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#trophy wife advice
haruharuz · 1 year
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How did you get into dancing? Do you recommend it to others? Are there certain types of people that should avoid dancing?
Long story short, 17 year old me stumbled upon the world of SW and outright decided I wanted to try stripping one day. At 20 I decided to say fuck it and go for it, moved halfway across the U.S. and went to an audition.
I don’t recommend it to anyone, but I also don’t say that they shouldn’t. I love dancing but the industry is fucking BRUTAL. I’ve watched good girls become felons from drug charges and a plethora of other things. It really depends on if you WANT to dance and if you have the skill set. There’s a massive skill set needed to dance, if you don’t have it or learn how to build it you won’t make anything.
Absolutely, In no particular order, if you have these you might want to reconsider:
(People with/who:)
Jealousy issues
Little to no self esteem
Money management problems
Past drug addiction issues
Past alcoholism
Addictive tendencies
Fear of rejection
Little to no stamina
Low pain tolerance
No rhythm
No variety in music taste
No social skills
Little concept of being seductive
No makeup skills
No hair skills
Can’t handle being touched
Don’t like being judged
Have bad hygiene skills
This is a small list of things you may want to consider going in. You have 100% certainty to be judged for your body, skin, teeth, hair, voice etc. You WILL need money management skills (send an ask if you want a list of mistakes and advice). And you absolutely cannot avoid being rejected, laughed at, touched in some cases, bruises, scraped, and in pain.
Thank you for the ask babydoll, ask box is still open always <3
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sukirichi · 2 years
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hi suki! i’m so glad you’re back. i’m trying to start to write a story, and since you’re so good at it, i want to ask for advice on how to write a story well & how everyone reading will feel (almost) the same as the leads.
hello hello!! oh, you can search for my tag suki: writing advice or suki: advice for more in depth explanations (disclaimer: i don’t remember my tags very well, but it should be those) where i gave notes on what worked for me personally in my writings.
in terms of writing stories well, there are three things i would focus on and would want to see as a reader: flow (transitions, coherence of the story, conciseness), good dialogue (i get most of my emotions from dialogue. i pair it with facial expressions, a few gestures, and then depending on what style i want to go for, probably some prose or monologues to build up the intensity of the dialogue. i think dialogue is a window to vulnerability for the characters, but this is mostly my writing style. other writers convey their characters’ emotions through other aspects other than dialogues, and whichever you’re comfortable with, its best to highlight that feature!), and the last would be execution of the plot. there are times when the plot ideas are stellar, but turning it into actual writing doesn’t match the creativity of the plot. i personally struggle with this, because i feel like my vision is not on par with my capabilities as a writer, but i would advise that before you start writing everything, you structure your plot out carefully so that you would not be confused when you’re finally writing everything down.
get the key details, the character information, the timeline. it depends on you really on which you prefer more, bcos i also have times where i write chapters on the spot, but to give you a general idea, have like a 1k summary of your entire plot that you can use as a basis. and to execute it well, its best to actually visualize most of it first through songs, photos and moodboards maybe. the most important part is to just have fun with it though! i think readers can feel whether the writer enjoyed their work or not. their emotions reflect on their pieces, so just enjoy the process and learn every step of the way. no writer becomes skilled right away, and we still all hone it until now.
i hope this helped!
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alwritey-aphrodite · 1 year
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Scout, I'm taking this Sleepover Friday as an opportunity to beg your help on a very important issue:
I need to write an argumentative essay on something controversial for my advanced writing class, but I can't for the life of me think of anything controversial that I actually believe that I want to spend the next two weeks of my life writing about.
If I'm not controversial enough, my prof will think I'm copping out or pandering and will dock points, but I can still write about pop culture stuff if desired as long as it's still controversial. A guy got an A in the past for writing a paper on why everyone should have a pet snake, if that gives any context.
I need HELP. Everything I can think of is either boring or stressful! And I say so much controversial shit on here yet remember none of it.
Help me Scout, you're my only hope.
I feel like I would either say something super popular is overrated or the opposite (like something no one talks about is underrated) - like it would still be controversial without being too much/too stressful, you know what I mean?
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hyunverse · 6 months
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lucky number five ☆ hwang hyunjin.
pairing: hyunjin x fem! reader. tags: fluff, drabble. words: 3k words. warnings: reader is referred to with she/her, called as wife. about: the five most memorable memories you share with hyunjin. note: i haven't written in a while, so my writing's definitely a little rusty. i hope you'll like it! please reblog, and feedback is very much appreciated &lt;3 disclaimer — © 2023 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.
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𝐨𝐧𝐞.
Five is Hyunjin's lucky number.
Hyunjin first met you when he was five. He had pointed out that you were wearing the same shirt as he was — and you've been attached to the hips ever since.
His first tooth fell out on the fifth day of Summer. He could recall holding the baby tooth on a tissue in one hand, looking up at his mother with puppy eyes. His mother patted him on the head and told him he had grown up. The tooth fairy gave him a single gold coin chocolate, too. Tucked it under his pillow where he placed his baby tooth. He remembers having a lisp until the tooth grew back — remembers how jealous you were that he had "grown up."
The first feeling of victory Hyunjin had ever experienced was when he won fifth place in a colouring contest. Truth be told, he could've easily won first place — but he wanted you to win over him just to see you smile, so he coloured messily. Though the trophy for first place looked glorious, he thought that the smile plastered on your face as you held a medal beat the shine on the trophy.
It was the fifth of May when you two started dating. Hyunjin remembers everything about the fated day, bit by bit. He could play each scene, each dialogue in his head like an overplayed radio song. He was merely sixteen, studying in an all boys school with little to no knowledge about dating. Boys his age didn't care about dating. They only cared about soccer and video games. While he cared about all of that too, a lot of the space in his heart was overtaken by you. Figuring out how to ask you out was tough, he had spent a lot of time pondering. He even gathered up the courage to seek advice from his friends, yet to no avail. They were barely any help. In the end, he observed television dramas and prayed for the best.
Under a cherry blossom tree, you sat on a bench. Your eyes were fixated on the sky as your legs dangled over the wooden bench. The clouds on the sky were huge, luminous — enveloping the sky the way lovers do.
"Jinnie!" Hyunjin heard you cheer as he approached you. The nonchalant look on his face immediately turned into a bright smile, his footsteps becoming more hurried.
Standing in front of you, Hyunjin was the perfect depiction of nervous. Both his hands dug deep into the pockets of his jeans, front teeth nibbling onto the inside of his cheeks and the little rocks underneath his foot tumbled as he kicks on them.
Hyunjin gulped, "Hi."
You tilted your head with concern, "are you okay, Jinnie?"
The concern laced in your tone reminded him of all the reasons why he liked you so much. You cared like no other — loved as though nothing could hurt you in this world.
"I am," he replied, rubbing on the back of his neck, "I just —"
"You don't have to rush it," you tapped on the seat beside you, "sit with me. You can take your time to tell me whatever that's on your mind."
So, Hyunjin sat. His legs reached the ground unlike yours, and his eyes fixated on the stain on his sneakers. He was painfully aware of the rapid beating of his heart. The urge to tell you his feelings were bottling up quickly.
Then, it spilled.
"I like you a lot," the words were muttered before Hyunjin could stop them.
"Hm?"
"I like you," he repeated. This time, he sounded more sure, looked more sure. The raven was looking at you, blinking sanguinely.
It took a while for you to process the words, for your jaw to relax and finally respond.
The first response came in a way where you slowly turned your head towards him, blinking profusely.
You stuttered, "like me? Like like, or just friends like?"
He sighed, "like like. I like like you."
"Oh."
There it goes, the rejection. Hyunjin had expected it, but it hurt nonetheless. You were the only person Hyunjin had ever liked, his best friend since kindergarten. His feelings for you ran deep. He was merely sixteen, yes, but he was well aware of how strongly he felt for you.
You didn't expect it, but he tapped on your shoulder comfortingly, as if to say, "I know you don't like me, it's okay."
You were right.
"I know you don't like me, it's okay," he comforted, "I just wanted you to know."
"No, I do like you," you confessed.
"What?"
"Yeah," you replied, breathlessly, "was just shocked, that's all."
"Oh."
Silence blanketed the two of you as the conversation exchanged slowly seeped into your brains. Hyunjin looked like he was simply admiring the view in front of him but really, his brain was going haywire.
"No, I do like you," the words repeated in his brain over, and over. They filled his brain with dopamine, the kind of rush that even his favourite football team winning could not replicate.
The five words which will be engrained in Hyunjin's mind forever.
"I like you a lot."
The five words which will be engrained in yours.
"So..." you broke the silence, "what now?"
Hyunjin's pointer circled against the wood of the bench, itching to hold your hand, "we... you know. Date."
"Yeah. Okay."
For best friends who have known each other for years, it was abnormally quiet for the two of you.
But it was okay. Hyunjin was content with the small smile lingering on your pretty face, and your hand in his — finally in his.
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𝐭𝐰𝐨.
The sound of a pan sizzling and a kettle crackling seeped into the guest bedroom, though the sound of Hyunjin and his mother's voice caught your attention the most.
You were spending the weekend at the Hwangs'. Your parents were on a company trip that weekend and didn't trust you alone so naturally, they dropped you off there. You were about to take your morning shower, a towel slung over your shoulder when their voices stopped you in your tracks.
"You really like her, Hyunjin?" his mother asked, her voice the epitome of motherly.
She truly is the stereotypical loving mother — soft, and nurturing. Lunchbox ready on the table every morning, not a single football match of Hyunjin's missed. Treated you like the daughter she never had, braided your hair by the porch as Hyunjin ran around with his beloved dog.
"Um," Hyunjin muttered, silverware clinking against plate as he cut through a sausage.
You clasped your ear against the door, eager to hear more.
"You don't have to be shy with me, Hyunjin."
"I do like her," you heard him say, "a lot."
Crimson crept up your face, and you could picture his face doing the same. You could imagine the tips of his ears going red, and his mother looking at him with a grin.
"You want to marry her?" she asked jokingly.
"I do," he answered. Confidently. Surely. Absolutely no hesitation. As though it was the one sole thing he was sure of in his life.
"Oh, my Hyunjin," his mother cooed, "you're all grown up now!"
You didn't know what happened next, how their conversation continued because you were too busy stifling yourself from giggling giddily. Your back was pressed up against the door, replaying the eavesdropped dialogues in your head over and over. Overcame by excitement, you failed to notice the footsteps approaching the door.
Before you knew it, your head came in contact with the wall as the door swung open. Hyunjin stood in front of you, confused as you rubbed your forehead.
"So aggressive, and for what?" you grunted, looking up at him with a pout.
"Who told you to stand by the door like an idiot?" Hyunjin huffed. Nevertheless, he reached towards your forehead, checking for any bruises.
"You'll be okay. Next time, don't stand by the door like an idi—" he paused, "wait. Did you hear anything?"
You batted your eyelashes innocently, playing dumb.
"Hear what?"
