#maybe i’m not actually fucking capable of answering that question bc it seems my body is trying to off me at literally every chance it gets

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

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

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

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

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

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

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

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

They don’t question it.

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

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

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

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

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

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

“One I can’t refuse?”

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

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

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it or leave it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t kill the guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just - Let me, would you?”

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

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

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

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

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

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

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

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

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

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

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

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

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

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

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

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes mob au #bucky barnes x mobboss!reader #mob au #marvel #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #even tho bucky wants her to give up control we all know he prob likes being yelled atin italian #and that the real reason he wants to take you out

[luminous-shifting-vibes]

*sequel* to actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

once again, it's out of context because x1000 funnier

also x1000 longer than previous post

"ur satan is gnc af"

"Bestie I’m already having gender envy over a fucking demon please"

"O_O ODEPIJHFbavevisdpvfhzdcnjawedsidjksjdkoeirjfmkdsoeirujdksodifjndmksoidfjdksidfj ITS" NOT IN MY FRAFTS IS SPEDNT 1 hour PN THAT SHIT"

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"ohoho sexy"

"I am very proud of myself"

"himbo x edgy fuck"

"YOU COULD SQUISH HES CHEECKS"

"he has teefs"

"SQUASH"

"good for biting 📷"

"he's a himbo basically"

"B͂̒̄iͫ̍̈tͧ̓ͯè̄̇"

"bifth"

"i havent watched blue exorcist in years but mr okumura my beloved </3"

"MY LIFE QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED"

"is it important information to mention that the person i put up for my turn is the son of satan" "I know like 1 thing about everyone who isnt ranboo lmfao"

"crimes"

"tumblr sexyman"

"idk why but my first thought was cowboy onceler"

"I vibe with him but he is very long and twisty"

"steampunk e-girl"

"steampunk tumblr sexyman"

"Canonically bi crimelord I agree!!"

"OOO FRIEND SHAPED"

"ARTIST SIGHTED"

"they look like someone i would want to be friends with but is way cooler than me so i'd never actually talk to them"

"babby..... would die for him"

"honestly i probably kin him"

"i'm sure he's lovely but he looks way too much like my ex i'm sorry-"

"i'd be down for another rotation! i have another twink to show y'all"

"Also :00 blonde friend"

"Let us all infodhmo"

"Hsjagdvbs shhh im on phone"

"Nix woukd you like to joon?

"skitters away"

"I have two braincells and they both drink dumb bitch juice"

"oof wait whats the order again i have 0 memory"

"i want to bond with him over cosplay-"

"Awkwardly watches in band kid"

"One day I'm gonna a broadway star"

"which isnt to say they were bad. they were just fortnite dancing during rehersals"

"I threw it so hard my glasses flew off and slid under the stage right divider"

"anyway heres my boi"

"emo"

"haha emo"

"virgil sanders kinnie"

"he looks like he listens to my chemical panic at the fallout boy"

"Bro I bet he'd kick my ass with his deck"

"bird man my beloved"

"fuck i had so much to say and then i forgot it all"

"Birds!!"

"guiguhuh"

"crabrave"

"She sounds like someone I would end up stealing her personality"

"yess name collector gang"

"alias glass aiden haven absinthe fish brick rice"

"But I have Cypress, Remure, Genesis, Lemres, and Comet"

"And she's named after a mars candy bar bc alien"

"Hey, if plato went by plato, you can be king thief"

"im not dissing my gramma like that shfojd"

"My dad has seven legal names" "bitches be like *looks at fictional character* *steals their name* it's us we're bithces"

"coraline lowkey traumatized me but i adore it regardless"

"mmmmmm magic man :]"

"°0° green man"

"criminal (affectionate)"

"he would shoplift a candy bar from walmart and then brag to all of his friends about the sick stealing he did"

"despite the fact he's canonically been capable of overpowering a minor deity"

"i would commit so many crimes for him"

"Very babey"

"Yes please tell green man he is very pog"

"he also keeps a lot of dumb secrets"

"but I will sorely miss the chaos and energy of this here chat until I wake again" (by request XD)

"i just say words and if they're funny then they're funny"

"* or extremly chaotic either works"

"at this point we are just taking turns rambling"

"oH--"

"bc my brain has a schedule"

"Hopefully they have gyoza there or I will lose my mind"

"hehe yes spooky man"

"my ghost glucose guardian"

"the head of the undead group that lives there, and we end up dating. (yes I date a ghost, no I will not be taking constructive criticism /lh)"

"ghosts r just inherently sexy"

"i mean im becoming a squid thing so"

"Raven quirk raven quirk!!"

"ł â m p"

"łæmp"

"mothman: ooh lamp you look very nice today! do you come here often? mothman: wait shit no"

"I'd date a ghost"

"mine is still accurate, i am still sobbing (/j)"

"p e e p e e"

""@nick wilde is a tumblr sexyman" is the best thing i have ever seen"

"im sorry im cackling like a dying hyena"

"you're all 12 year olds"

"PEENIE"

"He once caused global warming on accident so he could get a tan"

"god, what a himbo. i love him"

"that reminds me of my friends kin assigned me jesus"

"Man outside of battle be like: princely crying but then in battle hes like: "CATACLYSM! DISASTER! DEVASTATION!" Chill out man"

"Every time I talk about satan it never fails to shock people it's my favorite thing to do"

"im kin assigning him roman sanders" ""Oh yeah he caused global warming because he wanted to get girls" "he what""

"oh damn i forgot satan was straight"

"twink appreciation club"

"give us the twinks"

"my first thought was bottom-"

"so many people to try and get his dad to love him"

"daddy issued"

"OH MY GOD ITS WILBUR"

"Big boy but"

"anyways janus is swagggg"

"........................."

"gib twink"

"give twink then i will share"

"holds him gentle like hamburger"

"This dumb bitch opened a book that said "do not open" and got possessed by a little bastard"

"he is. fragile creachur"

"klug is beauty klug is grace i would let him step on my face"

"If I'm playing swap and I have to hear one more "Pwanet Powew" Im gonna lose it"

"Who is to blame? Pandora or the box?"

"Bakugo isnt my type but I respect the drip"

"i say like my type isnt long-haired pretty boys and girls that look so gnc that people have a history of confusing them for men"

"hes a gremlin and i can appreciate a pretty gremlin"

"that is to say i am attracted to VFlower vocaloid. This is a confession."

"note i am a lesbian"

"You may like Schezo wegey"

"why does he have one single expression"

"soul soul eater passes the vibe check"

"magic wand"

"I Want To Hold His Hand"

"i would commit a war crime for him any war crime idc which one"

"my favorite one is when he sounded rlly gay because he said "Muscular bodies keep me satisfied""

"p e a n u t"

"Klug is a homophobic homosexual its just facts"

"grug from the croods is peak male performance"

"jaw drops to floor, eyes pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, heart beats out of chest, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of mouth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens tie, combs hair Ahem, you look very lovely."

"tag yourself im the fireworks shooting from the top of the head"

"i like essays"

"central time gang"

"11:11 pog-" (wait... is that a suprise angel number?? yes it is lovelies just for you <3)

"Then again im also a dumbass bitch who wonders what the souls in soul eater taste like. SERIOUSLY THOUGH. THEY LOOK TASTY AS HELL!!!! LIKE GODDAMN BRO YOU'RE MAKING ME FUCKING HUNGRY. Like. that shit- it's Bone Apple motherfucking Teeth. hell yea my guy. Im hongy now.... shlorp I'm seriously considering this. Like. They seem kinda like a liquid? But a solid? Are they like jello? The fuck they taste like my guy???? I keep imagining they're like sour, like sour candy maybe? Or do they taste salty? Sweet? Maybe some combo of two? Do they even have a taste or is it about the texture? The sensation? God my mouth is watering what the hell. I am starving. I think I need to go get a cookie. I'm gonna go get a cookie. Brb. I'm better. I'm still craving souls though. Which is a weird-ass cringey thing to say but I'm being dead-ass rn. They just.... look tasty???? And I wanna eat one. Thus. I am shifting to Soul Eater for the express purpose of satisfying my fucking cravings. enjoy"

"points were made"

"jello? more like helloooo schloooAHFJDSDAIDWNALDHSJKDAIDANDM"

"WAIT I THINK I HAVE AN ANIME GIRL BITING VIDEO TOO"

"anime girl voice: mmm! mm... ahhhhmp!! mmm, mmm... aaahmp!"

"i think it sounds great i'm going to start eating like that"

"several people are typing"

"do these look edible to you"

"forbidden gummies"

"when I was on lsd I couldn't eat my fruit gummies because I thought they were alive because they had little faces on them"

"oh shit yeah don't do drugs"

"anyways general consensus is puyos are edible, ty for your input everyone"

"everypony is a word so powerful it can bring nations to its knees"

"pls the self control it's taking me not to say "hewwo everypony" in gen chat when someone new joins-"

"hewwo evewrypony uwu deaw cewestia i hopwe it doewsnt wain owo"

"ive cooked up a sowution wiwth the knowwege ive acwued. they say a kitcwen time saves niwne, but im just savwing two. Ive gathewwed the inwedients to make a time sowbet. Thewe's hawdly woom fow seconds when the seconds mewt away."

"I had a ten year old sister... you know what happened to her??? very sad, very tragic... she turned eleven....."

"NIIICE"

"Guts dont say the secks word :( /j"

"watch your fucking language in front of the president"

"im so sorry lumi"

"i think you're like ehhhh 8/10 funny"

"now me???? 10/10. Hilarious"

"sometimes i have to take a step back and remember that this is the same guts i follow on tumblr /lh"

""ok every here's some good shifting advice!!! uwu have a good day" "yeah i did lsd and ate fruit gummies""

"i have one setting and it's whatever this is"

"my bitch ass cat just pushed the door open with his fuzzy face and now my sleeping dad is being lulled into dreams by Cosmo Sheldrake's 'Pliocine'."

"me on discord: nick wilde"

"me on tumblr: shifting water! haha funne! me on here: my hermit crabs are cannibals also i want to eat souls."

"im sorry yOUR VIBESA RE JUST SO DIFFERNT"

"u give off older cousin ive never spoken to but always admire at the family gatherings vibes"

"what the fuck"

"BC I HAVE LIBERTU"

"If you adopt me then yes"

"am I qualified for dad jokes???"

"we're all a lot smarter on tumblr"

"I'm like "awww... sweet... sweet little shiftlings... posting such sweet shiftling content... so pure, so wholesome... does not even know abcs....""

"can't think before you speak if you never think B)"

"I'm not responsible enough to be a mom"

"cat pet"

"show us pictures of the cat or i will do Crime"

"maybe thats me being a coward tho"

"MOTH!!!! MOTH MY BELOVED"

if y'all want I can make this a series bc shiftblr keeps giving me more content

#tw drugs #tw swearing #tw cannibalism #tw crime #tw food #tw homophobia #shitpost #out of context #out of context quotes #lumi's quotes

[themilky-way]

honey {din djarin}

gif credit: gameraboy1 on tumblr

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x female! reader

summary: the mandalorian never really cared for romance. he had never wanted it in his life, but some things are bound to change, right?

warnings: um nothing just fluff i think lmao 

author’s note: idk how many more ppl my heart can stan bc sir pedro pascal is adorable as fuck. in my mandalorian feels too lol i miss mando

-------

the sky set out in front of the razor crest was changing colors with every passing minute. a dark orange red adorning its surroundings first, and then switching to a deeper hue of orange and violet. the air around the ship was strong enough to cause some turbulence, which made the small green child aboard to yelp suddenly. 

the mandalorian, captain and designated owner of the crest, turned his helmet to see if it was alright, and when he determined he wasn’t hurt or in pain, he turned the cold stare his visor gave off back onto the controls in front of him. his chair, the pilot’s chair, was positioned directly ahead of the large front view window and he fingered with the buttons and screens for a while until he set a safe planet to land on. 

the mandalorian heard the child giggle again, but this time it wasn’t because the ship was shaking. he heard a pair of boots tread light footsteps from behind him before stopping near the child. he looked at the crib through the corner of his eyes, the action covered by the safety of his helmet, and saw a figure near it. a shadowed hand extended to pet the baby’s head, the coos growing louder with joy. his eyes turned back to look at the scene in front of him, his hands gripping the joystick just a little tighter. 

“din?” the voice behind it is faint, questioning. he doesn’t let himself look at you though, because he knows that if he just merely glances at you for half a second, he’ll drop every one of his morals. instead, all he does is force a noise from the bottom of his throat to respond. 

“you should go to bed,” you suggest. in your mind, you’re laughing at how stupid the phrase had sounded. you, a regular person with only minor knowledge in martial arts, telling a mandalorian to do something? a complete and utter joke. 

regardless, din knew what you meant. but words weren’t his thing; they never had been. so his eyes stayed planted straight ahead and just shook his head, muttering, “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can take over for a couple hours. believe it or not, i’m more qualified in flying a ship than actual combat,” you assured, laughing slightly as you said the last part. you hoped that underneath that strong, emotionless armor he wore he was smiling. even the smallest curve of his lips would satisfy you, realizing that he was capable of feeling something, anything. 

you watched as din pushed a couple buttons at the colorful panel in front of him, hearing a whirring sound when a gloved finger gave a final press to a red disk. he got up, and with a gradual pace began walking over to where his cabin dwelled, and without shifting his helmet to look at you, said, “come with me.”

it sent shivers through you; your arms, your legs, the nape of your neck, they rushed cold when the sound of his words entered your system. you looked down at the child, which had a perplexed look on its face, and reached out to you with a tiny finger. you grabbed it gently, and whispered, “i know, weird right? i’ll be right back, okay honey?” the child made a noise of approval and you shook his finger lightly before letting go, striding over to where din was. 

when you got there, din was standing next to his bed with his back to you, and looking at a small shelf hung from his wall. you stood in the doorway, your hands neatly clasped together behind you, and you watched him. watched him as his hands laid rigid at his sides, his body tense like it always stood. his back, in particular, was where you believed he had the most pain, and you wished he would finally allow you to run your hands through his strained muscles to grant him some form of comfort. but the mandalorian couldn’t agree to this, regardless if he knew of your will to do it or not, for personal reasons. he respected his creed, and you respected him, so you never pushed boundaries you knew would make him uncomfortable. so once again, you pushed the idea of touching him to the back of your mind. 

