#All this bc I wanted to make what is really quite a fuckin simple dress

[aw-bean-s]

For anyone else who has been capital O obsessive over Wednesday's prom dress it's Alaia's 2020 fall ready-to-wear collection specifically look 8. If you were wondering.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Country Club AU

i lived biiiiiiiitch 🤣 kinda, but i have more time to write now that i have my shit a little more together! here is an au i defs didn’t dream up while driving the bev cart last week 👀

Warnings: alcohol use? golf? flirting? its pretty chill

__________________

Jaskier gets a job as a bartender  at the local country club to pay his way through Oxenfurt. He has all the charm and people skills and not the best bar skills but luckily most of the members want simple drinks.

He covers a shift as the beverage cart driver one day because Essie is sick and fucking *loves it*

Putting around the course and flirting with everyone while pouring drinks and getting a tan???? Yes please???

He is the ladies night favorite. He’s a flatterer and a gossip and they all fucking adore him. They request him for retirement parties and bridge nights and tournaments and tip him *heavily*.

Geralt is a newer member and only joined because his law firm has weekly ‘strategy meetings’ out on the course. Turns out he really likes golf and picked it up quickly so he’s out there all the fucking time.

He takes his game very seriously. Like stupid serious. They boy is so fuckin precise and competitive and he gets teased endlessly for it. 

Guy’s night usually ends with him gritting his teeth so hard Jaskier is sure his jaw would crack if he were a mere mortal.

Jaskier has been eying him for weeks but he never drinks unless someone else orders it for him, and even then he only sips to be polite so Jask has never had the excuse to chat him up.

He may be a flirt but he isn’t a nuisance

He finally gest his chance on a men’s day when Geralt is out with his work buddies.

On hole 6 Geralt fuckin *bombs* it. Full on snowman (8 strokes) on a par 3 and he’s furious. 

When Jaskier swings around at the next tee he orders two shots of fireball and Jaskier’s eyes light up

Im talking ‘yessssssss the calm one is about to go apeshit and im so fucking ready’ kind of sparkle

The next time Jaskier sees him he’s on hole 11 and much looser. His game hasn’t improved but hes having a better time and winks when Jaskier hands him his Jack and coke. 

Ohhhhhh boy Jask is absolutely fucked. He just kinda stood there absolutely stunned while Geralt walked away. 

It’s official. Geralt is his white whale. He must fluster this beautiful beautiful man if only to prove to himself that he isn’t completely weak for him. (logical? No. Fun and distracting? yes.)

He sees them one more time on his route and Geralt buys everyone a round and tells Jaskier to charge him for a shot for himself once he’s off work with another wink and the poor boy squeaks. 

Geralt doesn’t show for guy’s night the next week and Jaskier is totally not upset about it and he totally *didn’t* wear his sluttiest pair of golf shorts that made his ass look extra perky. Nope not at all. 

Essie gives him shit but gladly trades her cart shifts for his indoor shifts

When Geralt comes back he very sheepishly gets his beer and nods at Jaskier before joining his group. 

Well that just wont fucking do

Jask intentionally makes Geralt’s drink last next time the group mobs the bev cart (bc thats what golfers do my friends). The whole time he’s mixing it he’s trying to think of a way to hit on him that isn’t just ‘fuck you’re so hot’

He comes up with “Don’t be a stranger” and a wink

And it makes Geralt *blush* and Jask is so proud of himself he almost drives right into one of his buddies’ carts. (and giddy. He’s very giddy)

The next time Geralt sees him he gets everyone’s order before he jogs across the fairway so its just him hanging around the cart and Jask is trying really hard not to read into it. 

Jaskier learns Geralt’s favorite drink and makes sure he always has it on the cart

Always

Geralt starts hanging out up at the bar a little more when Jask has his inside shifts and the rest of the staff now has a bet on how long it will take them to get together.

They have a glow ball tournament (night time with glow in the dark golf and very little competitiveness) and Jaskier sluts it up as much as he can within dress code. Shorter shorts, shirt unbuttoned to just above his bellybutton, (“so they can all see the glowstick necklaces Essie. Jesus. They need to see where the drinks are”) and maybe he rolls up his sleeves while he pours drinks. 

Geralt is shook. Like shook shook. And he’s already had two drinks by the time they reach Jaskier’s stationed bar out on the course. 

Jaskier has his drink and a flirty one liner ready by the time he steps out of his cart and Geralt just blue screens

His team mates roll their eyes and quite literally shove him back towards Jask when he flees, absolutely terrified. 

Jask, desperately trying to keep his cool, asks if there's something wrong with his drink and Geralt just kinda sighs and knocks it back and goes "no I'm just a fucking coward" before he kisses him

Jaskier doesn't give him even an instant to regret it and leans the fuck in. Like. Homie goes for it. Full body pressed up against him, arms wrapped around his neck and ribs, little breathy moans, the whole nine yards. 

Geralt’s buddies start howling and whistling before they makeout so long they up the tourney.

As he’s being scruffed and pulled away Geralt puts his number in Jaskier’s phone under Grlat and Jask refuses to change it, even after they’re married.

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[feuillytheflorist]

mayhaps succfest is the time for my to drop a little snippet of my titanic au that will one day exist? or, once again, i am putting tom on a ship bc that man just needs to be on the sea, i can't explain it.

prompt 14: in another time, in another life @succfest ,my beloved

for those in peril on the sea

It is so strange, Tom thinks, glancing up at the night sky, that it is such a beautiful night and the world is ending around him. The flares in the sky are surely the Book of Revelation coming true, the great creaking and moaning of the ship are the Leviathan chewing through steel and iron, to come and swallow them all for their hubris, for daring to claim the ship unsinkable.

He is starting to shiver in his woollen coat and dress slacks. He hadn’t prepared properly to be out this late at night, when he and Greg had been running around avoiding the staff and Logan’s minions, and though he keeps his hands jammed in his pockets, they do little to stop them from shaking. To stop his teeth from chattering in his skull.

It is, of course, women and children first. In the beginning, there were complaints, annoyed comments. No one wanted to be up this late, when they could be in their warm beds with cups of tea or wine, and not forced into lifeboats in the freezing late night air.

But now that the ship has started to tilt distinctly to the right, now that the water has all but taken over the lower floors, now that they all know the ship is sinking even though it is supposed to be unsinkable. For Christ's sake, it supposed to be unsinkable.

Tom secures Logan a place on this lifeboat. Rich men always get what they want.

“You too,” he says. Tom thinks for half a moment that maybe Logan cares about him, but that’s foolish. Logan never cared about him. He shakes the idea away to focus on what’s at hand.

“No sir,” Tom shakes his head. He clenches his fists to try and bring some life back into them. His nose and ears both sting, “I can’t.”

“It’s a fuckin’ spectacle, that’s all.” “Half of the people on this ship are going to die,” Tom muses, glancing up at the sky. Another flare launches, making him jump just a bit, “There’s not enough lifeboats, Thomas Andrews told me so himself. Come morning, half the people here will be dead in the North Atlantic.” “Not the better half,” Logan rolls his eyes and even though Tom is not a good person, has said and done so many nasty things, he’s taken aback by the words, at the blatant disregard for the death of over a thousand people, “Get in the fuckin’ boat. What am I supposed to do? Show up in New York without my daughter’s fiancé? Quit playing the hero.” “Yes, you are,” Tom nods. He takes his scarf off and places it around the old man’s neck. He had promised Shiv her father’s safe return, and regardless of his own plans-- whatever they are now, the idea of running away to St. Paul with a man he met four days ago, who he has fallen so hard for it’s quite frightening is no longer as simple as it was. Now all that matters is staying alive-- he is going to return Shiv’s father to her alive and well, “I can’t come. I have to go downstairs. Stay warm, Logan.” Whatever Logan wants to call him-- and it is probably very nasty, given the man’s temper and views-- he slips away too fast to hear it, pausing only long enough to watch two officers help Logan sit down on one of the lifeboats, to watch it begin to lower into the freezing Atlantic below. He will be fine, and Shiv will have the only person she really loves in the world safe at home by this time tomorrow.

He takes a moment and presses up against one of the walls. It is so loud up here and he has to resist the urge to cover his ears with his hands just to think, just to allow his mind a moment to process things. But he doesn’t want to take them out of his pockets. And he knows it’s going to be worse down below but he has to go, because Greg will die if he stays down there, drowning or freezing to death or something and it will be all his fault.

The stars dare to twinkle, the moon dares to peek from behind the clouds and Tom feels like his heart is going to burst out of his ribcage. He draws a shaky breath, and makes himself stand up off the cold metal.

If all goes well, he will be able to get downstairs, down to Third Class, and collect Greg and then maybe figure something out. Put Greg on a lifeboat. Put them both on a lifeboat. Freeze to death when this ship sinks-- it heaves again, groans, and Tom nearly trips over his own two feet. He’s got to move. Time is running out.

If all goes well, Tom will see the sky again, but he sends a last glance up to the stars, and hopes for the best, before racing down below.

In less than an hour, he will be staring at that inky black night sky, colder than he has ever been in his life, and clinging to a tiny sliver of hope that the lifeboats will come back, and the hand of the man who turned his life upside down.

Funny, how life works out.

[soudam-appreciation]

Study... date?

Gundam sighed, shrugging his overweight backpack over his shoulder. He had not planned for today to become a social one, though he supposed it was not quite unwelcome. The mortal known as Kazuichi, Tamer of Automatons, had requested his presence here, though for precisely what ritual, Gundam did not know.

Kazuichi leaned back in his chair and rested his legs atop of the table as he inhaled the overwhelming (and honestly, kinda gross) scent of old and new books as he waited for Gundam to hurry the fuck up and get to the library, because he really didn’t have all day. 

He perked up, though, when he saw a small flash of purple and black move by one of the bookshelves he sat next to. Souda stood, waving his hands frantically in an attempt to catch the goth boy’s attention, not wanting to call out and cause more of a scene than the literal highlighter waving his hands sporadically like he was at a concert.

The neon blur tugged at Gundam’s peripheral, and he crossed his arms before him. Facing the boy, he began a usual greeting. “At last, you have been found. Do you not fear this meeting, Fool?” His voice boomed and echoed through the stacks, inciting an annoyed rustle and collective whisper.

Kazuichi’s eyes went wide as he started rapidly shushing him, because if him basically jumping up and down trying to get Gundam to notice him didn’t draw attention to the two, Gundam basically shouting definitely did. Speaking as softly as he could considering how badly his heart rate spiked, he tried to get him to quiet down.

“D-dude! Shut- shut the- Don’t! Stop fuckin’....fuckin’ screaming like that! Jesus! Shudda’...shut the- shut the fuck up! Shhh!” 

Recollection of the location at hand hit Gundam with a hell-strength impact. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly glanced around, mumbling fractured apologies for his forgetfulness. If there was one thing that would make even the Dark Overlord himself bow, it would be intense embarrassment as a direct result of his own foolishness- not that he would even say such a thing. To allow enemies access to his weakness?! Preposterous. He whispered a short apology to Souda as well, for the mortal seemed far more distraught than he. 

Souda groaned softly, rubbing his face with his hands for a few moments before bouncing back almost as fast, a lazy grin plastered across his face. That didn’t stop the drop of malice and embarrassment showing through in his cheerful voice as he pushed out a chair next to the one he was leaning on before to invite Gundam to sit with him. 

There were a lot of books, papers, pens and one lone computer scattered across the table. Souda easily pushed these aside as he sat down to take a sip of his…something. 

Gundam followed suit, dropping his bag on the floor beside him as he took his seat. He was not entirely sure what they were to do on this day, although crawling deep underground was an option he prayed upon. Unzipping his backpack as soundlessly as he could, he retrieved a notepad and slid a simple message to his companion.

What, pray tell, have you summoned me for?

Kazuichi read it over before snatching the notepad from Gundam’s hand, as well as the fancy pen he had (despite there being many writing utensils of his own he could’ve used, he honestly just wanted to be a bit of a dick to his past rival). He scrawled something quickly on it and slid it back nervously, despite there being no teachers nor rules against slipping each other notes. 

ok, well, i asked u 2 come here bc i am fucking failing math and biology and there r these 2 tests cming up i need u 2 help me study for. i thought u’d know a lot abt biology and u seem smart ig so-

He ripped another blank note out to write on more.

-so i thought u could help with, math too. hinata won’t help me he’s mad i spilt monster on his laptop still even though that was a whole day ago :(

The writing was barely legible and Kazuichi seemed to shorten words as best as he could, since he also wrote very large on the small sheet of paper. He slid the second note to Tanaka for him to read.

Squinting, Gundam managed to make out Souda’s print. He sighed, briefly wondering how incompetent Souda actually was, and where to even begin studying. Retrieving his pen, albeit a bit forcefully, he turned to a new page and began his transmission.

Where should we begin? Is there a specific field in which you have little expertise?

As Souda read over the note in the pretty cursive handwriting, he let out a small giggle. He couldn’t help it, reading Gundam’s dumbass Overlord-victorian speak was somehow funnier than hearing it out loud. Snatching the pen and paper back, he started writing.

uh um well i never ever got algebra the little letters always confused me and in biology kind of everything. man i’m not good with that kinda shit like u i’ve seen ur grades you don’t know how 2 whisper when ur flaunting them to sonia lol

Gundham’s ears got hot, and he fidgeted with the end of his scarf. Grabbing his pen, he scribbled out, I do no such thing. I simply share because I am asked, that should be a simple concept to grasp. His scrawl was messier, his haste blurring his senses. Deep breaths stilled his hostility, and he turned to a new page.

