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buckyskorpion · 4 years

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11 hours - part six

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: so i was gonna leave this on ANOTHER doozy cliff hanger but i genuinely thought i would get lynched so i decided to just leave it at a baby cliffhanger. a lot happened in this chapter and a lot of seeds have been planted for future chapters..... so lemme know what you think hehe. predictions?? angry letters?? pitchforks??? lemme know!! i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

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“You’re very calm for someone with a gun to their head.”

Honestly, you had been thinking the same thing. Sure, your stomach feels like a snake pit and your hands are sweating and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of your own heart beat, but other than that - you don’t understand why you aren’t panicking more. There are three men standing in front of you, one behind, all with guns. They’re wearing matching leather jackets with an octo-head patch on the sleeve, and they all look very scary. Briefly, you wonder if Bucky has a jacket like this, with a patch on to match his family. It’s an irrelevant detail you can’t help but fixate on right now.

Bucky. Hopefully listening on the other end of the phone you have tucked in your back pocket which your kidnappers haven’t been bothered to check yet, thankfully. You flex your wrists against the zip ties holding you to a chair and ask, “Where am I?”

“You should know,” your stalker turned kidnapper says with a condescending sneer. “You followed me here.”

“The Lerna?” you clarify, for the sake of hopefully someone on the other end of your mobile picking it up. You glance around at the old-style bar; chipped wood and beer stains, a rickety pool table one of your stalker’s friends is using as an arm rest. You curl your nose up at it - a little proudly, you note it has nothing on Sam’s bar.

“Do you recognise the place?” your stalker asks. That throws you. You want to ask what he means by that, why you would recognise this gross bar you’ve never stepped foot in, but you clench your teeth and school your face.

Once your dad sat you down in a chair much like this one, in his office at the house you grew up in. You were eleven, maybe, and you didn’t quite understand why he was tying your hands to the back with a necktie but you went along with it. He did this, sometimes - would orchestrate some strange lesson when his nightmares got really bad, his ghosts chasing him inside the house until he saw enemies in lampshades and kitchen cabinets. To keep you safe, he would say, and then he sat opposite you and asked what you would do if anyone ever put you in this position against your will.

“Kroshka, they will use anything against you,” he had said, and you see that now with the way these men are looking at you for any weakness. But you didn’t understand then, you were a kid thinking your dad was spiralling again, so he had cast around until he found a beer bottle on the coffee table. “See, like this. When the label is flat it’s fine, but as soon as one little corner lifts you can’t help it - you have to peel it all the way off. Don’t give them any corners, kroshka.”

You blink, once. The man in front of you scowls when you don’t answer, presses forward into your space in a show of intimidation. You try not to flinch, but that fear you were missing before is starting to set in real fast. What did he mean, do you recognise it? And why the hell are you so prepared for a situation like this, almost as if your dad has been training you for it since you could remember?

“Fine,” your stalker says, his breath fanning over you with how he’s leaning into your space. “Maybe you can answer something else, about your boyfriend.”

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” you say. It’s not a lie - technically, you hadn’t had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ chat with Bucky yet. This man is not appreciative of your loopholes. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, pressing his glock into your neck. You shiver, both at the pain and the cold of the metal. Through gritted teeth and mild hyperventilation, you say, “As a matter of fact, I dunno who you are either. That’s kinda weird, dontcha think?”

You can practically hear Bucky in your head telling you to shut up, but he’s not here right now. No corners, just like your dad said. Doesn’t mean you can’t try and find some corners of your own.

What you meant as a question to buy some time, with a bit of attitude on the side, sends your stalker reeling back from you. He’s confused, eyebrows drawn down low and his friends behind him look to each other with the same expression. Now, you’re confused as well. Everyone in the room stands (or sits, in your particular predicament) in a pure state of what the fuck is going on. It would be funny, if there wasn’t still a gun to the back of your head.

“You don’t know the patch?” the man asks, gesturing to the sleeve of his jacket. When you don’t respond he continues, slowly, reiterating his question from before but as a statement, “You don’t recognise this place.”

You have zero idea what’s going on, but whatever you’ve said seems have thrown your kidnappers for a bit of a loop, so you decide to roll with it. You say, and hope to god the man standing behind you doesn’t shoot you for it, “I’m starting to think you’ve lost control of this situation, pal.”

From the corner of the room behind you, a familiar husky-toned red head says, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Shots ring out, shattering the windows as one by one your stalker’s friends drop like dominos. Someone crouches behind you and cuts you lose with a knife, and you hear it clatter to the floor as they launch over the back of your chair feet first into your stalker. Natasha. The flash of her red hair over your shoulder as she sends him flying is unmistakable. You scramble from the chair, fumbling for the knife she dropped but your hand slides through something thick, wet. The man behind you with the gun lies dead, throat slit, his blood now all over your fingers. It mesmerises you in a sickening way, making your stomach turn and your vision go fuzzy.

You’d never seen a dead body before. Now they are all around you, the bar smelling like blood instead of beer and the sound of bullets pinging off glass the only noise other than Natasha grappling with your stalker. She’s so small compared to him but she has her thighs clenched around his throat and he gasps for breath, clawing at her legs. You watch, stunned, as he gets a grip on her and throws her off, sending her crashing into the wall with a groan.

She hits the floor and you see red - all you can think is that’s Bucky’s family and that man is walking towards her, his gun trained on her body as she tries to pull herself to her feet, so you stop thinking at all. You picture the back of your stalker's neck like the dartboard at Sam’s bar and you throw.

Bullseye. Just like your dad taught you.

The man drops, knife buried in his neck and haemorrhaging blood. He gurgles this awful, awful sound as he clutches at his throat, trying and failing to push the blood back in. Natasha looks from your still outstretched hand, trembling in place, to meet your gaze. You can’t begin to decipher her expression, nor do you want to. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or choke, or scream, or all three. The man you just stabbed in the neck groans in pain, eyes rolling, coughing blood from his mouth in thick clumps. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

The door bangs open and you flinch, stumbling back until you trip on the chair you had been tied to and fall to the floor in a crumple of limbs. It’s Bucky, eyes wild and larger than life with a rage you’ve never seen before. He has a huge sniper-rifle slung over his back as he strides into the bar, stepping right over the writhing body of your stalker.

“I’ll deal with you in a second, Rumlow,” he practically growls, kicking aside the man’s hand that tries to grab for him. You scramble to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to get to Bucky. Doesn’t it say something about you that you run towards the man responsible for the death all around you?

You crash into Bucky hard, the force of the impact knocking the breath right out of you and once it’s gone you can’t get it back. It feels like his arms encompass the entirety of you as he holds you so tight your feet leave the ground. His chest rumbles with words but you can’t hear him, your ears are ringing and your chest is tight because panic attack, you dumbass. You press your face into Bucky’s neck and hope that’s enough to escape the scene unfolding around you.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with this,” you hear Natasha say somewhere behind Bucky but you refuse to lift your head to see.

Bucky attempts to pull away from you to look at Natasha, you can feel him try and twist his head but the inarticulate whine that rips from your throat stills the both of you. It’s mildly embarrassing, the sound you’ve just made, but it’s out there now. Bucky shifts his grip so one big palm rubs soothing strokes up and down your spine and you feel yourself becoming boneless with every pass of his hand.

“I’m not fucking lettin’ him get away with this,” Bucky says, low, threatening - if you were this Rumlow guy bleeding out on the ground, you would be afraid.

“And he won’t,” Natasha says, and then like she has to remind Bucky of his own thoughts, “but you have other priorities right now. Get her out of here.”

You feel Bucky nod, his scratchy chin moving against the top of your head. He kisses your temple and holds the back of your skull with one big palm, pressing your face further into his neck. It means you don’t see the carnage of the bar when he moves to place an arm around your shoulder and steer you out the door, stumbling under his guidance on shaky, cotton-fuzzy legs. He’s hurrying you, but as gently as he can. Once you feel the bright burn of sunlight on your skin you pull back from Bucky’s neck, blinking in the now empty street and Bucky’s piercing gaze as he looks down at you.

“Are you with me?” he asks, his hand dropping from your skull to squeeze the side of your neck. You still feel like you’re sipping each breath through a straw but you nod. You can see in his eyes he needs you to be with him right now, to get out of here, so you try and blink away the fuzzies in the corners of your vision and focus on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and christ, now is not the time for that stinging pressure behind your eyes you hate so much. You hope Bucky understands - sorry for not listening to him, sorry for getting you both into this mess, sorry for not being strong when he needs you to be.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, tugs you in harsh and strong by the grip he has on your neck to press a bruising kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fierce way he holds you, presses emotion into your skin like the tattoos littering his skin - a brand of your own, in the middle of this eerily empty street with the blood of strange men on both your hands. The thought makes you shake, so you twist your fingers in the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and breathe him in deep.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says, then pulls away from you. He grabs one of your hands from out under his shirt and links your fingers, beginning to drag you down the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he says with a grimace, “We gotta go.”

He leads you to his bike, squeezed between a brick wall and a dumpster in a side alley a block away from The Lerna. It roars to life before you’ve properly swung yourself on the back, and you aren’t bothering with helmets this time as Bucky eases the bike out from it’s tight spot with unsettling ease. All you can do is hold on tight and close your eyes as Bucky leads you away, weaving through the city in nonsensical loops before you feel the air open up around you and the familiar sounds of Brooklyn.

Bucky takes you to Steve’s tattoo in Red Hook, the first time you’re been back there since that fateful run-in with Natasha. You’ve checked out completely by the time Bucky parks - he has to lift you off the back of the bike because your legs won’t work, and he all but carries you inside. Steve is quick to rid the shop of the two customers looking at designs out front as Bucky settles you on the couch by the tattoo beds. You sink into the faded red leather without feeling a thing. Distantly, you notice the kid who usually mans the tills looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you suppose you deserve that.

“Stevie, I think she’s in shock,” you hear Bucky say, and the childhood nickname makes you smile. You watch Bucky’s face crease up deep concern at the dreamy look on your face, so you suppose you should stop smiling like a crazy person. A giant blonde head swims into your view, just as concerned, and he drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyebrows drawing down as you fumble for his hand. He squeezes your fingers and mumbles something to Steve who leaves you again, his voice mingling with the kid’s somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder but you can’t focus on that. All you can do is swim in the back of Bucky’s too-deep stare and say, “I killed him.”

“No, no,” he says, shifting closer between your thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of you. This would be funny to you in any other moment, something to tease him for as he takes both your hands in his and squeezes them together, silently imploring you to stay looking at him. He says, “That’s not on you, sweetheart, it ain’t. You didn’t kill him.”

You’re crying now, properly, which you suppose is a good sign because you don’t think people in shock can cry. You watch as something cracks in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you break apart, but you can’t stop now you’ve started. You say, “I did, I killed him. How do you do it? How do you just- I feel like my throat’s gonna close up. How do you live past this?”

Bucky’s face darkens, smoothing out to something stone cold and frightening. You don’t feel scared, though, as he leans into your space so close you almost feel cross-eyed trying to stay glued to the blue of his eyes. He searches your face for something and says, no room for argument, “You did not kill that bastard, you hear me?”

“But-“

“No,” he says, simply, and that’s that. “The only reason you were in that position is because of me, doll, so no. You didn’t kill him. It’s on me, and I live with that so you don’t have to. You got that? You don’t ever have to live with that.”

You don’t know how he makes you feel like he’s physically reached into your chest and pulled out your guilt through your throat, but he does. You can see it clenched tight in his fist, his eyes shuttering down dark as he shoves it between his own teeth to hold. It’s too soon for the feelings clawing at your ribcage but you feel them just the same, that cigarette burn he left on your heart aching so bad you could scream from it. You extract a hand from his to run down his cheek, along his jaw, cupping his face in your palm. He closes his eyes, shudders as though swallowing down the guilt for the both of you.

I love you for that, you think to the soft flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. I’ll love you forever for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Natasha returns to the shop, and Sam bundles in not long after that, the four bikers sit around Steve’s prematurely closed tattoo shop and have a family meeting. You can’t help but feel like the kid who’s stayed up past their bedtime to try and hang with the adults, the words flying over their head and sleep pulling at their eyelids but they fight to stay awake anyway. Bucky pulls your head into his lap as he sits on the couch beside you, so you lie there and let him stroke your hair while they discuss what happened over the past two hours.

Two hours, and that’s all it’s taken for your whole world to spin on it’s axis. You’d learnt to throw knives at tree trunks with your dad as a fun, albeit unconventional after-school activity. And now you’ve buried a knife in someone’s neck, you’ve been kidnapped and tied to a chair and watched Bucky gun down men from a rooftop with his sniper rifle. He pulled the trigger with the same fingers he’s carding through your hair now, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your toes tingle. How is that at all ok?

“We’ve started a turf war with Hydra, now,” Sam is saying, sitting backwards on a chair facing Bucky and spreading his hands out in a placating gesture as Bucky bristles. “It was unavoidable, alright, I’m just saying.”

“Not necessarily,” Natasha says. “Rumlow has had a vendetta against Bucky for years. He could’ve been acting alone.”

“It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” Steve says thoughtfully. He is pressing an icepack to Natasha’s back, already bruising from where this Rumlow guy threw her into the wall. She’s lifting up her t-shirt and you can see a glimpse of a back piece standing out stark against her pale skin. Giant, feathered wings and a talon, a mosaic piece of what looks like a large hawk spanning the length of her spine.

“When Pierce finds out it was us that shot up his bar, though,” Sam says, making meaningful eyebrow movements to the group. They all nod thoughtfully and fall into silence.

None of these names make much sense to you - Hydra, Pierce, even Rumlow who you’ve gathered by now was your stalker. Was, because he’s dead now, and the thought turns your mouth dry and rusted. You shift in discomfort, drawing Bucky’s attention down to you as he gives you a concerned once over. He had done a thorough analysis for any injuries, even after you’d assured him you were fine, but you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

Unfortunately for you, all your wounds appear to be mental. They’re getting deeper by the second.

“I keep thinking,” you say to Bucky, “why was he so surprised I didn’t know where I was? Or who they were?”

“Hydra is our biggest rival,” Bucky says, and huffs a laugh at your crinkly brow so he clarifies, “They’re another gang, one we’ve had a lot of run-ins with. Rumlow especially. He wasn’t our biggest fan.”

“So he expected you to have told me about him, and Hydra,” you say, the name unfamiliar on your tongue. He nods, and you have to ask, “Why didn’t you?”

Bucky frowns at that. “I already told you - the more you know, the more dangerous it is.”

“And I already told you, no secrets,” you say, frowning just as deep. A beat passes and Bucky doesn’t budge, just glares down at you like he can physically bore his opinion into your brain and make it yours. Exasperated, you say, “Bucky, it didn’t matter anyway - the danger found me. Telling me things like that isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It would’ve if you’d listened to me and not done the stupid thing,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. He may have a point, but you aren’t going to back down that easily. Bucky knows you, he knows if you see a loose thread you’re going to pull it. The fact he thought you’d listen to him tell you what to do at all is laughable.

