#but i miss my stupid shitshow

[ijltln]

I'm so sick of this besties

[senblades]

I've had a realisation,

So, we all like to dunk on Akechi for having a stupid plan- which, well, yeah; but I think that a lot of people (whether they like Akechi's character or not) tend to miss the point:

That being, that the holes we all poke in his plan; "Why didn't he just kill Shido at the start?" "There's no way he'd live/be free after that," "His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," are actually far more revealing as to Akechi's priorities, than they are of him just being 'stupid'.

For starters, "there's no way he'd live/be free after that." -as a fandom I think we've all already come to the conclusion that Akechi's regard for his own life is spotty at best. I wouldn't necessarily say that he wants to die by the time of the third semester, which really just adds to the tragedy of the whole situation, but I digress. Point is, the kid needs therapy, moving on.

"His plan to ruin Shido's reputation would never work," Ah, now this is where I think some cultural differences start to come in to play- I won't say much, since I'm relatively uninformed, but by the sounds of it, revealing that Shido has an illegitemate child is actually the kind of thing that would make a lot of people raise their eyebrows. And, more importantly, the kind of thing that would really throw his "easy election win" into some serious jeapordy. (AND, it's never exactly stated that "revealing himself as an illegitemate child" was Akechi's tactic to ruin Shido- more of a "hey, Shido, guess who it was that ruined you, you piece of shit?"- which, well, more on that mindset later)

Next, "Why didn't he just kill Shido from the start?" This is where I think a lot of people get tripped up. To my memory, there is not a single point in the engine room where Akechi says that killing Shido is the cornerstone of his plan (localisation differences notwithstanding. I'm sure someone will come yell at me (/lh) if this is the case). Now, to be fair, Akechi in the engine room is really just him giving a very desperate powerpoint while he sharpens his sword- so I don't doubt that he's skimming over a couple points. But, you'd think that Akechi would remember to mention that if that really was his main goal.

Okay, so Akechi doesn't want to kill Shido. Cool, follow-up question, "Why didn't he just give Shido a pshychotic breakdown from the start?" That's the kind of thing that would have ruined Shido's reputation, too, right? And, it would have been before he would have had the means to try and cover it up. Well, finally, I can get to my point:

Akechi needs Shido's disgrace to be loud, because he needs everyone else to care, too. Akechi's revenge isnt just against the man who left him and his mother for dead, but also against the society that continued to leave him for dead, again and again; the society that only lauded him as something special if he slapped some pretty wallpaper over the past he had absolutely no control over.

Looking at it like this does a lot of things:

First, it really amps up the whole "the PT's justice and Akechi's justice foil each other". Akechi's revenge is also a vehichle for revolution, since it is, in essence: "Look! Look at the man who you lauded as a saviour! Look at me, the man who brought him down. Aren't we both disgusting, in your eyes? Take a look at yourselves. Aren't we all the same?"

That leads pretty nicely into Akechi as a pawn for Yaldabaoth, too. Akechi wants to make sure he and Shido go out with a bang, and leave a shitshow in their wake. That's prime God of Control real estate! It's also prime "metaphor for Ruin" real estate; you get the point.

And, finally, an interesting point comes from all of this. That being, that, well- the only reason that Akechi's plan wasn't going to work, is that he placed too much stock in the idea that Shido has any concept of loyalty or gratitude. Shido, as we all know, is an absolute piece of shit- and still, Akechi had believed that maybe, just maybe, his father would feel bad for being terrible to his son.

(I'm not going to go on too big of a tangent, but that is an interesting insight into Akechi's idea of Justice, and into what his personas might represent. Contradiction, as ever, is the name of the game, and Akechi simultaneously believes that there's no way to get anywhere in life without force and violence, and that there is also a fundemantal truth of what is good and fair within human hearts)

The message of this, I'm pretty sure, is not: "Akechi failed because of that lingering belief in humanity" (wouldn't that be one hell of a heel-turn lmao), but rather: "Akechi, with his distorted (ha) priorities, was never going to be happy in any quest for vengeance, even if his plan succeeded entirely"

tl;dr, Akechi needs therapy. Wait- Maruki, no! Not that kind of therapy!

[mangogobibiboo]

Fighting for them w/ Hinata, Atsumu, Osamu

Hinata, Miya Twins x Reader (Seperate)// Warnings: Bodily harm and fighting // Word Count: 1000+

Synopsis: In which they are flirted with, and you just can't take it anymore. (DO NOT DO THIS)

Osamu:

This girl had been coming into the shop daily for the past month to stare at Osamu. She always got the same order: an iced matcha tea with a strawberry ice cream mochi. It was just a cutesy order, too. You scoff just as the words leave her mouth.

It's not like it was a bestseller that most people ordered. You must admit you were a tad irrational; some may say it was petty. But she was gawking at YOUR man. It was unforgivable.

You couldn't help but scoff every time she came into the store and ordered in her stupid cute voice, batting her eyelashes, leaning over the counter ever so slightly to make sure he would get a peek at her cleavage. She did the same thing today but went too far this time. She gripped his biceps and gushed over how strong he must be. Those were YOUR BICEPS that only you had the right to feel up and gush over. How dare she!

You had enough. You stomped up to the counter and shoved her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. She looked up at you with wide eyes, almost on the verge of tears. "Back off, my boyfriend," was the only thing you needed to say before she hurried away. "And don't forget your drink!" you yell after her as you grab the order from the counter and cuck it out the door, barely missing her.

"Ya been talkin to Tsumu too much." You look back to Osamu to see him laughing. "Crazy does look hot on you, baby, but you probably shouldn't do that again. I need these people to come back. Yer gonna kill ma livelihood." He came around the counter and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"I'm not crazy! And how come you never said anything to her? " you playfully punch his chest.

"Cuz, I barely notice em. Yer only one for me." you snuggle closer into his chest. "Okay?" "Okay."

Atsumu:

"C'mon, babe, talk ta me. I tried to tell 'er off, I swear!" It was after a game, and Atsumu was driving the two of you home, albeit unwillingly on your part. He had to beg you to get in the car, and you were set on taking a taxi. Leading to at least 30 minutes of quiet arguing in the parking garage. You felt a bit guilty making such a fuss, knowing how tired he must be from his game. But it was all the more reason to let you take a taxi like you wanted!

This was probably already bubbling before tonight. About two weeks ago, the Jackles had hired a couple of assistant managers. There was one in particular that gave you pause. You knew her; everyone on the team knew her. Not personally, of course. She was notorious for her affair with a captain of another team down in Okinawa. The scandal was in every magazine across Japan for weeks. It was a shitshow. The captain had to leave the team, and his wife left him, not that he didn't deserve that. And she was forced to step away as well. But it seemed that it didn't damage her professional reputation too much as the Jackles so quickly hired her.

After the game, you saw her throw herself onto Atsumu and gush about how amazing he was. She had his hands all over him.

If you had taken two seconds to process things, you would have seen that he was uncomfortable.

It was outside the locker room, so there was no press, but you were there, and before you knew it, you grabbed onto her hair, pulling her away. She didn't miss a beat, grabbing onto your hair as well. You two wrestled to the ground, scratching each other up before Atsumu finally got you off her. She yelled something about you being "A crazy bitch" before walking off.

Now you were sitting in the car, scratched up with a sore scalp, giving your boyfriend the silent treatment. "Baby, I swear, I was gonna tell 'er off, but ya didn't give me a chance." You stayed quiet, still not looking at him. "Fine, how 'bout I get yer favorite food and give ya all the cuddles ya want." You look at him, arms still crossed on your chest, and grumble, "And we watch a movie.". He smiled a bit and chuckled. "Okay, anythin' ya want. You kinda scare me now, babe."

Hinata:

Shoyo was too pure for his own good. He doesn't even realize the bartender is flirting with him. She was playing right into it, too! She opened by asking about his nice tan, which was all your dear boyfriend needed to start going on and on about Brazil and beach volleyball. In his excitement, he couldn't see how her eyes roamed his dress shirt, which couldn't quite contain his newly built Brazilian body.

But you noticed.

Honestly, after a few drinks, you didn't care if he noticed; you just wanted it to stop. You stomp over from the dance floor to the bar. Pull the bartender in by her ear and pour the drink she had served Hinata down her shirt. This quickly earns you a punch, and before you know it, the two of you grabbed a fistful of each other hair and began screaming obscenities at each other. It took Hinata a minute to process what was happening, and as soon as he did, it took all his strength to pull you two away from each other. After that, you two quickly ran off before the girl returned with the security. You make it outside and lean in an alley while trying to catch your breath when Hinata pipes up, still out of breath.

"Wow, Y/N, when did you get so strong? You have to teach me how to fight like that." He looked at you in awe; honestly, you couldn't help but laugh. You had to admit that you were a tad embarrassed by your outburst. How could you ever let your jealousy get the better of you? He was perfect and absolutely adored you, even in this situation,

A/n: Hi, yes, hello. I just wanted to pop in to say…THIS IS FICTION. Please don't do this in real life!

[muddyorbsblr]

the warmest bed i've ever known

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few days after 'when the feeling sinks in'

Summary: Tom has convinced you to go back to London with him for a few weeks, and a photo of you two out and about together has opinions firing left and right.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings (spoilers ahead): language; big hater behavior towards Reader; attempted breakup; angst; brief mentions of past bullying [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Tomathy fully in his comforting precious bf era

Numb.

That was the only word that came to mind right now to describe what you felt, staring at your screen with all the hateful vile words that people who didn't even know you were flinging your way. And all because of the man you were dating. And how much you looked like a downgrade compared to his ex.

Then again it really shouldn't have surprised you, considering the turn your life had taken in the last few months. Hell, the last few days. There was really no other way for these nameless faceless spineless people to react when the man you'd started dating was none other than Tom Hiddleston.

And the figuratively ridiculously large shoes you had to fill considering the rising power of said ex…was Taylor Swift's.

You shouldn't have gone online. Checked Twitter. Checked anything, really. They rarely if ever had anything good to say, it was a special kind of stupid and naive for you to think that someway somehow you and your relationship were going to be the exception to the vitriolic rule.

Now here you were, screechy voices filling your mind, spitting out the words that your eyes scanned when you opened the cesspool of a sight.

Nothing special

Unremarkable

Fucking stab my eyes out with a rusty fork ugly

To be completely fair, you'd seen worse when you were still in school, every day inundated with the mocking words that sociopaths with hormones on overdrive wielded recklessly like a goddamn balisong without care that the person on the receiving end was actually a person. And if that was the shitshow you experienced from people brave enough to sign those sentiments with their name and say it to your face with chests fully puffed out, then the bravery of these people when they were all snuggled up under the protective cover of anonymity really shouldn't have shocked you.

Finding out who they were behind the screen and dealing out retribution on your own terms would have been a simple enough task. After all, you'd done it before, and even with the current advancements in technology and the tighter security protocols centered around protecting user data, you still managed to keep a few tricks in your bag that you could whip out if the need ever arose.

There was just one thing that stopped you from doing just that. A part of you agreed with the vicious comments. It was easy enough to ignore when people in school were just making hateful pages about how you sucked and how no one would ever genuinely like you. Or when they made pages pretending to be you so that they could dole out their paltry attempts at trying to ruin what little reputation you had at the time.

When you dealt with them on that comparatively smaller scale, it became easy to numb yourself to their words, drown them out until they were just white noise in the background, keeping you focused on the path you laid out for yourself rather than distracting you. It gave you a drive to work harder and better so that you could get as far away from them as possible.

On this scale, the background noise was so strong, so loud and overwhelming that every step you took to fight it seemed to take every ounce of your strength. It felt like there was no way out. You couldn't just hunker down and work hard so that you could get away from it all this time. And you couldn't exactly ignore them, either.

How could you? When they were voicing with pinpoint accuracy every insecurity that plagued you ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend a few days ago. Ever since your first night with him months ago.

So is this some sort of Make-A-Wish thing? That's it, right? She's on her last few months and she wanted to live them in delusion?

Fifty bucks says Tom's active on Raya right now. Quick someone send me an invite link I wanna shoot my shot. Tommy don't worry baby I'll save you from whatever the fuck mistake you got yourself into.

How the fuck do you go from Taylor Swift to that?

The most prevalent remarks in the last few hours had to do with a sighting of you sitting on a park bench, working on creating a wardrobe piece for an upcoming show that, if all went well, would start filming in a few years. The book author and the prospective showrunner got in contact with you after a glowing recommendation from Taika, and they talked about struggling to find the perfect scarf that would serve as one of the series' focal points.

After a few discussions and so many skeins of yarn that there was now an oversized tote bag in your hotel room overflowing with various shades of dark teal and peacock blue, you started crocheting a sample size of the pattern to show the author later on in the afternoon before you went to meet Tom for dinner. And that was how you were spotted this morning, sitting quietly on the bench, eyes on your project while your boyfriend was taking Bobby for a walk.

And for some reason the internet was up in arms over that,

Are you really fucking telling me this boring ass bitch that's giving old lady crocheting a goddamn scarf is fucking riding the God of Mischief every day? Nuh uh nope I don't believe that. Our Tommy deserves someone fun, and actually fucking pays attention to him and not a ball of yarn. Our baby deserves so much better than this.

You stared at the desk in front of you, your sample scarf to the left, and your laptop at the center, the screen now black from inactivity. You couldn't bother to move to check the time; your reminder would ring when your call would start. All you could bring yourself to do was remain exactly as you were, knees drawn to your chest with your arms around your legs, shaking and doing your damnedest not to break out into sobs over the knowledge of what you were about to do as soon as the door opened.

It was a good run, you told yourself. More than I deserved.

The sound of the front door opening jolted you back to reality, the voices finally dying down somewhat. Unfortunately, hearing Tom's voice started the voices right back up again.

"Y/N, darling, have you finished with your call? I was hoping we could go out tonight for dinner and--" His words stopped abruptly once he got to his study, seeing you in the position you'd been in for the last few hours, and immediately rushed to your side, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his. "What's wrong, goddess?"

"I uhh…I have to go back to Los Angeles. I'm gonna see if I can make the next flight back." You didn't dare meet his eyes, still trying to hold back any tears.

He let out a breath, sounding almost relieved before he pressed a kiss to your hands. "That shouldn't be much of a problem, I can pack a bag and we can be on the next flight out--"

"No," you cut him off, wincing at your tone. "I'm going alone. There's no need for you to go with me, I'm sure you have some other things to do here. Better things."

