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alpaca-clouds · 8 months

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The Punk-Factor of Punkpunk Genre

So, when I posted my history of Solarpunk, someone (probably not in good faith) asked: “So, what about the punk in all the other punk genres?!” towards my request to put the punk back into Solarpunk. And given that my autistic brain obviously cannot just let that stand… You know what? Let me talk about the other punk genre and in how far they are “punk”. I tried to be as exhaustive as possible, though there is a good chance, that I might have missed some of the punkpunk genre. So feel free to add.

Trying to judge the punkiness I do not assume punk as simple counter culture, but a specific ideology. Quote from Wikipedia:

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Most of the artwork here has been taken from concept art of either of the examples listed.

Sorted from most futuristic to pre(historic). Yes, the list is long.

Cyberpunk

We start with the OG punk genre, the one after which all other punk genre were named. Yes, you could argue that in fact the two genre following are more futuristic – but Cyberpunk kinda just had to start the list.

As a genre: Given that Cyberpunk had its start completely in literature it is the best defined in this regard. Taking place in a late stage capitalist dystopian world in which most is owned by megacorps who don’t follow anyone’s laws but their own, the protagonists usually are social outcasts fighting against their own oppression, trying to keep themselves alive in a world hostile to them. With cybernetics always being a core of the genre, it also tends to deal with the question of humanity in a “ship of Theseus” sort of way. How much can the human body be altered, before the human vanishes?

As an aesthetic: Cyberpunk is the most punk in terms of aesthetics, really. There is a lot of punk and grunge going on in terms of character design. Neon hair colors, fishnets and thorn up jeans jackets can be found here. As well as of course cybernetics on the characters. The world usually is a megacity with a stark divide between rich and poor, tons of neon signs, a slight Japanese influence, flying cars and somehow a constant downpour of rain.

Punk-Factor: Cyberpunk is the one punk genre, where the “punk” was chosen very knowingly as a name. Usually the protagonists are “punks” fighting for their place in the world against a suppressive capitalist system. (Also, they usually fit the punk aesthetic, if they don’t wear leather dusters.) It should be noted however, that especially in newer western Cyberpunk often the punkiness vanishes more and more – for the same reason we have so little Solarpunk: media that outright confronts the problems of capitalism is just less supported.

Examples: Neuromancer (1984), Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology (1986), Snow Crash (1992), The Matrix (1999), Dredd (2012)

Biopunk

As a genre: As a genre biopunk is still fairly ill defined, as it mostly shows up as a subsection of Cyberpunk. Rather than the characters having cybernetic implants (or additionally to it) they are augmented on a genetic level. This can be all sorts of augmentations, changing anything from appearance to giving characters higher strength and agility, giving them claws or night vision, or in some cases even “magic” powers. Usually the genre tends to be set in worlds similar to Cyberpunk. In fact it might well be set in a cyberpunk world, only that characters with bioaugmentations exist parallel to those with cybernetics. Additionally, though, there is a subsection of this genre, that concerns reproductive rights.

As an aesthetic: Ironically biopunk is even less defined as an aesthetic. There is not a lot of biopunk art out there and most that exists can go in different directions. As such it often mixes elements from other punk aesthetics – like Cyberpunk, Steampunk or Dieselpunk – with an assortment of bodyhorror elements.

Punk-Factor: It is hard to define the “punkiness” of a genre, that barely exists for the most part. Usually, when it is set against a Cyberpunk backdrop, it might be very punky, but in other settings those punk elements vanish.

Examples: Ribofunk (1995), Altered Carbon (2002), Bioshock (2007), The Windup Girl (2009)

Nanopunk

As a genre: Like Biopunk Nanopunk mostly exists as a subsubgenre to Cyberpunk, often being set in a mostly Cyberpunk world, only that instead of or additionally to Cybernetics, the technology used to alter the human body is nanites. These serve the same function as the genetic manipulation in Biopunk, giving the human in question more strength and agility and at times more or less magical abilities. There is one common plot that comes up again and again, with an AI or megacorp turning the nanites against the people they inhabit or trying to control them.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically Nanopunk does not have much in terms of its own identity. Most artworks relating to Nanopunk feature a similar aesthetic to Cyberpunk, with megacities and lots of neon.

Punk-Factor: This genre is so small, that it is kinda hard to judge the exact punkiness.

Examples: The Diamond Age (1995), Prey (2002)

Solarpunk

As a genre: Being another genre, that started as such, Solarpunk is a bit better defined. Solarpunk usually takes place in a world post-strive. It is post-capitalist and decolonial in its settings, usually featuring a world that has either formed against the backdrop of preventing climate collapse or in the aftermath of it. A lot of it features people rebuilding – or alternatively building communities. It always features elements about living in harmony with nature or trying to do so. So far, the genre is mostly defined by short stories, partly because there is still disagreements within the movement, how far a conflict can be taken to still qualify as Solarpunk.

As an aesthetic: Solarpunk has a very strong aesthetic definition, mostly featuring all sorts of cities and urban areas, that incorporate natural elements into the urbanity, with greenery growing on roofs and concrete car-centric streets being replaced with more natural, walkable areas. The character design aesthetic is not quite as clearly defined, but usually features natural materials and patterns usually seen within indigenous art.

Punk-Factor: Contrary to what many say, Solarpunk is fairly punk, as it very much embraces the entire anti-hierarchical, anti-capitalist mentality. With the big difference, that the punk mentality is no longer counter culture, but the mainstream culture.

Examples: The Dispossessed (1974), Nausicaä (1984), Laputa – Castle in the Sky (1986), Princess Mononoke (1997), The Summer Prince (2013)

Lunarpunk

As a genre: Lunarpunk is pretty much a subsubgenre of Solarpunk, just as Nanopunk and Biopunk are sprung off from Cyberpunk. It is so far ill-defined as a genre, but the general consensus is, that it is set in solarpunk-esque worlds, but with a heavier focus on mysticism or spiritualism, at times outright including magic. It also tends to feature a lot darker places, being set in underwater or underground settings – or alternatively at night.

As an aesthetic: Lunarpunk is far more of an aesthetic than a genre so far. It features dark places, often with bioluminescent elements in it. Often featuring a mixture of black and dark blue with lighter blue, violet or light green elements shining in the middle of it. Mushrooms – especially glowing mushrooms – feature repeatedly in artwork.

Punk-Factor: Given that Lunarpunk is barely defined as a genre it is hard to estimate the punkiness in it. If it gets more stories, will those still feature the anti-capitalist and anti-hierarchical messaging we see in Solarpunk? This should be the defining factor. Some of the artworks use little aesthetics from the punk scene, but nothing much more.

Examples: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology (2023)

Hopepunk

Honestly, I had no idea where to put this one, given that it might technically be set at any time and place.

