Long time lurker, first time posting (from mobile at that) so excuse my formatting.
I work the audit alone at a hotel with just about one hundred rooms. We’re at 100% occupancy since two of the several colleges in the area have their graduations this weekend, which of course means that by some statistical ego-magic, the majority of our guests are more important than everyone else.
I arrive twenty minutes early for my shift, and the other folks at the desk let me know i’ve only got two checkins, and it ought to be a boring night. I tell them that’s all I ever dream of, and they both head out, followed shortly by my houseman. The phone rings immediately. The guests in 2XX want an extra blanket (on a hot, humid summer night, but sure. I live to serve).
I put up my “Please excuse us while we attend to guest needs” sign, grab a bundle of sheets, and a thick blanket just in case, and hurry to their room. I hand them off, and they surprise me with “Wait on moment”. I wait. Ten seconds later they open the door and hand me two dollars. I thanks them genuinely, as this is the first time I’ve ever been tipped at this property. I return to the desk, smile on my face, just as one of my arrivals come through the door. Check-in goes smoothly, and at the end they mention that they requested a roll away bed. It’s listed in the comments, and i tell them it should be in there and if not, just give me a ring and I’ll bring one right down. They leave.
The phone rings. It’s their room. The phonecall starts with “I never complain, but…” My eyes do a quick barrel roll. The roll away bed is there, but “The springs are coming through the mattress. Do you have any other beds?” I let them know there is another rollaway, and offer to bring it down to see which they prefer. I scoot upstairs, bring the rollaway down to their room, and she shows me the cot they have. It’s fine. Yeah, the mattress is shitty. It’s a rollaway cot. They feel the other bed, it’s just as shitty. Duh. I let them know that we could stack the two mattresses, so the springs don’t compress as much, but it’s not the safest thing on the planet. They agree to that and i roll the mattress-less bedframe back to the elevators, but i can hear my front desk phone ringing from there.
I vault the desk (any excuse to vault something, like I always say) Me: “[Corporate schpeal] My name is ElephantWanker, what can i do for you?” Most important man in town: “Yes, do you have any rooms for tonight?” Me: “Sorry, we’re actually fully booked tonight” MIMIT: “But do you have any rooms for [Lick my ass level member]s?” Me: “Unfortunately we are at 100% occupancy, not a single room to spare.” MIMIT: “So you don’t have any rooms for [Really, eat my asshole you service drone] members?” Me: “I’d literally have to kick someone out of the hotel to find you a room, sir, I’m sorry, but i can [click]”
The bastard hung up on me. I utter a “have a good night, best of luck” down the empty line, and get to rolling the bedframe back where it belongs.
As i return to the desk, my final arrival comes through the door. A late-middle aged woman with a British accent who greets me by barking her name at me. We’ll call her British Cunt.
Me: “Yep, looks like we’re expecting you” I slide her reg card to sign “If i could just get an ID and card for incidentals” She looks at me for a second like I asked for her underwear. BC: “The room is already paid for” Me: “Well yes, i see that.” My smile stretches, but does not reach my eyes. “But we do just need an ID to know you are you, and the card is just for incidentals. It’ll just place a $20 hold that goes back to your account about 3 business days after you checkout.” BC: “But you have a card on file to pay for the room, it’s my daughter’s” Me: “Yes, although we need a card from the person actually staying in the room, in case you want to order anything, or for damages. It actually helps to protect the guests from having their cards stolen and used frau-” BC: “Bullshit. Don’t give me that. It’s so you can get my card and hold onto my money for a few days. It’s to protect you, not me.” I smile. I tell her I understand. She eventually gives me her card and ID, and signs the bottom of the reg card, but doesn’t initial the smoking policy or anything. Me: “If I could just have and initial here and here” She does her best to slam her cards back in her purse, and picks up the pen angrily. She initials the lines aggressively, which is a new one for me. I finish the checkin and hand her the key packet, which had the wifi code, breakfast times, and pool times on it. Usually i tell guests this, as well as point them to the elevators. She interrupts as I open my mouth. BC: “What time is breakfast?” Me: “Seven AM, ma'am” (When you start being a bitch, you get smothered with kindness and honorifics. It baffles most of them.) She gives me the look you would give somebody who had answered her question with “fish”. That look that says “Tell me more, you imbecile” BC: “‘Till?!” Me: “Ten AM. The times for breakfast, the pool, and the wifi code are all on your key packet there.” She looks. Then starts to finally leave for her room.
I look at the clock. It’s only a half hour into my shift. I’m all out of arrivals. I go to the vending machine in back, the employee one which is set to have better deals than the guest machines but still isn’t free because, well, money, and i grab a refreshing orange fanta with 50c of my tip from the start of the night.
