#if we could just. mute ross

[softevnstan]

*NSFW PROMPT*

Imagine Bucky masturbating to the thought of you.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. returning bucky's laundry to his room after owing him a favor, you're spooked at the abruptness of someone returning. taking shelter in the closet on impulse, you find yourself getting a front-row seat to bucky taking care of his pent-up frustrations.

warnings. voyeurism, unintentional exhibitionism, panty stealing, masturbation, soft!dark!bucky (he steals your underwear but he's not a creeper past that), panty sniffing, uncircumcised p (mentioned, not relevant past that), light dirty talk. SMUT - minors DNI. reader technically is breaking and entering but bucky took their underwear so they're even. reader wears thongs but nothing is ever gendered as men's or women's, just implies the reader wears similar things.

a.n. ok so not as long as my usual things but i wanna start finishing requests in general rather than making all of them super longer - it's daunting for me. so have some slightly pervy bucky and you caught him :) no beta, we die like men.

w.c. 5.3k

The sound of skin on skin is obscene; Flooding the quiet air alongside the labored pants and muted groans from Bucky. The slick slide of his fist is hypnotizing - working over the impressive length of his aching cock and twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Bucky moans low, and the sound reverberates to your core.

You hadn’t even intended to intrude on the moment. You’d brought him his laundry after taking the liberty to do it yourself since you knew Bucky suffered from rough days (anything to make it easier for him).  It was a relatively simple task in the grand scheme of things - Laundry. When did it so complicated?

Bucky wasn’t even supposed to have been back yet! How did you get yourself into this mess??

You owed Bucky his laundry due to a favor; he’d come to your aid one night in the rain when you’d run over a bottle and flattened your tire. Bucky had helped you on the side of the road, in the rain, changing your tire. To pay it forward, you insisted you’d help Bucky out with odds and ends given his schedule suffered from hectic changes from having to be on standby for Ross. You knew the help certainly couldn’t hurt and you’d feel better about having him come out to your rescue. After moments of bickering, Bucky agreed for you to help with his laundry; It was the only thing he’d been comfortable letting you do for him. Still learning to let people in.

And you were more than happy to help out a friend. But when you’d insisted to pay back Bucky, you didn’t expect it to bite you in the ass in the sweetest yet worst way possible. 

Admittedly, you were in the wrong to an extent here. Going into Bucky’s apartment while he wasn’t there? Big no-no, but leaving the basket outside the door wasn’t an option. Someone could steal it! Then what kind of friend would that make you?

Bucky lived above you in your shared building. You’d met at the laundromat around the corner one late evening and eventually weened yourself into his friend circle through tokens of affection - such as making plates for Bucky on nights when you had extra, or talking to him when you’d catch him on the fire escape overhead while watering your plants. Through persistence and patience, you were proud to say that you were one of Bucky’s friends. It especially elated you when Bucky would confirm such statements.

With becoming Bucky’s friend, you also eventually became aware of the rock that sat on the metal grates on the fire escape above yours. The first time you’d spotted it, it’d confused you - how did a rock get in a place like that? Your apartment was on the second floor, Bucky’s on the third! Was someone throwing rocks at Bucky’s windows? You never heard anything shattering or breaking, and as far you were aware, the window seemed well intact when you’d stretched out to sneak a glance at the casement. Nor had you recalled any mumbled gripes about the potential disturbance - therefore ruling out that as an option. You’d pondered it for a long while.

Eventually, you found the opportunity to inquire about the rock to Bucky one day a few weeks ago - ‘Spare key.’ was all he had told you.

It made sense; Bucky was an enhanced super soldier - scaling the side of the building to get his spare key (or just going out through your window - you’d let him if he asked) was a minimal feat at best. He wanted multiple fail-safes. 

That fail-safe had come to your aid earlier that day. After shakily climbing the flimsy metal ladder to the floor above you, you’d been relieved to come into contact with the flat landing of Bucky’s fire escape. You found safety in the more-so-stable steel grate that held your weight; The cool breeze of the afternoon served as a reminder that you were three stories above the ground and falling would be extremely inconvenient. 

Clambering with the rock was… Interesting. On the surface, it really did look like a simple rock. In your hands was only when you could tell it wasn’t; It was light in your palms and there was a line dividing the ‘rock’ into halves to anyone who was paying attention long enough to find it. Weighing in your palms, you took a moment to examine the rock and appreciate the ingenuity of the hiding place.

After attempting to pry it open with your fingers - trying to find the best means of opening it - the phony rock popped open into two pieces. Briefly, it sent a strike of fear wracking your body. The key clattered against the fire escape, stealing your breath with a shrill gasp. You quickly attempted to scoop the key up before it slipped between the slots in the steel and was lost on the ground. The last thing you needed to do was lose Bucky’s spare. Sure, you could go looking for it on the ground, but it’s about principle and responsibility.

With the brass clutched safely in your fingers, you breathed a sigh of relief before slumping against the brick wall of Bucky’s apartment behind you. Everything after that would be a piece of cake. The only thing left to do was head up to Bucky’s apartment and drop his laundry off. You’d give the key back in person when you caught up with him rather than taking your chances on the rickety metal that made your heart drop to your stomach with every creak.

After safely returning to the comfort of your apartment, you pocketed the key in your jeans for safekeeping. Then after gathering the blue, plastic laundry basket full of all of Bucky’s folded clothes, you left your apartment and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Eyes traveling the corridor, you’d scoured the orientational numbers on each beige door before halting at the door with golden numbers counting out ‘306.’ 

Rather than knock, you balanced the long basket on your hip and used your free hand to fish for the key and unlock Bucky’s apartment - telling yourself it’d be a simple in and out; Unbeknownst to you it was about to be anything but.

Bucky’s apartment was far drab compared to yours. Filled with the bare essentials, his walls didn’t hold photos or paintings of the things he loved. The coffee table he had was overwhelmed with stacks of books; A bookcase still in its box and unassembled sat perched against the living room wall. You didn’t help yourself to his home past entering, but it didn’t stop your eyes from searching curiously. His kitchen was so empty; The fridge only held a grocery list and the drainboard was full of clean dishes Bucky must’ve done recently after a build-up. Everything looked so untouched; So empty - it was disheartening to you. If Bucky were to take the time to actually personalize his space, maybe his bad days would take a little less of a toll on him without bare walls threatening to close in on him. 

That was for another day. In the meantime, you made quick work of carrying the basket to Bucky’s bedroom. Simply telling yourself you’d set the basket down and leave it before returning to your own apartment and getting a start on dinner. But when you pushed the door open to Bucky’s room, you were surprised by how lived in it seemed compared to the rest of the apartment.

There was an empty glass on Bucky’s nightstand, as well as two half-full water bottles and a digital alarm clock. Alongside the bottles sat a small, red pocket notebook with a pen next to it. The bed was half unmade; The queen size bed only being ruined on the right side, next to the nightstand. So much of his room appeared second-hand; The area was a mess of items and clutter but nothing too gaudy or expensive. You half wonder if this is a contributing factor/result of the man’s depression; Especially considering none of it looked dirty - simply unkempt. Mustering the energy must’ve been far few and in between when his priorities tend to lie with work. By the time Bucky returned to his apartment after a day’s work, perhaps he didn’t have the energy by then to keep the room maintained.

Maybe you could help him with that one day.

A desk nearby was lined with journals; Stood against the wall with their empty spines outward towards you. There had to be roughly ten to thirteen - you hadn’t counted out each one, simply guessed. A small lamp was left on at the desk; Casting the desk in a yellow light. Sticky notes and pens are scattered across the flat, wooden surface. There was a roll of tape, a bottle of paste, scissors, and the clippings of what looked like a newspaper detailing the refurnishing of the Captain America exhibit left out. A brown leather journal sat left out and untouched amongst the supplies, and you assumed it was Bucky’s most recent diary.

Setting the laundry basket on top of Bucky’s dresser, you took a closer look at Bucky’s desk. Temptation left your fingers to twitch curiously at what could be hiding in the drawers but knowing better than to help yourself. As many secrets this room no doubt had that could bring you closer to Bucky, you knew being any more invasive than you already were would deter him. Push him away. You wouldn’t want someone rifling through your things, either.

Bucky always held you at an arm’s distance. One day you hoped he no longer did; That you’d be welcomed into these spaces freely rather than technically intruding in on them. You could only hope Bucky wouldn’t be too upset; You had good intentions, you swear.

Though, as the saying goes, ‘curiosity killed the cat’. After abandoning the basket, you tentatively moved to Bucky’s desk. Crouching to peer into the round trash can that was full of crumbled and torn papers, and excess clippings that Bucky hadn’t needed for his journal. It was trash, yes, but you were curious. You’d only managed to search for a few seconds in shifting through the papers when you were suddenly jarred by the sound of the lock in the foyer sliding open. You heard the door opening next. The apartment was silent save for your breathing, which made it easy to hear, but it also made it easier for you to be heard. 

The abruptness of someone’s return shocked you; Jumping right up to your feet and eyes flickering for somewhere to hide - you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, after all. In retrospect, it was the wrong option. The only reasonable person it would be was Bucky, but you didn’t know that at that moment. And in a world where aliens and robots co-exist and the world has been on the brink of end countless times, you come to expect the worst of situations. Better not to take chances. So hiding out in the closet was instinct; Even if it was the wrong choice. And if you’d taken a moment to remember entirely where you were, you’d have been able to put together that it was Bucky returning but the thought was far from your mind in those short few seconds it took you to get to your feet. Without thought, you quickly advanced towards the closet that was a quarter of the way open; Hanging clothes peeking back at you. 

Sliding the door open, you hid inside the closet without a second thought - silently trying to slide the door back as you had found it and leave the room as untouched as you could manage. It was only then, standing on Bucky’s extra pair of shoes and attempting to not stumble over yourself, you thought to yourself: Genius idea - now what?

You didn’t have to ponder the next course of action for too long.

The heavy footfalls of Bucky’s boots on the wooden floor resounded through the empty apartment, drawing nearer and nearer. Your heart jumped into your throat, holding your breath as your mind scrambled for the next reasonable phase of action - springing out on Bucky would no doubt startle him, and lying in wait was hardly an option. Perhaps he’d leave again and a window of escape would open, even if it meant clambering down the fire escape and praying Bucky’s enhanced hearing didn’t catch your commotion. 

That meant getting to the window itself, though, which was going to be a monumental feat. Especially when you hear the click of Bucky’s heels entering the same room as you. Bucky comes to a halt somewhere around the entrance to the room; You hear no movement, no sound. Your heart pounds in your chest; Fearful he may somehow know you’re there. The last thing you wanted to do was shatter your trust in this man. It was a long moment before Bucky’s feet pick up again and he enters the bedroom. Great. Getting out undetected just became leagues more complicated.

A hollow sigh emitted from the man behind the door, and in the seconds following you could hear the springs of his bed whine under his weight. The shuffling of sheets, and still, you’d hardly breathed in that time. Body kept as stiff as possible in the cramped, dark space. 

It’s the sound of a zipper that surprises you.  Not daring to peek, you allow your mind to attempt to fill in the blanks. The long ‘ziiiiip’ leaves you to believe it’s Bucky shedding the layer of the coat he lives in - he runs cold easier. He explained it to you one time; His serum and all of its laced dysfunctions.

Bucky mumbles something to himself about the thermostat and what temperature it's on, and part of you realizes you missed his voice. Sure, Bucky was only going about his daily work while you both were apart, but hearing him and knowing you were in the same room with Bucky did bring about an odd sense of natural comfort. Just beyond this door, he was at arm’s length. What would it be like to welcome Bucky home after a long day of work?

Your thoughts are jarred when you hear the slide of a drawer. Tentatively, you lean towards the barely-there gap between the door in the wall to peek through. Bucky is sitting on the bed, one leg draped off the side and the other up with him. He’s tight up against the headboard, sat up as the soldier shuffles through his nightstand drawer. Bucky’s brown leather coat is abandoned on the edge of the bed, leaving him in his dark navy jeans and a black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination in regard to miles and miles of muscle. It’s only then you notice the fact that Bucky’s fly is unzipped as well; The flaps of his jeans are pulled open to show his gray boxer briefs that hug his hips all too well.

The moment feels utterly invasive. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this - this is Bucky’s private time, but there you are, with a front-row seat, helpless but to watch.

What Bucky produces from the drawer is a clear bottle of water-based lube and… Underwear. It only takes a few seconds for horror to creep up your spine and realization dawns. It’s your thong.  Specifically, a black pair that you’d thrown into your laundry the other day; You feel shame creep up your face and color your cheeks - a sense of violation but that would make the both of you even, wouldn’t it? You’re intruding on him after all. 

You follow Bucky’s hand holding the bottle of lube as he slots it between his legs and propped up on his inner thigh; Your glance moving further to acknowledge the semi-bulge in his underwear. The angle is perfect, his headboard facing the closet doors and providing you with the best view of his spread thick thighs. 

It makes your heart pound in your chest; Your guts swoop with something akin to excitement and guilt ebbs in your mind for the fact that this is bordering on arousing. For a moment you humor the thought of how thick Bucky must be fully erect; How the weight of his cock might feel on your tongue. It’s not the first time you’ve indulged yourself privately in such explicit thoughts of your friend, and part of you had always felt silently contrite for the sexualization, but now you had a direct show. It was like finally having food for thoughts; A burning in your chest. It can’t be real, can it?

Coming to your senses, you tear away from the display face a hot face and a dizzying mind. You take a deep breath, scrubbing hands down your face attempting to cool the flush. You can’t watch something like this - how did Bucky even get your thong? Did he go snooping in your apartment? Did he take anything else?? Confliction tugs in your chest, almost frustrated with yourself for finding a sense of arousal in the thought. 

Bucky going through your things when you’re not there, taking something so intimate like a trophy… It should disturb you - someone breaking into your apartment. But thinking about it longer makes your gut feel tight and arousal swell between your legs. Were there chances he’d watched you in other intimate moments? Moments where you cried his name, muffled by your pillows and impaled on your favorite toy? It was more than just a thong, it was all the implications that came with the gesture. Was this the first time? Were there others? Questions ran a hundred miles a minute through your mind. Grounded in reality for half a moment and reminding yourself this isn’t a fantasy. It’s real, it’s wrong, it’s— A low, husky groan stops your train of thought. Going stock still, you take a moment to actually listen to what’s happening. Paralyzed in the dark, you realize you could now hear the slick slide of what you assumed was Bucky’s hand on his cock. The short pants from Bucky hung in the air; “Aw, that’s it…” Bucky husks, arousal thick in his quiet tone. “Needed this so fuckin’ bad…”

Another burst of arousal rings from your core and makes your skin tingle. The sounds are so obscene…

Against your better judgment, you redirect your attention to the gap in the door. 

