches pitifully out for Steve. “Oh, poor baby,” he intones thickly, reaching for her as well. He easily scoops her up and out of her father’s lap, giving Bucky a shit-eating grin over the top of her head as he rises with the sweaty, crying, clingy girl in his arms.

Bucky merely gives a tired – and thoroughly annoyed – eyeroll in response. “You’re really gonna make me be the bad guy?” he asks, letting out a small, exhausted groan as he hauls himself up from the rocking chair.

He swipes the little blue T-shirt off the bed and turns to tug it on over the top of Svetlana’s head – quite a feat as she hangs onto her uncle for dear life, desperate to stay as far away from her father as possible now that he’s promised more medicine. He finally works both of her arms in and pulls the shirt down her clammy back.

“C’mon,” he sighs, side stepping Steve and heading into the kitchen, assuming he’ll follow.

Lana doesn’t see him grab the bottle of liquid Tylenol from the counter, but the moment Steve pivots to pluck her coiled form from around his chest, she senses what’s coming. And she blows a gasket, the soft, stifled cries rising quickly into vicious, ear-splitting screams.

“Baby, you’re gonna make yourself sick again,” Bucky laments loudly as he tries to speak over the shrill, deafening sobs. More than a hint of impatience spills out of him as he takes hold of her arm to keep her from turning back into Steve, tugging a bit harsher than he wants to as she continues to struggle against him. “There’s no reason to get so damn worked up.”

Steve gives her a little bounce and tries to look down at her, tries to make eye contact with the wild, thrashing creature. “C’mon, bud. You choke down some medicine now and we can have cookies back at home.”

Bucky drops her tiny arm and gives his friend an incredulous glare over the top of the little girl’s head. “You’ll regret doing that, I promise,” he tells him with a raised, warning brow.

Steve offers little more than a dismissive shrug before giving Lana a quick, tight squeeze and saying to her, “You know how mad mommy’ll be at me if I bring you home without any medicine in you?” She wildly tosses her head back and forth, a no and an I don’t care in one frantic gesture. “What if she yells at me?” he asks in an almost desperate tone. He gives her another light bounce and ducks his head to capture her gaze, offers a teasing sort of smile as he asks, “What if she hits me? You don’t want that, do you?”

Bucky snorts loudly from his side, but holds back his own sarcastic response, noting that Lana’s cries are diminishing as Steve continues to beg for her help.

“You could be saving my life, pumpkin,” he says with a thick – faux – sincerity. “Just take a teeny, tiny bit of medicine so mommy doesn’t hurt me.” A full, pouty lip juts from his face, the sides of his mouth tugging down into an overdone frown. “Please?”

She shakes her head again, a mighty pout of her own pulling across her countenance. But it’s obvious that she’s too tired to keep fighting. Finally placated by her uncle’s ridiculous pleas – and maybe a bit by a very real desire to keep him from getting in trouble – she drops her temple to his chest and looks up at her father with weary, red-rimmed eyes.

He gives her the liquid Tylenol, glides a thumb over her disgustedly pursing lips to wipe away the remnants, and bends over to drop a lingering kiss on her warm forehead… even as she whines and tries to pull away.

Steve catches the worried, sad look washing over his friend’s face as he straightens upright, his voice dropping into a low, tender tone as he tells him, “She’ll be alright.”

He nods – “Yeah, I know.” – never removing his desolate gaze from the flushed little face in front of him. “I know,” he repeats with a sigh.

“We’ll call you later to let you know how she’s doing.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters again, finally looking up at Steve and breathing out a long, pained sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he tries again, adding on a carefree smile for good measure. He glances over at Annie, her arms laden with the toys that she’s picked up from all over the apartment, and his grin grows wider. “You two just have fun. Really. We’ve got this.” He ducks his head, dropping his nose to Lana’s sweaty curls. “Right, buddy?”

She doesn’t respond, opting instead to tightly pinch shut her eyes and crumple her face in that way that both men recognize as near sleep. Bucky grabs the small, already packed backpack from the sofa as they head for the door, handing it over to Steve and leaning down to kiss Lana goodbye a final time. “I love you, baby,” he whispers to her, surprised when she mutters a love you back at him before twisting further into Steve’s hold and being whisked out the door.

Annie finishes depositing the toys in their rightful cubbies before turning to look at the forlorn man across the room. “I…” she stutters for a moment, eager to break the sudden, heady silence. She clears her throat and steps out from behind the couch, moving slowly towards him. “Is there anything else to throw in the wash? Her sheets, maybe?”

He turns to her – just as she sidles up next to him, her considerate words heavy on the air between them – with the most pitiful expression she’s ever seen grace that handsome face. His deep blue eyes look shadowed and hazy, dark bags already forming beneath. And his lips part just slightly, ready to talk, yet painfully silent.

She’s about to speak again, to ask if he’s alright or if he needs anything. Or – the awful words bubbling in her throat like thick bile – if he’d rather she just left.

But the moment her mouth bobs open, he lunges forward, grabbing hold of her and spinning her round, thrusting her back so that she’s pressed against the closed door. His hands grip at her biceps for just a fraction of a moment before shifting up to grab and tug and simply lose themselves in her long, thick hair. A short, strangled breath catches in her throat as their teeth slam almost violently together, lips twisting and pulling and nipping as she lets herself get lost in the desperate kiss.

Then, all at once, just as she’s about to wrap herself so completely around him – run her fingers through his hair, grip tight to his still-naked shoulders, trail her nails down his perfectly chiseled back – he pulls swiftly away. “Sorry,” spills from his lush, swollen lips as he slowly backs away, gaze averted, hand now tugging at his own hair before sliding down in his face in utter frustration. “Shit,” he groans languidly. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

She wants to say, no. To refuse his apology and tell him that there’s no reason to be sorry, no reason at all. She wants to laugh at him for thinking that something like that could ever require an apology. Hell, in this precise moment, she wants to leap forward and climb him like a fucking tree. But all she does is remain – cemented to the spot, legs now wobbly beneath her – stiffly silent as her back gathers sweat, even while firmly pressed against the cool wood of the door.

“What…” he sputters out amid a crazed sort of laugh. He tugs at his hair again, looks up at her with wild, almost startled eyes. “What the fuck are we doing?”

A loud click reverberates between them as Annie finally slams her gaping mouth shut, teeth clanging together. His expression shifts, just a bit, changing from manic and alarmed to… amused. “I think we were… kissing,” she utters, almost a question.

And he can’t help but laugh. “Yeah,” he breathes out languidly, shaking his head as he does so. “Yeah.”

She steps forward, finally finding her legs – though, admittedly, they’re still more than a bit shaky – and blurts out, “Do you need help?” a little more enthusiastically than intended. “I mean… cleaning up… or…”

He waves an absent hand through the air, avoiding her gaze once again. “No, doll,” he intones gently. “No, I got it.”

“I really don’t mind,” she says, sidestepping him and moving into the kitchen, her entire body buzzing as she flits around, putting things away – Tylenol, cereal, a container of Pedialyte – not even registering the fact that she somehow seems to know just where everything goes. There are a handful of dishes in the sink, soaking in now-cold, sudsy water, and she flips on the faucet to begin finishing them up, reaching out for a sponge on the side of the sink before having her hand stilled by his. A small gasp escapes her as he moves closer, presses his chest into her back, leaning forward enough to pin her hips between the sink and his warm, muscular frame.

“Don’t,” he whispers into her hair as his wide-open palm stretches over the back of her hand. His fingers wind with hers, knocking the sponge loose as he reaches around from the other side to turn off the water. He pulls her hand to her side, wrapping both of their arms across her middle, his left dropping to almost violently grip the edge of the sink. She stills before him – beneath him – feels his hips press her further into the counter, a dull pressure building in her abdomen. His forehead drops to the base of her skull, his breath hot on her neck and back, seeping through her hair, as he utters again, “Don’t.”

“Bucky,” she chokes out, his name catching in her chest.

He holds her close for just a moment more, tightening his arm around her middle, stepping close enough that she can feel him growing hard as he continues to press firmly into her. He nuzzles at her hair, breaks through the thick, dark curtain with his nose and lazily trails several soft kisses along the ridge of her spine… up and down the center of her neck. Then he lets out a long, deep breath and simply steps away.

The moment he moves, she’s left feeling cold, the sudden absence of warmth at her back sending a swift shiver throughout her body. She spins to look at him, sees him once again run a nervous hand through his hair, a sheepish flush blooming on his cheeks. “You’re not going to apologize again, are you?” she asks, somehow managing to level her voice and raise a teasing brow despite the lightheaded thrill that still pulsates through her.

“No,” he chuckles. Then with a shrug. “Maybe.” He looks up at her, locks his bright blue eyes onto hers and shakes his head slowly… regretfully. “This isn’t how I wanted tonight to go.”

She steps forward – just a bit, nervous hesitation stunting her movements – and she asks, “Isn’t tonight just starting?”

“Annie,” rumbles out of him, equal parts longing and chiding. “You’re probably gonna get sick just being here.” He too takes a halting step forward, just close enough that he’s able to reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to get sick, doll.”

“I don’t really want that either, but…” She gives a casual shrug. “I’ve already been exposed, so…”

A crooked smile splits his face, head ducking almost bashfully for a moment. “This kind of thing,” he mutters, shaking his head once more, “it happens, you know? It happens a lot. Kids get sick. Or hurt. Or they… throw tantrums. And they… ruin plans.” He sighs, lets out the smallest chuckle, and steps back to lean into the refrigerator… to lean away from her.

