do she have to hang upside down at night like a bat

what-even-is-sleep  asked:

*whispering* lance circus auuuuuuuuuuuu *naruto-runs away*

Girl. GUUUURL i am living. I could probably make this a huge fix of it’s own too, but i won’t cuz I’m very sick. haha. Ok!


“Oh no,” Hunk blots off the white paint that has spotted his bright orange clown pants. His trailer smells like an odd combination of makeup and fresh bread. 

“There’s no way in hell you’re using me as your sacrifice.” Hunk cries with more determination.

“Aw c’mon Hunk! You’re always being shot out of a cannon or something! How is this more dangerous?” Keith whines. His throwing knives jangle in his back pocket.

“Um, well for one thing…. it’s not a real cannon. It’s one I designed and built so I know exactly how much firepower it has and the risk that’s involved.” He sets down his pants. “And like, the whole joke is that I DON’T get shot out! There’s no risk.”

“We also go through our equipment before every show for safety checks.” Pidge chimes in from her dark corner of the trailer. He hair is still sprayed in crazy directions from their last performance, but she’s removed her makeup. There are still traces of red around her mouth. 

“And Hunk even reduced the sugar content in his pies because they were stinging his eyes a bit too much.”

Hunk nods to confirm. Keith rolls his eyes and groans.

“I’m desperate here guys. I really need a new partner. Thace just called and said the doctors won’t sign off on him touring.” Keith had gotten the call just hours before. Thace had been his mentor and partner for all of their tours, but in recent years he had taken more of a back seat. He would participate less in the throwing aspect, and now just enjoyed spinning on boards blindfolded while Keith threw knives at him. Only the circus performers could tell that he was secretly napping under that blindfold. 

But Thace was getting older. He would joke that Keith should find some “pretty young thing” to replace him, but Keith enjoyed working on their act together. he liked the close bond and comradery that they shared and thought he could get at least three more tours out of him. Unfortunately Thace’s heart had other plans. 

“Pidge?” Keith asks. She snorts.

“Honestly, it’s not very impressive if you miss me. I’m such a small target. Not very entertaining.”

“That’s true.” Keith sighs. She definitely had a point.

“You could try Lance?” She asks. On the outside it’s an innocent enough question. Lance was their star trapeze and high wire artist. He was athletic, looked good in a leotard, and used to the adrenaline that came from circus work. Logically he’d be a perfect fit.

But Keith sees that knowing smirk on Pidge’s lips. He walks out of their trailer with a huff.

“Forget it.”

Keep reading

{ a soft place to land }

pairing: poly!hamilsquad x reader

t/w: none

a/n: another unoriginal title lol! an anon a while back filled my inbox with a ton of ideas for alex/john/reader in little space so here’s one of them that i managed to finish! enjoy!

summary: you’re not tired. laf can’t seem to figure out why. 

inbox || masterlist 


You shifted a little from where you laid in bed, the soft gray comforter over your small frame. Laf had put you and John and Alex down to sleep, but you weren’t tired. Not one bit.

You looked at Alex and poked his cheek gently. 

“Lexi?” You whispered, trying not to wake him and yet, you still hoped that he was awake. You bit your lip and sighed. You tried again.

“Lexi? ‘m bored.” You finally breathed out, turning onto your side to face him.

Keep reading

One dance (M) PT2

BACKGROUND: A Lap dance with Jungkook suddenly stirs feelings both of you never thought existed between you.

AUTHORS NOTE: I finally finished it! Like I said, I can’t write smut to save my life, so if this sucks I really do apologize for those people who got their hopes up :’( I’ll do better next time, I promise. 

(2/2)

PT1



“Fuck me.” Jimin groans as he slams his head against the table in front of him. You stifle a laugh before thanking the waiter for your cups of coffee.

“Who told you to drink so much last night?” You scoff before taking a sip out of your iced coffee.

 "They were free shots!“ Jimin defends, staring down at his drink in disgust, the urge to throw up still resonating in him. 

While waiting for time to tick by, you end up playing with your phone while Jimin takes a quick nap in front of you. After scrolling pass the usual memes and random selfies of your friends, a set of pictures suddenly capture your attention and you all but choke on your drink as you sit up and stare wide eyed at your phone. You click the photo to enlarge it and bite your lower lip. It was a picture of you and Jungkook on the club stage last night, his hand on your waist as you ground your hips against him. The seductive smirk on your face has you cringing but then you see Jungkook’s sharp eyes trained on your face, the look of want perfectly identical to the look he had given you in his car last night. 

How could one night with one man turn your world completely upside down? 2 days ago, all you could think about was dancing and taking the lead role, but after one silly little dance all your thoughts were suddenly about him. You shake your head and clear your thoughts. It was ridiculous, you were acting like a school girl with a crush when Jungkook was probably out there somewhere not even giving you the slightest thought. 

 "Earth to Y/N.” Jimin’s voice snaps you out of you reverie and you turn to him with wide eyes as he stares at you, eyes twinkling with curiosity. 

 "Let’s head to the studio, we might be late for practice.“ He mutters before standing up and grabbing his backpack from the seat beside you. You follow after him, taking one last sip out of your drink then skipping out of the coffee shop’s doors.

 "So, I forgot to ask.” Jimin mutters innocently, placing his palm on the small of your back as you cross the street “Where’d you and Jungkook disappear to last night?" 

You bite back a hiss. You knew what Jimin was upto. You knew he was investigating, ready to tease you once he sees a sign of weakness. 

"He got dizzy so we went out to eat and get some food in him.” You shrug casually, proud at the immediate excuse that had popped up in your mind.

 "Until 4 am? Must have been some delicious food you guys were eating.“ He smiles and you resist the urge to frown at him and call him out for his double meanings.

 "Pizza is always delicious.” You nod.

“Is that what we’re calling his dick now?” And now he strikes in full force.

Your mouth hangs open as you push the doors of your studio open and glare at him. 

“What the hell, Chim." 

He lets out a hearty laugh before poking you on the stomach "Oh come on, Y/N. Quit denying it, Jungkook looked so fucking annoyed at me when he had to come pick me up and you sounded so damn breathy over the phone! Did you guys even finish?" 

"Park Jimin, if you dont cut this out, I’m killing you.” You growl, tossing your bag down on the floor as your eyes glanced around the theater room, scanning around for a specific dark haired boy.

“Fine.” Jimin rolls his eyes but suddenly steps in front of you, stopping you from avoiding him like you had originally planned to do.

“But you made out didn’t you?” He smirks and the sudden blush the covers your cheeks gives Jimin his answer as he howls out in laughter. You grit your teeth before slamming your foot down against his own. 

“Like hell I’d kiss him!” You scream in defense before turning on your heels, cheeks flaming in embarrassment as Jimin laughs even louder. You blow your hair out of your face, only to stop in your tracks when you see Jungkook standing a few feet away from you. Your heart stops a beat and just as when you were about to force your self to smile or let out a simple greeting, Jungkook walks pass you as if you hadn’t been standing there at all. Your face falls and you immediately snap your head back to watch him as he lightly pats Jimin on the shoulder as a greeting then makes his way towards the main stage.

 Had he just ignored you? You were standing in plain sight, it’d be impossible if hadn’t seen you at all. You watch as he starts stretching, eyes trained on the wall in front of him as he droned out the world around him.

So in the end, this was how you basically spent your day. Trying and failing multiple times to get Jungkook’s attention. 

It started out during the warm ups when you had intentionally stood a few feet away from him, basically staring at him every now and then, hoping he’d turn to look at you and give you at least one glance. He didn’t.
Next was during your break when you had “accidentally” dropped your bottle in front of him. Yet for some reason, Jungkook who usually never spoke to anyone during practice, called for Yugyeom to check out a dance video he saw online. You frown at his figure before plopping down on the ground and sighing. 

 "Alright, everybody pair up for the cool down.“ You hear your director announce while everyone scrambled around the room to look for their partners. You search for Jimin and immediately frown when you see him standing beside Jihyun, his arms crossed and his face displeased. 

"I have to.” He mouths at you before hissing at Jihyun when she had asked him a question. You end up smiling at him before glancing around the room once more. You hadn’t expected to lock eyes with Jungkook, hadn’t even expected him to take a step towards you, as if ready to ask you if you wanted to pair up. You had probably looked like a lost puppy in the middle of the room without Jimin being by your side. You suck in a breath as he takes another step towards you, your heartbeat speeding up erratically. But then, an arm suddenly hooks around your shoulders and you hear Hoseok sighing beside you.

 "Guess its you and me today, huh?“ He mutters and as much as you loved Hoseok, you were about ready to slam your foot against his face when you saw Jungkook retreat back to Yugyeom’s side, his eyes never making their way back to look at you again. 

 "Hoseok…” You bat your eyelashes at him and he immediately beams, smiling his blinding smile. 

 "Yeeees?“

 "As your friend, I love you, but I seriously want to kill you right now.” You hiss to which he squeals before ducking out of your grip.



When the day was coming to an end, you had given up all hope. If he was going to ignore you, then you weren’t going to care. 

 Well…At least, that’s what you wanted him to think. 

 You were furious, fuming to be exact. Jungkook was acting so different. Last night, he acted like he wanted nothing else but to be around you, and you alone. He had even gone as far enough as saying that if you stayed longer around him that he would have ravaged you. Well fucking hell, now he was acting like he didn’t even want to be anywhere near you. 

 You let out a scoff as you watch him laugh with Yugyeom while they follow the dance they had watched earlier. You had had enough and you could feel your blood boiling the longer you looked at him. You were even disgusted at yourself for feeling some sort of interest for him when he clearly thought you were disposable. You grab your bag off of the floor and tell Jimin you’d be in one of the empty dance rooms, practicing one routine on your own. He offers to join you but you shake your head, telling him you needed time to clear your mind. Before he could answer, you step out the theater and make your way down the hall, heading to your usual practice room. You switch the lights on, drop your bag and sigh once you’re greeted by your reflection. Maybe that’s why Jungkook hadn’t talked to you all day, you looked like hell on earth. 


You connect your phone to the speaker, scrolling pass songs you usually danced to. After 5 minutes of scanning through songs, you finally pick one, something faster than usual in hopes of burning out all of your negative thinking. The first beat drops against the speakers and you take one glance at yourself through the mirror before shutting your eyes and snapping your body to the beat. You erase all thoughts from your mind while following the flow of the song, feeling the adrenaline run through you. Dancing was always your form of therapy but as much as you wanted him out of your mind, all you could think about was the way Jungkook’s body had molded perfectly against yours and how you wanted nothing more than to have him pressed against you while you swayed to the beat. 

The song ends faster than you had wanted it to and you let out a groan as you run your hands through your hair, feeling the sweat drip down your body from one song alone.

 "Fuck!“ You hiss, annoyed at yourself for letting your thoughts consume you.

You hear yourself panting and just as you were about to snap your head back and grab your water bottle, a figure catches your attention from the mirror. Jungkook was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with his eyes trained on you and his face completely unreadable. The sight alone knocks the breath out of you but you do your best to seem unfazed. After ignoring you for the whole day, you had not expected him to be standing in front of you.

 "May I help you?” You ask, proud that you had kept your voice steady.

 Jungkook simply shrugs as he picks up your water bottle and tosses it to you. You frown as you catch it in your hands. What was Jungkook upto? 

 You down the drink immediately, just realizing how thirsty you were. Jungkook’s eyes leave yours for a few seconds, watching the movement of your throat and the rise and fall of your chest. 

 "I’m busy, Jungkook. If you’ve got nothing important to tell me then I should get ba-“ 

 "Like hell I’d leave.” He mocks a high pitched voice and you furrow your eyebrows. What the hell had gotten into him?

 Then it hits you, he was mocking your voice. Like hell I’d kiss him! That was the exact phrase you had screamed to Jimin earlier and he had heard it.

“Jungkook, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” You sigh before tying your hair up in a pony tail, annoyed that it was now sticking to your face. Jungkook watches you, his sharp eyes not telling you anything, not even if he was mad at you.

“Yeah? Well how we’re you planning it to come out then?” He bobs his head to the side.

“I didn’t plan for it to come out at all. Jimin’s a little shit at times and he’d never let me live it down if he knew what we did. He practically assumes I fucked you! I dont want to deal with his constant teasing and I dont want you to deal with it too. I dont us to get awkward or anything.” Well, that planned back fired didn’t it? Cause here you two are now and all you feel is nothing but awkward at how things had turned out. 

“Let him assume then.” He shrugs, suddenly taking a step towards you “Unless you don’t want him to know at all? Cause you like him or something." 

 "What?” You scoff “Didn’t I just tell you last night that Jimin wasn’t my type?”