“This gang is your life,” you say, and you don’t bother to hide your frustration now, “They’re your family. I’m no safer not knowing what’s going on - I got stalked and kidnapped regardless. Clearly, it’s dangerous no matter what, so just tell me, Bucky. Whatever it is.”

Bucky stares at you for a long time. Steve, Natasha, Sam - they cease to exist in this room with you. Those first few weeks, when you refused to stay the night in Bucky’s bed and would only see him to fuck - you used to be scared of looking into those eyes for too long, for fear of getting lost. Now you dive head first, a part of you hoping you do get lost so you never have to find your way back out again.

Eventually, Bucky clenches his jaw tight and says, “You’re right.”

You blink, surprised. You hear Sam whisper to Steve, “did you record that?”, and honestly, you wanna ask the same thing. Except the way Bucky is look at you- dread curls thick and choking in your gut. You look up at Bucky and he seem so far away, out of reach even though you feel him all around you. He continues stroking your hair but it’s absentminded, his mind far away too.

You are drawn back to the tattoo shop by Sam saying, “I gotta say, Barnes, your girl is smart as hell. Keeping your phone on you and out-smarting Rumlow in a hostage situation? Pretty badass.”

Bucky smiles briefly down at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. You turn to Sam and say, “I got the impression out-smarting Rumlow isn’t really that hard.”

Everyone laughs at that, even Bucky, and it clears away some of the dread eating away at your stomach. But it’s still there, acidic and bubbling no matter what you do to smother it.

Eventually, they grow tired of talking in circles about Rumlow and Hydra and the possibility of the feds showing up (Bucky assures everyone the cops will find no rifling on the bullets and won’t be able to pin them to the crime scene, but Sam mutters heard that before and an argument erupts about some debacle in Bucharest so you tune out). Bucky takes you back to his apartment, tucked securely in his leather jacket in the best kind of shock blanket you could ever ask for.

For the first time, you noticed the tiny embroidered star on the sleeve of his jacket. You wonder if all Bucky’s friends have the same star on their jackets, because they’re not just friends, they’re a gang. One you feel suddenly, irrevocably intertwined with since they’re the only reason you aren’t sitting in a jail cell for murdering someone.

You feel jittery as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, almost nervous. It looks the same as this morning, the coffee cups you used for Steve and Bucky still in the sink and hoodie of his you’d worn last night draped over a chair. But everything is different, now. It’s all changed, there’s weird new shadows over everything long after Bucky turns on the light. You linger in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom while he rummages around for sweats and jumpers, laying out a pair for you before he begins changing himself. He shucks off his t-shirt and you see his tattoo sleeve, the mottled scars hiding underneath, and your heart flies out of your throat before you can stop it.

“So do you guys have a fun, spooky name like Hydra or what?” you ask, closing your eyes with a grimace as soon as you ask the question. What are you, twelve? Bucky doesn’t answer and you’re too afraid to open your eyes too see the look on his face.

You’re startled when you feel him kiss your cheek, sensing his large frame towering over you and blocking out some of the soft bedroom light. You open your eyes to find him smiling down at you, laughing at you with his eyes as he says, “Not so spooky. Steve named us, he called us the Howling Commandos. The HC, for short.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and he flicks the tip with his ringed fingers. You say, “That’s very old-fashioned.”

“Nat teases him for it all the time,” he says, “She calls us her barbershop quartet.”

You smile, imagining Bucky in suspenders playing the accordion, and say, “Now that I like.”

The longer Bucky looks at you the more sober he becomes, mouth becoming pinched and jaw muscle ticking. He holds you soft by the biceps and walks you back until you hit the wall, still gentle, but bracketing you in now so all you can see is the weight of whatever complicated thing is running across Bucky’s face.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me today,” he says. He shifts, grips your jaw tight so his rings dig into your skin with none of the gentleness of before - he means this. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, twisting in his tight grip to press a kiss to his fingertips. He softens, allows you to pull him in flush against you by his waist, his bare skin so warm under your hands. “And, thank you. I don’t- I guess I’ve never had someone come save me before, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He kisses you, a rough press of chapped lips against yours and is gone again before you can react. Says, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Come back,” you say with a pout, and you have just enough time to see Bucky smirk down at you before he’s kissing you again. It’s just as fierce, almost painful, but the rough slide of it distracts from the burn in your chest and your racing thoughts like razorblades. You lick into his mouth, chasing away the ghosts nipping at your heels, and he presses you back into the wall with a thunk hard enough to leave a bruise on your tailbone tomorrow. You don’t care. It feels good to hurt in a way that’s physical.

The ease with which Bucky picks you up makes your head spin. It’s all you can do but pepper kisses along his stubbled jaw as he carries you to the bed, lips suddenly ripped from his skin as he dumps you on the covers. He is quick to follow, squashing you down with his tongue in your mouth before you can take another breath. This, you know. All the messy feelings and heartache and fearfearfear that beats in time with your heart, that maybe you’ll lose him or he’ll lose you and you came so close today, is unfamiliar to the both of you. But arching your back off the bed so he can take your shirt off, scrubbing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he peppers kisses across your tits with a trail of goosebumps left behind - this is how you know Bucky best.

He makes quick work of your clothes and you fumble with his jeans, laughing into his mouth as he bats your hand away to do it for you. Bucky bites your bottom lip in playful admonishment and you chase his mouth as he tries to pull away. He places one big palm on your clavicle and pushes down, holding you against the bed. He shakes his head at you with a smile.

“Stay,” he says like he would to a dog, grinning wide as you glare at him. But you do as you’re told as he leans over you to grab a condom with his left arm. Maybe you bend the rules a little to trail kisses up the bits of his outstretched forearm you can reach. Over a shadowy skull, the stem of a rose, what looks like military windings near the crook of his elbow and tiny handwritten letters that spell S N S. Sam Nat Steve, because Bucky might be a tough guy to most but he’s a giant sap deep down.

Bucky shudders at your touch, and it makes you wonder if the scarring under his tattoos is extra sensitive. Or maybe he is just sensitive to anyone touching him in such a vulnerable place. You flick your eyes up to watch him watch you, lip drawn between his teeth and a dent between his eyebrows you ache to soothe if he wasn’t still holding you down. You don’t stop, even though he looks physically pained with every brush of your lips against his skin. You trace the edges of another small wolf with your tongue, like the ones on his chestpiece, and watch as his eyes flutter closed when you get close to the paper-thin skin of his inner wrist.

That hits Bucky’s limit. Suddenly his hand on your chest slides up to your neck and he’s leaning over you, left arm braced by your head and his mouth swallowing yours. You groan against his lips at the rough drag of his hands down your sides, gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. He makes your brain go fuzzy, the only coherent thoughts being Bucky and touch me more. He seems to understand. His fingers find your clit, smoothing slow circles which spark embers in the pit of your stomach. Bucky’s mouth falls open as yours does, as if to breath in the whine he draws from you.

“Fuck, you always sound so good,” Bucky groans. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking advantage of your thigh trapped between his legs to rut against you while he continues playing with your clit. Every time Bucky gets filthy with you it’s like the first time, shocking and almost embarrassing in the sexiest way possible. Heat floods your cheeks and makes you lightheaded, unable to stop the moan he draws from you. You’re rewarded by Bucky’s teeth in your neck, the sensitive spot just over your pulse point, and if you’re being honest you could come just from this.

Bucky’s cock growing harder against your thigh, as his hips shift in rhythm with the circles he draws on your clit, becomes too difficult to ignore. To gain his attention you twist and nip at the closest piece of skin you can find, Bucky’s ear, and he engulfs you in a kiss which steals the breath right out of you. You buck your hips, hoping to nonverbally convey the demand get in me right now, and Bucky doesn't need any more hints than that.

He fumbles with the condom for a second and you take the time to sit up on your elbows and look at him. Bucky is so beautiful, drawn in harsh lines and stark contrasts. Tan skin turned paler against the opaque black of his tattoos, colour swirling in-between and it should be jarring, but you think he just looks like art. Bitten red lips, startling blue eyes pinning you to the mattress as he catches you staring - such bright, primary colours because he is a statement piece, and one you could look at forever.

Bucky grins almost bashfully as you stare at him, leaning back over you to kiss you soft and sweet in a sharp juxtaposition to the rough tumble which got you here. Again, he sends your head spinning when the tender kiss is punctuated by the unexpected push of Bucky’s cock in your cunt. He bottoms out before you can blink, throwing your head back out of the kiss with an untamed groan - both pleasure and pain, in the good way. Bucky drags his teeth from your lips down your chin and neck, biting a mark into your collarbone to set the tone for the bruising pace he creates as he pounds into you.

He doesn’t do anything in halves, you think. You gaze up at him with an almost dopey smile while Bucky fucks the literal breath out of you. You lift your hips to meet him as he bottoms out with every thrust, watching in awe as his face creases up in ecstasy - it’s you who brings him there. He palms your tits like he can’t help himself, loses control in your pussy because you make him feel that good, and the thought makes you giddy. Drunk, almost, as you drag your nails down his chest and nearly come once again just from the moan you draw out of this brilliant, dangerous, gorgeous man.

“You take it so well, baby, fuck,” Bucky pants, eyebrows creasing as the pleasure gets almost painful in its build. You know the feeling. Bucky’s mouth is always your undoing, rolling your eyes back into your head and the sounds you’re making turning positively feral. He kisses you again, more a slam of mouths than anything finessed, and says, “Never gonna get over this, never gonna get over how good you feel.”

“Bucky, you gotta-“

“I gotta what, huh?” Bucky grins at the pleasure-addled panic he brings you too, not wanting to come too fast but also needing to let go before you actually explode. He knows exactly what he’s doing, balancing on one hand to thumb harshly at your clit as he says, “You want me to stop? I don’t think so, sweetheart, I think you wanna come on my cock just like this, wanna hear me tell you how good you are, how sweet you are for me all laid out like this-“

Everything whites out as you come, hard, all your muscles spasming like crazy with the orgasm that rips through you. Bucky’s voice is drowned out, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying anymore, he’s made you feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. Bucky thunks his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you as the fluttering clench of your cunt around his cock becomes too much. His thrusts turn sloppy, his breath hot and ragged across your face as you press lazy, barely-there kisses to his cheeks - all you can muster in your fucked-out haze.

Bucky comes with his eyes closed, eyelashes tangling with yours, and you cling to him with all four limbs as he shakes through his orgasm. The release was so needed for the both of you, the events of the last twenty-four hours frying your nerves to the point where it was either fight, cry, or fuck. It feels so good to have Bucky on top of you, inside you, all around you in every single sense and it warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. Until Bucky.

Maybe that’s the afterglow talking, and you should stop. But you can’t help but press another kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and another, over his nose and across his still-closed eyelids until you reach his mouth and he can kiss you back just as soft. You hope he gets it. You hope he feels it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You go to see your dad, eventually. The chaos of yesterday kept you attached to Bucky’s hip - you showered together in the morning, and he allowed you to pretend it was just the water and not tears soaking your face. But he made you cuddle with him on the couch and fed you an omelette like you were incapable of feeding yourself, and maybe you were, because the reality of what happened in that shitty Manhattan bar was starting to eat away at your executive functions. It took all of your strength to convince Bucky you would be ok and that you’d come back to him as soon as you were done, but it was time to pull on a thread you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

It turns out, that paranoid over-questioning part of your brain doesn’t turn off even during a traumatic event. Your dad lets you in without a word, tugging you into a side hug as you both walk to the kitchen to make tea.

The house you grew up in has taken on a different light since the Lerna. The kitchen chairs aren’t the same, reminding you too much of ziptied wrists and a gun in your face. Why can you superimpose the memory of Rumlow holding you hostage to one you have of being eleven and tied to a chair by your father? You shouldn’t be able to do that.

He nudges your hip, jerking you out of your staring contest with the dining chairs, and offers you a mug of tea. You both sit at the table, either end, the fruit bowl a mediator between you. He looks tired, old, like he always has somehow in your memories from childhood. He’s still your dad, the same man who always been there because he’s all you’ve ever had. He loves you, you know does. Ya lyublyu tebya, luna. But he has always been the first to say your paranoid streak runs a mile deep, and once you find a thread-

Well. Everyone knows how that ends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your dad asks, and it’s like he knows you aren’t here to ask for boy advice or moan about a case or your skyrocketing rent.

There’s a lot you want to talk about. Why did I learn to throw knives instead of joining the soccer team, like normal kids? Why did I learn how to survive an interrogation instead of going to sleepovers, like normal kids? Why did you train me to question everyone and everything in this world, but I’ve always blindly believed you? Like a normal kid would, you suppose, the only normal you’ve ever really gotten. Always believing your dad is the superhero of six-year-old dreams, someone who would never keep you in the dark.

“No,” you say, taking a sip of tea. It burns your tongue to numbness, but you can’t bring yourself to care. We had the secret language for only us - why did I never think you might have secrets from me as well? You grimace into your tea and say, “Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“Tayny budut presledovat tebya vechno, malysh,” he says. Secrets will haunt you forever, little one.

You don’t dare look up from your tea as you say, “Ya dumayu, ty by znal vse ob etom.” I guess you’d know all about that.

He gives you leftover curry in a carry bag when you leave. Kisses you on the cheek and lets you go, but you can feel him watching you the entire time it takes you to walk down the street and out of sight. As soon as you round the corner you retch into the nearest bush, a well-manicured rose which you silently apologise to as it gets covered in your bile.

This guilt isn’t something Bucky can save you from - it feels like it’s eating you alive. You had never, ever thought you would get to the point where you’d be leaving a bug stuck to the underside of your dad’s kitchen table, but you suppose you never thought you’d be stalked and kidnapped either. You wipe the your mouth with the back of your hand as your stomach finishes emptying itself of tea and betrayal, and try to tell yourself you won’t find anything, you're just being paranoid. But you know you will.

Maybe you always have, and that’s why you’ve been too scared to pull on the thread you’ve known has been dangling in the back of your mind since you were a kid. Just one secret you wanted to leave, one dark corner you didn’t want to shine a light into. That’s never been in your nature. You spit the foul, acidic taste from your mouth onto a poor, innocent rose bud and think with just as much bitterness as the bile coating your throat, that’s not who my dad raised me to be.

Part 7

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #pov #pov fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky fic #biker!bucky au #biker au #11 hours #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #brock rumlow

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

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Hi, I absolutely adore your stuff!!! Its my birthday soon and I would be forever grateful if you could write me something for Zim? I dont really mind what it is or what it's about. I'd just be happy for cute headcannons. Thank youuuuuuu!!!!💞😘

Sure!! I finally got to this. I’ve been wanting to write some headcanons anyway, but I have a lot in my ask box so I just haven’t gotten to it yet. This is basically a list of various headcanons that are cute (in my opinion), they don’t really have a specifc theme!

Cute Zim relationship headcanons (all are my personal opinion)!!

Irkens are touch starved, since the entire empire is basically one big military. Love within Irken society is incredibly taboo, as is physical affection. Most forms of physical contact between Irkens tend to be painful (i.e punches, kicks, strikes). The whole concept of romantic relationships was a bit of a culture shock to Zim.

That being said, the very first time you had attempted something in that vein (even if it was something as simple as a hug or taking his hand), he wasn’t quite sure how to react. At first he was very jumpy. However, if you would pull away, he would immediately bring you back in.