As a genre: Hopepunk is very much a genre, not an aesthetic. It has been defined as the opposite of grimdark by its “inventor/name-giver” Alexandra Rowland. The basic idea is to create fiction that instead of taking a dystopian, defeatist and violent approach, takes one defined by hope and to some degree pacifism. As such the genre can be set in any setting, real or fantastic. It mostly is defined by the protagonists taking opposition to cruelty and violence, fighting for a better world and, crucially, also partly archiving it. Other than in usual Cyberpunk, where the best possible ending, tends to be, that the protagonists get to live a somewhat better life themselves, Hopepunk aims to better the life at least for groups of people.

As an aesthetic: Being fully a genre, Hopepunk has no aesthetic associated with it.

Punk-Factor: Hopepunk is punk less in the sense of the protagonists or things happening within the story, which might or might not be punk, but was named such rather because it is considered counter cultural towards the gross of media at the moment, that often strives for a “realistic, gritty, grimdark” outlook on the world. Basically it is saying: “Hope is punk.” I will not make any judgement on whether or not this is true.

Examples: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2014), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), The Good Place (2016)

Mythpunk

As a genre: Another one, that does not really fit into a temporal sorting system, because once again it can be set anywhere between the stone age and the far future. The basic idea is, that the story interweaves postmodern storytelling with elements from mythology or folklore. This can mean mythological, genre-traversing retellings, but it can also mean, that mythology seeps into any given story bit by bit. As such the genre with probably the most media in the subgenre is Urban Fantasy, which often borrows from mythology and incorporates these elements.

As an aesthetic: Mythpunk as an aesthetic is a bit strange. There is definitely a mythpunk aesthetic that exists, often mixing familiar elements with elements from mythology and folklore (at times also including quasi-folkloric works of literature, such as Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz). Often just a bit dark and twisted.

Punk-Factor: To be perfectly frank, for the most part, there is not a lot of punk to be found in this genre. While there have been definitely punky stories told within the genre, this is more a story decision than something inherent to the genre.

Examples: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Over the Garden Wall (2014), Inscryption (2016)

Dustpunk / Rustpunk / Desertpunk

As a genre: Kinda grouping those above all together, because people argue about what they might entail and in some interpretations they kinda are similar: Post-apocalyptic stories set in a world of sand and rust. Often featuring a loner character, having to go up against everyone to ensure his own survival – and at times being forced to learn, that the lonerness might not win him (and most often it is a him) anything.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically this tends to be very much post-apocalyptic, maybe in some cases with some more classical punk elements added to characters and surroundings.

Punk-Factor: Given that there is neither a system to rage against – nor a new, less hierarchical system – usually there is not that much punk outside of some aesthetic choices. Neither tend those stories go into constructing worlds of mutual aid or working against oppression.

Examples: Anything Mad Max should count for this.

Atompunk

As a genre: Atompunk usually deals with themes connected to the cold war – in some cases directly, in some indirectly. Often it overplays the American ideals that were pushed for during the cold war era and portrays scenarios in which American Exceptionalism slowly reveals itself as the dystopia most punks already know it to be. Outside of this vague idea for the setting, the genre is less described, as there is less of a clear script an Atompunk story might follow. So, little description of who might be the protagonist and what their role is.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Atompunk borrows heavily from the Raygun Gothic aesthetic. So, futurism, as it was imagined in the 1950s and 1960s, with heavy influences from late pulp age science fiction art.

Punk-Factor: The aesthetic in this is definitely not punk. The stories often have some vague punk ideas of recognizing how fucked up the world has become, but given the genre is fairly wide in terms of stories, it is hard to give a definite answer to how “punk” it is. One can definitely tell punk stories within this genre, though.

Examples: Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (1978), Fallout (1997), Futurama (1999)

Dieselpunk

As a genre: Dieselpunk is once again an example of “strong aesthetic, but no clear genre identity”. Generally, Dieselpunk is concerned with the interwar period, but might cover either of the world wars. In some cases the genre features alternate timelines, in which one war happened and not the other, or in which another faction won, with the technological development being influenced by this as well. But as a genre it is not much defined. A lot of stories building on Lovecraft’s legacy feature Dieselpunk in some regards. And there is definitely a subsection of Dieselpunk stories centered around “what if Nazis won” or “what if Nazis somehow went underground and did their own technological development after the war”. Also, there are a lot of stories about pilots of war planes in this genre.

As an aesthetic: As an aesthetic Dieselpunk is more clearly defined. A lot of bare metal and the sorts of technology you would expect from this era, often with retro-futurist and art noveau elements in between. A lot of the fashion within the genre is defined by pilot and military clothing of the times, but at times also dipping into “roaring 20s” fashion styles.

Punk-Factor: In this genre I would generally say: “If the story involves punching Nazis, you might get a couple punk points – but otherwise this is not really punk.”

Examples: The Iron Dream (1972), Brazil (1985), Dark City (1998), Iron Sky (2012), Bitter Seeds (2010)

Teslapunk

As a genre: Yet another one of these, that exists mostly as a vague idea, with no clear definition. The basic idea is a world, that works on Tesla’s inventions. And as those of you, who watched Doctor Who, might know, Tesla sorta, kinda already invented the internet or had an idea of what it could be and how it could work. So a Teslapunk world is based in an alternate timeline, but might in fact go into light futurism. There is not much in this genre though with a unique thematic identity, as stories that use Teslapunk as a backdrop rarely have coherent themes.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Teslapunk is basically “Steampunk, but with Tesla-coils and electricity”. Which is not a big surprise given that Tesla came from the same era that would also be the inspiration for Steampunk. So, we have a lot of Victorian fashion, maybe some light augmentation, airships, and – again – all the tesla coils you can muster.

Punk-Factor: As, again, I think punk is more about themes than aesthetic, this is once more not really possible to judge, because there do not seem coherent themes within the genre so far.

Examples: The Prestige (2006), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), Bioshock Infinite (2013)

Arcanepunk

Another one of those that do not neatly fit into the timeline…

As a genre: Arcanepunk takes place in a world, where both magic and technology have developed. In some cases both developed side by side, in others, we might have a technological world, that suddenly discovers magic by some happenstance. The fact is, though, that both exist parallel to each other or might at times be intertwined, with technology being powered by magic. This can exist at different technological stages, usually featuring settings inspired by the late 19th or early 20th century. But usually futuristic stuff that includes magic might be considered Arcanepunk, just as might stories that mix 18th century technology with magic. While also a vague genre, there is a repeating theme of magic being hoarded by those in powers and the poor and downtrodden finding ways to still use it in their own advantage.