“stop staring,” he ordered. his voice was rough, raspy from hardly ever speaking, yet when he directed himself at you, it had a slight tinge of tenderness. it surprised you, and even more so to him. 

“i’m not-yeah, um, okay, sorry,” you stuttered. heat rose to your cheeks and you scolded yourself for barely being able to talk right, but who could blame you? a mandalorian was making you blush without even realizing it. 

“why am i here?”

“i need to give you something.” he turns around then, and your breath catches in your throat. you’re never used to him. the effect he seems to have on you and you wonder, deep in your mind, if he ever notices. dyn lifts his palm up then, holding up an item too small and obscure in color for you to know what it is. “come,” he says. 

you start walking towards him, stopping right in front of him and close enough that he has to peer down through his helmet to see your face. “give me your hand.”

you do, too quickly for your liking, but he takes it in his gloved one lightly and rubs your palm softly with his thumb. it was instinctive to him, to touch you in such a delicate way. the action itself poured out of him without thinking, and it caught both of you off guard. how is it, that the man who belongs to one of the most merciless creeds in the galaxy, is touching me so beautifully?, you wonder. in a matter of seconds, as if he read your mind, his thumb stops moving along your skin, and places the item into your hand. 

extending it with both hands and bringing it up closer for inspection, you learn that it’s a bracelet. it’s a thin band of shiny white gold, much like his armor, and it’s decorated with multiple lavender butterfly charms all around. it’s elegant, graceful, a striking contrast to his own lifestyle. wrapping it around your wrist to clasp it, you find that it fits perfectly, recognizing that he must’ve gone into a shop during one of your many stops and had it custom made. 

“din...it’s so gorgeous. how did you-where did you ge-”

“let me help you,” he cuts you off suddenly. he doesn’t want you to ask him the question because he doesn’t want to answer it. he doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t find you annoying anymore, he doesn’t find himself scurrying to hide in his cabin when you appear, he doesn’t dislike you at all now. it’s the opposite. maybe even more than that. 

“yeah, please. thanks.” you turn your wrist so the clasps are exposed to him, and his fingers work quickly to hook the clips together. once he’s finished, he lets his hand linger a little on yours, hesitantly almost, and you observe him. your eyes dart from his hands to back up to his visor to try and get some sort of feeling out of him. you watch as he begins to move his pointer finger from the base of your wrist down to the very tip of your middle finger. the cold leather of his glove tickles your hand a little and you smile. a childish, innocent smile. you can’t see him, but he smiles with you. the image of you like this, giggling like the baby right inside the cockpit of his ship, makes him happier than he’s ever been. 

with a sudden wave of confidence, you direct to him. “you can hold it, you know,” you voice softly, “it’s alright.”

your courage dissipates as soon as the words leave your mouth. maybe you’ve made a mistake in advising him to partake in such an intimate action. perhaps you were dreaming, this whole scene a mere conjuring of your own touch starved mind. it could also be that din didn’t even want to touch you at all, and you’ve placed him in an uncomfortable position he now has to escape from. 

but, suddenly, your hand is interlocking with his. the size of his hand envelops your own, and through the leather of his glove, it sends sparks flying in every direction. he feels warm, and through the material of his mitt, you can also feel the different shapes of his callouses. this completes him, fills him to the brim with joy; with something far stronger than liking and closer to that of desire. he tightens his grip on your hand, and you reciprocate. you drop your interlocked hands down, and your free hand starts to lightly play with the fingers of his other one. you’re smiling, a dent on your cheek forming. 

“what is it?” din asks, and you laugh. that sweet-like-honey, angelic laugh that makes his heart nearly stumble out of his chest. 

“nothing. i just like the way your hand fits in mine.”

#the mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian #dyn jarren #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x reader

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: If I Loved You Less I Could Talk About It More

Hey haii. Soooo.. This is kind of a follow up to the one I answered last night - I know right, it’s about goddamn time. Again, I’m so, so so so so sorry. I really am. -  which can be found [ here] if you want to backtrack and read that so this one maaaybe makes sense bc I cannot entirely vouch that it does in fact make sense without the one I just linked above.

I had such a blast writing this and I am kinda v. happy with the way it came out even if it’s just a little weird? I’m starting to dig first person.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @xwicker-manx  | @rampagewriting | @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure | @writertoo18 | @dietwrestling | @cowboyshit | @cabotcoves | @heelsamizayn | @adampage | @unabashedwrestlefics | @missjenniferb | - if anyone else wants to be tagged in my wrestling fics, go here and add yourself. 

Jon Moxley isn’t a talker by any stretch of the word. He’s more of a doer. The words, without actions behind them, are hollow and meaningless to him. 

I’ve known this for a while now. It’s not hard to figure out about him at all. It’s actually kind of obvious and definitely something one can appreciate about the man, when he’s not driving them to the goddamn brink of insanity.

What I can’t figure out is why in the seven blue hells he’s suddenly being so nice to me. Up to our encounter in the elevator a few weeks back? Guy hated me.

I was nothing to him, just some poor little princess trapped in an ivory tower. Or a toy, only meant to be played with. He’s openly said as much on numerous occasions.

Lately, it seems as if everywhere I am, he’s there. Arms crossed, all brooding and angry in some back corner, tapping his foot impatiently or holding up his wrist to indicate passage of time, kind of like some grumpy bodyguard or god forbid, a chaperone... Or sitting ringside, watching whatever match I happen to be in, a smirk on his face the entire time.

Literally no one can get me to themselves because of this... Especially not Maxwell, which believe me, the pathetic prick has actually been dumb enough to try and do, on more than one occasion. You’d think me, throwing the shit he left at my place into the pool below my balcony would’ve been a really clear hint I was absolutely fucking done being his late night booty call. Nope, apparently not.

But back to Mox, though. Mox is the reason I’m torn between anger and sheer unbridled sexual frustration as of late, and here’s why...

I don’t know what bothers me more… the fact that I can’t figure out why he gives a damn, - or if he even does, who knows with that guy? -  or the fact that deep down, it secretly turns me on. I’ve never really had someone just… attach themselves to me willingly, for lack of a better term.

But then, tonight… Tonight, Maxwell managed to get me to myself, corner me up backstage.

His eyes darted around the hallway. “Look at this. You drove away your self appointed guard dog. Are you ready to admit you miss all of this, kitten?”

“Did hell freeze over in the last ten minutes, Maxwell?”

“I’m the best you’re gonna have. This bizarre thing you and Mox have going on is just you, passing time. C’mon, kitten. Think about it. Do you really think he’s capable of half the things I could give you?”

“He’s got a cock, so I mean… yeah. Pretty much the only thing you were good for was sex when the batteries to my vibrator died.”

He eyed me. For a split second I smirked because it almost seemed as if I hurt him with my words. I know better than that, but I needed my moment of victory. Then he stepped closer, a hand ghosting down my side. “You know you want me back. You need me, princess.”

“I don’t need anybody, actually.” I corrected, feigning a yawn and rolling my eyes at Maxwell.

“Right, that’s why you’re letting Mox follow you around.” the sour expression on his face as he looked at me was worth a million words. But I rolled my eyes and reminded myself that the only reason he’s even choosing this hill to die on is because I ditched him first and in Maxwell’s mind? That’s a no go.

I know his type well. I was brought up with them. Bunch of mouth breathing elitist bitch boys. I’ve realized since our thing ended that Maxwell -and pretty much any man of his type, they aren’t what I want anymore. I don’t know what I do want, true but… I have a very clearly defined idea of what I don’t want and won’t fuck with or tolerate now.

“No, I’m not letting him do anything, everybody knows Mox does exactly what Mox wants. However, I’m not stopping him, either. Maybe he has me curious. Maybe, Maxwell,” I leaned in a little, lowering my voice and laughing softly as I continued, “Maybe I’m tired of being goddamn bored to death by prissy little bitch ass pretty boys. Besides, in the end, guys like you always leave. Your type are dogs. Always looking to get your dick wet and moving on once you find a sparkly new bitch you can wrap around your finger and bend to your will... Maybe I want more. Something real. Maybe Mox could be that. Maybe, Maxwell.. Maybe I want him. That’s really what burns you up, isn’t it?” I hoped he’d get the point, or get bored, and fuck off and away.

Naturally, he didn’t. And he started to talk himself up all over again. Tried reminding me of his version of our ‘good times.’

I gave an annoyed snort and butted in. “Says the man who refused to take me anywhere. Who insisted we couldn’t be seen together. Why the hell do you think I’d even begin to want you back? Sex was all you could offer and frankly? I’ve had better.”

He swore and glared at me angrily.

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“May be. But I’m not a dumb bitch anymore, now am I?” I said it in a mock sweet tone, laughing at him as I turned and prepared to walk away. 

“I was done with you anyway. I just wanted to give you one last chance to see reason.”

I held up my middle finger at him as I walked away, backwards. When I crashed into someone, I turned around, a glare at the ready.

Mox was smirking down at me. As his eyes roamed my body slowly, I felt something shifting in the dynamic between us. And it hit me then… That stuff I said to Maxwell?

I wasn’t just saying it.

I actually fucking meant it. With every single fibre of my being.

I gulped under his intense round of eye-fucking and i did my best to stay calm. To not be so obvious at the way my thighs clenched and god forbid, remember to breathe. He stepped closer, rough hand grasping at my hip, hauling me against him.

“Did I not tell ya to stay in the fuckin locker room? He only gets to ya because ya fuckin let him, woman. Then again,” Mox muttered in a dry tone, “You’d argue with a fuckin brick wall, I think. Stay here.”

His firm tone didn’t do anything to help out the situation I found myself in currently, dripping wet and so frustrated by what I’d just figured out that I honestly just wanted to shove him against a wall and rip off his clothes.

He eyed me, a brow raised. “The fuck is that little smirk for, huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” I shrugged, giggling. 

“Stay here.” he repeated, even more firmly this time, stepping so close to me that he towered over me and our bodies brushed against each other lightly.

Jesus, the way it felt, lightly pressed against him.

He spent a second or two grumbling and glaring, then he turned and stormed off, right through the curtains separating the back of the arena from the front.

It hit me then, MJF had just gone down. Literally just. As in he was still walking down the runway.

Curious, I made my way over to the curtains, pulling them just so that I could peek through a little and when I saw it, I barely restrained a whimper… I could hear every single word Mox said as he lunged at Maxwell from behind.

And it had me fidgeting, pacing the hallway and trying to puzzle out just what the hell was going on the entire time Mox was down in the ring, beating Maxwell’s ass all around it.

Mox stormed back through the curtains and I didn’t think, I just ran. Climbing the man like a tree, dragging my fingers over his close shaven scalp and wrapping my legs around him tight. He growled, nearly dropped me, but I felt his fingertips digging into my body and he staggered back a little, putting my back against the wall.

“This mean you’re ready for a real man, princess?” his voice a low husky growl against my lips as I smirked against his mouth and nodded my head, pressing my forehead against his. 

“It took me a while to figure you out, Mox… But now, I think I know exactly what you’re all about. So yes.. to answer your question, maybe I am ready for a real man, Mox.”

“Oh you do, huh? Gonna explain or do I gotta guess?” he smirked back.

“I like it better this way. Actions are better than words. Less talking, Mox. More kissing.” I breathed against his mouth, rubbing myself against him as he carried me towards the door leading out into the arena parking lot...

[in-tua-deep]

Thinking some more about the sort of training that the siblings would have gone through,,, Going to put this under a read more since it’s gon get LONG

