#not me binging an entire show in a day and getting way too attached to it

[waywardangel-13]

THE IMPERFECTS WAS SO PERFECT. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL THEM OFF TOO, NETFLIX, WHY

[dovesdreaming]

Deadpools guide to keeping you alive

Summary: You have a habit of reminding everyone to take care of themselves, even though you often forget to do it for yourself. Wade, being Wade, notices, and in his own ridiculous yet sweet way, steps in to help you remember the little things.

Request

Masterlist

-

You sat on the couch, curled up with your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media while Wade, in full Deadpool attire, was standing on the coffee table, striking ridiculous superhero poses for no apparent reason. He’d started doing it about ten minutes ago, just because he could. One hand on his hip, the other flexed, he looked like a cross between a professional wrestler and an action figure from the 90s. "Looking good, Wade” you said absently, not even glancing up from your screen. "Have you had any water today?". “Hydration is for the weak!" he declared, though he immediately reached for the water bottle you’d left on the coffee table and took a big gulp, mask and all. You weren’t entirely sure how it worked, but you’d stopped asking those kinds of questions a long time ago. You smiled at his antics and shifted, feeling a little light-headed, but brushed it off. It happened sometimes. Not a big deal. Wade, however, noticed the slight wobble in your movement. He paused mid-pose, tilting his head toward you. "Hey, babe, you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out faster than I can regenerate a new spleen”.

You waved him off, though your stomach growled quietly. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten yet, I guess. No big deal”. Wade’s eyes widened beneath his mask, and he jumped off the coffee table with a surprisingly graceful landing. "Uh, what? You guess? You haven’t eaten yet?" He checked the clock on the wall. "It’s 4 PM. That's not 'yet,' that’s 'barely survived on air alone!”. You frowned, genuinely surprised by the time. You’d gotten up early that morning, thrown yourself into work, and totally lost track of everything else. Again. “Oh…” You blinked. “Right. Oops?”.

Wade crossed his arms and gave you a look you knew well, the ‘I’m about to be ridiculous but also right’ look. “Let me get this straight: you’ve reminded me, multiple times, to drink water today-thank you for that, by the way-but you forgot to eat?” You shrugged, trying to play it off, though the light-headedness was starting to catch up to you. “I get distracted, okay? I’ve got a lot going on in my head sometimes”. Wade didn’t argue with that. Instead, he sighed and sat down next to you, pulling you into his side. “Alright, here's the deal. You’re gonna sit right here, not move a muscle- except to blink, breathe, and keep that heart pumping I guess, and I’m gonna make you some food”.

You started to protest. “Wade, you don’t have to-“ But he was already up, bounding toward the kitchen with surprising energy for a guy who’d been play posing on a coffee table moments before. “I do have to! Because apparently, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached, and I can’t have that, babe. You’d look weird without it”. You chuckled as you watched him dig through the fridge, though there was a part of you that felt a little guilty. This wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten something important. Wade had found you passed out on the couch before because you’d stayed up working for nearly two days straight. And then there was the time you forgot to drink for an entire day while binge watching a new show. Wade had quickly gotten you a glass of whatever was closest whilst gently scolding you.

Still, despite your forgetfulness, you always made sure to look out for your friends. You’d tell Wade, and anyone else, to “drink more water!” or “take breaks!” but when it came to yourself, you… just forgot. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like your brain got too full, and the little things just slipped through the cracks. You were pulled out of your thoughts by the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Wade was muttering to himself, something about "smoking chimichangas" and “how do normal people make sandwiches without a sword?” But a few minutes later, he returned with a plate in hand, two sandwiches that looked like they’d survived a battle, but were clearly made with love. “Behold!” Wade declared, placing the plate on your lap with a flourish. “A culinary masterpiece. You won’t find this in any Michelin-star restaurant, because they can’t handle the truth”.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Wade. You didn’t have to, really”. “Of course I did” he said, sitting back down beside you, much more gently this time. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you remember to do basic human things, like eating and sleeping and not turning into a raisin from dehydration”. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling instantly better. “It’s good” you said through a mouthful of food. “Of course it is. I’m Deadpool. I don’t make bad sandwiches” he replied, leaning in to nudge you with his elbow. “But seriously, you gotta start taking care of yourself. I mean, I can regenerate my liver if it gives out, but you? You get one shot at this whole ‘being alive’ thing”.

You swallowed and nodded, feeling a little sheepish. “I know, I just… I get so caught up in things, I forget”. Wade looked at you, and even through the mask, you could feel the softness in his gaze. He reached over, pulling you into a side hug. “You know what, babe? That’s what I’m here for. To remind you to do all that boring, vital stuff. You remind me to drink water, I remind you to, you know, live. We balance each other out”.

You rested your head on his shoulder, sandwich still in hand. “Yeah, I guess we do”. “And from now on” Wade said, his voice full of determination, “I’m going to make sure you never forget again. I’ll be your personal reminder system. Forget to eat? I’ll hand-feed you if I have to. Forget to sleep? I’ll tuck you in with my very own beddy-bye song. And forget to shower? Well, I’ll.. okay, I’ll just throw you in the shower with a loofah grenade”.

You laughed, the sound muffled by another bite of your sandwich. “I don’t know if I should be scared or touched by that”. “Touched” Wade said, pulling you closer. “Definitely touched. In the heart, not the weird way. Unless you want it to be the weird way. I’m flexible”. You smiled, warmth filling your chest. “Thanks, Wade”. “Don’t mention it, babe” he said softly. Then he looked down at you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Now, finish that sandwich and then we’re going to bed. Not for the fun stuff, mind you, unless you’re into that, but because you need to sleep. Doctor Deadpool’s orders”. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the yawn that followed. “Fine, but only because Doctor Deadpool said so”. “That’s the spirit!” Wade cheered, and with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you up off the couch and toward the bedroom, all while mumbling something about setting hydration alarms and taping snack bars to the walls as reminders.

And as you curled up in bed that night, Wade snuggled up next to you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Because even when you forgot to take care of yourself, Wade was always there to remind you, whether it was about drinking water, getting enough sleep, or just eating a simple sandwich.

And really, that was all you needed.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[hemi-demi]

I have a lot of feelings about TMAGP 23, and I gotta let them out. As much as I would love to talk about the amazing statement and the other lovely moments between the cast, I am unfortunately very stuck on one specific part, and not in a good way.

Spoilers below cut:

I'm gonna be perfectly honest, this one hurt me way more than I thought, and I'm worried about my enjoyment of the series.

I truly want to enjoy Protocol for what it is. I've been an Alice defender since day 1, I love her moment with Gwen this episode, I love that Lena seems to be showing a bit more care for her employees. But even with all that, I can't keep doing this with the TMA references.

Look, I've never in my entire 32 goddamn years of living felt like a character in media represented me. Ever. And now I have two. Jon and Martin's relationship feels like seeing parts of myself love each other despite their problems. It's a relationship that resembles the one I have with my partner, and I see a lot of him in Martin especially. Listening to TMA was a wonderful experience because, yes, I knew it was a tragedy and I wish they could have a happy ending, but it was the ending they earned, and they got to go together, and the ambiguity was good enough for me.

I want to enjoy the new writers, the new characters, the focus on alchemy and try to piece together what's happening in the story with everyone else because I missed out on that with having binged TMA after the fact. I cannot do that if they keep taking the corpses of characters I love and dangle them in front of me with the vague hope that they might spring back to life.

But they teased that maybe Jon and Martin can be okay in one reality. I've seen people say they haven't, but between the "Hey, this sounds like them in therapy!" bit, and the Gerry and Gertrude scene, I genuinely believe they did to a degree, even if unintentionally.

Maybe we could have something nice, just one little scrap of "they're happy somewhere else" with the TMAGP versions as a nice cameo. I got my hopes up, hopes I didn't ask for, only to be told "Oh, they never knew each other, and they're dead. If they're happy together in any reality, it sure isn't fuck in this one. The characters you relate to more than anything can never be happy, and you're stupid for thinking that they can ☺️."

This hurts. I feel like I've been stabbed. We were told explicitly this could be enjoyed separately, and that Jon and Martin's ending would be left ambiguous. Unless they pull the rug out from under us and say "Oh, Fr3ddi isn't Jon and Martin at all" (which I've been saying since the beginning. I'm of the "stolen voices" camp and I hope that's what it is, or something else.) then I'm now listening to a show where my favorite characters are suffering, again. And even if they do, the versions in TMAGP are presumably dead anyway.

It's like in fanfiction how you always tag stuff like "Bad endings" or "Major character death". You do that because people have grown attached to these characters and don't always want to watch them suffer again (or do, then you filter by it). The new characters I signed up for hearing their pain and torment, I don't know them yet, and I want to see how their stories play out even if it's painful. But I feel like I'm reading an untagged fanfic right now that is cutting into the original story I did want to listen to.

I want this to be its own thing. I want to care about Alice and Gwen and Sam so when they inevitably die I can feel like I did with TMA again, in a sort of reverent peace with things.

And then chasing that with "Oh, also, Basira and Helen-" just felt like extra salt.

I don't want people to take this as being cruel to the writers, or that I'm being entitled. I genuinely didn't want them to have to dive too deep back into TMA, I'm here for the new stuff. And I'm sure I'll get a bit of "this isn't the genre for you, then, horror is-" I know. I've been engaged with horror since I was much too young. It's my favorite genre. I'm fine with character death. I thought TMA handled it very well.

But I can't pretend that this doesn't hurt, either. I'm sure they have more planned, that this could just be a red herring, but that doesn't stop this from hurting right now when I have no idea what comes next.

I had a glimmer of hope that I was perfectly fine with watching from afar, that they made into a beacon too impossibly bright to ignore. Then, when I steer my boat towards it, I'm lured onto the jagged rocks. Just because they throw me a life preserver a few weeks later doesn't remove the water from my lungs.

Idk. I know some people are excited about this, and I hope they get everything they're looking for out of the story, but I worry that at this rate, I might not. At least not until the wound heals some more.

Okay, I'm gonna go back to writing fanfiction where they get to be happy. Pretty sure that's as close as I'm going to get.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

okay final amc interview with the vampire rewatch thoughts:

- I liked the pacing much better. the middle episodes felt like a slog to watch week by week but I think it’s much better suited to bingeing. there were still choices I didn’t love, but the plot was going at a consistent clip the entire time.

- sam reid and jacob anderson were both fantastic! galaxy brained takes on both characters. bailey bass.. her acting is good but I am too southern to be able to take that accent seriously 😭😭 it was painful

- lestat is still given more narrative dignity and power than I would like. he’s introduced having his own wealth and he is the one giving louis money as opposed to being the broke unwanted houseguest who invited himself. he doesn’t use claudia to babytrap louis, louis has to beg him to change her (hated this!). he is given a personal pawn in antoinette, and is allowed to see the murder attempt coming. I feel like sam reid brings the necessary vain, overeager desperation to the role to offset it, but the plot is still like that

- I’m still deeply unsatisfied with all of the choices they made with claudia. I think it’s a huge cop out to have louis save her from a fire that she 100% would not have survived otherwise. I missed the very key book element of it being louis who killed her and lestat who “saved” her by making her into a vampire. I also disliked how cleanly her relationship with lestat becomes one of hate after episode five. there’s zero mixed feelings and they’re both so on the same page about how much they hate each other. I get what they’re trying to do with “they’re too alike therefore they can’t stand each other” but that doesn’t preclude a more complicated dynamic

- I hated that all of claudia’s issues surrounding never growing up seemed to revolve around sex and romance. she’s given the sweet romance/almost romance that ends poorly and marks her slide into being more recklessly murderous and her dissatisfaction with vampirism. meanwhile there’s the OC vampire they invented to assault her… as a monkey’s paw curls situation I guess?? and to cement her vulnerability to other vampires. a lot of her arc feels so defined by men in a way that’s not really about her. it also doesn’t help that in casting an older teenage actress, it’s harder to buy that she would run into issues day to day with living on her own or passing as a young looking adult. idk she just felt particularly Written By A Man to me

- I’m also still unsure how I feel about the more literal domestic violence allegory. with daniel’s cynical quips about stockholm syndrome and abuse. or the way the big fight is framed when it looks like louis might leave lestat for claudia. I don’t mind them becoming violent with each other, it seems like that would be second nature to vampires who are killing every night. their relationship with violence would simply be different than a typical person’s. but then I think the fight’s framing was perhaps too typical to make sense for vampires? idk idk I like abuse narratives and I think interview as a story has always been in part about usurping an abuser so… seeing physical abuse… makes sense but this also felt too on the nose. so I am on the fence

- the pilot and the finale were the strongest episodes by far. I really appreciate this series’ dedication to style and atmosphere. it’s the first piece of contemporary vampire media in a while that feels like it actually wants to be about vampires

- I was shrieking at every single little hint at the larger vc lore, even when I knew full well it was coming. I’m honestly too attached to the first book so any loose show adaptation was destined to be prickly for me but I have zero reservations about the rest of the series. I’m so fucking excited to see it continue and cover more of the books!!! I will PASS OUT when we actually get to the theatre des vampires

- having the armand reveal confirmed makes the entire show so fucking insane???? I was watching this with maka and dolce who had NOT seen this before and it was such a struggle not to dissolve into hysterics every time he was in frame. like what deranged psychosexual nonsense???

- like louis describing being so desperately in love with lestat in excruciating detail while his current bf is literally always in the room?? the extent armand goes to to keep up the charade that he’s just an unassuming human ☺️ no reason to be suspicious at all ☺️☺️ it’s even funnier having the second season trailer out, knowing that he’s devised like an entire costume and sense of style for this rashid character purely to fuck with daniel 😭

[possibly-in-mordland]

What They Dress Up As For Halloween & How They Spend The Holiday

Masterlist

Post Type: Headcanons

Warning(s): Drug Use, Alcohol Use

A/n: Just some headcanons for spoopy day

==========

Nathan:

Goes all out on a demon costume and you can't change my mind

Quite a bit of fake blood (obvs)

Eats some candy, mostly eats chips

His favorite movies to watch during this time of the year are Rob Zombie, Stephen King, and Clive Barker movies and you can't change my mind

Doesn't do too much else

Pickles:

It varies, back during his SnB days he dressed as a playboy bunny one year. And then another time he dressed as a pickle (self-explanatory)

But this time? This time he had the bright idea to grab one of those inflatable dino outfits

Probably spends the night getting high and drinking

BUT!

Instead of smoking, he's taking edibles

And stuffing himself with candy

While watching shitty b-list horror movies like Auntie Lee's Meat Pies or I Drink Your Blood (aka two of my favorites)

Skwisgaar:

Either dresses as an elf or a vampire (or The Rum Tum Tugger from Cats 1998)

This time he chose to dress as Lestat

He spends time in his room playing guitar (any surprise?)

But also binges movies like Casper and Hocus Pocus

*Insert Skwisgaar dancing to Get Down Goblin*

Also carves a pumpkin (and fails)

"bUt sKwIs iS sErIoUs!!!"

