james potter: tired eyes. soft smile. will have coffee at any time of day, during any season. likes the sunshine and light warmth. wears button up shirts with the first two buttons unbuttoned. sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
spinning a muggle pen between his fingers when he’s lost in thought. neatly clipped fingernails. always has a packet of mints on him. says the word “fuck” a lot. doodles on the corner of his class notes. likes to jog alone to clear his mind.
sirius black: hard shell but a soft heart. somehow always has a scar. owns six pairs of leather jackets. carries food with him everywhere he goes. loud laughter. never has extra parchment with him. textbooks are filled with underlines and circles. says “fuckin’ hell” a lot. shirt half tucked in. always wears the same pair of combat boots. will punch anyone to defend his friends. his first tattoo was of a lion on his shoulder blade.
remus lupin: a smile that often doesn’t reach his eyes. bites his bottom lip a lot. shirt tucked in. sometimes wrinkled, sometimes pressed. textbooks are filled with four different colored highlights. bites down on the highlighter cap and pulls the marker out. drinks a lot of water. sweater is worn out but he wears it anyway. mutters “shit” under his breath a lot. gentle laugh. subconsciously cracks his knuckles. likes to sit by the fire.
peter pettigrew: full of energy. chuckles a lot at other people’s jokes, even if he doesn’t understand them. finger taps on tables when he is bored. subconsciously chews on his fingernails. loves rainstorms. reads a new novel every week. often wearing slippers. doesn’t like too attention on him. walks around the lake alone. always getting late night snacks. doesn’t like to swear. carries a small packet of tissues with him.
Is there ever a good reason to turn your back on someone in a close-up fight (like spinning around or whatever) that isn't running away?
Okay, the Hollywood spin that you see in a lot of fight scenes is bunk. These random spins are just there because spinning is dynamic and looks better on screen.
The answer to your question is that we don’t really spin to dodge attacks, we utilize spins to gain momentum. If you take into consideration that power comes from the momentum of
your body in motion, then spinning and jumping lend themselves to more
Spinning techniques open up a can of worms when talking about real fights, not really whether or not they work. That’s not up for debate. The question is, should you risk it? It’s a combat philosophy question.
This is about risk versus reward.
Spin kicks and jump kicks are the more advanced versions of the basic and the intermediary kicks. Any spinning or jump technique will have a version on the ground that must be learned first. The more complexity is added to a technique, the more your fundamentals and basics become important. A sloppy hook kick will translate into a sloppy spinning hook kick. The more force there is at play then the greater the risk of injury to yourself if you mess up. Broken ankles, fractured toes, broken legs, busted or blown knees, torn tendons are all risks beyond just the standard pulled leg muscles.
Remember, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The more force you generate to put into someone else, the greater the chance that same force has of rebounding on you. Poor technique increases the chance of injury, but there is no way to ever do any of these techniques in complete safety. You have to trust yourself and your ability to perform.
Jump kicks, spin kicks, spinning hand strikes, and flying punches exist as techniques across multiple martial arts disciplines. The body in motion creates momentum which is the source of power. When you spin, or run, or jump, you create a lot more momentum then you will from a standing position. These techniques are the more powerful upgrades of their non-jumping, non-spinning, ground based counterparts.
Someone flying at you can break your bones, and its potentially lethal. There are dozens of videos from kickboxing matches and taekwondo tournaments showcasing knockouts from wheel kicks and 360 degree jump roundhouses. The wheel kick or spinning hook kick can and does knock people out in sparring matches, tournaments, and professional fights.
A landed kick will drive the force of the blow through the headgear or head protection meant to soften the impact. If they manage to land the wheel kick while jumping then it is even stronger than it was on the ground. Spinning and jumping combine into the ultimate power up. The art of the flying death kick is not a joke. Well, not completely. Lots of martial arts styles have their own variants on spin techniques, from spinning kicks to spinning backfists and even elbows. We can go back and forth debating in what context they work, but they do exist. They do work, and they populate many different martial styles.
Spin kicks, jump kicks, jump spin kicks, any spinning technique is risky business. They’re powerful finishers. They can be used as openers, but if you fail then you leave yourself wide open. Most of the time you’re going to need to set your spins up via combinations to create the necessary openings in your opponent’s defense.
That said, turning your back on your opponent is a bad idea. Running
away in close quarters when you haven’t created an opening is a terrible
one. The same is true for spin techniques. You need great timing and
the ability to create openings in order to pull them off. The crux of
the issue is: they’re high risk, high reward.
When we perform a spin kick is we’re turning our back on our opponent and trusting they’ll still be there by the time we’ve finished our turn. Your opponent is never just going to stand there and let you hit them. You’ve got to make sure they’re not going anywhere first.
The combat philosophy on spin techniques varies from individual to individual. Some will say never do it as what you get isn’t worth the risk, and others will do it and make it work. You’ve got to decide for yourself if the benefits outweigh the risks.
For writers, especially ones without experience, it’s important to understand that spinning jump kicks are among the most difficult kicking techniques. Spinning is advanced martial arts. If your character doesn’t come out of a strong kicking discipline, it’s unlikely they’ll ever consider you using them. Even if they do, they may decide they’re too risky.
If you, the writer haven’t figured out how the basic kicks like the front kick, the roundhouse, and the sidekick work then wrapping your head around the mechanics of a spin kick is going to be difficult. This is before we get to the combat applications of when or how we use kicks like the wheel kick, the spinning jump roundhouse, or the popup back kick.
And that’s okay if you look at these kicks, think they’re awesome, and when you sit down to try to write what you saw get confused by how they work. The advanced kicks are mysteries to the white belts too. That’s normal.
Mechanically, these kicks are fairly complex. Sometimes, there’s switching between the legs that happens. Multiple body parts are all moving at the same time. With the wheel kick, you turn and look over your shoulder, lift your leg, extend your leg, and spin in one almost simultaneous spin. You need to spin while balanced entirely on one leg, not overextend, not be thrown out of whack by your own momentum, and not be destabilized by sudden contact with another object that’s not moving.