As an aesthetic: Given that Arcanepunk’s setting is defined by the co-existence of magic and technology, rather than a specific technology, Arcanepunk has less of a defined aesthetic. Never the less, we have a part of punk aesthetics that often come up, as a surprising amount of Arcanepunk features characters with neon colored hair.

Punk-Factor: Another genre that is rather thin, yet, there is a surprising amount of stories featuring some punk ideas of fighting against an oppressive system and being counter culture to a main culture build around suppression.

Examples: Too Many Magicians (1966), Shadowrun (1989), Bartimaeus (2003), Arcane (2021) duh

Steampunk

Steampunk was the second genre to pick up the “punk” suffix and hence is as much responsible for the punk-punk as Cyberpunk as the originator.

As a genre: Being named as early as it has been, Steampunk kinda suffers the same issue as Cyberpunk itself. There is a lot of ideas there, but some are only vaguely defined. In general, though Steampunk always takes place in a world where the steam engine became the defining technology and was never replaced with the combustion engine. As such cultural aspects from the steam era, especially Victorian England and the Belle Epoche, still carry over for longer, than they did. So often we will see noble households based around similar values as the puritan Victorian English families, while the very poor are made to work in workhouses. At times we might also see themes of colonialism here. In some cases magic might exist in these worlds, as might electricity for some aspects. There is often a heavy inspiration from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Though it is still hard to define the “stereotypical steampunk story”, given that Steampunk offers a wide variety of stories, from adventure stories and romances, over to stories where people rise up against the Victorian-esque society.

As an aesthetic: Steampunk as an aesthetic is very much influenced by Victorian aesthetics and the time period of the late 19th century, mostly in the USA, Great Britain and France. But as all other punk genres it knows very well: “If it is worth doing, it is worth overdoing,” so steam-related elements are added to everything. Could

Punk-Factor: In the original idea for Steampunk was a lot of punk. “What if we took Cyberpunks ‘rage against the unjust system’ and made it 19th century” they asked. But given that the genre branched out so much, it is not necessarily there in all the stories. There is a ton of stories where people rage against that steam powered Victorian machine – but also a ton in which the Victorian world gets idealized and romanticized.

Examples: Thief (1998), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999), Wild Wild West (1999), Clockwork Century (2008) – also half of all Sherlock Holmes adaption made after 2000 in any medium usually use Steampunk elements

Silkpunk

As a genre: Silkpunk is hard to define, despite there being a clear definition. The reason for this is, that the person who coined the term – Ken Liu – had a very specific idea in mind. He explains that the idea is of a world that has technology as language. In which form is as important as function, is made to speak a language all of its own. Inspired by ideas from W. Brian Arthur and Chinese philosophy. However, what the wider Science Fiction and Fantasy community made from it was “Steampunk but East Asian!” But given he coined the term (and also the alternative feels vaguely racist) I am going to go with Ken Liu for this. While Silkpunk will usually be set in an East Asian inspired world, the central idea is about the duality of technology, which will also be addressed within the stories.

As an aesthetic: As said above, the idea Liu had for it was a world that features some technology, but technology that is as much about form and communication through it, as it is about function. So the technology here has strong visual ideas. At least that was, how Liu intended it. Once again, the wider community made “Steampunk, but East Asian” out of it.

Punk-Factor: There is not a lot of stuff in this genre for now – however so far I do not manage to see a lot of punk ideas in it, even though some of Liu’s stories definitely feature the concept of challenging a higher power.

Examples: Dandelion Dynasty (2015), The Black Tides of Heaven (2018), The Tea Master and the Detective (2019)

Clockpunk

As a genre: Once again storytelling in this genre is not really defined, but the worlds diverge a bit before the wide adaption of steam, instead featuring mechanical devices powered by coils and springs and somehow kept alive, often at least implied through some form of arcane magic that gives “live” to these mechanical inventions. Most examples of Clockpunk, however, tend to show up as settings for parts of fantasy stories. Any fantasy world might have this “Clockpunk” area, where protagonists might travel. Especially games tend to feature this. While there is definitely a trope of the “mad inventor” often going along with this, few other tropes stand out.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Clockpunk tends to take some inspiration from the early 19th century, but tends to add a lot of gears to everything, with even city wide gear constructions keeping things working. We often will find mechatronic characters, such as wind up soldiers or wind up dancers.

Punk-Factor: Once more, there are so few stories told, that it is kinda hard to speak about how punk this is. Most stories told so far, however, do not feature punk elements.

Examples: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Hugo (2011), Clockwork Planet (2017)

Whalepunk

Please note: This is one of those genre, I would love to see more in, though so far it is barely explored.

As a genre: And you might ask: “Why do you even name those genre, that exist mostly in theory?”, to which I might answer: “Because I am a nerd.” As all these retrofuturists genre, Whalepunk imagines mostly an alternate historical timeline, where the technology that became defining was based around whale oil. This means that in Whalepunk often whalers or harbors play a big role, though as the genre is again very thinly spread, it is hard to say what “THE whalepunk” formular is. It seems there is a tendency, to mix some mysticism or magic into the genre, though, as the idea of hunting sea monsters often plays into it as well. Good chance that it could at some point merge with Cthulupunk (which I did not name separately, because most of it is either covered in Whalepunk or Dieselpunk).

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Whalepunk is basically “Steampunk, but with more sailors, ships and sea monsters”. There is definitely a bit of Oceanpunk mixed into it as well, with some aesthetics being somewhere between Steampunk and Dieselpunk. (Which is kinda ironic, because whale oil was mostly used in the early 19th century.)

Punk-Factor: And again. There so far is not a lot of connective thematic tissue within that genre, so exploring themes is kinda hard.

Examples: Dishonored (2012), Dredge (2023)

Oceanpunk / Piratepunk

As a genre: It really is hard to divide the Piratepunk out of the Oceanpunk, though some might call it different. The idea here is that this genre features stories mostly set on the ocean and often more heavily leaning into fantasy, than science fiction. While the worlds might feature technological elements, they will almost certainly feature magical elements of some sort. The characters will usually be seafaring one way or another and stories might involve any sort of adventure. There might be a storyline, though, about one company or nation trying to control the seas – often times through magical means – with the characters often unwillingly being made to oppose them. This genre might also take place in a post-apocalyptic setting with a flooded planet.

As an aesthetic: While the aesthetic is not clearly defined, there is a good chance that it borrows heavily from the late 17th and early 18th century and the golden age of piracy, when it comes to both ships and fashion sensibilities.

Punk-Factor: Pirates, at least as far as modern media imagines them, tend to be very punk, as they tend to inherently oppose any sort of government and what not. While the punk is not there in all of the stories, a lot of the most popular stories from the genre will feature at least lightly punky elements.

