1. My Heroine
2. Take Me Dancing
3. Thinking Of You
4. While listening to Rock & Roll
6. Book of me and you
7. Everything I ask for
8. I must be dreaming
9. Whoever she is
10. As long as you love me (BSB cover)
11. Bad behavior
12. Love & Drugs
13. Another night on mars
14. We all roll along
15. Every road
For broken hearts:
2. Into your arms
3. Love Yourself (JB cover)
4. Sad Songs
5. Waiting for my sun to shine
6. Don’t give up on Us
8. You’ll never know
9. Raining in Paris
11. Some Days
12. I’m Sorry
13. Like We did
14. These Four Words
Bucky sat at his oak desk, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he breathed in deeply. Ever since that run in with that…with that slum kid Bucky hadn’t been able to keep his mind off of them. Their rosy cheeks and bright eyes kept perforating his thoughts, making it impossible to think about much else. He had business deals to think off, he had other gangs to think about, he had to worry about some prick in England talking shit about him, he didn’t have time to focus on that low life nobody. With a sigh Bucky tossed his cigar into an ash tray, running his hands down his scruffy face. It was nearly half an hour later when A quiet knock on his study door is what finally broke him
Out of his stupor.
"Yeah?“ Bucky’s voice was hoarse, much more than usual. The tall oak doors swung open to reveal Dot, Bucky’s saving grace, wearing nothing but a silk robe he had bought them for valentines day.
"Hello there dot,” Bucky smirks as Dot waltz in, swaying her hips as she made her way to Bucky’s heavy desk.
"Hiya Mr. Barnes,“ she smirks as she stops before him, resting her hands on the arms of his chair. "I’ve been missin’ ya today,” Bucky hums as he leans forward, almost touching his lips against hers.
“Have you now?” Dot nods, her lips parting in a sultry fashion as she does.
"You’re favorite girl is feeling a bit neglected,“
"Oh, we can’t have that,” Bucky smirks as he grabs Dot’s ass, bringing her down onto his lap. “Now can we?” Dot gasps at the contact, shifting a bit, rubbing herself against Bucky’s leg enticingly.
"Sit back and let Mr. Barnes take care of ya, eh?“
(Y/N) bit their lip as they eyed all the couples dancing, trying so desperately to keep their mind off of their run in a few days prior. They had just run into one of the most dangerous thugs in all of America, the man had everyone in his pocket, he could get away with murder and no one would bat an eye and yet (Y/N) ran into him and here they were, able to tell the tale.
With a shaky sigh (Y/N) reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind their ear, even though it wasn’t necessary. Honestly (Y/N) was trying their best to keep busy, even the most mundane tasks would help focus (Y/N)’s mind on things other than the dark haired, mysterious thug.
"Hey sweetcheeks,” a rather harsh, almost smoker like voice drawls in (Y/N)’s ear, sending shivers down their spine. “I couldn’t help but notice you here all alone, how bout you get up and dance with me.” His words were poised as a question but his tone hinted otherwise. (Y/N) gulps, steeling themself against the strange man.
“I’m sorry sir but I really don’t feel like-"
"It wasn’t a Question sweetheart,” he grips (Y/N)’s arm painfully tight, leaving them to whimper in pain. “Now get up or I’ll make you get up,” it was either go willingly or against their own will and (Y/N) most definitely wasn’t all too thrilled about the second idea. So with shaking legs and a trembling lip (Y/N) stood from their spot, following the sketchy looking man out to the dance floor. His strong hands settle on their waist as he yanks them close, their hips pushed flush against his.
“What’s your name kid?” (Y/N) trembles on the spot as they reluctantly dance with the man, praying that someone would notice how uncomfortable they were and come out a stop to it. But no one did, they all kept their gazes elsewhere, completely ignoring (Y/N) and the man. “I asked you a question kid,” The man growls dangerously, gripping (Y/N)’s hips enough to leave bruises.
“I-I’m (Y/N),” they stutter, fear getting the better of their voice. The man hums, a sick smile overtaking his features.
"Such a pretty name…you wanna know my name kid?“
"N-no,” (Y/N) manages a bit of sass, almost proud of themself for being able to have such attitude towards such a man. “Not really,”
“It’s Brock fucking Rumlow,” He leans in, biting down on their earlobe slightly, sending the poor kid shuddering in fear.
