#this guy's name is mr. stubborn. btw.

[heartkeys]

wow i cant believe they put antivaxxers in pokemon ranger shadows of almia

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Same Page Part 8

Sherlock and Mycroft & little sister!reader

A/N: thanks for your patience while I went through a supernatural obsession (it’s still going btw). Chapter 8 is here! It’s a little short, but hopefully you won’t have to wait as long for the next chapter

A/N 2: by the way guys, I specified the reader’s name in chapter one as 17, but I think I’ll edit it out so that the age can be up to interpretation. I think a younger teen might fit the story better.

Mycroft was practically shaking with anger the whole way back to his house. You stayed silent, too scared and exhausted by the day to want to interrupt his anger.

“Where do you want to go?” Mycroft asked as he pulled into his driveway.

“The living room,” you said, as it was still too early for you to try to sleep.

Mycroft carried you to the couch. He didn’t even ask if you needed his help, he was just determined to give it.

…

“Myc?”

Mycroft turned to look at you after he’d set you down on the couch.

“What is it?”

“Are you and Sherlock…” you swallowed. “Are you gonna fight over custody?”

Mycroft stiffened. He hadn’t realized how much of his and Sherlock’s conversation you’d overheard.

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” he insisted. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he added honestly. “But I do know that there will be no repeats of today. No one is ever going to leave you alone like that, ok?”

You nodded, your hand subconsciously seeking out Mycroft’s. He took your frail hand in his and squeezed it.

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “I never wanted this to happen.”

You looked down at your lap.

“Me neither.”

…

“He didn’t listen to a word I said! Not that I should have expected him to.”

“Sherlock—“

“I mean it’s Mycroft, he hasn’t listened to anyone since—“

“Sherlock—“

“But we made an agreement, that we would do what’s best for our sister, and now he’s threatened to bring a custody battle into this and—“

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock stopped suddenly at John’s outburst.

“What?”

“Sherlock, you don’t get it. You think that just because you’re back, things will go back to exactly what they were.” John shook his head. “Well I was here, too, watching your sister for two years. I may not have been as involved as Mycroft, but I know enough. You treated her as though she was the same girl who left, but she’s not.”

“So you’re taking Mycroft’s side?”

“You left her alone, Sherlock. After telling Mycroft not to pick up his phone no matter what. She had a panic attack, she had to call Greg to get her. Mrs. Hudson was out. What do you think would have happened if Greg was on a case, and couldn’t pick up the phone?”

“So just as I said, you’re on his side.”

John groaned. “Sherlock, it isn’t about sides. I’m saying you two don’t have to fight over custody, you just have to agree about what’s best for Y/N.”

“But how can we? Mycroft—“

“We can start by actually talking it out.”

The men turned to see Mycroft himself standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked. “Don’t tell me you left Y/N alone.”

“Of course not,” Mycroft sighed. “She’s downstairs with Mrs. Hudson.”

“I think I’ll leave you two to talk,” John said, slipping past Mycroft and heading downstairs.

“So.” Sherlock sighed. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Mycroft said honestly. “I don’t trust you with her, and you don’t trust her with me. But a custody battle would…”

“It would destroy her,” Sherlock finished. “It would destroy all of us.”

“We have to agree on this, Sherlock. It’s too important.”

“Says the one who threatened me with a custody battle.”

Mycroft had come to make peace, but his brother’s stubbornness was stirring his own.

“Because you want to drag her back to Baker Street only to neglect her!”

“Drag her?” Sherlock scoffed. “She wanted to live with me, don’t you remember? She chose me over you.”

“That was then,” Mycroft’s voice was quieter, but no less dangerous. “But perhaps things have changed.”

“And you want to take that risk?”

“Do you want to take the risk that a court would choose you?”

This brought Sherlock up short.

“You can’t just—“

“You both are fools.”

The arrival of Mrs. Hudson startled both Holmes’ brothers.

“Mrs. Hudson—“

“Honestly, Sherlock, I expect better from you. I expect better from both of you.”

“I thought you were downstairs with—“

“John is with your sister. I thought it more important to be up here.”

“Why?”

“So I can tell you both what absolute fools you’ve been. Here you are, fighting over what’s best for Y/N and where she should live, when you’ve forgotten the most important part.”

“And that would be?” Mycroft questioned.

“Asking her!”

…

You figured you had Mrs. Hudson to thank for your current predicament. Your brothers had brought you up to 221B, and now you were sitting on Sherlock’s couch, your brothers standing in front of you. Mycroft had finally asked you the question that you’d been dreading since Sherlock’s return.

“Where do you want to live?”

But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t just a question of Baker Street or Mycroft’s house. You had to pick a brother. Sherlock or Mycroft.

When you’d first had to make this decision, it had been so easy. You grew up with Sherlock, you knew him, he knew you, and the two of you coexisted quite well. But now…

You didn’t know Sherlock, not like before. It had been so long, and you had changed so much, that you weren’t sure if it could ever be like it was. And now, you’d gotten to know Mycroft better than ever, and the two of you had gotten used to having the other around. You didn’t want to stop that. But…

Baker Street felt like home. As much as you’d settled into Mycroft’s place, it didn’t feel the same. But you also didn’t think life would ever feel comfortable again without both of your brothers.

Sherlock or Mycroft. Sherlock or Mycroft. Sherlock or…

You found the familiar parasite of anxiety settle into your chest as you tried to imagine life without either one of them. It grew until your chest physically started to hurt, your eyes blurring as your lungs constricted and breathing became not only hard, but painful.

…

“Where do you want to live?”

As soon as Mycroft asked the question, he regretted it. Sherlock seemed to be impatiently awaiting your answer, but Mycroft immediately recognized the glazed look in your eyes, the slight irregularity of your breathing.

He didn’t do anything at first; this was just an early stage of your anxiety, sometimes you managed to snap yourself out of it, and sometimes you only panicked more if he tried to assist you in this stage.

But when your breathing became labored and your eyes filled with tears, Mycroft didn’t hesitate. He brushed past a concerned Sherlock and put his hands on your knees.

“Hey, look at me, I’m right here.”

Your glazed eyes seemed to focus on him, and you brought your hands down to grip his.

“That’s it, just breathe,” he soothed. “I’m right here, we’re not going anywhere.”

Sherlock noted that Mycroft included him by saying we. Then he saw the hand that you were reaching out for him. He took it, but didn’t say a word; he still didn’t know what to say or do in this situation.

He noticed that you leaned almost unconsciously towards Mycroft, and soon enough your panic subsided.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Shh, that’s ok,” Mycroft said. “I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“Mycroft—“

Mycroft waved off Sherlock’s interruption.

“I think you should get some rest, alright? When you wake up, you can get some dinner.”

You nodded wearily, and Mycroft helped you lay down on Sherlock’s couch. Within minutes you were asleep.

“I’m taking her back to my house.” Mycroft decided.

“What?” Sherlock stiffened. “Mycroft, no decision has been made for—“

“Now now, calm down, brother mine. She’s had a long week, I just think it would be best if she rested in a place she was most comfortable. This isn’t indicative of a decision about where she’ll live.”

“What makes you think she won’t be most comfortable here?” Sherlock countered.

Mycroft sighed.

“Because that’s where she’s spent the last two years, it’s familiar. Honestly, Sherlock, we can’t start picking fights over the smallest of things. I just want to take her home for some rest and food, that’s it.”

“So you’re asking me to pick my battles?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft ran a hand over his face.

“I’m asking you not to declare war.”

Taglist:

@navs-bhat , @isabellavere, @chaoticglitterkitten, @peachycupotea, @justforrose, @severussimp

[weirdboi]

•About me:

Fandom I'm doing:

The Bad Guys Book by Aaron Blabey

Fandoms I also know:

Alphabet lore

Dog man

Mr. Hopps playhouse ( 1 and 2)

The amazing world of Gumball

Metal family

Pig the Pug

Thelma the unicorn

The bad guys movie

Alan Ford

Ect...

What can u see here:

Drawings, fanfics, reblogs, ships, chains, …

About my oc:

Name: Joker (???)

Age: 19

Mother: Monika

Mother: Sarah

Father: Octavius

Status: Divorced (Monika and Octavius)

🚩: Alcoholic, unhealthy obsession, anger issues, manipulation, murder, stubborn...

💚🏳️: Caring, always to help, cares a lot about ppl he loves, always to protect them...

Sexuality: Pan

Gender: Gender fluid

Pronouns: Any

Lover: Lou( Shark)

Any relateds: Moe (Wolf)

Status with Moe: Cousins

Enemies: Marmalade and Splaarghön

Voice actor/s: Jeremy Irons, Stephen Ouimette(Actor of Beetlejuice cartoon), Mick Lauer( voice actor of insane Tails in ''Theres something about Amy")

Btw thx for 18 followers!!!! Love u all 😘😘😘

If u want I can write a backstory of my Oc 🤍😉

[bradshawsbaby]

💍 What about Rooster and Mrs Bradshaw celebrating one of their child's birthday with all of the squadron there, I think it would be so cute 😍

Happy birthday btw, I hope you're having an amazing day ❤️

(Sorry if my english is bad, not my first language😖)

For the 2K/Birthday Celebration!

(Your English is perfect, Anon! I hope you enjoy! ❤️)

“Smile, Goose! Goose! Over here, honey!” Penny called, holding up her cell phone and trying to snap a clear photograph.

“Goose, look at Aunt Penny! Smile for Aunt Penny, baby,” you cooed in a sing-song voice, pointing towards the camera.

“Come on, buddy,” Bradley said encouragingly, squeezing your son’s stomach playfully. “One big smile for the paparazzi.”

You and Bradley were squatting on either side of Goose’s high chair, trying as hard as you possibly could to get your son to look up so that you could get a nice family picture to commemorate his first birthday. But it was hopeless. Your son had no interest in anything besides the cake that was sitting in front of him, which he was currently digging his fingers into.

“Maybe we should try taking the cake away,” you whispered over Goose’s head, blowing a lock of hair out of your face as you looked over at your husband.

“A suicide mission if I’ve ever heard,” Bradley grimaced, glancing down at the slice of cake, which was now being crushed in both of Goose’s chubby fists.

Sighing softly, you glanced up. “It’s okay, Penny. I’m sure the candids you got are great,” you told her, starting to rise from your position on the grass.

Penny had been gracious enough to host Goose’s first birthday party in her beautifully manicured backyard. She’d insisted on it, in fact. You, Penny, and Amelia had spent all morning decorating—you’d unsurprisingly decided to go with an aviator theme—while Bradley and Mav had prepared all the food on the grill. Your friends had all cleared their schedules to make sure they were available to celebrate the first Dagger Squad baby’s birthday.

“Oh, no, we’ll get it!” Penny insisted, waving you back to your spot. “Goose!” she called again, waving her hand over her head to try to get his attention.

“Baby Bradshaw, you are just as stubborn as your old man,” Hangman smirked, walking over to get a closer view of your failed attempts to capture your son’s attention.

“Oh, shut up,” Phoenix laughed, smacking his stomach as she stepped up beside him. She and Jake had returned from their honeymoon just in time to make it to Goose’s birthday party. “Goose! Look over here at Aunt Phoenix and Uncle Bagman!” she called out, waving her hands over her head.

“Phoenix! He’s going to seriously think that’s my name!” Hangman groaned, waving his hands above his wife’s head as well.

“You guys still haven’t gotten a picture?” Coyote laughed as he walked over, a plate filled with cookies in his hand.

“Seriously?” Payback asked, grinning and shaking his head.

“Come on, Goose! We’re waiting on you to eat cake!” Fanboy joked, stepping up on the other side of Penny and waving his hands in the air as well.

“With the grip he’s got on that thing, I don’t know if any of us are getting cake,” Bob chuckled, pointing at where Goose was now squishing his slice of cake beneath both hands.

“Alright, new mission, Dagger Squad,” you called out, standing up and resting your hands on your hips. “One of you has got to be able to get Goose’s attention. Extra cake for whoever can do it,” you told them with a grin.

Everyone immediately sprang into action, waving their hands and making silly faces and calling out Goose’s name over and over again.

“Come on, Goose, please. For us? For Mommy and Daddy?” Bradley begged, nudging Goose’s arm gently.

“C’mon, talk to me, Goose!” Mav’s voice suddenly boomed across the backyard, startling everyone else. He was standing on the back porch right behind where Penny was standing, waving one of Goose’s birthday gifts in the air. It was a toy jet, attached to a string so that Mav was able to whirl it around his head.

That finally caught your son’s attention. Lifting his head, his eyes crinkled as he smiled and let out a loud laugh. “Mav! Mav!” he cried, waving a frosting-covered hand in the air.

Gasping, Penny held up her cell phone. “Smile! Smile!” she exclaimed.

You and Bradley hurriedly leaned in closer to your son, smiling brightly as Penny snapped away.

“Beautiful!” she beamed, holding up her phone in success.

“That’s a good-looking family right there,” Payback noted with a smile, looking over Penny’s shoulder at the pictures she’d taken.

“Of course it’s Mav who gets the extra cake,” Hangman grumbled, earning another nudge from Phoenix.

“Thank you, Mav!” you called out, grinning widely at him.

“Saving the day, as always,” Bradley smiled, bending down to lift Goose out of his high chair. As soon as he did, however, your son reached up and smashed the cake he’d been holding into your husband’s face.

Everyone burst out laughing at the sight, including you, even as you grabbed a napkin to wipe his face.

“Oh, yeah, that’s your son alright, Bradshaw,” Hangman guffawed, shaking his head in amusement.

“That’s my son,” Bradley nodded, smiling affectionately. “Happy Birthday, Goose.”