So shall we begin with variables, then? You may need to work exceptionally hard to recall these, as no doubt it will be of importance. 

Once again, Kazuichi laughed as he watched Gundam get a little pissed at the Sonia comment. Even when they were slowly getting closer, messing with the guy still yielded hilarious results.

come on man!!!! why r u getting so pissy i’m just teasing u. u know i know that u know we aren’t rivals anymore so calm down!!!!! >:3

anyways uhh ya sure we can start w, variables ig. i don’t remember a lot of this stupid ass math lingo so ur gonna need to remind me some of it.

Variables are those “little letters” you spoke of. If something I mention confuses you, alert me at once. 

Gundam chose to ignore all of Souda’s previous statement, focusing instead on the task at hand. There did not seem a logical reason to become so frustrated when Souda spoke of her. So why did it ignite a hellfire in his chest? 

He shook off the thought, selecting a standard textbook from his oversized backpack and placing it on the table with a thunk. Opening to a page about Variables, the most annoying of unknowns, he slid the book across for Souda’s viewing ease. 

We should begin here, page 28. Do you have a journal for notes?

yeah that’s fine also do u mind me keeping our notes or atleast yours please plz plsssss

Sure enough, the smaller boy was already making a pile of the discarded notes they had forgotten about. Mostly Gundams. It was the only neat thing on the table thus far.

Sighing again, Gundam ceded. He had no use for them, anyway. It caught his attention as slightly strange, but he chose to pay it no mind. Scratching out what information he could on such a small surface, he quickly realized that simply would not work. He slid a mostly-empty notebook from his bag and selected a blank page to share with Souda. It wasn’t as if he really needed the pages in this notebook either, so he added a small note at the top offering the torn-out pages for outside studying.

Souda took the page and studied it, before brightly grinning up at Gundam and quickly nodding. This was fancy shit, definitely not something extremely expensive (he knew Gundam definitely wouldn’t dare share that kind of paper, seeing the small slightly-faded stains of car oil on his hands that he just couldn’t scrub out) but Souda probably wouldn’t be buying these things, especially for every class, without at least a week of ramen dinners to make up for the waste of money working at his Dads mechanic shop.

Souda suddenly realized that ‘fancy shit’ to a slightly broke kid like him was definitely not ‘fancy shit’ to Gundam “I don’t know how to dress casually Ever” Tanaka.

Gundam continued to script line after line, attempting to explain these subjects in terms Souda would understand. The look in Souda’s eyes gnawed at him, such excitement on display over some math notes. He wasn’t certain what rubbed him wrong about it, so he brushed it aside. Reaching the bottom of the page, he printed a small question. 

Do you still understand thus far?

Souda finally grabbed one of his own pens that lay discarded on the table instead of stealing Gundams.

yeah i get it u explain it a lot better than the teachers or chiaki despite ur little demon talk r whatever lol. chiaki use to help me like all the time but she kept falling asleep on me we never got anything done

Reading Souda’s message tempted laughter, and Gundam bit his cheek to silence it. Nodding sagely, he scrawled, As likely as you are to bend truths pertaining to women, this account does seem trustworthy. He knew just as well as anyone how exhausted Chiaki constantly seemed. 

Tugging the newly completed page from its binds, Gundam offered it to Souda as well. 

Souda looked almost offended by the note (he still took it, because of course he did) and hastily scribbled another and shoved it in Gundams chest with a grin.

WOW DICK i’m not gonna go after every girl that falls asleep on me!!! sonia hasn’t fallen asleep on me yet and you know!!!!! >:(((((( 

Gundam stiffened, bandaged hand safely out of sight under the table. If it had been visible, Souda would have a clear view of numb fingers folding against his palm before stretching into claws, over and over. Another deep breath was necessitated by his pounding heart, and he stilled his mind. There was no reason for this feeling. What possible purpose could this rush of adrenaline serve? Certainly nothing pertaining to math. He cleared his throat again, which ended up sounding a bit more like a growl, and took up his pen.

You say “yet”, as if there is even the slightest chance of such an occurrence in the future. This, I do know. A smug smirk crossed his face, daring to settle on his lips.

Souda pouted as he read the note, a somehow adorable sight as he quickly snagged Gundams pen again (once again ignoring his own) and scrawled something on a new note and shoved it back to him. 

nuh-uh! u don’t know shit. unless u can see the future!!! tell me tell me tell me. maybe ur freaky demon shit is real after all ANYWAYS do i end up w miss sonia plz please tell me??!?? :3

Gundam tasted blood as he bit his lip hard. Why was Souda so insistent on her? No, he knew why. She was aesthetically pleasing to someone like him. This was not new information, but it still irked Gundam like hell. He pursed his lips. The last thing he was going to do was tell Souda his pathetic simpering dreams would come true in the end. Or perhaps, the last thing he wanted would be to admit to Souda that he cannot truly see the future? Grumbling, he snatched his pen back and tapped it against his knuckles. Neither option was preferred, though one was a clear admission of weakness…

He settled on a third choice. Of course not. I know precisely who you shall fall for in the end, although I cannot tell you. That is the Law of Causality.

actually it’s the law of cASSuaslity because ur an asshole who the fuck cares why can’t u just tell me!!! if i don’t get with miss sonia or whatever u say i don’t even know if i completely believe ur bonkers shit why can’t u just tell me their name or anything i just!!! want a hint. please 

Kazuichi’s handwriting grew sloppier as he grew more desperate. Why the fuck was Gundam hiding it? It’s not like he’s gonna get suspended for some random ‘law’ or whatever he probably made up. He didn’t even know what the word Causality meant but it sounded exactly like a freaky word Gundam would say.

All I may tell you is that… Gundam paused, wiggling his pen between thumb and forefinger to come up with an excuse. …you have likely already made their acquaintance. All trace of smugness had dropped from his features, now replaced with stale indifference. He locked his worry deep in his chest, buried it. The last thing he needed was Souda to call him out on such a ridiculously big lie.

Souda didn’t know why, but he grinned at that. He grinned at a lot of dumb shit, and Gundam telling him some vague dumbass answer like that was apparently dumb enough to get on his list of Dumb Shit That Made Him Grin. He flicked Gundams note into his ever growing pile and chugged the rest of his drink, his eyes blown wide with the sudden rush of, apparently, sugar. He tapped the textbook again, trying to remind them both to stay on task. His hands were starting to shake too much from the sugar high to make writing any good.

Gundam nodded. They needed to focus on the task at hand.. Which was math. Boring math. Another sigh settled in his chest, and he thought fleetingly on how he would much rather talk about silly magic business. Shaking dramatically dual-toned hair from his eyes, he set to scribbling some more numbers. Stupid, boring numbers. 

Kazuichi watched with interest as Gundam quickly drew out complex strings of numbers and occasional letters. However, his mind quickly drifted as well as his eyes. Higher and higher until he was watching Gundam’s facial expressions shift as he tried to help Souda. How he bit his lip as he hesitated before continuing to keep writing, how his eyes narrowed, Souda half-mindedly thought of how pretty Tanaka’s eyes were, he could get lost in them if he really wanted to, and he did. So he simply tuned out the sound of pen against pencil, rustling of paper and the occasional whisper between others in the library and just stared into his eyes.

Sliding another page across the table, Gundam glanced up at Souda’s face, before they quickly flicked away. On the quickly growing list of things he did Not Want to happen today, was for Souda to catch him staring. Or- he paused. To catch… Souda staring? He didn’t want to look again, even if he was right, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if he could feel Souda’s gaze. Ears growing red, he scripted a small note back, faltering slightly as nerves made his fingers stiff. 

Do you still understand well enough?

Kazuichi’s gaze didn’t move until he finally noticed Gundam actually wrote words down. He did a double take back at his face before he picked up his pen, his cheeks heating up. Shit, did Gundam catch him looking? His hands trembled slightly from the sugar and caffeine as he scribbled on the paper.

yeah i understand completely ur a good teacher  i already said that didn’t i sorry

He slid the note over, now doing his best to keep his eyes on the table and not on Gundam.

Do not fret, I am pleased you understand. 

Clearing his throat as quietly as he could, he returned to numbers. Gundam really tried to focus, he did. But he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering… Muscle memory served him well, and he continued to write, but his mind’s eye strayed from questioning Souda’s gaze, to wondering why keeping their notes tidy was so important, to the way Souda tapped his fingers on the desk ever so slightly, the sugar and caffeine running rampant through his veins. It soon became impossible to focus, and he started mixing up numbers and crossing them out. He shook his head, hard, mumbling apologies for scrambling up his figures. 

Kazuichi easily picked up Gundams distraction and yanked an empty note from him to write on.

do u wanna stop for today

He slid it over, giving Gundam a small smile as he did. He wasn’t unfamiliar with his brain getting jumbled and melting into mush and before he knew it, the day was over and he hadn’t got shit done. So he didn’t mind giving up for today, starting again tomorrow or next week. He just liked being with Gundam, kinda. As weird as that was. 

Gundam nodded. 

My sincerest apologies, I seem to have lost my senses…

What the hell had gotten into him? This was highly unusual for him. Gundam mumbled another quiet sorry, sliding the incomplete and jumbled page across to Kazuichi just in case he needed it anyway. 

Souda tidied everything up on the desk, sliding his books, computer and the notes into his black backpack. As he stood, he bounced on his heels, the caffeine suddenly taking full effect as he finally got out of the chair and could move around to his heart's desire. He slid his backpack over one of his shoulders and didn’t hesitate to start playing with one of the enamel pins of a vocaloid character that hung from the zipper, needing something to occupy his hands with.

Gundam stood as well, fumbling as he slipped the last notebook into his bag. Offering a hand, he gestured towards the door. He whispered, “Shall we meet again tomorrow, then? I swear I shall do better at my job.” 

Kazuichi laughed softly at that, nodding. His hands fiddled with his jumpsuit pockets as he made his way over to Tanaka, a small bounce in his step. He would definitely blame that and what he did next on the overload of caffeine in his system the next day. He put his hands on Gundams shoulders, slightly dragging him down as he stood on his tippy-toes, kissing him sweetly on the lips before he was already skipping towards the door, waving him bye as he exited, most likely to his dorm on campus.

Blood froze in his veins. Gundam’s heart pounded, throbbing in his ears. His face was beyond red, and his stiffened fingers twitched in surprise. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, he could not even will his feet to carry him after the boy. What… What just… happened? His mind felt as slow and sluggish as if it was buffering through a torrented movie file. 

Finally gathering enough control of his own limbs, he pulled himself through the door. He wanted desperately to give chase, to pull Souda into his arms and kiss him back, but he knew there was no possible way he would keep his courage. So he settled, simply deciding upon returning to his own abode. He would have to speak to Souda at their meeting tomorrow. Just thinking about it gave him… butterflies? Oh dear, what an unpleasant sensation.

. . .

Thank you @kazudam for writing with me! This was so much fun, and something I’ve always wanted to do :’) 

[phoebehalliwell]

so apparently my brain will not let me rest until I figure out the Prue/Roger dynamic, so: Prue's right out of college when she gets hired at the museum and she gets partnered with a senior curator, Roger. Roger flatters Prue first professionally, then personally, and when Prue is hesitant because he's married, he spins some line about how his marriage is over in everything but name. Prue, young and only having one real relationship before, falls for his charm and they start sneaking around 1/?

at the office. at some point Roger does divorce his wife, he and Prue are together publicly, and then he proposes. somewhere in there, he makes a move on Phoebe, who rejects him. Phoebe immediately goes to Prue, but Roger insists that she's lying, "Prue, don't you think I love you, I left my wife for you." Prue, habituated by years of this kind of emotional manipulation, chooses Roger over Phoebe. This pretty much destroys her relationship with her sister. Prue and Roger continue plans for the wedding until Grams dies, at which point Roger calls off the wedding because he didn't sign up to be anyone else's emotional support. Prue, spends her days angry at Roger, Grams, and Phoebe for abandoning her, and spends her nights secretly wondering if there was anything she could have done to keep any of them with her.   