There was a slight tremor in his hand as he cupped your face, gently turning your head to look at him. He took a shuddering breath seeing the tears swimming in your eyes. "What's happening right now, sweetheart? Please. I don't understand what could have brought this on, we had a lovely morning--"

"I thought I could do this," you choked out, finding it difficult to form coherent words without starting to blubber. "I thought I could drown the voices out, not let them get to me but…they're too loud. They're ruthless and vile and they have megaphones and they're right." You shook your head to turn away from him, burying your face between your knees, the all too familiar feeling of shame flooding your system, shrouding over you like an overly weighted blanket. "I'm not strong enough to do this with you. And you deserve someone better than me."

You took your laptop off of Standby, your screen illuminating and showing him the harsh words that had been haunting you since you stupidly decided to check the internet just minutes after he left the house. He began to visibly tense as his eyes scanned the pages seeing all the hateful things literal strangers had to say about your relationship.

"Look we gave it a shot," you tried to tell him, making a motion to get out of the chair which made him put his hands on the armrests, effectively keeping you in place. "But I think it's time to call it. I'm not good for you, and you deserve someone--"

"No." His tone was low and resolute, hands staying firmly on the chair, refusing to let you go anywhere. From a certain perspective, it was a smart enough move, considering that if he let you go right now, you'd probably sprint out the door in the name of doing what you thought would be best for him. Even if it meant ripping your own heart out in the process. "This can't be over already, we've only just begun. The time I've had with you has been extraordinary and I know that if we keep going, it'll get even better. You've made me so happy and--"

"You'll find someone that makes you happier," you dumbly shot back, the sentiment hitting you so hard that the tears finally began to fall. Even the thought of him potentially moving on so quickly after this already had you ready to sob. "Someone stronger. Someone that can handle all of this or hell someone they'll actually like--"

"Those people don't care for my happiness," he said in a rush, tears filling his eyes as well. "No matter what I do, there's always going to be someone hateful that has something to say, and they'll always think they're right. It's so clear that they don't give a damn about what actually makes me happy because if they did, they wouldn't be saying these disgusting lies about you, trying to get into your head."

There was a desperation in his tone that tore at your heart; no part of you wanted to do this. But seeing every single insecurity that you'd had ever since you said yes to being his girlfriend, yes to going to London with him for a few weeks, and generally just yes to spending the next few however months of your life with him, all laid out in print echoed by so many others? You knew he deserved better than this, better than someone that would ultimately have to be hidden away so that these people would stop coming for his throat for his 'poor choices'.

And when you knew that what would be best for the man you ached to give your heart to was to actually tuck your heart away and run, how selfish would it be for you to do the opposite?

The feel of his hands framing your face brought you back to your thoughts, the frantic pleading look on his face robbing you of your breath. "Do you want to leave, Y/N?" You wanted to scream No of course I don't, I want to stay with you. But you found yourself unable to form words. All you could do was shake your head as more tears fell from your eyes.

He pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his arms the second you crossed your hands behind his neck and lifting you out of your seat. He didn't break the kiss until he'd carried you to his bedroom, setting you down on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before sinking to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

"Then don't leave. Stay with me. We'll stay in and stay away from prying eyes so nobody gets to say anything about you, we'll--"

"You shouldn't have to make adjustments in your life for the sake of making me comfortable," you argued. "You should be with someone that can face all of this, not cower in a corner licking her wounds needing to be protected if she so much as gets seen stepping out of your house like some tiny helpless baby animal. You deserve to be with someone you can share everything with, without the worry of people shooting you down just because I'm not pretty enough or tall enough for them. You can have anything and everything you want with a snap of your fingers, I'm sure it won't be that hard to find someone that--"

Tom stopped you from letting out another word, holding you by the back of your  head and pulling you to him for a desperate kiss. "I don't want anyone else, I want you. I don't give a fuck what anyone else wants to think about how I choose to spend my life and who I choose to share it with, because I know better. You're enough, you're more than enough. And if a few precautions and adjustments have to be made to make sure they can't get to you, then I'm more than happy to do all that and more.

"Our first night together I told you I just want you. As you are. That I want to make you happy." He rose from his knees, pressing a kiss to your cheek and working his way to your ear. "That I want to satisfy you. Do you remember?" You could only nod, trying and failing not to melt against him as he kissed below your ear. "I'm going to add that list of wants now. I want to make sure you feel safe, with every means I have at my disposal."

He guided you down until your back was flat on the mattress, kissing down your neck as he did so, his lips trailing a path down to just over your heart. You found it near impossible to breathe, finding yourself overwhelmed with how gentle and tender he was handling you.

"I want to love you," he said, meeting your eyes with a look that you could only describe as surrender. "I know you're not ready to hear it yet, but this can't wait anymore. You need to hear it. You need to know that the only way for me to actually have everything that I want is if I get to share everything I have with you. I need you to know that your leaving would rip my heart out." He made his way back up, stopping when your faces were mere inches apart. "I need you to know who you'd be leaving." He brushed his lips across yours in a featherlight kiss. "You would be leaving a man so completely, so desperately in love with you."

You tried to speak, but all you could manage was inaudibly mouthing his name, the sentiment you tried to stomp down just a little over a week ago fighting its way back up to the surface. Practically shouting from the back of your throat.

"I love you," he breathed out. "Please, sweetheart. Don't do this. Don't leave. Whatever you want, whatever you need so that we can make this work, we'll find our way through this together just please…I'm begging you don't tell me that what you want is to rid yourself of me--"

"That's the last thing I want," you managed to choke out, your eyes stinging with even more tears. You swallowed the lump in your throat, mustering every ounce of strength you had left to finally say the sentiment you prematurely blurted out when he first popped up at your house. "I love you, too."

You woke up the next morning the same way you'd been ever since you and Tom first got together, his arm wrapped around you, the butterflies fluttering violently in your stomach from how he held your body against his without a stitch of clothing between you two, along with the tender kisses he peppered along your shoulder. It was a routine you'd not only found yourself getting comfortable with, but you were looking forward to it whenever you felt yourself rousing from sleep.

And that part scared the living daylights out of you.

Relationships? Routines? Your mind wandering to that place that you said you never dared think about in the context of being in any kind of relationship again, because the last time you did, the rug got pulled out from under you and threw your life and the future you envisioned into a blender?

You swore to yourself that day all those years ago that you were never going to let yourself get this comfortable. That you would always have your safety measures in place so that you never had to worry about having to scramble your way back up to your feet without any sense of direction.

And you did. You had your measures. You had your walls up. You put your heart under lock and key and said you'd never give it to someone again. Yet here you were, basically opening the chest and telling Tom that it was right there for the taking.

A chest you couldn't close again even if you tried. Even if you wanted to.

The feel of his lips pressing a kiss between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a tiny whimper, making him smile and hum against your skin. "Good morning, goddess."

You were growing concerningly comfortable with that, too.

He moved you until you were lying with your back flat on the mattress, brushing his nose across yours as he gave you a contented smile. "I love you."

You couldn't help the smile that stretched across your own face hearing the words. "Hmm…careful, you keep talking like that I might get used to it."

He laid his lips on yours, giving you a tender kiss as he gently ran his hand down the side of your body before stopping at your hip, his thumb stroking your skin. "I want you to get used to it, because I'll be saying it a lot from now on." His lips traced a line down to the base of your throat. "I love you," he murmured against your skin repeatedly as he kissed along your collarbone.

"I love you, too," you whimpered as he kissed his way down to your stomach, his shaky exhale warming your skin even more. You placed your hand on his shoulder, leading him to refocus his attention to kissing his way up your arm. "I really stepped on the ledge yesterday…" you trailed off, struggling to take a deep breath as you tried to find the words, ultimately settling on the simplest ones. You weren't likely to find better words anyways. "Thank you for talking me off of it."

He took his time kissing his way back up to your lips, never breaking eye contact. "Always, my love." The new endearment, paired with the way he tenderly kissed your lips, had your head spinning. "I'm going out to get us some breakfast. I'll be back in an hour. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Those words had you stirring, making a motion to sit up on the bed. "What? No, you don't need to do that, you'll get papped. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed, I'll do it."

"If you go out, they'll photograph you, too," he argued. "Pictures of us are still fresh on their minds, which means these vultures are still very much on the lookout for you out and about, waiting to take pictures in hopes of selling them to the sleaziest gossip sites. Give it a week, maybe two, and they'll refocus their attention on someone else. Them and the internet."

You slumped back into the bed with a soft thud, surrendering to the fact that unfortunately, the logic made sense. You needed a good few days to let your face and those photos fade into relative irrelevancy. "You probably need your team to spin some story on why we were seen together, too," you sighed, the discomfort of having to let the wheels turn in your head before you've even had a bite of food or a sip of coffee starting to make you skittish. "I mean, the saying goes that we can't put the genie back in the bottle, but what if it isn't fully out yet? We still have a chance to…I don't know, mitigate the situation?"

Tom rested his forehead against yours, letting out a deep sigh as he laid back down on the bed as well, pulling you into his arms so that your head rested on his chest. "One day it won't be this toxic."

His words had you giggling, looking up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. "It's adorable that you think that, but no. But one day maybe the voices of those who would genuinely just be happy for you would be louder than these snakes in the pit with their megaphones. And maybe one day I'll be strong enough to not give a fuck about any of it."

He tightened his hold on you, arms snaking around your body in an embrace that had you falling even more into that dangerous place of way too damn comfortable. "Until then I'm going to do what I can to keep you safe. It'll only be a few weeks at most. Maybe less if we're lucky and someone causes a scandal." He pressed numerous soft kisses to the tip of your nose, breaking out into a smile when his attentions caused you to let out a soft giggle. "For now, I get to keep you in the house. All to myself." His smile turned into a mischievous grin as he rolled you on to your back, rasping the next words, "Like my own beautiful brilliant little captive."

"A very willing captive," you shot back, once again going breathless when he started kissing you all over your neck and chest. "Be careful out there? Don't let them get a reaction out of you, no matter what they ask. Or what they say about me."

"I will," he mumbled, humming against your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along the side of your body, nipping at your waist before pulling away. He made his way to his closet, shooting a playful knowing glance at you when he saw how you propped yourself up on your elbows to enjoy the view. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he chuckled, throwing on his usual running gear of a black t-shirt with the Legendary logo and black shorts that were definitely a size too small with how the garment hugged and accentuated his hips and upper thighs. Not to mention how those shorts made it all too obvious that your boyfriend happily and proudly chooses neither when it came to the age-old debate of boxers or briefs.

He walked back toward the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning over you to capture your lips in a heated kiss, as if it had been weeks since he'd done it last rather than mere minutes. His hand freely roamed your side, lightly grasping at your hips while he slowly laid you back down flat on the bed. Once he had, he broke the kiss to press his lips to the tip of your nose, then to your forehead.

"I'll wake you when I'm back home. Promise me you won't check on those pages again. None of them deserve our time, or our emotions. I love you, goddess."

"I promise. I love you, too."

A/N: Welcome to the second part of the 'said it first' arc! This would probably be the angstiest moment in their entire relationship and precious bf meow meow really answered her "I'm leaving" with "No ur not I love u 🥺" and we love him for it your honor

Three more parts to this arc and hopefully I can pull myself out of playing my lil games long enough to actually get to writing any of the pieces in my rotation 😅🫡

Here's a gif for everyone who reads 'til the end of the post…this be what the blorbos were like in that last scene:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[enter-the-phantom]

Okay, sit down, Tumblr. Let me get on my soapbox for a moment.

I want to talk about Windows95Man and Henri Piispanen and why we should all be applauding them. And no, this isn’t another “crown the pantsless Finn” shitpost.

I know I joke about my love for these two a lot, and I’ve kind of become the Windows95Man guy this week, but with all the drama and chaos going on, they really do deserve recognition for what they did. And I’m so dead serious about that. There is a reason I adore this stupid act so goddamn much.

This competition was a shitshow and was very stressful, for the performers as well as the audience. It was tense and hostile, and even when our favorites for the win were performing, we could never really relax because we wanted so badly for them to beat the team that should not have been there and that was turning this into a nightmare for everyone involved. We were so scared of the points and the voting at every turn, wondering if the EBU was going to pull another stunt. It was miserable even when our favorites did well. And we are all heartbroken for Joost. It was a disgrace and it wasn’t fun.

Now. “No Rules!” was the joke entry and it never stood a chance in hell and everyone knew it. I guarantee you they knew it and they never expected to get this far. But for a few minutes, everyone got to forget about the cruelty and the politics and the unfair treatment and the harassment, and just watch a crazy dude run around pantsless on stage. We got to be consumed by pure, unbridled joy and happiness for a few minutes, together, because this entry wasn’t a threat to anyone’s win and never set out to be. They did not come here to win—according to Teemu himself, they came to spread a few moments of joy to a world and an audience that desperately needed it. That is all they came to do. And that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

It is such a deeply moving and wonderful thing to watch people laughing together with the people they hated only moments ago. The way the crowd roared when that stupid denim egg opened was a truly emotional moment in a way I can’t quite express. No matter what flag they were waving, everyone in that audience was singing along and cheering on these two madmen, united in the sheer hilarity and chaos of those few minutes. When that man’s shorts descended from the rafters and he lit those sparklers, we weren’t crying for Joost or worrying about the final outcome or panicking. We were laughing, and we were laughing together. Laughter is healing and it’s unifying. And it may have been only a few moments in a week that was bitter and stressful for all involved, but that is worth something to unite people in such a way.

According to all sources, the Finnish team was nothing but kind and warm to everyone and did exactly what they set out to do. They can go home with their heads held high knowing they made people smile. I have so much deep respect for these two and their team for being the joy and fun this competition was so sorely missing. They never lost that spark and that drive to make people happy, because that was their only goal. And it’s probably melodramatic because I’m a performer myself. But they are my heroes for it. And I mean that with all the sincerity I have.

With all the drama and the horrible things happening in this organisation and the world at large, I just don’t want us to forget two of the unsung heroes just because their entry was never a real contender. They deserve better than that, because they more than succeeded in what they came out here to do.