It is not uncommon when learning these kicks to lose your balance and fall over, to experience vertigo, lose track of your target and get really dizzy. You stumble, you fall, you get scared. It can very be intimidating.
Writers, if you find yourself looking at these techniques and getting confused don’t worry about it. You’re seeing kicks that are studied between blue (in TKD basic popup kicks, axe kick, crescent kick), brown to red (wheel kick, jump axe kick, jump crescent kick, jump wheel kick, and advanced popups), and black belt (kicks like tornado kick, the 540, and the 720). These are kicks learned two to four years into a student’s training, when they have a strong foundation. Don’t get down on yourself for not being a black belt if you’ve never done martial arts.
Ironically, the best way to train your pen is start with writing the basic kicks and work up. If you can figure out the application for the back kick and the hook kick in a written scene, you’ll begin understanding the wheel kick.
If you want to watch the knockouts in action, here are some videos. (Warning: do not watch any of the following videos if you are uncomfortable with watching real human beings, some of whom are minors get knocked out.)
If you want to watch a lot of these in action then look up videos like The Best Taekowndo Knockouts KO. Or this Tornado Kick KO (360 degree jump roundhouse) from MMA. Lawrence Kenshin did a decent breakdown of these kicks. (Learning the Tornado Kick was how I fractured my tibia when I was twelve.)
About the anon's ask on whether non-theropod bipedal dinosaurs could pronate their hands: I thought theropods were unable to pronate because of the semilunate carpal and non-theropod dinosaurs don't have it? So they probably could pronate? At least that's what the palaeontologist of our uni/the city's museum told me when I asked her that same question.
Nope! Only (some?) maniraptors have semilunate carpals; the rest don’t. Being unable to pronate is actually the ancestral condition, dating may back to the days of early tetrapods. Look at this agama:
Now imagine it bringing its arms together like a dinosaur. It actually doesn’t have pronated hands! And why would it need to? If you’re walking with sprawled legs, you’ve got no reason to have hands that do that - they’d be facing straight out, which doesn’t do much good.
The problem arose when early archosaurs began walking with erect postures. The earliest dinosaurs were all bipedal omnivores, so their hands could be used to catch prey, grab branches, etc.. The trade-off, though, was that they could no longer walk quadrupedally.
As evolution progressed certain groups evolved more and more towards herbivory and quadrupedality. In the case of sauropods their bigger guts necessitated them moving onto all fours; ornithischians were able to shift their weight backwards by flipping a bone in the pelvis, but various groups, because of armour or giant heads, eventually did have to move onto all fours as well.
(Giraffititan foot [and skull])
In the case of sauropods and eurypods (Stegosaurs+Ankylosaurs!), this was accomplished by rotating the hand to face downward. Note that this doesn’t mean they could turn their hands like we do - their hands were more or less locked in this position.
(Hadrosaur left manus and pes prints overlaid)
Styracosternans and ceratopsians did something similar, but never fully rotated the manus. From bones and footprints we know that their hands were turned at more of a 45-degree angle. Again, they would’ve been more or less locked in this position.
The reason we can rotate our hands is because of part of our forearm. Rotate your wrist once. You can’t actually do it – look again, and you’ll see that you’re not actually turning your hand, but the front half of your forearm. This is possible because you have two bones in your forearm and, crucially, they can rotate past each other. All of this is due to a clever little trick of evolution - the radial “neck” seen above, which lets it spin around at the elbow.
(Human forearm - elbow is at the top, and is at the bottom)
This part, in 3D, is actually pretty much a dead cylinder, so it functions as a joint. Most tetrapods don’t really have this feature, and so cannot turn their hands like we can!
The question is simple on the surface, asked in the lilting, dreamy tone that Rina uses for everything that happens outside of a fight. She’s a beautiful flower of a girl, the finest rose ever to grow in the gardens of Jupiter. No one had expected her to be chosen as her planet’s protector. The good money had been on her younger sister, which would have put Sailor Jupiter a year behind her cohort, yes, but age differences among the Senshi are not unknown–have even helped to forge some of the strongest teams in the long history of the solar system–and Rina had always seemed singularly unsuited for the battlefield.
It was a concern that has been proven groundless over and over again. Rina may be a dreamer, but when she calls thorns up from the soil, she can destroy the enemies of Crystal Tokyo with as much efficiency as any soldier since the dawn of the second Silver Millennium. She is a soldier to her core, this dainty little figure with rose briars in her hair, and so her questions are given the same weight that is afforded to any of the others.
Masami is the first to answer, twisting a ribbon of flame between her fingers as she says, “I hope not.”
“Why?” Rina frowns as she turns, the motion knocking flower petals from the rose-colored cascade of her hair. "Don’t you want to be remembered?“
"Becoming a legend means fighting something so big, so terrible, that no one dares forget about it, lest it come again. I don’t want that. I want to fight small battles, the kind you can defeat before dinner. The kind that never get anywhere near our Princess.” Masami shakes her head. "She deserves better than to live in a time of legends. We all do.“
"Don’t you want to live up to the legacy of your planet? Don’t you want children to argue over who gets to be Mars when they play at recess?”
Masami smiles. "No. Let them fight over Uranus and Neptune and Mercury, if they want to play at living now; they fight enough to be Mars when they play at living in the past. Mars is beloved enough without making me its latest legend. I am at peace with the Senshi who came before me.“
"Easy to say, when they don’t point at you and call you the weak one,” murmurs Rina. The dreaminess is gone from her tone, replaced by something darker: bitterness. Regret.
Masami sits up straighter. "What are you saying?“
"That maybe Jupiter chose wrong.” Rina stands, shedding more flower petals as she goes. "Maybe my planet would have been happier with someone who could be a legend.“
"You don’t know what you’re–”
“I think she knows exactly what she’s saying, don’t you?” There’s nothing dreamy about this question. This question is bright, painful cheer, the kind of brilliance that blinds without enlightening. Masami stiffens.
There’s time, she thinks, her hand inching toward her transformation wand.