hmm an inch resting yarn you have spun here but i’m gonna offer you another one: pure was popular in high school she was like really fuckin cool and she could very easily have been any man of her choosing. there was no settling for her, she was prue motherfuckin halliwell. so she went for what her heart always wanted and dated her childhood sweetheart andy trudeau. and like,, they were the It Couple in their heyday and it was definitely that passion head first our love will never die dramatic but also just kinda silly love. and that sorta sets the bar. then she’s off to college presumably at this point still trying to pursue a career in photography and she’s like having fun she hangs out with the artists and free spirits and people who were misfits in high school and draws them in with her undeniable queen bee energy but like. she knows her stuff. she doesn’t get by on looks and popularity, she’s really good at what she does. so now we bring in college boyfriend no. 1 who cupid name checked as alan, and we’ll say this really is a relationship of two artists and they’re both amazed by each other’s work and the soul and heart and spirit in it and in them it’s definitely the most pretentious of prue’s relationships but it’s like the kind where they “break into” the local art gallery after hours (alan works there and has a key, so it’s not like it took a lot of masterminding) and like slide around polished hardwood floors until they fall down laughing that type of vibe. but now we’re encroaching on prue’s blue period. for starters, piper’s get ready to y’know apply for college this that and the other and like grams is all concerned about how much college costs blah blah blah with paying for both prue and piper and the same time yada yada yada and prue sorta realizes how sorta tight the money situation is what with the cost of education and the house and this that and the other and she’s starting to realize that this photography career is Not the move bc like this house needs a breadwinner if they want to keep it blah blah blah so life already blows when she has to go pick up phoebe from a party which she’s not like happy about but like you know at least phoebe isn’t drunk driving maybe this is a chance for them to bond as sisters for prue to impart some wisdom on her chaotic younger sister but no of course not of course they have to get in a huge argument and prue doesn’t hit the breaks in time and the car gets totalled and phoebe lands in the hospital and like now prue’s sorta spiralling and she like wants to quit photography and she feels horrible about everything and alan who is again i must harp on pretty pretentious is like no u can’t quit ur family doesn’t understand you it’s not about the money it’s about the art use this pain to make something amazing to which like sorry king,,, but it is about the money. the manor has been in the family for decades and prue can’t lose it. and with piper’s college, phoebe’s hospital bills, and grams’s failing health... it’s 100% about the money dude. and fuck turning your pain into art fuck glorifying suffering and fuck you. so now prue’s p cut off she’s pretty isolated she’s all down in the dumps blah blah blah she changed majors to whatever major it was she needed for like museum jobs bc at least this way she can make bank but she’ll still hold a piece of art close to her and she like drowns herself in her work like she’s not just gonna be this major (art history?) she’s gonna be the fuckin best she’s gonna be the top of her class blah blah blah yada yada yada. but y’know flash forward an amount of time and her roommate’s like hey babe. i get like life’s shit i get u got to be the very best like no one ever was but like. you have not left the apartment in four months. you haven’t smiled in probably twice as long so like. idk do something?? that makes you happy maybe???? and prue’s just like :/ bc what made her happy was like photography but now she has very mixed emotions around that and her roommate’s like what did you do for fun in high school like what did you do after school and prue’s like idk cheerleading practice and her roommate’s like word well then go to cheerleading tryouts time skip we really see prue return to all her old glory and climb up the lil cheerleading ladder blah blah blah and in this renaissance of hers she also scores a new love interest who’s basically the opposite of alan enter tom peters the star wide receiver. and i think this relationship for prue was really just like fun it was tipping her toes back into the water it was learning to smile again it was just like a good time fun simple no concerns about the future just like vibing right then and there and then that ended just sorta naturally and they both graduated and it’s time for prue to leap into the professional world and she’s never left california so when she gets a job offer in london she jumps at the chance blah blah blah she’s working she’s having fun she’s defining herself enter eric from london who i’ll say is like a Business Man he’s like a this that or the other idk maybe a museum investor like the young son who just took over his dad’s business that sorta vibe and like eyes meet breath catches there was just this click but it like took them months to get together it was just this dance this game of cat and mouse until prue finally like took the bull by the horns and just like went for it and i think that would be her like most “adult” relationship like dates were going out to fancy dinners not breaking and entering or picnics on the empty football field these were like two professional adults like dating but you know they hit a year and then some and we’ll say like prue is maybe like 24 25 and this guy’s maybe 29 or whatever and they’ve attended friend’s weddings bs they’ve hit that era where everyone’s getting married and suddenly this cloud’s hanging in the air like baby are you my forever girl like is this it fifty years from now to i still come home to you put you know what let’s push that to the back of our minds but now eric’s like 30 and his family’s like dawg,,,, r u gonna be like a spinster or something are you gonna put a ring on it or not and prue (after many many international phone calls to piper) has decided yes she’d do it she’d stay her and be with this man she loves and eric decides prue’s just not the girl for her. so uh. ouch. blah blah blah prue’s had her fun in the uk but it’s like time to return home piper’s just graduates college or whatever and found a job in the city if prue follows suit they could room together which is when she gets the job at the museum where roger works at. and blah blah blah prue’s like amazing as always and of course she catches roger’s attention bc how could she not and he’s constantly pursuing her and prue keeps turning him down at first bc she’s not really interested and then like he’s her boss and then like it becomes a sort of game but now all her friends from high school are getting married and marcia from homeroom has a baby look and the lil pumpkin on her christmas card and fuck what am i doing so you know what yes roger i’ll be your date to the new years party and here’s the thing roger knows prue is really impressive like she’s amazing at her job and she’s a total babe like he shows her off all the time and prue’s like you know receiving this really high praise and you know roger also has cash to spare so it’s like it’s not bad and she doesn’t well love him but he clearly loves her so she can be satisfied and you know her high school reunion is this year and if there’s one thing she would love it would be to write (nee halliwell) on her nametag, to show she got the job, she got the guy, and she’s living pretty in pac heights. so when roger proposes, she says yes. and piper’s happy for her and phoebe thinks roger’s a sleaze and grams is lukewarm but what does grams know about a long lasting marriage and what does phoebe know about anything so blah blah blah she goes to that high school reunion with a big ol rock on her finger and this that and the other and like to be perfectly frank coming home to roger is not like the highlight of her day there’s not this comforting glow when she falls asleep next to him but it’s like. she’s committed. she’s gonna see this through. besides, they’re already working on the guest list and venue and everything like she’s in it now there’s no turning back now and it’s fine like roger’s fine he’s perfectly palatable and she’s encroaching on 30 so. well whatever prue and roger host an easter party and it’s so cute she’s in a darling floral dress dazzling roger’s stuck up parents and eating finger sandwiches when she hears voices coming from the bedroom and is like gonna pretend to ignore it when she catches piper’s eye and piper has that uncomfortable look on her face and she realizes she can’t find phoebe anywhere and Where Is Roger and she busts in on the two of them looking disheveled and phoebe’s like prue- and prue’s like i don’t want to hear it and roger’s like baby- and prue’s like not now and she turns to phoebe like i think it’s best you go and she looks at roger like we’ll talk about this later your parents are wondering where you are so piper drives phoebe home and phoebe’s telling her about how she went to confront roger on being a whore and also like a spineless sleazebag and she was gonna tell prue when he totally started hitting on her and trying to kiss her and then prue broke in and piper’s like uh huh uh huh bc like. she doesn’t like roger all that much. and she agrees with phoebe. but still this thought sorta lingers at the back of her mind like could phoebe have done something? purely to get back at prue? no she wouldn’t. probably. meanwhile roger’s like your sister was totally hitting on me blah blah blah and prue’s like we can talk about it later right now we’re hosting a very nice party and i’m not going to have you ruin in and roger’s like see that’s what i love about you and prue’s like yeah cool and now whenever she comes home to roger she’s just like 🙄 and she’s like complaining to piper about how like she like doesn’t really want to marry him but it’s like too late now the venue’s booked and the save-the-dates have been sent out and piper’s like it’s not too late until you say i do. do you really want to be married to that sleazebag? and prue’s like :| and piper’s like you can call off the wedding and prue’s like :| and piper’s like i’m just saying and prue’s like does he remind you of dad? and piper’s like what? and prue’s like i think roger’s just like victor. i think i’m about to make the same mistake mom made. god, i always wondered how she could have married such a douchebag and here i am about to do the exact same thing! and piper’s not really commenting bc she doesn’t really remember dad but what she does say is you haven’t made that mistake yet so prue’s like you’re right. and that night she calls of the engagement.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Truth Pt. 13

Master List @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Everything. Seriously. Feels, angst, violence, death, smut, fluff, trauma, literally everything.

A/N: The moment this crazy story ran away with me I knew so much of this was coming. It’s partially why I wrote the last chapter just to put off writing this one. I don’t want to say anything more because I just can’t but yeah. 

Also HUGE thanks to @wonderlandmind4 and @courtmr for betaing this monster. 

OH! And there is another chapter after this.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @andreagf956 @marvelousmeggi @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets  @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

Tony insisted everyone meet for brunch on Sunday around 11am. While you appreciate the gesture, after the late-night surrounded by so many people you’re kind of dreading it.

“We should make an appearance.” Bucky insists, slipping into his jeans while you’re still in one of his tee’s and your underwear in bed.

“Who even are you?”

“What?”

“Since when are you so keen on socializing?”

He laughs, “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah,” begrudgingly you crawl from the bed.

“It’s a low bar babe.” As you walk to the closet he grabs you and places a nipping playful kiss on the back of your neck.

“Mmm, sure you wanna go?” You purr, reaching back and pulling his hips close.

“Yep,” he slaps your ass hard. “Get dressed.”

Just about everyone is lounging in the common space save for Hill, who you saw leave the party last night with a knockout blonde.

“Morning!” Steve booms from the kitchen, pouring himself some OJ. From across the room, a blueberry hits Steve right between the eyes.

“We talked about this Rogers. Inside voices,” Clint groans, head falling back on the couch.

“Go a little hard last night Clint?” You pat his forehead as you walk by, he grunts in response.

Tony rounds the corner, “Oh the IT couple is here finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony laughs and plucks the paper Sam holds up from his hands.

“Check out who’s gracing the front of the Styles section.” He presses the Times into your hands and you stare down at a picture of you and Bucky from the night before.

The story is just a general overview of the gala but there, big and in color, are you and Bucky on the dance floor. It must have been just after the song ended. His hands are on your waist, the smile on his face brighter than the sun, your head is tossed back in a laugh. You look like any happy couple… Save for the fact that you weren’t just any couple.

“You’re on the website too,” Nat walks up and hands you her tablet.

There’s a gallery from the evening featuring everyone but there are quite a few candid photos of you and Bucky. One your head is resting on his chest, his lips pressed to your forehead. The caption reads: “Avenger team members, Barnes and Michaels, share a tender moment.” You aren’t sure how you feel about it. From the tension in Bucky’s jaw, he doesn’t know either.

“You can’t buy good PR like that,” Pepper says making herself and Natasha mimosas. “The two of you were just perfect.”

You both only stay for a bit. Unsettled by your images being so widely shared after living your lives in shadow for so long. It was a very abrupt change…

Back in the apartment, you pick up the paper that was always left by the door, Bucky liked doing the crossword. You look at the picture again. Shaking your head.

“You ok?” Bucky comes up behind you, gently rubbing your back.

“Yeah… just… my mom is definitely turning in her grave right now.”

“Good or bad way?”

“Good,” you laugh a small hollow sound. “Her daughter in the society pages. She’d be beside herself. I can hear her now,” your accent tries to echo your mom’s soft German accent. “Finally you got it right my little firefly.”

“Firefly?” His expression is achingly soft.

“Mhm. I used to be obsessed with them when I was little. Always chasing them and catching them for her. So it became a nickname.”

“I bet they’re both very proud of you, doll.”

You shrug. “I’m… I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

Two days later you go into the office for a pen to keep score in Scrabble and notice something new on the wall. The picture of you two from the paper beautifully framed. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s placed next to a picture of a young you with your parents, all three of you smiling and happy and a photo of him with his sisters and Steve, all of them smiling. Happy moments spanning almost a century, the two of you connecting them…

“Ich liebe euch beide,” (I love you both.) you whisper to your parents’ photo. “Sorry, it took me so long to get it together… I wish you could meet him… you’d like him.” Your eyes slide to the picture of you both.

You kiss your fingers and press them to the picture of your little family before wiping your eyes and heading out.

-

Bucky’s leg is bouncing at a ridiculous rate until you set your hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. He looks at you, knowing he looks like he’s about to burst open. It’s taking everything in him to shut up.

“So,” your voice is so steady, he can’t understand how you’re not as nervous as he is right now. “You’re sure this one is legit?”

Tony sighs, “Yeah. After the last two, we figured if we came across something similar to your signature again we’d monitor the area for a bit longer, see if or how the readings change.”

He runs a hand over his face as he looks over the images floating over the table. “The readings are strong… really strong. The draw on the power grid is insane. And… well, we’ve picked up all the variations of your energy signature… it’s not coincidence.”

The fact that the chances of them finding assets similar to you are incredibly high isn’t what has him on edge. It’s that the industrial complex the readings are emitting from is just outside of Odessa in Ukraine… It’s too close to what was once Hydra’s hotbed… It’s very possible that this is the facility you were made at, he knows you have to realize this.

The last place with a matching energy signature had been a place they’d housed you for a while. That alone wrecked you. To go back to where it all started… who knew what that may do to you emotionally.

“How volatile is this, Tony?” Steve’s tone is gravel.

Tony just stares a bit and Bruce answers, “Very. The emissions have been steadily climbing over the past couple of weeks. Only thing is we can’t really get a lock on how many are running the place… no way to know what we may run into.”

“But we can’t ignore it,” Sam’s gaze is locked on the screen’s, determination setting his features.

“No,” Tony agrees in a solemn voice. “We absolutely can’t.”

They head out tomorrow evening so they’ll land in Ukraine in the early morning hours. The hope being that the cover of darkness will give them a tactical advantage, the last thing they want is for them to abandon ship and set up elsewhere again. With any luck, this will be how they put an end to this particular project once and for all. He knows that will bring you peace of some kind.

Once the tactical brief is over and you’re back in the safety of your apartment Bucky wordlessly pulls you toward the bedroom. He needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to touch you, set you alight in the best way possible, see the sparkles in your eyes.

“Buck-” he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands sliding under your hoodie. Your body responds to his touch the way he hoped it would goosebumps rising, heart rate increasing, your hands grasping the waist of his jeans to hold him close.