LUTHER: Luther is deceptively the easiest one with the simplest and more straightforward power in my opinion? His powers are super strength and durability. So of course there would be general strength training, weights, etc. But endurance would have been a fucker. Having Luther hold massive weights for long periods of time until Luther physically couldn’t anymore. You can’t tell me that old Reggie would have been a good spotter, especially for the sort of weights Luther would have been on, so either Grace is stronger than she looks and helped out (possible) or Reggie just had Luther train without a spotter (depressingly likely). How often did Luther get hurt during his straining? Strain muscles? Drop weight or other objects on himself when he couldn’t hold it up anymore under the disappointed eyes of his father? Of course, I’m sure there would be shotput esque training. Luther hurls a bad guy out of a bank window, after all. He’s no Diego but I’m sure Reggie would have thrown in some throwing accuracy training for efficiency. And of course his power of durability - which I am actually afraid to theorize about? Are his bones more durable? I’m going to have to assume his muscles and bones are more durable due to the weights and shit he’s capable of lifting. Does he bruise? What sort of force is required to injure him? These are questions I am sure Reginald Hargreeves has written somewhere in that notebook of his but I am afraid to know how he found them out. DIEGO: Diego obviously has the power to throw things with incredible accuracy, curving them mid air and capable of manipulating their path. I’ve seen some things floating around regarding him being forced to practice with someone, usually Grace, as the target and having to throw the knives as close to her as possible. Which is, of course, unbelievably shitty considering how much Diego obviously cares for Grace. His training would probably also involve strength training? Though not to the same extent of Luther. But logically the stronger he is the more force he can put behind an object and the larger an object he would be able to throw to manipulate.  I can also see Diego having to do it blindfolded, having to rely on his memory of a room to throw knives at targets and having to do that repeatedly until he could bullseye every one to Reginald’s satisfaction. This would help him out in situations like when Luther was in his room and he tossed a knife through the crack in the door, relying on his memory of the room’s obstacles to curve the knives around to (almost) hit his brother. Also testing the general extent of his ability? Does he have to put the motion behind the knife himself in order to manipulate it (a la throwing) or would be be able to, say, drop a knife off a building where it isn’t him but gravity exerting the force on it?  I know in the comics(?) Diego has the ability to hold his breath pretty much forever but honestly the idea of Reginald Hargreeves testing and training that is really depressing for me and all I can think is him putting Diego in a water tank like he’s a glorified aquarium pet and then I get mad. ALLISON: Oh man, Allison’s power would be rough to train because it’s more about figuring out the limits of it than it is about training it to get stronger. On a related note, how did they even find out about her power which has a specific set of trigger words? Were they all just being little kids and teasing each other and it just happened? What was her first rumor? Okay anyway. SO because I think Reginald would have absolutely and expressly forbidden Allison from rumoring him (and I dread to think about what must have been the one time it did happen, because you know kids and pushing boundaries), I think Reginald either a) brought in strangers to have Allison use her powers on/took Allison out to have her use her powers (the former more likely bc controlled environment, at least at first) or b) have her test her powers on her siblings (depressingly likely). Personally I think both happened, I think she probably started out rumoring her siblings (it would have been fun at first, a game, like Simon Says) making one of the others do jumping jacks or dance. Then mood altering things (I heard a rumor you’re really happy today! I heard a rumor you think Klaus’s prank is stupid. I heard a rumor you want to play with me!) where she starts changing opinions and Reginald wants to see how long they last for, if she rumors for someone to forget something, will they ever be able to recover the memory? Do her powers have a time limit? Then, of course, she rumors Vanya into thinking she’s ordinary. Then I think for Actually Dangerous Things Reginald wouldn’t have wanted to damage the goods, so to speak, and would have started importing people for Allison to rumor. I feel like Reggie is That kind of asshole, so they were probably people no one would miss. Addicts, homeless people, criminals, etc. And then he’d have Allison rumor them to do things. He’d want to test to see if basic human survival instinct would overrule Allison’s rumors, right? Or maybe rumoring someone into doing something they’re so against they reject Allison’s rumors? Violence is something she was clearly comfortable of using her rumors for as a child. The first time we see her as a kid use her powers in the bank robbery, she smiles and tells the guy to shoot his friend in the foot. She doesn’t even blink at hurting someone, or using someone as a vehicle to hurt someone. And then in general, testing whether she would have to be face to face with someone to rumor them. Can she rumor people over intercoms? Over the phone? If she had a megaphone, would she be able to project her voice further to affect someone who wouldn’t be able to hear her without it? Can she rumor deaf individuals? If someone can’t understand the rumor (language barrier) will it still work? If someone is blocking out her voice with noise cancelling headphones, would it still work? Can Allison rumor people in other languages? If so, would sign language fall under that? I have a Lot of Questions, hello. KLAUS: My poor boy, my son. Okay, so clearly his ability is speaking with the dead and summoning spirits which really makes me question why the fuck Klaus was out running about on missions when his powers aren’t very offensively capable (barring when he manifests Ben to help out, which he Very Much Could Not Do when Ben was alive and kicking or literally anytime before that moment). Like, what the fuck Reggie? Was he the eternal lookout? Anyway, from what we can see in the show, Reggie’s focus seemed to be for Klaus to get over his fear of ghosts in order to access his abilities more. To be fair, Klaus’s power is a fucking difficult one to train for anyone without the powers. Klaus could deny until the cows come home that any spirits were present without Reggie being any the wiser, even if there were actually spirits present. Which is probably why fucking Reggie ended up tossing Klaus into the mausoleum and locking him in there, because he assumed that spirits would manifest in there for Klaus to see since it’s a house of the dead. Who let this man have children, again? Because surprise surprise, tossing children in with their greatest fear without any assistance or help and expecting them to get over it in fact traumatizes them even more! Before that though I think Reginald would take Klaus places and demand he commune with the dead and relay information to him. Or specifically take Klaus to like, a grave or something and try and make him purposefully conjure up a specific spirit idk. It probably wouldn’t work too well since, you know, Klaus is scared of the dead, but Reggie wouldn’t have cared. Hey, maybe he asked Klaus to summon up the people Allison presumably killed either via rumoring them to kill themself or rumoring someone else to kill them, two training with one stone amiright. Yeah, fuck Reginald Hargreeves for fucking up my son so badly. I wonder how many times Klaus fed him absolute bullshit answers or looking up murder stories and pretended to summon their victims and gave Reggie details that could be backed up just to get the old man off his back FIVE: Okay I have a lot of feelings about Five’s training bc,, he’s my fav sorry not sorry. First of all: his jumps. How far he can go, how many jumps he can make, whether distance is also a factor with how many jumps he can make (can he make fewer jumps if he increases the distance he is jumping). I definitely imagine that Reginald ordered Five to chain jump until he couldn’t anymore, and then tried to get Five to push through the block to jump even more. Did Five have set limits, or would training actually increase his spatial jump stamina? I also discussed in a fic about Five’s limits regarding movement and jumping. I think that ‘spatial jumps’ implies movement, and so if Five was immobilized and tied down I don’t think he’d be able to use his jumps to escape. Though if, say, it was just his hands tied together I think he’d still be able to move forward and jump he’d just take the restraints with him tbh. So I think as training, Reginald would probably try and figure out the limits of what conditions Five would be able to jump in. Can Five jump spatially in materials other than air? Aka, would Five be able to jump if he was in a body of water? Can he jump INTO objects other than air such as water? I’m assuming he has something that prevents him from jumping into solid objects and splicing himself (god or at least I hope he does) but would that extend to liquids etc.? Then I believe he was also trained in precision micro-jumps. Essentially, when having an object thrown at him he would be able to jump just a little bit to the side or in front of the object to avoid it hitting him without jumping across the room or something. Handy in tight quarters. In a fic I theorized that Reginald would essentially swing a cane at him to have Five jump to the other side of the cane before it hit him, and I stand by that. Then in general other testing, what can Five bring with him when he spatially jumps? What is the limitation of his ability? The size of an object? The mass? Composition? Five’s clothes clearly travel with him, but the only time we see him attempt to take a person with him that I can remember is when he tries to time travel with them, not spatially jump. Was he tested with animals before an attempt to jump with a human occurred? Could he jump with say, a hamster in his pocket? Does he have to be aware of what he’s taking with him or if something was slipping in his pocket would it travel with? Does he have to know where he’s jumping in order to do it? Does not knowing risk him splicing with a solid object? Would be be able to jump from a locked room into an unfamiliar second room, without seeing what or who might be inside? I have QUESTIONS. BEN: I feel like Ben’s power would just be straight up difficult to train tbh. Work on those core muscles man, get a regiment going. It caNNOT be easy to keep upright with a bunch of flailing tentacles coming from your person, I can barely keep my balance when one (1) small child attempts to climb my person. That shit has to be HEAVY unless there’s somehow no weight due to being otherworldly or something idk. They seem solid enough when they’re stabbing people, so I’m going to assume they have some heft to them. Ben must have abs of steel and the balance of the literal fae god damn.  So yeah I figure the only way to train that is?? To just do it? In a closed environment? Maybe getting rid of some of the people from Allison’s training? Try and control the other dimensional tentacles Ben and kill these people in a specific order or something! If you can order them to pick up that couch and throw it across the room then you get a treat! Literally I do not know. Presumably it is a very difficult power to control at least at first since Ben goes in a separate room to kill those bank guys without any of his siblings following him. They just wait until he’s done. Then as he trains he gets some more control until he dies? Bc he doesn’t kill any of his siblings at the theater there’s that, though idk if that’s because he’s dead or what - can Klaus aim Ben’s powers at people? Can he make Ben only corporeal to the bad guys to kill them and make him just go through the rest of them? But yeah idk how Ben trains smh VANYA: we see the tuning fork thing in the show, which presumably was pretty much the only training Reggie really managed to think of for Vanya to control her powers? I don’t know when their powers manifested but I’m assuming he didn’t know what they were from birth or anything. Allison’s at the very least requires speech. Diego’s requires throwing things which I’m pretty sure is a developmental milestone, being able to throw things. Can you even imagine a teleporting baby? Fucking anarchy for those poor nannies. So I’m choosing to assume they didn’t get their powers until they were at the very least toddlers with the vague ability to reason with them, because can you fucking IMAGINE Vanya weaponizing crying baby screams?? Grace would have been created a whole lot earlier lemme tell you that. Overall after he makes Allison fuck her up, Vanya seems to participate in training as an observer and recorder. He seems to care about her intellectual prowess at least and?? I don’t know, maybe was trying to fashion her into a sort of handler/trainer for the rest of her siblings? Maybe he gave her some of his data on the other siblings’ training to analyze. Maybe that’s what they were so angry about being in the book, idk. At least she had her violin as an escape amiright. That’s all I got for now lads, I haven’t read the comics or even looked at them so you know, I have no idea what that’s about, and I referenced exactly nothing besides the Wikipedia page idk how accurate that is so if there’s an answer to one of these questions hmu!!

#tua #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy #the hargreeves #luther hargreeves #number one #diego hargreeves #number two #allison hargreeves #number three #klaus hargreeves #number four #five hargreeves #number five #ben hargreeves #number six #vanya hargreeves #number seven #reginald hargreeves #my headcanons #my theories #training theories #child abuse #Reginald Hargreeves A+ parenting #suicide mention #mind control #a la Allison #casual murder? #idk i'm just thinking a lot #y'all should talk to me about things like this tbh

[bettsfic]

Hey so like...how do u justify romanticising a minor/adult relationship bc as a minor it kinda makes me uncomfortable. You’re an amazing writer, I just don’t quite get why you chose the age gap

before i address your question directly, and i will, i want to point out a few things that confuse me about this ask.

first, the admission of being a minor with the implication you’ve read my work, and now outright interacting with me. i’ve written maybe half a dozen g- and t-rated fics, and none of them are particularly popular, which i’m guessing means you’ve read my explicit fics, which means you’ve clicked past Ao3′s polite “18+ only” warning. my apologies if this assumption is incorrect – maybe you really have only read my three or four gen/teen-rated fics. that just seems very unlikely to me because all of my more popular fics are mature and explicit.

now, while admitting you are a minor made uncomfortable by minor/adult relationships, you have directly approached me, a 29 year old woman, to ask me why i’ve made the choices i’ve made. granted, by going on anon, you’ve ensured that this is a public forum, but if you’d PM’d me, i wouldn’t have responded, because i am not here to interact with minors.

which brings me to my conclusion of this portion of the ask, which is: i am not writing for minors and i do not want to interact with minors. i can’t control what you read or don’t read and it’s absolutely not my responsibility to cater to you in any way, especially if you knowingly and voluntarily click past the 18+ warning. but i can control my personal interactions, and i urge you not to reach out to me again. 

next i’m going to nitpick the word “romanticize” which is a word heavy in the current moral rhetoric. literally speaking, you are right. i am making an age gap romance romantic. rhetorically speaking, to “romanticize” something means to flatten or gloss over it, sweep potential consequences under the rug. to romanticize abuse, for example, is to make it beautiful, to ignore all the trauma and pain that comes along with it. (i think it is a worthy artistic endeavor to attempt to romanticize abuse in fiction, if for only the ability to highlight how fucked up abusive relationships can feel in the moment, but that’s a rant for another time).

since you haven’t read training wheels, i can tell you outright i am not romanticizing a minor/adult relationship. there are certainly unrealistic/porny moments, but i’m not shying away from the actual emotional consequences of being a 17yo* girl dating a 25yo man. i’m doing my best to depict this relationship the way these relationships are actually felt, because they do happen, and i have been in them. they can be very romantic, but that doesn’t mean i’m romanticizing them. though we’re not in his pov, bellamy is acutely aware of the greater context of their relationship. and clarke, who has no context, is doing her best to navigate the difficulty of her situation, semi-aware that it’s something that will be haunting her for a long, long time. 

i am not beautifying the ugliness of their relationship; i am not fetishizing (another word i take issue with) the minor body. being in clarke’s pov means that bellamy is object of desire, and meanwhile we get, through clarke’s thoughts, the sometimes awkward and confusing realization of what it means to be wanted, loved, used, seen, broken, trespassed, and all the other things teenage girls sometimes have to navigate. 

and i have one more thing to say before i answer your actual question: you are allowed to be uncomfortable reading fiction. in fact, i think you should be uncomfortable reading fiction. all art should make us uncomfortable, because in discomfort lies broader awareness. by consuming things which push at the boundaries of our narrow reality, we are capable of widening that reality, and that’s what it means to learn and grow and become the people we want to be. you cannot become a better, stronger, wiser person without facing and overcoming that which makes you uncomfortable. 

i also resent a bit the implication that i, a fanfic writer, a queer woman, am beholden to appeasing your comfort when straight white male writers are not. i assume you’re not sending jroth letters about how murphy’s sex slavery arc in s3 made you uncomfortable. or that the entire premise of the show revolves around putting a hundred minors in a ship and dropping them onto a potentially lethal planet. or raven, a teenager, sleeping with bellamy, an adult, in s1. and that’s not even mentioning the violence perpetuated against minors in the show. they die! and they bleed! like, a lot!! charlotte, a 12yo girl, dies a gruesome death in s1. they are minors forced to kill or be killed in exceedingly violent ways, and you’re in my inbox asking why i’m writing a fic that depicts a loving and consensual relationship between a 17yo (clarke’s canonical age in s1) and a 25yo. 

now i’ll answer your actual ask.

you use the word “justify” as if i had to do some kind of logistical puzzle to make this fic morally okay in my eyes. i can tell you now, i did not, because the story exists to navigate that logistical puzzle on its own. the conflict poses the question: is this okay? is this wrong? what about it is wrong? for what reasons is it wrong? and i also attempt (in a clunky way because it’s a bit rough, plot-wise) to navigate what “informed consent” really means to a 17yo who has no information to go off of. for me it’s an experiment in what consent really is. clarke wants bellamy, but she doesn’t have a full awareness of the consequences of that want, so is it truly consensual? what does bellamy have to do to fully inform her of those consequences? is it even his responsibility, or should clarke take more agency over her experiences? and lastly, the most interesting question of them all to me – what happens to the minors in consensual age gap relationships? how do they cope with that experience years later? in what ways does it change them?

though it’s not my responsibility to indulge my personal ties to this conflict in order to further “justify” it, i can assure you, i am writing this from clarke’s pov having been the younger party in many age gap relationships, at times a minor. at times coerced. at times completely uninformed. but each time, consensual. i sought out the men i dated. i took the lead. i propositioned them. and i consider: how has that affected me and the way i love now? 

my mom at 20, married my dad, 32. my older sister at 16, met her (now ex) husband, her then-boss, at 23 (they waited until she was 18 to start dating). i dated an 18yo and then a 19yo when i was 14. a 21yo when i was 16. a 32yo when i was 19. a 47yo when i was 22. but i also had a long-term relationship with someone who was just three months younger than me. age gap is not the only way i know how to love, but it is certainly a way to love, and one i find, in lieu of seeking it out in reality, narratively compelling. so i write about those experiences in order to better understand them now that i’m older. in order to take them apart and piece them back together. in order to, in some cases, relive them, because i enjoyed so much about them. 

i don’t pursue older men anymore because i no longer seek male validation. i don’t meet a handsome middle-aged man and need him to love me to feel like my existence in the world is warranted. but that doesn’t mitigate all the old habits and drive and potentially genetic disposition that led me to relentlessly pursuing them in the first place. so now i sublimate that into fiction and offer my experience and understanding to others who might be predisposed in the same way, or people who are not and curious about what that experience is like. and that’s what fiction does.

lastly, i’ve sort of saturated myself in age gap stories. i’ve watched every age gap movie i can get my hands on, read every book. i dive through google and ao3 looking for age gap recs, seeking out the one story or fic or movie that not only gets the relationship right, but figures out how to make it work. that’s all i want – a realistic, plausible solution to this very delicate and complicated kind of relationship. and i can’t find that story, so i’ve decided to write it myself. 

training wheels is an uncomfortable story about a romantic minor/adult relationship and the realistic psychological consequences of it, both in the immediate present and long-term, and you are supposed to be made uncomfortable by it, regardless of your age. it makes romantic but does not romanticize age gap relationships. i do not take the morality of this story lightly, nor its meaning or intentions. whether i succeed in this is up to interpretation, and i can’t control that interpretation, but i can tell you with certainty what my intentions have been going into this story, and exactly why i’ve made the decisions i’ve made regarding it. 