 "Would you kiss him?“ 

 You frown at the out of blue question that slips out of his mouth and suddenly feel the need to tug your hair in frustration. Where in the world was Jungkook going with this?

 "No! I swear to god, do you not hear anything I’m sa-” The words die down on your lips as Jungkook suddenly pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning on, grabbing your phone connected to the speaker and playing the song Jimin and Jihyun were going to perform during the showcase. He starts taking large strides towards you before he wraps his arms around your waist and pushes you back against the mirror, trapping you against it and his body. You let out a gasp as he leans closer to you, face inches away from yours while every other part of you was flushed against him. 

 "Dance with me.“ He breaths out and you shut your eyes, trying to hide your excitement at having him so close to you again. You craved him, no matter how irritated you were, your body couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. 

He pulls away from you, only to tug onto your hand and pull you with him. He twirls your body and presses your back against his chest, the position all too familiar as he places his hands on your waist. 

"Why wouldn’t you kiss Jimin then?” He hums against your ear, swaying your body from side to side, placing his thigh right in between yours making you stifle a gasp as Jungkook smirks at your reflection, glad at his effect on you.

 "I-I dont want to.“ You choke out before shaking your head, in hopes to clear your mind which was now clouded with raw desire. 

"Hmmm.” He nods, as if considering it before standing up straight and backing away from you. You blink up at him in confusion, almost whimpering at the loss of contact while he circles past you only to lean against the mirror, a small smile on his lips.

“What about me?” He breaths out, eyes fluttering as he blinks down at your lips before looking back into your eyes. “What about you?” You squeak out, dodging the question but Jungkook just smirks before licking his lower lip and bobbing his head to the side. 

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart.” He mumbles before meeting your gaze yet again “Cause I’m not doing anything unless I know you actually want it." 

You mentally groan at him, just realizing that the frustration you were feeling earlier was actually sexual frustration and the root cause of it was standing right before you, running his tongue against his lips and breaking your last hope at control. 

 "Kiss me before I slam your head against the mirror, Jeon.” Your words release a chuckle from his lips and you were sure you’ve never heard a more beautiful sound. Before you could even smile back at him, Jungkook’s lips slam against yours and your hands fly out to hold the sleeves of his shirt as both your mouths moved against each other. Jungkook’s tongue traces a line against your lips and you immediately give him access, battling against him for dominance as your hands find their way into his hair, trying to bring him even closer to you. You bite down gently on his lower lip and the groan that leaves Jungkook’s lips are music to your ears. You stand corrected, this was the most beautiful sound you had heard. Jungkook pulls away from you and you were about to let out a whine when his lips suddenly latch onto your neck. Instead, you let out a purr of satisfaction, angling your head to the side and giving him more access as his kisses turn from light pecks to slow biting and sucking. How you were going to leave the studio without anyone noticing the marks on your neck, you didn’t know. But hell you didn’t even care anymore. You didn’t even know just how far you two would have gone until you hear the loud call from outside the door. Your eyes snap open as Jungkook stills against you.

“Hey, you two. The studio’s closing early, everyone’s being asked to leave tonight.” You hear Jimin’s teasing voice and you let out a groan before leaning your head back against the mirror “I’m going to kill him, I swear.”

“Not if I beat you to it.” Jungkook growls but places another kiss against your lips 

“You busy tonight?” You let out a smile before shaking your head and wrapping your hands around his neck "Nope, parents aren’t home tonight so I’m a free bird.“

"Perfect.” He groans, leaning against your body “Cause I’m starving and I heard your an amazing cook." 

"Inviting yourself over now?” You tease and Jungkook’s answering blush leaves you in bliss as you chuckle and nudge him off of you so that you could grab your bag. 

“I am cause I can’t handle another night of Jimin cock blocking me too.” He breaths out. You blink at him in surprise, feeling a familiar heat pulse through your core at the 14 words that almost had your knees bucking. 

 Jeon Jungkook was going to be the death of you. 

 "I make a mean lasagna.“ You smile and the grin that crosses his face has your heart fluttering against your chest in excitement. Oh, the things you could do to him. 



If someone had told you 3 days ago that you’d be laughing your ass off in your own home with Jeon Jungkook, you would have called them crazy. Yet here you are, covering your mouth as you watch Jungkook frown at the set of ingredients laid out in front of him, trying to decide what went where.

"I swear if you make me do this, we’re going to end up ordering take out.”

“It’s not that hard, lasagna’s pretty basic!” You giggle before slapping his hands away and bumping your hips against his, telling him to move. Jungkook arches an eyebrow, taking a side step to move out of your way but still trying to linger close to you. You tie your still damp hair up in a ponytail, fresh from the shower you had taken. Jungkook glances at your neck, a wide smile forming on his lips at the sight of the purple mark flowering against your skin. He watches in silent fascination as you roll up the sleeves of your sweater before you start placing all the ingredients together. You work in concentration, unaware of the plan blossoming in the young boy’s mind as he steps behind you, gently placing his hands on your hips. You freeze for a few seconds, your eyebrows arching in surprise, but you immediately shake it off, deciding to feign ignorance as you continue working. Jungkook lets out a smirk before dipping his head down to place his lips against the back of your neck. The sensation has you shutting your eyes for a few seconds before you clear your throat and lean back against him, trying to push him off of you. 

“I have to finish this and put it in the oven Jungkook." 

"Who said I was stopping you? By all means, finish.” He smiles at you and you have to roll your eyes at him before turning back to what you were doing. Jungkook was more confident now, pleased to know he was affecting you. He runs his hands against the hem of your shirt, slightly lifting it up and placing his fingers against your abdomen, his cold hands pressing on your warm skin. You suck in a breath before taking the last pieces of ingredients, silently thanking the heavens that you were almost done. Jungkook attacks again by planting soft kisses against your neck, gently nibbling on your skin every now and then. You bite your tongue in hopes to stop the moan that was threatening to leave your lips. Jungkook’s thumb rubs small circles against your skin, his hips edging closer and closer to your behind. You let out a small smirk as you lift the tray off the kitchen island, backing up against Jungkook and lightly grinding your hips against him. Jungkook immediately groans in surprise, not expecting the action. When his hands drop from your stomach you immediately shimmy away from him and walk towards the oven. You place the tray inside and smile happily as you adjust the timer. Now all you had to do was wait. 

Or better yet, play

 You angle your head back and smirk at Jungkook who was now glaring at you, annoyed that the small act had affected him so much. He had craved you for two days and he despised the fact that every chance he got with you was blocked once you two had gotten close to doing anything at all. Jungkook wanted you and if he wasn’t going to get you tonight, there would be hell to pay. His own. 

 "You look like you want to kill me, Jeon.“ You hum as you wash your hands, eyes still trained on Jungkook. 

"Do I?” His voice is low and the way it wraps around you has you shivering in anticipation. 

 You lean against the counter beside you and bob your head to the side. You cross your arms over your chest and shrug. “What do you want to do?” You ask, voice dancing against Jungkook’s ears and causing him to shiver with excitement. 

“Are you really asking me that?” His voice almost comes out as a plea, sounding so delicious that you have to press your thighs together.

“I’m waiting." 

Those words were all Jungkook needed as he basically flew towards you, arms wrapping around you as he backed you against the kitchen wall, lips immediately slamming against yours. He wastes no time, running his tongue against your lips and capturing your gasp into his own mouth. Jungkook grabs both your thighs and you immediately circle your arms around his neck as he lifts your legs up and wrap them around him. You let out a moan when his arousal rubs right against you, shocking you at how hard he already was.

"Bedroom?” He mumbles against your lips but you shake your head, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Too far. Living room.” You inform him and Jungkook is quick to move as he navigates you both out of the kitchen and into the living room, lips never leaving yours. Once you reach the couch, Jungkook lowers himself to sit down while you straddle him, your hips immediately grinding down in slow circles that has Jungkook choking in pleasure. 

Fuck” he hisses and you smile in satisfaction as you trail kisses down his jawline, his neck, then on a spot right below his earlobe that has him mewling in pleasure. So this was his weak spot. You take note of your discovery while grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting it off of him, eyes widening when you see the toned upper body that greeted you. Jungkook was definitely a greek god, you were sure of it now. You lick your lips in appreciation before running your nails against his perfectly sculptured abdomen. Jungkook throws his head back, a string of curses leaving his mouth once you attached your lips back onto his weak spot, biting down hard only to swipe your tongue against the bitten are as an apology.

 “Y/N, holy shit.” The way your name had rolled off of his tongue sends another wave of heat pulsing through you and you start grinding harder against him, hoping to relieve yourself from the intense amount of need from your own arousal. 

Jungkook’s runs his hands up your waist then towards your hair, grabbing your ponytail and undoing it, letting your hair fall around you. He grabs a hand full before leading your lips back against his. He grabs the end of your sweater and all but tears it off of you. Jungkook palms your chest over your bra and the whimper that leaves your lips has him smiling as he takes your bottom lip between his own teeth.

“You have no idea how fucking sexy you are.” He mutters as he pushes your bra straps down one by one, revealing your bare chest to him as he sits back and admires you. You reach behind to unhook your bra, letting it fall down against the couch. Before you can place your hands back on Jungkook’s chest, he wraps his arms around you, imprisoning you from moving as he latches onto one of your nipples. You let out a loud moan and throw your head back in pleasure as Jungkook’s tongue darts around you, his free hand pinching the other neglected bud. You arch your back against him while Jungkook reaches for your thighs, suddenly flipping you over till your back lies against the cool leather of the couch. You were about to call him out but Jungkook claims your lips yet again, his chest pressing against yours as he grinds his erection right onto your clothed core. He swallows your moans and smiles against your lips at the feel of your hard nipples rubbing against his chest as you dug your nails onto his back. Jungkook trails kisses down your jawline, chest, stomach and right above the waistband of your shorts. You suck in a breath as you watch him slide your shorts and underwear down your legs, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. Once he’d taken everything off, he spares one glance at your core and tips his head back and groans.

Fuck, Y/N.” He all but hisses through his teeth “You’re so fucking wet." 

You blush at the comment, hoping to press your legs together and hide from him but Jungkook shakes his head and places his hands against your thighs, separating them. 

"Kook what are y-FUCK!” You arch your back as he swipes his tongue flat against where you had needed him the most. You twine your fingers through his hair while he laps his tongue against your core, tasting every bit of you that he could. 

“Shit baby, have you always tasted this good?” He hums against you and you bite your lower lip, biting back the moan that wanted to escape you from his words alone. Unexpectedly, Jungkook inserts a finger into you and your back all but flies off of the couch. Jungkook starts pumping into you at a slow pace, making you hiss and urge him to speed up. He chuckles lightly at your aggression before planting a kiss against your naval, adding another finger and pulling in and out of you faster. You place your hands over your mouth, hoping to silence your mewls but Jungkook immediately grabs your hand, growling. 

“Let me hear you.” He hisses before circling his tongue over your clit. You lose it. You scream out his name and Jungkook starts moving his fingers faster. You feel your stomach tightening just as your legs shake, the first tell tale signs of your oncoming orgasm. The lewd sounds that leave your mouth urges Jungkook on as he laps his tongue around you before taking your clit between both his lips and lightly sucking. A broken cry escapes you as you press your thighs against his head. 

“Jungkook, I’m clos-FUCK!” He doesnt even let you finish as he scissors his fingers inside you, finally breaking your wall of pleasure. You moan out his name, a haze of white cover your eyes as you shiver, feeling Jungkook still pumping his fingers in you, helping you ride out your high. 

“Shit” You breath out and watch as Jungkook smiles down at you, licking his fingers clean. The sight alone has another wave of heat pulsing through you and this time you had no doubts that Jeon Jungkook was going to be the absolute death of you. 

Jungkook watches as you sit up, eyes twinkling with mischief as you press him back against the couch. His eyes follow you as you press a chaste kiss against his lips before sinking down on the floor on your knees. Your hands trail down his body before stopping against his belt to tease him. You gingerly run your nails against his bulge making Jungkook groan and throw his head back on the couch. His self control was on the verge of snapping as he fought back the urge to rip his own pants off of him and just ram himself into your pretty little mouth. 

“Needy, aren’t we?” You smile, unbuckling his belt as slowly as you could, teasing him. 

“You have no fucking idea.” He growls before he pushes down his own pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. You glance down at him in silent appreciation when you see the tip of his length peaking out of the waistband. You palm him through his clothed member and Jungkook’s choked moan has you smiling as you place a kiss against his thigh. You push his boxers down and wrap your nibble fingers around him causing Jungkook to buck against your hand in need. 

“Cockblocked for one day and your already this hard for me?” You tease, biting down your own desire to ravage him, to milk out every moan and scream of pleasure out of him, to have him sexually fucked up that he’d forget his own name. 