Hyunjin sighed out of relief, ruffling your hair, "nothing you need to worry your pretty self about. Just go shower. I saved you some pancakes."
"Aw," you pecked his lips, "you're so sweet, and so caring. You must want to marry me."
He smiled, but the face soon contorted into one of annoyance.
"So you heard!"
"Heard what? The fact that you're obsessed with me and want to marry me so bad?"
"You're so annoying, y/n."
"You still want to marry me though."
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, "shut up, or I'll take it back."
He wouldn't.
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𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.
Exhaustion lugged on Hyunjin as he exited the entertainment building. He's been a trainee for a couple of months now, and the burn-out was no joke. A day with you was exactly what he needed. A couple of days spent with his home, his solace — and he refused to come empty-handed.
Thus, he roamed around the park, in search of wildflowers. Anything he could get his hands on, just as long as he could form a bouquet from them. Hyunjin ducked and moved around, pulling out any flower he deemed beautiful enough. A black hair tie tied together the ensemble of florals. He wished he had managed to get his hands on some ribbons but alas, he couldn't. For now, the black hair tie on his wrist would suffice.
You arrived right when you promised you would. Clad in a pretty yellow sundress, Hyunjin swore that you came right out of a daydream. He watched you wander around in the park for a while, admiring from afar. Even with a confused expression plastered across your face, he still found you gorgeous. A part of him wished that he was simply your secret admirer, so that he could keep watching you from afar for hours. Not being able to be around you would suck though, so perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all. 
“Y/n!” Hyunjin finally called you out, waving his hand to catch your attention, “here!” 
You whipped your head towards his direction, lips twitching into the cutest smile once you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend. 
An arrangement of colourful flowers was handed to you once you were in front of him.  You vividly remember how beautiful it was — petals of yellow, pink, and white which coincidentally matched your dress. Hyunjin on the other hand remember how you looked, the pupils of your eyes practically shining at the ensemble. 
“For me?” you asked, looking at him with big, bright, eyes.
Hyunjin nodded, “for you, of course. Flowers for a flower.”
“Oh,” was all that you could utter, overwhelmed by appreciation. You gently pet the petals, “they’re so pretty.”
“Really?” Hyunjin queried, “I don’t have any money. I wish I could buy you pretty roses and tulips, but I really cannot afford them right now. This is the best that I could do, and I’m sorry my love.”
“Don’t you dare say sorry, Hwang Hyunjin. The fact that you spent time to find these flowers means a lot to me, and makes them even more special. I love them, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He nodded, smiling sheepishly. All the worries he previously harboured immediately disappeared at your words. 
“Okay, love. Let’s go then, find more flowers and I’ll make a wreath out of them for you.”
Years later, and the flowers had long wilted away — pressed and put in a frame for display, resting on a table with vases of flowers accompanying it. 
Hyunjin never stopped gifting you flowers. 
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𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.
A yellow bus drove away, leaving two figures at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. 
The outskirts of Seoul — only ever acknowledged as a place vehicles pass by. No stores, no houses in sight, just a lonesome bus stop surrounded by greens. 
Hyunjin would’ve never stepped foot in this place if it wasn’t for you. If it wasn’t for you climbing into his window and hysterically crying, he wouldn’t have purchased tickets to the middle of nowhere. He would probably be in bed and wake up at noon. 
“I want to run away,” you told him, hours before.
“Okay,” he replied, “I’ll go with you.” 
Normally, Hyunjin wouldn’t support your attempts at rebelling against your parents. Honestly, the words, “don’t be dumb and just say sorry,” sat at the top of his tongue, but they dissolved at the sight of your mascara running down your cheeks. He knew that even if he was to disagree, you would’ve packed your bags and left anyway. He would rather follow to keep you safe.
Plus, the boy knew that the rebellion would only last a couple of hours.
“Let’s sail off without a map. Just walk and see what we’ll discover.”
“Okay.”
God knows how many of those he already said to you that day. 
You walked, hand in hand, him siding with the highway. You looked far too relaxed for someone who was running away. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was terrified. If anything were to happen to the two of you there, nobody would be there to help. His free hand dug into his pocket, tightly clutching onto a butterfly knife. 
Minutes soon turned into an hour. Two people walking soon turned into one — Hyunjin ended up carrying you on his back after seeing that you’ve blistered your feet. He nagged about your choice of footwear, but amidst the nags, he still opted to carry you anyway. Your hands rested around his neck, chin on his head as he walked aimlessly, just waiting for you to finally cave in and ask to go home. 
“Hyunjin, look!”
“Hm?”
The boy turned around, gasping at the sight which greeted his eyes. A field of flowers stretched as far as his eyes could see, green plains decorated with splotches of colourful flowers. 
Before he could say anything, you were already running towards the field, screaming in glee. He followed in pursuit, taking in the breeze and letting blades of grass sway against his legs. 
“Hurry!” 
Hurry, Hyunjin did, running towards you and lifting you off the ground. Hyunjin took advantage of the seemingly infinite space to twirl you around, and run around until the two of you turned breathless, lying on the grass to look at the sky. 
“I love this place,” you mumbled between heavy breaths, “feels like something you only see in your dreams.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow. 
Quietly, he admired you. The tranquil expression your face held matched that of the sky. He couldn’t stop the hand reaching towards your face, calloused thumb caressing your face with the same softness of a feather. Each stroke of his thumb whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 
“Thank you,” your words reeled Hyunjin out of his daze, “for coming here with me.”
His eyes on you softened. 
“You don’t have to thank me. Just be around forever,” sat at the top of Hyunjin’s tongue and dissolved. 
Instead, he pressed a kiss onto your lips.
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𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.
Hyunjin asked you to marry him five years after you started dating.
It was the peak of his career. He was everywhere around the world, collecting awards and breaking records. The little boy who loved football slowly turned into a superstar. He had to bid goodbye to his quiet life, making space for all the glory the world had to offer to him. His name sat at the tip of everyone’s tongues, talk of the town — Achilles reincarnate. 
That was when he decided that he would have to marry you. For amidst all that glory, you were the only stagnant thing in his life. You continued to annoy and nag him as you always do. You continued to be the first person he thinks of when he wakes, and the last person he thinks of as he shuts his eyes. You’re always the person he has in mind as he looks for souvenirs, and when he watches old couples sitting on benches in different cities.
You, you, you. 
Always you. 
Boxes scatter around the living room, some opened and some not. It’s been a few hours since the moving truck unloaded all of the boxes. Honestly, you could’ve gotten so many things done if it weren’t for the two of you constantly procrastinating. 
“Just a five-minute break, babe,” Hyunjin whines, landing on a (still wrapped in plastic) sofa. 
You roll your eyes, “you’ve taken breaks like three times just this hour, Jinnie.”
He whines again, making grabby hands, “need my wife here right now or I’ll die.” 
The sigh which leaves your lips cannot fool him, because the slight grin on your lips gives away that you like his clinginess. You seat yourself in his arms, burying yourself in his neck. The familiar scent of fresh laundry and cologne fills your nostrils, washing away the exhaustion from the day. 
“Me, my wife, and a new house,” you hear Hyunjin mumble, “feels like a dream.”
You voice your agreement by humming. It’s when you stare at the boxes surrounding you that the reality finally sinks in. You’re married to the boy you met in kindergarten. His toothbrush will be in a cup next to yours, his mug will be in the dishwasher with yours, and your dirty laundry will be in the same machine. You’ll wake up next to him every day for what you hope will be your entire life. 
You smile at the thought, sinking yourself into Hyunjin even more. He’s holding you with one hand, the other rummaging through a box when he takes out a Polaroid, showing you it with glee.
A Polaroid of you and him under a cherry blossom tree, five years ago. 
“Isn’t this from the first day we started dating?” Hyunjin asks, blinking his eyes at you.
You tilt your head to observe the polaroid, “oh… Yes, it is, babe!”
He’s laughing, particularly at how red his face looks in the picture. 
“Oh my god, we have to recreate this picture soon, love.”
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disclaimer — © 2023 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.
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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 9 months
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The List (5)
Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you for all of the comments. I read them all! Let me know if I missed you in the taglist!
Series Masterlist
Previous Chapter
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Chapter 5
Nothing ages the soul faster than pain. Y/N had spent the entirety of her marriage to Bucky nestled under his wing. Warm. Safe. Hidden. He had always been her protector. The second her life was threatened she fell back into familiar habits. No matter how far she jumped, gravity always dragged her back down to Bucky Barnes. A sick joke from the universe or fate? Y/N would never know. She wasn’t the same person Bucky previously married, but neither was he. When they had first wed, neither could imagine a life without one another but if the divorce proved them wrong, why were they back where they started?
Like a snake shedding its skin, the pair was forced to grow. Each new scale bound together like the armor of a knight. The protective layer of thick skin was worn with honor, displayed like a war trophy. Neither one of them had made it out of the divorce unscathed, but they had both survived it. Bucky never doubted Y/N was the one for him, their timing had just been off. Right person, wrong time. Life is like a string. The ending and beginning are always the same, people are born and then they die. It’s all the knots in between that mold people and their relationships. Y/N and Bucky hit a knot in their string. Their perfect marriage became messy and tangled but if they could unravel the knot the string could resume its course. Y/N hoped all of their time spent apart had allowed them to grow together, not apart like they had thought.
Bucky had always held the power in their relationship, but now he was a king in check, trapped behind bars. Y/N was free, free to make moves. Steve had been right. The queen held all of the power. She had been playing the game wrong all along. It wasn’t her who needed protection, it was Bucky. He had just handed her access to the board, to his men. Y/N filed her nails and sharpened her teeth. The prey had become the predator and Y/N was ready to hunt.
Dancing her way into the kitchen with a newfound confidence, Y/N skidded to a halt at the sight of Steve. A coffee mug pressed against his lips as he occupied a stool at the end of the island. He barely spared her a glance, his focus trained on the newspaper in front of him. Y/N would have found it offensive had she not known the man. He had always been more of a brother to Bucky, and she had come to see him as a brother-in-law. She respected him. That was the reason she halted. He wouldn’t approve of her decision.
Clearing her throat, Y/N held her head high as her bare feet padded across the kitchen.
“Morning,” Steve’s deep voice rumbled.
With her back turned to him, Y/N poured herself a cup of coffee mumbling her own greeting. She needed a firm hand to guide her in Bucky’s world, but she hadn’t forgotten the way Steve toyed with her. Maybe he was disappointed Bucky hadn’t left him in charge. It didn’t matter now. Bucky appointed her. At least that’s what Steve told her.
She could hear the crinkle of the newspaper turning before he spoke, “Did you give my advice some thought?”
It was now or never. Y/N clasped her mug between her palms and sauntered across from Steve. Again, he didn’t acknowledge her standing across from him, his head buried in the paper. The sound of her mug connecting with the marble finally caught his attention. The blonde’s head snapped up to face her.
“I did,” Y/N said slowly, dragging the words out.