You’re greeted with the delicious sight of Bucky’s pants shimmied down his thick thighs, bunched up before his knees. His cock stands half erect, his flesh fingers wrapped around the length with fingers slick with lube. You can see his heavy sac, the curve of his cock, and the way the head of his cock is slick with pre-come when his foreskin is drawn down on the stroke. He has a pretty dick, all things considered; Bucky keeps himself well-groomed in regards to his pubic hair from what you can tell, and his cock looks thick - even he barely manages to wrap his fingers entirely around the base of his cock and pump.

The motion is hypnotizing, and as much as you’d love to continue to swallow the sight whole, you can’t help but be distracted by his vibranium arm. The one that’s holding your thong between sleek black and gold fingers, held to Bucky’s face as he breathes you in. Eyes closed in bliss.

Nose buried into the fabric while he fists the length of his cock, the pornographic act surprises you. The way Bucky is so enthralled and aroused at that moment, knowing that it’s because of you, and having the dirty little secret of watching Bucky jerk off. To watch him in one of his most intimate positions. 

You’re already stuck here. What more is there to lose? You can only sell your soul once. Your hands slink down between your legs, fingers slipping past the hem of your pants and into your underwear; Fingers getting to work at coaxing your arousal.

“F-Fuuuck,” Bucky huffed out, fingers tight around the base of his cock as he jerked himself off; Fucking up into his own fist with minute thrusts, his slit weeping copious amounts of pre-come. His face still buried in the fabric of your thong, the long draws of inhales through his nose making you squirm.

You could only imagine what was going through Bucky’s mind when it came to you. What he could possibly be thinking of to egg on his own arousal so deeply? He pumped to the thought of you, and you watched his angry red cock drool at the attention. You wanted to stay with Bucky through this. Feel good with him; Pretend you were part of the equation.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your head feeling airy, your circle your fingers around your needy hole before working them in. Working experimentally to loosen your aching hole and allow the penetration; Sinking to the first knuckle as you fucked your fingers in and out of your entrance. Nowhere near the same brutal pace Bucky maintains, working yourself gradually to take the intrusion. The slide is made easier when your wetness slicks the inside of your underwear and ruins another pair.

Your needy hole swallows your fingers easily; made simple by the arousing nature of the situation. The guttural sounds from Bucky’s throat as he inhaled your scent, sending shivers down your spine with the raw display. 

“Oh God, Y/N,” Bucky groans low in his throat, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue taking you off guard. "Mm, yeah, I love your hands…" his voice is breathy, the way it hits your ears makes it feel as though Bucky is right behind you and whispering it in your ear for half a moment - you clamp a hand over your lips to avoid squeaking out a noise you shouldn't as your fingers make progressively faster work fingering yourself open. 

Bucky is pretending it's you there.

You feel like butter, bracing against the wall of the closet as you became a victim to your own lust. Fucking yourself open in the rhythm of Bucky's tugs on his hard cock. 

"Ri-Right there," Bucky speaks to himself through labored pants. "God, mm, such a good baby… Yeah, y-you're my sweet little doll-baby..." The praise coaxes you on; A barely audible muffled whine vibrates along your palm. You freeze entirely and go stock-still upon the realization you’d made some sort of noise, but Bucky’s rhythm doesn’t falter. He hadn’t even heard you. 

Relief washes over you, tight shoulders going slack before you allow yourself to melt into the euphoria of the moment again.

Bucky creates such beautiful noises on his own, but part of you imagines he’d be too self-conscious to be nearly as vocal with a partner. When you peek out at him, his jaw fluctuates between slack and baring his teeth with a clenched jaw. His swollen lips curling into a perfect ‘o’ shape as he strokes his delicious cock before worrying the flesh between his teeth again. The sight burns into your memory; Forever immortalizing itself. You’ll never need to look at another man again, truly.

Still he holds your thong to his nose, breathing in the scent deeply until he changes things up. Bucky sits up just a little more, and you bite back a keen that the show has come to a pause. Bucky shifts his weight on the bed in what you assume is an attempt to get more comfortable. He rucks up the black t-shirt to reveal the pleasant happy trail that cascades over his navel and belly button - the star of the show and stealing the spotlight is his abdomen; The man looks chiseled from marble, even with the scars that are speckled throughout his physique. Bucky’s perfect.

Bucky, still holding your thong, alternates his hands. Wrapping the fabric around the length of his cock and resorted to quick flicks; Using something that touched your most intimate places to aid in his solo session. You watch Bucky’s cock jerk with interest, and he husks out a delighted chuckle that bleeds into a blissed moan. 

His eyes never shut. Steely blue gaze always peering open and aware, it just adds to the adrenaline of hiding for you. It excites you. Wondering what would happen if he peered towards the closet and caught your gaze; In an ideal world, he keeps jerking off to the thought of you - sharing the filthy moment together and shamelessly. 

“That’s it, sugar,” his voice rumbles, and if you close your eyes, you can pretend it's you and him, not your defiled thong. You screw your eyes shut and strain to listen, fingers still working meticulously between your slick wet inner thighs. “Y’take it so fuckin’ well, made for my cock…”

You imagine what it’d be like to feel him slide home in you. The way your walls would flutter around the stretch and how Bucky would stretch you open. You’d feel so full, you imagine. Taking inch after inch until he was buried in the hilt. Would he be a rough lover? Would he jackhammer your poor hole until it was simply stretched and dripping with his come? Would he hold you missionary so he could see your face when you came around his cock?

You squeeze your thighs together and exhale shakily into your palm - attempting to control yourself even as you still finger-fuck to the beat of Bucky’s strokes. Your legs tremble with want. After a moment, your eyes squint open to see what Bucky is doing now…

Bucky’s intent focus is fixed on soiling the material he holds. Smearing his pre-come into the fabric and staining it with traces of him. He ruts into the fabric before fucking into it all together. Fisting it around his aching girth and wrapping his dick with the cotton and treating it as if it were his own hole to fuck. Though you imagine it not nearly as gratifying.

His head falls back; The column of his throat is exposed and you imagine littering it with kisses and hickeys that wouldn’t last. He’s utterly lost in that moment, hips fucking subtly off the bed into your underwear that’s wrapped around his cock. You try to meet the pace with your fingers, thrusting into your slick channel and the arousal creeping into every last crevice. Your skin feels hot, mind fuzzy with desire. Your hand isn’t enough, you wish you had more, but it’ll have to do. Fingers thrusting in, you eventually manage a third alongside your two. Bucky’s fingers would be bigger, thicker. They could hit every best part of you, or perhaps they could fill your wanting mouth while his cock takes up every last inch and then some inside of you. 

“O-Ohh, oh fuck, doll, m’gonna come,” Bucky moans, and your heart jumps into your throat. “Yeah, m’gonna fill up your greedy little hole, gonna fill you up with my fuckin’ come ‘til you’re drippin’ with it…” 

You wish you could consider it a promise, the words egging you closer and closer to your own teetering edge. His voice is so rough, the words so sultry and filthy - you’d never heard Bucky speak in such an obscene way and it reached to your core.

His hand impossibly quickens as lube-covered fingers come to roll his balls between them. Watching Bucky play with his sac left you on the cusp of drooling; You could only imagine the lewd sound his balls would make clapping against your flesh in the haze of his animalistic fucking. He’d sink balls deep into you, making you take every last drop…

“Please, please, please,” you whisper a litany in barely a breath to yourself. Begging for a man that doesn’t even know you’re there; Reduced to such a needy and wanting thing as you draw on the cusp of your own orgasm. It’s only when you angle your fingers just right and curl against that sweet spot, you see stars. It drives you right over the brink of your orgasm, hand clutching over your mouth so hard it hurts.

It’s perfect timing. As you unravel in Bucky’s closet, knees nearly buckling under you, Bucky reaches his own climax. You can tell in the way the crease forms between his brows and his eyes finally screw shut; Groaning like an animal in rut out into the air as his hips stutter and falter. You watch the fabric dampen, and the slick seed trickle down to the seam of his balls and stain the sheets under himself.

“Fuck!” Bucky moans, and you tremble.

It’s an absolutely gorgeous sight. Watching the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the sweat glistening on his flushed skin, and the mess of come that Bucky unloads into your thong. You’ll never look at the pair of underwear the same if you ever even see them again.

You pant, feeling like jelly and rather defeated by being stuck in the closet. You long for nothing more than to pull that door open and crawl into bed with Bucky, or at the very least, find sanctuary in your own apartment. 

You nearly laugh when you remember the turn of events that even brought you to this moment.

Carefully, you coax your fingers from your used hole. Biting your lip to bite back the whine that nearly leaves you when you clench around nothing; Empty. The floor of the closet is littered with shoes, and without much thought, you brace your hand on the door in an attempt to steady yourself and find better footing before you go crashing to the floor. The door gives. The way you’re holding on with your palm flush to the cool surface, the door braces against the metal horizontal rig and leaves the door to shake. The applied pressure makes the door give, and slide open; before you could find leverage on anything to save you from the fall, you stumble harshly in Bucky’s closet - meeting the carpeted floor below. Your heart is suddenly pounding in your ears, pierced with a new sort of fear and a way less sexy one.

When you prop your arms under yourself to lift up, Bucky is already standing at the closet door. Your eyes nervously raise up the length of his legs, over his half-soft cock that’s eyes level with you, to the used thong in his hands. Further up, you find that piercing gaze looking down on you. Cast in Bucky’s shadow, you suddenly feel so small as he looms over you. A grin fixed on his lips and pupils blown; it looks like he wants to eat you alive.

“Well, well, well, what're we doin' in here…?” Bucky purrs, the opposite of the anger you expect. “B-Bucky!” You gasp, the ecstasy of your high gone and instead holding a prickling knot in your stomach. “I– I wasn’t— This—” “Oh, sugar, what’re you makin’ excuses for…?” Bucky asks, voice low and almost threatening. “You think I wouldn’t notice the basket when I came in with an unlocked door? How stupid you think I am, pretty thing…?” Bucky’s sultry and rough voice sends another jolt between your legs and straight to your core. Your face burns with shame and humiliation with the implications.

Bucky knew you were there the whole time.

“Aww, nothin’ to say for yourself, baby…?” The tone is almost condescending albeit with an underlying heat. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer uselessly, voice quaking with a mix between arousal and fear.

Bucky holds up your defiled thong before tossing it into your lap.  You jump, lifting up the thong with your fingers and only then see the load stained on the inside of the underwear. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, tentatively looking back up at the hulking man.

“No, you’re not. But you will be.”

[abiiors]

Lessons in Patience

oh, uh, happy birthday to him and time for me to disappear after posting this...

warnings: minors dni, orgasm denial, she/her pronouns, maybe just a smidge toxic idk, cockwarming??? typos maybe; it is what it is, anyway enjoy...

wc: 4k

the minimalist, modern round clock on the wall ticks by mercilessly slow. 

the office is fully his space, designed to his tastes and likes, and she, the intruder. sure, she’s a very very welcome intruder but an interloper regardless. and there’s not much she can do but peak at her husband over the edge of the book she’s been reading for the past half an hour. or trying to at least. just in the last five minutes, she’s read the same three lines at least seven times. it’s of no use but, the other option is to sit and stare at ross while he works. which is always a good option. except today. 

in his fitted black button-down, that’s tastefully unbuttoned, he looks like the stuff of her fantasies. he has always been, of course, but the way his gold chain peeks out and grazes the hollow of his throat every time he moves, makes her think all kinds of thoughts. his mouth is parted in concentration, pink lips that he occasionally gnaws on, and his thick brows furrow as he intensely stares at whatever’s on the screen. 

and while it’s enough to turn her thoughts extremely filthy, the realisation that he hasn’t been paying her any attention douses cold water on her for the millionth time. 

‘ross,’ she calls out, desperately trying to keep the neediness out of her voice, ‘how much longer?’

he hums distractedly without looking up, ‘need to read this thing before i sign it, my love.’ 

obviously, that’s not the answer she’s looking for. “need to read the thing” can range from anywhere between ten minutes to an hour, and he’s so focused on it too. 

‘baby, take a break!’

he shakes his head minutely, ‘we just had lunch, darling, an hour ago.’

‘yeah, but…’ she trails off because it’s useless. he’s clearly not listening. 

bent over his slick macbook, hand rubbing his face occasionally, he is the utter portrait of focus. her mind wanders to the drawers of his desk where she knows she’ll find the small toy. this is not her first rendezvous here; nor would it be her last. that desk has seen a lot of things; from their first scandalous hookup in a moment of weakness, to multiple quickies when she has come over. there was even that one time when she had knelt between his legs as he tried to focus on a zoom interview. matty had gone on and on with his thoughtful answers till ross eventually muted the thing and tangled his fingers in her hair. she snickers at the sudden sympathy she feels for the inanimate object. not that it makes ross waver even a smidge. if only, he leans closer to the screen. it’d certainly be a shame if she were to be a…distraction. 

because there is always a third option. 

she pushes herself off the plush settee and saunters over to him purposefully. this has been going on for a week now and she’s had enough of it! enough of him coming home by the time she’s just starting her day, enough of him being dead asleep by the time she returns. and this is not to blame him, of course. she knows how busy he can get once they start getting closer to the release date. but she’s had enough of not seeing him for more than a few hours throughout the week. despite them living together. 

a finger trails down the side of his jaw. down his neck too. she makes sure to use her nail, red-painted and sharp, and halts it right over his pulse point. 

‘lunch was two hours ago.’ a pout. an exaggerated one, sure, but it does the job because he chuckles at her restlessness. 

‘fine, two hours ago. that’s still not a long time.’

‘isn’t it?’ now she’s just being petulant. she leans down, lips hovering right over where her finger was just a moment ago and trails them down his neck the same way. he stills. ‘it could be great if you took a quick break…’ 

this she whispers suggestively and leaves the thought half-finished so his brain might try and fill in the gaps. and it works like a charm.

‘oh,’ he breathes softly, his focus now wavering slightly, but he hasn’t set the laptop aside and turned all his attention to her. not yet. 

‘baby…’ he warns but his voice lacks its usual conviction. torn between work and wife, ross fidgets for a second. ‘i only need a little more time…’

‘you’ve said that to me twice already.’ another kiss. this time, she even strokes his bicep and the muscles under his black shirt respond to her touch. 

‘oh you’re impatient, aren’t you?’ he turns to her partially, only looking at her through the corner of his eye but it’s enough. she’s so close to achieving her goal that she can almost taste it. 

taste him. 

‘so what if i am?’

‘i said,’ his voice takes on a commanding tone, ‘wait a little more.’

on any other day, she would have obeyed the tone almost instantly. she likes their little routine where he’s in control, likes riling him up enough that he reminds her of it. not today though. today she has no patience fo it. 

‘and i said,’ she grits out, equally testy and bold, ‘i want your attention.’ 

‘that’s all you want?’ he challenges. 

‘mmm, for now.’ 

cheekily, she sidles up to him to find an in, one opening to slide onto his lap. but with one huge hand on her hip, he holds her firmly in place. 

ross shakes his head, one eyebrow raised in warning, ‘are you in a mood?’

about to protest indignantly, she opens her mouth. instead, a squeal comes out when he sharply tugs her towards him. 