Brock Rumlow- one of the most notorious gangs in all of Brooklyn, perhaps in the entire state.
Two mobsters in the course of a week? It seemed nearly implausible and yet here (Y/N) was, still reeling from their run in with Bucky and now their contact with Brock.
“No sassy remarks anymore, eh?”
“Get off of me,” (Y/N) mutters, pushing at his chest weakly. Their lungs were still trying to recover from the harsh weather, leaving them feeling much weaker than the usually were.
“Aww, aren’t’chu you a cutie?” He purrs, his sickening smile never once leaving his lips. “I ought to wrap you up and take you home with me….” Brock growls as he licks his lips, his cold gaze running up and down (Y/N)’s form. “Oh sweetheart, the things I’d do to you,”
“I’m going to start screaming,” (Y/N) whispers, grunting against his hold. Their squirming comes to an abrupt stop when the feeling of something cool presses into their neck.
“Scream and I’ll slit your throat,” Brock sneers, his tone smug as he digs the point of his blade into their neck. (Y/N) whimpers softly, closing their eyes as something warm trickles down their neck, most likely leaving behind a trail of scarlet liquid.
“What do you want?” (Y/N) tries to sound stronger than they are but it was futile, Brock could see right through them.
“I just want a little fun dollface, take you back to my place, rough ya up a bit,” Brock purrs as he leans in once again, licking up the small rivulets of blood that had cascaded down (Y/N)’s neck. “Then I’m gonna send you back on your way and we’re gonna act like nothin’ happened, sound good?” (Y/N) whimpered, trying to shy away from Brock’s invading tongue to no avail, the blade kept them still, nipping at their skin in a way that had them wanting to puke. “Now, I’m gonna escort you out of here all nice and slow and you’re not gonna make a sound, got it? If you do,” Brock chuckles as she stashes his knife away. “I’m gonna make that much more painful for ya, sweetheart,”
Brock’s grips on (Y/N)’s arm was painfully tight, no doubt leaving finger shaped bruises in their skin. He dragged them down the streets of Brooklyn, towards the nicer area of town, to where all the rich snobs lived. No one here would care that (Y/N) was being manhandled by Brock, hell, no one in the slums even cared as they watched the tall, burly man guide the smaller human being along. Tears burned at (Y/N)’s eyes but they refused to let them fall, they had to keep some shred of dignity with this man and letting him see them cry would be the last straw.
“No tears huh?” Brock chuckled as he turned a corner, harshly jerking (Y/N) along with him, resulting in a few pops from their elbow. “Most of the time people are sobbing by now, begging me not to hurt them but you-” He chuckles again, shaking his head as he makes his way towards one of the nicer streets. “You’re different, maybe I really should keep ya, you seem like a firecracker,”
“Burn in hell,” (Y/N) growls, as they struggle a bit, pulling backwards as Brock moved forwards. Why the suddenly had fight in them now only god knows but it was there, a kindling flame of hatred and fear and dammit (Y/N) was going to use it.
“I suggest you stop struggling sweetheart,” Brock growls as he yanks them forward, nearly tripping them in the process. “I’m not opposed to slaughtering you right here and leaving your body to the dogs,”
“Let go of me!” (Y/N) yells, struggling to get away. They twisted and flailed, clawed and kicked, anything to get this man off of them but Brock was strong and he held on tightly, causing much discomfort on (Y/N)’s part. “Get off of me!” (Y/N) screamed helplessly, hoping that anyone would come to their rescue. Little did they know that just up the street there stood a man dressed to the nines, a Brazilian imported cigar hanging out of his mouth.
“Get off of me!’ a voice screamed down the street. Bucky looked up from his suit, a small smirk rising to his lips at their person’s frantic cry. Sounded like someone was going to get lucky tonight, maybe if he caught them in time he’d be able to join in too. Bucky chuckled as he huffed on his cigar, reveling in the high it gave him. His pristine shoes clicked down the street, creating a soft clacking against the somewhat nice pavement. It was the only other sound in the air other than the person’s screams and to be a bit morbid he was enjoying them. Call Bucky a sadist but god- that noise was like music to his ears.