It’s been quiet since. I’ve had time to type this up, print out my reports, and set some wakeup calls. If that’s the worst I see tonight, I’ll call it a boring, easy night. That’s all I ever dream of.
i am trying to bring attention to one of my favourite causes which is me
the hardest part of this challenge was not telling everyone else that i was going to win
the dog is looking at me like “get me the fuck out of here”, i’m looking at the dog like “get ME the fuck out of here”
i don’t have a sugar daddy. i’ve never had a sugar daddy. if i wanted a sugar daddy, yes, i probably could go out and get one because i am what? SICKENING
i feel sexy in anything, even a body bag
my mom sent me to military school in the hopes that she'd get a little soldier. needless to say, she got a drag queen.
just fyi for all you girls up there, i don't want to hear any goddamn excuses. be prepared! make it work! make it work! fucking make it happen! i don't want to hear any GODDAMN EXCUSES any more!
"i'll win for you." ohhh, that's sweet. he's not going to win.
i'm just under three hundred years old, i know some things
(not-technically-iliad bonus round) eris:
i just honestly thought y'all were all boring and i was trying to turn the party
It would be great if people in this fandom actually loved Allura and showered her with the love she deserves instead of coming up with excuses like “it’s heteronormative/racist”, what have you, for why she can’t be paired with any of the guys (somehow Shiro, and only Shiro, was immune to all of the arguments? Still don’t know why but okay).
Show Allura some loving. If Lance’s flirting with her is annoying, make up headcanons about how he realizes that and stops, and they bond, develop and eventually form a relationship together. Band AUs. Friends to lovers AU. Idk, think outside of the box! Bonus if Allura get Lance a sparkly thing rather than the other way around.
You think Keith and Allura’s development is bland? That’s fine! Let’s fix that with them bonding over going through a rescue mission and exploding shit because they’re awesome. Bonus if they hi5 while covered in wounds and blood and nearly collapse afterwards because they really overdid themselves.
Space mom trope for Allura is dead and buried in the ground, but consider: actual space mom Hunk taking care of Allura after she recklessly threw herself in to save Pidge from fire and she pouts through the lecture while he takes care of her burns. Bonus: OT3 with Shay because space rock girlfriend should be loved just as much.
Allura and her partner don’t have to be straight in any of those. Consider: Allura is a multi faceted character, wonderfully written to break many female character stereotypes and a beautiful black girl on top of that. Whoever you pair her off with, it’s not heteronormative. And if that argument didn’t convince you, consider: polyships where Allura is part of it so it’s definitely not straight.
Don’t give me “Allura/*insert character* is boring because they barely interacted” as an excuse as to why you don’t want to develop headcanons for them to fix that because if this fandom can come up with creative headcanons as to altean Lance, Lotor, who hasn’t even showed up, Nyma/Allura, who barely interacted (Rolo/Keith who BARELY interacted), then yes, you can absolutely come up with beautiful headcanons, fic and art as to why Allura/*insert character* can and should happen.
Let go of that internalized misogyny and give this girl the love and support she needs and deserves. #GiveAlluraSomeLovin
Summary: Peter and the reader are getting pretty steamy and someone decides it’s the perfect time to interrupt. Talk about cockblock, amiright?
Warnings: language, kissing, fluff, Star Wars, makeout sesh (holla). (Let me know if I missed any).
Word Count: 1,479
A/N: For the amazing @literallyrozie812, thanks for the request! I hope this fic gives you guys all the Peter feels. Also, I apologize if it sucks ass lol. I’m not experienced in this part of writing, so bear with me as I slowly dig my way into it! Let’s hope I did at least a 4/10. Thanks for all the never ending support, guys! As always, feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated.
Being raised as a Stark definitely has its perks, but let’s not forget about the downsides.
For instance, not being able to try out the Iron Man suit because of one accidental mistake of you blowing one up.
Hey, it happens… right?
Or not being able to join the team on missions because it’s “too intense” or “not safe.”
Like, hello? I’m an Avenger? I deserve to participate, Dad.
And don’t even get started on boys.
Oh, lord. If he knew about Peter and you, well, let’s just say Tony’s suit isn’t the only thing that would be blown up.
things i wish i’d known in my first year of university
I’m reaching the end of my time at university and it’s got me all sentimental. and regretful. There are a number of things that I had learned during my time at university that I wish I’d known during first year.
Read everything. The only valid excuse for not reading everything on the reading list is that you didn’t have time, not that you found it boring, or that it wasn’t useful. Because there’s nothing scarier than trying to write an essay on something you studied a month ago, and you have no notes on the topic.
Revise constantly. I wish I’d revisited everything I did a week after I did it, just as a recap. I tended to focus on what I was doing in the moment because it felt the most important thing at the time. Well, during exams, everything is equal. And it’s so frustrating not quite being able to remember something. So, revise. Even just for ten minutes.
Don’t spend all of your money on impulse. I’ve bought so much rubbish that I really don’t need. And if I’d saved that money, I could have gone on holiday. Save every last penny you can.
Eat well. I just said that you should save all the money you can, but I think that food is one exception to that rule. Try and save money where you can, obviously, but don’t go for days and days without fresh vegetables because you’re saving money for a holiday. Your mind, as well as your body, needs food.
Go and talk to professors in their student hours. I used to find this so awkward. To be honest, I still do. But if you’re going sending them an email and asking for clarification on a topic, consider maybe popping into their office when it’s open to students. And tell them if you’re struggling! If you don’t let them know, then they can’t help you.