He's a goofball, just a dignified goofball who pretends to be serious

Secretly gets a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks

alright im having too much fun with this

Toki:

Dresses up as Mister Mistofolees from Cats 1998

Eats way too many sweets, Charles made sure they were sugar-free, but that didn't stop Toki from getting a major tummy ache

Probably spends the night alternating between Halloween episodes of shows, children's movies, and quality gore-fest horrors

Some notable things he watched: The entire Spongebob Squarepants Halloween DVD, Casper, Hocus Pocus, Earnest Scared Stupid, Human Centipede, Basket Case, etc

Murderface:

THis man doesn't want to dress up too much, so he puts on some devil horns and attaches a devil tail to his belt

Def eats x3 his weight in candy

Does the thing where he watches some jump-scare-filled horror movie and has to sleep in Pickles' room

Charles:

Totally dresses as Westley from The Princess Bride

(omg im imagining it and 💦, i might need to write a smut piece later ft him dressed as Westley)

Doesn't gorge himself on candy, but he does treat himself a little bit

He's one of those people that loves black licorice (aka me) and candy corn (aka not me)

Puts on a horror movie while he works (still dressed as Westley)

Knubbler:

Initially, I was gonna write Toki dressed as Mad Hatter (bc imagine him having a s/o who dresses as Alice omg so cute), but another time

Knubbler dresses as the Mad Hatter (specifically Johnny Depp's Hatter, but I can also see him attempt Andrew-Lee Potts' Hatter)

His eyes make it all the madder

His favorite Halloween candy is Twix, but he also enjoys Sour Patch Kids

Probably watches at least one horror movie

Magnus:

Dresses as a pirate, and you can't change my mind

Of course, this was probably to infiltrate Dethklok's Halloween party

But if he was with someone (or if this was after Doomstar), he probably just stays home and hands out treats to kids

Eats a couple pieces of candy, but then just has one of those microwavable TV dinners

And watches horror movies (Saw, Hellraiser, etc)

==========

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[binas-idea-vault]

Hear Me Out: Syndicate Mafia/Casino AU

i came up with a casino au once with Kinoko Kingdom/Quackity as owner of the casino but then my brain went “okay but like, what if the Syndicate had a casino but it was also a mafia and then Kinoko Kingdom as a casino as well and then the Eggpire is also involved and so is fucking Dream” so hear we are.

i chose the Syndicate to have a casino cause of the song “Syndicate” by Derivakat (i’ve been binge listening to it as well-) which has a jazz casino vibe. so what if Reader was the star performer (this is self indulgent because i am very much a theater kid and love to sing-) who starts off every night with a performance of “Syndicate”. reader’s performance is used to kinda establish the Syndicate’s power over the casino and to remind the patrons anything they do will be under the scrutiny of a mafia with literally two of the most renowned mafiosos’ (Philza whose reputation of traveling all over and taking down many a mafia family precedes him and Technoblade who has taken down mafia families singlehandedly) in the city, maybe even the entire country.Just mafioso Technoblade watching reader’s performance and just enamored with how they move and their melodic voice. for some extra spice, protective Technoblade seeing the patrons/customers just as enamored as he is. Philza laughing his ass off in the background at how Technoblade goes up to you and puts his arm around your waist protectively and just glares at anyone who looks at you wrong-

the Eggpire is like a rival mafia that is trying to take control over the city so it isn’t uncommon for them to try and infiltrate the Syndicate casino. so i was thinking, what if the people who are Pro-Omlette (but not in the Syndicate so Puffy, Foolish (since it’s not confirmed he’s part of the Syndicate), Awesamdude and Eret) are staff at the casino. they were each like a lone agent after their mafia family split up/they left and decided to join forces with the Syndicate to make sure the Eggpire didn’t gain total control of the city. Maybe Sam is a bodyguard stationed either outside the casino or manning security cameras switching with Puffy, Eret can be like a stage manager/backstage to aid the performers and make sure no one sneaks into the dressing rooms or the light control area backstage and Foolish is like a bartender keeping an eye out on the main floor of the casino for any activity.

Dream was the former head of the well-renowned Dream Team mafia family until the family split. he’s notorious for breaking apart mafia families before disappearing into the night and traveling to a new city. occasionally he’ll hire some aid but they never last long.

Ponk used to be an on-sight medic for the casino in cause of bar fights or performers getting injured on stage but after many rumors (later confirmed to be true) of him being a member of the Eggpire he was fired and not allowed to enter the premise of the casino again.

Kinoko Kingdom was a rival casino/mafia family to the Syndicate’s but they’ve decided to have a truce to make sure Dream and/or the Eggppire don’t take over their city. Their casinos have different vibes with the Syndicate’s being more of a hub for mafia and business activity with jazzy music on the constant and famous for civilized and tame yet very entertaining entertainment whilst Kinoko’s casino is like more of a rowdy type casino, famous for high stake bets, drinks with high alcohol content and lively music and entertainment that can be seen as a bit too glitzy and tacky. Like you go to Syndicate casino for a night of business deals and building yourself up to the top, the type of casino you would bring your boss to, whilst the Kinoko casino is the type of casino you go to let loss and risk it all with cheap entertainment and even cheaper booze. (and if you really wanted to, you could have the Reader character be a bartender at the Kinoko casino and be the reason the casino is so well-known for their booze in the same au but different continuity)

wilbur had a casino (the L’manburg casino) but he went bankrupt so the casino changed management (to Schlatt) and then Wilbur burned it down, resulting in himself getting severely injured. courts can’t prove he did the fire and many claim he was just in the area when it happened and got severely injured. because of this his memories are very much messed up, but he’s slowly recovering (emphasize on slowly) and is now a performer for the day crowd (which is more relaxed and therefore the best place for more cheerful tunes with acoustic guitar, during the day the casino has more of a classy cafe vibe and they actually serve coffee!) under the name Ghostbur. he can’t remember the name of the nurse who treated him so he just remembers them by the name Friend and has a stress toy that is a blue sheep (given to him by the nurse) that is always in his pocket and he gets really stressed when he loses it so the nurse gave Philza copies of the stress toy to give to Wilbur if/when he loses his. for some more fluff Wilbur’s blue is actually just blue jolly ranchers because when his memories got messed up because of the accident he forgot some things like the names of colors so the nurse that treated him used blue jolly ranchers as an example of the color blue so whenever Wilbur is sad and misses the nurse (who can potentially be a Reader character taking place in the same au but a different continuity) that treated him he likes to eat some jolly ranchers to make himself feel better, and hands it out to make others feel better as well! (just imagine Philza standing behind Wilbur like “if you don’t accept his blue i will personally shove you into a body bag” type beat)

Tubbo is a magician/dealer at the Syndicate Casino for three reasons which are as follows:

A) he needed some quick cash and mans doesn’t have much work experience

B) he’s smart so he knows the little ways he can cheat the games so the casino loses less money/gains more when patrons gamble (i like to imagine in the interview process he actually managed to cheat a game and no one knew he cheated until he admitted it during the interview when asked if he could be able to subtly cheat so the house loses less money. it went like

technoblade: alright final question, do you know anyways to make sure the house doesn’t lose out on much?

tubbo: i’ve been cheating during every single game we’ve played.

everyone: 👁👄👁

ranboo wiping away a tear: that’s my platonic husband

i think that’d be funny)

C) i have decided to make it canon in this au that Tubbo and Ranboo are still platonically married for tax purposes

and for reasons (aka because i can) i’m making Micheal a piglet Tubbo bought for a magic trick that he named Micheal and got attached to. however he didn’t have the space for a piglet so Ranboo and Tubbo decided to move into a large apartment together that Foolish helped them find and named the piglet Micheal. now Micheal can be seen in the staff room just walking around and wearing a nice suit.

i have no role for Tommy but i like to imagine he spends so much time at the Syndicate casino (to hang out with Tubbo and totally not Ranboo nope not at all) that the patrons just assume he works there and ask him questions like drink recommendations and directions to where things are. and the best part is tommy actually knows where everything is- like he’s spent so much time at the casino he knows all the ins and outs. at first he’s really annoyed and mad about it until he realizes how much money he can make on tips. next day he shows up in a nice suit, and a big smile ready to help (and totally not make money).

totally random but Eret, Foolish and Niki are gossip central of the casino. Niki is a member of the Syndicate and knows all about Technoblade and Reader’s pining (in the continuity where Reader is the star performer of the casino), Eret is backstage and hears all the gossip the performer’s share and Foolish overhears all the gossip at the bar. all the staff fears them- 

[starshipsofstarlord]

Fame With No Shame | Part Three

A/N; I think at most there will be one more part to this series, and that will be the reveal of Luke and the readers relationship to the public. Thankyou for all of the requests for this series, please enjoy xx

Summary; in the midst of an interview, there is talk of (Y/N) dating a member. The interviewer is keen to find who is the lucky gentleman within their ranks, but can Luke remain steady though the enquiries about his girl?

Brushing his hands down his black clothed legs, Luke sat upon the seat, eyes interpreting his composure. His face was slightly flushed, aware that his hair was a bouquet of messy curls, the state of his redress had not gone unnoticed by the hostess nor his curious band members. All were wondering of whom he had hassled sexually with before this set, but nothing was mentioned, at least not yet.

A small part of him wanted to let the world know of his relationship status, and more importantly, whom he was entangled with. But it would all be released in due time, he would just have to remain both vigilant of letting anything slip and patient. The rumours could manage to infuriate and humour him all at once, so many fans had claimed to know the identity of the woman in his life.

There were many suspicions, although they were only proven by the hope and dedication of all kinds of people on sites such as tumblr and wattpad, that his lover that was concealed to their eyes was not a lady at all. It was perceived that it was a bandmate; a dear friend of his, that he was sleeping and taking midnight strolls with.

That of course was not the truth, the shipping had been dragging on for years, he sometimes wished that the guesses could be correct all by their own. (Y/N) however was amused by how much it infuriated him, and all of his frustrations would dissipate at the sound of her glorious laugh, and in the end, all that was left was for him to join in and relax.

Things between them were certainly going good, to say the least. He had never felt so elated to see someone pour themselves a mug of coffee, or tie their shoelaces. It wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been difficult for him to admit the facts – he was in love. If there was any evidence that they existed, he was sure that he had found his soulmate.

She understood not only his emotions, but his springs of motivation, the ideas that would creep in the middle of the night or whilst he was in the bathroom for songs. His process was normal to her, because she experienced the same waves of inspiration, the urge to write what flowed to mind and execute lyrics until they were sure enough ready and sounded right to be released to the rest of the world.

And together, that was like the universe had combined the two creators for a reason, to make a beautiful sound, an eternal symphony that would play on forever and a day. If people knew about them, it could disturb the state of their peace, the security that they found within their relationship. And that would be the most tragic and morbid interference that either of them could ever experience.

Hate online was strong, and (Y/N) suspected that neither of them were prepared to take the mixed responses to their newfound and blooming romance. Each of them individually received the expressions of resenting opinions, through messages, through posts, through the loop of the internet. It was never ending, the trolls were headstrong and stubborn, they didn’t want to be stopped, and any reply that they got in turn only made their day, encouraging them to cackle away at the fact that they drew a celebrity’s attention and time away from more important matters.

“And we’re live.” The hostess of the radio show confirmed, settling more comfortably into her plush, swivel seat, as she set her digging eyes into the men that were seated around the platform of a small, recorded station. “My name is Heidi, and we are here on HotRadio, with the one, the only, Five Seconds of Summer.”

Luke adjusted his headset, leaning closer to the microphone so that he was close enough to allow his reviews and answers be heard better than when he was reclined back, awaiting the start of the recording. “So now tell me boys, how was it working with (Y/N) (L/N) for your new single, Flashes.” He gulped at the mention of her name, this wasn’t the best situation, considering that he could accidentally allow some classified information slip, and spiral through the channels of the web.

“She was amazing!” Michael blazed in with his initial impression of her, a jolly grin spread across his lips and chin. “We’ve been fans of her work for so long, it was a dream to finally work with her.” His hands waved as he spoke, confirming his excitement, although working with (Y/N) had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Ashton bobbed his head, agreeing with his friend. “She is such a talented woman, we don’t do many collaborations singing with other people, but all four of us can definitely admit that she was such a great sport. She put so much work into the song, from lyrics and notes, there is a bright future ahead of her.”

The boys speaking of her made Luke want to purposely trip in his secrecy, they had no expense from gushing over her in such an idealistic way. However if he were to join in, he’d risk the exposure of the relationship. (Y/N) would be mad at him if he were to do that, so he rubbed his chin, feeling the growing prickles of stubble against his guitar picked hands.

Heidi smiled, they were eager to tell her their what appeared to be honest opinion. Yet there were still more details that she and the fans sought; answers. There were so many questions that were lingering, waiting to be spoken aloud in the recorded air.

“Was there any romance sparked between one of you and (Y/N)? How about you Calum?” It was typical, the enquiries about the song itself, that was supposed to be the main attention of this interview , it wasn’t about love, or feelings or whatever.

The thought that Calum, out of all of them, was the one considered to have gained her affections made Luke bite the inside of his cheek. Sure, Calum was single, but so was he, or at least was in the media’s eyes, and before he met (Y/N).

Luke’s frown was subtle, but it was still there! And everyone was oblivious to his disconcerting expression, all because the spotlight shined on the bassist, and the idea that he, out of all them, was privileged enough to have possibly shared a bed or the exchange of numbers in the static noise of the track.

Cal cleared his throat, ruffling the collar of his shirt, as though there were a reason for him to be fanning himself. “I mean, I’m not one to disclose that personal information.” That son of a bitch, Luke thought. From his response, something had obviously occurred, it was too bland for an answer.

That was until said boy began to laugh, spewing a humoured chuckle from his mouth whilst looking Luke dead in the eyes. The opposing man could only frown, his face hardened by the strong crease that went down the centre of it.

“Too bad she already has a boyfriend.” Michael chipped in, the guitarist’s attitude and statement not only making Luke paranoid, but also worried. What if he were not the only one that had grabbed the affections of (Y/N)?

 To begin with, it was clear that she was a bit of a player, and he had no problem with it, there was nothing wrong at all with a woman embracing her sexuality, it was even kind of sexy. But now they were partners in a relationship, and he could only trust her to be faithful.

Mikey’s words had not only drawn the intrigue of the lead singer, but also Heidi, who was leant forward in her seat, the dimples in her face prominent as she was presenting glee from hearing first time news, that was broadcasting on her radio channel.

“Are we permitted to be told who the lucky gentleman is?” How she hoped that the revelation would be unconcealed during this very interview, personally the woman was curious herself, but also the thought of the views skyrocketing encouraged her desperation for an answer.

Ash smirked, his eyes fluttering through his trio of bandmates, this was certainly entertaining for the rest of them also. Except one from the looks of it, Luke was gnawing on the outer portion of his lip. This was getting to him, just as they wanted. They knew, all along, what was occurring between Luke and the talented lady.

She had been a crush of his for a long time, and it seemed that she shared that affliction of interests, by being attracted to the natural blonde himself. It was noticeable to the boys from the first time that (Y/N) had entered the studio, their eyes navigated to the sight of the other, and their attention had to be drawn for the pair to look away from one another.

“One of us.” The eldest member replied, and Luke realised that in that moment, he had not been as discreet with the entire dating ordeal as he thought he had. They’d quickly realised that there were strings attached when Luke began to miss their nights out clubbing, and said he’d prefer to stay in and watch a movie – alone.

However, it was not a solitary activity, and binging television was not all that the promiscuous man was partaking in. The symptoms that brought light and revelation to Luke and (Y/N)’s involvement was matching marks of red suction bites around the circumferences of their throats, that eventually healed and could be concealed, however the boys could see right through their efforts.

And then there was the undebatable evidence of smeared lipstick scorned across their lips, a shade which consisted perfectly against one another, from nudes to striking reds, the pigment that streaked against Luke’s vigorously hungry lips consisted to be suspiciously similar to the original prominence that was lined and filled on (Y/N)’s own petalled mouth.

“Oh.” It appeared that the prying interviewer had not even put any efforts into hiding her pleasantly condemned grin, every detail that was slipping through the teeth of the men gave her some kind of joy.

She had somehow hit a gold mine with the answers that her pay check curiosity had earned her. There was so much going on behind the scenes that had never been revealed, and it seemed that all would be exposed, on HotRadio! “Are we granted to know which one of you is the lucky man?”

Luke shifted in his chair, gripping onto the arms with his painted nails. He was prepared to hit rock bottom in this deep deep ocean that he had swam himself into, yet a snicker left Cal, bringing all afraid and all too alert attention to him.

“I think not, we can keep a secret for a little longer.” His eyes paced slyly over to Luke, sending him an all knowing wink.