[pwnyta]

well if this is not technically a gremlin that's fine. one of my close friends likes destiny a lot. like, A LOT. and i get it that's fine, i don't have a problem with that.

but she's tried so hard to get me to like it too and i'm just not... interested. i tried to like it for her sake, i watched like 3 game "movies" (cutscenes from the game all pieced together without the gameplay, i did try to play the game as well after i discovered the second game was installed on my sister's ps4 but i have never played shooter games and i was terrible at it) it was over 10+ hours and it was kinda boring and hard to understand (because this fucking game has so much fucking lore but pretty much none of it is explained on cutscenes) but i wanted to legit try to like it for her.

i liked one of the characters from the first game named cayde-6. he was funny and charming and i liked his design so it was sort of a safe bet.

she didn't like that i liked that character. i could see that she was trying to sort of force me into liking other character named crow that she LOVED but i just didn't give a rat's ass about the guy 'cause its hard to care for these characters when all i'm watching are cutscenes. she was very rude to me about it, she was like "cayde-6 is so boring and the only good thing that he did for the story was die" after she said that to me i just lost complete interest on the games and i haven't wanted to interact with anything from it ever again.

after that i got a little distant with her 'cause like... i'm not her carpet and/or personal clown. i was trying to be nice to her and she was very rude for no reason, i don't have to put up with that attitude just 'cause we're friends.

i guess, if there's a gremlin here: inside a fandom people don't have to like things the way you do and if they like things differently then just shut up and be respectful, walk away and let them be. also don't expect your friends to like the things you do, if they express that they don't have any interest on it just let it be 'cause if you try to force it you'll end up driving them away.

that's all, thank you

Ah my friend and I do stuff like this to each other all the time but we know were probably NOT going to actually get into each others... things. Your friend needs to chill.

BTW MEWMEW HOW BOUT ONE PIECE?

Ya boy here is very cute. Congrats on having superior tastes to your 'friend'

SO BORING LOOKING damn.

Uhm yeah i dont actually blame you for ghosting the bitch, she does seem like a lot to put it lightly. People like this SHOULD be avoided or like maybe talked to? But if they dont budge THEN avoided. But you know her better than I do so maybe shes just the stubborn type not worth the effort. Especially saying that the character you like dies like?? So douchey. Even I now have a personal vendetta against Mr Crow here because of the association to that.

And as someone with many unpopular takes in various fandoms I feel you nonny. I keep my bullshit in my own space and try not to go to anyone with it. (If they come to me however, gloves off.)

[justsomemorewritersonthisapp]

Korekiyo, Nagito and Shuichi with a s/o who has likes some serious problems but they just say eat the pain away

Character: “S/O you can’t just eat your pain away”

S/O, pulling out a bag of chips: “If nobody’s stopping me, who says I can’t?”

Honestly I can at least somewhat relate to this one cause I tend to have a problem eating when I'm bored, but I think I'm getting better about it at least. You probably didn't wanna hear my problems, so let's just get to your request!

A/N: Nagito says 'my hope' as a name a bunch btw and I personally think these might be a little weird and not well written and shuichi's headcanons are very short since I wasn't really sure what else to do so please let me know if you want this rewritten

Warning: a little swearing (I guess)

~Mod Tenko, who clearly talks too much~

Korekiyo Shinguji

Both you and Kiyo have some problems but Kiyo deals with them in a much healthier way than you do

While Kiyo tends to drown himself and others in anthropology, you.. eat.

Had a bad day? Eat a bag of chips.

Emotions gotcha down? Eat a tub of ice cream.

Hell, stubbed your toe and it hurt like a bitch? Great! Go make some mac n' cheese.

Kiyo noticed this early in your relationship, way back to when you were just friends

He's said something to you before about it when you were friends

"Y/n, I've noticed your habit of eating when upset."

"Yeah? It's that obvious?"

"Yes, it is actually quite fascinating, but not a very good coping mechanism."

"Yeah but I don't really have much else to do." You say as you pull out a dollar.

"I'll be right back."

You came back with a bag of chips

Kiyo kinda gave up on that one, but now that you're dating, he was hoping the conversation would go.. a little better than last time

But Kiyo has a little... trick up his sleeve

"Y/n, I would like to discuss something."

"Yeah Kiyo? Hope it's not a three hour long anthropology post again."

"No, but I will continue to share those."

"I would actually like to speak of your poor coping mechanism once more."

...

"This habit of yours can grow unhealthy my love."

"I know Kiyo. I just.. don't know what else to do."

"I'm here for you my love."

"... alright Kiyo."

"But as I'm assuming you already know, old habits die hard."

"Yes, I am painfully aware."

You open the freezer to look for a popsicle

Cold air

"Kiyo where the hell is all the food?"

Nagito Komaeda

Nagito definitely isn't the best at coping either, but lately he's been trying to be better (he's getting therapy, thank god)

But he's well aware of your poor coping as well and wants to help you!

First, he's tries confronting you

"My hope, don't you think you should find a better way to cope?"

"Aw, I appreciate your concern but these chips just hit the spot. Kinda hard to give up yknow."

After the first failure, he takes a different approach and hiding all the food

... just his luck that it'd fall out of its hiding place right as you walked in the room

Alright! No more Mr. Nice guy!

Nagito gets a little stubborn and continues to just bother you about it, with it being brought up in every conversation at least once

While laughing, you finally give in after the 500th 'Please my hope?'

"All right fine, I'll find something else to do!"

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, you've been nagging me about it for weeks. I have one condition though."

"Yes, my hope?"

"We work on our problems together so we can keep the other in line."

"Anything for you my hope."

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi doesn't really cope well, he just cries and secludes himself

But he loves you so he tries reasoning with you on your unhealthy coping

He even tries to share some of his interests with you

While you agree to join him on his interests, you still ate a lot

Well now he just says it straight up

"Y/n, you can't always just eat your pain away.."

"Nobody's stopping me."

You shove some chips in your mouth

"I'm stopping you!"

Shuichi grabs said chips

He then proceeds to go on a rant about how unhealthy this is and how you can trust him to help you the best way he can

"Alright Shuichi. But at least let me finish those chips!"

"No!"

[des-whumpin-corner]

One Week Later

Eyyyy first fic of the blog! This is a super tame oneshots I wrote for a mob!AU, which I’ll write a summary about in another post if I remember lmao. Tldr, mob boss Whumper has kidnapped Charlie, Terry’s bf, for ransom, in order to force Terry to join them. Terry isn’t taking it well.

(Btw, whenever I use German, I’ll put the translations at the very end of the fic!)

Terry was fine.

Terry was fine.

Terry was absolutely not freaking the fuck out right now.

…Maybe if he said it enough times it would come true.

In reality, Terry was trying his best not to completely break down. The past couple days, he had come to and from work, trying his best to act normal. But at this point, he was sure everyone noticed how… frazzled he looked. But he was still doing his job as efficiently as ever, so nobody was bringing it up.

In reality, though, Terry had been trying his best to not fall apart over this past week. Obviously, the only person he could talk about this… situation with was Rose, but he had been hesitant to let her know how genuinely panicked he was feeling. While he was at work, he needed to stay professional.

“Belosim, any updates on where he is?”

“No sir.”

“…Seriously? No leads at all?”

“No, Mr. Redovir, sir.”

“Belosim, it’s been a week. How do you guys have nothing?”

“Mr. Redovir, there’s only so much we can do.” He had known Rose for years now, and he could detect her calm voice starting to grow strained. Shit, he was starting to piss her off.

Alright, time to backtrack. “…Okay. Obviously, I’m asking too much of you all. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted, sir.”

Terry slumped back into his chair, trying his best to hold back frustrated tears. “…I don’t know what else to do, Rose.” Okay, the professional act was getting incredibly hard to keep up now, so he just decided to drop it. The pair were on a first name basis in private anyways. “Got any ideas?”

Rose hesitated for a second. Never good. “Well… there’s always the option of just… accepting the offer.”

Terry’s shot right back up in his seat at that. He turned to Rose, unable to hide how incredulous he was at the suggestion. “…Machst du Witze?”

“No, Terry, I’m not.”

“Rose, you know damn well I’m not going to give in that easily!“ He could hear himself starting to get angry, but he didn’t care right now. The thought of allowing those cowards to get away with pressuring him into “becoming allies” was enough to make him want to break something.

Rose, of course, wasn’t phased by his rapidly fouling mood. “Oh yeah? And what, exactly, are you planning on doing against the Whumper family?”

“Ich weiß nicht! But I’m not going to just roll over and let them force me to join them!”

“Even with Charlie’s life on the line?”

Terry felt his blood run cold at that warning. “…They wouldn’t dare. If they kill Charlie, they won’t have anything to hold over my head.”

Rose, obviously, didn’t believe him for a second. “…Terry. You and I both know that if Charlie got killed because of this, you would be so distraught that you’d let them take over without a fight.”

Fuck, she was right. The mere thought of his stubbornness leading to his Leibling’s death was making him tear up all over again. “…That Scheißkerl. If- when- you find them, I’m going to kill them with my bare hands. I swear it.”

Rose didn’t respond for a few seconds. “…Just think it over, Terry. I know that allying with them sounds insane right now, but every day we can find out is another day those assholes get to keep Charlie captive. And if what I know about Whumper is accurate, there’s no way Charlie is coming out of it unscathed. But right now, your decision is the difference between him coming back scarred, or coming back at all.”

For a few seconds, Terry was speechless. Because to his absolute horror, Rose was right.

Terry felt sick. “…Dismissed. I need to… think about some stuff right now.”

“Understood. Have a nice evening, Mr. Redovir.”

“I won’t, but thanks.”

~

Translation:

“Machst du Witze” = “Are you joking”

“Ich weiß nicht” = “I don’t know”

“Liebling” = “Darling” (in this context, but basically any )

“Scheißkerl” = loosely translates to “shithead”, but literally translates to “shit fellow”, which I think is much funnier

[our-heroes-rise]

light of my life

pairing: todoroki x reader

request: Hiya! I was wondering if I could get headcanons for Shoto and his gn/nonbinary s/o during the training camp attack. Like he finds his s/o injured and fighting/they help out with protecting Bakugou and almost get kidnapped? Also, if it isn’t too much trouble, could his s/o have a photo kinetic quirk? They can control and bend light, glow in the dark, and make solid objects out of light like swords, shields and stuff? Sorry if this is too much. Much love! 💛💛

hero name: vigilante!

warnings: angst + swearing + mentions of suffocation (nothing graphic!)

word count: 2,539

a/n: it’s never too much!!! detailed request are fun cause there’s more to work withhh, hehe. also super cool quirk bro i love it! i have an oc with a similar one! btw, i’ve been watching a lot of criminal minds lately so... well if you watched the show you’ll understand why it has the sort of tone it has lol. edit: this is me reading your request again a little later. YOU WANTED HCS? w e l p i wrote you a whole scenario instead because this idea was just too good lol. i still hope you enjoyed it though!

No one ever truly understands the fragility a life holds until it’s a hair’s breadth away from shattering into a million pieces before their eyes. Until it’s ripped from their grasp and dangled like a treat out in front of them. Strangled from their throats by an overwhelming poisonous fog that swirls like fire’s smoke in the depth of their lungs, greedily absorbing every ounce of oxygen with each inhale.

As humans, who stand at the top of the food chain, we often forget how terribly weak we can be against others of our kind. Each of us wants to believe that if it came down to it, if we were thrown into that last millisecond before life or death, that we would fight until our very last breath. But the ugly truth remains; not all of us have that ability. Not all of us are capable of staring down death as it comes hurtling towards us with our teeth bared and fists curled ready for a brawl.

Some of us are simply built to run and there is nothing we can do to change that.

Unless you are the few who choose to reject that belief. The ones who choose to veer their fleeing in the right direction, towards the impending danger and cries for help. The ones that evil should fear the most because those are the strongest and most resilient fighters of all. They turn their fear into heated, unyielding determination, ready to burn through any threat that stands in their path without hesitation because they will never stop running after the ones they are meant to save.

And yet, life has still never felt frailer than in this slow crawling moment of asphyxiation.

Get up.

Leaves cling to your clammy palms, soil caking the skin beneath your nails, fingers clawing at the ground for purchase, dragging your body across the forest floor towards Jiro’s purple shrouded figure still lying limp on the ground.

Get. Up.

Your vision swims, black creeping in from the corners, eyelids mimicking the weight of boulders.

Get up!

Fighting isn’t an option but running is. You can still reach her. You can still save her.

Your arms tremble horribly with the simple effort of lifting your torso off the ground. You grit your teeth, then pray that what little breath you have stored in your lungs is enough, and will your legs to move.

⊹⊹⊹

Shoto hears a rustling in the shrubs behind him, but the elongated teeth that come hurtling towards him don’t allow him the luxury of glancing over his shoulder to see what it was. A barrier of ice prevents any of the villain’s attacks from landing, though it doesn’t hold long before he’s forced to throw up another one, tightening his grip on the unconscious boy slung across his back. There’s an aggravated growl from Bakugou beside him.

He can’t imagine anything good emerging from the strangely colored fog looming behind them. Best case scenario it’s a forest critter fleeing the chaos, in the worst case it’s another villain coming to heard them closer to danger.

Please be safe. Please.

Your excited smiling face just before he entered the trial of courage runs through his mind like an endless loop, tightening the vice-like grip of anxiety around his heart. You had been behind him and Bakugou with Jiro as your partner. He wishes more than ever now that he had traded places with Jiro. Without knowing exactly how far apart each group was, he could only hope that it was far enough so the fog couldn’t reach you. No matter how unlikely the situation was.

The rustling movement comes again, the blade-tooth villain attacks once more, forcing Shoto and Bakugou back a step before Shoto’s able to protect shield them.

“You hear that too, right, half’n’half?” Shoto sees from the corner of his eye that Bakugou has cast his gaze to the trees bordering each side of them, searching.