Examples: One Piece (1997), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003), Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (2013)

Dungeonpunk

As a genre: So, the idea of the genre is basically “What if Cyberpunk, but Dungeons & Dragons?” Usually set in a vaguely medieval world, this world still shows the same corporate corruption as your usual Cyberpunk world. Adventurers are just another resource to be exploited by the system, their day job involving going on yet another dungeon crawl. For this there might be some technology entirely powered by magic, with those magic items taking over the same functions technology might have in a Cyberpunk world. And yes, indeed some brave dwarf, elf or halfling might rise up and challenge the corporate dungeon syndicate. (As you might sense: Yes, this genre tends to be at least partly a bit of a parody of the punkpunk idea. Though it also can be played straight as “Cyberpunk conflicts, just that all technology is somehow magic.”)

As an aesthetic: This is once again one of the examples, where there is a clear idea behind it – but absolutely no clear aesthetic, as this genre might cover anything from medieval settings to a lot more modern stuff.

Punk-Factor: The base idea, being heavily inspired by the base idea of Cyberpunk, just from a very different perspective. But too many people read the genre as “Magic Technology, yay”, in which case, no, it is not punk.

Examples: Dungeons & Dragons can be played this way, also Final Fantasy VI – XIII definitely counts.

Sandalpunk

As a genre: I mostly include this for the sake of it, because this genre tends to boil down to “fantasy set in ancient Greece or Rome, but with vaguely anachronistic elements”. It might also include alternate history stories (even going so far as Science Fiction) based on the idea “What if Ancient Rome/Ancient Greece never fell?” There is no real overarching themes, even though I could imagine some interesting way one could build those up. So far, though, it is mostly a vague gesture towards: “SciFi Fantasy, but with more ancient civilizations.”

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic is usually just Ancient Rome or Ancient Greece, but with more magic or anachronistic elements.

Punk-Factor: Given the super vague nature of the genre and the fact that it seems more like a genre of hindsight (with most media being declared this having been released even before 2000)… Nobody wrote those stories to be punk. The one punk thing I can see about several of these stories is people challenging Gods, but… That’s about it.Examples: Hercules: Legendary Journeys (1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995), God of War (2005)

Stonepunk

As a genre: The basic idea of Stonepunk is, that it is set in a stone age world, but with the technology being pressed towards a very anachronistic end, which is often played for laughs. Basically it gives stone age people a modern seeming world, though not really. Often enough this is used to make a point about the modern world and parody it in some regard. An argument can be made for stories, that feature stone age technology people being somehow subjected to modern technology (for example through time travel or space travel) also possibly falling into this genre.

As an aesthetic: Usually the aesthetic of Stonepunk is one of an overplayed stone age setting. The clothing characters might wear are not what we know is historically more accurate but really just “everyone wears a pelt around their shoulders”. Meanwhile stone age tools get spun to be used as all sorts of modern technologies.

Punk-Factor: The genre does usually not feature punk themes. However, the nature of parodying and challenging the modern world tends to be punk in its own merit, I assume?

Examples: The Flintstones (1960), The Croods (2013), Horizon: Zero Dawn (2017)

That's it. That's the list.

Feel free to add to it.

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dungeonpuppykai · 1 month

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Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly.

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed.

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you.

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view.

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head.

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?"

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…"

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure.

"Please–!"

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face.

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare.

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so.

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run.

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled.

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size?

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable.

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth.

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly.

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs.

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air.

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table.

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper.

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over.

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either.

Just what the hell is going on?

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last.

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly.

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!"

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves.

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen.

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second.

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you.

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it.

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room.

. . .

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket.

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search.

For you.

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief.

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them.

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you.

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were.

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants.

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head.

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction.

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end.

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor.

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you.

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?"

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words.

Fuck.

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes.

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition."

"C- Condition, s- sir?"

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form.

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge.

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead.

"Sir–"

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety.

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue.

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock.

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling.

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now.

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next.

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!"

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to.

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle.

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact.

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration.

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while.

Then he told you that it would feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good.

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach.

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot.

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now."

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders.

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on.

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy.

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it.

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body.

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo.

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably.

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected.

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well.

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together.

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much?

That was, until one day…

. . .

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you.

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…"

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately.

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked.

But you were too little to know those things.

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house.

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need.

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior.

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes.

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat.

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake.

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place.

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky smut #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes

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batsplat · 1 month

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hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

#ty for giving me an excuse to be annoying at length about one of my number one guys!!#casey stoner #valentino rossi #motogp #//#cs27 #vr46 #lotsss of other stuff you can go into here. he gets a bit sanitised sometimes I feel which is kinda a shame #u can be justifiably resentful and still be very resentful. spite is still spiteful when it's deserved. same with the misanthropic streak #being called weak-minded really got to him imo - and the thing is he's clearly not (& good lord did some big names say some nasty things)#the autobiography feels almost an overcorrection and then you've got him recently talking more openly about his mental health #(even if not specifically about how it affected him competitively - which is obviously a related but not identical conversation)#it's an uplifting development in a way and it's nice seeing how much more comfortable in his skin he seems these days #but he is also a little bitch :)

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lierenprotectionsquad · 3 months

Text

If you want to read the Maze Runner books, but the size of the universe is intimidating, here’s my recommendation.

Obviously, you’d need the main trilogy, The Maze Runner, The Scorch Trials and The Death Cure. But after that is where it gets optional and interesting.

The Kill Order is the origin of WICKED and the flare, and is very good for anyone who wants more exposition and world-building. As well as a deeper look into Teresa and her motivations.

The Fever Code is the origin of the maze and the gladers. It’s very bts-heavy, and dives deep into Thomas’ motivations, as well as his relationships, not only with his friends, but the people in charge as well. It’s also where you want to go if you want more backstory on Newt, both his life before WICKED and during. Also if you just wanna see Newt living rent free in Thomas’ head for three hundred-something pages.

Crank Palace is for us mentally ill Newt-girlies (gender neutral) who just want to see him happy and loved, and is somehow naive enough to think we’ll get the former in this novella.

The sequel series is also heavy on what was going on behind the scenes for Newt, but it’s a whole other commitment, especially since it’s an ongoing series. I’d mostly recommend it if you read everything else and miss the universe and want to go back. I will say, tho, Crank Palace is imperative to these two books.

There’s also the short e-book, The Maze Runner Files, which contains some exposition, and some short stories about Thomas, Minho and Frypan.

Now, everything I listed that isn’t the main trilogy is a fully optional read, they are not necessary. However! I will list the entire series, both in chronological order and my recommended first-time-reading order, in case anyone else might want to try all of it.