At this point, you’ve learned the ins and outs of the other’s body. Even so every time he feels your touch it feels like the first time. He still is amazed you want him. He’s still so goddamn thankful.

He pulls your hoodie over your head and slides your leggings down your powerful thighs. Holding you by your hips he lifts you just a touch and gently tosses you back on the bed. Your small giggle fills him with warmth.

Once you’re free of your leggings entirely he runs kisses down your thighs, letting his stubble rub against the tender skin in that way that makes you shudder. His tongue flits across your clit causing you to let out a low sensual sound. He’s aching, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He ignores it. Right now he wants to make you feel good. To chase away any thoughts that aren’t pleasure.

After he’s lost count of the number of times he’s made you come you pant, “No more, please. I… you, I need to feel you, Bucky, please.” He smiles. It’s cute how you said please as if he’d ever say no.

Morning comes too quickly for his liking.

You shower together and it’s not until you’re drying your hair he finally says something about the mission, “If you can’t handle this, Y/N it’s ok. No one would judge you.”

Turning you give him a weak smile, “Are you really worried that I can’t handle it, babe? Or can you not…”

He traces your brow with his metal fingers, “I just don’t want this to get to you like the last one or… the first one… with the woman…” You take his hand in yours, studying his face.

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N.”

“I do.” This time your smile is full, lighting up your features. “I have you. Nothing will ever be like it was before.” You look away, your brow knitting before meeting his gaze once more, “Bucky… I… you… I don’t feel broken anymore. Because of you.”

His chest constricts. Immediately he pulls you to him, crushing you to his chest. “You were never broken, Y/N. Never.”

-

As soon as the jet lands a mile away from the facility, you steel yourself. The fizzing in your head and a sick feeling in your stomach that began the moment you saw the shots Tony pulled up told you everything your own memories couldn’t really touch.

You had done your best to relay what information you could in today’s briefing. Everything from writing and drawing to miming, like some weird party game, was utilized. Hydra was smart, they knew it was always best for their dogs to know where home was but to never be able to lead anyone to it.

For what it was worth they knew the three-story building in the center of the complex was the main hub. The others were just storage, additional offices, nothing worth too much note and as best they could tell they weren’t being used at the moment. Underneath that building and snaking under the complex were at least four stories of labs, R & D facilities, medical facilities, training areas, holding cells, etc.

Since Tony and Bruce’s scans had revealed the same shifting energy signature that you emitted it was safe to assume they had, at least somewhat successfully, created another asset with abilities like your own if not multiple. The team is aware there’s a chance these people will likely be similar to the one you Nat, Steve, and Bucky faced all those months ago. Because of this the general consensus was to put them down, they couldn’t save them and they would be too big of a risk otherwise.

The main goal is to remove the possibility of these assets being sent out to wreak whatever havoc Hydra had planned. After that, they would get any intel they possibly could hard copy or otherwise and destroy any means they used to create you. With any luck, this would be the end of this branch of Hydra’s research. And you could close this chapter of your story once and for all.

“Alright,” Steve gets everyone’s attention, standing near the front of the jet. “We’re all clear on what we’re facing? And that Y/N has point here?”

A resounding Yes sends chills up your spine. No one knew what they were walking into, not really, and the idea of being the lead… You weren’t a leader. You were an asset. Trained to infiltrate, kill, obey. You didn’t lead you were led… led until you’d finally tell someone to go fuck themselves. Then they just reset you… a machine made, for one thing, destruction.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice is soothing next to you.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m good.” Bucky’s metal hand gives yours a gentle squeeze.

Sighing heavily you release Bucky’s hand and stand next to Steve. “Like Tony said earlier, Jarvis can scan for energy signatures and alert everyone if something is about to go haywire but it’s not perfect. If you feel your skin begin to prickle, the temperature drop, or anything that’s remotely odd move on quickly. You engage with someone like me one shot to the head or the heart is the best course of action,” the tension around this point is palpable. “Physically attack as little as possible because it could trigger them to blow and if they’re good enough they can kill you on contact.”

You feel the energy shift under your own skin, “And if I say run, get the fuck out. We’re not losing anyone over this.”  Your fist flexes by your side, thin tendrils of static glowing around it.

“Let’s end this.” Steve plants a heavy reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Everyone knows what their role is. Sam and Clint are covering the perimeter and outbuildings, taking out anyone they see and being their eyes on any suspicious activity that may indicate something going wrong inside. Tony is with Natasha and Hill while you’re with Steve and Bucky, the idea being that each grouping had someone who could lock in on energy signatures quickly. They would take the upper levels while your team would take the lower.

Though energy made it hard to scan for movement and heat signatures Tony was able to modify the coms to work. They had tested it over and over with your own power thrumming nearby and you were both confident he had it sorted. At the very least, you’d all be able to communicate what was happening.

Sam stops the van just outside the first building in the complex and you all file out before he tucks it away somewhere.

No one engages with you all on the first floor. It’s eerily quiet but you can feel that low pulse of power coming from somewhere below you, generators and something far more familiar. Bile rises in your throat and you struggle to force it down.

Tony’s group splits to head up while Steve and Bucky look for an access point down. You can’t seem to move. After a minute Bucky realizes you’re stuck.

“Baby,” his arms encircle you, the feeling of his touch and his familiar scent grounding you. “If you can’t do this-”

You shake your head. When you open your mouth at first nothing comes out, some part of your brain screaming that you aren’t supposed to speak here. “I w… want t… to.” You stutter but manage it. Small as it is it feels like a victory.

Steve lays a warm hand on your upper back, it's comforting to have both of them with you. “I got nothin’ but there’s gotta be a way down.”

There’s a ringing in your ears as you try to think, you press your forehead into Bucky’s chest squeezing your eyes closed trying your best to focus. It hits you, no stairs from here, an elevator hidden. Without a word you pull away from the both of them and walk robotically toward an office to the right.

The walls are wood paneling, a desk and chairs and books sit as though they’re just waiting for someone to come back from lunch. You know they’ve been in the same position for near 30 years. Automatically your hand reaches for the pencil cup, fingers effortlessly locating the one pen that doesn’t move. The innocuous sound of a pen clicking is followed by the whooshing of an elevator.

You all exchange a glance. An elevator was risky but… it would be faster.

“Y/N found an access point down. Elevator, fifth office door on the right, click the red pen in the cup. We’ll take it to the bottom and work our way up.” Steve updates the rest of the team.

“Be careful,” Natasha responds.

“We’ve cleared the second level, no one here. Once we’re done we’ll head down too.” Tony sounds tense. Someone should be here. Likely they were all downstairs… waiting.

Steve presses the fourth button, at least you were right about that. The doors close and each of the men takes one of your hands. From the corner of your eye, you see Bucky cast Steve a small but appreciative smile. As the elevator slows Steve releases your hand and moves in front of you both, shield out.

The doors open and there’s silence for a moment. All three of your heads swivel to the left, enhanced ears picking up on the slightest sounds. It’s over quickly. Steve shields you all from the bullets. One asset is like you, but like the other their attacks are unrefined. Steve manages to block a bolt with the shield.

“Down!” You command Steve and Bucky.

They hit the ground and a second later you send a white-hot bolt of energy slicing through the group. Some dodge of course but none save for the asset is fast enough to avoid your next volley. The asset lunges at you, hands sparkling. Bucky plants a bullet between their eyes in an instant and they’re down, energy dissipating.

As you make your way through the level you’re met with two other factions, neither have another asset like you though. There are a couple of muzzled assets but they go down like all the rest. This is not, after all, a mission where mercy can be afforded.

You’re picking your way through the medical ward. The pulsating energy from the generators makes your skin tingle, small sparks rising from you every now and then. A couple of computers are still running and you wipe them clean, hoping there’s something useful there. Once you take what you need you fry them to a pile of bubbling metal and plastic.

The underground levels are expansive, and after almost two hours of fighting and searching, you’re still not done here. Every passing minute seems to bring a new fragment of memory shooting through your skull. You keep them to yourself though, it’s not the time for them.

Tony’s voice crackles in through the coms. “Nat’s down. Entered what looked like a room with a boxing ring, it was electrified or something. Her vitals are steady but she’s unconscious.”

You grasp your head in your hands, trying to convince yourself that your skull isn’t going to fly apart. “T… training,” is all you can get out.

“Didn’t copy,” Hill’s voice chimes in.

“Y/N says those are training areas,” Steve looks to you for confirmation and you nod. “Avoid any room like that you see.”

You shake your head redirecting your mind to thoughts that weren’t about the facility so your tongue would obey you. “Go help them.” Steve looks like he’s going to argue, “We’ve got this. With Nat down, they’re down a person up there and someone needs to have an eye on her while she comes too since we can’t just leave her in the jet.”

“She’s right Steve. And in charge,” he throws his friend a wink. “We can handle ourselves. Go.”

Steve nods, “I’m heading to you, hold your position.”

You think this area is almost clear. At least until you cautiously you open two double doors that lead into a viewing area. Chairs are aligned in rows, bolted to the ground. Maybe enough for 20-30 people However they don’t face a screen.

In the corner of the room is a clear wall of what seems to be some kind of reinforced glass set between steel beams. Beyond that wall is a decently sized room. The only entry from where you stand is a door made out of the same clear material lined in metal supports. The two other walls of the room are stark white save for a window revealing a dark space beyond.

Your breath hisses out of you, Bucky turns concerned. “What is it?” Like a fish dropped on dry land your mouth opens and closes, nothing but small noises escaping, your brain screaming to tell him but your body unable to comply. “It’s ok baby,” the fingers of his right hand caress your cheek. “It’s ok.” Quickly he leans down and kisses you softly.

His touch. That’s what you focus on. Grabbing his hand you think about how good it feels when his skin is against yours, how good it felt last night to be with him. This seems to work, to allow you to take back some authority.

“There’s more.” Your voice is low but steady. “Through there.” You point toward the glass. “Research I think.” Bucky nods and you both proceed.

As you get closer though the energy levels rise higher. This room is like the one that zapped Nat… His hand goes for the handle.

“Wait!” He freezes. “Let me go first. I think it… it’s…” Fuck them for taking your words. You hold up your hand and let the power lash out in mini lightning bolts to demonstrate.

“Got it. Then we leave it.”

“No.”

His expression is exasperated when he turns to you. “Y/N you said-”

“It won’t hurt me. We have to clear everything.”

“Fine, if it goes too far back though.”

“I won’t proceed. There’s gotta be a way to shut it off close by anyway. I’ll look for that first.” He’s clearly not thrilled and honestly, you’re not either but you want to do this right. You kiss his cheek before opening the door.

The door and the walls are at least ten inches thick, the space around the door reinforced to a ridiculous amount and clearly only meant to be opened from the outside. Immediately you’re flooded with that energy, pure power, electric and hot flowing into you. After a few steps, you stop, having to take a moment to gather yourself.

“Doll?” Bucky calls after you, his voice dripping with concern.

“I’m ok,” you hold your right arm out thin strands of energy flowing from you to the ground. To your surprise the feeling clears your head a bit, you feel more in control than you have this whole time.

“I think… I think there’s one more level.” You turn to him. “Down. Where this,” you hold open your hand and light pulses so bright it’s almost blinding, “comes from. “Where I-”

“Y/N!” Bucky bellows moving to enter the room despite the risk. You’re incredibly thankful the door slams, preventing him from killing himself in here. You hear him fire his gun at the glass to no avail as you turn.

The room to the back is lit all the sudden, the power around you beginning to dissipate.  A comm seems to switch on and you can hear Bucky’s voice screaming.

“Goddamnit! Steve, we have a situation back and left of where we split. Double doors. Backup now!”

You’re about to turn to tell him there’s gotta be another entrance and that you can hear him when a panel in the wall opens. You brace yourself for a fight, light coursing up your arms, lashing out ready to be released. A smirk plays on your face, they charged these rooms to trap people but only managed to give you a boost, unfortunate for them.

Instead of an asset or an agent though, a dignified older woman walks out. Her hair white and pulled into a familiar high bun. The set of her shoulders, the way her head is held, the way her eyes settle on you…

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, pounding on the door, trying in vain to get it open.

“Please, Sargeant Barnes, don’t make a fool of yourself,” the woman looks at him in disgust her accent softly Germanic. “This room was built to contain someone far more powerful than a recycled grunt like you could ever be.” She looks back to you, “Hello my little firefly.”

“Hurry!” Bucky bellows into the com. “Y/N! Baby doll, look at me.” He sounds like he’s a world away.

“M… mom?” You’re going to be sick you can feel it.

“Yes liebling,” she keeps her distance but gives you a smile. “It’s been too long. Longer to you I know. I wish that wasn’t the case but-”

You press the heels of your hands to your forehead as images flash. She was here… she had been… everywhere? What-

“This was not my preferred way my firefly but as always you have forced my hand.”

“I don’t-” you manage to breathe out. She takes a step toward you and you step back. Bucky is still pounding at the door with his metal fist, determined.

“You were born to be a wunderkind.” You can hear Steve in your crackling com, trying to find you but her voice cuts through everything. “My wunderkind. The honor to be chosen to be your mother…” She places her hand over her heart, “You were going to be the beginning of a new order for Hydra. A child raised in power-”

“W... what?!” This doesn’t make sense.

“Do you think you just happened to be stronger, faster, smarter all around better than your peers. No, my firefly.”