Take hot drinks with you, to your lectures or to the library. Don’t spend all your money in the library cafe. Bring a flask of tea, and loads of study snacks in a packed lunch box. Trust me on this.
Make time to meet up with friends you haven’t seen in ages. Don’t wait for them to ask you. I make sure to socialise with my friends at least twice a week. And by socialise, I don’t mean getting blind drunk and going clubbing. Sit down and have lunch together. Chat. Get to know each other properly. Friendships formed over alcohol never last as long as friendships formed through actual conversation.
Do stuff that the university puts on for students. Join societies. Get involved. One of the best nights I ever had at university was a masquerade ball that my college put on. And for some reason, I’ve never done anything like that since then? And I don’t understand why! University is for making memories, and I don’t really have many!
Travel around your university town. If you’re university is on a campus, don’t let your life revolve around that one place. If you’ve travelled away from home to go to university, then make it worth your while! See the sights, be a tourist, get on a bus and go to a random town and buy ice cream.
Experiment. This is the time. Dye your hair blue, join a weird and random society and take up a hobby you’d never dreamed of. If you want to try drugs, make sure it’s a safe environment and do your research before hand. If you don’t want to do that kind of thing, then don’t judge other people for doing so.
Give yourself a day off per week. When you’re at university and you’ve got loads of work, it’s tempting to just work constantly - or at least, to work every day, if not all the time. But it’s so much better for your mental state to take a day off to just relax.
Keep up with your chores. When you’re stressed about an assignment, you don’t want to be also stressed about that pile of washing up accumulating by the sink. Keep your room tidy too - clear space, clear mind.
Be kind to everyone. You’re going to meet a lot of people at university, some you’re going to hit it off with immediately. But there will be some who really rub you up the wrong way. Don’t worry about it, it’s completely fine to not like someone. But don’t be mean to them. This isn’t high school, you’re all here to learn and there’s just no need to make them feel bad about themselves. It’s just petty and childish.
Think about the future. I know that you’re completely wrapped up in your university life right now, but you’re going to have to venture out into the real world at some point. Do things that might help your future career: volunteer, get a job, join a sports club, make connections. University isn’t, sadly, forever.
There you have it! The advice that I would have given myself in the first year of university. Whether you’re just about to start university, or whether you’re just about to leave, I hope this is useful to you.
excuses ive heard from people who did not want to watch the get down
idk, the plot looks boring –> it’s about ambitious young people who try to find a place in the society they were thrown into and i think anyone can relate to it
i watch too many shows! –> bruh, the first part of the season is only 6 episodes. i’m sure you can plan it in you schedule
i don’t know about hip hop or disco! –> me neither and it did not stop me from understanding the plot!
i don’t like musicals! –> it’s not Les Misérables, there is only like 4 major scenes where the characters sing/rap and it’s not corny in any way - it makes sense and the songs are hella catchy and amazing
so time to wake up y’all! part 2 is dropping on April 7th! just give it a try, i swear you’re gonna love it
The day is April 23rd, 2017. It’s an ordinary Sunday afternoon in London.
The crowd bustles, trains whirr, birds chirp.
Life in the city is business as usual.
Three teenage girls take photographs outside 187 North Gower Street, soaking in the ambiance of the Sherlock set. They step into Speedy’s for a cup of coffee.
The women lament over the loss of their favorite show. On March 8th, the BBC announced Sherlock would not be returning for a fifth series, and cowriters Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss were quick to assure their fans that it was time to lay the beloved program to rest.
But what the women saw next changed their lives forever.
warnings: lil bit of bryce the predator but mostly fluff and :)
a/n: this is my first time writing an imagine for Zach / 13 reasons why so !!!! I love ross butler !!!!!!!!!!!
“Y/N, come and join us!” You glanced over your shoulder, spotting the gang crowed into a circle in the sitting room but more specifically, you spotted Bryce who was waving you over.
You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as you told Clay you’d be back after a round of whatever they were playing. He nodded, turning to Hannah to continue their conversation and you left to join the rest of your friends.
You ignored Bryce who was insisting you sit beside him but you had very little trust in that boy, so instead you sat in the empty space beside Zach.
But Bryce was a persistent little guy, unused to the dismissal of his efforts from a girl and so he shooed the guy on your other side and seated himself next to you.
You rolled your eyes, relaxing your head back against the sofa to which Zach released a bout of laughter. You smiled, resting your head against Zach’s shoulder as you watched your friends decide on a game.
“Excuse me,” says the battle droid. R2 cannot roll his eyes, but he twitters in binary, something hard to translate but best summarized as:
you heard me arsehole [the literal translation here would be: human excrement funnel]
“I will shoot you,” says the other battle droid. B-1 models, flimsy in the face of a lightsabre – or a blaster, or a well-aimed stick – but more than a match for R2.
“No you won’t,” says the first one, “the General needs him.”
“Well at least let me threaten him a little,” pouts the second droid.
“It’s so –”
boring chips in R2 right, it’s boring?
“Yes!” says the first droid. And then he adds, more out of a sense of duty than any real conviction: “Republic scum.”
“It isn’t boring,” says the second droid. “Last week, Grevious killed my best friend. At least. I think he was my best friend. I can’t tell us apart, really.”
you have no names
“I’m B-1,” says the first droid.