Jungkook sees the fiery look in your eyes and a wide smirk plasters across his lips as he shakes his head 

“Oh I’ve wanted you for longer than that, sweetheart. Ever since I laid my eyes on you, I’ve been cockblocked.” His confession stuns you. You blink up at him, your mind just processing the depth of his words. Jungkook had wanted you before the lap dance. Jungkook had noticed you before you even entertained the idea of him. Something sets ablaze inside of you and the poor little boy had not prepared himself when you had suddenly wrapped your lips around his length, taking in as much of him as you could. Jungkook’s arms attach a death like grip against the couch’s arm rest, his thigh’s muscles tightening as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, moaning out your name followed by a string of curses. The reaction is so addicting that you pull him out of your mouth with a pop only to gently swipe your tongue against the tip of his length.

 "Y/N, please.“ Oh how you loved begging. Lived for it to be exact. But Jungkook looked too much in pain for you to tease him any further. You take him back into your mouth, your head bobbing up and down, taking him deeper and deeper each time. Jungkook’s hand now threads through your hair, trying to push your head onto him as far as you could go. When he had pulled far too stronger than you had liked, you stop bobbing your head, his tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Then you swallow. 

Fucking hell, Y/N!!“ He moans, his grip disappearing as he tugs onto his own hair this time. You pull him out of your mouth and smile ecstatically at the sight of him. Jeon Jungkook was borderline fucked up. With his body sweating, his veins protruding against his skin and his eyes completely livid as they stare down at you, wondering if you were real or just a figment of his sexual fantasies. 

He didn’t even notice when you had put the condom on him or where you even got it in the first place. Jungkook only snaps back into reality when he sees you slowly crawl up against his lap, lining your entrance against him then slowly sinking down and taking in his length inch by delicious inch. 

Yup, You were addictively real. 

Before you could make it half way through him, Jungkook places his hands on your hips, stopping you. "You sure about this?” He all but croaks out, trying to control himself when all he wanted to do was to slam into you with every ounce of strength in him. 

“Jungkook.” You hiss, nails digging onto his back. Off all the moments he had chosen to be chivalrous, he chose this one. 

“Fuck me. NOW.

“With pleasure!” He answers back before he’s deep inside of you. The lewd sounds that exit both your mouths vibrate against the walls. Your hands fly onto his shoulders, gripping onto him for dear life. Jungkook gives you time to adjust, his hands flat against the couch as he lets out a steadying breath. You were about to rise up and ride him but Jungkook suddenly grabs your hips and twists both of you so that you were now lying on your back against the couch with him on top of you. This was the second time he had done this and you weren’t pleased at all. 

“What are you doing?” You growl, annoyed at the loss of dominance. 

“Taking control, sweetheart. You don’t play fair.” Jungkook smiles down at you, his arms flexing at the amount of control he was forcing himself to use. You had teased him almost past his breaking point and this was his method of retribution. 

It doesn’t take long till your whining and grinding your hips against him, begging him to move.

 “Jungkook, move. Please.”

“I dont know, I kind of like it like this.” He runs his nose against your neck, a devil like smirk on his face.

Jungkook! I need you to move. I fucking need you.”

Jungkook slam his lips against yours just so he wouldn’t spit out more curses that could send him straight to hell. It turns out that Jungkook himself had just discovered one of his sexual weaknesses today: your begging

He slowly starts to rock his hips against you, his speed aggravating you as you suddenly bite down onto his lip. Jungkook’s groan is almost beast like as you smile and pull away from his kiss, your mouth hovering close to his ear. 

“You’re not going to break me, Jeon. Do your worst." 

Jungkook had lost it, his vision had blurred and the only thought he had in his mind was to give everything you had asked for. He thrusts out of you only to slam back in in full force. Both of you let out moans of each others name, the pleasure too much to handle. 

Why hadn’t you fucked Jungkook earlier? You should’ve definitely fucked him sooner. 

"Its crazy.” Jungkook groans, his arms flexing as he stares down at you “You’re so fucking tight." 

"Mmm Thanks?” You still found it in you to tease him and Jungkook couldn’t help but smile at you, his eyes twinkling in adoration that has your breath knocked out of you. It only lasts a second until the feeling is immediately replaced by the moan that escapes your lips as you arch your back. Jungkook had started hitting a certain spot in you that had turned your vision hazy. Craving more of your beautiful reaction, he decides to slam into that spot over and over again. Jungkook takes his lower lip between his teeth, the sight of you loosing yourself was almost enough to push him over the edge. He was close and he knew it. 

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna last any longer.” You almost scream out when he slams into you even harder now. Jungkook grabs both your hands, intertwining his fingers through yours as traps them over your head, his speed picking up even faster now. You throw your head from side to side, lost in a world of intense pleasure, your climax building up even stronger.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” Jungkook coaxes you and another slam of his hips does the trick as you scream out his name, the strongest orgasm you’ve ever experienced rocking through your body. The image of your state was enough to have Jungkook coming after you but once your heat clenches around him, tightening around his member, Jungkook all but collapses on top of you finally riding out his own orgasm.

Both of you are wrecked and panting as you lay there motionless, the aftershocks of sex vibrating off of both of you.

“Holy shit.” Jungkook mumbles as he nuzzles your neck and pulls out of you.

 "That was-“ You swallow, unsure how to explain what had just happened ”-wow.“ 

Jungkook chuckles before nodding and lifting his head up to look you in the eye "Wow.”

You study Jungkook’s face, just coming to notice certain features you weren’t able to pick up on before. The mole right below his lip, his habit of pursing his lips every now and then, his eyes that could shift from innocence to sinfulness in the matter of a few seconds. You had noticed them now, and as much as it scared you to say it, you realized you adored them. 

“What?” Jungkook says after a while, embarrassed of being under the scrutiny of your gaze. 

“Nothing.” You hum and shift your gaze to the ceiling, your fingers tracing small circles against his back. Jungkook smiles at the small gesture, his eyes trying to get you to look at him again. You notice his efforts and bite back a smile as you shut your eyes, depriving him of what he had wanted.

Jungkook clicks his tongue at you but smiles before dipping his head down to place his lips on yours. You had not expected the kiss and when you slowly open your eyes to stare at him, Jungkook immediately smiles against your lips.

“There they are.” He hums and just as you were about to blush, a sudden buzzing has your eyes widening and shoving him off of you, remembering your lasagna. 

“Our dinner!” You squeal, running butt naked into the kitchen, scared that you would’ve ruined your creation before Jungkook even got to taste it. 

The left behind boy watches in silent awe as you throw on an apron, scrambling around the kitchen for oven mitts. He lets out a wide smile as he collapses back on the couch, heart hammering against his chest. 

“She really is something.”

anonymous asked:

Something anything criminal batfam please. I'm begging you.

((ahhhhhh i’m sorry for all i’ve put you through so far, omg. uuuh i don’t have time to do something worth justice to that au at the moment that I feel comfortable with, but he’s a beta version of Steph’s past cut from ch 6!! I hope you enjoy it and thank you for sticking with me!!))


Her dad never gave her a ton of choices. Not real ones. There were choices like what moves she wanted to make when he played one of his weird games with her, and there were choices like what she wanted for dinner off a menu, or ones like, ‘are you too sick to go to school today?’ which she never was, because the alternative was staying home.

The first time her dad got arrested, she finally got a choice all her own, and she just couldn’t choose:

Who did she hate more? The cops, her dad, or everything?

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Of Damsels and Heroes - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Prompt: Hello:)! I was wondering if you could do a Bruce oneshot where she is a vigilante and when they meet instead of the cliché of him saving her, she saves batman and after working together for a while they reveal their identities and maybe go on a date?

You were on the trail of a new kingpin that was taking over Gotham. You had been hunting and following leads for months. Between long nights of stakeouts and rough shakedowns of the kingpin’s top men you were ready to finally end this once and for all. You reached the warehouse that, according to you intel, was being used as the headquarters for the operation.

You came across across some knocked out men along the perimeter. You shrugged it off. you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Moving closer to the warehouse you swore under your breath when you saw that there were far more men on lookout than you expected. Every fucking window was covered. Getting into the warehouse through the window wasn’t about to happen. Whoever the bastard was that came in before you really had them spooked. You circled around the warehouse behind the treeline to find a new way in. After walking for a little while you noticed something wedged into a nearby tree. You pried it from the wood and turned it in your hand to inspect it. It was some sort of knife projectile shaped like a bat.

‘Not this guy.’ You internally groaned. This was your case and your perp! He had all the psychopaths in Gotham to deal with. Did he really have to butt into your work?

If the big bad bat was here you probably didn’t have a lot of time to act before all the action was over. Hastening your steps you continued searching for the perimeter for a way in. Your eyes caught sight of your golden ticket: a broken basement window. You hid behind a large tree waiting for the patrol to pass. When the coast was clear you snuck to the window. You peered into the window to ensure that the room you were sneaking into was empty. You pushed your hand through the broken section of the window and pulled from the inside to open it. Luckily for you the widow was large enough for you to slip your body through without getting stuck.

The window you climbed into was situated into a indented corner of the building. Most of the basement was in your field of view but you didn’t know what was around the corner closest to you. You carefully peered around the corner and almost burst out laughing.

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FOOL IN LOVE PART ONE

Caught while hunting for your group, Negan takes a liking to you and finds out your Rick’s daughter.


“Get up; Boss wants to see if you will talk yet.” You forced your weak body to stand, Dwight watching you from the door, offering no help. Not that you expected any, none of the Saviors have been kind to you since they found you.

You had been out hunting for food, when you were caught by the Saviors. Apparently you had been on their ‘territory’ and they had to take you to their boss, a man called Negan. You hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet, being interrogated by a man named Simon. You refused to give up any information which made the rest of the Saviors pretty angry. They seemed to like to throw you around and make derogatory comments towards you, which you sort of expected being horny men in the apocalypse.

You were with a group of survivors that your dad sort of ‘ruled’ over, he wasn’t like this Negan guy though. When you came across people, you didn’t take them against their will; you asked if they wanted to join you. You didn’t understand why they were so interested in you. You hadn’t had much in your bag, you weren’t a tough fighter, you knew enough to survive. You hadn’t seen Rick, your dad, and the rest of the group in a while because you had got lost after hunting causing you to be out for a couple days. You had left just before they had set off for Hilltop to get a woman called Maggie to a doctor to check on her baby. You were so happy for her and her husband Glenn, having a baby right now probably wasn’t the best idea but it was still an exciting time.

You guessed because Simon hadn’t been able to get you to talk, Negan wanted to have his go.  You didn’t care who this guy was, you weren’t about to betray everyone at Alexandria or Hilltop, putting them in danger, just to save your skin. You had been led to a wooden, brown door. Dwight knocked firmly on it, with a deep voice shouting “Send her in.”


You opened the door, Dwight giving you a little nudge causing you to turn around and glare at him. You turned back around to be met by a tall man, with a tight leather jacket on. He was sat at a desk with his feet propped up on the top, a seat sitting in front. He gestured for you to sit in the seat opposite him, his eyes following your movements. You felt extremely awkward and on edge, feeling exposed in front of him. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” he cooed, rubbing his salt-and-pepper beard. “Here is how it’s gonna go. You tell me where your group are, and I’ll make sure your stay here is pleasant.” You scoffed. “I don’t have a group, I was on my own and I have been for a while.” He laughed, obviously not believing you. “Well, fuck me. That’s funny because when my guys picked you up, they found a sheriffs hat in your bag, and I happen to know a Sheriff in a group not so far from where you were. So… cut the bullshit.” He said, looking serious and pissed off. You gulped, knowing he was on to you. “You’ll come to learn sweetheart that nothing gets past me. So don’t even try that shit. I will shut that shit down.” You knew you were going to be rumbled, so you sighed deeply. You decided that it would be better to confess now, rather than him finding out himself causing you to be in deeper shit.

“Okay, fine. I have a group, the sheriff is my dad. I was out hunting for food when your guys found me.” He laughed, banging his fist firmly on the table. “Well done, darlin’. You’re learning already! Now because, you’ve been such a good girl.” He winked. “I’ve asked my men to make a room up for you, and it’s just down the hall! It’s like were neighbors!” Laughing, he got up, directing you on where to go. He walked you down the hall, unlocking the door to your new accommodation.

You walked into the room, seeing your black rucksack lying on the bed. You opened it, seeing your confiscated items back in the bag. You looked over at Negan, who was leaning against the wall with his hand on his hip, looking you up and down, smirking to himself. “Thank you.” You mumbled, not wanting to be rude and piss him off as he could decide to throw you back in the cold cell. “No problem, sweetheart.” He winked, standing up right and walking off.

‘Mark my words, her ass is going to be mine.’