When the heel slams down on her wrist, grinding the bones against the ground, she doesn’t scream. She’s proud of herself for that, for an instant. Then all the world is burning light, and she’s screaming, and there’s nothing to be proud of anymore. Nothing at all.
Natsuki rarely transforms. She rarely needs to. The Moon is at peace, and with it, the solar system; there are no dangers within or without for her to face. She still trains with her Senshi, and watches as they train with her mother’s Senshi. She enjoys the feeling of strength and swiftness and, yes, serenity that comes with her transformation–but her time needs a Princess more than they need another soldier, and so she most often stands by her mother’s side, head bowed in polite deference, trying not to think about the day when all this will be her responsibility. When she’ll trade her name for a crown and become Queen Serenity, just like her mother before her, and her mother’s mother before that, and back, and back, all the way to the beginning of everything.
Sometimes she wishes she’d lived in an earlier time, a time of legends, a time of battles that would actually need one more warrior for love and justice. But most of the time she’s happy to be who she is, to be when she is, a daughter of the moon, nothing less and nothing more. Most of the time.
When Mars and Jupiter are ripped away from her–her first Senshi and her last, her courage and her innocence, without whom she barely knows how to stand–the loss strikes her like a physical blow. She falls to her knees in the hall, eyes blank, hands useless at her sides, the Silver Crystal pulsing in her chest. She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. How is it that there’s so much air in the world, so much air all around her, and she can’t breathe?
Their absence is a hole in her heart. She barely finds her feet, barely finds the strength to grasp her locket and thrust her hand into the air. "Moon.“
That’s the beginning, yes. That’s who she is. Sailor Moon, Moon Princess, Natsuki, daughter of Serenity, who will be Queen. She has it.
It hurts, it hurts so badly. She can’t do this without them. She was never supposed to lose them. This isn’t the time of legends. Her grandmother passed the crown in peace, fading as Serenitys always fade when their time is done, when the phase of the moon changes under their feet. Her Senshi are her handmaids, her protectors, not her peers. They’re supposed to be here. They’re not supposed to leave her.
She’s never had power. She’s never needed power. She’s a princess, pretty and perfect and cosseted and raised in love, in love, in lo–
The ribbons wrap themselves around her, pink and blazing and perfect, as they have always been, each time they wrapped themselves around a daughter of Serenity’s line. They count from the second Serenity, the one who truly founded the line that may last from here until forever; the one who knew love was a gift, and not a weapon. There was no need for a Sailor Moon before the first Queen Serenity did her best to break the universe. Sailor Moon healed it. She has always been the Sailor of Healing, of Love, of Justice. Of Necessity. She is so much stronger than she knows. She has to be.
The ribbons draw tight and Natsuki is gone, Sailor Moon in her place, moonlight-colored hair drawn into high odango, formal gown replaced by a skirt short enough to fight in, shoes designed to absorb the shock of her jumps, top tight enough to support her spine and protect her internal organs. She gasps, glittering with the bright and terrible power of transformation, and runs. Her Senshi need her.
Kaito and Souma walk hand in hand along the shore of the lunar sea. Kaito hums to herself, and even untransformed, hears the sea humming sweetly back. Souma is silent, but watches her with sloe-eyed adoration. The wind that tangles in Kaito’s hair might as well be Souma’s fingers, pushing it away from the shorter Senshi’s face, leaving every scrap of her clear to view.
“See something you like?” asks Kaito.
“Always,” says Souma, and grasps her elbow, spinning her out, pulling her back, until Kaito is pressed against Souma’s chest, the two of them tangled in each other’s arms as they have been for so beautifully much of their lives. Yoshiko rolled her eyes when they first came to her for training, until she found ways to chain wind and waves together, to turn two Senshi would refused to be parted into a single hyper-efficient weapon. Not that they’ve ever been needed in that way; not that any of them have ever been needed in that way. They live in peacetime. They are Souma and Kaito before they are Uranus and Neptune, and they are happy. Sweet stars, they’re happy.
Let the girls who stand closer to the Princess dream of becoming legends, of facing great dangers and carrying out noble missions. Saturn leads. Mars and Mercury advise. Jupiter restores. Pluto watches. And Neptune and Uranus love. What more could be asked of the protectors of a Princess?
The wind blows, carrying the scent of ice and emptiness. Souma stiffens. Kaito catches it immediately. She pulls back, frowning as she scans her lover’s face.
“What is it?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.” Souma looks over her shoulder. "Something’s wrong.“
“Wrong we should transform. I think…I think the Princess needs us.”
They are peaceful people. They are lovers walking on a shoreline. They are transformed and gone in a matter of seconds, leaving a circle of glass where they were standing, sand melted by the force of their panic. They do not run so much as they leap, verging on flight in the low lunar gravity as they chase down the source of the coldly blowing wind. They have to hurry. They have to hurry. The farther they go, the more the certainty grows, in both of them, that time is running short.
The scent on the wind becomes a raging battle as they grow nearer. Ice spires blast upward from the ground, encircled by the all-devouring shadows of Saturn’s attack. Then there is a burst of silver glitter, and haste becomes panic. Their Princess is fighting. Sailor Moon is fighting. If their Princess has been moved to transform, then–
The golden chain wraps around Neptune’s ankle and jerks her down, slamming her against the ground before she can find the breath to summon her attack. Then there is no breath, there is no body, there is nothing but–
–screaming, screaming, because she is alone, yes, she is alone here on this world without a name. How can Haruka have done this? How could she go? She didn’t have to go, she could have fought, could have stayed, could have conquered death itself with Michiru at her side. They didn’t need forever, but they should have had more time, they should have had centuries, eons, time, and time, and time. How dare she–
The name is familiar. The voice is not. For the first time in a thousand years, Michiru opens her eyes and looks at the battlefield, confusion breaking her usual calm. A girl she doesn’t know flings ice with geometric precision at Jupiter, while another girl with hair as white as seafoam swings Saturn’s glaive in a defensive arc, holding Mars at bay. In the center of the battlefield, a girl in what looks almost like Usagi’s fuku, but bleached, faded into pastels, fights…
The girl in front of her is too young: that is the first of it. They’re all girls on this battlefield, not yet women. This one, with her golden hair and her too-familiar fuku, is no different. She stares at Michiru with something caught between confusion and horror, and her eyes are a study in heartbreak.