All the love and all the applause in the world to Teemu Keisteri and Henri Piispanen, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. 🇫🇮❤️👖

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Fluff Masterlist

pure fluff: 💕 hurt/comfort: ❤️‍🩹 smut: 💟 (soft) 💦 (explicit)

hi i think the original post is getting too long and tumblr won't let me save it so this is my attempt at compromising

main masterlist

hcs/drabbles:

➼ attention-starved!levi (drabble) 💕 ➼ attention-starved!levi (headcanons) 💕 ➼ bff!levi comforting you when your friends are being shitty 💕 ➼ blind date by mutual friend 💕 ➼ cat-dad!levi 💕 ➼ celebrating your birthday with a date 💕 ➼ cuddling on a day off 💕 ➼ cuddling when snowed in 💕 ➼ dadvi canonverse headcanons 💕 ➼ date where you take a walk on the docks and go for a drive 💕 ➼ date where you travel outside of the walls 💕 ➼ dinner and music date in marley 💕 ➼ eating ice cream for the first time 💕 ➼ friend date on top of the walls that leads to a confession 💕 ➼ general headcanons on dating levi 💕 ➼ getting levi a power washer 💕 ➼ going to a carnival with bff!levi that ends up being a shitshow 💕 ➼ going to the carnival for the first time 💕 ➼ giving levi first aid 💕 ➼ grocery shopping with levi 💕 ➼ just some domestic modern!au headcanons 💕 ➼ kissing post-war!levi’s scars 💕

➼ levi and physical touch 💕 ➼ levi being stubborn with you after an injury 💕 ➼ levi catching you after you get yeeted by a Titan 💕 ➼ levi comforts you after you think he’s sick of you ❤️‍🩹 ➼ levi confessing by calling you his 💕 ➼ levi confessing on NYE 💕 ➼ levi helps you with your gear after you get injured 💕 ➼ levi getting a phone 💕 ➼ levi noticing that you're getting overstimmed 💕 ➼ levi noticing you about to have a panic attack 💕 ➼ levi rushing home after hearing gunshots through the phone 💕 ➼ levi saying he doesn’t want to lose you ❤️‍🩹 ➼ levi scolding you for not getting first aid 💕 ➼ levi soothing your crying toddler 💕 ➼ levi taking care of drunk!reader 💕 ➼ levi taking care of your newborn baby 💕 ➼ levi taking his twin daughters to the beach 💕 ➼ levi telling you that you’re perfect just the way you are ❤️‍🩹 ➼ levi with modern!au gadgets 💕 ➼ levi with twin daughters (hcs) 💕 ➼ morning cuddles with levi 💕 ➼ picnic date 💕 ➼ post-war!levi chasing after your toddler 💕 ➼ random levi thoughts 💕 ➼ touch-starved!levi having to wake up without you next to him 💕💟 ➼ touch-starved!levi that misses you after a week without you 💕💟 ➼ wearing levi’s shirt when having a bad day 💕 ➼ wedding planning with levi 💕 ➼ you and levi discussing having a baby 💕💟 ➼ you and levi take your baby out for a stroll in Marley 💕 ➼ you being stubborn with levi after an injury 💕 ➼ you dragging jealous!levi onto the dance floor 💕 ➼ you telling levi that he’s more than likeable 💕

oneshots:

➼ A Clean Cut 💕

Years after the end of the war, your son asks Levi to cut his hair.

➼ Come Home with Me Tonight 💕

You and Levi were nothing more than friends with benefits. However, upon seeing you at a formal with a date, things quickly begin to change.

➼ Come to Bed 💕

Your attention has been limited, making Levi more than grumpy.

➼ Fucked Out 💦 💕

After getting fucked stupid by Levi, he helps you clean up and provides you with gentle aftercare.

➼ I Do 💕

You run into your ex-boyfriend after years and realize that your feelings had never faded.

➼ It Was Always You 💕

You were a princess with an unwanted duty. He was the knight that saved your life. Tired of hiding behind a ruse, you finally confess.

➼ Just Being You 💕

Levi attempts to explain the Rumbling to your 6-year-old child.

➼ Just Go ❤️‍🩹

After a fight, you're convinced that Levi's going to break up with you.

➼ Keeping You Safe ❤️‍🩹

You get hurt during the 57th Scouting Expedition and are confronted by Levi.

➼ Peace 💕

With the war finally over, you and Levi struggle to adjust to normal life. You attend a fall festival in an attempt to cope with the day.

➼ Stay With Me 💕

It's the night before your battle with the Jaeger brothers. Pressed for time, Levi finally confesses.

➼ Surprises ❤️‍🩹

You were convinced that Levi was cheating. He instead comes home with a surprise.

➼ The Short King 💕💟

You run into Levi after coming out of the shower after avoiding him and are forced to navigate your budding feelings for him.

➼ The Usual 💕

You're a regular in Levi's teashop. He makes a promise to get to know you.

➼ Want 💕

Levi begins berating you for getting injured. It isn't until later that it was because he had feelings for you all along.

➼ Who You Are 💕

Your depression hits harder than usual. Levi helps you through it.

➼ World's Grumpiest Dad 💕

You reveal your pregnancy to Levi with an unironic gift.

➼ You're Safe ❤️‍🩹

Levi raises his voice, which triggers your previous memories. Aware of your past, Levi helps you through it.

➼ Your Promise (kinda fluff kinda angst idk)

It's the night before the return to Shiganshina. Afraid of losing you, Levi attempts to take you off the mission.

➼ Your Safe Space ❤️‍🩹

You struggle holding back an incoming mood swing. Levi encourages you not to hold it back.

➼ Your Worth ❤️‍🩹

Upset about constantly coming in second place, you request to get removed off Levi's squad, and Levi isn't having any of it.

Last updated: March 9, 2024

© humanitys-strongest-bamf & rydenkat | Do not repost or plagiarize my work. Do not translate or edit without my permission. Do not feed my work into AI. My work is currently posted exclusively on Wattpad, AO3, and Tumblr. Feel free to recommend my works on other social media platforms!

[artiststarme]

Based on this post by @anzelsilver. Thanks for letting me write this prompt and I hope I did it justice!

~*~*~*~

Eddie had no idea what was happening. Don’t get him wrong, the last several months have been great following his horrific encounter with the Upside Down, nearly dying, and then having to clear his name from a series of murders he didn’t commit. But other than his absolute shitshow of a Spring Break, ‘86 truly was his year. He had graduated and become friends with an entire group of outcasts ranging from D&D nerds, a band kid, and a jock. He had never imagined that he would become friends with Steve “the Hair'' Harrington but here he was. But that’s what led to his inordinate confusion. 

Being friends with Steve Harrington was confusing and unlike any other friendship he’d had before. They’d gone from hating each other from afar before their experience with Vecna to hanging out everyday afterwards. Steve would show up to the new Munson trailer with carry-out food from the diner and a blinding smile on his face. At movie nights, Steve would sit closely to Eddie with an arm around his shoulder and would hide his face in his neck at scary parts. He kept suggesting new plans or restaurants to try and would discretely hold Eddie’s hands out of view of everyone else. And when he got particularly excited about something, Steve would even kiss the corner of Eddie’s mouth! 

Now, Eddie had never been friends with a jock before. So he assumes that Steve’s touchiness is due to trauma bonding and jock culture and he doesn’t question it. He continues to hang out with Steve without limitation but all of the touching and everything with a straight guy is confusing for Eddie. Then, a nice guy approaches him at the Hideout after a set and Eddie really has no reason not to agree to go on a date. The fleeting touches from Steve and all around “good guy-ness” has been leaving Eddie feeling unfulfilled and frankly pathetic. He vowed not to crush on another straight guy after what happened last time yet here he was. So, what better way to get over his unrequited crush on Steve than to go out with another guy?

It’s at another Party movie night at Steve’s house that Eddie tells the group. “Look guys, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to postpone Hellfire this week.”

There was a moment of calmness before the kids erupted. 

“Postpone? POSTPONE?!” Mike screams, being the indignant little shit that he is. 

“Eddie, you can’t postpone! You didn’t even postpone for Lucas when he had his basketball game!” Dustin tries, aiming a well-aimed punch at Eddie’s guilt for that particular past decision. Lesson learned, Henderson. 

“Yeah, you said you never postponed! What’s so important that you’re going to postpone the best part of the campaign?” Lucas asked, offended at the mere idea. 

“Well my little sheep, if you must know, I have been courted by a fine bard to be taken on a date. It’s non negotiable, Hellfire will be postponed to next Friday,” Eddie said theatrically. He was laser focused on the reactions of the kids and thus missed the questioning glance Robin threw to a rapidly paling Steve. 

“There’s no way. Steve said he’d sit in on the session on Friday. You’re not going on a date. You almost got us there,” Dustin chuckled. 

“What does that have to do with anything, Henderson? I am going on the date! Tony asked me after my set and I didn’t have any reason to say no! And because you can’t have a campaign without the DM, Hellfire is postponed. End of discussion!”

The room went absolutely silent, enough to hear a pin drop. Eddie didn’t know what he said wrong, everyone here already knew he was gay so they wouldn’t have an issue with that. But as he looked around and saw everyone staring- no glaring, at him, he knew he fucked something up. He whipped around to stare at Steve when he heard him mutter, “oh… fuck, I’m so stupid.”

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw Steve roughly wipe at his eyes in an attempt to obscure the falling tears. “What the- Stevie?”

Steve just made his way to the back door leading to the patio and muttered, “I hope you have a good date, Eddie.”

Robin shook her head in disbelief. “What the hell, Eddie? I trusted you with him.” 

She looks worriedly in the direction Steve ran but looks back at Eddie with murderous intent in her eyes. She seems torn between wanting to stay and tear Eddie a new one or run after her platonic soulmate. 

“Go Robin, I’ve got this handled,” Nancy says like that’s not the scariest sentence he’s ever heard. She says it in a voice that makes Eddie want to run home and hide under his covers. With one more scathing glare to Eddie in parting, Robin takes off after Steve. 

Eddie was left standing confused in the middle of the Harrington living room, staring at where Steve once stood. The rest of the Party immediately started berating him once the sliding door closed behind Steve and Robin. 

“What are you doing, Eddie?” Lucas, ever the diplomat, asked in bewilderment. 

“You’re a coward, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Max spit at him, her eyes glaring into his very soul. 

“Eddie, you just really hurt Steve. Why would you do that?” Will asked, his eyes open wide in shock. 

“You’re literally the scum of the earth, Eddie. What in the literal hell gives you the right?” Dustin said, really going for his throat. 

“Eddie,” Nancy starts and immediately the rest of the room falls silent. “I cannot believe that you would do something like this. After everything we’ve done for you, everything Steve has done for you, you’re going to mess it all up for what? A date with some stranger? I thought you were better than that but I guess you were right. You really are just a coward that runs away from anything important. I hope you’re happy with yourself, Munson.”

Eddie’s heart dropped at her words. He thought they were all cool with him and Robin being gay but maybe they weren’t. But going after all of his insecurities so viscerally? It made him wonder if they had ever been his friends at all. 

“I thought you guys would be happy for me. I don’t know what I did but I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that you would react like this.” He whispered, his arms coming up to hug himself self-soothingly. 

Whether it was the tears in his eyes or the sincerity of his words, Nancy’s intimidating posture becomes contemplative. Then, realization hits her. “Eddie, you do know that you and Steve are dating… right? And you just stomped all over his feelings in front of all of his friends?”

Eddie feels ice pour through his veins. That would explain the cuddling on the couch during movies, the sleepovers in the same bed, and the chaste kisses on the edge of his lips. Oh fuck. They were dating. And he just fucked it all up by agreeing to go out on a date with another guy… some, some schmuck!

Oh no, Eddie’s eyes widened even further. Steve thinks he just broke up with him and left his own house! Oh no! 

“Jesus H. Christ! Why didn’t anyone fucking tell me that we were dating? You expect me to just know these things? Fuck! I have to go after him, right? Goddamn it, you all fucking suck. No one thought to fucking tell me the cuddling and goddamn kisses were him wooing me? Fucking shit!” Eddie screamed at the group before turning and sprinting after Steve, his apparent boyfriend. What the literal fuck was he supposed to do about that?

He caught up to them quickly, Steve and Robin were sitting on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water. They both turned around at the sound of the sliding door slamming open against the jam. Eddie burst through panting and keeling over. Jesus Christ, he had to cut down on the smoking. Poor Steve had tear tracks running down his cheeks and Robin had a wet stain on the shoulder of her shirt. She glared at him menacingly from her perch. 

“Steve, I’m sorry! I didn’t know we were dating, I’m so sorry.” Eddie pled through his pants.

Steve’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “How the hell did you not know we were dating? I literally just took you to Indy on a date last weekend and was holding your hand. We’ve kissed!”

Eddie let out a manic laugh. “I know! I know we’ve kissed and I know it sounds stupid. I thought it was you being really touchy with your friends or like jock behavior or something. Steve, I swear to you, I had no idea that we were dating.”

Robin’s eyes were squinted and she asked incredulously, “how many guys are you kissing that you think kissing people on the lips is ‘jock behavior’? Do you know how stupid that sounds?”

“Yes, I know how stupid that sounds! And guess what, I’m stupid! You think you can be a senior in high school for three fucking years without being stupid?! No! But I swear, I didn’t know.”

Steve shook his head, “no, you’re not stupid. This is my fault. I know you wouldn’t want to date me and I misunderstood-”

“Steve, of course I want to date you! You’re perfect and I love you, why wouldn’t I want to be your boyfriend? I’m just really fucking dumb and didn’t realize. I am so sorry.”

Robin was watching the two of them talk like a tennis match. She had no idea what was happening but holy shit, it felt like she was in a sitcom. Steve stood from his position at the pool and took a step towards Eddie. “You would date me?”

Eddie nodded vigorously, “of fucking course, Steve! The only reason I agreed to go on a date with Tony in the first place is because I wanted to get over you. All of the touching and flirting had me out of my mind because I thought I couldn’t have you, man. I was going crazy.”

Steve moved closer so they were nose to nose and glanced down at his lips. “Don’t call me ‘man’.” 

Eddie licked his lips and watched Steve’s eyes track the movement. “What’re you going to do about it, big boy?”

Steve’s lips surged forward to meet his own, fully this time in a way the chaste kisses in the past hadn’t before. Eddie felt butterflies in his stomach and electricity down to his toes. He was flying on cloud nine and he had never felt such happiness, such contentment and-

“Eh em, excuse me. Hey, be respectful of the lesbian eyes over here! I don’t need to see any of this. Eddie, stop with the tongue!” Robin shrieked, breaking his haze of Steve Harrington-induced bliss. 

Steve pulled back enough to murmur against his lips, “Eddie, would you go on a date with me?”

Eddie smirked and with his eyes still closed, he whispered, “I thought you’d never ask, Stevie.”

[qinluofu]

Misunderstandings between me & you. – shidou ryusei x gn!sibling reader  

Angst + reader death

a/n : the parents aren't mentioned, i like to think they're dead but ur free to imagine anything else to fill in the holes

At 6:33pm, the message wasn't sent which made Ryusei groan in frustration, he could only hope you were safe while he was stuck in blue lock facilities. He wished – that you would’ve at least subscribed to the channel to tune in all his winnings from PXG and cheered for him but lately you haven’t been responding to his texts at all.