Suddenly you remember doctors visits throughout your childhood always with her. Your mother giving you injections telling you not to worry your dad because he was already so busy… The pushing the requirement to be perfect, it all takes on a sinister air.

“No, we made you better, all so you could become who you were meant to be. But instead, you threw it all away.” She sighs, a sound you grew familiar with as a teenager. “You forced my hand then, you’ve done so now.”

Steve is there, pounding with his shield, it’s not doing much, they call for Tony but you just can’t seem to care.

“It was one thing to work with trash like that,” she gestures to Bucky and Steve. “We could, I could, tolerate it while we got things sorted but to be with it. To debase yourself with Zola’s dog. I couldn’t stand by.”

“What did you say…” You growl, power once more pulsing.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N!” Bucky calls out.

“I created you to surpass everyone, to stand above humanity. I made you-”

“You made me into a monster!” A bolt crashes just in front of her. Unimpressed she looks down.

“I made you into a god!” She sneers, “You made yourself into a disappointment.” That word hits you like a bullet to the chest. “Filling your body with filth. Associating with low lives. I did what any mother would do when it was clear there was no hope. I saved you from yourself!”

She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “We would have brought you back home in a gentler fashion. But when I saw those photos… I knew I had to extract you sooner.”

“Home,” you spit the word.

“Yes. This is your home, Y/N. With me.” You hear Tony in the com he’s coming. Once more she sighs, “No matter, soon you’ll remember who you are, what you were born to be. Doch’,” the Russian word for daughter zings through you.

Immediately you lift a glowing hand in threat, “Don’t.”

“Ubegay,” a smirk lifts her lips.

Your hand shakes as does your voice, “Mama, don’t.” Even after everything… the thought of killing your mother…

“Boginya,” you try to shoot her but you miss. “Rassvet.”

“Bucky!” You scream, power slipping away from you in response to the words. Frantically you run to the glass by the door.

“Y/N! Tony hurry!”

“Vybrannyy.”

He presses close as Steve keeps pounding at the handle, “Look at me baby,” his voice echoes over the com. “Stay-”

“Zashchishchat’.” You scream and fall to your knees holding your head. He kneels mouth moving but you can’t really understand the words. “Pod’yem.” Your body feels so heavy your head filled with humming, static, pain.

“Y/N!” He screams your name over and over. This man…

“Dvadtsat’,” another man outside, metal man. You rise slowly and turn toward the woman speaking. The woman with the words. “Dtanovit’sya.”

She smiles broadly, “Svetlyak.” Everything in you... freezes. “There’s my firefly.”

There’s a loud noise behind you. You don’t think to look, haven’t been told to. No orders. Just wait.

Something circular swooshes through the air hitting the woman with the words in the stomach, she crumples to the ground. You don’t care, she didn’t give you orders to protect her.

“Y/N! Baby!” A man with a metal arm takes you by the shoulders, shakes you. “Y/N?! Come on, fight it! Come back to me.” He looks so upset… did he give you orders? He seems familiar…

“Soldat?” That’s right, the arm. The Soldier. Not a handler but he sometimes was like one. He looks at you horrified. The other men just watch.

Would he know what you were to do? “Kakovy nashi zakazy?” (What are our orders?)

“Oh god.” He runs a hand over his face and through his hair, turning away. When he turns back he strikes you, hard, with his metal hand.

You hit your knees. Head reeling from the blow. From Bucky’s blow.

“Barnes!” Tony bellows.

Bucky ignores him collapsing next to you. “I’m so sorry baby,” he pulls you to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so-”

He’s pressed your face to his chest, rocking you a little, “Thank you,” you croak.

He holds you at arm's length, “Y/N?!”

You nod, “Thank you. You kept your promise.”

His face collapses. For a minute you hold one another both knowing that the end had just come so close.

There’s a wheezing, a cough, before, “Pathetic.”

That bitch. You release Bucky and stand, pushing past Steve and Tony who are dumbfounded at everything they’ve seen. Standing over your mother you feel power pulse up your spine.

“I thought you’d be my biggest victory, you’re nothing. Too weak for greatness like your father.” She forces herself up coughing once more, blood at the edges of her mouth. “I should have put you both down.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. About to blast a hole through her chest.

“Hail, Hydra.” Immediately she begins to foam at the mouth.

“No you don’t get to-” A wild feral scream tears through you and you blast her straight to the chest once, twice, before you let loose a third Bucky wraps you in his arms turning you away from your mother's corpse.

You break. Screaming and screaming until it doesn’t even seem to be coming from you. Body pulsing bright all over. Your whole life… everything you thought you had known or that you had tried to draw peace from was a lie. Your own mother… Had she killed your dad… All because you…

Bucky’s lips are next to your ear, softly he begins to sing. Fly Me To The Moon. “In other words, hold my hand,” his hands slide over your own, sparking with energy. “In other words, baby, kiss me…” Slowly you both sink to the floor, your screams giving way to sobs. “You are all I long for, All I worship and adore,” he rocks you gently your back to his chest. “In other words, I love you.”

As he finishes you’re able to get a hold of yourself, body no longer glowing dangerously. Breathe a little normally.

“It’s clear back there,” you hear Hill’s voice say softly to Steve and Tony. “Got some data from the computer. I don’t think she expected to lose, there’s a lot there.”

“Great,” Tony whispers. He kneels in front of you, “Sparks,” his gauntleted hand rests gently on your thigh, “let’s get you outta here.”

Bucky releases you and you stand on shaky legs. “Natasha?” You ask looking to Hill.

“She’s ok,” she gives you a warm smile.

The relief from that statement is short lived. A massive pulse of energy thrums somewhere beneath your feet.

Your eyes shoot to Tony’s as Jarvis pipes over the com, “There seems to be some sort of anomaly, I cannot get a lock on it but I suggest immediate evacuation.” You nod agreeing.

The elevators are down, likely an automatic shut off when there’s a breach like the one you’re feeling. You know that somewhere there have to be stairs but no one had found them yet. Tony blasts through the doors without a thought.

“We could climb up,” Steve says.

“Too slow.” He steps in and rips a hole through the roof, “Get in, I can pull it up.” You do as he says and Tony pulls the car up at the first-floor doors Steve pulls them open. The three of you let Hill out first before crawling out yourselves. Once everyone is clear he releases the car and it plummets to the ground.

Another pulse of energy rattles the windows on the building. It’s so like your own for a moment you’re scared it’s coming from you.

“Sir, I believe the facility is set to demolish itself,” Jarvis’ unfazed tone rings in your ear.

“Right. Let’s get going. Wilson, get that van ready we need to get the hell out now,” Steve calls out as he starts for the exit.

Hill is fast but she's not enhanced and the distance between the main building and the van is about 150 yards. Tony scoops her up and the three of you run at full speed. Almost to the van, you feel a massive pulse vibrate the ground under your feet, curling up your burning legs you freeze.

Bucky looks at you from the door, “Y/N, come on baby.” Another wave, this time you hear the buildings around you groan.

It’s not just the building that’s set to blow… You realize with a sick feeling… it wasn’t that your mother didn’t think she’d lose… she just knew it wouldn’t matter either way. When this detonates, you don’t know if it’s an asset or multiple or what… but the blast will be devastating. If it’s even fractionally as powerful as it feels Odessa will be in the bottom of a crater in the coming minutes… All those innocent people…

Bucky’s approaching you, to drag you to the van. Tony hovers close by, you look to him as you start to back up, “Remember that promise, Tony?”

“Yeah…”

“Time to cash in.” Bucky is almost to you and you shoot a light shock toward him to slow him down before you bolt back to the main building.

“Y/N!”/“Goddamnit!” You hear Tony and Bucky exclaim simultaneously. There are the sounds of a scuffle.

“Tell me what’s happening Sparky!” Tony grunts, the sound of metal on metal ringing in your com.

“It’s bad, the blast, the energy, real bad. I can stop it just get him!” You look over and see Bucky in hot pursuit before Tony grabs him.

You don’t look back again. You can’t. Despite hearing Bucky call out over and over.

Unable to stand it you rip the com out of your ear, crushing it in your hand. Even without it, even with the rumble of the earth, you can make out the fight. Should have told them to go, get away… But you can keep them safe. You will keep them safe.

At the face of the building, you take a deep breath and jump, releasing a blast from your palms to propel you up. This wasn’t something you did often, and sometimes it didn’t work but right now you have no choice, you’ve got to get to the roof. From there you can channel the energy through the building pull it up, focus it into something concentrated rather than an uncontrollable destructive blast. It will be unlike anything you had ever done but… you had to try.

It gets you about halfway. You grab a window ledge with both hands, using everything you have you push yourself up, releasing your grip and letting out more energy. Another wave of force almost causes you to lose your grip on the edge of the roof but you hang on and get there.

Kneeling at the edge you place your hands flat on the concrete, much as you had that day you thought of killing Bucky in the field you send your sense out to find your target down, down, down using the metal supports of the building itself to guide you. There.

It feels like people, three of them, assets, just like you… all about to blow…  

Looking out you can see them still. Bucky and Tony are struggling, the whisper of Bucky’s screams echoing through the abandoned buildings. Everyone else standing unsure of what to do. All these people you… love.

You focus with all your might to draw the power of the three hopeless souls into something you can control. As you do so your heart shatters in your chest because now you know you aren’t getting through this, not if you want to save them all… and you never fucking said it.

Not to any of them and not to the one person who really needed to hear it… You told him with your body, with your concern, in every subtle sweet way a person can but those three words… words you knew with all your being were true… you never let them fall from your lips… and now…

Your own power, coursing through the frame of the building, begins to act like a sort of intangible conduit as it harnesses that of the three assets. Strangely it’s easy, their force so undisciplined, seems almost happy to find a path to flow into. The building groans, smoke emitting from it here and there, windows blowing from the rising heat. White streaks of light are beginning to become visible, like concentrated lightning, running straight for you.

As this overload flows into your body it takes everything in you to not scream, the pain is so blinding. You don’t want them… him to hear that though. Raising your other arm to the pink early dawn sky you pray to anything that will hear you that this plan will work… that you’re strong enough to contain this force. Like some bizarre lightning rod, the power thrums through you crackling from your fingertips, your body glowing bright…

“Like a firefly,” you think.

“Straight up, straight down, not out, not out, contain this contain it.” You focus on those words, determined. The power is about to break, you can feel it. The light almost blotting out everything, taking away your view of them.

“I love you,” you whisper wishing he could hear.

Then there’s nothing but light, and pain, and surrender.

[midnight-circus]

alphabetical OC meme

filled this out for Lord Asshole bc i cant write anything so i may as well fill in questionnaires instead

also numerous numbers and at least one section were missing when i copied it so idk what happened there

under the cut bc its Long As Hell

A: Aptitude 1. what are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young? // Independence lmao. He could get through his whole life relying entirely on himself if need be. He wouldn’t be happy, but he’d survive. He’s also naturally intellectual and has never had to try very hard in academia.

2. what activities have they participated in? // literally what does this mean. Safe to say he’s not exactly playing team sports.

3. what abilities do they have that they’ve worked for? // He’s had to work extremely hard to shed the bad habits learnt whilst growing up in a white aristocratic dysfunctional family. Other than that, he’s a talented pianist – the only thing his mother was ever proud of. Also sending work-emails that don’t make him sound like a total dick. still working on that tbh

4. what things are they bad at? // Honestly, anything creative. He’s very intelligent but has absolutely no artistic talent, and he’s not at all imaginative – creating something out of nothing when it doesn’t have a logical or scientific basis is pretty beyond him.

5. what is their most impressive talent? // In his original AU, and any fantasy AUs I force him kicking and screaming into, swordsmanship. He’s pretty untouchable with a blade.

B: Basics 1. what is their hair color?// Dark brown, close to black.

2. what is their eye color? // Also dark brown.

3. how tall are they? // 6’2

4. how old are they? // He fluctuates depending on the AU, but his default base-age is 34.

5. how much do they weigh? // Generally between 150-180lbs, depending on his age, eating habits and mental state. When he’s going through stress, his eating and sleeping patterns are the first to nosedive.

C: Comfort 1. how do they sit in a chair? // His posture leaves a lot to be desired. He slouches pretty badly, and to be honest his height makes it difficult to get comfortable in most regular chairs. He also manspreads, though to be fair his legs are about 3 miles long and it’s hard to know where to put them honestly

2. in what position do they sleep? // Either on his side or his front. Never on his back.

4. what is their major comfort food? why? // oh man sugar. His eating habits aren’t good at the best of times, but when he’s feeling Mentally Ill he’s prone to 4am binges of as much sugar as conceivably possible in one sitting. He then goes for a 5am run until he throws up, so yknow. all nice and healthy.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down? // Elrick. Gross. Also Kat, to be fair.

D: Decoration 1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name? // He’s very fond of Nordic design and tries to keep vibrancy to a minimum, because he’s a boring bitch. Light walls, dark woods, pretty stylish furniture but no chrome Thank You Very Much; accent colours would probably be dark blues or greens. Plants, but only if he doesn’t have to water them because he Will forget and they Will all die. He’s also anal as fuck and despises mess and disorder, which makes living with Elrick fuckin interesting to say the least.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room? // however they wanted as long as it wasn’t pastels bc a man has to draw the line somewhere

3. how do they decorate their own room? // muted, calm, maybe a little regency – he accessorises more in the bedroom than he does in the rest of the house, gold accents here and there, that sort of thing. Less austere, more opulent. At the end of the day, he’s from an aristocratic background, however unhealthy his upbringing was – he can never quite shed the appreciation for luxe.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear? // He dresses well – very put-together, if very monochrome. He doesn’t do casual very well and will avoid jeans unless he has no other choice. He would quite literally rather die than wear shorts. As for colours, generally blacks, greys, dark jewel-tones (maroons, dark greens, dark purples, etc). Very rarely light colours, and if he does wear light tones he layers them – a white shirt under a dark leather jacket, for example. As for accessories, he stays simple with a decent watch (Patek Phillipe, thanks, none of this Rolex bullshit) and two rings (wedding ring and onyx signet ring – family heirloom, the only one he has). He knows how to dress to suit himself.