So the chronological order goes as follows:

The Kill Order, The Fever Code, The Maze Runner, The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure, The Maze Runner Files, Crank Palace, The Maze Cutter, The Godhead Complex

And for my recommended reading order for first time readers:

The Maze Runner, The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure, The Kill Order, The Fever Code, The Maze Runner Files, Crank Palace, The Maze Cutter, The Godhead Complex

TLDR

The Maze Runner, The Scorch Trials and The Death Cure are must-reads

The Kill Order is for world building and Teresa

The Fever Code is for maze building, Thomas and Newt

The Maze Runner Files is an add-on that is wholly unnecessary for understanding the context of any of the books, but is just kinda fun

Crank Palace is for Newt and being very very depressed

The Maze Cutter and The Godhead Complex is for continuing in the universe, longing for Newt and depression

#newtmas #the maze runner #the scorch trials #the death cure #the kill order #the fever code #the maze runner files #crank palace #the maze cutter #the godhead complex #newt #newt tmr #tmr newt #thomas #tmr thomas #thomas tmr #teresa agnes #james dashner #shut up sparky

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writingjourney · 1 year

Note

Papa(i cant decide what number 1-4) : angry at his lover, because she avoids him..

Reader in her bedroom: p-please love...kill me i have a fever

https://themidult.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/painting-woman-ill-sick-fluey-unwell2-800x500.jpg

(sorry for the link im too shy to send this ask as me, but i think its kinda funny)

ghosting | papa x gn!reader

I could not decide on a Papa either, so I kept it as neutral as possible and (I hope) you can all imagine the Papa of your choice :) and anon, you need not be shy, I am so grateful for your ask <3

summary: your papa thinks you're avoiding him but once he finally finds you, he realises that he got it all wrong.

content: 2.5k words, sick care, some suggestive remarks, fluff mostly

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦

Papa scoffs into his afternoon coffee, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his papal robes. Still nothing. He’s staring at his phone, the screen cracked from when it slipped out of his pocket while he fucked you on his desk two days ago. And yet he can clearly make out the two blue hooks indicating that you’ve read his message from this morning.

What he also sees is that there is still no reply. Your silence, your absence, the uncertainty – it drives him mad. He is so used to having your undivided attention, seeing your name pop up on his screen with a frequency that keeps him from getting any work done as of late. Not your name, though, no. He saved you under “amore mio” a long time ago. Not that you’re aware of it just yet, but his feelings for you have long since surpassed mere lust and friendliness.

His mind constantly wanders to you. Knowing your schedule by heart, it is easy to imagine what you’re doing, what may have you so distracted. Right now, you should be helping in the gardens, sweaty and panting from the exertions in the warm afternoon sun. He knows how pretty you look like that, even more so when you’re sprawled out underneath him as he gets lost in the soft curves of your body. He yearns to lick the salty sweat off your heaving chest, to hear your whimpers as his lips leave not a single inch of your skin untouched.

Alas, he is stuck in his office, brooding over paperwork.

He’s trying hard to concentrate on the words in front of him, not to stare at his screen all day like a depraved, starving man. Impatient, he even set the phone to vibrate but despite knowing he’d get a notification if you texted him, he taps the screen every two minutes to check. Just to make sure he doesn’t miss it.

Oh how he’s longing for even the most delicate touch, a simple kiss on his cheek as you tell him to take it easy today, your hand squeezing his across the table. You used to do that, visit him in his office at least two times a day. Not always innocent. Actually, very rarely innocent. He can almost hear the echo of you screaming his name for half the abbey to hear. And yet, you have not been anywhere near these four desecrated walls in almost two days. Not since the last time you were intimate with him.

Why won’t you reply? A flash of doubt and a pang of anger. Could you be getting tired of him? Did he come on too strong? If that were the case, you should tell him. He’s a busy man, you of all people know that, and yet here you are practically ghosting him, as the younger Siblings call it. By now it’s almost dinner time, you must have had a chance to at least type in a yes or no. Papa knows if he can’t see you tonight he is going to lose his mind. He needs the confirmation or he’ll be nervous and distracted for the rest of his day.

Generous as he is, Papa gives you another hour, finishing up the dreadful paperwork before he has a quick dinner of reheated pasta from the day prior. It tastes like nothing to him and the emptiness of his quarters only adds to his foul mood. His eyes are still trained on his phone, the battery still half full, unused with the lack of texting. The only time his screen lights up this evening it’s to remind him that his screen time has gone up by eighty percent over the past week. It seems like that’s an issue you’re solving for him right now.

Papa knows he cannot go another night without seeing you. He needs to confront you, ask if you really lost interest or if you just need more space. Whatever it is, having clarity will be easier to bear than silence.

Entering the dorms is always risky business. People gossip, someone is going to see where he’s knocking, and while everyone knows the two of you are… something, he’s not keen on everyone speculating about why you’re suddenly on cooldown.

But when he knocks, nothing happens. He repeats the motion, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, louder now. Nothing. He hears music, some sort of electronic beats, the tunes wafting over from another dorm room. A party, surely. Yours however remains eerily quiet. In a last attempt to find out if you’re even home, he tries the door.

It is unlocked, so you must be home. For a moment he considers leaving again but then a painful thought hits him: If you’re home, not opening up… it means you’re avoiding him. Clearly.

What crime did he commit to deserve your ignorance? His anger propels him to enter, despite knowing he’s invading your privacy. But he cannot go back to his quarters without confronting you, not when he’s already in such pain. He’s feeling the anticipatory grief over losing you and it’s all because he let his guard down way too fast, leaning into your kindness, your loving nature. He always had a feeling that this was too good to be true, that despite thinking this time would be different, he’d end up in pain. Everyone just wants the sex, the fun, not the commitment that being with a Papa, maybe even loving a Papa, meant.

Fiddling with the doorknob, he feels awful for even thinking these things. You never gave him reason to doubt you, but it is just so easy to slip back into his old insecurities. Certain that he’s just seeing ghosts, Papa pushes the door open silently.

Upon entering the small antechamber that leads to your bedroom, he hears you moaning. He hears the rustling of sheets, the mattress creaking. A loud fuck.

Papa stops dead in his tracks, nearly toppling over as a wave of nausea hits him. For a second, his worst fears and his deepest insecurities melt into one big gooey ball of panic. He wants to be sure that what you have is special, but you never openly decided to be exclusive, that you wouldn’t see other people. He’s been meaning to ask, to tell you how he feels… too late, it seems.

But no. He soldiers on. If anyone else dares to touch you, they will receive all of his demonic, unholy wrath. He has a whole company of ghouls who would love to get a taste of human flesh again, if need be. Papa opens the door to your bedroom, anxious but driven, ready to face whatever lies behind. And he does find you in bed like he expected, only… you’re alone.

You don’t even look up. Are you sleeping? The room is stuffy, curtains closed and all he hears is your whimpering.

“Hello?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“P-papa?”

