#what the fuck am i supposed to do with 6 heads tall

[paul-simon-juggling]

Despite the fact that I am an artist doing a degree in Fine Art, when I type the word "Art" on my phone the first thing autofill suggests is "Garfunkel" and I feel like this says a lot about me as a person.

#yeah s&g fanart is coming dw i literally have 2 s&g wips #i once got genuinely angry at paul because i worked out he is like 6 heads tall #the average person is 7-7 and a half heads tall so thats the anatomy im most familiar with #what the fuck am i supposed to do with 6 heads tall #i googled it and it said that tiny anime girls can be drawn to be 6 heads tall if u want #giggling and kicking my feet at this #i have a backlog of simon and garfunkel shit i want to draw omg #i gotchu guys dw #simon and garfunkel #paul simon #simon & garfunkel #art garfunkel #s&g

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (7)

Chapter 7 — Mr. And Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 7,856

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

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

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

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

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

— Corrie Ten Boom

May 4th, 2018

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

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

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

"You've changed."

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

"You used to keep your promises."

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

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

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

"I do."

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

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

May 4th, 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky scoffed dismissively. "No ace."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You bastard!" Danial exploded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You little—"

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

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

Bingo.

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

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Bucky ended the call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where am I?" she breathed.

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

"Where—"

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

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

The glass was empty within seconds.

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

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

"Excuse me?"

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

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

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

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

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

She still wouldn't look at him.

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

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

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

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky nodded. "Has the car arrived?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 4th, 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, she wasn't ready at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Scuze," James replied.

"Cum a fost zborul?"

"Lung."

"Trebuie să fii obosit."

"Nu prea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bunică," James warned in a low tone.

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

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

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

"Bunică," James warned once again.

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

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

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

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

The girl vigorously shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This—his—ring.

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

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

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

Was nothing real?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl shook her head dismissively, avoiding eye contact.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless she's faking it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on," he encouraged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She vehemently shook her head, denying it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Doubt what?"

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

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

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

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

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

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

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

"I'm still young," she argued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

Note: Thoughts?

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 💜💜

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[sultrybaby]

Much Ado About Nothing (N.RK)

in which you and niki have some misunderstandings, and a nosy jay is done with it [inspired by a scene from bones haha]

a.n./ this is for the @kflixnet event haha. For @yoongimooni . I have not written in a while but I tried my best. Hope you enjoy it

💞Warnings: profanity, misunderstandings, a lil bit crying, i have described a very simple situation in a very dramatic fashion, reader has a younger brother by the name of alex💞 Word count: approx. 2k💞Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem!Reader (featuring jay, sunghoon, jungwon, alex (younger brother))💞 Genre: Fluff, a lil angst (established relationship)

When your thirteen year old self prayed to have a romance like the books, you were not referring to the abduction and trapping. It seemed as if the universe had misread your wishes, for here you were, being dragged  by Jay.

"Would you mind explaining why you're doing this?" You asked, to which Jay gave you what seemed to be his standard response where he would not say anything.

"DUDE!"

"Okay fine!" he said in exasperation, "I was sick an tired of you and Niki constantly bombastically side eyeing each other, so now I am going to lock you in a room for three hours until you guys figure this shit out because I can not deal with you petty kids anymore"

"What-?"

Before you could even process his answer, you were thrown into a room (which you later recognized as Riki's) and the door was shut. Sighing, you nonchalantly walked backwards, habit bringing you to sit on Niki's bed.

Your peripheral vision unfortunately missed out on the 6 foot tall boy that was already sleeping there.

"What the fuck?" Niki exclaimed sleepily, his deep voice softly booming across the room, causing you to let out the most guttural scream in history.

"Oh, you," said Niki, his face falling into a seemingly non care-ish expression that kind of hurt your feelings. It also made you quite mad. Like why is he pretending like you're the one in the wrong here. The literal audacity of this boy to pretend to be the victim here is astonishing.

"Okay what is that supposed to mean?"

"What? I didn't say anything..." he grumbled "just let me sleep..." He lazily lifted the blanket over his eyes.

Okay now he was seriously pissing you off. Yanking the blanket away from his face, you leaned in and held him by his collar.

"Okay listen here you little piece of shit. Your self-appointed older brother or dad or whatever JAY said he's gonna keep us locked in here until we settle our differences. So I think it's best for both of us if you man up and apologise," you said, finishing off with a gentle slap to his head.

"Why the fuck should I apologize, you're the one who has some secret vendetta against my dog," he clapped back,  sitting up straight.