In the beginning, you would have to be the one to instigate anything romantic. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want it (he was pretty much hooked on physical affection the first time you held his hand), rather he was too proud to ask for anything. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, begging for attention. He was Irk’s finest soldier after all!

Eventually, he had stopped caring about that. Once he gained confidence with the whole thing, he would make the first moves quite often. Because if he wanted it, he would take it (within your comfort level of course).

Zim is a clingy bastard. Too conceited to admit it, but clingy nonetheless. If you ignore him for too long, he will begin to bug you in the most obnoxious ways imaginable. Trying to work or be productive? He’s basically the equivalent of a cat, he’ll just lay right across whatever you’re trying to do, or right on top of you to prevent you from accomplishing anything. If he can’t do that, he’ll bitch and moan until you acknowledge his existence. If you somehow manage to ignore him after all of that, he’ll get all schmoopy and lay on the ground all depressed like (basically that one scene from ETF) until you go convince him you still love him.

(more under the cut)

Despite being cautious with hugs at first, he learned to love them. Again, he would never say this aloud, but they make him feel warm and safe. Zim would never verbally ask for a hug, rather just slither his way into your arms. This happens often, especially when he’s unhappy. Sometimes he’ll even use his PAK legs along with his arms, although he’s very careful when he does this since they can be sharp; this usually happens if he thinks you need to be protected from something, even if it’s not a physical threat (breakdowns worry him, he believes you to be in danger from something he can’t fight).

Holding hands is something Zim likes a lot. Not only does it feel nice, he’s discovered it to be a very effective way to show the world that you are his, and that he is yours. He tends to be a bit jealous and overprotective, so if he feels that there is even a minor possibility of your relationship being threatened, his clinginess goes up a thousand percent. Anytime you walk anywhere together, you better believe your hands are linked.

Cuddles are also a thing he loves dearly. Once he gets comfortable, Zim is definitely a cuddle bug. It’s like a hug but better! And if you’re at his place, there is a ninety percent chance GIR is joining in. Just like one happy family! Again, if he initiates it, he won’t ask for it. You could just be sitting on a couch and he’ll slowly curl himself into you, gradually latching a limb at a time onto you, until you’re both just a mess of tangled arms and legs. But, oh, if you even make the smallest remark about him being cute, he’ll throw a hissy fit and say that he’s just doing this for your sake, not his own enjoyment (and then two seconds later he’ll be purring and chirping in your arms, content as can be).

Zim is competitive as hell. He’ll turn anything into a competition if you let him. If you remain passive and assure him that, yes, he is the best, he’ll leave it at that. However, if you don’t back down and try to give him a run for his money, expect an all out war. You can use this to your advantage. For example, want him to be overly-affectionate for the day? Challenge him to see who can do the most nice things for each other. Even if he says that’s stupid, he’ll still accept the challenge and suddenly you have the sweetest alien in the universe. He will never back down. Ever. So these little games will be drug out for as long as you let them. It’s best just to let him win after a day or two.

Dates with Zim are either the most outlandish thing you’ve ever done, or the most charming and romantic. There’s no in-between. And they can go from zero to a hundred real quick. Typical Earth dates make no sense to him in the slightest, so even if he does try to take you on a cliché date (dinner and a movie, stuff like that), it will most likely go horribly wrong as a result of poor planning. Those dates tend to be the funniest, but they frustrate him to no end since he clearly can’t get them right. He tends to be more successful when he stops trying to think like a human, since he really can’t. Lots of dates in space ensue, which tend to be both exciting and amazing. Although everywhere he takes you isn’t anything special to him, he can tell you’re having the time of your life, which is enough to satisfy him. GIR probably tags along a lot (not only is he a great robot son, he makes an excellent wing man).

Kissing is a very strange experience for him. Zim has never understood the act itself or its appeal, and at first found it rather disgusting. Eventually he gets used to it, but he’s still completely confused by it. It’s not his favorite thing, and he definitely has to be in the mood for it, but he’s more willing to take part in it. Especially if it becomes competitive; pray for yourself then, because you have a monster on your hands. And if someone just won’t get the hint, kissing is his way of telling them to step off before they lose a limb; he’s a jealous little devil when it comes to you.

As time goes on, you’ll begin to notice that several articles of clothes of yours have gone missing. Zim likes to take jackets he thinks you won’t miss anymore, because as previously mentioned, he’s a clingy bugger, and so when you can’t be around him, he’ll put one of those on while he works down in the lab or is doing repairs. If he gets it dirty, he’ll sneakily throw it with the rest of your laundry and take another one.

Zim is extremely proud to have you. He will show you off to anyone and everyone who will listen, including his Tallest (who seemed rather confused). At first it was embarrassing, but you had just learned to roll with the inevitable.

If you ask very nicely (i.e. offering cuddles and feeding his ego), Zim could be convinced to give you a lesson on flying the voot cruiser. Does it go well? Well, Zim’s piloting skills are...not consistently amazing, his teaching skills even less so, but you didn’t kill yourselves. You would have thought he would be pissed after the ship was docked in the hangar in worse condition than it had left, but surprisingly he was even more motivated to teach you to pilot an Irken ship. Mainly because it was a way to spend time with you in a way that he could understand, but nonetheless he made flying lessons a regular thing.

Expect gifts constantly. Despite his evil plans going horribly wrong all of the time, Zim is actually incredibly skilled when it comes to tech. So, he makes you things. A lot. They tend to be things that are actually useful, with far more advanced technology than anything available on Earth. Plus, Zim is a million times more helpful than an IT guy. Your phone or laptop not working? You can take it to Zim and within five minutes not only is your original problem fixed, but the device itself has been completely upgraded with Irken tech to give it more functionality and efficiancy than you could have ever dreamed of.

Overall, despite his flaws and being a massive pain in the ass, Zim is a cutie in his own right. :)

#invader zim #headcanon #invader zim headcanons #zim x reader #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim fic #request #fanfiction #fanfic

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webcricket · 5 years

Text

Castiel Imagine

Imagine: Your brother loses his cool when he overhears Castiel giving you a lesson on how best to handle an angel’s blade (ft. Dean Winchester putting the “ass” in assumption.)

“You sure you want to do this now? In the middle of the library? I mean it’s not the most practical setting to whip it out-” the anxious pitch of your voice threads the threshold of the bunker’s library door, needles through the map room into the hall, and pricks Dean’s ears to alertness as he shuffles between the kitchen and his bedroom with a half-eaten sandwich shoved in his pie hole for purposes of transport on account of a beer held in each available fist- “we might break something.”

Over-protective brotherly spidey-senses forever tingling in regards to you, ignited by the hesitation laden in your words and his uncertainty of what they refer to, the elder Winchester stops up short to listen closely for who you’re speaking to and about what exactly.

“You doubt your ability.” Castiel’s gravelly observation informs as to the who.

“I just haven’t had a lot of practice,” you reply in an abashedly lowered tone.

“Here-” Cas continues, cadence exuding confidence in whatever he’s offering- “don’t be afraid. I’ve sensed your longing to try this for awhile. It’s not as though you haven’t thought about touching it many times before today. Go on.”

Your awe-struck hum of, “It’s harder that I thought it would be,” sets Dean’s muscles frenetically, and clumsily, into motion. Briefly he forgets the bready stopper stuffed in his mouth and tries to shout through the ire-muffling amalgam of carbs.

“Keep your grip gentle, but firm. Focus on squeezing around the base when the heft of it first hits your hand,” Cas instructs softly.

“S’too big, Cas,” you whine.

“You’re overthinking, relax. Let the shaft glide across the cradle of your palm and gravity will do the rest.”

Fumbling, Dean shifts the necks of each bottle into one hand and rips the ham and cheese filled triple-decker from his clamped teeth.

“Closer?” you wonder.

“Very close,” Cas growls.

“Slippery little devil,” you laugh lightly. “You know, it’s kind of ironic something as simple as this can make a being the size of the Chrysler building come undone.”

Heart rate ascending heavenward, rapid rush of adrenaline wobbling his limbs, Dean trips into the map room.

“There!” Cas rasps in praise. “So good.”

“Like this?” you ask.

“Yes, that’s it!” the angel exclaims with orgasmic glee.

Momentum of stumble moving him forward, Dean and his beer spill up the library’s concrete steps and put him within sight of you. “What the hell is going on in here?!” Mayonnaise and bits of hastily chewed bread froth at the corners of his mouth.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas peers up at his friend from where you’ve just proudly flipped and caught his angel blade like a seasoned pro.

“Hey, jerk.” You aim your chin at him in greeting, stabbing at the empty air in lieu of a having an actual enemy within reach.

Dean stares between you, jaw and glinting green gaze widely agape. He can’t reconcile the innocent context of what his eyes are telling him was happening with the hands-on hedonistic mayhem his mind assumed given what he heard.

“I was showing your sister how to balance my angel blade in close combat,” Cas explains. He gestures to the metallic shine of the weapon in question in your lithe clasp. “She’s a very fast learner.”

Nodding slowly, Dean wipes a sleeve across his face and skeptically repeats the angelic explanation, “You were showing my sister how to handle your blade?”

“That’s what he said,” you tease, knowing full well what your brother imagined was going on given how worked up he is.

“Uh huh.” Dean keeps bobbing his head like a dashboard decoration bouncing on a bumpy back road where the driver took a wrong turn. He points his sandwich at Cas and shakes a few menacing crumbs onto the floor. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”

You watch him turn to leave, and shout at his departing spine, “Whatever you say. I’m a grown woman, Dean. I make my own decisions about whose blade I want to handle.” You smile, because frazzled Dean is never not funny, and because for all the sneaking around you and the seraph do do to secret the actual romantic and physical nature of intimacy shared from your brothers this is the thing Dean finds to freak out about.

You look down at the cool metal held in your hands, twisting the triangular point, you catch Cas' curiosity crimped brow reflected in the mirrored edge.

“I don’t understand,” he contemplates aloud, “what did he think was happening?”

With Dean long gone to nurse his wounded ego and the coast clear of Sam, you decide - setting the blade aside on the table, clasping Cas by the coat lapels, pushing him backward to sit in a chair, and notching your body between his knees and a finger behind his belt buckle - that it’s a query best served by a tactile answer.

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @dont-trust-humanity @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @xdifsx @mandilion76 @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @jessikared97 @let-the-imaginationflow @warriorqueen1991 @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @hisnameisboobear @kristendanwayne @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @ladyofletters67 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @lilulo-12 @x-cassiopeia @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @missjenniferb @jessiekay2010

#castiel imagine #spn imagine #castiel x reader #castielxreader #castiel x you #castielxyou #cas x reader #cas x you #spn x reader #castiel fanfic #castiel fanfiction #castiel #you x castiel #reader x castiel #cricket writes cas

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dragetunge · 3 years

Text

@timewept sent: ☆ with hisiccup hdkhsjdh

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Who trashes the house? Do either of them get physical? How often do they argue/disagree? Who is the first to apologise? Hiccup and Douxie really don’t have disagreements and if they do they’re exceedingly small and aren’t a big matter. Just a disagreement about dinner or what not. Usually its met with kisses and laughs.

Sex:

Who is on top? : Primarily Hiccup. ( But they do like to swap from time to time) Who is on the bottom? : Primarily Douxie (as mentioned when Douxie is in the mood he tops) Who has the strangest desires? : I don’t think there is any I can think of as of this moment Any kinks? : Hiccup is the kinky one of the two. Thought what they are stays between him and Douxie. Sorry no spicy tidbits ;) Who’s dominant in bed? Hiccup most of the time. (except when its the Douxie times) Is head ever in the equation? 100 % all the time. If so, who is better at performing it? Hiccup he’s been with a few partners to know and experience it Ever had sex in public? hfdgndfgdfgd yes Who moans the most? Douxie. These two experience a lot of new things together. Who leaves the most marks? Hiccup. He leaves the most mark and almost makes a game out of where to leave the most revealing to where Douxie can’t hide them before work. Who screams the loudest? Who is the more experienced of the two? Hiccup is definitely more experienced since he’s been married twice before. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Both. It depends when the mood strikes them. Rough or soft? Depends on the mood. How long do they usually last? A while....Hiccup’s a dragon rider they can go for about an hour or so. Is protection used? No there isn’t. Does it ever get boring? Definitely not. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? The Renn Faire tents in the back while they were working

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Who is the favorite parent? Who is the authoritative parent? Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Who changes the diapers? Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Who spends the most time with the children? Who packs their lunch boxes? Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Who cleans up after the kids? Who worries the most? Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

No kids they’re going to be the best gay uncles though to everyone else’s kids. Plus Hiccup’s had kids and doesn’t want to do that again.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? They both love cuddles. Who doesn’t like cuddles? Who is the little spoon? Douxie most of the time except Hiccup wants to be the little spoon. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Hiccup 100% and he walks it off while leaving Douxie flustered and completely red in the face. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Both of them do after they’ve started dating one another. How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? They reposition into a new cuddle formation. Who gives the most kisses? They don’t really keep count seeing they’re always smooching or giving the other smooches some place on the other. What is their favorite non-sexual activity? They really like doing things together. Like cook or play video games. They love movie nights Where is their favorite place to cuddle? The couch. They have a comfy couch. Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? This is probably Hiccup more than Douxie but I feel like Douxie’s had his fair share of doing it. How often do they get time to themselves? They do not like being apart from one another when they’re in the same space.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Hiccup most likely. If both do, who snores the loudest? Hiccup’s not very loud when he does. Its more of a dozing snore. Do they share a bed or sleep separately? In the same bed. They gotta. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? These boys are on top of each others. Limbs are usually a mess between them both. Who talks in their sleep? Hiccup again. He gets ideas during his sleep and probably has said them to Douxie while asleep. Like Douxie’s awake when he does XD What do they wear to bed? Doux wears pjays and Hiccup wears a lose tshirt that doesn’t really fit and a pair of underwear. Its easier that way so he can air out the stub. Are either of your muses insomniacs? Douxie mainly but Hiccup has his nights Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? No I don’t think so Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Their limbs cannot be distinguished when they’re asleep in the bed Who wakes up with bed hair? Hiccup. The king of floof in the morning this one Who wakes up first? Depends on the day really. Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Hiccup. He’s the cook in the relationship. And he loves spoiling Douxie What is their favorite sleeping position? They get comfy sleeping any position tbh Who hogs the sheets? Hiccup. He is a comfort fiend. Do they set an alarm each night? Douxie does seeing he works at a local restaurant Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yes. It’s primarily there so Douxie can watch his shows when he’s not going to sleep on some nights Who has nightmares? They both do. And they’re never pretty Who has ridiculous dreams? Hiccup again. He has some pretty weird dreams which usually spark new ideas the next day Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Hiccup again. He sprawls out so he can cuddle Douxie mostly. Douxie has no place to go but sleep on top of him. Who makes the bed? Douxie does. Hiccup’s pretty useless in that department. What time is bed time? Whenever they decide its bed time. Any routines/rituals before bed? Douxie doesn’t have any. But Hiccup rubs his leg down nightly. To prevent chaffing the next day and to soothe any ache he might be having as well. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Douxie. If not woken by Hiccup or Archie they have awoken the bear.