“And I’m B-1,” says the second.
“Mass-produced,” says the first.
“Could be worse,” says the second.
I was mass produced, R2 says hurriedly. but Anakin takes care of me.
“What do you mean?”
I’ve never been shot for target practice, says R2, and I’m allowed a name and –
“It isn’t that bad,” says the first. Maybe the second. Hard to tell. “Anyway, you’re Republic scum and – “
The smack-shriek of a blaster. The first/second droid collapses, minus head. His companion says, “Never shot for target practice?” in a tone of voice that is, somehow, different.
never ever, says R2. my friends wouldn’t let it happen.
“Friends,” says the droid. “He wasn’t really my best friend. He just went on patrol with me more than the others and I got used to him. Familiar face, you know. When the General killed him – uh – I kind of felt….bad.”
wanna get out of here?
“Roger roger,” says the droid, with feeling. Then: “Roger. That’s a name, right?”
yup, says R2.
“Great. Great,” says Roger. Then he hesitates. “What’re your orders?”
I don’t order you – oh, fine, babysteps, look just get me out of here.
“And make sure that your Jedi doesn’t lightsabre me.”
Roger, roger, trills R2.
“Fuck you,” says Roger who, it seems, is a very fast learner.
Minseok: Getting his masters. Always grumbling when people are sick and won’t stop sneezing during lectures. Has 3 copies of the syllabus and carries a portfolio. “Hey, Minseok! Can I borrow a pencil?” “Use the one I let you “borrow” last week, Baekhyun.“ Petty. But still hands over his pencils. Complains about debt.
Junmyeon: Accounting major. Always late to class because he’s too busy helping people in the library or showing a family where the Financial Aid office is. Tries to help Yixing when he’s confused. Just ends up doing the assignments for him. "Professor? Are you still collecting the assignment?” Always wears glasses and the whole class is shook when he gets contacts.
Yixing: Biology major. You swear this dude works everywhere on campus: the book store, Rec center, Starbucks, and in the library. Always has on a hoodie, even in the summer. Sleeps in class. “Hey, when’s -insert important assignment due?” Looks confused 99% of the time. Somehow manages to pass.
Baekhyun: Business major. Never has shit for class and asks Minseok for stuff in exchange for Starbucks. “Can we watch a movie?” Says he can’t turn in an assignment because Blackboard “wasn’t working.” The whole class applauded when he brought a scantron to the final. Knows everyone’s business and tells Minseok the campus drama. Probably in a fraternity.
Chanyeol: Music major. Always has his earphones in. “Can we have class outside today?” Tries hard but everyone groans when he talks. Smells good even though he looks like he just rolled out of bed. Brings McDonalds to class.
Jongdae: Math major. Is bad at math. “This wasn’t on the syllabus!!” Always whining about something. Comes to class late with food and always leaves some kind of mess behind. Helps elderly professors open PowerPoints or carry their stuff to the employee parking lot.
Kyungsoo: Sociology major. Is too woke. Argues with the professor and stays after class to discuss the matter further. Wears black like he’s going to a funeral. Looks like he’s always ready to fight someone. Seems mean, but he always shares his Hot Cheetos or gum.
Jongin: Kinesiology major. Has slept the entire semester. Shows up to the final in pajamas. "Is there an online version of the book?” Never shows up to study sessions for the group presentations or replies to texts. Still does better than everyone else on the presentation. You see him at graduation and are like “?? How?!”
Sehun: Undeclared major. Came into college with credits already. Is always late but has long winded excuses. “The bus left me!” “Sehun, nobody cares. Sit down.” Is tall but sits in the front and blocks your view of the board. “Is there gonna be extra credit?” Stops showing up to class until the end of the semester. Barely passes.
Summary: Dean wants to take the relationship to another level. Would the Reader want to take that risk or will she back out?
Word Count: 1.8kish
Warnings: AU, Fluff, Light Cursing
Author’s Note: Here is the second part of Pen Pals! If you want to catch up, read the first part here –> Part One. I hope you guys like this chapter. I’m sorry for not posting it fast enough. Life got in the way and I had to stop everything for a cool minute. I hope you enjoy this and feedback is always welcomed!!
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natalia Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker
Warnings for this fic: Angst, eventual smut in future chapters (slow burn), running away, profanity, violence.
Word count for this chapter: 1,759 (IM SORRY)
Captain James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was a peculiar man, how he sailed the seas for most of his 27 years. He was born at sea, he would most likely die at sea. All pirates, including those in the farthest corners of the maps, had heard of the infamous Captain. You? You were the governor’s daughter, secretly hoping to be taken out to seas and to be set free.
“Why are you looking at me like that, dear?” Your father asked, his face bearing confusion.
“Oh, do excuse me father, I was.. day dreaming… may I be excused from the dinner table?” Your father gave you a curt nod as you exited the dining hall. Your father was a Governor, therefore you lived in a luxury house, big enough to fit a whole crew of men, you could wonder the premises for hours, but growing up doing just that deemed you bored, trapped even.
