#i am actually insane i don’t want anyone to be making connections between any shit across different social media platofrms

[atla-suki]

just remembered sukka week is soon lol uuhhhh have this snippet of a wip🏄‍♀️🏄‍♀️

update: full piece here <3

[buckyownsmylife]

Don't Breathe - Chris Evans smut

The one where your best friend and your boyfriend are fucking behind your back.

Warnings: smut, cheating, chris x your best friend, humiliation?, chris is an asshole in this, exhibitionism, the betrayal is real

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: this is sort of a companion piece to breathe, hence the same picture. While that one explores the extremes of loyalty, this one explores the extremes of betrayal. I also couldn't bring myself to create another moodboard. I wrote this story in one sitting, in the last anxiety episode I had and it helped me get to the place I am today - a better place than I was before, so while I'm grateful for it, I'm only publishing this to give myself some closure. I haven't edited it. I haven't asked anyone to beta read it for me because I simply can't look at it anymore. But it might help some of you, and it might even arouse some others (yes, there are people who have cheating kinks. Let's all be grown-ups and accept that sexuality is a complex and difficult thing. I won't accept kinkshaming in this blog). I only ask that you do not ask me about this story, how it came to be or any sort of part two's because I literally can't stand to look at it. Thanks, you guys!

“Bitch really has no idea, huh?” Chris chuckled as he welcomed his mistress on his lap, licking his lip at the sight of the voluptuous body on top of his. He’d been dreaming about it for a while now, imagining it was her he was fucking when she was away and he had to fuck his girlfriend.

“Not a clue.” He was a bastard, he knew it. He was a son of a bitch, a good for nothing. He didn’t deserve to ever be happy again, not after this, but he couldn’t come to regret it. Not when your best friend was rubbing her cunt against his dick so sensuously, tempting him with her full pout and big breasts.

“She’s always been dumb,” she commented, like she wasn’t speaking about the woman she claimed to love more than anything in the world. Maybe that should have worried Chris, but for whatever reason, it just made him harder.

He really wasn’t worth shit.

“Can’t even figure out that every time we disappear at a party, I’m really just sucking your dick.” Chris chuckled as he buried his thumb on her mouth, chuckle turning into a groan as the beautiful woman twirled her tongue around his digit.

“I mean, this was how it started, wasn’t it, baby?” He reminded her. “You ditched her in the middle of the club to meet me in the bathroom and offer some help with the package I’d been hiding in my pants… Didn’t even have the time to doubt it before you were dropping to your knees and crawling towards me.”

The little vixen smirked at the memory, face suddenly lighting up as she let go of my dick to get out of bed. “Hey!” He complained, still smiling because he could see she was up to no good. “Where are you going?”

She had my phone in her hands when she climbed back to bed, a perfectly plucked eyebrow high in her forehead as she typed away in it. He’d never let you learn the password but what could he possibly hide from his mistress?

“Call her.” It wasn’t as much a request as it was a statement, since when she threw the phone on his chest, it was already ringing. A panicked look broke free on his face before he shook his head, smirking at her insanity.

Goddamn it if it didn’t make him harder than he’d ever been before.

“Hello?” Your sweet voice was the perfect dichotomy to the act he was partaking in, and he had to bite his lip so you wouldn’t figure out what was happening as your best friend leaned over his cock to take it in her mouth.

“Hey, honey,” Chris greeted, trying to keep his voice as smooth as possible. He could totally do this. He was an actor, after all.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned, and for a second both him and your friend froze, fearing you’d heard something. “You just left, I figured you wouldn’t call me until tomorrow.”

Chris chuckled lightly at your innocence - and the clear happiness you felt at him deciding to call so soon. He already knew what to say to plunge the knife even deeper into you.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, biting his lip again as your best friend swallowed his cock. “Just missed you.” He didn’t miss the smirk on her eyes. She didn’t need to speak or even stop sucking him for him to know that she was enjoying this, so he kept going, entertaining you with mindless conversation until you remembered you actually had to call her.

“Oh, I promised I’d call her… We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” You assured him, blissfully unaware of the betrayal you were suffering. “Bye, baby. I love you.” You disconnected the call before he could even lie about that too, but a few minutes later her phone began ringing.

She was still giggling when she picked up, now having stopped sucking him to rub her tight wet cunt against him again, teasing them both. “Bitch, you’ll never guess,” she greeted as soon as you said hello, and just as you asked what was up, she lowered herself down on Chris’ cock.

Your man’s cock. While she was talking to you. “I’m fucking someone right at this second.” He could hear your stunned silence, but you knew your friend had always been crazy - especially sexually.

It was the difference between the two of you that made him so obsessed.

“And he doesn’t mind?” You asked, clearly surprised, and Chris almost laughed when your best friend answered, “Oh, no. He gets off on it. Would you mind staying in line and listening for a bit? He’d really enjoy it.”

You hesitated only for a moment before agreeing, and that’s when she allowed herself to moan out loud. “God, what a fucking dick!” She cursed, fingernails gripping his pecks as she rode him for dear life. “I swear to god, you have no idea how it feels like to be fucked like this.”

You remained silent. Chris could almost picture it, the way you had one fingernail in your mouth, chewing on it as you tried to decide between keeping your promise and listening to your best friend fucking (your) man or leaving the phone on and going to do the laundry.

You were such a perfect girlfriend. So devoted, everything Chris should marry. His family loved you - hell, he thought he loved you. And here he was, fucking your best friend while you listened to her moans of pleasure.

He felt her eyes trailing down his body and he already knew what she wanted. They were a perfect match in bed. He manhandled her onto her stomach, knowing you were listening to her surprised scream and loud moan as he penetrated her from behind.

“So, so good…” She moaned. Chris had no doubt her eyes were rolling to the back of her head. “Would you ever stop fucking me, baby?” She teased, making Chris chuckle, knowing the sounds of his hips slapping against her full ass were drowning his voice from you. “Would you ever stop fucking my tight little pussy?”

He leaned over her, body completely enclosing hers in bed when he gripped her jaw to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance in hell.” Her delighted moan made it all worthy to him. He pulled out of her to turn her around once more, spreading her legs so he could have a taste of her pussy.

Eyes connected, he watched her reach for the phone and take it off the speaker so she could talk to you properly. “This guy eats pussy like a pro,” she informed you while Chris grinned between her legs, her fingers tangled in the strands of your boyfriend’s hair. “And he tells me it’s the best pussy he has ever had, don’t you, baby?”

Chris could only nod, obsessed with the taste of her sweet pussy on his tongue, the loud sounds of slurping undoubtedly reaching you. He could only imagine how you were feeling, confused and maybe a little bit aroused. It was like sound porn, after all - and it was starred by your very own boyfriend, but you had no idea.

He hummed against her pussy. You could never taste as sweet, try as you might. Even her painted lips tasted better, and he knew it wasn’t because of the lipstick she wore since you two often shared.

She moaned loudly when he shoved two fingers inside of her, having memorized her sweet spot ages ago, when this still made him feel bad and he’d often hurl when he got home to find you in bed, waiting for him.

And yet, he couldn’t stop. He waited for her to turn off the call so he could climb back up her body, kissing every inch of the way until he was buried deep inside her tight pussy again.

“You make me crazy,” he whispered, knowing this would never be enough. He would never get his fill of her. He might love you in one way or another, but he wanted her, and he would never let her go.

[ketamineharry]

I Love Me - Harry Lewis

Requested - Yes ~ can I request an ethan/Harry one where the reader is curvy (bigger boobs/bum/hips etc) compared to Talia + Freya and the other girlfriends and they are on holiday with everyone and the reader feels a bit insecure and scared of what everyone will think when they look at photos, have photo shoots and insta comments, love you and your writing!! 🤍

Trigger Warnings: Body image issues, self-confidence issues

Authors Note: This was originally requested as a holiday, but I changed it slightly as my most recent imagine was a holiday themed one. I hope you don’t mind!

As you entered the restaurant, an uneasy feeling took over you. Usually, being seen out in public with your friends, and your boyfriend Harry wouldn’t phase you — but over lockdown, you had put on a few pounds. Expressing your emotions in a healthy way, had never been your forte so when the lockdown restrictions hit, instead of going to the local pub to drink your sorrows away, with a group of friends you had turned to eating. Comfort eating had become the norm whenever you felt sad, lonely, happy, or to put it more accurately whenever you felt anything.

While you had been piling on the pounds, Talia and Freya, had been keeping to a strict fitness regime. So naturally, they looked incredible. While you just felt deflated. To make matters worse, this was a Sidemen dinner, meaning that not only were there going to be pictures, but eyes were going to be firmly on your table.

Instinctively, as you walked you grabbed for Harry’s hand. Thankfully, he was slightly in front of you, so you could hide yourself behind his broad frame. As soon as your fingers entwined, you found a sense of serenity; despite how short lived that may have been.

As the others crowded around the table, trying to figure out seating arrangements, you focussed your energy in trying to remain calm. All you wanted was to have a seat on the outskirts, so that you wouldn’t have to participate in the group Instagram photos. The self-loathing from the way you looked in this moment was enough to fuel your insecurities for a good few months, you certainly didn’t need the constant reminder on Instagram too.

Luckily, you managed to secure the seat you wanted. Josh, being the father of the group dictated where everyone else was going to sit. Usually, there was a rule of thumb that you sat in couples; but you had ended up sitting in between JJ and Freya. Harry was on the opposite side of the table, his phone in one hand, completely engrossed in an app, knowing him it was most likely Twitter. However, in this seating arrangement you felt sick. Your one lifeline, although not ridiculously far from you, had been cut off. You were going to have to brave this one out.

The waiter approached the table and introduced themselves. He had a cheery disposition until they made eye contact with you, their fake customer service smile fading as he served you his best judgemental glare. It lasted a split second, but you knew what it meant. The feeling of being out of your depth was confirmed in that look, it wasn’t just you that felt it, it was felt by those looking in on this dynamic of people. Why would they want to associate themselves with you?

“And for the lady?” He asked, glancing over at you again. His demeanour changed once more. You remained silent for a moment, mulling over whether to ask for what you actually wanted or order something that you didn’t want to avoid more disapproving glares.

“May I suggest the chicken caesar salad.” He adds, knocking you out of your stream of consciousness.

“That would be lovely thank you.” You respond. The last thing that you wanted was to cause a scene. In fact, the thing you wanted most was to be ignored, unseen. It was blatantly obvious what everyone was thinking, where their stares ended up… all on you.

The plates of food started to arrive, being placed before everyone. You looked around, envious. Their food all looked insanely good, Talia had mac and cheese while Freya had a vegetarian lasagne. To say that you were covetous, as you chowed down on some lettuce, was an understatement. Just some flavour would have been nice.

The same waiter came back to see if anyone wanted any desserts, Harry ordered a chocolate cake with some whipped cream and Freya ordered a cheesecake, Ethan wanted a coffee, the others weren’t really bothered though. What was made apparent, was that you weren’t even asked by the waiter.

Freya turned to you, a sympathetic look on her face. “Are you ok?” She asked, as she placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled unconvincingly, certain that Freya could pick up on how you were feeling. She had been sitting next to you the entire time after all.

“Let’s go to the ladies yeah? I’ll just text Josh to let him know what’s going on.” She said, as she retrieved her phone from her bag. She quickly sent the text before she grabbed your hand and directed you to the bathroom.

Freya held the door open for you, as you both walked inside, she went over to the sinks and climbed up on top of them. Crossing her arms. Inspecting you slightly.

“So, spill… what’s wrong with ya?” She questioned, with a small reassuring smile.

You took a deep breath in and out, as you tried to steady yourself. As much as you loved Freya, talking about your feelings to anyone was a challenge that you faced daily. It was hard enough being open with Harry about your feelings, and he was the person that you trusted most. Never mind one of your closest friends.

“I hate the way I look.” You confessed, as you subconsciously started to tug at the dress you were wearing. It all of a sudden felt too tight, too claustrophobic, as if the material had shrunk from the time it took you to walk from your table into the bathroom.

“You and Talia, you are both gorgeous and slim. I’m not that way at all. You can wear whatever you want and look good. If I so much as looked at a belly top, people would be disgusted.”

Freya remained silent, letting you ramble on about how much you hated your body and what you looked like. How out of place you felt and what you wish you could change about yourself. When you were finally finished, she jumped down off of the counter and engulfed you in a hug.

“Don’t you ever, ever feel like you aren’t good enough. You are the funniest person I have ever met. You make me belly laugh every single day. You spread so much positivity, and you make sure that everyone around you feels loved. I am slim, but do you know what… I’d kill for a rack like yours.” She whispered, as she comforted you.

“As for that asshole waiter who has been making you feel like shit all night, don’t think that no-one else has noticed it, because they have. They’re all too polite to embarrass him in public, but trust me, he’ll get his comeuppance. Now, wipe those tears and let’s go show him what a fucking bad ass bitch you are.” She laughed, as she grabbed your hand once again, as she led you back out to the table.

The bill was laid out on the table, the seven cards were placed on top of it as you rejoined the group.

“Here she is.” Harry beamed, as he reached out for you. You went and gave him a hug, before taking your seat again.

As the waiter collected the bill, Harry called him over. “I’d like to give you a cash tip, can you follow me outside so I can draw the cash out?” He asked. The waiter nodded, a gleam in his eye. Harry gave you a gesture, letting you know to follow him.

Once you were outside, how cold it was finally hit you. It made you recoil into yourself.

“Yeah, the tip I wanted to give you was to never, and I mean never try to ridicule my girlfriend about anything.” Harry said, swiftly connecting his right fist to the waiters cheek.

“Run.” He shouted, as he grabbed your hand, your feet pounding on the floor until you reached the car. You were both panting, leaning on each other for support.

“You do know you’re still a ten out of ten to me. No matter what.” Harry smiled, as he placed a kiss to the top of your head. “Now let’s go and get a McDonalds, because I know you’re still hungry and it’s your favourite.”

[hawksugarbaby]

Loki x reader-

Lamentis - 1

Smut

Chapter includes: Angry fucking, knife play-ish, slight blood play, hair pulling, choking, degredation (giving + recieving), sucking on fingers. 

You panicked as you and Loki sprinted to a tiny shack to haul up in, his hand wrapped around your wrist in a vice grip to move you out of the way of the falling debris but your panic was batting with your irritation. Of course he brought you here, the once place you had an overly high chance of dying as the world caved in above you and meteors struck the ground lighting up craters under your feet. 

Loki ripped the door open pushing you inside and slammed it closed behind him. You huffed and held your knees trying to catch your breath as Loki watched the world end from a tiny window then walked over to you holding your face gently. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” he asked, checking for anything from a minor cut to a broken arm and you shook your head pulling his hands off of your cheeks and turning around. You growled in annoyance at your situation and your fingers curled into a claw shape signaling if he wasn’t careful with his words he would be choked to death. 

“DID YOU EVEN LOOK!” you shouted but you were still facing the wall, knowing you would feel guilty if you turned around, it wasn’t his fault you ended up here but you wanted to be angry because of where you were. If you turned around it would be impossible to be angry. 

“Look? Look at what?” he asked, his sapphire eye’s drifting below your waist to look at your ass jiggle when you impatiently tap your foot. And he resists the urge to grab the soft flesh and pull you towards him. 

“At the temp-pad! We’re stuck on Lamentis-1 you Idiot!” you hiss and spin around again feeling the sting of your own words that he didn’t show any hurt towards. However you didn’t need to see his reaction to tell they hurt. 

Loki blinked and stepped forward, flicking his dagger from his sleeve and pressing the tip to your neck. “I could kill you.” 

His words are an empty threat and you know it but you can’t help but tempt him and toy with him. Spill the anger until it floods into his cup and you argue then makeup with a soft kiss you wouldn’t want from anyone else. The best kisses are after the worst fights when you’re desperate to make it up to each other because you’ve missed holding his hand or he hasn’t braided your hair in too long and he misses the feeling of your soft locks weaving between his fingers. 

“Go for it then” you whisper and lean forward, digging the point of the blade slightly further into your neck, moving away from drawing blood. “You’re highness.” 

It’s filled with venom, the way you say his title and it’s probably the reason he moves so quickly pushing you against a wall and switch the position of the blade so the whole edge is lying on your throat and Loki’s leg is wedged between your thighs his other hand slammed against the wall next to your head caging you in. “Don’t call me that” he growled. 

You try to avoid moving, knowing his leg is dangerously close but you need to shift the weight from your tippy toes to the heels of your feet, accidently grazing your clothed pussy on his thigh and you mewl quietly at the contact. your face begins to burn an electric pink and you turn your face away looking at anything but Loki. surely he didn’t hear it. It’s impossible it was so insanely quiet so no he couldn’t have heard it. 

The cold, flat, metal of his dagger pressed against your cheek and turned your face towards him, a light dusting of pink gracing his cheeks and a smirk pulling on his lips. His hands slipped down to your waist pulling you down so you were straddling his thick thigh “Oh dear pet it seems you just can’t stay mad at me can you?” he purred in your ear and you watched your reflection in the blade, witnessing your pupils dilate and red creeps up your cheeks while your chest heaves in and out and he pushes his thigh against you drawing a soft whine. “You sound pretty like that.” 

His laugh is smooth like butter and you swallow thickly “you think I sound pretty anyway” he twirls your hair around his fingers and let’s the knife drop slightly “you couldn’t kill me anyway. You love me too much” you roll your eyes and he grins leaning forward to catch your lips between his. You warp your arms behind his neck leaning further into the heated kiss grinding on Loki’s knee for friction. 

His hand curls around more hair innocently until it’s gripped and pulled back yanking your head backwards. a string of saliva connects your lips and your unmatched panting fills the room. “We need to leave” he reminds you, turning your head toward the small slit for a window in the metal and pulling your hips closer to his bulge straining against his trousers and you bite back a moan. 

“We wouldn’t need to leave if you’d looked at the fucking temp-pad.”

Before you could blink Loki’s hand was wrapped around your neck squeezing the sides and you were robbed of air. His other hand fumbled with his gleaming belt buckle and unzipped his torn trousers, singed around the cuffs from the heat of the meteor impact. “I think we have time. I am an idiot though so how would I know” he hissed hiking up your short skirt and ripping your opaque tights to reveal your soaked underwear. “Aw look at you darling your dripping just thinking about me” he hummed. 

You coughed and he loosened his hand around your neck still keeping it there, his thumb running up and down gently. “Sorry love I’m actually thinking of fucking Judge Renslayer behind the bar” you tease back and he growls rubbing his other hand against your folds and manouvered his fingers around the fabric of your underwear dipping into your cunt. “A-ahh~ you’d love that wouldn’t you hm? Want me to cockwarm you behind the bar while you're on trial, with everyone watching. Just a pretty whore for everyone to see” his cock twitches in his boxers and he pulls the grey fabric down releasing his length from it’s constraints. 

The tip of his cock hits his stomach making a wet patch on his white shirt and you reach for it immediately. Loki swats your hand away earning a glare in betrayal and he chuckled heartily “what? Does my slut want my cock? I thought I was useless? How could I make you feel good, pet?” he shoots your words back at you only for you to reach for his cock again. His hand tightens around your neck once again and he pins you back against the wall. “Cat got your tongue?” he snickers. 

“No I just don’t think I should waste my words on someone who got us stuck in an apocalypse” you croak, words dripping with poison that could corrode the blade of his knife that was now laying on the floor. His fingers slowly pumping inside you ran up your slit and his thumb ran circles around your clit making you quiver against the wall and he pulled your underwear to the side lining up his cock with your entrance. 