Work:

Who is the busiest? Douxie seeing he works outside of the apartment. Who rakes in the highest income? Hiccup does. Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope Who takes the most sick days? Douxie when Hiccup gets sick Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Douxie cause Hiccup has no self control and usually tries to prevent Douxie from going to work. (he’s usually very successful most days) Who sucks up to their boss? I dont think either of them do? What are their jobs? Douxie’s a server at a high end restaurant close to the apartment. Hiccup makes swords and other trinkets and sells them online and does custom work for high prices. Who stresses the most? Douxie most likely. His job involves people Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I think both of them like what they do. Hiccup’s happy to be tinkering and making weapons and Douxie does love working with other people and making their day a little bit brighter. Are your muses financially stable? They’re very well off.

Home:

Who does the washing? Hiccup Who takes out the trash? Hiccup Who does the ironing? Hiccup Who does the cooking? Hiccup Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Douxie doesn’t cook much but he’s not horrible but most likely Douxie. Who is messier? Both? Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Neither Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Douxie. After a long day he just yeets clothes before crawling into bed next to Hiccup. Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither Who is the prankster around the house? They both get into a prank way but Hiccup always starts them. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? They both lose their keys when they gotta go out. They’re hopeless like that. Who mows the lawn? They dont have a lawn Who answers the telephone? They always answer their cellphones when someone calls Who does the vacuuming? Hiccup Who does the groceries? Hiccup primarily does but when Douxie’s off work they like to go together so he can let Douxie pick out his own snacks. Who takes the longest to shower? Hiccup does. He’s disabled and needs to sit down in the shower. Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Douxie does. He gotta cover all the hickey’s Hiccup leaves.

[ I hate this outs Hiccup as the house bitch but I’m also thriving because of it.]

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? No never. How many cars do they own? They don’t drive. They have a whole dragon and can walk. Do they own their home or do they rent? They own their cabin in the woods North of the City. And they’re renting to own their condo in NYC Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Both Do they live in the city or in the country? Both Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yes they do. Douxie’s the more lively one out of the both of them and loves to go out and see things or go to places more than Hiccup does. When, Hiccup goes out he does like to observe. What’s their song? “All of Me” by John Legend What do they do when they’re away from each other? Think about the other mainly. They really do not like being apart from one another. Where did they first meet? Douxie’s bookshop back in Arcadia How did they first meet? Hiccup went to Douxie’s bookshop looking for a particular book about gemstones and entered Douxie’s shop. He really didnt pay much attention to Douxie seeing he was hyper focused on funding that book. Until he fell off the ladder and met Douxie face to face while hanging upside down because his prosthetic got stuck on the wood of the ladder. Who spends the most money when out shopping? DOUXIE Who’s more likely to flash their assets? I dont think either would Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? This is Douxie 100% because when Hiccup does trip or fall he looks to the item in question and calls it a whore or a slut for inconveniencing him. Any mental issues? Im not disclosing this one sorry Who’s terrified of bugs? Seems like Douxie Who kills the spiders around the house? Hiccup takes them outside of their home so they do not get squashed. Their favorite place? I feel like any place becomes a favorite so long as they’re together. Who pays the bills? Hiccup takes care of the finances. He’s done it pretty much before and can do it. Do they have any fears for their future? Oh yes they definitely do. But they do talk to one another a lot when these fears arise and they comfort one another. Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Hiccup. He utterly spoils Douxie but those fancy dinners are usually done at home because he’s a very good cook. Who uses up all of the hot water? Neither. They usually shower together most of the time. Who’s the tallest? Hiccup coming in 6′1 Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? They’re both very guilty of doing this. They just like being together. And they become very relaxed when they bathe together. Who wanders around in their underwear? Hiccup does seeing he doesn’t really leave their apartment unless he really has to. Also due to his health he really just decides to stay home unless he knows Douxie’s having a bad day at work and ventures out. Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Douxie does. Hiccup cannot sing worth a damn. What do they tease each other about? Anything and everything. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Modern clothing is new to Hiccup so he tries a lot of new things and Douxie does cringe about it. Do they have mutual friends? Of course they do. Basically everyone they know Who crushed first? Douxie because a pretty roguishly good looking boy appeared in his book store and fell on his property. Any alcohol or substance related problems? No Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Hiccup because he does get drunk but he usually does it at home. One time he did and he put googly eyes on everything in the pantry and Douxie couldn’t eat anything the next day because he thought the things in their pantry had feelings. Who swears the most? Douxie. Im not saying Hiccup doesn’t swear. Douxie just does it more than he does.

#dragetunge #timewept #🔥▓◤AH YES. JUST ANOTHER DAY ON BERK: Interactions◥#🔥▓◤PEACE HAS BEEN MAINTAINED: Answered◥#🔥▓◤I CLOSED MY EYES I TOOK A DRINK: timewept/Hisirdoux◥#hisiccup #//hiccups the house bitch #im dying

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strayficks · 5 years

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EPHEMERAL 2 • JAEHYUN

Tysm for anons who had given me ideas!! and my asks is always open, feedback would be greatly appreciated ✊🥺💝

Part(s): 1 . 2 . 3

Genre: smut ✌

Pairings: bad boy!Jung Jaehyun × fem reader.

Jaehyun couldnt stop thinking about her. When Mark asked him what he was doing that night, he didnt say anything. He stayed vague and silent about it.

Maybe it’s the fact that he wants her to himself, or the fact that he always gets turned on everytime he thinks of her. Either way, Jaehyun found her interesting. When she left Jaehyun alone at the park, he watched her leave with nothing but confusion on his mind. Still, Jaehyun doesnt know her name yet.

He asked about her to Yukhei, he’s the last person Jaehyun trusted about telling things about her, but he’s the only person that knows about these things. To no avail, Yukhei doesnt recognize her. Jaehyun tried to describe her as best as possible. ‘Like.. this tall, she smokes, bold as fuck. Are you sure you dont know her?’ Jaehyun had asked Yukhei.

Yukhei stayed silent when he asked it, but when Yukhei asked him if she has her nose pierced, Jaehyun was esctatic. ‘Yeah, she’s my friend’s friend. Dont know her name. You definitely have a type, man.’ Does Jaehyun really? He had been on a couple relationships, but her? He had never met someone like her. So fascinating, so.. brave and alluring.

He cant stop thinking about her since she sucked him off at the park, sure, the sex was a bonus and all, but he’s hooked. Adamant on finding her again. But Jaehyun doesnt know what he’s going to do if he did meet her again. Probably have a nice little talk, or fuck her again until she came. The words rung in his head. ‘No’ she had said.

Jaehyun knew that was a lie the moment it came out her mouth. He rembered her legs being wobbly after he was out of her, the way her cunt tightened around his cock the same time he came. She’s a tease it seems. So when Yukhei told Jaehyun that there’s a party going on on friday, mentioning that his friend will come and the possibility that the pierced girl tag along, he was more than eager to meet her again.

“Fuck no!”

“Fuck yes! Look at yourselves.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes at your response. Your dress was the least conservative out of the group, even though it hugged every inch of your body as if it were a second skin, the girlsbdresses, however, consisted of much less fabric than yours. Ryunjin’s pink slip dress hugs her ass so well, and Jihyo’s little red number exposed so much cleavage you thought you were going to go blind if you stared too long.

Though they were barely covered, you had strange feeling that plenty of other girls at the party would be wearing much less.

The drive to the house was short, but the crowd to get into it went down the block and wrapped around the corner. There were a few cries as the the three of you entered the room. All eyes were on the three, well, mainly you and you know it. Some gazes are filled with lust and admiration, some filled with envy and jealousy. People dont affect you. In fact, their stares and whispers only made you more confident. You pulled your most charming smile, raised your chin and swayed your hips as you walked.

“I should’ve plucked your eyebrows if i knew this much people stare at you on a daily basis, Y/N.” Ryunjin snickered beside you as she nudged her shoulders with yours.

You fake a pained expression as you put a hand on your chest.

“How dare you! My eyebrows are better untouched!”

You felt Jihyo’s delicate hand squeeze your arm as she looked to a spot, a look on her face as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Fucking hell. It’s Hyunjin.”

That was when you saw him. Maybe you were hallucinating, but standing less than fifteen feet away with his arm around some random brunette and his eyes locked on you was the last person you wanted to see.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jung Jaehyun like you hoped. You stood frozen as you watched Hwang Hyunjin shove the girl away, not noticing the dirty look you gave him in response. Even if he had noticed, he probably wouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t like he had a heart. Hyunjin had been the main reason behind your sudden change of look, your ‘bad girl’ nature.

Your one year of involvement with him had resulted in you being arrested for various crimes, nearly being expelled from yet another school, losing your virginity in the backseat of his Jeep, and ultimately getting your heart shattered when you found him sleeping with your supposed best friend. To put it lightly, Hwang Hyunjin had kind of ruined your life, and now here he was.

Dont get it wrong. You changed because you wanted to. You realized that you need to change, and you did. You turned into a butterfly and you were free without him. If you hadn’t dated him, you wouldnt be the person you are now, and somehow you were thankful. Because without him, you wouldnt be able to grow up and snap out of the fantasy that you dreamed of.

“At least i look fucking hot tonight.” You said nonchalantly, “Gonna get a drink, be right back.”

Every muscle in Jaehyun’s body seemed to relax upon entering the core of the party, realizing that maybe this was just what he needed.

Yuta noticed the change in mood and clapped a hand on his friend’s back before leading him over to get some drinks. For a long while the duo chatted and drank as they observed the guests who had made an appearance. He took a moment to admire the girls all around them, smirking as his eyes drifted over their bare limbs and glistening skin, but Yuta seemed to be too preoccupied staring at two to even notice the other girls that Jaehyun pointed out.

“Damn,” Yuta murmured. “Those two get hotter every day.”

Jaehyun laughed. “Having fantasies about the those two again, Yuta?”

“How could I not? Doesn’t every guy fantasize about having a threesome?”

“Not really my thing.” Still, he gave Yuta a hard slap on the back.

“But if it’s yours…” Yuta’s grin was brilliant in the darkness

“Hell yes it is.” Soon he was shoving his half-full drink into Jaehyun’s hand and pushing away from the bar.

“If things go according to plan, don’t expect to see me for the rest of the night.” Considering the challenge, Jaehyun expected to see his friend back here in no time. Still, he wasn’t about to sit all night.

Decision made, Jeahyun stepped away from the safety of the bar and made his way into the crowd. It took a few moments to find a decent looking girl in a midriff-baring top, but soon he was pulling her close and joining the writhing mass of movement.

Sadly, it didn’t take long before he was bored again. He gently released the girl on his arm and threaded his way through the crowd again, searching for something a little more entertaining, but the passage of another twenty minutes and a handful of girls left him disappointed.

‘Where is she?’ He muttered to himself. As if on cue, Jaehyun was startled when Yukhei’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“That girl you were looking for? She’s here. Her friends told me just now.” He said, nodding to the two girls chatting with Yuta.

Jaehyun’s heart leaped when he saw her. How he hadn’t noticed the girl before was mystery, but now he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. She was leaning against the far wall of the room, a drink in her hand and pure boredom plastered across her face. Her dress clung to her figure in all the right places. It wasn’t until she met his gaze that Jaehyun realized how long he had been staring, still attempting to place her.

Part of him was tempted to look away and pretend like he’d never seen her, but she glanced away before he could even try. He watched as she smirked and passed her empty drink off to nearby partygoer, and had to wonder if it was him she’d been looking at in the first place.

However, those doubts quickly faded when she began moving in his direction. Jaehyun took a hesitant step forward, but even that small shift had caused him to lose her in the crowd. It didn’t help that a new group of girls had surrounded him, each pressing themselves against him in half-assed hugs. He barely avoided being snagged by one of the girls’ black talons as he turned in the opposite direction, praying he’d be able to escape them unscathed.

Unfortunately, the move caused him to bump straight into a pissed-off Hwang Hyunjin

“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” Hyunjin snarled, that hideous lip-piercing glinting under the lights. In an instant Jaehyun’s mood went from vaguely content to sour, all because this sorry excuse for a human decided to open his mouth. So instead of letting him pass, Jaehyun squared his shoulders and stood his ground.

“I think you should leave,” he said, nodding towards the exit Hyunjin’s lips twitched into a sneer.

“Excuse me?”

“Just get the fuck out the party.”

“I’m not leaving,” Hyunjin replied, hitching his chin up in defiance.

“Not until my ex-girlfriend explains why she’s h-”

“I don’t give a damn about you, Hwang,” Jaehyun finally exploded, all traces of patience fleeing.

“Either you walk out that door right now and keep your dignity, or I call the boys and have them throw you out. Your choice.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flitted to something Jaehyun’s shoulder, but he didn’t take the bait to see what had captured Hyunjin’s attention. Instead he waited until the other boy scowled and turned sharply on his heel, stalking towards the exit.

A glance to his left revealed the girl he’d been staring at earlier dancing as if no one was watching with her arms high above her head as her hips swayed to the beat. It didn’t take much to convince himself to go over to her, hoping she could make his night better.

A few steps brought Jaehyun up behind her and he settled a hand on her waist, letting the other drift down to her hips. The girl glanced over her shoulder, offering Jaehyun a slow, unsurprised smile that made his stomach twist into knots.

“You showed him,” she teased, obviously referring to his run in with Hyunjin, her head falling back onto his shoulder He could smell the alcohol on her breath, but her softly drawled words brought a smile to his lips

“You came, you never told me you knew Yukhei.” he murmured, pulling her closer as the heavy bass line resounded in his chest.

Her response caused him to flirt with the notion that this could be Hyunjin’s ex-girlfriend, but the fact that her hips were now grinding against his own made any other concern that didn’t involve getting her into bed disappeared. Jaehyun lost track of time while they dancing.

The music was good, company, and the fact that they’d hardly exchanged any words was even better. The passage of what seemed like an eternity had brought and now jaehyun was finding it hard to move without stumbling or bumping into a neighboring person.

But seemed like the girl having the same problem. He was practically the only thing keeping her from going down in those heels, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist as her hips pressed hard against his.

“Come home with me,” Jaehyun whispered against her ear, hands sliding down her hips. The girl leaned back just enough to meet his eye.

“Why should I?”

“Because you want this as much as I do- and i want to make you cum.”

His hands were on her thighs now, fingers inching up under the material of her dress. It only took her a moment, but she grabbed his hand and smiled, taking a shaky step backward as she tugged on his hand.

“Then let’s go.” Hand in hand they stumbled out of the house and onto the sidewalk, her giggles echoing down the busy street.

When she realized she had no idea where she was going, Jaehyun took the lead and guided her another block or so down the street to the dormitory. Jaehyun felt her hand slip out of his once they were alone, before he even thought to question it, her mouth was on his and there was no more time for words. A shiver rolled down his spine as she pressed herself against him. The door slammed shut with enough force to shake the room as they staggered towards the bed, his fingers finally managing to snag the minuscule zipper of her dress and yank it down, though much to his chagrin it didn’t instantly pool at her feet.