Shrugging away the weird feeling in his guts, he goes back to sleep with a silent prayer you would reply tomorrow. 

Except, you never did reply. Days fly by and he only gets more worried, telling you to stop this stupid prank at once and write back to him. 

And when he was finally able to reach home just to see what on earth you were doing, it was a shitshow because you weren’t home either. Contrary to the bright lights he last saw he was faced with dusty furniture with rooms that seemed abandoned. 

Ryusei filed a police report on impulse – hundreds of possibilities running into his head, confused and dazed he sat back, texting you again asking you where you were. No reply.

The conclusions were drawn, you were in a hospital. He rushed to see you immediately, not caring about the looks on the faces of reporters and fans he knelt beside the bed crying his eyes out. Subconsciously, you also wished to have bidded your brother a proper and final goodbye.

A year ago, you were obviously concerned when ryusei received the notice to join blue lock. He would be gone for months or even years and if he was eliminated he could never ever play for japan. This seemed like a risky bet in your eyes but he was determined to be a better player. 

Maybe that’s when the biggest misunderstanding between you and him formed. 

He wanted to be a better player, for you. So you can enjoy the luxuries and never need to lift a finger. 

You thought he wanted to be a better player so he could enjoy the luxuries for himself. 

You thought he was being greedy. 

Staying at the hospital made you paranoid, as ryusei started to text you less, you started to overthink more. 

Was he finally abandoning you for his football dreams? 

And during your final moments you wished your brother had never joined blue lock and stayed by your side – but that wasn’t happening. 

You missed him. As the world started to give up on you, the television played the bittersweet episodes of blue lock, showing you the wonderful smile of shidou ryusei posing after he scored a goal. 

Ryusei started to read back every text you sent him. You never told him about your sickness, which left him even more confused about the situation. 

Did you perhaps not care about ryusei anymore? 

Unknowingly, his eyes started to wet and he couldn’t control it. 

a/n : ok another note this has to be wprst thing ive written in awhile but i needed to write smth ab shidou. so i guess this is the official end of my hiatus :3

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (7)

Chapter 7 — Mr. And Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 7,856

Summary: There is more than meets the eye, and Bucky is suspicious. What is everyone hiding?

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, brief nudity? (blink and you'll miss it)

Note: Sorry, it's been a while. Enjoy!

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

"Today I know that such memories are the key not to the past, but to the future."

— Corrie Ten Boom

May 4th, 2018

He never understood what triggered it, but he found himself reliving it at odd times. The figure always sneaked up on Bucky in his dreams with an eerie silence, draped in shades of gray and brown.

"You really don't remember me?" the figure would taunt.

Bucky's responding grin was almost derogatory. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to?" He dismissed the flicker of familiarity attempting to crawl up his spine.

"You've changed."

He chuckled, deciding to humour the person. "Have I now?"

"You used to keep your promises."

"Did I?" Bucky slowly loosened the restraints behind his back, reaching for the concealed metal in his waistband. "You hit my head pretty hard earlier. I don't remember much."

"At least you kept your stupid sense of humour."

Bucky scoffed, spitting out the blood that pooled in his mouth from his bleeding nose. "You think you know me?"

"I do."

He shook his head. "You don't," he retorted. "You don't know me." The click of the safety turning off made them both pause. "And you never will." Years of training propelled him into action. The figure collapsed on the floor before the gunshot could reverberate through the room.

He stood tall over the lifeless form. "I always keep my promises."

May 4th, 2018

Bucky was beyond pissed. So far, his entire day had passed attending to one matter or another, making call after call instead of getting to know his wife. Not that she was in a state to talk.

Hmm, his little wife had been unconscious for nearly eighteen hours since she fainted in church. Bucky would have been seriously concerned if it weren't for the French maid and her reassurances. Fran—was that her name?—had informed him that the girl hadn't slept properly in over a week. Stress, she claimed, though Bucky suspected a deeper meaning behind the word. The way the maid narrowed her green eyes and tilted her reddish-blonde head hinted at something more.

The mobster took large swigs of Scotch straight from the decanter. Earlier, when the flight attendant came by to pour him a glass, Bucky had unleashed his rage, barking at him to leave the whole thing and disappear. He was in no mood for small talk.

A pounding headache throbbed in Bucky's temples. The entire day had been a whirlwind of problems. First, waking up to discover Phil Coulson dead. Dealing with Rollins' men—though that was stress relieving, at least.

Then, being brutally attacked outside the church, resulting in the need to dispose of the body in the East River, where the strong currents would erase any traces of foul play.

And let's not forget the spectacle that was his wedding. Fuck. The fucking wedding. And the shitshow that followed after. Bucky had so many questions. So many things he needed to address.

He hadn't been married a day, and already his wife was causing him problems. Bucky was exhausted, drowsy, and to make matters worse, he was overwhelmingly aroused.

With a scowl, Bucky downed the last of his Scotch, then glanced at his watch to see if he had enough time to address his growing... predicament.

He didn't.

They would reach Constanţa in half an hour, the estate in one. Bucky couldn't wait. Suddenly, his phone lit up with an incoming call, causing him to huff before ending it. Not even a minute passed before Danial Burgundy's caller ID appeared again. God, the man was persistent. After ignoring twelve calls, he still tested Bucky's patience.

"What do you want, you sick fuck?" Bucky answered impulsively.

The man on the other end sounded amused. "Hello to you too, James."

"Cut the bullshit, Danial. I'm in no mood for small talk." Danial was the last person Bucky wanted to talk to, especially after their conversation in New York. The older man was lucky he was Bucky's father-in-law now, or he'd already be six feet under.

"Right. Straight down to business then," Danial sighed. "I want to speak to my daughter."

Bucky scoffed dismissively. "No ace."

Annoyance tinged Danial's response. "Don't tell me—"

"She's taking a nap," Bucky interrupted. "She can't talk right now."

"I don't fucking believe you, James."

"I don't care." Bucky didn't give a damn about what Danial thought of him.

"Listen, asshole," Danial began losing his temper, "I know you've always been a good-for-nothing motherfucker, but—"

"Is that why you gave her to me?" Bucky taunted, a sardonic grin on his face. "Is that why you gave me everything?" That seemed to silence Danial, at least for the moment.

"Because I'm a good-for-nothing motherfucker?" Bucky chuckled, acknowledging a minor defeat. "I'll admit, you caught me off guard before with the stipulation you threw in my face, but don't think you have the upper hand here." Adrenaline coursed through Bucky's body as he further provoked Danial. "I got what I wanted. I didn't even have to work for it. You handed it to me on a silver platter." He prepared himself for the final blow. "In fact, I've already begun fulfilling that condition of yours." Bucky clicked his tongue. "No complaints so far. She's amazing."

"You bastard!" Danial exploded.

Yes, Bucky was being vulgar. Danial had forced his hand to leave for their honeymoon two days earlier, and Bucky didn't appreciate it.

He hushed Danial. "You'll wake her up. I tired her out. She needs all the rest she can get."

And there it was, the silent row of defeat. Danial sighed, audibly distressed. "She's still my daughter," the coward insisted.

"No, she's not," Bucky retorted, not to mock but to state a fact. He shrugged nonchalantly. "She's not yours. Not anymore. She's mine. She became mine the second I signed your papers."

"You Barnes' have always been greedy," Danial sneered. "Wanting what's not yours. Not giving a shit who gets hurt in the process. Fucking murderers."

"And you Burgundys have always been manipulative bastards," Bucky spat. "Pulling underhanded shit. Whoring out your women for a quick buck."

"You little—"

"Then that's exactly how I'll treat her. Like a slut, a fucking whore."

Danial's breath hitched on the other end of the line.

Bingo.

"No! Wait, no! Barnes, don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare fucking touch her—"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Bucky ended the call.

The moon hung low in the sky, making way for the impending sunrise in a couple of hours. Bucky tossed his phone onto the seat opposite him and turned his attention to the porthole, gazing out at the soft glow beginning to fill the horizon.

They should be flying over Pitești by now, en route to Constanța. It felt good to be back home. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, contemplating Danial's reaction. If he didn't know any better, he might have mistaken Danial's tone for genuine concern about his daughter. Fortunately, Bucky knew better. With most of Danial's cards laid out on the table, Bucky would respond accordingly, starting with his bride.

Suddenly, the cabin door opened, causing Bucky to whip his head around, prepared to unleash his anger on the intruder. It was his bride, leaning against the entrance of the small bedroom at the back.

She still wore her wedding dress, barefoot and breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and hair rumpled. Her gaze wandered around the cabin in a daze, clutching the door frame in a white fist when the plane encountered slight turbulence.

"You're awake," Bucky broke the silence.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she took in their location. "Where am I?" she croaked.

Bucky frowned, realizing she must be thirsty. "Sit," he commanded instead of answering. His wife blinked owlishly, staring at him as if he had grown another head. A faint smile threatened to emerge. "Don't make me drag you here," he muttered. "Because I will."

His wife snapped to attention, unsteadily walking across the aisle, leaning against the empty seats for support. The image stirred something pleasurable in Bucky's mind. She halted across from him, hesitating to sit when she noticed his phone perched precariously on the edge of the armrest.

When Bucky reached over to retrieve the device, he let his arm brush against her leg. It was a gentle graze against the white lace that, nonetheless, left her flustered. Bucky smirked, savouring the sound of his wife's hitched breath.

The girl slowly lowered herself onto the brown leather, almost robotic in her movements. Her back remained rigid, and she wouldn't look at him. Why wouldn't she look at him? Bucky didn't like that. The table separating them was the only thing preventing him from reaching over and forcing her eyes to meet his.

Bucky pressed the overhead call button, his gaze fixed on the girl. He noticed black smudged under her eyes and lipstick smeared around her mouth. How many hours had it been since the ceremony? Too many and not enough. Her features appeared more striking in the natural light than in the harsh illumination of the church.

And there, when her eyes flicked up ever so slightly at the sound of the call button, Bucky recognized that same dead look from before, the one she had when he leaned in for a kiss that never happened because she fainted. It was more subtle, tamped down, but still present, difficult to ignore and even harder to comprehend.

Bucky summoned the flustered flight attendant and ordered food, water, and another Scotch. He may not have been hungry, but he assumed she was.

"Drink," Bucky pushed the glass of water toward her. She was playing with her fingers, gaze fixed on her lap.

"Where am I?" she breathed.

Bucky frowned when she didn't immediately comply. "Drink," he demanded with more force, pushing the water closer. He watched as she brought the glass to her lips with trembling hands and took a small sip.

"Where—"

"More," he interrupted with dissatisfaction. She was an impatient one.

Bucky thought he heard her huff in annoyance but disregarded it as she began to take hesitant sips that soon turned into large gulps, causing water to trickle down the sides of her mouth.

The glass was empty within seconds.

"We're in Constanța," Bucky answered her earlier question.

She looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. Bucky was hit with a sudden urge to kiss her.

"Excuse me?"

"Constanța, Romania," Bucky clarified. "I have a family house in Mamaia. We'll be landing in ten minutes."

Bucky leaned back in his seat and sipped his Scotch, raising an eyebrow at the girl's obvious shock. The slight burn of alcohol felt pleasant, immediately relaxing him.

She glanced around the cabin, blinking owlishly. She seemed flustered. "I don't have—" She took a deep breath. "Why are we in Romania?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile. "Why do you think? What do newlyweds usually do after getting married?"

He waited for the realization to dawn on her, watching as she trembled and shied away. Bucky wondered how experienced she was if a simple innuendo left her so flustered. He couldn't wait to find out.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Where's my father?" the girl asked, her question directed at the floor.

It appeared the Burgundy princess was close to her last remaining parent. "Danial?" Bucky sneered, unable to suppress his annoyed scoff. "In New York, where he belongs."

She seemed taken aback. Her lips parted, and she straightened her posture in attention.

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Flustered, she started to answer but then froze, her eyes wide with an emotion he couldn't quite discern. She shook her head furiously. "Nothing."

Bucky's suspicion grew tenfold. He was ready to interrogate her, but she interrupted him.

"And my friend?" she asked desperately. "Where is she?"

"Hmm," Bucky mused. "The blonde with the big mouth?" He missed the expression on her face as he finished the rest of his drink. "Dove, was it?"

"N-no," the girl denied. "She's French."

It took a second for Bucky to recall, and once he did, he couldn't help but smile.

"The French maid? She stayed with you after the ceremony. I talked to her about—"

"Well, is she here?" the girl cut him off.

Bucky met her eyes, and the second he did, she averted her gaze. Acting on instinct, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You interrupted me."

He watched as her breath quickened and her irises dilated. Bucky waited for a verbal response, but she remained frozen, struck dumb by his intimidating presence. "You're lucky you're cute," Bucky said, finally releasing her.

She seemed to deflate the second he retreated from her personal space and mirrored his relaxed posture, melting into her seat as if suddenly drained.

"Eat," Bucky ordered, pouring a finger's worth of Scotch into his glass and pushing it toward her.

An indescribable tension filled the air, an unspoken awkwardness. Which was to be expected, Bucky supposed, since this was their formal introduction. The girl shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she whispered.

Bucky downed the rest of his Scotch, keeping his gaze fixed on her. Her discomfort in his presence was palpable, incredibly aware of him with how she uncomfortably squirmed in her seat.

"Eat," he repeated, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. The girl obediently picked up the fork, ready to dig into the food. The meal consisted of a variety of fresh fruits, sweet and savoury pastries, and various breakfast proteins. She nibbled on a melon, taking such small bites that Bucky became frustrated.

The pilot's voice came through the overhead speakers, announcing their impending arrival, and the flight attendants prepared for landing.

"Shall I pack this to go, Mr. Barnes?" the female attendant asked, gesturing toward the untouched breakfast.

Bucky nodded. "Has the car arrived?"

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. Also, the police commissioner is waiting for you on the tarmac, per your request."

Bucky hummed. "Good." He retrieved his wallet and handed a few hundreds to the male attendant, who was closer. "For both of your discretion," he explained, referring to his previous phone calls.

"Thank you!" The attendant quickly pocketed the money, and the area was swiftly cleaned. The table between Bucky and the girl was folded and moved out of the way.

"Mrs. Barnes?" the female attendant called. "Mrs. Barnes, please fasten your seatbelt."

Bucky watched as the girl stared blankly at the attendant. "What?"

"We are preparing to land," the attendant explained, struggling to hide her bewilderment.

After a few more uncomfortable moments, Bucky leaned forward and fastened her seatbelt himself, ensuring it was secure. She tensed under his touch, but he ignored it, both amused and annoyed by her reaction to him.