“How lucky I didn’t want to hear you talk anyway” his cock pushed inside you quickly and he let go of your throat grabbing your hair instead and pulling back your head. You gasped for air gulping down breaths and his cold lips travelled up your throat leaving a dark plum mark on the base of your throat. 

He thrust slowly, the edge of your lacy underwear dragging along his cock as your soft walls enveloped him forcing a groan. You moaned loudly and gripped his shoulders pushing your hips forward to swallow his whole length. “Fuck Loki~” you sang dropping one of your hands to rub your clit. “You're so big oh jeez” you moan. He smirked to himself and began to thrust faster at an even pace earning gentle whines with each thrust of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut unwilling to see the satisfied look on his face knowing he’d got what he wanted, your submission and your silence and you could envision the shit eating grin on his face as he pummeled his cock into you ruthlessly taking out all the aggression you’d spoken into him on you. 

“Am I still a disappointment? It sounds like you approve of me after all. I fear there’s been a miscommunication?” he growled nibbling on the lobe of your ear. 

You lolled your head to the side whimpering into the humid air. “Y-you haven’t made me cum yet. I don’t… I don’t think someone as incompetent as you could do such a thing a-anyway” you gasp through heavy breaths and Loki’s thumb brushes the front of your neck making your breath hitch and your words catch in your throat. 

“Aw sorry pet I wanted to be gentle with you and take my time but I see you don’t deserve that today” he flicks his hand out and in a puff of green smoke the dagger flies into his hand and up to your throat. “What a cute little whore you're being for me” his finger swipes over the gleaming blade that was inches away from taking your life. Every time Loki thrust into you the blade slipped and slightly grazed your skin, a pearl of blood trickled down your neck and if you didn’t love the god in front of you with your whole heart you’d fear he’d take your life. 

“I’d argue you’re the whore, taking me here at the end of the world even when we’re at each other's necks. Such a slut” you bite. 

Loki chuckles and shakes his head resting in the crook of your neck while still drilling his cock into you. Your stomach began to feel tight and your moans were breathier, higher pitched, more frequent. 

“I disagree darling this feels very fitting” his gentle tone is a break in the waves for you to swim and you roll your head back to look at his sapphire eye’s and brush the hair plastered to his forehead with sweat off of his face. 

“Maybe your right” you whisper leaning in to capture his lips with yours and the fine edge of the blade dug slightly further into your flesh drawing dribbles of red along the dagger. “Would you still kill me if you could?” you wipe the red staining the lapels of your blazer, the remaining trickles meeting between your cleavage, made apparent by the plunging neckline of your dress. 

“Why would I do that when we can have fun like this?” he chuckled and thrust his hips harshly to emphasise his point. 

You can see your orgasm dangling on a frayed string in front of you. Just one more string. 

One more push. 

One more cut. 

“Coward” you hum. Your eye’s dance with mischief and Loki still’s leaning closer to you but removing the knife from your neck. If he punishes you, he can do it himself without a ridiculous knife. 

“Speak up pet I’m not sure I heard you?” he laughs, dragging his hand between your breasts and smearing the blood further down your chest. His hand latches to your breast and you gasp at the gentle massaging of your breast, his rough fingers tweaking your nipple, staining the swell of your chest red. “I thought I heard you call me a coward.” 

You chuckle followed by a moan as his hips slowly restart pumping into you. “Oh wonderful, your hearing still works.” 

He growls and shoves 2 of his fingers in your mouth, the salty metallic taste of your blood clinging to his skin and he drills his hips into you at speeds only a god could achieve. Your stomach crunches and your eye’s roll back, searing hot pleasure rolling over you and vision going white. Velvety walls clamp around Loki’s cock and he grunts struggling to move with you sucking him in. he takes his fingers out your mouth and grips your waist after wiping the digits on his jacket “darling if you keep this up i’m going to- FUCK” he shouts in response to you rutting your hips towards his desperate for his cum. 

“Come on your highness you wouldn’t want to let me down now would you” you pant. He grunts slowly rocking his hips against yours with your walls fluttering around him and his jagged breath tickles your cheek. The thrusts begin to slow and get sloppier, untimed and you roll your hips to meet his lazily. 

“Where?” he asks bluntly. 

You shake your head closing your eyes and rest your head backwards on the wall speaking into the air. “Don’t care” you moan lewdly and a string of curses leave Loki’s lips. 

“I’m cumming” he groans stilling his hips inside you as he shoots thick ropes of white cum into you painting your walls white. 

You both catch your breath and hold each other to your chests clinging like safety nets. Loki pulls out of you and tucks himself back into his trousers admiring his cum seeping out of you. “Are you quite satisfied?” he asks, glancing up at you leaning against the wall. 

“Of course I am. You always leave me satisfied love” you drop your skirt back down so it covers mid thigh and shuffle over to him. “You know I don’t mean what I said yes?” you stroke his cheek gently and he nods, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Of course darling. And you know I’d never kill you” he reassures you, not that you needed the reassuring in the first place but it’s comforting that he feels the need to tell you. “Let’s leave the knife out of it next time however” he nod’s to your neck waving a hand over it to fix the wound. 

you shrug and chuckle “I don’t know I liked it” you pull at your ripped tights sticking to your thighs and fix your underwear “any chance you can do something about the mess you made” you giggle. He begins to raise his hand before his eyes go wide watching outside the window and he pulls you toward him turning so he was covering you like a shield as a blast of heat went off around you. 

“Can it wait until we escape the apocalypse?” he asks in a hurry, opening the door and guiding you out by the small of your back. 

You nod and rip off the tights completely feeling as though you’d be more comfortable walking around in no tights than sticky ripped ones. “Definitely” you say and both take off in a sprint. 

[the8gates]

Short Drabble

Kind of a vent. 

In which Atsuko finds out exactly what Kakashi said to Sasuke before he ran away from the village. 

“All you ever did was antagonize him! Not once did you try to connect with him and actually teach him how to cope with what he was feeling! You just piled on! Made him out to be the bad guy before he even had a chance to-!”

Atsuko was shouting at the top of her lungs, throat already raw from the tears she’d shed in the name of this argument. Sasuke was gone and Kakashi was treating this entire situation like it was just another minor inconvenience. Her son was missing, and she seemed to be the only person who truly cared. 

“It wasn’t my place to-“

Kakashi tried to defend, but she was letting out a scathing scoff before he could finish. Her fingers ran back through her hair, tugging at the roots out of frustration. 

“It wasn’t your place? Then who’s was it? Mine? I did everything I could for Sasuke! And you never did anything but exchange insults with him at the kitchen table! You could’ve helped! But the way you treated him just made my job more difficult!”

“Sasuke was not my child. I didn’t have to coddle him like you did.” 

Kakashi returned, the tone of his voice always so measured and self assured. Atsuko reeled back, her hands falling from her hair in favor of hanging limply at her sides. It felt like he’d just punched her the gut, forcing all of the air from her lungs. How could he say something like that? Something so cruel and distant. 

“Maybe he wasn’t your child, but he is mine. And you had no qualms about moving in here and playing house with me!”

“With you. Yes. I moved in to be with you. I didn’t realize that meant you would expect me to act as a father to a child I hardly knew-“

“I told you from the very beginning! I said that we were a package deal. If you wanted me, then Sasuke was part of that. And you agreed. So, you can’t turn that around now and act as if you resent him or me for somehow forcing you into this position!”

Atsuko returned, the tears welling in her lash line preparing to weaken her argument. He wouldn’t take her seriously if she was crying. He didn’t take her seriously now. He never had. Kakashi believed he was so far above all of this just because he’d experienced loss and heartbreak. These petty arguments about relationships and love were beneath him, and it was obvious in the dead eyed stare he had fixed her with. 

“You look at me like I’m being irrational! Like I’m the crazy one. And hell yes I’m emotional, my son is missing! But I am not wrong. You hate yourself so much that you punish Sasuke for being too similar to you!”

Atsuko added, hoping to deal a blow against him just as harsh as the one he’d given her a moment ago. His visible eye narrowed and he tried to give her a warning. 

“Atsuko…”

“No! You don’t understand what Sasuke went through and you never will! It cannot be compared to your loss. Or Naruto’s! Or anyone else’s! What you said to him is unforgivable. Like you were trying to one-up his trauma by spilling your own. That is so insanely juvenile it makes me wonder if you ever matured past the age of thirteen! Your baggage is going to ruin those kids. Just like your ‘words of wisdom’ only spurred Sasuke on. You couldn’t stow your shit long enough to talk him off that ledge. And if that’s the way you’re going to handle Naruto and Sakura, they should be removed from your Genin squad before you do any more irreparable damage.”

She finished, her hands flying as she snapped her mouth open and shut, teeth clacking together with the force of her words. The tears had dried and she hadn’t blinked since her rant began. Despite the fact that she was eyeing Kakashi with near murderous intent, his eyes had dropped from her face to stare at the ground between them. He didn’t yell. No matter how many screaming matches she tried to drag him into, he never gave in. If he was angry, he would stow it away. Just like he did everything else. As the silence hung between them, a realization hit her at top speed. 

If things continued this way, they would never be able to bridge the gap between them. He refused to level with her in any real way, preferring to speak down to her as if she were a child in need of scolding. Everything she’d ever told him was swiftly filed away as something he could override by using his superior intellect or logical mind. When she was emotional, her words and thoughts didn’t matter. If any of her suggestions came from her heart, they could be discarded in his eyes. Being overly rational and literal may be a benefit on the battlefield, but he could not raise a child that way. He couldn’t approach their relationship in that fashion. 

It’s not that he didn’t have a heart. He just believed he was above expression. 

“Maybe they should be removed from my squad, then.”

Kakashi uttered, his self pity act only serving to make her even angrier. Could he not admit fault without sounding like a despondent child? Though, she realized that she didn’t want him to apologize or admit his wrong doings. It would give her no satisfaction to win this argument, because winning wouldn’t bring her son home. Kakashi was an adult. A grown man. If he couldn’t come to terms with his faults and actively work on them, then he was no better than the children he trained. She didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to hold his hand as he learned how to behave. She could only provide him so much emotional support. Only point out his flaws and poor coping skills so many times before the ball was in his court. If he refused to learn…

“If you are ready to lie down and accept the way you are without ever making any effort to change… then yes, they should.”

Atsuko answered, falling deathly calm in the aftermath of the blowout. He still didn’t look up at her, too busy clenching his fists in his pockets and watching the ground to make eye contact with her. Arguing with him would not bring Sasuke home. This argument was pointless. 

“I am going to pack. Then, I am leaving to find Sasuke. By the time we return, I want you gone.”

She said, managing to draw his attention this time. Kakashi whipped his head up at lightning speed, silver eyebrows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. 

“What?”

He asked, hissing the word out like he was daring her to repeat herself. It was funny. He never participated in fights in any real way, and he looked so distraught in this moment that it was honestly embarrassing. Yet, he still found the courage to speak down to her one last time. Like she couldn’t possibly be thinking clearly. As if she had no idea what she’d just asked of him. Atsuko squared her shoulders, looking directly into his eyes so he felt the impact of her resolve. 

“While I’m gone, pack your things. All of them. Then leave, and do not contact me again.”

She repeated, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before giving him a single nod. Then, she side stepped around him and began walking back towards her house, leaving Kakashi standing in front of Hokage Tower with nothing more than a stupefied expression. 

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 17 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 17

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (spanking, cunnilingus, handcuffs, restraints, blindfolding, P in V, creampie, unprotected sex *wrap it up kids* )

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter 17

“Are there any clothes of yours that you would like me to wash?”

You were on your knees by the dirty pile of clothes next to your suitcases.  It had been slowly growing as the days went by and you needed to get them clean.  The shirt and jeans you wore were the only decent clothes you had, and even that was suspect seeing as they smelled of cigar smoke and various other odors from the factory.

“You do know that there is a laundry machine, right?  You don’t actually have to wash them by hand…” Heisenberg remarked, taking steps towards you on the floor, a cup of coffee in hand.  He felt tired after only a small amount of sleep the night before.  But it was nobody’s fault but his own.  The constant fucking and his inability to keep his hands off you were hindering his sleep schedule.

“Really?” you said, looking up at him, “oh wow, I just assumed…”

“...being a Lord in a small village has its perks,” Heisenberg quipped, “...it’s an older model, but it still does the trick.”

“Well, what I said still holds.  I can wash your clothes along with mine,” you offered.

He smiled at you. “I don’t expect you to do anything for me, dollface.  We can wash our respective clothes together.”

You shrugged your shoulders in agreement and gathered the dirty clothes in your arms, standing to your feet.  “Okay, let’s go!”

Heisenberg finished his coffee and set the mug down on the table, removing his sunglasses.  You could barely see his eyes under his wide brimmed hat, but what you could see of them gleamed in mischief.  Oh, shit, what did he have planned now?

“We can do that later,” Heisenberg murmured, taking a step closer to you, “but now...I’m calling in my favor…”

“What favor?” you asked suspiciously.

“Oh come on,” Heisenberg scoffed, “don’t tell me you forgot.  A few days ago when I took you to see Moreau...you said if I accompanied you, that you would make it up to me…”

Your throat went dry.  Your fingers dug into the clothes piled up in your arms.  Realization, a bit of dread, and a twinge of excitement started in your body.  You did say that you would do anything to make up for it.  But with Heisenberg and that mischievous smirk on his lips, that could mean anything.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked hesitantly.

“Oh, pussycat...you have no idea.  Put those clothes back on the floor…”

You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat, turned, and let the pile fall to the floor next to your things.  Turning back to Heisenberg, you watched him remove his hat and put it on the table.  His trenchcoat was next.  He tossed it across one of the chairs.  

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered as he unbuttoned his shirt.  You stood there dumbfounded for a second as you watched him untuck his shirts, letting the buttoned-up one slide down his arms.  He reached for his undershirt, pulling it off overhead.  The objects around his neck clattered noisily as he set them on the table.

“I said, take off your clothes…” he repeated, his voice low and menacing.

You quickly jerked out of your stunned ogling and began to unzip your pants, not wanting to try his patience..  Heisenberg grinned as he unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops of his pants.  He folded the belt and grabbed each end in his hands, making it snap noisily.  You jumped at the loud noise and he laughed.

“Oh, I am going to have so much fun with you…” he promised.  Your heart raced in your chest.  You felt equal parts apprehension and excitement.  He was intelligent and creative...the possibilities that this favor held were endless…

He watched as you finished removing your clothes and you stood before him naked.  His tongue slid along his lips as he stepped towards you.  You looked up into his eyes as he slowly moved to your left, circling your body.  He looked you up and down, admiring every inch of you.  His belt touched your skin and you yelped.  Heisenberg chuckled.

“Bend over the bed, your hands pressed to the sheets,” he commanded, sliding his belt up your spine.  An exhilarated thrill surged through you and you turned to the bed, bending forward from your hips.  Heisenberg took the belt and let it roam along your ass.  You bit your bottom lip, wondering what he had in store for you.

You didn’t have long to wait as his belt came down across your ass, giving you a swift spank. A shriek escaped your mouth and Heisenberg laughed.  “Did that scare you, pussycat?” he asked playfully.  You exhaled and turned your face to look at him.  He stood there with his folded belt in his hands, an amused smile on his face.  His shirtless torso showed off his toned chest and stomach, making him look every bit the dangerous dominant man he was.

“Karl...please, do it again,” you murmured.  With a low growl, he brought the belt down again.  The spanks stung as they connected to your ass, him waiting momentarily in between.  The pain was brief before giving way to pleasure.  You felt his hand caress your cheeks, squeezing each in his grasp.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” Heisenberg marveled, placing one hand on the small of your back as he spanked you.  You moaned loudly, lifting your gaze upwards.  After every couple of hits, he would rub and massage your ass, making sure you were okay.  Your skin reddened and was hot to the touch.  His gaze looked over your body, watching as you shivered at the blows of the belt.  Your moans and whimpers were like music to his ears.  And he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Lie on your back on the bed, your head on the pillow,” he ordered.

You followed his command, unable to hide the excitement on your face.  Heisenberg noticed and laughed.  “Oh, you are enjoying this, aren’t you, pussycat?” he marveled.  He walked to the head of the bed and bent down.  The familiar jangling of chains made your eyes go wide.

Heisenberg stood up with the makeshift handcuffs in his grasp.  You looked up at him, his eyes boring holes into yours.  Without a word, he took the cuffs and wrapped the headboard railing with the chains, looping them around and around until they were tight.

“Give me your hands,” he ordered.  One by one, you lifted your wrists and let him restrain you with the cuffs.  Your heart pounded and your mouth was dry.  There had been several nights in the past that you had entertained the fantasy of a man handcuffing you to a bed and raining down torturous pleasure so intense that it made you go insane...you couldn’t think of any other man that you wanted to submit to like this but Karl Heisenberg.

“Oh, fuck…” you moaned as Heisenberg’s fingers slid down your forearm and tricep.  He trailed his fingers down your body to your feet, slowly walking along the bed.  Your skin shivered and peppered with goosebumps.  This man knew just how to touch you.  In the short time you two had been fucking, he memorized every spot that made you whimper and every move that had you crying out in ecstasy.

He pulled his hand away and went to your suitcase, rifling through your things.

“What are you doing?” you asked, lifting your head to look at him.

“Looking for this,” he replied, standing straight, a scarf in his hand.  You released a breath as he sat on the edge of the bed next to you.  Leaning forward, he took the scarf and covered your eyes, tying it behind your head.

“Karl…” you whispered, gripping the chains of the handcuffs.  He adjusted the scarf over your face so that you couldn’t see anything.  You were bound and blindfolded, completely at his mercy.  The arousal that swirled in your belly was astronomical.

“Let me know at any time if you want me to stop,” Heisenberg said, “if it gets to be too much, tell me.  I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with…”

“For fuck’s sake, Karl, please don’t stop!” you whined, pushing your hips upwards, “this is so fucking hot…”

Heisenberg laughed and stood to his feet.  You heard the zipper of his pants and the sound of him kicking off his boots.  The shuffling of fabric followed by the drop of the remainder of his clothing met your ears.  How desperate you were to look at him standing naked before you.  You wanted to see his muscles flex, you wanted to feel his body under your hands, and you wanted to watch his face contort as he fucked you.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he spread your legs.  He lifted your right leg, his hand circling your ankle.  You sucked in a breath and released an anguished moan at the feel of his lips kissing down your calf.  Wetness slipped from your pussy and dripped onto the sheets.  The man’s soft lips coupled with the roughness of his beard made your senses go into overdrive.

His lips kissed to the back of your knee and his tongue licked lazily along the skin.  You arched your back and groaned.  The area was sensitive and erogenous.  You didn’t know that it was a place on your body that could elicit such pleasure.

“Karl...please…” you mewled.  Your body writhed in waves as he kissed down your inner thigh.

“I meant it when I said I wanted to kiss and lick every inch of your skin, Y/N…” Heisenberg said, “...I could devour your flesh, suck the sweat off and drink it…”

You felt like you were on the verge of insanity by the time he kissed down between your legs.  His hand gripped the outer thigh of your leg, spreading it wide as he kissed along your pussy lips.

“God dammit, Karl, please...I need it...I can’t take anymore…” you pleaded, bucking your hips upwards impatiently.  Heisenberg simply chuckled as he took his other hand and placed the lightest of touches on the tip of your clit.  

You let out an anguished squeal, grinding your head back into the pillow.  His kisses and touches were surprising and unexpected.  You took advantage of your sense of sight before, always being able to know when and where he would touch you...but in that moment everything was unknown, surprising, and agonizing.