Excuse me what now?

You turned back around to face him, confusion etched all over your face.

"I have nothing against Bisco- what the hell are you talking about?" you asked him, the tone of your voice softening due to hurt. You loved Bisco.

"Oh don't pretend to be so innocent. I know you're the one who stole his dog food from my cabinet."

"I would never-"

"And that's not it," he interrupted you, "I noticed that you haven't been spending as much time with him lately. You always do homework or practice during times when you usually walk him, something you claimed to have really liked. Recently whenever he comes to hug you on the couch I can see you inch away from him. If you have something against him you could have just told me but noooo~, you would go as far as to starve him??? Unbelievable..." he said, ending his rant by rolling his eyes at you.

You were speechless. You had no idea that he noticed these things. The feeling of guilt caused you to momentarily forget the anger you felt at him.

It was time to tell him- you owed him an explanation.

"Niki I...I have something to tell you," you said reluctantly.

"Damn right you do -_-"

"It's...not what you think it is..."

Niki turned to look at you curiously, starting to become a bit confused. Taking a deep breath, you said,

"I'mallergictodogfur"

"I'm sorry what?"

"I said," you paused, "I'm allergic. To dog fur." You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. You felt really bad about the way you had hid this from him- Niki really loved that dog of his.

A slender finger ducked underneath your chin, gently lifting your face up. You were now eye to eye with Niki, his face inching close to yours. Wearing an amused expression and that goddamn annoying smirk, he looked at you intently.

"What..." you asked, embarrassment evident in your tone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he sighed, his tone soft.

"I thought it might hurt your feelings"

"And hiding it would make me feel better?" The question was valid.

"When did you find out?" he asked, hugging you closer. Nuzzling in, you narrated the incident to him.

"It was actually during one of my walks with bisco. He was about to lick something I'm pretty sure he wasnt supposed to, and since it was my first time with a pet, I was cautious and terrified. So I picked him up, away from the ground and towards my face. That's when I started sneezing really bad." you finished, looking up at him.

"Well," Niki said, "You should have told me."

"I know"

"Instead of just ignoring me the way you did"

"Actually," you started, sitting up straight, "that's not why i was ignoring you" you said, feeling the anger boil back into your system.

"What do you mean?" he asked- timidly, a response to your sudden change in tone.

Without a single word, you stood up and walked towards his cupboard. Sliding the door open (perhaps a bit too harsh), you took out the box that you had found while looking for a hoodie a week ago. For the sake of assurance, you opened it, and once again you were met with the horrible sight.

You could feel your jaw ache from emotion as you stared at the torn pictures and broken pieces. With a feeble attempt to ignore the clouding of your eyes, you marched back, throwing the box onto the bed, causing the contents to cause a mess (one toy wheel hitting niki's forehead).

Scraps of pictures littered the bed. Fragments of pictures you had taken with niki, bisco, and some of your little baby brother, one that niki insisted on keeping in his bedroom now nothing but a broken frame. The sight of the poorly torn edges  was all it took for the dam to break.

Your sobbing form meekly reached and held the wheel of a very familiar toy car.

"You..." you trailed off, catching your breath, "is something wrong with us, niki? Is something making...making you mad? Is this how you take out your anger? By breaking things? Did I- did I do something wrong? What does this mean?" you ranted breathlessly, not waiting for a reply.

You clutched the plastic wheel harder, holding it to niki's face.

"This... You said you were going to give this to Alex. You said you couldn't wait to play with him, that you wanted to gift him like a good big brother. So why..." you paused, heaving, "why would you break it? Did i say something niki?"

His lack of response only made it harder for you, as you continued to sob relentlessly.  Until you felt him gently take hold of your hand.

"Oh sweetie..." his deep voice rung through your ear, causing you to look up slowly, your hiccups slowing down. You faced him, and you were surprised to see a subtle smile.

"Why...why are you" hic "why are you smiling?"

He sighed, and then got off the bed and stood up. Walking to the still open cupboard, he unlocked a drawer hidden behind a bunch of unwashed clothes. You could hear a bit of rattling and jiggling as he pulled something out.

"I wanted this to be a surprise..." he said, his back still turned towards you, "but i guess i have no choice"

Facing you, he walked over and gently placed the item in your hands.

The sight was absolutely heartwarming.

You observed the thin threads, inexpertly but lovingly tying together cut out pictures of you, Alex, and niki- pictures childishly stuck into paper balls. There was sincerity in the little doodles that niki had drawn on the sides of the balls and the adorable cartoon drawings hanging from gold threads. You observed the wooden handle with innocent wonder, caressing it gently. It was beautiful.