“Are you saying our plans are… ruined?” she asks, more of a bite to her words than intended.

He raises his brows and lets out a long sigh. “You gonna tell me all of this gets you in the mood?”

“Not this,” she blurts out fervently. “But…” She waves a hand out in front of her, gesturing vaguely at him… at his shirtless, beautiful body. And at the hardened length still swelling in his jeans.

He lets out a small laugh before letting his gaze simply linger on her face, on the bright blush still coating her cheeks, washing over those beautiful dimples. But he doesn’t step closer, nor does he reach out.

The longer he lingers – still and silent – the easier it becomes for her to see that, as much as he seems to be struggling to tear his eyes away from her, he’s not planning on approaching her again. Bitter frustration roils in her gut and a low groan slips from her lips as her eyes roll dramatically back, an irritated expression designed to mask her absolute disappointment.

He blows a tired breath out of his nose, nostrils flaring as he finally forces himself to pull his gaze away from her, directing it to the floor, back to the other room, to his hands as they nervously fist and knot in front in of him. Anywhere but her. “This is so… stupid,” he mutters, annoyance leaking from the words. “I mean… we shouldn’t have to have this conversation now. Not now… when we’ve only been on a handful of dates… fuck,” he chokes out. “We haven’t even fucked.”

Her lips split open, ready to speak, but it takes a moment for her to form the words, mouth bobbing aimlessly as she shoves down the response of, we could just take care of that last part now. Instead her brows twist curiously together, head cocking confusedly to the side as she asks simply, “What conversation?”

He finally looks back at her, but his expression is so dramatically changed, eyes no longer hooded with lust, but darkened with a sort of profound sobriety. “Kids,” he bleats out with a shrug, unfolding his hands and shoving them into his pockets as he goes on to ask, “Do you want kids?”

“Well, yeah,” she breathes out easily, puzzlement still painting her face.

“Now?” he asks, raising a brow to drive home his point.

She doesn’t respond, not immediately anyway, because truthfully the answer is no. Of course she doesn’t want kids right now. She’s just getting started in her career. She only just met him. It would be crazy. But isn’t it also a little bit crazy to be asking her that right now? To be asking… like this?

Her face slowly hardens, eyes narrowing a bit as a wave of involuntary anger rolls over her. “Are you asking me if I want to be Lana’s mother?” she asks, tone drenched in sarcasm. “Because I thought Natasha already had that covered.”

“I’m being serious,” he tells her in a deep-set tone to match his words.

Her hands drop to her hips, a brutally defiant stance – which, admittedly, she rarely wears – popping out full force. “So am I.” He rolls his eyes in annoyance, and the flippant gesture sets her blood to boil. “What? I can’t be with you if I’m not willing to be a mother right away?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Did you ask Steve if he was willing to be a father?” She shoots back, the words spilling out of her before she gets a chance to think them through. “Because I was under the impression that you were pissed as hell with him for just trying to be!”

“I’m not…” he sputters before pinching his lips firmly shut, a look of pure annoyance settling over his now stern face. “He’s being a parent right now, whether he wants to be or not. Because he has no choice. If you live with a kid…”

“I didn’t realize we were that serious,” she snipes. “Are you asking me to move in?”

“Damn it, Annie, I’m trying to… I just want to…”

“Have that conversation,” she finishes for him, no question to her voice.

“Yes!” he exclaims, pushing off the fridge and pulling up to his full height – shoulders stiffly set – as he stares down at her. “Is that so wrong?!”

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it,” she nearly snarls at him. “How ‘bout you?” A single, questioning brow rises high, her voice shifting into a mocking tone. “Do you want more kids?”

A startled silence fills the room, Bucky’s face taking on a lost quality for a long moment before pinching tight, his posture slumping as he breathes out, “I… I don’t know.”

“Oh,” she intones with a self-satisfied smirk. “You don’t know? Or maybe you just haven’t thought about it, and now you’re being put on the spot in the middle of a… heated discussion? Are you finding that these sorts of questions are difficult to answer?” Her head cocks to the side, faux-sincere frown pulling as she goes on to ask, “Maybe a little unfair?”

“Yeah. I get it,” he spits out. “I’m just trying to explain…”

“Bucky,” she sighs in frustration. “I’m not an idiot. I know that getting involved with someone who has a kid means a whole… plethora of other things. Other responsibilities. And… annoyances. And the truth is, this conversation… these questions… they’re important. I know that. But…” Her shoulders bounce up and down in a sort of desperate shrug. “I don’t know what you want from me here. I… I like you. And I like Lana. And I am… willing…”

His own shoulders drop, the righteous air being swiftly taken from his sails. “I just don’t want…” He looks up at her and smiles… a sad, distressed smile. “I really like you,” he admits, the words tumbling out in a single, low breath. “But if this isn’t gonna work… if you can’t…” His head once again begins that slow, deliberate pivot to-and-fro.

She steps closer, hands finally falling from their stiff posture at her hips. “Have I made it seem like I can’t?” she asks, taking another small step towards him. “Or like I don’t want to try?”

“No,” he mutters softly. “But… it’s a lot.”

She shrugs, “Maybe,” she admits, pulling up closer and issuing out, voice breathy and low, “But maybe I think you’re worth the trouble.”

He glances up to find her mere inches from him, “Annie,” falling from his lips in a coy sort of warning.

She leans closer, her breath hot on his skin, nose grazing his stubbled cheek. “I know you had a really rough day, Buck,” she intones, barely a whisper. “But Lana’s okay with Steve and her mom. And you… you’re okay here with me.”

He pulls back a bit, looks down at her with questioning – imploring – eyes. The way she gazes back up at him – full of reassurance and comfort and… certainty – sets his heart to stutter, causes his breath to catch in his chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters vaguely, the single, heady word echoing thickly in his own ears, voicing his trepidation, covering his excitement. He reaches up to take hold of her face, both palms pressing into her still-burning cheeks, thumbs dipping briefly into those perfect dimples as her growing smile presses into him. “Fuck,” he repeats with a chuckle before dropping his lips to hers and letting himself simply… fall.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #dad!bucky #LDAMC #bucky x oc #marvel fanfic #marvelau #bucky imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #Bucky Barnes

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world-of-horrors-au · 5 years ago

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Horrors AU - Sick Justice

A different kind of traveling show has come to town, a taste of propaganda in a world of pain and genocide. A memorial to those who have been victims to the monsters they call Horrors. This isn’t honor, this is desecration.

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"Are you going to the memorial exhibit?" They'd asked her.

"The what?" It took a moment to understand. "Oh." And she'd set down her phone. "The Victim's Memorial? I didn't know it was here."

Her co-workers had nodded, shared private glances.

"Yes. It's our turn."

Our turn, they'd said. Memorials for the Victims traced from town to town, carrying boxes of painful memories, exposing 'truths' to the world. It was propaganda, of course. Most things were. There was no law stating you had to go to the Memorial, no government consequences for staying away. But it was patriotic to go there. People could notice if you stayed away for no apparent reason. So she went alone.

The Memorial was in the Civic Center. It took up most of the building. Briar, dressed in black, stood before the sign in front of the door, letting it sink in.

THIS IS A GRAVEYARD

A MOVING COFFIN

WITHIN ARE THE MEMORIES OF THOSE WE HAVE LOST

AND THOSE WHO HAVE STOLEN FROM US

SHOW OUR FALLEN RESPECT

TOMORROW YOU MAY JOIN THEM

Underneath, they listed the rules: quiet voices, no children under thirteen, no running, no photos. Breaking the rules could lead to a fine between $25 to $500.

She passed the sign and entered.

Inside, a chill wrapped around her exposed forearms. They said Memorials were cold as death, because it preserved the artifacts better. A wall blocked the exhibit from sight, forcing you to turn a corner to get to it. Coating the wall were tiny photos, hundreds of them, more even, each of a known victim. Some were family photos, yearbook pictures. Others were reconstructions of John and Jane Does.

Briar scanned the wall, and shivered. None of her victims were there. No one knew what she had done yet.

Turning the corner exposed the whole of the exhibit. Human figures, fake walls, headphones on stands, drawings and things Briar couldn't even see yet. A black curtain separated the two halves of the exhibit. Wrapping her arms around herself, Briar stepped on through.

Human bodies stood against the wall. No, machines, animatronics maybe, but lifelike ones. Their skin was smooth and matte, fleshy pinks and browns on their cheeks and arms. Their sightless eyes blinked. As she stepped closer, their faces moved to smile. Above them stood a sign: HEAR THE VOICES OF THE DEAD.

She stood before a Hispanic woman. The eyes of the machine looked down at her, the face crinkling with artificial mischief. On the stand, the name was written, with more text describing her life. Beside the text was a button. Briar pressed it, and the lips began to move.

"My name was Isabella Blanco." The voice could curdle blood. "I lived in Michigan, where i was raised since my family moved when I was ten. I loved anime, pranking my friends, and playing the violin. I was killed in my mother's house. My organs were taken from my warm body, and my liver stuffed in my mouth. I was awake when they took out my eyes and put them in my mother's jewelry box. I screamed for help but my neighbors were dead, too. They left me to die, and I did, but they left my throat intact. That's why you can hear me. This is my story, this is my voice. Even though I am dead, I can still speak. Now my story lives on through you."