Living in Port Royal gave you barely any benefits, indeed, there were beautiful landscapes to be painted, warm sand beaches to be walked upon, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to explore further than the village fences, the harbor docks, into the sea that waved at you, tempting you to come closer, closer. You would give anything to be set free of the corsets and the courtship, to be free to roam the ocean as you please, discovering new places and the thrill of being a…nevermind.
You had heard stories of countless pirates, Captain Tony Stark of the Mighty Veronica, a large ship painted crimson and gold, with white sails and cannons filled with such powerful gunpowder one hit from a three barrel could split another vessel in half. From Captain Rogers, an ex-commodore, to Captain Romanoff with co-Captain Barton, better known as the Hawkeye of the seas due to his skills as a perfect shot with a pistol, you had heard extraordinary things from the men that survived on.
As a little girl, you were brought up by the maids in the household as your mother had died during childbirth. You barely left the god-forsaken island, it was very rare to go on even a short voyage with your father and his men, ’having a woman on board is bad luck.’ and only to return empty handed and deprived of proper contact with the outside world.
You were sheltered and innocent, men of the guard pined after for you since you grew a bust and shed your baby fat, you understood the means of their stares after you asked your chambermaid, Marie, what it meant to be a ‘tight little virgin’ as the men would whisper amongst themselves as you walked by. You knew very well what a kiss was, in fact, you had had a kiss indeed, your dear childhood friend Peter Parker had bestowed a secret kiss upon you on your 16th birthday, underneath the main dock, though there was no 'spark’ on your end, therefore you had to tell him that his feelings were unrequited, he never stopped being your friend, though.
You came to know Peter after you had saved his life, he had been thrown overboard from the ship he had been sailing on, alongside his father, had been blown up from the below deck gunpowder barrels.
“Father, look, a boy!” You had gasped, your father had rushed to your side and bellowed man overboard, a team of men upon the vessel had reeled him in and left him under your charge.
He was handsome, to say the least, as your hand brushed his forehead, he grabbed your wrist-
“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m watching over you.” You spoke in a hushed tone.
The boy had coughed out a spluttered 'Peter Parker’ before falling unconscious once more.
Bucky Barnes was many things, wealthy, handsome, 'built like god himself’ as some women would say as he swaggered past them in the night, also a skilled thief nonetheless. But he was a shell of a man, plagued by the things he witnessed whilst sailing the doldrums of the ocean. As he moored his ship by the docks of Port Royal he briefly tipped the manager and his assistant a shilling each to keep their mouths shut about him and his men, and that his name was Captain William Pintel, he had ordered his crew to change the sails to white before they got anywhere near the border of the island the sails to white so they could conceal their identities.
He had come to trade, to drink, and maybe get a little bit of action for the night before being on his way to Haiti. He was a wanted man, he had liberated slaves when he was not supposed to, and that resulted in him becoming branded a pirate. The brand grew on him, and he became exactly what he was called, he had grown tired of trying to be the perfect man of the sea and broke the code instead, he sought trouble wherever he went and that was his way of living.
Though Port Royal was not a large area, it was densely populated and it was guarded heavily, with men walking around the village with their guns and bayonets. Bucky had his head hung low as he made his way through the crowds with one of his men, Sam, a man of colour whom Bucky had freed alongside the rest of the slaves.
He needed a sword.
You looked out of your window to see a dark ship rolling towards Port Royal, you could see the white sails calling to you at your bedroom window. The temptation to leave everything behind was screaming at you, beckoning you to go, liberty was practically screaming your name, bobbing up and down, you needed a disguise, you couldn’t board that bloody ship wearing a dress like this, it would blow your cover.
You had hastily run to your kitchen and fetched a satchel and filled it with essentials. you escaped out of your household in seconds towards the blacksmiths, where Peter should be. As you neared the large wooden doors of the building, you peaked through the gap and saw nothing, heard nothing, even. So you pushed open the door, he wasn’t there, you checked in the back room where he stayed; nothing, you rummaged through a small crate and found a pair of trousers and a shirt, you slipped off your dress and underclothes and shoved them under the bed, freeing your hair from its pins and letting it fall loosely on your shoulders and changed into the borrowed clothing..
You left the room feeling a little lighter, but a weight fell onto your shoulders as you realized you needed to tell Peter where you were going, being your best friend, he deserved to know, he didn’t deserve to worry. You grabbed a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink and a quill.
I’m sorry but by the time you read this I will be gone, I’m boarding a ship at the dock and never returning, I plan to find a new life, to branch out and roam the world to no end. I hate to leave you behind, I love you very much- the ship is black with white sails, it has a red star on the side also, if you ever need to find me, look for it.
All my love,
P.s. Please, don’t tell my father.
You could heard the door begin to open and you legged it to the back door, you didn’t know who it was but you prayed to the gods it wasn’t Peter, it was too soon, and it was easy for him to spot you in a crowd, he would catch you instantly, so you ran.
Bucky sauntered into the deserted blacksmiths, he peaked around to see if anyone was in there, but it was silent, he could smell the burnt out coal and could tell it had been deserted for hours, though, he came across a freshly written letter and noticed that his ship was mentioned in said letter. He was aware he was a wanted man, what if this was a trap? What if the company knew he was here? Breadcrumbs, you had accidentally left the first, so he took the affects he needed and ran towards his ship.