“This pretty clit…” Heisenberg said teasingly, looking up your body as he continued to lightly graze it with the pad of his finger, “...how desperate are you for me to touch it...to kiss it...to wrap my lips around it and suck?”

The scarf soaked up your frustrated tears.  The chains clattered noisily against the headboard as you bucked and writhed on the bed.  “Please, Karl...I’m begging you...please…”

“Mmmmm pussycat...I love it when you beg…”

His tongue snaked out and circled your clit.  He lifted your thighs over his shoulders, holding your hips down with both hands.  Your hips trembled and shook, desperate to ride his face.  His grip of your hips was firm, keeping you pressed to the bed, unable to move for any kind of friction.  You were completely at his mercy.

“Oh god Karl...oh fuck...yes...yes...keep licking my cunt…” you pleaded.  He chuckled as his tongue flicked slowly at your clit, looking up at you twisting and struggling for relief from his torture.  His cock was rock hard and desperate to fuck you.  Fantasies of you being cuffed to his bed while he fucked you had been flowing through his mind since he first restrained you.  At that time, it was to ensure you wouldn’t run away, but this...this is what he wanted from the moment he laid eyes on you.  You, submissive, desperate, and begging for him…

He finally gave you what you wanted and started sucking hard on your clit.

“KARL!!!!” you screamed, your legs quaking on either side of his head.  Your thighs squeezed his face and he became feral, licking and devouring the most sensitive part of you.  

The echoes of your pleasure reverberated in his room.  He growled deeply, continuing his assault on your pussy.  

“Karl...oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum...I’m gonna fucking cum...please, Karl...please…”  

He held you to the bed and continued sucking...more...more...more...until you felt the world stop.  Your mouth flew open and you screamed as you came ferociously and intensely.  Heisenberg’s mouth left your clit as he laughed triumphantly, prolonging your orgasm with his fingers, applying pressure and rubbing.  Your eyes rolled into the back of your head under the scarf, aftershocks shaking your body in waves.

“Good girl...good fucking girl…” Heisenberg marveled.  Your arms hung limp from the handcuffs, sweat forming at your brow.  He kissed up your quivering stomach to your breasts, cupping both in his hands.  He kissed your soft skin, moving to your nipple.  Your legs wrapped around his waist as his tongue traced the hardened peak, flicking and sucking.

“Karl…” you moaned, your hips arching to his body.  Your orgasm was intense and incredible and already you wanted another one.  You wanted him inside of you, to grip his cock and pulse around him.  He had given you insurmountable pleasure and you desperately wanted to return the favor.

“Fuck me, Karl…” you begged, grinding your hips upwards, “...please...I want to make you cum...let me make you cum…”

“Oh, Y/N...I love it when you talk dirty…”  

He continued kissing your breast, palming and squeezing, as his other hand went to his cock, teasing along your wet pussy.  You cursed loudly and wriggled your hips, which made him laugh harder.  “You are quite greedy, dollface…” he marveled, “...yes...so greedy...bound and writhing on my bed...I ought to keep you like this forever…”

You bit your lip and whimpered as he sucked on your nipple, sinking his teeth into your flesh.  You were going to go insane if he didn’t fuck you soon.

Heisenberg sat up and inched closer between your legs.  Sitting back on his heels, he pushed the tip of his cock into your wet cunt.

“Karl!!” you shouted, feeling equal parts relief and dread...relief that he was inside of you and dread that there would be too much time between then and your next orgasm.

Heisenberg gripped your hips and pulled you forward to meet his thrusts.  He pumped deeper into you, his hands holding you flush against him.  Your breasts bounced with the force of his movement.  You clenched around his cock, going tight and pulsing rhythmically, which seemed to please him as evidence from the throaty growls coming from him.

“Fuck...fuck...oh god dammit, Y/N...take my cock…” he moaned.  He took in the sight of you:  your fingers wrapped around the chains, your tits heaving, your thighs quivering around his body, and those sweet, cock hardening moans that flew from your mouth.  You were a vision...a fucking goddess.

“Karl...don’t stop...I want you...I want to make you cum...oh fuck, please…”

His right hand slid up your stomach to your breast, squeezing and slapping it.  You shrieked at the sudden mixture of pleasure and pain.  “That’s it, baby...let me hear you...you filthy fucking little girl…”

You were close.  Heisenberg’s hands all over your body turned you on more than anything you had experienced before.  His lips and talented tongue could make you sell your soul for one last orgasm.  All you wanted was him and he was all you would ever want for the rest of your life.

“I’m gonna cum, Karl...please cum with me...cum inside of me…”

Heisenberg leaned over you and swiftly pulled the scarf from your head.  It took a second for you to adjust to the light before your gaze settled on him.  His body pressed to yours, his hips hammering down on top of you.  His arms pushed under your shoulders and his hands went to the back of your head, making you focus on him.

“Look at me, Y/N...look at me when you cum…” he commanded.  Your clit was trapped against his skin, providing perfect friction along with his cock rocking back and forth inside of you.  It felt overpowering, devastating, and unbearable.  This orgasm was going to destroy the both of you.

“Karl...I’m...I’m...gonna…” you screamed, your eyes wide, never leaving his gaze.

“Tell me...tell me you’re gonna cum...cum for me, Y/N...cum hard…” he yelled, his lips hovering over yours.  You wanted to toss your head back, but his hands on the back of your head kept you still; you had no choice but to stare into the eyes of your executioner.

“I’m cumming...Karl...KARL, OH FUCK, I’M CUMMING!!”

Your body flailed under him, your orgasm so violent that you bucked his body on top of yours.  Heisenberg shot his hot cum deep inside of you as you came around his prick.  Both of you moaned and yelled loudly, so loudly that you felt as if the whole village could hear you.  His hips continued to fuck you into the bed, eager to prolong your orgasm.  His lips clamped over yours, kissing you deeply.  You returned the kiss, your tongue voracious in his mouth.

His hips slowed their movements as he lowered his face between your breasts, kissing as much of your skin as he could.  “You’re gonna be the death of me, pussycat…” he marveled.  You laughed breathlessly, lifting your arms in the chains.  You winced feeling how tender your wrists were, not realizing how hard you were tugging on them.

“Karl...my wrists…” you whispered.  He lifted his head and inspected the handcuffs, seeing the beginnings of red marks on your wrists.  He unlocked the cuffs and wrapped his arms around you, rolling onto his back, pulling you with him.

Your head fell to his chest, too weak to do anything.  Both of your arms hung on either side of his body.  His hands caressed your hair, moving down the nape of your neck and up and down your back.  You smiled and melted into him.

“My sweet dollface,” Heisenberg praised, “...mine...all mine…”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shield (one-shot)

Synopsis: To the new Captain America she might just be a human shield. But Bucky can see there’s more to it. What he can’t understand is why she stays.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: mentions of blood and guns, swearing, torture, low mental state etc.

Word count: 3591

I am going absolutely feral about the fact that a portion of the series takes place in Latvia as I am Latvian :D Just seeing the signs and streets (which are not really ours cause they filmed in Prague, but are similar enough I can envision it), especially because we’re such a small country is amazeballs, so to be in such a huge show with my MCU faves is insane. Had the same kind of reaction to Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Nikolaj and the Captain Latvia episode. Riga hammer for the win :D 

P.S. John Walker is not Captain America cause he does not posses America’s ass. Also Zemo is one hundred percent Bucky’s and Sam’s sugar daddy. I won’t accept any dispute over this.

P.S.S. please also remember - John Walker is a character not a real person. John Walker is played by an actor who is doing his job the same way the actor who played Joffrey did. Do not harass him etc. but rather appreciate the insane talent he has. This place is a Wyatt Russell stan place.

P.S.S.S. Kinda spoilers for the show so if you haven’t seen it, don’t read this.

He hated him. Bucky genuinely hates him. He never thought he had despised something or someone so much, not even HYDRA, as much as he hated John Walker – the new Captain America. He wanted to scream at that, at the fact that this arrogant asshole was carrying Steve’s shield, the symbol of freedom and everything good, while in reality, he embodied none of what it stood for.

           Walker and what he’d learned his sidekick was Battlestar, had swooped in from a helicopter while Sam and he had been following the Flag-Smasher vehicles, and, well, they hadn’t been a lot of help, which he shouldn’t be too surprised about. But what he had been surprised about was when they’d all been thrown off of the semi-trucks and scattered all around a field, someone else had been in the mix as well. 

A young woman with Y/H/C hair and determined Y/E/C eyes was rushing towards them, screaming for them to stay on the ground. When Bucky looked behind, he could see why given how one of the radicalised people had jumped from the trucks and was barreling at them with an automatic cocked at them

           But it wasn’t Walker who jumped up running past her, shield at the ready to take on the fire. No. He just remained sitting as the stranger kept her pace. She leapt at the two with a grace of a cat, pushing him and Sam back to the ground and immediately got blown back by the received ammunition, gasps leaving her mouth as the bullets entered her body.

           Sam’s wings extended and created a body length shield as Bucky snatched one of the knives strapped to the man’s side and flung it with deadly accuracy into the Flag-Smasher’s neck, dropping him to the ground. 

           There was blood when he looked back. There was so much blood, and once again it was all over Bucky’s hands, and he couldn’t breathe properly, pressing down on her abdomen and shoulder and side, and. oh god, there were too many bullet wounds...

           Two wide Y/E/C eyes stared back up at him, mouth gasping down shallow breaths as he held down on her wounds trying to stop the blood from pouring out. God, there was so much of it.

           “Don’t close your eyes,” he gritted, his body trembling. “Well get you help. You’ll be alright.”

           But then Walker spoke up, and Bucky saw read because of a different reason. “She’s fine, just leave it.”

           His head snapped to see that arrogant bastard cross his arms as he hissed. “Leave it? She’s fucking bleeding out! She took those bullets for you, and you just want to leave it?!”

           Walker just smirked, nudging his chin towards her body. “You’ll see.”

           “You let her use herself as a shield while you did nothing!”

           “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because that’s her whole point.”

           And that’s when Bucky felt her skin shift underneath his hands. Slowly the blood stopped pouring out, Y/N’s breathing evened, and her eyes closed not because death was calling, but because of relief as the regenerative cells kicked into high gear.

           Bucky gazed in wonder as the wounds closed up, and when only scar tissue remained he snapped his blue eyes to her, Y/E/C ones already staring back at him.

           “Who are you?” he whispered

           “A human shield that’s what,” Walker answered in her stead, but Bucky just sneered.

           “I asked who, not a what. She’s a fucking person.”

           Once more he looked back down and saw a strange look in her eyes. It was as if she was trying to decipher what those words meant, but once the shock from such a huge assault had ended, she gulped down a breath and gave him a crooked smile. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

           A lopsided one came to grace his own face. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

           “Bucky.” Her eyebrow rose. “Well, it’s very nice to finally meet you.”

           He smiled at her, and not the painful smile he’d given the senator before her arrest, but a real genuine smile, one that made the skin around his eyes crinkle. 

           “And it’s very nice you didn’t decide to die on us.”

           “Yeah, yeah, can we cut this meet and greet shorter?” Walker interrupted them, and if Bucky hadn’t been holding onto Y/N’s shoulder as she tried to rise from the ground, he would’ve punched the guy. 

           “I told you she was going to be fine.”

           Bucky threw him his best murder glare but stopped when he felt Y/N squeeze his hand as if saying ‘don’t bother.' His brows furrowed in confusion. She just shook her head.

           “We should still find you a hospital.” He talked to Y/N directly, ignoring what the new Captain was saying. “It doesn’t matter that you can survive something like that, I’d rather make sure you’re checked out by professionals.

           “It won’t be necessary.” Walker slipped the shield on his arm and nudged his partner to start walking with him, pretty much expecting the rest to follow. “It was her choice anyway to take the hits.”

           “It doesn’t mean she should!” Bucky pretty much hollered, startling even Sam.

           At that, he saw Y/N’s eyes widen and her head snap up to look at him. All the breath got knocked out from Bucky at the emotion in her face. It was like she didn’t believe what he was saying like she didn’t know it was a possibility to not put her own life before someone else’s, that maybe someone is supposed to do it for her, someone could protect her.

           “She absorbs fucking bullets and infuses them in her body.” John mocked. “I’d say it’s a win-win on both sides. Everyone else stays safe, and she gets stronger, right? The whole bleeding thing is a hitch in the system, but our guys say with enough scuffles that should stop as well.”

Walker looked at her. Y/N just gulped, staring back down at the ground between her knees. 

           When he looked back at everything the moment he’d seen Zemo in the cell and the asshole had said something still remained in him from the Winter Soldier, came back to connect with the scene. He’d hated that sentence because Bucky knew it was true. The Soldier would always be a part of him, but that was what therapy was for – to accept it and let go. But in that minute, he wouldn’t have cared one bit if the ruthless assassin came to the surface if it meant snapping Walker’s neck like a stick. 

           He treated the woman as if she was below him, as if Steve’s shield somehow made him better than her, better than anyone, and yet, even when he’d been given the privilege to carry it, he’d rather use a human person, no matter if they had powers, as a shield.

           A soft hand touched his side, and Bucky looked at Y/N, his breathing heavy at Walker’s words. 

           “I’m alright.” Her voice was softer than he thought it would be. Maybe it was because she was trying to stay out of John’s earshot, but even the gentle whisper made something in Bucky’s chest stir. “Thank you,” she said. “For checking up on me.”

           Bucky stiffly nodded, standing up and offering both his hands for her to take, but even with that, it took Sam holding her by the waist to be able to stand. The Falcon had to catch her, in fact, when she took her first steps, an awkward chuckle escaping her mouth. 

           “It’s been a while since a hit like this.”

           Sam quirked a brow and smirked. “You always have a tendency to do stupid shit like that?”

           Y/N’s whole body relaxed as he said so, and a sting went through Bucky’s own. How bad were they treating her if basic kindness and a little bit of joking made her feel so safe?

           Just as he was about to ask her more, to offer to take her with them, Walker spoke up again. That conversation was an absolute disaster, and the fact that Walker thought Sam and him would actually ever consider working with him on this mission was idiotic. 

           It ended with the two Avengers watching how Walker threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, making her knees buckle with the weight, her from still regaining strength, but he didn’t care, just dragged her along with him and Battlestar.

           “Are we just gonna let ‘em do that to her?” Bucky sneered, arms crossed watching their retreating forms over the field.

           He felt Sam glower next to him. “There’s not much we can do.”

           He hated that he was right.

           Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. One meeting had left him shaken to the core not just about her, but about how there was something deeply off with the new Captain America, that if they didn’t take action something horrible would happen, not just because of his arrogance, but because of some seed he could feel had rooted itself in the other man’s heart.

           But by that point they’d been in Madripoor, had met Sharon who’d been on the run from the US government ever since the dismantlement of the Avengers, and had now followed a lead to where the Flag-Smashers had settled in Latvia.

           Zemo seemed to not only have a billion cars, but a billion apartments scattered around the world, this one being in the heart of the Old Town. 

           Bucky was on the roof looking over the twinkling lights of the city. His bed had been too soft as it always was, and even the floor wasn’t it for him, not a wink of sleep coming his way as his thoughts were flooded by Y/N.

           Well, the sleep part wasn’t true. He had been able to drift off, only to dream of how the woman didn’t get better, didn’t absorb those bullets and had died right in his arms. That’s when he decided he needed a breath of fresh air.

           The sound of shuffling feet made him whip around from the scenic view only to be greeted by a form he’d now recognise in a full-on ski-suit in pitch-black darkness.

           “What are you doing here?” Bucky stood up wanting to stride over and check her for any wounds she might’ve gotten while around Walker. Any new scar on her body would mean the same number of teeth he’d knock from that Walmart-version-Captain-America’s mouth.

           “Came to warn you.” She shrugged, soft winds making her coat flutter. “John and Lemar are resting, but come morning they’ll be on your ass, so you might wanna make a move now.”

           Bucky shook his head. “I don’t get you. You’re nothing like them, I can see that you know how wrong it is, for him to be carrying that shield, that he’s making a mockery out of the name and legacy Steve built, and yet…”

           Y/N hung her head lifting her shoulders, hands in her pockets. “I gotta do what I gotta do.”

           “He’s an asshole,” Bucky hissed. 

           Y/N gave him a painful look. “I know. But I don’t have anywhere to go. Besides… you have your own way of making amends. Well, this is mine.”

           Dark brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

           She let out a painful chuckle, not because of the memories now plaguing her waking thoughts, but because her wounds were still healing, and instantly Bucky came closer and took her hand, running a soothing thumb over her palm. Wounds he was sure were new.

           Y/N froze at his touch, and Bucky was about to pull away when she put her own thumb over his. He had to bite back tears at how tenderly she was looking down at his palm. Like no one had ever comforted her when it hurt. 

           “When the Blip happened,” she started, voice low and quiet. “I watched how my sister and mom disappeared right in front of my eyes. We were driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, and there was a truck before us. It was carrying loads of metal scraps. The driver of the truck got blipped as well.” She swallowed harshly. “I can still feel how the beam went through my shoulder, how it broke the bone and skin, and how I just wanted to disappear like they had just to make the pain stop. But I didn’t. It hurt so bad.” Y/N looked at Bucky, tears running down her face. “It was burning and tearing, and so much pain… and all I could do was scream, but no one heard me because everyone else was screaming, and I was just one of the thousands doing it.”

           Y/N shook her head, and when Bucky leaned closer to wipe away the tears, she sighed at the feeling. “I passed out sometime later. From the pain the… well, everything. And when I woke up, I heard people outside the door, trying to rip it open, I could see red lights flashing, but where I expected that beam to be was nothing. When I looked down at myself there was a hole in my shirt, but instead of a hole in my shoulder, a round scar was the only thing left from that moment.”

           “They took me to the hospital, and when they tried to put an IV in, my body just swallowed up the needle.” She took a shaky breath, and Bucky squeezed her side. ‘Go on’ he tried to convey with the touch. ‘I’m here.’

           “That’s when the tests started. They were fine at first. Blood samples when they managed to get any, saliva and all that good jazz… but then they started poking. And poking turned into slicing which turned into stabbing until I was their personal pincushion, as they tried to see what my body would and wouldn’t take.”

           Y/N was shaking by that point, but not because of the wind that had picked up, but because of anger, of the horror, she’d had to go through. It took everything in Bucky to remain calm and let her continue.

           “Two years they did that. And then one time they went a bit too far. Someone had stolen a vibranium spear from the Dora Milaje.”

           Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat. He wasn’t moving a muscle.

           “They wanted to know if I could absorb the strongest metal on Earth, so slowly…” Her hands went to her front, to the white blouse she was wearing and started popping open the buttons. Bucky was just about to protest when he understood.

           “They pushed the spear too far.” Her finger ran over a rhomb shaped scar right in the centre of her chest. Right over her heart. “Pushed it right through.”

           “How did you survive?” Bucky was appalled, but in awe at the same time. 

            Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t. I died then and there on the table. They took my body and dumped it in some ditch. From my own calculations, it took me about a day to heal. They’d sown in a scalpel in my stomach a few hours before, so I’m assuming it used that as the binding material for the cells.”

“I was so angry.” She looked at him. “At everyone, at myself, that I couldn’t help my family, that I allowed them to just use me like that, I just went off the deep end. I did so many bad things…” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I read about the Winter Soldier, y’know. His whole thing was efficiency, quickness. I – “ She choked on her words. “I wasn’t. I wanted to drag it out. Wanted to find each and every one of the bastards who laid their hands on me and make them suffer as I did.”

           Bucky’s hand settled on her waist as he pulled her closer, feeling her body keen at the motion as she looked for reassurance. “I’m not a good person, Bucky. This.” She motioned with her head to her body. “This is my repentance for what I did.”