“What the fuck did I tell you was gonna happen if you struggled, huh?” A voice growled as Bucky got closer. Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion; that voice sounded so familiar, he could’ve sworn that he had only heard it a few days ago- Bucky comes to an abrupt stop before the source of noise, his eyes quickly taking in the rather shocking scene. It was the kid from a few days ago, the shabby, slum kid, struggling against the grasp of some tall, wide man…
“Brock Rumlow,” Bucky growls, a small smirk rising to his lips. “How strange to see you here,” Brock stops fighting the kid immediately, his entire body going rigid at Bucky’s voice.
“Barnes,” Brock smiles sickeningly, that same smile that had been twisting (Y/N)’s stomach for the last half an hour. “Fancy seeing you here,” Bucky smirks as he flicks his cigar to the ground, allowing it to burn out and die slowly.
“Who’s the kid?” Bucky gestures to (Y/N) with a simple quirk of his head as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.
“Just a lil’ something I picked up earlier,” Bucky looks at (Y/N), his harsh gaze raking over their trembling form. He regarded them with a look of prejudice, sneering down at them with an upturned nose. He hoped his look was enough to convince Brock that he had no care for this (Y/N) creature when in reality the look of fear on their face had stirred something deep within him.
“How much do you want for ‘em?” Bucky asks coolly, as though he wasn’t bargaining this persons life right before them.
“Sorry Barnes but you’re out of luck, this one’s a keeper,”
“I don’t think you understood me,” Bucky chuckles darkly as he reaches in his suit, retrieving a small albeit dangerous handgun. “How much do you want for ‘em?” He points the end of the barrel at Brock’s stomach, inconspicuous enough that if anyone walked by they wouldn’t think anything of it.
“Fuck you Barnes,” Brock growls as he shoves (Y/N) towards the brunette. Bucky was quick to steady (Y/N), incidentally pulling them to his chest. “I’ll get them back,” Brock chuckles darkly as he saunters off, shaking his head as he does. “Just you wait and see,” Bucky keeps his ground as Brock saunters off, keeping (Y/N) against his chest protectively but as soon as the other mobster was out of sight Bucky broke, his facade crumbling to the ground.
“You alright kid?” Bucky asks as he inspects (Y/N), checking them for any wounds of any sort.
“Why do you care?” (Y/N) grumbles as the bat his prying hands away, being mindful not to expose their bleeding neck to him. Bucky immediately retracts his hands, as though (Y/N)’s words had burned him.
“Really?” Bucky chuckles dryly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just spared your fucking life kid and now you’re gonna give me sass? I could’ve let that bastard rape and kill ya but instead I saved ya and this is the thanks I get?” (Y/N) huffs as they brush their outfit off, as though trying to get rid of any remnant of Brock.
“I didn’t ask for help-” (Y/N)’s sentence cuts short when Bucky grips their chin, forcing them to look into his eyes.
“I own this town sweetheart, I own half the country, with a snap of my fingers I could have you beaten to a bloody pulp and left at my doorstep if I so desired,” (Y/N) glares up at Bucky indignantly, flaring their nostrils angrily. “So I suggest you stay on my good side, got it?” Bucky gave them a little cheeky grin as he stepped back, wiping some ‘dust’ off their chin before turning on his heels to saunter back home, his energy for the night gone. He knew (Y/N) was glaring at his back so he turned his head, giving them a little smirk as he pulled out a new cigar, placing it between his fingers as he spoke to them. “I’ll be seeing you real soon (Y/N),” And with that the mobster turned away, lighting his cigar as he walked back home, whistling a chirpy tune.
Malfoy was a kid, socialized since birth by death eater parents, and grew up as his parents expected of him. Snape was not. He chose to be a wizard nazi.