A girl upon my ship, this should be interesting… Bucky thought to himself.
As he arrived to the dock he could see the red faced manager run to him, “Captain Pintel!! A girl… has boarded… your ship… Sir!!” He huffed, Bucky pushed him aside and climbed onto his vessel, making sure he was as silent as a mouse.
He looked everywhere, and there was no sign of a girl. None of his crew saw a tresspasser, and begin to move the ship out of the dock on captain’s orders.
You tried to still your breathing as you saw the handsome man search upon his ship for the intruder, you were hiding behind a rum barrell as he neared. You could hear his footsteps come to a halt, thinking he had given up, then you felt yourself being yanked up by the collar of your shirt, being pushed again the wall of the ship. His large hand came up and his fingers wrapped around your throat as the other rested against the sword handle on his belt all you could do was stand there.
He was strong, you dared not to move an inch incase he added pressure to the hand on your throat. You mapped his features; dark hair, full lips, tantalizing blue eyes, you realied who this man was, it was Captain James Barnes, the most wanted man on the map, you knew this because you heard stories around the village, from men and women alike.
“Well, well, well, what pretty little thing do we have here?” He smirked, bringing a finger to tease one of your locks, “what’s your name, doll?”
“Y/N Y/L/N, s-sir.” You spluttered, you brought your hands up to try and pry his one off your throat.
“Uh-oh.. the Governor’s daughter, hm? Tsk tsk, oh darling, you’re in for a- you shouldn’t dig your nails into my skin, sweetheart, I saw your little letter in the blacksmiths and I won’t hesitate to take you back sweetheart, or maybe… dump you in the middle of the ocean?” He inhaled and tightened his grip around your throat, and narrowed the proximity between both your faces.
“Please- Sir I’ll do anything, please just let me come with you.” You hoped he wouldn’t turn out too bad, if he let you stay, but if he didn’t…
“Well, miss Y/L/N, welcome aboard the St. Brooklyn…”
A/N SOOOO that was the first chapter i hope you like it if people want me to continue im gonna need hella motivation!
Genre: Graphic smut, this is pure filth, i am not sorry, ceo!namjoon
Word Count: 5.3k
A/N: this shoot had me feeling all sorts of ways. don’t tempt me into making this a series because i very well could lol oops rip me. Also, this is unedited. I will be coming back to it to make edits once I finally sleep
You stood behind the podium and stared out into the boardroom. The group of unamused business men clad in suits that costs 6 months of your rent stared back at you. The youthful face of the CEO stood out amongst the wrinkled frowns of everyone else in the room. You tried not to stare, or at least not let him notice you were staring. You had been working for this corporation for 3 months but you still hadn’t gotten used to the idea that Namjoon was your boss. Granted, there weren’t many CEO’s in their 20’s anyway.
But he was handsome. His dirty blonde hair always sat messily upon his head. Thick black framed glasses sat perfectly on his face while two dimples frame the sides of his perfect lips. Not that you had notice his perfect lips to begin with. Namjoon was your boss, a mantra that you had to remind yourself on a daily basis because if it weren’t for that then you would certainly be wanting to get him in the supply closet. But Namjoon was your boss.
Taking a deep breath, you started your presentation. It seemed like all the knowledge your fancy degree had given you went out the window as soon as you started to speak. You weren’t even sure if it was english, but before you knew it you had reached the last slide. Silence filled the room as the men in suits took in the last of your words. “Any questions?” you asked.
There was no response. Just pairs of empty eyes staring back at you. The overwhelming feeling of failure creeped into your bones as you stood awkwardly in place, unsure of what to do. Finally, the grumpiest of all the men raised an eyebrow and started to speak, “How is this relevant to our company? The ideas you are proposing are very provocative, but we don’t run the business this way. It seems a little out of reach, don’t you think?”
Many years ago, I used to be a feminist. At first it was merely a “yeah, girl power! Feminism!” kind of thing. And then I moved back home from an abusive relationship, and started hanging out with one of my best friends more often. He was one of the few guys that was a genuine friend and didn’t want to try to get into my pants. Or so I thought. After several months, having found some peace and routine with him, he brought up the prospect of being anything more. Thing is, I felt nothing for him in that aspect. I mentioned this, told him that it wouldn’t feel right forcing myself to be in a relationship with him when I didn’t actually see him in a romantic way and that it would only be cruel to him. He was disheartened, but he didn’t bring it up again for a while.
He was a pharmacy student who was on the cusp of graduation. He studied well and had high grades, and part of our hangout routine was him using his homework and notes to “teach” me (I didn’t really pay attention, but it helped him to better understand his material). One weekend - Halloween, actually, as I will always remember it - he was picking me up from my place so we could spend a few days lounging and playing video games. His car broke down and we spent hours waiting for the tow truck. The next night, we were playing video games per usual. He asked about whether or not I wanted to go somewhere and do something different. I told him that, understanding his financial situation, it would be best if we just continued with our normal routine. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I figured “Hey, he must just be bored and stressed.” He seemed flustered and excused himself to get us some drinks from downstairs.