*the age of consent in ohio, where training wheels is set, is 16. i recognize the current rhetoric around this is “legality is not morality” or whatever, but again – the purpose of training wheels is in part to directly address this conflict

#training wheels #crybaby verse #discourse #tsatp #Anonymous

[sometimesimawriter]

Mirror Effect

Part 6

A/N: hey! I still exist! Life has been crazy!

Summary: five and Christina time. Kayla and Klaus discover new information and abilities ;)

Let me know if you like this shit or I should stop bothering with any of this! Also I have a sequel to this series which I personally like better so lmk!! Also I’m so sorry I can’t put the keep reading thing, it really won’t let me bc I’m doing this on my phone :(

Back to the story:

Christina's room was attached to the infirmary, and unlike the clutter of the infirmary, her room looked like a hurricane had barreled through. It was terrible, barely any space was left unoccupied by clothes, papers, shoes, or a combination of all three. She actually had the biggest closet of all three girls in the house- since there was a mutual agreement that she would need the extra space. Old habits tended to never die for her, and just like her bedroom growing up, no matter how much storage space she had, her room was fated to be a mess. Not like "Oh haha I'm such a mess!" Nah it was like five teenage girls were cramped into one space and none of them had the capability to pick up after themselves. When her, Emma, and Kayla first moved into the house, Kayla would once in a while try to clean Christina's space, but seeing that the mess had no end, she eventually gave up.

Christina now moved around the mess, using the few bare spots of her floor as stepping spaces to get to her bed. Her sheets were twisted around from the night before- she also had a habit of constantly kicking and tossing herself in her sleep. She moved a turquoise ukulele to the edge of the bed, and curled up. She then grabbed a tv remote off her bed stand and clicked the small television at the foot of her bed on. She flipped through some channels, but she wasn't really paying attention to the content, instead she was just zoning out. She was rethinking a bunch of things: how to solve the issue with the German steroid scientists, the face of the man Kayla had dropped to his death, how Max looked scared during his rage outside, how such a beast was asleep in the room next to her. There was a lot of serious shit going on for her, but the one thing she kept contemplating was Five. They shared a moment together yesterday, it really seemed like he was going to kiss her, and oh boy she couldn't get her mind off of that. She threw her head back onto her pillow, silently cursing Emma out for interrupting. What would have happened if they weren't interrupted?

She jumped up a bit when there was a knock on the door. Her heart began racing, thinking Max had woken up and Kayla wasn't there to talk to him and he broke out of the handcuffs. Another knock, sounding a little impatient. Then the door creaked open, pushing a shirt inside as it swung open. Then, instead of a scarred and angry Razor, a brown haired boy popped his head in.

"Hey, you busy- holy shit your room." Five looked around, momentarily gawking at a bra hanging off her desk chair. "You live like this?"

She jumped off the bed, pushing a pair of panties underneath her bed, "Ever heard of k-knocking maybe?"

He gave her a bland look, "I did knock, but you didn't answer. Can i come in?" It was more of a rhetorical question, since he was already walking inside. He toed a pair of jeans out of his way, "How much clothes do you own?"

She nervously giggled at this, "I've acquired a lot throughout the years."

"I see," he moved about the room, touching a Stones poster on the wall, then moved towards the desk, running his elegant fingers across the spine of a Rock Lives book. "You must really love rock music, huh?"

"Um yeah, more alternative, though." you rushed through the sentence, and he looked over at her, studying her. Her anxiety was probably palpable.

"I just wanted to come in here and apologize for yesterday in the infirmary. I was out of line." He too rushed through his apology.

"W-what do you mean?"

His throat moved, like he was forcing himself to swallow, "When I-ah- almost... kissed you?" This was strange, he was stuttering and sounded unsure. She could almost feel her heartbeat in her ears. Then she realized that he too was thinking about yesterday.

She jumped at this, "No!" Woah way too zealous there, "No... you don't have to apologize."

Her gave her a strange look, and walked over to the tv, crossing her as he moved. He had a kind of sweet scent. "What are you watching?"

She didn't really know, so she glanced at the tv and saw a sex scene playing. Heat flooded her face, and she scrambled for the remote, "Oh thats ah nothing, I wasn't watching that-" she finally found it and turned back around to shut it off, but he was suddenly standing in front of her. She stared into his eyes, and he had a very intense look on his face. His eyes moved rapidly, searching her face. He was standing so close she could feel his deep, heavy exhales on her face.

His hand moved to touch her hand, and she jumped a bit at the touch. He gave a small smile and firmly wrapped his hand around hers. "You seem to be a very strong willed and independent woman. I like that." His thumb moved back and forth across her knuckles. "which is why i want to ask: may I kiss you?"

She let out a laugh, and again, heat flashed in her face. Her nerves felt like popcorn kernels in a microwave, except the popcorn bag was on fire, and the microwave was hurdling through space at the speed of light (which is 1 X 10^12 m/s).

She finally decided to speak, "oh um ah, y-yeah i guess."

His eyelashes fanned across his face as his eyes moved from her eyes to her lips. Her chest rose and fell, and it seemed like he was basking in her nervousness. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned towards her, well, more like down towards her face. He gently pressed his lips to hers, treating her face as a porcelain doll. His free hand moved to her waist, gingerly touching her. Then he pulled back, opening his eyes, and a moment later she opened hers.

Not to be overly dramatic or anything, but her eyes felt like they were going to pop from their sockets and that her lips were buzzing with the ferocity of a wasp on crack.

He was the first to speak, "I liked that. Wanna do it again?"

She laughed, and then he wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, and oh boy did they kiss again and again.

Klaus walked into the infirmary, making slight eye contact with Five as he slipped into the door in the back of the room. He looked happier than usual- strange. Klaus pushed back a baby blue curtain where Max was strapped to a cot, still very unconscious. Whatever Gas Mask Man used was some powerful stuff, Old Klaus would have loved to get his hands on that. Kayla sat on a chair near the foot of the bed, with her legs propped next to Max's legs. She was reading a book, Klaus couldn't make out the name. He coughed a bit to get her attention and she looked up, and then she gave him a sweet smile. His heart felt like someone had grabbed it, not in a bad way, but he just really liked her smile; goofy, right?

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" She put a tab in the book, put her legs on the ground, and stood up.

"Just wanted to check on the blood again," he looked her up and down, and she rolled her eyes.

"The actual blood sample?"

"That too."

She looked down at Max, her faced etched with concern. Klaus hated the fact she was even in the same room with this guy. "I ran a test on it. Whatever he was on was some crazy shit. Dimethocaine, methamphetamine, MDPV, all the good shit." she looked up at Klaus, "The craziest part? A good 56% of his blood was made of it. Like it wasn't blood anymore, it was his DNA."

Klaus could remember a time when he was in a hospital. He had heard the nurses talking about him, how "remarkable" it was that he was alive. He no longer wanted to be that version of himself. Old him did have some good parts though, like how he knew exactly what those chemicals were, "Wait, so he was high on bath salts and coke?"

Kayla gave him a look, "...yeah. How'd you know that?"

He waved his fingers in the air, like a magician would after pulling a bunny from a hat, "The secrets of my mind." She giggled again, an angelic sound to him. The humor died out when Max made a grunting sound, and immediately Kayla went back to his side. When he didn't wake, Klaus spoke his mind, "Why are you spending so much time with him?"

"I feel bad, like i could have prevented this."

"But you couldn't."

"But i could have. I broke things off with him, and that blonde he killed? That was the girl he was cheating on me with. I think this was a plan of theirs."

Klaus couldn't deny this reasoning, but he still did not like it. "Or maybe he got what he deserved." She started to protest this but he continued on, "He cheated on you and look where that got him. He does not deserve you and you don't deserve this." He spat out this final word and pointed towards the unconscious body. He crossed the room to her, "Let Christina handle him," he gently grabbed her hand and began to lead her from the room, "I never got the coffee I was offered."

She then showed some resistance, "I can't leave him alone Klaus, he could wake up and tear through the cuffs."

"He'll be fine, leave him-"

She suddenly yanked her hand from his grasp, "No. I don't understand why you're trying so hard to get me away from him. What's your fucking issue?"

Klaus always considered himself a happy-go-lucky type of guy. His father always pushed him to go fight bad guys as a kid and he hated every second of it. He was more of a pacifist, especially after Vietnam- he just had grown to hate confrontation. This moment though, he had an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ever since he met Max he had an initial feeling of not liking him, and it was rare he didn't like someone. What he absolutely hated more was Kayla still protecting this bastard, after he treated her like shit and even threatened to kill her.

He looked at her, and he got pissed, "You wanna know what my fucking issue is? I don't like this guy. He threatened you, hurt you, hurt my brother. I have no reason to like him." He knew he should have stopped there, but he felt compelled to keep going. "I especially don't like how you are all over him," he sped up, talking erratically, "He won't treat you like I would!" he was beginning to yell, "I felt a connection with you that I only felt with someone else, and he's dead! And that connection is being tossed away because this asshole decides to show up all bloody and high!"

His tangent was done, but his lips kept moving, spilling words and ideas that weren't even his, "Your father abused you, and that's why you are clinging to him. When I left you, you were left to your own devices. Your father was cruel, and you are turning into the woman that i once was. Kayla Jane you are better than this!" His hands flew to his mouth, and whatever presence that took the wheel was now gone.

Her face was pale and her mouth slightly opened. "W-what?"

Klaus's heart sped up, "I- I don't know what just happened, I'm so so sorry.."

A single tear rolled down her face, "Only my mother called me that..." she whispered this.

There was silence in the room, then Klaus had to speak, "I think...your mom... was in me?"

She began to break down completely, her body caving in on itself. Klaus moved to her and she face-planted into his shirt. She sobbed, loudly, shaking in his arms.

Christina and Five came out of the back room, she looked shaken, but her eyes were set on her friend. She then made eye-contact with Klaus and made an O with her mouth. She then shoved Five back into the room and shut the door.

Klaus's attention was back on Kayla, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Guilt hung heavy in his chest, he hated that he caused this break down.

A few minutes of sobbing passed, and eventually the crying slowed. Her body seemed to relax, and then she pulled away a bit and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

He hugged her tighter to him, "No, I shouldn't have said those things."

Silence again.

"I want to go to my room."

He slowly let go of her, expecting her to leave without looking back, but she took a few steps away and turned back to him, "You coming?"

#the umbrella academy #klaus deserved better #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #number five #five #umbrella academy fanfiction #umbrella academy imagine #tua #klaus x reader #diego x reader #five x reader #tua imagines #love me please #im such a poor writer #dumb bitch juice #make it viral #love me klaus #i love klaus hargreeves

[btsismy6thkink]

BTS REACTIONS: You being clumsy

Requested: YES AND THANK YOU FOR THIS BC CUTE AND I LOVE YOU *HAND KISS BACK IN YOUR FACE* 

Disclaimer: fluff and a little angsty but mostly fluff (please read the word fluff with the oo sound in woof much cuter okay…. also this is my favourite i’ve written.

Jin:

Jin was always cooking, and frankly you felt like you didn't deserve him. You should be cooking for him and doing everything else a good wife would do, not being married didn't count in your mind so you decided to do the dishes hoping it would make up for it and for a while it did. You and Jin made jokes, had fun and at one moment you decided that washing the knife he had been using was a good idea. You had cut yourself, by just picking it up. You looked over at Jin thinking if you should say anything but at the blood seemed to keep coming and you felt lightheaded what else could you do?

“Jinnie, my finger is hmm bleeding” you looked at him, him then turning around noticing the blood and rushing to you. “What happened? i thought i had banned you from knives?” “Not the time Jinnie, i don't feel good” you looked at him with almost criss-crossed eyes as he held you and helped you to sit down on the floor against the table, he found the first aid kit quickly seeing as you and Namjoon tend to need it often, then proceeded cleaning up your finger, kissing it then looking at you. “No more knives woman”

Yoongi:

You had been working on a school assignment all day sitting in Yoongi’s studio while he was sitting working on music making you the perfect couple just sitting there not even talk but still enjoying the close proximity. You felt yourself getting hungry and therefor went to get up from the chair accidentally entering a fight between you and the leg of the table you thought you had built a trusting relationship with. “AISH YOU RUDE, UNGRATEFUL BASTARD, YOUR MOM SUCKS!” you yelled this making ‘eye contact’ with the table causing your loving boyfriend to turn around with his gummy smile, “Heeey y/n what did he ever do to deserve that earful?” you looked at him like he was stupid before limping over to the couch and sitting down.

At this point Yoongi seeing you limp had him worried, “ahh I'm sorry”. He walked over to you taking your face into his hands squishing your cheeks together. “i’m so sorry that table sucks, i will throw it out yeah?” you looked at him in disbelief but just nodded to the best of your capability while being locked in-between his hands. He slowly let go of you kisses you softly on the lips and trailing down to your neck kissing it slowly leaving you wanting more only to pull away the slightest bit breathing against it as he let out a soft chuckle. “When i marry you i’m calling you Min Clumsy” you couldn't help but laugh a little, but at the same time being a bit offended but not enough for you to not see the irony in your boyfriend’s words. “Alright Min Butt, i guess both can play that game huh?”