Niki had made alex a baby mobile. With all of you in it.

"You think he will like it?" he asked hesitantly, unsure of your reaction.

Turning to him with a bittersweet smile, you simply looked into his eyes, hoping he could see the utter happiness you felt.

And then you grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Although surprised, Niki responded soon enough, cupping your face and smiling into the kiss. You pulled back, foreheads still touching.

"He's gonna love it," you whispered, "just like he loves his big brother."

Resting your head against his shoulder, you held it up as niki clicked the remote. Both of you watched silently as the mobile turned around. The sound of music box nursery rhymes filled the room.

"I used the motor from the car for this, you know" he said, breaking the silence.

"It's wonderful sweetie" you replied, turning around to kiss him again. He locked his lips with yours as you both held each other, happy and content.

"Good to see you're both back at it again- can't say I missed it"

'WTF!" you said, turning around, shit scared.

"JAY CMON MAN" exclaimed niki as both of you looked away, red faced and embarrassed. 

-

*Bonus*

It was no later then 12 am as a strong man nimbly and silently made his way across the dorms. Cautiously amd carefully, without losing hold of the bag in his hand, he opened the door without a single creak. Expertly nudging in, he silently marched to the kitchen cabinet, and placed the packet inside the cupboard.

"YOU BITCH!"

Sunghoon turned around, scared for his life. And in the darkness of the kitchen was you, standing in front of him  menacingly. He desperately clutched the edges of the table as if his life depended on it.

" You scared me, ___" he said, "why are you awake right now?" he asked, chuckling nervously.

"Oh shut it! Don't pretend to be so innocent," you said, eyeing him judgementally, "I can't believe you let niki think I was the one that stole bisco's dog food"

"Okay look-" he said, attempting to defend himself in vain. But he took one look at your face and decided there was no point in doing that.

"Okay fine. I promised my sister that I would get the dog food this time and I may have forgot and she may have had a bad day at school and she may have been in a really bad mood because of that and i may have freaked out and stolen niki's dog food and i may have not said anything when he asked which may have led him to pick a fight with you but hey, come on, that's life right?"

"Hmm...okay" you replied, causing sunghoon to sigh in relief.

"And you know," he continued, "I practically did us a  favour."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, there is no way of knowing jungwon hasn't tried eating dog food"

"What the fuck?"

Sunghoon whipped his head around, nearly breaking it in the process.

"I'm sorry did the couch just speak?" he asked.

An angry jungwon crawled out from behind the couch, a phone camera in hand.

"What do you mean you think i eat dog food?"

"WHERE TEH FUCK DID U COME FROM?"

"Relax sunghoon," you drawled, "I just asked him to record this so that i could show niki the truth"

"Hey you can't do that-"

"If she doesn't, I will," said jungwon, trotting up next to you.

"Dammit."

-

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[frenchfrywrites]

Kinktober Day Eight

Macro/Micro

MINORS DNI

Warnings: gn genitals ambiguous top reader, bottom micro trans man Lilia, micro/macro, unprepped penetration, tummy bulge

Terms used for Lilia: tdick, cock, cunt

Lilia is smaller than you.

Well, that's always true, but right now you find that the size difference between the two of you has grown extraordinarily.

"What happened to you?" You ask, staring bewilderingly at the— well you'd guess he's nearly 6 inches tall now?— Lilia standing on your desk.

"A failed spell," is all the explanation he gives. "Aren't I so cute?" he asks, placing his hands under his chin to frame his face. You laugh, reaching down to poke his nose gently,

"Yeah you are." Lilia smiles, taking your finger into his hands, and holding it in his as if it's at all similar to holding hands like you normally do.

"I feel so cute," he continues with a very specific and familiar lilt to his voice. "So small and cute," he kisses your finger, then nuzzles it. "I like being tiny, I am so delicate and weak, you have to take care of me," and that's a damn lie because you know he could reverse this spell in a second, or at the very least he could most certainly protect himself against any threat. "Don't you think?" he looks up at you with wide eyes, fluttering his lashes.

"Oh, I see," you hum, moving your finger lower touching his chest gently. "you like being tiny," And Lilia, the shameless little thing he is, grins at you devilishly, one of his little fangs biting his lip, as he nods his head.

"You-" you start, but you don't even know what to say about this revelation. You suppose you've got nothing against messing around with him at his new size, so you let your finger wander down his body.