You had been at the Sanctuary for around 3 weeks and you had quickly learned that you had to earn your keep here; you had finally earned enough points to get some alcohol. You just wanted to get wasted, you felt you deserved it. Negan had been getting his men to give you the toughest jobs to ‘prove’ yourself to him. You huffed, hadn’t you proved yourself by being truthful about your group? Not to begin with, but you eventually cracked. The only upside was you had been earning points like crazy, meaning you could afford the ‘luxuries’ like alcohol. You had just got back to your room, putting the Vodka bottle on the side table near your bed. You had a little en-suite off to the side of the room, with a shower, toilet and sink. You ran the tap and splashed some of the cold water on your face, using the flimsy towel to dry off. Picking up the plastic cup from the bathroom, you sat on your bed, grabbing the Vodka. You took the cap off, pouring about a shot worth in the cup. Downing it, cringing at the slight burn running down your throat. ‘Fuck it’ you thought to yourself, drinking it straight from the bottle.


You were currently walking around the sanctuary, drunk out of your head. Everyone was staring at you, as you stumbled past them. You hair was messily hanging around your face, you had on your sheriff hat and you were barefoot, you walked into the canteen looking around for someone to talk to. You saw Dwight finishing up washing some plates, in the back of the kitchen. “Heyyyyyyy.” You slurred, looking at him with a goofy smile on your face. ‘God, she’s so beautiful. Even when she’s piss drunk.’ Dwight thought to himself, but remembered what Negan had told all of the men.

“Don’t any of you dare look at Y/N. She is mine, and if any of you horny fucking bastards even glance her way, I will end you. No exceptions.”

Dwight gulped, not really knowing what to do. Should he leave you alone and go fetch Negan or take care of you himself? He decided on the first option not wanting to piss off Negan. “Y/N wait here, I’m going to fetch Negan.” You rolled your eyes.

“But, he’s boring! Always angry and waving that stupid bat around like he owns the place!”

“He does own this place, Y/N.”

“Well, I don’t care! I don’t know why you are all so scared of him! It’s just a performance, an act! He just needs to feel powerful to compensate for his little 1-incher!” You giggled, finding your joke hilarious, clutching your stomach. Dwight not so much, looking behind you with fear. “What the fuck are you looking at, I’m right here!” you spun around, understanding Dwight’s mood change. He was standing there with Lucille sitting on his shoulder, a small smirk on his face. “Make yourself scarce, Dwight. Me and Y/N are going to have a little chat.” He bent down, throwing you over his shoulder. “Hey! Get off me! This is fucking assault!” you exclaimed, like crime still existed. As Negan carried you, Lucille kept hitting your skin, causing little scratches on your body.

Negan kicked his door open, throwing you on his bed, bouncing a little. You should have been scared but the alcohol was giving you confidence that was probably going to get you killed. Negan dropped Lucille on his desk, loosening his scarf a little from around his neck. “So doll, you’re not scared of me? You know if it had been any other motherfucker saying all that shit about me, they would have met Lucille. But with you, it just makes me hard. I fucking love that dirty little mouth.” He slipped off his leather jacket, advancing towards you, placing it on the edge of the bed. He took the sheriff hat off your head, throwing it to the side of the room. He got in your face, “You need to be punished, don’t you Y/N?” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes, sir.”


You woke up the next morning with Negan’s arm around your bare chest, the covers exposing the top half of your body. You looked like shit, and had a massive pounding in your head. You slowly got up, being careful not to wake up Negan. You could barely remember the night before, but hell did you remember Negan. You felt terrible but to say he wasn’t a good lover would be a straight up lie to yourself. He was a sex god, knowing a woman’s body like the back of his hand. You walked towards the en-suite, before catching the sight of Negan’s tanned ass, uncovered by the sheets. You smirked, before he spoke out. “Take a picture baby, it would last longer. Maybe something to look at when I’m not around, eh?” he smirked, pulling the covers over himself, sitting up in the bed. “Anyways, you need to get your shit together, and get ready. We are heading out to Alexandria.” Your face went into confusion. “Alexandria? That’s where my dad’s group were.” He nodded. “We are going to pay him a visit, besides we need to get his blessing.”

Blessing, for what?


I’m not as witty and charming as Negan so i apologize if this seems out of character lol. I may continue this idk x 

Kurt Wagner head canons

These are my head canons for from Kurt Wagner  x-men, if you don’t agree with them thats okay! Everyone has there own, just please don’t shout at me;;
Also feel free to use these in fics or head canon posts too if you believe/like them!! I have no problem with that these are just my thought’s! If you do use these could you tag me, not because I’m mean i just love to see what people create about Kurt! 

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Drink Up

Warning:Smut

Carl + You


“Carl, have you found anything” I asked walking towards him. He turned around to look at me with a giant grin. I furrowed my eyebrows.

“What” I asked again. We dug into his bag and pulled out 4 bottles of vodka. 

“Carl! Put them away before your dad sees!” I laugh. He smirks at me and puts the bottles back in the bag and zips it up.

“Did you find anything to beat that” He grins mischievously while throwing the bag around his back.

“A baseball bat” I say swinging it close to his face making him jump back. “So don’t go teasing me Grimes plus remember I’m taller” I laugh

——

We arrive back in Alexandria, emptying bags of supplies in the supply room.

“Hand me over that bag Carl” Rick demands. It was the bag with the vodka. Shit, he’s gonna kill us. Carl and I instantly look at each other with scared expressions.

“I-i found some comics, just a bag of comics I wanna read” Carl stutters. Rick gives him an odd look.

“Okay, well don’t be up all night reading them okay” Rick replies while leaving the room. I hear Carl’s sigh of relief and we burst into laughter.

——

Carl, Michonne and I were watching a dvd movie while Rick was putting Judith to bed.

“Michonne, we better get going” Rick says. Carl smirks at me.

“Where are you guys going” Carl asks while Michonne gets up.

“We’re on watch kid” Michonne grins walking out the door. As soon as we hear the door close we both bolt up the stairs. Carl slides the bag out from under his bed and swings it onto the bed. He pulls the vodka out of the bag and sits in front of me on the bed.

“Have you ever drank before?” He asked nervously.

“No, have you?”

“Well I’ve had the foamy part from my dads beer when I was 6 or 7″ He laughed taking out two shot glasses.

“Thats outrageous” I said sarcastically watching him pour the vodka into the glasses. He handed me one.

“Cheers” He smiled holding up the shot glass

“Cheers” I giggled clanging the glasses together. We gulped it down.

“Wow, that burns” He squinted.

“Its strong, are we supposed to dilute it” I questioned.

“I don’t know but I don’t feel different” He said pouring out more into each glass. We jugged it down again with the same reaction. Carl started inspecting the bottle for instructions.

Carl’s POV:

I couldn’t figure out why we weren’t feeling different. There were no instructions or anything on the bottle. I looked up to see y/n pulling out another bottle and opening it.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” 

“Let’s just jug it all down” She smirked.

“Are you su-” then y/n started gulping the whole bottle down. I pulled her bottle from her mouth.

“Slow down!” I laughed.

“Come onnn” She chuckled pushing the bottle up to my lips. I poured the liquid into my mouth not knowing when to stop. I finally stopped and looked down where y/n was now hanging her head off the bed.

“C-carllll try this, drink it upside down” She says cheerfully. I pull her up towards me where she sat loosely with an empty bottle in her hand. I look at mine and there is still half of the vodka left.

“You drank all of it!?” I yelled.

“Yeah” She laughed “Drink up or I will” y/n persuaded lifting the bottle up to my lips again. I wanted to impress her so bad but I couldn’t. Instead I took a sip and poured the rest into a cup on the bedside table.

“How about another one” She grinned enthusiastically.

“Woah, no more or you’ll be puking” I tell her holding her arms down from reaching for another bottle. She freed her arms from my grip and began putting them around my shoulders while sliding up onto my crotch. I held her up by the waist, trying to stop her from wobbling. She put her legs on either side of me and rested her head on my shoulder. I was so nervous I didn’t know what to do so I rubbed her back.

“C-C-Carl you, you know I-I really like you” She mumbled into my shoulder. I know she was drunk but what if she meant it. She lifted her head off of my shoulder and looked at me in my eye, then pulled my shirt towards her and smashed her lips against mine. We began making out with each other for what seemed like hours.

After making out she decided to go further by undoing the zip on my pants. She struggled as she was very dizzy from the vodka but I helped her. I stripped naked and sat beside her in only my briefs. Y/n lay down as I began taking her t-shirt off. She lay in a beautiful white bra. She looked amazing.

As I went to take off her shorts, I realised what I was doing. I was taking advantage in her drunkenness. This wasn’t right. I went to put her top back on but she was already too sleepy. I cleared the bed and lifted her into the covers. I got a jug of water and brought it up to her. 

As I walked into my room she awoke, “Carl, why’d you stop?” I took a seat beside where she lay.

“It’s not the right moment, Drink this” I say disappointed handing her the jug.

Playthings - Part 2

Word Count: 2063

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, heavy drinking

A/N: I kinda used this for day 1 of @deanwinchester-af ‘s one week challenge. The prompt was “somebody else.” 

Series Rewrite Masterlist


Dean met Susan as she came back toward the inn. “What happened?” He asked.

“Oh, the maid went in to turn down the sheets and he was just…hanging there.” Susan sighed, shaking.

“That’s awful.” Dean commented. “He was a guest?”

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headcanons

The Joker and Harley are miserable in the Summer because the heat makes going out and being criminals that much harder. Sure, it’s not as hot during the night but it’s so humid that their makeup hardly stays on and it’s incredibly annoying for both of them. It’s gotten to a point where if the humidity levels are too high they just won’t go out that night, they’ll send henchmen to do the dirty work especially if it’s nothing too important. The Joker hates how gross he feels if he goes out in the heat of night, his makeup running down his face, smudging in ugly ways, and Harley isn’t a big fan either. Appearances are everything to the Joker, and if he’s not satisfied, he won’t do it. He wants control over how everything is executed.

When Harley wants new jewelry, it’s not a matter of ‘puddin can you go get me this new necklace?’ It’s a matter of, ‘Puddin we’re going to get this necklace so you better have one of your ding-dongs pull the car around or there’s going to be bullet holes in the new table.’  And it doesn’t stop there, Harley directs the mission entirely; the Joker is pretty much just there to drive and be her personal bodyguard. When they arrive she’s the one taking bats to glass cases and calling the shots–literally. She’ll put the henchmen at gunpoint if they give her any fuss or move too slowly. She’ll put a bullet through there heads if they defy her. Aware of how Harley can be when it comes to her jewelry, the Joker will mumble in some snide comments about her taste in what she picks out, eyebrow cocked and tongue clicking as she filters through an array of high price pieces. Most of the time she ignores him but there have been a handful of times where she’ll twist her wrist so the gun is pressed to his cheek, eyes still focused on the jewelry but the motion remains a silent threat. Harley is rarely granted power, so when she has it the Joker likes to push her–it’s touching, in a way, to see her so selfish that it’s not all about him anymore it’s about some clanky piece of metal. He sees himself in her, and occasionally he’ll crack a grin and cackle when she finally gets what she wants and is all smiles and ‘puddin’s’ in the car. She’s twisted and he adores it.

Harley wants a motorcycle. Her defense is that he’s seen her ride one before, that she’s perfectly capable and it’d be faster than waiting for a henchman to get a car for her. The Joker likes to mention that she destroyed the one she used before, and that he’s not going to blow 70,000 dollars a week on her getting a new motorcycle. No.

Harley has her own ‘play room’. It’s a room full of acrobatics equipment so that Harley can flip and twirl about as long as she pleases without disrupting or damaging the rest of the penthouse. Some days she’ll spend hours in there and the Joker will have to check on her because she hasn’t eaten and blah blah healthy blah blah. She’ll roll her eyes along with her body as she flips forward on a ribbon swing, like a child ignoring a call for bedtime. He’ll wait in the doorway, unimpressed while she contorts and hangs upside down five feet off the ground, feet fastening her from falling and she’ll pout through her words. ‘Come play with me, puddin.’  He’s been through it enough to not appease her until she does what she’s told, arms folded over his chest with the same stoic expression. And for a while it will work; she’ll do little tricks and twists where her flexibility shines, all while never taking her eyes off of him, hips dancing around ribbon and floating above the ground. He should really start leaving her alone instead of doing this because nine times out of ten she gets what she wants but even when she does he’ll make it difficult for her, punishment among pleasure, because even thought he wants her he doesn’t appreciate disobedience, and he really needs to find new methods of punishing her because she still does this, he’s too soft on he and she mocks him by doing these little circus sessions. She mocks him all the way to the doorway, fingers gripping onto his open chested button up and she pulls him in a step, voice lower but begging nonetheless, “Play with me.”