J-Hope:

It was not secret that you were unlucky or some might go for the fraise clumsy, but this was a new high 3 hours ago you went to give you boyfriend some water during dance practice, however that didn't end up happened because as you walked to him you somehow managed to fall, like your whole body just slammed to the floor, leaving you sitting in the hospital with your overprotective boyfriend.

“i’m sorry i laughed, i love you.” He didn't even look at you when saying this, you however kept looking at him “i love you too Hobi, but you got to look at me please and honestly i don't know why i’m here?” He hesitated for a bit turning his face towards you but instead of your eyes meeting her was focused on the space separating your two chairs. “I didn't help you, i laughed, what if you're really hurt, please get checked up on by a doctor” he finally looked at you when you placed your right hand softly on the side of his neck giving him a small peck on his lips. “I probably looked hilarious, and thats why i’m here silly? i feel fine but if you want me to make sure i will”

Namjoon:

It was now 8 hours and 42 minutes since you had last seen your boyfriend, he had been in his studio for this long and not even sent a text as to prove he was alive so you thought it to be a good idea bringing him a cup of tea to relax. After finally making the tea exactly how he likes it you went to his studio knocked six times before finally getting a little come in from the other side of the door. You walked in smiling big as usual and him just pointed to the spot on his table right next to his computer to put down the tea. You sighed but tried doing as told. Tried being the keyword, you went to put down the cup when as you had in your hand was a handle and a screaming boyfriend.

“WHAT THE HELL Y/N? ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN MY CAREER? I HAVE MOST MY SONGS ON THERE! ARE YOU STUPID, CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING WITHOUT HAVING TO RUIN SOMETHING?! I..” He stopped yelling the moment he saw a single tear drip down you cheek standing up from his chair and hugging you close to him only to have you start sobbing. You tried getting something out of at this point it sounded more like a bad remix. He pressed you closer to him just to feel your heartbeat, “i’m sorry i yelled, i know it wasn't your fault gorgeous, i guess i should take a break from work then and get my computer fixed” He kissed the top of your head to make you fully believe he wasn't angry anymore. “I love you, Joonie” you whispered knowing only he could hear, “I love you too, but i guess you becoming worse than i am, goddess of destruction” he said the last part letting out a proud chuckle.  

Jimin:

“Okay, but what if a gorilla kissed me would you then be jealous?” you asked your loving boyfriend who was putting up with your weird jealousy questions while shopping for food, well rather paying for it and walking to the exit. “no” he answered plain and simple which made you a bit frustrated. “Okay, so what about a girl?” you looked at him while walking before hitting into something very hard making your head spin a little.

You felt your boyfriend’s arm around your waist turning you to face him, “Careful of glass doors but yeah i would be jealous if a girl kissed you”. You smiled a little at his answer before looking at the glass door you had just walked into seeing a faint reflection, “Wait is my nose bleeding?” you looked at him again but this time his face went from calm and amused to panicked, “shit yeah come on” dragging you to the restroom near the entry. He handed you a paper towel while whispering curse words in korean to himself knowing you would only hear half of it. “I’m fine?” putting the paper towel up your nose, “and as a bonus i look extra cute. This made him laugh slightly, not that you were fine, also that but the fact he had a girlfriend who cared this much about him to make him feel better when she was in pain.

Taehyung:

“TAN-AH” was all you managed to yell before meeting the floor in the apartment scraping your exposed knees but luckily taking the fall with your hands. Your boyfriend came running to you, seeing as well he was worried for his puppy. “Jagiya what happened” he looked at you blank faced sitting bending down to pet Yeontan. “Your dog tripped me and i nearly crushed him, i love him but he literally almost got us both killed” you said standing up.

Tae looked at you now worried, almost as if you had in fact just died pointing to your knees, “does it hurt?” he looked over at yeontan pretending to scold him when you both knew that would never happen. “Yes Tae, i am fine it’s just my knees not a broken bone” you smiled at him before looking at Yeontan, “that’s it no treats for you today little man”. As you finished saying this Tae couldn't help but just look at you and pull you into a hug admiring how cute you were.

Jungkook: 

You thought you would surprise you hard working boyfriend by cleaning his room for him, maybe it was also for your own sake but mostly for him you told yourself. Went to dust off his gaming area which included his playstation 4 which he loved very much and somehow, not knowing exactly how you had dropped it onto the floor and had it scatter around the room, which in all honestly you found dramatic but you couldn't help but feel your stomach drop knowing your boyfriend would be sad when he found out. You waited patiently in your room for him and the rest of the members to come home from work going over how you would explain yourself. In the meantime you had fallen asleep against next to the PS4 you had tried to put back together.

You heard the door open and almost by instinct stood up from the floor ready to explain. Jungkook smiled at you, looked down at the PS4 and suddenly his smile turned into a frown which seconds later turned into anger. “What the actual fuck did you do? you cant do anything? you break my stuff just because i’m not home with you 24/7? you’re literally so fucking stupid!” He didn't yell but he did spit it out as if you were his worst enemy. You looked at him with not tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry i will buy you a new one, i tried to clean and it just happened i’m sorry i’m useless and stupid.” You went to grab one of you jacket to leave the apartment at least for a few hours. However a hand stopped you, and you met a pair of now warm and sad eyes. He hadn't realised how harsh his words were until you actually said it back to him. “You’re not any of the shit i said Y/N you're literally perfect, i was just angry it was a long day I'm so sorry don't cry” He spoke softly pulling you into a hug.

#bts #bts reactions #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jimin #jin #namjoon #yoongi #taehyung #jungkook

[myloveofwords]

Do You Believe?

Original Imagine: hi! I love your writing! it’s absolutely amazing! I was wondering if I could have a one shot request where the reader gets critically injured bc Barry wasn’t fast enough to save her. super angsty and sad? thank you! @zbvbble (Sorry it took so long Sweetie! hope you enjoy, cuz it almost killed me!)

Reader Gender: Female

Word Count: 2,000

Warnings: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. UH. OH MY GOD. I’M SO SORRY.

Author: Contrygal7

                                                     * * * * *

If I didn’t believe in you.

The words cut deep into your head, the first thought of the day and recalling fights hurt. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those words, though. Of course the first time wasn’t nearly as depressing.

No.

The first time it was warm. A fuzzy kinda warm that slowly seeps its way into your bones almost as if its igniting your entire body in a tantalizingly slow burn. The early morning sunshine, the whole world cascaded in a pink tint, as it fell lazily over the small bedroom in your even smaller studio apartment that you currently shared with your full time boyfriend part time superhero, Barry Allen.

The whole day seemed to reflect your mood, everything a stupid, can’t possibly be real kinda happy. Then you heard it, you’d heard it before of course, but singing in the shower was one thing… This was something different all together.

♪ If I didn’t believe in you♪

♪We’d never have gotten this far. ♪

♪If I didn’t believe in you♪

♪And all of the ten thousand women you are. ♪

He was actually singing. Like he sounded like he knew what the hell he was doing, now your boyfriend was many things. Goofy. Cute. Adorable. A super dork. Charismatic as hell when he wanted to be. But a singer? It just didn’t seem like it was actually him.

… Until he accidentally dropped this solid one liner into the air in front of him.

“Maybe I should just ask her… Nah. No. It’s too soon. Yeah. It’s wayyyyyyy to soon. But is it? Seven months? Maybe. I mean, ugh. I don’t know. I mean I know it’s what I want. But is it what she wants?”

Elevated heart rate, which Barry can hear, or sense or whatever the fuck he does. He turns around faster than your eyes can see, but living with a speedster you we’re used to it.

His deep blue eyes seemed to mirror your own terror as the two of you stood in the bright sunny kitchen, the tension palpable. You could feel his anxiety from across the small room as he too loudly asked “Coffee? You need coffee. I need coffee. I think we both need coffee. I’ll…”

Barry was gone and back in seconds two coffee cups from CC Jitters. You smile sweetly at his terror filled face as a single hand cups his cheek “Thank you sweetheart. Did you have something you wanted to ask me?”

His eyes screamed yes, but somehow he kept his dorkiness to a minimum as he, as slowly as a speedster can, dropped down on one knee. His big puppy dog eyes are what sealed the deal, he opened the small black velvet box in his hands. You looked down, catching glimpse of the shiny red bone shaped dog tag nestled inside.

BUT back to present day … Barry had left this morning with out a single noise.

You woke to a dark room and cold sheets. Glancing quickly at the alarm the 5:13 there glared at you with bright green neon. The world around you seemed to darken, you didn’t like fighting with Barry but sometimes he was just so stubborn.

The fight seemed to cycle and cycle thought your head. You overthought everything said and remembered everything. It was torture, sitting alone in a bed meant for two. Cold and alone. A single tear fell from your cheek as the words said came into razor focus:

“WEll, I’m sorry Barry! I’m sorry I can’t be everything that you want me to be! I’m sorry I’m not a doctor like Caitlin, or a superstar reporter like Iris! Shit Barry.“

"Who said anything about Caitlin or Iris?”

“And you’re never home! You’re always with everyone else but me. You leave me for days, sometimes weeks at a time with no explanation.”

“I have responsibilities (Y/N)! I can’t be here every time you have a feeling!”

“Like you’d know anything about me feelings, Barry. You’re never home. You’re always gallivanting around the city, fighting bad guys and ignoring ME!”

“I do NOT ignore you (Y/N).”

“Well you certainly don’t pay attention.“

"And when am I suppose to do that (Y/N)? The three hours I get to sleep at night? Or maybe you’d like the thirty minutes before hand when I eat before I pass out. Oh! Or maybe you’d like the eight hours when I’M AT WORK EVERYDAY.”

“OR you could come home before the goddamn crack of dawn. Or when you do come home, you always find some kind of excuse to leave yet again!“

The click of paws on the floor snapped you from your memory so you figured Flash, the lovable dalmatian that you and Barry adopted together, needed to go outside.

Without hesitation you stumbled your way through the dark gathering Flash’s leash and your shoes before hustling him outside.

The air was cold and wet. The rain fell around you, chilling you to the bone. You didn’t see anything until it was too late. The sweet smell filled your nostrils and the last thing you remember is the cool sensation against your face as you feel into the darkness.

                                           * Barry’s P.O.V *

I should have went back this morning. I should have went home and crawled into bed, held her close and never left. My neck is sore from sleeping on the couch at the lab, my body aches from lack of sleep, and my head is spinning in regrets.

I should just go home now. Call the captain, tell him I need a personal day. Pick up some flowers and some pizza from that place in Gotham she loves so much. Meet her back at the apartment and lay in bed all day.

Hell, she’s never going to say yes to marrying me if I keep treating her like this. My hand instantly goes to cup the diamond ring in my coat pocket. I shake my head as I realize that I’d been carrying it around since the second month we’d started dating.

She is my everything. I have to make this up to her.

I take out my phone and begin to execute my brilliant plan, until my phone lights up and Cisco’s name pops up. Damn it.

”Cisco, whatever it is let Wally handle it. I can–“

"Barry. It’s (Y/N).”

I was in Star Labs before the call ended.

“What’s happening Cisco?”

“The Meta-finder got something. It’s him Barry. And he’s got (Y/N).”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. Neighbors place her walking Flash at 5, and he just popped up on my radar. We have no account of his whereabouts for in between.”

“That’s 3 hours Cisco.”

“Yeah, man. It’s bad. Want me to call Oliver?”

“No.”

I didn’t finish my sentence. I left her alone. Scared. In the middle of a fight. And now I may never get to see her smile again. I suited up and headed face first into a hurricane.  

                                                 * * * * *

You woke with a throbbing in the back of your head. Your stomach growled causing you to slump forward, you realized your hands were bound behind you. You shuffled forward trying to regain some kind of bearing, and that’s when you heard him.

“Comfy?”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Oh I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“Well your not going to get it. He’s not coming.”

“Oh but he is.”

“Oh, but he’s not. Asshole.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

You tilted away from him, hoping to terminate any and all conversation which worked. For a whole half a second.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He won’t get here in time.”

“I’m not taking the bait, asshole.”

“What is it with you and that word?”

“OH I’m sorry. Douche bag. There’s another word for ya.”

“What does Mr. Allen see in you anyway?”

Your eyes widened and you were thankful you’d turned your body away. How in the hell did he know? Your head began to throb again and you cried out.

The last thing you remember is Barry’s face as the darkness slowly took over. You stumbled over the words as they left your mouth. You didn’t know if he could hear them or not, but they needed to be said.

“I believe in you, Barry Allen.”

Your eyes closed slowly and your breathing soon followed. Everything blurred together. Then black.

                                        * Barry’s P.O.V *

I saw the light leave her eyes and I cried out. I don’t remember much after that. Caitlin says it could have been that my body was moving faster than my brain could keep up with. Wells says it could have been too traumatic and I’ve blocked it out. I don’t know. I don’t really care.

All I know is she’s in a hospital bed, on life support and I’m still breathing. I haven’t figured out the how or the why yet.

Another tear falls down my face. It seems like that’s all I do now. Cry.

I feel nothing, I feel empty. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I just sit here and stare down at the love of my life. And pray that she will wake up.

Her last words bring a sharp pain to my chest.

I believe in you, Barry Allen.

Why? Her last words, she had to have known they were going to be, yet… She didn’t cry out for help. She didn’t try and plead for her life. She didn’t scream at the top of her lungs…

She told me exactly what I needed to hear. A single phrase and I felt I could take on the world. A conclusion of words that made me feel invisible. A solid string of syllables that connected the two of us in a way I didn’t even realize she was capable of.

A single memory came into mind. One with white curtains and yellow sunshine. Dirty dishes and happy times.

♪ If I didn’t believe in you. ♪

♪ We’d never have gotten this far. ♪

I took her hand into my own, feeling the warmth and smiling down at her.

♪ If I didn’t believe in you. ♪

♪ And all of the ten thousand women you are. ♪

I laughed slightly remembering how she hated when I sang that part to her. Part of me hoped it would piss her off enough she’d wake up.