Your voice is barely audible. His anger turns into concern as he hurries to your side, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Immediately you reach for his hand in an attempt to squeeze, but it seems like you’re too weak to clench your muscles.

“Kill me, Papa. Release me from this torment,” you whine. “Please.”

“Tesoro, what is going on?”

You groan in reply, a sound only made more horrifying by the soreness of your throat. You sound like a dying animal and if he’s honest, you kind of smell like one too. He wonders how long you’ve been in this position.

“I am dying,” you whisper.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He’s scanning your body but most of it is covered. Before he can pull away the duvet, you try to squeeze his hand yet again, this time with more vigor.

“S-sick,” you choke out. “The flu.”

“The flu?”

Papa ignores the bad conscience that’s settling in his mind and gives into his worry. He jumps up, opening the curtains and the window to let in some fresh air. You hiss like you’ve been burned, despite the sun already setting. Disregarding your complaints, Papa finds a thermometer and pain killers on your bedside table.

“We need to check if you have a fever, tesorino, can you open your pretty mouth for me?”

You giggle at his words. “I’m too sick for that, Papa.”

“You clearly have a fever if you think I’m going to laugh about this right now,” he states, removing his gloves and throwing them aside. His scowl is not in earnest, he’s not annoyed, of course, but he needs you to know your health is paramount.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whisper but you let him slot the thermometer between your lips anyway.

“I am dramatic? Who’s been locked inside their room like they have the plague without replying to my texts?”

Papa presses the backs of his hands to your hot cheeks, acting like a mom who doesn’t trust the thermometer. You’re burning up, worrying him even more. Your skin is ashen, hair tousled, and he can see you shaking slightly.

At his words, your brow furrows. “I texted back,” you say, words muffled by the device in your mouth.

“You did not, amore. I have been wondering what I did to upset you so,” Papa admits. “I thought you were avoiding me. Ghosting me, as they say.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and as soon as Papa pulls out the thermometer, forehead scrunching up as he reads the 38.9°C, you start babbling.

“I was not, Papa. I would never. I was so sad I could not see you.” You swallow, groaning as the pain in your scratchy throat hits you. “Can you check my phone? I dropped it.”

Papa finds it under your bed. He lets you unlock it and you’re right, you did reply, only you never hit sent. I am sick in bed, Papa. I miss you too, but I would not want you to catch the flu. ♥︎

“I would never avoid you on you purpose,” you whisper, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He bends down to kiss your feverish forehead, feeling the heat against his lips. “I know that now, amore, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I ever thought such a thing.”

“Amore?” you ask, grinning through a thick layer of haze. “That’s new, Papa.”

He can practically feel his cheeks turning rosy under his paint. “You know I like you, gioia mia, that is not new.”

“But amore is not just liking, right? It’s–”

“You have a fever, dolce. I need you to take the ibuprofen. Where do you keep your glasses?”

You pout at his interruption and with one last look at your puckered lips, he jumps up, avoiding not only your question but also the intense urge to kiss you. You’re in no condition to have a deep conversation right now. He searches the cupboards in your tiny kitchenette until he finds a glass he can fill with water. By the looks of it, you have not eaten all day, it’s far too clean.

“I don’t know if I can swallow,” you whine upon his return.

“We both know you’re very good at swallowing, amore. Open up.”

You frown without any real intensity and it’s an adorable sight, even in your messy, unkempt state. “I thought we weren’t joking about this.”

“It is allowed when I do it,” Papa says, practically shoving the pill into your mouth. “Drink, amore. You need liquids.”

You manage to swallow and the water feels like honey but only for a moment before the pain returns and your throat protests wildly. Even so, your mind still clings to his words.

“Papa,” you whine, reaching for his hand as soon as he’s set down the glass.

His mismatched eyes flicker to yours, still worried. “Yes?”

“You never answered.”

“We should talk about this tomorrow, sì? When you feel better.” At your sad expression he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I will go find some soup for you now, some other medication.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“I will come back, dolce, you don’t make that pretty head worry too much, eh?”

You whimper dramatically. “But what if I am dead by then?”

Papa sighs but it’s followed by deep chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You win, amore, I will text one of the ghouls.”

As soon as the text is sent, Papa closes the window again and starts to undress. From your position on the bed you’re watching him like a hawk, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your mouth to hide your grin. He can’t help but find it endearing and suddenly he feels even worse for assuming the worst today. Once he’s in his briefs and undershirt, he crawls into bed behind you, pulling you close. You’re a little sweaty, not exactly smelling fresh, but he doesn’t mind. Feeling your warmth, having you tucked against him, it’s all he really needs.

And as his heart does a flip, racing thanks to your proximity, he gently cups your cheek. “Do you think you can give me a kiss, amore?”

“But you’ll get sick,” you whisper, the protest dying as soon as he tilts your chin up.

His lips graze yours, softly pressing in more and more until you melt against him. Even your lips are warmer than usual and he keeps it chaste, breaking away to look into your eyes again.

“Papas don’t get sick, eh?” He gives a tender kiss to your forehead, gently running his fingers through your hair before they settle on your back. “Now, you wanted an answer.”

Your look is pleading and it’s like your shining eyes are trying to lure the words right out of him. He wonders how he ever worried you may not feel the same when it’s written all over your face. His nerves start showing then, fidgety fingers drawing tiny patterns on your back, and he can feel your hands pressing into his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” he finally says. “You are my amore, my love. Tieni il mio cuore in mano. Please, I want to ask you to be mine.”

“I love you, too.” A big grin spreads out on your face. You lean in to kiss him again, softly moving your lips against his, and you stay impossibly close as you whisper. “And I am yours, forever, if you are mine.”

Papa smiles against your mouth and for a moment he forgets that you’re sick and kisses you harder. When he breaks away, you’re breathless, coughing softly, but he can tell by the happy look on your face that it was worth it.

“I am yours, amore,” he says. “I am yours forever, if Satan allows me.”