Lilia wraps his little hands around your finger once you reach his groin, keeping you there. Though it's faint, you can feel that he's hot and damp through his clothes. Lilia rocks his hips against your finger, and gasps at the sensation.

He rubs himself against you like that for a moment, staring up at you with wild, bright red eyes. Maybe it's the layers of clothes separating his skin from yours, or that the friction toes the line between being able to get him off and only teasing him; whatever the reason, Lilia steps back to strip himself of his pants and then lays back, legs spread so you can get a good look at him.

"Touch me?" he begs, spreading his cunt with his fingers, "please?" You exhale slowly at the sight of him.

Ever so gently, you rub his tdick with your finger. Lilia gasps, knocking his head back, and grabbing your finger with both hands,

"Fuck," he cries, rutting his hips against you.

"You look cute," you hum, feeling sort of dazed as you watch him get off just by using your finger. Lilia's breath catches at your praise.

"Do you think— ahh yes, there— could you put your finger in, do you think?" he gasps, gushing against your skin as you tease his cock.

"My pinky maybe? You think you could take it?" you ask. Lilia nods, tightening his hold on your finger.

"Please?" at his begging, you move your index finger away from his cunt, and replace it with your pinky, nudging the tip against his entrance. "Oh," Lilia gasps as you push into him. "Big," he breathes, and you laugh at how amazed he sounds. Taking it nice and slow, because it's not like you lubed or prepped him, you ease your finger into his tight, wet hole.

"Okay?" you ask when you've pressed your finger midway inside of him. It bulges his stomach, and Lilia's eyes have rolled back into his head, his mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and drooling.

"Guh-" he huffs, twitching around you, blinking away tears, "mmngh, s'good," he moans.

Hearing that he's good, you slowly begin to thrust your finger in and out of him. Lilia writhes under you, gurgling your name between hiccups and keens of pleasure.

"Cum— hah, nghh— going to cum," he eventually cries, his hands shooting out to hold onto your finger as his climax approaches. To bring him over the edge, you rub his tdick with your thumb. Lilia shrieks, cumming on your finger, his body convulsing. He curls in on himself, gripping your finger with such a force that it hurts, his hole spasming around you.

You slowly fuck him through it, being oh so gentle with his currently pocket-sized body.

"Oh fuck," he breathes as he comes down going limp on the desk, "good lord."

"All good down there?" you ask, smiling at how blissed out he looks right now.

"Darling, I feel wonderful, though," he pats the bulge on his stomach where your finger is still deeply inserted inside of him, "I would love if you would pull out, so to speak."

Gently, you pull your finger out of his stretched hole, bringing it to your lips so you can lick his juices off. Lilia watches you with a dazed smile,

"Come now, I just finished," he whines, "and then you go and do that. You'll get me riled up again in no time," you laugh.

"Settle down grandpa," you take his body into your hand gently, lifting him so you can place a kiss on the top of his head. "How long do you plan on staying like this?" you ask.

"Kehehe who knows!" he giggles mischievously. You roll your eyes, hoping that he'll be back to his regular size soon, so you can hold him and kiss him properly.

#lilia so sillyhead i luv writing him <3 #kinktober/2023 #micro/macro #spice

[jerzwriter]

Body Positivity:

TW: body shaming, fatphobia, skinnyphobia, eating disorders, and the like.

I'm so fucking angry and triggered right now, and I need to vent. I was at what was supposed to be a fun family event, and because I didn't want to completely blow up, I stepped outside. But I am SO PISSED that I need to get this out. While trauma dumping on a toxic website is probably not the best idea, I literally have to vent, or I'm going to explode, and I REALLY HOPE someone will read this and learn something.

I think the body positivity movement has been great—and I wish we had something like it when I was growing up because, trust, it was non-existent. But, like many things, it's great on the surface, but a certain segment has morphed it into something that is as destructive and hateful as the behaviors/actions that led to the need for such a movement.

Some background, so you understand my perspective. I've struggled with my weight my whole life. I've been everything from a size 6 to a size 22. I'm very tall, and when I was at my thinnest (mostly because I was starving myself), people came up to me constantly to tell me how amazing I looked. I'm talking friends, family, co-workers, people at the club, and strangers on the street. I was literally dangerously underweight. My family doctor, who had treated me most of my life, was begging me to get help.