           “What he’s doing is not right. What they’re making you do is not right.” Bucky shook his head. “Just because it might not kill you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. No one had any right to touch you.”

           “It’s the price I pay for what I did.”

           “Pain?”

           Y/N nodded. “Eye for an eye. Pain for the pain I caused.”

           Bucky shook his head. “That’s not right.”

           “How else am I supposed to do this?”

           “By getting help yourself first.”

           Y/N’s eyes widened, and Bucky sighed. He understood how impossible that thought seemed, that someone who’s done so much bad could deserve help from others, but he understood her situation better than anyone. “Being here,” he said, “being able to say these things… I can only do that because I got help. It was mandated by the state, but nevertheless…” Both chuckled at that, and Bucky’s heart lightened at the sound, at the genuine sound of joy from her. “But the therapy… I hate to say this, but it helped. It’s not easy. I sometimes detest going to the sessions, and I might be failing them quite miserably right now, especially with rule number two –“

           “What’s rule number two?”

           “Don’t hurt anyone,” Bucky mumbled. “And I’ve broken it quite a lot recently, I know that which will either make me end up behind bars or will add more therapy sessions to the list, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

           Y/N gulped, gazing just as intensely at Bucky as he was at her. “Of what?”

           “Of reaching out.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of asking for help. Of understanding that I deserve help, and I deserve to receive it.”

           “Yeah, but the thing is I’m not like you.” Y/N looked away from him. “No one forced me to do this, no one brainwashed me. I did everything out of my own volition. Me. No one else. You deserve that help because HYDRA did all those things to you. You are a victim of war. I’m not. All those horrible things I did… I did them. Not some alias of mine.”

           Bucky’s heart hurt at the fact that Y/N couldn’t see she was a victim of her own circumstance, and how now the government was punishing her for it. And that’s when another brick hit him – it was exactly like Isaiah’s situation. Both came from marginalised groups, parts of society where the ones in power have been trying to oppress and control them for as long as he could remember, he just couldn’t see it. He could see Sam’s point of view now. Maybe not as clearly as he should, but he was starting to wipe away the fog.

           “They used you just as much as HYDRA used me.” He asserted, and Y/N’s eyes widened at his sure statement. “Just because a pile of shit has a bowtie on now, doesn’t mean it’s no longer a pile of shit… Come with us.” Bucky’s forehead pressed to hers. “Let’s do this the right way.”

           “It’s mandated by the US government that I stay by John’s side and help him.”

           Bucky smirked at that, nudging his nose against Y/N’s. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re in Latvia then. Besides Captain America has no pull here.”

           She laughed, warm breath slipping over Bucky’s skin, and he had to close his eyes as the thought of her breathless and underneath him invaded his mind. “Unfortunately, this deal stands whether I’m inside the borders of USA or outside.”

           Y/N looked over the skyline to where the country’s national monument stood. A woman, hands up in the air outstretched with three stars in her palms, with words she couldn’t understand when she'd arrived etched on the granite at the bottom. Some local had translated them for her. For the Fatherland and Freedom.

           After the blip and the experiments, she didn’t feel like she had a home. She’d been imprisoned and prodded like some lab bunny to see what her body could do. What her body could be used for.

           Bucky followed her gaze as she kept looking at the statue. Different stars, different saying, but still with the same meaning of what he saw when he looked at the Captain America shield. Freedom. Justice. For the love of their home.

Something deep started to burn in her chest, and even Bucky could feel the shift. 

           A ferocious look appeared in her eyes as she looked at him. “Let’s get that shield.” She wasn’t going to let Walker taint that star, she knew would happen if he had it for much longer.

           They’d had a single meeting beforehand, and during that half-hour, he’d been terrified for more than two-thirds of the time about how Y/N might die in his arms, die because she’d taken bullets meant for him. 

           He was so glad she hadn’t, not because it would be another life lost because of him, but because he felt like he’d found a twin flame – someone who’d understand him and his troubles. Someone he could help.

           Maybe that could be the true way he could make amends – help someone in the same situation.

           Bucky smiled.

           Y/N did so too, and his heart skipped a beat looking at the woman.

           Her body might be able to absorb the metals piercing it, Walker might call her a human shield, but he knew she was so much more than that. And he’d spend however long it took him to prove so to her. Maybe even in more ways than one.

_________________________________________________________________

Please reblog if you like this. For whatever reason my Bucky fics aren’t appearing in the tags :(

Tags: 

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​  @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​  @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​ @strangersstranger​

Bucky tag list: @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy @pxrrishly @parker-barnes-af @skulliebythesea @california-grown​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane​ @hopeinahotbox​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae​

[poorly-drawn-dinosaur]

so i woke up at like 2 am thinking about this and i just. i need to put it out there

how ofmd differentiates between sex and intimacy because MY LORD (also yes this contains spoilers)

okay so i need to preface this with the fact that i myself am greyace, BUT i consider myself rather intimate person. and honestly? i think this show represents it rather well.

we’ll get into ed and stede later, but i want to give a HUGE shoutout to the crew of the revenge themselves. to me, the delicacy and trust with each other’s emotions, and the eventual rescuing for stede??? these people (pirates mind you), didn’t really give a shit about all the amenities they got, and especially disliked stede. but through time and patience, they’ve grown close and it’s so. you can tell i’m a slut for chosen family right?

okay so now it’s time for the reason that i woke up in a cold sweat.

RIGHT off the bat we’re shown ed and stede in a super vulnerable place. stede has been stabbed by the spanish, laying ill in the bed. and then as he wakes up, ed gives him his real name. not his persona. the name he’s only allowed his first mate (and person he trusted the most) to use. there’s also the fact that ed starts talking about all his most personal issues with the man he just met did NOT go unnoticed. ed has this immediate trust with this man, and hey!!! so does stede!!! while stede is generally a much more trusting and naïve person, he lets ed into his auxiliary closet, which one could consider his most prized possession. by metaphorically letting ed into his heart and ed revealing his identity immediately, it’s evident how close they’re going to grow.

but i can hear you saying “that’s cool and so true, but dino what does this have to do with porkin’?”. don’t you worry, i’ve got you covered. while stede and ed have an intimate relationship, in their pirate society (along with many antagonists in the show), the deeper intimate connection isn’t considered real. for example, in episode 6, izzy says “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say he’d been seduced by him”. the key there is the fact that he said “seduced” as opposed to “enamored” or “fell in love with him”. to me personally, seduced is a directly sexual term. and later in the episode, the run through is the fucking best sex joke ever seen in a sexual light. while it canonically is a metaphor for gay sex, i do also see it as an action of trust and intimacy. izzy’s thought is just “fuck they’re RAWDOGGIN’ on the DECK” when the actual context of the situation is so much more than that.

and calico jack. ho boy. besides the whole ex boyfriend persona (also the funniest thing i’ve ever watched thank you david jenkins), it’s also very obvious that he viewed he and ed’s relationship as strictly “two men bored at sea don’t have much more to do”. the two of them never had the intimacy stede and ed had. hell, jack even mentions the fact that “blackie would have you for using his name”, showing that ed had never found a trust in anyone besides stede (and izzy but that’s a WHOLE other rant). the show creates a clear difference between the purely sexual relationship between calico jack and ed, and the closer more intimate relations with stede and ed.

so where does this leave us? one, it leaves me sounding absolutely insane. but two, it also helps me feel personally more represented. between the “you wear fine things well” to the soft scared kiss to ed begrudgingly going on a safari journey because it’ll make stede happy, the two of them have such fucking close ties. which, of course, made stede’s abandonment hurt even MORE. however, their connections and trust and passion and LOVE for each other, while possibly slowly, will bring them back together. because if they had a purely carnal relationship, then reuniting wouldn’t work as well. but because their intimacy is through the roof? i think it’s going to be okay between the two of them.

[staticscreenwriting]

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 6

SIX - GHOST

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food, mention of sex (nothing graphic and no actual smut)

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

"You held hands?"

"Mmh."

"And then you cuddled."

"We didn't cuddle, I was just kind of - leaning into him. Sort of."

"So you cuddled!"

"Sure. If that's what you wanna call it. We cuddled."

"Then what?" Robin inquires. Smirking at (Y/N) over the rim of her wine glass, like a giddy pre-teen waiting for the kissing scene to come up in a romance movie.

"And nothing. That's it."

"Oh come oooon. You cozied up to each other and then just what - acted like it never happened?"

"Essentially. But that's okay. It's not a big deal. And don't say it like that."

"Like what?" Robin continues to poke and by this point, it's not so much her wanting information than her trying to rile up (Y/N). Though she's very well aware of this, (Y/N) falls for it anyway.

"Cozied up to each other," (Y/N) says and scrunches her nose up in distaste. "Like we had dirty sex or something."

"Do you want to have dirty sex with him? Oh man, imagine what that arm can do."

Holding her hand out to stop her best friend from talking, (Y/N) takes a big gulp of white wine, emptying her glass. This is a conversation that can't be held entirely sober. "First of all, don't say those things about his arm. It's- I don't know. It doesn't sit right with me."

"Sorry yeah that was … not cool" Robin apologizes and by the tone of her voice (Y/N) can tell she means it.

"I'm the first to admit that Bucky is insanely handsome and if things were different, sure. But we're friends and I really enjoy the time spent together and our friendship. I don't wanna do anything to jeopardize it or ruin it by adding unnecessary feelings to it."

"Feelings aren't unnecessary," Robin replies, combing her fingers through her fiery red curls.

"Sometimes they are. The last thing Bucky and I need is broken hearts and ruined friendships."

"What if it doesn't end that way?"

"Relationships never work out well for me, you know that."

Robin places her glass on the countertop. It means whatever talk is gonna follow, it'll be a serious one. There's been very little need for a serious talk between the girls over the time they've been friends but neither of them has ever been afraid to start those conversations and say things as they are. Sometimes that's what friendship is, being blunt even if it's not what your friend wants to hear.

"Look I'm not saying you have to take the relationship to another level. If this is making you happy the way it is, then that's all that matters to me. I just don't want you to give up on something that could be great, because you're scared and because some stupid assholes in the past didn't realize what they had in you."

Where she's only had shit luck with relationships, (Y/N) thinks she's really lucked out in the friend department. Robin is as wonderful as they come. Even if she drives her crazy sometimes.

"They weren't all assholes." (Y/N) chimes up weakly though there's not even enough determination in her voice to convince herself.

"Weren't they? Let's see ...I'm not even gonna talk about Russel. He doesn't count. Who else was there? Pete liked to show you off but he didn't like you. Did he?"

"Not really."

"See? Asshole! Kylie only wanted to be with you so she could be the cool girl who's fucked another girl once and use that as something to brag to the guys about."

"She was figuring herself out."

"She was straight, babe. She was using you and your sexuality as some kind of badge of honor so guys would think she's cool. She only wanted to make out with you at parties and when there were men around to ogle you. I’m the last person to blame anyone for trying to figure out who they are and who they like but that wasn’t the case here. She used you, and what does that make her?"

“ An asshole? “

“ An asshole!”

“ What about Ricky, he wasn’t an asshole! “ (Y/N) chimes in, filling her glass up once more.

“ Okay sure but he was your High School sweetheart and that rarely lasts. I’m not gonna count him. What about Mike —“

“— Okay, you’ve made your point. I have a bad taste in romantic partners, I get it. Doesn’t change anything. Me and Bucky we’re — we’re good as we are. No romance needed.”

“ Just don’t want you to miss out on something great.”

It’s not that the thought has never crossed her mind. In fact, when she’s being really honest to herself, it swirls around her head a lot. When he grants her one of his smiles. The rare ones that make his eyes crinkle. Or when he comes to see her and brings dog treats for Lady, just because he’s that thoughtful. Or when she noticed he put a popcorn and a sun emoji next to her name in his phone. The popcorn, as he said because she liked movies and the sun because she’s always happy and smiling. Or when he held her hand throughout the entire movie. Those are moments when (Y/N) thinks about what it would be like to be more than friends.

“ It’s great as it is now. He’s great.”

“ Then that’s all that matters to me.” Robin smiles. She has one of those smiles that makes you feel at home. Comfortable and soft. Like warm milk with honey a mom makes their child when they can’t sleep.

It’s a while later, when (Y/N) strolls back into the room, another bottle of wine in hand, that a knock sounds on her front door. Her eyes wander to Robin then to the door then back. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“ Oh, that’s Bucky.” Robin, who’s by now migrated over to (Y/N)’s huge fluffy couch, Lady cuddled onto her lap, says with the most casual of tones (Y/N) has ever heard. As if Bucky and her have been lifelong friends. As if there is nothing strange or peculiar about this situation.

“ How do you know?”

Robin shrugs and goes back to petting Lady’s curly fur. “ He texted you when you were getting the wine. Said he was around and had food. I told him to come join us for movie night. What’s the big deal? “

“ I uh — it’s not I just — you could’ve told me. “

“ That was literally 5 minutes ago babe. I had no time to tell you yet. By the way, this man uses entirely too many emojis.”

A smile pulls on the corners of (Y/N)’s lips. She’s asked him once why he never used any emojis, or smileys as he called them (all of them — even the ones that aren’t faces). He told her he didn’t really understand when to use most of them, like the shrimp or the Hockey stick. (Y/N) told him it’s because they’re fun. Ever since then he uses all kinds of emojis with her. None really relating to his messages. It’s quite endearing if she’s being honest.

“ Are you gonna let him in? “ Robin asks, shaking (Y/N) out of her thoughts.

The smell of Chinese food floods into the apartment as (Y/N) opens her door to Bucky. He looks so effortlessly cool in his leather jacket and boots. With his hair a little longer now, all swoopy and quiffed. Like the bad boy straight from a romance novel. The one with a heart of gold. The one that gets the girl.

(Y/N) is not that girl, the one from the novels, the Hallmark movies. The one that’s quirky but never weird. The one that makes all the boys fall for her. She’s not the main character, at least according to herself. She’s the side character that shows up like twice. The one that helps the main character on their quest to self-discovery or true love. That’s who she is. Not more, not less.

“ I brought food!” Bucky exclaims as he steps inside, waving the bag around before placing it on the kitchen counter, to which Lady jumps up from her position on Robin’s lap.

Lady, (Y/N) has realized a while ago, has somehow fallen head over paws in love with Bucky. Always following him, looking up at him with her big brown puppy eyes. Always looking to be close to him. Maybe, (Y/N) thinks, it’s the treats he always carries around. But maybe it’s Bucky too and his patience and his affection and the way he greets the little dog like she’s the main reason he’s come around.

Moments like this, they come with those little flutters around the heart. People always compare them to butterflies. (Y/N) thinks that’s wrong. Butterflies are gentle, graceful, and soft. This feels like a swarm of bees. Chaotic. Overwhelming. A little bit scary.

“ Man, did you plan on coming here, or did you buy all this for yourself?” Robin asks, eyes wide in surprise at the sheer amount of styrofoam containers Bucky keeps pulling from the bags.

“ I kind of bought it with the intention of sharing, yeah. “

Robin’s eyes meet (Y/N)’s across the room and there's a silent secret there, hidden in her teasing smirk. One shared only with a friend. No words. No sounds. Just the truth and two knowing hearts connecting.

“ Am I intruding? If you guys want me to leave, I can leave. “

While he tries to keep his voice casual, the sad tint doesn’t get lost on (Y/N).

“ Absolutely not, don’t be silly. We’re just drinking wine and watching a movie and you are free to join us in both.”

While he shakes his head at her offer of wine, Bucky helps (Y/N) bring the food over to the couch and plops down in the middle of the couch, Robin to his right and (Y/N) on his left.

“ What are we watching? “ he asks, a dumpling already on the way into his mouth.

“ Well, “ Robin responds filling her glass up once more, “ it was (Y/N)’s turn to chose so —”

“ A rom-com”

“ A rom-com. “

Something about seeing these two interact and joke around inspires a fuzzy feeling to wrap itself around (Y/N)’s heart. Even if they’re making fun of her.

The way Bucky fits in here, as if it’s where he’s always belonged. The way he’s not a stranger imposing but a friend added to the mix. It’s a nice feeling. She hopes he feels it too.

“ Okay, whatever. This isn’t your usual rom-com though, there are ghosts in this one. “

“ Is it ghosts falling in love?” Robin asks and lets her laugh get swallowed by her wine glass.

“ No. Well — uh kinda but not really. They fall in love be — you know what, just start the damn movie! “

There’s an undeniable intimacy in watching your favorite movies with other people. It’s like giving away little pieces of yourself and sharing them with others. No matter how insignificant it may seem to anyone else but you. These are the things that make us who we are. Our passions. For art. For music. For books. For movies. And opening up is always scary. Even if it’s just a teeny tiny bit.

Through the corner of her eye (Y/N) glances at Bucky and Robin, trying to judge their reactions. See if they’re enjoying themselves or not. Bucky displays his ever-present scowl. It’s the default setting. Sometimes she wonders if that has always been the case. If that's just what he looks like or if years of abuse, horror, pain have left their marks on him, on not only his heart but also his face.

Maybe this can be his safe place, she thinks. Maybe she can be. Not someone to fix him, because he’s not broken, just lost. Not to fix but to hold his hand while he heals. Slowly but surely.

For a while, the three sit in comfortable silence. The kind that fills you with this inexplicable calm. Where no words are needed.

And then the beginning chords of unchained melody spill from the tv speakers. It’s a touch there, a kiss here, hands covered in clay. Bodies covered in clay. Gasps and heavy breathing. Hands grasping skin, wandering, loving.

Robin’s presence falls completely to the back of (Y/N)’s mind. Bucky’s however...

“Do you want to have dirty sex with him? “ her friend's words ghost through her head like a particularly annoying jingle for some tv ad. The room feels warm all of a sudden. Not warm — boiling. There’s a heat radiating from her right, from Bucky. So what if he’s attractive. So what if she sometimes lets her mind wander and think about how his hands would feel on her skin or his lips on hers or his — yeah okay you get the point. So what?

Bucky slumps down into the couch a little more with every second of steamy pottery sex that’s fluttering across the tv screen. Is he — nervous? Uncomfortable ? No, she must be imagining it. Projecting, that’s what this is. She’s projecting her own chaotic emotional state onto him. There’s nothing there. (Y/N) has to remind herself. Just secret little thoughts that have to be kept between her and her. As long as no one knows, no one gets hurt. It’s the easy way out. The safe way. The right way.

Right?

“ Sooo, what did you guys think?” (Y/N) asks, turning her body towards her friends and sitting criss-cross on the couch.

“ Didn’t expect all the murder. “ Bucky replies as he takes a sip from his beer. “ And the — “

“ The messy sex! I know.” a visibly intoxicated Robin cuts in.

“ Not where I was going but okay.”

She doesn’t pay his words any attention, instead of launching herself backwards over the arm of the couch, dramatically fanning herself with her perfectly manicured hand. “ I am not going to lie, oh boy that was some hot stuff. Wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Oh please,” (Y/N) chimes in, wine glass clutched in hand and smile on her face. She can clearly feel the alcohol washing through her system bringing her to the place between sober and drunk where everything feels light and your confidence seems to get a little extra boost. “ What do you have to complain about? You’re getting married in two weeks! I’m sure you get enough action as it is. “

Robin doesn’t answer right away, just throws (Y/N) a giddy, boozed-up smile. Though in her eyes, there’s a loved-up glimmer of someone about to marry the love of their life.

“ Yeah, that’s true.”

“See, so you’re not the one that should be complaining. Us, however…”

Her red curls swing around her like a spark of fire as Robin sits up again, pointing her finger at (Y/N).