“What did you do?” she asks. She takes a step forward. The wind whips around her, already rising, even though she has yet to shape it. "Where is Sailor Neptune? What did you do to her?“
Understanding crashes down like a wave. "You’re so young,” Michiru whispers. "You found each other so young. How can she…I am so sorry. I shouldn’t be here.“
“Where is Kaito?!” demands this new Sailor Neptune, this sweet child, and raises her hands over her head. "Tell me!“
"No!” Michiru scrambles to her feet. The old power moves through her, welcoming her home. She knows the fight better than this child does. She could grind her into gravel, and let…let…
She could have Haruka back, and all it would cost is the life of her replacement, this fresh-faced child who doesn’t understand how much she has to lose. She could allow her selfishness to remake the world.
“I am so sorry,” she whispers, and, “Deep Submerge,” she howls, and the pretender, the successor, is washed away in the face of a superior opponent.
It won’t last long. No version of Sailor Uranus will ever be that easy to take down. Michiru gathers her strength and leaps, aiming for the source of this trial.
Sailor Venus–who remembers, who cannot age, who cannot die, who has never been released from service–is so deeply sunk into her battle against Sailor Moon that the blow to her side takes her by surprise. She hits the ground on her hip, sliding hard, and before she can get her balance back, Neptune is there, her elbow held against Venus’s throat, a feral light in her eyes.
Minako smiles. "There you are,“ she says, smug as Artemis with a bowl full of cream. "You’re welcome. But you hit the wrong target.”
“Put us back,” snarls Michiru. "We’re the dead. We’re the past. Release us, and bring these children home.“
"You’re not the past,” says Minako, still smiling. "You’re a legend. Children play at being you, they fight over who gets to hold the mirror and the sword. Little girls dance in your name. You’re the present, and the future, and you deserve to live in peacetime so much more than the simpering little fool who pretends to hold your title. Let me lead you home.“
“Before she died, Haruka said the only thing she’d regret was leaving you.”
Selfishness is essential on the battlefield. There are those who would call it a failing, but without selfishness, what is there to lead the soldiers home? Michiru was always a poet of selfishness. She knew what she wanted. She knew how far she was willing to go in order to get it. She fought and she paid and she suffered and what was her reward? Being left alone, last one standing, broken-hearted and fading by inches. It’s tempting. It’s so tempting. She could have everything she ever lost, and all it would cost is one more enemy left to dust and ashes. She’s been damned since she tempted Haruka out of her comfortable, safe life. What’s one more damnation?
“No,” says Michiru calmly, and punches Venus square in the nose. The golden Senshi reels. "No,“ Michiru repeats, and punches her again.
She will reflect, later, on the fact that she could have won, if only she hadn’t looked so much like one of the enemy.
This new Uranus has her own attacks. ”Wind Spiral Snare!“ howls a voice that isn’t familiar enough to avoid, and Michiru is lifted away from Venus, lifted into the air kicking and howling fury and frustration.
Venus pauses long enough to blow a two-fingered kiss, and then she’s gone, a golden streak heading for the horizon, Jupiter and Mars behind her.
The wind cage shatters. Michiru drops to the ground on hands and knees. When she raises her head, it’s no surprise to find Sailor Moon, this new, young, innocent Sailor Moon, standing over her with a scepter in her hand and vengeance in her eyes. The others are behind her, Mercury and Uranus and Saturn, youth and fury incarnate.
"What have you done to our friends?” demands Sailor Moon.
Oh, to be so young. Oh, to have so much to lose.
For the love of Serenity, thinks Michiru, and aloud, she says, “The legends are true,” and oh, they are so like she was, and so different.
Hey guys! I am so excited to share some of my new fics with you guys! WHOO! This is for @decemberftw who requested a fic based on the song I Wanna Be Yours by the Arctic Monkeys I hope you like it! This is the first time I’ve done anything someone has requested, so I hope it lives up to what you wanted. :) Thanks for being a wonderful follower! <3 Happy Sunday!!
Warnings: wittle bit of angst, fluff, sarcastic reader in a funny way, language like kind of not really
Today was the third Friday of the month. That could only mean one thing.
“MOVIE NIGHT WITH MAH BOYEEEEEEEZ!” You howled as you ran through the kitchen and crash landed on the couch, just missing Steve who was already lounging on the cushions.
“(Y/N), please, I’m begging you to stop talking like that.” Steve groaned.
“Steve, if you’re gonna call yourself my friend then you have to deal with every side of me, including the 90′s rapper side that makes the occasional appearance.”
He chuckled and shook his head while he handed you the remote to pick tonight’s movie. You glanced down at the clock and furrowed your brows.
“Hey, where’s Buck? It’s nine on the dot, he should be here.”
“He didn’t text you? He’s not coming,” Steve said cautiously.
“Not coming?” Your finger froze on the button it was about to push. “What do you mean he’s not coming? It’s our movie night.”
“Well, he’s with a girl, (Y/N), it is Friday night.” His defense made you snarl, but you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself.
“Okay, I’m gonna ignore that last statement and pretend you didn’t just disrespect our movie night.”
Steve snorted at you. You rocked in your seat to face him, tucking your feet under you and strangling a pillow in your lap. “Which girl is it now? Dot?”
“No. Uh, he said her name was…”
“Oh is it, umm, what’s her freaking name…” you snapped your fingers in the air until you remembered the blonde who only seemed to be able to access about 12% of her brain. “Kelly?”
“Uh-uh,” he declined.
“The one who lives down on Ferry St.?”
“The one who works with Sharon?” You asked.
“That’s Kelly,” Steve chuckled.
“Jesus, I can’t keep ‘em all straight,” you shouted, completely exasperated and throwing yourself down on the couch.