Hetalia characters' morning routines (part 2)
  • Norway: every step of his morning routine is accompanied by coffee. He showers at night because if he did it in the morning that would be ten minutes where he couldn't have his coffee right by his side. Brushing his teeth is always the very last step before leaving because he doesn't want it to ruin the taste of his coffee.
  • Denmark: is the guy who wakes up and right off the bat starts drinking. Maybe that's why he thinks it's a good idea to just go into the bathroom, hang his head upside down, and go at it with hairspray. (Okay, he puts in a little bit more effort than that, but it is definitely one of the steps to styling his hair.)
  • Iceland: a total zombie in the morning. Everything feels like such a chore to him and if you were to watch you'd swear you've never seen anyone brush their hair so slowly. He takes showers at night and isn't much of a breakfast eater, so he doesn't even have much to do, yet it still takes forever.
  • Finland: the guy who gets yelled at to shut up because he's just such a happy go-lucky morning person. How does he wake up so easily? Cold showers, even in winter. Don't let his soft appearance fool you, Finland is tough as shit. Also, he's more than happy to cook up breakfast for others, but if there's no one to cook for, he's been known to have cookies and milk for breakfast.
  • Sweden: kind of unpredictable, because if he wakes up early, there's no way he'll go back to sleep, but when he might wake up is always different. He tends to mumble to himself as he gets ready. And he puts lingonberry jelly on every breakfast he makes, no matter what it is.
  • Switzerland: gets up early to milk the goats, which he does before anything else. Then, he goes back inside to shower, get dressed, and make breakfast with his sister.
  • Liechtenstein: gets up just in time to help her brother fix breakfast. He's always ready to go by this time, but she prefers to eat in her pajamas, then go and get dressed. She showers at night so that it doesn't take her too long to get ready when Switzerland is waiting for her.
  • S. Korea: loves getting up earlier than other people. He'll get up at the crack of dawn just to rub it in someone's face that he was the first one awake. This has become a habit even when he's alone, so he usually has plenty of time to do as he pleases in the morning. He'll go through outfit after outfit deciding what to wear, roam around the kitchen thinking of what to eat, and take his time contemplating life in the shower.
  • Belarus: gets up early, spends most of her time doing killer makeup. She's seriously an artist with contour.
  • Ukraine: always rises with the sun because she has farm work to do. If she has somewhere to be, she'll rush to get her morning chores taken care of, then get ready, following what her sister has taught her about doing makeup. She prefers to keep hers simple, though.
WestAllen fic: Five Times Barry Sees Iris Naked

Rating: R
Pairing/characters: Westallen, Iris West, Barry Allen
Warning/spoilers: nudity (duh), pregnancy, no spoilers 

Summary: The next time there is no blood or screaming, there’s no faulty motel bathroom door, and it’s not an accident, all of which are good things.

One:

When Barry is fourteen, he walks in on Iris in the shower. She has, for some reason, forgotten to lock the bathroom door, and he has earbuds in – doesn’t hear the water running. A perfect, humiliating storm ensues.

She screams, he screams, she exits the shower in a flail of wet, naked limbs grabbing frantically for a towel and he exits the bathroom at a blind run, straight into the open door of the linen closet. The skin over his left eyebrow splits open and a deep, bruising pain seers his forehead – he finds himself on his back, blood trickling in his eyes and onto the carpet, Iris standing over him in a towel asking if he’s okay.

He’s not okay. He has to be taken to the ER, receives three stitches for his trouble, and can’t look Iris in the eye for the next week.

She had boobs. And okay he kind of knew she had boobs already, he’s – you know. Seen her. Around the house. Wearing t-shirts and blouses that sort of strain now in ways they didn’t six months ago, ways he’s both fascinated and horrified by. And also he’s had to get used to her bras – bras of a sort she also definitely didn’t have six months ago – in the dryer with his boxers and how that whole idea of their underwear touching makes him feel a whole load of weird all over and he isn’t sure exactly why except that he’s been having these dreams about her lately that are just – wow.

And – and – she had hair. In her – you know – area. (Which he absolutely attempted to avoid looking at). He doesn’t even have hair, for god’s sake! He checks, fairly regularly, but – actually it’ll be another year before anything truly like puberty happens to Barry Allen.

 

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anonymous asked:

Can you maybe do something based off of Taylor Swift's you belong with me music video?

Hello! So I didn’t want to do EXACTLY the same but it’s similar with my own additions so I hope you enjoy!!!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ 

Riley Matthews knew three things for sure. One, she is and always would be a loser. Two, she is crushing on Lucas Friar, hard and three, Lucas Friar has no idea she even exists.

Tuesday afternoon sees Riley leaving school late after band practice. She rounds a corner to see Lucas with his shoulder pressed up against a locker, he’s on the phone having a heated argument. Riley pulls back and waits around the corner, even if she tried there was no way to not overhear Lucas as he growls through the phone.

Riley hides back as she’s afraid he’ll see her but she also doesn’t want to embarrass him as he thinks this conversation is private.

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The Three Musketeers - Chapter One

Originally posted by thealpha

Summary: Abigail Martin is the complete opposite of her twin sister Lydia. While Lydia loves fashion and make up, Abigail loves junk food and hanging out with her two best friends Scott and Stiles. However when Scott gets bitten by a creature in the night the three teens are dragged into a world of the supernatural while trying to survive the hell that is high school

chapter two


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Thump

*THUMP*

He feels Janel tense, the arm she’d flung casually over his body thirty minutes before now clutching desperately at his ribs.

“Val…”

*THUMP*

Val…

“Yeah, baby, I know. I heard it too.”

*THUMP*

“Val, someone’s-”

“In the apartment. Yeah.” He tries to reach over the side of the bed for his pajama pants, but she’s holding onto him like a spider monkey, so he wraps his arm around her and pulls her onto his body so she’s lying directly on top of him, rolling them a little so he can reach his arm off the side of the bed.

*THUMP*

Her whispered voice is strained. “Val! You have to do something.”

She grabs on tighter and he resists the urge to tell her that he’s trying, but if she keeps tightening her arms around him like that, getting up is gonna be pretty fuckin’ hard to do.

He smoothes the hair back from her face and says, “J, I gotta get up.”

She nods and reluctantly pulls her arms from around his body, slipping out of bed and pulling on her pajamas. He pulls on his pajama pants then drops down to his knees next to the side of the bed, reaching under and pulling out the Louisville Slugger he put there three years ago that he’s never had a reason to use. Until now.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think I’m gonna do, Janel? I’m gonna hit him with a baseball bat. Hard.”

He starts to move toward their bedroom door and she says, “What am I supposed to do?”

*THUMP*

He turns his head in the direction of the sound briefly before he looks back at Janel. “Stay here. And don’t make a sound.”

When he sets his hand on the doorknob he feels her hand grasp his arm, her fingers digging into his bicep. “But what if it’s a serial killer? Or a rapist?”

"Then I’ll hit him harder. Bastard’s not comin’ anywhere near you, alright?”

She tugs on his arm. “But what if he does? What if he slips past you and somehow makes it into our bedroom without your knowledge?”

He turns and looks at her, and it’s pretty obvious that she’s really, really freaked out right now. And he wants to reassure her, wants to make her feel better, but he’s not sure how to do that and take care of the noise in the family room at the same time. Odds are, it’s not a serial killer or a rapist. It’s probably a burglar. And he’d tell her that if he thought it would do any good, but telling her it’s a burglar isn’t much better and it doesn’t really matter, ‘cause he can tell that any attempt at reasoning with her isn’t gonna work. Not right now.

So he looks around their room for anything hard and heavy, and when his eyes land on the statues on their dresser, he walks over and picks one of them up, holding it out to her. “Hide behind the door and hit him over the head.”

She gasps and crosses her arms over her chest. “No! Absolutely not! I refuse to wield my Mirror Ball Trophy as a weapon.”

He tries to stay calm, but shit…doesn’t she get it? “Why?”

“Because Valentin, as you well know, that award means a great deal to me. I worked very hard for it. And I refuse to taint my memories of that lovely night by using it to brain someone.”

Crazy fuckin’ woman. As if her life isn’t worth more than some stupid award.

He huffs out his frustration, sets the award back down on the top of the dresser, and holds out the bat to her. “Here. If he slips by me, hit him with this.”

She holds onto the bat tightly and looks at him wide-eyed. “But…what are you going to use?”

“I don’t know, J. I’ll figure it out, okay?” He starts to open the door but stops and looks back at her. She’s standing in the middle of their room gripping the bat so tightly she’s probably cutting off the circulation to her fingers, and she looks so damn tiny and scared. He whispers, “Stay here. Be careful. Smash anything that moves. Got it?”

She nods.

“Repeat it, Janel.”

She swallows. “Stay here. Be careful. Smash anything that moves.”

He gives her a kiss on the forehead then takes one last look at her before he slips through the door and into the dark hallway, shutting the bedroom door gently behind him.

He has no idea what he’s gonna use to protect himself now that Janel’s got the bat, and he admits he’s getting more and more nervous the closer he gets to the family room. At the speed he’s going, he’ll run out of real estate in about twenty seconds and last he recalled, there isn’t anything hanging around in their hallway that can really be used as a weapon. He could pull a picture off the wall, but he’d probably only get one good shot with that before the frame and the glass fall to pieces, and if that doesn’t knock the guy out, Val’s out a weapon and pretty much up shit creek.

He passes by the linen closet (towels and sheets and first aid stuff – no help there) but stops when he gets to the coat closet. If he’s lucky there might be something useful in there like a broom or their spare fire extinguisher, but at this point he’d take anything remotely hard or heavy. He opens the door slowly, hoping it doesn’t creak (‘cause it would just be his bad fuckin’ luck that the only door in the whole apartment that never squeaks would pick now to start), and rummages his hand around inside until his fingers collide with something hard.

A bottle of wine.

Not the most helpful weapon, but it’s hard and kinda heavy, so as long as it doesn’t shatter the first time it hits skull, it’s better than pulling that picture of Janel’s great-grandparents off the wall. Less likely to cause him to spend some quality time with the couch, too.

He holds the bottle upside down by the neck and inches quietly down the hall, pausing at the edge of the family room when he hears a grunt. He tries to make out the burglar/rapist/serial killer/douchebag, but the room is pitch black, so Val stands still for a few seconds, waiting for his eyes to adjust. A few more seconds go by before he hears another groan and sees a body shift on the floor near the sofa, and Val almost scratches his head ‘cause the guy’s just sorta laying there. Like, he kicks out a couple of times with his legs and his arms are trying pretty damn unsuccessfully to lift his body off the floor, but other than that, he’s not doing much.

So basically, this dude is like, the worst burglar/rapist/serial killer ever.

He’s still a douchebag, though.

Val lowers the bottle and walks over to the guy, switching on the lamp next to the sofa. When he looks down, Val rolls his eyes and swears under his breath, setting the wine bottle down on the end table.

Maks.

He is going to fuckin’ kill him.

“Dude…what the fuck are you doing breaking into my apartment at one in the morning?”

Maks tries to lift himself off the floor one more time but only manages to reach out and punch Val square on the left shin.

“Ow! Shit!” Val falls back on the arm of the couch, reaching down and rubbing his shin with his hand. “You fuckin’ asshole.”

“Don’t you hurt my Val!”

Janel comes running down the hallway and, just as Maks has managed to lift his upper body up, Janel brings the bat down on his back, sending him crashing back down to the floor.

He groans and Janel jumps up and down and says, “Oh! I got him! I got him! V, did you see that?”

“I did. Good job, baby. Even though you couldn’t follow a simple instruction and wait in our room.”

“Well, I couldn’t let him hurt you, could I?” She looks down at his shin and frowns in concern. “Are you okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, fine.”

“We have to call the police.”

She hands him the bat and moves toward the phone and he stops her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward him. “No, don’t.”

“Why not?” She gestures down at the floor. “This…man…broke into our home. He deserves to be punished to the full extent of the law.”

"Did you look at ‘im?”

“Of course I did. Even though I was caught up in the emotion of the moment, I still had to know where to aim.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look closer.”

She looks down and it takes a few seconds, but Janel finally says, “Maks!” She looks back at Val and claps her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “I hit Maks!”

“Yep. And he totally deserved it too.”

“How can you say that? He’s my friend and your brother.”

“He scared the shit out of you, J. And he punched me in the shin. Like I said, dude deserved it. ‘Sides…not like you hit him that hard.”

She sighs and looks down at Maks. “Well, clearly something is wrong if he’s lying on our floor at one in the morning. Drunk, no less.” She wrinkles her nose. “Has he told you his troubles?”

“Hasn’t said anything so far. Just groaned a bunch.”