Steve raised an eyebrow folding the newspaper in front of him. “And?” He pressed; his hands folded on top of the printed paper.
Y/N eyed him for a moment, her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth. “I’ve decided to take another direction.” Steve shook his head, his pink lips parted. Y/N could taste the argument on his lips so she beat him to it. “You’re demoted, Steve.” The bewildered look on his face almost made her take it back, almost.
“You’re not serious, Y/N.”
The way he said it made her jaw tick. It was a statement rather than a question. As if she wasn’t capable of being serious. As if he didn’t take her seriously. He was the child, not her. Pressing her palms into the marble countertop, she leaned forward. “You may have been right yesterday but what you did was childish. You may have Bucky’s best interest at heart and be Bucky’s best right-hand man, but you are not mine.” Steve opened his mouth again, but Y/N held up a hand. “I get it, Steve, really, I do. Bucky is your friend. It was you picking up the pieces when I moved out but that doesn’t excuse your methods with me. I love you Stevie, but I need someone who is going to be upfront with me and not play these games you and Bucky orchestrated. I need my best right-hand man, not Bucky’s.”
The stool screeched against the tile floor as Steve stood. “You’re making a mistake, Y/N. Bucky will be out soon and when he is, he will undo everything you change.”
Sipping her coffee mug, Y/N smiled. “Then it is my mistake to make. If I fail, you win. Enjoy this demotion. Take a break, go on vacation.”
“Lives are at risk Y/N, it is not the time to experiment,” Steve growled.
“Then Bucky wouldn’t have appointed me.” Y/N picked up her mug ready to exit the kitchen. “Effective immediately, Bucky will report to me.” Exiting the kitchen, the conversation was dismissed.
A nagging feeling in the back of her mind warned her she was making a mistake. That she should listen to Steve. He was in the business longer, he knew better. Y/N shook the feeling away, her feet carrying her across the house in search of her right-hand man. Bucky trusted her. She knew the enemy better than any of Bucky’s men. She hadn’t made her decision on a whim; Loki knew where Bucky was and was expecting Steve to take over. It was the logical thing to do.
“Hey Y/N, where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Y/N smiled at the familiar voice. Exactly who she was looking for. “Hey, Sam. I was going to head to the prison, but I wanted to get your opinion on something first.”
Sam crossed his arms across his chest. “Shoot.”
“How would you feel about a promotion?”
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Strumming her nails against the cold metal table, Y/N counted down the seconds the inmates would stroll through the door. Bucky was finally able to receive in-person visits. Her chest tightened at the thought of finally feeling his hand in hers, his arms wrapped around her, his lips against her own. Being so close yet so far was torture but she wasn’t here for Bucky. At least not yet.
Sam sat at a separate table a few feet beside her. He was just as eager to see his boss, his friend, but he had mastered controlling his emotions. Sam had been in the business for years. Prison wasn’t anything new to him. He visited plenty of people, even he mentored some of them before he joined Bucky. Sam was no stranger to visiting friends in prison, but visiting Bucky in prison was new. Steve had been Bucky’s primary contact since his arrest. How would he take Y/N cutting Steve off of him? Sam’s mind swirled with a million possibilities of the kind of man that would walk through the door. Would he still be the boss he knew or worse? The answer was neither.
A buzz rang out alerting the visitors of the arrival of the inmates before the door opened. Each visitor rose from their chair in unison fighting to make their presence known in the same way one would when picking up an individual from an airport. A sea of orange piled into the room followed by the rattle of handcuffs. Despite the matching uniforms, one person stood out amongst the rest. Bucky. His 6-foot frame towered over the other men. The white sling across his chest stuck out like a sore thumb.
Sam couldn’t help but scoff at Bucky’s appearance. Steve had told him Bucky was doing well but Sam had expected him to look rougher. A wolf in sheep's clothing; a true chameleon. Bucky was able to blend in anywhere, prison was no exception.
Bucky shuffled into the gray room one foot in front of the other. His shoulders squared as much as he could with his injury. The entire prison was dull, including the visitor room. It made sense considering the prisoners were dressed in one of the loudest colors imaginable. It made it easy for the guards to keep track of everyone. Bucky was shocked to have received a request for a visit from Sam. Steve would have at least mentioned it to Bucky the last time they spoke.
Bucky came to a standstill as the men in front of him stopped. Waiting for his turn to be guided to a table, Bucky held his head high, scanning the room for Sam. Given his height, he was able to see over everyone, easily spotting Sam. Feeling another set of eyes on him, Bucky’s eyes drifted around the room. It was possible Loki had sent someone reckless to take him out with guards around. He wouldn’t put it past him. Bucky would rather overestimate the man and be prepared rather than underestimate him and be dead.
During his scan, Bucky did a double take, his eyes landing on Y/N. Curiosity ate away at Bucky between Sam’s visit and Y/N being here. He wasn’t expecting her; she hadn’t requested a visit with him.
Y/N held Bucky’s intense gaze. She could tell he was confused, his eyes pleading for answers, but she would let Sam handle that. She had a more important task at hand. She saw Bucky’s jaw clench before a shadow towered over her.
“Y/N Y/L/N,” a cheerful voice called out, pulling her eyes from Bucky.
Y/N turned to the man beside her, uncuffed with his arms outstretched for a hug. His soft green eyes stared at her like a lost puppy, and she couldn’t help chuckle as she embraced him. “Scott Lang. It’s been a while.”
The brunette’s chest rumbled beneath the orange fabric as he pulled away. Motioning to the steel chair Y/N had been previously sitting in, Scott invited her to join him at the table which Y/N gladly accepted.
“So, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming sooner, I would have spruced the place up a bit,” Scott joked.
Y/N had met Scott on a trip to California after her split from Bucky. He too had been recently divorced. Unlike Y/N and Bucky, Scott and his ex-wife had a daughter, Cassandra, so they were in frequent contact. Y/N had wondered if she and Bucky had a child would they have been as civil as Scott and his ex-wife? Maybe they would have worked it out and wouldn’t have divorced at all. Maybe they never would have lost contact.
Y/N laughed, ignoring Bucky’s glare as he passed her. She forgot how goofy Scott was. He always made his daughter laugh. He was a good dad. Unfortunately, his career choice kept him from her. A regret he kicked himself over time and time again; however, no matter how illegal, it did support her. That was all he wanted to do, provide for his daughter. Y/N’s heart went out to the troubled little family. She couldn’t imagine having a child with Bucky while he was in and out of prison.
“You’re a long way from San Diego. Had I known you were here I would have come to visit sooner,” Y/N smiled softly.
Scott shrugged, “Judge thought a change of scenery would do me good. Little does he know; he just gave me access to more connections.”
Y/N hummed. That was the exact reason she came to visit him. Scott was an extremely personable guy, and he knew everyone in the wrong business. “Actually Scott, that is what I came to talk to you about.”
Scott clasped his hands together on the metal table, leaning forward. “I’m all ears.”
Clearing her throat, Y/N whispered, “I need to track someone down by the name of Thor and I need it to be done as discreetly as possible.”
Scott slammed his hand on top of the table, the bang ringing around the room. Everyone’s eyes shot to the pair. Realizing his mistake, Scott held his hands up at the guards who began to approach the table. Scott began to fumble over his words explaining he wasn’t being violent, but Y/N tuned him out. Staring at Bucky who kept his murderous glare locked on Scott, Y/N turned to Sam who looked equally as furious.
“Ma’am,” a guard called, snapping his fingers in her face.
Y/N jumped, tilting her head back to face the guard.
“Are you okay?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/N nodded. “We’re fine.”
“Keep it down over here.” The guard eyed the two of them for a moment before turning on his heel.
Once the guard disappeared, Y/N waved a hand at Sam dismissing him. Then she reached across the table and flicked Scott in the forearm.
“Ouch,” he began rubbing his arm, “What was that for.”
“For causing a scene. What part of discrete did you not understand? Isn’t discretion part of your job?”
Scott gestured around the room. “I never said I was good at it.” Clearly or he wouldn’t have been caught several times. “Anyway, you’re looking for Odinson?”
Y/N nodded leaning back in her chair.
A dopey grin graced his face, “Well, you’re hot.”
Y/N’s eyebrows raised, “Excuse me?”
“The hot and cold game. Me and Cassie play it all the time.” When Y/N didn’t respond, Scott waved his hand. “Forget it.” He leaned closer, “Thor is here.”
Eyes widening, Y/N pressed her palms against the edge of the table steadying herself. “In the prison?!”
Scott nodded, “Apparently royalty isn’t above the law. At least not overseas anyway. Boozie one he is.” He began to mimic a drunken man passed out.
“Well, can I meet with him?”
The man tilted his head pursing his lips. “Thor is in solitary confinement for fighting the guards.” Y/N frowned. Her plan had been a dead end. Steve was right. She should have listened to him. “But I know a guy who can get a message to him when he gets out.” Scott offered. Y/N perked up nodding enthusiastically. Scott jerked his head to his left. “They frequent the same circle. He could get the message to Odinson.” Y/N followed the direction his head pointed and snorted. Bucky.
“He’s a cool guy. I think you’d like ‘em.”
Y/N held back a laugh at the irony as she glanced down at her ring. “Thanks, Scott. Can I give Cassie a message?”
“Actually, just send her one of those creepy dolls she likes so much. She’ll know it’s from me.”
Y/N rolled her eyes before squeezing his hand. “Will do. Thanks, Lang.”
Scott raised his hand signaling the end of their conversation. In a matter of seconds, he was escorted out of the room leaving Y/N alone at the table with her thoughts. In chess, the king wasn’t useless, he could still take pieces out and make moves. He was just limited, like Bucky. It was his turn to make a move.
Y/N stood, approaching Sam and Bucky. Without a word, Sam rose from his seat sending Bucky a nod before moving to stand to talk with one of the guards. Y/N was grateful that he chatted with the guards to avoid them making a fuss over her and Bucky not having an appointment.
Bucky would have stood and waited for her to sit if it wouldn’t draw attention to them. He yearned to hold her in his arms but that wasn’t going to happen, at least not now. Instead, he let his eyes shamelessly roam her face and body. Y/N blushed under his gaze and didn’t hesitate to grasp his open palm, outstretched on the table. Bucky squeezed her hand, his eyes admiring the ring on her finger.
“You got the ring,” he observed. Y/N hummed in response. Bringing her hand up to his mouth, his lips grazed the back of her hand. “I can’t wait to get out of here so I can fuck you wearing only this,” he growled, pressing his lips against her knuckle.
“Bucky,” Y/N gasped.
He sent her a sly grin adjusting the ring on her finger. He knew just what to say to make her squirm. “Sam told me you’ve been making some big changes. Good to know you haven’t changed that much.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me what you had planned?” 
Bucky didn’t need her to elaborate on what she meant. He knew she was talking about putting her in charge. For a long moment, he said nothing, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. Y/N tightened her grip on his hand, reminding him of the question he had yet to answer.