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends? // >:[  

E: External Personality 1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? // For the most part. How he behaves has been moulded over many years by how he thinks and feels, and it’s hard to shed the habits of a lifetime. EG, he’s very neurotic and it does have an impact on his organisation – if his mental state slips into decline, so too does his command over his surroundings and his ability to keep things on track.

2. do they do things that conform to the norm? // Again, for the most part. A key element of his upbringing was the overbearing sense of being watched, being judged, being on display; one behaves the way one is expected to behave, and one never deviates from that path. Obviously he fucked that one right up when he started putting dicks in his mouth, but it still remains something of a mantra.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing? // Neither, really. He doesn’t follow trends because he’s actually 70 years old and doesn’t know what they are, but nor is he particularly unconventional. He does his own thing because he has no idea what anybody else is currently doing.

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads? // oh god no. he has a twitter account but the last time he used it he got drunk and tweeted at jeremy paxman that he was a cunt so he doesn’t really engage with it very much

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own? // People are left to figure it out. He doesn’t go out of his way to make friends or advertise his personality – he’s friendly when he needs to be, but is not the sort of person to go out actively socialising.

G: Gorgeous 1. what is their most attractive external feature? // His height makes him pretty popular and he knows how to dress well. He also has that particular ‘tall, thin, dark hair, pale skin, heroin-addict-esque’ chic that some people tend to go for. He doesn’t really get it, himself.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality? // He’s witty in a very dry way – a little sharper than run-of-the-mill sarcasm.

3. what benefits come with being their friend? // Ok honestly? Money lmao. idk man you’d have to ask Kat bc she’s the only one who’s lasted this long

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike? // Though he projects an aura of self-assurance, he really doesn’t like very much about himself; his upbringing and unhealthy relationship with Catholicism did a number of his self-esteem. He’s proud of his intellect and knows he is smarter than the average person, but other than that, not a great deal.

5. what parts of others do they envy? // General happiness. He’s a melancholy person by nature and doesn’t tend to feel a swell of positive emotions for no reason – he can’t help but feel there’s something inherently wrong in his brain.

H: Heat 1. do they rather a hot or cold room? // n e i t h e r bitch his internal temperature must remain on an even keel at all times. Probably cold, if he was forced to pick.

2. do they prefer summer or winter? // Winter because it means he can wear layers

3. do they like the snow? // yes but he’ll never admit it. he finds it romantic. that must never be repeated.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity? // lying in front of the fridge cursing God

5. do they have a favorite winter activity? // coffee dates. Independent coffee shops, mind you – fuck Sbux.

I: In-the-closet 1. what is their sexuality? // Gay

2. have they ever questioned their sexuality? // he spent more than half his teen years wishing he was straight

3. have they ever questioned their gender? // No

4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT? // mother denies it completely, father kicked him out, brother doesn’t give a shit bc he’s bi as hell himself

5. how long would/did it take for them to come out? // He was forced out at 16 when he was caught with a boyfriend in the boathouse of Darlington estate – it marked the end of an already abusive parental relationship. To be honest, it’s hard to say if he would have ever had the courage to come out himself.

J: Joy 1. what makes them happy? // Feeling loved. He got very little of that in his youth.

2. who makes them happy? // Elrick has an uncanny ability. Who’d have thought it.

3. are there any songs that bring them joy? // He particularly loves Dancing in the Dark by Springsteen, and All Along the Watchtower by Hendrix. Neither are very joyful songs, granted, but they’re two of his favourites.

4. are they happy often? // He’s contented often, and he enjoys his life. ‘Happy’, though? Not sure.

K: Kill 1. have they ever thought about suicide? // More than once.

2. have they ever thought about homicide? // Not with any real intent. In a modern AU, anyway – can’t say the same for any of his other incarnations.

3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who? // Way deep down somewhere, he’d be tempted to say his father.

4. who would miss them if they died? // More people than he knows.

5. who would be happy they died, anyone? // lmao the tax agency probably. His father wouldn’t be happy, per se, but perhaps it would solve a problem.

L: Lemons 1. what is their favorite fruit? // Black cherries.

2. what is their least favorite fruit? // fuck bananas, honestly

3. are there any foods they hate? // Peanut butter can die, and also asparagus can also die.

4. do they have any food intolerances?  // Not that he knows of.

5. what is their favorite food? // Probably Thai or Korean.

M: Maternal 1. would they want a daughter or a son? // He technically has a son already. Kat wanted a child and she trusted Logan above an anonymous donor, so one stressful jack-off session, a weird experience with a baster and eight months later, Rowan showed up early.  Logan technically has no parental responsibilities or rights, but he’s involved in Rowan’s life nonetheless. And then there’s Bastian, whose own father leaves a Little To Be Desired in the emotional department, let’s say, so ultimately he winds up taking on that role as well.

2. how many children do they want? // One’s enough, ta, and that one doesn’t even live with him. In seriousness, he’s always idly thought about children in his life, but not with any real seriousness – he plays his role with Rowan well and he’s a great uncle to Bastian, but kids wouldn’t suit his and Elrick’s lifestyle.  

3. would they be a good parent? // Yeah, he probably would.

4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter? // Demetrius or Victor for a boy, Ophelia for a girl. How else will people know he’s a pretentious bitch?

5. would they adopt? // Nah

O: Optimism 1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? // Total pessimist.

2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others? // No and he cannot stand it when other people force optimism into entirely inappropriate situations.

3. are they good at giving advice? // lmao not unless it’s legal advice. Then yes, absolutely. Just don’t cry on his kitchen floor.

4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? fukkin Katherine. She’s the only one allowed to get away with it.  

5. were they always optimistic/pessimistic? // Yeah, he was a pretty dour, anxious little kid from the start.

P: Personality 1. what is their best personality trait? // From a professional perspective, he’s extremely clear-headed and analytical, and it serves him very well as a criminal prosecution lawyer – there’s not much that slips by him, and he can spot a loophole coming a mile away.

2. what is their worst personality trait? // He’s … difficult to get along with, for a lot of people. Not nasty as such, but he’s sharp-tongued and quite quick to anger in situations outside of his job, particularly when stressed. He also has a tendency to look down on people (particularly people who aren’t considered ‘smart’ by his standards) and let’s be real, he’s pretty classist – it takes him a long time to come to terms with Bastian’s relationship with Fabian. Elrick is more than happy to call him out on this.

3. what of their personality do others love? // Didn’t we already do this?

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities? // god he cannot abide people who aren’t punctual oh GOD he hates people who aren’t punctual

Q: Questions 1. do they ask for help? // Not unless he’s literally dying

2. do they ask questions in class? // to be honest, he generally didn’t need to

3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable? // Depends on the context, but he generally tries to avoid giving out personal information.

4. do they ask weird questions? // He keeps his weird questions to himself and Googles them later.

5. are they curious? // By nature. It was curiosity that got him into the godawful mess he ended up in re: his source material.

R: Rules 1. do they follow rules? // Generally yeah, aside from the occasionally joint now and then. Although saying that, he does run very much on his own moral code, so I suppose he follows rules as long as he agrees with the sense and logic behind them.

2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent? // It’s odd, his instinct is to be strict but he would also loathe the thought of being anything like his father, so he might swing entirely the other way in an attempt to avoid that. Hard to say. He definitely wouldn’t be like … a fun, playful parent because that’s just not in his nature, but it’s possible he’d relax his own rules significantly. Although he is fairly strict with Rowan, it’s for Rowan’s benefit - he needs rules and boundaries to be comfortable, and Logan’s not a traditional ‘father’ in that case anyway.

3. have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule? // he was ‘consequenced’ pretty fuckin badly for daring to kiss a boy

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking? // oh god probably, he has more regrets than he can count

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous? // He’s not got a lot of time nor respect for people who follow rules totally blindly without having some sense of self-critique.

S: Streets 1. are they street-smart? // Depends on the AU, but for the most part he’s too privileged.

2. would they give money to someone on the streets? // no because he’s actually horrible

3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets? // No, but he has gotten in a fight in a bar. Kat will not let him forget it.

5. are they cautious when out? // A little paranoid, perhaps, but it doesn’t stop him.

T: Truth 1. are they honest? // define ‘honest’

2. can they tell if someone is lying? // Yes, it’s literally his job.

3. is it obvious when they’re lying? // Nope. He’s a consummate liar.

4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about? // he lied and told Elrick that yes, he’d had sex before their first time, and then regretted it twenty minutes later when they were forced to stop because he almost died. it's fine. they worked it out

5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will? // not really – he plays his cards very close to his chest. Nothing gets out if he doesn’t want it to.

U: Underdog 1. have they been bullied? // Only by his parents.

2. have they bullied anyone? // Not directly to anyone’s face, but he’s definitely made some unpleasant comments.

3. have they been physically attacked by a bully? // If his father counts, yes.

4. have they ever been doubted? // Only from ages 2 to 34.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something? People don’t tend to expect the piano-playing, somehow.

V: Vomit 1. do they vomit often? // what is this question set. Incidentally, yes – he has a problem with running until he’s exhausted and tends to vomit after that.

2. do they get lots of stomach aches? // no?? I guess not???

3. are they good at comforting someone ill? // lol he could be better. His levels of sympathy leave a little to be desired.

4. what do they like as far as comfort goes? // he doesn’t, really. He generally dislikes being fussed over too much and denies he is sick until he’s unable to stand up, at which point he’s forced to accept it whether he likes it or not.

5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting? // what is this question ASKING

W: Water 1. do they drink enough water? // Actually probably yes – it’s one of the few healthy habits he has.

2. have they learned to swim? // yes

3. do they like to swim? // ehhhhh he can take it or leave it

4. can they dive? // he went to an expensive private school of course he can dive

5. can they swim without holding their nose? // yes

X: Xylophone 1. what is their favorite genre of music? // Classic rock – nothing after 1989, thanks.

2. do they have a favorite song? // Hendrix’s Watchtower is up there, as mentioned, along with Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult. He has favourite playlists, rather than favourite songs.

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer? Blue Oyster Cult in general is a favourite, as is Black Sabbath and Springsteen.

4. can they sing well? He does ok. His voice isn’t fuckin Grammy material or anything, but he can hold a note.

5. can they rap? lmao

Y: You 1. how old were you when you created them? // lol

2. what inspired you to create them? // LOL

3. were they different when they were first created? // oh god yeah. Prototype!Logan was a fucking mess, he’s undergone some serious reworking since the early days.

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters? // he’s my comfort-zone, honestly.

5. what’s your favorite thing about them? // his internal monologue of disdain suddenly being interrupted by Oppressively Gay Thoughts

Z: Zebra 1. what’s their favorite animal? // He likes watching birds, but only from a distance.

2. do they like animals? // Nah, he’s really not much of an animal person. Loud and messy, for the most part.

3. cats or dogs? // Cats, if he has to pick.

4. what’s their dream pet? // A taxidermised one.

5. do they have any pets at the moment? // A Birman cat named Saskia. It’s the only animal in the entire world that he loves. He doesn’t like cats – he likes his cat.