“Yeah,” he grunts, shifting the unconscious boy’s weight. “I won’t be able to protect both of us if it’s another villain. And I can’t keep this up forever, his attacks are becoming stronger, more enraged.”

“I never needed your damn protection anyway.” Shoto withholds an eye roll. Leave it to the class hot head to remain stuck in his ways even when his own life is at risk. “If it’s another villain I’ll kill him.”

“They’re after you. You’ll have to be more mindful of your attacks.” Another barrage of ice to counter the villain's attack. “If you start another fire you’ll just -”

“Yeah, yeah I get it Icyhot, get off my fuckin’ -” A sharp intake of breath pulls Shoto’s attention away for just a millisecond, barely enough time to see the alarm flicker across Bakugou’s face, then he’s occupied with the villain again.

“What? What is it?” Shoto demands, words chopped through gritted teeth.

“The fuck happened to you?” Bakugou asks instead to presumably whatever has made its exit from the fog.

Shoto’s mind races with a million possibilities. Could the fog have more side effects than knocking its victims unconscious, like physical mutation? Was it another student or a new villain? The villain who created the fog or a different one? Was it -

“Shoto, look out!”

He was too late. His ice wasn’t fast enough but - but the glimmering white shield of moonlight was. The tooth-blade rattled against the hard exterior with four others before withdrawing for the following attack, which he was ready for this time. His next ice wall would be thick enough to hold the villain off for a few extra seconds, that way he could see, he had to make sure it was -

“Y/n.” His bout of relief lasts less than a second after taking in your ragged appearance. “What happened?”

Jiro is sprawled on top of a stretcher with the same moonlight shimmer of the barrier you had protected him with moments ago. She’s unconscious. You lower the floating slab of light holding your partner to the ground beside you, now well away from the poisonous cloud.

“The. . . The fog it just -” you sway heavily, and Bakugou catches you by the shoulder “- it just came out of nowhere. And then... Jiro she got - she took it the worst so I had to. . .”

You shake your head and Shoto can tell that you’re fighting to keep yourself upright. His heart aches, but he can’t go to you yet, the villain isn’t leaving any time for that.

“It doesn’t matter,” you huff, raking your fingers through your hair, bleary eyes focusing on the pillars of ice behind Shoto. “I think there were others behind us but we can’t count on them to take out the source of the fog so our only option is to keep going forward or find a way around. Either way, we’ll have to fight sooner or later.”

“Y/n, you can barely stand. If you try to fight -”

“I’m fine,” you bite out, eyes snapping to Shoto for the very first time. And it isn’t your tone of voice that snaps his mouth shut, it’s the weight of your stare. The stubborn resolve that burns like an untamed flame, roaring in the face of your exhaustion. “If I stop now there’s no getting back up. I won’t be another piece of dead weight for you guys.”

“What about Jiro?”

“Of course, I’ll protect her too. We’ll be okay.”

Bakugou has stopped paying attention to the two of you in favor of the villain, the sound of ice cracking and giving under the thrust of more bladed attacks registers in the back of Shoto’s mind, and he knows its only a matter of seconds before he’ll be needed again. As much as he wants to, he can’t force you back. He knows you too well, you wouldn’t let him get the next word out.

Shoto levels you with a stern look. “We’re only fighting to get away, not to take the villain out. Understand?”

Your lips pull up in a wide wobbly grin that still manages to flood his chest with warmth, reminding him of every reason why he had fallen for you in the first place.

“Got it.”

⊹⊹⊹

He should have known better than to let you walk in the back with the other two. You should have been at the front of the group with him and the other three injured classmates. But the second Midoriya had asked you to be one of the few to walk with Bakugou you agreed without a second thought. Shoto knew there wasn’t any talking you out of it, not when you were aware of how important your role of protection was. If anything or anyone came at Bakugou one of your light shields would be more than enough to keep the threat at bay until the others were alerted.

Of course, you would have had to hear the threat coming in order to defend against it.

“I really would have left the light wielder alone,” Mr. Compress sighed, the sound of his feigned regret fueling the rage coursing through Shoto’s veins. “But after seeing their abilities in the sports festival, I knew they would just get in the way. And we can’t have any more setbacks, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off!”

No. No, no, no! Not them too. NO!

Shoto was the first to take off after Compress, sprinting down the path as fast as his legs would carry him, the others just a step behind him. Every fiber of his being buzzed with adrenaline, with the demand to bring you back to him, to reach the others. He was not giving up until every single one of you was safe back at camp. Especially you.

Especially you.

All he could see was your face. Your kind, beautiful face, smiling wide with adoration as he plants a quick tentative kiss on your cheek on one of the first dates he took you on. The way your nose scrunches cutely when he says something unknowingly funny. The way you look at him when you think he isn’t paying attention, how your eyes roam his face, caressing every feature of his with invisible loving hands. The way your cheeks flushed after the first time he kissed you.

The only time he’s ever kissed you.

Shit, he’s only kissed you one time, and he sure as hell won't let it be the last.

He would not let them take the only piece of solace he’s had since reconnecting with his mother. From the moment he understood his feelings for you he vowed to protect your smile, no matter what. It was what brought him comfort, made him feel loved, wanted, happy. He would be damned if he let them rip you away from him, strip you of that smile that breathes life into everyone else around you.

Sometimes it frightens him how quickly he fell for you. There had been no warnings, no road signs, no heads up, just a cliff that he had stepped right off the edge of. Shoto didn’t even know he was plummeting into an endless pit until he realized that there was a weightless feeling in his stomach every time he saw you, every time you spoke to him, every time you looked in his direction. And by then it was too late. He had no hope of rescue, already too far gone.

Sometimes it frightens him how easily you caught him, worried that he’ll do something to make you let go. To scare you away for good.

But then he remembers moments where you look at him with those eyes that could melt even the coldest heart, hold onto his hand as if the next second he might disappear, and remind him of the reasons you will always love him, no matter the differences that might come between you.

And he can’t help but feel safe.

He won’t lose you.

⊹⊹⊹

“Poor Todoroki Shoto,” the scarred villain whispers just as Shoto’s hand clasps around only one of the marble casings.

His heart sinks at the statement as hits the ground rolling, ignoring his spinning vision to stare down at the marble in his hand, trying to see who he was holding.

Did that bastard mean he had grabbed the wrong one? Were you still -

Before he can finish scrambling to his feet to chase back after the villain, there’s a flash of blinding light and a sudden limp weight in his arms. Blinking away the spots in his vision he quickly makes out your sleeping face.

The relief that floods his chest is selfish, he knows that, but in the moment he can’t bring himself to care as he crushes you to his chest, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Weak fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt and he looks up in time to catch Bakugou vanish into the portal with the other villains.

He’s torn between a whirlwind of emotions, pushing and pulling him in all directions. Shame, regret, anger, devastation.

“Shoto?”

His gaze drops to you to see you staring up at him through tired, lidded eyes, worried, and confused. Then there’s terror in your moment of clarity, you go shooting upwards, head whipping around.

“No! Bakugou! Tokoyami!” You sob, fingers twisting further into his shirt. “Where are they, Shoto? What happened?! I was trying to - they were - oh god, no, I couldn’t -”

“Tokoyami is here. He’s here.”

“And Bakugou?”

When Shoto can’t bring himself to respond he watches your expression crumble with complete remorse.

Where was that smile he had sworn to protect now?

Shoto curls you back towards his chest, where you release the worst of your sobs, soaking through his shirt while he tries his best to comfort you without words. Because he knows there aren’t any to take away the pain you’re enduring, thinking that you could have done any more than you had. So, he holds you tight, tucks your head under his chin, presses a kiss to your hair.

It’s less than a minute later when your sobs subside and he realizes that you’ve likely fainted again. The pros arrive a few minutes after, followed by the police and paramedics, who usher you into an ambulance along with the other injured students. On the ride to the hospital, you drift in and out of consciousness, each time squeezing the hand he has wrapped around yours, reassuring him and the paramedics that you’re okay, you’re just tired, that it’s just a little hard to breathe.

Even half-alive you still try to keep people calm, make them feel at peace.

Moments before reaching the hospital you come too for one more minute, then turn to him, gaze hazy, but he recognizes that same look from before, from just after you emerged from the poisonous fog. 

Voice thick with the painkillers that are pumping through your blood, you whisper to him, “We’re going to get him back, Sho.”

Shoto manages to give you a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “We will.”

[demivampirew]

"You're not getting rid of me that easily"

August Walker x Reader

Triggers: Smut; self-pleasuring- s&m; drinkin; stalking.

Disclaimer: I’m not a huge fan of MI, so my knowledge is pretty limited so I tried my best 😁. Btw, when I said that I’m getting everytime more and more comfortable writing smut is no joke. 😂 🤣  I guess practice makes perfect (?).

I think I might do a second part, but I’ll see.

August ordered a beer. He was tired and frustrated. He'd come up with different ideas of how to free Lane, but the asshole was acting like a stubborn child and wanted to blame Hunt for everything. He had better things to do that being caught in a revenge fantasy, but like it or not, he needed Lane to be free. Three beers later, he started to feel the effects of alcohol starting to work. It's been a really long time since he allowed himself to consume drinks that might lower his senses. He knew too much, he needed to be always at the top of his game. He wouldn't risk a drunk mistake ruin his cover. He planned to finish the last beer and leave to the place in London in which he was hiding with the IMF team to carry the plan that will doom Ethan Hunt and his mates. At least that was the plan until he saw you. Gorgeous, wearing a black tight cocktail dress. Beautiful hair, stunning smile. You were chatting with two friends, enjoying a sweet drink when unintentionally looked at the man, sitting next to the bar, staring at you. He was had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, a moustache and even though he was sitting, you could tell he was tall. He was ripped but didn't dress to presume that. His clothing was rather formal than anything. Maybe he's a bodyguard or something like that, you thought. There was something dangerous about him. You only needed one peek into his eyes to know that he was bad news. Getting laid wasn't exactly in August's plans, but he needed to release some tension and he everything going on, he hadn't had the time to be with a woman in a minute. So "what the hell," he thought, he wouldn't miss his chance with you. He ordered three drinks like the one that you were drinking and made the waitress delivered to you and your friends. Your friends were quite excited by the attention of this guy and waved to him with big smiles on their faces. You, on the other hand, slightly nodded in his direction to thank him for the drink and continued talking to your friends ignoring him completely. He tensed his jaw in a sign of frustration but didn't give up. He stood up, picked up his trenchcoat and walk towards you. Your friend noticed him and said "he's coming" and began to push up her bra to make her breasts seem bigger. You saw him approach you and rolled your eyes annoyed. - Hello ladies.- he greeted like a true gentleman would do. - Hi! Thank you for the drinks.-said your friends on a unison. They sounded like valley girls. You limited yourself to raise your drink and give him a slight smirk in a way to thank him for the drink. - Instead of thanking me why don't you share your beautiful names with me?- he asked smiling. He looked like a friendly devil. - My name is Angela.- said your friend next to you, then she pointed to your other friend- She's Victoria and she's ...- continued and she pointed at you a was about to reveal your name when you interrupted her-. -Lara. My name is Lara.- you told him convincingly. Your friend looked at you confused and August realized by the awkward look you and your friend gave each other that it's not a real name the one you gave him. But that was okay with him, he didn't need to know who you were, he was planning to spend the night with you a never cross paths again. - Pretty name. - August reply. -Thanks. - Do you want another drink? I could order it for you? -he asked and you weren't sure if he was referring to all of you or just yourself because he had his eyes fixed on you. - What we want it's for you to leave. - you answered firmly. -Y/...Lara!- she was about to reveal your true name but then corrected herself with the fake name you provided before- That's not polite! - What it's not polite is to buy drinks to women to try to get them into your bed. Sorry, Mr Moustache, this is a girls night out, not men allow. I'm pretty sure you'll understand. So thank you for the previous drink and the offering, but no, thanks.- you told him with a defiant look to let him know you weren't someone he would like to mess with. He pressed his lips in a sign of disappointment and left the bar. After he left, you had to listen to your friend lecture you on how to be a polite person and later it was your turn to reprimand them for being way too friendly with a complete stranger. After the exchange of words, you were laughing again. An hour later, you left the place. Now, you were wearing a fancy black coat and a nice silk scarf to cover your neck. You were walking in the empty streets in London. August followed you, with a reasonable distance so you wouldn't notice him but not too far away that he might miss you. He followed you a couple of streets and then he turned around the corner, following your path, but you were out of his sight. "Fuck," he said. He stood right there trying to see what direction might have you taken when he sensed something and turned around just in time to grab your arm and make you throw away the pepper spray that you had in your hand. Then he caught your other arm before you hit him with your purse. - I'm not going to hurt you.- he told you annoyed - You're stalking me! - you screamed. - Yes, but I not going to do anything against your will or hurt you, so stop screaming like a maniac before someone call the police.-he ordered you. Calling the police would be the better thing to do, you knew that, but something in you decided to obey him.- I'm going to set you free, but you have to promise me not to run o scream again, ok?- you didn't speak, just nodded and he freed your hands. He took off his CIA identification and showed to you.- Do you see? I work for the CIA. I'm a good guy, there's nothing to be afraid. - Just because you're a cop doesn't mean that you're good. - I'm not a cop. I'm a CIA agent. - Potato, potahto. - you said like if you couldn't care less. - Why are you following me? - Because I'm having an awful time.- he said with anger- I'm having a fucking hard time and I saw you and I thought that maybe being with you could make things a little better but you're making things even more complicated. Now, I would not be able to concentrate on the important job that I have to do because I'll be thinking that you fucking rejected me. - I'm sorry, I'm just not interested. - I think you are.- he replied - You're not my type. - Are you sure?- he questioned as he pulled you against the wall and touched your lips with his thumb, putting his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. - You said you weren't going to do anything against my will.-you remembered him. - Tell me that you don't want this? - he defied you. - I don't- you told him and he bent his head and screamed "fuck" so hard that scared you, but he set you free. He started to walk away, leaving you there. -August! Wait! - you called him and he turned and made his way back to you. You took your scarf and handed to him. - What's this for?- He asked you -To cover your eyes. I'm not letting you know where I live.- He was ok with that. You two stood there as you waited for a car to pick you up. Soon enough, a Rolls Royce Phantom VIII showed up and you helped August sit on the back and then you took a place by his side. The car began the travel to your place. - Who's driven the car? - August asked.- Are we in a taxi? - No. My driver is driving the car. Now, shut up and stop asking questions. You reached your place and you took him to your bedroom upstairs. It was a big house, so there were a lot of stairs. Of course, he asked you about that but you decided to ignore him. Once on your room, you took a chair and made him sit on it. He was about to take off the scarf but you stopped him and grabbed both of his arms and cuffed both of his hands on his back. Something in you knew that you were lucky that he wasn't expecting that and that he probably liked you too much to hurt you, otherwise you probably would be seriously hurt by now by even trying that. You told him to relax, that everything was okay. You let him know that you'd be back in a minute and left him alone in there. When you came back, you were wearing a tight latex black strapless dress and long high hills boots. You unbuttoned his shirt and then took off the scarf that was covering his eyes. He scanned the room. Was big as a regular size house, with a king-size bed covered with nice curtains. The place looked like a palace. - So you're rich.- August said amused. - Very. - You replied. He saw you and what you were wearing and noticed that in your had you had a leather paddle whip. You came closer and started to give him slight touches with it on his chest, arms and legs. On one occasion, you hit him hard with it and he protested but you just grinned and continue. After having your fun with the whip, you toss it out and sat on his lap facing him and started to scratch his chest with your nails. First softly and then pressing your nails harder and harder on his chest, leaving red marks. You bit his lower lip, hard enough that you could taste blood. He was desperate to set himself free, but he was enjoying it. You could feel his erection growing. You stood up, open a drawer in your closet and grabbed a box. You sat on the edge of the bed, facing August, who was sitting right in front of you and forced him to watch you lick and suck a rubber cock that you had for self-pleasuring. After that, you put a vibrator inside of you and moan louder and louder as you reach climax. After you reached your orgasm you touch yourself and walk towards August. You put your wet fingers on his lips and he sucked them, looking at you full of desire and anger for not let him be a part of the action. - That's all you get, Mr Walker. Did you really think that you could just fuck me to release tension and leave? I'm not that kind of woman. Now, you got the change to get a taste of me, now I guess its time for you to leave. Bye, August. - you said and he felt a slight puncture and soon enough he was asleep. August woke up in a hotel room. The receptionist said that someone paid cash for him to stay in that room and explain that he was asleep because he was drunk, but did not give his name. "His name," August thought. "Maybe she made the driver take me here" he reasoned. Great! That's exactly what he needed. With everything going on, now he had that fucking woman on his head and he wanted to know who the hell she was. But he'll have to deal with that later because he had to hurry to meet with the IMF so they could carry on with the plans.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Bad Guy (3)