Janel kneels down and pulls on Maks’ shoulder and leg until he flips over onto his back. He groans something that sounds like “Meryl”, so it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where this is going.

“Maksim…what about Meryl?”

“Hates me.”

Janel lays her hand on his shoulder and says, “Why would she hate you?”

But she can’t get anything out of him after that other than some mumbles that aren’t quite words and a few groans here and there, so she stops asking him questions and starts lecturing him, like she thinks he can hear her.

“Makism, while I’m not sure what happened between you and Meryl, judging by the severity of your drunkenness, I’d say it must have been something quite serious. And while I sympathize with your problems, this hardly seems the appropriate response to your situation.”

“Baby, you’re just wastin’ your breath.”

She sighs and frowns. “What do you suppose happened between them?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it was, I’m sure Meryl will call you in six hours or so to bitch about it.” He stands up off the arm of the couch. “C’mon…let’s go back to bed.”

“We can’t just leave him here in the middle of the floor.”

“Actually, that sounds like a pretty damn good idea to me.”

He takes her hand and starts pulling her toward their bedroom but she resists, pulling back on his hand to try to stop him. Just before she’s about to speak, Maks says, “Meryl hates me.”

Val lets go of her hand, groans, and sits back down on the arm of the couch. Shit. He was really hoping to go back to bed. But since his girl’s gonna want to be all sweet and nurturing and fix whatever shit is wrong with his stupid brother, he has a feeling that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.

Janel tucks her hair behind her ear and says, “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Nope.” He pops the P and opens his eyes, shifting his head to look at them. “Totally true. She thinks Imma bad, baaaaaaaaaaaaad boyfriend.”

“Now, why would she think that? Meryl loves you.”

“ ‘Cause she thinks I don’t wanna marry her.” Maks suddenly lifts his upper body up off the floor and grabs her on the upper arms, his eyes wide. “But ‘s not true, Janel. You hafta believe me.”

“Of course I believe you, Maks.”

“Yeah?” She nods and smiles at him and his whole body relaxes and leans into her, like it was just waiting for one person to confirm that he isn’t a complete nutbag.

His hands start climbing up her arms, toward her shoulders, using her body for leverage to lift himself a little further off the ground so he can sit and not fall over (he hasn’t seen Maks this drunk in a while). But his hands are getting a little too close to Janel’s tits for Val’s comfort so he says, “Hey! Брат (brother)! Hands off the merchandise.”

Seriously. Dude’s his brother, but that shit is non-negotiable.

Janel glares at him and purses her lips, but even as fucked up as he is, Maks still has the sense to take his hands off Val’s girl.

That’s right. Dude knows what’s up.

Val says, “So what’s the problem? If you wanna marry her, just ask her. Not like she’s gonna say no to you.”

Maks keeps his eyes on Janel and says, “I’ve tried!”

She says, “Have you?”

“Yeah! Or…sorta.” He groans and squeezes his eyes shut briefly. “I’ve come up with plans, you know? Lots and lots of…plans. But none of ‘em are good enough for Mer. She’s so…awesome.”

Janel smiles at him. “She is.”

"Right? She is. And she deserves the best proposal ever in the history of…ever. So I can’t ask her to marry me ‘til I come up with the most awesome plan ever and all o’ my plans are crap. They’re crap, Janny.”

"Maks, I’m going to let you in on a little secret, okay?”

His eyes go wide and he looks up at her full of hope, like she holds all the answers to the universe or something. “Kay.”

“Most girls don’t care how elaborate their proposal is. They just want to be proposed to by a man they love, who they can see themselves spending the rest of their lives with.”

“Really?”

“Really. Tell you what…why don’t you get a good night’s sleep, and when you wake up in the morning, I will make you a large breakfast and you and I will sort this all out and come up with the best proposal possible for Meryl. She won’t say no, I guarantee it.”

Maks lunges forward and wraps her in a hug, catching her off guard. “Thanks, Janny! You’re the best.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do after I hit you with Val’s bat.”

Maks pulls back and furrows his brow. “What?”

Val stands up off the couch and says, “Nothing. Alright, can you stand up or do you need help?”

“I think I got-” He tries to stand but his legs won’t hold him and he falls back down to his butt. “I don’t got this.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” Val rolls his eyes and pulls Maks up off the ground. He wobbles around for a bit and Val stands behind him with his hands out, but he eventually manages to keep himself standing. “You good now?”

“Yeah. Yeah…’m good.”

“Good, ‘cause once you start movin’, you’re on your own.”

“Yeah, no…’m good.”

He starts to make his way down the hallway to the guest bedroom and Janel says, “Don’t you think we should follow him? Make sure he doesn’t injure himself?”

Val snorts. “No. Dude broke into our apartment at one in the morning and, one more time…scared the shit out of you. He’s already gotten all the help I’m willin’ to give him tonight.”

“Val, he didn’t break in, he’s our family. I’m sure he just used a key.”

“What key? Our parents have our only spares. And you really think he would have gone all the way over there to get it just so he could come to our place to collapse in the middle of our floor?”

She gasps. “You’re right! But how on earth did he break in? We have an excellent security system.”

They do. Her parents insisted on paying for it themselves. No price is too high to make sure their precious star is safe in the big city. “I’ve been tryin’ to tell you for years, baby. Dude’s a fuckin’ sneaky.”

They hear a boom and a thud from the guest bedroom, followed by a strained, “Sorry!…Sorry!” and Janel sighs and goes to help him while Val looks around the room, trying to figure out how Maks got in. One of their windows is cracked, but only a little, which means drunk as he is, he still tried to close the window after he fell through it. That’s something at least. Doesn’t mean they won’t be havin’ words tomorrow, though.

(Seriously…all it would have taken was one damn text to let Val know he needed a place to crash for the night. One damn text that would’ve saved Janel a shitload of worry.)

When he makes it to the guest bedroom, Janel is pulling a blanket over Maks. She looks over at Val and smiles and he smiles back and waits for her to finish. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall across from the bedroom, watching as she brushes the hair back from Maks’ forehead and switches off the lamp next to the bed.

(And no, that doesn’t stir up any thoughts of Janel putting their future kids to bed, tucking them in and kissing them goodnight. None at all.)

When she closes the door behind her gently, he says, “So…if most girls don’t care how elaborate their proposal is, does that mean I didn’t have to organize that flash mob in Central Park?”

She smiles and pats his chest with her left hand and before she can pull it away, he brings his hand up to cover it, fingers slotting between hers. She rises to the tips of her toes and leans in to kiss him.

“I said most girls, Valentin. Most girls.”

Domestic Life: Part 11 [The Date: Part 5]

Warnings: Violence

You hear the front door swing open and familiar foot steps heading towards you.

“Finally home Sugar?”

You call hanging upside down off the bed hearing the fridge door slam shut and the clink of what you assume to be one of J’s custom whiskey glasses hitting the counter top. You’re completely ignored.

“Oh shit, what happened this time?“ ‘You thought to yourself.’ Carefully rolling off the bed.

Cautiously entering the living room, you stop, leaning on the wall for a bit trying to gauge exactly how bad of a mood he was in. J cares for you, you knew that. He has proven it over and over again but you knew better than to mess with him when he was in particularly bad moods. He has a habit of doing things he will end up regretting when his rage dies down. Not that he would ever admit it. You watch him seething silently on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, burning holes in the floor boards with his deadly stare.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night like an idiot staring at me?”

The venom dripping in his tone. You clench your fists and grit your teeth, he was in a very bad mood. But you can’t help yourself. Taking a deep calming breath you brush off his last question and plaster a smile on.

“Aw don’t be like that Daddy.”

Coating your voice in sugary sweetness you carefully approach the back of the couch. You start to gently drape your arms around J’s neck trying to sooth him.

“It’s ok Sugar your…….”

Cutting you off mid sentence J shoots up out of his seat, turning on a dime and lunging over the couch at you like a rabid dog, throwing his hands against your neck and pinning you to the floor.

“Now tell me my dear, exactly how is this ok?”

He spits at you, his whole demeanor screamed deadly as he tightens his grip around your neck slowly cutting off your air.

The corners of your vision start to blur as you gasp.

“J….. J….. please!”

Your eyes widen with fright, you’ve had some backlash from his temper before but never like this. You have never been afraid that he might kill you. But as you look into his eyes you don’t see the man you love. The man you would go threw hell for. All you see is rage. Rage wearing a silver toothed smile. You claw at his hands trying to loosen them as you writhe on the floor beneath his body. You can feel yourself slipping into unconscious.

“ J…. Your…. Killing Me!”

You manage to choke out barely above a whisper.

————————– ————-Joker’s POV—————-————————-

He’s finally home. The heist had gone horribly with Batman showing up right in the middle of the job, holding his crew up long enough for the cops to join the party. Three, three of his men were shot by those damn pigs. It should have been an easy job. In and out no complications. No one tripped the silent alarm, all phones had been taken before any of the hostages had a chance to shoot off a call to the GCPD. He just can’t understand how Batman has been finding him so quickly. This wasn’t even the first job the Bat had crashed this week. Every. Fucking. Job. He has tried to pull has ended in Batman ruining his fun and J only escaping by a hair. Many of his men injured or dead because of these screw ups.

People were gonna start thinking he went soft. First he is out of the game six months to help ‘Her’ recover allowing some wannabe gangsters to attempt to muscle in on HIS territory. HIS! Now with the string of failed heists. It was just to much for him.

He had already knocked back two full bottles of whiskey in the van as Frost dove him back to the flat, it wasn’t enough. As soon as he’s through the doors he starts rummaging around the cabinets for yet another bottle and a glass as he hears (y/n) calling to him from the bedroom.

“Finally home Sugar?”

Her voice grinding on his already frayed nerves. He knows he’s in a volatile mood so he tries to avoid her, sitting on the couch head in his hands, whiskey on the end table. He hears light footsteps halt near the entrance of the room, now painfully aware of the set of (e/c) eyes studying him.

He waits as she just stands there. Growing more irritated by the second he growls at her.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night like an idiot staring at me?”

He could hear his venomous tone and felt his anger rising but there was nothing he could do. He has always been a slave to his more primal emotions. The light footsteps close in on him as he feels her hands slip around his shoulders. He tenses every muscle in his body trying not to lash out.

Then she speaks. The words ‘it’s ok’ send him over the edge. How was this ok? How was growing weak ok? Destructive thoughts played havoc on his mind.

‘Its her. She’s the reason your weak.’ One of his inner demons hisses. ’ She is the reason you are loosing their respect, their fear.’ Whispered another. More and more thoughts fill his head until it was all to much. He leaps up launching himself at (y/n) putting his hands around her throat as he begins to squeeze. ‘Do it… Do it.. do it, do it!’ One of the voices screams at him. He tightens his grip. Staring into her frightened eyes. 'Why was she frightened? She was never frightened of him.’

The thought was soon drown out 'See, she’s scared of you just like the others. She’s made you weak. And now she will leave you. Broken, and alone.’ His thoughts continue to spiral as he hears her choke out.

“J… J…. Please!” Her voice muffled from the lack of oxygen.

Voices continue to whisper, egging him on. Then he hears words that shoot through him like a bolt of lighting. Shaking him from his crazed trance.

“J…. You’re…. Killing Me!”

He immediately lets go. Confusion and terror in his eyes. He already knew he was a monster, even his men saw him as such. But he tried for her. Tried to be better than that. But now, as he looked in her eyes all he saw was a genuine fear. One he has never seen before in her beautiful face. Tears streak down her cheeks as she attempts to catch her breath. He falls to his knees shocked. The look of terror in her eyes slowly killing him. Now only one thought played on a loop in his head.

'What have you done.’

The Fairytale

Once upon a time there was a Little Girl. Short hair, ink on her fingers, and scrapes on her knees. Her family loved her very much, and complimented often on how smart she was, and how loving and caring she could be, and how adventurous she always seemed.

But then they said things like “Don’t be such a know-it-all, stop wearing your heart on your sleeves, just knock it off!”

They didn’t mean to be harsh, it wasn’t supposed to be mean. It was just how things were, and she learned to keep quiet, she learned to sit still. And the words left a different type of scrape.

Later, when the Little Girl started going to school, the teachers all commented on how quickly she learned, and how excited she was, and how curious she seemed. But then they said things like “Stop giving answers, why do you have to make it so hard on us, quit asking questions for ONCE!”

She’s not sure if they meant to be harsh, she’s not sure if it was supposed to be mean. Maybe it’s just how things were, and she reminded herself to keep quiet, she reminded herself to sit still. And the scrapes turned to scratches.

Then there were her peers.

It was meant to be harsh, it was supposed to be mean.