“I think this is a new one anyway. He didn’t say much about her.”
“He never does.” You grumbled as you picked the first movie that popped up on the screen.
Before the opening credits ended you texted Bucky.
How dare you skip out on movie night.
You placed the phone on the coffee table and made yourself comfy as you watched the set up of the action movie you’d seen a couple times before.
A few minutes later your phone lit up with the most unflattering picture of Bucky, meaning he had texted you back. You sat up so quickly, the couch creaked. Steve spotted Bucky’s face on the screen before you could yank it out of his sight.
“(Y/N), he’s on a date, leave him alone.”
“Uh, I highly doubt it’s a traditional date, Steve,” you mumbled as you unlocked your phone and read the message.
I know, I’m sorry. I could bring her over and we could all watch something?
You growled aloud and shot him back a text.
Absolutely not. No randos at movie night.
You tossed your phone on the couch next to you and tried to focus on the movie. A message lit the screen again and you looked down without unlocking it.
You’re a piece of work, (Y/N).
You sighed and burritoed yourself in a blanket, watching the explosions and gunfire on the television.
“What did he say?” Steve asked you once the violent scene had quieted down.
“He apologized,” you grumbled.
Steve sighed. “It’s harder than you thought it would be isn’t it?”
The confused look you gave him made it clear he would have to elaborate.
“To live with us and hide how you feel.”
You shouldn’t be surprised that Steve knew about your feelings for Bucky. Steve and you had been friends for years and he knew you so well, it was like he always knew what was inside your head.
“I just- he shouldn’t be hooking up with all these girls, ya know? It’s not good for him.” You practically whispered.
Steve threw his arm around you. “He’ll figure that out.”
You sighed into his touch and leaned on his shoulder. The rest of the movie went by quietly until you both picked up and went to bed.
The next day you went to the gym to blow off some steam and by the time you got back, Bucky was finally out of bed and making some coffee. He was standing in the kitchen, his long hair pulled into a messy bun, black tank top clinging to his chest and shoulders above thin, grey sweatpants. He was a sight to behold if you weren’t so angry with him for bailing on you and Steve the night before.
“Good morning,” he said sleepily, sensing your presence as he focused on pouring his drink.
“Morning,” you answered quietly as you squeezed by his large body to grab a plum from the bowl on the other side of the counter. You bit into it as silence hung in the air.
Bucky finally cleared his throat. “How was the movie night?”
“Great,” you shortly declared as you reached to the top cupboard for a glass. Bucky’s eyes fell to your waist as your workout tank rose off your hips and your pale skin peeked out for a moment. You closed the cupboard with a slam and asked, “How was your night?”
“Fine,” he said, side stepping out of your way as you filled the glass with water.
“So you’ll be moving on rather quickly then.”
He sputtered and coughed as he choked on his sip of coffee. “What?”
“If your night was only fine, I’m sure you dumped her this morning and you’ll be moving on to someone new tonight, right?” you spat before taking a sip of your water, grabbing a napkin for your plum and heading out of the kitchen.
“Hey! You can’t just say something like that and then walk away,” he said, grabbing your elbow and spinning you around.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“That-that’s none of your business,” he stammered. When you scoffed, it sent him over the edge. “Is this all because I missed your stupid movie night?” he shouted.
“Well, that was quite the cherry on top, Buck! Since when are your hookups more important than me and Steve?”
“They’re not just hookups, (Y/N)! What kind of a guy do you think I am?” He yelled, ripping his fingers through his long hair.
“I don’t even know anymore! All the sudden you’re going through girls faster than you go through freaking underwear! What the hell happened to you? What are you trying to make up for?”
He pressed his lips together and refused to answer you. You shook your head and put your glass and plum down on the counter with a bang and stalked out of the room.
“(Y/N)!” he called after you.
You spun around in the doorway. “What, Buck? What do you want?”
“I wanna be yours.” It was soft like a prayer, but you were sure you heard it.
His words pulled at you, made your hands fall to your sides from their strong position on your hips, your jaw relaxed from its clenched position, the air pulled right from your lungs. But your heart soared as he continued.
“I really care about you, (Y/N). I try to be everything that you need- I try to give you everything you deserve, but I know I’m-Jesus you’re way out of my league and I know that, but I just- I don’t know.” The words flew out of his mouth like they were on fire. When he ran out of steam he sighed and stared at his bare feet on the kitchen floor.
“Bucky-” you started but he interrupted you.
“Ju-just forget it, okay?” He mumbled like a kicked puppy. With his head down, he crossed in front of you and got out of the kitchen as fast as he could before you could stop him.
The next day you laid out on your bed waiting for the sign from F.R.I.D.A.Y., but it never came.
Later that night you asked her, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., do you remember the plan?”
“Yes, Miss (Y/L/N). But Mr. Barnes hasn’t left his room today.”
“He hasn’t?” you knew an AI couldn’t lie, but you were amazed at her answer. Maybe something else was bothering him or he was busy with paperwork from missions, he always let that stiff pile up. Surely he wasn’t that upset about what happened between you two in the kitchen yesterday.
You waited for her signal for hours before you finally let yourself fall asleep. He would have to come out sometime, you thought.
F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you when she woke you up in the middle of the night. “Miss (Y/L/N), Mr. Barnes is in the kitchen.”
You rolled over and sat up too quickly, your head reeling from your sudden movement. You grumbled, “What time is it?” and though you weren’t really expecting an answer, the AI announced that it was 3AM.
Throwing a sweatshirt over your head you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to follow through with her part of the plan. “This better freaking work,” you mumbled in a sleepy fog.
The elevator doors opened and butterflies flooded your stomach when you heard the slow guitar strums coming from the speakers in the kitchen. You sneaked down the hall and peeked your head around the door frame and you couldn’t help but giggle at what you saw.
Bucky was frantically running around the joined kitchen and living room, pressing just about every button on every remote to try and turn the loud music off.
You swallowed your fear and a little bit of your pride and stepped into the dim light in front of the refrigerator. You took a deep breath and started to sing softly to the song and you ignored the heat running through your system when Bucky froze in his pace and stared at you.