He sighed, he lived to fight another day.

[thepixelelf]

Wanna Make Out? - 1/2

Ever thought about what it would be like if Golden Child asked/were asked to just mack it up? Well it's all I've been thinking about for three and a half days so here we go.

warnings: alcohol

Daeyeol - is our relationship close to the line or far from it

Turns out that binging a trashy Netflix show that neither you nor Daeyeol really care about isn't the best, most exciting way to spend a Friday night, but neither is the dumb party Jangjun invited you to, so here you are.

Since you ran out of tolerance for the main characters not even halfway into episode one, you have no idea what business you have still watching it now, on episode nine.

You turn to Daeyeol, who sits next to you on his bed with a glazed-over look in his eyes, leaned back against the headboard. He lazily follows the plot of the show, though you have no idea how he manages that considering the absurdity of it all.

"Hey," you say quietly. He turns his head slightly to meet your eyes. "Wanna make out?"

Your words take ten too many seconds to sink in, but when they do, Daeyeol effectively snaps out of his daze.

"Wanna— I," he stutters. "Do I want to— make... What?!"

You shrug. "I'm bored."

"I hate how calm you are about this."

You shrug again, trying not to smirk at his flustered expression. The show drones on, and you focus your eyes back on it. "We don't have to, if you don't—"

Daeyeol snaps his laptop shut and picks it up to place it on his bedside table, reaching over you to do so. Normally he'd pull away from you as soon as possible like you're made of nuclear waste, but this time, he stays leaned on one elbow, hovering over you.

"No..." he says under his breath, searching your eyes for any sign that you were bluffing. "It's... cool. That show was boring anyways."

You let yourself smile now and bring a hand up to the back of his neck, your fingers slightly threading into his hair. “Couldn’t agree more.”

Sungyoon - let me introduce you to some new things

Sungyoon doesn't know why he's at this party.

Okay, wait, that's a lie. He does know why he's here — Jangjun invited him. What he doesn't know is what he's still doing here when he hasn't known how to act for the last hour. People keep coming and going, and he smiles at them over his drink, maybe says a few short nothings, then they move along. Sungyoon's basically been standing against this wall doing nothing but be awkward for an entire hour.

Why can't life advice ever ask extroverts to go into their shells for once? He doesn't feel like breaking out of his.

Sungyoon's eyes roam over Jangjun's apartment, and relief flows through him when he sees no one on the tiny balcony attached to it. He makes his way over, weaving through the crowd with little apologies and niceties. Cool air greets him when he slides open the glass door. Stepping onto the balcony, Sungyoon feels like he can finally breathe again — who knew parties could get so stuffy?

"Too suffocating?"

Sungyoon jumps at the sound of your voice, and he turns to see you tucked away in a corner of the balcony where it extends past the glass door, hidden from sight to anyone inside. Stupidly, he looks around for anyone else you could've been speaking to even though he's the only other person there.

“Uh...”

He notices now that you’re sitting there on the balcony floor with a Nintendo 3DS in hand, a smile — the kind used on strangers — on your lips. “Well tough luck,” you say. “This is my hiding spot.”

Not knowing how to respond, Sungyoon turns to open the glass door again, and he only pauses when you laugh. He looks at you again.

You hide your smile behind your DS, but your eyes give you away. “I’m kidding. Come, sit.”

Sungyoon glances at your hand, which pats the floor next to you. Normally, he wouldn’t sit so close to a stranger so quickly, but there’s something about you.

“Not much of a party person?” you ask while he squeezes himself between you and the balcony railing.

He looks at you, slightly nervous with how close your face is.

“Not really... You?”

“Normally I like them,” you say. Jerking your thumb towards the apartment, you let out a little laugh. “Exceptions apply, of course, when they’re held at my place without telling me ahead of time.”

Sungyoon’s eyes widen a fraction. “You live here?”

Your hand comes up in front of you, held out for him to shake. “You’re Jangjun’s friend, right? I’m his roommate.”

In the back of his mind, Sungyoon remembers Jangjun talking about his new roommate, freshly moved in just three weeks ago or so. He said something about how he was surprised they weren’t scared away yet. Go figure.

He shakes your hand, awfully aware of how clammy he gets. “Why aren’t you, um.” He clears his throat. “Why aren’t you hiding out in your room?”

You sigh. “Too late for that, I’m afraid. Some unholy shit is definitely going on in there.” Your DS snaps shut as you shift fully into the conversation. “Normal party stuff; I just wish Jangjun warned me.”

“Normal?” 

“Sure.” You shrug. “Happens every time. Two people meet. They hit it off. Boom.”

“I’ve never...” Sungyoon doesn’t know why he feels compelled to tell you anything. Still, he continues. “I’ve never done anything like that. At a party.”

You meet his eyes, voice low. “Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

“Wanna try?”

Sungyoon’s breath hitches. The moonlight bounces off you in rays that sear right through his skin. “Try what?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nods.

Jangjun - you’re sexy I’m sexy

Jangjun has two drinks in his hands, straight from the DIY minibar filled with the essentials — kool-aid, two total limes that guests can slice themselves if they want, and vodka — so he can’t really do anything when you wrap your arms around his neck.

(Not that he would do anything, though.)

“Hey, Jangjun.”

He’s not surprised that you know his name. You’ve shared a class or five over the years, and he’s always the loudest one in the room. It’s just a little jarring since you’ve never talked one on one before.

(Not that he didn’t want to, he just never got the opportunity.)

“Hey,” he returns. Behind your back, he puts one drink on the counter, then transfers the second drink into his free hand and puts that one down as well. “What’s, uh...”

He gestures his hands at your arms around his neck.

“My ex is here and I thought this would be the best way to avoid him.”

Jangjun didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, but that doesn’t really matter. The keyword here is had. He smiles.

“That’s so cliché.”

You roll your eyes. “Just act natural, please.”

(Gladly.)

Jangjun puts his arms around you, carefully gauging your reaction so he doesn’t cross any boundaries. Since you don’t seem to react, eyes just flitting around the room, he relaxes. He sways to the beat of the music and leans in to whisper, “Which one is he?”

You return your gaze to Jangjun for a moment and jerk your head towards the crowd. “The only asshole wearing sunglasses inside.”

Jangjun snorts. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Shut up.” You give him a look. “No matter what that guy says, it was not a serious relationship.”

Hopefully you don’t notice how much wider Jangjun’s smile gets at that. He makes a show of looking around — not that he really cares if you see through it or not. “Damn, my ex is here too.”

(That’s a blatant lie.)

One of your eyebrows rises. “You invited your ex to your own party?”

“Things get out of hand sometimes,” he says with a shrug. Before you can argue against that, he twists around so his back faces the crowd and bobs his head to block you from looking at anything but himself. “You know what we should do?”

Your hands shift behind his neck. “What?”

“Make them jealous.”

You scoff, a sarcastic smile rising on your lips. “Now who’s being cliché?”

“I never said I don’t like clichés,” Jangjun clarifies. “In fact, I encourage them.”

“So, what? You’re saying we should kiss or something?”

“I’m asking if you wanna make out.”

You smile. “Only if you’re up to it, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

There’s a small pause where Jangjun just smiles at you, because while you’ve agreed more readily than he expected, you hesitate. He twists slightly and glances to the crowd, where an asshole wearing sunglasses is making his way over. “Your ex found you.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake.”

You put your hands on Jangjun’s cheeks and pull him in.

Youngtaek - can you tell me how to love

“No!”

“Oh, come on, Youngtaek.” You cross your arms. “I’m not asking for much.”

He frowns. “Seriously?!”

“Yes, seriously! All I’m asking is for you to make out with me a little,” you explain for the second time. “You don’t even have to use tongue.”

“Tongue—” Youngtaek lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Youngtaek can’t believe this is happening. Certainly, when he agreed to hang out at your place for the night, he wasn’t expecting you to ask him to kiss you.

“I’m your best friend.” (He tries not to let those words sting.) “Best friends don’t just...”

He can’t say make out. It’s not as easy as you make it seem.

“Best friends help each other,” you argue. “How am I supposed to go on this Tinder date if I don’t even know how to mack?”

Youngtaek splutters. “Tinder? Since when do you have Tinder?”

“Since Jangjun told me I’m going to die alone. Now will you teach me how to kiss or not?”

Youngtaek will get Jangjun back for that later.

“No.”

You groan. “God, what’s it gonna take!”

He hates how much you want this.

This. Not him.

“Money?” you continue. “Food? I can do your homework if you want. I mean, I don’t know shit about art history, but if it comes down to it—”

Youngtaek reaches you in two strides, and your words cut off when he puts his hands on your cheeks. He’s so close to you that he can hear the way your breath hitches.

“If I kiss you,” he says quietly, “it won’t be meaningless. I won’t... I won’t teach you how to kiss just to lose you.”

His heartbeat picks up when he realizes the weight of his words, but he doesn’t let go.

You breathe out.

“Then kiss me.”

Seungmin - I like it better after midnight

Seungmin opens his door with a smile, but you're definitely not in the mood to give him one in return.

"I can't believe you forgot about a test tomorrow," you say as you brush past him into his dorm room. "I don't even know how much I can help you when it's—" You check your phone. "—one fifteen in the morning."

Chuckling under his breath, Seungmin shuts the door and walks over to where you're already setting up study materials on his desk, his hands in his pockets.

"I can't believe you answered my texts so late."

You roll your eyes. "Trust me, it's not like I want to be awake right now. My neighbor keeps playing goddamn first person shooters until ass o'clock every night."

"No headphones?" Seungmin finds that hard to believe.

"Oh, he has headphones. You know what he doesn't have?"

He shakes his head.

“The ability to shut his mouth.”

While Seungmin laughs quietly at your misfortune, you pull out the chair at his desk and point at it, silently asking him to sit. “You’re lucky. Not everyone’s tutor has asshole neighbours keeping them up all night.”

He takes his seat, not really interested in the material in front of him with you standing right there. “I’ll count you as a blessing, then.”

At that, you roll your eyes. Ever since you started tutoring Seungmin, he’s been flirting in that sort of unashamed, non-subtle way handsome guys who know they’re handsome do. You don’t really mind. By now, you’re used to it from him.

“Yeah, yeah. Now do you want help studying for this test, or not?”

He does — this isn’t his strongest subject, and having a test in less than twelve hours isn’t ideal. Seungmin works diligently while you guide him over his shoulder. Eventually you end up sitting on his desk, too tired to stand next to him anymore. It’s a bit uncomfortable to twist your upper body, but Seungmin silently pushes stuff out of the way to let you sit cross-legged, so you don’t have to worry about that for long.

After a while of silence where Seungmin is supposed to be figuring out a specific concept, you feel a tap at your knee. You look up from your phone to see Seungmin’s pen resting against your leg, his eyes focused on that rather than on you.

“Do you have a question?” you ask, voice quieter now knowing how late it is.

Seungmin taps his pen on you again, and he leans back in his chair, a lazy smile on his face.

“Why haven’t you fallen for me yet?”

You scoff. “What? You want me to?”

“I was hoping you’d notice on your own,” he says. “But now I can blame my impatience on late-night delirium.”

“So all those cheesy lines... you were serious?” The thought of it brings bubbling laughter to your lips.

Seungmin sits up and leans closer. “You think I tell those to just anyone?”

“That was my line of thought, yes.”

“How do I prove you wrong?”

Letting a smile spread across your face, you prop your elbow on your knee and your chin in your palm. Your face is awfully close to his now. “Depends. Do you kiss just anyone with those lips?”

His nose brushes yours.

“Not just anyone,” he whispers. You can feel the words on your skin.

“I’ll worry about proving that later.” You’re starting to feel pins and needles in your leg. “For now, just kiss me.”

part 2 (99s + bomin) coming at some point idk

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 1

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig... and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Superior Specimen – Chapter 1

It had all started innocently; you’d been cruising the paleontology and archaeology tags on Instagram, checking out the progress of the summer digs you were unable to go on, one in particular catching your interest. The dig in the Siberian summer desert was posting some fascinating photos and clips, and you were following them avidly from that point on. 

 A week later when you got the job at the Natural History Museum and you proudly posted a selfie in your uniform, you saw some familiar accounts like and comment, one in particular leaving a chain of hearts, and when you clicked on the profile you saw it was one of the palaeontologists from the Siberian dig. Hitting that ‘follow back’ button you didn’t think much more about the account.

 -

 It was your first day and you couldn’t have been prouder of your own achievements. You knew that jobs within the archaeology and palaeontology fields were few and far between, and unless you were blessed with some very rich parents or managed to snag some sort of sponsor or bursary, actually following the dream and getting in at the upper levels was almost impossible. You’d worked your socks off, volunteering on domestic digs during breaks from university, taking jobs after your degree to advance your language skills, and now it had paid off; the front desk at the most renowned museum in the country, perhaps even the world. Now as you stood beneath the skeleton of the Blue Whale in the giant atrium of the gothic building, you adjusted your name badge, polishing the three flags that were adorned on the bottom of the badge to show the languages you spoke, and watched as the security guard unlocked the doors for the days visitors to excitedly rush in.

 The following weeks rushed by, you thoroughly enjoyed your role and settled into it quickly. You were called upon to help translate for confused visitors from overseas, held a level head when people got out of hand, had met all the staff - it surprised you how small of a number of staff there actually were - and above all you felt completely settled.

 At the end of a long day you finished up your shift and clocked off, grabbing your bag from the staffroom lockers before stepping out into the warm summer evening. Checking your notifications you saw a DM, and smiled when you saw who it was from; the guy from the Siberian dig that over the last few weeks you had started chatting to casually. 

 @Kinghenry; “Looking beautiful as always. How was work?”

 You smiled where you could see he’d replied to an on-the-way-to-work selfie you’d posted that morning;

 “Good. Tiring. And thank you <3”

 You saw the little notification that your message had been seen, and paused as you saw that he was writing, meaning he was online right at that moment;

 “What are your plans for the rest of the night?”

 “A scented bath, then I’m ordering takeout and bingeing Netflix”

 “So, no-one to take you to dinner?”

 You smiled at his sly way of asking if you’re single;

 “Nope. Why; are you asking?”

 “Absolutely. Plus, I brought you a gift back from the dig”

 “Oh yes? What’s that, a bunch of bones?”

 “Just one. A big one. Wanna see?”

 You laugh-groaned at his innuendo, before another message came through with the icon that the user had attached a photo. Your thumb hovered over the icon, hesitating. Had this casual flirting advanced to dick pics? And more to the point; did you actually want to see what he was packing? Hell, you’d seen the crew shots of the dig and had seen him tagged, the guy was built like Hercules. Taking a deep breath you looked up and noticed you were almost at the entrance to the tube station. If you didn’t tap it now you wouldn’t have enough signal in the underground train tunnels to download it, and you knew he would have had the notification that you’d gotten the message. You tapped on the photo… and waited…

 The laugh you let out once the photo loaded bubbled from your throat; there he was, stood in the Siberian desert, chest bare, and holding what must have been a femur from an enormous bi-ped as it was well over 4ft long. You knew that fossils were incredibly heavy, so for him to be holding one of that size you felt a tingle in your stomach at the thought of how strong he was. Screenshotting it your phone buzzed where he sent another message;

 “So, what do you think? *wink*”

 “That’s an impressive bone”

 “Heavy too”

 You felt a bead of sweat slowly make its way down your back, the heat of the summer evening still intense in the city, and you knew if you stood outside the tube station much longer you’d melt;

 “I’ve got to get on the tube, talk later xxx”

 -

 Later was quite a few hours later, and as you sank into the scented bath, you’d indulged yourself with oils, petals, candles; the whole nine yards. The obligatory candle-lit shot of your legs peeking out of the water headed to your grid, before you settled back and relaxed.