Bucky x fem!Reader

Smitten Kitten

Theme: It’s a good day in New York City for Bucky Barnes, who seems to feel right at home till his morning is disrupted by a bad guy. Maybe New York isn’t the same place after all. Now he has teamed up with the Bad Guy to fight the good fight. But this Bad Guy is bringing things on his surface he never knew he had

Chapter warnings: horny dumb asses and one thicc ass cock blocker

A/N: @writing-prompt-s​ once gave a prompt last year that stuck with me…I don’t remember the exact wordings but it had something to do with the reader/writer being the villain having a crush on the hero, always finding excuses (or crimes) to meet them. One day they are getting their ass beat and you decide to jump in and save the day. This one is same but with a liiiiiiiitle twist

Word Count: I hate periods!! Unless someone is paying me for this blood and mucus please just make it staaahp! I don’t know how many of you will get the reference of those dog and cat names. But oh my God if I could hug each and every one of you who reads, reblogs and comments on my fic I would hug the living souls outta you...five...people!!!!! Hnnnnghhhhh!!!!!

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

“Are you sure this is the location?”

“That’s what she texted Bucky.”

“...I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“...you…don't have a good feeling about...this mission or Y/N texting Bucky?”

Steve retreated his gaze from the binoculars to give Natasha a knowing look. The latter just shrugged her shoulders with the display of her innocent face. “He didn’t show you the text. He just told you the loc-esh. It’s normal to worry about it.”

Steve sighed and went back to the binoculars, looking at Bucky playing with a rock at the entrance of the warehouse before kicking it away. Steve hated the idea of Bucky wearing his favourite grey Henley shirt for a meeting with a bad guy.

“If I didn’t know him any better-” Tony’s voice crackled on the comms- “I’d say he was going on a date when he asked me if he could borrow my cologne. And if we go by our history, I really don’t know him any better.”

“Come on, guys. Cut Cap some slack,” Barton- who was screening the whole area from the top of the local water tank a couple of miles above the hill- added, “it’s not every day you see your best friends fall for the bad guys. Twice.”

A giggle and snicker eroded through the comms and Steve rolled his eyes while pushing himself into the seat. “Thanks for the input, Barton.”

“Alright, everybody shush,” Natasha interrupted the tease session, “she’s here.”

A Land Rover smoothly turned into the rundown estate to come and stop by Bucky’s Mustang. Those stooping shoulders suddenly found their rigidity and turned towards the car to welcome whoever was about to step out.

For a hot summer morning with plans to make plans to take down an entire cartel, you were dressed in a floral sundress. Brown shades covered your eyes and most of your face from that merciless sun. What they did not cover was the smile on those naked lips that had been painted the most enticing red Bucky had seen, apart from the gun you held in your dominant hand.

“Hello Sergeant,” you sang while taking patient steps in those white wedges that were in no way shoes made for a fight, “did you get my texts?”

Bucky, the soldier had already evaluated all the entries and exits, the type of gun, it’s range, the best stances if it came to playing offence or defence. Bucky the himbo from the past, though, was having a hard time concentrating on anything else but that suggestive smile and tilt of your head; the light hitting your hair perfectly while the languid breeze annoyed your strands now and then.

“Of course, that’s why I’m here, aren’t I?”

You tsked. “You know what I mean Sarge.”

Of course, he knew what you meant. He could feel his chest flutter by just the thought of those texts last night.

 You: meet me @ the warehouse on boulevard street tomorrow. We’ll come up with a plan to bust those bitches. Gimme a suitable time.

Bucky: Ok. How does 12 sound?

You: In this weather? Sarge, we’ll be sweating like a bunch of pigs under the sun!

Bucky: *typing* How about 7? am?

You: Do you feel like going skinny dipping tomorrow with me?

Bucky:

You: I know a really good spot a little away from here. Might end up on a road trip.

Bucky: *typing* I think we should concentrate on the miss-

You: Where do you live, btw?

You: *sends location* This is my place

Bucky: *erases everything* shouldn’t you keep your home location to yourself?

You: Hmm...But if I do that, how will you come over?

Bucky: *silence* *types* why would I want to-

You: It’s not every day I feel like sharing a bottle of some good stuff with someone.

You: It is soooo hot. I’m taking my pants off.

Bucky:

You: The top’s gone too. Phew! Just my lingerie now.

*one minute later*

You: Yeah, it’s not working. Bra is never comfy. Ever.

You: It’s better now! The night breeze is hitting every sweat bead on the spot.

You: Every window is open now.

You: Hmmm...Sarge. Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?

You: Well, thinking isn't gonna do you any good, Bucky.

You: Thinking about my clothes on the floor.

You: Thinking about my skin.

You: Thinking about how much more this wind is getting action than someone you know.

You: Thinking about my hands roaming on my chest.

You: And then my stomach.

You: And then down further…

 By this time the phone was a crushed pile of junk in his hand and his cock a frustrated bulge in his boxers. Oh, the dissatisfaction of not being able to push you against a wall and grind his needy bulge against you was frustrating at best. The want to see you naked in the sheets under him while you called out his name increased with every second. Why did you have to be such a fucking tease?! A great one at that. Now he did want to dash out of the facility, steal one of Tony’s cars and drive to your home to take your by your hair and shut that pretty mouth of yours. He did think about it. But imagining you seeing him at your doorstep stopped him for some reason. Instead, he got out of his boxers, jumped on his bed and took care of that urge himself, fantasizing you, your touch, your moans, your highs with his hitting the rocks, till his legs were shivering and he had to stop himself from groaning out loud.

“I...fell asleep.”

Your tongue played with your upper lip and a tiny shudder in his pants was enough to tell him, you knew it was a lie. A lie through and through. There was a point when he started to fear that you might even know what he did after reading those messages.

"Sure, ya did," you chuckled the words through your teeth. "Anyways-" lifting your gun up casually to stroke it- "I was wondering about you last night. A lot. And there were things I did not like."

The safety clicked off and your arm turned straight to point it right at Bucky's forehead.

On the other side of the binoculars, Steve was already shouting his team to move in. Natasha was already driving forward, skidding to a stop right next to Bucky's wheels.

You could hear the commotion all around you but you were more interested in the disappointment building up on Bucky's beautiful face, looking at his pal with a hint of resentment.

"That-" you tilted your head a little in Steve's direction- "is what I don't like. You thought I wouldn't find out?"

"I told you to stay away, Steve!" Bucky yelled at him.

"Alright, this is over," Steve fumed from where he stood, "I knew we should not have trusted you."

With the right force, the gun crunched in your palms as turned towards Steve. You said nothing to the blonde. Removing your shades, you nodded at Natasha. "Hey, Nat."

"Y/N. How's Mr Fuzzy Boy."

"It's Fluffy Boy. And he still hates you. Talking about boys-" you looked around with your arms across your chest- "I thought you would have knocked some sense into them by now."

Natasha shrugged. “Not really. No.”

“She tried but we are too stubborn and our egos are bigger than our-”

“Hey, Stark,” you announced at the voice breaking out through Natasha's car. Turning to Bucky you sucked at your teeth. “I honestly thought you were doing this little team up because you wanted to work with me. Clearly that is not what this was about. You wanted to find out if I was working with the cartel, didn’t you, James Barnes?”

“Oooh, full name,” Clint cringed from his nest.

“You’re not really known for your goodness, Y/N,” Steve broke it down for you. “No offence.”

“Save it, Captain,” you spewed in his direction, “and to think I wanted to crush that face between my thighs.” Digging into your sundress’ pocket, you took out a burner cellphone and threw in his direction. “Happy hunting, you fucked up psychopaths.” You turned towards Bucky with no sign of any empathy in those y/e/c eyes. “Don’t expect anything more from me.”

The Land Rover moved out and away and with a part of Bucky’s broken heart that wanted to stop it so bad but had to do with turning to Steve and yelling out his anger at him. “You had to put your leg in the door, didn’t you. I had it handled!”

“Handled? Handled?!! Buck, she’s been playing you like a fiddle!”

“And you think I can be played?”

“I saw her texts for God’s sake!! Don’t tell me you’re going to defend her.”

Natasha cursed under her breath and stepped away from Steve. “Wow,” Bucky breathed in disbelief. “So just because she is horny on the phone means I am her little puppet? Is that how little you think of me, Stevie?”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Buc-”

“I am not fourteen anymore! Neither are you! You know what, I’m out. I’m done. She’s given you something. Go use it and go punch some Nazi heads. I don’t want anything to do with this.”

And so he went away too, leaving everyone but Steve standing there to uncomfortably watch the captain look at the car.

“So…” Tony’s voice muttered over the comms, “which ice-creams should I keep ready in big dessert bowls when you guys get back home?”

.

It's good. Whatever happened was good. I mean, Steve and Tony got what they wanted. Y/N is no longer in the picture and...and…I don't have to interact with her...anymore.

The ball bounced from the ceiling into Bucky's hands, going back and forth without a pause. The other hand rested under his head- the very head that was blankly staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in there like a freight train. Wait, no, scratch that. No trains. They were running more like a leopard- just running around, presenting a brooding picture on the outside while on the inside- just like that very leopard, this poor muscular soul was dying of overthinking and anxiety. The agitation was on the level of a nine-year-old sulking in his bed because his mom was not letting him play with his friend. It was reasonable that the friend was bad, could be a bad influence, had been directly or indirectly leading him on some things he hadn't thought of in a while. But he had just made a frieeeennddd!! Hngh!

Crack!

The sound brought him out of the huffing trance to watch the paint and plaster crack in the ceiling. Fuck! Stark's gonna be pissed.

Bucky closed his eyes and let the hand engulfing the ball rest of his forehead.

Well, to be fair to his 'mom', Bucky was sure he was worried about what would happen if his new friend took him to the dark side again. After all the efforts and blood so many people had gone through, for one woman to undo it all. That was a genuine concern. But then again, she has been more interested in Sergeant Barnes than the Winter Soldier. Except for the part where she said she wants to see him…under the…sheets?

Right! What is with this woman! She speaks without a filter!! Does not care who's listening and what they'll think. I like that. I really like that. But all she wants to do is fuck me? And then what? Go back to ogling America's ass? 

A part of him nudged at those angry corners, pressing at the fact that you had been too engrossed to be angry at him to even think about Steve today. So, maybe it was not all about the ass.

Bucky turned to his side, rolling that thought along with him. The ball was moved around by his flesh index while his mind jogged with the possibility of doing something next.

Well, there was one thing he could do. It would drive Steven Grant Rogers crazy but it would be worth all the trouble he would be going through. Well, if he were to get caught he would have been caught last night when he sneaked out of the facility to go check to your place.