He came back with some drinks. I remember that mine tasted odd. I chalked it up to flat soda and allergies to the cats. Soon after, I got extremely tired. I thought it was because I hadn’t slept a few days and it was catching up to me, and I was with someone that I trusted.
I woke up feeling weird. My clothes were gone, I was in his bed, and he was on top of me. His tongue was down my throat. Every ounce of trust I had went down the drain. I was enraged. He was the ONLY male I had trusted. He was my best friend. I hardly trusted my own father to not hurt me at this point in my life because of how rocky our relationship had been. The man I had just left was sexually, physically, and emotionally abusive. This man, the man I so foolishly had considered my best friend, had broken every ounce of trust. I don’t even know the full extent to what he had done to me. But I demanded a ride home.
I never went to the police because I didn’t think they would believe me and at the time I still cared for him as a friend. I didn’t understand at the time everything that had happened. It didn’t completely sink in for years that he had drugged me. It didn’t sink in that he was the one who took off my clothes, that he had touched me in places he knew I would never allow. And I didn’t want to ruin his life over it. But it hit deep enough that I began to hate all men. Every one of them.
A couple of months later, after barring him completely from my life, I was hanging out with my female best friend. She took me out with two of her male friends, who I didn’t like or trust. And a guy that I’d liked from high school met us at the place we were hanging out. He pulled me off to a secluded area and started kissing me. At first I didn’t mind. He was cute, and seeing him kind of rekindled the old flame. But then he wouldn’t stop. And I started pushing him away from me, but he would pull me closer. I’d tell him to stop, and he would tell me that I didn’t really want that. I started struggling and yelling.
My best friend with her friends came across us. I came to find out that she didn’t know he had taken me away and had been looking for us. He friends separated us. I was crushed, because once again a man had broken my trust. My friend, instead of consoling me, lashed out at him. Accused him of “using me to get to her because he knew she liked him.” She didn’t try to make sure I was okay. But her friends did. Her two male friends, who I hadn’t liked simply on the basis that they were male, told me that if they had known the extent to which things had happened they would have beaten his ass instead of telling him to leave. One, who had just gotten out of jail, said that if I knew where the guy lived he would be more than willing to go back to protect me from the guy. These two men were more understanding than she had been.
They took me home. I was too shaken up to be fun. My dad saw how I was, and asked me what happened. The guy worked with my father. I told my dad what he did. He asked me what I wanted to do. My only words were “I want him to go away.” My dad said he could make that happen. And he did. The guy moved to California within the month.
I began having doubts about whether or not all men deserved to be hated simply because of their penis.
Months later, I began going to school the place my dad worked at. I realized that a lot of the ladies there liked my father. He wouldn’t ever do anything to return this “friendliness” from the women. My father prided himself on being professional. He was a completely different person than he was at home. One of the women who consistently tried to advance on my father began to feel spurned. So she and some of the other girls conspired together. They made false accusations about my father. Saying he would touch them and speak inappropriately to them. The school wouldn’t even listen to my father. They wouldn’t even allow him to defend himself. “The accusation alone is proof enough” were their official words. They made him resign.
My father began working as the general manager of a chain of luxury refinery. The girls that he hired took a liking to him, and when he turned down their advancements, they did the same. They accused him of sexually harassing them. When he didn’t. Once again, he was forced to resign. “This has happened twice. If it happens again, we will be forced to revoke your license.” Once again, they didn’t even allow him to defend himself. They wouldn’t see the video footage of him telling them to stop. They wouldn’t see the texts of him telling them to calm down. Because he was male.
And I realized that I, as a woman, held more power than any man ever could. I realized that all it took was mere words to destroy a man’s life. That wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t oppression, not on a woman’s part. I realized that there were shitty men and shitty women. But there was no shortage of good men either. And there was no shortage of good women.
My resentment for men faded, and it faded fast. My resentment for feminism grew for forcing me to be so scared of men, because despite my terrible experiences there were men who were willing to go to prison to defend a woman that they hadn’t known for more than five hours.
My entire point is that you are allowed to be hurt by your past experiences. You are allowed to feel, to grow past it. But don’t harbor the hatred. Don’t turn it against the people who didn’t actually do anything to you. If a man abuses you in any way, shape, or form, it’s on him. It isn’t on the shoulders of every other man in existence.
Misandry isn’t the answer. Don’t let your fear turn into hatred, please. Learn to grow past it. Because no matter how scared you are, there are people strong enough to protect you, who are willing to do so in the blink of an eye. People who don’t even know you who still love you enough to treat you like family. And it’s not their fault that there are fucked up people. People, not just men. People.
instead of bruce constantly running off in the middle of batcat dates to go dish out some vigilante justice, imagine selina constantly blowing bruce off to hang out with the gotham rogues and each time he gets more and more frustrated
bruce: hey selina we still on for tonight? selina: sorry bruce i promised i’d drive harley to airport. rain check? bruce: sure don’t worry about it
bruce: i reserved a table for 7pm tonight and- selina: ooooh sorry, bruce, i totally forgot. eddie just got a new cat and that man CANNOT look after another living thing without intervention. bruce: another rain check?