‘are you that desperate for me?’ he asks again when she’s firmly trapped between his thighs. his voice, his whole demeanour has shifted entirely. now the man in front of her is staring at her intently; his pupils so dilated that his eyes look black. and she’s not just trapped physically, no, he also has her hooked on him. because she simply cannot look away even when a flush creeps up her cheeks. 

‘answer me, darling,’ he mocks while his fingers grip her hips even tighter. ‘not going to run your mouth anymore?’

that snaps her back quickly, just as quickly as the wetness pools between her legs. ‘and if i say yes?’ she challenges right back, ‘are you going to do something about it?’

another sudden tug and now she’s landed right in his lap, right where she has been trying to get. her breath leaves her body the minute she feels his bulge press against her crotch. 

‘oh you really are being a brat today, huh.’ fingers grabbing harshly at her chin so he can make her look at him, ‘my little attention whore. you want my cock? will that shut you up?’

she nods as much as his grip allows her to. still, it’s enthusiastic and more than a little desperate. the sound of him unzipping his trousers makes her grind her hips in anticipation. her hands move swiftly, fidgeting to take him out of his trousers and boxers but ross wraps a hand around her wrist. 

the man has saintly patience. and right now it’s a fucking problem. 

‘you only get,’ he speaks slowly, as if to drill each word into her, ‘what i give you. do you understand?’ 

too eager to even protest, she nods quickly but he’s not satisfied. ‘use your words, my love,’ he taunts and slides her underwear to the side, ‘tell me you understand.’

‘i do,’ she whines, ‘i’ll only get what you give me. but please, just—’

she’s cut off quickly by a harsh kiss; teeth biting her lower lip till she gasps. his tongue runs over the spot, soothing and teasing before he slips it inside her mouth. his hands, once again back on her hips, lift her up until she feels the familiar feeling of his tip nudging against her. 

she slowly sinks onto him, adjusting to the delicious thickness of him, stretched out just enough to straddle the boundary between painful and pleasurable. mindnumbing.

his hands hold her down, giving her time to adjust to him she thinks, but…

but when she tries to move, he doesn’t let her.

‘ah ah,’ he tuts, ‘what did i just say? you,’ he kisses the corner of her mouth, ‘will only,’ another kiss, ‘get what i give you.’

and with that he turns around to his laptop once again, completely unfazed by anything. 

flabbergasted would be an understatement.

for a moment, nothing else registers. not the desk digging into her back, not the clacking of his keys, not even his breath on her neck. the only thing she feels is him, thick and hard inside her and the urge to move, to grind against him, to create some friction. the ache between her legs intensifies tenfold. 

‘wha—’

‘you wanted my attention so desperately and now you have it.’ he answers it so nonchalantly that she wonders for one insane moment if she’s imagining him inside her. ‘now are you going to be a good girl let me finish this?’

‘no–’

‘or are you going to complain and whine?’

his interruptions have her seething. this is torture and he’s doing it on purpose; making her keep his dick wet while he continues to ignore her. and acting like the feeling of her tight cunt and her hard breathing doesn’t bother him one bit when she can feel him twitching inside her. 

what had he called her before? a brat? she’ll show him what a brat is. 

with renewed determination, she lifts up her hips, ready to sink down on him again, ready to set the pace but he calls out her name in warning. a sound that sends a million shivers down her spine. 

‘i’m going to give you one last chance.’ his eyes bore into hers, dark and unflinching, ‘be still for me. until i tell you to move. you know what good girls get?’

oh so now he wants to play games. fine then, she’ll indulge him. ‘what?’

he leans closer, mouth right next to her ear, breath hot on her neck, ‘good girls get to cum. you want that don’t you?’

yes, yes she does, very desperately. but she doesn’t like his tone, doesn’t like being denied things after displaying a saintly amount of patience all week.

‘i can make myself cum,’ she huffs. her tone is not nearly as haughty as she wants it to be but haughtiness is not the point of this. this is a trap and she needs him to walk into it. take the bait. 

ross only raises an eyebrow because seemingly, he knows her better than she knows herself at this point. he’s calling her bluff. 

‘no, i’m serious!’ her hand trails down, making sure to graze against his chest on the way. heart beating faster than ever, she smirks at him right as she rests it right above her clit. 

he moves, just the smallest amount, and a jolt of lightning runs through her entire body so fast that she almost falls onto him. she can imagine this, face into the crook of his neck while he lazily fucks into her, slowly and leisurely until she’s had enough of this pace. then he would grab her hips and make her bounce up and down on his cock till she’s limp with pleasure.

all of this if she showed some patience.

but no. 

she wants him now. not twenty, ten, five minutes later. now. 

her finger rests on her clit and she sucks in a sharp breath, about to flip the tables on him. she’s salivating at the idea…oh, how tortured he would look, how angry. he would surely forget all about his work then…

a hand roughly closes around her wrist and yanks it away. her eyes meet his, dark and angry. no, he’s livid. 

‘i warned you, love. didn’t i?’

*****

a buzzing sound fills the room, almost menacing, while she lies splayed on the desk, hands tied together with his belt. a thrill of anticipation shoots down her spine. this is what she’s been waiting for all day, well a much tamer iteration of it but she has no one but herself to blame for it really. she had squealed the second he pulled out of her and cleared the desk with one swoop of his hand. not that there was much on it, to begin with, but watching him “prepare it” was thrilling just the same. plus there’s the knowledge that anyone can hear what’s going on. yes, his office is locked and almost sound-proof but who’s to say they won’t still be interrupted by a knock or a phone call or any other number of factors?

‘look at you…’ he walks towards her now, the tiny bullet vibrating in his hands. her underwear has long been discarded to one side and her dress is now pushed up to her stomach; all of her lower half on display for him. ‘all eager and pathetic.’

it seemed like all her brattiness had paid off, it seemed like a reward…at first. but now the vibrator buzzes closer to her swollen clit, almost touching, almost—

her thoughts are cut off when he abruptly presses it against her. a sharp cry rings out, her legs going taut instantly as she melts into the sensation. he moves it again, down her slit and back up again spreading delicious tingles all over her body. 

‘feels so good…’ she breathes out. three words, that’s as much as she can get out at the moment.

‘does it?’ 

she hums in response, she thinks so anyway because the bullet circles her clit lightly again. the toy rests against her just long enough for her to get used to it before he moves it away. he ups the setting, making her jerk violently. it’s sudden, it’s amazing and she almost doesn’t register that there’s something in his tone.

‘just like that…’ she gasps softly as toy runs over her inner thighs and then against her opening. 

‘just like that, yeah?’ he repeats her words back to her and she gasps out a yes in response. the darker tone lingers, but none of it matters as the familiar knot builds at the base of her spine. a moan as her back arches off the desk, she’s so close, so…

it stops. 

he stops altogether. 

a feeling of annoyance and borderline anger washes over her. ‘why did you stop?!’ 

through her half-open eyes, she can see his arched eyebrows, mouth quirked to one side in amusement. ‘you think you deserve to cum? what did i say to you before hmm?’

She tries to jog her memory while the bullet comes to life once again. 

‘come on, darling,’ he mocks, ‘i haven’t got all day. what did i say before?’

he rests the vibrator on her lower stomach, inching it downward at a snails pace as she tries to come up with an answer, ‘umm, ahh, i don–i don’t remember.’

‘yes you do.’ his finger slides up her slit, collecting her wetness and spreading it on the tip of the bullet. ‘what did i say about getting to cum?’

‘ahh, oh,’ she tries to speak but it turns into breathless garble as soon as the tip nears her clit again. ‘you said—you said good girls get—fuck, ross please!’

‘good girls get what? hmm? go on,’ he asks again and lifts the bullet up and away from her leaving her feeling cold and whiney and much more frustrated than before. the belt digs into her wrists as she struggles against it, not enough to cause any serious harm, but she knows they would be red by now.

‘good girls get to cum,’ she spits out glaring at him with as much anger as she can muster. of course, he’s ready with his next question. 

‘and have you been a good girl?’

the cycle starts again, vibrator purring right above her clit, then moving down mercilessly slow until her thoughts turn to mush and yet she’s somehow expected to form a coherent answer. 

‘have you?’ he asks again, ‘really think about it.’ his thumb joins the vibrator this time, calloused and rough, as he rubs her in tandem. 

‘i can be–i will be, plea–fuck, i promise please.’ a string of incoherent pleas come out of her mouth the harder he goes. her legs shake and spasm, she’s so close again, almost there, almost ready to make a mess on the table but ross has other plans.

he tuts and takes away her pleasure once again. 

‘you can be, i know you can,’ he walks to her side, looking down at her now and parts her lips with the thumb that was on her clit a moment ago. ‘but have you been good today?’

thumb pushed in her mouth, she glares once again. tears form at her lower lashline but she won’t let them fall. instead, she flicks her tongue around his thumb in a silent plea. 

she can be a good girl for him, she really can. 

he laughs darkly and walks away again only to stand right between her legs. she imagines what she must look like to him from this angle. legs spread wide apart and her swollen cunt on display, her thighs must probably be a mess from her wetness. hands tied together above her head. and that he’s clearly enjoying as he eyes her hungrily. 

the fire burns hot and hungry, ready to incinerate anything in its wake. her body burns with it; feverish and writing as she tries to grind on his face. his hands dig into her thighs keeping her still in place. she has no agency in this; she is only his plaything. what had she said before? she can make herself cum? well of course he had taken that as a challenge. because now, desperate as she is, nothing would make her let go until he says so. 

and he won’t say it until he’s done having his fun. 

‘so fucking sweet,’ he hums against her, ‘almost want to let you cum now so i can taste you…’

she’s sure she nods at that. yes, yes, do that. let me. it’s not just for her benefit, it’s for his too. but then he clicks his tongue softly. 

‘but you know what they say about patience…’

she doesn’t. that’s what got her here in the first place. 

his teeth are on her inner thigh, biting and leaving behind a million red marks that his tongue soothes an instant later. but it doesn’t stop there. his tongue is almost as cruel as his teasing. it laps at her, broad strokes and kitten licks, and swirls around her clit till her thighs are clenched around him and shaking, spasming. maybe he’s finally going to let her cum after denying her time and time again. 

‘so close,’ she mumbles in a daze, ‘please i’m going to cum, please.’

‘no you’re not,’ he stops momentarily and her head spins. please not again, not again. the pressure inside her is painful, she feels like she’s about to burst into tiny pieces and yet he has his hand on her stomach, holding her down, holding her together. 

‘hold it,’ he commands and sucks on her clit again. 

‘i can’t–please, ross, i ca–can’t!’ the tears spill over and she doesn’t care about the begging any more. 

‘yes you can,’ he gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘if you don’t hold it…well,’ he looks at his laptop and shrugs casually, ‘i do still have two pages left to read. should i–’

‘no!’ she cries out, holding onto the sobs that threaten to spill. for once she’s grateful for the belt tying her hands together, if it weren’t for that, she would have long since ripped out her hair in frustration. ‘no please, i’ll be good, i’ll be a good girl.’

that makes him smirk. ‘now you want to be a good girl for me? would this have happened if you would have sat still for twenty minutes? hmm?’

she shakes her head vigorously. no, it wouldn’t have. her head lolls to one side, too tired from shaking it and ross laughs. it’s languid and careless, like he really could just walk back to his macbook without a second thought. she could be lying almost spreadeagle on his desk all day and none of it would matter until he’s done. 

‘my pretty baby,’ he coos, fingers trailing up her thigh and resting at the apex, ‘are you going to be a brat again?’

‘no,’ she mumbles and whines out his name again, ‘i–please, ross, please.’ those are the only words she’s capable of saying anyway. everything else has gone hazy and through it all she sees his lazy grin as he lowers his mouth between her legs again. 

‘have you learned your lesson yet?’ spoken so close to her cunt that she feels his gravelly voice shoot straight to her core. she has no idea what she says but it must have satisfied him because his tongue is back on her, so is his thumb. 

somewhere the buzzing starts again or it might just be her ears ringing at this point as she loses herself to the tingling feeling in her body. nothing else matters, only him and pleasing him and being a good girl for him. a jolt goes through her whole body at the touch of the vibrator once again. she can’t take it anymore, not again, not—

‘good,’ he hums, tongue dipped between her folds, ‘you can let go now.’

he doesn’t even finish the sentence before she’s moaning the loudest she has, screaming practically as her thighs clench around his head and the knot inside her breaks. waves after waves after waves of pleasure crashing on her until she’s practically drowning in ecstasy. there’s nothing else but his mouth and his voice. she doesn’t know anymore where they are or what day it is or how long she’s been here. 

all she knows is that she’s trembling and shaking, head lolled to one side. coming down from her high and cold at the absence of his touch. a few minutes later his hands are back on her thighs along with something damp and cold that feels amazing against her skin. every small graze against her clit makes her wince and he apologises softly, first through his words and then by placing small kisses on her head, her shoulder, her hip, whatever’s closest to him. 

‘baby?’ the leather around her wrists loosens and his fingers rub at the red marks as if that would make them go away. maybe they would dissipate a little. 

‘hmm?’

she’s surrounded by his scent now and the feeling of his arms around her. ‘can’t keep your eyes open can you?’

‘mm-hmm.’

‘can’t do much of anything it seems.’ his voice is back to being kind and sweet but there’s also some teasing in it and of course, some smugness. he has just fucked her to within an inch of her life of course…and he didn’t shed a single item of clothing. 

there’s a brief feeling of floating before she feels solid ground again, it’s a lap. ross’s lap. 

‘we’re leaving in ten minutes,’ he tells her. but she’s too far gone to care. 

[omnidemidisaster]

Kevin x Spouse reader

Request! This is a part two to "Our Future". Idk whether to make the reader female or male cause both have very different ways of having children so ill try my best to make it neutral. Yes I'm still going with Ross and Kevin being brothers. Why, cause I can

Slight spoilers for Tender Treats

"Our now"

It seemed like just yesterday Kevin talked with you about marriage and having a child. Now you were both married, with rings like he promised. After the wedding, you and Kevin agreed to wait til you both have enough money ( The wedding costed quite a bit ) then try for kids. Kevin was perfectly fine with that.

Now, it was just you and him, laying on your shared bed as you both usually did. You were watching TV and cuddling up with each other.

Kevin was on his phone looking through article after article on how to start out with parenting, unintentionally stressing himself out a bit. He ended up putting his phone down for a moment.

"Hey hon?" You let out a "Hmm?" He sighed. "Do you think I would be a good dad?" You muted the TV and turned your body, still cuddled up on his arms, and looked at him. "Of course, why?"

He looked a little anxious. "Its just I'm nervous. I've wanted a child since that talk and I still want one now, but I don't know if I'm even going to be a decent father. I mean I drink, I have a temper, I'm overworked and tired. How can I not think I might be less than good"

You put a hand on his cheek. "Honey, I can promise you will be an amazing father" You said. "I know how amazing you'll be. Your only looking at the negative aspects of yourself. They are there, yes. But thats only one part of you. I know there's more to you than anger"

He looked down at you with a slight glimmer of hope. "Let's see, your very kind and gentle. You clearly care about kids, even when they do wrong. I mean those kids that stole candy from you, I saw you talk with the kid that stole the candy and you looked like you were comforting him, which might I add worked"

He looked down, recalling that situation. Roy had come to him to vent about his parents, in which Kevin provided a shoulder to lean on and kind words. By the end of Roy's visit, he looked much more happier than when he came in.