You settle against his solid chest, warm cheek pressed to the skin just above the neckline of his shirt. After today, your Papa vows to take better care of you, to trust you fully and cast any doubts aside as soon as they arise. And so he wraps his arms around you even tighter, whispering soft praises into your hair until you’re finally asleep again, the only sound in the room your soft and even breathing.

non vedo l’ora di baciarti – I can’t wait to kiss you

tieni il mio cuore in mano – you hold my heart in your hand

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simping4-2manyppl · 9 months

Note

HIIIII I SAW YOUR POST ABOUT ASKING FOR REQUESTS AND HELP SO LMK ID U NEED ANY HELP AND ILL SEE IF I KNOW IT 😓😓😊😊 ALSO HERES A PLOT IF TOU WANNA WRITE ABOUT IT:

ok so it’s tom x fem reader and they’re on vacation with the band in hawaii on the beach, and tom and reader sneak away to smoke a joint (U DONT HAVE TO ADD THAT IF UR UNCOMFORTABLE BTW^^^) and find another side of the beach that had a lot of plants and hibiscus flowers so tom gives one and puts it in their hair then they get caught by one of the members and get teased. SORRY IF ITS KINDA BAD I HAD A BRAIN FART MID WAY BUT YEAHH JUST IF U WANNA WRITE IT I PUT IT OUT THERE JUST CASE😊😊 HAVE FUN WRITING AND HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHT THANK YOU U IF U DO WRITE IT!😋❤️❤️❤️❤️

✮ Tom Kaulitz ✮

Flowers 🌺

Thats me right there btw!! AHH TYSM FOR THIS IDEA LITERALLY LOVE YOU SM!! ILL DEF DO MY BEST TO WRITE THIS GOOD!!

Warnings: smoking, teasing 😜 yk all that fun giggly stuff. There might be some bad spelling 😓

sorry if its bad, i tried my best, pls lmk if u liked it in the comments!

Tom Kaulitz x fem reader !!

When your friends invited you to go to Hawaii with them you immediately started packing all of your clothes. You were beyond excited to go since you have heard super nice things about Hawaii, you were especially excited to go to the beach.

You’ve heard how beautiful the ocean was and you couldn’t wait to go see it for yourself, not to mention you get to spend time with your best friends.

After about a week of being in Hawaii, they finally took you to the beach after begging and begging.

Bill was also pretty excited to go too, as you both have been talking about it ever since they invited you.

Once you got there you immediately took off your flip flops in the sand and walked closer to the water.

Feeling the cool water touch your feet made you shiver slightly, getting a bit cold.

You wore some shorts and a swim top since you were all going to go swimming but you didn’t expect the water to be a bit cold so you didnt bring a jacket. (Pretend its been rainy over there and not so hot.)

You jumped as you felt some arms wrap around you, “oh my god, you scared me!” You said as you turned around and saw tom, smiling.

He chuckled and pulled something out of his pocket, “wanna smoke this with me?” He said, with a grin on his face.

You looked around and saw the others talking, “Mm, sure.” You said grabbing his hand and walking around until you found a spot.

He lit it up and took a quick puff out of it before handing it to you, you grabbed it and put it up to your lips, taking a hit.

You blushed as his fingers would slightly graze yours while taking the joint from you as you both passed it back and fourth, until it was all finished.

“Hey, look at that flower!” You said, walking over to a small beautiful flower, that was all by its self.

Your eyes opened as your jaw dropped, seeing more than just one flower, there was multiple scattered all around.

Your eyes lit up as you saw all of the gorgeous hibiscus flowers and plants all around you.

You felt tom grab your chin, slowly moving your head to make eye contact with him as he moved some of your hair behind and placing a beautiful hibiscus flower behind your ear.

You face heated up quickly, as a bright shade of red spread across your face. A small smile appeared on toms face.

“A gorgeous flower for a gorgeous girl.” He said, winking at you, leaning in closer to your face.

Youve had a crush on tom for the longest time now and you were getting nervous, since you never expected him to go farther than just flirting with you.

You heard laughing from behind you, making you back away and turn around seeing everyone laughing at the both of you.

Now this time toms face turned red as they walked up to you both, “AWW TOM!” Bill said, teasing his twin, and laughing in his face.

“aww did we ruin your guy’s moment?” Gustav said, also laughing. “Poor tommy, he didnt get his kiss.” Georg said.

You blushed and turned away, embarrassed. “Be quiet, lets just go, i wanna swim.” Tom said, rolling his eyes.

“Arent you gonna kiss your gorgeous girl? Or are you gonna leave her waiting.” Bill said, raising his eyebrows up and down, smirking at him.

Tom was already far away, trying to ignore all the teasing that he was getting from his brother and friends.

“Cant hear you!” He said, walking away even faster, they all laughed at him, and you eventually let out a giggle or two.

The way his face turned into a shade of pink was adorable, although you wish they wouldnt have ruined the moment between you two but things happen.

you stared at him with a smile on your face, seeing how they tease him.

“Come on! Lets get in the water nowww!” Bill said walking over to the water.

You stayed behind and looked down at your feet, moving your toes in the warm sand.

arms wrapped around you, but this time you knew who it was, the scent was familiar. Making you smile to yourself.

“How come you keep coming up from behind me? Are you trying to scare me or something?” You said, laughing.

You heard him chuckle and turn you around to face him, “No, just really like hugging you from behind.” He said, smiling.

You laughed and smiled, as you held eye contact. He put his hand on your cheek placing his lips onto yours, you stood in shock, not knowing what to do, but just melted into the kiss.

He pulled away and had a big smile on his face, with a slight tint of pink of his cheeks.

“Race ya to the water!” He said running, “Hey! no fair! You got a head start!!” you said, yelling and pulling your shorts down quickly, running behind him into the water.

“Hey! Wait up!” You said going into the water, immediately splashing him. “Hey!” He said splashing you back.

I hope you guys liked it! Sorry if it was a bit rushed, i was just super excited!!

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #fanfic #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz x you

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charliespringverse · 8 months

Text

i've touched on this before but like . i really do think rowan's feelings get accidentally overlooked by readers that ,,, Aren't a bit obsessed and rereading for the nth time

and it's understandable because the version we primarily get of rowan is fereshteh's warped fanon & jimmy's longtime best friend mental illness riddled descriptions . and Because jimmy is unwell he almost idolises rowan in a way that holds him up as a pillar of stability and permanence — which is what jimmy needs and it's not a wholly negative thing, but he also inadvertently fails to accept any evidence to the contrary

whereas with lister we Learn a lot because jimmy is learning a lot — through deeper-than-usual conversations or blatant cries for help or very revealing behaviours — we don't get to discover anything new about rowan, and so when he's kinda mean or angry or distrusting it's easy to misinterpret that as him being deliberately and needlessly nasty

but if you stop looking at him through jimmy's lens, that boy has had an absolute bastard of a week . the jowan photo leak affects him as much as jimmy (arguably more so, because all the while he's dating bliss, jowan is an Active Lie rather than just an untruth), he's dealing with the same contract stress, his secret relationship has been exposed to the world, his girlfriend is ignoring him at a really difficult time, he's watching his two closest friends fall apart, he's learning that he really doesn't know one of them very well at all, his best friend is missing, the other is definitely an alcoholic making no moves to resolve that, his girlfriend has dumped him, he feels like they (and bliss) are being stalked by a member of a group he already feels like he isn't safe around, he feels like he's losing the two people closest to him

and all this time he's considering himself wholly and singlehandedly responsible for fixing all of this, feeling he has to hold himself and the world together . there's no real safe space for him to unload any of this because the three people he's closest to are either dumping him or going off the rails, and the only way he's ever known how to make himself comfortable is to have complete control over a situation, which just Is Not available to him here

it's not the fault of jimmy's narration that we never get to truly sit with the extent of what's going on with rowan, and in fact it really Really adds to the themes of being unable to truly know somebody and personal perception destroying objective truth

but GOD it breaks my heart to see people say they don't care for rowan, or don't like him, because he's snappy and sweary and short with people . because that's such a natural response to having that much shit piled on top of you in under a week AND losing your only coping mechanism (in this case, taking the weight of everything and moulding it into something tangible and possible to hold)

anyway. i am a rowan omondi stan first and a human being second and WOW rowan needs therapy and jimmy needs to stop idealising him