“I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust. I wanna be your Ford Cortina. I will never rust. If you like-”
Your soft singing was cut off by Bucky’s chuckles. “You wanna be my what? My vacuum cleaner?”
“God, Bucky, shut up! Listen!” you shouted, holding a finger up to the speaker as the song rolled on and the most important lyrics were about to be sung. You let the record sing for you because your voice was stolen by your nerves.
“You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought.”
Bucky’s smirk fell as he listened to the lyrics booming from the speakers. When he practically ran toward you, you involuntarily took a step back and ran into the cabinets.
“Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours,” it sang.
As the music swelled Bucky’s hands cupped your jaw and pulled your lips to his. You fervently kissed him back and when he was sure you weren’t going to run away, his hands fell to your waist and his arms wrapped tightly around your body, pulling you closer to him.
The four words repeated over and over as he wrapped himself around you and you hid from the world in his long, thick limbs. Every breath was in sync as you ran your fingers through his hair and he fisted the back of your sweatshirt in his rough hands.
The song ended seemingly as soon as it began and you pulled away from Bucky, his face still only inches from yours.
“So, you had to wake the whole team up just so you could tell me you liked me back?” He said with a smirk.
“That’s your fault for eating dinner at three in the morning.”
“I was hungry,” he said, playfully pinching the skin on your back. “And where the heck did you find this song?”
“Youtube,” you said, as if it was obvious. “Do you get it? The song’s called I Wanna Be Yours and that’s what you said to me? Do you get it? I spent a lot of time on this, Buck, please acknowledge-”
“Yes, I get it,” he groaned before stopping your sarcastic rambling with another kiss. You laughed against his lips and thanked Youtube for introducing you to the Arctic Monkeys.
*Warning: This fic features a grabby barfly with 19th century views of women.*
You smelt him before you felt his rough hands clamp tightly around your waist.
You’d barely taken two steps into the filthy canteen before the reality of where you were truly sunk in.
You looked around with a sinking feeling at the men who watched you – all the men –and the other women in the bar, you being the only one of which who didn’t have yellow stained teeth and sores around your mouth.
This wasn’t a movie. There were no heroic loners to stand up to the man, no unnaturally attractive people for they time they were living in – you and your current company excluded. This was the cold reality of humanity’s past.
Women weren’t treated as equals. Human life was thrown away over frivolous disputes or the preservation of honor. The romanticized version fed to us by Hollywood just didn’t hold up.
So when you were yanked back against a reeking, dirt-covered man’s chest, you had to reign in the genuine fear that surged through you, had to force yourself to keep a level head.
You suppressed a gag as the man’s foul-smelling breath snaked around your senses, his meaty fingers digging into your corset-clad waist. You took a steadying breath and started to spin. Then your elbow was colliding with the man’s chin before he even had a chance to speak, stumbling back further as Dean shoved his chest and pulled you behind him.
“Back the hell up, asshole!” Dean barked.
You had no doubt that the men in this hell hole were used to needing nothing more than brute strength to get girls to submit to their desires, and knew that they would have no idea what to with a woman – or anyone, for that matter – who actually knew how to fight, but still…
You latched onto Dean’s arm and allowed him to lead you back to the bar, allowed the men eyeing you with no attempt at subtlety to know that if they even so much as looked at you the wrong way they would find themselves on the wrong end of the stranger’s pistol.
“You okay?” Dean asked as gently as he could manage, rage still clearly coloring his voice even if it wasn’t aimed at you.
You smiled and nodded, reassuring both Dean and the brother coming up behind him with no small amount of worry in his features. “Yeah, I’m alright.” You squeezed the eldest Winchester’s hand. “Thank you.”
You could take anyone here, there was no doubt in your mind, but you weren’t arrogant enough to let your stung pride get in the way of excepting help from someone who cared about you.
Better safe than sorry, right?
*These gifs are not mine, both the gifs are from Google Images*
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The paladins had a long week of fighting the Galra and worm-holing through the galaxies. Everyone was fairly pooped so when Allura and Coran gave them the news that they’d be able to take a resting stop on a local planet everyone was excited.
“Yes everyone” Allura said clapping her hands “We’ll all be stopping on the planet Hawsuri for a much needed break” she smiled and looked over to Coran who was fiddling with the controls to pull up some photos of the planet.
“Yes, Princess” he chimed in “This planet is the vacation spot of this galaxy! With the warmth of two suns and a giant ocean and sandy beaches. It’s much like the earth islands called the tropials” he nodded as he flicked through the different photos.
“You mean the tropics, Coran” Pidge corrected from their seat not far from where he was standing.
“Oh yes, of course, my mistake. Hawsuri is much like your earth tropics.. With warm weather and plenty of beaches”. At this everyone cheered, especially lance who slid to the front of the room grinning .
“Say Coran, I’m sure there has to be plenty of alien beach babes who can’t wait to get a taste of this!” He nudged him with his elbow before spinning and shooting him with finger guns. Everyone groaned and stood to leave at this note. Keith being the only one with a frown on his face stayed behind.
“Do we really need to go sit in some crummy sand with the heat of TWO suns beaming down on our backs?!” he shouted looking at Shiro for some support, instead he was met with Shiro’s classic grin and a pat on the shoulder as he headed out the room.
“Look on the bright side Keith this will be your chance to have some much needed bonding time with your fellow team members outside of the ship”
Keith shrugged his hand off and mumbled under his breath “Sure that’s only because you want to see Allura in a bathing suit”. Causing the black paladins neck and ears to turn a dark shade of red as he whipped around to be sure Allura hadn’t heard.
“Keith just try and have fun OK?” he said his expression neutral, but his eyes saying if you ruin this for me I’ll hunt you down. He patted him on the shoulder again a little harder this time before leaving.
Keith followed to go pack his things. Ahead of him he saw lance and hunk and he overheard their chatter about the vacation.