"And what about those two Halloween kids? I saw you lecture them, then immediately tried to protect them from that cannibal guy. They piss you off but I know that you know that you'll protect them from anything in a heartbeat"

Now that you were right about. Those two kids piss him off to no end, but he can't bring himself to really hate them that much just to leave them at the hands of death. He knows that someone at home cares for those two boys and he personally wouldn't want someone not to make sure his kid was okay.

"Oh, what about Ross, your little brother? I've seen you sometimes ignore me just to talk with him. Not that I'm mad about that. He's your brother, of course you would want to talk with him. I see how much Ross means to you and hell you sometimes treat him like your own son"

Kevin nodded. Ross did mean so much to him. He doesn't care that he is only 8 years older than Ross, he sees Ross like his baby brother. Hell Ross could be 50 and he would still be his baby brother. He loves him to death, how could he not?

"And even outside of those kids, I know that your very sensitive and I know that you are very loving. You don't have to worry about if your gonna be a bad father. Sure it's nerve wrecking, hell I'm nervous too, but you don't have to worry. If I know anything about this, its that we are gonna be just fine"

Kevin smiled and kissed your cheek. "Thanks hon" You smiled and kissed him back, this time on his lips.

[stelly38]

More progress on The Initiate.  Here’s a spicy snippet.  The portion I’ve excerpted and shared here is safe for work; the scene I took it from is not.  

“I hope you don’t mind,” Ross began, “I took the liberty of ordering dessert ahead of time.”

“Oh. Is it… something special?” Demelza asked.

“In a way,” he responded.

“I hope it’s good,” she said, reaching for him.  

“I think you’ll enjoy what I’ve chosen,” he said, and squeezed her hand.

When their waiter reappeared, he set a slice of flourless chocolate cake on the table in front of Demelza. Her eyes lit up when she saw it—a flawless wedge of thick, rich chocolate, resting on top of a scattering of dark chocolate crumbles. They’d drizzled a raspberry coulis over the top and sides, arranged three plump berries in the middle, and finished the presentation with a dollop of whipped cream and a fresh mint leaf.

“It looks delicious,” she began, picking up her fork.

Ross slid the dish out of her reach, and placed it near his glass.

“Hey,” she said, “I thought we were splitting it!”

“You’ll get some, my dear,” he said, “but you’ll have to earn it.”

Demelza shot him a look, and Ross smirked.

“These are the rules,” he began.

“Really, Ross? We can’t just have a nice dinner without—”

“I just watched you eat dinner, my love.”

Demelza pursed her lips and sat back in the booth, arms crossed over her chest.  

Ross slowly turned the plate around, admiring the cake. “It looks quite good, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t say anything.  

He glanced at her and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. In a hushed voice, he said, “You can either do this here with me, or you can sit and watch me eat your cake, and then endure your punishment when we get home. Your choice.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Please, share what’s on your mind,” he encouraged.

“Sometimes, you make me feel like a naughty child, when I’ve done nothing to deserve it,” she huffed.

“I don’t ‘make’ you feel anything; you choose your feelings.”

“All right. You treat me like a child.”

“I have to disagree.  If I did to a child what I’ve done to you, and what I’m about to do to you, I’d have been thrown in jail long ago,” he smirked.

He placed his hand on her thigh under the table, and felt her tense up beneath his fingers.

“Do you need to take a moment, my dear?  Think about your options?”

She shot him another black look and sat silently.

Ross moved his hand away and picked up a fork.  He cut some of the cake from the narrow end of the wedge and popped it in his mouth, his eyes closing involuntarily as it melted on his tongue.  He groaned quietly.  “Chocolate has never been my favorite, but this—this is divine,” he said, licking the fork clean.

“I could just order my own and pay for it myself,” Demelza said.

“But you won’t disappoint me, will you?” he asked, looking directly at her.

She mouthed the word ‘fuck,’ and shook her head.

“So…?” Ross asked.

Quickly, she took stock of the room, her eyes darting from one occupied table to the next.  Then she looked around the booth in which they were seated.  It was round, with a leather bench and high, leather back, and seemed to be built into the corner of the room.  There was a matching one opposite them, closer to the door that led to the foyer.  The other diners were eating and chatting, smiling and swapping stories.  The room was muted, lit by an ornate, crystal chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling.  Waitstaff bustled in and out, delivering plates and refilling glasses.

Ross watched her.  “No one is paying us any mind,” he said.  “And nobody can see through table linens,” he added, indicating the floor length draping that covered their table.

She shut her eyes for a second.  “You’re going to owe me for this.”

“Am I? And you’re missing something from your threat.”

“You’re going to owe me for this, sir,” she said.

“We’ll see.  Oh, and I’ll need your panties before we begin.”

[socrat1cjunkiewannabe]

soo- we’re writers round here! we decided as a first post for our tumblr to showcase a sneak peak of some oneshot we’ve started up for our book over on ao3! (follow us at jimbomazza_taxi) and it’s for our “The 1975 oneshots” collection!

—

[How Can I Relate To You? — The 1975]

There was a shy kid, someone who hated to be in the main spotlight. Well, he didn’t hate being in some form of glory. It was the fact of being seen, the fact he could show more of his fuck ups if he were to do wrong, which feared this young guy. His name was Adam. His friends, Ross, George and Matty, they call him Hann.

But, he didn’t speak when he was first met with Matty. Matthew Healy the chatterbox, and Adam Hann the somewhat mute. Yeah, again it sounds like some weird universe, or fourth wall break to get these two in conversation. Well, it did take a few coaxes, and a few softer let downs for Adam’s frail mind to finally compute with Matty. Jokingly, Matty wrote a note passing it to Hann.

“How can I relate to someone who doesn’t speak?”

Hann receiving this crumpled piece of paper with the partly illegible jokey comment seems to frown a bit looking down at what Matty had put down, and would remain in silence for a bit longer, just contemplating what to write back. That’s where this block seemed to show, massively.

Matty was just crouched down opposite by this point, maybe on his phone. It was like he wasn’t aware the teachers would catch him, but Hann did have a somewhat cheeky jab in his note back to him, pushing it over with a nudge.

“We’re not all like you Matty, you just have a chatterbox for a mouth.. plus- the teachers will see your phone mate.”

Matty reads this, and places his phone down momentarily, although it was still open on some possible interface of an app, or maybe even his notes as he was known for scribing thoughts down on his phone. “Hann, you’re acting like my dad..” he’d chuckles, but was grinning with the joy at the joke pulled. “But yeah, I guess I’m a bit more extroverted. Probably ‘cos of me not really giving a damn what people see me for. Although, it’s usually class asshole.”

Hann just looks over, and although he didn’t really have a verbal answer for Matty, he did bear a warm smile, showing his teeth. He did feel that although him and Matty showed different in the personality front, that they may bond over the humouring side of things.. and that did open a door up.

“Hann, I do just want ya to know.. you can talk to me. You can talk to my mates too, Ross and George. Trust me, we’re not gonna be like dicks.” Matty seems to softly laugh, watching as green eyes had met to hazel, almost in a loving manner.

“To be fair, I’d like some friends with similar taste, since I’m just obsessed with guitars and seeing you love that too, it seems right.” Adam held the note in hand, lightly fidgeting with it but trying to explain back, and when Matty slowly started raising to his feet from the crouch on the floor, Hann’s gaze cast up again to Matty like martyr.

“C’mon, you’ll not regret it. It’ll be massive for you.” He adds, and that’s when the other was beginning to ascend to his feet as well and give a light smile, despite not being a vocal chirp. Again, a man of little words Hann.

Soon enough, let’s say what Matty noted was truth. By this time, they had just fired up a band, a dream that was shared by Matty’s friends Ross and George, and now by the new notice of Hann. The boys had been friends now for about two maybe three years, and safe to say what the now frontman of their dream career had voiced, sure enough had become true, and that always never failed to blow Hann’s mind every time it had struck him.

Performing at small places at first, Satan’s Hollow in Adam’s home of Manchester, then stretching out to Winslow in Cheshire for Ross’ birthplace.. London and then even eventually across the pond to Brussels where George resided before. The progression, always was important. And this time, during one of Adam’s moments of reminiscing, Ross came over.

“Hey Hann, you alright over there? Having a little daydream this morning?” His voice suffices with a little laughter, as he’d place a hand onto their guitarist’s shoulder, smiling. “You seem like you’re in a thinking state for sure.”

—

(that’s our progress so far! we also have two others already up to read, “In The Shade” and “It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)” if you’re interested!)

— also! we are planning to be writing more with the boys and their mates more often in works, but that’ll be in the future hopefully, so if you lot are fanatics im sure you’ll appreciate this :]

[mlobsters]

supernatural s12e2 mamma mia (w. brad buckner, eugenie ross-leming)

whatever the fuck is happening here, no fucking thank you. evil mol lady in sam's head fucking information out of him? need to tally all the times someone's messed with his head, jesus. being resurrected soulless, having said soul shoved back in by dean via death with a wall, said wall being destroyed by cas to keep the boys occupied, trauma from said breaking causing lucifer hallucinations, becky's love potion, dean tricking him into saying yes to gadreel, am i forgetting anything? (too much plot to keep track of)

CASTIEL Don't make things needlessly complicated, as you humans tend to do. I'll call you.

oh damn, i need to get on that too. keep it simple, stupid

i really like the hair and makeup on mary this time. reminiscent of her s1 makeup

s4e21 sam hallucinating mom (nigh on unrecognizable, i thought she'd been recast!) / s1

MARY That yellow-eyed thing would never have come for him that night if I... I started all of this.

respectfully, what with the being michael and lucifer's One True Vessels, i don't think it matters what you did. which tripped some signal in my brain for a techno?? song with a line 'this has all happened before and it will all happen again'. i keep thinking the messiah album from 94 but hmm. argh. i need to drop this and figure it out later

thought we were done with the physical torture. silly me.

why are we with rowena now. and this dude who's been in a million things but who knows what i recognize him from. could be commercials, for all i know. and rick springfield, right. we're just going on with our weird little goofy plotlines and just cutting to awful torture periodically. sure.

MARY Sam had a chance to get out? And he came back? DEAN When Dad disappeared, Sam and I looked around, and something became very clear. That the only thing we had in this world – the only thing, aside from this car – was each other.

i will take that and tuck it in my pocket. mary looking (understandably) concerned

ROWENA I can't believe I'm once again down some dank hole seeking the devil! When does it end? It's exactly why I'm retiring to Boca Raton. With Ben.

stopped clenching my jaw over sam long enough to laugh, that was a good one

great, now dean's getting a beating too. just go wander about this place that's heavily warded, alone. not making good choices, dean (so we can get mary to come save the day again?)

the wing shadows are always fun and a lot easier to execute well compared to actual (practical or cg) wings but do miss a real wing unfurling from time to time. you know what had great wings?

clash of the titans (2010) that and shiny armor on the gods is all i remember honestly

internet died unexpectedly mid-episode so here i am day 2, again.

i will say. also. i really appreciate spn does cast people that are older for things that could be cool and badass or sexy or whatever. but i dunno if rick springfield was the best choice exactly for lucifer. since we're like, in theory trying to still do mark pellegrino's lucifer, maybe getting an actor-actor would have been a better fit

the way dean replied "hey" so soft and with a hint of a smile, my heart

(back to muting with evil lady)

and yes, to mary saving the day. man, she looks great. shoutout again to the makeup artists and stylists (and good lighting!)

they are really going above and beyond making this mol woman irredeemably awful. not one to encourage them just killing people straight out of the gate but i was hoping mary (or dean) would just shoot her. i dunno if the goal was try to get information or something but she has proven to be exceptionally dangerous time and time again. sam shoulda just shouted out for them to shoot. but less angsty drama so

seen this in meme format and knew it must be from this plotline, didn't realize they'd cropped mary out

gather there must have been some offscreen cas-healing. convenient

MARY But do you still like pie?

reminds me of a gifset i saw recently with jensen talking about his been conditioned to be excited about pie via dean lol

i have a variety of gags i don't love on this show, but dean eating as piggishly as possible is up there near the top.

i can't get over how beautiful she looks. bewitched me

MARY Well, we should call the Internet and find out as much as we can about these people. Did I say that right? DEAN So close. SAM Yeah, it was close.

that was very cute

the crazy awkward i can't begin to fathom for sam, not knowing mary at all (though dean barely did too, especially considering most kids don't retain those very early childhood memories)

SAM Dad's journal. His writing, his words. Helped me fill in some blanks, answer some questions I didn't know I had. And, you know, it – it – it keeps him with us, sort of. MARY Thank you. SAM Good night. MARY Dean said you got out of hunting. SAM Yeah. MARY And yet here you are. SAM Well, this is my family. My family hunts, you know? It's what we do. Mom. For me... just, um... having you here... fills in the biggest blank.

❤️ got me to tear up too - despite the slightly odd music cue for the hug - lyrics yes but not quite the right mood musically to me? (heart's lost angel). i think it works for the montage but the tone feels not quite right for the hug

i hope they're taking more pictures these days. damn bobby for burning the family picture with jo and ellen in 5x10. sam and dean both look at them regularly, should add some new ones

the apocalypse au picture?? had it paused trying to find jdm and then like whaa that's cas being human-apocalypse-casual. 5x04 (which includes some really wonky romantic music when sam and dean reunite, clip included)

and now we're back to cheesy action spy thriller with the whatever, expert assassin torturer whatever the fuck. giving whiplash

--

brief-ish rant. i've complained, often, annoyingly, about the torture in this show. pushing aside the fact that torturing for information doesn't work, i think it's the sheer volume in this show in particular that has me so kneejerk upset about it. most shows or movies i watch (because i'm not going to pick to watch things that advertised to have a lot of torture in them), i can look away through maybe a few scenes and okay moving on. but torture itself became an Important Character / Plot note thing for dean, and with the torture subjects often being not-human there's (presumably) less moral qualms about torturing them, along with just a general standard action trope of using it for information. it's just so common and so accepted as standard operating procedure. and i don't like it. i don't like depictions of it ever, but especially not with this show's frequency, and especially-especially not with my special guys doing the torturing or being subjected to it.