Bucky exhaled, thumbing the ring on her finger. “I told you the conversations on the phone were recorded.”
Y/N bobbed her head, “We’re not on the phone now Buck. You promised to be honest with me, to let me in.”
His left shoulder slumped. “Steve and I speak in code sometimes. Makes situations like this and speaking in front of enemies easier. We’ve known each other so long that some things don’t need to be said out loud. Sometimes a look is enough.”
Y/N felt a pang of jealousy strike her heart like lightning. Bucky had always been close with Steve. They shared a bond that not even Bucky and Y/N had. Her ex-husband never let her fully in and it was the downfall of their marriage.
“You asked for my protection. Steve and I agreed that wouldn’t change no matter what, but I had to make sure you were all in before I handed you the keys to the castle.” His thumb stilled on the diamond. “Steve is mean sweetheart because I asked him to be. Not with words but I know he understood. He knows it would kill me if something happened to you. Hell,” he huffed, “it nearly killed me the first time. I already lost you once, I can’t do it again.”
Y/N frowned, “That doesn’t excuse the childish games you two play. This is why I demoted Steve. He’s not loyal to the mob, he's loyal to you.”
Bucky removed his hand from hers to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, pretty girl, you don’t get how truly important you are.”
“Steve suggested we use the wedding as bait.”
Bucky leaned back in his seat. “What do you think?”
Y/N shook her head. “I met with Scott to discuss an alternative route.” Buck nodded, glad to have some light shown on why Y/N had been talking to Lang. “He said you run with the same crowd as Thor. He’s Loki’s stepbrother.” Bucky’s eyes widened. “I need you to talk to him. Tell him I sent you. Tell him the whole story if you have to. We need him on our side.”
Bucky stared at her as if she was crazy. “The guy isn’t stable Y/N. He lost his eye in a fight. He’s in solitary confinement. The guy could snap if he learns that his brother has a hit list on us. He could kill me.”
Y/N chuckled. “Don’t tell me New York’s big bad mob boss is afraid of a big oaf. Thor is nothing like Loki. He’s a good guy. He wants to help Loki.”
Ignoring her comment, Bucky pressed, “And what do I tell him when he asks how we're going to help him? I don’t think he’ll take well to us planning to kill his brother.”
Glancing around the room for anyone listening, Y/N leaned forward hissing, “We are not killing him.”
Bucky winked, “Got it.”
“I’m serious, Bucky. If we can get Thor to help us, we can lure Loki out and Thor can take Loki home to get help.”
“And if he refuses? If he gets away?”
“I need you to trust me. I know this family better than anyone else on our side.”
Bucky signed. “Should I be worried about the number of men you know that are sitting in prison?”
“You’re in prison,” Y/N pointed out.
The brunette nodded, running his fingers through his beard. “I trust you.”
“Good, because you report to me now. Not Steve, not Sam, not Peter. Me.”
Bucky groaned, “Careful darling, keep talking like that and I might not be able to wait until I get out of here.”
Next Chapter
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fandom-puff · 2 years
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I'm constantly switching between thoughts about those three men whenever I'm thinking of Westeros. I just can't decide between being cuddled and protected by Sandor, him just treating you like a fragile little kitten he needs to take care of, or being Lady Lannister and having one of the most powerful and stoic men wrapped around my finger, being his Lady wife and royally pissing off Cersei. On the other hand though, riding Ned in front of a fire sounds great too. 👉👈
Omg 😵‍💫😵‍💫 I went a liiiiitle bit overboard. There’s some reference to smut but nothing too explicit.
Living a peaceful life in the country with Sandor, far far away from the political cess pit of the capital. Raising chicken, maybe a cow or goat, travelling for miles on Stranger to trade goods with other farmers. Perhaps raising a few children of your own, or a dog or two… or both. Peaceful and rustic, without having to worry about saying the wrong thing or making a misstep in court. Not being a Ser and a Lady… just being Sandor and YN
Entering an arranged marriage to a man old enough to be your father, or even grandfather. Stepping into Casterly Rock or the tower of the hand as a meek as a kitten, afraid of the power your new husband (and his adult children) wield. Your marriage beginning with dutiful formality; a hand tucked into the crook of his elbow during walks; murmurs of ‘Lord Husband’ and ‘Lady Wife’; occasional late night visits to your chambers, for the purpose of procreation. But a frightened little kitten has no place at court, or the Rock. So Tywin has handmaidens and squires present you with bolts of rich red velvet, regal gold brocade, delicate lace imported from the Free Cities. He sends tailors to fit you with gowns more befitting of a noble lady rather than a maiden, Smithies to fashion intricate metalwork like belts and pendants, jewellers to craft stunning pieces with the rubies and gold that represent House Lannister. He has you meet with the Castellan of the Rock, the Maester, the cooks, the blacksmiths- all to teach you how to run Casterly Rock in his absence. He hosts meetings with the vassal houses of the West to ensure they respect you. To disrespect the lady of Casterly Rock is to insult Lord Lannister himself. What starts as a formal, cordial arranged marriage soon turns into Tywin fashioning you into Lady Lannister- not a trophy wife to sit pretty and sew, but a political force to work in tandem with him, slowly earning the respect of the Old Lion of Lannister.
Marrying Eddard Stark (because his honour would not allow him to take a mistress) after the death of Catelyn Tully. Initially your role is to run winterfell while Ned runs the North, and to see to it that the five stark children have a maternal figure to aid them through their grief. He won’t even share your bed for the first few months of marriage, and even then, the consummation was brief, done out of necessity to the gods to legitimise the marriage. But as the frigid winter sets in and the farmers leave their fields for the warmth of their homes, you and Ned spend more and more time in one another’s company. In silence, but nonetheless together. As the months pass, Ned’s grief begins to fade as he watches you with his children. Robb turns to you for advice and reassurance, the burden of being the heir hanging over him; Sansa begins to follow your every move, learning the ways of being a noble lady as she matures; Arya likes you, because you let her run around with her brothers, and had promised to teach her about the dragons of Old Valeria; Bran is keen to show you how high he can climb, and he enjoys the stories you and Old Nan make up; young Rickon enjoys your company, nuzzling to your breast when he is tired. Even Jon Snow seems at ease around you, and the bastard of Winterfell is allowed to sit at the high table with the rest of the Starks. Seeing you with his children awakens something in Ned. He realises your commitment to House Stark, despite being closer to Robb’s age than his. He begins to invite you to his chambers at night, to share hot ale and talk in front of the fire, or to read in comfortable silence. Months of waiting and restraint comes to a head when a gentle, dutiful kiss Goodnight just outside his door descends into one of passion and longing, and passing squires and servants watch in knowing amusement as Ned gathers you in his arms, his cloak enveloping you and guides you back into his rooms, kicking the door shut. You make love that night, on the thick fur skins on the floor in front of the fire, and afterwards you lay, entwined with one another as the warm orange of the flames bathes your naked skin in its glow. As the dull ache of his passion begins to bloom in your muscles, he helps you up and guides you to bed. Within minutes he has you again, and as you nuzzle into his side, fast asleep, he sighs softly, rubbing your hip, his fingers tracing over your belly. Perhaps his seed will take root in your womb. He has five children already, but he would like some with you. You deserve children of your own, and with winter coming, survival of the young is not always guaranteed.
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nono-bunny · 5 months
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"The Fortuneteller" is such an interesting episode to me because like? Aunt Wu is never wrong in the end, kinda like how in "Jet" Sokka's instincts are always right as well- the show tries to play it off in the end by saying "sometimes they're right and sometimes they're not", but throughout the whole episode his instincts led him to eventually save an entire town! If they never ran into Jet, he WOULD have destroyed that town, not to mention how Jet does eventually change through his experiences with the Gaang, but! This isn't about Jet rn
Aunt Wu not seeing anything about romance for Aang while she DOES see it for Katara is strange to me if we're to assume he's the man she's ought to marry, because like? Wouldnt their fates be intertwined? Which is why it's a good thing I fully don't believe she WAS talking about Aang, and this episode unintentionally serves the anti-Kataang narrative so well its not even funny (well, okay, it's a little funny, seeing Aang get subtly rejected over and over is very healing). Even if we take out the fact that I believe she was talking about Zuko because, c'mon, he's a fantastic bender who already loves Katara a bunch by the end of the show (platonic? romantic? nevertheless they share an incredible bond)... The Avatar isn't the only "great bender" in the world by a long shot, and I'd argue Aang doesn't even qualify because of his poor work ethic and lack of interest in bettering himself, like- Aang is acknowledged by more ATLA fans than just me to be the weakest bender in the group (until he enters the Avatar state, at which point, he's just the weakest Avatar because he has no control of it) and? Yeah being born with the Avatar Spirit is never gonna be enough to become a great bender by itself, which is something even all the other Avatars aside from Aang seem to recognize, y'know?
I forget who it was, but I saw a post saying that in a better written show, this episode that has such a big focus on unreciprocated feelings would be when Aang recognizes his situation for what it is, recognizes seeing his own lack of interest in Meng when looking at Katara and her lack of interest in him, and have him start to accept that and move on, but... Aang ALWAYS shows himself to either be incapable of understanding or just straight up ignoring Katara's nonverbal cues, not to mention how he goes on to ignore her express vocalization of her discomfort with him, so.
This episode also has Bryke use Sokka as a mouthpiece to give a very incel-y feeling pick up artist lesson and? Yeah, what could I have possibly expected? For Sokka to show some consistency? He fr never takes his own "advice" here, it's so weird! He's always been very forthright about his feelings, so him teach Aang to play coy is so ooc for him unless the point they want to end up making is "love makes fools of us all", which. Doubtful
It's yet another episode with a morality lesson about "Destiny", but fr this one feels so weak when compared to Zuko's whole thing later on about CHOOSING his destiny, where we actually see him do it when he defies and upends his harmful legacy in favor of peace, because here? Here everything plays out as foretold, with a "you control destiny" messaging tacked on at the end- the cloud bending was cool, but I hate the implication that Aang legit goes on to twist and bend Katara to a shape he sees fit, right by his side forevermore, but... Yeah, that's fully what he does, so? Thanks a lot, I guess, Aunt Wu! Look what you did! He was the closest he ever comes to giving up in this episode, some tough love would've done the trick!!! But noooo, god forbid Aang has to face and acknowledge any sort of REAL rejection, Katara simply... Doesn't yet understand that her ultimate role in life is to end up as his trophy wife, that's all! God, fuck comics and LOK Katara!!!
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kittysdiary · 6 months
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How do you find a sugar daddy or what did you do to get one?
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First things first…real sugar babies know that real sugar daddies are not on any sugaring websites. It’s very rare when someone gets someone who’s the real deal on a website/app!
{I either go the sugar baby route or the spoiled girlfriend route!}
Free styling: Going out in public is the best way to meet a potential!