More than the heat of two suns and crummy sand, he wasn’t ready to endure another session of Lance flirting with everything that had two legs (if that even mattered to him anymore). Keith didn’t know why but the idea of seeing him ogling over some space chick made his blood boil. Why couldn’t he just act like everyone else civilized!
Instead of smiling and spitting cheesy pick up line to everything that moved.. He didn’t know if he could stomach another day of that. It caused him to think about too many unwanted emotions that he couldn’t explain just yet… like why he only hated the flirting when it was someone else.. or why he hated to admit that he always felt his chest clench whenever Lance directed his affections toward him.
“ugh” Keith grunted
He slid his door open and flopped on the bed, not even bothering to pack anything. Throwing one arm over his head he sighed listening to muffled sounds Lance’s humming in the shower through his wall. I bet he’ll be up all night packing, that idiot, going through all that trouble to get ready. For what. All those facials don’t do anything… He looked just fine like he is.. His hair always looks so silky and amazing- Wait what!! I mean.. In a bros kinda way.. Scratch that?!! Lance is gross.
He huffed and flopped over burying his face into his pillow, dozing off to the sound of Lance’s humming.
Keith blushed looking away quickly as Lance held the sunscreen bottle up. “Just make sure to get my entire back mullet-head, I can’t risk burning this body” he smirked and Keith felt his heart skip a beat as he shakily took the bottle out of his hand as the copper toned boy rolled over on the towel where he was laying. Revealing his lean, yet toned back, long slender legs and Keith couldn’t help but let his eyes trail over him. He blushed when he realized what had caught is attention the most.
“O-ok” he replied kneeling down. He squeezed out the lotion and started to rub it slowly into Lances back starting at his shoulders and working his way down.
Lance shivered under his touch and Keith’s heart started pounding. He started rubbing him slower, gently skimming his fingers down his spine. A small breathy moan come from Lance and that’s when Keith stilled looking down with him equally aroused and in shock.
“W-why did you stop?” Lance whispered, a small blush creeping up the back of his neck and ears.
“What..?” He asked unsure his ears
where working properly.
“I said, p-please finish rubbing me.. Keith I want your hands all over my BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEP*”
Keith shot up in bed his heart racing. He scanned his surrounding and cursed realizing it was just a dream.
A dream about lance!? It was bad enough to have deal with him every day now Keith was having dreams about him too.
He lifted his blanket up looking down at his lap and cursed under his breath annoyed that his body was betraying his true feelings.
Hopping out of bed he pulled on his boots and headed for the door when he realized there was a big problem.
He was hard as a rock and he has less than 5 mins to get to the controls room. Swiftly he grabbed his bag and held it in front of himself grumbling again.
“This is so obvious!”
Just as he stepped out his room he saw Lance walking past.
“Yo good morning Mullet-head” he laughed and stepped forward to shove him, when Keith slapped his hand away dropping the bag and scrambling awkwardly to hide his… situation.
“Don’t touch me!” He yelled way to loudly, his face turning red.
“Woah.. calm down dude” Lance laughed “geez what’s your-” he was cut off as his eyes traveled down Keith’s torso to his wait and then … when lance realized what Keith was desperately trying (and failing) to hide a blush crept onto his face.
When he heard Lance shifting back and forth on his feet he bristled shouting
“Just. Go. Away” instantly regretting the amount of spite in his voice.
“Woah! Sorry… it’s not my fault y- , actually never mind” he huffed and stormed off.
Keith knew he’d overreacted but after that dream he couldn’t help but be on edge. He shook his head back and forth, instead, trying to steady his breathing as he focused on anything to clear his mind of his dream about Lance.
He could still hear his voice and octave lower begging him to rub his body, the way he looked up at him with his blue eyes glassy and lidded, his mouth….
damn it this wasn’t helping.
Instead he switched to thinking about training and how he couldn’t wait to get some extra time to work on his offensive moves. He was great with impulsive defense moves but not so great when it came to the latter.
Keith continued to mull this over, idly walking down the hall until he strolled into the control room where everyone else stood waiting for him.
“ITS ABOUT TIME!” Lance yelled throwing his hands up in forced exasperation. Trying to act normal, but the redness in his ear betrayed him.
“You finally decided to show up” he placed his hands on his hips and scowled pursing his lips “ I know that you aren’t excited about the beach keeeeeith” Lance said dragging out his name
“But I’ve got a date with a purple ocean and hot space babes”
“What are you talking about, Lance I -”
“Oh no-nonono we don’t want to hear your excuses just follow us to the lower deck we’re about to land soon” he held up his manicured hand in Keith’s face before storming off. The others just stood there speechless, giving him apologetic looks, except for Coran who smiled brightly as he chartered on and on about the customs of this planet.
This might be trash.. forgive me it is my first time. I might continue if you guys like it
Hey doll :) I wanted to ask for an imagine
where you’re Buck’s girlfriend but are also a bit shy. One time you visit him
after work (you work at a Little cafe) and surprise him in his Apartment in the
Tower just as he Comes out of the shower. You’re flustered at first and turn
around but he Comes and hugs you. Then you tell him you’re finally ready to
lose your virginity to him and he’s all gentle that night and later you cuddle
:) and also something with his metal arm if you like hihi Thanks❤️❤
Bucky x reader. FLUFF/MODERATE SMUT. Word count: 1,749
A/N: Sorry this request took so long to finish, but I hope you enjoy it!!!
are you alright? You’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for the last
fifteen minutes,” asked your coworker Megan as you leaned on the counter by the
espresso machine with a blank stare on your face.
sorry Megan, I was just thinking. Slow night tonight, huh?”
You were thinking about Bucky, weren’t you? I can tell by that silly look in
obvious, huh? I just haven’t gotten to see him much lately with work and all.
These evening shifts are killing me,” you explained.
it’s quiet in here anyway—just go see him! I’ll cover for you,” said Megan as
she motioned to the back door. You smiled and took off your barista apron,
hanging it on the hook by the door.