[keefwho]

April 07 - 2024 Sunday

11:13pm

5.5/10

This morning I was in a good headspace listening to breakcore and doing last night's dishes. I had planned for today to be a no-think day but that period of peace I had didn't last too long. I took my shower and made eggs, spam, and a fried potato for breakfast. I was watching a Bob Ross documentary while I ate but all I could think of was my old friend NK who I haven't talked to in years aside from a few brief appearances in his Twitch chat. I decided to ask him if he wanted to watch it with me and we might be doing that either Thursday or Friday. I was a little stunlocked after breakfast, I didn't know what to do and I was falling into my usual thought patterns. I knew I had to do something. I felt like cleaning the shelf above the fireplace and I did that with the recognition that it was like a self care thing. Doing it didn't effect anyone but me and only I was going to take joy in doing it and I decided that mattered. While I cleaned I joined DV in his server and he had a lot to talk about regarding his (sort of) partner. So we had a big long chat about things, it felt good being there for him. After the talking we just played Helldivers normally and that was fun. Eventually I disengaged to go make lunch. I made tuna spaghetti and I made it right for the first time in awhile. I was watching Sagwa and sending DS funny screencaps. Afterwards I was bored and I knew it. Instead of fighting it like usual, I succumbed to the boredom. I watched more Sagwa with the intent of not really paying attention. I booted up Cities Skylines with Sagwa on the side for a little bit and was trying to start my EPCOT playthrough but ended up scrapping what I did. I also found some good city building playlists to listen to. Eventually DS got on her PC and she worked on her fursuit while we watched furry videos and a couple old informational videos. She put the eyelashes on the head today which was huge in pulling the look together. Some of the furry videos we watched featured some horny chatter which was offputting and gross, this is the first time that's been in the videos we watched. The best way I can describe it is trashy. And of course it's all gay boys (Im bi so I'm not gay hating). But there is this trend of horny gay males who don't have an off switch. I've experienced this a lot first hand and it's really left me feeling sour. In bed we rolled our puzzles, read a Cleo chapter of Monster High, and played KH2 as usual. I entered the tron world today. After she fell asleep, I hopped into desktop VR to join BD and chill. DV joined as well with some more ranting because he essentially broke up with that person from earlier. GT also joined and I talked to everyone a little bit individually. I had muted KH2 since it was loud for me and before journaling, I unmuted it to have some noise but DS got woken up by it so I feel kinda bad.

~~~

Today my big thing was I succumbed to my boredom which was the right thing to do. Its okay to have a nothing day. Also the time spent with DS this afternoon was exactly what I needed. It might have been the headspace I was in. I was conscious about enjoying the time for what it was. I was also still in that bored headspace so I was just chilling, I wanted nothing more than the company while we watched stuff and my mind wandered.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a feral Avenger

Avengers x reader

warnings: guns and death mention (but no one dies dw)

a/n: s/o to @emcon-imagines for the idea since we needed smth OPPOSITE of the norm. also i find it really funny that i got a request for a feral xmen hc while i was writing this

prompt:

you were just.....too much for the team to handle

and that was saying something considering you were THE AVENGERS

“guys, guys, guys, oh my god, look what matt damon just posted” -you

“since when do you care about matt damon?” -literally any avenger

“i dont” -you

absolutely no idea when to quit

so there’s never a dull moment

“who is screaming ‘i fucking knew it?’ some of us are trying to work” -tony

“i think you know” -nat

“follow up question: why?” -tony

“i believe they are watching ‘the mandalorian’” -wanda

“WITHOUT ME??? SON OF A—” -tony

not being allowed to have coffee

or really any kind of caffine but

“sowhatimtryingtosayisshieldwasconnectedtohydraandhydraisdefinitelyconnectedtotheilluminatisowereweapartoftheilluminati?” -you

“...vis? did you give y/n coffee?” -wanda

“i wasn’t aware that it had this effect on them” -vision

accidentally punching a hole in the wall

putting a picture of the team over it

“oh, that’s nice...oh, nevermind” -sam

yes, you announce yourself every time you enter the room

*arms raised* “hello all, it is i, your favorite avenger” -you

“actually my favorite avenger is natasha” -clint

“okay, then it is i, that bitch” -you

“im going to duct tape your mouth shut” -tony

fun fact tony cracked peter’s formula for web fluids just so he could web your mouth shut

*mmph. mmmmph. MMMMMMPH* -you

“ah, finally. peace and quiet” -tony

being found asleep (or just lying down) in some odd positions and locations

the quinjet, on the helipad, in natasha’s room, on the kitchen floor, under the couch cushions, and more

*finding you lying on the kitchen floor* “you alive down there?” -tony *nudging you w his foot*

“hnnnnnn” -you

“cool” -tony

steve has tackled you on the battlefield several times. why, you ask?

“dont go chasin’ waterfalllls stick to the rivers and the lakes that youre used toooo...erbaneanananeeneedododoo...” -you

“y/n, watch out!” -steve

you can put the rest together

also just being the worst on the comms

“clint u gotta pull ur pants up” “work it, wanda!!!” “anyone else smell hamburgers?? hey peter, why don’t you get me a combo?” “look guys! i got one of their weapons! wonder how it works—NEVERMIND” “woah, holy shit, nat. can you teach me how to do that???” -all you, babey

“i don’t remember hitting ‘play’ on the director’s commentary of this mission” -natasha (courtesy of the brilliant @emcon-imagines)

“tony?” -rhodey

“yep, turning off their comms now. they’ll manage without us” -tony

“you’re the genius, why don’t you develop a real-life mute button for them?” -rhodey

“yeah, let me just turn y/n into a cyborg first. thanks for the input” -tony, sarcastically

meanwhile...

“GUYS??? GUYS???? ARE YOU ALL DEAD??? IM THE ONLY ONE LEFT???? this is not how i imagined this happening. maybe i can get a bigger room at the compound. hmph.” -you

whipping a random ass chain around??? where did you get that???

flagging down rhodey

*lands* “what?” -rhodey

“did everyone die?” -you

“no” -rhodey

“why cant i hear them on comms?” -you

“see you later” -rhodey, flying away

sleepless nights tbh

why? why. whywhywhywhy why

was it nightmares? was it hunger? straight up restlessness? wouldnt you like to know

“do i smell popcorn?” -nat to wanda in the dead of night

you had two ENTIRE boxes of popcorn bags out on the counter

“maybe you should just knock them the fuck out, wanda” -natasha (also a product of @emcon-imagines’ genius)

“no!!! movie night!!!” -you, moments before falling into nat’s arms

ur not only feral.....ur also a good friend

“y/n, i really need your help” -peter

“shoot. wait—is it illegal? i’ll do it if it’s illegal” -you

“?? no, no, i just need you to schedule my dentist appointment. my aunt says she won’t do it for me anymore” -peter

*gasp* “can i make up my own character??” -you

you were actually a fan favorite

at times

*in front of news cameras* “hey cool fact about captain america: he can lift his legs behind his head”

social media legend

wintersoldierthirstpage: “can you tell us if bucky’s metal arm vibrates”

y/n_l/n: “can neither confirm nor deny. yes.”

you had a tiktok that was half trends/dances and half memeing serious situations

*pointing camera at secretary ross* “dude’s really trying to take away our rights and shit” *phone smacked out of hand by rhodey*

*all the avengers arguing with “say so” being played over it*

walking into the room covered in string lights

burning ur cookies!!!!

taking clints bow and arrows for “practice”

bad decisions all around

“oh no” -you, rushing out of your room

“what? what’s ‘oh no’” -sam

“my toilet is on fire” -you

“are—are you joking?” -sam

“where’s the fire extinguisher.” -you, VERY CALM

“y/n???? Y/N???? WHY ARENT THE ALARMS GOING OFF?? THE SPRINKLERS?? THERES SMOKE COMING OUT OF YOUR ROOM” -sam

“fire alarms are a myth” -you

“NO??????”

they act like they cant stand you but deep down, you make their lives sm more interesting and they don’t know what they’d do without you. there isn’t always someone trying to achieve world domination.

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich //

[antoine-roquentin]

I collect Soviet newspapers. Years ago, I used to travel to Moscow’s Izmailovsky flea market every few weeks, hooking up with a dealer who crisscrossed the country digging up front pages from the Cold War era. I have Izvestia’s celebration of Gagarin’s flight, a Pravda account of a 1938 show trial, even an ancient copy of Ogonyek with Trotsky on the cover that someone must have taken a risk to keep.

These relics, with dramatic block fonts and red highlights, are cool pieces of history. Not so cool: the writing! Soviet newspapers were wrought with such anvil shamelessness that it’s difficult to imagine anyone ever read them without laughing. A good Soviet could write almost any Pravda headline in advance. What else but “A Mighty Demonstration of the Union of the Party and the People” fit the day after Supreme Soviet elections? What news could come from the Spanish civil war but “Success of the Republican Fleet?” Who could earn an obit headline but a “Faithful Son of the Party”?

Reality in Soviet news was 100% binary, with all people either heroes or villains, and the villains all in league with one another (an SR was no better than a fascist or a “Right-Trotskyite Bandit,” a kind of proto-horseshoe theory). Other ideas were not represented, except to be attacked and deconstructed. Also, since anything good was all good, politicians were not described as people at all but paragons of limitless virtue — 95% of most issues of Pravda or Izvestia were just names of party leaders surrounded by lists of applause-words, like “glittering,” “full-hearted,” “wise,” “mighty,” “courageous,” “in complete moral-political union with the people,” etc.

Some of the headlines in the U.S. press lately sound suspiciously like this kind of work:

— Biden stimulus showers money on Americans, sharply cutting poverty

— Champion of the middle class comes to the aid of the poor

— Biden's historic victory for America

The most Soviet of the recent efforts didn’t have a classically Soviet headline. “Comedians are struggling to parody Biden. Let’s hope this doesn’t last,” read the Washington Post opinion piece by Richard Zoglin, arguing that Biden is the first president in generations who might be “impervious to impressionists.” Zoglin contended Biden is “impregnable” to parody, his voice being too “devoid of obvious quirks,” his manner too “muted and self-effacing” to offer comedians much to work with. He was talking about this person:

Forget that the “impregnable to parody” pol spent the last campaign year jamming fingers in the sternums of voters, challenging them to pushup contests, calling them “lying dog-faced pony soldiers,” and forgetting what state he was in. Biden, on the day Zoglin ran his piece, couldn’t remember the name of his Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin, and referred to the Department of Defense as “that outfit over there”:

It doesn’t take much looking to find comedians like James Adomian and Anthony Atamaniuk ab-libbing riffs on Biden with ease. He checks almost every box as a comic subject, saying inappropriate things, engaging in wacky Inspector Clouseau-style physical stunts (like biting his wife’s finger), and switching back and forth between outbursts of splenetic certainty and total cluelessness. The parody doesn’t even have to be mean — you could make it endearing cluelessness. But to say nothing’s there to work with is bananas.  

The first 50 days of Biden’s administration have been a surprise on multiple fronts. The breadth of his stimulus suggests a real change from the Obama years, while hints that this administration wants to pick a unionization fight with Amazon go against every tendency of Clintonian politics. But it’s hard to know what much of it means, because coverage of Biden increasingly resembles official press releases, often featuring embarrassing, Soviet-style contortions.

When Biden decided not to punish Saudi Prince Mohammed bin Salman for the murder of Washington Post writer Jamal Khashoggi on the grounds that the “cost” of “breaching the relationship with one of America’s key Arab allies” was too high, the New York Times headline read: “Biden Won’t Penalize Saudi Crown Prince Over Khashoggi’s Killing, Fearing Relations Breach.” When Donald Trump made the same calculation, saying he couldn’t cut ties because “the world is a very dangerous place” and “our relationship is with the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia,” the paper joined most of the rest of the press corps in howling in outrage.

“In Extraordinary Statement, Trump Stands With Saudis Despite Khashoggi Killing.” was the Times headline, in a piece that said Trump’s decision was “a stark distillation of the Trump worldview: remorselessly transactional, heedless of the facts, determined to put America’s interests first, and founded on a theory of moral equivalence.” The paper noted, “Even Mr. Trump’s staunchest allies on Capitol Hill expressed revulsion.”

This week, in its “Crusader for the Poor” piece, the Times described Biden’s identical bin Salman decision as mere evidence that he remains “in the cautious middle” in his foreign policy. The paper previously had David Sanger dig up a quote from former Middle East negotiator Dennis Ross, who “applauded Mr. Biden for ‘trying to thread the needle here… This is the classic example of where you have to balance your values and your interests.’” It’s two opposite takes on exactly the same thing.

The old con of the Manufacturing Consent era of media was a phony show of bipartisanship. Legitimate opinion was depicted as a spectrum stretching all the way from “moderate” Democrats (often depicted as more correct on social issues) to “moderate” Republicans (whose views on the economy or war were often depicted as more realistic). That propaganda trick involved constantly narrowing the debate to a little slice of the Venn diagram between two established parties. Did we need to invade Iraq right away to stay safe, as Republicans contended, or should we wait until inspectors finished their work and then invade, as Democrats insisted?

[statusquoergo]

Can we talk about how much of the ending montage of the finale was just marvey moments? They weren't even chronological, it was all these other moments with other people (the one clip of Jessica was from the 'How do you know I'm thinking about Mike Ross?' 'Who else would it be?' scene) interspersed with classic marvey faves especially from the pilot, like Harvey just kept coming back to meeting Mike as the thing tying it all together, his underlying theme at the end of his journey was Mike Ross.

p.s. re: the ending montage, it's even more obvious if you watch it without the music somehow

We sure can talk about that ending montage! (Before we get into the Marvey-ness of it all, though, I just gotta say that especially watching it out of context, and especially with the soundtrack muted, Donna approaching Louis at the elevators and then him biting his lip and them holding hands as the doors close definitely reads to me as a Lonna moment.)

So. Structural critique. A couple of things read weirdly about this whole setup; first of all, they cut immediately, and I mean immediately, from Harvey looking...nostalgically? Mournfully? Reverently? at the painting his mother gave him of baby!Harvey watching Lily paint that stupid duck painting to the first clip of the montage, i.e., Mike’s briefcase breaking open at the interview. So this is either a “Look how far we’ve come” overview, in which case I’m confused that it starts off with a reference to Lily, since she doesn’t come up again so the painting has no referential anchor point, and the montage itself doesn’t specifically reference Harvey’s childhood or life before coming to the firm in any way (which isn’t to say it’s not a nostalgic overview, but if so, it’s very poorly arranged), or it’s a commentary on important people in Harvey’s life, in which case it sure is interesting that we go straight from Harvey’s mother to Mike, given that literally the only link between them is that Mike showed up at her funeral to support Harvey.

Getting down to a granular level, the clips in the montage are:

1. Mike crashes Harvey’s interview (s01e01) 2. Harvey lectures Mike about the importance of a good first impression (s01e03) 3. Jessica advises Harvey to support Mike in being himself (s04e02) 4. [Flashback] Harvey and Louis give each other shit right after Louis becomes a junior partner (s02e08) 5. [Flashback] Harvey and Donna's first meeting (s04e16) 6. Harvey invites Mike to come with him to visit Ava Hessington (s03e03) 7. Harvey yells at Mike for not coming to him when Jessica threatened him (s03e01) 8. Mike tells Rachel he’s a fraud (s02e16) 9. General cycle of clips of everyone supporting each other over Harvey’s dialogue that “We’re not just colleagues, or even friends. We’re family.” (s05e10) 10. Mike does finger guns and Harvey swerves out of the way (s01e01) 11. “Life is like this. And I like this.” (s01e10) 12. Mike and Rachel reunite when Mike gets out of Danbury (s06e09) 13. Harvey and Donna make out (s08e16)

And for a bit of analytical commentary:

1. The start of the series and introduction of the premise, this is an obvious choice. 2. An interesting direction; possibly a commentary on Harvey’s general life philosophy, this could also be interpreted as a continuation of the Harvey-Mike dyad established in the pilot being the show’s central focus, particularly when one considers that it comes on the heels of Harvey’s rather...interesting first impression of Mike. 3. Lacking context, this is just an excuse to showcase Jessica in the montage as Harvey’s mentor; with context, it’s easy to interpret as another reminder that the show is centered around Harvey and Mike as a pair. 4. This is a weird moment to choose because while it fits the direction of Louis’s ultimate story line quite well, from struggling in Harvey’s shadow despite his considerable accomplishments to becoming head of the firm, it doesn’t fit in with the other incidents Harvey’s recalled up to this point; this is for the benefit of summarizing the show, not consistency with the direction of Harvey’s thought process. 5. Another moment for the benefit of summarizing the show that comes otherwise out of nowhere. 6. While this gets us back on track with Harvey’s train of thought prior to the Louis interruption, it really has nothing to do with anyone other than Mike and Harvey; in fact, it’s very much about a moment of reconciliation between the two of them. (On the surface, it’s merely circling back around to the Harvey-Mike dyad, but if you want to go full conspiracy theorist, it’s like...an apology to the viewer, or to Mike, that the narrative got distracted for a minute. And that’s an extremist interpretation that I’m not advocating as truth, but it’s also kind of funny, so I’m mentioning it anyway.) 7. Harvey needs Mike. Harvey needs Mike to need him. There’s not a whole lot of maneuverability in that one. 8. The interesting thing here is that the clip stops right before Mike and Rachel kiss. Showing it would require an extra two seconds of footage and could have been fit in, but the way it’s cut puts the emphasis not on them as a couple but on Rachel’s sense of betrayal after Mike’s deception. 9. The first clip of this montage-within-a-montage is of Rachel hugging Louis, which follows naturally from Rachel interacting with Mike as a way to ease the focus from Harvey-and-Mike to...literally anyone else, but also sets up this quick cycle of clips as kind of a catchall for “characters being supportive of one another because they’re not just colleagues they’re also family but also we need to fit in everyone who isn’t Harvey and Mike because this is technically an Ensemble Show™.” 10. Okay what the fuck, there’s absolutely no reason for this to be in here except to emphasize Harvey and Mike’s camaraderie and easy friendship. It’s from the pilot, for crying out loud. 11. This one is a little bit of a wildcard in that it both re-centers us on Harvey and Mike as partners (reading just slightly deeper into things, Harvey hired Mike in the first place in part because he likes taking risks, but also, having Mike around makes his life exciting), and could also serve as another general commentary on Harvey’s life philosophy. 12. Yet again, this is a Mike-Rachel moment that ends right before the Machel part. Mike walks out of the prison gates and Rachel gets out of the car, but they don’t noticeably move toward one another, let alone actually hug. Maybe this is out of sensitivity toward Meghan’s status as the Duchess of Sussex? (Or it’s a liability issue, I don’t know.) 13. This makes sense as a conclusion to the montage because the final season is largely focused on the Darvey narrative, or trying to establish the Darvey narrative, but it also comes out of nowhere in that very little of the rest of the montage has featured Harvey and Donna as a couple, or even a pair, with the exception of their first meeting (which was right on the heels of Harvey and Louis interacting, making it less an intimate start-of-something type of scene and more of a “Hey remember when the show was just about these six specific central characters, well, now we only have three of them left” tag).

In summary: Boy that sure is a lot of Marvey and Marvey-adjacent content for a series of clips that are supposed to be about everyone but are in fact badly disordered and don’t tell much of a cohesive story. Looking back, especially with this legend of episode citations, it really does seem to be a pretty slapdash collection of some editor’s favorite scenes, or more likely Korsh’s; it doesn’t even have a very smooth emotional trajectory, it’s just a bunch of stuff that happened in no particular order. Oh well, I’m sure they had fun putting it together probably.

Thank you for...asking? Well, thank you for bringing this up, anyway!

[irondadfics]

Do you have any long irondad fics you'd recommend? I really want to settle down with a good muti-chapter fic, I'd love to know your favourites!

LONG FIC REC LIST PART 2

I know some of you are stuck inside due to be quarantined right now, and I really hope each and every one of you are doing alright. Please stay inside if you can and be safe! 

To help pass the time, here’s a continuation of one of our older lists (be sure to also check out part 1 for more recs). During hard times such as this, we often turn to different forms of art for entertainment and to help us cope. BE SURE TO LET THESE WONDERFUL AUTHORS KNOW THEY ARE APPRECIATED! 

This list is organized by word count. Most of the fics listed below are complete but some are not. For example if the word count is encompassed by two asterisks it means the fic is not complete and is subject to change, but the word count is correct as of the day this list was posted. 

ENJOY LOVELIES!!

The Guardian by Emily_F6 @justme–emily (234k+)

Guardian: a person who guards, protects, or preserves. When a terrible accident claims the life of May Parker, Tony Stark steps up as Peter’s guaridan. But it’s not just a traumatized super-teen he’ll have to worry about when he recieves a transmission from Thor.

If They Knew All About You by MsHermia (*224k+*)

Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high.Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.——This is an AU story obvious by some of the tags. I’m starting out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing. Other than that I’m not too concerned about sticking to every canon detail and storyline.

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle (220k+)

Homecoming A/U. Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.So he leaves.Simple.Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on.And that’s when things get complicated.

 Lights To Guide You Home (series) by JolinarJackson @jolinarjackson  (185k+)

Tony becomes Peter’s guardian after May dies unexpectedly and over the course of a year, they learn to become a family.

 hydra’s not a home (series) by tempestaurora @tempestaurora (139k+)

At 6 years old, the son of Tony and Pepper Stark, Peter, is kidnapped, never to be seen again. Or, so they thought. Ten years later, while raiding a HYDRA base, the Avengers come across a new, enhanced individual, working for the enemy: in black spandex, with a tendency to stick to walls and shoot webs from his wrists, the Black Spider is a pain in the ass in more ways than one.

 built from scraps by peterstank @peter-stank (138k+)

“Everybody needs someone. That’s what you said, right?” Pepper meets his eyes and he’s struck by the way she’s almost pleading. “We both lost. We can help each other.”Her hand, palm up and open, stretches into the space between them.Peter hesitates.Then he takes it.or: the one where tony was dusted instead of peter, so he and pepper try to figure out the whole ‘family’ thing together.(oh, and it turns out that the man who died in peter’s arms on an alien planet is his biological father. who knew, right?)

rescue me from the waves (series) by homebuilding @marveal (*125k+*)

“Richard Parker was studying Cross-Species Genetics, but struggled with the ethics of it, because it required he use human DNA, which no ethics board would agree with. So he used his own. His work was successful based off of his own DNA, and every human has a unique DNA,” Bruce explains. “So, naturally, when HYDRA wanted his research, they knew they would never get his support, so they took the next best thing they could to his own DNA. His son.“Or, Tony finds a tortured and experimented-on Peter Parker in a HYDRA base and decides to help him because who else will?

more peril in thine eye by iron_spider @iron–spider (119k+)

Tony sits in relative darkness, the TV on mute, Friday running searches like she has been every day for the past month. A month, since Quentin Beck’s grand plan crumpled underneath him on that bridge. A month, since a flash of light was able to distract Peter just as he was about to bring Beck down. A month, since Beck snatched him, since both of them disappeared. An entire. Month.I’ll keep you updated. I promise.I love you, kid. Rhodey’s on his way, alright? He’s coming. He’s gonna go as fast as he can.I love you too. I’ll be okay. I promise. I can do this.The last thing Tony heard Peter say. Rhodey, Happy and Fury traversed the London landscape immediately afterwards. They found the glasses, but not Spider-Man. There was footage enough to incriminate Beck for what he was, but somehow, nobody was able to get a shot of when he grabbed Peter. Peter was knocking him around, looked like he was getting the upper hand, and then that flash of light. Gone. Gone.

 I Never Knew I Was Broken by GotMyInkPen @gotmyinkpen (*111k+*)

Peter Parker has been living in HYDRA ever since his parents died at age four. All he can remember are the lesson’s HYDRA taught him and a series of words that strike fear into his heart. The only thing driving him forward are the memories of meeting his hero The Winter Soldier when he was seven and the goal to one day be as great an assassin as him.At age sixteen Peter finds himself tangled in the lives of the Avengers and can’t help but wonder if there’s more to life than what he’s been told.Tony wants to help him, no matter what.

 Reviving Peter Parker by YellowDistress @yellowdistress (100k+)

Spider-Man was murdered five years ago, on a beach, at the hands of Adrian Toomes. Peter Parker never came home.Spider-Man was murdered five years ago. Today Peter Parker took his first breath.

 It’s a Secret to Everybody by StarPrince_Punk @starprincepunk (97k+)

“I have kids,“ Clint said. “I know dad behavior when I see it.”Tony blinked multiple consecutive times, processing the statement. “Excuse me?”“Tony,” Steve said now, “how long have you had a son? And how come we’ve never known about him?”“Yeah,” Clint spoke again, “I thought I was the only one with a secret family. Turns out you’ve had one longer than me!”——-Peter gets to spend all summer living in Avengers Tower with Tony. When the Rogue Avengers get pardoned and come back to live at the Tower too, they’re confused as to who Peter is. However, once they see how Tony acts around Peter, that confusion goes away, as they know for certain who Peter must be - Tony’s secret son.Tony and Peter decide to make the most of the situation, and play along. They hope they can keep up the act all summer. But they soon learn that they barely have to act at all.

 Peter and the Jailbirds by beautifullights @beautifullights1 (86k+)

NOW COMPLETE “If you did play chess,” Ross said, “you’d remember that a pawn can become a queen. The most powerful piece on the board, Parker, remember that? But—” Ross smiled— “only if it obeys.”He adjusted his tie, stood, and looked down at Peter. “I’ll ask you again,” he said. “Eventually. You may feel differently after you’ve been living in a six-by-six cube without sunlight or fresh air for a few years.” “What pawns do,” Peter said, voice shaking slightly, “is sacrifice themselves for the greater good. I have no regrets.”He had a lot of regrets.Like, a lot. A crapton. A shitload. An overloaded dumpsterful.“When I visit you on the Raft,” Ross said, “you’ll be old enough to grow a beard.” The cell door clicked shut behind him. [Rated mature for graphic violence.]

 Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) (series) by mainstreamelectricalparade @riseuplikeglitterandgold (*76k+*)

The MCU if Peter was Tony’s biological child.

 In the Home by aloneintherain (68k+)

The Avengers have been infected, turned violent and aggressive against their will. And Peter, the only one unaffected, is trapped inside the Tower with six feral teammates.“Natasha,” Peter says cautiously, “what happened here? Steve attacked me, and if there was ever a sign that something was wrong, it’s having the embodiment of Truth, Justice, and the American Way throw you across the room—”Natasha comes closer, her stride controlled. Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary, but there’s something in her face, in her eyes—Natasha lunges across the space, and slams into Peter, hard.

 From Fraud to Father by TonyStarkissist @tonystarkissist (67k+)

“Tony,” she placated, “all you have to do is read a couple children’s books to them and answer a few of their questions. You’ll be fine.” “Will you come with me? You’re so good with kids,” he pleaded as she finished up with his collar and awkwardly patted the lapels of his suit down, forcing a smile onto her face when she looked up at him.“No. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Phil’s going with you, though, and so is Happy. You shouldn’t have a problem. They’ll make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”Theres a long pause before Tony finally voices his true concern.“But what if one of them sneezes on me?”

Archetype by Bean_reads_fanfic @the-reverse-mermaid (57k+)

Tony knows something is up when the research of ex-Hydra agents gets recycled in an underground Oscorp lab… what he doesn’t expect is the boy in a hospital gown sticking to the ceiling; or, how said boy proceeds to imprint on him like a baby duckling (a poor decision on his part, really). Did he mention he wasn’t intending on bringing home a kid that day?

 Taking Leaps (and the falls that come with them) by Kamomile_Tea (*45k+*)

All across New York City the boroughs are crying out with one voice, asking a question everyone wants the answer to.Where is Spiderman?But no one is asking about Peter Parker.So, he sits alone. Contemplating how his life could have gone so downhill. Grief and nausea well up in his chest and the boy quickly shoves it back down. A shiver courses through him as the cold November air seeps into the building and through his thin clothing. And on the back of his navy blue overshirt, in blocky, white letters, reads the words:CROSSROADS JUVENILE CENTERBROOKLYN NYINMATE 3042 ========== The world seems content with ignoring this young teen. That is, until Tony Stark shows up and asks him if he wants to go to Germany.

Runaway by Spectra @iridescent-spectra  (42k+)

Tony and his adopted son Peter get into a huge spat over his late night spiderman escapades, in which case Peter takes the term ‘Not while you’re under my roof’ way too seriously. After all, how hard could it be to run away from a multi billion dollar genius?Chaos ensues as the whole city becomes a metaphorical chessboard for the two equally stubborn masterminds.

[nervousladytraveler]

🥰👀🥰

end of year WIP meme!

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

Thanks @juicybeatles for the ask.

This bit is another modern Poldark AU. I won’t say anything else about it other than it is wholly unfinished and takes place around Christmas. If the Poldark fandom is still alive on tumblr in December 2021, I’ll post the rest (promises, promises...).

Happy New Year Everyone!

---

A Rose in December

They’d been talking for hours.

And in that time the pub had transformed itself more than once. Eerily quiet in the late afternoon, when they’d been the sole patrons in the place, then a round five o’clock someone began playing some crooning Frank Sinatra. That lasted until the after-work horde filed in, then Old Blue Eyes morphed to overly cheerful Christmas music with far too many bells. Now it was loud and crowded and would grow even more so as the night wore on. Everyone seemed to have a heightened celebratory edge as they moved closer to the holiday and a few days off.

Ross noticed she hadn’t raised her voice to be heard over the raucous. Perhaps that was deliberate? He had to lean closer to hear her.

“You know I hate the dark spicy shite breweries put out for winter. Pumpkin and clove and cinnamon--it’s disgusting. I don't want to drink my pudding and if I want mulled wine, I’ll make mulled wine,” she tried to make a disgusted face but couldn’t help laughing at her own joke. Her teeth gleamed white and her lips were inviting but it was her eyes--her bright and smiling eyes--that he found so compelling.