 Your phone propped up in the wooden bath shelf playing your music, and a glass of wine half-drunk as you let the feeling of the waters soothe you. After a couple of songs you heard the chime of a notification, peering out of one eye to see that he’d sent you a message. Wiping your hands on a towel you opened it and smiled;

 “Sorry if the tease was too much earlier”

 “Not at all. I opened it, didn’t I? *wink*”

 “That you did… you curious little thing. How’s the bath?”

 “Warm, wet, and relaxing”

 You knew you were being a tease, but you’d had a glass of wine before you’d even gotten into the bath so you were a little emboldened by the alcohol. Your phone chimed and you saw another photo notification, tapping on it and letting out a ‘ouff’. He was standing in front of a full length mirror, wearing just a pair of running shorts that clung to his sweat drenched body and left absolutely nothing to the imagination, the clear outline of a heavy cock resting against his thigh to the point you were surprised it didn’t peek out from the leg hole.

 “I could do with something warm wet and relaxing right now… got all worked up at the gym”

 Your jaw literally dropped; you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen as your entire body shuddered with lust. Turning onto your side you flipped the camera to selfie mode, and snapped a shot of your body; doe eyes, the swell of your breasts glistening in the candlelight, down to the curve of your hip as it emerged from the cloudy blue and green water. Not a single thing was showing - nipples and pussy just hidden by the water - but it was obvious you were completely naked. You hit send and settled back into a more comfortable position, watching the screen as it changed from sent to seen then the little notification to tell you he was typing;

 “Look at what you’ve done to me”

 The photo that loaded was taken from chest height, and he caught his stomach and Adonis belt, and his shorts were obscenely tented. He was typing again, and much to your surprise it was a phone number;

 “Here’s mine, or you can show me yours… number that is…”

 Taking a deep breath you hit the number and raised the phone to your ear, hearing it ring before a deep voice answered;

 “Henry?”

 “Yes, is that you Princess?”

 “It’s me” you found your free hand had slid down your body to the juncture of your thighs, just his voice was turning you on.

 “What are you doing?”

 “I’m touching myself… your voice… fuck…”

 “So, if my voice is turning you on so much you must touch yourself, taking you out for dinner will be an interesting experience. Will I need to slide my hand under the table and pet that little pussy of yours?”

 “I guess I’ll have to skip wearing underwear then…”

 The groan that you heard down the line sent sparks to your clit as you rubbed figure eights over the sensitive nub, and you longed to hear it in person, whispered against your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin.

 From that point the conversation entered the gutter, Henry had the dirtiest mind and the deepest voice, his words wrapped around your brain like it was enrobed in salted caramel, and when you came you called out his name so loud your neighbours probably heard. As you came down from your orgasmic high you heard a quiet chuckle;

 “Feel better now Princess?”

 “Hmmm yes, thank you”

 “I need a shower now… somehow I’m even more worked up than before the gym… Hmmn I wonder why?” he mused down the line

 “Shame I can’t lend a hand to help out” you countered, and the sharp inhale of breath told you he’d liked what you’d said.

 “That can be arranged… anyway, I have an issue I now need to take care of, and as you’re not here I need to take the matter into my own hands”

 “Both hands?” you asked coyly

 “Jesus woman… you’re gonna be the death of me, I’m so fucking hard I could burst right now”

 “Well I’ll let you go, but I’ll say what I said before, shame I can’t lend a hand. Speak soon Henry”

 “Absolutely, take care Princess”

Chapter 2 >>>

[ladyherenya]

This was more-books-than-sometimes month, because rather than take the time to write about the books I'd finished, I just read more books! Also, I read a lot over the Easter break, including some shorter books and a very binge-able series.

Also read: Two-Step and Someone Like Me by Stephanie Fournet, Hooked by Cathy Yardley, “Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears” and “All the Different Shades of Blue” by W.R. Gingell, and “Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” by Martha Wells.

Reread: A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer.

Total: nineteen novels (including two audiobooks and one reread), one novella collection, two novellas, two novelettes and one short story.

Cover thoughts: Bellewether’s blue cover is (unsurprisingly) my favourite. I also really like The Ghosts of Sherwood. 

Still reading: A Portrait of Loyalty by Roseanna M. White and Playing Hearts by W.R. Gingell.

Next up: Torch by R.J. Anderson.

My full reviews are on Dreamwidth and LibraryThing.

*

The Rose Code by Kate Quinn (narrated by Saskia Maarleveld): Historical mystery about three young women who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII.

My favourite out of the books I’ve read so far this year. Most of the narrative is set during the war, but interspersed with sections set in 1947 -- when Beth, in a sanitarium after a breakdown, has sent her two estranged friends a coded message begging for help. I loved this, but at times found it stressful and heartbreaking! The writing is so lively and effective and emotional. 4½ ★

 *

Castle Charming by Tansy Raynor Roberts: Fairytale retellings, collection of novellas.

A very entertaining and a somewhat different take on fairytales, focusing on the reporters, Royal Hounds and royalty at Castle Charming. Some of the character dynamics felt similar to those in Roberts’ Unreal Alchemy although I didn’t feel quite as attached to these characters. I’ll read the sequel. 3 ★ 

*

Bellewether by Susanna Kearsley: Historical and contemporary fiction, set in Long Island during the so-called Seven Years War in 1759 and the present day.

Alternates between a curator overseeing turning a house in a museum and some of the house’s previous occupants, including a French-Canadian Lieutenant awaiting hostage exchange. Despite the various tensions the characters face, there’s something slow and ultimately gentle about this story. Which is lovely --  I enjoyed the picturesque sense of place and astute observations of people -- but it is less dramatic than I was expecting. 3½ ★

*

Happy Trail by Daisy Prescott: Contemporary romance, set on the Appalachian Trail.

A park ranger and a hiker shelter together during a storm. I was fascinated by the insight into hiking the Appalachian Trail and enjoyed some of the characters’ interactions, although I thought the way the romance unfolded was somewhat anticlimactic. Not always what I wanted, but I don't regret reading it.

*

Legacy by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary enemies-to-roommates-to-lovers.

Wes offers to move in with his late-best friend’s girlfriend to help her out financially. This sort of hurt/comfort appeals to me. I liked how seriously this story takes Corinne’s messy, consuming grief. I don’t really want to spend any more time with the characters, but I was very invested in seeing them reach a better place in their lives.

Two-Step by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary romance between an actress and a dance instructor. I enjoyed reading this. I particularly enjoyed how Beau helps Iris with her anxiety about dancing and with her controlling mother/manager. He’s very supportive and understanding! But I finished this with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction -- Iris needed more opportunity to support Beau in turn.

Someone Like Me by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary romance between a yoga instructor and her new neighbour, who has just got out of prison.

This one didn’t particularly appeal to me. Although interesting to see the experiences of someone recently released from prison, the romance developed too quickly.

(No, I didn’t read all three of these back-to-back!)

*

Hooked by Cathy Yardley: Contemporary fandom-y romance novella, set near Seattle. Takes place during Level Up and is about two of Tessa’s colleagues.

I enjoyed the characters' interactions and would have liked this more if it hadn't felt rushed. 

*

The Ghosts of Sherwood by Carrie Vaughn: Historical Robin Hood retelling, novella.

Exactly what I wanted! It alternates between Robin and Marian’s eldest daughter, Mary, and Marian herself. I liked seeing Robin and Marian as a long-married couple, who still love each other and still have disagreements. And the dynamic between their children gave me a zing of recognition, reminding me of my siblings. 3½ ★

*

The City Between by W.R. Gingell: Australian YA urban fantasy (murder) mysteries. Set in Hobart.

I ended up enjoying this series so much more than I’d expected to!

Between Jobs: After a neighbour is murdered, our seventeen-year-old orphaned narrator acquires some unexpected housemates -- two fae, one vampire. Once I got past the opening, with its tales of murder, the worldbuilding intrigued me. I still wasn’t sure what I thought about her housemates or the fact that they call her “Pet”, but was willing to reserve judgement until I’d read more. 3 ★

Between Shifts: About supermarket shifts and shapeshifters. Pet and JinYeong go undercover at the local grocery store. This is a reasonable murder mystery. I was initially disappointed with how something played out (but in retrospect can see how that was actually a positive development for Pet). It ended on a cliffhanger, so I was extra motivated to start the next book. 2½ ★

Between Floors: This is where the series took off, because things suddenly get personal! One of her fae housemates has been captured and the closest any of them get to finding Athelas is Pet contacting him in her dreams.This raises a lot of interesting questions, not just about Pet’s abilities, but about her relationship with her housemates. How much does she trust them and how much do they value Pet’s personhood? 3½ ★

Between Frames: Pet’s housemates are hired to investigate a series of fae deaths around Hobart, which involves scrutinising some baffling security footage.  Another solid murder mystery.  The final pages felt like one step forward, two steps back, but yet again, in retrospect, this was a positive development. I’m glad I could dive immediately into the next book. 3 ★

Between Homes: Pet has moved in with some friends. Hurray for Pet having friends! I think this was the point where I started to feel comfortable with Pet calling herself Pet -- when it's the name used by people she likes and trusts and who don’t view her as a pet at all. 3½ ★

“Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears” (novelette): An awesome title and an entertaining opportunity to see Pet from someone else’s perspective -- moreover, someone who doesn’t know her or what she’s capable of. 3 ★

Between Walls: Pet’s friend Morgana is worried about an online friends and asks Pet and co to investigate his disappearance. Along the way, they discover that there are human groups who actually know a lot about Behindkind. I am also becoming increasingly entertained by the Korean vampire. 3 ★

“All the Different Shades of Blue” (novelette): A great cover and it explains who that guy at the cafe is, but otherwise didn’t really do anything Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears hadn’t already done -- ie., show us Pet from someone else’s perspective. Most of the time, I have enjoyed this series all the more for binging it, but I suspect this particular story would have worked better if I had read it after a period of absence. 2½ ★

Between Cases:  My favourite of these have been the ones where things get personal, and this involves a lot of revelations about who Pet is -- from a fae perspective -- and why her parents were murdered. I enjoyed this one a lot. 3½ ★

*

The Duke of Olympia Meets His Match by Juliana Gray: Historical espionage romance novella, set in 1893 onboard an ocean liner travelling to England. Apparently not the Duke’s first appearance in Gray’s fiction.

I liked the idea here much better than the execution. I liked Penelope, a fifty-year-old widow dependent upon her position as a governess, and I enjoyed her interactions with the older Duke of Olympia. But parts of the spy plot were rushed or confusing, and the resolution was almost-but-not-entirely satisfying. 2½ ★

*

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer: Fantasy. Follows on from the fairytale-retelling A Curse So Dark and Lonely and its sequel, A Heart So Fierce and Broken.

If this is meant as a conclusion to a trilogy, then the ending was a bit too anticlimactic, with a few too many loose ends, to be really satisfying. But I reached the end feeling positive about the story, because I really enjoyed the characters’ interactions. All of the protagonists have to deal with conflict in relationships. I loved the times when they each navigate these conflicts by acting fairly and communicating honestly, when doing so is often difficult and complicated. That’s realistic and satisfying. 3½ ★

*

“Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” by Martha Wells:  Science-fiction short story. Part of The Murderbot Diaries series, set after Exit Strategy.

Very, very short but I really liked seeing things from Dr Ayda Mensah’s (third person) perspective. 3½ ★

*

Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace: Historical coming-of-age fiction, set in Minnesota in 1912-3.

I am very glad to finally have read this! It’s delightful, a fascinating insight into community life in a Minnesotan town, and it effectively captures the emotional experience of navigating a period of transition. After high school, Emily’s friends  leave for college, but Emily has to find her own path to purposefully fill her time, build connections and further her education. 4 ★

*

On Wings of Devotion by Roseanna M. White (narrated by Susan Lyons): Romantic historical mystery, set in London during 1918. Christian fiction. Features characters from The Number of Love.

Arabelle Denler is a nurse working in a London hospital; Phillip Camden is an airman now working for British Intelligence. I enjoyed their interactions, especially once they start to get to know each other. I didn’t like the antagonist’s contribution to this narrative -- between the dangers of wartime and the protagonists’ respective issues, there’s enough tension without her. But what I enjoyed about this story outweighed what I didn’t. 3½ ★

*

Our Darkest Night by Jennifer Robson: Historical fiction set during the Nazi occupation of Italy in WWII.

Nina, a young Jewish woman from Venice, goes into hiding by pretending she’s married to Nico, a Catholic farmer. Robson’s strength lies in pairing details of daily life with likeable characters, realistic dialogue and a sweet romance. I read this quickly and eagerly. But if the characters had been more nuanced, more complex, or if their emotions had been conveyed more vividly, I likely would have found reading this a more emotional experience. 3½ ★

[luna-tiel]

What Entrapdak Means to Me

On the eve of Entrapdak Positivity Month, I thought it was as good a time as any to share my rambling thoughts on a ship that’s affected me in a way I didn’t think was possible. 

Entrapdak is the first ship I have ever been invested in. It’s such a new experience for me that it’s taken me the last few months to wrap my head around the whole thing. I may relate to the characters in a show, but when they form romantic attachments I view it with a degree of passive distance. I don’t understand what it’s like to have those sorts of feelings for someone (I am aromantic and ace as a brick), and, well, I’m honestly not curious enough to give the subject a thorough study. My mind tends to fixate on other things. 

What does this have to do with Entrapdak, you ask? Long story short for people who don’t want to read my meandering essay -- I relate a lot to these characters, and the way they bonded together struck a deep chord in me that I can’t ignore. 

Let’s start with the characters. I knew going in that Entrapta was neurodivergent-coded, but I took it with a grain of salt. When I actually watched the show, however, I found myself relating to her so deeply it shocked me. Never have I felt such a kinship with a fictional character! We don’t share every trait, but it was still like seeing my brain put to life on screen. I related to her enthusiasm over her special interests, her struggles to fit in, her desire to make friends who accept and understand her for who she is. 

The fact Entrapta is completely herself is something I love about her. Over the years of growing up undiagnosed, I developed a lot of masking strategies. Human psychology is one of my special interests, and even with all that accumulated knowledge, masking isn’t easy. It’s extremely mentally taxing. Masking can certainly look easy -- I can, when I have the drive and energy, “pass” as neurotypical, and only people who know me extremely well can tell I’m dying inside. All that effort is taken for granted by a lot of NTs because that’s how people are “supposed to” act, and surely I can “do the bare minimum.” The accumulated stress of near constant masking has led me to the darkest moments I’ve had in my life.

Entrapta’s struggle with leaving Beast Island hit me hard. It threw me back to a time when my feelings of isolation and worthlessness got so bad that I lost the energy to do anything, even the creative pursuits that were the obsession of my life. I retreated so deeply into my inner world that I hardly interacted with anyone. That total apathy shocked my family into getting me professional help, which gave me my autism diagnosis, the coping skills to move forward, and a good start on the road to self-acceptance. It also opened a channel between my family and I, allowing me to feel heard and understood. (An important side note on mental health: if you or someone you love needs professional help, please seek it! Sometimes you have to try out several therapists -- it took me three to find a good fit -- but you are worth it!)

It took me longer to realize, but I also relate to Hordak in some ways. Mercifully I was not raised in an extremist cult environment. However, I know what it’s like to feel defective next to a sibling that seems perfect. I was constantly being compared to my younger brother, and in all areas but art, he was superior. He was smart, athletic, and above all, he fit in with everyone. I didn’t hate him for this -- I hated myself. Trying to measure up to his standard is what caused me to develop such strong masking strategies. Underneath it all, I felt the despair of knowing my peers would reject me as soon as the mask cracked. I also live with chronic joint pain, starting at around age seven. The jury is still out on what’s causing that (the worst of it was due to a previously unknown food allergy, but the pain still comes and goes, even though it’s a lot more manageable than it used to be). This cocktail of pain, stress, and sensory issues I had to deal with gave me a very short fuse at times. 