He would need to rectify that later. There was no sound reason for a woman to be so cold toward a man. But for now... They needed to discuss more pressing matters, starting with why she...

Vaguely, Bucky recalled a drunken whisper from his father regarding the Burgundys. Something he had said after one too many drinks. "Their manipulations killed your grandfather."

Bucky hadn't comprehended it at the time, but perhaps he did now. He remembered his conversation with Danial. Surely, any offspring of Danial's would be just as cunning and manipulative as him.

Bucky would uncover the truth if it was the last thing he did.

May 4th, 2018

The car ride from the airport was filled with silence. The girl had lost her appetite but was picking at her food at the behest of her husband, who was engrossed on his phone. She took small, reluctant bites of the fruit, struggling to keep it down.

Husband. The word brought a welling of tears to her eyes. She fought to hold them back as she felt his penetrating gaze upon her. Was this how prey felt just before they were pounced upon by their predators?

James was a prevalent man, it seemed, if the Romanian Chief Commissioner himself came to the runway to greet the newlywed couple on their recent nuptials. The commissioner discreetly pledged his unwavering loyalty to them, and they exchanged handshakes.

"If you need anything," James assured him, "don't hesitate to reach out. You have my number."

They were on their way to James' villa, situated on the outskirts of the city and nestled in a little strip of private land. It was a secluded house meant to provide the newlyweds with privacy during their honeymoon. James had explained this to her before diving straight into his work.

Honeymoon. The girl felt a bout of fear wash over her at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with a murderer.

Oh God! Would she have to...? Bile rose in her throat. Fleur had warned her that the first time could be painful if both partners weren't ready. She vividly remembered the almost-kiss with Nathan two weeks ago—the anticipation, the push and pull. The immense relief when their moment was interrupted.

No, she wasn't ready at all.

Horror struck her. If Nathan, the university's golden boy, could stoop so low as to drug her, what would James be capable of? James, with his imposing stature and intimidating presence, his unconventional upbringing and violent tendencies. He was involved with the mafia! And now she belonged to him, bound by the laws of God and man.

He would force himself on her and take what he wanted. After the events of the past week, She wouldn't have the strength to fight him. She would lie there, helpless, as another piece of her soul withered away. At this rate, she wasn't sure how much more she had left to lose.

Bile rose even higher, but she forced it back down. Through the tinted window of the Escalade, the Romanian landscape flashed by, though she could not find solace in its fleeting beauty. The unfinished food sat neglected as they finally arrived at their destination.

The house was beautiful. Its dark exterior was adorned with soft lights hanging from nearby trees, creating a mesmerizing canopy that resembled a starry sky. Nestled behind trees and overlooking a meticulously landscaped garden, the two-story Spanish-style building exuded charm and elegance.

It seemed like a place she could one day call home... but she hated it.

The car faltered to a stop on the smooth cobblestone driveway, and the girl was so enraptured by the view that she didn't see James at her side until he opened her door and extended his hand.

She hesitated. Of course, she hesitated. Her father had sold her to this man as part of his despicable retirement plan. A man responsible for her mother's death. Perhaps he would be the one to eventually kill her as well. She didn't want to touch the hands that would bring about her demise, nor did she wish to meet the eyes that would watch the light in her own slowly fade.

Fear took over, and she let him help her out of the car. Clutching her skirt in her free hand, she took cautious steps, mindful not to trip over the fabric that now grazed the pavement without the support of her tall heels. It was then she realized she was still barefoot.

James barely acknowledged her, offering only a quick nod. His grip on her wrist remained firm and unyielding as he guided her pliant form around. They passed stone figurines portraying scantily clad fairies, a white deer with golden antlers, and fire-breathing dragons. They crossed over a small bridge above a flowing stream, with a seating area to their right and a vibrant array of flowers that tied the scene together.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over her as they reached the threshold. Like countless other girls, she had dreamed of her perfect wedding. She envisioned her lover cradling her in his arms, gazing at her adoringly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he carried her into their new home. Never did she imagine being dragged by her arm, trailing behind a husband she did not love, and into a house she never wanted to call home.

James released his grip on her wrist as they entered the foyer, and the girl exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. And if his touch provided even an inkling of comfort in this strange and unfamiliar place? Well, it was promptly ignored.

A few servants had gathered at the entrance to welcome the young couple. A frail older woman dressed in splashes of red and white stepped forward. "Ai venit devreme," she grumbled, her shoulders stiff and an ugly frown etched on her face.

"Scuze," James replied.

"Cum a fost zborul?"

"Lung."

"Trebuie să fii obosit."

"Nu prea."

The woman's eyes flicked toward the girl. "Ea trebuie să fie obosită."

James and the woman studied the girl until she warmed with shame, realizing they were talking about her.

"Poate," James grumbled, and they looked away.

The older woman suddenly embraced James, running her arms down his back. "Bine ați venit acasă, domnule Barnes!"

The girl was surprised to see a smile on James' face. The sight made her pause, and she tilted her head in contemplation. In her dreams, the monsters that appeared as smokeless fire, mocking her pain and suffering, never smiled. Yet here was one of those monsters standing before her in the form of a husband, smiling, laughing, displaying emotions she did not believe him capable of.

"Bunică!" James kissed the older woman's hand before gently touching it to his forehead as a sign of respect. Ah! So she was his grandmother. The girl understood that much Romanian. "Mi-a fost dor de tine!"

Their attention was solely on each other, and as if compelled, the girl found herself stumbling backward, one step at a time. It was an instinctive reaction to the turmoil festering in her gut, threatening to drown and suffocate her.

"She's not wearing shoes," a voice with a thick accent remarked.

The girl froze in place. James' grandmother looked at her pointedly, with a kind of resentment the girl couldn't comprehend.

James gestured toward the girl's stiff figure. "Bunică, this is—"

"I know who she is," Bunică snapped. "I can smell a Burgundy from a kilometre away."

"Bunică," James warned in a low tone.

"I want to know why she isn't wearing shoes."

The girl consciously flexed her toes, trying to hide them beneath her dress. Her feet were dirty and sore from walking across the tarmac and then from the car.

Bunică circled the girl, closely scrutinizing her. "Well? Can you speak, girl? Or are you going to stare at me dumbly all day?" For a slighter woman, she was very assertive.

"Bunică," James warned once again.

"I just want to know if Danial gave you a mute bride. I wouldn't put it past him."

"She can speak," James snapped. "Say something."

The girl raised one arm in an awkward wave. "Salut." Shame filled her immediately after having obeyed him.

Bunică narrowed her eyes. "You speak the language?"

The girl vigorously shook her head.

Bunică turned to James for confirmation. "She doesn't," James replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Nu mă face cu ochii aia mari! How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma—?"

"Bunică," James interrupted. "Why don't we talk in the study?"

The girl trembled from the number of accusations and verbal abuse hurled at her. She didn't know what she had done to deserve such treatment, but it obviously had something to do with her father.

Bunică gave the girl one last piercing look before abruptly walking away. Her eyes stung at the harsh treatment she was receiving from this stranger. If the grandmother was like that, how unpleasant would James be? She didn't want to find out.

James strode toward her, firmly gripping her arms. "Yelena will show you to my room. Get comfortable and wait for me there." He paused as if considering his words carefully. "Don't leave."

From one prison to another. Perhaps it wasn't such a drastic change from New York. He shoved her into someone else's arms without waiting for a response and hurriedly strode away to catch up to his Bunică.

Yelena was a sturdy young woman with broad shoulders and a slender waist. A dirty blonde braid rested atop her heart-shaped face, with round eyes and pink lips adding to her appealing features. "This way," she said in a thick, palatal Russian accent.

The girl followed Yelena further into the house and up the stairs. The Spanish-style villa boasted ample natural light with contrasting dark accents. Climbing the stairs, they reached a small hallway that led to a pair of doors.

"The master suite," Yelena announced, pushing open the double doors with a flourish and guiding the girl inside. Coming to a stop in the middle of the spacious room, the girl took in the striking contrast of grays, blacks, and earth tones that adorned the bedroom. Floor-length mirrors adorned one wall parallel to the bed, and a set of French doors leading to a small balcony graced the far side of the room. Cool air swept in from the open door, causing the girl to shiver as her heated skin lowered in temperature.

"Your luggage has already been brought up, and a warm bath has been drawn," Yelena informed her, closing the balcony doors when a strong gust of wind carried in some leaves.

The girl nodded but gave no reply, locking herself in the bathroom. It was spacious, surpassing the size of her room back in Vancouver. It exuded luxury, resembling something out of Architectural. Marble floors, wooden accents, twin vanities facing each other, a rain shower at one end, and a window overlooking the black sea at the other. And in the middle of it all, made prominent by the red rose petals scattered around, was an oval bathtub brimming with steaming water.

The girl approached the tub, hoping to relax her weary muscles and wash away the stress of the past few weeks, when something caught her eye. Folded neatly on a stool next to the tub were two engraved robes, a flash of gold against matte black. One bore the inscription "Mr. Barnes." She held her breath. While the other said, "Mrs. Barnes." She felt a sudden confusion, momentarily forgetting how to breathe—was it inhale, exhale, inhale, or the other way around?

She gave a frustrated cry and began tugging at her dress, the only barrier preventing her from resurfacing. From breaking through the layers of hurt and deceit, to feeling the fresh air on her skin, in her lungs. She kicked harder—clawed savagely, but her legs felt lifeless—her fingers weak, and try as she might, she couldn't swim to the surface—couldn't breathe.

The dress clung to her like a second skin, too tight in some places and loose in others. She reached for the zipper at the back but couldn't find it—couldn't break free of her cage. Another cry of frustration escaped her as she dropped to her knees in defeat.

And most curious, her hand snagged on something as she ran it through her hair. She painfully untangled her fingers, revealing the culprit—a ring, forcibly placed upon her by him. It was heavy, and big, and so beautiful ugly. She tugged at it, desperate to remove it from her body and cast it far away. That is what kept her here, anchoring her feet, clipping her wings, depriving her of oxygen.

This—his—ring.

Dipping her fingers into the soapy water, she watched as the diamond disappeared behind a floating petal. Yet, the ring remained stubborn, as if sewn onto her skin, fused with her very being.

Her right hand slipped, causing pain to bloom across her palm. The stupid ring had cut her! She huffed indignantly. How dare—how—why? Her lips curled, quivered, and a whimper escaped her. Then another, and another.

Pain seemed to follow the girl, clinging to her every step. Now, she finally let it wash over her. Pietro's duplicity paled in comparison to the betrayal of her best friend. Her friend who spoke too much and too fast, who pretended to care about her. Her sheepish smile at the ceremony was seared onto the girl's mind. And to think she had been involved in the entire scheme, conspiring with Pietro and her own father.

Was nothing real?

Pain! The girl recalled the last conversation she had with her mother. They talked about school and her mother's garden. Her mother had soothed her after another nightmare, as only mothers knew how. It had been nice. She had been happy.

Until she wasn't, and it wasn't. Now her mother was dead; her father had lied about it. And the girl found herself married to her mother's murderer.

Blood spread through the soapy water, turning it pink. And she finally allowed herself to cry, releasing the pent-up emotions that had thus far consumed her.

He didn't expect the first sob, nor the second or third. When Bucky heard the fourth sob echo through the room, he reached two conclusions. Firstly, he realized he needed to soundproof the bathroom and possibly the bedroom as well. He could hear every hitch in the girl's breath, every pained cry, and every sob she attempted to suppress.

Secondly, Bucky concluded that he must have overlooked a crucial detail in his extensive research regarding the girl, and something was clearly amiss. A lingering suspicion had plagued him since the morning of the wedding. Everything felt off.

Bucky recalled his conversation with Danial after the disastrous ceremony. When his father-in-law threw papers at Bucky's face and made him sign on the dotted line. Bastard.

Another sob caused Bucky to flinch, and he sank onto his bed, loosening his bow tie. Perhaps little Burgundy was unaware of her father's deceitfulness.

He remembered what his bunică had said. "How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma?"

Or perhaps the girl was as cunning as described. Bucky knew his family had a history with the Burgundys, but he was unsure to what extent. He was gaining a lot from the marriage—power, money, land—what was she getting, apart from his last name? One thing was certain: the girl was keeping secrets from him. She had refused to see him before their wedding, and now she refused to say more than two words.

An evocative wail drew Bucky's attention back to the present. His feet carried him toward the bathroom, but he hesitated to knock. Bucky doubted the girl wanted his comfort, not that he knew how to provide any if she did.

Bucky Barnes knew women like the back of his hand—their bodies, that is; understanding the female brain was a whole different matter. Bucky knew the basics. He knew that "I'm fine" meant "I'm not fine." And "I don't mind" meant they definitely minded.

There wasn't much else Bucky felt confident about when it came to understanding female behaviour unless it concerned sex. Sex, he knew. It was easy and instinctual.

Boy meets girl. Attraction. Mind-blowing orgasm. Boom, it was as simple as that.

He had heard that honeymoons were filled with sex, sex, and even more sex. Where one's carnal desires came to life. It was supposed to be romantic, sensual, and sexy.

Bucky had spent the past month or so fantasizing about all the sexy things he would do to his wife. Nothing about her crying in the bathroom was sexy.

"Fuck." Bucky quickly changed out of his uncomfortable clothes and into a loose pair of black sweats. He neatly folded his wedding attire and placed it in the dresser, intending to have it dry-cleaned later.

Bucky plopped down on his bed. "Motherfucker," he whispered in disdain. He was not supposed to lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the girl's cries. He was supposed to be fucking her hard and fast, using her to release the stress of the past few weeks out of his system. Her tears were supposed to be tears of pleasure, not pain. His groans were supposed to be of satisfaction, not annoyance.

God, he was exhausted. Now that his body knew he wouldn't be getting lucky tonight, the weight of the entire week's stress settled heavily on his shoulders, making him feel foggy and worn out.

Bucky must have dozed off because the house was eerily quiet when he opened his eyes, and almost an hour had passed.

He stretched his lithe body with a yawn and forced himself up. He wouldn't let the girl rot away in the bathroom all day. They needed to talk, she needed to eat, and then Bucky planned to take her sightseeing in the city.

The bathroom was locked as he went to open it, and there was silence on the other end. Bucky called out his wife's name and knocked on the dark wood. "I know you're in there," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. When he received no answer, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Come out, I need to talk to you."

There was some rustling on the other side, yet the door remained closed. "If you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I'm breaking it!" Bucky warned. He was not against property damage if it meant she would come out.

It took longer than five seconds, but the door eventually opened, revealing the girl in her wedding dress, still as beautiful as the night before.