It started off by little names, ones that they said were ‘just jokes’. Words like spazzy, teacher’s pet, and weirdo. She tried to collect them up as badges of honor, playing with the game and laughing along. It was easier than keeping quiet and sitting still. Because sometimes it was surrounded with good things. Like when they said “You’re so weird. It makes every day interesting” or when they said “You’re so excitable and full of life, you spazzy ball of fluff.” So she ignored when the scrapes and scratches piled on, wore jeans and sweaters to keep other from seeing the harm, and tried to remember what her parents had said.

“Don’t be so sensitive. Don’t wear that heart on your sleeve.”

Then things got meaner, and the words changed to ones like she-man, whore, prude, and freak. And now she knew the words weren’t badges, they were bullets. So she tried to use her laughter as armor, but then no one thought things were wrong. And as she wove her flag upside down, people just walked on. Still, sometimes the enemy confused her, and would talk sweet with her, share stories with her, help her. And for a split of a moment, the little girl would start to trust them again, only to have them turn round and hiss “it” in her face.

So she forced herself to keep quiet, forced herself to sit still, hoping it would hide her. But it never did. And the scratches turned to scabs and slices that cut past skin and into her brain. Diced it up and mixed it around until she couldn’t think as well. And days repeated in on themselves, every compliment seemed like a blow against her, and she flinched from whoever tried to touch her. 

Week in and week out, every Monday at noon, there was the ritual that girls would come up and say “We’re sorry for the way we treated you. Can we be friends? Let’s go to the movies on Friday.” And every time there would be a winged thing of hope that fluttered in the girl’s chest, and she would say yes. And every Friday at noon, then group would say “Why the fuck would we want to hang out with you, you piece of scum?”

Some days there would be six or seven different “You’re retarded”, a dozen different “No one could ever love you”, and four heavy handed “go kill yourself”. And they drowned out the single “You’re so smart” and “I care about you” that sometimes slipped her way.

So no wonder, once the Little Girl finally escaped from the peers that meant to hurt her, that she was so confused and spun around that she never understood when someone was paying her a compliment. And even then there was always a “but”.

“You’re a genius. But you always want to answer the questions.”

“You’re pretty. But you’re never going to find someone with how you dress and act.”

“I love you. But you need to stop being so emotional. It’s no big deal.”

And the little girl learned that this was just how things were. And she tried to keep quiet, tried to sit still.

And it went like that for years and years, as she built layer after layer to hide the scrapes and scratches and scabs and slices. Tried to act like they never happened. And every compliment she received was followed by a negative, even if it was just her on messed up brain that whispered them.

Then one day, there was a boy. A boy who seemed to understand without her saying a thing, and it scared the little girl. But he was so fun, and so creative, and so smart, that she stayed anyway. And she learned to keep a little less quiet, a little less still.

And the two of them played, and imagined, and talked for days on end. And she trusted that boy, a little more each time.

Then one night, when it was quiet and still, he said “You’re pretty.”

And it scared the little girl. She wanted to run and hide. She waited for the negative. She feared what fault he had seen.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pretty. I like your nose.”

And that was that. He fell asleep, calm and sweet, and she spent the rest of the night in terror. Scared that he would turn on her, scared that this was the end. So the next day, when he made no mention of it, the little girl kept quiet and still. And days passed without a word. She buried it deep, hoping it would keep quiet and still. Until one day out of the blue, the boy said something similar. Again, the Little Girl flinched from the compliment, waiting for blows to strike with it.

And again none came.

Here’s the thing. When so much of your life has been half formed compliments spun in ways to make you listen to how they want to change you, you never trust good words. And it hurts this Little Girl that she can’t do that. Even now, when others compliment her smile, her mind, her work, they feel like bullets in her brain and bats against bone. They feel worse than the thousands of insults you’ve gained over the years, because you’re used to them. You’re used to the “This is creative, but you need to stop doing it your way”, and the “you’re special, but don’t be so weird and blend in a little better”, and the constant badgering that leaves you numb.

The truly nice comments never come around enough, and when they do, it feels like warm water poured on skin that is frozen. It burns you, long after the compliment has been made.

The little girl still feels like this. Every day the boy sends a compliment her way, she flinches from it. She cries because of it. She waits for even the smallest moment for the onslaught to follow. And it never comes. And now she’s noticing the other small comments people give as well. They sting, and burn, and cause scabs and slices that have long scarred over to ach with pain.

And the Little Girl realizes that she’s not the only one who feels like this. So often she sees others refusing or degrading compliments given to them, adding the ‘but’ before anyone else can. Because then you’re in control. And it can’t be that bad if you’re the one insulting yourself, because you know the truth. And that’s all fine until one day you wake up, look in the mirror, and hate the thing staring back at you.

This hurts the Little Girl. There’s seven billion people in the world, and how much of them hate themselves, and always accept rusted comments, and flinch when shown an act of true kindness. So she wants to help it get better. And the Little Girl wants to make the world a little fuller of compliments. Tell a few more people how beautiful they are, and leave it at that.

So the compliments stop feeling like bullets.

So she stops telling herself to be quiet, to be still.

A Beautiful Diaster: Revenge // Bucky Barnes x OC

Summary: She was brought in by mistake, he wasn’t looking for anything new. But within the chaos that surrounds them…a beautiful disaster was born amoung these two.

Chapters: 1. - Mistakes  2 - Too Close  3 - Memories / 5 - Bucky’s Weakness 


- February, 1989

“FINISH HER!” Blood was rushing into my head making me feel heavier, like dead weight. My toes had run cold, icy and lifeless as they dangled above me. Tied in a rope bound around my ankles.

      No one was visible, I couldn’t make out who was the doctor, the sergeant, or the soldier. Blood kept getting in the way of my vision. Shutting my eyes tightly, I felt blood trickle from the slice that was slashed in the nape of my neck. It traveled down over my chin, and into my eyes. If the daily beatings or as they called it, “training” weren’t enough: hanging upside down while they did it would do the trick of killing me. I was sure this was the bloody, brutal end I was destined for the moment I knew I stepped into the wrong hands.

“Закончить ее и вы получите три раза в день.” Finish her and you will have three meals a week.

That’s all it took. How desparate could he be to willingly take my life for mroe food? But that’s what HYDRA does to you; it rips you apart until you are nothing but the skeleton of their own creation. 

He stalked into the cage and with a loud grunt he gave me the kick in my skull, a punch in the abdomen which made the sound of ribs cracking loud enough for the whole room of watching guards to hear. 

“Другой!” Another!

One in the chest, sailing her back against the rails. Hitting them with her spine in a grunt, only swing back forward for another swift thrust onto the bare skin she showed from her clothes being ripped apart. She was covered in only inches of fabric, exposed to the guards, the soldier, the sergeant. 

But it’s not like they hadn’t seen it all before

“Другой, другой!” Another. Another!

       She just swung, arms dangling down past her head. her hair was long enough it swept the floor as each blow threw her back. For some reason though; every collision his fist made with the frail woman’s body, the more enraged the Sergeant became.

He didn’t know why with every clash the Sergeant became more angered.The soldier was killing her, there was no doubts in that. Her neck had been cut before the Soldier arrived. 

One side of her face blue and purple with a fresh bruise on her cheek. The other had blood trickling her face, onto her eye lashes, and into her long, stark-blonde hair. The last punch was to her pelvis. It was when she gave a guttural scream. Her voice husky from the night she’d had before. They had all heard her scream last night. Every single prisoner hear fell asleep to the sounds of mercy, pleading and heavy sobbing. 

The scream was when the Sergeant told the Soldier to stop, a satisfied grin on his face as he stalked towards the woman. Backing up, the guards took the Soldier away in cuffs back to his chamber.

Turning his head, he saw the living, barely breathing human punching bag swing back forth, helplessly. Begging for mercy. “Милосердие, милость, милосердие. Поздравляем принцессы. Вы узнали.” Mercy, mercy, mercy. Congratulations, Princess. You’ve learned.


Present day, 2016.

Pressing the red button, scratching noises of the intercom were heard overhead of me, “You like the new addition to your temporary home?” Nodding to the voice Bucky told me was Tony Stark’s, I swung around a few times in my new ‘addition’, giggling endlessly with the enjoyment of my sheet swing. 

  “I really like it. Thanks a bunch, Mr. Stahk. There all wicked!”

I winked in a general direction actually hitting dead on into Tony’s eyes.

I had a very keen sense of movement, and voice recognition. HYDRA advanced me, trained me- “taught me” how to know when someone is looking at you. Whether they are behind a wall, in two rooms downs, or behind your back. HYDRA taught me to know when I’m being watched. 

I was always being watched in that cell.

My feet hit the ground softly as I casually strolled over to the mirror. I fixed my pigtails and smiled at my face.

       No longer was my face bland. Wilted pale face, all boring and bare with just my worn out tattoos barely there. It pained me too see the heart on my cheek vaguely there. Like a memory you can only grasp onto in bits and pieces. I missed my words written on my right jawline. That tattoo was a gift from my honey… my man. 

The box- Held inside a blanket. Knitted in red and black yarn. I could tell it was extremely old. It smelt like it hadn’t been washed in a year. Then there was the book called Where The Wild Things Are. It was withered and the edging was almost all gone. At least it was something to read. Then there was a small crocheted sack filled with beads that Bucky told me was called a hacky sack, whatever the fuck that was

The two last things remaining were an eye shadow palette that looked at least 10 years old, with only four remaining colors left. Yet, it was still in tack. Then lastly; the one thing I was hoping for the most, lipstick. 

The lipstick was new. Unlike my other treasures; this bottle had never been opened; it was fresh, clean with no imperfections. 

The first thing I’d gotten that wasn’t used, old, or broken was that lipstick. It was mine.

Immediately putting it on I didn’t bother following the lines of my lips. I loved the color and wanted it spread everywhere. This color was the only one I remember seeing besides black, white and gray: 

Red. 

When had woken up this morning, I saw that the Lipstick had smeared on my face. Not like I cared. It just added character to the face of a deadgirl.

  Tossing the sack lazily in the air, catching it, throwing it against the mirror in anger…or just letting it hit my chest. I did whatever it took to keep myself awake. I hated sleep. Sleep made me vulnerable for anyone to come at me. I knew they saw me, they watched me.

What if one of them wanted to touch me? And I was asleep, unable to hear them?

-

It was daytime still, the blinding white lights shining above pierced my grey-toned skin. The blanket was underneath me, and my lipstick stuffed in my top. The eye shadow palette already used up- so it was thrown into a corner.

       I stayed awake, long into the nights, and in the early mornings. No sunlight shined through my “room”. Only white, blaring white bulbs that flashed on when breakfast came. Telling me it was morning.

The door slipped open, and I didn’t bat an eye. It was just Bucky. He was the only one who came in. The only one who tried to talk to me and act like interested in anything I rarely had to say when really, he just wanted information. He wanted the dirty details on my life, on what I had gone through, so these Avengers could do the same.

I answered the easy questions, ones I wouldn’t get punished from if HYDRA found out I had told them. Bucky didn’t push a lot, yet.

Everyone gets tired of waiting though, and soon you have to just bite the bullet and ask the gritty, dirty dark secrets. 

I saw Bucky shuffle over towards me as I threw the sack up in the air again, slightly higher this time.

       Deciding to be playful Bucky caught it before my fingers could grasp it, smirking as he brought it to his chest.

 “That’s mine, give it back!” Within two seconds I was up in the air, gripping him with my thighs in a deadly headlock. I was sitting peacefully on top of his shoulders, legs crossed so they sat nice and tight around his throat. 

Causing Bucky to push back the idea of her across the room.Don’t hurt her, you’ll just go back to phase one- wait. what the hell is she doing?

She was petting me? No. She was stroking my hair. 

Here she is, sitting on my shoulders; not even a second ago trying to choke me and now she’s stroking my hair. 

Giggling she down forward, curving her spine in an upside down U so her head hung upside down in front of mine. Her lipstick causing that smile to become more wicked and menacing. 

“I’ve wanted to touch your hair for the longest time! Congratulations on it’s softness.” She softly talked, playing with the loose ends delicately. Never tugging, just-stroking.

She had been malnourished for so long, her weight on me was less than a feather. I slightly smirked at her confession, holding out her hacky sack in my hand. Her legs became uncrossed as she took the hacky sack back from my opened palm. 

Throwing her body back, aleviating her legs from my shoulders and gracefully landing onto the ground. I whipped around to catch her, thinking she’d land flat on her face. She walked away like nothing had happened and started gathering her things, shuffling them into her corner. She felt threatened. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- take- uh… it’s a joke. You know? Like you take someone’s things, and then they come after you. Or you play pass. You’ve played pass before?” 

Her emotionless expression told me she had no clue what that kind of fooling around was.