The voice ended. Briar relaxed her hands, uncurling them from their fists. She'd clenched them so hard, they almost bled.

Technology was amazing, wasn't it? For the sake of giving a voice to the dead, they reconstructed the throats of corpses, manipulating them until words were born. An exact replica of the person's voice when alive. But it was all wrong.

Briar went down the line, listening, averting her eyes from the machines'. A man in New Mexico, a woman in Iowa. Two children in South Carolina. More. More. And the rest of the Memorial would be worse.

Artifacts in the center. Photographs of victims. Pottery, drawings, blankets, more, made by the victims, loaned by their families. Smiling faces by each item, with a small description of their fate. People could call it ghoulish, and they'd be right, but who would ever speak up against a Memorial? It would be like speaking against the dead.

Someone else, a woman, walked the exhibit with her. Briar listened to the squeak of sneakers on the floor. She caught a glimpse in a reflection on a glass case, a dark haired woman all in black. Whatever the other was looking for, Briar almost hoped she wouldn't find it.

In front of the black curtain was another sign.

BEHIND THE CURTAIN LIES EVIL,

PAIN AND SUFFERING.

HERE ARE THE STORIES OF TORMENT

AND THE STORIES OF JUSTICE.

WHAT YOU SEE WILL HURT YOU

WHAT YOU SEE WILL GIVE YOU HOPE

DEATH IS NEVER THE END

Briar hesitated. I don't want to see this, she thought. But she'd promised the others she'd tell them what was here. Only BEN had seen the inside of a Memorial, and he'd never seen behind the curtain. They stayed away because if they went, they would destroy the entire exhibit, and the fallout from that might wipe their kind into extinction. So here she was alone. Alone to look evil in the face as she did every day and night.

Her fingers curled around the curtain. She lifted it up. Moved it to the side.

Behind the curtain were relics of the Horrors. From the human perspective, of course. No bodies, but signs explaining the murders, the captures and executions of Horrors. The bodies in the photos were covered with white sheets. Funeral photos of coffins, wreaths, grieving families burying their dead. The screens on the walls rotated images of federal agents working together with police. A tv stand showed a quiet replay of news reports of Horrors being arrested.

There were knives here. Guns, taken apart under glass. Claws ripped from the nail bed. Ropes and chains and torture tools of all types. They lay under glass, with the names of the ones they once slaughtered.

For something that claims to offer hope, Briar thought with a swallow, they're really enjoying themselves.

Sick, sick pleasure. Under the screens on the wall were death masks of her people, their faces twisted with agony. In a cage was a heart, preserved with plastic. The sign below it said DO NOT TOUCH. Would she have even thought about it if there wasn't a sign? Of course not. Maybe they even wanted you to touch it.

She wasn't going to.

There were touch screens on one end of the room, each with headphones. Briar lingered, her finger hovering over the screen. The screen read, THE TRIUMPH OF JUSTICE. Pressing the button brought up a list of names. Names of dead Horrors. Her stomach churned. She pressed one at random. Scanned the pages, the information about the murders, the capture, the show trial. The execution…

They had videos of the executions. Beside the text the Horrors struggled, fighting against the ones who dragged them to the scaffold. Their screams of rage, of fear, echoed from the headphones that rested on the stand. The chains clicked as they wrapped around ankles and wrists. The machines began to pull…

She slammed the back button but it was too late. The screams locked into place in her head. They wouldn't leave. They'd never leave. She'd hear them for weeks when she slept, agony overlaying the background of her unconscious. Their fingers would flex, their faces bulging in agony.

God damn your justice, Briar thought, her body shaking. God damn your justice to hell. I'll bring your entire species to hell.

This was not justice. This was never about justice. This was about revenge and domination. Their hope was built on mutual hate, a hate that was shared by her kind, and theirs. This hope, this Memorial, was propaganda to make the public accept cruelty towards something no human could understand. If there was ever a chance to live together in peace, humans killed it with the Three Days law. They killed it along with Jane.

It hurt. It hurt because it wasn't fair. It hurt because it was fair, tit for tat, one genocide for another. And she was just one person who couldn't do anything.

I need to get out of here, she thought, and headed for the curtain.

Halfway to the exit, a woman spoke.

"She's not here."

Briar stopped, looking over her shoulder. The woman she'd glimpsed stood before a list of names, brown eyes scanning through them. Before Briar could speak, the woman turned.

"Did you see anyone named Lauren?" The woman asked.

It took another moment for her mouth to work.

"I… I don't think so. I'm sorry," Briar said.

The woman turned back to the names. Her face was a cold line.

"I hoped maybe you'd seen something I didn't," the woman said.

"I-"

"She's probably in another exhibit. And that's fine. I'll see her later." The woman looked back at her, and something in her gaze made Briar's stomach drop. "I guess I'll see you later, too."

Briar took a step back.

"Won't I, Briar?" The woman said.

She ran. Ran out the exit, out of the building, past the smokers and the man in the business suit, to her car. No one stopped her. The woman didn't follow. None of that comforted Briar at all. Eyes followed her until she was safe in the arms of her family once again.

#creepypasta au #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta #creepy pasta #horrors au #creepypasta oc #creepypasta original character #creepypasta writing #creepypasta story #creepypasta blog #briar the batter

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natashacoco · 6 years ago

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Good Intentions

Florian Munteanu x Plus Size Black Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, blood, medical/treating scrapes, mention of sex, some triggering of verbal abuse (fat shaming).

Prompts: Plus Size Reader are on their anniversary and reflect how they almost didn’t end up together. Reader has been hurt in the past and Florian tries his best to prove to her he’s not like the others.

Inspiration: Good Intentions by Rini

The sound of laughter fills the air as you and your boyfriend made your way to your private villa that he had rented for your anniversary, both of you drunk on wine and chocolate from your dinner. You were dressed in your favorite little black dress and heels and Flo was dressed in a white shirt and blue jacket and matching pants. He had purposefully left a few buttons undone and you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how gorgeous he looked tonight.

“I have another surprise for you Iubirea mea” Flo whispers in your ear, a mischievous glint in his eye, his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him as he leads you through the door.

“Is that so?” You asked, raising an arched eyebrow in his direction.

“Yes prinţesă, and I know that the both of us will enjoy this” Flo answers as he rounds the two of you to the balcony. You gasp as you see that the once empty tub and canopy overlay overlooking the ocean is filled with your favorite flowers, candlelight dancing off the surrounding areas against the setting sun.

“Oh my god Flo, it’s beautiful” you whisper in shock. Flo moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck.

“I’m glad that I can still surprise you prinţesă” he laughs, swaying the both of you gently. “Let’s get undressed and get in, the water should be perfect” he urges, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bathroom.

Once there, grabs a makeup wipe from your makeup bag on the counter and begins to gently wipe off your makeup. Once he’s satisfied that it’s all off, Flo kneels before you, grabbing the back of one of your knees to remove your heel and then repeats it on the other side. His hands travel up the outside of your legs until he reaches under your dress and pulls your panties down slowly, torturously and tosses them aside just like your heels. His green eyes appear darker darker as you stare into them as he straightens up, his large body vibrating with sexual energy. “Have I ever told you how much I love you in this dress?” He asks as you turn around, sweeping your braids to the side and helping you to pin them up. He pulls down the zipper of your dress, kissing the back of your neck as your dress pools around your feet.

You look at the reflection of you and Flo in the mirror and avert your gaze, not fully satisfied with what you see. It was always something, an unexpected breakout, be it your weight, your hair when NOTHING you did seemed to work, how that cute outfit you tried on in the store suddenly didn’t look like it at home, the days that you didn’t love your body the way that you should.

“Y/N look at me” Flo commands, stepping closer to you, lightly brushing his knuckles on your arms. You turn around slowly, wrapping your arms around your body.

“No dragă, don’t ever cover yourself when you’re with me, you’re beautiful” he says, moving your arms aside and unabashedly looking at your unclothed body. When you try to object, Flo places a finger under your chin and brings your eyes to his. “Dragă, do you really believe that I feel any differently about your body than you do mine? I kiss and caress your body day and night, I try and keep myself buried inside your body as much as I can, practically chaining you to my bed, and you still have doubts that I don’t love your body?” he questions, “If I didn’t feel the way I do about you, do you really think either one of us would have allowed us to be here now Y/N?” He asks, bringing your hand to his growing erection.

Your face grows warm, his words empowering you and coaxing you out of your previous mood as you shake your head in agreement as you run your other hand under his shirt. As long as you’ve known Florian, he always knew what to say to help boost your confidence, even the days when you were already at an all time high. Like he did to you, you remove your hands and begin to undress Flo with the same care he did for you. When the both of you are naked, both hands framing your face as he bends his head and captures your mouth with his, further cementing what he said earlier. He takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to the bath, getting in first, his large body sprawled out in the tub as you climb in after his, settling in between his legs.

You rest your head on Flo’s broadened shoulder, sighing in content at the combo of the water and laying in his embrace. You look out into the distance, the sun beginning to set, hues of pink, orange, red, blue and purple painting the sky.

“About what you said earlier, you know that this relationship is just as much of a shock to me as it is to you” you say, nuzzling even more in his embrace.

“I know Y/N, I know” he replies, drawing lazy circles on your back. “The both of us haven’t had the best of luck in our past relationships and both of us weary of ruining something that we both hold really dear. Dolph told me to be cautious of who I let in my life, but I’m glad that you’re in it.”