♪ If I didn’t think you could do ♪

♪ Anything you ever wanted to ♪

♪ If I wasn’t certain that you’d come through somehow ♪

♪ The fact of the matter is, (Y/N). ♪

♪ I wouldn’t be sitting here now. ♪

She never once moved. I watched as the machine assisted her with each and every breath. The rise and fall of her chest and the sudden stillness of her seemed to be too much all at once.

I raised my hand to my face, feeling the sobs begin to tear through my body. I walked over to the machine and with a trembling hand, flipped all the necessary switches.

I watched though tear filled eyes as the machine took her final breath for her. Her eyes never once opening.

21:17

The clock taunted me beside me. I swear I could feel my soul leave my body.

I listened to the tantalizing beeping of the heart rate monitor.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I listened closer as it begin to flat line signaling the end of her life.

BEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.

Silence. It filled the room. Filled my head, my heart. Everything. There is no moving on from this kind of pain.

This is it.

The end.

Beep.

.  .  .  .  . Then again… Maybe not.

#barry allen #barry #allen #the flash #flash #flashverse #barry allen x reader #barry allen x you #the flash x reader #the flash x you #grant gustin #gustin angst #flash angst #steven amell #barry angst #oliver queen #thecw #thecwflash #barry allen imagine #the flash imagine

[buckitybarnes]

Reboot [Part 2]

Summary: A new member aids the avengers in temporary place of Bucky while he’s in Cryo, but no one knew exactly how temporary she was really going to be.

Warnings/Themes: Cussing, Violence. Eventual Bucky x Reader (I promise they’ll meet in the next 2 chapters ahh. Just need some setting up)

Author’s Note: I decided that reader is somewhere in her early 30’s btw so lets just say tony is much younger than his canon age is for the sake of this series. She’s about 6 years younger than him. 

longer chapter bc i got carried awaaay :)

Y/N = Your Name

Previously:

“You guys are horrible at whispering, you know that? Steve, can you meet me at the gym in an hour? Please?”

Steve realizes that you heard him and began to apologize before you smile sweetly and shake your head.

“Please Steve, Let me show you that I can hold my own” you insist, voice dripping with honey and the slightest tinge of defiance and irritation.

Releasing a sigh that you had not realize you’d been holding, you toss your duffel bag on your bed and take in the new surroundings. Tony sure was reliable to say the least. You found all of your belongings moved from your house and organized neatly into your new room. 

Something tugs at your thoughts and the pessimism began to sink back in from before your arrival here. 

“Tony, for the last time- I think this is a terrible idea.”

He stared back at you from behind the computer screen, raking a hand through his hair. “Really? I thought this was a great idea. It’s mine after all” his unsure smile broke his confidence however. 

You pursed your lips before speaking. 

“I’ve been a fan of the avengers since you guys first went public on TV, but this is different. Yes I graduated at the top of my class, and yes I’m a sharp-shooter, but this is insane. I’m nowhere near ready to be an avenger- even if it is just for a little while. I mean, what if they hate me? I’m just a normal person, I could never fit in with a bunch of enhanced soldiers or ‘Friendly-Green-Giants.’”

Tony rolled his eyes, resting his head on the palm of his hand as he waited for you to finish.

“You done? Listen (Y/N), not everyone here are divine beasts from another planet. I’m human for instance. Yes, I’ve got my unbelievably good-looks, but I’m human and there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re strong and more than capable for the position. I’ve seen you fight and lead SWAT teams for Christ's sake. Have a little faith. And you’re afraid they won’t like you? No offense princess, but we’re not in high school anymore, you don’t have to try to fit in. Besides, I’ve still got beef with Captain America. We almost killed each other. I’m sure you won’t have the same experience with any of the others.”

You closed your eyes before groaning in irritation. “Fine. I’ll do it, But honestly? I hate you Tony Stark.”

“You love me, you just won’t admit it. It’s okay though bec-”

You shut your laptop, smirking at the thought of hurting his ego a bit before rushing to pack your things.

“ Miss (Y/L/N)?”

A hand knocks on your door firmly before it opens and a purple figure steps in. Alright, it appears that people here need to learn how consent and room-entering worked. 

You scramble to your feet having just pulled down your tank top and finishing your change of clothes. “Yeah, what?”

The android-like man seems unfazed by your startled demeanor. He smiles and offers his hand. “I’m Vision. It’s good to meet you. Stark has mentioned only excellent things.” Your mouth is slightly agape as you nod, raising an eyebrow in silent question at his sudden appearance. “Yeah- uh…good to meet you too.” His smile seems to widen genuinely as he nods back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I came here to tell you that Captain Rogers is waiting for you at the gym. He sent me to show you the way.” 

As you follow his lead, you quickly warm up to Vision. Despite the awkward introduction, your conversation becomes easier as you ask questions and he answers accordingly before bringing up any inquiries of his own. The walk seems a bit long so you both decided to tell each other brief stories. 

“So you’re telling me, that one of the most smartest entities in the world almost burned the kitchen down after attempting to make pizza?” you quip, a laugh bubbling up your throat as you grin childishly. 

He appears almost sheepish as he looks down at the tile floors. “Yes, well- I suppose cooking was never a necessary function for me. I do enjoy it though.”

You shake your head, grin still plastered on your face. “Remind me to never eat your cooking. No offense.” Maybe getting along with the avengers wasn’t such a hard task after all. He chuckles in response.

You arrive at the gym and look around in wonder. There were walls aligned with normal everyday gym equipment including treadmills and bench-presses along with other standard machinery. What really caught your eyes though were the unusual practice weapons and torn-up target dummies in one corner of the room. 

“(Y/N), about earlier, I just wanted to apologize” a voice calls out. You follow it and find Steve standing on the blue mats in the center of the gym, sporting a gray tank top to show off muscle and sweat-pants that hung a bit too low. He was a walking sculpture hand-made by Da Vinci himself. Sweet Jesus, you needed to contain yourself. No drooling in front of the avengers, (Y/N). 

Realizing you hadn’t actually responded and that you practically blanked for a couple of minutes, you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, it’s no big deal. I understand you’re just concerned, Steve, but honestly you don’t have to worry about me and…I can prove it.” You drag a hand down your face and sigh, trying to snap back into a serious mindset. 

Steve took it as a sign to initiate. He nods, getting into a ready stance. You, however, seemed to be easily distracted when a few other team members filed into the gym. You eye them as they make their way onto the bleachers. 

Steve smirks, charging up to you quickly. He had a plan set in place, and it was already starting to play out. He wanted to end this quickly by pinning you down, giving you a lecture on focus and how “you should never let the enemy see you distracted,” and helping you pack up your things to leave. It wasn’t in ill-spirit necessarily, but he would hate to drag another innocent person down the path of the Avengers. 

He was nearing you and tried to make a grab on your shoulder when you turned, stepping out of the way and looking him dead in the eyes. “Wow Freedom Slushie, it’d be really nice if you gave me a little warning next time” you jest, answering his confused expression with a shrug of your shoulders.

He huffed, deciding to step it up a notch in intensity. Maybe he shouldn’t underestimate you after all. He takes a few steps back and you two circle each other, both becoming wary of one another’s movements. It was a waiting game now.

You move first this time, lunging forward and leaning your weight on one side of your body as you put force in your opposite side to jab him. 

He forces out air from his nose before catching your wrist, quickly releasing it and using his strength to grab your abdomen in order to flip you onto your back. Before your body could hit the mats, you plant your feet on the ground and flip yourself upright once more. You don’t wait for him to respond, forcing your whole body into a turn and giving his side a powerful roundhouse kick to the ribs. 

He grunt slightly at this but recovers and takes a hold of your ankle, yanking it roughly so that you lose balance. “Fuck.” You wobble a bit, glaring up at him as you quickly take his wrist in your own hand and giving a twist in its weak point. 

His grip immediately loosens and you back up entirely to watch his pained expression. “Get over it soldier, you’ll heal up quickly” you mumble, smiling almost apologetically. “Yeah, well, it still hurts” he grumbles back which only causes you to giggle. A playful glare is shot your way as he shakes his wrist.

He watches as you back up, body still facing him. It was almost as if you were running away. He knew better though when he saw the pure mischief in your eye and he shakes his head with a knowing grin. In a flash, you began your charge at him, one fist looking ready to pummel as it clenches at your side. He narrows his eyes, preparing to grab you again by the wrist in order to push you back. Were you messing with him? He makes the mistake of bracing one arm in front of his thigh though, hoping to make a quick grab. 

You seize the opportunity, jumping up and planting a foot on said arm to push up even higher. Adrenaline pumps through you (as if it wasn’t already) and gives you a quick rush. Using the momentum, you back-flip, kicking harshly up into his jaw. 

His head flies backward, lucky that none of his teeth were broken from the force of the kick. 

He groans again. Cupping his jaw, he tries to soothe the ache. You were back on your feet now, breathing heavily from the energy exertion and grinning ever-so-slightly from the cheers coming from the bleachers. You were full of surprises and it became apparent to everyone in the room. 

“Damn, Steve she got your ass!” a dark-skinned man hollers, arms crossed as he lets out a wholehearted laugh. 

“What the hell was that move? That was awesome!” An older man says, setting down the bow he’d been toying with. He nudges a redhead sitting next to him and they both smile widely. She proceeds to whisper something incomprehensible, but from the devious look on her face you could tell it was something snarky. 

You leave Steve on the mats, running toward a mini-fridge in the corner of the gym. After rummaging through it, you return with a small ice-pack in hand and gently place it under his jaw. “So Cap, what do you say? Did I beat some sense into you?”

He looks at you momentarily, taking the pack from your grasp to adjust it. His eyes gave off a glare almost too intense to stay still under. That had you worried. However, his deep frown morphed into a small smile as he lifts the ice pack. He glances to those on the bleachers before eyeing you once more. 

 “Welcome to the team, (Y/N).”

– 3 months later –

“I’ve got eyes on the control room. 2 guys both unarmed. I’m moving in.”

“Copy that (Y/N), be careful please.”

You chuckle quietly in response to Steve’s voice. “Yeah Pops, I’ll be okay.”

“Better be, we have movie night tonight” a voice chimes in and you roll your eyes in response. “Nat, there won’t be a movie night. Tony forgot to buy the popcorn.” a chorus of “what the hell Tony?”s and “man what the fuck?”s resonated through the earpiece causing you to purse your lips to keep from bursting with laughter. 

Never had you imagined getting along with the whole group of Avengers, but here you were. You never regretted staying to say the least. They had become your family and you couldn’t ask for more. Despite their ups and downs, you couldn’t put anything past them. They were human after all (well- you were sure at least 90% of them were) and they were allowed to make mistakes. 

There was Natasha and Clint who you dubbed “Double-Trouble.” They let you in on their little secrets and their inside jokes which made you feel at home around them. Then there was Vision, who you decided needed cooking classes from day one. On your off-time you opted to help him with dinner, which the rest of the team were more than happy about. Hell, they even started having “family dinners” around the table again after the meals started to improve. Following the purple android, you had Wanda. She was so sweet that you secretly decided to call her “the innocent-child-that-deserves-better.” You were her ears to talk to when she was feeling down and in return she offered companionship and reminded you of the domestic life, taking you out on occasional shopping sprees or going to spas to get your manicures and pedicures done. Rhodey would tease you about this and would lightheartedly call you a “true Cali girl” due to your frequent visits to coffee shops and cute boutiques with Wanda. In response you would scoff and deny it, but he knew better and would only laugh in response. 

There was Bruce who you tried opening up more. He was holed up in his lab most of the time, but after you gave him frequent visits, he made an effort to join “game nights” or “movie nights.” You remembered the first two weeks being awkward, as you were almost as bad as Tony when it came to sleep. You would wander around the halls and stumble into his lab multiple times on accident (You were bad with directions and Tony’s maps didn’t help you one bit).

Sam was next on the list. He was your go-to guy for cheering up and damn did he do it well. His jokes could have your sides hurting for days after laughing so hard. One day he made a joke about Tony knocking over a suit after getting drunk and that suit started a domino-affect which almost broke half of the things in his lab. He then apparently proceeded to blame Steve for trying to steal his “shit” when he spotted him walking past the lab. You nearly choked on your cereal when Tony walked into the room, looking confused as ever. 

You never got the chance to meet the god named Thor, but from what you’ve heard, he’s a giant puppy. That type of person was someone you would definitely get along with (and it helps that he apparently was eye candy for the ladies). T’Challa was another member you’ve never gotten to know well, but from what Steve says, he’s a loyal and trustworthy man despite their conflict. You appreciated his aid for Steve’s friend whether or not you’ve met them. Often you were more interested in asking about said friend, but Steve brushed it off and said that you would hopefully have a chance to meet this so-called “Bucky.”

Speaking of Freedom Fry, you’d grown very close since your sparring session. He was like an older brother and you usually went to him first for anything that had been eating away at your mind. Despite Tony’s slight disapproval, you found yourself making a promise to have Steve’s back because you definitely knew he had yours. Don’t get it twisted, Tony was good for gossip and mayhem, but it was slightly harder to talk about anything too deep without him trying to shake it off with some humor. He was never one for sappy moments, and you didn’t try pushing it on him too often. 

You smile to yourself, shaking your head as you try to bring your focus back to the mission.

You bring up your rifle as you crouch down beside a large crate, eyes focusing on the targets in front of you. Both men seemed preoccupied with their data. They had no idea you were coming. 

Suddenly, the sound of a gun clicking shakes you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Don’t. Move.”

Your gaze follows the voice, trying to look at him through your side vision, but before you could move to disarm the man, you could only watch as the back of the gun moves in to slam at the side of your head. 

A loud ringing could be heard in your ears and you began to grow lightheaded. A few shouts were muffled by the cloudiness of your mind as you slump forward. Whether those shouts were coming from your earpiece or the men before you, you never had the chance to find out. 

Two large hands grip you by the shoulder and drag you away roughly. Your vision fades in and out as you try to re-focus, but it becomes clear you were too weak to fight back. You could feel another rough hand cup the side of your cheek and a chuckle resonates throughout the room before a fist collides with your skull.

With that, everything goes black. 

–Series Tags (Open)–

@inevitablegalaxy @satansknittingclub @josiewinters1999  @urmychilicheesecake @alextheallpowerful

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #wolf writes #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine #captain america #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #tony stark #bruce banner #wanda maximoff #writing

[runwiththieves-blog]

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

It’s when you’re sitting on the couch next to him that you have your ’oh god’ moment where you realize that you’re actually really into him.