This was the woman who thought playing meant teasing someone while they were waterboarded. Or seducing them to the point where she could kill them with her hands in one swift motion.

“I don’t- um. Jus’ don’t fuckin’ take my stuff, alright?” 

She spoke a little too vulnerable to her liking and sat, confused. Putting her hacky sack into her shirt, I sat down near her on the rug next to the swing she recently got. 

She couldn’t have a real one; with chains and plastic bits. That was like giving a loaded gun to an assassin. No, it was a sheet rolled up, giving her a seat, a bed, and something to play on. We’d discovered that she had talent in aerobatics. She likes twisting, bending, and swinging around on the cotton fabric.

         Jumping whimsically on to the cotton head first, her feet weightlessly flew up and wrapped quickly around the cotton sheet. Hanging upside down, letting her feet keep her held up while she stretched her arms. “How can you do that? That’s amazing.” I pointed to her dangling body, on full display for me to awkwardly try to avoid. No staring. No caring. Just pity.

With a good stretch of her arms, she looked at him, upside down but still in her eyeline. He was sitting near her swing, up against a wall. 

“I like to be in the sky, ya know. I like to move! I like-” Brushing just her fingertips across the floor, she let her legs roll out of their lock and gracefully she did a 360 to the ground, her bare feet padding across the floor towards him.

Note to self- bring her socks. Or get Stark to let her wear shoes.

Dramatically she fell in front of him, rolling on her side then to her back as she loudly gasped Bucky’s name as she laid on her back. Those long fingers tap danced around the floor in little circles. Circles. - Bucky stored that in the back of his mind too tell the team. 

“Oh Bucky! I like to dance, I like to listen to music, I like to run, to jump, to swing, and fly. I’m just a bird stuck in a cage.” She let her left hand reach up to the white lights above her, pretending to grab an invisible rope.

“I’m sorry.” Muttering, I looked at her, making my stare pierce her skin so she’d look at me. But she was focusing on the white lights; perhaps trying to blind herself.

She loved getting herself injured. Bucky knew why she did that, just admitting it to himself was heart breaking. It brought him back to the start. The start of his hell, the life no one should live- yet they both had to. 

He’d been in this girl’s position. Finally free from HYDRA, but still living in it’s shadows. Somedays, he felt back in Siberia, his head just banging against the metal pole in through his room. Hoping to knock himself out, or just past the time until his next mission or assignment. 

     Suddenly, Bucky remembered the one time he had enough; and really tried to really hurt himself, permanently.

The pain coursing through his body as he remembered his mission, he remembered the family he murdered, their scared, helpless eyes as he shot them down, one by one. With a yell, he looked in his room for something to ease the pain, and ease it all forever. He didn’t deserve to live, he never did ever since HYDRA took him and made him a vessel of destruction. All he could find, was his bed, which was a flat mattress with the springs taken out.

Then he got it.

Looking down at it, he touched the icy exterior and shuddered. It felt so cold; maybe because it was what took people’s breathes away, leaving the bodies cold, along with his hand. Bringing it up to his throat, he grasped his bulging neck, from the drugs and from the training. He’d have to really strangle himself hard; but to Bucky that was as easy as whipping up some pancakes in the morning. He had all he needed.

His anger.

His aluminium alloy arm;

And the death grip he’d used to many times on too many innocent people.

He shuffled away from the cage door, so no one could see him and grab the guards and stop him. Tucking himself in the corner, and breathed deeply, taking in the stench of the filth he lived in. It made him want to die only more.

Grasping his neck tight suddenly. It felt more vigorous and firm than he’d thought he was capable of. 

There he was; he started his end. Hitting his head against the brick wall, in nature’s protest of him strangling himself and releasing his arms death grip. His legs kicked out in fury, his body screaming for him to stop. He had to end this. 

He had to end the murder, the lives he took, the people who lost those whom they loved. Tears streamed like newfound rivers from his long, dirt-covered eyelashes. He was spitting, kicking. Getting closer and closer to his target. This was his one last mission.

That was until she showed up.

         Her blonde hair was the brightest thing in the room. It was the one thing that kept his eyes open. She was on her knees, her skirt tight against her thighs and her white lab jacket dusting across the floor. She tugged at his hand trying to get him to release,

 “NO! Please, stop!” American? 

She had her tiny, feeble little hand around his monstrous silver one, unsuccessfully trying to pry the metal fingers from his neck. 

“I know that you want to die, James! But you- you have so much to live for. Please, stop it!” His hand loosened, and it still gripped his neck tightly.

James.

No one had called him that in years. Decades, maybe. Her accent… it wasn’t from New York, she was from a posh side of the world. Her delicate hand came, and softly whipped the cloudy tears from his eyes, letting him focus his eyes on the woman’s features. She had glasses, and it looked like she needed them with the way she kept pushing them up while trying to exam his face. The thick black rimmed glasses slid down her small, skinny nose.

 “У меня нет ничего, чтобы жить…” He mumbled, I have nothing to live for… 

 His hand became tighter again around his neck as the faces of his victims started marching around in his head, parading his guilt ridden mind. 

     “Now stop it! You do have something to live for, yourself. Your. True. Self.” She spoke in a whisper, making his eyes glow more in the darkness from shock. 

She wasn’t like any other doctor he’d met with before. Most were males but still; if any other doctor had walked in on Bucky doing this; they’d be shooting him in the arm with a tranquilizer. Making him go back into his dreams of murder, blood, and pain. But no, her hand was still on his metallic grip. She wasn’t trying to pull it away again, she just had her fingers there, covering it as if it was a real, human hand. A hand that could feel someone’s clammy nervous hands. Or hands so soft. He knew she had those soft hands. Clean, washed, and unharmed.

Softness was something he had not felt before he’d woken up on the lab table. 

    Her eyes searched his still, as they cross-examined each other. Hers.. they were blue; bright blue and shining. Life was in them, it was like watching a movie; he couldn’t stop staring.

When his fingers finally fell to his lap. The Doctor picked up his chin quickly to examine the damage. Bucky was on threat alert though, and with the quick movement she made, he grasped her hand tightly, making her drop her clipboard, clattering to the ground. She didn’t protest as he squeezed harder,  just closing her eyes in pain. Letting out gasps of breath in some sort of way to release the feeling of her bones being crushed.

“J-James. I just wanted to examine your neck. Make sure it wasn’t broken or any major vessels were hur-rt.” Their eyes grapped each other. Feeling as tight and almost painful as their hands were.

She didn’t stare at him in fear, just in pain. Bucky loosened a bit, but didn’t let go. She whispered now, a tear leaking from her face from the pain of her broken hand. Aching as it swelled up, bruising fast with the amount of strength he’d had in his grip.

“I’m a new doctor. I work for the psychology department. I talk to you, and that’s it. Nothing more.. and..I-it’s goes against my better judgement. B-but. I won’t report this. As long as you promise to stay alive for our first proper meeting.” 

Hopeful for a yes, he nodded, breathing heavily as his lungs contracted from lack of oxygen and the overwhelming feeling he had for what he had just tried to commit.

-

Moving to sit next to me on the wall, she rubbed my human arm sympathetically instead of shaking my hand. For obvious reasons. I tried scooting away but then I realized I was stuck in a corner, with only her blocking me on my left. Her hand must’ve been throbbing, and my realistic views were coming back into my swirl of thoughts.

“Он сломан, идти к медсестре. Скажи, что это я, вы не получите за это наказан. Вам нужно лед на нем.”

“It is broken, go to the nurse. Tell me what I am, you do not get punished for it. You need ice on it.”

“No, not now.” She replied quickly, waiving him off. “It’s not a deadly injury, just a bit of a pain in the ass- or, well the hand.”

 She crackled a sideway smile just a bit to herself and leaned back, exposing her neck. She had on a necklace, I couldn’t see what the pendent was, but I loved the gilded, shining gold that glimmered against her ivory skin. Turning her head towards me, she smiled taking my human hand that rested on the  ggrimy ground, into her non-broken one, stroking her thumb across the top of my scarred hand.

“And please stop speaking Russian. I am American, you are American. Let’s give the time we have a chance. To give you back some of your independence; like speaking in your own language.” 

       My heart fluttered at her soft spoken words, independence. When was the last time he had that? 

Nodding, I cleared my throat like it could help me bring back my voice. Putting her hand up to stop me. She slowly, stood onto her heels, they were blue like her skirt, but her lips were a pink he liked. It was soft like a pillow but striking against her yellow, golden locks. Matching her golden chained necklace. 

Shushing me when she tried to stand up. She wobbled a bit from her one hand balance act but still whispered to me as she stood. Suddenly standing tall and looking like she’d became a superior.

She was a superior. A superior in disguise. 

       “Save your voice, for our first meeting tomorrow. I’m bumping you up. I’ll tell them some bullshit excuse, okay?” Nodding, she brushed off her knees with her one hand whilst clutching the other to her chest, “I’ll get the guards to give you some water, for good behavior.” She whispered in a mocking tone. It almost made me smile, but instead a grunt came out.

      I wanted to speak as I saw her turn away and walk to the cell entrance- I desperately wanted to yell out a thank you, not for saving himself from his own demons. But giving him hope and reassurance: The US army hadn’t given up on him. Maybe it was Steve who sent her, who knows. 

All that he could muster was an almost inaudible question,

Almost inaudible.

“Who are you?”

With that toothy smile, and squint of her eyes she turned towards me nodding her goodbye, “My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel. But just for you”- she pointed jokingly, at me; 

“You can call me Harley.” 

“Bucky? I’m bored, play with me? We can play one of your games, or we can dance! Bring in some music! I want to hear the sound again! Are you listening? Fuck you doin’ spacin’ out!” 

With each sentence her voice got darker, and deeper with frustration and exhaustion. She really did love her time with the one person willing to come in here and see her. Even if it was for secret interrogation.

 So why not use that time to do something fun? 

But what she didn’t see was that the azure blue his eyes held, was gone. And his metallic arm was gripping his thigh to hold onto something other than her neck. 

His heart stopped beating. His lungs gave out. His brain went silent. 

The long white haired, pig-tailed woman in bloody red lipstick, who was begging to play; was once the doctor who saved his life. 

She was turnt around when he stood up, his shoulder broad but voice waivering. He knew she was pretty far gone, but what if this sent her back? This could bring back Hydra’s torture, or it’s manipulation. Or..

What if she became the brilliant, geniunine, kind-hearted Doctor who kept Bucky Barnes alive to this day, again? 

“Bucky, you tol’ me once you were gonna be teachin’ me swing dance and I will be damned if i don’t get my lesson!” She had her face pointed at the mirror, infacuated with the lipstick he’d gone out two nights ago to get for her, sneaking it into the package. 

“Ya kno’ pink is really ma color but I’m warmin’ up to re-” She caught a glimpse of the Bucky’s tall figure lurking behind her, she pretended not to notice but secretly was planning on break his neck with her thighs if he took one step closer. Or moved that metallic weapon of an arm one since inch. 

She was prepared to hurt him; until he uttered out the worst thing he could say to her. 

“Harley?” 

Russian Red stained the flooring, when the lipstick dropped to the ground and two head turned to each other. Each brain was fast approaching words to say to the other. 

One ready to thank her for saving his life, and keeping him company those days she had bravely infiltrated HYDRA. 

The other ready to snap his neck off, and use his metal arm to beat him in the stomach, and crack his ribs. Break his pelvis bone, crack his skull… just to get a small dosage of his own medicine he’d given her so long ago. 

“Harley, I-” 

“Привет, Зимний Солдат.” She gritted in response. Bucky moved one step back, he was fucked.

“Hello, Winter Soldier.” 


Wanda raced down the steps of the main hallway, screaming for the Avengers to follow her. Steve slid his shield onto his back harness and took off with her, immediately knowing where she was heading too.

 He saw black tear stains on her face and fresh tears running down the side of her nose. 

“She found out. She remembered, Steve. All of it, everything little thing he did to her. We have to get him out of there…” 

Steve gulped down any anxiety that bubbled in his chest. Pushing on and running farther down the dark hallway into Stark’s lab where Harley Quinn was beating meeting the Soldier who tortured her brutally. For the very first time in decades.

Bucky tried to calm the her but this was Harley now. And she was fresh from the grave. Energized and seething with vengence against the man she no longer recognized as Bucky. 

Harley Quinn was relentless, and when she made enemies, they were in for a fate worse than death. But!

Just to her fortune;

one happened to be standing in front of her this very moment. 

                   _______________________________________

A/N: She’s alive! Harley’s back, and ready to rumble in a cage fight with Buck! Let me know your thoughts on this! 

Message or send in an ask if you’d like to be tagged or i’ve forgotten to tag you! (If I did I’m so sorry!) I will add you on! 

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