You nod your head in agreement, remembering how the two of you met.

You had been invited to a house party by your friend Jackie whom you were visiting. The next day the two of you would be road tripping it to your hometown in time for your 10-year high school reunion, just like your favorite movie Romy and Michele's High School Reunion. Jackie was dressed stunning as always and heads turned as soon as you two walked through the door. Scanning the room, Jackie located one of her local friends who had been invited by a friend of a friend. The house was located in the exclusive Hollywood Hills and at 11 PM, the party was in full swing with some of Hollywood’s most glamorous. Being the big girl amongst the other women in the room made you look down at your simple yet stylish little black dress and curse yourself for thinking the dress would’ve been enough. At least your heels had given you a bit of confidence, not that your stiff drink you were already planning on getting wouldn’t hinder it.

After introductions, you and Jackie made your way to the open bar located outside to get drinks with promises to return. After placing your order, you casually scan your eyes around the beautiful garden scenery. An animalistic feeling like you were being watched, you had slowly turned around to a group of men laughing and even some outright giggling at something one of them had said, you too far away to catch what was said. It was hard to miss him, a giant among the men was staring at you, so much so that you immediately felt uncomfortable.

Grabbing your drinks, you and Jackie had made your way back inside. A little while later, a group of men, all attractive in their own way, walked up to your friend and the other women and immediately began a conversation with them. Being more of the outsider, you stayed a little to the side. When a topic came up you had tried to join the conversation but your efforts were rebutted as one of the men looked in your direction and gave you a once over. Heat flushed your cheeks as you realized what he was doing, and it only cemented as he turned his frame slightly so that you were further out of the circle.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t you dare cry Y/N you repeated to yourself as you quickly finished off your drink. This situation happened more times than you’d like to remember, a man ignoring you as he chatted up some of your thinner friends. Playgrounds, school dances, even the shopping trips usually ended with you being ignored as your friends were being hit on and flirted with. In some rare occasions, the guys would even tell you that they had a friend who would be interested in you, only for said friend to say another would be more interested. You were told that you were pretty for a “Big Girl” like it was supposed to make you feel any different about how you were being treated. Time and time again your confidence was shaken as you came to realize what they were doing.

As you grew older you gained your confidence back, that once insecure girl slowly being shown they were worthy of love too. That didn’t mean that there weren’t those occasional times when you didn’t feel the pangs of hurt like you were feeling then. Empty glass in hand, you tried to get Jackie’s attention from one of the men to let her know you were getting another round, when she failed to notice your movements, you made it outside when you took a sharp turn and a tray of glasses being held by the wait staff fell on your legs, glasses breaking. People rushed over to you asking if you were okay when the large man you noticed earlier stood in front of you. After pushing hands away and telling the crowd you were alright you tried to subtly get yo without cutting yourself.

“You okay?” He had asked, his somewhat thick accent accompanied with a concerned look on his face.

You were shocked, noticing a twinge of pain at your knee and favorite pair of tights ripped as well as the behemoth that was crouched in front of you, his eyes saying so much even though he hadn’t said much.

“Uh, yeah...I think so...it’s just a scrape” you had answered, not sure how to respond.

“It’s my fault, I suddenly stopped and wasn’t expecting anybody behind me,” he explained, grabbing both hands and pulling you upright, your short stature evident against his tallness, even in your heels. “I didn’t see that the waiter had to swerve in order not to hit me but got you instead.''

“Trust me, it happens more times to me than you think, I’m really clumsy and uncoordinated.” You said, a sharp pain shooting up your knee as you took a step.

“Let me at least get you something to help bandage you up, I feel really guilty” he replied, pointing out that your knee was still bleeding. Before you could protest, he grabbed one of your hands and led you inside the party and up the stairs, you limping as you tried to keep up with him and trying to get your eyes on Jackie. He walked straight to the master bedroom and once inside he motioned for you to continue to the bathroom. Reaching inside the medicine cabinet, he grabbed a first aid kit and walked over to you.

After introductions, you’d learned that Flo was in town with some friends from Germany because of a new movie project but couldn’t say much due to contracts. It was one of the many interesting things you learned about him as he opened up the kit.

“You might want to sit, this might sting and I’d hate for you to fall over again because of me” he suggested, a boyish grin on his face as he crouched down to your eye level.

You realized that your tights were pretty much a goner, and after asking him to look away and making sure the coast was clear, you carefully took off your tights and threw them away in a nearby bin. Sitting down on the edge of the toilet, you carefully gave him your leg, his cologne invading your senses. His large hands warmed your skin everywhere they touched, carefully bringing your leg closer for him to inspect. You tried to get your breathing under control as his skin touched yours. After looking you over he told you that it looked like a minor scrape and no stitches were needed nor a trip to the hospital.

As he wiped around your wound, spraying antibacterial spray that earned a hiss from you and practically yanked your leg away, his hands thrown up in worry. Once the pain subsided, he carefully placed your favorite color band aid from the selection delicately on the large scrape. After what feels like a few minutes and a thousand heartbeats later, he again helps you up and steadies you as you sway on your feet.

“Thanks for the help, I should get going” you tell him, trying not to let his nearness get to you.

“Let me buy you dinner, it’s the least I could do” he objects, clearly taken aback at you wanting to leave.

“That’s not necessary, I really need to get going.” You say, already walking towards the direction of the bedroom. He caught up to you easily, staying by your side and as you made your way down the stairs.

“You didn’t even want to be my friend in the first place” Florian says, reaching out to touch the scar on your knee from your first meeting.

“Bullshit” you counter, “I was just in a little bit of pain. Besides, you didn’t have to buy me food just because your brick wall of a self caused that tray to fall.”

“Sure you were Y/N, nothing to do with the fact that you were running away from me” he said matter of factly.

“First off, a bitch does not run, she power walks gracefully. Two, if I remember right I was barely even doing that thanks to whom?” Eyebrows raised in question as your head turned up to him.

“You got me there Iubirea mea, and you can’t tell me any differently. You were scared that I was only in it to get at your friends” he replied.

You had made it back to the group when Jackie saw you, you tried not to wince at how sore your knee was. Pulling you to the side, she apologized as you recounted the incident, introducing and thanking Flo for his help. Turning back to the group, your friend laughed at a joke that had just been shared.

“How do you know Jackie?” Flo had asked. Your heart felt like it had stopped as you looked up at him, this question asked countless times as men braced themselves to interrogate you with questions before hitting on your friends.

“We’ve known each other since we were 16. We met at a youth conference in Washington D.C., we were roommates. By some insane cosmic blessing, my moms job was transferred to her state and we ended up going to the same high school” you told him. Never once during your story did his eyes leave yours, his attention never once wavering from yours. You were a little taken aback, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or how he seemed to be invested in everything you said. You were so used to others looking at your friends as they formulated their next Mack daddy move with their new info on how to proceed next.

Throughout the rest of the night, Flo never left your side as he asked question after question about you and your life, laughing as you told him your intended road trip for your high school reunion, laughing that unfortunately you weren’t the inventor of Post-Its and didn’t have the dance moves like Romy and Michele. He told you about life back in Munich, his parents and Romanian roots and his two “brothers” Sandro and Masias who were with him tonight at the party.

Jackie came up to the two of you, letting you know that the two of you had to leave, both of you needing to get on the road early to make it to the reunion on time. Saying your goodbyes, you turned to leave before Flo stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N, can I…” he began, and you knew that this moment would come eventually, your practiced smile on your face as you turned back towards him, coming to the conclusion that if he was indeed into your friend you’d have to let her decide on what she wanted to do. His cheeks were a little red as one hand reached up to stroke his growing beard tentatively. “Is it okay if I can have your number? I really enjoyed talking to you and I’d love to continue, if that’s okay?” He had asked.

You had to stop yourself from giving him your bewildered bitch stare that you were known for when something you weren’t expecting came up.

“Why?” You croaked out, feeling like a toad had crawled in your throat. Although a bigger woman, you had dated here and there through the years, some of them only in the early texting and talking stages, and some whom you considered friends. For those who had made it to the dating stage, none of them really made you feel like a queen you knew yourself to be and be treated. Of course there was the one relationship, the one that made you insecure in some ways when you least suspected it. Nitpicking yourself, not wanting to look at yourself in the mirror because of what was reflected back, wearing your comfy “ugly” clothes because they were your armor. Crying yourself to sleep when heated words were thrown around, intentional or not.

“Because you’re one of the only people here that I’ve met that I actually want to talk to besides my brothers. In my line of work, it can be hard to know what people’s intentions are, if they want to use you because of who you are, what you are, what you can do for them, or who knows what” he answered, his head dipped down and eyes looking back and forth.

In that moment, Jackie brought you your coat and mentioned that the car was ready. You turned to Flo and rattled off your number and practically sprinted off out the door in the hopes that he wouldn’t actually text you.

A few days later you had gotten a text from him asking about the reunion. Of course, your inner anxiety won out, the little voice in your head telling you that it wasn’t a good idea, that it was nothing but a joke, insecurity after insecurity infiltrating your mind and causing it to fester. He kept texting you, asking if he had done something wrong until he called you but you let it go to voicemail. After listening to his message you decided that he wasn’t going to give up. You called him a little while later and hoped the phone would go to voicemail, but it didn’t, you stammering as you rambled off why you hadn’t messaged him back and that it would be better off if you didn’t communicate before hanging up. He had called, texted and FaceTimed countless times, each one met with a denial.