The distance had not been much on the bike but the New York heat hitting his face the moment he entered the city was more unwelcoming than the people living in the city. Parking the bike in an alley, he had pretty much parkoured his way over the houses to reach the building next to yours. Silent as a cat in the night looking for its prey, Bucky had planted himself on your apartment’s balcony and watched in impressive horror the modesty you lived in. Paintings made by kids were pinned all over the living room walls while a volcano sat on the coffee table- half done. An empty bottle of orange juice lay on the kitchen table while cushions were sprawled over the floor. Taking a step to his right, he was looking through the french windows into your bedroom where you slept in your queen-sized bed like a baby. All around you were oil paintings in blue and green of what looked like ocean waves in different art styles. On the bed lay your worn down laptop still running. Bending at an angle, his throat let out a muted gasp at collage with his photos on the screen, suggesting you had fallen asleep looking at his photographs. What was weird for Bucky was that his accelerated heartbeat had not found a single photo of his winter soldier avatar in there. What cooled down his burning chest was the serenity on your face. Sleeping under those thin grey sheets with a plushie of a right next to your head, Bucky almost had the urge to grin so wide. He could not believe you were the same woman who had threatened his best friend in full public view. And he knew exactly what he was going to do. Take a picture and blackmail you with it.

Looking down at his jeans to take his phone, his heart felt like he had fallen down the stairs when a pair of glowing eyes caught his. Gaining his mental footing, he breathed in the fact that it was actually a cat staring back at him from the other side of the window. White fur stood out in the dark of the night as it hissed Bucky and tried to claw at him, clearly seeing him as a threat. Sensing the feline’s uneasiness with his presence, he thought it better to leave before that little white monster woke you up. But not before he left a bunch of biscuit crumbs on the balcony tiles as a sign of peace for the little fanged beast.

Now, he wanted to go back through the front door and get face to face with that rage today- not something he had expected after last night’s scenic view of that perfect face.

Pausing movement of the ball, he picked it up in his metal hand, got himself up from the bed and slid towards the edge to put on his socks and boots only to pause and form an attack stance with his metal arm towards that svelte figure leaning by the door.

“Gonna hit me with the ball?” Natasha cocked a brow at Bucky.

Loosening his muscles at Natasha and went on to put his boots on. “Going somewhere, Grumperella?”

“Outside. Away. Somewhere I can grump in peace,” Bucky stated, getting up.

“Take this pretty lady too,” Tony announced as he walked by his room and tossed a pair of car keys at Bucky, “I don’t think you’ll improve those points by going to her place on a bike.”

Silence.

The flutter in Bucky’s heart drowned by Natasha’s words. “Don’t worry. Only Tony and I know. We’ll handle Steve. Just don’t let our image fall further,” she concluded, walking out with a smirk.

.

“Truffle, Fluffy, stop looking at the neighbour’s lunch and come eat your chicken thighs,” you announced from the kitchen. With a bandana on to keep your hair as far away from your skin, your skin itched for something colder than what the air conditioner was providing right now. This was the third time you had fiddled with your thermostat today. Damn this summer! That’s it, I’m moving out of this fucked up city. 

Fluffy’s taps came to a skidding halt at the doorway to slip towards his bowl while Truffle gracefully walked to his bowl and ate his share while keeping a paw between him and the corgi’s audible gobble and chomps, nearly pushing his face away. 

Sighing, you sat down on the seat by the kitchen table, looking at your two kids devour their lunch while you questioned the disappearance of your appetite. Maybe it’s the PMS. Is it the PMS? You looked at the calendar over your fridge. Still a week to go. Maybe it is him. That stupid fucker.

Your thoughts started forming around that magnificent frame of Bucky. There were not enough times you could say you had been left attracted to a bewildered face of a guy in awe of your skills. Men would mostly take that power inside you as a wrong stroke on their ego. But this one? This one just stood there looking at you as if the theme of Love Story 1970 was playing in those anime eyes while he watched in gasping admiration at something out of this world. That was the first time someone’s face had given you such warmth. Well, a stranger’s face. Don’t let my family hear it, you thought to yourself. Just then, Truffle looked up from his bowl to turn and stare at your for a solid minute before going back to his lunch.

The doorbell rang, getting you out of those dreamy thoughts- for barely a second- that were making you sweatier by the minute. Getting up and walking to the door, you kept wondering about that metal hand, those absolutely luscious lips, those surprised yet aroused eyes and oh Gods! Those shoulders. Those beautiful shoulders you wanted to bite into. Arrr!

You did not realise when you clicked the door open. But you did feel like eating your own words when that Love Story 1970 theme started playing in the background just as your eyes locked onto those beautiful oceans of blue; the abyss inside them widening just as you came into view.

Bucky forgot how to breathe. For a second you did too. You did not expect him to be standing here; not after the humiliation you put him through in front of his team/friends. And yet, here he was. At your door. Standing in front of you, the bad guy, moving his hair back with his hand, revealing the redness of those kissable cheeks that had been struggling to keep the blood inside the veins the whole elevator ride to your floor. The rubbing of his hand fingers against his palms while his legs shifted his weight on each other.

“Hi,” his husky, barely audible voice sent shivers down your spine straight to your core.

“Hi,” you responded with a softness you had not heard in ages. And the guitars strum in the background, the tune carrying all the unspoken feelings in the shape of melodies in the air around the two of you.

“Can we talk?”

Bucky was almost scared of having the door being slammed in his face. But when you moved aside to let him in, he felt live rush back into his bones. He had not felt this alive since Wakanda. With sure steps inside, he was not letting this feeling go away anytime soon.

The gush of that one magical wind inside you made you discreetly smile to yourself and you could not help but wonder if it was his last night’s visit to your place that brought him back or just his curiosity with this mission. Whatever it was, you challenged yourself to not let this one get away till you had explored every little inch of his being in person.

[whetstonefires]

So I made notes when I read Pride and Prejudice because I had so many spoilers for this book thanks mostly to tumblr, and yet here are some things that took me quite off guard:

The narration just dips into anybody’s head whenever it feels like to give us a summary of who they are as a person and what they care about. Very straightforward. Very effective. Very much not the modern approach.

This extends to telling us straight out, like half a chapter after the iconic Darcy-snubbing-Elizabeth scene, that he had now developed a massive crush. This comes as a great shock to Elizabeth quite a bit later, but the audience spends much of the book enjoying the layers and/or dramatic irony. Who knew!

Elizabeth on the other hand had a crush on Wickham.

Wickham is genuinely good at being likeable not an obvious sleaze and the fact that he’s a bad guy was an actual plot twist, though I’m sure plenty of people saw it coming even when the book was new.

As much as the book attends to women’s concerns, being as it is a book very much about a woman, the greatest explicit thematic force of the novel is the question of class.

Specifically, that great and renowned engine of Anglophone egalitarianism, the conviction of the upper middle class that they are every bit as good as the true upper class, or that if they aren’t it’s only a question of opportunity.

Seriously, the fact that the ultimate symbol of emotional resolution the story closes out on is that the new Darcy family has over for Christmas Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle the Gardiners, who are in trade and don’t even live in the nice part of London but are nice and sensible and not at all people it is mortifying to be related to, even though Darcy assumed as much without having met them, while avoiding both her tawdry shallow mother and his awful smug aunt, who are very similar people for all one is a wretched social climber and the other a minor aristocrat obsessed with her own consequence...that’s it, that’s the book.

Additionally the fact that this novel is from the end of the 18th century , when in England the Industrial Revolution was gaining momentum but no one knew what it meant yet, including I’m pretty darn certain Jane Austen.

(Though since she waited 16 years to publish it she may have had a better sense by then, and even made amendments to that effect.)

So everyone’s sense of what is real wealth and security and thus valid social status is still vested in land ownership and income specifically from agricultural rent, and yet you can feel the change coming, because the desire to write this book in this way arises from the cultural forces that were at that time in play, particularly the question of upward mobility.

Elizabeth’s grandsons will have to get into trade in some sort of way, or their children in turn may not be able to keep Pemberly in adequate repair.

 By loosening the stubborn Darcy/Fitzwilliam pride in this particular regard Elizabeth may in fact have saved the house from dissolution.

Btw the thematic import of Mr. Darcy having his mother’s maiden name as his first name, in part because she actually ranked his father, as wealthy and respectable as the Darcys may be. His family legacy is literally his whole identity and part of what Elizabeth brings to the marriage is having helped him understand that it doesn’t have to be.

Seriously how did I not hear about any of this.

[mageicalwishes]

A Smashing Summer - Chapter 3

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (On Tumblr): here

Summary: “I’m egging your house for a dare, but you’re parent is a cop and now they’re yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you’re coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don’t want to go to jail” AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho’s house, he never thought he’d find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 3/?

Words: 1,694

Simon

I slide down against the sofa, pulling my phone out of my pocket, with a smile.

ME (19:57): Hey, hey, hey, Bazaroo!

ME (19:57): I’m super glad you liked the scones! They’re my absolute faveee

ME (19:57): I’ll bring enough to share next time :)

ME (19:58): How are you today?

To my delight, my phone buzzes with a response, almost immediately.

BP (19:58): If you ever call me that again, I will block your number. I’m not even joking.

BP (19:58): And, I’m pretty good, thanks. Yourself?

ME (19:59): Aw :( Imma just have to keep trying different names till I find one you like, then :p

ME (19:59): I’m great! Had a pretty good day today :)

ME (20:00): Sorry I didn’t message earlier btw - It’s been a busy day! Me and the lads went into town and played some footie, and then I had to do some dumb history essay (Idk who told my history teacher she could set homework in the holidays, but I wanna fight them!)

ME (20:00): I fucking despise the Tudors. I mean, why the fuck would I care about socio-economic policies from like a million years ago! Grrrr!

BP (20:01): No worries, Snow. I understand.

BP (20:01): That is unfortunate - But, you got lucky with the Tudors, to be honest. I’d rather that, than the bloody Industrial Revolution. That is mind-numbingly dull!

BP (20:02): But, I hate to break it to you - If you think the Tudor dynasty was a million years ago, then maybe you should reconsider your subject choice. You’ll definitely fail the A-level, if that’s your level of understanding.

ME (20:03): Aha trueee. Sucks to be you :p

ME (20:03): And stfu!! I know it wasn’t actually a million years ago, you tosser! I was BEING dramatic - You should've realised, you know ALL about that, Mr. Roll-your-eyes-every-two-fucking-seconds.

BP (20:04): I’m unconvinced.

Stupidly, I scoff aloud - Drawing Nathan’s attention away from the television and over to me. He stands, trudging over, and plopping down onto the sofa besides me.

I groan, frustrated.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. Nothing … Just wondering who you’re texting,” he drawls, the mocking amusement clear in his tone. “Got yourself a new girlfriend, or something?”

“No! I’m just talking to Penny,” I defend, my voice rising suspiciously. Fuck. I’m such a crap liar.

“You know, I know you’re lying, right?”

“Obviously,” I drone. “Just … Butt out of it, though, yeah? Please.”

“Alright, alright” he laughs, throwing his hands up in a mock surrender. “I’ll leave you be. But, if you wanna keep your little buddy a secret - I’d advise against laughing at their messages in the bloody common room, you divvy.”

“Noted,” I sigh, turning towards the door. “Don’t tell Josh though, yeah?”

“Sure, Simon. If that’s what you want, your secret is safe with me.”

“Cheers, mate.” I smile. “You’re the best.”

“I know, I know. I’m amazing. Just go and text them, you mug!”

I do (Obviously). Quickly jogging upstairs, and locking myself in the bathroom - Where I’m safely hidden from prying eyes. Laying myself down in the bathtub, I hammer out a reply, sending it off Baz immediately.

ME (20:13): Whatever, dickhead!!

ME (20:13): Also soz I didn’t answer. Nathan was being nosy lol.

ME (20:13): Anyway … You been up to much today?

Baz

Just as I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I won’t be receiving a response, my phone buzzes loudly against my bedside table - My chest swelling pathetically, as I reach out and grab it.

Typing out a response, I find myself smiling - Unbridled joy melting away my impassive neutrality.

ME (20:14): No worries, Snow. It’s not as though I’m just sitting here, desperately awaiting your every response. I do have a life outside of you, you know.

That's not exactly true ... But, he doesn’t need to know that.

ME (20:14): And, no, not really. I’ve mostly just been reading. I did try to teach Mordelia how to play chess, though - Which was fairly disastrous.

SS (20:15): Lol! Sounds good :)

SS (20:15): Who is Mordelia, though?

SS (20:15): Is that your girlfriend?

I stare at my phone, blankly - Trying to formulate a response.

ME (20:17): Seriously?

Barely a second after I've send it, my phone starts buzzing furiously - Message after message, pouring in.

SS (20:17): What?

SS (20:17): That’s a perfectly valid question!

SS (20:17): You haven’t mentioned anyone called Mordelia, I swear to God!

SS (20:18): I’d remember, for sure.

SS (20:18): It’s not exactly a common name

ME (20:19): I know that, Snow. I was referring to the girlfriend question!

ME (20:19): I thought that we had already established that, a girlfriend isn’t exactly on the cards for me - Given the whole fake ex-boyfriend situation.

SS (20:20): Bi people exist, you moron!

SS (20:20): I’m Bi. Lol.

SS (20:20): I didn’t wanna assume you were only into guys … Or that you were even really into them at all.

SS (20:21): You totally could’ve been Bi!

SS (20:21): Or straight! The whole ex-boyfriend thing was a lie, remember? - You could’ve just been a straight bro, pretending to be into dudes, to help me out.

SS (20:22): It aint a dumb question, really. So … Don’t be annoying!!

Oh. Okay.

Newly nervous, I begin typing out my response - Ensuring that I sound perfectly unphased.  

ME (20:22): Christ, Snow! You seriously have to stop sending so many texts in a row. My phone is going to have a meltdown, if you keep it up.