Harry hasn’t done anything to provoke this. He’s literally just sitting there, being his angel-like self because he can’t help it, it’s just who he is and you’ve accepted that. He’s beautiful and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. But you can feel it down to your toes when you look over to him and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest because he’s already looking at you, like he knows.

“’S wrong, pet? Not in the mood t'cuddle w'me today?” His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence you had fallen into, and you feel yourself flush down to your chest because this is Harry calling you out for being weird with him. You’re pretty sure there’s supposed to be at least a three month pining window before he starts to notice.

He’s Harry, though — not megastar Harry Styles, or the Harry his fans have dreamed up in their fantasy worlds where he takes them on luxury getaways whenever he has downtime (you guess they have no idea that he would rather watch romantic comedies and drink wine on the comfort of his own couch). To you, he’s the Harry who held your hair back while you threw up the first night you met at one of Nick’s parties. He’s the Harry who then proceeded to make his home, whenever he got to hangout with Nick and the rest of his friends, right beside you. He’s the Harry who insists that you sleep in his bed with him whenever you’ve had a bit too much to drink (and when you haven’t), instead of crashing on the couch (there are a gazillion fully furnished bedrooms in his house, you’d never have to crash on the couch, but you always crawl into bed with him instead of pointing that out). He’s the Harry who sort of just wiggled his way into your life and heart four years ago and forced you to be his best mate, whether you liked it or not, because he liked you.

So of course he notices when something is off with you. He always has, so you’re not entirely sure why you thought he wouldn’t notice when you went dead silent and put three miles between the two of you, when you had just been curled up against him like you always were on nights like this (and nights not like this, just kind of whenever the two of you were in the general vicinity of each other).

“Jus’ getting t'be a bit sleepy, I think. Think ’m gonna call it a night soon,” you say, and then you spare a glance to the clock on the wall, and it’s barely half ten, and Harry knew damn well that you almost never fell asleep before midnight, and if you did you’d wake up at three in the morning unable to get back to sleep.

The lie seems to do it’s job, though, because he doesn’t press you for further explanation, despite the fact that he’s looking at you in a way that lets you know he knows you’re bullshitting him and he’s bound to find out whatever it is that’s clearly bothering you. It almost feels like a challenge, but you know that this isn’t a game, and Harry gaining knowledge of your newest revelation would change everything, and probably not for the better.

It’s when you’re putting your answer into action that he presses further, because you’re grabbing for your keys, instead of announcing that you’re going to sleep with a kiss to his cheek, or wherever you can reach, and heading up the stairs to his bedroom. “Y'not staying?” He questions, and he’s got a pointed look about his face, and he really looks genuinely concerned, because you’ve never not stayed after a night like this. “’M supposed to meet m'mum for brunch,” you say, and you know it’s a lame excuse, because you’ve stayed over at Harry’s and went to work the next day with no problem. It also doesn’t help that he knows there’s no way your mum isn’t in town, because she would have texted him and made dinner plans a week in advance. They were close like that and you momentarily hate them for it.

He’s looking you over from where he sits and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more small or intimidated in your life, and all he’s done is look at you. That’s all he’s done all night, really, and you feel like you’re about to claw your way out of your own skin because of it.

The three month pining window would kill you, probably, so scratch that.

“Has anyone ever told you what an awful liar you are? I mean, I know I haven’t, but that’s because you’ve never lied t'me,” he says, and the words send chills all over you skin, because you’ve been maybe not necessarily caught, but he knows there’s something going on, and you don’t know how to get yourself out of this one.

“I’ll cancel,” you finally tell him, accepting defeat, but not admitting to the lie. The fact that there is nothing to cancel isn’t something either of you bring up, even though you both know it.

“Wanna tell me why you’ve been a mile away fr’m me all night, while we’re at it?” He murmurs, and you just shake your head, setting your keys back down on the coffee table and fitting yourself into Harry’s side. “I just didn’t want t'bother you, s'all. You’ve had people all over you for a month now, w'your album 'nd all. Wanted t'give you your space,” you explain, even though you know he’ll see right through that excuse, too, if he really thinks about it, but it’s not nearly as opaque as the brunch thing.

It’s when he calls her cute and tucks her head under his chin that she knows she’s in the clear, for now at least, and she smiles silently. 

—–

You’re in his dressing room helping him get ready for one of his secret shows when it happens again.

It’s nothing different from what you’re usually doing when you get to go to one of his shows, even did it the last couple of years that One Direction toured. You’ve seen all his bits and helped him cover each and every part of them at some point or another, so seeing him without clothes has never had a very strong effect on you (okay, well it did, because you’re human and you’re not blind to the fact that Harry’s gorgeous, but you did a damn good job of hiding it).

And he’s not even naked now, not really — he’s wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s got his shirt covering his arms, and you’re standing in front of him buttoning (and smirking up at him when he unbuttons one more of the top buttons, even though you know not to even try to start at the top and fix him up proper) from top to bottom, like you always do. It’s become something you just do, no questions asked and for no real reason, because Harry is perfectly capable of buttoning his own shirt. You just like to do it, you suppose, and he’s never had a complaint.

Your fingertips drag across his lower abdomen by accident, before you’ve finished, though, and you swear you feel like your entire body’s on fire, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“I like this shirt,” you tell him as you drag your hands over the fabric covering his tattooed chest to smooth it out. You don’t even know why you said it, it’s like you were trying to distract him from the much more intimate, in your head at least, touch before, even though he probably didn’t even notice or think anything of it if he did.

“’S the ruffles, innit? Makes all the girls wild f'me,” he says, and you know he’s teasing, but his smirk lets you believe for just a moment that he’s flirting with you.

He’s not. It’s something you decide quite easily for the both of you, because it’s easier to shut your brain down that way than let it wonder if, maybe, possibly, he might be feeling everything that you are. You’re a very humble and grounded person, and ironically enough, you pride yourself in being just that. You wouldn’t dare let yourself believe that Harry Styles would ever have any romantic interest in you.

“’S too bad I only care that this one’s wild about it,” he says, kissing your cheek, but it’s so close to your lips, just barely brushing against the corner of your mouth, that you feel dizzy from more than just his statement.

Well. Maybe that changes things little bit.

Because you’re the only one in the room with him, so it’s not like there’s some other girl lurking in the shadows that you didn’t know about. Also, he almost kissed you. Like, really kissed you. Mouth to mouth. Does he know he almost did that? Does he know that you feel like you’re going to pass out the more you think about it? Also, what does that even mean? Why does he only care that you’re 'wild’ about him? There are so many questions and you feel like you’re going to start screaming any second, so you decide a shot of tequila is the best option right now.

–

You’re standing at the side of stage when you realize there’s no coming back from this.

He’s performing 'Woman’ and you don’t think you’ve ever witnessed anything as provocative as this. He’s really into the song, is the thing, and you’re certain he could tell any girl in the building to drop her panties for him, and they would in a heartbeat. You’ll pretend that you aren’t part of that group.

Until he’s looking to the side of the stage, like he’s looking for someone, and once his gaze finds yours and stays there, you realize it’s you that he was looking for.

And oh. Oh.

You are definitely, undeniably part of the Drop-Your-Panties-For-Harry-Styles group. Very much so, indeed. 

He’s got the microphone stand between his legs and he’s practically grinding against it as he just stares at you — he’s been doing that a lot lately, and that’s another one of the many realizations you’ve had in the past week with Harry.

You swear you nearly pass out when he sings the line ’you flower, you feast,’ with the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen before he’s looking back towards the crowd.

And then you have to go. You have to leave and go to his dressing room for the rest of the song, at the very least, because you’re so fucking confused. Where did all of this even come from? Why is he suddenly acting as if he just can’t resist you anymore, like he’s been longing for you this whole time. Was he just lonely? Horny and unwilling to put any effort into finding someone to get his fix with? Was it just a joke? Because the ache in your heart and between your legs was no joke.

You consider leaving the entire establishment when you hear the beginning chords of the last song on the setlist, so that you don’t have to face him afterwards, but instead you find your way back to the side of the stage and watch proudly as your best friend absolutely rips this crowd apart with his talent. You want to cry sometimes because you’re so proud of Harry, you really do. You think you probably will when he heads off on his first headlining tour in a few months. Cry because you’re proud, but also because you’ll be without him for the majority of those three months. The thought tugs at something in your chest, probably your heart, and it makes your eyes sting just for a second, until you’ve pushed the tears off for the moment.

For now, you’re watching on with a smile you just can’t help as he belts out the last few lines of 'Sign of the Times,’ and you want to join in, but you’d die if his microphone were to pick up your awful howling, as well. So, you wait for the end, and then you cheer and scream with the rest of the crowd in front of him. You notice that he spares a glance back at you, and you send him a nod back as you continue your cheering, watching as he practically personally thanks each and every fan in the crowd until the stage has gone dark and the lights in the main establishment have come up, and everyone’s pushing and shoving their way out.

You’re grinning because the star of the whole goddamn show is walking over to you before he is anyone else, and you’re beaming as you wrap your arms around his neck. “You were fucking incredible,” you tell him against his neck, and you take the kiss to the top of your head as an acceptable way to say 'thank you.’

–

It’s when the two of you are back in his dressing room that you feel the tension build again, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you replay his question over and over again: “Where did you go after 'Woman?’”

You want to scream, shout, throw things; not because you’re angry, but because when the hell did Harry get so confrontational? Or was it just something he was doing because you were being noticeably weird with him?You don’t like it at all, despite the fact that you’re always telling him he needs to speak up more. You never meant with you. 

“Had to use the loo,” is the answer you give him, and he cocks an eyebrow at you not a moment after you’ve spoken.

“You feelin’ okay, then? You were gone for four songs after that, and I talk a lot,” he says, and it’s so matter-of-fact that you know he sees right through you, just like he had the other night when you told him you were going to brunch with your mum.

When you don’t say anything for a minute, he presses on, stepping closer to you. “I don’t understand what you’re tryin’ so hard t'hide from me, babe. First the other night, now this — what’s going on?” He questions, and his stare is intense, and it wouldn’t be if were anyone else, but as always, he’s Harry.

“I’m fine, H, just have a lot on m'mind,” you try, feeling absolutely defeated, because try as you might, it really is impossible to lie to Harry, especially when he’s looking at you the way he is. He knows something is up, because you’ve never hidden anything from him. He knew your deepest, darkest secrets three days into your friendship. He knows more about you than any of your exes ever have, and you think that could be part of what scares you so much about him. You feel like if he ever finds out, the chances of you losing him are far greater, and the idea puts a pain in your chest, because what would you ever do without Harry?

You can’t help but miserably stutter and stumble over your words when he asks you who you’ve been thinking about, rather than what, but what catches you even more off guard is him stepping until he’s nearly got you pinned against the wall of his dressing room, and you’re breathing is heavy as you stare up at this beautiful, sweaty boy who just wants to know why you’ve been treating him so differently.

“You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about, 'f that’s any sort of encouragement,” he tells you, and you want to speak, you do — you want to say something, fucking anything, but you’re frozen and your heart is about to beat right out of your chest.

“You don’t mean that,” is what you say, for whatever reason, and you feel awful as soon as you see the way Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his lips form into a tight line, but he’s not moving away from you at all. If it were possible, you feel like you’re drowning in him even more so.

“I — of course I fucking mean it,” he argues, his eyes unmoving from yours. “I can’t believe you’d fucking say that. Have you not noticed that I spend every bit of free time I have with you? You’re the first and last person I talk to every morning and every night, and the first person I run to when I have news, 'r just something to say. You’re the first person out of everyone I know that I run to after I come off stage — of-fucking-course you’re all I think about,” he says, and although his words are nice and make you feel all warm inside, he sounds angry, and that scares you, because Harry’s never been actually angry with you.

“Harry, I — I’m sorry,” you say, and your voice is nearly a whisper and you feel like crying, because he was honest with you, and you all but said you didn’t believe him, and honestly, how could you be such an idiot? You’ve got the most beautiful man in the world standing in front of you, telling you you’re all he thinks about, and you tell him he doesn’t mean it — who does that?

“I really — I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just — it’s kinda’ hard t'believe, innit? That the person you’ve got feelings for has them for you, too?” And you realize there really is no going back after you’ve said that out loud, but hopefully it could fix what’s just happened here if he knows the only reason you said it is because it’s just a tad bit unbelievable.

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front 'f thousands, 'nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

–

At least, you thought you were dead because you’re pretty certain Harry’s pillowy soft lips are what Heaven is made out of, and if you were experiencing those, you had to be dead, right?

Except now, he’s got you in the back of a car, and his hand is sliding up your thigh, beneath your skirt, and it’s then, with his lips on yours, that it happens again.

You realize that he’s probably not going to be able to come back from this, either. You don’t know when it happened, or why it seems that you both had the realization that you’re fucking mad about each other at the exact same time (not that it isn’t convenient, it’s just strange), but you’re here with him and it feels like he’s using his mouth to promise a lot more than just a few heated kisses.

You pray that this isn’t just some dare, or an adrenaline thing, because you’d have to be blind or just not paying attention to not see that Harry gets hard each and every time he performs to a crowd. Like, fully erect, you’d noticed, and of course you had always teased him for his evident praise kink (’even the twitter fans know, Harry, it’s not a secret’).

But from the way he’s pulling away to whisper praises in your own ear, about how badly he wants you and all that he wants to do to you, how long he’s wanted to do these things to you, you’re starting to realize that this is very real and you aren’t being fucked with at all.

Well, you will be, hopefully, but in an entirely different sense of the word.

You’ve somehow found your way onto Harry’s lap now, because apparently the silently pining over each other thing did a bang up job of sexually frustrating both of you, so you jumped at the opportunity. If you died in a car accident on the lap of Harry Styles with his tongue down your throat, so be it.

–

It’s only five minutes later when you realize you’ve pulled into the driveway, but it feels like it’s been hours, and your lipstick has gone to hell already, and your shirt is hanging off your shoulders, and so is Harry’s because as it turns out: you’re just as good at unbuttoning his shirts as you are at buttoning them.

Despite your messy states, you both thank the driver as you exit the vehicle, and the rush to get to his front door would be funny to absolutely anyone else, but you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get into bed with someone. Hell, he could get the door opened, closed, and locked again and take you in the corridor and you wouldn’t care. You don’t need a bed, you need his cock. And then you wonder when your self conscious started talking like a porn star.