When you didn’t respond, Florian yet again attempted FaceTime you and in your attempt to end the call you accidentally accepted it. He had demanded to know why you were ghosting him, you hugging yourself as you try not to let tears roll down your face in explanation. Although thousands of miles apart, even then Flo was supportive in being there for you. From that moment on, the two of you would talk constantly, anything and everything spoken during late night calls that ended in early mornings.

“You have to see where I was coming from Flo, from past experiences and such, it was hard for me to think that you wanted to be my friend”. You snap back in defense.

“Dragă, I get it, like I told you the night we met, I wanted to keep getting to know you, even after how long we’ve known one another, from friends to lovers, I still want to keep getting to know you. I want you to feel safe opening up to me, to feel like you can tell me anything on your time when you’re ready. I've never wanted anything more than to make you feel respected, loved and cherished. I’ve always had the best intentions when it comes to us, always.” He says.

He cups one of his hands and dips it into the water, bringing it up and letting the water slide down your back. He repeats the motion, blowing a cool stream of air on your skin. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you look up at him, cheeks flushed from the water and the contrast of the cold air.

You move to straddle his hips, water sloshing as you adjust to the new position. You grab his cheeks with both of your hands, gently running your thumbs across them as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Thank you for that Flo, for being there when I needed you, and for so, so much more that I can’t even begin to convey into words right now” you say, shutting your eyes as emotions swept through you.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t turn away. I know exactly what you mean Iubirea mea, if words can’t express how much, let me show you” he states, motioning for you to stand up. When the two of you are out of the tub, you yelp as he picks you up unexpectedly, your arms wrapping around his neck. He leads you to the bedroom, placing you in the middle, his body atop you as he spends the next several hours worshiping yours with his, imprinting and leaving no doubt in your mind how much he loves you, mind, body, heart and soul.

#florian munteanu #florian big nasty munteanu #big nasty #good intentions #rini #florian muntean x plus size black reader #florian munteanu x black reader #one shot #my writing

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danhowellgifs · 6 years ago

Text

long-awaited icon tutorial!

i’ve had several people ask me how i make my icons, so i decided to give y’all quite a lengthy, super detailed tutorial on how i create them ^-^ ~having basic photoshop knowledge is expected~

i’ll be showing you how to make this

i’m using this screenshot here :)

first i like to colour. i use a base colouring that i alter depending on the image you wanna make sure the skin is lightened — especially for this particular image bc dan is shrouded in darkness be sure to use adjustments such as Exposure > Gamma Correction & Levels bc they will be of great use in livening up the picture.

after that, you’ll want to cut your image out with the Quick Selection tool on the left hand side of your screen then you’ll essentially just be holding & dragging over your subject until all of it is selected

SIDENOTE: ~ if you find that the tool is being troublesome in selecting your image, you can always erase around it by adding a Layer Mask. (select the paint brush to do this) erasing this way is more time consuming though ~ [THIS IS A LAYER MASK BTW ↓ ]

in this tutorial though i’m demonstrating with the Quick Selection tool :)

once dan here is selected,

you’re going to right click the image and Select Inverse

as you can see it has also selected my background automatically. now all you gotta do is press COMMAND X (ctrl x for windows i think) and it should remove it

now i’m left with this:

because this was a pretty dark pic with a low resolution background, it made it harder for the tool to make an accurate selection. so, as you can see, i’m left with a lot of impurities

but! that’s ok! because now you just gotta add a layer mask to this image and use the paint brush tool to erase

layer mask:

brush tool:

erase around ur image until the the edges of it are smoother. i recommend not having too harsh of a brush setting for this i had the hardness set at 50% and alternating the sizes throughout

after the erasure this is what it looks like:

this next step i incorporate because it means i have an even smoother, feathery outline to my subject.

i’m going to delete the layer mask i just had beside my image, use the quick selection tool again, select all of dan and ~then~ at the top of the screen should be this setting:

this should take you to a page where you can apply several alterations to your masking. as i said before, it creates a softer outline! i am always changing up the settings but for this particular icon, these were the values i used:

and below i just make the choice of a new layer with layer mask (just incase u wanna erase anything on ur layer mask after) hit OK when you’re done!!

this is now what your workspace should look like on the right and the result of the extra masking:

righteo!!! now that’s done it’s time to ensure my canvas has a 1 x 1 ratio (square) and by doing that u can just drag the crop tool outwards or go Image > Canvas Size > Pixels > and make sure the dimensions are the EXACT same. Now that your canvas is square, move your subject around until you’re happy with the placement.

now is a GREAT time to save your work as a .psd, because the step after this takes us to the next stage and you won’t be coming back from there. so, make sure your work at this point is saved!!!!

the next step you’ll be highlighting all your layers, right clicking, and Converting to a smart object. this just compresses everything to one layer basically.

NOW, go to Image, Image Size, type in 128 x 128 and click OK.

this downsizes your icon a considerable amount, to the specific set tumblr dimension now it’s pretty simple from here on out, i add some extra adjustment layers on the image such as Vibrance, Brightness, Selective Colour, Colour Balance and Levels just to make everything pop a little more now that the image is smaller. (and then compressing those + the image again to a smart object, before adding a background)

when adding a coloured background with a gradient, i add a black and white gradient map above my background colour, and set it to Soft Light at 80%

this next step i’m going to add in is mainly for images that lack the colour you want due to darkness, poor quality, etc. dan’s hair (for example) is something that doesn’t show up with vibrancy a lot of the time so i’m going to show you how you can bring those features out more.

i add a new layer right above my image

go over to my colour picker a select a rich brown colour i can paint over dan’s hair. (#853e25)

it looks pretty ridiculous, but...

i then set this layer to Colour, 52%

i also want to make his skin stand out a little more, so i repeat the same process as just then, with a new layer, and a skin tone colour instead.

this is now set to Overlay, 25%

you can also use this step for any features, it works on clothing too! generally with the setting Soft Light.

these steps + more colouring this is what my icon now looks like :)

i also further softened the edges of my icon, you can do this by simply using a small, soft brush on a new layer mask with these settings & going around the outskirts

OR you can use the quick selection tool again (make sure your coloured background is unchecked at this point so ur background is transparent) and repeat the process from earlier by going to Select And Mask and softening it a little there!

now add a coloured background if you haven’t already + a gradient if you wish!!

This is the final step i do, especially if i’m making an icon where either dan or phil are wearing black which happens a lot with dan rip

i add on a colour fill layer of pink with a low opacity to kind of make the black of his shirt look less intense. (you can use whatever colour based on what you choose for your background - just make sure it’s super light!)

setting here: Lighten, 7%

do you see how that simple adjustment kinda just makes it look a little less contrasty?

now i’m going to duplicate this layer once more, only i am going to be erasing on the layer mask and changing the opacity to around 30%

my icon now looks like this:

so i’m going to be erasing dan’s body on this layer mask very lightly with a medium sized brush with hardness between 0-10%. over on your colour picker once you’ve selected the layer mask (like above) instead of black, i’m going to change it to a dark grey and erase with that.

when erasing, try not to erase right to the edge of your subject, let some of the pink (or whatever colour) blend into the image because it overall makes the image softer and less contrasty

this is the result, it’s subtle but yeah

and that’s basically it! if you have any further questions ask off anon here :)

#icons #tutorial #there's probably typos. don't yell at me. i'm dumb #and tired #this probably wasn't the best pic of dan to use lmao but! what can ya do!

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littlemix-styleblog · 6 years ago

Photo

Requested Little Mix Inspired Casual Night Out Inspired

Perrie

River Island Grey check double breasted belted blazer: £75. As of recently Perrie has been seeing going out a bit more chic and demure, The style of the 1980s are back and shoulder pads and structured blazers are in. So dust off your mums old work blazer from back then and style it up. It`s official work wear is on trend again. Of course you don`t have to go out on a night out looking like your just about to go into a meeting or just about to fire that unruly employee. Wear this right and you could be feeling like your the boss. Several ways to dress this up by either wearing black cycle shorts with mules/heels (That`s the Perrie way) Or like ourselves and you prefer to cover up I would suggest black jeans/coated pants with a black top/bodysuit and some black boots, Of course do remember that you don`t have to follow my suggestions, Have a little play around and see what you like. Then again you can always wear this blazer to work. I would have no doubt you would get compliments throughout the day on this blazer, I know it may seem a little pricey but when you know it`s worth it and good value then it`s a great staple piece to have in your wardrobe.

Topshop Georgia Clear Acrylic Grab Bag: £35. For those eagle eyed fans you would remember Perrie took a clear acrylic bag to the Brit Awards after party, Hers came in at a hundred pounds...This one only comes in at £35 so it`s already a bargain. Clear bags have blown up recently, find them in any shop in any style, shape and colour. What`s also become popular is boxed design bags, I think they are much cuter then the normal rectangle bags. Put the boxed design and clear acrylic together and you got this cute little number.

Topshop Tie Wrap Blouse By Boutique: £79. I think Perrie has worn this before, but in another colour. I chose this top because not everyone likes clothing tucked into your jeans, this top you can simply hang over the jeans. It`s synched up already in the middle giving the effect of a asymmetric/fallen effect. You can let it hang down how you want and you would still look good. This is a wrap around blouse so if you don`t have any worry of problems with your chest.