“ And whose fault is that? You could be getting some if you didn’t get so lost in your romantic fantasies. And him — “ the red-haired girl exclaims before pointing her finger towards Bucky “ don’t even tell me he ain’t getting some. Look at him! Are you sexually active, Bucky? “

“ You don’t have to answer that. Robin, come on.”

“ No, you don’t have to but you should. I’m trying to prove a point. Help me prove a point, Bucky. “

“ You’re making him uncomfortable. “

“ Am I making him uncomfortable or you? “

“ Ooookay, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. “

“ Nooo, we’re having a conversation. “

“ Would you look at that, my drink is empty. I’m just gonna — I’m gonna get another one. Okay? Okay.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer before getting up and rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen, clearly uncomfortable. Clearly embarrassed.

“ See what you did? You scared him off. “

“ I couldn’t scare that man off if I tried. Trust me. “ Robin murmurs, a loud yawn cutting through her argument. There’s a certain determination in her words though. Some truth hidden in there that (Y/N) can’t quite put her finger on. It’s like Robin knows something she doesn’t. And maybe it’s good this way. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

“ Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean, Tipsy. I’ll go see what he’s up to. You go the fuck to sleep.”

“ Whatever mom, “ Robin bickers and cuddles closer into the soft couch anyway. “ Oh, don’t forget to invite him! I like him. We’re friends now. “

“ Go to sleep! “ (Y/N) orders again, earning herself a salute from her best friend who starts snoring no more than 2 seconds later.

He feels like a 13-year-old. Actually — no. Things were easier at 13. Situations like this one were easier at 13. Being horny was easier at 13.

It was all new to him then, yes, but it was new for everyone at 13. He’s 106 now, a grown man. He should be able to talk or at least think about these things without turning into a full-blown mess. His hand is clammy, his face is probably the same shade of bright red as Robin’s hair. And by god, his thoughts are a jumbled mess, swirling around all over the place.

Truth be told, he hasn’t had a lot of time to actually think about anything even remotely physical. It was never very high on his list of things to figure out and the opportunity hasn’t really presented itself to him either. Not since the 1940s at least.

Have things changed? Surely not, right? Maybe people got a bit more experimental and for sure they talk more openly about it now but the fundamentals must have stayed the same. He sure hopes so at least.

His thoughts get interrupted as (Y/N) steps into the kitchen. Her eyes are slightly glassed over from the wine though she’s nowhere near as drunk as Robin. She seems happy, then again she always does. For a little moment, he feels jealousy wash over him. About being able to get drunk. It’s damn stupid, he’s well aware. But that doesn’t make his feelings less valid. To just drink and let go and forget, that sounds really nice.

But that’s just one of the things the serum has taken from him. By far not the worst aspect of it all but unpleasant either way.

“ Hey uh — you okay? “ she asks leaning against the kitchen island across from him.

“ Sure. Are you? “

“ I uh — might be a little drunk, “ (Y/N) confesses as she lifts her hand and indicates a tiny space with her fingers.

“ Yeah, I think you might be.” Bucky laughs. Actually laughing comes naturally when she’s around and quite honestly, at first, it made him feel guilty. Guilty about the fact that he got to laugh along with a pretty girl while so many people had to die through his hands.

He tries to push those thoughts away. They aren’t doing anyone any good. Not him and not those people either.

“ Hey, I’m sorry she was making you uncomfortable. She gets — well she has no filter when drunk. Or ever really.”

Bucky shakes his head. His finger nervously trails along the grain of the stone countertop. There are conversations he needs to have, sooner or later, if he wants to live his life. Not just coast along but actually live. But it doesn’t mean those come easy. Not for someone who’s been through all he’s been through. Not for someone who’s grown up the way he has, who’s been raised the way he has.

“ Ah, no. Don’t worry. I uh — I just. It’s been a long time since I had talks like this. “

“ Like what? “

“ Between friends, you know. About — stuff. “

“ About sex? “

“ Mmh. “

“ You don’t have to talk about it with us if you don’t want to. It’s fine. “

“ No, but I do want to talk about sex with you. I mean — not you, you. You both. But not in a weird way. I mean — with friends. “

“ Okay. “

“ It’s just that I was raised in different times and the last time I had a real actual friend that I talked to about intimate things was so long ago. Steve and I talked about everything and even then there used to be reservations. One because I don’t think Steve really wanted details and two because Steve wasn’t — he didn’t have the most experience when it came to women so it was a very one-sided conversation. And I’ve never talked about any of this with a girl. It’s all new to me but I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you. “

(Y/N) regards him with a glimmer of amusement and mischief in her eyes as she munches away on some cold leftover spring rolls.

“ You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Buck. I know you trust me, I hope you know I trust you. “

He does. And he doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him Buck.

“ So, Robin and Charlie are getting married in two weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to be my plus one. Back when they announced it I was under the impression Russel and I would be a thing by then but uh — clearly that didn’t happen. It’s in upstate New York. We’re all gonna stay at this gorgeous Inn and well there’s a spot open if you want it.”

“ As a plus one? “

No matter how much he wants to deny it to himself, his heart does a little flutter as she says those words. A plus one sounds like something. He’s not sure what but something, surely.

“ Yeah, as a friend, obviously. “

“ Obviously. “

There goes the flutter.

“ Robin is okay with it by the way. She explicitly told me to ask you.”

“ So Robin wants me there, not you. “

“ No! I want you there! I love spending time with you. Also, Robin’s family is crazy. I need you by my side. I need you there. I want you there. “

“The need to be needed is an individual’s sense of significance rooted in the sense of being part of a community or cause beyond themselves. The need to be needed is one of our fundamental desires. We want to feel significant in the eyes of others, even if it is only one other person. “

Bucky has read those words in one of the many magazines stacked on the little side table in the waiting room of Dr. Raynor's office. They didn’t really make much sense to him then. He always thought he’d be fine by himself.

In that moment he realizes that was all a big pile of absolute bullshit.

The feeling of being wanted, of being needed, even if it’s just one person that needs him, that means everything.

“ Okay, I’ll come. “

“ Yeah? “

And there it is again, the smile that reminds him of the sun. The smile that he’s sure could bring a thousand men to their knees, including himself.

“ Cool. I’m — I’m really happy about that. “

“ Mmh. Me too. “

For a moment they just look at each other, words unspoken swirling in the air between them, neither brave enough to let them slip from their tongue.

It’s not until a particularly loud snore coming from the living room pops the bubble and breaks the spell.

Both of them fall into giggles before Bucky speaks up again.

“ It's late I should probably go. “

“ Yeah and I should go to bed. I’ll have a hangover tomorrow for sure.”

Bucky slips into his leather jacket and places a soft kiss goodbye on Lady’s head before turning back to (Y/N).

“ For the record, I’m not getting any. “

“ I uh — okay. Good. Well not good, “ (Y/N) stumbles over her words “ not good for you. Good for me. I mean. Not that I don’t want you to have sex. But I mean, Robin was taking the piss, and if I don’t get laid it makes me feel better to know you aren’t either. Oh god, this sounds horrible. I’m just gonna stop talking now. “

Bucky smiles the brightest smile she’s ever seen him smile, it almost breaks his face in two. And even though she wants the ground to swallow her whole right then, if it puts a smile like that on his face, she’ll gratefully embarrass herself again.

“ Have a good night, (Y/N). “

“ You too, Bucky”

And with a kiss to her head, he leaves the flat, a smile staying on his lips the entire way home.

“ Why did I have to come again? This is a bachelorette party, I thought men aren’t allowed. “ Bucky grumbles as (Y/N) parks her truck in the parking lot of the convenience store. The pink and blue neon lights reflect on the wet asphalt.

“ It’s a shared party. We’re all friends so it makes sense for the couple to celebrate together. Stop moaning. “ (Y/N) exclaims as her heels create a click-clack sound.

The store is empty as they enter except for the bored-looking teenager leaning against the counter by the cash register.

There’s something about empty stores at night that makes it feel like time stands still. Like for a moment, reality is altered. There’s only you and the outdated music coming from the speakers and the hum of the refrigerators holding the soda cans.

“ I can’t believe Hannah forgot to bake the cake. It’s all she had to do. I did everything else, everything. She had one job. “

Bucky’s learned by now to just let her rant about this topic. It’s all she’s talked about for the last hours since Hannah, public enemy number one that day, has called her to inform her she’s forgotten about the cake. Why there needs to be a cake at this party, Bucky doesn’t know but hey, who is he to question it.

(Y/N) walks straight over to the counter that holds the bakery items only to be met with disappointment.

“ Well great. We can choose between one single cupcake, a box of stale donuts, and a croissant. “

“ What about this one? “ Bucky asks and points towards a bright pink cake decorated with candy roses and white icing.

“ It says Happy Birthday. “

“ Ah, don’t worry we can fix that.”

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows in doubt. “ You sure? “

“ 100%. Trust me. “

She regards him for a moment, uncertainty shining through, before granting him a little smile and a nod. “ Okay then. You get the cake, I’ll be over there for a second. “

Looking through the fridges, (Y/N)’s eyes fall onto a pack of popsicles in the shape of Captain America’s shield.

Ripping open the fridge door she calls out “ Hey Grumpy, would you like thes— “

All she hears is a smack and then Bucky’s voice exclaiming a loud “Fuck!”

And in that moment she doesn’t know what’s more shocking, the fact that she just slammed the door right into his face or hearing him swear.

“ Are you okay? I’m so sorry. “

“ I’ll be fine.”

“ We gotta put ice on it. “

“ No (Y/N) I — “

She’s already on her way to get a pack of frozen peas. And if Bucky is being real honest, his cheek does hurt quite a bit. Super Soldier Serum and all …

“ I am genuinely so sorry. “

Bucky sits on the bed of (Y/N)’s truck, frozen peas pressed to his face and a chuckle falling from his lips as (Y/N) sends yet another apology his way.

“ It’s okay, (Y/N). I told you, I’m fine. “

He pulls the peas away from his face and places them next to him, before picking up the cake and lifting the plastic lid off of the container.

“ Alright, let’s see if I can fix this. “

“ You have a bruise on your cheek. “

Bucky looks up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, that (Y/N) sometimes finds herself drowning in. Calm and story all at once. Like oceans.

“ Does it make me look rough and handsome? “

“ You’re always handsome. But yes, it gives you a roguish charm. “

“ Good. “

(Y/N) feels a heat rush to her face as Bucky focuses back on the cake.

“ Mmmkay. Let me see. What if we — “ Bucky murmurs, more to himself than to (Y/N). He swipes his finger, sans glove, over the white icing letters and while there’s a good intention there, when he lifts his finger back up the cake looks like a downright mess.

“ Ta-da “ he exclaims and turns the cake towards her.

“ It says Happy day now “

“ Is it not a happy day? “ Bucky asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Let me rephrase that. It says ‘Happy messy white stain Day’ “

Bucky pulls his lips into a grimace, eyes wandering from (Y/N) down to the cake and back to her. “ Yeah, we can’t bring that “.

Laughter fills the air as they regard the sad mess of a cake before them. If this was a movie, (Y/N) thinks, this would be their moment. The one where they realize. The one that feels like time stops and all that matters is them.

Something wet and sticky against her cheek pulls her from her daydream.

“ What the hell? “

Bucky only grins at her. There’s the boyish charm again. It’s so insanely endearing to see these little moments flare up and push through the perpetual gloom he seems to carry with him. He doesn't hold the weight of 90 years of fighting on his shoulders right then.

“ Oh you didn’t “

Before Bucky can react she grabs a handful of the cake and smashes it against the uninjured side of his face.

“ Is that how you wanna play it? Okay. Fine. “

Cake flies through the air as their laughter rings through the night. Not a thought wasted on pain, on worries, on heartbreak.

The rooftop bar (Y/N) booked specifically for this night is covered in fairy lights and glitter decor. There’s a karaoke machine in one corner and an open bar in the other.

A loud cheer sounds from the crowd as Robin steps out into the open, fingers intertwined with those of a petite brunette with big square glasses sitting on her nose.

They get swallowed by a tidal wave of people, pulled from one hug into another, and while his eyes stay with them, Bucky feels a touch against his metal arm. (Y/N) wraps herself around him leans her head against his shoulder and stares lovingly at the couple before them.

“ I’m so glad she’s happy. I love her so much. “

“ She loves you too. “ he says.

And really how could anyone not?

A little while later, when the crowd has allowed them to breathe again, Robin and the brunette wander towards Bucky and (Y/N), matching smiles on their faces.

“ Buck, this is Charlie, Robin’s fiancee. Charlie, this is my friend Bucky. “

“ It’s so nice to meet you,” Charlie exclaims, a strong English accent dripping from her words. “ What in the world happened to your face? Are you okay? “

While Bucky smirks, (Y/N) flinches at those words and shrinks into herself a little.

“ Oh you know, funny story. Someone here was a little too excited about some red white and blue popsicles. “

Robin lets out a loud laugh “ Now that sounds like someone I know very well. “

“ They were shaped like Cap’s shield, okay. I thought it was funny and fitting. “

Charlie’s eyes move between the 3, a look of confusion settling on her features.

“ Why fitting? “

“ Oh babe, let me catch you up,” Robin says and steers Charlie in the direction of the bar.

The night flies by and for the first time in so long, Bucky doesn’t feel out of place. Not for a single moment. Even being surrounded by people he doesn’t know and while listening to music he doesn’t get. It’s nice, feeling like you belong.

Robin and Charlie have just finished their karaoke rendition of Don’t Stop Believing when a familiar voice echoes from the speakers.

“ Hello guys, my name is (Y/N). You may know me, I’m the maid of honor. I am responsible for this party — you’re welcome. Anyway, I guess it’s my turn to sing tonight but I can’t do this one alone. I’m gonna require my friend, Mr. James Buchanan Barnes up on this very stage with me. “

Oh no. Definitely no. Not in a million years. No w—

“ Because this one’s a duett. “

Her eyes meet his across the way, shining with amusement, mischief, affection. Even across the dimly lit roof, her sunshine smile seems to light up the entire night.

“ I’m not doing it, “ Bucky says and shakes his head as Robin slides up to his side.

“ C’moooon. “

“ Nope. I probably don’t even know the song. “

It’s like the universe wants to make a fool of him as in just that moment Bill Medley’s voice sounds through the night.

“ I know you know this song. “ Robin says and nudges his side “ come on don’t make her do this by herself. “

“ I — “ he looks at (Y/N) again, with her sunshine smile and those expressive eyes and the buttercream stain on her shirt. And he doesn’t see fear or pain or regret. All he ever sees when he looks at her is happiness and fun and laughter.

“ Ugh. Okay. Alright. “

Cheers follow him as he steps on stage and (Y/N) hands him the second mic. Though it’s supposed to be a duett, (Y/N) doesn’t really care and sings both parts with unfiltered joy and unapologetic passion. And while it takes a moment for him to warm up to it, Bucky can’t help but let her enthusiasm light a spark in him too and by the time the pre-chorus hits he joins her in singing their hearts out.

“ You're the one thing I can't get enough of. So I'll tell you something. This could be looooooove “

New York comes alive with the promise of a better tomorrow. One where Bucky feels like he belongs. To a place or a group of friends or a person. A tomorrow where he can laugh with a pretty girl, have food fights in a parking lot, and sing some silly song at the top of his lungs.

Maybe the song isn’t all wrong. Maybe he’s having the time of his life. And maybe, just maybe, he owes it to (Y/N).

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynyierulez - @je-like-you - @dracoxxyoflam - @jackiehollanderr - @majo240820 - @kay-gilles -@booksb4looksstuff - @jckie94 - @charmed-asylum - @shawnie--jo - @yllwtaxi - @tailsoflightning - @giuliarogers - @mangoogirl - @gerim-1995 - @elen-alambil - @threeminutesoflife - @writeroutoftime - @buckybarn3s - @rosaline-black - @kenziekugler22 - @vghz82

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: mentions of blood

Word Count: 2541

—————————————

Chapter 13: The Day That Was

Allison placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder as she stared down at the paper. “Harold Jenkins?”

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” Diego asked as Five took one last gulp of the coffee, throwing the cup to the side afterwards.

“I don’t know… yet. But I do know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now.”

“But how is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Luther asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Wait, so you just know his name? That’s it?” Diego walked past his siblings to get closer to Five.

“That’s enough.”

“There’s probably dozens of Harold Jenkinses in the city.”

“We have no other choice than to start looking, then.” (Y/N) sighed. Both Diego and Five turned to her, the former annoyed and the latter grateful. Allison sighed.

“I’m sorry, am I the only one that’s… skeptical here?” As she spoke, (Y/N) heard Five grunt. Bringing her attention back to him, she saw him checking his right side. “I mean, how exactly do you know all of this about what’s-his-name?”

Five looked up at her, ticked that she’d already forgotten the name. “Harold Jenkins. You know those lunatics in the masks who attacked the house?”

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember those guys.” Klaus’s sarcastic remark made (Y/N) mentally wince. Diego turned to him, also sarcastic.

“Yeah, the ones that attacked us,” He turned back to Five. “While you were getting drunk.”

“Well, he actually got drunk after-”

“(Y/N).”

“Right. Sorry…” She looked down as Five rolled his eyes at his brothers.

“Yeah. Them. They were sent by the Temps Commission to stop me from coming back and preventing the end of all life on earth.”

“The Temps what?” Allison crossed her arms.

“My former employer. They monitor all of time and space to make sure that whatever is supposed to happen… happens. They believe the apocalypse is coming in three days. So I went to Commission headquarters and intercepted a message that was meant for said lunatics. “Protect Harold Jenkins”. So he must be responsible for the apocalypse…”

Five let the information sink in for his siblings, which lasted for a few seconds, before they all erupted into overlapping exclamations, voicing their confusion and such. (Y/N) really couldn’t be bothered to listen to them as she focused on Five, the boy checking his side yet again. She slowly approached him as Allison spoke, “And do you have any idea how insane this sounds?”

“You know what else is insane?!” His head shot up to her, the corner of his lip twitching. (Y/N) halted her tracks beside him. “I look like a thirteen-year-old boy! Klaus talks to the dead, (Y/N) also looks like a kid with several versions of herself walking around, and Luther thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat! Everything about us is insane. It always has been.”

“He’s got a point.” Klaus spoke up.

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it. For the next three days, anyway.”

“But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died,” Allison raised her brows. “Why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t (Y/N) and I go home to our kids?” Her last question made the girl flinch. Five’s eyes were set on the two mothers.

“Because this time, I’m here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys, we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people,” His gaze and voice softened. “Including Claire.”

Allison hesitated. “You know her name?”

“I do. And I’d like to live long enough to meet her. Michael and Jada, too.” At this, (Y/N)’s heart bursted and she was sure she would’ve cried right then, had they been in different circumstances. Allison nodded and moved forward.

“Alright. Let’s get this bastard.”

“You had me at Gerald Jenkins.” Diego spoke.

“Harold Jenkins.” Five narrowed his eyes.

“Whatever. I’ve already lost two people this week, I’m not losing anyone else.” His words made (Y/N) smile, proud of her siblings for actually committing to this. She followed her brother as he began out of the room.

“And Luther?”

“Yeah, you guys go,” Luther’s words made everyone stop and stare at him. “I’m gonna stay and go through Dad’s files. I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the moon.”

“Seriously?” Diego deadpanned. “Now you wanna make the end of the world about you and Dad?”

“No. ‘Watch for threats’. That’s what he told me. You think that’s a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow.”

“Luther, we can’t really do this if we don’t have everyone. And we don’t really have the time to talk about it, either. We need to go now.” (Y/N) sighed.