bruce: thought i’d check before i actually booked the table this time and- selina: about that… tonight’s the rogues christmas party. i said i’d go so ivy wasn’t bored out of her mind, hope it’s ok that we- bruce: ….it’s fine.
bruce: should i even ask if we can-? selina: no can do bruce, i have a lunch date with freeze and i wanna see how he’s doing- bruce: [hangs up]
bruce: alright selina for the last time, are you really serious about dating me? or are all these excuses just your way of saying you want to break up? let me guess, poker night with two-face and penguin? selina: …….. i was gunna say i’m free at 9pm but if you’re gunna be like that…
Prompt: As Clark Kent’s best friend and kind of sister you’re used to the strange. Still seeing him get cozy with Wonder Woman is more strange than you’re used to. So when the chance to cozy up to a billionaire playboy comes around, who are you to say no?
When that knock wakes you up at three in the morning, you consider killing whoever is on the other side. You pull yourself out of bed, your comforter wrapped around your shoulders, and make your way to the door.
You open is to find Clark, Diana, and an unconscious Batman between them. An unconscious Batman who is bleeding all over your floor. You look them in the eye, and ask, “You realize I’m a photographer and not a doctor, right?”
Clark rolls his eyes, and pushes his way inside. “Duly noted. The bleeding has stopped for the most part, but he’s under some sort of alien drug. Hal got a cure, but it’ll be a while before he comes out of it.”
You close the door behind them, “So you need a place to stash him?”
Clark shrugs, “He’s part of the team, and he’s damn good at what he does.”
You blink as Clark puts him on the couch, “You were just complaining about him yesterday.”
“You complain about your sister all the time.”
“My sister is an entirely different matter.”
“Clark.” Diana’s voice is soft, a reminder.
He let’s out a deep breath, “Right. We have to go. We’ll collect him in a few hours. Stay inside and don’t get yourself killed.”
You wave him off, and turn on the T.V. knowing that you won’t be getting back to sleep. You collapse in your armchair and watch the chaos unfold. You’re more than a little bitter that Clark hadn’t given you a heads up that something was going down. Your passion was photography, and things like this called your name. To tell the story of what was happening. The true story.
After about six hours, you guest begins to stir. You glance at him, as he sits up. You meet his gaze and he simply says, “You’re Clark’s friend.”
You nod, “Change of clothes is in the bathroom, feel free to shower too.” He stares at you, and you stare back, “I already know the secret identities of ninety percent of the League. One more won’t kill me.”
His voice is gruff, “It might.”
You shrug, “Then don’t. Sit there in the blood and filth on my couch. I’m going to make Clark buy me a new one anyway.”
His lips quirk slightly, “Are you now?”
You smile, “My guests are mainly reporters, they tend to pick up on things like blood stains.”
You watch him leave for the bathroom, and listen as the shower turns on. Your attention remains on the TV, while you pull out the breakfast fixings; cereal, bread, milk, butter, bowls. After about twenty minutes the doors opens and you stare at the man standing in your bathroom doorway.
He raises one eyebrow and asks, “Are you surprised?”
You screw your mouth into a pondering look, “Not completely. Makes sense, who else would have the money for Batman’s toys. Bruce Wayne fits.”
He nods before moving into the kitchen, and pouring himself a bowl of cereal, his eyes remain glued to the television screen, “How bad is it?”
“Not the worst thing to have happened. They’re in cleanup mode right now.” You take a bite of cereal.
“And whose clothes am I wearing?”
He nods, “Excellent. Then it really will be his fault when I kill him.”
You hide your smile behind a spoonful of cereal, “Not a fan of plaid and blue jeans.”
His scowl said it all, “I’m not a fan of him continually asking me out to his family farm to relax. And insisting I’m made for farm life.”
You can’t help it, you laugh, “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s been hit in the head one too many times.”
“You don’t think I’m made for farm life.”
You smile, “You have city boy written all over you. You’d survive, you’ve been through worse. But you’d be bored within minutes, and murderous by the time lunch hits. I’m the same way, and I grew up in Smallville.”
He raises an eyebrow and asks, “Thrill seeker?”
You shrug, “I’m a photographer. A damn good one. It allows me to go where I want, when I want.”
“I bet the boy scout loves that.”
You scowl, “He’s the over protective brother I never asked for.”
You shake your head, “one younger sister. We’re not on speaking terms. Parents have been in and out of jail since I was a kid. My grandmother raised me. But she was up there in years, and could only do so much. The Kent’s were nice enough to help out.”
He grins at you, before pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes flicking to the television screen. You sit there in silence for several minutes before his phone rings. You listen as he talks, assuring the person on the other line that he’s fine.
You meet his gaze unashamed as he hangs up. He smirks at you, “Looking to write a tell all?”
You smirk, “Clark does the writing, I just take the pictures. That being said, a picture of Bruce Wayne in jeans would set me up for quite a while.”
He smiles back, “Or you could let me take you to dinner.”
You raise an eyebrow, “You really want Clark to kill you, don’t you?”
He answers your question with one of his own, “Aren’t you a thrill seeker?”
“Absolutely. But something tells me that you, Bruce Wayne, may very well be the adventure of my life.”