PrettyLittleThing WHITE EYELASH LACE CORSET BRALET: £18. One of Perrie`s styles is boho and a material that is often associated with boho is lace, Hence this top. Perrie likes to wear a lot of it especially in this style of top. I noticed that she sometimes wear a boho item and a rockier/edgy item with her night out outfits showcasing her two styles she often wears. Of course you can do the same, You can wear this top with high waist pants just like she does, either the black coated joni pants or the black ripped jeans in Leigh`s part. But you don`t have to wear this top on it`s own, You can add a black leather jacket or add another shirt and if you wanted to find out what i`m talking about read on below.

PrettyLittleThing BLACK SATIN BUTTON FRONT SHIRT: £22. So to keep this look modest and clean, To wear over the white lace bralet would be this black satin shirt from PLT. Coming in a range of colours this shirt is versatile and can be worn formally or casually, for work or for a night out. Have a few buttons unbuttoned to show a glimpse of your white lace bralet and then have the shirt tucked into the black coated pants below. This shirt is such a popular and staple piece, So much so we have featured it numerous times before.

Topshop Black Coated Joni Jeans: £40. I know these pants arent suited for everyone so please don`t buy these cause I added them. But for Perrie`s style and look these were the ones. Perrie has been seen numerous times wearing black leather/coated/patent pants just like these, They were once a staple piece in her wardrobe, even being apart of some of her chic looks. Perrie`s ones are designer and are in the expensive region where as these are just as good at the fraction of the price. Another positive would be that they are high waisted and so for any hips or waists you don`t want to show then these would cover them up. Some advice I would give is if the pants arent still to your satisfaction and is outlining your hips and waist and not tucking them in, then I would advise to wear a black jacket to overlay the situation. You can also maybe wear the white lace crop top with them or a bandeau top, or a t-shirt, These are one of the items in this post you can put with anything.

MissGuided petite black satin wide leg jumpsuit: £30. Last minute addition, I saw a picture of Perrie wearing a black satin jumpsuit and thought that looked so beautiful, So I proceeded to find a similar one and I came across this one from MissGuided. I know it may not be too everyone's taste but it`s not as unflattering as it may seem. So the long trouser length makes it look as though your legs gone on for years, the arms are in a flute/balloon style which I think is adorable..I love that style on the arms. You also have a built in belt so you can tie it up or down to fit your body style and comfort ability. Very similar to Perrie`s jumpsuit in the form of the colour and style. I know some may think this looks very formal, but you can also wear this casually as well for a drink with friends or for dinner.

Office Hampstead Strappy Single Sole Sandals Black: £11. When I think of Perrie`s shoes for a night out the ones that stand out to me are a pair of black strappy ones, which we have never found. But I think the reason why they always stand out to me is because they are edgy and will go with any outfit. Now i`m not saying this pair is the pair you must buy, because a simple pair of black heels will also tick that box. But I picked these shoes because they are similar to the ones I often remember. What the best thing is though is that they are only £11, What a bargain! Oh and most sizes are still in stock.

Accessorize EMMA EMBELLISHED CHEVRON CLUTCH BAG: £40. In case you didn`t want to go with the traditional black clutch, I picked up this embellished colourful clutch from Accessorize. What a fun like quirky bag this is. I chose this bag from Accessorize because I distinctly remember Perrie having a bag from them at the 2013 Brit Awards. Accessorize is great for girls with that chic, boho, sweet innocent style.

Leigh

ASOS DESIGN Tall basic jogger with tie: £18. You can`t get more casual with joggers and I know what your thinking that joggers are meant for lounging around and sitting back in and even Karl Lagerfeld once said that once you step outside in joggers, you`ve failed in life. Now lets not all that advice from him because he is wrong. Over recent years wearing joggers on a night out has become a popular trend. They arent just for sitting back and lounging around in, If you wanted to feel more comfortable but don`t want to put much effort in then hello, welcome to my basket. These are a great casual, edgy, sportier look and if you have a look on Google you will see how popular this trend has become. I took some inspiration from a look Leigh wore not too long ago, I don`t know if she was channelling her inner boxer but if you wanted to see I`ve added a photo at the end of this post. What`s more is that these joggers are high waisted and will do a ten times better job then the coated pants above in Perrie`s section, You won`t have the fuss of being uncomfortable or the feeling of tightness, You also won`t have the trouble of getting them off. Come in from a night out and jump straight into bed without the struggle of tearing the leather off of your legs. They also come in other colours such as white

PrettyLittleThing HELSA DARK GREEN SLINKY BANDEAU CROP TOP: £6. So continuing on from the joggers, I added this bandeau top. Leigh also wore a bandeau type slinky top on the night out I took inspiration from. However this is more fitted and you won`t have any problems of it slipping down. I know this is a bit revealing but please read on to see how we can counter that. This top also comes in many other colours and can also be worn with many other items in this post such as the black ripped jeans, the coated pants, the culottes and much more.

ASOS DESIGN duster coat with faux shell trim detail: £45. I think everyone knows how hard it is to sort a night out outfit out and sometimes it doesn`t always goes your way, But you can resolve this issue by thinking out of the box and that`s what we have done here. Leigh has worn a duster coat before and in the inspiration I took she also wore a duster coat (Or boxers robe). So to cover the shoulders up and to hide your tummy and in case it gets a bit chilly this is a perfect staple for you. Not only can you wear these formally, but you can wear these casually as well in case you didn`t want to wear a bulky coat..Bare in mind to check the weather first though. These also come in other colours such as pink, Brown, Cream, Black and green.

River Island Plus neon orange ruched sleeve blazer: £55. This outfit was also added at the last minute. I came across a photo of Leigh on a night out and I loved that look probably because the jacket was so vivid but yet her outfit underneath was casual. So if you haven`t guessed already she also wore a orange blazer just like this one, However hers is now sold out. This is a fantastic stand out piece, You don`t have to be all colourful. By just adding one bright colour will make you stand out big and bold.

ASOS DESIGN fishnet mesh top with high neck: £18. Underneath Leigh`s original outfit was a fishnet top, which is also sold out. However this top is near on identical. We would show you the photo of where we got the inspiration from but the photo was layered with watermarks.

MissGuided vice high waisted slash knee skinny jeans black: £17.60. Lastly, Leigh added some black ripped jeans to her look which we have also done. Those black ripped jeans you got in your wardrobe? Get them out wear them for a night out with this look. Not only are they are good for a casual look but great for a night out too, in case you tipple over after having a one too many then people wouldn`t know if you ripped your jeans on purpose or if it was part of the look. These jeans will go with any products we have on offer in this post today.

Ego Shoes Cosmic Lace Up Ankle Boot In Black Knit: £19.99. To complete the look pick a pair of simple black ankle boots like these ones from Ego shoes. I love these boots, I think these are so cute and would go with any outfit whether for a night out or casually.

Jesy

PrettyLittleThing BASIC WHITE ROLL SLEEVE CROP T SHIRT: £5. As of recently Jesy has been going on nights out in a crop top and jeans, With added accessories. How more casual can you get? So we picked up this white crop top from PrettyLittleThing. £5 Oh my I think I might have to get this for myself. This would be a great little investment as it so versatile. You can wear it up or down whether it`s rain or shine. It also comes in a lot of other colours.

Topshop Mid Blue Double Knee Ripped Mom Jeans: £42. Here we are copying Jesy`s look, She seems to favour the mom jeans a lot lately so that is what we went for in the form of these. Another great versatile piece you wear up or down, I prefer to wear mom jeans with white trainers but it would also look great with heels.

Topshop Austin Western Belt: £16. Not all of us can afford a Gucci or a Fendi belt, So I opted for this cowgirl belt from Topshop.

Missguided exclusive barely there heeled sandals in black: £20.

ASOS DESIGN cotton mini shirt dress: £20. I think this outfit would be a sort of a last attempt one as it`s not to everyone's taste. But I took inspiration from a recent night out Jesy had where she wore a white shirt dress with some black boots and a black baker boy hat. I basically recreated that look, But for cheaper. I picked up this shirt dress from ASOS for only £20, Much better then Jesy`s designer one. You can also wear this shirt dress casually with a pair of white trainers.

I Saw It First Black Suede Over The Knee Boots: £25. I then added a pair of black over the knee boots, Just like Jesy added some black boots too. Now I know these boots arent to everyone`s liking. These boots cover so much of the leg that it reaches the shirt dress itself nearly, Only showing a little flesh. If you don`t like these you can opt for some black boots like the ones we showed in Leigh`s section.

Topshop Baker Boy Hat: Sold Out. Just as I linked it it became sold out, Which is just my luck. But do not fear because plenty of black baker boy hats are on offer throughout the web.

Zara STUDDED BLACK CROSSBODY BAG: £17.99.

Jade

ASOS DESIGN mix & match cigarette trousers: £25. Jade wears a lot of cigarette trousers, Well she used too anyway around the Salute era time. She wore them so much that she even wore them for performances. Cigarette trousers are are a much slimmer, structured, Tailored trouser which is longer then the culottes by a short length. I personally think these type of pants are cute and sophisticated, especially for a woman who has to wear uniforms, No woman wants to wear bulky black trousers that doesn`t highlight their figure. These do and they do it well. Not only can you wear these for work but you can also wear them for a night out and you can jazz it up with what you want to wear with them, But read on below if you want to find that out. We have also found these cigarette trousers in many other colours...Such as pink, Red,

Topshop BLACK BLAZER AND CROPPED TROUSERS SET: £39/29. So when looking back at Jade`s outfits for nights out one that stood out for me was when she wore culottes and a black top...It was very chic, casual and classic. We arent copying her total look but we decided to go for this culotte suit from Topshop, You don`t have to wear the suit as a two piece, you can simply wear the culottes on there own or the blazer. Culottes are normally cut off just before the ankle therefore giving illusion of longer legs to people, along with longer feet and smaller ankles. Culottes are a very tomboyish look for people who don`t like dresses or skirts and are a great way to cover up, Not to mention you don`t have to wear these for a night out - Be great for work too. In case you wanted to jazz things up a little and we all know how Jade likes jazzing things up, then we found these sequin culottes from Boohoo.