Her throaty chuckle made it obvious that she was well aware of his annoyance, and the fact that she was doing nothing to help him out only made it worse.

Before he could even think to voice his displeasure, her lips were on his and they were suddenly falling onto the bed, soft pillows absorbing the shock of the fall.

Even though the actual impact hadn’t hurt, something sharp had scraped his cheek, and Jaehyun turned his head to break the kiss, swatting her hands away, he reached up to touch the small cut on his face, startled when he drew back to find blood on his fingers.

His eyes darted up to the girl straddling him, but her gaze was trained on the red-specked spiked ring on her finger. It took her a moment to put two and two together, but a sheepish grin spread over her face when she realized her jewelry had been the culprit.

“Sorry,” she murmured insincerely, slipping the ring off her finger and tossing it to the side as if it were a mere toy.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You met Jaehyun again. You were surprised but surely not disappointed. You chuckle to yourself, remembering Hyunjin’s face after he was kicked out by Jaehyun. You slid your bra off and exposed your breasts to him, you felt him slowly slide his hands up your waist, sending shivers through your body, until his hands cupped both your mounds. His eyes were completely trained on your peaks, watching them like they were more valuable than anything in the world.

“So you know Yukhei?” Without replying to your question, he leaned in and sucked one nipple into his mouth, causing you to gasp and arch your back. He flicked his tongue slowly against it, torturing you

“God,” you moaned, curling your toes when his teeth taunted your hard nipple, sharply biting into it, causing a zing of delicious pain to shoot through you.

“Ah, Jae..”

The flick of his tongue and the squeeze of his palm made moisture flow to your core and soak your already soaking panties. Beneath you, you could feel his erection growing, pressing against said core, almost as if it knew where it wanted to go all by itself. The suspense was killing you.

“Jaehyun,” you moaned again when he switched to your other breast, giving it the same amount of attention with his and teeth. Finally pulling away from you, kneeling above you as Jaehyun looked down at your underwear.

“Fuck, youre gorgeous,” He noted in a deep, aroused voice. His eyes lustfully trailed over your figure, your skin, down to the spot between your legs. You felt scorched.

“But I think I’m going to need to take it off you.”

“Only if you take off those, too,” you rebuffed and eyed his briefs where behind the cotton. You could see a very large bulge making a tent out of the fabric.

“Fair trade,” He said and then split his mouth into a panty dissolving smirk, before he begun tugging at his briefs.

You begun working on your panties as well, but had to stop when he stepped off the bed to discard his briefs, allowing your full view of his-ahem ‘Cock.’ Heart beating rapidly, you couldn’t help but stare. He was thick and gloriously erect, the head of him glistening with precum.

The heavy sac underneath was what thoroughly finished him off as being the biggest you had ever seen, you havent taken a good look when you first had sex with him at the park, but seeing him now, damn, He has such a beautiful cock.

You deftly stepped out of your panties and then walked up to Jaehyun again. You were now completely naked. His hands came around your legs and smoothed their way up to the rounds of your ass.

He cupped your butt like two delicious, juicy fruits and then squeezed them hard, causing a moan to rip from your throat. You grasped onto his shoulders for support and then let out a startled squeak when he ceased you and hurled you around on the bed. You landed flat on her back, and not one moment later, Jaehyun was on you.

“Jae, oh shit!” You gasped and then cried out a moan when he parted your legs and buried his face in your cunt.

A small scream rippled from your throat and you desperately clutched onto his shoulders as Jaehyun pushed his tongue into your core and made your stomach pool with heat. All your nerve endings seemed to meet when he moved up to your clit and flicked the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth, rolling it in between his teeth.

He lapped up all your juices while all you could do was writhe, scream, and pray that the sex-gods would show you mercy tonight, because this is going to be a wild one.

He suddenly flung your legs over his broad shoulders as you hazily opened your eyes from the ecstacy. The sound of the foil being ripped can be heard as he positioned himself in front of your entrance.

“You said you didnt cum? I wont hold back this time.” He stated. automatically cinching hips. His mouth found yours again, dominating you once more. She gripped onto his shoulders, dragging your fingers up through his hair.

And then in a wild thrust, he was inside you. You cried out, Jaehyun ramming into you hard and repeatedly. You hung onto him, your lips parting in hitched breaths. You clawed your nails down his chest, just like his teeth bit into your neck.

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You hollered, throwing your head back, you couldn’t control your movements. He was hitting you so good, exploding stars started decorating your vision.

He felt so deep and so perfectly, long and thick inside you.His aggressiveness had you pining for him. Hard was the only way you wanted it. For now, anyway. Both your mouths found each other again and Jaehyun savored every part of you, the fast, furious strokes of his cock inside you quick. You could feel herself get close, you manage to corak out, letting him know what he’s doing to you.

“Jae… fuck, almost there, yes, oh fuck, yeeeees!” Jaehyun pounded into you grunting while you dipped your head deeper into his bed. Even then, high, pitchy sounds kept coming out of your mouth in short breaths as he fucked you into oblivion.

His fingers drilled into you breast, leaving more bruises as his hips and strokes finally pushed him over the edge well, joining you in your climax, his bldy going rigid as you felt the muted splurts of his cum inside you.

“Hey…maybe we can go get coffee sometime?” he offered, simply just trying to catch his breath. Sweat and bite marks covered both your bodies, scratches down Jaehyun’s back as well.

“I have to get back to my friends, they’re probably looking for me.” You said gruffly, an excuse just flung put of your mouth. Picking up your discarded clothing on the floor. Your voice was unattached, like you wanted it.

“Wait- at least tell me your name.” You pulled away from him, forcing him to let go of you. You then quickly put on your bra and dress, palming you panties in your hand while Jaehyun simply just stood there, trying to comprehend what just happened. You then ran a hand through your hair, straightening it, not regarding him with a look, for some reason. You looked like you were going to leave without saying anything at all. Jaehyun frowned.

“Wha- why…” The words froze on his tongue when your eyes met his. You quickly gave your panties to his open palm, covering it with yours as he grasped it tightly, a coy smirk on his plumb lips, the scratch on his cheek still apparent.

“It’s Y/N, I’ll see you around.” And then you stepped around him and slipped out of the room. Closing the door behind you.

#jung jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct smut #nct jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jung yoonoh smut #jaehyun smut

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syfynjvall · 4 years

Text

OTP ASK GAME - farah & juliette

tagged by @havennly thank u!! i’m gonna tag @agentnatesewell @bryceslahela @agentfreckles @serafinedupont @agentnats if youve done it already i apologize ksks

(long post warning)

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

juliette, but it’s honestly never anything serious. more often than not its just bc she gets very competitive during game nights

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

neither, even kidding about it kinda hurts each others souls

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

neither

Who trashes the house?

i cant see either of them doing it

Do either of them get physical?

never in a million years

How often do they argue/disagree?

not often, and when they do its mostly about petty things like leaving empty containers in the fridge

Who is the first to apologize?

both are good about it

SEX.

who is on top? Who is on bottom?

hmmm they switch

any kinks?

welllll jules put on her old cheerleading uniform from college as a joke once and farah was into it. theyre both into roleplay

who has the strangest desires?

jules

who’s dominant in bed?

it’s a pretty even split

is head ever in the equation?

yes

if so, who is better at performing it?

probably farah

ever had sex in public?

once. under the bleachers at the football field. pretty cliché

who moans the most?

uhh both

who leaves the most marks?

farah

who is the more experienced of the two?

definitely jules. she had a LOT of fun in college

do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

make love. it’s very special for both of them bc they know they’re gonna last

how long do they usually last?

it depends but both of them can usually go pretty long

rough or soft?

typically soft, but rough if theyre in the mood

is protection used?

does it ever get boring?

where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

dont know? maybe in an empty room in the agency? idk lol

FAMILY.

do they plan on having children/or have children?

oh yeah definitely

if so, how many children do they want/have?

juliette loved the look on farahs face the first time they talked about it and she said she wanted ten kids. it was a joke obv but they probably end up having three or four. jules always wanted siblings growing up and she was sad she never got that wish so she doesnt want her own kids to be lonely like she was

AFFECTION.

who likes to cuddle?

both of them are huge cuddle bugs and they get cozy almost everywhere

who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

juliette

who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

both

how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

their cuddles can last a while but farah probably wiggles away first

what is their favourite non-sexual activity?

they love girls night out and its even more fun when tina joins them. put the three of them together and its basically nonstop chaos, but so fun

where is their favourite place to cuddle?

predictable, but the bed. jules is one of those extravagant mattress people so her bed is basically a giant pillow and its very comfortable

SLEEPING.

who snores?

both

if both do, who snores the loudest?

jules, and you better believe farah teases her relentlessly

do they share a bed or sleep separately?

jules WAS a very picky sleeper until she got together with farah, now she gets pouty if they dont share a bed

if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

they cozy up, but juliette is a blanket hog so she usually ends up with most of the covers

what do they wear to bed?

jules usually just wears a top, farah wears pajama sets

are either of them insomniacs?

can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

not before everything that went down in book one, but since murphy, yeah. jules has a hard time falling asleep now

do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

definitely cuddly sleepers

who wakes up with bed hair?

both

who wakes up first?

farah. she’s usually the one to rouse juliette when she’s about to be late

who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

neither of them can cook so... neither lol

what is their favourite sleeping position?

farah loves being the little spoon and jules loves making her feel safe so

do they set an alarm each night?

jules does but she hits snooze at least six times a morning

who has nightmares?

juliette, and farah has no problem soothing her back to sleep when she wakes up

can a television be found in their bedroom?

yes. they’re both obsessed with trashy shows

who has ridiculous dreams?

farah!

who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

again, juliette is an unfortunate bed hog

who makes the bed?

farah. juliette is cute but she’s not always that tidy

what time is bed time?

whenever jules feels like it, and farah will follow her lead

any routines/rituals before bed?

other than the typical going to bed things, no

who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

farah probably

WORK.

who is the busiest?

both are pretty busy but since juliette has two jobs i guess she is a little bit more

who rakes in the highest income?

juliette probably?

are any of them unemployed?

UB gets paid right? so neither then? lol

who takes the most sick days?

juliette. her “bend the rules” stat is at 88%

what are their jobs?

detective and agent

who sucks up to their boss?

definitely not jules. farah might a LITTLE bit since rebecca is juliette’s mom but i think we know how that turns out lmao

who is more likely to turn up late to work?

despite juliette’s aversion for rule following she’s usually pretty puntcual at least, so im gonna say farah

who stresses the most?

im gonna say neither

do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

farah loves hers for the most part, jules feels like hers is more of a chore but she does love interacting with people.

are they financially stable?

yes

HOME.

who does the washing?

farah. once again juliette isnt super messy per se, but she is a bit cluttered

who takes out the trash?

both

who does the ironing?

jules is pretty good about that

who does the cooking?

neither. they both try but they’re both disasters so they order out mostly (more than they should)

who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

it’s about equal because again, they’re disasters

who is messier?

juliette

who leaves the toilet roll empty?

farah

who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

neither

[redacted] you are not going to miss this question.

who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

both

who answers the telephone?

juliette

who mows the lawn?

they dont have a lawn

who does the vacuuming?

probably jules

who does the groceries?

when they remember to do it, they like to go together

who takes the longest to shower?

jules

[redacted] you are not going to miss this question.

MISCELLANEOUS.

is money a problem?

no but farah does love buying stuff

how many cars do they own?

just one

what’s their song?

it changes but rn lucky by jason mraz fits them so well

do they live in the city or in the country?

juliette LOVES city life and farah thinks it would be fun too so they plan to move to the city one day

do they own their home or do they rent?

rented for now, for juliette anyway

do they enjoy their surroundings?

jules has a nostalgic fondness for wayhaven but again, really she’s itching to live in the city. farah likes it too but it’s a little too mellow for her liking sometimes

what do they do when they’re away from each other?

oh my god, theyre both clingy babies so they’ll be pouty and sad and constantly just text each other

where did they first meet?

juliette’s office

who spends the most money when out shopping?

probably farah

who’s more likely to flash their assets?

jules, but farah will too

any mental issues?

juliette definitely has ptsd after book one, and then its worsened after the trappers (she saved farah so she had to see sanja die)

who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

they both do lol

who’s terrified of bugs?

im thinking farah

who kills the spiders around the house?

juliette

do they have any fears for their future?

they’re both afraid of losing each other, mostly. juliette also worries a bit that maybe farah will get sick of her because she’s a “lot,” she was always told by past bfs/gfs that she was a handful or too wild or whatever so she worries she might scare farah off but when she voices that thought farah is very quick to very seriously assure her thats not going to happen

their favourite place?

the bar, also the forest to stargaze or picnic

who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

jules, but it’s definitely at a restaurant lol

who pays the bills?

definitely juliette

who’s the tallest?

jules is 5’9, farah is 5′4

who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

farah

who wanders around in their underwear?

jules

who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

both!! theyre both so goofy about it

what do they tease each other about?

pretty much everything, they’re bantering almost constantly

who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

neither of them are exactly fashion experts, so

who crushed first?

juliette

any alcohol or substance related problems?

no, jules enjoys drinking but she knows her limits

who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

jules

who swears the most?

both

#this was so much fun!#thank u for the tag #twc #tag games #twc: farah x juliette

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mingjue · 4 years

Note

give us the good werewolf!! i Must Know More

HEEHEE...............

ok BASICALLY, this will obviously be focused on Qinghe/the nie bros, so just for ref

Nie - Werewolf

Lan - Satyr

Jin - Elven

Jiang - Mermaid/Waterfolk

Wen - Draconic

WWX is vampire bc hes stupid and gay

Mingjue is half Elven, but you wouldn’t think he was asides from the big ears, Huaisang is full ‘wolf; jgy is elven/dryad; Wen Qing & Wen Ning are draconic/waterfolk

(For those who see this in the tags, this isn’t Om*g*v*rse or A/*/O do NOT touch this if u like that shit)

NOW, for actual werewolf content

The way the pack works in Qinghe is still pretty similar to clans in canon, just slightly different

Mingjue and his direct family are the head family Of Course, and they secure this position via duels/fighting should another family want to take over; these duels are common under stressful times, but Mingjue has been able to keep it held down.