High end bars
Country clubs
Coffee shops by hospitals or business buildings
Golf courses
High end restaurants
Be knowledgeable: Sugar daddies love brains! I’m very into the arts, literature, philosophy, history + psychology and my potentials eat it up! Having hobbies are important as well. My hobbies include:
Creating art
Writing
Playing badminton + croquet
Horseback riding
Reading
Learning foreign languages
Take good care of yourself: Always dress well and keep your hygiene routine in motion!
Nails done
Hair kept
Perfumed + oiled
Capsule wardrobe complete
Understand the world of the upper class: I grew up in a family of doctors + professors + teachers so I grew up learning proper etiquette as a classy lady!
{I also come from a lineage of royalty so it’s naturally in my blood! 🤭}
Know your table manners
Carry polite conversations
Learn how to properly shake hands
Smile and dress well during business dinners + events
Have good hosting skills + a clean home environment
Know what you want: I tend to stick with doctors + engineers. I also typically date men from different countries! Men who I have dated include:
An interior designer for Mercedes Benz
A civil engineer
An industrial engineer
A sport scientist
Have goals: Focus on yourself, create goals and set yourself up for success!
Stay educated in school
Start a business
Get a real estate license
Understand what career you want in life + make goals to get where you want to be in life
Strict boundaries are a must: Set yourself up with high standards! Know what you want and leave when someone isn’t fulfilling you. Trust there’s someone better out there that will treat you the way you deserve to be treated!
Make a list of red flags
Make a list of the kind of person you want to date (ex: career, personality + looks)
Make a list of things you expect and will not tolerate
These are just a few tips but if there’s any interest in going the online route, I do have a few tips!
More sugar baby, spoiled girlfriend + trophy wife tips can be found on my side blog @kittyboudoir under the advice tag in my side blog bio!
Xoxo- Kitty 🐈🎀
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mugellocircuit · 6 months
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Lestappen is boring. Like I got into it by reading fic but I dont ship it on tumblr there is no Lestappen irl lmao, with carlando or sewis or brocedes or maxiel there is rich history, actual insane moments. Max telling the F1 media that he stops by the cheese cake factory because Daniel likes it. Max saying if he was drowning and he had to pick 1 driver to rescue him it would be Daniel. Max getting penalised because he wanted to share the podium with Daniel so he backed Sebastian into Daniel and broke the rules, got himself kicked off the podium and went up there to celebrate with Daniel anyway, holding the trophy for him. Seb choosing Lewis over Michael even though Michael raised him, gave him advice, helped him with his career, was his hero. Lewis saying he doesn't believe Seb won't come back, Lewis getting so far under Sebs skin, Seb actually purposefully crashed into him. Nico literally FLINCHING on live television when Lewis says he's a better teammate now than he was to Nico. Lewis travelling with Nico and his dad when he was young. Daniel and Max having SUCH an abnormal relationship that Lewis famously pulled them aside and asked why and how they get along even though they were so competitive. Nico being so obsessed with beating Lewis he stopped sleeping in the same room as his wife to practise discipline. Nico retiring after beating Lewis and the media asking Lewis if he was bitter he won't get to beat Nico ever again now.
With Lestappen its like: THEY LOOKED AT EACHOTHER AND HAD AN INCIDENT ONCE???? that cannot sustain me. It's boring and it hinges on good fanfic writers and not anything substantive
damn you have a lot of free time :)
jokes aside i'm going to answer point by point cause this is A LOT
i think you might be mistaken, i do love maxiel, a lot and daniel and max separately. i think lestappen is funnier to imagine as a couple cause of the enemies-to-lovers ferrari vs redbull thing but honestly maxiel is so CUTE
like their whole dynamic is SO heartwarming and daniel was clearly so important and helpful for max at the beginning of his career and then i'm sure max helped him too and it's just so nice that they have each other
but i really see them as a older brother-younger brother duo as nothing else, as i've said better here
also I AM A SEWIS GIRLY THROUGH AND THROUGH i love them so fucking much their support for each other is so special to me
same thing with brocedes because the narrative is soooo good
basically i can see the appeal in all these ships, you don't in lestappen that's fine 🤷🏻‍♀️
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ms-existentialcrisis · 2 months
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Dancing With The Devil || #1
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Chapter 1: Prologue
Note: My first chapter!!! I went pretty hard for this one so it's quite long. Reader is insane btw and will continue being one so just a warning!! This is unbeta'd or edited so I apologise for the grammatical and spelling errors, English isn't my first language. Hope you guys enjoy :>
SUMMARY: You try to not be a bitch because your mother raised you right except that the woman was dead and so was your father and your brother is about to marry you off to the son of a crime syndicate leader, thinking that the union would save the empire of crime your father worked hard for that he destroyed in year. It's a very big mistake and you'll be damned if you didn't make your brother, your soon to be husband and his family pay.
✨ Masterlist >> || { next }
Tags/Warnings: weapons and violence, blood, cursing, cannibalism, gore (?), a decapitated head, implied SA (very light!) Reader is fucked and batshit insane and will continue being one, if playing an unhinged bitch isn't Ur cup of tea then this isn't for you! Don't like , don't read; MDNI!!
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Just smile and look pretty, is what your brother tells you.
Just smile and look pretty and be an obedient little wife to him, is what he advices.
You already knew what was expected of you; the long talks after the deal was made was a testament to that but your brother always found it better to remind you every fucking day of what awaits you.
What kind of life you were about to live and what type of bullshit was gonna be demanded of you. It's a precaution, he says, to dissuade any ideas of escape you've got brewing in your head.
But you know what it really is: that bastard rubbing a handful of salt to your still bleeding wound; the fact that you're entirely powerless to stop the arranged marriage that would secure your brother a powerful ally and business partner in weapons dealing and trafficking rings.
Well, not entirely powerless. You'll be damned if you'd allow yourself to be used as some bargaining chip to power.
Fuck your brother.
_
You looked exquisite, face painted with make up and body decorated with the finest silk and most expensive jewelleries.
It's what your helpers told you, what the brides maids said when they saw you. People you don't know, smiling at you and telling you to smile because it's your big day and you're about to get fucking married.
Many would say that getting married to a rich powerful man wouldn't be so bad. You'd be a trophy wife whose only job is to serve and provide for your husband, opening your legs for him to fuck and use.
Truthfully, it didn't sound bad. Being Jonas' wife would have you bathing in milk and enjoying the finest things life would offer. Except you didn't really like that; the life of luxury wasn't something new to you.
Having been raised in a family that's balls deep in the life of crime and wealth, you're not new to waking up to people ready to kiss your foot. Your brother liked to call you a spoiled brat and maybe you were, your mother liked to dote on you after all, but you weren't a stranger to the difficulty of life.
In your family, hierarchy and respect was important. That's why your brother grew up as he did. A fucking cunt who's ego is bigger than the sun considering that he's raised to believe that he'd come after your father and his empire once the old man dies.
He was the heir and was treated as such. You? You were simply the daughter, one that would one day used to be a bargaining chip, a plug for whatever hole your brother manages to shoot open.
You grew up in violence just like him, learned just like him but you're treated less simply because you were a woman. Because you didn't have a dick between your legs; things that if your brother did would have people supporting him but would have you called insane and too much.
You were far from stupid or naive, unlike what people liked to think. You're not clean or pure or whatever stupid bullshit your brother advertised to Jonas and his family to get them to agree to this union but you're told to play that act and so play that act you did (after plenty of threats).
You seethed behind that mask however and you weren't afraid to show it once the door is closed.
"I'm going to kill myself!" You shrieked at the top of your lungs, shaking a finger to your blank faced brother. "Either you cancel this bullshit or I'll fucking put a bullet in my head!"
"A bit late for that, yes? The wedding will start in an hour so knock it off with your tantrum already," He hissed at you from where he sat on the couch of your private room, the brides maids and helpers ushered out the very moment he stepped in.
"You think I wouldn't do it?" You hissed back. The scowl your sporting twisted your pretty face. God you hated the fucking make up they put you in, too much foundation and the wrong fucking shade. You never did like the common make up used for weddings and now you hated it even more.
16 years old you did her make up better than this.
"You're a coward," Kane says simply, an eyebrow raised. Handsome, what women would call him. To you, he's a shit faced cunt who's deep in his head.
"Mama wouldn't stand for this," You threw at him. "She would never agree to me getting married off to some bitch with money and business!"
"No she wouldn't, but she would say yes either way because father would agree to it," He intones. "There's also the fact that she's dead and so is father. It's up to me to do what needs to be done for this family, Rosie."
You flinch, a flash of hurt hitting you in the chest before it's overcome by anger. The nickname has your hand coming to grip the rose necklace your mother had gifted you for your 18th birthday.
Turning away, you hold it closer to your chest. You hear your brother shuffle behind you, a sigh echoing in the silent room.
"This is for the family, Rosie. For the business and the legacy father left us both."
"Oh fuck off will you?!" You whirled to stare at him incredulously. "Legacy for the both of us?! No! Legacy for you brother! Just for you! For you to lead! For you to ruin!"
"Mama and Papa are dead and I took that as a chance to finally get away from you and your fucking stupidity yet you chase me to bring me back so I could fix this goddamed mess you started!"
"You ran away is what you did! You had a duty to fulfil and you ran away from it! You're a coward sister!" Kane yells back at you.
"Well it's certainly better than a fuck up son who proceeded to tear down the business in a matter of a year!" You laugh hysterically and what a sight you were, dressed in a beautiful wedding gown and murder written across your features.
You barely dodge the slap to your face and you take pleasure in the way your brother looks more pissed than ever. At the way that you could still push your brother's button in a way no one else could.
Kane has always been the picture of a cool cucumber who liked to look down on people, hiding the fact that he's nothing but a rotting can of horse shit.
(He was your brother once, when you were children; now, all he is was a stranger who wore your brother's face)
It wasn't like you were wrong. Multiple dealings have gone bad and business partners have pulled out of the contracts after your brother assumed the position of leader after your father's death several months after your mother's.
He didn't have it in him to make good decisions or to lead. And he fucked up because he believed otherwise, because your father was just as stupid as he is.
All you wanted was to grieve peacefully in a small town away from your brother and his falling empire but he dragged you back to clean up after him. Getting married to Jonas Strucker, son of Baron Strucker and owner of a massive Trafficking empire, would save your brother's face and business.
He knew that, you knew that and you hated how he thought he could make you do this.
Kane looked like he was going to pop a vein on his forehead, opening his mouth to presumably scream at you again when there's a knock on the door.
"Mr. L/N, the boss is looking for you," A feminine voice called from the other side. Both you and your brother went blank faced but nothing could mask the absolute hate you both are sporting when your eyes met again.
"You are going to go through this, do you hear me?" Kane hisses, a hand coming to grip your arm in a bruising hold to pull you close to him. "You are going to follow your purpose and you are going to fucking serve your husband, whether you like it or not."
You stumble back when he releases you, the ugly feeling of helplessness and rage boiling in you. You wanted to scream, to pull out a gun and shoot him in the head.
God you hated him.