Bucky cursed under his breath, momentarily distracted by her appearance. His mind worked a lot slower when she was wearing white. He let his gaze roam over her body. Her hair was a dishevelled mess, with pins sticking out every which way, and mascara streaked in lines down her face. It was unmistakable that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he found himself asking, concern evident in his voice.

The girl shook her head dismissively, avoiding eye contact.

"I could hear you," Bucky pointed out. He couldn't have ignored her cries if he tried. She was that loud. Her head bowed lower in what he suspected was shame. "Is it your father?" Bucky ventured. "Do you miss him?"

She remained quiet for a while, frustrating him further. Eventually, she spoke in a voice so low he wouldn't have heard it if he were not waiting for her reply. "My mother."

Of course. Bucky immediately realized his mistake. How could he have forgotten about her mother?

He apologized, "I'm sorry. Any idea who did it?"

His wife slowly lifted her head, eyes wide with alarm.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. "I heard it was an inside job. You really don't have any suspects?"

She slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered.

Bucky nodded, as if satisfied. In reality, his sharp mind was assessing her sincerity.

His attention shifted, noticing that her neckline had plunged significantly. It caused his heart rate to increase with excitement, his body coming alive from her proximity. He could see more of her skin than before, not that he minded in the slightest. God, she was sweet. Then a sudden thought struck him—she was still in her wedding dress.

"You haven't changed?" he asked in a husky voice.

Her response was hesitant and quiet. "No, I—I couldn't reach the back."

Cute. Bucky moved aside, gesturing for her to leave the bathroom, smiling when she accidentally brushed against his chest. He closed the door behind him and approached his little wife who stood near the edge of the bed with her back turned.

Slipping behind her, Bucky pressed his body flush against hers, feeling her stiffen. "Relax," he whispered, lowering his head to meet her height. He gently tucked a straight strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me help you."

She didn't object as Bucky ran his hand over the back of her bodice, searching for a zipper or clasp to aid in removing her dress. Instead, he discovered an intricately woven corset, revealing glimpses of smooth skin from between the silk ribbons.

After a few attempts, Bucky managed to undo the bow at the small of her back, and the dress unravelled before his eyes. His wife inhaled in surprise, using her hands to cover the rest of her modesty.

Bucky removed the remaining lace, discarding it somewhere behind him. He noticed red marks on her skin where the corset had been digging in, and he couldn't resist running his fingers over the slight indents. God, her skin felt burning hot against his. It made his heart beat in his ears—made sweat line his neck.

Reaching around, Bucky grasped his wife's chin, tilting it toward him. The sight made him lick his lips in anticipation. Her eyes were darkened with lust, her mouth slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Sweet, so sweet. And so close he could just reach over and claim her mouth for his own. They were so close he could almost taste the dried tears on her face. Bucky felt an overwhelming desire to touch her, to feel if she were as soft and sweet all over.

His hand tightened on her chin while his other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer until their noses touched. He was ready to lose himself in her scent, but just like earlier at the wedding, his wife's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed against him.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered, holding his half-conscious wife in his arms. She was not fully unconscious and was mumbling incoherently, blinking her eyes, trying to regain control of her body. "What the fuck?"

Was this a regular occurrence? Bucky hoped not. His line of work was not for the faint-hearted. Hell, she was a Burgundy! Her father, Danial, was ruthless and unapologetic when it came to his empire, so it made no sense for his daughter to be so fragile under minor stress.

Unless she's faking it.

But the longer Bucky stood there, cradling his wife, the more absurd the thought seemed. She looked too sweet and innocent to be as cunning and deceitful as her father.

"God damn it!" Bucky carried her to the bed and laid her down on the sheets. Her eyes were droopy, but she was fighting to stay awake. "Hey," Bucky lightly smacked her face. "You're fine. Open your eyes." She slowly regained composure, blinking and looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"Fuck." Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration. All he wanted was a conversation, a simple conversation with regular-sized sentences and no fainting spells. Was that too much to ask for? He didn't think so.

He blindly grabbed a shirt from his closet and handed it to his wife. "Put this on. We need to talk." He made sure to leave no room for argument. Leaning against the wall, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his wife to dress.

"Well?" Bucky questioned when she looked at him blankly. "Get a move on. I don't have all day." He chuckled when the girl gasped in surprise. She could think whatever she wanted, but he wasn't going to let anything else delay their conversation. "I'm not moving until that dress is off," he warned.

She swallowed audibly before slipping her head through the neck hole and pulling the fabric over her dress. Bucky observed as she fixed the sleeves and neckline, making final adjustments and letting the dress fall to her waist. Hmm, it was a sneaky move, but Bucky decided to let it slide.

"Go on," he encouraged.

His wife remained seated on the bed, lifting her hips to remove the dress from her legs. It fell to the ground in a heap, and for a moment, Bucky was met with the sexiest thighs he had ever seen. He thought he saw a flash of white lace, but it was quickly covered. His wife pulled his red henley down, attempting to hide her skin, which made him frown.

What had Steve said about him getting some? Yeah. Right. That didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Didn't mean he couldn't look.

Bucky hummed, breaking the silence. "You faint often?"

His wife appeared taken aback. "N-no, not really."

"Not really," Bucky echoed sarcastically. "Right, we need to talk about that. What happened yesterday?"

"I don't know," she replied, fidgeting with her thumbs, a clear sign of nervousness.

Raising a patronizing brow, Bucky remarked, "Come on, you can do better than that." The girl remained tight-lipped. "Were you drunk?"

She vehemently shook her head, denying it.

"I could smell it on your breath," he accused, recalling the moment before their failed kiss when he leaned in and caught a whiff of alcohol. There was no mistaking it.

"I had some Champagne, but I wasn't drunk," she insisted with desperation.

"Well, someone saw you finish an entire bottle," Bucky pointed out, caught between his wife's words and Dot's account. "Honestly, you don't strike me as someone who can handle her alcohol."

"It was nerves," she finally admitted, avoiding eye contact by focusing on the ground, the window, or the rings adorning his fingers.

"Nerves?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"I got nervous because I've never done this before," she explained.

Bucky understood her perfectly well, but he couldn't resist playing with her. He faked a frown. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You know," she shrugged, silently urging him to fill in the blanks. Bucky took pleasure in making her say the words. "What newlyweds normally do after getting married."

"You mean fuck?" Bucky chuckled, enjoying her reaction. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Doubt what?"

"Doubt you've never been screwed," his words hit the mark.

The girl's eyes snapped toward him. "I haven't."

Bucky felt a surge of excitement at her false confession. "I wouldn't lie if I were you."

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

Bucky uncrossed his arms and stood tall. "So you're telling me you've never had a boyfriend before?"

Something resembling shame flitted across her face. She hesitated to answer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes."

Bucky didn't buy it, not for a second, especially after what he discovered the day before. He swallowed his harsh words and retorted with a snide remark. "Never had a boyfriend, huh? Interesting."

"I'm still young," she argued.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her argument. "Still young, huh? Well, sweetheart, age doesn't determine romantic experiences, but hey, who am I to question your luck with Cupid?" He couldn't help but add a touch of sarcasm to his voice.

The girl's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "It's the truth," she insisted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Bucky leaned in closer, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Sure, sure. I guess it's just a rare case of a twenty-two-year-old with zero love history. Must be some kind of record."

The girl clenched her fists, clearly affected by his remark. "It's not as uncommon as you think," she retorted.

Bucky grinned mischievously. "Oh, I'm sure it's a regular occurrence," he replied sarcastically, enjoying their banter. "Cupid must have taken an extended vacation when it came to your life."

She shot him a piercing look. "Well, maybe I've been waiting for someone worthy."

Bucky chuckled, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Someone worthy? Well, here I am, sweetheart," Bucky spread his arms in an elaborate display, "ready and willing."

With that final snide remark, Bucky settled back into his previous position, eager to see her reaction. The tension in the room lingered as they locked eyes, both unwilling to back down.

"You have some nerve," the girl huffed in irritation.

Bucky's smirk widened, thoroughly enjoying their verbal sparring. "You have no idea, sweetheart," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "Nerve is practically a requirement in my line of work."

The girl's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let his taunts get the better of her. "Just don't expect me to swoon over your nerves," she retorted, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Bucky chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn't dare," he said, inching closer. Somehow she seemed even smaller when he towered over her. "But it seems like you're pretty daring for the both of us." He grabbed her chin and narrowed his eyes, dropping all pretense of humour for a moment. "Don't forget though, this marriage won't be built on swooning or romance. It's a partnership, an arrangement. And you'll find that I bring much more to the table than fucking nerves."

The girl flinched at his harsh words, pursing her lips. Angry tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "And what is that exactly?" she spat. "Because so far, you've been a beast."

For the first time that day, Bucky felt a genuine flash of rage rise within him. He stepped back and released her chin, clenching his fists at his sides and away from her. What had he done to warrant being called a beast? He was trying his best to make sure she was comfortable, but it seemed the Burgundy princess had higher standards.

He breathed through his nose, plastering a mocking smile onto his face. He could tell the second the girl realized the weight of what she said because she was suddenly back to her quiet self.

"Power, protection, and a life you couldn't even fathom," he responded with intensity. "I may not look like your typical knight in shining armour, but I can guarantee this much—no one will ever dare to mess with you as long as you're mine. You have my name now. There's nothing you could possibly want that I couldn't give you."

Bucky paused and took another step back so the girl didn't have to strain her neck as much to look at him. He wanted her full attention on him as he delivered his last blow. "What will you bring to the fucking table?"

The girl's expression softened slightly, her defiance giving way to a flicker of uncertainty. She seemed to be grappling with conflicting emotions, the weight of their unusual situation bearing down on her.

Her eyes went vacant for a moment as if she wasn't in the room anymore. "I'll give you an heir," she whispered.

"What?"

She shook her head, seemingly returning to the room. "I'll give you a son. An heir."

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, that's a given."

He watched with mild pleasure as she deflated in front of him, defeated. Bucky turned to leave.

"I don't understand you." Her voice was the softest it had been.

"You don't know me," Bucky retorted, slowly warming up to her fluctuating tone. "And I don't know you." He glanced at his watch. "Be ready in five. I'm taking you out for lunch."

Note: Thoughts?

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

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[miistymemorii]

Between the Two of Us

pairing: shiv roy x fem!reader

rating: 18+ (MNDI!!!)

warnings: smut, slight angst, infidelity (sorry tommy boy)

A/N: based off a lovely little ask i received about a secret rendezvous with miss shiv. as always, thank you for reading, please enjoy

If there was one thing you hated most in the world, it was the company party shitshows you were forced to go to. You had been Roman Roy’s assistant for a little over a year, a total of 15 elitist parties you’ve attended by his side, every one of them more draining than the last. 

The parties were always the same. You and Roman entered together, Roman immediately gets a drink, then he follows you around as you force him to shmooze with the shitty elite partygoers. After the alcohol properly kicked in for Roman, he wandered off to bother Gerri or follow his dad around like a kicked puppy, which left you bored and, in the corner, nursing a drink until Roman came stumbling at your feet hours later, signaling the end of the night. 

There was something in the air, this night, and you felt a shift right as you entered the building.

Roman had mentioned that “the high cuntress” would be there tonight, and your eyes fell on Shiv from across the room almost immediately. She looked at Roman, her nose wrinkling a little, but when she saw you, a small smirk formed at the corners of her mouth. Your cheeks instantly felt hot, and you rushed over to the bar, deciding liquid courage was the way to go. 

There was one benefit to going to these parties, and that was the hour or so you and Shiv snuck off together. 

It was wrong and both of you knew it, but it had been innocent so far. The first time it had happened, you had just been hired by Roman, and you ran into Shiv in the bathroom. You had accidentally bumped into Logan, who had whispered some seething words to you, causing you to rush to the bathroom. You were overwhelmed, sure, but you refused to cry. You knew that the workplace was toxic when you went in, but you owed it to yourself to keep your head high. Still, you allowed yourself to mope a little, which Shiv had commented on when she walked in on you fixing your makeup.

The two of you got to talking and you ended up spending 45 minutes in the bathroom chatting before her assistant came looking for her. It happened again the second time, and at the third party, Shiv came up to you directly, saying she needed to talk to you about some business. The two of you ended up just wandering around outside the venue, sharing a cigarette and giggling over the stupidity of the entire event. It kept happening, and it was always nothing more than two women stealing away in the night, but the last time the two of you were together, something different had happened.

Shiv wasn’t a touchy person, but there had been the occasional brushing of hands, her hand on the small of your back as she guided you out of the party, but last time... last time she had kissed you.

Shiv had been ranting to you that night, going on and on about some fight her and Tom had before leaving for the party. You had been a good listener, and after she was done spouting out her problems, you had assured her that how she felt was valid, how she should get mad, how she did deserve better. It was a huge cliche, the way she had stared at you before kissing you softly on the lips. You had been the sensible one, pulling away first, but you had shamelessly let her linger. The two of you quietly agreed that it was a mistake, returning to the party through separate doors as to not raise suspicion, but your mind had only been on her since that night. You felt naughty, but there was a small part of you that really didn’t fucking care.

The night continued in as it usually did, and not even five minutes after Roman had left you at the bar, Shiv was sidling up next to you.

“Hey look, it’s my favorite lackey.” She teased. Her eyes were dark as she stared into your soul from over the rim of her glass.

You rolled your eyes, deciding it was best to keep some composure. “I’m not your lackey, technically, so I can’t be your favorite.”

“Pssht, someone is grumpy tonight. Tomato, tomato, anyways...” Her hand reached out and gently laid on top of yours, her fingers tracing invisible lines on your skin. You shivered, your body betraying you. “Anyways, wanna, you know...” she tilted her head towards the door.

You took a sip of your drink before saying as nonchalantly as you could, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Shiv froze, her jaw grinding as she stewed over your words. “I think that this party is sucking the life out of both of us and you’re just as eager as I am to get out of here. Am I wrong?” You sighed and shook your head, which made Shiv grin. “Perfect. There’s a stairwell to the rooftop, meet me up there in a few minutes.”

She left you no time to respond, sauntering off with her glass in her hand. You scanned the room and saw Tom doubled over in laughter with Greg, tucked away in a corner of the room. Tom’s hand brushed his neck and you almost gasped out loud when you saw his wedding ring wasn’t on his hand. Everyone knew Tom and Shiv were doomed, but the entire time you had known him, he always had his wedding band on. You downed the rest of your drink and headed towards the direction Shiv had left in. 