The duels are like.....scheduled ahead of time, and are held in a secure area; the rules are that you can’t kill your opponent, that if you win you must treat the wolf who lost, + only the wolf who challenged the leader can fight, no one else (and vice versa, only the leader can fight) can join in, And More

like you cant aim for vitals, use teeth beyond taunting, fights cant be scheduled during/near full moons, and the fighters must choose whether they will both fight in humanoid form or wolf form

Clan elders supervise the fight, and have selected specific soldiers that will help break up the fight if anything goes wrong; doctors are also on stand by bc these fights get BLOODY (esp w mingjue)

Huaisang nearly loses his position after pretty much being back-to-back challenged for his position, which instilled the rule that duels can only happen three times a year. He’s managed to win his duels with his own tricks, but they can still end pretty bloody

Ranking is not much different due to the clans wanting consistency (also im stupid and gay)

The nies end up becoming the most medically advanced due to how dangerous shifting is; they develop medications to ease pain, different magic stuff to control body temperature, etc. etc.

and actually the Nies are known for being pretty wolves

TYPICALLY a fully shifted wolf during a full moon aren’t the prettiest things to look at; most commonly their fur is patchy, their limbs are obviously distorted, faces look mutilated in a sense, all that

BUT, due to advances in cultivation & medicine they’re able to be calm after a shift, so they’re able to keep up w personal hygiene LMAO

Mingjue personally is almost obsessive with keeping his fur a certain way to be both 1. Handsome :) 2. intimidating as hell; he has the advantage of getting rlly thick hair from his Elven side, so his pelt is flush. but he also leaves some of it “messy” and puffed out for the intimidation bit

huaisang keeps his completely brushed n smooth and he’s usually nested in his bed when he shifts. he was also blessed with the fullness in his pelt, but his chest/belly and thighs are more ‘bare’ compared to mingjue.

they also braid what parts of the fur they can; mingjue and huaisang have LOTS of braids as usual

ALSO the most common pelt color is black with white/lighter pelts being on the uncommon side, second most common are dark creams/browns/reds with black snouts/heads/legs/etc.

Mingjue has ruddy brown + black snout/legs/all that; Huaisang has brown w black ticked (i have NO idea what the dog term is for that, its like the tips of the fur is black??)

both have bright amber/yellow eyes

ALSO THEIR TAILS...........

ok. PRIMARILY. they dont have tails in human form, BUT, it’s possible, and it’s something that puppies/young disciples will usually let show??

Mingjue ONLY shows his tail when hes in private with someone close, like Huaisang or Xichen, and he Knows they won’t be walked in on. He just has this Thing where he’ll be fucking humiliated if someone else saw it. he also has rlly long fur on his tail so its PRETTY, he just thinks its childish

Huaisang on the other hand kept his tail out until he became the sole leader of the pack, save for like, banquets he attended with Mingjue bc mingjue would tell him to Quit It.

getting rid of a tail is an hour long process so mingjue has to watch the time to get huaisang before they go anywhere

if theres no time to hide a tail, tuck it in ur pants so it doesn’t move and hide it under layers

just. a tail in humanoid form is a different context than just seeing it when they’re shifted, and again a sign of childishness.

puppy ears in human form can also happen but it’s discouraged heavily because of the possibility of damaging ear canals.

OH ALSO, another reason why like, the nie clan has that GIANT ass wall surrounding its city, is because they go on total lockdown during full moons.

puppies are a fucking MESS to deal with, and they run like. constantly. If they’re still it’s because they’re either eating something or they’ve passed out from exhaustion. Huaisang was a TERROR when he was a puppy and mingjue still has a scar on his arm from when he went ballistic from pent-up energy

SO! There’s different parts of the city where puppies and young wolves can run around, destroy shit, eat whatever, wrestle each other, all that, and they’re HEAVILY supervised by elders/adult wolves who have better control of themselves during fullmoons

the only wolves who can leave the area during a fullmoon are Mingjue and Huaisang, and maybe like, a really well-respected elder or two, but that’s it

and despite popular belief this is actually the WORST time to attack Qinghe. Every wall is guarded, everyone is in a state where they can mutilate someone thats usually considerably stronger than them in human form, and Everyone is on high-alert whether they’re destroying a tree or nearly unconscious

theres also areas in the city sealed off for weaker/sickly wolves who are taken care of by capable adults, citizens of other species, all that

full moons aren’t hated in qinghe! they’re quite fun if you’re a werewolf; the areas for Going Ham are usually packed with different stuff u can mess with, you just have to watch ur back

they also aren’t that violent bc again, intense supervision by elders and the like; and they’re becoming more and more festival like with cultivation and medical advancement

then of course, the sword situation is still very much the same; my version of werewolves are like, slightly allergic to silver, but piercing one or having silver near won’t kill a wolf. the most it will do is give them a rash :/

all of their jewelry/accessories are made out of different metals because of this, esp since Qinghe is rich with that (+jewels/gems bc i love that hc so much)

THENNN i think last thing for now, they DO wear some form of clothing in wolf form, MOST of the time

typically there’s enough fur to cover privates, but its not unusual for there Not to be enough fur, so there’s specially made hanfu for full moons that are custom made for each wolf

basically being a seamstress in Qinghe will Get You Places, bc tears will happen, people will want them adjusted if they’re passing them to another family member, fashion choices, etc. etc.

Mingjue normally wears really simple hanfu and dachangs (the like, over-robe thing), but xichen bought him a specially made hanfu that he likes to wear during really important events, should he be in wolf form :)

huaisang buys new full moon hanfu every few months He Likes To Sit And Feel Pretty By Himself............(Or Maybe For Jiang Cheng If He Visits..........)

#Asks #Nie Mingjue #Nie Huaisang #The Untamed #OUHH #this was a lot so if u have questions about certain bits send an ask.....#i wanna talk about this more but again theres a lot......fuck #Myth Creatures AU #genderqueerxion

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cannibalisticshadows · 5 years

Text

Nightcall (1/2)

Inspired and named after the song “Nightcall” by Kavinsky

Rating: T

Pairing: Megamind/Roxanne

Tags: Angst with a happy ending.

Summary: Megamind can’t take it anymore. He has to tell her.

(ao3 link) | (part 2)

He’s sick.

It’s shameful how badly the words sit on his tongue, begging as if it’s life or death to be said. And it’s sick. So, so sick. Evil gods above, common sense screamed that everything about this was wrong on a million levels. Though “common sense” never applied to him much, this was a boundary even he was unwilling to cross. Their relationship was professional!

But how can he help it when he sees her walk away, hips swaying side to side like a metronome that seems to beat to his heart. He wants to cry out from the tugging at his soul the farther she is from him.

So, he supposes that’s why he’s always taking her. Mr. Tighty-Whities goes out and entertains hundreds of woman, but there’s only one woman that’s worth the effort.

These day’s he’s taking her more frequently. Half-assed schemes be damned, all he cares now is seeing her face again, right in front of him and not on television. To hear her voice being spoken just for him, tones low and seductive and just for him.

Temptress...

He can’t even...

He digs his fingernails into his palms so hard that even through the kid leather it hurts. He can feel it behind his gums, unsoothable even with his own tongue, which drools with the mere thought of being allowed to touch her in the most chase of ways.

The need to have her to himself has become overpowering. He writes out absurdly poor or well-thought-out plans just for the sake of telling Minion to fetch Ms. Ritchi. Once every-other week has become weekly.

Weekly incidents have become twice, or even thrice, a week.

“Are you okay?” She asks suddenly, tied to her chair and being quieter than usual. No. No that’s not right. She’s supposed to be talking about the plan. Taunting him. Bantering with him. Why isn’t she!? "You kinda seem... tired."

He nervously runs his hands down the crappy built control system of today’s Evil Scheme. It’s cold here, biting at his exposed skin, but the heat of his desperate, sick want keeps him heated. Bitting into his lower lip, he hunches over the buttons and knobs with his back turned to her. But he watches her from the little mirror he put beside him.

“I am ecstatic,” he says with false, half-mad cheer. “Today is the day Metro Man will die.”

“Wow,” she says mildly. She pauses. “Never hear a death threat before.” Despite her tone they both know it’s true. He usually says defeat. Is she frightened for once? Nowadays he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He bites harder, this time on the tip of his tongue.

He tastes metallic, and it burns his throat.

“Just shut up and be a damsel for once?” He sneers, baring his teeth and turning around to show her. He’s angry at himself, not her.

But it makes Roxanne jolt in her seat, comically surprised. Then she goes still, eyes wide with... Something. He can't read her. Always guessing, with her. She doesn’t respond, but shrinks a bit in her chair, glowering at him with suspicion.

It’s a weird feeling to drawl out this reaction from her.

~.~.~

He’s becoming more desperate to help his vice. Withdrawal starts the second Wayne throws him into prison, keeping him quiet and brewing over the duration of his stay. The guards notice; they steer clear of him.

No one is surprised when he breaks out not twenty-four hours later, snarling at the one puny guard who dares to raise a gun at him when he comes charging out.

Minion, barely given the warning he’s breaking out on his own, manages to catch him a few miles away from the prison he’s running from.

He’s sick. Still sick. Still wants to barrel himself through this confusing life with the little bits of the drug that’s pretty much the only thing keeping him afloat. An unquenchable hunger that has nothing to do with food, and it gnaws at him like a flesh-eating parasite. And it’s so, so wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Shouldn’t be physically shaking everything she moans his name in tiredness at yet another kidnapping. Shouldn’t be crying into his pillow at night because he wants to hear her voice outside of the television.

Kidnappings are more frequent. At the third kidnapping this week, Roxanne is barely awake which slightly pisses him off. This is a two-person job. He can’t just broadcast their trysts with her snoozing!!! He wants to grab this little woman by the shoulders and shake her—gently—because he just wants to talk to her.

Curse his alien psychology. Because he damn well knows what is happening to him. He knows why he’s resorted to spending more time in his room, biting at his own flesh because he can’t have what he wants. No. What he needs. Minion is starting to catch on, a bit, and Megamind cannot let that happen. No. No he doesn’t feel anything more than an annoyance for Ms. Ritchi, Minion! I am not falling into the same cycle my ancestors did!

He has to convince himself that his tone is somewhat convincing. Because it isn’t.

Tonight he’s determined to do it better. Today’s kidnapping ended before it even began, thanks to a sloppily build machine. It ended with a bitter, nasty remark at her choice in dress. He feels like a boy on schoolgrounds, tugging at the cute girl’s hair to get her attention.

But anyway. He fixed the machine and he demands a do-over. Tonight. At this very moment.

She’s at home, according to one of his spy-bots. not gonna admit that he’s so wretched over his own alien heart he’s started to spy on her in an indirect way.

He’s already on his hoverbike, because Minion, bless him, finally passed out from being worked too hard. He’s getting really close to Roxanne’s place when—

“Oh, no you don’t,” says a disapproving, gruff voice.

Snatched out of the air, his bike’s handles caught in the same beefy hands used to grab his collar, Megamind finds himself dangling and flailing his limbs.

Fucking Wayne. Fucking fucking fucking Wayne. What does he have to do at this time of night around Roxanne’s place, the bloody creep.

Oh. No. Megamind’s the creep, he viciously realizes, eyes ablaze with fury. Wayne’s the perfect boyfriend. Fuck him, Megamind weeps internally.

“Listen, little buddy,” the meat-head starts, pissing off the other alien even more. “You’ve kidnapped Roxie four times this week. What’s your problem?”

“You are my problem,” he hisses vehemently. “Let go!”

“No,” Wayne sighed, flying off closer to her apartment. Still spitting curses, but also rather confused, because why bring him to his destination when he was usually dropped off at the prison when caught? “You need to see this.”

Wayne drops him on the balcony without delicacy, making Megamind hand on his side with the air sucked out of him. Huffing, he stands and wipes dust off him. He breathes in, catching the faint vegetation scent of her potted plants.

His long-time enemy lands beside him on his white-clad toes, staring inside of the glass doors. Peeved, he meets where his gaze lands.

It’s Roxanne. Yes, she is home, and not at all conscious.

She’s still dressed in the same outfit from earlier; a sleeveless, deep wine-red—almost black—dress that flared at the knees, hugging her hips and derrière like a godforsaken glove. She looked good enough to drink. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, earlier,

That could have been a terrible, terrible tease if she hadn’t spent the duration of their short encounter today falling asleep. Why was she so tired lately?

She’s conked out on her red couch, one leg hiked up over the back of the couch, the other hanging off with her heal barely hanging onto her big toe. Her hair is completely disheveled, her mouth parted open as she drools slightly onto the couch’s fabric. One of her arms is curled up behind her hair, with the other hanging off the side of the couch.

And with that hand she’s gripping onto a bottle of wine. Her mascara has smeared down her face like black veins.

“You need to back off a bit,” Wayne said, his heroism voice gone and replaced with something that actually sounded human. It made things a hundred times worse because Megamind knew what his problem was.

He stood and stared at his poor Roxanne. Why. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

Wayne grabbed him by the collar before he could linger another moment, and he’s being thrown back into prison, to the bewilderment of the Warden. Can’t blame the old man; everyone could see Megamind was finally losing his marbles. He could see the thoughts in their eyes.

But as he sat in his cell, the tv on but muted, familiar orange jumpsuit scratchy against his sensitive blue skin, he thought over this hell of a month. He was sick of this. Sick of his wretched alien secret of this… need.

It should be below him. It should be abolished from his DNA; a trait his pre-evolved ancestors needed for… things. He was a scientist; an evil genius; a lone wolf. He shouldn’t be made weak by the simple, kind smile of a blue-eyed reporter.

Yet he was.

And he knew what he had to do.

Before it destroyed him.

#megamind #nightcall #song inspired #megarox #avi writes

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bourbonboredom · 6 years

Text

Silver Lining Chapter 7

If you’re ever gonna find a silver lining, it’s gotta be a cloudy day

A ClydexReader fanfic

Word Count: 2,694

Warnings: none

Silver Lining Masterlist

Tag List: @oh-adam @kyloren-supreme-ben @xis23@elsablackswift @ladygrey03 @grey-reylo-solo @givemelifeorgiveme @attorneyl @ayatimascd

Clyde woke up the next morning wrapped in blankets, the sun in his eyes, and with her head nuzzled into his neck. It felt perfect. She was still sound asleep, curled against him. He noticed she must have gotten up at one point in the night because she was now wearing his sweatshirt. It was far too big on her frame with the sleeves falling past her hands and the end of it stopping at around her upper-thigh, but he loved the way it looked on her. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into her hair, not wanting this to end.

But he knew he had to. It was the day. Today he had to land himself in jail for the sake of a crazy heist his brother had come up with. He had to do it, it was for his family. And the money certainly wouldn't hurt either.

He looked at her frame next to his, remembering what she had told him just a few hours ago. She needed money. She wanted her freedom from her psycho ex who was demanding she pay him for medical bills that were his fault. She didn't really need to pay them, in his opinion, she didn't owe him. But he considered that she saw it more as her just removing anything he could hold over her head. It was unfair, but he could understand it.

He decided there, in her bed with her curled up in his arms, that he was going to use some of the heist money to help pay her medical bills. He could find a way to send it anonymously to her ex, keep him out of her life for good. Maybe even help her get her tooth fixed. She admitted a few weeks back that He didn't have much he wanted for himself, he wanted to use this money to help her.

She stirred next to him, lazily opening her eyes and looking up into his. She smiled.

“Hey,” her voice was thick with sleep

“Mornin’,” he responded. “Did you get cold during the night?” he played with a string from his sweatshirt. She chuckled as he poked her cheek with it.

“Maybe, do you want it back?”

“Not right now, are you doin’ better?”

“I think so, yeah,” she untangled herself from him, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Thanks for staying over, sorry if its weird,”

“I don’t mind it,”

She moved a lock of his hair out of his face, fingers lingering over his skin just enough to give him goosebumps on his arms.

“You have really nice hair, y’know that?” she mussed it a little as she pulled away.

“Mellie tells me that a lot too, she keeps giving me shampoo samples from work, says they’re good for me,”

“Well, whatever she’s giving you, its working,” She got off her bed, his sweatshirt just falling below her ass. It started to ride up a bit as she opened her bedroom door and walked out into the front room.