#iwbftreread #this is so long and for what #i just feel very passionately about the way jimmy discusses rowan . bevause it's so ... detached?#in his eyes rowan can do no wrong. but that makes him blind to the wrong piling up on top of them #owie

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alexblue29 · 7 months

Note

hey, you're cool.

oddly the therapist possum has a request!!

so, er.

ghost of chicago by noah floersch.

then, add

lovesick foolish!?

here's that idea, idk :,)

ANYBODY READING THIS, ILL BE YOUR THERAPIST :))))

Olay that song is so good though, thanks for making me obsessed with it! I made this pretty fucking angsty sooooo sorry? And let me know if y'all want more angst cause it's kinda fun to write! I wrote this in 45 minutes btw.

Foolish Gamers x Fem!Reader

It's angsty with a happy ending, unrequited love but not really, Foolish is a lovesick, kicked puppy, Foolish is called Noah although it.

Ghost Of Her

Noah sighed as he let himself fall into his chair. He looked over his setup, his monitors and computer were turned on with a discord call going. He had been chatting with Tina and Mouse before starting his stream. He rubbed at his face as he unmuted himself and picked up his cup of coffee.

His throat closed up for a second as he took his first sip, he missed her. She would always ask him what he was drinking and she'd have the same answer everytime he'd offer his reply,

"Honestly, people who drink their coffee black have to be psycopaths or something. Are you a psycopath, Foosh?" She'd laugh.

He quickly put his cup down as he stumbled into a coughing fit. His friends laughed at him, they asked him what happened.

"Nothing," he rasped out before clearing his throat, "Nothing, coffee just went down the wrong pipe."

He took his time getting his breath back and quickly redirected the conversation,

"I'm gonna start stream, see y'all on the server!"

Streaming did not help get his mind off of her, it never did. He would try to focus on his build but get distracted by his own thoughts. His chat, observant as ever, could tell he wasn't fully himself.

How could he be?

She's getting married tomorrow.

Noah rubbed his face roughly as he stood from his desk, he stretched, his joints popping as he did. He needed to clear his head and, even though it was nearing ten p.m., he grabbed his phone and made his way outside.

He walked for what felt like forever until he stumbled upon a familiar park, he made his way to it. As he walked, his feet guided him to the fountain in the very middle. He could see her, sitting by his side on the edge of it. A memory he cherishes of when she came to visit him for his birthday.

He remembers it like he still was there. A cold night, much like this one, he'd given her his sweater to keep her warm and tried to not melt every time his eyes found her. It was the perfect night. He should've said it. Why couldn't he just express his emotions like she could?

He frowned as he turned his back to the fountain and made his way away from it as fast as he could. His phone vibrated in his pocket, he reached for it and pulled it out.

Bad was calling him.

That was strange. They never called each other with their personal numbers, they exchanged them in case of an emergency. Before he realized it, the call had ceased. He didn'f reject it, he just waited too long.

Bad messaged him,

From: Bad (Dumbass)

I know you're looking at your phone.

It was all the warning he got before Bad called again. Noah retained a sigh as he answered,

"What's wrong?" his friend questioned right away.

"I have no idea what you mean, Bad."

He heard Bad scoff, Noah had always been a bad liar. "Tina and Mouse both messaged me saying you were being all weird and moppy this morning and I've watched your stream."

A moment of silence passed. Noah found his way on a stray bench before he whispered,

"She gets married tomorrow."

His voice broke in the middle, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He heard clicking noises from the other end before his phone vibrated again. He pulled it away from his ear and looked at the file Bad had sent him, a plane ticket?

"Bad, why did you-?"

"Because you are both idiots who refuse to be happy. Go get her, Foolish."

"I can't just barge into her wedding!"

"Says who?" Silence. Bad spoke again, "She's not happy, Foolish. Go get her."

And so here he was, in a taxi on his way to the wedding. It wasn't starting until twelve, it was currently ten-thirty. He couldn't fuck this up.

He thanked the driver as he closed the door. He saw her sister clock him immediately, he saw the way her eyes lit up with hope. She excused herself from a conversation and made his way to him.

"Noah! Thank god you're here, she's in the bride's room. Fifth door to the left, she's alone," She clapped him on the shoulder and lightly pushed him towards the building.

He thanked her quietly and quickly made his way to the room, he stopped before the door and raised a hesitant hand to knock.

"Angie? Is that you?" His heart lurched as her voice made its way to his ears.

"No, but she sent me to you."

He heard her inhale, he heard her quick steps to the door before she opened it, "Noah."

She let him in without a second thought. He took his time to look at her as she closed to door behind him. She'd barely changed from the last time he'd seen her. She already had her hair and makeup done for the wedding, but she was still in her white robe.

Noah couldn't take it, he took two large steps toward her and wrapped her in a tight hug that she reciprocated immediately. She was smudging her makeup on his shirt and he was definitely messing up up her hair as he gently grabbed the back of her head.

"Don't marry him," he muttered as he nuzzled into the top of her head, "Please, don't marry him."

"I can't just leave," she whispered to him.

He swallowed, "Bad bought my ticket to come get you, and two more to go back. One for me, and one for you," she looked up at him. "Your sister is on your side, she'll help you get your stuff if you need."

He caressed her cheek gently and whispered, "Come home to me, my clementine."

He could see her melt. He could see her ghost melt and finally letting the her he knew out again. She nodded. His heart was beating out of him chest. She broke away from his, went into the bathroom. He gathered all her things in her bag as he waited.

When she stepped out, her hair was up in a ponytail, her makeup off and she'd changed into some joggers and one of his old t-shirts she must have stolen when she visited him.

With her bag in his hand, he gently grabbed her hand and guided her away from the wedding. Together they made their way to the airport. She texted her sister and thank you and asked for her help to which her sister immediately agreed.

As they were flying back to Noah's home, he took a selfie of the both of them and sent it to their discord server with all their friends with a single message,

"Thank you, Bad."

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