“Exactly, let’s roll,” Diego nodded. “I know where we can find this asshole. Klaus, you’re with me.”

Klaus raised his head from where he was laying down. “Yeah. I-I’m good. I think I’ll, uh,” He stood up and began to leave. “I think I’ll pass, I’m… feeling a little under the weather, so, uh…” He was stopped momentarily when (Y/N) gently grabbed his arm, her eyes asking him what was wrong. He used his other arm to pat her head as he freed himself from her grasp, continuing out. She sighed in defeat as she followed Diego and Five out of the parlor. At the entrance, she stopped and turned to her sister.

“Ally, you coming?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m coming.” Her eyes slowly left Luther before she walked beside (Y/N) out of the house. After climbing into the backseats of the car, the two got comfortable right beside each other. As Diego drove off, the sisters leaned against each other’s bodies. (Y/N)’s head was tucked between Allison’s shoulder and neck, the woman’s head resting atop her sisters. It had been such a long time in which they comforted each other for something that didn’t involve losing someone they loved, one way or another. (Y/N) felt a sense of normalcy for simply cuddling with her sister in peace. Well, as much peace as they’ll get for a while.

The two removed themselves from each other once Diego pulled up to the police department and turned off the car. “I know this Jenkins dude has to have a record. We just gotta get our hands on the file.”

“So, what’s the plan? Bat your eyelashes and say please?” (Y/N) raised a brow, leaning forward. Diego looked at her through the rearview mirror with a sarcastic smile.

“You know you get funnier everyday? No, I know the station like the back of my hand, little sis,” His snarky comment earned him a light slap to the arm. “I’ve spent a lot of time inside.”

“Arrested…”

“Whatever. Here’s the plan.”

“Plan?” Five furrowed his brows at his brother. “I’m just gonna blink in and get the file.”

“No, that’s not… You don’t know the ins and outs of this place, okay-”

“I literally just did this yesterday.”

“What?”

“Well… My yesterday, not your yesterday… It’ll take me two seconds. Why don’t I just go?”

As the boys continued to decide who did what, (Y/N) leaned back and let Allison wrap an arm around her. “Boys…” They both shook their heads, slightly smiling at each other. After the decision was made to let Diego be a hero or leader or whatever he was this time, the four got out of the car. Allison had mentioned that she needed to make a call, so she, Five and (Y/N) headed to the nearest payphone. As she spoke on the phone, Five leaned with his back against the building behind them. (Y/N) was attached to his side, her arms looped with one of his and resting her head on his shoulder. He hadn’t minded the contact, but he did notice how clingy she had gotten since he returned. She constantly watched him with careful eyes, asked him multiple times if he was okay, and always wanted to assist him.

His head turned to her before he whispered close to her ear. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you just… you seem different.”

“How?” She looked up with her brows knit together. Five wiggled the arm a bit that she held onto. “Oh… Yeah. I just missed you.”

He tilted his head at her. “I missed you, too…” And he meant it. These past couple of days have been filled with thoughts of (Y/N) for the boy. In the middle of dodging bullets shot by The Handler, going through multiple plans during his very small stay at the Commission, and playing the part of the obedient worker, his mind raced with thoughts of her. He never stopped wondering how she was doing, what she was doing, if she was thinking of him as well. It often distracted him and he’d get frustrated at himself. He’s already come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with her years ago. Why is this time any different? Maybe it was the way her thumbs gently rubbed the bicep of his sleeve or the way everything she did was so much more gentle. He wanted to think it was simply because she really did miss him, but he knew there was something more going on in that pretty head of hers.

As Allison hung up the phone, Diego rounded the corner to them. The teens lifted their heads and straightened their posture. “So?” Five watched as Diego raised a file in the air.

“You’re welcome.” He smugly smiled at (Y/N), who flipped him off as Allison snatched the file from him. They watched as she opened it and scanned the information inside, her eyes widening.

“Holy shit!”

“What?” Diego frowned. Allison held the information to them, a mugshot of the brunet Vanya had shown up with paperclipped to the file.

“Harold Jenkins is Leonard Peabody.” And with that revelation, only one thought crossed (Y/N)’s mind.

Ew.

-------------------------------------------------

Pulling up to Leonard Peabody’s house, the four got out of the car, walking through his lawn to get to the front door. Allison used her hand to block the sun from her eyes. “Be careful, okay? We don’t know what Peabody’s capable of.”

“Yeah, he didn’t seem dangerous when I first met him,” Diego replied. “Looked kinda scrawny.”

“Yeah, well, so are most serial killers and mass murderers. I mean, look at him.” She gestured to Five, who simply gave her a ‘thanks’.

“Good point. So what’s this guy want with Vanya?” He asked.

“I don’t know, why don’t we ask him after we kill him?” Five answered as (Y/N)’s eyes followed Allison, who ran to the back of the house. She looked between the boys and the direction her sister went before following the latter. Seeing her getting in through the backdoor, she smirked and cleared her throat. Allison quickly turned to her with wide eyes.

“You been here before, Ally?”

“Maybe once.” She cheekily smiled and opened the door. Stepping inside, they jumped a bit upon seeing Five already inside. He looked over when he heard the door open and close.

“Ah. So, we’re just waiting on our leader.” He gave a tight, close-lipped smile. Not too long after, the sound of glass shattering and someone groaning in pain could be heard. With a collective sigh, the three made their way to the front of the house, where Diego lay in shards of glass that were once a part of the door.

“Subtle.” Allison quipped as (Y/N) easily twisted the unlocked knob and opened the door.

“You know, the door was unlocked.” Five added as Diego painfully got up from the floor.

“Yeah, well, my way works just fine,” He strained through gritted teeth. “Spread out. Yell if you, uh… you know, you’re in trouble.” When he was out of the room, Five scoffed.

“Aspiring leadership.”

“One of the greats.”

“Love his work.” (Y/N) finished as she walked into the living room, Five right behind her. The boy glanced over his shoulder to see Diego was now in the kitchen. Figuring they were as alone as they could be, he joined (Y/N) at the coffee table, the girl looking through the papers stacked on top.

“Hey… You sure you’re okay?” He whispered, the girl not answering for a few beats.

“I’m fine, Five. Just trying to prevent an apocalypse like anyone else around here.” She joked. His concerned orbs didn’t leave her until Allison called for them to come upstairs. Quickly, the three bounded up the stairs and then the ladder that lead to the attic. The sight before her caused (Y/N) to fall dead silent. It was like an Umbrella Academy shrine. Old merchandise, posters, and figurines littered the room, only that wasn’t the unsettling part. All of their faces, even Reginald’s, were crossed out from the posters and burnt off from the figurines.

“This guy’s got some serious issues…” Diego quietly muttered. He and Five both muttered a ‘shit’, but the boy’s sounded more wavering. (Y/N) turned to see him breathing heavily and checking his side yet again.

“Five?” She whispered, gently holding his shoulder. His eyes were half lidded when they met hers and she began to panic. Just as Allison came to the conclusion that Vanya’s boyfriend was out for their family, Five fainted. (Y/N) yelped and caught him before he could hit the ground. Allison and Diego turned to them as the girl sat on her knees, letting the back of Five’s head rest on her thighs. Allison lifted his shirt to reveal the bullet wound in his side, blood seeping from it.

“Jesus, Five, why didn’t you say anything?” Diego widened his eyes. Five groaned as (Y/N) gripped one of his hands in hers.

“You have to keep going…,” He faintly whispered. “So… close…” His words trailed off when he fell unconscious. (Y/N) shakily inhaled as she gently patted his cheek with her free hand.

“Five? Five?! Five!” She screamed, tears filling her (e/c) eyes. “No, come on, Five! Stay awake!” She hit his cheek a bit harder, the boy’s eyes cracking open the slightest bit right before Diego and Allison both picked him up. She was close behind them and assisted in opening and closing doors. Once they were all piled into the car, with her and Five in the back, they began to drive off.

“The Academy…” Five muttered in his haze.

“W-What?” (Y/N) sniffled.

“We need to go to the house…”

“Five, we need to get you to a hospital! We don’t have Grace anymore.”

“The house, Diego…” Five demanded despite himself. Diego shook his head, but listened to his brother and changed the route to their house. (Y/N) sighed in frustration and glanced down at Five. He was drifting in and out of consciousness and she was right there to wake him up if he fell asleep. Her other hand gently ran through his dark strands as she tried to hold in her sobs.

Not this again.

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @narikyuwu @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @call-me-starstorm @rev-enviadhell

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 140

And here we have the last chapter of the Food Festival!  This is one part I was pretty excited to write - The Closing Costume Party.  I wouldn’t have been able to get this one squared away without @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog... Both of you caught a few things I didn’t that kept it from making sense from a reader perspective. So thank you both, very much.

I growled softly to myself as I twisted my arms behind my back to pull on my costume. Normally, I was more than flexible enough, but the amount of leverage I needed right now just wasn’t happening unless I was willing to seriously dislocate something. Dropping my hands, I frowned as I jiggled my arms a little to work feeling back into my elbows.

“You really should have fitted this sooner than now,” Conor laughed against the back of my head as he pulled the laces tight on the blood-red corset.  Getting one made while laying low and avoiding Hannah had been a nightmare, but it was going to be worth it. I just knew it.

“You just wanted to see me try this entire costume on sooner,” I joked as I felt everything fit snugly - but not too tightly - into place.

Maverick flicked a lock of my hair over my shoulder and positioned it just-so. “It’s not his fault that you couldn’t fit this over your scrubs and have it work for tonight.”

“Who wants to see a corset over scrubs?” I scrunched my nose at the thought while smoothing my sleeves and adjusting my collar. “So far so good?” I asked, slightly louder.

As a credit to their maturity regarding the matter, both men looked me over earnestly before glancing at each other. Conor finally broke the silence. “Aren’t the slits in the skirt a bit… high?”  Maverick whispered in his ear, and an expression of utter comprehension glowed on his face. “Oh! That’s… Love, that’s clever.”

I grinned hard enough to cramp my jaw. “Thank you.”  Despite how daring the outfit looked, there was exactly zero chance of any wardrobe malfunctions more serious than a hole in my stockings  - a near-indestructible nude bodysuit under everything made sure of that.

“Your turn, now,” Maverick insisted, eliciting a groan from Conor, who he had turned toward while brandishing eyeliner.

“Isn’t it bad enough I let the two of you do this?” He gestured at his hair, which was styled within an inch of his life and would sustain an EF4 tornado with minimal loss of glitter.

“Nope,” I popped, still smiling as I sat down to put on my boots.  Parvati and Hannah had envisioned tonight to be a sort of return-to-our-roots in a very feral, primitive way, complete with costumes. “We’ve been imagining since before we could cook,” Hannah had pointed out.  Between that and the multiple hints that I wasn’t capable of costuming myself, I had gone a bit more over the top than I had originally planned. Hence the corset, the boots, Conor’s hair… although the leather pants the guys were wearing had been decidedly Maverick’s idea and I resisted the need to fall at his feet in gratitude.

Once we were finally costumed, we managed to arrive just-fashionably late to the last hurrah of the Festival. I don’t know who gaped harder - us at the party, or the people who managed to recognize me when they saw me leading the men in. Parvati’s incredible, winding mural was noticeably weathered and patchy, giving the overall atmosphere a post-apocalyptic feel.  The only noticeable lighting came from the braziers, and deep, almost subsonic music thumped in my chest, driving my adrenaline just high enough to overwhelm my anxiety.

My nose led us over to the first stall of the night, the smell of charring meat fitting the tone. Per a previous discussion around our costumes, I did not reach for anything but instead Conor took my portion and fed it to me - his idea, this time, though Maverick had readily agreed. It was just enough to set off a few murmurs before I heard a familiar laugh cut through the air.

“Councillor Reid!” Jokul’s voice crowed, turning our heads his direction. Warmly, he clasped my hands when offered, trembling with the laughter he was trying to suppress. “This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

I took a moment to take in his fur trousers and tunic, with rough metal covering vital areas. “The dirt is a nice touch,” I offered, squeezing his hands in greeting. “And Ivan! Well done, sir!”

Ivan rubbed the freshly-buzzed back of his head and grinned. “He actually already had the furs, I just made the armored parts.”

“I meant all of it,” I admonished softly, waving at his work throughout the event.

“Antique, yeah?” Conor asked, gesturing to the furs both of them were wearing.

To his credit, Jokul scoffed. “Absolutely not. Quality synthetic.”

“Don’t let Hannah find out.”

A silver brow arched high enough to impress even Tyche. “Who do you think I commissioned?”

“Clever boy.” I winked at Ivan, eliciting a grin.

In response, Ivan did a runway-twirl, his fur kilt flaring just slightly. “What do you think, Councillor? Can I pull it off?”

With the cheekiest grin my soul could ever manifest, I stared him down. “I think I am the wrong person to ask that.”  Even in the dim light, I could see Jokul’s face turn bright red.

“I smell goat,” Maverick interrupted, entirely off topic and completely unabashed.

Ivan’s nose twitched. “Oh, you’re right!” Sniff, sniff. “And it’s on a spit! Let’s find it before it’s gone!”

With that, he snagged Jokul’s wrist and dragged him less like he was an easily two-hundred pound man and more like he was a kite.  When I snickered, my former enemy leaned over and murmured “I like the chains, very nice touch.”

I shook the wrist that connected to Conor’s belt and whispered conspiratorially. “Your idea, really.  You were so convinced I was leading the entire Ark like this…”

He had the decency to snort. “Seeing it in reality, I was a complete idiot. But it’s quite poetic, and I like it.”

“Poetic?” I asked as I tried to keep pace in the six-inch heels I had elected to wear.

“Are they chaining you down, or are you leading them by their gonads? Or, perhaps, are they saving you from yourself?” He gave a very pointed look at the delicate chains going from the shackles on my wrists to the links attached just above Maverick’s and Conor’s hips.

“Saving me, definitely.” My confession was unashamed and completely sober, the result of the primal music and smells surrounding me.

“Gods agree, someone needs to.”

I didn’t have time to argue before we arrived at the source of the enticing smell - a Jamaican barbecue vendor, who had oxtails, saltfish, and…

“Grilled goat!” Ivan crowed triumphantly. As he started handing out portions from the dancing, grinning vendor, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the portion he tried to hand to me was intercepted by Maverick first, and then fed to me rather than feeding myself.

“Not my idea,” I managed around an insanely delicious bite. “Swear.”

“Kink tomato,” he insisted, holding up his hands.

Conor almost choked laughing. “Not our kink either, mate. Just set dressing for the Queen over here.” Taking another bite, he winked at me.

“Ah, Conor’s idea then,” Jokul nodded sagely before erupting in the closest thing to a girlish squeal I could imagine coming from him. “Miss Harper, we’ve been looking for you!”

Shit, I thought to myself. I hadn’t thought of what Charly would say when I discussed this idea with Conor and Maverick, and I was just realizing it was a monumental oversight.  Plastering a smile on my face, I turned in the direction Jokul had shouted - 

Only to be confronted with what looked like a fox with antlers, a rakish Anansi, the Queen of the Dead, a blind healer, and… a walking shrine? I wasn’t sure what exactly Arthur was dressed as, but I could clearly identify a shabby tweed suit, his sword, a tome that I hoped was faux-moldy, breastplate, shin guards, along with various tchotchkes that looked like they came from high-schoolers and were a bit too beat up to be faked.

“Arthur, what are you?” I asked. Where anyone else would find it rude, I knew my bluntness would be either appreciated or ignored entirely.

“The Ghost of Classes Past.” He swept into a near-Shakespearen bow, gesturing at the bits and bobs that adorned him. “Humans protect, and we mourn those we could not to ensure they live on in memory.” The thump of the music did not change, but his costume gave it a sepulchral tone, like a dying heartbeat.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, the antlered fox bounced familiarly before looking at the Queen of the Dead. “You did a fantastic job on their costumes! They look amazing!” Her antlers were, of course, somehow illuminated from below, but damn me if I could figure out how.

Despite the fact that I knew damned well that Tyche wanted to erupt into laughter at the suggestion, she managed to, quite impressively, tamp it down to a savage smile of silver fangs and blood-red lips. Flapping a hand at myself, Conor, and Maverick, she gave her bell-like fake-laugh, fully in character. “Oh, I had nothing to do with this. Darling Sophia and her merry toys conceived it all on their own.  This is the first time I’ve even seen it, darling.” She turned to me, tipping her chin down in respect. “Well done, dearest sister.” Tyche was on peak display, with kohl lining her glowing grey eyes, a black bodysuit covering her from  collar to feet, fitted vest and cardigan vest, all partnered with a skirt that could be ten inches thick or ten miles of ribbon - who knew with all the darting and layers? Not me, but I was surely impressed with what looked like ten miles of black feathers flowing from her waist to her hips.

“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” I swept my leg back in a daring curtsy, forcing Conor and Maverick to smother their laughter at Jokul and Ivan’s faces.

“Ma’am! Ma’am ma’am ma’am!” Charly demanded as she pulled me upright. “You blushed at the concept of kink night, and here I find you leading your men around by their hips!”

I tossed my hair and winked at Jokul. “They aren’t being led, they are saving me from myself.” To Charly’s credit, I did look one deep breath from embarrassment - a black dress with red trim, sliced from floor to ribs and collar to navel, over what appeared to be just fishnet stockings and cavalier boots. The only thing, visibly, retaining any sort of deceny was the corset sealing me in the dress. To go with it, I sported chunky, silver cuffs chained to both Maverick and Conor. Ducking in, I whispered, “I probably will have to be cut out of this bodysuit, no worries on me flashing anyone.”

“Ooooo… well played, madam, well played,” she cheered, twirling me around, forcing both men to pivot with me, laughing, before  giving me a very concerned look. “How fucking tall are those?” This was clearly directed at my heels, which she was staring at like a shark presented with a steak.

“Six,” I admitted. “But I did pointe ballet for a little while, so… This isn’t that bad.”

Maverick ducked into the center of the circle we formed. “They’re a full size too big to allow for swelling and she has the toe boxes lined with impact foam.”

“How the hell else am I supposed to wear these things?” I asked with a glare that had him standing ramrod straight and barely restraining a laugh.

Tyche, to her credit, patted my shoulder. “While sitting.  Or, if you have to stand, with a platform in the toe.”

“No shit,” I hissed, setting the mummified healer doubling over in laughter. “But I’ve done enough damage to my feet, thank you, so… there may be foot braces involved.” One of which was currently digging in just in front of my heel, which I made a mental note to pass on to the development team.

A thick, French accent set me shaking my head when it came from the very-not-French looking mummy. “Well played, Sophia.  The sling and calf brace design I saw recently get approved by medical?”

I groaned as I realized that of course this was Antoine. Life and Death, forever partnered. “Yesssss,” I hissed. “Grey created the design.” I unzipped one boot down far enough to roll it below my knee, exposing braces above and below the kneecap before running further down. “The weight is distributed throughout the leg, before terminating across the front and back of the arch of the foot, to even out the pressure.”

I could almost see numbers whirling beneath the six-foot-plus candy-pink bowler hat. “That… sounds like it might actually be comfortable,” Coffey intoned. I couldn’t help but grin at the tilt of his hat and the feather arching behind him.

“More comfy than actual heels, yes,” I admitted before deflecting attention as far from me as possible. Which, considering how much weight was normally put on the ball of the foot in heels like this, wasn’t a lie…. “But we aren’t here for this! We’re here for food!”