[floralreddie]

falling in love with Richie Tozier: part 10 (when they’re adults. FINALE)

taglist: @pearltheartist@mikoalabearwrites @arielgirly @trashmouth-smashmouth@mzcescapie @somenates27@reddiesballoons @cawcawhawkeye @richietoaster @sassy-molassy @fuckin-richie

this is the final part. thank you so much to everyone who followed these little imagines! i love u all lots xx

i obviously changed that they forget again but FUCK THAT

side note: i did a small smut thing for these. it’s on my masterlist x

the day after is an entire blur

it is Richie who insists he call Eddie’s wife, though you are all well aware the woman was not in love with Eddie, nor Eddie her. Richie tells you that he could hear, though, in her voice how distraught she was

you all make up a story. a story of an accident and an animal down in the sewers of Derry, when you were looking around the places you would explore as children

the policeman narrow their eyes, because they know you know Mike Hanlon who was admitted to Hospital, but like most in Derry they don’t ask anymore questions

you all gather in the Hospital after leaving the sewers, after leaving It’s corpse and watching as Eddie’s body was piled into a body bag, and you hold Richie as he sobs, and Ben holds Bev, and Bill holds Audra

and there is nothing that can be said

none of you talk, not even as the police drive the six of you to the Hospital

you get stitches where you need them, all of you, and Ben and Bev had back to the hotel, and Bill stays with Audra as she wakes up, and you and Rich pile into Mike’s room and tell him what happened

and Mike cries

and you hold his hand and nod, tears streaming down your face, because there was once a world where the Losers were everything to each other, and now two of you are gone from the world forever

you sleep in the hotel that night, you and Richie wrapped close to each other, and you hold him as he cries and you bury your face in his dark and greying curls

in the morning, you all start to checkout, knowing that you’ll be seeing each other soon enough (bc it is unsaid but Richie gave Eddi’s wife all of your numbers so that she could contact you all for the funeral)

because Eddie’s bodies is already probably in New York by now, and the thought makes you feel sick

you all hug each other and smile, and you meet Bill (Audra is still in care, but awake) and Mike at the hospital and tell them you WILL see them soon, and that you love them

and Bev and Ben hold each other

and you and Richie leave together

leave Derry

(in separate cars, but they are both rentals and Richie changed his ticket so you both fly to LAX together)

and you know you will never see the sorry town ever again, because It was gone and there was so reason to return anymore

and you think of the memories

of the parties

and the days at the Quarry

and the arcade

and as you hold Richie’s hand and breathe as the flight takes off, he sighs and nudges you lightly, decked out in a denim jacket, a black shirt and dirty shoes, and he says to you, ‘Will you marry me, doll?’

and you smile tiredly

and you nod

it takes a week for you to move into his house in Beverly Hills, which is big and flashy and not your thing at all, but even in the few days that you move in (you both took a month off of work, despite the anger from your employers), you begin to sprinkle your candles, your books, your tapestries and your pictures all about the house

and you text Bev

and you force yourself not to forget

you put pictures everywhere, and you call Mike everyday and you set an alarm on your phone so you remember

a week after you have moved in and a day before you travel to New York for Eddie’s funeral, you say to Richie, ‘Are you forgetting?’

and he’s standing in the kitchen in his boxers and glasses on (they’re thick rimmed, but not so much as the ones he wore when he was younger) because he doesn’t have any contacts in, and he looks at you with a small smile and he shakes his head

and you smile as you sit on the counter in his band shirt, because you’re so fucking thankful

you have an engagement ring on your fingers that’s simple and gold, and you’re not really sure when you’re going to get married, but you’re not too bothered as long as its to Richie

you know that he has money from his career, and you have money from yours, but you’re not bothered about a large wedding

you travel to New York and meet Eddie’s wife, and you and the Losers have dinner and Ben and Ben arrive together, wedding bands on both their hands and Richie mutters, ‘Had to fucking one up us, didn’t they?’

Audra doesn’t come with Bill, to which he coughs and says, ‘She didn’t really fancy meeting you guys after last time. She’s still pretty, um, messed up about it’.

‘Can’t really blame her,’ Bev mutters

you eat and talk and take joy in the fact that you can all be normal again, and the waitress never asks why Bev called up and booked a table for eight when their are only six of you 

but you all know that the empty seat next to Bill and the empty seat next to Richie are somehow not empty at all, but no one says anything

it is when Bev turns down yet another drink that you narrow your eyes at her from across the table and she rolls her eyes and says, ‘Well, we weren’t going to say anything, but its pretty hard not to with you fucking alcoholics around’.

she blinks to Ben, who grins, and says, ‘I’m pregnant’

you choke on your chicken

Richie slaps you on the back

the next day, you all gather in some church in downtown New York, and you all sit on the same row

and it’s a nice service

and there’s a picture of Eddie at the front, and they play slow music and his wife speaks

and so do you all, though it’s only a few words each

about Eddie, and how good he was, and how funny, and how strong, and how brave

and you feel sad

because none of you got to celebrate Stan in this way

you see the Losers twice that year after that, once for Ben and Bill’s wedding in Chicago, and another for yours and Richie’s wedding in Malibu

both quiet

you and Richie have your first dance to Love Song by The Cure

and you dance with Mike, Bill and Ben

and your mother, who still cannot believe that she forgot Richie beams the whole night

and it is not formal by any means, because it’s you and Richie

and you make a life in Malibu after you marry, because it’s the perfect place for both of you

and the house is by the sea

and Richie works alongside a man that reminds you so much of Eddie, and you keep in touch with all of the Losers

and a few weeks after your wedding you get a call that Bev had a girl, and she named her Grace, and she sends pictures to you all the group chat that Richie made and titled The Losers Club

you and Richie decided to never have children, because you know full well that such a thing is just not for either of you

of course, that doesn’t stop it from happening when you’e 41

you wait three months to tell him, because you’re scared that you’re too old, but when nothing happens you wait until he’s come back from a day of filming and you’ve finished your day shift at work, and silently pass him a large glass of gin, and tell him, ‘Richie, darling, I’m pregnant’

he drinks the whole glass in one go, nods for a full minute, and then kisses you on the mouth

you tell the others and they are thrilled, and Bev expresses her sorrow for whatever child Richie Tozier will raise

to which he sends her a middle finger

you ask Richie if he’s sad his parents will never get to meet their grandkid, to which he replies, ‘like they would give a shit, doll’

and you nod, because it’s true

being pregnant is odd, and Richie does not leave you the fuck alone

he does less shooting

he makes you fucking meals every day full of nutrients, and he reads about a billion baby books because he’s terrified he’s going to be a shit parent 

you know he doesn’t sleep because of it, so you stroke his hair every night as he presses his ear to your belly and talks to the baby

you don’t find out the sex

you paint the spare room pinks and blues and yellows and greens, all soft and all colourful, and Richie plays the baby AC/DC and Led Zepplin and assures you the baby will have good music taste

when you go into labour, it fucking long and horrible and Richie has a good seven freaks out and faints once, but he’s there the whole time and it’s painful and shit, but when that cry breaks through the rush of doctors (and you’re not used to being the patient), you know all your doubts about being a mother were wrong

because when Edward Richard Tozier is placed into your arms, you and Richie blubber and stare at him, with his dark eyes and his dark hair, like he is the fucking sun

you grow older, and so does your son

you have another gathering with the Losers when he is five months old, and you meet in LA. Grace is ginger and blue eyed, and Bill tells everyone that Audra is pregnant and it is a boy, and they are going to name him Stanley

but when he says it, he grins

and Mike meets his godson, Edward

and Bill meets his goddaughter, Grace

and, somehow, you can’t quite believe that you’re all the same people who became friends on that fateful day that Ben fell into the river, injured and scared

Edward, who Richie adores and loves and calls Ed’s and his little Dude, is a quiet and happy baby who is the image of his father, and when his curly hair begins to show you want to cry with happiness

and you’re a clumsy mother at first, but you get the hang of it

and Richie dresses him in silly shirts and adores him, and he’s a better dad than you could ever have guessed he would be, and

and you work, and Richie becomes famous in America

and you grow older

and you talk when you can with the Losers, hearing what is happening in their lives, and Mike tells what Derry is like now and how it changes without It there

when you are 71 years old and your son is working as a Physiotherapist in LA, Richie gets cancer

and he dies with his hand in yours and his brown eyes on your old face, and he smiles and says, ‘we’ll be waiting for you, doll’

and your son, so much like Richie was at his age, holds you as you sob and insist it was too soon, you wanted more time for the years you had lost

you get a call a year later that Bev had passed

then five years later it is Ben

then Mike (and your heart breaks so much so that you wonder how you are still living)

you talk to Bill weekly, reminiscing 

and then, suddenly, you are 82 years old and you are sleeping, and as you sleep you dream of Derry in summer, with it’s high trees and sunlight peeking through the leaves, and the sound of Bev laughing as she smoked, of Eddie giggling and pushing Richie into the water, and of Ben and Mike talking about the History of the town

and you fall

and you fall

and Richie catches you

except as you open your eyes, you’re ankle deep in water and the sun is blinding, and the face staring back at you is of a fourteen year old Richie Tozier with his skinny hands on your arms, his thick lenses glasses on his freckled face, and his toothy grin as bright as the sun

‘took ya long enough, doll. Jeeeeeze’.

you laugh, and your laugh is young and youthful and you know you’re her again, the girl of your childhood who was happy and free, you kiss Richie’s cheek and you cry when you see the others standing behind him

you hug Eddie and Stan and kiss their noses, and then Bev and Ben and Mike

and you all laugh and splash water at each other

and you climb up the Quarry again and jump into the water, hands clasped

‘just fucking jump, Ed’s! It’s not like you can die again!’ Richie yells, hair wet as he sways in the water next to you

Bev snorts

and you all think of the people you left behind, but you know that they are fine. Richie murmurs this to you as you sit in the water one day, and he looks older somehow, as if you are ageing here but not ageing at all at the same time

and time is no concept where you are

Eddie corners you and Richie and hugs the both of you, thanking you for naming your son after him

and Richie shoves him and tells him to grow a fucking pair, but his eyes are wet and his cheeks are pink

but one day

there is a shift, and suddenly something seems to snap into place with all of you

and you all turn, together, to look to the shoreline

and you see a glint of red hair and wide blue eyes, and you’e all running to him, arms outstretched and laughter on your tongues

‘shit, Big Bill, there you are!’

and you all hug him and pull him into the water, and the fourteen year old Bill Denbrough, the leader, pulls Stan to him and hugs is best friend as Stan says sorry, curly hair damp and tears on his cheeks

and you stand in the water, ankle deep and looking at each other

and you grin as you all link hands, standing in the circle that would never be broken again

your family

the people you would spent eternity with playing and laughing as you did when you were children, the happiest time of your eventful life

The Losers Club was of eight again

[rnisa]

Sorry to answer this as its own post and not a reply to the actual question, but I hate how Tumblr mobile doesn’t allow you to format question responses! I talked too much and might have gone slightly off topic or given details you may have not been interested in, if so, I apologize! I bolded some stuff that way you can quickly browse and read from whatever point looks good to you, and skip the rest! I included his relationshipS with other characters bc I think he’s a very social being who fears being alone by himself, with his thoughts. If you want me to try again without mentioning other members I will, just let me know!

Fuck yeah! Hit me with that, “there’s-more-to-him-than-bombs” Junkrat!

So, I honestly feel that upon first joining Overwatch, he would spend the majority of his time alone (though, when I say alone, I mean with Roadhog, even if he’s doing all the talking Roadhog is always there to listen) busying himself with his hobbies. Now that he’s got to have a clean slate from here on out (no more crime sprees, drat!) I think he would become quite bored, and instead of coming up with plans for heists, he becomes the new, er…“mastermind” for minor, frivolous quests. For example; someone’s misplaced a possession or important object? Junkrat’s on the case! Pretty soon he’s coming up with this big idea on how to locate the thing, return it to the owner, be a hero AAAAAAAND nevermind, it was just hiding under the couch all along. Junkrat won’t be needed any longer (not that they requested his aid in the first place).

Some of the agents would be pretty annoyed with his antics. At first, he’d try befriending others. Being nice. Casual conversation, jokes, trying to make them laugh…and nothing works. He never really gives up, but there comes a point where he tries a little less.

I headcanon that Lucio and D.Va are the first ones to warm up to him. Initially out of pity, they reach out to him. He’s a bit wary, kind of snappy and guarded. I mean, the boy’s trusting but given how everyone else had treated him until this point, can you blame him?

Lucio and Hana are the closest to him in age. They invite him to do things! Going out for a casual stroll, playing games, watching movies, maintaining each other’s weapons, etc. Stuff normal young adults do, right?

Once he’s made these two new friends, I imagine he’d spend plenty of time with them. It gives Roadhog a break (I have my own ideas for who he bonds with, but that’s for another ask if anyone’s interested) from his silly antics, and it’s good for Junkrat to be spending time with people his own age.

Junkrat likes to draw. He likes arts and crafts. He’s fucking terrible, but he thinks he’s great. Please, let him think he’s great. He and Hana hung out before and decided to make friendship bracelets. Junkrat made a sculpture of trash meant to resemble her mech (she loved it!) They spent a lot of time inspecting her mech, and Junkrat offers to…“upgrade” it (honestly? This is how I imagine her new missiles came to be and I think that’s one of the cutest headcanons I’ve ever thought). Junkrat feels like he can go to her a lot with his feelings.

Also in his spare time, Junkrat likes to explore. Sure, he’s been around the world and back, he’s seen a lot - as a criminal. He’d love to revisit certain places (and not stealing anything this time) to just have fun, and socialize. Lucio is more than happy to invite Junkrat to travel on his tours. Not only does Junkrat get to enjoy his pals music, but it gives him healthy exposure to “regular” people. Unfortunately, Junkrat’s learned the hard way not to mention that he’s best buds with the guy on stage. Few people, boys and girls have tried using Junkrat in an attempt to get to Lucio. Now, he just says he’s a big fan that happens to always have VIP backstage access.

So yeah, if you couldn’t tell, I think he’d be best friends with those two. When he’s not with them, I can see him as the type to just wander around (with Roadhog, more often than not) go to parks, feed some fuckin’ birds, and strike up conversation with random people. He feels good when he makes others laugh, whether it’s by a story or joke he’s told. Junkrat attracts very kind-hearted people, those who look past his appearance and that sort of strangeness he’s got. He doesn’t like to be alone. Sleeping is difficult. His thoughts can travel to dark places very quickly, especially in dead silence.

He is good with kids. I think he’s the type that a kid could see as trusted, someone that always makes them laugh. However, the parents probably wouldn’t like that on first glance. I don’t like to talk skins much, but perhaps his Jester skin could be him street-performing, or perhaps he’s gone and cheered up a crying child. Perhaps he finds a lost kid and returns him to their family. As a clown/jester/whateverthefuck, he can pass off his personality as acceptable in the silly get-up and face paint. No matter how he’s dressed though, children adore him and he’d make a great babysitter.