Request: “hi bb :)) i would like to request a fluffy/
implied smutty poe fic. Where like the reader is coming back from a dangerous
mission and poe has been suPEr worried about the reader and once the reader
gets back he’s totally like shook¿ and then i guess u can work your magic and
make it sorta smutty¿”
Poe Dameron x Reader
exited your X-wing, your knees almost gave out to the hard concrete runway. The
mission had been tedious to say the least, and although you had spent most of
it sitting down in your ship, the mental toll the constant danger had taken was
starting to drag your body into a similar lethargy. Fantasizing about falling
into bed was the only thing motivating your feet to step in front of each
other, barely registering a worried Leia telling you how glad she was that you
had come back safe and successful. All the relief and support of your comrades
came in murmurs, your ears still ringing from the explosion that had almost
taken out the right wing of your fighter. However, you were alive, your hearing
was coming back, and your bed was a mere hallway away. Everything was going to
be okay, and coming to realize this fact brought a tired smile to your face.
That was until the door to your quarters opened to reveal a frantically pacing
Poe Dameron. You should have realized he would be waiting here, since your best
friend failed to greet you upon landing.
Could you do an story where Claire and Jamie return to Castle Leoch before going to the colonies. Bonus points for one where Jamie never married Laogherie :) (up to you!!)
The horses followed the craggy path with ease. The jolting motion, however, was causing my stomach to churn unpleasantly. In front of me Bree had her chubby hands wrapped in the horse’s mane, her giggles and squeals growing louder with each lurching jolt. Breathing deeply through my nose, I tried to quell the sick feeling of nausea with no luck. The wet earth smelled of manure and amphibians which only increased my unease.
“Jamie?” I called out weakly. He didn’t stop or turn around. “Jamie?” I called again, this time I believe, louder than before, still he didn’t turn.
“DA!” Bree screamed, our horse’s ears twitched out and snorted at the shrillness, but it caught his attention. Jamie turned around, face flush from the cold and obvious laughter.
“Aye, mo nighean ruaidh? Ye need me?”
Bree shook her head, red curls bouncing all over. “Mama needs ye.”
Looking from Bree to myself, I could see the confusion and understanding dawn on his face. “Ye alright, Sassenach? Yer face is a twinge green.”
I shook my head ready to answer only to quickly clap my hand across my mouth. Without thought, I had stopped my horse and flung myself off of her, racing to the bramble throwing up. My hands shook, and my face broke out into a cold sweat as I tried to steady myself.
“Claire!” Jamie was behind me, gripping my elbow to spin me around. His eyes filled with concern as both of our daughters watched from horseback, a crease between their eyebrows.
“Mama sick?” Bree asked at the same time Faith yelled, “Mama you can’t be sick!”
“I’m not sick,” I said barely above a whisper, my voice cracking and hoarse. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, it was never this bad with either of them!”
“The ween givin’ ye trouble, mo ghradh? Do ye think ye could make it to Inverness or shall we stop at Leoch?”
“No. No!” I tried with more force. “I don’t want to stop early. We have a ship to catch, I can’t risk you getting taken away. I will not risk losing our family when we are so close to freedom!”
Jamie tucked my head under his chin, and I could feel his laugh rumble through my own chest. “I’ll no be taken from ye, mo ghradh. Never again.” I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Wee Hamish is in charge at Leoch now since Colum and Dougal have both passed. He’ll give us some sanctuary for the time needed. He is still family and he’ll protect us.”
I shook my head against his chest, breathing in deeply his unique smell, finally feeling calm. “No.”
“If ye canna handle the horse through a mountain trail, how are ye going to fare on a ship to the Colonies across a rough sea?”
I felt myself go pale at the thought of rough waters. “God what I wouldn’t give for an aeroplane right now!”
“Aye, yer magical contraptions that could get us across the water in less time would be most welcome. I’m no so fond of the prospect of going across the water, and it’d be best if at least one of us were conscience to watch after the girls. Fergus isna here to look after them this time.”
“I know, but I do not wish to delay! He’s over there, alone, waiting on us! Who is to say he even found your aunt and that she believed him as to who he is! He’s our son, Jamie, I need to get to him. It’s been four months as it is, another week of travel by horseback and a two months at sea, I can’t wait any longer.” My voice breaking now from the tears threatening to overtake me.
“Shhh, Sassenach. We’ll get back to him, he’s no alone. He has Murtagh with him, who would protect him with his life. Fergus would rather ye make sure yerself and this bairn are safe rather than come after him in a single minded fury. We’ll stop at Leoch and rest then be on our way, aye? We’re no but an hour or so’s ride from the castle.”
Sighing in defeat I murmured into his chest, “Fine. But I don’t want coddled! I’m not even showing for Christ’s sake.”
Jamie laughed and sat me behind Bree once again, “No, yer not, but yer still carrying something precious and I dinna want either of ye harmed.”
The two hour ride turned into four, pausing for my frequent need to expel the contents of my stomach every few minutes. Bree had grown restless, switched places with her sister and promptly fell asleep against Jamie’s chest.
“Mama?” Faith asked, looking more timid than I had ever seen her before. I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her closer to me.
“Yes my love?”
“You’re not going to get sick like ye were with….me are you?” Tears filled her blue eyes as she hastily looked down.
“Fergus told me ye nearly died and me as well had it not been for Mother Hildegard and… and I don’t want to lose you or my new brother. I can’t lose you!” Her small shoulders began to shake as she spoke, her words dropping off with each sniffle.
“No baby, no. You won’t lose me or this baby. It’s completely normal for me to be sick right now, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be.”
“You weren’t with Bree!” She countered.
“No, and I wasn’t this bad with you either, but each baby is different. So my body will react differently for each child. Don’t you worry about that. What I need for you to do is be happy and love this child as much as you can. You’ll be almost eleven by the time this baby makes his or her appearance, and I know it’ll be challenging for you. So just love them and be patient. A baby is a big responsibility.”
“I will Mama, I promise.” She turned and buried her face in my chest, her sniffles dying down the longer I held her close.
“Look up sweetheart.” I whispered into her ear, brushing the brown curls away from her face. “Take a look at Castle Leoch.”