Hesitating slightly, I continue.

ME (20:23): But, you’re right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it to sound as though Gay and Straight were the only options. I could’ve been Bi … Or Straight, I suppose. But, to clarify - I’m definitely not. I’m gay.

ME (20:24): I guess that - Where I’ve known since I was eleven, and I stopped trying to hide it a while ago now, I sort of forget that it isn’t immediately apparent to everybody else. Everyone in my Family knows. Everyone at College, too. So, I just, sort of, forget that I can still be perceived as anything other than what I actually am.

SS (20:26): Hush you! I like multiple texts!! It’s easier to keep my track of my thoughts, like that. If I try to put it all in one text, I forget what I wanna say.

SS (20:26): And dw about it, it’s chill! I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was just teasing :)

SS (20:27): I get what you mean tho. Coming out was so scary … But now I sort of forget that not everybody knows. I just like to assume they do lol. It’s stopped being such a big thing, now that I can just, like, relax about it.

Unsure of how to respond, I type out a simple …

ME (20:28): Yeah.

SS (20:28): Yeah :)

SS (20:28): Seriously, tho. Who is Mordelia? You never actually answered me lol.

ME (20:29): She’s my little sister.

SS (20:30): Oh lol! That’s crazy! I didn’t think you had a sibling.

SS (20:30): You don’t give off doting big brother vibes.

SS (20:31): More like … Spoiled only child, ones. LOL! :D

SS (20:31): Is she your only sibling?

Unable to help myself, I chuckle, quietly.  

ME (20:32): Very funny, Snow. But I never said I was doting! I may be their brother, but I still have standards.

ME (20:33): And, no (Unfortunately). I have three more - Two sisters, and a brother. They’re my step-siblings technically, though. And they’re quite a bit younger than me. So, I was an only child for quite a long time.

SS (20:33): Cool!

SS (20:34): Do they all have stupidly posh names, too?

SS (20:34): And, do you like having siblings?

SS (20:35): I always wanted a brother, when I was little!

ME (20:36): Yes. Unfortunately, my family are incapable of picking normal names.

ME (20:37): And, yes. Most of the time, anyway. It’s nice to always have somebody to talk to - Or to play with (Although, I think I would’ve appreciated that more, if the age-gap wasn’t quite so wide). But, they do drive me up the wall, sometimes! Mordelia has taken to drawing all over my revision notes, recently - I’m sure you can imagine how I felt about that!

SS (20:40): Aw, yeah. That sounds nice!

SS (20:40): LMAO! THAT’S HILARIOUS! I feel bad for her tho … I’d hate to have your wrath turned on me! You'd probs make me cry lol.

ME (20:41): Yes, well. Despite what you think - My wrath was, evidently, not strong enough! She’s still bloody doing it!

SS (20:43): Aha lol! I like her! She sounds as stubborn as you.

————————————————————————————

A soft rap on the door, disturbs me from my conversation with Snow.

“Baz, Honey? Are you in there?” Daphne calls, her voice sweet and cautious.

“Yeah? You can open the door. It’s fine - I’m decent.”

“Okay,” she hums, pushing the door open slightly, and peeping her head in. “I just wanted to let you know that I'm about to start plating up dinner.”

“Alright,” I smile. “Thank you. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Perfect. See you then,” she sings, turning and leaving the room.

Hastily, I rattle out a text to Snow.

ME (21:14): As much as I am enjoying this, I have to go now, Snow. Sorry.

SS (21:14): Aw :( How come?

ME (21:15): I’ve got to go and eat dinner.

SS (21:15): At nine ?!?

ME (21:16): Yes, Snow - At nine. I must compliment you on your time-telling abilities!  

ME (21:16): My Father insists that we eat dinner together as a family, but he was working late tonight … So, nine P.M steak it is.

SS (21:17): Aw fuck! You have steak! I’m well jel :(((

SS (21:17): But, okay, no worries! Hope you enjoy your dinner.

SS (21:18): TTYL :D

ME (21:18):  Will do! Talk to you later. Goodbye for now :)

[cbk1000]

Re: the dog. He is an as-yet unnamed Very Good Boi; we just got him last night, so we’re still working on a name. I’m arguing for Vlad the Impaler, naturally.

He is half Great Pyrenees, half Anatolian Shepherd. Male Great Pyrs average around 27 to 32 inches for a male, and around 100 to 160 lbs. according to one site, and 110-130 according to another (the Great Pyr we had when I was a kid was around 130 lbs, and he seemed to be a pretty average size for a male Pyr). Anatolian Shepherds can grow to between 27 to 29 inches and weight up to 150 lbs. So while he may look like a dog now, he is actually a small horse. I am guessing he’ll probably be close to the size of my parents’ St. Bernard/Newfoundland (we couldn’t let them show us up, obviously). 

Obligatory PSA for anyone who looked at the pic, rightfully screamed over its cuteness, and decided they want one: we had a Great Pyr for a few years while I still lived at home (don’t worry; he lived longer than that, I just moved out of the house when he was around 4 or 5), and I loved that dog; I was high key devastated when he died. However, as you can see from the above description, they are massive dogs, and not everyone can handle that. Also, they are livestock dogs (mostly they are family pets now, but their instincts are to herd things and guard the flock, and our guy actually was in charge of our alpacas, so he was sort of half house pet, half working dog), and they are very, very protective. He will need good socialization, because these breeds are quite wary of strangers. They’re not attack dogs; they protect more through BEING FUCKING HUGE and barking to let things that go bump in the night know they’re watching them, but they ARE very powerful dogs: Great Pyrs have fought off bears trying to attack their herds. Our Pyr was super protective of us; we always knew that if a burglar ever broke in, good luck to them, because they’d most definitely be eaten. My sister and I used to play fight sometimes by slapping at each other, and for some reason this riled up our lab; he’d start barking and running around us; he never tried to attack us, and he was not being aggressive, just an idiot, but the Great Pyr ALWAYS came barreling in, planted himself between us and the lab, and growled at him. Then he would spin around on his butt while the lab ran back and forth, so he could keep an eye on him while still keeping himself between us. Any time we brought new people over, the Pyr had to inspect them, and we had to make a show of them being welcome in the house so he knew they were supposed to be there. The first time Mr. Jenn came over to meet my parents, this dog jumped up, slapped his big meaty paws down on Mr. Jenn’s shoulders, looked him eye to eye (btw, Mr. Jenn is 6′ 1″), and barked right in his face. He didn’t try to attack him or bite him, he never even growled--but he was most definitely letting him know that this was his house, and Mr. Jenn better be on his best behaviour. (But after that it was like the mob; once you’re in, you’re in, and he and Mr. Jenn were basically besties after that.) They are also stubborn, intelligent dogs; they are bred to be self-reliant, because they need to be able to make their own decisions while out guarding. Consequently, while obedience training is always a good idea, if you want a super complacent, obedient dog, this is not the dog you’re looking for. Pyrs (and it sounds like Anatolian Shepherds are similar) can be trained; however, there are times they will straight up ignore your commands and do their own thing. They will also look you right in the eye so that you know they know exactly what they’re supposed to do, they’re just choosing not to do it. End PSA.

He’s a bit scared still, which is fair, because two strange, naked dogs just took him from his brothers and sisters, put him in a weird rumbly box on a road with other weird, rumbly boxes, and brought him to a large, stationary box he’s never seen before. We’re crate training him because it helps with house breaking (they usually won’t soil where they’re sleeping, so you put them in the crate when it’s time to sleep, then just take them outside right away so they start learning where it’s appropriate to go to the bathroom), and he seems to like his crate a lot. We put a blanket in so he has something warm and cozy to help comfort him, and I’ve got one of those wind-up clocks sitting right outside it. It can help comfort puppies because the steady noise reminds them of the heartbeats of their littermates. My in-laws used it with most of their puppies and recommended it. When he’s out of the crate, he likes to squish himself into a corner, so I think the enclosure of the crate helps him feel safe. I’m just sitting here chilling with him (it makes him nervous to be picked up, so we’re just petting him and talking to him and letting him kind of go at his own pace in terms of interaction) with the door open, and he’s awake but still content to lay in the crate, so I’ll let him alone till he wants to come out.

He is warming up a bit already; chest scratches are Very Good, and we put him in the kitchen this morning to eat and boxed off the opening, and he explored a little more. Also, earlier I scratched his chest, and he laid his head down on my hand and dozed off, so now if anyone even looks at him cross-eyed, I will kill them with my bare hands. Also also, I just stuck my hand into the crate for him to sniff it, and he licked it and wagged his tail, so x2 on the killing anyone who looks at him cross-eyed. 

[hajimesh]

cygne

DANCER & MUSICIAN AU

Pairing: Musician!Loki x Dancer!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

sooo this is my entry for @sgtbucketbarnes 1k challenge. congratulations on the milestone courtney!! ♡ 

A/N: okay, i have no idea of any ballet movements and terms so i had to do some research so i hope this makes any sense. btw i strongly recommend listening to The Carnival of the Animals by Yo-Yo Ma for the dance scene.

Masterlist

“Make sure your rotation comes from the hip!”

With and exasperated sigh you close your eyes and begin to do as Ms. Pavlov says. Everyone is focused on the task when the door opens abruptly and you see the principal’s head, Mr. Agnarsson, pop in.

“Ladies! Don’t forget to head to the auditorium for the partner assignation. It begins in 10 minutes so you better hurry.” And without another word, he closes the door.

Murmurs quickly raise between your classmates and you see Ms. Pavlov struggling to grab everyone’s attention. It isn’t until she says the word dismissed that you see your everyone turn their heads towards her and nod, leaving the room before she changes her mind.

Grabbing a towel from your bag, you dry your sweaty face and sigh. Today’s class was tough and you can already feel the toll it took on your muscles. You reach down for your bag and groan, remembering that the auditorium was on the other side of the campus and that it’ll take you those ten minutes to make it there.

After a long walk, you finally step into the main hall. You turn to your left and see the auditorium entrance at the end of the hall and you can already hear all the commotion behind the doors. Today is an important day, as a dance major the graduation ceremony consists in a solo performance accompanied by other students majoring in music. The school directives will randomly assign partners and after that it’s up to you how you approach the assignment.

“Attention everyone!” Mr. Agnarsson’s voice booms around the room thanks to the microphone.

The room goes silent and you try to find an empty seat. The place is packed with classmates and other students you don’t know. You finally find a spot in the third row and quickly make your way towards it.

“As you may know, today we will assign you a partner for the Gala. Now here–” he motions towards the two boxes by his side. “–we have all of your names, one box for the musicians and one for the dancers. When I mention your name please stand up and wait for your partner.”

After a quick talk with the rest of the teachers, principal Agnarsson finally reaches for the first name and soon everyone is standing up to go meet with their new partners. You keep waiting until you finally hear your name, you stand up and wait.

“–with Mason Kingston.”

You scan the crowd and out of nowhere you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, I’m Mason.”

Turning around, you face him and smile politely. “Hi!”

You introduce yourself and begin to talk with him about the set up for the rehearsals. His whole demeanor is very relaxed and he seems like a nice guy, you can’t help but feel relieved at this.

“Tomorrow works for me. Is 8am ok?”

Nodding your head, you agree with him and bid him goodbye. He seemed nice so hopefully you’ll get along just fine. Now it was time for you to rest and mentally prepare yourself for tomorrow.

*     *     *     *

Waking up the next day you realize you’re running a bit late for the rehearsal. You rush to the bathroom and quickly brush your teeth and wash your face. Once you’re done, you change into workout clothes and grab an apple from the kitchen counter as you make your way to the door.

The walk to the campus feels eternal, even though you live a few blocks away. By the time you arrive you are panting and throw the door open, tossing your things to the side.

“I am so sorry! I lost track of time it won’t happen again.”

You apologize and as you lift your head to look in Mason’s direction your eyes meet a pair of green ones. Your breath hitches in your throat and suddenly you are speechless. You can barely hear Mason dismissing your apology but your attention is focused on the strange man sitting beside him. He looks at you and a small, timid smile grows on his lips making your heart flip unexpectedly.

Noticing the staring between the both of you, Mason introduces you to him. “Oh sorry, this is Loki Odinson.” Mason gently pats him on the shoulder and smiles before continuing. “He will be joining us!”

You watch Loki nod with the smile still on his face and you mirror it. As you begin to get lost in his eyes again, you suddenly recall what Mason said.

“Wait, what do you mean by joining us?”

Your face scrunches up and with squinting eyes you finally turn your head in Mason’s direction. In return, Mason turns to Loki and now you’re both waiting for him to talk.

“I’m a music graduate from a year below but I took the final exam and passed, so I got assigned with you for the Gala.” His low voice catches you off guard and you feel your heart pounding on your chest.

“Oh and what do you play?” You ask Loki trying to sound nonchalant.

He looks to his side and pats the black case beside him before looking back at you. “The violoncello.”

Not knowing what else to do you nod and hum and then an awkward silence sits in the room. It isn’t until Mason decides to step in that the tension fades away and you finally begin to get down to business.

“Okay, I think we should brainstorm and see which idea we like the most. What do you think?” Mason’s idea was actually good so you nod and so does Loki.

Half an hour later and you still won’t make up your mind. You see Mason press his lips together and then huffing out a breath, frustration clear on his face. But when you turn to Loki you catch him leaning forward on his notebook, passing the pages furiously as if looking for something and he must’ve found it because seconds later his posture changes; lifting his face he searches for your eyes and once they meet he stares intently, his lips tugging upwards into a smirk.

“I got it.”

Mason perks up at his words and raises his brows. “Well? What do you have?”

“Taking into account that you play the piano and I play the cello, it wasn’t hard to think of multiple options. But we must take into account our dancer.” As Loki said those words, he looked straight into your eyes and you smiled in mocking appreciation before letting out a small laugh.