ASOS DESIGN off shoulder body with short sleeve in black: £12. Continuing on from the black cigarette trousers, The picture I saw, Saw Jade wear black cigarette trousers with a black bardot top. For those who don`t know what a bardot top is, A bardot top is a off the shoulder top which basically starts just under your shoulders, Your shoulders are out in the open where as the rest of the body isn't. Basically it`s the picture you see above. Now Jade`s was cropped and I think that would`ve been a bit much for you maybe, The other designs I saw was either it looked too tight or too sexy. But we never fail to disappoint so we picked this bardot bodysuit up from ASOS which can do just as a good job as a crop top can. Simply wear this underneath the cigarette trousers with black heels and a black clutch. If you didn`t like the thought of your shoulders out then you can always add either a black leather jacket or a short cropped blazer to the look.

ASOS DESIGN embellished sequin cami top with cowl neck: £26. I wanted to add this top in because I felt this post needed more colour. Jade loves sequins as I`ve said before, she loves colour. However, trying to find a casual night out sequin clothing piece was hard. Thankfully ASOS pulled through, On a night out in her home city once Jade was seen wearing this glitter cami top (In a similar colour) to this top. Simply pair this with black jeans and black heels and you`ll be good to go.

ASOS DESIGN Petite cigarette trousers in black with side stripe: £28. Another pair of cigarette trousers but with a twist. These are similar to the ones above, but they are in the style of sporty luxe thanks to the stripe down the side of the trouser, Now you will see where i`m going with this when you read on. But these trousers can be worn up and down, So much so I`m looking to purchase a pair of these trousers very soon for a casual day out look.

PrettyLittleThing BLACK DISNEY PRINCESS JASMINE PRINT OVERSIZED T SHIRT: £15. Who says you have to follow the rules and follow what everyone else is wearing? Why not break the rules and go different. So with the sporty luxe cigarette pants above I would add this shirt from PLT. Graphic shirts have been popular for some time and i`ve just noticed a couple of retailers starting to get more popular in them because believe it or not they are a staple. You can wear this look down with a pair of vans (With the sporty luxe pants), Or you can wear it for a night out with a pair of heels. Perrie and Jade have both been seen wearing graphic shirts on a night out so that doesn`t give you any excuse not to wear one. We all know how much of a Disney fan Jade is so we picked this Aladdin shirt, however their is more of the Disney characters available such as Lady and the tramp, Another Aladdin, Mickey Mouse and Alice In Wonderland.

Topshop GIGI Court Heels: £42. I personally think court heels suit Jade more better then opened toed heels, I don`t know why I just think that. But these heels would go well suited with the culottes, the suit and pretty much every night out outfit. I think and i`m not sure on this, But I think Jade prefers suede heels as I see her out in more of them then any other. I know these may seem pricey but don`t forget you can look elsewhere for very similar shoes.

ASOS DESIGN tassel clutch bag: £12. You don`t need to go all out and buy a expensive bag to go with any of the looks on offer here today, A simple but classic clutch will do. I picked this clutch because it`s similar to one Jade owns. You can also get this clutch in many other colours such as red, White, Pink

This post contains a affiliated link, This means we make commission if a purchase is made through this link. You will not be charged any extra. We add these links to keep the blog running.

#Inspired #Little Mix #Jade Thirlwall #Jesy Nelson #Perrie Edwards #Leigh Anne Pinnock #ASOS #Topshop #PrettyLittleThing #Accessorize #Boohoo #Zara #River Island #MissGuided #Ego Shoes #I Saw It First #Office

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dr-owo · 6 years ago

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Log 36: Pushing Buttons | Chapter 3

[ ♪ ♪ ♪ ]

A few days had passed since the last classroom trial. The atmosphere in the ruins had continued to run paranoid and fearful, despite the overlay of colourful festivities from Sorakuma’s despair festival.

Naturally though, this ‘peace’ was only going to be short lived.

As usual, Sorakuma was waking everyone up at 7am with his morning E-Watch announcements.

“Morning you weirdos! Time to get up and at ‘em! After all, I’ve got an exciting new motive for you to take part in! Kyahaha! Meet me at the Despair Plaza ASAP!”

Without much objection, the captives all made their way out of the Hostel towards the statue of Akari.

What kind of nonsense did Sorakuma have in store for them this time?

[ ♪ ♪ ♪ ]

After a few short minutes, everyone had gathered around the statue. It was suddenly and very evidently clear that with the recent deaths and releases, they were now 5 short of their original number.

“Geez it’s hot out here isn’t it? I picked a good week to run the Despair Festival it would seem! Man it would have sucked big time if it happened during all that miserable rain, huh? Anyway, enough rambling about the weather! I’ve got some guests who are going to come and give you your next motive! So give them a warm welcome.”

As Sorakuma finished speaking, the group was approached by two more members of Super High School Level Despair. One of them was elegant and poised with long greenish brown hair. Her reserve course uniform draped with a long flowing fabric and bearing the mask of a white fox. The other was a young man who walked with confidence, wearing a ripped red sleeveless shirt over his reserve uniform. His hair was tousled and he wore a mask similar to a bat. Their names: Rui Hokusai and Akito Komori.

[ Rui ]: "Ah, you're all still pointlessly alive? How surprising - I thought you incompetent mongrels would have all slaughtered each other by now. It's useless. Those who live by hope will die by despair."

[ Akito ]: “Haha! Always charming to a tee, huh Hokusai-chan? Good to finally meet the fresh meat, huh? We’re all just here for a good time eh? Which is why we have this mot-”

[ ??? ]: “WHAT THE FUCK IS UP GAMERS?!”

The malicious sounding monologue was suddenly broken by a high pitched, shrill scream. All of a sudden, Sorakuma cowered as a tall, lanky girl with light pink twin-tails back flipped over him, landing next to her fellow SHSL Despair. Her mask was a pastel yellow bunny mask with 4 ears and red eyes.

[ Rui ]: “Ah... It’s...”

[ Akito ]: “Sakai Sato-chan!”

[ Sakai ]: “Psshhht, it’s ex3cu10ner you fucking incels. Shh, shh, let me do my intro! Ahem... Hey guys it’s the ex3cu10ner welcome back to my youtube channel! Today we’ll be executing some noobs!”

This was... Deeply unsettling.

[ Akito ]: “... What Sato-chan is trying to say is that our motive for you this time, well, kinda involves you having that power over life... and death.”

[ Rui ]: “Indeed... This utter power will lie between choosing yourself or the life of a loved one of your fellow captives. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth as they say.”

[ Sakai ]: “Yeah yeah! Each of you will have a button on your E-Watch! You push that button and your ass is safe and immune from Sorakuma’s next motive! What a perk dudes!”

[ Akito ]: “Haha! But, if you press that button, then a loved one that belongs to someone else in the group will go boom! If you don’t believe us, you will have a little bit of footage on your watch so you can see that we do have your loved ones in captivity!”

[ Rui ]: “The love for those outside this killing game still runs strong, despite the apocalypse. Isn’t that right, sister dearest?”

As Rui said that, she immediately gestured towards one of the captives in the group. Phoenix, or Hanari Hokusai as she once called herself.

[ Sakai ]: “Yeah so like, uhhh, if you don’t want your fellow capitves to fucking eviscerate your loved ones then you better kill someone! As soon as one of you is declared dead then WHAM! The buttons are de-activated.”

[ Akito ]: “And as usual, the same old perk of finding the culprit will result in us three members of SHSL Despair being on the chopping block too, gettit?”

[ Rui ]: “Let the despair and the paranoia begin! Happy festival~”

As those words hung in the air, the three members of SHSL Despair wandered into the fog and out of sight. Sorakuma finally spoke up once again.

“Not to give any spoilies or anything but some of you might seriously wanna consider pressing those buttons. I’m not bluffing when I say that my next motive is going to be particularly gruesome! Anyhoo! Positive thoughts! Later losers!”

Sorakuma soon scarpered off as well, leaving the group of captives to simply stare at their watches in disbelief. Sure enough, each person could see footage of their loved one trapped in a room with an E-Watch similar to their own strapped to their wrists. The reality of this situation was grim. How much were people willing to risk in order to sacrifice the loved ones of the other villagers?

Once again, that horrible sense of distrust hung in the air. This life was only getting more and more unbearable by the second.

#ic #chapter 3 #owo #owoplot #plot

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callmeakumatized · 7 years ago

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Fish Funk - ch. 3

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Mermay Day Three - Prompt: Silky

Marinette reached up and softly touched the little orbs she kept in as earrings at all times. Her good luck charms.

"No," she finally responded to the waiting nursery maid. "No, I'd like to keep them in, if you don't mind."

The older woman huffed a little, but smiled resignedly.