As an aside, just because I sympathize with Hordak does not mean I am excusing his actions. He is still going to have to face the consequences of his choices, and work to adjust to life post-Prime. The series end gave him a new beginning, the opportunity to be redeemed, and I prefer this to a rushed redemption arc. 

What I love most about Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship is how they accept each other as they are. Hordak gives Entrapta near free reign of his sanctum, he listens to her when she talks, and he respects her opinions. Even when he pushes her away, he still considers the logic of what she tells him, and sometimes ends up doing things her way despite his initial instincts. This is something I do in my own life; I am easily overwhelmed by new information, so my initial response to an idea/activity is almost always a firm (and sometimes rude) “no,” until I have time to properly process and think about it. Hordak is the first person in Entrapta’s life that truly listens to her. He still has things he needs to work on, but it’s a lot better than how most of the princesses are with Entrapta. The Alliance treats her as someone to be managed -- she is useful, but unreliable. Hordak, in contrast, trusts her to get things done in her own way. 

On the other side, Entrapta is the first person in Hordak’s life to accept him without judgment. Hordak spends so much of his energy putting up a front of strength and intimidation, and Entrapta cuts right through that. She’s not frightened by his appearance, and even his outbursts have little effect on her until the two of them start to bond. Entrapta doesn’t come into their interactions with any preconceived ideas of what Hordak is like, or more importantly, what he should be like. This lack of expectation leaves her completely open to accepting whatever Hordak does and says, and it also relieves Hordak of the burden of needing to put on a front around her. When Entrapta sees him at his most vulnerable, she reaches out to him with compassion, something he has never felt before. Entrapta also does this in a way that doesn’t belittle Hordak. His imperfections are not something to pity, they are a valuable part of who he is. 

I loved watching their friendship develop. Entrapta and Hordak’s shared time together evolved slowly into a bond that gave each of them a sense of belonging they had never experienced before with anyone else. It gave me the hope that, despite what an oddball mess I am, perhaps I could find someone who understands me too. 

When a romance subplot inserts itself into a story, I tend to gloss over and ignore it (if I pick up on it at all). I’m even less interested in sex. Way back when I was first getting into fandom I was so excited to go online and meet fellow fans of the books and shows I liked, only to discover the spaces being dominated by arguments over character pairings. I was baffled. This is what people are most interested in? Oh well… back to the hermit cave I go! 

I was late to the party with SPoP. I’d watched a few episodes, but the show didn’t really hook me. This was partially because all I ever heard people talk about online was Catradora, and if that was the main appeal of the show, I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it (sorry Catradora shippers, romance is not going to entice me to watch a show, even if it’s rep). Quarantine was the ultimate cause for me embracing my curiosity and diving headfirst into SPoP, binging the entire thing a few months before the release of season 5.

I vaguely knew about Entrapdak as a ship going into the show, and I admit, had I not been primed for it, I probably would have missed the romantic potential entirely. In no way did I expect to become invested. I was immediately intrigued by their dynamic, and as they got closer, I found myself thinking “oh, I see why people ship these two.” I didn’t understand this realization until months later. I was relating to the characters, and for the first time in my life, I was relating to their relationship.

I headcanon Entrapta and Hordak as an asexual couple. I’ll elaborate on this at a later time (asexuality is a spectrum with a lot of nuance, and this post is plenty long already), but at the core of it, I find joy in imagining these characters in a loving platonic relationship, something I hope to find myself one day. I hope this love comes across in my artwork and in my fanfictions <3

To those of you that read this far, wow, you must be patient! Have an imaginary cookie! I hope this ramble has provided a decent picture for why I, as an aro ace on the autism spectrum, have come to cherish Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship. It’s my first and only OTP… I’m still in shock thinking about that… I guess we’ll see where things go from here!

Take care of yourselves out there!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Plan

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (sexual intercourse); unplanned pregnancy; cheating.

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(Fair warning, this is very depressing and rough)

Summary: You and Bucky had the perfect marriage until you didn’t.

Based on this prompt:

‘Shadow of what I once was.’ -Chance the Rapper 

for @honeyhan-123​‘s One Year Anniversary Challenge

Supplemental Lyrics: 

Where did you go? Why would you stay? You must have lost your marbles You always were so forgetful In a hurry, don't wait up I was too late, I was too late

Note: So this was kinda impromptu and out of nowhere. I haven’t done a legit one shot if forever so here ya go!

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your feet ached. Even in the low heels, you felt as if you’d been standing on nails all night. Your round stomach made it hard to balance without the added challenge of your shoes. The dainty lilac silk was taut across your middle and your swollen breasts were barely contained by the off the shoulder bodice. You were told you were glowing but you felt anything but.

Your husband had wandered off as you were too tired to make the journey across the room. You found a random chair among the tables and lowered yourself heavily. An uncleared plate remained beside a champagne flute with a mouthful left in the crystal. You rubbed your stomach and sighed as you looked around.

Tony’s extravaganza’s always wore on but these days, time felt even more excruciating. The endless anxiety of the child within you, the urge to make it all go faster yet bask in what you had. 

It hadn’t been planned. You and Bucky had always agreed that children would only complicate your perfect simplicity. Neither of you had a deep yearning for a baby but you didn’t always get what you wanted. There were alternatives, you had talked about them. Those weren’t good enough for him. 

So there you were, bloated and nauseous. A different woman than you were. And he’d changed too. You could tell. Temperamental. One moment doting and delicate; the next impatient and hostile. 

Was it the stress of the unexpected? Or was it more?

You’d loved each other so entirely, you didn’t think he could have anything other than love for a child. At first, it seemed to be so but then as the months passed, his delight turned to resent. He didn’t say so but he didn’t need to. You couldn’t blame him. You felt the same and it made you sick. This child within you didn’t deserve that. So you cried alone at night; hidden in the bathroom as he snored, indifferent and ignorant.

You watched him with Steve and Sam; laughing. He didn’t do that much anymore. Neither did you. Maybe if you just talked about it, you’d realise that you were both trapped in the same dreadful limbo. The interminable wait. The fear and confusion of it all.

Maybe if he knew you were disappointed in yourself. Your career was on hold, if not over. You couldn’t be on active duty anymore, not with another life attached to you. His own was unaffected and perhaps your envy kept you from telling him of your woes. 

Is this how it would be? You alone with the child as he saved the world?

You huffed again and dropped your hand from your stomach. You looked down at the stretched silk. You couldn’t even weather a party without taking a breather. And now that you thought of standing up, you realised that might be a task on its own. Only six months and you felt ready to burst.

“How do you feel?” Wanda surprised you as she appeared from behind your chair. “You must be so excited.”

“Excited,” You smiled weakly. “In a way.”

“Oh, but it will be a miracle,” She chimed. “A little baby Bucky.”

“Well, we don’t know,” You rubbed a circle over your stomach with your fingertip. “He didn’t want to know.”

“Better, a surprise!” She sang.

You grumbled and shifted in the chair.

“Sorry, but could you…” You held out your hand. “Thank you.” You let her help you to your feet. “Is that the dress you were telling me about?”

She looked down at the dress with it’s peacock feather fringe and grinned. Her blue eyes sparkled and her golden hair shimmered down her back.

“It is,” She confirmed. “I found it at a rack sale… a bit tight but I managed.”

You chuckled softly. Wanda checked in more often than any of your other co-workers. Most only did when they were with Bucky or with a casual text. Wanda invited you to lunches and offered to baby shop with you when Bucky was too busy. You still had much to do and time seemed so trivial.

“The shower!” She clapped her hands. “I didn’t show you the invitations.”

“I told you, we don’t need one,” You insisted. “Bucky’s not much for that stuff and well, I don’t have much of a family to invite.”

“You have us,” She insisted. “We are your family.”

You could barely keep from frowning. You weren’t even sure you’d count your husband and the unborn child as family at that point. It didn’t feel like a family. It felt like a terrible obligation.

“Thank you, Wanda,” You reached over and squeezed her hand. “Excuse me, I’m not feeling very well.”

“You okay?” She clung to you.

“Fine, I think…” You fanned yourself. “I think it’s time to head out for me.”

“Okay,” She let you go, “Go rest, momma.”

You nodded with a sheepish smile and turned to waddle across the room. You were almost out of breath by the time you reached Bucky. Steve saw you and smiled. He welcomed you closer with an arm around your shoulders.

“And look at your wife,” Steve announced. “Each day, brighter than the last, I’m sure.”

Bucky turned and his cheek twitched. His veneer almost cracked. Sam nudged him playfully.

“Uh huh,” Bucky gave a crooked, half-hearted smile. 

“Now, do you think the arm is genetic?” Sam kidded and Bucky shot him a look. “Well, that definitely will be.” Sam pointed at Bucky’s scowl.

“Um, hon,” You wiggled away from Steve and touched Bucky’s cuff. “I think we should go. I’m tired.”

There was a pause. His tongue poked out just slightly and then he nodded.

“Well, guess that’s my cue,” He finally said to Steve and Sam. 

“I should be headed out soon,” Sam checked his watch. “Jet’ll be here nice and early.”

“Shit, yeah,” Bucky shook his head. “Why does Tony do that?”

You stayed quiet throughout their farewells, suppressed your misgivings. Finally he hooked his arm through yours and guided you to the door. When you passed into the hallway and approached the coat check, you finally found your courage. And your voice.

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving tomorrow,” You said softly as you handed in your ticket.

“Didn’t I?” He wondered as he grabbed your coat and handed it to you, then took his own. “Must have slipped my mind.”

You said nothing as you pulled on your coat.

“Tired,” He scoffed as he swept past you. You followed him to the door, unable to keep up more than a step behind him. 

“Bucky,” You pleaded from behind him, barely catching the door as he marched through it. “Don’t do this.”

“It’s funny how whenever I’m having fun, I have to stop because you’re not,” He huffed as he continued down the sidewalk. “That kid can’t be an excuse for you to be a bitch.”

“Excuse me?” You were startled by the venom in his tone. These mood swings had grown more frequent but no less tolerable. “Well if it was such a big deal, I’m a big girl, I can hail a cab.”

He rolled his eyes and unlocked the car as he rounded it.

“Then why didn’t you?” He got in and slammed his door. 

You opened the passenger side and lowered yourself into the seat. You closed the door but didn’t have the chance to buckle your belt before he pulled sharply out of his spot.

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t think? Or you don’t care about me?” He gripped the wheel tightly and the leather groaned.

You were quiet. You picked at the button on your coat.

“You said you wanted to keep it,” You uttered.

“Don’t make me the bad guy,” He snarled. “Don’t. That’s what you always do. Hmm? What if I had said get rid of it? Then I’d be a monster.”

You were hurt but the anger constricted your throat and you glanced over at him.

“I told you to wear a condom,” You crossed your arms. 

“You said you were on the pill,” He growled. 

“I was!” You shouted. “You counted the pills yourself, you fucking--”

“I don’t want to do this again,” He raised his voice. “I can’t.”

“Then why do you do it?” You hissed.

“Because…” He sighed. “Because you make me.”

You lowered your chin and fought to hold back the tears. You shouldn’t have ever told him. You should have just made the decision yourself. You’d still be happy then. Him, too. He’d still love you.

“I can’t wait to fucking leave tomorrow,” He muttered. 

You lifted your head and blinked at him, stunned.

“Good,” You swallowed the acid in your throat, “Good. I can’t wait either.”

💔

Bucky slept on the couch that night. He didn’t say goodbye in the morning though you heard him leave. You were still angry but it wasn’t enough to blot out the hurt. The anger was nothing, but the stab in your heart was torturous.

You woke up slowly. Getting out of bed was awkward and descending the stairs was more than enough exercise for the morning. You mourned your specialty coffee beans and had juice instead. You buttered two pieces of toast alongside a soft-boiled egg and sat at the kitchen table with your laptop.

You could distract yourself with shopping. You still needed to paint the nursery. Hell, you still needed to do anything. Your procrastination was quickly growing overwhelming and you couldn’t wait until month nine to get your ass in gear.

You mulled between an emerald green and a canary yellow. Then a crib and a change table and a rocker… everything. Too much.

You wiped your hands and began to scroll more intently. The speakers binged and a small notification popped up in the corner. You ignored it as you mused at the koala sleeper. Cute. For a moment, you almost felt happy. Then you felt lost again.

Would it always be like this? Would you always be so alone? Bucky should’ve just left you. If this wasn’t what he wanted, if you weren’t what he wanted, he needed to just say so. Was this even what you wanted?

The same notification beeped and you clicked the small x without reading. A third time and you huffed. You rubbed your eyes and hovered over the small rectangle.

From: Marina; Rendezvous tonight? ;)

Marina. You squinted and sat back. You knew that name. You knew her quite well. You’d trained her only a year ago. The last you’d heard, she’d only just been cleared for field duty. You clicked the alert before it could flick away.

Bucky had left himself signed in. He didn’t have his own laptop, he rarely used yours; only to type up his reports and often you ended up doing it for him. You tapped your fingers above the touch pad and clicked the small bubble icon. The page loaded his messages and you felt nauseous. You gulped the last of your juice and braced yourself.

You dragged your finger along the pad and glossed over the conversation. He had been up all night, talking to her. You froze as you saw the first image; your husband’s hand around his dick. The one above was Marina; her toned stomach and perky tits, a pretty little v. You slammed the laptop shut and shoved it away.

You were mortified. Disgusted. You don’t know what to do but you know you have to do something. You look around at the life you’ve built with Bucky then at your growing stomach. You stood with a groan and left the kitchen. 

You climb the stairs slowly. You felt numb. You should have been angry, or sad, but the humiliation had seeped to nothing. Complacency. What you were used to.

You dressed and grabbed your phone. You sat on the bed and dialed. You waited for the other end to pick up.

“Hey,” Wanda sang from the speaker.

“Hey,” Your voice was steady. Emotionless. “Are you free to help me grab a crib? I saw this one online and I’d like to go check it out.”

“Of course!” She exclaimed. “Can Nat come? We were just finishing up our session.”

“The more the merrier.” You said and hung up without awaiting a response. 

You had to get out of the house. Away from the walls that only reminded you of him.

💔

In the days that Bucky was gone, you spent your days busy. Wanda helped paint the nursery a goldenrod yellow and assembled the crib. You hung up the little framed pictures of Winnie the Pooh and his friends along the walls and ordered a changing table with built-in drawers; then a rocker with a cushioned footrest, a mobile, a baby monitor… Just a little at a time. Distraction with a dollar sign.

And there were several times when your heart got the best of you. You looked at Bucky’s messages once more before you signed out of his account. Your eyes burned. They had, indeed, rendezvoused and you wondered if he was even working at all. You sniffed back your tears and carried on.

You didn’t need to worry about Bucky anymore, he didn’t worry about you. What you needed to worry about was the child. You would give it the life you couldn’t have. You would make it feel wanted because you could never wish such a horrid feeling on anyone else. Your love wasn’t his anymore, it was your own and it would be your first gift to your baby.

On the fifth night without him, you fell asleep on the couch. You were too lazy to drag yourself up the stairs and so you drifted off watching an episode of reality drivel. You woke with a start. Your legs were warm and a smooth thumb rubbed your ankle as your bottom half was draped over Bucky’s lap.

You sat up and tried to pull away. He kept hold of you as you propped yourself up on shaky arms. His touch was gentle but it stung so much. It was false affection; not affection at all.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home.” You gulped.

“You didn’t answer any of my other texts,” His hand tickled past your knee and crawled back down. You wore a loose nightshirt, made shorter by your bump, and nothing else.

“Let me go,” You tried to wrench your legs away but your stomach made it awkward and painful. He released you reluctantly. “You didn’t even say goodbye to me and you expect me to answer.”

You grabbed the arm of the couch and tried to stand. He reached over to help as his hand grasped your hip. You stepped away and turned to cross your arms. He tilted his head as he watched you. He remained on the couch, leaning back against it with a shrug.

