#anything good that happens to me is immediately countered by something shittier to ruin it again lol what's the fucking point of this

[samwisefamgee]

lmao finally fucking scrounged up enough to spent every fucking penny i had on an eye exam and glasses and woke up this morning to a broken phone

#anything good that happens to me is immediately countered by something shittier to ruin it again lol what's the fucking point of this #my birthday is in less than a week and so far this month i've lost most of the things that I enjoy in life and most of the rest of them that #make it barely fuckin worth it lol #including several friends ! life is hell and it only gets worse! the temp is up again so every day I come home im greeted by the SMELL! #OF! #MOLD!!!!! #at least i'll have glasses :/ #hey if I start eating the especially nasty window frame mold do you think it will finally kill me

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

#mobster bucky #mob!bucky #mob bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mobbucky x reader #mob!bucky x you #mob!bucky series #mob boss!bucky #mob boss au

[skamforthepeople]

can you do a drabble about the balloon squad? idk any specifics and im sorry this is nothing to go off of but just them hanging out and fooling around

HEI BRISKEBY

the boys are sitting in the bakkoush living room, piled together on the couch. elias leans towards the camera and says, “what’s up, homies, lovers, and friends! i don’t need to see you to know that you’re looking fine as always.”

on either side of elias, mutta and adam mime his gestures until he starts to catch on and jerks his head to try and catch them. they lay back against the couch immediately, looking innocent, and then fistbump behind his head when he turns back to the camera.

“why are you always like that?” yousef says, flopping down on the floor in front of the couch. “did you know that most women don’t like being given random compliments?”

elias rolls his eyes and turns to the camera. “as you all can see, yousef is feeling extra holier than thou today cause my baby sister lost her mind and somehow thinks that he’s a good guy.”

the other boys crow with laughter, hands and feet coming from all directions to shove, pat, and kick yousef playfully. he curls into a ball and laughs, batting them off.

yousef, out of frame now, calls from the floor, “okay, but sana told me that you told her that i’m a good guy,” he says, and all you can see is his hand, as he raises it to point at elias. he adds, “the best guy, maybe.”

“homo intended,” mikael says suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.

“we’re bros,” elias says, reaching over to flick mikael in the ear. “plus, how fucked would it be to steal my sister’s man?”

adam throws his arms out, barring elias and mikael against the back of the couch as he turns to address the camera. “sudden death match, yousef,” he says, nudging him with his foot. “who would you save, sana or elias?”

“i’d die and save them both,” yousef says breezily from the floor, kicking one foot up to cross over his knee.

“WOW,” adam exclaims, flopping back dramatically and pressing the back of his hand to his head.

“bullshit,” mutta calls, and his eyes dart to elias, who is performing a handshake with yousef, before he flashes a grin towards the camera. “sana would never do anything stupid enough to need saving.”

“correct,” adam acknowledges, sitting back up and holding up his index finger to indicate a point.

elias lets out an indignant shout, pushing at adam’s arm so he can sit up properly. “bro,” elias interjects, offended.

“new game,” mikael butts in before elias can get properly mad. “over under on how many hearts yousef has texted sana today.”

“what color?” mutta asks gravely, leaning over elias.

“red hearts,” adam decides.

“no more,” elias groans, sinking down in his seat.

“six,” mutta offers.

“fifteen,” mikael counters.

“none, they’re all pink,” adam says, confident.

“elias?”

elias is slouched with an arm thrown across his face, but immediately offers, “twenty at least.”

“drumroll please,” mikael follows, and mutta drums a fast roll with his hands on the arm of the couch. “yousef, give us the truth.”

yousef sits up from the floor, and stares at them with mock outrage. “you think i’m going to tell you?”

mutta raises one eyebrow at him and doesn’t break eye contact, holding up a hand to silence the others.

after a few moments of an intense stare off, a grin finally breaks across yousef’s face. “over twenty,” he says, unashamed, reclining back against the couch with his hands behind his head.

the boys erupt in a burst of sound, fake retching co-mingling with overdrawn awwww’s and the loud, piercing whistle that mutta had picked up in morocco last summer from his cousins. they all pile onto yousef again, elias catching him in a headlock, mikael and adam shoving at each other as they compete to pinch yousef’s cheeks. a stray elbow sends yousef’s snapback flying behind the couch, and all motion pauses to track the hat’s trajectory. they stare at each other for a moment after it lands, before bursting into incomprehensible giggles again.

“new new game,” adam shouts over the din. they all hush to listen. “it’s called the figure things out game.”