“I remembered learning in class about The Carnival of the Animals and the ‘le cygne’ movement. I believe is suitable for her, seeing as it has a nice tempo, and it fits both instruments so, it’s perfect. Besides, it’s a beautiful score.”

Ending his brief explanation with a smile, Loki leans back on his chair and waits for your reactions.

Mason seems to agree, nodding his head unconsciously as he rubs his chin. “It works for me. What do you think?”

Their eyes turn to you, waiting for your answer. You look at the ceiling and sigh, honestly you think it’s a a good idea but now it finally dawns on you that the stakes are set up pretty high and that you’ll have to give your maximum effort not only for you but for them. It wouldn’t be fair to ruin their performance.

Exhaling, you look at them again but quickly avoid making eye contact with Loki, his stare strong and intimidating.

“Um– yeah, yes. I’m cool with it, let’s do it.”

*     *     *     *

“Let’s start form the top.”

After nodding their heads, both men followed your command.

It had been two hard weeks since you began to practise and it was finally catching up to you. Your whole body feels sore and your muscles are screaming in pain but you can’t stop now. Brushing the sweat out of your forehead you place yourself in position and wait.

Behind you, Loki watches you with curiosity. Ever since day one he found you captivating in an odd way. It’s not like you are not beautiful, you truly are, but his curiosity lays in how your mind works. He sees firsthand how much effort you put in your choreography and how harsh you can be to yourself. In a way, he admires how persistent you are but he can’t help but worry. The last thing he wants is for you to hurt yourself.

Noticing your heavy breathing, Loki signals Mason for a time out and stands up. Making his way towards you, he comes to a stop once he’s right behind you.

Feeling a presence, you lift your head and see him through the mirror and your brows furrow.

“Are you alright?”

His tone emanates worry, something that catches you off guard. Turning around to face him, you stare at him and then take a quick glance at Mason who’s busy with his phone. As you look back at Loki you realize your mind has gone blank. Opening your mouth, you try to tell him that everything is fine but an incoherent sound comes out of it and he raises his brow.

You settle for a slight nod of your head and smile but he’s not having it.

“You are too hard on yourself. Did you know that?”

Your eyes roll back unconsciously and you sigh trying to mask your smile. “I’ve been told that before, yes.”

Squinting his eyes, he moves a step forward and you feel your heart palpitating faster than before. He’s so close to you that you can get a strong whiff of his cologne and suddenly you feel lightheaded.

He must have noticed your nervousness because a heartbeat later he has a smirk on his lips. “Then, you’re a stubborn woman.”

Your breaths are quick and quite labored and you make the mistake of looking at his eyes. The green pulls you in deeper and, soon enough, you’re lost for good.

“Are you guys done ogling at each other?”

Oh. Mason’s still here.

Suddenly aware of Mason’s presence, you roll your eyes and begin to make your way to your bag to fetch your water. But before you get too far, you throw a wink in Loki’s direction and quietly retaliate back at his previous teasing words.

“Oh, and yes. I am very stubborn.”

Loki is definitely caught off guard by your reply but a second later he’s smirking again as he watches you walk away from him.

Captivating and witty.

*     *     *     *

The following rehearsals were filled with teasing smiles from Loki and you and small bickering. Mason, feeling the attraction between the both of you could only try to ignore your silly flirting games and sometimes join the teasing.

But this doesn’t mean that you are not practicing as hard as you were a few weeks ago. If only, you’re working harder knowing Loki is watching and viceversa. Trying to impress you, Loki often pulled his hair up in a bun and wore grey sweatpants and fitted shirts since he caught you ogling at him one day while he wore said outfit.

The tension was there but no one acted upon it which kind of frustrated you until one day, as you finished rehearsing for the day, Loki approached you as you dabbed your face with your towel.

“Darling–”

Oh, by the way, he began to call you like that after the whole stubborn incident.

“–would you like to grab something to eat with me?”

Startled by the sudden proposal, your mind goes blank, as it always does when he’s around. He looks at you expectantly and, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, you nod your head before he can start thinking you’re rejecting his offer. His lips curve into a smile.

Cutie.

“Very well. Shall we?” Offering you his arm you smile and link yours.

Making your way outside you completely forget about Mason and miss his knowing smile as he watches you both. The walk is short and when you least expect it your destination is in front of you. The smell of pizza fills your lungs and you can’t help but groan at the smell. So freaking delicious.

You get in and sit in a booth by the window. Loki must be a frequent client because when the waiter approaches you she asks him if he’ll have the usual and then she asks for your order.

Scanning the menu you see many different options and all of them sound extremely good. You sigh and look at Loki, finding him already looking at you with a soft smile on his lips.

“What’s the matter love?

Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood rushing towards your face. The warmth makes you forget of what is going on until you see the waiter still waiting for you.

“I can’t decide, everything sounds so good.” You whine and pout at him.

He laughs and rolls his eyes playfully. “Just pick one and next time we come here you can try another one. It won’t be the last time we come here, darling.”

You gasp in mock surprise and he winks at you, making you laugh. You tell the waiter your order and she leaves, leaving the both of you in an awkward silence.

You can’t help but feel self conscious as he stares at you. You begin to play with your hands and try to avoid his gaze as your mind goes crazy trying to find something to say, anything.

“How long have you been dancing?”

Your thoughts are cut short by the sound of his voice and you finally lift your head to look at him. As he waits for your answer you catch him squirming in his seat and notice him picking at his hands. Goodness, he’s nervous too.

With a new-found confidence you sit straighter and place you elbow on the table and rest your chin on your hand. “Since I was six years old.”

He makes a face that shows surprise and you continue. “And you? How long have you been playing the cello?”

He seems to think for a moment, squinting his eyes and rubbing his chin. “I’ve been playing it for centuries.”

His tone is serious and you look at him like he has grown another head but when he laughs so do you. Goodness, you have never seen someone snort so beautifully.

You keep laughing and Loki finds himself lost in the way your head tilts back and your eyebrows raise. You’re suddenly interrupted by the waiter coming with your orders and placing them in front of you. Looking up, you see Loki staring at you and as your gazes link with each other, he winks at you and you snort.

“No, but really. How long?” Your laugh has finally died down and you can properly speak although you’re a bit out of breath so you reach out for your drink.

“Ever since I was a small boy, around five or six years old.”

You hum in acknowledgment and begin to picture a young Loki, with fat and rosy cheeks, playing the cello. You smile and coo unconsciously with the picture still on your mind.

“I wish I could see a picture of you as a baby, you must’ve been adorable.”

Loki’s face contorts into one of smugness and he leans forward. “The most beautiful baby you can ever imagine, after you of course.”

You roll your eyes trying to play off his comment but your face betrays you as you feel the warmth on your cheeks again. Stupid hormones.

You struggle again as you search for something to say, not wanting to come off as stupid. You quickly look at your phone to see the time and you look at the date and gasp. You direct your gaze to Loki and try to grab his attention.

“Tomorrow is the Gala!” You exclaim with surprise in your voice.

Loki seems confused by your outburst and slowly nods his head.

“Uhm, yes?”

You notice his state of confusion and you shake your head. “What I meant is: it’s tomorrow and I totally forgot.”

He raises his eyebrow and blinks slowly. “You… forgot?”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh and you sheepishly lift your shoulders and smile at him. He can’t believe it.

“You’re not only stubborn but also forgetful, huh?” The teasing is clear in his tone and you roll your eyes.

With a tone dripping in sarcasm you reply to him. “My apologies, Mr. Odinson.”

He stares at you in mocking disapproval but your apologetic smile breaks him. He’s laughing and you can’t get enough of it.

After you finish eating, Loki offers to pay for the food and you absolutely refuse. It isn’t until about fifteen minutes later that you come to an agreement. He pays the check and next time you’ll be the one paying.

Stepping out of the restaurant, you stand on the sidewalk waiting for him to catch up. Once he’s out, he walks towards you until he’s facing you. No one says anything, you just look at each other waiting for the other to make the first move. You look around and sigh contently, giving him a small smile.

“Thank you for this. I had a great time.”

Loki smiles at your words and feels warmth setting on the pit of his belly.

“I had a great time too.”

His voice is gentle and you find yourself smiling bigger than before, making your muscles ache by how much you have been smiling for the past hour.

You step forward and wrap him in a hug, one he was not expecting because you can feel him tense under your embrace. Two seconds later you feel his hands on your back and you sigh in relief. Once you part from each other you wave your hand at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Loki nods his head as he places his hands on his pockets, slowly walking backwards. “See you tomorrow, darling.”

And with one last smile you turn away from him and begin to make your way home. The giddiness is still lingering on your chest, making you shake your head slightly as your lips refuse to drop the goofy smile on them.

Unbeknownst to you, Loki is fighting the same battle and loosing it, just like you.

*     *     *     *

Staring at your reflection you notice the patch of eyeshadow on your lid and you groan.

The show starts in ten minutes and your shaky hands won’t stop messing with your make up. Rubbing furiously at it, you try to make it look more presentable and after a few more strokes it finally looks decent. A suden knock on your door catches your attention and you turn your head towards it.

You stand up and rub your hands on your costume, trying to remove the wrinkles on it. As you walk, your shoes echo around the room and the knocking continues. Once you’re finally at the door, you open it quickly already fed up of the noise.

Standing in front of you there’s a bouquet of pink roses being held by someone’s hand.

The person moves the flowers aside and reveals itself. It’s Mason. And behind him, stands a stoic Loki with his eyes focused solely on you.

“There she is! Our stellar dancer!”

Mason’s voice brings your attention back to him and you smile. He hands you over the bouquet and you grab it.

“You didn’t have to–”

“We wanted to. It’s from the both of us and besides, we couldn’t have gotten a better partner than you so, please accept it.” Mason cut you before you could refuse it and after taking a look at Loki you smile again, this time at the both of them, in appreciation.

You place the flowers on the small table beside you and you can feel Loki’s eyes following every move you make. Mason must’ve sensed the growing tension because a second later he excused himself and left, not before winking at Loki knowingly.

You look straight into Loki’s eyes and interlace your hands at your back, nervousness filling you to the core.

He takes a breath and quickly looks at your costume before trailing his eyes back to yours. “You look beautiful.”

You lower your head and press you lips tightly trying to hold back a smile. Once you feel you have a grip on yourself you lift your head back and thank him.

“You look good too, Loki.”

The black suit he is wearing looks as if it was fitted for him and him only. His hair is up in a bun and you can already feel the itch on your hands, wanting to loose his hair and trace your fingers through it.

He gives you a close lipped smile and as you’re about to say something else a staff member approaches you.

“We are at the second call, you’re up in five.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth the guy is gone, leaving Loki and you alone again. You look at him and watch him lift his arm.

“Shall we?”

His voice is soft and deep and you find yourself entranced by it. You nod and without breaking eye contact you make your way to the scenario.

Once you’re there, realization dawns on you. In a few minutes all the hard work you’ve been doing for the past weeks would be for nothing if the performance you do today goes wrong. You begin to feel on edge and you heart is pounding on your chest, your breaths doing nothing to calm you down. Closing your eyes you start picturing all the movements in your head and imagining the music. You hear voices and steps as background noise but you’re too focused to care about anything else.

Once you’re done, you open your eyes and see one of the staff members motioning for you to get on stage. It’s time.

You walk until you’re in the middle of the scenario, passing next to Mason and Loki, they give you smiles and thumbs up and you smile at them, your gaze lingering a bit more on Loki. His stare is intense and you can feel the pounding of your heart intensify.

Placing yourself on the red “x” on the floor, you inhale deeply and close your eyes, drowning out the presence of everyone in the room. You hear the soft swish of the curtain as it slowly raises, revealing you to the crowd. The clapping begins and you open your eyes, your gaze directed at the floor. Your chest heaves up and down as you wait for the first chords, the wait feeling eternal.

Finally, you hear the piano keys playing and you begin to move your arms up and down, stretching them to the sky as the lights focus on you and the music flows through your body. You keep moving your arms and then raise your body until you’re on pointe, gracefully gliding across the stage and your back facing the crowd.

You keep your focus on your movements, the feeling of your muscles contracting and relaxing and the cello mixing with the piano, vibrating all over the room. You cast a side glance towards Loki and you see him lost in his music, his eyes closed and a small strand of hair falling on his face.

You turn your body and you’re now facing the audience. In moments like this you thank the darkness engulfing them, it helps you to focus on a random spot and ignore the multiple pairs of eyes following each and everyone of your movements.

You bend your knee and lean forward, extending your arms parallel to your leg. Ignoring the stretch of your calves you keep leaning forward, trying to make it all the way to the floor. Raising up, you stand on pointe again and delicately advance until you’re standing right next to Loki.

His stare pierces right through you as he keeps playing the cello. He can’t believe how regal you look right now, the light casting over you making a small halo around your body or at least that’s what he sees; an angel in disguise.

Lifting your leg in an arabesque motion, you tense your back muscles and raise your face, the muscles of your neck showing up as you tilt your head slightly to the side. You place your foot back on the floor and slowly lower yourself until you’re kneeling. You extend your left leg in front of you and softly lift your arms up and down, like a bird would flap its wings, and as the music dies down so do your arms.

The final keys of the piano play and then silence reigns the room. Your breathing is rapid and it’s all you can hear, that is, until the clapping begins.

The crowd cheers loudly and a few whistles are heard. You begin to stand up gracefully and once you’re up you look in Loki’s direction. He’s already on his feet, his cello resting on his chair and Mason is also standing up from his spot behind the piano. Both men make their way towards the centre of the stage where you’re already standing. Loki’s eyes link with yours and you notice the both of you are breathing rapidly.