You stand there as he turns to leave, a red haired woman greeting him and coming inside once he's gone. There's a serene expression on your face as one of Jonas' trusted agent came to stop by the still open door.
"Ms L/N, the limo is waiting for you outside," She nods at you, eyes searching. She's wearing a nice black over all, a red leather jacket over it. You eye her back, taking note of the weapons she's possibly sporting.
"Wanda, wasn't it?" You smile at her politely, earlier displeasure gone in favour of being nice to this woman who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else like you. "I like your eyeliner."
The corner of her mouth quirks and she gives you another nod, "Thank you. You look gorgeous as well, Ms L/N."
Wanda Maximoff is a beautiful red haired woman who'd look quiet and unassuming if it weren't for the fact that her eyeliner is sharp enough to kill. She has this cool air around her but her eyes says that you don't fuck with me.
According to what you've heard, she has a brother name Pietro and they've been with the Strucker family since they were children. They're one of the best the family had to offer, their most trusted subordinate.
The Strucker family originated from Sokovia where her and her brother had obviously been picked up from, if Wand's accent is anything to go by. They're one of the bigger mobs that ran the trafficking ring there, connected to plenty of other crime rings.
"Y/N is fine and really, you've got yours done so cleanly. And your smokey eye! It looks good! I never did manage to do mine without making me look like a panda high on drugs," You laugh, moving towards the door and dragging your ridiculously long puffy gown with you.
It wasn't a surprise that you tripped but thankfully, Wanda is there to catch you. You smile at her as she helps you to your feet, one that she returns and keeps on her face when she leads you out of the room.
She doesn't notice the pocket knife you nabbed from her shoved into your dress, hidden away easily by the layers.
--
The wedding is exactly what you expected it to be.
Big and grandiose, the venue filled with guests to the brim.
You spaced out during the half of it, barely flinching when the priest finally told your husband to lift up your veil and not even batting an eye when he leaned in to kiss you, the sound of clapping nearly loud enough to drown the ringing in your ears.
Jonas Strucker doesn't look too bad to the eyes and you'd say he's got a lovely pair of eyes if you ignored how he stared at you. Like a piece of meat for him to eat.
'ill rip it out and keep it in a jar for keepings,' you thought as your eyes met again, the photographer guiding you for the pictures and flashes that nearly blinded you.
Your brother looks smug and joyful at the union, chatting away with the head of the Strucker family and his wife while you posed and smiled for the camera, shaking hands with people you have no interest in.
Briefly, your eyes caught Wanda as she stood by the side, her presumably brother standing with her. You gave her a smile and the knife on your thigh felt heavier and warmer than the ring on your finger.
Your smile widened as your attention shifted back to your new husband.
"You are going to serve your husband, whether you liked it or not," Your brother's words echoed in your mind once again and your smile grew to a grin.
--
"Y/N! Hello dear, you look so beautiful tonight," Baron Strucker is every bit of a slimy old fuck you expected him to be. He grinned at you once he pulled back from the hug he drew you in, his wife following to the same.
You know that thing in cartoons where the husband and wife looked the same? Yeah, that's the case with them. Mentally, you snorted and tried to keep the 'your parents were siblings' joke to a minimum.
"You look lovely my dear," The woman cooes at you. "My son will take good care of you, I raised him myself so I know that. And oh! The children you'll bear," she turns to her husband, "Darling, imagine our grandchildren with her hair and Jonas' eyes!"
"Hmm yes, they'd be adorable. I hope that the two of you will enjoy it tonight," the man laughed, sending you a wink that made your skin crawl.
Oh yes, you'll enjoy it tonight alright.
 --
When Kane received a message on the 2nd night of what's supposed to be your honeymoon week, a pit of apprehension opened in his stomach.
Just a little bit of family dinner, the message said. A private celebration where it's only gonna be you, Jonas, and his parents as well as Kane. It was the most suspicious thing he read.
You grew up together and Kane knew how you could be. Your destructive tantrums and your attitude that could fuel a small country. It's why he called you spoiled; the way you refused to bow your head and follow what your parents told you, holding your chin up and following whatever you wanted.
He knew how cunning you could be and begrudgingly, Kane could admit that you're one hell of a fox in terms of playing and manipulating yourself in and out of situations.
Your mother never did teach you what you were supposed to know and do and Father had always been soft towards you despite his obvious favour towards Kane. It's why you grew up with such a big head, thinking that you could live outside your responsibility of the family.
Kane was more than overjoyed to finally put you in your place despite the circumstances that brought the marriage up in the first place.
Initially, he opted to ignore the message of invite to the dinner but when Mrs. Strucker called him to ask if he was attending as well, he's got no choice but to agree.
Which is why he's currently sitted in the dinner table of the penthouse that you and Jonas' were spending your honeymoon in. He sat facing Mrs. Strucker, the head seat to his right occupied by the family head while the other one remained empty for Jonas' to take.
There's a feast laid out in front of him, recipes he didn't recognise but looked appealingly good. He barely paid them attention when the servants rolled them in unlike the Strucker couple, waiting for you to appear and preparing himself for whatever plan you've cooked up this time.
Once you did appear, you looked gorgeous with your hair up in a clean bun, a few strands loose to frame your rouged cheeks, the red on your lips matching the red dress you picked to wear, bejeweled with glitters that reflected the warm overhead lights to twinkle like stars. Kane recognised it as one of your favourite dresses, the slit on both sides of the fitting fabric and open back showing enough skin that Mrs Strucker gasped in scandal.
Internally, Kane fumed.
That dress didn't leave much for imagination and it didn't fit the image of the shy and quiet sister he shared with Jonas' and his parents.
"That's quite the dress you're wearing, Rosie," he gritted out as you smiled at him serenely. You walked towards the table, bounding towards the Strucker couple and giving them both kisses to the cheek.
"What can I say? Tonight's a special night and I wanted to dress pretty," You shrugged indifferently.
"Well, I could understand the desire but.. did you really have to go with that one?" Mrs Strucker hesitantly asked.
"It's my favourite, auntie!" You laughed as you took the other head seat. Kane tried to kill you with his glare.
"Hmm and what did Jonas say about this, dear?" Mr Strucker eyed you.
"Oh he loved it, uncle," you purred before spreading your arms. "Tonight's special like I said so let's have a feast! I cooked all of this for us to enjoy!"
You urged them to start digging into the meal you've prepared and they reluctantly did so. Kane glared at you while he shoved a piece of meat in his mouth, silently and reluctantly enjoying what you've prepared.
The Strucker couple did not share his reluctance and made it clear.
"My my, this is quite the dishes you've prepared my dear!" Baron praised as he took a bite of whatever he took for his plate. You preened like a fucking peacock, smiling sheepishly.
Kane silently chewed, never taking his eyes off of you before he startled in his seat, finally noticing what, or more specifically, who was missing.
"Where's Jonas?" He asks, barely keeping his voice down.
"Mhm?" You looked up from your meal, blinking at him innocently.
"That's right, dear," Mrs. Strucker nodded. "Not that I don't enjoy this but where's my son? I expected him to be here with us."
"What do you mean?" You asked, brows furrowed in confusion as you tilted your head. Kane's heart dropped, recognising the malevolent mischievous glint in your eyes.
Slowly, he looked down at the meal he was silently enjoying, the pit in his stomach growing deeper.
"He's already here," You intoned, chewing thoroughly.
"Ah what?" Baron says as he placed the glass of wine he took a sip from down. Mrs. Strucker shifted restlessly in her chair, sensing the change of mood.
"I said," You start, putting your fork and knife down to spread your arms around the feast you've prepared, "that he's already here."
Kane went pale, stomach rolling as his fingers went tight around the knife and forks he used to dig into the flesh of his supposed brother-in-law.
He could see the very moment the other two realised what you meant, blood draining out of their face as their eyes surveyed the presented meals. They both started spouting out denials.
When Kane looks back at you, you're sporting a wide manic grin, chewing at a piece of meat you stuck in your mouth. He felt sick, suddenly understanding how much fucking worse you could get the more you're pushed around.
How far you'd go whenever your freedom is threatened.
With a chuckle, you leaned forward to take the cover of one of the bigger plates he didn't even notice and Kane knew what to expect, somehow, but he couldn't keep down the gag of disgust and horror clawing up his throat at the sight of Jonas' head presented like a pig, dressing around it and decorated with fruits.
"Well? How does he taste?" You asked proudly, puffing your chest and taking the plate up so you could show it to the horrified trio in front of you.
"You demonic psychopath!" Baron exploded, rising from his seat so he could shout obscenities at you.
Kane felt frozen in his own seat, looking away in disgust when Mrs Strucker vomitted to the side, starting to cry hysterics after it.
"He's very bad in bed, do you know that?" You say conversationally, accent shifting into a mocking russian one. "Very bad dirty talk and small dick. He cried like a little bitch when I stuck my knife into his side and twisted it."
You did nothing but laugh at the pairs growing horror and grief, eyeing them gleefully.
"There's no one to hear you here, auntie and uncle, so scream your grievances as much as you want," You giggled once Baron started yelling for guards and his men.
Kane have seen men and women be cut into pieces, burned alive or buried in different locations. He's brutal fights and has been part of them, has seen blood and the kind of violence that would belong to monsters.
He believed that he's experienced and seen it all but this?
This act of yours?
It took the cake.
"Looking like a paper there, brother," You sneered once you turned your attention to him.
Your words, the way you spat the word brother out, it made him rise to his seat in pure fucking rage. Baron and his wife looked like they'd gone into shock, heaving and gagging like it'll remove the taste of their son from their mouth.
"I am not your brother," He hissed angrily. "From this day on, I have no sister! What the fuck is going on inside of that head of yours, Y/N?! How could you possibly do this?!"
You went blank faced at his words, eerily staring at him with blank eyes that stared deep in his soul. Kane leaned forward, the edge of the table digging into his front as he balanced his weight on the palms he's got planted on the wood.
You were quiet for a few minutes before a completely malevolent grin split your face, eyes wide and blazing.
You threw your head back at whatever joke you had spinning in your head. The dinning room is now quiet, save for Mrs Strucker's sobs and your shrieking laughter.
Then abruptly, you stopped laughing and the emotions on your face are wiped clean when you directed back the attention to him. Kane barely had the time to duck under the table when you pulled a gun under the table, shooting the hysterical and sobbing couple at the end of the table.
"Fuck!" He yelled over the sound of gun shots and falling bodies, pulling out his own pistol and praying that someone fucking heard the ruckus you raised.
Taking out his phone, he dialed up Dylan, his right hand man, and immediately called for back up. "I need back up!" He whispered yell, crawling under the table and watching out for you. He broke out in cold sweat when the room fell silent, not even the click of your heels to fill it.
When he peeked out of the long clothe draped on the table, you weren't anywhere to be seen.
"Kane? I thought you were with-"
"My sister's gone fucking manic Dylan and I need a fucking back up," he continued to furiously whisper to the phone, earth shattering fear coursing through him.