“i think we’ll have to work on the name,” yousef says, grinning when adam covers his face with a hand over his shoulder. “but i can still talk like this? this isn’t doing anything to make me shut up.”

mikael adds a hand on top of adam’s raising his voice to talk over yousef’s muffled muttering. “i am intrigued,” mikael says, in a posh accent. “please carry on.”

“thank you, sir,” adam replies, in a considerably shittier accent. “okay, so you know the random questions that you get, like when you’re just chilling out? we’re going to answer them, but without the internet or anything.”

“just our knowledge and imagination,” mutta jumps in excitedly, spreading his hands in a rainbow shape through the air, referencing the classic, critically acclaimed 2000s television drama, spongebob squarepants.

“the question, then?” elias says, newly rejuvenated from his last few minutes of misery. “i’m fucking ready.”

“the question,” adam says, pausing dramatically. “is, how do the seasons work?”

“like, the weather, the seasons?” elias asks, squinting one eye in concentration and pressing his fingertips to his temples.

“bro, bro,” mutta says, where bro equals the entire squad of boys. “it has something to do with the tilt of the earth in orbit.”

“holy fuck, einstein, bruh,” elias says, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

the camera cuts to black, and comes alive again to the boys all standing up in vague relationship with one another.

“yousef is the sun, and mutta is the earth, and mika is the moon,” elias repeats sternly, for the fifth time. they had fought over who got to be the moon, and so yousef and mutta kept claiming the moon and acting like the moon instead of their assigned roles. yousef and mutta giggle, before shaking out their shoulders and becoming serious again.

“okay, action,” adam directs, standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. mutta immediately cricks the upper half of his body towards the right and begins rotating around yousef and spinning. mikael runs in a circle around mutta, following him in his path around yousef.

“mutta, bro, the angle has to–you have to stay the same kind of bent the whole time,” elias says, cricking his own body to demonstrate, spinning in place. it is a completely fruitless exercise, as mutta makes no changes to his behavior besides picking up the pace, spinning so violently and quickly that mikael begins to have trouble keeping up.

“does the sun rotate?” yousef asks, looking at the ceiling and spinning in place without an answer.

“what the hell are you guys doing?”

all five boys freeze immediately and pause in their various positions, mutta and elias at a 45 degree angle, yousef with his hands over his head in a dainty ballerina pose, and mikael stumbling to a halt by colliding with adam.

“we’re playing the figure things out game,” yousef offers, arms still raised.

“stupid name,” sana comments, hand braced against the door but smile playing at her lips.

“you two are fucking disgusting,” adam says as yousef gives him a triumphant look, steading mikael with his hands against his shoulders.

“huh?” sana says, shooting him a suspicious glare. “we’re not you two.”

“we’re trying to figure out how the seasons work without googling it,” mutta says, uninterested in sana’s denial of the clear and present facts. he straightens up, then straightens elias up with a hand to the shoulder, and they slap hands.

across the room, sana stares at them.

she raises her eyebrows.

their eyes widen.

her mouth opens.

the world erupts in a flurry of motion and sound as elias launches himself at the doorway to cover her mouth with his hand, and the rest of the boys begin yelling and covering their ears. sana yells unintelligibly from behind elias’ hand, trying to squirm out of his grip, “you can’t just ruin the game because you’re a nerd!” elias says indignantly, shifting his grip. “honestly, fucking foul!”

sana glares at him, falling silent and still.

the rest of the boys quiet, and gather in a close semicircle around the siblings. “i’m gonna let you go, so don’t be buck wild,” elias says, warning, and releases her.

she straightens up. looking murderous, she adjusts all her clothing and hijab back to its proper place and turns on her heel to leave.

and then she spins back around and says, in one breath, “seasons happen because of the earth’s tilted axis because insolation on earth is highest when the suns rays are falling perpendicular to the surface of the earth so the more tilted the sun’s rays the less heat!”

then she smirks, turning for real this time with a flourish of black blazer and scarf and stalks off.

the boys sit in stunned silence for a moment.

“video cancelled,” mutta says, collapsing onto the couch.

“honestly,” adam says, sitting on mutta. “day cancelled. what the fuck.”

“we were close,” mikael says, dejectedly, climbing on top of mutta and laying down with his head in adam’s lap.

“you weren’t close,” sana calls from the kitchen.

“we’re going to get married,” yousef says, immediately. he lays flat on his back on the ground.

“shut up, that’s my sister,” elias says, dully, with the air of a man who has had his soul broken for the last time. he steps on yousef lightly as he walks over to the camera and turns it off with a click.

#hiatus #yousana #balloon squad #skam #skam fic #hei briskeby #skam-month #is that still happening