She was waiting you at the end of the hall, a bottle of wine in her hand. You raised an eyebrow at her, to which she explained that she had shmoozed it off the bartender. You trailed behind her as she quickly led you to the stairwell, the two of you walking up in silence before she held open a door, leading to the roof. The air was chilly and crisp but provided a refreshing reprieve from the stuffy room of partygoers. Shiv wasted no time in opening the bottle of wine, raising it to her lips and taking a hearty swig. She held it out for you, the tension hanging between the two of you increasing as she watched you take a drink from the bottle. 

“So... do you remember that time when I kissed you?”

You couldn’t help but choke on some of the wine, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand; your whole body felt like it was on fire. “Do I remember that? Vaguely, yeah.” You replied quietly, your tone a little harsh. 

Shiv hummed at your attitude, taking a step towards you. She crossed her arms, and you felt like you were about to be lectured. “Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking, and, well-” Shiv let out an annoyed sigh, “I’m sure you’ve seen, or heard, that Tom and I’s marriage is basically a joke at this point. I mean, there’s nothing there, I think, like really and purely nothing. So...” She reached over and took the bottle from your hands, “So I think that now is a good tie to talk about us.”

You tried to be as delicate as you could. “Shiv... there is no us.”

Shiv rolled her eyes. “I mean, the us that could be, like what if you and I had a little... something-something.”

You were at a loss for words. It was wrong, so very wrong, but God... Shiv was irresistible. The crush you had on her was too big to ignore... almost. “Shiv, c’mon, be reasonable. You’re asking me to help you cheat on Tom? That’s-”

“I’m not asking you to help me do anything. I’m just asking if you want to fuck me, and I’m guessing the answer is yes.”

“I mean...” You sighed, shaking your head. “Even if I did have feelings for you, Shiv, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Shiv had moved so close to you, she could’ve easily leaned in and kissed you. A dirty little part of you prayed that she would. “Oh, so you don’t have, like, any feelings for me, hmm? Because I...” Her voice lowered dangerously, “I know what kind of feelings I have for you.”

“You have feelings for me?”

Shiv snorted humorlessly. “Horny feelings, sure, but feelings all the same. Besides, Tom and I... we’ve got this... agreement. He’s allowed to fuck who he wants and I, well, I’m not going to let someone tell me who I can’t be with.” You felt dumb as you just stared at her, then Shiv said, “Jesus, are you going to make me beg? Because if you want me on my knees, all you have to do is ask.”

You ripped the bottle from her hands, taking one last drink. “This is so...fucked.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

You set the bottle down at your feet. Shiv was already taking off her jacket, tossing it on the ground. Her lips were immediately on yours, and you put up no resistance. Her hands were all over you, your hands finding their place tangled in her hair. She guided you to the floor, laying you on your back on top of her jacket. Shiv straddled you, her mouth dipping down to your neck, your moans thankfully lost amongst the natural bustling sound of the city. Your hands reached up to her breasts, but her hands gripped yours and shoved them back against the floor. Your clothes suddenly felt stifling, your legs parting the best they could to allow Shiv access to you. She ground down on your thigh, her breath heavy against your neck. Shiv climbed off you, her hands diving between your thighs and pushing the skirt of your dress up. You sat up on your elbows, the two of you staring each other down like hungry wolves as her fingers hooked under your waistband and pulled your panties off. She smirked, going painfully slow. 

You felt pathetic as you softly whined her name, but it didn’t matter because her fingers took their place at the apex of your thighs, circling your clit. You bit your lip and let your head fall back, but Shiv gave your clit a few harsh rubs, drawing your attention back to her. “Hey now, eyes on me.” She whispered, making you smile. She kept working at your clit, switching her paces to bring you closer to the edge just to draw your orgasm away again, but she leaned forward, stabilizing herself with her free hand so that she could kiss you. The kiss wasn’t as harsh or rushed as before, instead it was... normal. Light, the two pairs of lips working in perfect sync, your gasps of pleasure getting lost on her tongue. Her fingers left your clit and you whined, but she brought them up to your mouth, tracing your lips with them. You winked then poked your tongue out, just barely swirling them around her fingertips. 

Shiv let out a small chuckle, her fingers delving deeper into your mouth. You swirled them around against your tongue, and when Shiv felt they were wet enough, she took them out, examining them under the moonlight. She hummed in content, then hiked one of your legs up, her fingers gently prodding at your entrance. 

You felt like you were a beast on fire, your chest heaving, your heart hammering in your chest so loudly that you thought it would explode. Shiv was watching you as she teased you, her fingers not daring to enter you. You groaned and thrust your hips up towards her, to which she let out a low tsk. Her lips moved, she was muttering something to herself, but before you could ask her to speak up, her fingers were inside you. She started with two but went slow, easing into you. She watched you as she began to gain a steady rhythm, her fingers curling upwards in the most delicious way. You were moaning her name over and over like a mantra, your body grinding down on her fingers as you felt the tension in your stomach coming to its end. 

Shiv pinched your thigh with her free hand, bringing your attention back to her. She was smiling, but she rolled her eyes playfully. “C’mon space cadet, did you even hear me?” You shook your head, way too drunk on the feeling of her. “Of course not; that’s cute. I told you to pull the top of that dress down.”

“I don’t know if that’s something I can do-”

“Well try or I’m fucking ripping it, and wouldn’t that be so embarrassing?” You couldn’t help but clench down around her, which made her chuckle. “Oh, I get it, you’re dirty. You want people to know, is that it?”

Your hands were scrambling to adjust the top half of your dress, and you eventually got the sleeves and chest down. Shiv kissed you sweetly on the lips, such a contrast to the harsh movements of her fingers, but you loved it. Her lips spent very little time against yours, instead moving down to your breasts, taking one of your nipples into her mouth. The two of you moved against each other like wild animals, her mouth suckling and biting at your breasts, your legs beginning to shake as you felt yourself completely drowning in her. It was overwhelming, but you could’ve gone for hours if the two of you had time. It felt like the world had felt away when your orgasm finally came, time and space irrelevant. Her teeth sunk into your skin just enough for the pain to mix in with the pleasure, your legs shaking at the sensation. 

Your mind was foggy, but Shiv brought you back to reality when she gently took her fingers out of you. She was staring down between your legs, her mouth open slightly in shock. You weakly raised your head to see what she was staring at, and you whimpered at the sight. Her pantleg had a small, but unmissable, wet spot on it, and you became suddenly aware of how wet you were in between your legs. 

“Shit, Shiv, I’m so sorry-”

She was laughing. Like, genuinely laughing. You felt embarrassed, but when you saw she wasn’t trying to be cruel, you felt a little better. She gave you a mocking pout, then said, “No, no, it’s hot. Should I go out there and tell them it’s all you or-”

“No!” Shiv raised an eyebrow at you, so you quickly added, “Just... say I spilled some wine on you, or something.”

Shiv took your panties and put them in her back pocket before leaning over you, her nose against yours. “I see. This will be our little secret, then?”

“Is that a problem?” You whispered.

Her nose nuzzled against yours, and she hummed like she was thinking. “No, it’s not. It’s hot, fun, I think.”

The two of you adjusted yourself, goosebumps blossoming across your skin as she gingerly helped you fix your dress, pressing a gentle skin to your cheek. It was a small gesture, but Shiv hesitated a moment, and you knew it was unfamiliar territory for her. Being tender, being genuine, feeling something that was caring and real. 

The two of you left the roof, making your way back to the party. Shiv looked the same as she did before, but you knew how wrecked you must’ve looked. She led you to the bathroom, giving you a small discreet nod goodbye. 

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so you spent a good minute doing some literal and figurative reflecting. You skin was flushed from sex, dark hickies starting to bloom across your skin. Your legs still felt weak, the feeling of emptiness making you ache for Shiv. You looked as fucked out as you felt, but you knew there was no amount of concealer and powder that could hide it. You had no choice but to return to the party with your head up high, praying no-one would notice. 

You slipped back into the party, giving the crowd a quick scan, but Shiv was nowhere to be seen. There was a hand clasping on your shoulder, making you jump a little.

Roman poked at your side, giggling. You could smell the booze reeking off him and you rolled your eyes. “C’mon Rome, it’s past your bedtime.”

He groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “God, it’s past your bedtime!”

You shook your head with a chuckle, taking his arm in yours and steering him towards the door. Roman looked you up and down then gasped dramatically, “Good God, you got railed at a company party?”

“Shut up, Roman.” You seethed quietly.

He laughed loudly but lowered his voice. “You are so going to spill the beans when we get in the car, you dirty little corporate lackey.”

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head. “Sorry Rome, I don’t kiss and tell.”

[sgiandubh]

Lo puedes negar hasta el cansancio pero cada vez te me pareces más y más a Puffy-Liar! su mismo modus operandi, hablas en círculos, te crees dueña ds la verdad absoluta, escribes largos "rants" donde hablas mucho pero no dices nada. Es cuestión de tiempo para que traigas de vuelta tus "privy info", "close to SC sources" a tu amiga Stella y el "vault" con las fotos de SC y el bebé rubio. Supongo que en WordPress ya no eras tan popular y extrañabas tener los shippers rogandote para que compartas la información de tu amigo "long throat" ya sabes, Puffy siendo Puffy. 😅🤣🤣

Oh, but hello you Master Troll Anon,

For the delight of this fandom, may I translate your venomous rant, that was supposed to what...? scare me? ... make me run for the helicopter on the roof, Ceaușescu-style?

You can deny it until you get tired, but every time you look more and more like Puffy-Liar! The same modus operandi as her, you talk in circles, you think you are the master of absolute truth, you write long rants where you talk a lot and say nothing. It's just a matter of time until you bring back your privy info, close to SC sources, your friend Stella and the vault with the pictures of SC and the blonde baby. I suppose you were not as popular on WordPress and you missed the shippers begging you to share the information from your 'long throat' friend. You know, Puffy being Puffy.'

Since your reading comprehension is so perfect, I will answer you in English.

I hope my letter finds you well, btw.

First of all, it's Deep Throat, not Long Throat. But you know... barista/barrister... Deep Throat existed, during the Watergate Affair. His name was Mark Felt and he was the Deputy Director of the FBI, supplying Bob Bernstein and co with all the needed info. Puffy's is a figment of her imagination, as you all know it.

I have doxxed myself not once, but twice . And I did it on purpose, because I knew you would do exactly this, in order to feel alive, perhaps:

First, my mugshot:

Posted on July 30th, while recounting my visit to Olympia: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/724219876757176320/a-stupid-shippers-guide-to-the-peloponnese-part

Yes, darling, this is me: a Romanian, 45 year-old, Roman-Catholic diplomat. Not a 60+ Jewish widow from Massachusetts :

Then, because you were harassing @bjj3007-ichoosetobelieve, I posted this flat denial on August 18th: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/725983370933354496/jeez-louise

In Romanian. Had I done it in French, my second mother tongue, you would have screeched it was inconclusive. Silly twats.

As far as I know, Puffy has some rudiments of French, but that's about it. Sorry, doll. Wrong number.

I don't care about your slanderous, uneducated and vulgar opinion. I despise your harassment attempts on people who were only liking what they were reading and were very warm to me.

You are not the first one to try and scare me. You have yet to prove I am a liar, with hard evidence, not with impressionist camelos.

There is at least one woman in this fandom who knows my name, my full mail address and all the specific details. Because she recently used them and got confirmation that I am who I said I am, I have the job I said I have and I live where I said I lived.

Her delicate gesture moved me. Yours brought a sort of disgusted amusement, if at all possible.

I know who you are. If I were you, I'd think twice before going on with the shitshow. I am not implying anything and I will not lose my time with you in court (my best IRL friend, the Madrid abogada, will gladly do it pro bono, btw). But you have nothing and you will continue to have nothing.

Because there is nothing you can have about me. I said it all, almost.

What this outburst is telling me, is one darn inconvenient thing for you, people. So, I'll say it in Spanish, cariño:

¿Vds tienen mucho, mucho miedo, verdad?

I promised to be your worst intellectual nightmare. I meant it.

So far, I think I am not faring that bad, eh?

[rosedarkness24]

Cult of Souls: Lamb's true Devotion.