“Am I crashing your party?” He asked.

“Only your own,” You hissed. “You don’t have to stay. I’m sure Marina would love another rendezvous.”

He nodded and looked at his lap as his tongue slid across his lip. He didn’t look guilty, merely amused. He lifted his eyes to you and smirked.

“Is that what this is about?” He raised a brow. “You’re my wife.”

“You’re fucking her. Don’t think I’m stupid.” You snarled.

“Fucking her but I didn’t marry her,” He stood.

“I’m keeping the house, it’s the least you can do for our child,” You huffed. “Since you won’t do anything else.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe,” He neared and you tore your arms apart. You held your stomach as you backed away from him. “I made a vow.”

“You’re cheating on me,” You snipped. “Fuck your vow.”

“She’s nothing. She’s stress relief. You are… everything,” He kept on as you walked backwards. Your back met the wall and he grasped the doorway right beside you, keeping you from slipping away. “I won’t make an excuse. I’ve been fucking her and it gets the job done but… I’ll only ever love you.”

“Bullshit,” You snapped. “You know you’re full of it.”

His hand startled you as he touched your stomach. You looked down at the metal as it stretched over the cotton. You were shaking.

“You want me to stop, I can stop. I don’t need her. I need you.” He grabbed your arm with his other hand. “I only ever think of you. Even with her.”

“Bucky--” Your feet scuffed over the hardwood and nearly caught under the edge of the rug. He shoved you ahead of him and you stumbled just in front of the couch. “Stop!”

“That’s my baby. You’re my wife.” He growled as he caught your shoulders and pushed you forward. Your knees met the sofa. “So be a good wife and serve your husband.”

“Get--off!” You struggled with him but you were off-balance. You lifted your legs onto the couch and he bent you until your head was on the back of it.

“Lonely? Is that the problem?” He dragged his hands down your back. “Mmm, look at you.” He lifted your nightshirt until your ass was bare. “Pregnancy looks well on you.” He kneaded the flesh with his metal hand as you heard his fly. You pushed back and he grasped your neck. “You don’t want to hurt the baby, do you?”

You froze and your eyes widened. You let out a murmur but could manage nothing else.

He pushed his knees between yours, you felt the rough denim of his jeans just below his cock as he rubbed against you. He was hard already. You squirmed and grabbed the back of the couch as you tried to lift yourself.

He poked at your entrance and your back ached as he pulled you against him. He pushed inside of you and sighed. He forced himself to his limit and you whimpered. He leaned against your back and his hot breath circled your neck. His metal hand came down next to yours and his other reached around to cradle your stomach.

He began to thrust, slowly. He purred in your ear and caressed it with his lips. Your legs shook. You were shocked; at his roughness, at the way your body reacted, at the suddenness of it all.

He sped up and you mewled. You quivered as you pushed back into him. Embarrassed as you couldn’t decide if you wanted him off of you or if you wanted more. His zipper bit into your ass as he panted into your neck, his hips never wavered. His fingers curled and uncurled across your stomach and he bit into your neck.

“Don’t you ever think of leaving me,” He snarled as he jolted your body. “Ever. Because I will always find you and I will always have you.”

He grabbed your neck and drew you back. You scrambled and kicked out as he turned you swiftly. He sat with you on his lap, his other hand still on your stomach as his other slipped to your hip.

“Keep going.” He ordered. 

You whined. Your lower back was on fire and your leg muscles thrummed. He guided you, rubbing your stomach as you began to rock atop him. Your arms shook as you used his thighs to keep moving.

“Ugh, yeah, yeah,” He groaned and planted his feet. He hammered into you from below and you bounced helplessly in his lap. “Fuck, fuck, here it comes.”

You felt him cum. His body spasmed as you were filled with his heat. He pulled you back against him, your legs splayed around his as he caught his breath. He held your stomach with both hands and slipped his metal fingers down to your thigh. His cock slipped just a little and he played with his cum as it leaked from you down his shaft.

“You don’t want me fucking her,” He sneered, “Then you do your duty as my wife.”

You tried to get off of him but he forced you back down until your walls were straining around him. He held you there until you stopped moving. Until you hung your head in surrender.

“I’m not done,” He snaked his hands further up beneath your nightshirt and cupped your tits and tweaked his hips. You winced and began to move once rock. “Mmm, these are even nicer than I remember.”

[iwantutobehapppier]

Rough Ridin’

Pairing: Bucky Rogers

Summary: Being away from Bucky was never easy for you, and it wasn’t easy for Bucky either. Idle thoughts and such.

Warnings: Smut! SMUT SMUT! 18+ Only! Male oral, some toys can’t say without spoiling, light choking, daddy kink. If any of these situations bother you please read no further.

Word Count: 3,083

A/N: This is for my beautiful Tumblr wife @sagechanoafterdark​ it is her Birthday today! AAAHH!! Go wish her a happy birthday. I offer to you my goddess wife Bucky Smuts.

Pulling the covers over your head you attempt to block out the rising sun. It was the eighth day you woke up alone in your bed, spreading your fingers over the cold sheet to your side you mourn the missing body.

Bucky had been away on a mission for far too long and while you were updated on his safety, you two had not spoken or texted each other in over a week now. The feelings of detachment were setting in, you weren’t sure how much longer you’d make it. You and Bucky were anchors for each other, both so torn in unique and often tragic ways.

Determined to spend the rest of the day in bed, because what was the point in leaving, you bundled up under a ridiculous amount of layers you had to use without your Super-Soldier. Just as your lids felt heavy with sleep Friday’s voice pulls you from your descent into slumber.

“There’s a package at the front awaiting a signature from Bucky Ma’am.” You flipped the covers from your head looking up perplexed. “Could you please sign for it?”

“Uh, sure?” You rush to get dressed in something other than underwear and Bucky’s shirt, but you leave said shirt on the bed knowing you’ll put it back on once you return.

Huffing and puffing you carry the cumbersome box into your shared living quarters with Bucky. After setting it down your return to your room to change when your phone goes off from the bedside table. Pulling your shirt and yoga pants off to slip Bucky’s shirt back on, you unlock your phone and squeal at the sight of Bucky’s name.

Don’t open the package. I’ll be home tonight. 😘

You chew on your bottom lip a little upset at the sudden communication after radio silence to be instructions for you like you’re a child but he was coming home. Tonight. Deciding to push the insecurities about the abrupt tone you felt from the text to focus on the positive you look in the mirror.

Oh, you were not looking at your best. Between, pizza binging, podcasts, reading and occasional adventure to talk with a fellow Avenger you hadn’t really been doing much upkeep. Looking at the clock you nod your head, plenty of time to shapen up for your boy.

~~*~~

A hot shower, face mask, shaving, epilator, blow dryer and some good skincare routine you feel not only human but sexy. You could feel your pent up sexual needs blooming at the prospect of Bucky being home soon. The way he knew how to take care of you made your blood boil just at the thought.  Pulling a worn but clean Henley from Bucky’s drawer you drag it over your head to pair with your black bikini strap panties. Pulling up your phone your lips spread into a wide smile at missed texts from Bucky.

I can’t wait to see you. 😍 Been thinking about you every day. Thinking about how sexy you look spread out for me. I know you’ve been so patient and good 😉 Can’t wait to hold you in my arms Then hold you down. 😈 See you soon babe.

You felt warmth bloom over your face at how quickly he flipped from your sweet boyfriend to sexy daddy. Your thighs clenched together as your fingers typed an equally sexy and sweet reply. The thoughts spinning through your head at what could unravel tonight would not be good for the countdown of his return. You need a distraction.

You skip your way into the living room, posting up on the couch and pulling your latest book into your lap hoping it’ll help you pass the time. You last awhile, well at least three hours, before needing something to drink and a snack. Leaning against the kitchen island you pop your snack into your mouth, whatever Bucky’s latest snack craving was. It varied from a new health food he wanted to try out all the way to him coming home with boxes and boxes of Oreos.

Speaking of boxes.

Your eyes caught the sight of that heavy box you brought in sitting by the door. Bucky had been so specific in telling you not to open it. Clearly, he was waiting for the notification of it being delivered as the time between your digital signature to his text was brief. What was in there that you couldn’t see? Or maybe he wanted to be the first one to open it?

Your phone goes off again and you rush to the couch anticipating some more sexting from Bucky but frown at the message being from a friend. Reading and replying you set your phone back down to return to your snack, downtrodden at the dashed possibility of more sexts from your boyfriend.

You pause next to the box, your finger in your mouth in contemplation you chew on your cuticle. A habit that could only happen if Bucky wasn’t around, else he’d whisper “You better stop or I’m going to put something much bigger between those lips.” Only to walk off as if nothing was lewd about his suggestion.

Walking up to the box you pay attention to the shipping label this time. You frown at the PO BOX, of course, though you’re perplexed at the lack of company name with returning shipping address. Oh, you were curious, a box you couldn’t open with no clear indication as to why?

What if you peeked into the box? Maybe some tape comes up and you just get a lookie? Flipping your nails over the edges where the cardboard was worn from travel, you contemplate the best way to get a peek of what’s inside.

Shaking your head you pulled yourself out of a ridiculous rabbit trail. He’d be home soon, then he’d open it and the mystery would be over. Though in your personal experience boxes without any company indication or label branding were illicit fun types of packages. You needed to know what was in there.

“Friday?”

“Yes, ma’am?” The delightful Irish AI pleasant to your ears now that you were fully awake.

“Can you scan the package for me?”

“It was scanned before entering the building ma’am for safety protocol.” An evil grin fell over your face, safety protocols being in your favor today.

“Show me the scan.” Without missing a beat the digital display in the living room lights up with a view of the contents inside the box. Moving towards the couch for a better look at the image you tilt your head to the side.

It wasn’t… It couldn’t be what you think it is. Fishing for your phone blindly on the couch as you continue to stare at the box’s contents until your phone is in front of your face. Taking a picture you attach it with a text to Bucky. “Is that what I think it is?”

I told you not to look inside.

Your phone starts ringing in your hands after you read the text from Bucky, without a second thought you answer.

“Hey doll,” the warm richness of his voice hits your ears, you can feel your entire body relax from head to toe.

“Hey,” Bucky gives a sigh of content, your voice doing the same for him.

“You know that’s a technicality right?” The warmth in his voice laced with authority. Oh, you were toeing a line.

“Your text said do not open it,” you justify once more. “I simply used technology to my advantage.”

“Open it.” You blinked at his command, and it was indeed a command.

“Open it, and you better be on it until I get home.” You look at the box then away. You weren’t sure you could do that, but if Bucky told you to do it then you would try.

“Okay,” he grunts displeased with your response.

“Yes, daddy.” You can hear him stifle a groan. It suddenly occurs to you that Steve could be by him, or even Sam. “I miss you, daddy,” you lay it on thick.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” his breaths quicken. “You better stop it.”

“Make me,” you hang up the phone well aware you had pushed your boyfriend but giddy at the outcome. Looking at the now looming box you square your shoulders determined to do what was asked of you. Your phone goes off for a text.

You’ve got two hours.

You shoulder sag, this would be torture, another text came through.

Do NOT cum. 😈😘

Opening the box you pull out the large bulky object covered in plastic wrap. Taking a deep breath you lifted the object up and brought it into the bedroom. Muttering under your breath about lack of super-soldier strength. Pulling it out of the wrapping you unveiled the solid black saddle mount with lifted rectangle on top with a small raised area.

He had bought a fucking Sybian.

After you’ve cleaned it off with the provided cleansing wipes you plug it in, taking the black setting box with you as you straddle the Sybian. Keeping your underwear on for now you were going to start at the lowest setting and see how it goes. Turning the vibrations on you release a soft gasp at the sensation against your clit.

Feeling rather adventurous given the whole debacle leading up to this you turn the vibrations up two more notches.

Dropping the control, you place your hands on the front of the saddle and begin to rock against the vibrations slowly. Throwing your head back and arching your back at the sensations you bit your lower lip, your body tingling all over with need.

You’re not sure how long you were rotating your hips against the vibrations, but as you feel your body start to key up your hands blindly search for the discarded controls. Turning it off you slump down, holding yourself up on your elbows on the edge of the black cushioning. It was comfortable and very effective.

Taking a few minutes you catch your breath and let the fire you had started fizzle out before turning it back on with the lowest vibrations. Your hips rock back and forth without you realizing it. Hands slipping under the henley you pinch your nipples, whimpering out into the empty bedroom.

It’s slower this time, the pleasure rolling through you with gentleness but still raising the hair along your body. The curl in your toes as it slowly climbs.  You start to feel yourself key up, eyes closed as the blood pumps through your veins so loud it deafens the sound of the vibrating motor.  Without opening your eyes you reach for the control, a small frown marring your face as you open your eyes to look for it where you set it last.

Boots are the first thing you see. Whipping your head up you see Bucky cupping his growing erection while his metal hand holds the controller.

“Bucky,” You whine reaching for the controls. He steps forward, his crotch right at your eye level. He turns the device off and you sigh in remorse, you were hoping since he was there he would let you finish.

His flesh hand caresses your face, trailing down to cup your chin. Leaning down to slants his lips against yours a sigh of relief washes over him, how he had missed your lips, your face, your eyes, your everything. But he’d take stock of that later. Standing up he feels himself falter when you mewl from the loss of his kiss.

“I love you,” are the first words he says to you before he cranks the vibration control to the max. You cry out turning your head down as your thighs clenched around the saddle quivering against the plastic nylon. Bucky unzips his pants, removing his hardening cock from its confines.

When you lift your head up to moan, his right-hand grips the back of your head pushing his cock into your open mouth. Your moan vibrates along his shaft as he pushes himself down your throat.

He turns the vibrations to half power, pulling your head back and forth down his shaft. A moan falls from his lips as your soft tongue rolls around his pulsing cock. Your eyes water as he holds himself down your throat, your nose pressing into pubes.

“Been thinking about this every day.” His words garbled in your ears at the rushing blood but you can make out just enough of his words.

“Eight fucking days just doing recon,” he pulls your head back and you gasp out loud, his metal hand cranks the vibrations back up to max and you cry out. Your hips jerking back and forth on the machine, your voice raspy as you try to mutter out his name but can’t get past the B.

“Then I found this toy on Amazon and had the same-day delivery,” a cruel smile forms on his lips, watching you pant, drool trailing down your chin and dripping onto his henley. Letting go of your head he rips the henley up and off of you. The cool air making your nipples pucker, he trails his tongue over his lips at the sight.

Wrapping his hand in your hair forming a make-shift ponytail you look up at him, those soft blues all you can see as your orgasm starts to climb.

“That’s my girl. Cum for me,” He drops the controller, his metal hand gripping the base of his cock to tap the head against your outstretched tongue. Your soft whines and moans heat his entire body with need. Your eyes scrunch shut, lips encasing the head of his cock, your body rocking against the saddle as a sweeping sensation of pleasure overtakes you. The elusive orgasm finally taking over your body, if it hadn’t been for Bucky holding your hair you were certain you’d fall forward.

As you bask in the euphoria Bucky lifts you up by your armpits. His pliant blissed-out doll, he kisses your sweaty forehead before placing you on the bed face down. Turning around he turns the Sybian off then faces your twitching body. He slips your panties down your body, discarding his clothes as well.

By the time you are coming around you feel him lift your hips up in the air, a soft coo falls from your lips when you feel him nudge your folds with his cock.

“Daddy,” You whimper. That’s all Bucky can take, his pushing through your wetness and bottoming out, his hips flushed to your ass.

“Fuck,” He chants trying to regain his composure, but the way your walls flutter around him leaves him breathless. He cants his hips back slamming back in, your moans muffled into the bed.