The last thing Dylan hears from his boss is his terrified yelp as Kane is pulled out from under the table, coming face to face with his dear sister.
"What's the matter, brother? This is supposed to be a private party for us only-" You danced out of the way as he swiped out of you.
You've tucked your pistol away on the tactical strap on your waist that you were most definitely not sporting earlier, a few knives wrapped around you revealed thighs. You took great pleasure in kicking away Kane's own gun.
"Give it up Rosie," He spat, studiously ignoring the cooling corpse of the Strucker couple a few feet away from both of you. "Dylan and our men are on their way. I'll have them spare you if you get on your fucking knees right now!"
"The last person to demand me on my knees was Jonas and look at where he is right now," You crooned, gesturing to the left overs on the dinner table. Kane grimaced, shifting and reluctantly throwing himself at you.
You trade blows, his strength against your agility all the while you screamed at each other. He catches you in the stomach and you retaliate with a right hook, busting his lips. You kick him in the leg, raising your other to hit him on his left and he stumbles backwards.
The two of you are panting as he eyes you, gaze shifting to the gun thrown to the size. He's got a blooming bruise on his face, lips busted. You weren't better, hair disarray and blood down your nose and from the cut on your forehead you got when he threw a vase at you. But you were grinning, relishing at the destruction you've caused and the blood on your brother's face.
Kane lunges at you with a punch. One that you dodge, swinging your legs in a round house kick that he blocks with his left forearm. You twist to catch his other hand, wrapping your right leg around his shoulder and neck, lifting yourself to catch him in triangle choke.
"I fucking hate you," Kane gurgles as he swings you and your weight around, making you grunt as he slams you repeatedly against the ground when he finally falls on your knees.
"I hate you too!" You scream at him, plowing your elbow down to his head. He manages to detangle from you but you don't waste your time, swiping his legs under him.
You quickly straddle him on his chest, busting your knuckles open as you beat the ever loving shit out of him. He struggled under you, nearly bucking you off before he eventually went limp. You don't stop despite feeling his face collapse under your knuckles and rage, not even when his face is a mess of broken flesh and blood.
That euphoric satisfaction in you at the sight of him dies a quiet death, replace with sinking grief. To your brother, you're nothing but a blur of colours and pain.
He doesn't see you cry nor the pain that flashes across your features as you bowed over him, loose hair framing your face like a curtain.
"You're all I had you know that?" You sob silently, cupping his face. "We might hate each other but we're still siblings. We grew up together Kane. Why'd you turn into such a douchebag?"
You get no reply, just his pained wheezes. You continue to cry quietly, body shaking with tears before it turns into something different, starting with a chuckle before turnings into a full blown cackle.
"But then again, it's not like I can talk. I mean, look at me," you say to the quiet room, eyes staring your dying brother down with dead eyes. "Good bye brother."
With that, you pull out your gun and mercilessly shoots him in the head.
You don't know how long you sat there, blankly staring at your brother's corpse, face barely recognisable. It must be a long time because when you finally find it in you to move, the blood has started to dry.
You feel empty, legs shaky when you pull yourself up. You've got a death grip on your pistol, chest tight and stomach rolling. Suddenly, you want to stick yourself in an ice bath, let the cold prickling sensation of ice numb you skin till it's pale and shivering, till you were lightly shuddering and numb to the cold.
It's why you're so caught off guard when the dooble door of the penthouse blast open, footsteps thundering to fill the once quiet room. The mirror to your other side is broken by a winged figure shooting itself inside, mechanical wings tucking itself close as he landed in a crouch.
'shit,' you think to yourself as you throw yourself out of the way, pulling your pistol up and aiming at the men and women that came into your view.
You paused however because you'd expected Dylan and his men for back up.. not these strangers dressed in tactical gears. 'Interpol agents' is what came to your mind but 2 very distinctive faces made you change your mind.
"Wanda?" You called out softly, eyeing the girl who stood behind two very tall and very big men. She had her gaze on Baron and his wife, eyes wide in shock. Her brother and the rest of the people with her seemed to be in similar or varying state of surprise and shock.
"Ms L/N," She hesitantly greeted, your gazes meeting. Everyone's attention snapped to you and you surveyed them all quietly. Your eyes lingered on the two tall men, one short and brown haired while the other blonde, face bearded and hair slicked back.
"I told you, Y/N is fine," You chirped back at her warmly, gun still raised. You tilted your head, "Considering that you work very close with Baron and Jonas, I'd expected that you knew that this is a private celebration."
"Woman you have a different idea of celebration," the winged man whistled as he eyed the cooling corpses. Another red haired woman has started investigating the dinner table, Wanda's brother still staring at Baron's body in shock.
"It was a special occasion," You shrugged, looking indifferent but internally, you were panicking.
You vaguely recognised this people, men and women associated with the Merchant of Death, biggest and baddest dealer of weapons and advanced technology.
The Merchant of Death was a very picky man and to get into a contract with him was a difficult thing. You seriously doubt that the Strucker family would have connections with him considering that they're tighly tied with the Hydra mob but seeing that the Maximoff siblings are very cozied with them and they went in guns blazing, you can only assume that they're here for you and what you've done.
"She cooked him," Your gun snaps to the woman by the dinner table, poking Jonas head. You squint at her, slowly recognising her as one Natasha Romanoff, former agent of Red Room, an illegal agency that was busted several years ago by another agency after it was discovered that most of their agents came from another massive Trafficking ring.
It wasn't a public news but it was a big deal for the neighbouring crime rings, seeing such big organisations go down and be revealed in just a day.
Natasha Romanoff was notoriously known for her skills as an assassin and she was a woman nobody wanted to cross.
'Fuck,' you thought, starting to sweat.
"Could see your fight or flight instinct fighting from here, doll," A voice drawled and your attention snapped at the brown haired man casually poking at your brother's corpse. By now, the group have broken to snoop around the room.
You meet his piercing gaze head on and you try not to get lost in his icy silver blue eyes, the way they seemed to strip you bare. You raised your eyebrow and puffed up your chest when his gaze roamed down your body.
"Take a pic, it'll last longer," You grunted, shifting your stance so one of your legs are more revealed than the other through the slit of your dress. You know you don't look your best at the moment considering that beat down you lashed out but you'll be damned if you didn't make sure that you're at your hottest in your last moments.
He chuckled, the rasp to his voice nearly enough to distract you from the cursing from other side of the room.
"Shit for real?" Wings cursed, eyeing the meals you prepared in disgust, awe and horror. "That's just nasty man."
"Hey!" You say indignantly. "He makes a great meal you fuck head! Don't disrespect my cooking!"
"Well, this is unexpected," Tall, blonde and handsome says as he crouched by Baron's corpse, eyeing thoughtfully. "Thought your brother was the psychopath, with the violent and destructive reputation he's made for himself when he assumed leader to your empire."
"Add 'idiot' to that," You snarked, returning his stare. They didn't seem interested in killing you or taking you in for what you've done. In fact, they didn't seem to care at all that Baron, his wife and your brother are dead as well as Jonas.
"how about you put the gun down, Ms L/N?" Pietro gestures at you and the pistol you've got trained on them.
"Not until I know what you're here for," you grinned shakily.
"We're not here for you," Icy eyes tells you, brows raised. "So better put that gun down before you shoot someone."
"You think I don't know how to use this?" You gritted at him.
"Opposite actually. Seeing what you've done here, it's much better that we talk instead of shoot yes?" Romanoff comes to stand close. The others shift as well, done with poking around to stare at you with undivided attention.
You glare at them all, defensive.
"Relax sweetheart, were not here to hurt you. We just wanna talk," Icy eyes soothingly says, hands up in mock surrender. You try to kill him with your eyes.
"He's right. We don't mean any harm, we just want to talk," Blondie from earlier copies him.
"Ms Y/N, we came in here for the assassination of the Strucker family head as well as your brothers' but seeing that they're already dead, we'll do nothing but talk," Wanda came forward to explain.
Your eyes narrow at her, "So you're a double agent? Figured that you were just there for the show with how you looked like."
Wanda looked sheepish for a moment. "We saw our way out of the family's shitty system so we took it. They're the good guys," Pietro shrugged beside her, gesturing at the other 4.
"Don't know who these guys are, so- forgive me if I don't trust them as you do," You shrug back, seriously doubting the good guys comment.
"Natasha Romanoff," The black widow agent introduces herself abruptly, eyes on the blood stains on your flesh and skin.
"Sam Wilson," Wings followed with an arm cross.
"Steve Rogers," Blondie offered with a nod, your eyes widening as you focused entirely on the very dangerous and known man in front of you.
If this guy was Steve Rogers, also known as, funnily enough, 'The Captain' then the man beside him must be-
"James Buchanan Barnes but you can call me Bucky," The mother fucking Winter Soldier winks at you, a playful grin on his face.
You are either very fucking lucky or fucked over at the moment if you didn't play your cards right.
Fin~
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wonder-worker · 5 months
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“Although (Elizabeth of York) was presented as the ultimate Tudor trophy wife, her position and popularity were potential threats to her husband’s authority.” - Lauren Rose Browne
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*sigh*
When are we going to move past this dismissive, simplistic and frankly rather problematic image of Elizabeth of York? Derek Neal encapsulates what exactly is so troubling about it far better than I could, which I'm quoting below:
“The first Tudor consort is mainly remembered as a dynastic symbol, one element of an equation: York plus Tudor equals peace. In this interpretation, handed down to us by the Tudor chroniclers via Shakespeare, Elizabeth accomplished her most important work, if not without lifting a finger, merely by proffering a finger for a wedding ring.”
We need to stop defining Elizabeth of York by the basic purpose of her marriage and queenship and begin understanding her through the actual practice of her queenship.*
Because the fact of the matter is, Elizabeth of York was a tremendously successful queen. She was an able intercessor, an active administrator of her lands, and a patroness in her own right. We have evidence that Henry listened to her on matters that people often assume he acted alone or only through his mother's advice. She contributed culturally to the court, including festivities and building projects, and played an active and positive role in queenly diplomacy, including but not limited to her involvement in her sisters’ and children’s marriages, her correspondence with the Pope and foreign rulers, and receiving important ambassadors in her husband’s absence**. She may have some discreet influence in some appointments in the Crown Prince's household. In short, Elizabeth of York excelled in spheres of queenship that were both conventional and powerful, because the two could and did co-exist, because medieval queenship was inherently political and the lines between public and private were blurred to the point of non-existence for queens just as they were for kings. As we can clearly see, Elizabeth was not presented as a “trophy wife” any more than literally any queen consort before or after her; she was, in fact, an evidently active and influential queen who greatly inspired both her daughter and her daughter-in-law's queenships respectively.