Ross laughed too. He noticed they were coming easier now and from deeper in his gut. With each chuckle out, a deep breath was drawn in. A new breath. He remembered this feeling. But he didn’t shy away from the familiarity. Instead he wanted to move further into it. That feeling of coming home and knowing you can open all the doors--to any room.

---

Ross woke to a blinding morning light coming in through the east-facing window behind him. It was a cold, relentless light--the kind usually found in January, reflecting off the vast expanses of frozen snow. December sunlight was supposed to be softer, more muted. But maybe it was the last night’s drink that was making his eyes so sensitive now.

He sat up and tried turning a stiff neck then stretched his arms above him. He laughed--he hadn’t had aches like these in some time.

He knew he’d be alone--that wasn’t a surprise--but he was struck by how comfortable he felt in her room after only a few hours.

Someone once told him that beds shouldn't be placed against a window--it was bad feng shui, she’d said--but it worked well in this space. There was no headboard only the long white curtains that mingled with the white bed clothes. A tall bookcase--also white--stretched nearly to the ceiling and was stuffed with all manner of books. Some smaller ones were stacked sideways, two deep on the shelf, to make room for as many as possible; piles of overflow books stood on either side. A stuffed armchair that delicately walked the line between antique and rubbish was covered with clothes. It wasn’t untidy, just lived in, inhabited by a body whose mind was perhaps occupied by other things.

On the mirror at the dresser someone had stuck a note.

Someone.

He pulled on his trousers and managed to shuffle the few feet without stumbling or finding himself unstable. That was a good sign.

“Ross--Despite your *best* efforts to keep me busy all night, I somehow managed to get up on time! I think it must be a Christmas miracle. I don’t dare wake you--I think you earned your sleep ;) I have to get to work but if the invitation is still good--and not just a drunken impulse--then I’ll come by your place tonight when my shift ends. Ring me if plans change. Last night was lovely.”

He laughed. It wasn't the drink that had inspired him to invite her over to spend Christmas with him but he had been intoxicated all the same--by her. After hours in her company, in her bed, and so close to her skin. He considered climbing back under the covers so he might find her scent lingering on a pillow.

Yes, inviting her to Christmas had been impulsive. But so was spending the night with her. Technically he’d only just met her that day.

Ross had no regrets. And he was heartened by the tone of her note. It meant he’d be seeing her again soon.

He looked around at the other items on the dresser.  A cosmetic case, crammed full of brushes and eye palettes. A hairbrush with long red hairs sticking out of the bristles. An empty eyeglass case--did she wear glasses? Apparently so. A few photographs of herself when she was younger were tucked in the mirror frame. The other people in them must have remained important to her these many years later.

He suddenly felt he was prying and turned away at once. He grabbed up his shirt and went in search of the toilet.

---

“Morning,” a deep voice said without turning from the stove.

“Um, yes, good morning.” Ross tried not to mumble but realised his mouth was dry. He also thought he could taste her on his lips; he tried not to panic at the memory of such pleasure.

“Coffee?” the young man asked then placed a mug on the table in front of an empty chair without waiting for Ross’s response.

“Thank you,” Ross said and after a moment’s pause took a seat. It would  definitely be rude to take the coffee and go back to bed.

“I’m frying eggs. Can I make you one too?” Was this man familiar with the routine of entertaining her abandoned guests the morning after?

“Yes, please. I’m Ross Poldark. You live here?” It sounded warmer and more conversational in his head.

“I know you, Ross. We met years ago but I suppose you don’t remember. I’m Sam.” Now Ross saw the resemblance in the eyes, the smile. He also saw the gold cross around the young man’s neck.

Good god, that’s right, he remembered now. She’d said she shared a flat with her brother but didn’t mention it was the religious one. He took a gulp of coffee hoping Sam hadn’t heard what went on behind the bedroom door just hours before.

“Melz said she was going to your place tonight for Christmas,” Sam said as he went back to cracking eggs with expert efficiency.

Melz--a family nickname but not one he’d ever used with her.

“Yes, I’m happy Demelza agreed to come. You should join us.” Another impulsive invitation. And this time it was followed with regret.

“Thank you but no,” Sam said. “We’ve mission work. It’s an important night for us.”

Of course take advantage of the sad and down trodden on the loneliest day of the year in your conversion efforts. That seems fair. He was glad Sam’s back was turned again so he wouldn’t see the undisguised disgust on Ross’s face.

“Last year we fed over 300! In one night,” Sam continued.

Shame spread through Ross’s gut. At least Sam was doing something to help those in need.  Who was Ross to be so judgmental?

“Congratulations,” he mumbled. Was that the proper response? He suddenly was feeling less and less certain of himself, of his place, of what he thought he knew about her, and what he now saw he didn’t. “Does Demelza help you...in your work?” he asked tentatively.

“No, she’s too busy and it’s...not really her thing,” Sam laughed then grew serious again.

Ross wished Demelza was there to shepherd him through this conversation. She seemed to know how to frame things so the world made sense. He wasn’t sure what to say to her brother now and grew desperate to push away images from last night that flashed across his memory.

Her face, her body was so lovely as she leaned over him in her moonlit bed. Her voice soft and low yet rich as she purred his name: Ross, Ross.

“Sister works hard, long hours. She deserves to enjoy herself now and then,” Sam slipped an egg onto a plate for Ross, then fumbled to find a clean fork. “It’s nice to see her happy again.”

[jordm]

Heartland 14x10 - Staying the Course review

So lets pretend I’m not a week late to watch the ep but rather... I just waited to watch in its normal time slot... a week later... okay?

Anyways, the finale - here we go!

How cute was the opening, with Amy riding up as Katie and Lyndy skate on the rink? If any of you have a rink like this in your backyard, I am very envious. Emmy and Ruby really love skating and it shows.

Amy rides to the area where Ty initially set up the jumping course, y’know before they could afford proper jumping gear and we’re treated with another flashback. I wonder how long these flashbacks will last if S15 is a go.

Blonde guy, Cooper? stops by and asks if she wants to work with him at the centre. Amy stops by to look at a horse called Challenge (I swear, I’m paying attention lmao), and her and Cooper seems to have a good rapport. Does this mean I want her jumping into another relationship? No, however, it is good nice to see Amy talk to other people besides her family/Caleb.

Cooper ends up losing his funding before he even begins, and Amy wants to help (with Parker!). So at Georgie’s competition, Parker starts to fundraise and Amy accidentally calls out the donor who backs out. However, this results in the donor reinvesting, so good on them. My question is, does this mean that Cooper and Amy will be in each others circles a lot more next season? I’m all for them being friends, but i’m not entirely sure I want Amy jumping back into another relationship so soon. More friends and exploring more opportunities would be nice though. 

It’s nice to see Amy (6 months later) jumping the course with Shadow because I think this shows real growth and acceptance/moving on from Amy over Ty’s death. Something, that has been a season and change and probably something that may still come up over the years but nevertheless still nice to see she’s slowly healing.

Lou and Mitch is continuing to plan their wedding and everyone they invited said yes... except Peter said no. Now now, Lou, what did you expect? For your ex to be happy to come see you get married to another guy? I know you guys have a good co-parenting relationship but still, wouldn’t that be a lil awks? How does she slip and call Peter her husband? Something tells me this won’t bode well for Lou & Mitch. Aidan has a point.. why does she care Peter can’t attend?

Lou “dreaming” about her life with Peter and Lou via flashbacks, is also not a good sign. Speaking of which, if this wedding doesn’t happen, I will be sad that we missed the chance to see Caleb and Cass at date night. Here’s to more C/C next season (and in particular Cass in person please!)

Peter (with a moustache) facetimes Lou IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT and says he can’t attend because he can’t just sit there and watch her go off into a new life.... which fair??!? I would not be able to attend my ex-husbands wedding - but then he says he still has feelings for her, something none of us saw coming /s.

So my question is, if we were going to end up with this breakup, why even have them get back together? It could have been explained that they just didn’t work out vs put us through this, but hey, to each their own. I guess they were finally honest about what he wanted. Too bad he didn’t realize it before they had already started wedding planning. It was the right thing to break up if Lou still harbours feelings towards Peter and Mitch wants a family (which Lou can’t provide nor wants) so it only makes sense that they... um, took a break? So they didn’t really break up they just took a break? Is this Rachel and Ross all over again?

Meanwhile, Georgie is practicing for the upcoming competition, when Quinn informs her that a scout for Equestrian Canada will be there. Anyways, not much to say about this but Georgie ends up getting the business card from Equestrian Canada - the road to the Olympics continues!

A side story is Quinn having trouble sleeping after Tim became his roommate and you know what? I can relate. Snoring is hard to sleep with. This leads to Tim crashing back at the dude ranch and meeting Jessica and them having a heart to heart. Jessica was scared that meeting Tim ruined her life changed and Tim just wanted Jessica around. 

The solution? Tim tagging along on Jessica on her photography adventures, and what a great compromise that is. If I am Tim, it sounds amazing. I really like Jessica and Tim together so I am really glad they worked it out and hope it ends better than his other relationships.

A few end notes:

* I’m surprised that Aidan hasn’t had a bigger role in this season, besides being Lou’s sidekick in the mayoral office... maybe next season we’ll see more of him?

* I know Georgie (Alisha) was not in every episode but I didn’t miss her when she wasn’t in like I missed Ty. I think this is because her explanation for being away was a lot more sound, realistic and practical. To me, in my head, her being away to focus on jumping (especially since school is online) just made sense, vs for example Ty being away in MONGOLIA.  Do I wish we got to see Georgie grieve more over Ty and get her perspective between the tiny one we got when she first came back after Florida? Absolutely, but maybe we will see more of that next season. It has, of course been a year and change so its possible we missed it all or only getting muted reactions.

* Lou is still using an older iPhone model. Think it’s time for an upgrade?

* The flashbacks made me realize how much the cast has grown up. Rewatching older Heartland episodes and seeing the glow up is amazing.

[fandom-gt]

Ross is the Worst

If you guys enjoy this work, please consider swinging by my ko-fi to support. tip, or commission me to fill whatever prompt your heart desires.

See tags for warnings.

Request Summary

Using the male leads from the sitcom "Friends" (Joey, Chandler, Ross), create a scenario in which one or more grows. As this is just a sample, I'm flexible on story, but please no females. I also like butts, raunch, cockiness, and the like, so feel free to include some of that. Can't wait to read! Thanks!

All things considered he’s glad this happened in Joey and Chandler’s apartment instead of his own. He knows that’s not really the important part about what’s happening right now, but... you know, the rest of it he’s kind of okay with. One of his feet wound up slamming through their kitchen counter, smashing it up against the front door so that nobody could get in. 

He’s hunched down as low as he can because his head keeps bashing the ceiling, and if he sat up straight he knows it would bust clean through to the floor above. The furniture’s totally wrecked -- all except for that stupid entertainment center that overlaps both Joey and Chandler’s bedroom doors.

As for the men themselves, well... they didn’t exactly have enough time to get clear before Ross’s rapid expansion, and when things finally slowed to a stop and the chaos ended, they were nowhere to be seen. Which is to say, they weren’t gone; Ross can feel one of them stuck directly between his ass cheeks, flailing around in a manner so exaggerated he’s guessing instinctively it’s probably Chandler.

“Oh- my god do you ever wash your ass?” Comes the muted voice from beneath him, and Ross can’t help but smirk. Yep, guessed that one right. 

“No, but I could start right now if you want,” he teases dryly back, shifting from left to right to spread his glutes out a little more. 

Hysterically from somewhere beneath his balls, Joey’s high-pitched Stress Voice calls up, “Um, am I the only one who thinks there’s something NOT NORMAL here??”

Ross reaches down to gently lift his sack, twisting to one side so he can peer around underneath it to catch sight of Joey, suddenly damp with sweat from his package, wide-eyed and pinned up to the chest.

“No, you know, I’m not really seeing anything out of the ordinary,” Ross muses, dropping his sack back down over Joey’s face. “Maybe we should all just... take a deep breath and think this through.”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Rocket’s Red Glare–Joe Keery

Joe's POV

I walked into my apartment, the weight lifting off my shoulders as I shut the door. I took my backpack off my shoulders and plopped it onto the table. I opened it and immediately started emptying it. Once the contents were spread around the table, I ran my fingers through my hair. I was just about to sit down when my phone started ringing.

"Hey," I answered.

"What are your plans tonight?" Dacre asked.

"Nothing," I shrugged, finally sitting down.

"Nothing?" He scoffed. "Come on, man. It's the Fourth of July."

When I didn't say anything, Dacre sighed. "Look, I know you haven't been feeling like yourself since the breakup. I get it. But it's been two months. You can't keep living like this, man."

"Dacre," I sighed, trying to interrupt him but he was on a roll.

"You've done nothing but work the past two months, Joe," Dacre continued. "You come to work and then you go home. We invite you to get dinner or drinks almost every day and you always refuse. I get you need time, but you can't keep yourself locked up forever."

"I know," I mumbled. "I just. . . I'm not ready."

"I understand," Dacre sighed. "I don't want to push you, Joe, but we're worried about you. If you're up for it, Matt and Ross are hosting a Fourth of July party at Matt's house. It's at 7 if you're up for it."

"I'll think about it," I said even though I knew I wouldn't go.

                                * * * * *

Later that night, I was watching a Fourth of July movie marathon, slowly drinking through a six-pack. I muted the tv when I heard the fireworks starting. I went out onto my balcony and watched as the sky began to light up.

I nearly dropped my beer when a blood-curdling scream broke through the fireworks. I looked down but saw no one hurt or screaming for help. I didn't realize where the scream was coming from until another firework went off. That's when it all clicked.

My next-door neighbor, Y/N.

Y/N's lived in the building longer than I have. I didn't know much about her. She pretty much keeps to herself. From the gossip that's spread around the building, Y/N was in either the Army or the Navy until she was medically discharged. The rumor is that she was taken as a POW in Afghanistan or Iraq or Iran and was tortured. The country changes every version. So does the level of tragedy.

I put my beer bottle on the table outside, not caring that it fell over. I turned on my heel and ran out of my apartment. I stood in front of her door, knocking as hard as I could.

"Y/N!" I yelled. "Y/N, it's me. It's Joe. Open up!"

I held my breath but couldn't hear anything coming from inside. I knocked again, but still nothing.

"Come on, Y/N," I mumbled. I cleared my throat, raising my voice. "Y/N, I thought. . . I thought I heard a scream. Are you alright? If you're okay, say something. Please."