Bucky knows he won’t last long, not with how good you feel. He lets go of your hips with one hand, curling in front to rub your clit in tight quick circles to match his thrusts. The clapping of your skin meeting with each thrust echoes off the walls. The force he uses makes your back dip down further until you're almost flat with the bed save where he holds your hips up.

You rub your face into the comforter, your body never fully coming down from ecstasy. You feel yourself begin to build up to the precipice but it feels overwhelming, so quick. His cock dragging along your walls, a particularly rough angled thrust pushes against your g-spot. Crying out you lift your head up.

“Too much!” He growls, only to rebound his efforts.

“No,” his hand on your clit snakes up your body between the valley of your breast to wrap around your neck, pulling your upper half up by his grip. Your walls tighten around him and flutter. Salacious sound of wet flesh hitting, your gushing juices running down your thighs as they tremble, your voice cracking with a moan. It jarring how quickly you cum again.

Bucky can’t hold off, the way you squeeze him, your noises, the shine of sweat down your back. He grunts his hips stuttering in their pace, he lets your upper body down gently as he can manage whilst his orgasm overtakes him. The hot spurts rushing into you pushes a soft mewl from your chapped lips.

He leans over your body, panting hot breath against your shoulder, followed by a kiss to sweat-slick flesh. Then another, between his heavy breaths he kisses along your shoulder blade, down your spine, a soft bite to your plump behind you swat at him and he chuckles at your hand missing him.

Slowly turning you over he crawls up the bed laying next to you. Pulling you to him, his arms wrap around you, soft gentle words pour from his mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” he kisses your cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” than the other cheek. “I’m so happy you are mine,” he kisses your nose.

“I love you,” his lips press gently to yours, arms keeping you tight against him. When he pulls his lips from yours he notches your head below his, chin resting on the crown of your head.

“I love you too,” exhaustion evident in your soft tones.

“And I’m so lucky that you do.” He gently rocks you against him, relishing having his girl with him again. Sorely tempted to tell Steve to suck it next time he asked him to do a long recon.

You pull away from him after a little bit, finally coming down you need a bit of breathing room. Feeling safe enough to leave your side Bucky hops out of bed to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth, set on cleaning you up.

As he walks back into the bedroom with a washcloth with a blissful smile.

“Hey,” you call out Bucky hm’s as he gets between your legs cleaning you up.

“That was less than two hours.” You state a matter of fact.

“I kicked Sam out of the pilot seat and got us home faster.” You cover your mouth suffocating the laugh that bubbles up from his response.

“So impatient,” you tease.

“Eight fucking days doll.” He tosses the washcloth near or in the clothing bin he can’t be sure and crawls up your body, holding himself above you.

“Oh, I know.”

“Good, let me help you forget.” He leans down to capture your lips once more, intent on using that new toy a few more times tonight.

[elatedmarvel]

Arms

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky learns to accept all parts of himself, even the vibranium parts. 

Word Count: 5,353

A/N: This is the longest one shot I’ve ever written, and it took me like a month. (I’m very slow lol). In keeping with BLM and inclusion, please let me know if you feel the reader is described a certain way that is not encompassing of all. I’ve tried my best, but I’m only human and editing is hard. Hope you enjoy!

He remembers when he first woke up with it. 

He could have sworn that he was dead, and he was in hell. All he could feel was pain everywhere, but specifically in his left arm. Pain he had never felt before and now he thinks he’ll feel forever. His parents always joked him that he would go to hell if he didn’t stop flirting with every skirt he saw, and now he wishes he could tell them they were right. 

Voices float above him, but he can’t make out what they’re saying, everything sounds garbled and distorted to his ears. 

It takes a moment for him to realize that the men are speaking in a different language. 

Blinding white lights greet him as he opens his eyes and squints against the harshness. Silhouettes of shapes is all his brain can comprehend, and he blinks a few more times before he is able to actually see.

The dingy room has seen better days. The walls are lined with tile, with mildew and mold in between them. It’s dark everywhere else, except the bright light that shines down on him. 

It’s hard for him to move his head side to side, let alone move the rest of his body, but he tries to wiggle his toes and fingers. 

A metal appendage lays at his left side.

He stares at the foreign object, trying to make sense of the fact that he can feel his left arm, but what he sees is not the limb he remembers.

His brain commands him to lift it, to see if this was real. When it not only moves where he wanted, but he can see his fingers wiggling, he realizes that this is worse than hell. 

He runs his right hand up the entire metal limb, and he can feel the dull sensation. His panic increases the higher he can feel metal. He gets to the edge of his chest before he feels flesh and bone again. 

Gasping, he claws at where the foreign object meets his chest, trying to get it off of him. The more awake he becomes, the more pain radiates from the arm, like his body was rejecting it. 

His sudden movements and noises of pain alert the men in white coats around him. He’s sure his eyes are frantic; he must look like a caged and frightened animal. 

They rush to him, trying to undo the damage he has clawed in.

When they get close enough, he grabs them both by the neck, trying to protect himself. This only causes them to start shouting and the doors burst open.

It’s hard for him to process what is happening, all he feels is adrenaline pumping through his body, and it reacts accordingly.

He can feel the pop of the bones before he hears the sickening crunch. If he was more aware of what was happening, he’s sure he would have thrown up.  

The man he grabbed with his left hand falls to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

In all his time serving with the howling commandos, he’s killed a few people, but never as intimately. He could just pull a trigger, throw a grenade, or stab someone. He’s never had to look them in the eye, and feel the life drain out of him. 

Sweat and fear pour out of his pores now, he didn’t mean to. His hand moved faster than he could react. 

Not his hand, the weapon attached to him now. 

The shouting only gets louder around him, but it’s muffled now. He stares in horror at the metal fingers, and the lifeless body on the floor. 

He can’t even feel when they prick him with a syringe filled with tranquilizer.

The image burns itself into his mind as everything grows dark.  

The next 10-15 years follow the same pattern. 

He wakes up slowly out of cryo. In his groggy state, he panics every time he sees the arm. He goes to claw at his chest where it is connected, but he’s eventually stopped when they realize he’s awake. 

They try to break him. 

Hydra does everything they can, any form of torture. But he’s strong. He resists every attempt, and finally they have had enough.

One day, they plop him in a metal chair and run currents through his skull. 

It takes 2 more years of this before finally he stops scratching at the arm. Before he fully loses himself.

~~~

When he finally escapes from Hydra’s grip, he hates the arm with everything in him. He tries anything he can think of to remove it from his body, short of just cutting into himself more. 

The arm only causes death and destruction. It is synonymous with Hydra and the evil he unwittingly committed. 

He still remembers how they thought they bestowed a great gift upon him, making him into the fist of Hydra. They think they saved him, but they chipped away at his soul until there was barely anything left in him. 

When Shuri was kind enough to erase the trigger words from his brain, she had offered him a new arm. One that was not tainted with the bloody memories of Hydra. 

It took him months of therapy, and many long, late night talks with Steve, Natasha, and Sam to accept the arm. He wanted to repent for the blood he has spilled, intentional or not, and he couldn’t do it with one arm. 

It was beautiful, gun metal grey with gold intertwining the plates. It reminded him of the exhibit that Steve had dragged him to at the Met. 

Kintsugi, Steve had told him. The art of repairing something with gold.

“It was never broken to begin with, just being made whole and better” Steve had said to them as they wandered around. He pretended the tears in his eyes were from the dust in the museum, and lightly punched Steve on the arm. 

~~~

You were in the ring with Sam. 

Someone new, and that scared Bucky. He had slowly built a relationship with the rest of the team in the last few months he had been at the compound, and trust didn’t come easy. Countless nights he would be invited to movies, or dinner and drinks. He turned them all down the first few weeks he had been there. It wasn’t until Sam and Steve literally dragged him to the bar that he started to open up.

You somehow got along with everyone on the team, and had won everyone over in a matter of weeks. You geeked out over the newest electronics with Tony, and tried to help Bruce with his research. Wanda and you had holed up in a room for days binging the newest season of some reality show you loved. Natasha and you had survived multiple Barre classes, something that even made Sam cry. You and Steve had even started painting to Bob Ross videos together. 

It was like there was a you-shaped gap waiting to be filled on the team. 

He watches from his sparring dummy as you tease Sam. You dance around him easily, and dodge out the way of yet another unsuccessful punch. 

His sensitive hearing picks up on Sam’s heavy breathing, but anyone could see the exacerbated rise and fall of his chest, and the buckets of sweat gleaming under the fluorescent lighting. 

You laugh as he tries to distract you with a kick and punch from opposite sides. 

“Nice try birdy” you call out as you evade him once more.

“Stay still!” Sam huffs, he hasn’t felt this out of shape since he was a chubby 13 year old with a love of cheetos and hate of exercise.

In his last effort to take you down, he swipes left and right, never giving up. You move further and further back, unsure how to handle the sudden change in tactics.

You don’t notice how close to the edge of the ring you are. 

Tony, being the dramatic shit he was, decided to build the sparring ring higher up then normal. Like a pedestal he once proclaimed. He wanted all to be able to watch.

Sam and you had forgone putting up the side ropes, wanting to get in as much sparing as possible. 

The fall was probably only a few feet of the ground, but definitely enough to sprain something, or even worse, get a concussion. 

He sees you near the edge, Sam still swinging a way. His lust for revenge prevented him from seeing you were about to fall.

Bucky leaps the 10 feet in between him and you right as your foot falls off the edge. He reaches up and puts most of your weight on his left arm, catching you before you fell to the floor, holding you for a few seconds before slowly bringing you to floor level.

He sets you down gently and almost laughs at the comical expression on your face. Eyes wide and jaw dropped, unable to comprehend what had just happened in the span of a few seconds. 

“I-I… thank you” you stuttered. Stilled flustered by the fall, but even more flustered that it was Bucky that caught you. You two had maybe exchanged 20 words total in the 2 months that you had been on the team. 

Bucky does a once over at you before nodding and walking back to the sparring dummy.

Sam watches this all with amusement, before coming down and offering to buy you ice cream to make up for the fall. 

~~~

Hit. Block. Punch. Duck. Repeat. 

Watching you take down your opponents was like watching a ballet. You were graceful, and lithe. Moving with your counterpart, they never even realized you were a threat until they were out.

Since your fall a month ago, you and Bucky have been growing closer. It was hard not to when you were so light and bright. It blinded him slightly, before he grew accustomed to the warmth he felt when he was near you. Now he never wanted to be parted from it. 

Naturally, when this mission had come up, Bucky had begged Steve to pair you with him. He knew he would only have peace of mind if he was with you at all times.

Not that you needed the help.

About a dozen men lay sprawled around you, and the last three were soon to join their colleagues on the floor. If they weren’t such vile men, he would almost feel bad for them. Being laid to waste by someone who didn’t look like she could hurt a fly. 

He registers the movement about a second too late, his mouth won’t connect to his brain and shout what he wants it to. One of the men you had already taken down lifts his head and arm, he just sees a flash of silver in the man’s palm before he sprints the length of the room. Your back is to him, and you still have 1 more attacker to take down, he takes all of your attention.

It happens in a second. You take your final shot at the henchman and then you see Bucky running to you. You feel the warmth of him as he embraces you, pulling you forward. The momentum causes you to stumble and brings you both down, you on top of him.

The ping of the bullet is thundering in the echoing, concrete room. He barely even registers the feeling before pulling out his gun and shooting the attacker. Watching for a moment to make sure he was actually dead, he looks down at you.

“Bucky” you stutter out, and he can feel your slight tremors. The whiplash must be settling in and the adrenaline wearing off, not a fun combination.

He looks you up and down, and even though he knows he blocked the bullet with his vibranium arm, he can’t help the anxiety that rises in his chest. He doesn’t see anything wrong besides the bruises and small scratches.

Meeting your eyes, it instantly takes the breath out of him. The look of pure awe spread on your face, but he can feel the admiration that is in your eyes,

It takes everything to not close the 5 inch gap to your lips and see if they are as soft as he’s imagined. 

“You ok?” he asks one more time, voice cracking from the dryness in his throat.

You nod up at him, keeping eye contact. 

Without a warning, you press your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” you say profusely. You move to sit on top of him in a flash and grab his left arm. He’s powerless underneath you as you examine the shiny appendage. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, wonder in your voice as your fingers graze the sides of his arms. He’s glad for the pain he endured when they fitted him with this new arm, he can feel the softness and warmth of your hands, almost like if it were his own flesh. 

“No” he replies, eyes locked on where you hold his wrist.

Gently, so gently he can barely feel it, you press a kiss to the slight dent where the bullet impacted. Now he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. 

There’s a lingering heat where your lips touched, maybe even burning. 

If his mouth was dry before, it’s now the desert, and he clears his throat before looking away. His face is hot, and he’s thankful for the dim lighting in the basement. 

He misses the sly smirk on your face before you get up and offer your hand to him. 

~~~

After the mission, you had gone with him to get his arm repaired. He tried to tell you that it would take a few minutes at most and you didn’t need to go with him, but you just smiled and led the way. You held his flesh hand while they fixed some wiring issues and un-dented the hand. If he squeezes your hand more often than necessary, then who would know?

One month passes and he is always at your side. He goes more often to movie nights, team dinners, and outings. There’s always a spot right by your side, and it takes only a few days for everyone to know it was reserved for a certain brunette. 

The second month rolls around and it finds him as your permanent partner. Missions for two would always be assigned to you and him. You two would spar for hours on end, touches lingering for longer than needed. If you needed to run errands, he would be right there with you. 

Month three passes in a loving haze. It’s rare to see one of you without the other. Even nights were spent in your room after you had both fallen asleep while watching Star Wars. You made him come with you to your yoga classes, and he made you go with him to cooking classes.

It’s like the sun had finally come out. The permanent scowl and dark circles were replaced with grins and smile lines. He can’t remember the last time he was as carefree as he was around you. 

It was hard to ask you out. He was nervous. What if he misread the hand holding and cuddling? Could he go back to being just your friend if it didn’t work out?

But the moment he saw you across the gym, sweaty and heaving but with a giant grin on your face as you box with Steve, he knew it would be worth it.

So here he was, your favorite flowers in hand, buttoned up shirt and nice jeans adorning his body, walking to your door to pick you up for your first date. 

In the back of his mind, he mocks himself for being so scared to ask you. Your face had lit up when he had.

Knocking on the door, he steps away and gives himself a once over. He tells himself he’s not nervous, but the erratic beating of his heart tells a different tale. 

The door opens, and there you are. A vision in your favorite dress, small smile on your face. 

All he can do is stare dumbstruck at you. While you were always gorgeous to him, the fact that you had dressed up for him makes him want to cry.

“Bucky?” you ask, waving a hand in his face and giggling. 

“You’re stunning” he says back, hand coming up to rub his neck. He suddenly

remembers the flowers when he feels the water drip on the collar of his shirt.

“These are for you” and the smile on your face grows. You take a big whiff of them

before sneezing 3 times in rapid succession. 

“Guess I got carried away” you giggle, and just like that the nerves fade. 

The drive to the restaurant he had reserved was filled with would you rathers that made you laugh so hard, you couldn’t breathe. Your impression of the stuffy waiter had him choking on his water.

Everything was going so well, he let his guard down.  

The men in ski masks that came from the kitchen to round everyone up were a shock to both of you. Instantly, people scatter, some making it out of the door in time, and others being held hostage and led to the kitchen.

You can both tell when they realize they have avengers in their midsts when the guns turn to aim at you. He flips the table to its side as you move to duck behind it. Drawing a gun from your clutch, you hand it to him. Bucky was always the better shot. And you arm yourself with a widow bites and click the button on your Stark Watch 3 times in rapid succession. 

He hears the panic in their voices as they radio to each other. Obviously, they were not expecting any resistance, let alone 2 highly trained agents.

You look at him, and he knows exactly what you have in mind.

The moment you leap sideways and engage, he pops over the table and aims at anyone with a gun. You move quickly and gracefully around those that were foolish enough to actually engage you. He takes down as many as possible with the gun, and when the clip runs out, he engages the targets closest to you. 