Cheers erupted, and we set off dragging each other to what bits we had discovered.  The theme of the night was firmly set around protein, grilled if possible, with wicks of smoke dancing through the flickering light along with the thump of the music.  Some were spicy, others unexpectedly sweet. As I laughed, and ate, and sweated, and danced, I could freely admit that there was exactly zero percent chance that I would have imagined this in my wildest dreams. And even better? I could enjoy every second, every smell, every beat of the music. I made a point to wink at each camera I could spot, to the point that, first Tyche, and then everyone else felt the need to comically push down my thumbs-up and cover my face.

Clearly, Parvati and Hannah, who I hadn’t seen all night, were monitoring what they would later discover to be a flying pass on their final exam. 

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[tiarnanabhfainni]

Very liberal semi-practicing Irish catholic here. I always hear Americans say “Jesus take the wheel” when they get into shit and in my head I’m like ???? Jesus has better things to do???? Honey the person you’re after is st Jude. Jesus isn’t gonna do shit but st Jude? He is your guy. Your wingman. Your crisis control manager extraordinaire. Do you know how many times I’ve been shitting myself the night before an exam with not HALF the study I needed to to do done and just miraculously gotten through because of him? Too many for me to trust anyone else that’s for sure. And that was after not going to mass for at least six months. Don’t even talk to me about confession. Also at this point me and the man the myth the legend st Anthony have talked so much we are besties. (I think it’s kinda sweet that he’s just become a part of Irish culture nowadays. Like idk anyone who actually prays to him but it’s the first thing anyone ever says when you lose something. It’s instinctive.)

Same anon as before. I completely agree with what you’re saying about the insanity of it all and how many saints there are for EVERYTHING, including small parishes having multiple local saints. To me anyway, saints feel way less big and commanding than say, Jesus or god. They’re just funny little people who you can ask for silly little personal things that really don’t impact the world (or even your life) in a major way. Please don’t let it doesn’t rain tomorrow I’m going out with my friends. Please let me cook this without burning it, I want to impress my date. I’ve had a bad head-cold the last while, can you make it go away? I don’t really pray that much (at all) but I think of it as like how Dean prays to Cas. It’s casual. Jesus Mary and God are off doing Jesus-Mary-and-God-Things and tbh don’t really care if one of your cows dies while calving but St Catherine who lived in your village a century and a half ago sure as hell knows what that’s like and the struggles that come afterwards. So yeah you can bet your ass she’s gonna try and help! Anyway, sorry for going off in your asks OP but I think it’s really interesting how faith works, in that you build up this big god and saviour figure who loves all and will help everyone but the thing is you built him up too big and now he’s not approachable to the average person with average problems. A bit like Psyche. So people make up these smaller figures who they feel they can connect with more and use as a role model in their daily lives.

full cards on the table in that i am not particularly religious nor have my family been other than my grandparents but yes this is exactly what im getting at! like you really need to tailor your prayers to the right place or they’re not going to get answered. god’s getting a million calls from around the world and he’s supposed to differentiate between someone calling about their crops failing, someone calling about their car crashing and someone calling about their lost shoelace?? let the man delegate and address your prayers where they’ll do the most good.

love a bit of st anthony, man gets a full workout in this country.

but yeah in terms of the whole building up a god so big that now you can’t talk to him about the little stuff, i always think about that post where protestants treat god like their bestie and talk to him about every little worry in their lives while catholics treat god as a really intimidating boss of their company and shur look you wouldn’t want to catch his attention for the small stuff. better to go to a more immediate supervisor.

the main thing that amuses me about intercession though is how careful the catholic church have to be to make sure that they’re not promoting polytheism. like yes there are these minor religious figures who often have local pagan roots and yes you can pray to them and receive boons that you’ve prayed for. HOWEVER! it is not the saints themselves who are directly answering your prayers. they do not have any divine power in and of themselves. they are interceding on your behalf with god. i.e. since they’re buddies with god they’re going to pass on your request and therefore give it more weight. ask your supervisor to ask your boss kind of thing. but god is the one actually granting the request or else this becomes heresy.

now this is just the theological justification for it and most people just imagine the saint is the one answering the prayer in my experience but it does make the role of the saints in heaven exceedingly funny to me personally. just a giant switchboard in the sky and god’s sitting in his office with a cigar waiting for st anthony to transfer the call.

[redhoodieone]

Wrong Number Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2! Uh…I don’t really know what to say other than…enjoy it! Hopefully, I can post Part 3 sometime next week.

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Text Message Nudes, and Mutual Masturbation.

I’m in complete shock. I know I’m frozen because I can’t literally take my eyes off the text message Jason sent to me. It’s clear; it’s in black and white, staring right at me.

Do you ever think we’ll meet each other?

He wants to meet me. Jason wants to meet me in person!

I want to text him back, but my mind is full of many ridiculous questions and the fears of Jason being a serial killer, or rapist, or just an insane Arkham escapee blows up in my head.

Before I knew it, I see the three bubbles on my screen.

I’m sorry. That was selfish of me to ask you that even though we’re still practically strangers to each other. Forget I asked, please?

My heart suddenly hurts like fuck. The pain I’m instantly feeling is very familiar. A broken heart?

It’s pure agony when I notice Jason texting me again.

I’m not going to be able to text tonight, sweetheart. I’m working late with my brothers. I’ll text you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams.

I can’t believe I did this. How could I do this to a guy who’s been so funny, so sweet, and such a good friend in only just four days through text messages?

I seriously fucked up. And now I have no one to talk to until I fall asleep.

And as strange as it is, I only sleep well after I talk to him.

 ————————————————————————------------------------------

And true to his word, Jason texts me at five in the morning, only to let me know he made it home safe after working with his brothers.

We only spoke about our jobs once. He told me he works alongside police officers and tracks down criminals and helps brings justice to the city. He seemed almost hesitant to tell me and turned the conversation to me as if he doesn’t like talking about work. He made it clear that he would rather keep his work private, and I didn’t push him to tell me more. I didn’t want to ask a lot of questions, even if I’m sometimes curious about it, because I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable about it.

I had told him I’m a waitress at the local diner just a block away from GCPD, and how I’m a late-night writer who dreams of publishing my novel on love and loss. And after I confessed about the book I wrote to Jason, I noticed he was very enthusiastic about that and even told me he wants to read it.

And as the shy and insecure person that I am, I became embarrassed and said no.

That only fueled the fire between us. Jason went on to explain he loves to read. His favorite literature consists of Shakespeare (particularly Hamlet), George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm, and even poetry from Edgar Allen Poe.

He even went into depth of how The Tell-Tale Heart mirrors his own reflection of life and stuck with him during a depressing time in his life.

It wasn’t until after we shared our love for literature that I found myself falling for Jason. As ridiculous and insane as that sounds, I couldn’t help but feel as if he’s the missing piece in my life.

It’s as if he’s the words to my story.

Important, but very valuable to a writer.

I was basically on a high that had me grinning like an idiot, giggling like a moron, and jumping in my seat as my stomach twists and turns like a roller coaster, when Jason refused to take no for an answer after I said he couldn’t read my novel. He even said his dad has connections to businesses in Gotham and could even help me get it published.

As much as I would want that, I couldn’t help but feel that it seems too good to be true. What if his dad took my novel and publish it as his own? What if I get cheated out of a contract and didn’t get paid fairly like I should? What if it’s basically a soul-sucking scam to just fuck my entire life up?

Jason must have sensed my hesitation after that, because he then began to tell me about his brothers.

How his older brother Dick still treats him like a kid, even though Jason is taller and stronger than him.

How his younger brother Tim is a computer nerd and often geeks out over the oddest things.

And how his youngest brother Damian is really a demon spawn, who tries to be tough shit, but is really a soft teddy bear.

He even has a sassy but wise butler, Alfred, who frightens him and sometimes reminds him of Vito Corleone from The Godfather. But the older man loves Jason as much as his dad, Bruce.

The stories about Jason’s family are the best. I always find myself excited to see what he texts me about his family.

How he and his brothers fight over their dad’s car, how they wrestle and spar to see who’s the strongest one, and how whenever one’s in trouble, the other three are already finding ways to save or bail the troubled one out.

It all makes me feel good to know they’re a close family. Especially when my cold, harsh reality reminds me I don’t have a family.

My parents died when I was just fifteen years old. I was in the school library alone during afterhours; reading on a beanbag chair because I didn’t want to go home. At that particular time, my parents were hanging around a different crowd. A crowd that was into drugs and gambling, and possibly other illegal activities I don’t even know about.

So, I chose to stay in the school library that night, sitting in my favorite beanbag chair the librarian allows me to use, reading a favorite horror book, munching away on a hot pocket (a snack also from the librarian), and just enjoy the silence but comfortable environment I would call home.

Then I was told they died in a car accident, but after eavesdropping on Commissioner Gordon and the other cops, I heard there could have been a hit on them.

The car accident happened only a block away from our apartment.

The brakes were cut.

The car was burning too much oil.

The airbags were taken out.

Many noticeable factors couldn’t pinpoint the real crime. Eventually, they just called it a “car accident”, and everything fishy about the case was ignored and never brought up again.

I suffered and struggled a lot in foster homes until I turned 18. I didn’t have any other family members to get into contact with, so I had to make do with the foster care system. After being shipped to three unstable and cruel homes, the last family only dealt with me until I turned 18 and I was soon kicked out. I did get lucky enough to get a job at the diner I’m working at since the new manager needed a pretty young girl to serve the customers.

I even went to Gotham Community College for a year but dropped out when I couldn’t pass any math and science classes.

It was fucking hard.

Science was confusing as hell.

Math was just evil and useless.

I hated those classes so much.

I only passed my English classes because reading and writing only made sense to me.

I even took a creative writing class and poetry class only to discover I want to write.

I want to be a writer.

So, I dropped out of college and decided to work full time at the diner as a waitress. Since no one wants to live and work in Gotham, I’m lucky enough to work morning and night without any issues. As dangerous and scary Gotham can be, I have nowhere else to go, so that’s why I stay here.

Maybe that’s why I’m eager to meet Jason. After everything I’ve been through, maybe I do need a little unpredictability.

Chances.

Risks.

The more I consider meeting Jason, the more I can imagine him being my family.

Or being a part of his.

Maybe.

 ————————————————————————--------------------------------

“You’re not going to meet him, right???” Stacey raises her voice at me in sheer annoyance and panic. She crosses her arms and glares at me to answer her. “Right, Y/N???”

I sigh as softly as I can while wiping down the booths and tables for the night. In the midst of a battle, I find myself growling with irritation when I can’t wipe away the sticky maple syrup spills on the hard surface.

“He could be a fat, old man who picks up on teenage girls! He’s probably some 40-year-old loser who still lives on his mom’s basement playing Street Fighter with kids! What if he tricks you into meeting up in a hotel room and has his way with you? Then what, Y/N?! Does that sound like a good idea to you?!” Stacey snaps.

I exhale deeply and stand up straight; after leaning over the table to reach the opposite side for some time. Turning around, I face Stacey Patterson, a tall, petite, pretty blonde, fresh face girl straight out of high school. She’s a waitress like me, and after only working here for a year, we’ve become close friends; always looking after each other in dangerous Gotham City.

“I didn’t say I was going to meet him, Stacey. We’re just talking about it,” I answer timidly.

Despite being five years older than Stacey, she still intimidates the hell out of me. Whether it’s her 5’11 height, loud voice, or natural evil glare, I can never speak up or defend myself. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t take a stand.

Because what if I actually piss her off? What if she stops being my friend?

Because I don’t think I could live in Gotham and not have any friends and not know anyone.

Stacey is like my best friend, and her friends Amber and Holly hang out in our group. Stacey even says they’re my friends, too, even though I clearly know they only put up with me because of her.

And if Amber and Holly aren’t my friends, then I’ll just have Stacey. And if I don’t have Stacey, I’ll only have Jason.

And who knows if Jason is who he says he is, and if he’s even real.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You’re totally thinking about Jason! You’re thinking about meeting up with him because I could see it in your eyes!” Stacey declares. She waves her arms around to emphasize her point. “You like this guy! You have feelings for a guy you’ve never even met!”

“That is not true,” I argue weakly.

“Yes, it is! And we don’t even know if it’s a guy!”

“Jason is a guy, and I can tell!”

“Oh, really? How? Do tell.”

I stare at Stacey with a serious expression, except my cheeks are burning with embarrassment as usual. “He...comes off like a guy. I know he is. I can tell through his text messages,” I say.

“Anybody can sound like anyone through text messages. That’s how people catfish victims online!” Stacey argues.

“I’m a writer, Stacey. I just...have a feeling, okay? I know Jason says who he is, and I believe him,” I say strongly, as I push a lose strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m doing this the smart way, too. When he and I decide when we should meet up, I’ll let you know. Maybe we can make it a group thing. I bring a friend. He brings a friend.”

Stacey sighs in defeat when she realizes I’m not backing down. She glances up at me with a stern face. “Fine. When you two decide when you’re both going to meet up, I’ll be there. I’ll be there to make sure he’s not on America’s Most Wanted, and to make sure he doesn’t try to lure you to his mom’s basement. BUT...you have to go on a date. A REAL date with a guy we both know, AND who could be good for you,” she states loudly and clearly.

“But Stacey-”

“Hey! Only until this Jason guy comes to Gotham and we meet him! Until then, I want you to give this guy a chance. A fair chance! For me...please???” Stacey pleads. She pouts and gives me her puppy dog eyes, which she knows I always give in to.

I’m too nice. Mom always said I was too nice, and that one day it’ll get me in trouble.

I’m still wondering when that’ll happen.

“Okay, I’ll give this guy a chance. I swear I will,” I promise and salute her. “But who’s the guy?”

Stacey grins in success and hugs me tightly. “Good! Because you’re like my sister, Y/N, and I just want to see you happy. You deserve it,” she says softly. “And it’s Chace. Remember him? He’s the drummer from, WakeHell. He moved in right next door to me, and I know you two will hit it off right!”

Chace????

Oh yeah. I know him.

He’s a total bad boy. A bad boy I don’t even think I could deal with.

I force a smile but then frown, because the only guy in my life who makes me happy is Jason.

Who I only text.

Who I haven’t even met.

 ————————————————————————---------------------------------

The next day is a lazy day since it’s my day off. I spent the majority of it sleeping, doing laundry, and just doing minor cleaning around my apartment until it’s 9:00 P.M.

And Cruel Intentions is on TV.

Lying on the couch with my second glass of Vodka Cranberry, I find myself really buzzed and horny. Ryan Phillippe back then was hot, and him making out with Reese Witherspoon is doing things to me.

My phone bings. It’s Jason.

What are you up to tonight, sweetheart?

Just a night in, a cup of glasses of vodka and cranberry, and Cruel Intentions is on TV.

I barely realize I’m buzzed and texting Jason. But my horny side doesn’t care.

I sorry I’m buzzed right now lol.

LOL no worries. I just came back from the bar with my brothers. We had a successful night and decided to get some drinks. We even had Tim and Damian use fake I.D’s.

I laugh and snort. Thank God no one heard me do that.

That’s good...we wouldn’t want Tim and Damian to be left out. They’re your baby brothers, Jay.

Jay? I really like it when you call me that. And I especially like you buzzed. LOL.

I like me buzzed too! I think I’m way more fun and free!

LOL!!! Exactly, princess!

I smile down at my phone. I love it when he calls me princess.

You said you’re watching Cruel Intentions? I just found it on TV. Wow...this movie’s old LOL.

Shut up!!! I find young Ryan Phillppe sexy in this movie!

You seriously find him sexy??? The guy’s a whiny brat! A pussy! Fuck, this movie woulda been sexier if we actually saw the douchebag eat out Cecile and saw him fuck Annette AND Kathryn!

I gasp out loud and giggle.

Then it would have been a porno! Not a movie! Hahaha!!!!

That’s fine with me, princess!

I softly whimper at just the thought of Jason watching porn. Closing my eyes, I imagine how he would sound, touch himself, and look when he’s pleasuring himself.

My eyes shoot open when I hear Sebastian telling Cecile he wants to kiss her…down there. I quickly turn my attention to the TV and watch the movie. Even though he takes advantage of a clueless, drunk girl in the movie, just the thought of him eating her out makes me clench my thighs.

It’s been too long. WAY TOO LONG!

The last guy I was seeing didn’t like to eat me out; claimed it was disgusting and unnecessary to do before sex.

As if sucking his dick was glamorous AND fun!

My thoughts are interrupted when Jason texts me.

You’re quiet tonight…does this scene turn you on???

The laughing emojis he texts me should hurt my feelings since I can easily be embarrassed over sexual things but…he’s right.

I’m turned on with just the thought of getting eaten out.

I boldly text Jack back. Unashamed and VERY buzzed.

You have no idea. Just imagining him eating me out, writing the alphabet with his tongue, and making me have an explosion is making me wet my panties right now.

I laugh to myself just seeing that Jason read my text message and is responding fast. The texting bubbles have never looked so good.

You’re…you’re wet right now????

Yes. Soooo fucking wet.

A surge of drunken confidence hits me, and I quickly shove off my pajama shorts until they’re on the floor. In just my white tank top and pink panties, I bravely slip my fingers into my damp panties and rub the wetness against my sensitive clit.

And with my other hand, I raise my cell phone and snap a picture of fingers in my wet panties.

And I send the picture to Jason.

I bite my lip in anticipation when I see he read my text message and saw my picture. The texting bubbles do not appear on the screen. He’s not texting me back.

Frowning, I wonder if I freaked Jason out. Maybe I crossed the line. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just not sexy.

Suddenly, my phone beeps. Unlocking my cell phone screen, I see two text messages AND a picture.

Oh, fuck sweetheart…that’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking sexy…

Jason sends me a picture of him wearing his boxer briefs, and his hand holding his hard, thick cock, showing me the outline and shape of his boner.

Delicious. I can feel my pussy clench just from imagining Jason fucking me with his cock.

Fuck doll...you’re doing this to me.

I whimper pathetically and can’t help but continue to rub my clit and respond back. I can see my juices staining my panties.

Are you touching yourself too?

Fuck yeah. Just seeing your fingers playing with your wet, pretty pussy got me hard. I’m jacking off to your picture.

Would you want me like I want you?

Fuck yes, sweetheart. I probably want you more than you want me.

I slip a finger inside my pussy and moan. My thumb runs fast hard circles on my clit, and I’m soon pushing in two fingers. I’m fucking myself crazy, but I imagine Jason is finger fucking me because my fingers wouldn’t get me off so fast.

And his fingers are thick. His hands are fucking huge!

I bite my bottom lip. “Fuck...I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I whisper to myself. I snap another picture of my fingers shoved in my pussy, and how I’ve gotten wetter. I send him the picture with the truth.

I need to cum so bad. I wish it was you touching me.

Yeah? What would you want me to do to you, doll?

Fuck that picture’s so hot.

I’d want you to finger me. Eat me out. Fuck me hard.

Jason sends me another picture of him stroking his cock but with his hand in his underwear. I can see a wet spot where his tip is; stained with his precum. I want a taste of it so badly.

Fuck I would baby. Your pussy looks so good enough to eat. I’d fucking eat you out until you can’t cum anymore. I bet you taste delicious.

Oh fuck…I’m so close. I want your cock so bad, Jay. You’re gonna make me cum…

Rub your clit harder baby. Fuck your pussy fast and hard with your fingers. Imagine they’re my fingers, baby. I’d fuck you so hard and deep. 

I want to see your cum, okay? Take a picture of that pretty pussy and show me what I did to you.

I do what Jason says. Behind his words, I can feel his authority. Even though I can’t hear Jason’s voice, just reading his words makes me burst like fireworks. My thumb rubs my clit harder, and I crook my fingers just right until I push against my g-spot until I cum. My orgasm is intense, and I force myself to snap a picture of my soaked underwear and fingers. I sent it to him with a lazy smile.