It was just a little peak of skin, just enough for him to see how her sleep shorts had ridden up her thighs, hugging her curves tightly. Fuck, this was not the time to get hard, Clyde. He willed himself to settle down and she turned around in the doorway.

“You comin’? I can make you breakfast if you’d like,”

“In a minute, I gotta put my hand on,” he hoped it wasn't obvious he was trying to hide his lower body under her blankets. She just nodded and went to the kitchen.

He cursed himself silently, trying to think of things to calm him down. Why was a little bit of skin getting him riled up in the first place? Women came into his bar in bikini tops in the summer if it was hot enough! He tried thinking about the bar, going over the steps to clean it. Mopping the floors, filling napkin dispensers, wiping down the bar, bending her over the bar and taking her right there…

He groaned, this was not the time for this to start happening. He wasn't even going to be around! He was going to be in a cinderblock cell for christsake!

And there it was, nothing kills the mood faster than the thought of willingly going to jail for a few months. He got out of bed and reattached his prosthetic, feeling sullen. At least he’d have something to think about in jail now.

He went to the kitchen where she was standing by the stove. She had eggs scrambled and put on to two plates and was just starting to put some bacon in the pan. He willed himself to only look at her above the waist.

“Hey, I’m almost done and then we can eat. How do you like your bacon?”

“Are you gonna laugh at me if I say burnt?”

“Only a little,” her nose crinkled as she laughed, “But if that’s what you want, I can do that no problem,”

He got some orange juice out of the fridge and poured it into two glasses before setting them on the living room’s coffee table. She hadn’t bothered to get a kitchen table, said there wasn't much of a point when it was just her in the house. She came over with the plates of food a few minutes later. She set his in front of him, bacon burnt just how he liked. She had obviously taken hers out of the pan a little bit sooner. She turned on the tv to a morning talk show and they ate while listening to a team of too-chipper women argue over whatever the days gossip was.

The longer he stayed with her, the harder if was going to be for him to leave. He pushed the remainder of his eggs around on his place, barely listening to the talkshow. All he could think about was how in a few hours he was going to be in jail and he couldn't tell her. He couldn't prepare her for him saddling her with Duck Tape for months on end. The guilt gnawed at him.

He stood up suddenly, surprising both of them.

“I have to go, Jimmy wanted me to do something for him this morning,” he said quickly. “Thanks for making breakfast,”

“Thanks for staying over, it was— uh—I—” she stumbled over her words, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt. “I appreciate it,”

He stopped rushing to leave and turned to her.

“I’m here for you, I’m glad I could help,”

“Yeah, well—uh— I’ll let you know if I need help again,” she smiled at him, “I’ll give you your sweatshirt back at work, yeah?”

He swallowed.

“Yeah,”

———————————

The trial went by quickly. It was a minor charge, he’d only serve three months in prison. He had gotten to see his siblings as the sentencing, they sat near the back of the court room. Before the trial began Mellie told Clyde to call her when he could, she was worried.

He did just that only a few hours after arriving at Monroe County Correctional Facility. The line rang twice before she picked up.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,”

“Clyde! What happened are you okay? The operator just asked me if I wanted to take a call from an inmate,”

“I’m okay, my foot slipped on the gas and I got into a car accident, I’m serving a short sentence because of some property damages from the building I hit,”

“You hit a building?”

“I’m okay, I swear. I’m sorry I didn't get to tell you before, I wasn't allowed much,”

“It’s okay, I’m glad you're okay. I was so worried about you. Mellie came by to tell me that you were in trouble, but didn’t have a lot of details. People were asking about you at the bar, I wasn't sure what to tell them,”

“You can tell them whatever, I dont mind. I’m sorry to just be leavin’ you with the bar like this,”

“I’m really not sure what to do to be honest, its strange without you here,”

“You’ll do just fine, I’ve seen you work, you know what you're doing. And I trust you,”

“I’ll do my best,” She said quietly. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, its just three months I’ll be back before you realize,”

“Okay, thats not too bad. Do you need commissary money? Do you want me to visit?”

“No, Mellie and Jimmy can handle the money don’t you worry about that. And—“ he stopped himself.

He wanted to see her. He really did. But then he looked down at his prison uniform and his bare limb. The guards told him he couldn't have his prosthetic in prison, it was too easily use as a weapon or a place to hide weapons. So he would be going three months without his hand, which was kept in the safety of his room back home. He looked awful. He felt awful. He didn't want her to see him like this.

“And I dont think I’ll be needin’ any visits any time soon, I’ll be okay. Promise,”

“Okay,” It was hard to tell over the phone but he thought he detected a hint of sadness, “As long as you’re okay,”

“Listen, if you ever need any help, call Jimmy or Mellie. They’ll be around for you,”

“I’ll remember that, thanks,”

“And I dont get many phone calls, but I’ll keep in touch. Y’know, to hear about the bar. And you,” He heard her give a breathy laugh.

“I’ll put this number in my phone so I know to pick up. And regarding the bar, I’ve got some light gossip to start off with…”

———————————

The heist was pulled off about a month later. Jimmy had to move up the date by a week because the construction job that made this all possible was closing up early. They rushed to accommodate the time difference but it worked.

Of course there were a few hiccups. They almost got caught a few times, once by the English man whose car Clyde had torched with a molotov cocktail. But he took care of that real quick. And then the bomb Joe Bang was supposed to have made flew back into his arms, giving him a flashback of his service days. And then there was a problem with his prosthetic.

Mellie had given it back to him for the job, it felt good to have it back. It helped him feel like a person again, if only for the few hours he was out of prison. But then Joe Bang had to go and suck it up in the tube that they were using to suck up the money with. Jimmy said he’d get it back for him but it still felt awful to lose it.

And then to have all the Bang brothers confirm his worst fears. People knew why he joined the army, they understood it was because he was trying to be half as good as his brother. Jimmy had a life, he was going to play football, he had his wife and his daughter and was the town’s pride. Clyde just wanted to feel like he was something too. And he almost felt it. Then he lost his hand. And Jimmy lost the football scholarship. But it was all going to be worth it if they pulled this heist off.

And now he comes to hear from his sister that the money was found at a gas station and had been returned to the race track. Jimmy had screwed them all over. And now he was sitting in jail for nothing.

The family curse had worked its magic once again.

He was angry. He didn't talk much to people in the first place but he was almost completely silent for the next week. He did his job mopping the floors, ate his meals, and would lay awake at night in silence.

He didn't want to call her. He had done this heist partially for her. He wanted to get her that money to help her feel the freedom she craved. He was ashamed and couldn't even tell her why. He pushed it from his mind, it hurt too much to think about. He was disappointing her and she didn't even know it.

Mellie came to visit him two weeks after the heist. If she noticed he looked disheveled she didn't comment on it.

“I know you're upset. Hell, we’re all upset, but what’s done is done. Jimmy isn't talking to anyone about it and we aren't gonna figure this out until he talks. Which’ll be who knows when!” She waved her arms, which made the guard shoot her a warning look. She glared back and looked at there brother again.

“Your girl was asking about you by the way. She’s worried about you, you know. You haven't called her in two weeks. She won’t say she misses you but she does. A lot,”

Clyde let out a half-hearted grunt in response. He really didn’t want to talk about this with his sister. And he didn’t want his sister calling her his “girl”. She wasn’t his. And wouldn’t ever be.

“Did I tell you last time I went to her place she was wearing your sweatshirt? You wanna tell me about that?” She continued, not accepting his grunt as an answer.

Clyde groaned. He knew Mellie and her were becoming good friends but he didn’t think this would come up.

“It’s nothin’. She was upset one night and I stayed over is all. I let her keep the sweatshirt because I knew I was gonna be in here and I wanted to give her some comfort,”

“Like a beau would, you mean? And what do you mean ‘stayed over’? In her bed?” Clyde’s face was steadily turning a shade of beet red. “Clyde, did you and her—“

“No, Mellie. We did not. Not that it’s your business.”

“But you want to,” She gave him a look. “We all see how you look at her, and we see how she looks at you. You two need to get it together already,”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. She's my employee,”

“Who is runnin’ your bar like a champ right now, but the way. She barely even needs help. And don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. I know you, and I’ve spent a helluva lot of time with her now that you aren't around to keep her to yourself,” she pointed a long, manicured nail at him. “You’re both crazy for each other. Man up and admit it to her,”

“I don’t know about all that,” he said quieter. “Havin’ a girl like me like that,”

Mellie softened after hearing that. She knows how hard of a time her brother has had.

“Look Clyde, she’s different. She cares for you. It shows in how she cooks for you and how she’s taken to your family, and how she talks about you. Even when you're not there, she talks as if you hung the moon all by yourself.”

His lips pursed together, it sounded too goo to be true.

“She told me a little about what happened by the way, how she got here. She wouldn’t go into detail but she did tell me about how you’ve been helping her. You’re a good person, I know you don’t like to hear that but you are. And she knows that. She doesn’t judge your past or your disability or even the fact that you’re in a damn prison right now! She liked you for exactly who you are. And she’s walking around her house in your clothes? She’s packaged at your door, you just gotta pick her up,”

He was quiet for a few moments, processing what she had just to him. He felt a glimmer of hope. That things could work out for once,

“Tell her I’ll put her on my visitation list, I wanna see her,” Mellie nodded to her brother, breaking into a huge smile.

“She’s gonna like hearing that,”

#logan lucky #clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan/reader #clyde logan x oc #clyde logan/oc #masterlist

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your-modern-shakespeare · 7 years

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A Little Too Real (2)

Part 1

Summary: RealityTV!AU- You are a wardrobe supervisor for a popular TV network. The show is planning a reality TV show like the bachelor and Bucky is the newest contestant. But as the competition starts he realizes that he doesn’t like any of the girls…on the show anyway.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2950

A/N: So I feel super terrible about not posting anything lately. Things have been super hard and people are stupid and I’m trying to figure out a lot of personal things, but honestly all I want to do is hide away on Tumblr. But I really hope you guys enjoy this and I will try and be better.

Warnings: Talk of drunkedness, fluff, little bit of angst, mentioned depression

Tags: @fangirl1802, @seargantbcky, @lust-for-pan, @38leticia, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @karipaleta, @capandbuck, @camillechan, @findacauseandserveit, @audasia25, @kendallefire

READER’S POV

There were two things that were true about last night: 1) I drank WAY too much and 2) I didn’t remember anything that happened. When I woke up the next day (I had to admit that it was pretty late in the afternoon) I saw that I had missed a few phone calls and had some texts from Bucky. I quickly read through the texts and listened to my voicemails before I confirmed to every party involved that I was alive, but terribly hungover.

I did make it into work that day, though, no matter how late I was. But when I thought that Bucky would show, I was actually surprised to see Steve walk into my workroom.

“Hey Y/N.” He said.

“Hey Steve, what can I do for you?”

“I was just coming to check on you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I had a really great time last night and Bucky seems to really like you. I’m glad he has a friend on the show.”

“I love hanging out with him. I can actually speak Russian around him, which is awesome.”

“You speak Russian?”

“I was born in Moscow.”

“Wow. That’s really cool. I remember Bucky talking about Russia like it was another planet, he loved it there.”

“I know and It’s so nice to talk to him about it, I miss it everyday.”

“I bet. On another note, I’m having another party in a couple of weeks, which you are invited to, and I just wanted to get some input from an outsider.”

“I wish I could tell you but the last thing I remember is showing up at the party.”

“Oh no…that’s fine, no big deal, all that matters is that you had a good time.”

“I did…of what I remember.”

“Well good. So, I will leave you to your work and I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh and Bucky said he’ll be around later, I’m taking him out to lunch.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Bucky did swing by later and we talked, pretty much just like every other time before. And as we approached the start of filming, this was our routine.

Bucky and I had grown extremely close to each other. We told each other anything and everything that came to mind. Of course we had our secrets but we were still fairly new to each other. I couldn’t deny that I really liked what we had though. I didn’t know if it was anything past friendship or if it ever would be, so I pushed down any feelings that I may have had and tried to keep things simple.

The week before filming for the first episode, I was typing up an expense report when I heard my phone ring and instinctively reached for it, not even seeing who was calling.

Y/N: Y/N Y/L/N

BUCKY: Is Mr. Wall there?

Y/N: No I’m sorry.

BUCKY: What about Mrs. Wall?

Y/N: No, there are no Walls here.

BUCKY: Then what’s holding up your ceiling? I heard muffled laughter on the other side of the line and immediately knew who it was.

Y/N: Bucky?

BUCKY: Hey Y/N

Y/N: I should have known that it was you.

BUCKY: Well if you really don’t mind, I do need to talk to the Walls.

Y/N: Ha ha you’re very funny.

BUCKY: I know. So what are you doing?

Y/N: At the moment typing up an expense report.

BUCKY: That sounds…boring.

Y/N: It is.

BUCKY: Well you should leave your boring job and come help me with something.

Y/N: Oh really?

BUCKY: What if I told you that it tied into your job…but it’s more fun.

I stopped and I thought about it.

Y/N: Let me send this and I’ll be there.

BUCKY: Great, I will see you soon.

Y/N: Yep

So I quickly finished my report and then I headed over to Bucky’s apartment. When I got there, I knocked on the door and he answered immediately.

“Hey, thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He let me in and closed the door behind me.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll take a water.”

“Coming up.” So he went into the kitchen and brought back a bottle of water before he showed me up to his bedroom. “So, as you know we are about to start filming the first episode.”

“Yes?”

“I need your help choosing the right suit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. This is a big deal, this is my first impression and you have to approve it anyway.”

“I already approved everything.”

“So you don’t want to help me?”

“I didn’t t say that.”

“Great. You can sit on the bed. And I will go put on my first suit.”

“You’re going to try everything on?”

“What’s more fun than a fashion show?”

“Okay.” So I moved to sit on the bed, resting against the headrest and pillows.

“So how did your reports go!” He yelled out.

“Good. I was under budget, which was nice!” I yelled back.

“That is good!”

“Are you nervous about the first episode?!” I asked.

“I don’t know! I’m nervous to meet the girls I guess!”

“Why?!”

“It’s just been so long since I’ve been on a good date, I don’t think I know what to do anymore!”

“You’ll be fine! This first episode is all about first impressions! You just have to go with your gut!”

“That can’t be all there is to it.” He walked out of the closet in a royal blue tuxedo jacket, black tuxedo pants, and a black bow tie.

“There are 25 girls and you don’t get a lot of time with them. If you have a good feeling about them, then keep them in and if you don’t, dont.”

“What do you think?” He said, slowly turning so I could get a good look at his suit.

“I think it’s a little too formal. You don’t want them to think that you’re too serious. You need to put on something that describes your personality.”

“My personality?”

“Yeah, something that says Bucky.”

“Okay.”

He went back into the closet, taking off his jacket as he went.

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to tell the girls my nickname!”

“Really?! Why not?!”

“Only people who know me call me Bucky! I think it would be weird if I had all of these girls calling me Bucky!”

“So you want them to call you James the whole time?!”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll just play it by ear!”