You’re right - Snape was not socialized by a Death Eater family because, wait, he wasn’t socialized by anyone. He grew up alone, and he was probably beaten and resented and belittled on a daily basis, so, sure - that’s the ideal background for a good choice of who you want to be later in life. Abuse and neglect - the bedrock of free will, as I always say. And, yeah - I was talking more generally about the family, not Draco, because, like, you never see that kind of vitriol and righteous rage against Malfoy senior either, or Melania-like Narcissa, but it’s funny who we consider kids and who we want to be accountable at all times, right? Because sure, you could say Malfoy was just a kid, but didn’t Harry make precisely the same speech about Dumbledore? How Dumbledore had fallen in love with Grindelwald and gone along with his ideas to take over the world while Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were the exact same age, were off sleeping rough and fighting the literal Antichrist or something? And did you side with Hermione there? Did, like, anybody? Or even, you know, just a kid - every single week I see something about the Marauders, and how Snape was the creepiest creep to ever creep, because apparently we can forgive Draco ‘Best Hairstyle of the Year’ Malfoy for literally joining a death squad when he was fifteen and keeping his classmates in a cell so they could be killed by Voldemort and whatever else, but God forbid we had some compassion for 1970s!Snape, who’d grown up without any of Draco’s advantages - no chiseled profile, no money, no family name, no parents who gave a damn about him, no friends at all.
So, you know - I’m not defending Snape, exactly. If you follow my blog, you know I’m very clear on who Snape was, and there’s definitely no excuse for him terrifying his students and hating the hell out of Harry and refusing to even try and become a different person. He was a broken man, and his brand of broken made him a pretty awful person. But still - you can’t seriously deny that we are much less willing to criticize and hate villains when they’re good-looking and, if at all possible, members of the aristocracy. I’ve never heard a word against Loki, for instance, who single-handedly tried to destroy our planet twice and caused thousands of victims - I’m guessing the fact Tom Hiddleston is playing him counts for something? Same thing goes for Auror Graves, one of the most unsettling and disturbing characters in children movies ever, now the happy star of raunchy fanart with the (underage) kid he abused - because Colin Farrell, of course. And let’s not forget ‘He of the Tragic Past’ Erik Lehnsherr - I’m following several Cherik blogs myself and I’d probably give up a kidney for Michael Fassbender, so I don’t exactly have the moral ground here, but, again, I see more drooling than rational assessments where young!Magneto is concerned. And perhaps the funniest thing about all this is that it’s actually a theme in the Harry Potter books - that in The Chamber of Secrets, Snape is deliberately pitted against Lockhart so readers will take Lockhart’s side, mainly because, my God, look at him! - and then at the end the message is, Ha! Guess what! The ugly, oily teacher nobody can stand was actually innocent, and the Brad Pitt lookalike was ready to kill and maim three students just to get out on top.
So, yes - in the end, that’s what bugs me the most when I see this endless run of posts complaining about Snape - not only that he’s the only one they ever complain about, the only person held accountable in any way, but that so many people have apparently learned nothing from those books. The fact Harry named his son after both Snape and Dumbledore, two people who are deeply Problematic, was significant and moving and so, so beautiful. And instead of wondering what that means, and try to unpack that message, many are simply happy to bash Snape 24/7 (but not Dumbledore, never Dumbledore, despite the fact what Dumbledore did was, in a way, much worse than anything Snape could ever have done) and even complain JK Rowling disregarded Harry’s abuse at his hands or some shit. Like, uh?
And also: yes, Draco was a kid. He was also surrounded, day in and day out, by people and books he could have listened to - stuff that could have changed his mind, made him doubt his appalling beliefs (like, I don’t see much compassion on tumblr for teenagers who make memes for the alt right and hate on BLM and take part in KKK demonstrations, but maybe I don’t follow the right blogs?). He was scared and alone later in the books, sure, but he also preferred the option of killing another student rather than seeking asylum with Dumbledore. And also: he stood there and did nothing when people (a former teacher among them) were being tortured and killed in his family house; he barely reacted when Harry and the others were imprisoned in his dungeon and five minutes away from a messy death; he fought in the final battle - for the wrong bloody side. He snuck into the castle with the deliberate intent of killing Harry, and to the end, he never admitted he’d been wrong in any way, remember? After that Room of Requirement scene, he simply slumped against a wall, exhausted and unarmed and probably in shock, never offering a word of apology to anyone. So, whatever. Yes, he was a kid. He was also in a position to reconsider his life’s choices, much more so than Snape, who was also a kid when his destiny locked him in - and, unlike Draco, Snape was a dirty, badly dressed, unwanted working class kid and he grew up to be an unpleasant, angry, ugly adult and that’s why - despite his tragic past and the doomed love story thing and his wit and sarcasm and the fact he could actually fly - nobody gives a damn about him: because everybody is accountable, but some people are more accountable than others.