Eventually, I think he and Mei would become friends. I’d imagine this is at some point where perhaps she’s in a bind, stuck trying to fix something, or a particular problem and Junkrat helps out. It’d take a long time, but once he demonstrates that he is actively becoming a better person , she realizes how intelligent he truly is, and how different things would be if he were born in a different place. She does feel sadness at how his potential is seemingly wasted, yet in time she grows to appreciate how he’s not stupid - he’s just smarter in a different way than she is. There are fields in which she excels that he does not, just as there are fields in which he excels, that she does not. They become good co-workers, and does not mind when he asks her to help him out with reading.

So speaking of that, he enjoys listening to others read. Likes watching other people work. Bonds with Torbjorn in an almost father-son way (THAT SHIT IS MAD CUTE).

Gonna stop there because this looks long enough already on mobile. I’m so sorry if any of this isn’t what you asked for, sometimes I have difficulty comprehending even simple things;;; my bad.

[delightfully-daisy]

CHARACTER SHEET: DAISY AUDREY ELOISE CANARD

And she's been living on the highest shelf... Oh, and they come unstuck Lady, running down to the riptide Taken away to the dark side

[TW: sexual assault mentions; eating disorder mentions]

STATS

Birthday: 14 January 1995

Hogwarts House (Primary): Ravenclaw

Hogwarts House (Secondary): Hufflepuff

Myers-Briggs: ESFJ

Enneagram: Type 3

Height:  5’4

BACKGROUND OVERVIEW

Mother: Lilian Ophelia Marie Harcourt Canard

Father: Jacques Didier Canard

Mother’s Occupation: lawyer—business law

Father’s Occupation: stockbrocker

Family Finances: quite wealthy—combination of old money on both ends, as well as parents’ own ambitions and finances

Birth Order: middle child

Siblings: Nicolas Etienne Jeannot Canard (24); Andre Leon Charles Canard (19)

Other Close Family: Aunt Cecile on her dad’s side (who has a girlfriend and is like super cool and a movie producer); she has another aunt on that side who has two kids her and Nic’s ages but I don’t have my notebook on hand so I cant look up their names oh well; Lilian is an only child

Best Friend: Clarke

Other Friends: Annette Grant, Hermes Petros, Toulouse Bonfamille, Stanley Schell, Abby and Tabitha

Enemies: Tito? Lol she thinks so :C

Pets: a cat named Sabrina! Her family also has two dogs named Gigi and Fifi

Home Life During Childhood: her parents were both very busy, but she and her siblings were very close and her dad made a huge insistence on family time when they were together; to this day they have a designated week in late July and winter where they go on vacations together; she’s very close with Nic and her dad; Andre can be a bit of a brat; she clashed with her mother a bit growing up but she’s starting to understand her more

Town or City Name(s): Paris, France

What Did Her Bedroom Look Like: very nice and spacious, big windows with a nice view, she has a canopy bed, everything is in pastel colors, lots of whites and pinks—nothing too loud, everything soft like a Rococo painting, a big walk-in closet, a nicely lit vanity, the artwork in there is carefully selected, everything has its place

Any Sports or Clubs: did newspaper also probably a creative writing club; used to fence and do ballet, but quite around 13/14 years old

Favorite Toy or Game: loved paper dolls

Schooling: one last semester at Pride U; probably did some pretty expensive private school in Paris

Favorite Subject: Composition, Art History

Popular or Loner: Popular!

Important Experiences or Events: was sexually assaulted at 17, her then-boyfriend lied about it and harassed her for months after

Health Problems: undiagnosed anxiety, lowkey makes herself throw up after eating sometimes also

Culture: French

Religion and beliefs: Raised Catholic, she wants to believe in a benevolent God but does not really like the Catholic church; she wants to believe in the goodness of people

 PERSONALITY

Bad Habits:  worries, limits her food intake a lot haha, has a tendency to keep her emotions inside before lashing out, cries a lot

Good Habits: uh, organized, keeps up with her fitness, ambitious, kind-hearted (in her own way), stylish

Best Characteristic: determined—once she sets her mind on something or someone, she will not quit

Worst Characteristic: scared—her number one limitation in life is that she is too scared to take chances/take risks/do anything without security

Worst Memory: the whole sexual assault thing and also the night she broke up with Tito

Best Memory: oh gosh, probably getting her bike back

Proud of: not much lol, uh maybe her fashion sense, she’s like really insecure though and attributes all her successes to other factors, poor bby

Embarrassed by: e v e r y t h I ng have you seen how much this girl blushes

Driving Style: she’s a fantastic driver—fast, daring, drives stick-shift in heels, cuts tight corners on her motorcycle, she’s fab, best driver of my characters (except maybe for Eva, but that’s cuz Eva has heightened reflexes lol); does have a tendency to speed, but doesn’t do it except on isolated roads

Strong Points: determined, hard working, kind-hearted, stylish

Temperament: gosh im not sure its like a mix of sanguine and melancholic

Attitude: outwardly, confident and determined; inwardly, really fuckin’ anxious and insecure about everything

Weakness: she’s so insecure and not good with criticism and she’s soft little flower it is easy to crush her

Fears: everything—not being good enough is the main one though

Phobias: see above lol

Secrets: not too open about the whole sexual assault thing for obvious reasons, also he like harassed her for months afterwards

Regrets: every romantic relationship she’s ever had because it makes her seem stupid and heartless and foolish

Feels Vulnerable When: uh always? When she’s being emotional, tbh, since she’s been told to restrict that

Pet Peeves: people who assume she’s dumb, people who assume she’s shallow

Conflicts: oh gosh where to begin—the fact that she wants the world to be this good, ideal place where she has the ability to help it, but the reality that class differences/prejudices in other areas are very real and very hard to overcome; her own desire to do more with her life, but knowing that rejecting her family’s values would not be good, and she really loves her family; navigating being a soft woman in a world that otherwise respects hard, sharp ones

Motivation: She wants to be successful and to make a change in the world.

Short Term Goals and Hopes: Graduate, get a good job somewhere in a big city.

Long Term Goals and Hopes: Rise to the top of her career, hopefully get married at one point.

Sexuality: bisexual

Exercise Routine: goes to spin class three times a week, does a barre class twice a week, weight training the other days, very committed exercise schedule

Day or Night Person — Day.

Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert.

Optimist or Pessimist — Pessimist, though she tries to be optimistic to other people.

LIKES AND STYLES

Music: girly pop, MUSICALS—she’s a huge musical gal, sings in the shower all the time. Loves taylor swift, knows that its problematic to love taylor swift, but does so in that well #feminism way that’s also lowkey problematic ahaha. Her iTunes is mostly musicals and pop and some classical music too, she likes ballet music.

Books: classics and romance novels; also some trashy YA romance; went through a John Green phase in her high school years; her favourite book is The Bell Jar. She also reads those like “Oprah Book of the Month” club books and enjoys them. Gets most of her reading list from bestsellers lists.

Magazines: VOGUE aka the Bible; also Cosmo and Marie Claire and other high-fashion magazines; whatever the French equivalent of Time is, but also Time; started a subscription to the New Yorker whilst she was in NYC and keeps up with it

Foods: has a sweet tooth—loves chocolate. Chocolate-covered strawberries are her favorite. She thinks she can handle spicy, but she can’t really.

Drinks: Margaritas are her cocktail of choice; she loves champagne and lattes

Animals: cats! Also she loves swans and thinks its so romantic that they mate for life, but she won’t admit that lol

Sports: follows Formula One racing tbh and also fencing

Social Issues: Feminism! (she’s like lowkey a bit of a white feminist) Magick Rights! (lowkey also a bit of a problematic activist in everything; she’s trying though) Also involved in environmental issues!! (she works on a turtle fund thing with Stan)

Favorite Saying: “I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.” – Audrey Hepburn

Color: Pink!! Any and all shades! Also likes a nice rose-gold. Fond of pastel colors in decorating.

Clothing: Has a very classy, preppy style; lots of skirts and blazers; usually always in heels; most everything is designer and high-end; she takes pride in her style; she also dresses more on the conservative end, but does own a few sexier pieces

Jewelry: very classy, never overdoes herself with jewelry; simple pendants and studs

Games: played the Sims a lot, played racing games with her brothers, Mario Kart fan too

Websites: Instagram—also has a finsta bc she’s hip; tumblr; Pinterest

TV Shows: Downton Abbey, Sex and the City

Movies: The Devil Wears Prada!! (Also Titanic)

Greatest Want: To be successful and make a difference in the world

Greatest Need: To overcome her fears

CURRENTLY 

Home: lives in Castle Suites in a very luxurious one-bedroom flat

Household furnishings: everything is impeccably decorated, lots of pastels and golds, there’s a big window in the living room (which has like white furniture and soft lights everywhere, big white rug on the floor, lots of throw pillows), her room has a big bed with lots of pillows and her closet is organized by type of clothes and colour

Favorite Possession: her car

Most Cherished Possession: her motorcycle

Married Before: Nope.

Significant Other Before: Tito (rip); asshole French boyfriend, Michel

Children: n/a

Relationship with Family:  huge Daddy’s girl, but Daddy is also very busy and not super around all the time and she doesn’t really confide in him; very close to older brother, Nic, sometimes they feel like they are the only people in the world they can trust; younger brother has a strained relationship bc he can be kinda douche but they love each other; relationship with mother is---complicated, they are very similar and often butt heads because of their differences though and Lilian thinks she knows what’s best etc etc and Daisy is just starting to see her mom in a new light

Car: BMW, she also has a motorcycle

Career: journalism student, editor-in-chief of campus magazine: Social

Dream Career: editor in chief of a fashion magazine that also has like a huge philanthropy side

Dream Life: said career, has not given much thought to the like actual life part of it, but ideally she’d like to be married to the love of her life and have two kids as well

Love Life: uh imma get back to you on that

Hobbies : reading, dancing (she loves dancing), driving, sketching fashions, cleaning (lol), amateur baker, used to be a fencer, writing (she used to write short stories but has not in a while)

Guilty Pleasure : those trashy Harlequin romance novels….

Sports or Clubs: Social, PrideU’s premier campus lifestyle magazine; probably involved in like journalism clubs

Talents or Skills : she’s a great dancer and a fantastic driver; also a good writer

Intelligence Level : she is great auditory learner, very sharp and quick to pick up what she listens too; writes the best out of my characters; reads a lot too; not great at sciences or math, but she tries her best and the hard work pays off; a fan of history, but only as it relates to cultural stuff (wars bore her); the most emotionally aware of others of my characters, can read people well

Finances: wealthy—parents are wealthy each from their individual families and from their own careers, pay for their children

[fairycosmos]

maintaining a friendship will never work. Every friend I have tells me to stay away from him because he's only using me like he's done before with other girls. Idk he wants me to give him a final answer soon and I'm so torn apart. I'm afraid I'll never find anyone ever. Because he loves me for what I am, or at least that's what he said. so if I can't even get along with a person that loves me as much as he does, then won't I never be able to get close to anyone else?? Thanks Chloe, ily (2/2)

if he loved you for who you are, he wouldn't be trying to change you. that's the simple fact of it and nothing can counteract that. he wouldn't be trying to make you more outgoing or any of that shit. tbh it seems like hes manipulating the situation quite a lot, by deliberately trapping you between a rock and a hard place - by saying you can only date him or go back to being strangers, he knows that you're more likely to choose dating him bc you want to keep him in your life. it's a sly tactic, it's coercion and it's easy to not notice what he's doing here, but i know that you're smarter than that. i know that eventually you'll see things for what they are, and do the right thing for yourself even if it hurts. the trouble is that i also know that you obviously love/care about him a lot. that's the hard and painful part, and that's why he's dangerous bc he's fucking w your feelings. but honestly, if we're being blunt, you have to love yourself MORE than you've ever even thought about loving him. you have to know what you're worth and never accept anything less than that bc he's just going to keep messing w your head. don't give him that control. think about how it'll be a year or five from now if you're still with him - will you be happy doing things you're not comfortable with and acting totally different just to please him? because yeah, telling him no might be painful and terrible for a little while, but it won't compare to the heartache of an unhealthy, toxic relationship, you know?think about it logically. he's put you in this difficult position, he wants you to be something you're not, he's not happy with your boundaries. does that really sound like unconditional love? and i'm sure he'll try to dress it up in pretty words, maybe he'll make some excuses, but it doesn't change anything. actions speak louder than words and if what he's doing isn't matching up with what he's saying then he's probably lying. please please be smart about this and don't let love or your kind nature twist your perception of everything. and NEVER expect a horrible person just bc you're afraid of being alone. being by yourself is always better then being with the wrong one, seriously.you're going to meet hundreds of people in your lifetime. and some of them will show you what real true unconditional love is. they'll want you to be happy and they'll do anything to see you smile. this one bad experience, this one negative person, is not a reflection of you at all. we can't control what other people do to us but we can control how we react to it. he doesn't love you for who you are but so so many people will, and they won't expect you to change or choose between two extremes and they definitely won't stress you out so much. please believe me when i say that you deserve so much more than what you're getting rn. it's easy to blame yourself, especially if you already have low self esteem, but that won't solve anything. think about it it was your best friend going through this, what would you tell them to do? you have to give yourself that same courtesy. you have to care about yourself enough to make your own well-being a priority.ily bb and i really fuckin hope you're okay. hmu if you ever need someone to talk to, i'm always here. i hope things work out and that you find all the warmth and happiness in the world, angel.