"'Tis not my place to say what a princess should or should not wear to her coming-out party, Your Highness." Gathering up her things, Sra. Abaroa turned to leave, muttering something under her breath that Marinette knew was something about how she did know the proper way to dress for parties. The little princess resisted the urge to laugh out loud, and had to snap the smile off her face when Abaroa turned around again.

"Oh, Your Majesty," she started, then sighed, then rolled her eyes, then sighed again. "Your new lady's maid will be here any moment to take you down to dinner." Marinette nodded, but Abaroa looked like she wasn't done. Several times she opened her mouth, changed her mind, and turned to go. With another huff and shrug, Abaora turned to face Marinette full on. "Forgive me for saying this, Princess, but it needs to be said." Another deep breath. "Please - please - be kind to the poor girl."

Abaora really did leave this time, but not before an obvious silent prayer.

Marinette honestly had no idea what the woman was talking about. Kind to her new lady's maid? Of course she would be kind to her! Marinette was everything in this world except for unkind! Why, she had never done anything to Abaora that would cause her former nursery maid to -

Marinette stopped swirling in her dress to stare accusingly back at herself in the mirror. Mirror Marinette suddenly looked appropriately abashed, as scenes upon scenes of a Marinette right here in front of her mirror kindly harangued her attending nursery maid. One right after the other.

Abaora was number fifteen. Number fifteen in her now thirteen years of life.

Puffing up her cheeks, Marinette blew out a labored breath of air. So she was a bit…high maintenance when getting ready for…well, getting ready for anything. It wasn't her fault princesses were "required" to wear stiff, uncomfortable dresses everywhere instead of clothes that were actually comfortable! So she might have thrown a few fits. Every other moment of the day, she did everything she needed to do and more without complaint. When she was ten, she had even tried making her own clothes so no one would have to worry about such-and-such dress from so-and-so and how she needed to wear because of reasons. She would wear her own dresses. Then, not only would the people in the kingdom see her as some sort of "beauty" with no brain, they would see her as a girl with real personality.

Her parents, loving and supportive as they were, were also quite conscious of the image a young princess in handmade clothes would present to not only their own kingdom, but to kingdoms around her, and had affectionately shut her down.

But Marinette, as had been told of her for ages, was a fighter. And when her reputation alone didn't work to scare her nursery maids into letting out the sides of her dress enough so she could breathe comfortably, Marinette would fight. Some nursery maids had left crying. Some had left with needles in their fingers. She was punished each time, given grueling chores like mucking the stables or washing dishes, and Marinette would grump and groan about it the entire time.

The truth, however, was that she actually enjoyed the hard labor. Feeling active, and useful, building muscle in her little frame…Marinette cherished everything about being out in the fields or in the kitchens.

(Sometimes her parents would even make a comment, like they knew her secret. But both Marinette and her parents tended to ignore this little fact.)

With another twirl, Marinette really looked at herself in the mirror. The pink silk dress she wore was fitted just right to her frame, like always, but this time, the cut of the dress itself was different. The waist was cinched in still, but there was no bow in the back, nothing to draw the eyes away from the curve that was starting to form there. The sleeves were slim, fitted right down to her fingertips. Skirts overlayed with some type of chiffon billowed out a little more fully than they would have just yesterday. Worst out of everything, though, wasn't the additional fabric at the bottom of her dress; it was the complete lack of fabric at the top.

Suddenly Marinette felt like she would trade all the handmade dresses just to be able to wear a stiff collar one more time.

Another exasperated puff of air came out of Marinette and she turned one way and then the other, checking herself over from all angles. Just as she placing her open palms over her now-exposed chest (she was still modest, for goodness' sake…it was just less) when the door burst open, and Marinette, at war temporarily with flinging herself backward and attacking, promptly fell off her pedestal.

"Hi!" a cheery voice said from the doorway. "I'm Alya! I'm your new lady's maid!"

Marinette had given up every fight she had ever put toward her parents (or, rather, her nursery maids) about the personal uselessness of a lady's maid the night Alya had come into her life. For, as much as Marinette still didn't need someone to help her dress, she hadn't realized how much she needed a friend. Alya was her closest companion in many ways, but only a small portion of that was due to professional expectations. It wasn't to say the caramel-color skinned girl didn't know what her responsibilities were or ever slack on them in the least. It was the way she would level the princess with a look when Marinette suggested something she knew she couldn't do, or laughed with her when she tripped just to be there to pick her up, or how she talked to her like a real human being. Really, the only downfall to having Alya as her lady's maid was when she had to leave her while at sea.

Not that Alya complained too much. Not since Nino arrived a year later.

Nino was the nephew of the head chef and had come to apprentice at the castle. With him, he brought an assortment of handmade instruments – some based off instruments from France, where he hailed, some completely of his own invention. One of Marinette's favorites was a type of flute made from a thick reed. It was held in front instead of the side, and was small and thin, which made it easy to conceal in a shirt sleeve. It became a something of a staple with seeing Marinette; when the princess was there, there was sure to be a song at some point. After Nino taught her the basics, Marinette had quickly surpassed him, and the flute – nicknamed Buginette for Lady Luck herself – became a pleasure to those who shared her company, especially her fellow shipmates on long voyages in later years.

(Marinette was not blind to Alya's clear preference of the classical guitar that Nino would gladly play and sing along with when it was brought out or suggested. Nor did Marinette miss Nino's clear preference to switch to love songs whenever Alya was around.)

When Chloé came, Marinete's life changed overnight.

Literally.

It was a quiet night, and Marinette had been all too happy to ditch Alya to a hopeful-looking Nino and take a walk on the beach in solitude. She relishes the feel of the sand in her toes, the cold waves coming to brush across her ankles high enough to dampen the edges of her dress. The view from the beach, lit from high above her through the palace windows, was breathtaking, the clear, moonless and cloudless night making the water seem like it was sparkling with magic in the dark. She brought her flute up to her lips, but as the first note cut through the stillness, everything went dark.

When Marinette woke, it was still dark, but her world rocked back and forth, pitching gently across…were those waves? Shaking her head – and regretting it immediately as the pain hit – Marinette made to stand. At the next small pitch to the side, the princess was sent sprawling onto the deck she now realized she had been "sleeping" on.

The structure was a tiny skiff, barely big enough to warrant a trip a few miles around the coast. A stiff-looking girl, long golden hair catching the little light like fireflies, was working the rigging in a way that made Marinette flinch in its awkwardness. Marinette rose, steadying herself with a hand on her head. She started to stomp the short distance to the girl, realizing that she must have been the one to kidnap her, when she stopped midstep.

She was wearing pants.

Marinette now was not only furious, she was insanely jealous. Why had she never thought of that!?

The following conversation (confrontation, more like) revealed Chloé's story of her wealthy merchant father's ship being taken by pirates. Not only was her father, who she loved dearly, on board, but an entire colony's worth of people and materials. They were holding them all hostage, hoping for more booty than they had already spoiled, holding out for a ransom from their mother country of France. Meanwhile, a blockade had formed by the flagship of the Pirates, their companion ship, and now the vessel the unmoored colonists were trapped on. In the Caribbean. Every day the situation got worse, and the people were suffering. There was only one thing that could be done: a miraculous rescue from Ladybug, or the luck Ladybug carried around with her seemingly by presence alone.

"What do you think kidnapping me will do for you, idiot girl?" Marinette yelled, ripping a scrap of fabric off the bottom of her dress to tie around her dampening hair. "You had best left me at home and searched the seedy pits for this 'Ladybug' of yours! Unless you plan to try to use me as a bartering chip for her assistance, which I would hope you would have a better sense than that. Even if she does exist – "

"The sailors said she was the one 'whose tiny frame belied her strength'," Chloé started, standing with resolve as she stared Princess Marinette in the eye, "who had 'bested 50 men at the age of 10', and who flitted from oppressor to oppressor with a hum on her lips as she leveled each one, like a ladybug, swinging from the rigging of the tallest mast, the embodiment of Lady Luck herself… Shall I continue?"

"No, I… That won't be necessary."

No, Marinette didn't need to hear any more. She, like Chloé seemed to have discovered the identity of this "Ladybug" through these descriptions alone. Marinette sat, thinking, letting everything sink in. She was startled to see her own hands were shaking slightly, but…it wasn't from fear. There was anticipation bubbling under her skin.

How many ships had she said? Three now? A flagship, a –

"Is it true?" Chloé said quietly, and Marinette looked to her companion almost in surprise that she was there. The blond girl had tears at the edges of her eyes, and Marinette, really looking at her now, could fully appreciate the desperation of Chloé's journey. In the small lantern hanging by the mast, Marinette could see double black eyes on what she thought had been fair skin. A badly-healing slash went from her right ear to her chin, cutting a groove through her lip that was, in turn, already nursing a bruise on the other side. Her golden hair looked as though it had been burned on one side – along with her shirt, that Marinette was just now realizing was the upper half of a dress, making the pants she wore a necessity for proprietorial modesty rather than a smart fashion choice. She wore no shoes, and had nothing of supplies with her but a few bottles of questionable rum and some molding bread and oranges.

It was in this moment, Marinette sizing up her unwanted shipmate who, though bruised and broken still held herself with grace and hope, when the princess changed her mind.

"It was 47 men, but that doesn't have as nice a ring to it as '50', does it?"

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette #adrien #marichat #marichat may #eventually #mermay #mermay 2018 #prompt list #fanfic #ml fanfic #fanfiction #mermaid au #merman!adrien

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