Soon there is only 1 left, shaking and yelling at you both to back up. Bucky is pretty sure he’s new, the tremor in his voice and hands gives him away. It wouldn’t be that difficult to take him out.  

Bucky joins your side, and you both approach hesitantly, not wanting to spook him. 

“Stay back” he yells. Bucky sees the glint of green before the man fully pulls out the grenade. His heart sinks into his stomach.  

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Bucky states, already wedging himself between you and the man. He calculates if there was anyway to get you out of the building. 

“Just stay calm, we’re not going to hurt you.” You say, laying the widow bites at your feet. Bucky does the same with his empty gun. 

His wild eyes keep glancing between you and Bucky. He slowly tries to inch his way towards the man, hoping he makes it to the grenade before he throws it. 

The stand-still comes to an end when the man pulls the pin and launches the grenade in the air.

“No!” Bucky shouts, and he pulls you both under the nearest table, his body covering yours. The deafening blast goes off right as you both get under the table.  

He feels your fast breaths against his chest, and he pulls your head into the crook of his neck. Arms in a braced stance, supporting him as he tries to keep his weight off of yours. He’s pretty sure the table above them cracked with the weight of the rubble falling on it. 

He looks down to your face and sees the fear in your eyes. It was one thing to be shot at, but another to be buried alive.  

“It’s gonna be ok” he whispers, and you nod. You know that Bucky would do everything he could to get you both out. Forcing yourself to take calming breaths, you knew it wouldn’t help to panic right now.   

Once he feels the dust settle, he braces himself against the broken table, trying to see if he could lift the ruble off of you both. There’s a groan as the concrete settles more firmly in place, but nothing lets up. 

The Stark watch on your wrist vibrates, and though he can’t see the screen, he knows it means the Avengers are coming. 

“Bucky” you say, voice trembling. It brings him back to the conversation you had about your biggest fears. Being buried alive was at the top of the list after falling into a pit when you were 7 years old. 

“It’s going to be ok” he tries to reassure, but the fear in your eyes has him trying to break you out. 

Slowly, he shifts his weight to his right arm, and braces the broken table with his left. Putting all his weight behind the vibranium arm, he pushes up. He’s not sure if the groans are from him or the concrete slabs, but he feels something pop and then shift above him. 

Suddenly, the weight feels lighter and he can hear the concrete falling. Hope bursts in his chest as more light floods into the burrow and space starts to expand.

Moving his knees and feet, he gets into a crouched position to give himself more power as the rubble starts to fall away. 

Your voice and encouragement gives him a surge of energy and he finds himself standing in the dusty opening of what used to be a restaurant. 

“Y/n!” he calls as he moves back down and cradles you in his arms, lifting you on top of the pile of rubble. 

“Bucky that was incredible!” you shout as he comes to join you and helps you down. Your arms come around his neck and before he knows it, he feels your lips against his. It takes a second for his brain to compute, and by the time he realizes that it was a kiss, you had already pulled away. 

“Thank you!” you shout again with glee as he chuckles. 

He tries to move in and capture your lips again, but the moment is ruined when a certain blonde super soldier clears his throat.

You both pull away, faces warm, to see the captain dragging to handcuffed criminals out of the wreckage. 

“Glad to see you’re both alive.” Steve states smugly, shooting Bucky a not so subtle wink.

“It’s all thanks to Bucky and his amazing arm.” you tell him brightly, pressing a kiss to the vibranium bicep before jumping into to help apprehend the rest of the men. 

Steve had never seen Bucky turn that shade of red before, and lets out a laugh as he escorted the men out of the restaurant and into the cars waiting outside. 

~~~

You’re not sure what triggers it.

One moment you're laying on the couch with your head in Bucky’s lap, content and happy while watching a movie. You’re half awake, no idea what’s going on in the movie, instead paying attention to the way Bucky’s fingers glide through your hair.

It happens suddenly, and you jump up. 

You pace for a moment, before breathing is hard, and the world starts to get blurry. A cold sweat breaks out all over your body and you swear you could throw up at any moment.

Lowering yourself onto the floor, you put your head between your legs and slowly start to rock. Blood rushes to your head, and all you can hear is the loud thumping of your erratic heart. 

Everything is reduced to the few inches in front of your face, you almost don’t notice the cool hand on your forehead, pushing away hairs and trying to soothe you.

You focus on the cold hand moving from your head to the back of your neck, and then going down to stroke and pat your back, before starting the cycle all over again. 

Bucky.

Slowly, you start to break through the surface. 

It takes a few moments, but you start to hear his voice calling to you, and you want to follow the warm sound. 

He moves your hand now to his chest, the gentle up and down continuing to bring you back, and it registers that he wants you to follow his breath pattern.

The first few are too shallow, the next few are too fast, but soon you match his calm in-and-out to a tee. 

Your name, smooth and gentle in his voice, finally reaches your ears. You listen as he tells you how great you are at matching his breathing. He switches between compliments, random, one sided small talk, and humming. 

The heat from his embrace and the coolness from his left arm creates a cocoon of warmth and safety, making you lose sense of time. The cramping from your legs is the only indicator that a significant amount of time has passed.

Sluggishly, you lift your head from Bucky’s chest and look up at his face. Intense blue eyes stare back at you, it’s not hard to tell that he’s trying to stay calm, but the slight worry in his eyes wasn’t hard to pick up on. 

Laying your head back on his chest, you feel his arms start to slide under you. Soon enough, you’re lifted up and he’s walking to what you assume would be your room. 

You close your eyes, when he doesn’t take the right to go down to your room, but continues straight into his wing. 

“Thanks Bucky” you mumble as he sets you on his bed and gets in himself.

Face to face, you use your finger to trace the slope of his nose and the edge of his jaw before bringing your finger to outline his lips.

Pressing a small kiss to the tip of your finger, he smiles before leaning in kissing your forehead. 

“I love you, doll.”

“Love you too.”

~~~

He can feel the drool on his face as he comes too. His face squished into the pillow underneath him, so hard, he’s sure he’ll have indents in his face.

One arm slung around a sleeping you, he breathes in, slowly waking up. Moving his arms, he can feel the soreness that settles in after a good night's sleep. 

A small sniffle from the nightstand catches his attention, and he realizes why he woke up. 

Gently, he crawls out of bed, and tucks in the remaining comforter around you, and grabs the device from the nightstand. He hopes you can get a little extra sleep, he’s pretty sure he fell asleep long before you got into bed. 

Bare feet meet carpet as he paddles down the hallway, a short walk to his destination. He waits outside of the door for a moment, listening for movement in the room. When he hears shuffling, and another small screech, he opens the door.

Against the adjacent lilac wall, a white crib is placed. A sleep dischevaled baby stands, clinging to the bars, blowing spit bubbles and babbling to herself.

As soon as she sees Bucky, her arms extend towards him and makes whining noises.

“Hey baby” he chuckles as he steps fully into the room, and picks her up, nervous that she’ll start screaming if he doesn’t.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, patting her back, and checking to see if she needed a diaper change.

The raspberry she blows answers the question.

Gently and efficiently, he sets about changing her diaper, talking to her all the while.

When he sets her upright to try and find a new outfit, preferably one that doesn’t have stains but the options are slim, she squeals again.

Quickly, he picks her up and sways her against his chest.

“Shh shhh shhh, don’t wake up mommy, you kept her up half the night.” Bucky implores. She tilts her head up at the sound of his voice, her eyes slightly wet and he knows she can’t help it. 

Rebecca was a good baby, usually did not fuss, ate like a champ, and slept well. But lately, she had been colickly. 

It had panicked Bucky at first, thinking she was sick or he was doing something wrong. You had quelled his fears by showing him the small bump on her gums, signalling that she was teething. 

Switching his right arm for her support, he brings a vibranium finger up to her mouth. Immediately, she latches on to the finger. 

He can feel the nubs of teeth about to break through the surface, and lets her chew on his cool finger for relief. 

It had started as a joke one day when the teething ring had melted and Becca still wouldn’t stop crying. In your half groggy state, you had stuck one of Bucky’s vibranium fingers in her mouth to let her chew on while you grabbed something else, he couldn’t quite feel the pain the same way his flesh fingers could. But, once Bucky’s finger was in her mouth, Becca happily chewed on it until she fell asleep. 

It was well known now that wherever Bucky was, Becca followed, gnawing on his fingers. 

“Does that feel better Becca?” she couldn’t even spare a second to look at her father, too busy drooling all over his hand.

With Becca in tow, he sits down in the rocking chair, hoping that he could get her to fall back asleep.

Holding her close, he hums some forget tune and rubs her back, moving them back and forth slightly.

The rigid dark grey was such a contrast to the soft baby skin around it, it startles Bucky sometimes.

The same arm that killed people and caused so much destruction was the same arm that his baby daughter used as a teething toy. She would never fear it, or see it as anything other than a part of him. 

He’s unfamiliar with the emotion that bubbles up in his chest and the tears that build up. Sniffling himself, he presses a kiss to her downy soft head, and cradles her underneath his chin.  

“You know, if it hurts that much, you can take it out of her mouth.” you say, startling him slightly. 

Padding into the room, you perch yourself on the armrest of the rocking chair and tuck your feet under his legs. You reach a head out to caress Becca’s perfect cheek, brushing away a few tears with your thumb, as her eyelids start to droop. 

“What are you doing up?” Bucky’s gravely voice cuts through the silence a few moments later. 

“I had a feeling you were getting sappy with her again” you tease. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by without Bucky marveling or crying about Becky in the short 7 months of her life. 

“I can’t help it, she’s perfect.” he whispers back, getting choked up again. 

“Oh babe” you coo at him. Dropping to sit in his lap, you place your head on his chest, just above Becca, and wrap your arms around him. 

He sits there for a while longer, slowly rocking back and forth. Every once in a while, Becca will snuffle and snore in her sleep and you both chuckle at the cute noises. 

Sitting there, arms wrapped around the loves of his life, he feels calm. 

He can feel your breathing start to even out as you follow Becca’s lead to slumber. 

It still amazes him how much you both trust him. Never looked at the thing that made him a killer with anything but love, and never treated him with any differently. 

There will always be scars, physical and emotional, but slowly falling asleep in his baby daughter's room, he knows everything will be ok. He’s not afraid anymore.

~~~

Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome!

[manabombs]

doing this meme for mr captain jack rackham because I think i’m finally ready to try to articulate my feelings, even if no one asked (i’m sorry this post is so long)

Why I like them:  So... here’s the thing... 

I’m kind of known for dressing like a fancy gay pirate. I’ve made a lot of cosplays over the years, but my pirate outfits are what I’m most infamous for. I met my partner over a decade ago while dressed like a fancy gay pirate. Many of my friends have seen me in pirate outfits more often then they’ve seen me in normal person clothing. Once upon a time I went to art school to study fashion design and I said “yes this is the aesthetic I’m going to cultivate” and now here we are. 

When I first heard that they were making a big budget period drama that was a prequel to Treasure Island, I knew that it was going to be My Next Hyperfixation, long before I had any notion of how much queer representation there would be or even how well-written the show would be. But it took me a couple years to finally feel like I was Emotionally Ready to delve into the series (Sometimes I’m bummed that I missed out on participating in the fandom while the show was actively airing, but I’m also glad that I was able to binge it all in its entirely, because the time waiting between seasons would have made me too crazy). 

And within those first two or three episodes, I saw that greasy rat man with his mullet and his avant garde facial hair choices and whatever the hell was going on with his wardrobe

and I said to myself “wait... Calico Jack... as in, the pirate known for his fashion sense...”

and I had one of those moments where I realized that this character was so much My Type that I was mad at myself for being so predictable. and I questioned some of the life choices that I made that led me to the point that this greasy rat man the sort of character that I immediately knew that I was going to fall in love with.

But that was only the beginning, because as I watched more of the series, I related to him more and more-- I think it was mannerisms at first, and things like “having to explain the vocabulary you just used to your coworkers” and “I would also like Anne Bonny to be my wife”, but gradually I began to relate to him for increasingly personal reasons. I first watched Black Sails after I had gone through a particularly rough couple years, and the catharsis of watching Jack go from “they pissed on me” to being the character who is ultimately victorious over the series’ main antagonist was an emotionally intense experience. I was already projecting on him by the time that he delivered the “great art has felled empires” monologue, which was the moment I knew that I was deeply invested in this character, and he hadn’t even started showing off his best looks yet. There are, of course, moments where his actions are... morally dubious, but even those instances just managed to make me more attached to him, because I respect the hell out of how well the writers succeeded in making him such a well-developed character. 

By the end of the series I realized that I related to this character on an intensely personal level, in a way that I haven’t connected with a fictional character in years, except it felt more profound than the times I’ve connected with fictional characters in the past because this time I was an Adult with a deeper understanding of the Self. I don’t want to sound like a soulbonder or a kinnie or whatever the kids are calling it these days but it really felt like this:

tl;dr I came for the wardrobe and stayed for the waxing about art philosophy and historiography

Why I don’t: ... undermining the revolution wasn’t great...

Favorite episode: I’m a big fan of 2.06 because... you know...

but also because we had to wait 14 episodes to see this pirate on a fuckin boat

Favorite season: Season three features so many of my favorite tropes it feels unreal... Jack and Charles as co-captains sharing authority and declaring their undying loyalty to each other... the way he goes full dandy the moment he has money to burn... Jack has to gain the approval of his judgmental father-in-law... his homoerotic rivalry with Rogers... getting arrested and then rescued by his significant others in the most dramatic way possible... I choose to believe that there was a brief, shining moment right before the beginning of season 3 where Jack was able to just chill and be optimistic about the future and bask in Charles Vane’s approval amidst his pile of gold and new wardrobe while Anne and Max were off doing lesbian stuff...

Favorite line: “It’s the art that leaves the mark, but to leave it, it must transcend, it must speak for itself, it must be true,” I mutter to myself as I draw vampire pirates at 1am

Favorite outfit: oof what a question...

This look is probably my overall favorite and there’s a good reason why it’s the outfit he’s wearing for the final climactic battle. He has so many amazing coats, but the details on this one make it my favorite, and I also love that gradient scarf and the pink embroidered shirt. The color and pattern mixing here is impeccable. It makes me appreciate his hot mess of a wardrobe in the first season more, seeing how his first outfit just looks like plain boring muslin and then more color & patterns gradually get introduced.

This is my runner-up just because I love the shade of blue and the prince charming vibes that are happening here, so I’m sad that we only saw this look for like 3 seconds.

OTP: I can’t remember the last time I cared about a ship as much as I care about VaneRackham.... sometimes I get mad that they succeeded in making me have these Feelings about fictional characters... I watched a show with multiple canon gay relationships and ended up fixating on the queerbait white man ship where one of the characters dies, because I have questionable taste and I love making myself suffer. 😩

Brotp: Jack and Max’s relationship means so much to me 💕

Head Canon: This might be me projecting, but because of his background in textiles I headcanon that Jack was more competent at sewing than anyone else on the Ranger and that skill came in incredibly useful on more than one occasion. The fancy coats that we see him wearing in seasons 3 & 4 most likely would have been custom tailored specifically for him, but I imagine that all of his earlier ones were acquired secondhand (one way or another) and he sometimes did patching/adjustments on them himself.

Unpopular opinion: I respect the artistic liberties that were taken with his character design, but he should have been allowed to wear some silk stockings and show off his calves at least once tbh

A wish: Obviously my #1 wish is that Jack and Charles had been permitted to kiss, but I also wish that we had been able to see them on a ship together clearly I have no choice but to assume that whenever they were on a ship together there was lots of kissing going on An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: man it would sure suck if Jack was executed for piracy within like three years of the series finale 5 words to best describe them: this adam ant looking motherfucker

My nickname for them: my guy/my dude