Tw: Cuss words and slight gore.

~~~~~~~~~

Whispers. Whispers. All they could hear was his whispering, cutting off a sense greatly needed in battle. They knew he was calling for them to die. To come to him and heal, but it'd ruin all their progress.

Swinging their axe, they cut open the last heretic. Watching as a red blob of organs spew out. Looking over to the middle of the clearing they wait.

But, when the loot chest doesn't fall and the barriers to the room haven't fallen, panic hits them. Looking around the clearing, trying to find what they have missed. Yet, it was too late. Before they could spot the bat, it charged and landed a killing blow.

It was so sudden they couldn't register it, the change from the dark blue night shrouded in shadows, to a blinding white with warm relaxing clouds of mists. It hurt their eyes, making them close them tightly. Only to slowly open them for them to adjust to the sudden change. The sound of chains were the first thing they heard in the past hours. A sound that's now starting to annoy them.

Turning to the unsavory beast, they call a God. The smell of Rot was uncomfortably choking them, crawling at their insides begging for a reaction. But they give none. They aren't stupid, you don't tell a God they fucking reak. That just being near them makes you sick. No, instead, their mask fall into place as natural as one who sees a loved one.

Kneeling before the God of Death, "May I request you quit whispering in my ear?"

There was silence, something unusual for their unusual visits. The God was so talkative, now is unnaturally silent. Looking up from where they were, they let their eyes meet the felines dead on. Not caring if it's not something you shouldn't do. As they have learned from most the felines in their cult.

There's confusion in those red orbs. While they couldn't see where the iris or pupils were, they knew well enough that he was looking at them. They could feel it.

Unease sinks into them as they watch him lean forward, coming closer to them, "Mmmm..... Vessel, I don't give a shit. Neither should you."

Their eye twitched. 'This Mother Fucker.' Of course their God wouldn't give a shit. He has done this since day one. And more than once has it lead to their death, "You just want to see me die." Their voice flat and cold. "Yet you forget yourself my lord. For I am of no use to you if you yourself make me fucking useless."

"Suck it up." He didn't even give them time to react to such a rude comment before continuing. "You're useful dead and alive. The entertainment I get watching you suffer has made my time here. And more~"

That it, that's another reason for them to take his power. Sadistic Cat. Stupid sadist cat. "....Then you shall wait another thousand years before your release, I can be just as bullshity as you my lord."

Chains being smacked by bone could be heard, definitely the God's tail flicking in annoyance. "If I were so inclined to believe, you don't worship me vessel."

"How the fuck do I worship someone, who by all means annoys me, treats me like a fucking shitshow, and gets their kicks watching me suffer?"

"Hypocrisy you spill. You do the same."

"I DO NOT!"

"Lil' Man?"

"THAT MOTHER FUCKER CALLED ME STUPID! HE DESERVED WORSE THAN WHAT FA-" They froze not continuing that sentence. Something new just dawned on them. But the God brushed past it. Wanting their attention only on him.

"Vessel. You torment others and carry venom for all who step too far on you. You stalk your following, watching their lives like a damn show. Then you relish in their suffering as they die by your hand. You are a hypocrite."

"...... I get it from you."

A dorky grin grows on the God's face. Something that pulled at the Lamb's heart softly. Though it's not enough for them to care. They never cared. They have no respect or devotion for any rotten Gods. For Rot is the sign that a God is dieing and infected. Why worship a dieing God.

"Entertain me Vessel and sit by my side." They look to the feline, then to the two by his side. They haven't given reaction to the bickering for the whole time they've been here. Honestly, they could understand a bit why the God was bored. Letting out a sigh, they get up and move over to the large being.

"Only if it pleases you my lord." They go to sit next to him, only to have him slip his hand under them and pull them up. They didn't mind, just let their legs hang off his large boney ichor covered hand.

"Your existence pleases me vessel." Words that to the Lamb felt untrue. No matter how much convincing the God would do, they will never believe someone would care. Nor will they ever believe it. No one will hurt them, for they will always expect it. Letting the feline God feel their wool and inspect them for injuries, though they both know wounds never transfer over.

"Every inch of you is perfect...." There was sorrow and pain in those words. Something that was the truth for the God. As to why they didn't know nor did they care to know. He wasn't worth knowing.

[pinkandpurple360]

The comic where Angel meets Charlie and Vaggie makes the Stolizt parallels even more obvious and I can't even start how much it disgusts me-

First, Valentino calls AD to his limo- I know it's because chatting in the middle of the street is a bit tacky but to me it always felt so...delivered, like a way to even control the very atmosphere the victim is in (doesn't help the fact that in Addict, what looks like the first time that the assault happened, was in that very same limo) now what do this reminds me of? oh yeah! Of Stolas constantly "inviting" Blitzo to his huge ass castle- more specifically the room where all this shitshow started. Lovely. For someone that preach about how much he loves to spend time with Blitzo, the only time I recall him going to his place was when Via took the Griamore.

The fucking petnames- "Sweetheart, baby, cutiepie, sugar" ew, and they are all came in such an infantilization way to cut any explanation that Angel had about why he was out of the studio doing what he knows best- mob stuff. But Val don't care about whatever job AD might take on his own- oh no he just wants him paying HIM via exploration (Angel even offers an compromise of doing a "double shift tomorrow", but he is immediately silenced and threw to do work in the streets, as a punishment) now well- what does this reminds me of?- oh yeah! how in Murder Family Stolas went full "well you have MY book to do MY job, so...." while Blitzo is literally being chased by sociopaths. Again, is never about the "compromise" that it's absurdly disgusting and unbalanced to begin with, is about control. The main difference between these two assholes is that Valentino is more direct and threatens Angel with violence if he doesn't bend to his will, Stolas "sugarcoat" what is essentially an a threat to Blizt and his friends's only source of income- or pity.

Oh god yuck the parallels really are crazy aren’t they. All those times stolas calls his phone and he has to answer no matter what. And no matter the circumstances he always says “this is a bad time” “I got a chemical peel today so I can’t have sex with you” all this ways he’s trying to dodge him but he doesn’t listen or insists on it. LooLoo land is just as bad as murder family its unbelievable how hostile they are.

And YEAH it’s always a summon. He beckons and blitzo answers his call and arrives in that big stupid van. Then as we see in Harvest Moon, he goes to MnM for comfort, and completely relaxes there. He’s terrible to moxxie, but he does love him, and he makes him feel better. Millie too but we don’t see then talk enough. In seeing stars when stolas arrives in blitzos space, what does he do? He screams at and intimidates the three of them, as they cower in fear for their lives. The thought of calling stolas had Blitzø in a panic. He is scared of him. It’s so dark and fucked up. When I mentioned this on Twitter, people called stolas a parent scolding his kids(??!!) and insisted he was in the right both times he verbally abused them.

He threatens them as well “if you get in trouble I get in trouble, we don’t want that” This is a threat. But stolas is just allowed to abuse them and get away with it completely because he cries about how hard his life is. It’s actually unbelievable. It’s like Val screaming at Charlie for burning his set, then after she runs away Vaggie turns to Val like “ugh sorry sir, she’s a fool” then we get a sob story song about Val crying over how much he misses angel. Hell, give Valentino a kid that he sings lullabies to and you’ve got stolas 2.0

It reminds me of that “””heartbreaking”” scene where stolas says he liked the ‘date’ despite the fact he was just called out for giving up his daughter and guy life for sex— saying that his heartbroken confused teenage daughter is away this weekend so they “could” fuck and Blitz gets angry and says no..then softens and rephrases it to be like “I’m not in the mood” and even “I’m sorry” It’s just heartbreaking for blitz not the fucking owl

How many times do you think Angel said “I’m sorry I have a headache” “sorry I’m not in the mood Val” “I can’t do it tonight can we do it next time?”

[clovecardamom]

justice for q force & high guardian spice

i was yelling on the bad bird website and i forgot i can also yell here now so i want to yell about the completely embarrassing legacy that we, the collective royal we, all of us hooligans on the internet, cursed high guardian spice and q force with.

this is for two reasons:

i think the way our cultural forums decided to burn these shows stake because we did not personally like them extremely sucked, especially if you were a queer person in those industries watching it happen, especially if you were one of the many queer people working on these shows.

they were just genuinely super funny if you gave them a chance and didn't prescribe preconceived notions of what good queer animation is supposed to be.

the cosmos is compelling me to yell about this. so i am. you cannot stop me.

so, both of these shows were burdened with a press cycle basically yelling at everyone from the hills, okay! hey! the new gay show is here! if you're gay you should like it!

anyone familiar with how media works should already be going like "aw geeze" if you weren't there for this in real time, but the resulting shitshow was heard round twitter, tumblr, youtube, and probably other places i don't use as much.

instead of cheering on these underdogs and politely recommending people give them a shot, or just politely stating if they were or were not to our tastes, it became like... a cool fad among posters on all platforms to explain why these shows were actively intrinsically, irreparably bad!

when the shows were perfectly fine, with some mediocre lows but overall high highs!

q force, for every softball joke about lesbian uhauls makes five more genuinely hysterically specific jokes while treating its cast with a huge degree of respect. if you did not get these jokes, that's fine, but lines like "call me miss congeniality honey cause i'm a femme top with a gun" and the entire endgame of eurovision hosted by a small european nation whose economy is based entirely around christmas (twink's favorite holiday from harry potter) live forever in my mind. it was a stupid little adult comedy, but the characters talked like me and my friends. characters like twink especially, was allowed to be funny and silly while still respected by the people around him. i cannot express to you how rare it is to find stories where a flamboyant drag queen twink is given his degree of nuance and development.

on the other hand, high guardian spice was doomed from the outset, but we all jumped at blood in the water instead of letting it exist as it was. it takes no research effort to learn that high guardian spice was yanked around through development hell for years and very clearly had no time or money to make their original pitch a reality.

i'm the first person to admit high guardian spice is, put kindly, a complete mess, but it's a mess with an unbelievable amount of heart and charm if you just engage with it organically instead of making fun of every little production error. i cannot stress enough how little time or money they had to make this thing. it was straight up unethical.

and despite that production hell... it was funny? high guardian spice was straight up just way funnier than most cartoons lately if you just engaged with the jokes as jokes and got the hate-watch stick out from under you. the character chemistry was super compelling, the voice performances had that bee & puppycat amateur charm, and it was a viewing experience so genuinely enjoyable my friends and i have literally watched it like three times from to back.

so, this completely mediocre and janky western anime should've just fallen by the wayside right? nope! it became political baby! it became about wokeness ruining animation, and we all participated in that narrative because we thought that one scene where a character says he's transgender very bluntly was awkward!

the way that everyone, mostly without watching more than ten minutes of the first episode, decided to jump on a hate train spearheaded by 4chan to completely destroy the show's chance at survival was... quite frankly? pretty embarrassing! it was genuinely super awful to watch otherwise reasonable members of our community to act so callously because something was... cringe? annoying? even if high guardian spice was as bad as everyone was saying it was, this kind of behavior is kind of straight up cruel if you took a second to listen for the cacophony of dogwhistling and the way that the cast & crew of the show was being spoken about.

as these things go, it became an easy way to punch down and earn some sweet engagement by posting jokes you thought sucked or where budgets and production timelines faltered.

it was really stupid. i am not asking for an apology for these shows, but i am asking that you give them a chance if you previously avoided them or otherwise bounced off. if you don't like them, that's okay, i don't care. i just want these works by queer writers, artists, and actors to... actually get to exist on its own terms, instead of being swept up into a cruel and pointless circus of engagement farming.

because you know what the industry takeaway extremely is going to be moving forward? guess people hate this, let's make sure future products for this market receive less time and funding.

if they do get made? gotta make sure they completely avoid all of the meatier and mainstream alienating subject matters both shows genuinely got into if you gave them the time of day.

every time the next gay movie or television show comes out in this online fandom space i have my eyes peeled for the kind of buffoonery that we subjected q force and high guardian spice to because they had the gall to make queer cartoons that were not for everyone.

they were specific, they were weird, and they were rough around the edges. and they've stuck with me because of that.

so far, it does not feel great to see media with non-threateningly nothing representation where characters peck each other on the lips briefly and wave a flag but otherwise never engage with each other, their identities, or their communities, and have everyone praise it because it didn't dare say anything specific enough to alienate anyone.

i would rather not connect with a gay character in a movie or cartoon because they just weren't the type of character or story i connect with... instead of not connecting with a gay character because there was nothing there to connect with in the first place!

okay i'm done i love you goodbye.

[beardedmrbean]

Oh sorry, I not raise a fan of ATLA anymore

But y’all get ready for the shitstorm,

I’m the villain in a robe in a background evil smiling as everything get burn down

MUHAHAHAHA!

But also this

https://x.com/esemicolonr/status/1779206669207056485?s=46

Also one thing, just because you’re a child of immigrants DOESN’T MEAN YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR PARENTS CULTURES!

Long vid but this apu shitshow started with this idiot

https://youtu.be/9XLVvQAgiFE?si=dirkSMtJCnCRB_dO

Yes better rep…but the problem is those dispora people overlook how Americanized as hell they truly are

Like I learn that Mexicans and Indians can tell a Chicano or Indian American a mile away

Fuck i thought Nikki Haley was a white southern chick until I learn she Indian

Ugh I hate identity politics, hmm sorry, another one points out a huge issue soon

Browser crashed so I'm going short version instead of writing everything again

But y’all get ready for the shitstorm, I’m the villain in a robe in a background evil smiling as everything get burn down

This would be beyond hilarous, also I posted it by itself so it's easier for people to crack jokes on

Also one thing, just because you’re a child of immigrants DOESN’T MEAN YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR PARENTS CULTURES! Long vid but this apu shitshow started with this idiot

Yay @jlongbone I do miss seeing vince vaugn all the time, lol

Guy isn't popular even in some Indian circles for screwing over Apu like that iirc.

Yes better rep…but the problem is those dispora people overlook how Americanized as hell they truly are Like I learn that Mexicans and Indians can tell a Chicano or Indian American a mile away

Latinos do it by who's wearing the DBZ shirt usually, lol.

Fuck i thought Nikki Haley was a white southern chick until I learn she Indian

Extra shock Nikki is a Indian name

Ugh I hate identity politics, hmm sorry, another one points out a huge issue soon

We've been at a stage for a while now where people see fit to tell people of a particular culture that they're wrong about how their culture should be handled and such.

One of my fav examples.

Then we get.

Stupid question really, we all know why and it's not the bullshit "appreciation" some people tried to claim, not with everything else that's been called out over the cultural appropriation nonsense.

Double standard is pretty consistent, it's how trudeau managed to keep his job after all his blackface and weird dress up stuff.

Short answer yes, the Japanese love seeing it so unless you want to talk over the people you claim to be protecting shut up.

Also I traced the kimono back across time and continents and amazingly enough it's a item of clothing that's evolved and been adapted by different people and cultures all over the world and they all have their own take on it.

Nobody owns it

[calcium-chan]

OLD BULLSHIT DUMP

its time to dump a bunch of stuff i have no other place for but i want online somewhere! its a total fucking shitshow wahoo

first is an alien nine fan comic (its read right to left if it wasnt obvious, oops). this was made as a for an alien nine discord i lurk in. they had missed yuris birthday, and some discussion was had about what present is best to get her. most of the options were aliens?? anyways take this as the anti-kasumi propaganda that it is.

next is two separate love web doodles. uh for anyone who doesnt know i have a half joke love web AU where cybermare and manon just fucking hate each other, and its just sad and awful for no good reason. im sorry shadok, i am physically unable to let blorbos be happy. second image is more of a doodle but i like it. and the first image i thiiiink was made when i was planning out a little one shot comic i never finished. for the 1 of you (oretal) who are maybe curious, i had a bunch of dialogue written out, the comic would have been a really tense conversion that culminates in a shouting match, i had this really cool idea where the comics color palette gets darker and darker as the sun goes down and their little apartment becomes so dark that its hard to see but neither of them want to bother turning on a light (many such cases). i care about these two way more than i probably should, uh thank you silly deer lady for the blorbos.

the next one is a drawing ruru chan (you saw the alien nine bit of this post, you know what kind of fucking blog this is) i keep forgetting i made forever ago. i ended up hating it and never finishing it. i still dont want to bother finishing it but i like it enough now to post it. shinsei kamattechan is one of my favorite bands and i really like this dumb melodramatic song a lot. noko is one of the realest ones going and i hope i can draw something i actually really like one of these days to express my love properly.

lastly i wanted to post this absolute dumb bullshit fuck ass stupid technique. i was commissioned by a friend to make some custom buckshot roulette cards (he is paying me in sandwiches), and i decided that i liked the idea enough to go whole hog at least a little bit. this is just showing the process for the rendering technique im using in krita. i will be posting the final images once theyre all done (my deadline is fucking thursday, pray for me girlie). this method of rendering is super janky but its fucking worked so far! to any aspiring item key artists, please just render shit in blender, save yourselves. looks kinda nice tho once its on a card.

thats it, please listen to "all my little words" by magnetic fields and "cant run away" by brave little abacus. GOODBYEEE ill post my drawmegle drawings next maybe?