Furthermore, Elizabeth of York’s position was not a "threat" to her husband. Why would it be? As J.L. Laynesmith (whose reading of Elizabeth I don't agree with either) says, "Identification with Elizabeth of York's kin aided Henry VII in gaining an entire kingdom." The Croyland Chronicle, a contemporary source, likewise emphasizes her importance in cementing Henry VII's position: in Elizabeth "there could be found whatever appeared to be missing in the king's title elsewhere." Elizabeth of York's position, in fact, bolstered Henry VII's kingship, and this extended far beyond his marriage to her. We must remember that while Henry Tudor was Lancastrian in blood and allegiance, his fight for the throne was very much as a Yorkist claimant - specifically, a claimant for Edwardian Yorkists against Richard III's rule (The events of 1483 were a violent conflict within the Yorkist dynasty, not an external threat against the Yorkist dynasty). You could argue that Henry VII's road to the throne was, effectively, as Edward IV's symbolic heir rather than Henry VI's (who was quite irrelevent to the current conflict, tbh): Henry Tudor was the prospective husband of the Yorkist heiress and the 'avenger' of the dead Yorkist Princes. This was the widely recognized interpretation of contemporaries like Croyland and William Caxton*** and was also how he gained the majority of his new support in England which (without discounting his own initiative, actions and clear competence) were essential to both make him a credible threat and ultimately win Bosworth. He relied on several of her father's former councilors as well, ensuring a great deal of continuity between their reigns. In this context, Elizabeth of York's "position" as the Yorkist heiress, cemented by her formal proclamation as Duchess of York, was not a disadvantage to Henry VII but an indispensable advantage to him. Elizabeth herself was aware of this and played an important role in image politics for the new Tudor dynasty: "Her role as a daughter of the house of York was a major aspect of her identity. Whereas her mother and Margaret of Anjou had adopted emblems personal to them...Elizabeth of York used her father's white rose. Other Yorkist emblems such as the sun in splendour and the falcon and fetterlock were also used in Tudor iconography." As you can see, Elizabeth's contribution went far beyond merely standing at Henry's side with a wedding ring; she was actively involved in cementing the image of the Tudor dynasty in her own right, and was equally invested in doing so. In short: Elizabeth of York's "position" was not a threat to her husband’s rule; it was vital to her husband’s rule. In fact, her unique position was so important that, even years later, post-contemporary Tudor depictions gave her a uniquely equal footing to her husband: for example, in the first pageant of the coronation procession for her granddaughter Elizabeth I, Elizabeth of York was depicted as "a stabilising and legitimising force of the dynasty, and, incredibly, as the equal to her husband" - as Lauren Rose Browne herself writes.
You cannot claim that Henry VII needed Elizabeth of York to bolster his kingship and also claim that he shunted her aside because her position was a threat to his kingship. You cannot claim that Henry VII used Elizabeth of York’s Yorkist heritage to his benefit but also claim that he tried to avoid any implication of her royal inheritance. Those are fundamentally contradictory and make very little sense. You're trying to have your cake and eat it too.
Even more baffling is the idea that Elizabeth of York's "popularity" would have somehow been a threat to her husband's authority. She and Henry lived in a world where queens were meant to embody "the feminine element necessary to legitimate sovereignty", to perform their role as Marian-like intercessors on behalf of their subjects, to engage in appropriate charity and almsgiving, and to provide "models of womanhood for the realms' female subjects"****. If Elizabeth of York was "popular" due to the reaction of crowds gathered to watch her coronation, or because of the gifts she was frequently given by her subjects, or because she was hailed as the "most gracious and best beloved Princesses in the world" after her death, her popularity means that Elizabeth was successful as queen and is an indication of how much her queenship supported and endorsed Henry VII's kingship. A popular queen benefitted the King, not the other way around.*****
(What's especially funny about this traditional interpretation is that the only actual way Elizabeth of York's position and popularity could potentially worry Henry and become a genuine "threat" to his authority is if Elizabeth herself was actively opposed to Henry and was using them against him to undermine his rule (for whatever hypothetical reason). Which would automatically indicate agency on her part and ALSO end up contradicting the "trophy wife" image. So....?)
Enough with the traditional patronizing dismissal of Elizabeth of York. Give her the credit she's due.
*What's particularly silly about hyper-focusing on the point/purpose of Elizabeth of York's marriage (a political alliance and dynastic unification) is that fundamentally, its purpose was ultimately no different from the vast majority of other English royal marriage since the Norman conquest (sans, say, her parents'). Most of them were politically arranged and/or politically motivated, just like Henry and Elizabeth's. It would be ridiculous to judge Isabella of France or Philippa of Hainault's lives and queenships solely based on how politically important their marriages were, right? They obviously had an impact apart from that and beyond that. What exactly is different about Elizabeth of York? Admittedly, her and Henry's situation wasn't exactly the same: he needed her as a potential bride to cement his position as a threat to Richard III and as a King of England; and an English princess becoming an English queen consort was unprecedented at that juncture. But ultimately, there's no reason for why Elizabeth of York's entire life and queenship should be defined and decided on the basis of how and why she married Henry VII. She lived for almost two decades after that. It's more than a little frustrating.
**From what I can make out, so much more evidence has luckily survived for Elizabeth of York's diplomatic activities compared to many of her predecessors, and with far more details. I would literally kill to get similarly detailed evidence for Elizabeth Woodville. So it's certainly strange when Elizabeth of York's role in diplomacy is not emphasized more when it comes to her queenship - especially because it is, ultimately, an expected element of queenship which queens were traditionally meant to excel at. My guess is that it's not highlighted as much because it actually gives Elizabeth agency, which historians often refuse to do.
***Edward IV definitely wasn't the first or only one to claim the red dragon (it was used for/used by many others, and some poets used it for Henry himself in the early 1460s). However, at that point in time in England specifically, it would have very much been Edward IV who was most commonly and universally associated with it; after all, he was the one who won the throne and ruled for more than two decades. Its association with Edward IV is also what would have been the most familiar to Caxton, who established himself in England only in the 1470s, and who was a supporter of Edward IV's family (aka: the Woodvilles) during that time. His support of Henry (who he did not know) during this time would have been through that context as well, rather than loyalty to Henry in his own right.
****Obviously, we can recognize how problematic such inherently gendered expectations are now, but contextualization is important.
*****Elizabeth of York's popularity as queen, at least in the beginning, may have been partly due to the fact that she was English princess who grew up in the public eye, was the daughter of a fairly well-liked king, and the fact that her marriage played a vital role in "uniting" the two rival dynasties. So her circumstances probably played a role in her popularity as well. But we shouldn't discount Elizabeth's own affability and charm, nor her evident generosity, nor the fact that however this popularity emerged, it was Elizabeth who maintained it, and it ultimately signified the success of Elizabeth's queenship and bolstered her husband's kingship.
Sources:
Lauren Rose Browne, "Elizabeth of York: Tudor Trophy Wife", "Tudor and Stuart Consorts: Power, Influence, and Dynasty
Derek Neal, "The Queen's Grace: English Queenship 1464-1503"
J.L. Laynesmith, "The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1545-1503"
Retha M. Warnicke, "Elizabeth of York and her six daughters-in-law: Fashioning Tudor Queenship
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leiko-in-love · 5 months
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best advice you’ve received lately?
I was talking to a friend recently and she’s a beautiful, beautiful woman, she’s actually so beautiful. Anyway, we were talking and got to the topic of how the women down here do what she basically did and go for their Mrs. Degree, join up, marry young, start their families in their early twenties, and seem happy and fulfilled. It’s a southern stereotype that she falls into, she went to UT, joined Delta and debbed, is a total showstopper, and had a ring before spring and her Mrs. Degree was a triple major in Mathematics, Finance, and Economics but still. Anyway, she’s a total Hun and firmly of the belief that there are institutions where Huns go to become the best of Huns. She had articles, basically a thesis on hun and trophy wife culture, and so many interesting things to say about the way she was raised and what she felt she’d been called to do and it was actually very interesting to sit and listen to as we were on our drive and deeply discussing southern culture.
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bfbkg · 1 year
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also idk if you knew this? but hockey players wear suits to every. single. game. something about like being proper or something idk. AND AND AND AND AND after they shower and shit?!??! guess what they are back in?!??! the suits. yup. just imagine seeing that hunk of meat (bakugou katsuki) in a three piece suit?!?!??!?! yeah i'll combust right there. and gods he looks good every single time he does it.
also him interacting with kids? like throwing a puck to a kid who's sitting in the bleachers, or him teaching kids on his weekends off? he definitely loves teaching girls too, like he doesn't care or discriminate and sometimes he thinks the girls are more rough anyways, so he's always playing favourites with them (and they are all fawning over their super cute coach please)
OR OMG YOU BROTHERS AU?!??! him and his little brother both playing together. i just. AND imagine if all three of them played? first you can think of it as them all playing on the same team, and then you could think about them playing on a different team. and imagine akatsuki's wife and you sitting together (though they may play on different teams) and eventually daisuki's girlfriend gets added too. OMG OMG OMG stop my brain won't stop thinking.
definitely youngest player in the NHL, even akatsuki and daisuki both only made it around 20. whereas bakugou made it around 18. (if you want) and they all play for the national team (super wholesome moment for mama and papa bakugou).
okay enough. i am done. too much talking.
-🧟‍♂️
firstly I SORTA KNEW ABOUT THE SUITS FROM THE BOOKS I READ BUT HUH? like before and after a match they’re in suits??? ngl i believe in finding a way to get to the back to take a picture of him. not even if you both but just taking photos of him. always you smoothing down his shoulders, fixing his tie even though it doesn’t need fixing and complimenting him sooooo much. he gets all blushy and all the other boys are laughing at him but he just really doesn’t care.
also i can miss the kids i am not one for them LOL but yeah i can see him always giving the puck back out to random kids in the crowd. going to pick him up from when he does girls practice and hearing the girls say how hot he is. they’re like 14-15 and you’re laughing behind your gloves. “looks like they all love you” you say when he’s clearing up and when he sees it’s you he grins and skates over. “hey baby. not as much as you though.” “not as much as me.” and when you both kiss there’s a mixture of groans and awhs behind you.
and ahhhhhh the brothersssssss. them all playing in one team would be so crazy omg (definitely getting accused of some nepotism going on there lol) but still the idea of sitting with akatsuki’s wife and daisukis girlfriend is soooo sweet to me. lots of you three taking photos of them three together in their suits and in their gear and with the trophy. lots of you and the girlfriends walking off when they’re getting changed which means the boys end up having to find you guys around the arena somewhere. usually eating hot dogs or pastries or something. and so sweet the energy between you three as friends. like akatsuki’s wife being oldest so she takes the mummy bear role easily even though she’s just as wild as her husband. the first one to find alcohol in the room. but if anyone barges you or daisukis girlfriend they’re getting shouted at instantly. great cuddles and always gives great advice. also always giggles at you when you put katsuki in his place. then you being that for daisukis girlfriend who is much quieter but very funny. like has very specific and funny humour. so cute and new to hockey and you and akatsuki’s girl tells her “yeah we still don’t know the rules properly.” you’re like “but they look hot.” “yeah they do.” just a very sweet little sisterhood. finding new best friends in them and you’re all like two years apart from each other.
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