I raised my hand to knock but a stream of fireworks went off. As soon as they went off, Y/N screamed from inside.

"Y/N!!" I tried yelling but the fireworks lasted longer than expected. I pounded on the door and rattled the doorknob. My heart jumped into my throat when I heard Y/N sobbing inside. I took a few steps back when I realized what had to be done.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," I mumbled.

I brought my leg up and kicked in the door. I felt a little guilt when I saw the broken door but that went away when another firework went off and Y/N let out another scream.

"Y/N!"

I ran through her apartment, my chest tightened as it took too long to find her.

"Y/N?" I tried again.

Another firework went off, a small shriek coming from behind me. I turned and ran into her room. I looked around but her room was empty.

"Where are you, Y/N?" I mumbled. I held my breath when I thought I heard someone say something.

"Y/N?" I said louder. "Talk to me."

"Here."

My head snapped to the left. I ran over and yanked the door open. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Y/N sitting in her empty bathtub. She had her knees tucked to her chest and her hands were pressed tightly to her ears. Even though she was basically curled into a ball, I could tell she was shaking.

I ran over and jumped into the bathtub, kneeling across from her. "Y/N?" I said gently. "It's okay. You're safe. They're just fireworks."

She was mumbling something to herself but I couldn't make it out. I gently touched her arm but she jumped. I quickly pulled back.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I just. . ."

I ran my fingers through my hair, struggling to figure out what to do. I wanted to help her but I had no idea what to do. I sat back and studied her. It was clear she was struggling with PTSD.

I stood up and jogged back to Y/N's room. I looked around until my eyes landed on her laptop. I saw her noise-canceling headphones and got an idea. I grabbed them and ran back to the bathroom. I knelt in front of her and gently slipped her headphones over her ears. I slowly lifted her chin, instantly seeing the tears streaming down her cheeks. I reached up and caught one.

"Joe?" She whispered. Her voice was so soft, I wasn't sure she even heard herself. "What are you. . ."

She started to take the headphones off but jumped when a group of fireworks went off. I quickly fixed her headphones, making sure they were covering her ears, and pulled her into my chest. I could feel her shaking and that made me tighten my arms around her.

"It's not that," she started mumbling. "You're home, in America. You're not there."

I may not have known exactly what happened to her or where she was, but it was clear she was struggling with PTSD.

Once it seemed like she had calmed down a little, I slowly stood up, bringing her with me. She was still tucked into my chest as I helped her out of the empty bathtub and led her to her room. I had her sit on the edge of her bed. I wanted to talk to her, but I was too nervous to take off her headphones.

I cringed when a firework went off. I studied Y/N but it was clear she hadn't heard it. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I watched as she reached over and grabbed her phone. She typed something and then showed me her screen.

Thank you.

I smiled as I grabbed my phone and started typing my response.

Of course. Are you going to be okay?

As she typed, I could see her face slightly turning pink.

I'll be fine. Other than the embarrassment.

I instantly started typing back.

You have nothing to be embarrassed about.

I showed her the message but as she read it, I decided to add something. I saw her tilt her head slightly as I pulled my phone back and typed another message.

PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N.

Her breath got caught in her throat when she read it. She looked up at me, hesitating before shakily typing something.

You know about that?

I sent her a soft smile as I showed her my answer.

Just rumors.

She rolled her eyes and slowly took off her headphones. "What are you doing?" I panicked.

"The rumors are mostly true," Y/N sighed, running her fingers through her hair. I studied her as she started playing with the headphones in her hands.

"Mostly?"

"I wasn't a prisoner of war. I was missing in action," she said. "My plane was shot down. I successfully ejected but my wingman. . . I guess his got jammed or stuck. We aren't sure why his chair didn't release. He went down with the plane. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere for two days before they found me. All the while, I was hiding in a cave as the fighting continued above me."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," I whispered.

"As soon as they took me back to base, I went into a coma and didn't wake up for two and a half weeks," she said, her voice breaking. "When I woke up and they had told me that Jeremy hadn't made it. . . I didn't want to be one."

"What didn't you want to be?"

"A survivor," she whispered.

"Y/N." Her name got caught in my throat. I don't know why but I reached over and grabbed her hand, instantly intertwining our fingers.

"I went deep into depression and it took months of therapy for me to snap out of it," Y/N sighed shakily. "Once I hit the one-year mark, I confessed to my therapist that I wanted a fresh start. So I moved here."

"I had no idea," I said softly. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

She just shrugged but I could see the weight holding her down. Her shoulders were tense and there were bags under her eyes."

"I'm sorry for all the screaming," she whispered. "I didn't mean to ruin your holiday. Please tell your girlfriend I apologize."

"Actually," I laughed, "there is no girlfriend anymore."

"Since when?" Y/N asked.

Before I could answer, a stream of fireworks went off. I instinctively pulled Y/N into my chest. I looked down when I felt her wrap her arms around my waist and bury her face in my chest.

"Two months," I said.

"What?" She asked shakily.

"My girlfriend and I broke up two months ago," I started to say to try and distract her from what was going on outside.

"How come?" Y/N whispered, tightening her arms around me when more fireworks started.

"I'm away a lot with my work," I sighed. "She didn't like not having her boyfriend around."

I looked down when I felt Y/N move her head so she was looking up at me.

"I'm sorry, Joe," she said gently. She smiled before leaning back into my chest. "She doesn't know what she's missing."

                                * * * * *

After several minutes of Y/N trying to reassure me that she was fine and didn't need me to stay with her, I still didn't feel right about leaving her. Y/N and I spent the rest of the night, watching a movie–with headphones–on her computer.

I kept my eyes on the clock, knowing that the fireworks wouldn't go too late. Even if they did, I'd stay with her until they stopped.

We ended up watching not one, but two full movies. Halfway through the third, I noticed Y/N had fallen asleep. I gently moved her so she was laying down instead of propped up against the headboard. I took off her headphones and tucked her in. I couldn't help myself as I moved some hair out of her face.

I quietly got out of her bed and was starting to walk away when I felt Y/N grab my wrist. I smiled down at her as her eye fluttered open.

"You okay?" I asked as I knelt down so we were at the same eye level.

"Stay," she whispered.

"Are you sure?"

Y/N nodded as she pulled on my hand. She didn't let go until I climbed into bed next to her. The second I did, she laid her head on my chest. I dragged my hands up and down her back as both of our breathing slowed.

"Thanks for everything, Joe," she said, the sleep coming through her voice. "It really means a lot that you were willing to sit with me all night."

"Anytime," I whispered. I cleared my throat as I added, "By the way, you're gonna need a new door."

[frischkasekuchen]

Dreamtalia Carrie AU

Credits:

Kyokyo866: Reve, Nevo, World(Nicholas) and Dreamtalia in general

Thriftlita: Vanya

Hetalia: Hidekaz Himaruya

Carrie: Stephen King

Warning:

Swearing

Religion

Religious abuse

Child abuse

Self-harm

Starring:

Reve and World(Nicholas) as Carrie White

Nevo as Margaret White

Germany as Tommy Ross

Canada as Sue Snell

Vanya as Miss Desjardin

(Author's Note: I've finished reading the book a while ago so I wrote something to celebrate- also I think this'll be my last piece until after my exams..)

(Note: the way i’ve written thoughts in parentheses is mimicking how Stephen King wrote telepathic communication and thoughts in Carrie- he only used apostrophes)

Carrie Memory- Father

Reve was humiliatingly trying to slip on the lacy stocking for he had bought to go with the dress Nicholas made for him. He was hobbling on one foot- knocking into nearly everything in Nicholas’ bedroom.

Nicholas snickered,

( christ, you look funny)

at this point Reve looked like he was wrestling a boa constrictor- and losing.

“And-And-Annnnnnnnd-'' Reve teetered backwards, “Got it!” The left stocking slipped on as he fell on the bed.

Nicholas let out a loud “HA!” as Reve fussed the skirt of the dress out of his face. He pushed himself out and stomped over to Nicholas, who slammed his mouth shut.

Reve pouted, “Shaddup! Who’re you laughin’ at?”

“You-!” he squeaked.

“You ass-” Reve blurted out. He went over to his white open-foot 2-inch heels and gloves. Slipping on the opera gloves were easier than the stockings, they latched on to his arms with a ‘SNAP’, they covered his scars easily. Next were the shoes, he slipped them on and he tightened them with a ‘SNAP’ as well, much more comfortable than the mary-janes he was offered earlier. He walked over to the full-body mirror and looked his entire outfit over. Reve began to worry, he went over to the dresser and sat down on a stool to let Nicholas fix his hair.

Reve’s face grimaced as his head became a jambalaya of worries.

( what if he doesn’t like how i look do you think the dress is weird nicky do you think it’s wei)

Nicholas hummed a hymn softly as he tried to soothe Reve.

( i think you good like you steal someone’s date you could steal all the boys from their dates that’s what i think)

Reve shrinked.

(what if this is a big joke what if luddie and mattie come hooting and hollering at my get-up what if he calls me a fag i don’t wanna be what if stands me up o god o god)

Nicholas smirked.

(i’ll tear out his tongue and feed it to mattie for being a big fat liar i’ll throw his ride into the gym that’s what i’ll do)

Reve gave a playful smile in turn.

(naughty nicky o no don’t do that that kills people)

The door to Nicholas’ bedroom slammed open to reveal his darling father.

“Red,” Papa said, glaring daggers into Nicholas’ uniform. “‘Course it’d be red.”

“I’m wearing blue and white- not just red.” Nicholas scoffed as he helped Reve put on a faux-flower armband Ludwig had given him. He finished combing down all of Reve’s hair save for a cowlick that refuses to go down.

(i think you should go downstairs reve this will turn sour go downstairs and wait for me)

(no i won’t let that windbag hurt you i’m staying i’m not leav)

“Take off that uniform- burn it.” Papa said sharply, approaching. “You can stay home- we can pray for forgiveness.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Pray. That’s final, papa. We have to get ready for prom.” Nicholas said. Oh that’s what he said to ‘pa, the ultimate curse word- worse than the Eff Word. Nicholas pulled Reve up to his feet from the stool and draped a shawl across his shoulders.

(leave reve go downstairs and wait for vanya i don’t want you to hear this)

Papa stayed still and stunned as though he had been slapped. “.......Take off that uniform, burn it, there’s still-”

“No. I. Said. No. Go fuck yourself, ‘cause after prom- I’m coming to pack up.”

He smacked himself- hard, leaving a red mark. It looked like a scar, a bunch of scratches. Nicholas paid no mind. With a blank stare he turned to the wall rushed at it- head forward.

He slammed into the wall with a loud ‘THUD’, he burst into tears and screamed. Reve jumped and his face scrunched up, he took hold of his wrist and stroked it- knowing what was under the gloves.

(what why you don’t hurt yourself like that no no leave nicky out of this you don’t hurt yourself in front of others no no you do that alone alone in private i know i do stupid bad man)

Nicholas still did not falter.

Papa then stared at Reve- like an angry father meeting his daughter’s secret boyfriend, climbing through her bedroom window. “You.”

Reve backed up into a corner near an open window- as Papa rushed up and seized Reve’s throat. He shook him back and forth raving- a s Nicholas tried to pull them apart.

(nicky i can’t breathe help me i’m gonna be sick)

“You rat- you parasite-! This is your fault!” he moaned as Nciholas tried to smack him off of Reve.

(don’t touch him don’t you do that papa don’t hurt him hurt me instead hurt me HURT INSTEAD ME HURT ME HURT ME PLEASE GOD HURT ME HURT ME HURT ME HURT M)

“I tried to keep the devil out of my house- and it was so difficult- it almost worked-!” Papa gasped, throwing his head up and whining to the ceiling. “Then you-you came along and taught him about those- those whores! You’ve turned him into an agent of the Wicked One- ” he paused for a moment and stopped shaking Reve- yanking the boy to look straight into the eyes of madness.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Reve shrieked in confusion.

(o god i’m scared i’m gonna shit myself)

Flex.

Papa was flung to the wall. Reve fell against the window sill, as a car pulled up to the house. The three rushed to the window as a station wagon came to a stop.

Mr.Bazarov had stepped out of the car; he was wearing a light, mute blue three-piece tuxedo that surprisingly matched his eyes- with a tar black bowtie.

Papa flew into a panic, he grabbed Nicholas by his wrists- “Please. Nicholas you can just stay here with me-!”

“I don’t want to stay with you papa-!”

“I’ll answer the door- I’ll tell him you changed your mind- that you don’t want to be around him-!”

“Let me go-leave me alone-!”

“You heard ‘im he doesn’t wanna stay-!” Reve yelled nearly breathless.

“Sit down-.”

“I’ll tell him you’re sick-!”

“SIT DOWN BE QUIET!’

FLEX.

Papa was flung to the floor and Reve was flung out of the bedroom.

(reve wait downstairs i’ll deal with this)

The door slammed shut, and Reve finally decided to go to the door.

Reve slammed the door open- to meet Mr.Bazarov, pacing up and down the porch, the slam startled him.

“Faucher! It’s nice to see you!” Mr.Bazarov looked him up and down. “This is wonderful handiwork!” he said,coming closer and examining the homemade dress. “Where’d you get something like this?”

“Nicky made it for me, he didn’t really want me- us- to go to prom- but he wanted to help me get a dress.” Reve said, stepping out on the porch and twirling to give him a full view of the pink gown. “He thought it was too plain but I like it!”

“That’s wonderful-! But where’s Nicholas?” Mr. Bazarov asked.

(oh shit)

“He’s-.” Reve was about to explain, before everything went awry.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Everyone outside, even Ludwig and Matthew who were still in the car-and now leaving to investigate- put their hands over their ears. A scream rang out, a scream from Nicholas- but it wasn’t as vocal as it sounded.

(LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME AL)

Windows and doors all over the house slammed open, and they heard Papa screaming his head off. “Nicholas stop this! Don’t you dare-!”

Finally, everything finally stopped opening- just closed. Save for Papa’s screaming- now accompanied by sobbing.

“N-Nicholas please! Don’t-They laugh at you-THEY’LL LAUGH AND YOU KNOW IT!” he howled. “COME BACK-PLEASE- I’LL PROTECT YOU! I JUST WANT TO HELP!” Footsteps were approaching, fast and loudly- and intensified as Papa’s tirade continued.

“COME BACK-! THEY’RE GONNA LAUGH AT YOU! YOU FOOL! THE LORD IS NOT MOCKED! COME BACK AND PRAY!”

“SHUT UP!” Nicholas screamed into the air, “STAY IN THAT CLOSET- and don’t say a word until I’m gone.”

Everyone outside could finally breathe again as they had been holding their breaths.

Nicholas choked out a sob, “I’ll be home at 11:30, and if you’re good- I won’t leave like this again, okay?”

“................”

“I’m sorry Papa, I love you.” Nicholas hiccupped.

Now a quartet of Mr.Bazarov, Matthew, Reve and Ludwig met Nicholas as he stepped out onto the porch.

Mr.Bazarov approached him and put a hand on his back and rubbed it, bending over to see if Nicholas was crying. “Boy-boy are you alright?”

Nicholas simply nodded.

(please please hold me please someone hold me)

Reve came over and embraced Nicholas. “That was very brave of you Nicky, very brave.”

“Sorry to interrupt-” Ludwig had finally spoken, “But- is everyone ready to go?”

Nicholas said, “Yes, we’re raring to go.”

Reve turned to Ludwig and whispered, “Um, how do I look?”

Ludwig gave him a small smile with a red face, “Wunderbar.” before shoving his face in his hands.

Reve tilted his head, “Eh?”

“Wonderful- he means wonderful.” Matthew said butting in.

Reve swore steam was coming out of his ears like a kettle.

(ohohohohohohohohohoho)

“Thank you.”