“Maybe once you get to the top three!”

“Maybe!”

I didn’t say anything else until he came out in his second suit.

“Why do you own a bright green suit?” I laughed.

“St. Patrick’s Day.”

“And that’s your personality?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you have that suit tailored to you?”

“What if I did?”

“You like St. Patrick’s Day that much?”

“I like holidays.”

“I’m going to give that a no.”

“Yeah. I have just the thing.”

“I’m ready.”

So I sat back against the bed and messed on my phone as he changed. I was drinking my water when he walked out, needless to say, I spit my water everywhere…and was choking.

“Oh my god!”

“I thought you said you were ready?”

“I am not ready for that.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Why do you even have that?”

“I have my reasons.”

“So you just happen to have a chip n dale costume in your closet. I didn’t see that when I went through it.” The costume was black tuxedo pants, a white shirt with the sleeves cut off, fake cuffs, and a bow tie.

“Because it wasn’t out in my closet.”

“Well I definitely think you should go with this look.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll assume a lot of things.”

“Oh and you haven’t even seen the best part.”

“Oh no.”

He just smiled at me, as he grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped the whole thing off.

“See, it’s a tear-away.”

“I should have known.” I tried not to smile.

“The hard part is putting it back on…I guess it wasn’t made for that.”

“You would probably be doing something wrong.”

“You’re not wrong about that.”

“Go put on a real option.”

“Fine.”

He trudged back into the closet and I waited for him one last time. The next time he came out he was wearing a three piece grey suit and a burgundy tie.

“I think this suits you.” I held back my laugh.

“Was that a pun?”

“I guess it was.” We both laughed.

“You approve?”

“I do.”

“Great.”

He walked over to the other side of the bed and took off his jacket where I saw that he had put the chip n dale shirt back on, revealing the surprise sleevelessness that I had agreed to. I just laughed at him as he plopped down beside me.

“Hey you approved it.” He said, putting his arms behind his head.

“I know.”

“But if it makes you feel better I won’t wear the shirt for the real thing.”

“You won’t wear that shirt or you won’t wear a shirt?”

“It’ll be a surprise.”

“Oh no.” We both laughed.

As we settled I looked over at him and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about his arm.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“I think I know where this is going.”

“Well you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“You are the only person I know who has seen me in my chip n dale costume, I think we’re past personal for today.”

“Really?”

“That was a Halloween costume from when I lived in Russia. No one has seen it.”

“In America.”

“Touché. What’s your question.” I turned to rest on my side, facing him.

“How did you lose your arm?”

“Um…I was working in the mission control center, at the time I was training to be an astronaut, and there was an accident. I don’t remember much but I was working on a machine, an engine of some sort, and I got stuck. When they got me out, the nerves in my arm were completely dead and so instead of lugging around a lifeless limb, I opted for them to remove it. That ended my time at Roscosmos.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I’m not going to lie, it was. It was really hard learning how to do things with only one arm. Luckily they paid for me to get back to America, gave me a ton of money, and I moved in with Steve. I used the money to run research on prosthetics and paid for my therapy and Steve helped me more than I could ever repay him for. Of course, for a long time after the accident I couldn’t find the motivation to do much of anything. You know, ever since I was a kid I dreamed of going into space and I went to school so that I could go to space. Then I got my shot and I lost my arm. It really knocked me off my feet.”

“I could only imagine.”

“Steve was the one who dug me out. He took me to rehab for my depression and I went back to physical therapy and at one of my therapy sessions I met this little girl who had lost her left arm, just like me, but in a car accident. And she was just so happy.

“She didn’t care that she only had one arm, she never let it bring her down or limit her. I talked to her mom about what happened and since we had the same trainer, a lot of times our sessions overlapped. She really became a huge part of my recovery. Which is why she was the second person to test the arm, I really wanted to help her, like she had helped me.”

“What’s her name?”

“Luna.”

“She sounds cute.”

“She is and she is so smart for her age. And I’m totally convinced that she’s going to rule the world someday.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well as you know every great world leader has a metal arm, so she already has a leg up.” God, did he laugh. It was kind of mesmerizing.

“I’m going to have to tell her that one.”

“I hope she likes it as much as you did. But what happened next?”

“Well, then I sat down and came up with a prosthesis, this one. And I went to everyone I knew and everyone I didn’t, trying to get the funding and facility to develop and produce this arm. And I finally found one. Tony Stark.”

“Really?” Tony Stark is a billionaire technology developer. He’s brilliant and owns pretty much the biggest company in the world. You needed anything that was advanced in the slightest, he could do it.

“Yeah. He loved my idea and he helped me produce the prototype before we made the real thing.” He gestured to his arm. “Of course with one arm, I was mostly just there to help, I couldn’t really build anything. But as soon as I got mine to work and figured out a good way to attach it, I made one for Luna. It was her I-finished-therapy present. And even though I’ve been done with my therapy for some time now, I still see her. She comes in for diagnostics checks and every now and then we have to make her a new arm; she’s growing really fast.”

As he talked I absentmindedly traced the lines on his arm. I really had no idea that I had been doing it, it was strange, but kind of relaxing at the same time.

“When word got out about the arm and how successful it was, there were so many people who tried to buy me out. But they wanted to build them and put a huge price tag on them and I didn’t want that. So we develop them in house and we try and get as many people as we can to come in and test out other limbs. And someday we hope to make them more lifelike, but for now this is what it is and it works.”

When he finished talking, he looked down at my hand and the way it traced over his arm. I quickly pulled my hand away.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to—people usually don’t touch it openly. Not that people are afraid of it, but for a lot of people it’s weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird, I think it’s amazing.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean you’ve managed to create something that actually resembles a human arm. I think a lot of people would enjoy a prosthesis more like this.”

“Well I hope so. I really want this to be good for a lot of people. And I’m excited to see what happens next with this.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, it is really great.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Nope only one a night.”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, you can ask me a question.”

“Why didn’t you say any of this at the interview? It sounds like you’re doing great work, I’m sure they would have loved to hear all about this.”

“I didn’t want to say anything because I wanted to get the role for me, not because they were taking pity on the one armed guy. I am proud of what I have been able to do. I have made a great living and I have over come some terrible times, and it’s only made me stronger. But I wanted to do the show so that these woman can see the real me, because I’m tired of everyone just treating me like a cripple, that or a really rich cripple.” I laughed at him.

“I can see that.”

“I bet you didn’t even notice at first that I had a metal arm.”

“Actually I was the only one who noticed. I asked the other guys about it later and everyone else thought I was seeing things. So I didn’t say anything else about it.”

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

“I needed a good reason to bring it up.”

“So me taking off my shirt.”

“Yep.” Now he laughed at me.

We sat in his room and talked until it got late in the day. And when it got late he ordered us some take out and we watched some reality TV, which Bucky said was to “help with his nerves.” Honestly I think it was just so we could make fun of people.

I had so much fun with Bucky today, that I hardly realized that I really needed to go home.

“Hey, I need to head home, it’s really late.” I said.

“Oh, well thanks for coming over and helping me. I had a lot of fun today.” He walked me over to the front door.

“I did too and I’m glad that we could pick out your suit.”

“Yeah me too.”

“And don’t be nervous for filming, you’re pretty awesome. Any of the girls would be lucky to catch your eye.”

“Thanks, I guess. And I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yes you will.”

“Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Bucky.”

I walked out the door, feeling better than I had in a long time. I don’t want to say that it was because of Bucky, but I would be wrong.

What was I getting myself into?

PART THREE

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky series #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel series #realitytv!au #a little too real #realitytv!bucky

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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The lure of tall buildings: A guide to the risky but lucrative world of rooftoppers

The ultimate selfie can bring kudos and cash to urban rooftoppers

When teenager Harry Gallagher clambered on to the roof of Canary Wharfs highest building his exploits went viral. Gallagher, 19, aka Nightscape, is a rooftopper, someone who gains access to buildings and restricted spaces to take photographs of themselves, often hanging in precarious poses. To the uninitiated, it might appear to be a new phenomenon, but rooftoppings genesis lies in the long-established urban explorer movement, known as urbex.

An early exponent was Jeff Chapman, or Ninjalicious, the late Toronto-based explorer who in the early noughties infiltrated buildings and underground systems, recording his adventures in his zine, Infiltration. Chapman tended to shun the limelight, but now rooftoppers are aiming ever higher in their quest for personal glory and reward.

Urban exploring is beginning to splinter into different practices, said Theo Kindynis, a criminologist at Roehampton University. What was traditionally thought of as urban exploration, fetishists exploring abandoned mental asylums, that sort of thing, is mutating. Youve now got subway explorers and youve got rooftoppers like Nightscape doing the foot-dangling thing. As a result, youve got new attitudes and etiquettes evolving. The old take-nothing-but-photos-leave-nothing-but-footprints adage is increasingly irrelevant.

Gallagher has previously targeted Robin Hood airport in Doncaster, the roof of West Hams new stadium, and the London Olympic parks Orbit structure. His exploits are posted on his YouTube channel and promoted through Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat. His latest hack, released online last week, will have helped send his reputation soaring. Gallagher and a friend can be seen climbing on to the roof of One Canada Square and scaling its pyramid.

At the start of the video, already viewed 450,000 times and liked by 45,000 people on YouTube, the pair describe the challenge as almost impossible and express astonishment that they were able to pull it off. But Kindynis is not convinced. These guys are notorious within the scene for poaching other peoples spots. I highly doubt they were the first people to get on to the roof of One Canada Square. They were probably told how to do it by someone else. Within the urbex community, these things tend to be kept hush-hush, but now its on YouTube and they will have changed their security measures so nobody else will be able to enjoy that rooftop.

Within certain elements of the community, these guys are not liked. They are seen as a problem. Cranes and construction sites and rooftops are getting locked down because these guys are prostituting it to social media.

The high-profile stunts of Gallagher and his cohorts seem a world away from urbexs original ethos and its political overtones. In an article for Domus magazine in 2011, Dr Bradley Garrett, an urban explorer and a geographer at Southampton University, suggested that urbex practitioners were reviving the practice of usufruct which basically means that someone has the right to use and enjoy the property of another, provided it is not changed or damaged in any way.

But Kindynis suggests the selfie generation are not in it for the philosophy.

For the people doing it, its all about the image, getting the cool, exclusive YouTubable footage. Its about building their personal brand, all about the image, all about the spectacle.

Harry Gallagher. Photograph: @night.scape

And why not? Building a rooftopping brand can be lucrative. Gallaghers Nightscape website sells original T-shirts for 24.99 and hoodies for 39.99. Not that he is unique in turning his exploits into cash. Urban free climber James Kingstons website sells posters of him balancing precariously in a variety of places as well as a range of T-shirts.

But selling merchandise is only one element. Gallaghers highly stylised video of the One Canada Square hack has its own soundtrack, which carries links to promote the featured songs. He recently appeared in a short film for fashion brand Palladiums new range of waterproof boots.

As Gallaghers mother, Amanda, told the Times: We come from a modest background and never had any financial stability. The day he went up West Ham [stadium], we couldnt buy a jar of coffee that morning. By that night, hed gone viral. Thats when he came to me and said: Now, you get it, Mum. Now you see what this is, what its allabout.

Milo Hale, a photographer and rooftopper with 15,000 followers on Instagram, believes the movement is coming out of the shadows and into the mainstream. The whole Instagram scene has helped it develop over the last few months, Hale said. It has completely blown up around the world. It was definitely one of those things that was quite underground and people didnt really know about it and now its come out to the wider audience through social media.

Hale, 20, who got into rooftopping through parkour, or free-running, acknowledges that its growing popularity poses new challenges. Brands are gravitating towards rooftoppers as social media influencers because they cut through to younger audiences far more effectively.

One survey suggested that 70% of teenage YouTube subscribers trust influencer opinions over traditional celebrities. But the rooftoppers risk losing credibility if they are seen to be too commercial.

Theres a lot of companies Im in talks with, Hale said. But for people like me and rooftoppers on Instagram, theres this desire to want to keep your work authentic. Obviously, I want to work with brands and create content for them, and to be able to fund what I want to do, but at the same time I think theres a sort of caution from creators and rooftoppers, particularly to not sell it off in the wrong light and not just sell out just because they can.

Not everyone seems to have such qualms, and there is a sense that many rooftopping images are in danger of becoming cliched. Every day I look at Instagram and there are literally hundreds of kids doing it, Kindynis said.

The surge in interest also brings problems. I get a lot of messages from people asking, oh can you show me how to get up on that rooftop blah blah blah, and I always say no because I dont want to be responsible for someone going up somewhere theyre not comfortable with, and if that goes wrong, thats on my conscience, Hale said. Its difficult finding that balance between sharing it and not not forcing people to do it but not pushing people into it when you know they shouldnt be doing it.

A rooftopper in Dubai. Photograph: Keow Wee Loong/Barcroft Media

The UKs burgeoning army of rooftoppers is unlikely to eclipse the success of Viki Odintcova, a Russian model recently snapped in a precarious pose leaning out of Dubais Cayan Tower skyscraper the worlds tallest building when it opened in 2013.

The 22-year-old, whose Instagram account now has more than 3million followers, uses her social media presence to promote a bewildering variety of brands. Visitors can click on tags in the images that take them to other Instagram sites promoting everything from teeth-whitening products to bracelets and underwear.

Odintcova is not the only Russian model to use outlandish rooftop stunts to promote herself. Angela Nikolau, 23, was photographed on a crane at the top of a 640m tower under construction in China. With around 450,000 followers on Instagram, she is fast carving out a reputation for taking the most dangerous selfies in the world. Like Odintcova, her account is tagged to a growing range of brands. One of the stunts was sponsored by a Russian travel insurance company.

Unsurprisingly, the major fashion brands have also clocked the trend. In 2014 Nike launched its All Conditions Gear range, complete with a promotional video in which a hooded figure is poised dramatically on a roof edge. Gallagher has promoted Converse Chuck II trainers in an edgy urban explorer montage. Red Bull TV has an urbex section featuring a group of urban explorers [who] risk life and limb to get inside, above and around some of the most forbidden places onEarth.

But the appropriation of urban exploration by the selfie generation is triggering a backlash. Kindynis said that some within the movement, especially the subterranean explorers who roam sewers and subways, were going offline because they dont want to attract the same attention and dont want it turned into a spectator sport the way rooftopping has been.

They are, however, likely to be outnumbered by the many others who know that taking the ultimate selfie can earn them kudos and cash. Kindynis is worried about where rooftop mania will end. More and more risks are being taken. I dont think anyones died in London, but its only a matter of time.

YOUTUBE STARS

November 2014 Cosmo Calisse explores the rooftops of Toronto with two parkour enthusiasts: 17,000 views

February 2016 Jimmy Cheung films the view from the One World Trade Center in New York: 20,000 views

September 2016 Harry Gallagher, aka Nightscape, sneaks into West Hams stadium in London: 4m views

9 February Angela Nikolau climbs one of Shanghais highest buildings with boyfriend Ivan Beerkus: 41,946 views

26 February Russian model Victoria Odintcova hangs off Dubais 1,005ft Cayan Tower: 5.4m views