My phone beeps. Jason sent me a picture of his thick, juicy, cum covering his abdominal muscles. I smile a little with pride. 

Fuck that was hot, sweetheart. I needed that. 

Me too. Now, I’m sleepy. 

LOL, I’m tired too. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.  

Okay…goodnight Jay.  

I roll over onto my side and shut off the TV. Pulling my UGG throw blanket over my body, I snuggle up to fall asleep. My phone beeps again. Opening one eye, I reach over to read the text message. 

Goodnight doll. Sweet dreams.  

[volturialice]

me: i’m not gonna write any more of the drugged!human alice au

also me:

it has a title now too I guess. posting in a huge rush because I was supposed to be out the door ten minutes ago, so it’s even more unbeta’ed than usual. oh well

2,180 words

warnings: drugs, discussion of date rape, vomiting

rating: T

pairings: jalice

part 1 here

perihelion 2/?

It’s hard to tell visions from dreams. Sometimes, Alice doesn’t know which is which until a vision is coming true right in front of her, and then it’s like, okay, too late to do anything about this now. It means all of her dreams are high stakes—any nightmare could become a life-ruining disaster, any good dream could be made or unmade real by some hidden catalyst she doesn’t know about. She’s pretty sure she almost bombed the PSAT because she didn’t wear the blue top she had on in the dream where she scored a 189.

But her inability to tell the difference was never that big of a deal until Forks—until she started dreaming about the Cullens, and Jasper specifically. She wishes she could tell which of the Jasper dreams are real. They’re just so…well, horny. If Alice knew they were visions, and not her subconscious making a complete, desperate idiot of itself, she could be less embarrassed about the whole thing.

Tonight she dreams of Jasper and Rosalie in a room with green walls and shiny wood floors. They’re different in the dream, somehow—more still. Rosalie doesn’t sit. Jasper doesn’t blink.

Between them, an open doorway gapes into darkness. Just visible in the room beyond is the silhouette of a prone figure on a bed, unmoving. They watch it for an uncomfortable amount of time before Rosalie speaks.

“If she were any other human, I would have hunted you for sport, you know.”

“I know,” says Jasper, sounding impossibly old and tired.

“I would be off absolutely wrecking your shit right now, and then I would take care of the liability, because that’s how it works in this family. But she’s…this.” Rosalie grimaces, gesturing to the figure on the bed. “And why was it you told us you were following her, again? To ‘ensure her silence?’ Right,” she scoffs, evidently too disgusted with Jasper to keep looking at him.

“She hasn’t said anything. She won’t.”

“No, she won’t, because you’ll stop her at all costs, will you?”

Jasper’s face doesn’t betray the slightest twitch, but his eyes harden almost imperceptibly. “Not that way.”

Rosalie whirls back around. “You were supposed to be the one person I could count on to do what’s necessary! And now you’re telling me you won’t? Listen to yourself!”

Jasper throws up his hands. “Why are you here, then, Rose? Why are you helping her?”

“I’m helping you, you jackass! I know you all think I’m this narcissistic bitch, but I’m not…not inhumane, okay?” Rosalie levels a contemptuous glance at him, then looks away. “I don’t want some girl to be date-raped, however dangerous she is. And I’m not about to sit by and watch you make a complete mess of things.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think that ship may have sailed,” grumbles Jasper.

“I’ll say. I drive up and she’s going on about how you’re stalking her and claiming you’re dating? She should have been killed the moment she figured out what we were, but instead you’re following her around protecting her because of some bizarre psychic connection she claims you have? Make it make sense, Jasper.”

“Edward confirmed her ability is real.”

“Great, so she’s a bigger freak than us. That makes it all ok,” snaps Rosalie, dripping with sarcasm. “Wonderful to know your abysmal taste in women hasn’t altered after all these years.”

Jasper ignores both the jab and the implication. “Earlier you made it sound like you were on her side.”

“I just think you ought to admit what’s really going on here. You won’t let us kill her—fine. It’s utterly irresponsible and stupid, but I can accept that. But it’s not like we can allow her to keep existing out there as a human, knowing what she knows.”

Jasper barks out a humorless, incredulous laugh. “Are you advocating that we should have Carlisle change her? You, Rosalie Hale, want to ‘take away her humanity?’”

Rosalie shrugs. “I’m not saying she wouldn’t be better off dead. But she’s not a very good human, is she? I gather she’s not exactly thriving. They have to pump her full of drugs just to keep her functional, and her human peers still think she’s insane. Be realistic. Her life was over the moment she learned the truth about us.”

Jasper’s only response is a slow shake of his head, like he still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Rosalie’s eyes narrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about changing her. Don’t tell me it wasn’t your first thought, when you realized you didn’t want her dead. I may not be the mind reader in the family, but I know that’s a lie.”

It takes Jasper a beat too long to answer. “Of course I’ve thought about it.”

“Not enough, apparently. Right now, we’re in as much danger as she is. If she were one of us…well, her life is already ruined anyway. At least then we’d have her oh-so-special ability on our side.  Surely you can see the strategic advantage,” Rosalie rebukes. “Better Carlisle changes her than the Volturi. Has it occurred to you that if they ever find out she exists, the decision will be taken right out of your hands?”

“It’s not in my hands.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes again. “Hers, then.”

He sighs. “The possibility did occur to me.”

“You think she wants to learn Italian and live in a sewer? Eat tourists?”

“I have no idea what she wants.”

Rosalie laughs. “Right, because she’s playing it so close to the vest. She called you a simp. Do you know what that means?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“Funny how you never want to confide in anyone, yet here we are.”

Jasper’s look says that isn’t what’s going on here, but he doesn’t respond. They settle back into tense silence.

“What are you going to do about the man? The one who drugged her?” asks Rosalie after a while.

“Eliminate him. Quietly.”

Rosalie nods. “Carlisle won’t like it.”

“He doesn’t have to.”

“Can you actually do it, though? Without slipping?”

Jasper doesn’t answer, which is an answer in itself.

“I could do it.” Rosalie’s voice is quiet.

“It’s not your problem.”

“Exactly,” Rosalie insists. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me. If you slip…well, we may not have to move, but you won’t be able to come back to school for months. Going to trust the rest of us to babysit your human?”

“I won’t slip,” says Jasper, but for the first time, he sounds uncertain.

Alice’s dream chooses this moment to blur and shift. Jasper and Rosalie melt away, voices distorting until they’re drowned out by other voices, other sounds and images that crowd in and pull at her, like being tossed around in a rough ocean. They come one after another, too fast to make sense of them—muddy tires, a burst of cut-off music, a slow, dark ooze crawling over pavement, an echoing splash. Familiar red eyes, looking down at her.

Then Alice is awake, and the eyes looking down at her are black. Wait, no. There are no eyes looking down at her. It must have been part of the dream.

She’s lying on something soft—a bed. Above her is a white ceiling. Her head throbs with a confused, cotton-y ache, and her mouth tastes disgusting.

What the hell happened? Alice isn’t great at piecing together chronological sequences at the best of times. She remembers being in Port Angeles…splitting up with Bella in order to meet her friends from the art show at a bar, and then…people talking, her legs sticking to the green leather barstool.  The lights getting blurry around the edges, the cool, slippery feel of condensation from the glass in her hand, and…oh. Oh, shit. Jasper.

Jasper had been there. The last thing she can recall is Jasper approaching, his face twisted in rage so murderous that she’d thought, huh, I guess he really is a vampire.

She rolls over and—speak of the devil—there he is, standing kind of a weird distance away, halfway between the bed and the door. He looks far less murderous than she remembers.

“Good morning,” she croaks, struggling into a sitting position. “Um. Where the hell am I?”

“Port Townsend,” says Jasper, which means absolutely nothing to her. She’s only been in Forks a few months—is she seriously supposed to know Washington geography?

To Alice’s immense relief, she’s still fully clothed. She does a surreptitious check to make sure her boobs aren’t falling out of her shirt, and when she looks back up there’s a glass of water in front of her face. She takes it and chugs the whole thing down in a few gulps. Why does she feel so hungover? She had only had, like, two drinks last night. Certainly not enough to make her black out and forget the whole evening. No, this big, empty gap in her memory feels more like when they used to drug her at the hospital. In fact, it feels exactly like that.

Jasper takes the empty glass from her and hands her another full one. He’s still watching her in a way that makes her want to squirm and fidget. Why had he been so angry last night?

She chugs the second glass of water while her sluggish brain tries to add it all up. Angry Jasper plus no memory plus waking up in a bed in a strange place, equals…yikes. Maybe she shouldn’t be drinking whatever he hands her.

“Uh,” she taps her fingers against the empty glass, “why do I feel like I’ve been roofied?”

“Because you were. Here,” says Jasper, handing her something else. Her own phone, somehow fully charged. One new voicemail, from…herself.

Future Alice, this is Past Alice. You’re probably pretty freaked out right now, but it’s okay! Jasper didn’t drug you. I repeat, Jasper did not drug you. Be nice to Rosalie; she’s there to help. Now put the phone down, you’re about to hurl. Bye!

Alice has just enough time to think, Rosalie? before a violent wave of nausea hits and she’s throwing up into the waste bin that appears in front of her face. “Ugh,” says the person holding it, and sure enough, there’s Rosalie.

There’s something extra humiliating about throwing up in front of two vampires, one of whom she kind of has a thing with and the other of whom is his super-hot sister who hates her. Thankfully, her stomach was empty except for the two glasses of water.

Rosalie blurs out of the room—damn, she’s fast—and reappears without the waste bin. It’s weird being on the bed while Rosalie and Jasper are standing, so Alice gets to her feet, already feeling way better. “Whose house is this?” she asks.

“Mine,” says Rosalie, practically shooting laser beams of resentment from her eyes.

“You wouldn’t let us take you home or to the hospital,” explains Jasper. “This is Rosalie and Emmett’s beach cottage.”

“Cottage” seems like the wrong word for this place, now that Alice gets a look at it. It has eight- or nine-foot ceilings and the view out the window—a vast, gray body of water that might be the ocean or some kind of bay—looks like a default computer desktop.

“Oh. So, then…someone else drugged me last night?” She tries to remember who she was talking to before Jasper came over, but she’d talked to so many people at the bar that they all kind of blur together in her head.

Jasper nods.

“Like we’d ever need to drug you,” says Rosalie. Oh, right. Vampires.

“So you just…watched me sleep?”

“Yeah, it was riveting. I had no idea snoring like a lawnmower was a side effect of rohypnol.”

So Alice was supposed to be nice to Rosalie, huh? Easier said than fucking done.

Something pushes at the back of her mind—Rosalie and Jasper watching her sleep. She, Alice, had watched them watching her sleep—from outside her own body. A vision, then, and not a dream.

She tries to remember the rest of it on the drive back to Forks, staring out the back window of Rosalie’s BMW like a kid with the two vampires up front. There had been something else in the vision, something besides the disjointed set of images. Jasper and Rosalie had talked about her, about whether or not she should be a vampire. She sneaks a glance at Jasper in the car mirror, at his downcast, shadowed eyes. Had he ever actually said whether he wanted Alice to be a vampire or not?

His eyes snap up to meet hers in the mirror, so suddenly she almost jumps. Alice looks away, guilty for no real reason. The vision, think about the vision.

There had been something else in it: a plan. They were going to…something. Something about slipping, something Rosalie thought she could do better than Jasper…

Right. They were going to kill someone.

.

.

rosalie @ human bella: noooo don’t become a vampire you’re so fertile aha

rosalie @ human alice: yeah nobody’s impregnating this little gremlin. bite away

[hellsbellschime]

idk if you already have one (if you do link pls), but could you do a meta on how dany and sansa compre as rulers?

Well shit, honestly I know my inner Sansa stan is going to come out here and it’s going to sound like I hate Dany. However the fact that I love Dany as a character doesn’t negate the fact that she was an absolutely terrible leader, and I feel like the fact that every time she was in a situation (typically one of her own making) that was too difficult to handle her reaction was to essentially toss up her hands and say “soz guys this isn’t working out, DEUCES” is pretty irrefutable proof that she was just an absolutely awful queen. 

This might seem minor in the grand scheme of things, but one of the earliest learning experiences for both Sansa and Dany I think represents how they learn and behave towards everything going forward. For Sansa, the riot is a huge turning point for her. She’s already been abused and mistreated on a level she’s never experienced before, but she genuinely can’t understand why some men she’s never met before wanted to rape her and likely kill her. The lesson that she learns here seems to be that, regardless of the fact that in the moment Sansa is completely powerless, as a member of the ruling class she has more power over the common people than they will ever have over their own lives and that they’ll ever have over anyone else, and so when those rulers don’t have a good handle on ruling and if they’re ignorant of the experiences of those below them, then they will inevitably suffer and often times die. But it of course is extremely telling that Sansa’s reaction to Shae’s explanation is that she would have given them bread if they had it, and it’s an interesting contrast to Dany.

I think Dany’s kind of defining moment as a leader is with Mirri Maz Duur. Although these incidents aren’t really that similar on paper, the life lesson to be learned behind them is, but Dany and Sansa take entirely different things from it. Unlike Sansa in the riots, Dany is actually almost completely directly responsible for the suffering of Mirri Maz Duur. No, she wasn’t the one doing the raping, but the Lhazareen are being pillaged, killed, and sold into slavery to fund Dany’s conquering of Westeros. Mirri seems to do what she can to hurt Dany, and obviously Dany burns her alive in return. But Dany’s perception of herself, her righteousness, and her ability to do whatever she wants as queen seems to be cemented here. Mirri actually gives Dany a much more clear and understandable explanation of why she did what she did, but Dany’s internal reaction to it seems to be that the suffering of the Lhazareen were an unforeseen and unintended consequence, and that it’s only the fact that she didn’t intend for it to happen that matters. Instead of trying to understand what other people are going through or coming from, Dany essentially decides the opposite, that everyone should understand where she’s coming from and that she has good intentions, so anyone who acts out against her regardless of their reason is deserving of her wrath. 

Another defining element of their leadership styles seems to be “I am the blood of the dragon” vs. “the lone wolf dies but the pack survives”. In a broader sense, the whole blood of the dragon obsession represents the absolutely insane level of Targaryen exceptionalism that the Targaryens believe, honestly Dany probably even more than the rest of them. The Targaryens literally think they’re gods among men, and the fact that Dany became the mother of dragons only cemented that idea in her mind. So then, she considers anything below godly exaltation to be blatant disrespect. Ironically, she hates ruling, but she wants everyone in the world to acknowledge her as their ruler because she sees literally everyone else as her inferior, and she cares much more about symbols like the title of queen or the Iron Throne than she does about anything else. Dany is willing to completely destabilize the world and to let anyone suffer so long as they call her queen while they do it, and she has shown time and again that anyone who doesn’t respect her position as ruler or acknowledge her claim to the throne will die. She’s completely injudicious when it comes to who she kills because literally all that matters is how they feel about her. FFS, “ending slavery” was a huge focal point of her storyline and she indiscriminately killed slavers who weren’t of use to her, but almost her entire army is made up of the Dothraki who were a key component of the slavery economy in Essos. In a weird way she has always demonstrated her “I know what is good” mentality in the sense that she literally just judges whether or not someone is good or bad based on whether or not they defer to her and call her queen.

And it would be disingenuous to say that Sansa doesn’t care about titles or rank, clearly that is something that has always been a priority to her and was especially when she was younger, however her perception of power and how it works is very interesting. She actually has an unfair advantage here because she has “role models” for kingship and queenship in people like Joffrey and Cersei. Especially with Joffrey, she obviously learned that being called king or queen says nothing about how much power you actually have, and having that title says nothing about whether or not people defer to you or whether or not you truly rule them. And more importantly, Sansa’s arc with Jon as the King in the North and even when Bran came home demonstrates that she understands what a necessity stability is, and that she’ll prioritize stability over her own superiority. Like Dany, Sansa actually has a pretty strong claim to the Northern throne, she could have very easily pressed that claim when Jon was named King in the North, and that claim is something she likely would have won. She also immediately tried to put Bran in the position of Lord of Winterfell even though in name that would have weakened her own political position, because she understands that destabilizing the North would be dangerous, would cause people to suffer, and because she truly understands that changing her title and having people call her something different would have zero effect on the actual power that she had within the country.

It’s kind of weird to say it, but Dany was almost at a disadvantage because she had no real experience learning how politics worked or how to rule or lead. Drogo was arguably the only real ruler she ever saw, but he didn’t really rule. Just like Dany ultimately wound up doing, he went to certain places, yielded whatever benefit he could find from it, and left. She never got to see why people like Joffrey and Cersei failed as leaders, or why people like Ned and Robb failed as leaders, and because she is the only person in the world with WMDs she’s never had to learn how to do anything through any other means besides overt force. And I mean, killing everyone who opposes you is certainly a way to gain power, but it’s clearly not effective leadership. 

And on the other hand, Sansa has literally never been able to do anything alone. She’s always been a helpless girl who had to rely on the people around her, which has given her a lot of very good and clear life lessons on the fact that not only do rulers have to cooperate with others in order to succeed, but cooperating with the right people is as important as learning to work with others in general. Also a hugely important distinction here between her and Dany is that while Dany believes that the only moral choice for a leader is her and that anyone who chooses her as a leader is inherently moral, Sansa learns the opposite. She understands that a lot of the people who try to connect with her or earn her favor may be ill intentioned, and that it’s extremely important to distinguish between who is on her team for the right reasons or wrong ones. She also cannot bulldoze her way through problems so she has to actually solve them, and she understands that she can solve them much more effectively if she has other people around her to work with. If she needs food, she can’t just fly on a dragon somewhere and take it. If she needs men, she can’t just find a city and kill all of the leaders and tell everyone there that she’s their queen now. And that makes her job infinitely more difficult than Dany’s, but it also makes her position of power far stronger in the long run. 

That’s not to say that Dany isn’t someone who has good ideas or good intentions, honestly when it comes to the status quo in Planetos it’s safe to say that it should be challenged, and although Sansa values stability over change that doesn’t necessarily mean that that’s the best course of action for a better world. But Dany’s problem when it comes to her big ideas is that she won’t put in the work to execute them properly. She doesn’t like the work of ruling and if we’re being real, she doesn’t have to put in the work because her dragons and her army the size of a city can do it for her or silence any dissent or opposition. And that is what makes her enormously dangerous. She looks at it as her right instead of her duty, and instead of ever trying to convince anyone of her competence she takes it as a personal insult if everyone she meets doesn’t immediately fall all over themselves to do her bidding. But of course why wouldn’t she, and why would a god ever have to prove themselves to mortals?

Sansa and Dany are meant to be foils for a lot of reasons, but one of the most intriguing to me is the fact that Sansa comes from a family of people who are just as super special as the Targaryens, but she’s not super special (I think it’s extremely likely that she is a warg, but when you compare her experience to that of Bran, Jon, or Arya, obviously she seems like the ordinary one in a family of superstars), and more importantly she was never raised with the idea that she was super special. Yes, she was an extremely highborn lady, but Ned Stark didn’t raise any of his children to believe that they were the chosen Kings of Winter who had ruled the North for thousands of years and done magical things that no ordinary human could ever dream of (and that difference always stands out to me so much, because frankly the Starks have even more reason to believe that they’re super special snowflakes than the Targaryens do, but they don’t), and that attitude obviously carries over into her leadership. She doesn’t look at being queen as her birthright because it quite literally is not, but she understands that it is first and foremost a duty and responsibility instead of an entitlement, and that shines through in the fact that she diligently does all of the scut work that the position requires.