Mason stands on your left and Loki on your right, both of them grab your hands and the crowd cheers loudly. They pull you forward and you bow elegantly, then, it’s their turn to bow. As you wait for them to come back to your side, the cheers and clapping from the crowd soon drown out as you drown on the green eyes staring back at you.

Loki’s chin is up and he’s puffing out his chest. He’s proud.

“You were magnificent, my love.” Loki flashes you a dashing smile and then winks at you.

One last time, the three of you bow and then the curtain closes in front of you. You let out a breath, the adrenaline still cursing through your system. Although, you’re not sure if it’s because of the performance or Loki’s words.

Either way, you can’t help yourself when, without a second thought, you launch yourself into his arms and place a kiss on his lips.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

help me with a reblog if you enjoyed it :)

Loki taglist: @slytherins-assemble-tofightsith / @memucci / @servamp-addict / @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 / @theworld-is-ahead / @crescent-night / @godhateskyleigh

[darklightsworld]

Okay, so once again a Lanyon book is keeping my mind busy… The fourth book in The Art of Murder series was released a few days ago, I devoured it immediately, and now I’m trying to figure it out while dreading the fact that the final book will take more than a year. Below is a long (I mean loooooong) gushing and rant with spoilers, and it doesn’t really make sense for non-readers, so the J key is your friend. I just want to get this out of my system XD;

I like The Art of Murder series, I like hot-and-cold behavioral analyst Sam Kennedy (45-46) and not-just-a-pretty-face, devoted-to-protect-art Jason West (33-34), I like them together, I like how they try to make their relationship work (when they do), I like how they change. Sure, there are still a lot of reasons for shaking my head, like Jason doing stupid things, being too stubborn and irresponsible, and being really angry with Sam usually makes him pretty blind and prone to more stupid actions. And Sam is just Sam, set in his ways, lone ranger, totally inept at making a relationship work, even fights it with all he has, black and white views, great at his job but unable to understand his and Jason’s feelings in many conflicts and prone to shut off completely. But I love them nonetheless.

Now, how does it look like as a series? The first book, The Mermaid Murders, was amazing! Intriguing crime and mystery, it had to do with Jason’s past, so we got to know him a bit, while Sam was a mystery and generally a difficult guy. Dislike at first sight for both, but they can’t keep their paws off each other, and regardless of how Sam fights it, it does not end in his usually “catch and release”. The way they got closed was fascinating. All round a gripping read from the first pages till the very end.

The second book, The Monet Murders, was equally exciting. Interesting mystery, we learned more about Jason, his work and also his family. The mystery/crime was interesting and complex, and the overarching plots were set in motion. Relationship-wise it was an intense book. The boys had a long-distance phone relationship for eight months (wow 0_0), but Sam decided to end it - without telling Jason about it ^^;;; The boys weren’t together in the first half of the book, but it was still interesting, because regardless of Sam ending it, he couldn’t let go at all, and he’s willing to go at great lengths for Jason - even when he claimed he wanted to break up. He’s reactions are so telling - except for Jason ^^; (Best quote in relation to that: “Dōmo arigatō, Mr. Roboto” XDDD) Extra fun: the story runs parallel to Winter Kill (I still have some grievance about how that book and the Roadside Ripper case was wrapped up - especially because it was important for Sam too)

Third book, The Magician Murders. It was different, but still very good. The murder case of the book wasn’t all that exciting, but the book was more relationship centric. The boys were together a lot, and despite the problems they and their relationship grew a lot, and most importantly we got to know more about Sam, his family, background, motivations and his tragic first love. The overarching stalker plot had important twists and an evil, goose bump-inducing ending. There were two main conflicts: Jason not realizing/admitting, that he’s under shock and his judgment is not the best. The other is that Sam withholds some information and tries to make decisions about Jason without consulting him - which is mostly because he’s aware of Jason’s limited abilities after his trauma, so the main point was that he could not communicate it. I always thought Jason was overreacting to this (”It feels like I don’t know you” - WTF?!), but they resolved it and they came out stronger.

So how was the fourth book, The Monuments Men Murders after these? Interestingly after reading I liked it (although it was clear it was by far not as good as the previous ones), but the more time passed the more confused I was about it. The good: the boys are happily together in the first half of the book, it’s totally loving, nice, Sam is happier, totally deredere, it’s just right - although the sex scene is a major lackluster and only two pages long, which is a huge change from the previous books. Okay, we get cuddles and talking in bed, sleeping together and stuff, but still, it’s not enough. I only realized after skimming through the previous books again, but there are a lot of references to previous things (aside from the outright mentioned first sex and others), like now Sam leaves a note when he goes jogging in the morning, and he also won��t bother trying to wake Jason with knocking, because he’s a deep sleeper. Sam was also once again expecting Jason to call him when he was in a dangerous situation regardless of the catastrophic state of their relationship, and once again he didn’t understand why Jason didn’t want his help XD;;;; They have come a long way... and not XD;;;

The problem even with the happy first half is, that everything is overshadowed by Jason’s idiotic actions, because you know it from the first pages that it will blow up. It’s like watching a train wreck... Jason’s current case implies his grandfather might have had been part of a crime, and instead of pulling out of the case, he takes the morally and ethically wrong choice and investigates himself compromising the case. Tbh this time I could not sympathize with Jason on any level. His reasoning to himself, the way he convinces himself it’s okay what he does, the way he doesn’t see he’s wrong even when it blows up with Sam is irritating, and I have no understanding for him - except for the fact that his judgment might be influenced by the stress from the ongoing stalker issue. But yeah, that would be an exaggerated repetition of the third book’s conflict. All in all this whole thing made me like Jason less, and I kind of hope he gets his ass kicked for everything he has done.

I could totally understand that Sam was very angry and disappointed, and also that he didn’t want to see him for a while (although it was a bit extreme that he questioned the foundations of their relationship - we got a deja vu for the “It feels like I don’t know you“, and it didn’t make more sense this time either). On the other hand what I couldn’t really understand was how Jason assumed Sam was shutting him out and turning his feelings off again when Sam was clearly suffering??? And how he was once again eager to throw the relationship away saying they can’t go on like this - like, heh??? You fucked up, but you’re fed up, when you only gave Sam one-two days to tackle it??? And Sam has to come to you and literally beg you??? The thing is, we already had all this before, and it didn’t make any sense to do it once again. Of course they will be even stronger after another crisis like this, but it was completely unnecessary.

The case itself was also a lackluster. For instance it was just one murder, not murders, and it was very simple, not like the complex (or seemingly complex) cases from before. Sure, the art rescuing tidbits and the Vermeer stuff was interesting, but there should have been much more. Btw, the book was very short, less than 200 pages, so that also explains the simplicity, but it does not make it good. More pages, more complex case. Since the previous books all allowed us to learn more about the boys and their pasts I was expecting the same here, for example many memories about Jason and his grandfather, but we got nothing, and this was a problem with the book too. And speaking of investigation... that was a wreck too. Many important facts were found off screen by JJ, and more often than not Jason was absentminded and preoccupied with clearing his grandfather’s name to really do the investigation (so yeah, Sam was right). Yeah, this whole thing was not necessary, or it would have been better if Jason has a breakdown or something to explain or give it a reason, but in the end his issues aren’t even mentioned in relation to his blowup. It was also a pity/mistake that Sam and Jason did not take part in each others cases in any way, also because Sam wasn’t even there for solving a case...

A pleasant surprise was JJ, though, ongoing asshole since Winter Kill, but here he redeemed himself quite a bit, and it was nice to see the partnership between him and Jason getting better. Unpleasant surprise was one of Sam’s previous “mission only“ bed partners. Yeah, we knew he had many of those and it was unavoidable, but aside from the meeting and talking about it with Sam once it was unnecessary. Jason knows, we know Sam doesn’t care, there was no dangerous development, so further mention was useless.

All in all, while I liked to have more about Sam and Jason, because I love them (I don’t do patreon but I’m considering to pay one month for their extras...), this book was not really necessary for them, and yeah, it could have, should have been much-much better. After reading it I skimmed over the previous three books, and once again I re-confirmed just how amazing they are and re-readable all the time - while I’m less inclined to re-read the fourth one. Now I only hope the final volume will be a good one. No more relationship crisis, and I want to have a solution for the stalker issue, the forgery case (tbh one of these should have been resolved in the fourth book, preferably the forgery one) and a realistic plan for Sam and Jason’s future.

Btw the images are from the sample of the Japanese edition of The Mermaid Murders. First it seemed strange, but it grew on me. I would love to see he other illustrations as well *__*

[chrysolina]

Backstory to Steve not going into the ice headcanon

Before y’all go and read the actual headcanon itself, I highly suggest reading THIS BIT as it fills you in pretty well on what comes up in the actual headcanon!!! 

- Backstory? You met Bucky and Steve via a friend Bucky was dating way back when and caught the eye of a stubborn, little blonde-head who didn’t exactly want to be there at this dance.

- From the moment he saw you in that beautiful dress, laughing away to something Dot had told you, he just heart-eyed for you. Period.

- But then he took a look at himself and then at you.

- and realised he’d never get to be with anyone as beautiful as you.

- You’d probably go for someone like Bucky, so he thought.

- But was more than pleasantly surprised when you showed no interest in Bucky and went straight to Steve.

- Over and over and over again.

- Whenever Dot was with Bucky, you were almost 99.9% of the time right next to lill’ Stevie.

- And when you weren’t, you were either in the toilet or buying stuff like drinks etc.

- It wasn’t until a cool Brooklyn winters night that IT happened.

- No you guys didn’t bone, not yet at least.

- But Steve was feeling brave that night as you sat out on the steps of the apartment building he lived in.

- You were just radiant under the twinkling moonlight and he just couldn’t help it.

- So when he came back out to join you with a blanket in hand, he did it.

- He called your name so you’d turn to look at him and placed his slightly roughed lips to your warm wet ones.

- And to what he thought was you refusing him move when you didn’t react, he was more Han ecstatic when you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into you further.

- And yes, after that you did go inside and fuck.

- Of which was freaking magical for the two of you.

- It was slow, sensual and meaningful; just like your relationship.

- It couldn’t be denied from that point on that you two were an actual thing.

- And god was Bucky proud of his bestie.

- Skip ahead two years of being together, Steve heard the news that war was raging over Europe and that days may be limited until war would end up on the streets here.

- And that danger came with war.

- And since Steve didn’t wanna die regretting not doing anything, he decided that now was the time to ask you THAT question.

- The ‘will you marry me?’ question that scared the fuck out of him the whole damn evening.

- It wasn’t until you were both snoozing in bed after giving Steve a good and thorough blowjob that he said it.

- Well, sorta.

- He was spooning you (as best as he could) from the back and more or less just said it.

- “Y/N?”

- “mm yes sweetie..?”

- “Marry me.”

- “uh...what?”

- “I said; marry me - please.”

- After telling you his thoughts about the imminent dangers spreading across the Atlantic to home and the regrets he’d have, you planned that following weekend to get married.

- And you did.

- It was only a small affair; you in white, him in a rented black, Bucky the best man, your sister your maid of honour and your family being there in the tiny Catholic Church Steve and his family used to visit.

- It really was magical.

- Although your honeymoon consisted of staying at home in your shared apartment and no/little work, it was still a time you could never forget.

- And the ‘honeymoon’ you two had was also pretty darn amazing, full of love, kisses and softness.

- You two really were in your own bubble.

- Until it came.

- War was here and with it came the inevitable, the drafting's.

- First Bucky and then a little later, your own Stevie of all people.

- It really was a worrying time for you, a nurse now sent to work on ex-veterans who were coming back on leave.

- And the stuff you’d see made your stomach turn tenfold.

- The wounds, the cries of agony in their sleep; your husband and best friend had just gone out to face that.

- And all you could do was sit in the main infirmary in Queens and Brooklyn, twirling The Sarah Roger’s wedding ring out of fear as the radio blared the horrific news day by day.

- You’d seen some things in that infirmary over the short month or so you were there but that was yet to be beaten.

- You remember it vividly, it was a cloudy day in New York and as one of the more experienced nurses you’d heard news that there could be a brief power-cut today.

- Which was weird because when do you plan a power-cut?

- And it really was weird.

- Due to obvious reasons, you couldn’t turn off the lights that were being used as other nurses like your mother and sister sewed up torn wounds

- So all you had to do was watch them flicker as if a freight train was funnelling down a track above you.

- You thought that was it for the weird and strange, but you were wrong. So so wrong.

- Like everyone tried to do, letters were regularly sent between you, Steve and on occasion Bucky too during their time away but it wasn’t until a weeks mail had gone by and you noticed no letters from Steve.

- Which could only mean one thing, you could very well be a widow by now. And he couldn’t send any letters because he was dead.

- So for what seemed like an eternity, you prepped yourself over and over for that day a mournful Bucky or fellow soldier would knock on your apartment door and tell you the worst.

- This cycle kept on going and going until one morning you arrived in the infirmary and found THE Mr Howard Stark talking to the nurses in the room, all looking to you as you stepped in the room.

- “You’re nurse Rogers, right?”

- “..Yes that’s me? How may I help you?”

- “I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this but you’re coming with me ma’am.”

- “Wh-where am I going?”

- “London, tomorrow morning. Pack your bags and be ready for 9AM - i’ll come and collect you.”

- Yeah, talk about a whirlwind twenty-four hours.

- You didn’t know what to expect really as you walked through the various male and female officers in bottle green, black or white shirts and uniform under that yellowy orange light.  

- Until Stark showed you into this sectioned-off room and to wait until ‘someone’ came.

- Btw you were wearing something like this X

- And then you saw him emerge from the shadows, a man with the exact same eyes, same hair, same face, same smile and same voice as your Stevie’s.

- It wasn’t until he spoke, you knew exactly who this man was.

- “Y’miss me baby-doll?”

A C T U A L   H E A D C A N O N

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