“Are you goin’ to laugh a'me 'f I try t'dirty talk you?” He asks, and it’s a ridiculous question, because he has no idea how much you’ve fantasized about being the one he’s whispering filth to. “Absolutely not,” is of course your answer, and it’s breathless and you’ve already let your shirt hit the floor, and you’re dropping your skirt at the bottom of the stairs, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, which are totally cotton and not matching and not sexy at all, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, because he’s pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and is picking you up to carry you up the stairs a second later.

“Take me t'bed, please,” you murmur in his ear, kissing along his jaw with your arms and legs wrapped tight around him. Everything about this is so, so, so urgent and is happening so fast, and you wish you could slow it down, even if only for a second, because it’s all so much, but it’s not enough at the same time. And you kind of want it to be perfect and remember every little thing, as cheesy as that really is.

He’s got you on his bed in no time, though, and you’re practically shaking, because that’s when it happens again. That’s when you realize this is really about to happen. You’re about to fuck your best friend, and the thought should be terrifying, if for no other reason than all that you’re risking in doing so, but you’re smiling up at him as you grasp the nape of his neck and pull him down towards you so that he’s fitting between your legs and his lips are back on yours for the first time since you got out of the car. “Want you,” you whisper against his mouth, and you realize when you press up against him that there’s no foreplay even needed, because you’re already soaked through the fabric of your panties, and you can still feel where he’s been hard since he left the stage tonight.

“’S that — do you want that?” You ask, and it’s sudden and probably sounds ridiculous, considering the situation you’re currently in, but you think it’s an important question to ask. “This, I mean. Me,” you clarify, blinking up at him, and you doubt seriously that he thinks your awkward quirkiness is cute at all right now, no matter how many times he’s implied how adorable you are because of it.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know,” is his answer, and you’re starting to think you’ve heard more insults tonight than compliments, which is weird because you always thought Harry would be the type to tell you that you’re beautiful and kiss every inch of your skin. Turns out, he’s still just as good at picking at you even when he’s got you pinned to his bed and your lips swollen from kissing him so much. “Yes, I want that. This. You,” he says after a moment, and you’re blushing as he repeats your own words back to you in confirmation.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” is the next thing out of your mouth, because apparently filters don’t exist anymore, and he shrugs before shaking his head. “Was hoping t'get my mouth on you first, actually,” he tells you, licking over his lips, and you’d swear it was for dramatic effect, but it was also really ridiculously hot, so you can’t even be mad at him for being a walking cliché.

As much as you want to argue with that, because you want him inside of you now (and you also argue with him about whatever it is he wants to do before you eventually give up and do it), he’s looking at you like he might die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt in the next two minutes. How could you deny him, really? It’d be wrong and unjust. 

Or: you really want his mouth on you, too, but you’re willing to let Harry seem more desperate to please you than you are desperate for him to eat you out, even though you’re certain that’s not the truth by any small means.

You don’t know when he took his pants off or your underwear, you must have missed it, unfortunately, but you’re watching him as he kisses over your thighs, and you feel sort of like you just got to fast forward to the good part. It’s when he licks over you completely and presses harder on the upstroke against your clit that you know that’s what happened.

You don’t know if you moan or if you scream, because you’ve tuned everything that isn’t Harry’s mouth on you and the little noises he makes against you all the way out, and you feel a little bit like you’re floating as he sucks at your clit, and your hands had flown to his hair the second he’d started that.

“Fuck, Harry, please,” you whine, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you know you need more of anything he’s willing to give you. “Taste so good, baby. ’S it feel as good as y'taste?” He murmurs against you, and his voice vibrating against you may be hotter than anything you could possibly think up for him to do to you — and you’ve thought of a lot. All you can do is nod and give his hair a tug, grinding up against his mouth, and you wonder if he notices that you’re practically riding his face while he fucks his tongue into you, licking in and around your entrance, and you could cry from how good he’s making you feel. But also because it’s Harry who is doing this to you.

It’s the Harry who would rather stay in and cuddle with you than go to a party packed with A-listers. It’s Harry, whose preferred method of clearing out a cake batter bowl before putting it in the dishwasher, is the the two of you licking it clean. Harry, who would do anything and everything for you, and never make you feel like it was anything less than what he wanted to do. It’s Harry, and he’s told you a million times how much he loves you, and even if you roll your eyes at the sentiment from time to time, you know he means it, and you always say it back.

“Harry,” you say, looking down to him and the pleasure is almost overwhelming, so it pains you to make him stop, but you just want to be as close to him as humanly possible. He can devour your cunt afterwards, or later, or something. You’ll fit him into your schedule. “I — Harry, up. Come back up here, please,” and your voice is cracking, so you swallow as you look down at him, and you don’t know why you’re near tears, but you definitely are, can feel them welling in your eyes.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” He whispers, holding you by your wrists, his thumbs gliding against the skin soothingly. “Why’re you cryin’, sweetheart? Talk t'me, please,” he murmurs, and he sounds so panicked, and it makes you feel bad because how could he ever think he’s done something wrong? This perfect, wonderful, amazing man hovering over you is clearly unaware of how fantastic he truly is. He’s looking at you with concern in his eyes, and you know he wants to comfort you, especially when you feel the warm tears trickling down your cheeks, because it’s Harry, and he won’t leave your side for hours if he ever catches you crying. Which, you don’t mind so much. But you know he needs his answer now, or he’s going to end up thinking he’s done something wrong, or to hurt you, and it’ll all be over, and you refuse to let that happen.

“No, no, no — ’m fine. Perfect, actually, just — I love you, ’s all,” is what you say, and you give him a watery smile, even when your voice gets a bit quieter and doesn’t sound nearly as rushed there at the end, because you know he knows that, especially now. There’s no way he could ever doubt it, you don’t think. He lets out a throaty laugh as he pushes his hair back where it’s fallen against his forehead, his hands dropping down to yours, holding them tightly as he leans down to kiss you for maybe the hundredth time since you first started about an hour ago, even though it feels like it’s been a lifetime. “I love you, too, you silly girl,” he assures, kissing you once again.

“No, Harry — I mean I really love you,” you murmur, breaking the kiss for a second just to say that, because you need him to know that it’s not just something you’re saying, or even being said in the same sense as you’ve always told each other. He’s looking at you with an amused expression and shaking his head, but in the fond way that doesn’t hurt your feelings. “That’s what I’ve always meant, Y/N,” he confesses, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, because it really feels like everything suddenly makes sense and all is right in the world, a love song is playing in the distance (and it’s not just in your head, so you must have missed when he turned that on, too), all the dumb things that are said in books and movies are happening to you, and you want to appreciate the moment for what it is, but you’re also going to scream if he doesn’t fuck you into his mattress soon. There’s time for talking later.

“Please, please, please fuck me. Now. Please,” and you don’t realize you’re begging for him until you’re begging for him, and it has you blushing down to your chest. “Haven’t even gotten m'dick out yet, 'nd you’re already beggin’ f'me? Love me that much?” He teases, because of course he does, but you look up at him with a new sort of determination your eyes.

You’ve got your hand on the bulge of his briefs not a second later, working over him through the fabric, and it makes your legs spread instinctively when you feel the patch of wet where the head of his cock is pressed against the fabric. It’s then that you decide you’ve had enough, and you’re doing your damnedest to try and push his boxers down. You eventually give up and he laughs and stands to tug them the rest of the way down, and it almost sounds animated, the way you gasp when you see him bare, hard, and leaking for you.

It’s not that you didn’t know Harry was a monster — he’s woken up with enough morning wood pressed against your ass and your thigh for you to be more than completely aware of just what you’re getting yourself into (or what’s getting into you, actually). But knowing it’s all for you and because of you that he’s this hard is a lot to take in.

“Y'still wan’ me?” The question catches you off guard, but you nod almost too enthusiastically for it to be anything other than embarrassing. “Tell me,” is the next thing he says, and your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion, but your features soften as he lays you back against the bed again and offers more information on what he’s wanting from you exactly. “Tell me how bad you want my cock inside your wet cunt,” he says, and it makes you bite your lip to keep from moaning, just because Harry’s filthy, as it turns out, and your thighs are glistening with how wet you are from it all. “Want it so bad, Harry. Want — wanna’ feel you, please, all of you, every goddamn inch of your cock. Wan’ you t'fuck me until I can’t take anymore,” you whisper, and it seems to have done the trick, because the head of his cock catches on your entrance where he’s sliding between your folds, and you can feel him start to press inside of you.

You really think you could blackout when you feel the whole of him settled snugly inside of you, but it’s not until he starts to move that you have dig your nails into his shoulders and drag them down his back as he fucks back into you. “Fuck me,” you moan, your head tossed back and your hips grinding up against his. It feels so good, is the thing — he’s so big, not just his cock, but everywhere, and he’s got you pinned to the mattress as he drives into you somewhat relentlessly, and he’s stretching you so wonderfully, because he’s thick, too, and it hurts in the best kind of way.

“Wanna’ ride you.” The words leave your lips before you’ve given them permission, but Harry’s smirking at you wickedly, so clearly he’s on board with the idea. You know he is when he’s pulled out of you (and you want to die because of that) and he’s got you on top of himself now and is unhooking your bra. “Feel like I owe your tits a personal apology for not paying attention t'them sooner,” he tells you, and you lean down to kiss his stupid mouth, rocking back over his cock. You tease him like that for a long minute, just grinding against him and feeling him against you, before you’ve decided that you quite miss the feeling of him inside of you.

You start to tell him that, but then it hits you that you’ve got the power now, so you take him into your hand after that, lining him up, and you sink down on him slowly, smiling into the kiss you’re giving him, because you can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve dreamed of this moment exactly. It feels so good to be fucking yourself on Harry’s cock, and you don’t pass up the opportunity to tell him that this time. It makes him groan as he stares up at where you’re properly bouncing on him, and you notice when his eyes drop down to watch where he’s fucking in and out of your pussy, and you swear you feel him twitch inside of you at the sight. “Takin’ me so well,” he praises, and apparently you’ve got a bit of a praise kink, as well, and you throw your head back when you feel him begin to thrust up into you, the head of him nudging against your most sensitive part each time. “Harry, fuck,” you breathe, your fingers curling and nails digging into his chest.

You’re so torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to hear everything he has to say, that you’ve settled for just kissing his neck and his jaw, leaving a lovebite or two in your wake, listening while he tells you how beautiful you are (you were right, he is into that), how good you feel, how you’re going to make him cum, and God — you hadn’t even allowed the reality of that sink in yet. Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you had a goal, something you wanted to accomplish, because all you’ve wanted is to be as close as possible to him this whole time.

Now, however, you really want to make him cum, and you want it inside you (you’re very much on birth control and if you were to get pregnant, having a baby with Harry wouldn’t be the end of the world, and he wouldn’t be the first former member of One Direction to become a father). “Want you t'cum inside me, yeah? Fill me up,” you tell him, and you feel it when his grip on your hips tightens and he helps you fuck yourself over him faster. “Not until you cum on my cock,” he replies, and you clench around him at that, fucking down harder each time. “Need y'to touch me,” you whisper, grabbing for his wrist and guiding his hand towards your clit, “here.”

Your moans get louder the second he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit, rocking your hips harder, with more determination to get off. “I wanna cum,” you whine, and you want it so bad, now that you’ve remembered that’s part of all of this, that you could cry. You were a bit spoiled when it comes to getting your with Harry, you could say, because his fingers are quick and just right on your little bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight circles and applying just enough pressure. “Know y'wanna cum, baby. Wan’ y'to. Wanna feel y'squeezin’ me,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing over your ear. “Can y'do that f'me, angel? Come for me,” he continues, but his voice is so low and he sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and you can feel his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

And then you’re pretty fucking sure you did, in fact, die this time.

Everything goes black, your lips parted in a silent scream, but not because you’re not trying, but everything feels too fucking good and you can’t even make a sound, aside from the pathetic sobs you’re letting out into his shoulders. You can feel your cunt pulsing around him, your clit throbbing beneath his fingers, and you’re sure he’s drenched with you, but it evens out because you feel him releasing inside you not even a minute later.

This time you moan his name, grinding yourself on his cock while he empties himself inside of you, fucking him through his orgasm, despite how tired and sensitive you are, praising him and thanking him with each and every movement, milking him for all he’s worth as you listen intently to the string of curses and your name falling from his lips.

You feel him dripping down your thighs the moment you slide off of his cock, but you only move to straddle the lower part of his torso, making a mess of his abs, and you can’t begin to explain how little care about that when you lean down to kiss him. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you don’t know why you say it, but it feels like something that needs to be said, because you are thankful for everything that’s just happened.

“I love you,” is his response, a smile tugging the corners of his lips up, and you can’t help but kiss him again. “For how long?” You question, and you’re about to explain what you mean, because you just want to know how long he’s known he loved you, like this, but he answers you with “probably forever” before you can elaborate, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He’s decided to answer the question in the ‘how long are you going to love me’ sense, you realize.

You blink down at him, like you’re surprised, but he’s just wearing his signature smirk and you feel a bit lightheaded. He seems so sure of everything he’s told you in the last day or so, and it’s so scary, but it makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way and how he figured out that you finally realized that you felt this way, too. Was he sitting on the couch beside you, staring at you instead of paying attention to The Great British Bake Off, too?

“How’d you figure out that I was just cranky ‘cos I realized ‘m in love w’you?” Is the next question you ask, and he shrugs, staring up at you and letting his fingertips drifts over your skin. “Jus’ know you, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “‘Nd I remembered how red y’had gotten when y’mum told y’that we’d end up t’gether, ‘nd then y’started tryin’ t’push me away, ‘nd I knew you’d realized she was right. Plus, I did the same bit t’you when I realized. Remember when I’d hardly talk t’ya’ when I was in Jamaica? Wasn’t just ‘cos I needed t’focus on m’album,” he explains, and you laugh, because everything really does make sense now. 

You’re laying down beside him, curled into his side in what has always been your favorite position when you speak again. “I love you, too,“ you nearly whisper, and you’ve got a smile curling your lips, your hand wrapped around his wrist and your other arm slung over his chest where you’re resting your chin to look up at him. “Probably forever.”

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #if u like this please tell me i need validation #mw #that's my tag :)