I wound up getting help for what turned out to be an eating disorder and moved past that as much as I could. Since that time, my weight has fluctuated from average, to "a few extra pounds", to very overweight. While I am usually OK with myself and try to be positive about my body, it can be hard. I don't like the way I look right now, and I’m ashamed to say that because I don’t feel that way about others. Beauty is not a number or a size, and I know that, but I am my own harshest critic. It doesn’t help to have the voices of many people, people who were supposed to love me, in my head constantly at these times.

“Do you think you should wear that?”

“Oh, that dress is so becoming on you!” (Meaning: it hides some of your fat!)

Or my favorite, coming home in an outfit that I felt so good about that I thought I looked adorable in, just to have my mother (and later my husband) say something like:

"Perhaps you should retire that until you lose some weight." or "You actually went out in that?"

(PS - I am divorced and barely speak to my mother)... I'm doing so much better, but I know I'll never be 100% comfortable, and, as with most things, the voices seep in when I'm at my lowest. So I GET IT. I get it big time.

But - on to today.

We have a wedding taking place later this week, so the family has descended like the buzzing locusts they are. The ten women in the bridal party, of all shapes and sizes, are at my house for a get-together, and they began complaining about how ugly the dresses are. (They really aren't the nicest dresses.)

The eight anti-dressers were commiserating when one, we'll call her Obnoixous Bridesmaid (OB), loudly announced that another bridesmaid had to shut up and leave the conversation because she's thin (we'll call her Thin Bridesmaid—TB), and therefore has no business being there. I should point out that TB's contribution to the conversation was the dresses were cheaply made and "is so damn shiny" and, for the record, OB is not thin but not overweight.

So another bridesmaid, who is extremely close with TB, jumped in to defend OB, going on and on about how much she "hates" TB for complaining when "everything" looks good on her. TB looked like she was going to burst into tears but stayed silent. It morphed into four grown-ass women bullying TB, so I stepped in and told them all to shut the fuck up. Minutes later, TB left the room, and I found her in the bathroom in tears, saying she wanted to go home and skip the rest of the events - up to and including the wedding.

I went back to the room where the 4 were still mocking TB, and I told them I was appalled by their behavior and they could shut the fuck up and apologize, or they could leave my house. I was told I should understand because I'm a "big girl," too, and therefore should be on "their" side.

Are we fucking kidding me here?

I should point out that 3 of the 4 asshole bridesmaids are well aware that TB has dealt with a serious eating disorder that stems from being body shamed by grown-ass men in her family when she was a mere child. She's dealt with outright abuse and trauma, and they know how bad it's been. She doesn't walk around mocking other's bodies or bragging about how "good" she looks; in fact, she struggles to feel positive about her looks at all.

Body positivity should be about everyone loving their body, no matter its shape and size, and never subjecting ANYONE else to shame because of theirs. When the fuck did it became "fat chicks have to stick together and fuck them skinny bitches."

I'm so on fire I had to step away before I ended up on the evening news. On a micro-level, I'm disgusted with these people, and this has put a total damper on the wedding events this week.

But on a macro level, I have seen this time and time again. Yeah, our society is fucking horrible when it comes to how it treats fat people, especially fat women, and that should change. But it's as fucking wrong to be skinnyphobic as it is to be fatphobic. Perhaps, ESPECIALLY AS FUCKING WOMEN, we should be uplifting and supportive of one another. PERIOD. Don't we see that the obsession to be thin and eating disorders stem from the same fucking toxic place that shames fat people? That's where it is BORN.

I'm so sick of seeing this trend in everything. Every movement I'm involved with is dealing with this... YES, be proud of YOU, ESPECIALLY if you're in a marginalized or maligned group. YES! DO IT! I've got your back in every way! But don't fucking turn it into an us vs. them... even with people you supposedly love! Don't become the fucking monster you profess to hate.

Is asking for human decency really too much? I'm literally shaking.

We really, really have to do better than this.

#elsa rants #body positivity #fat shaming #skinny shaming #STOP THE FUCKING BULLSHIT #tw: eating disorders #tw: fatphobia #tw: skinnyphobia #delete later

[pettyrevenge-base]

Quit my job at an upscale steakhouse…but not before making sure all the customers knew what a prick the owner was.

This happened back in 2009, but I shared it in a comment on another sub yesterday and figured it belonged here too.  

I was waiting tables at an upscale steakhouse, and the company culture was absolute garbage. The owner, “Gary,” was constantly throwing tantrums and screaming at everyone, and we all HATED him. He’d line us all up before every shift just to berate us and yell how lucky we were that he’d hired us, because we were all shit at our jobs and no one else would ever have us. Stuff like that. The only reason anyone ever stuck around was because the money was good due to the high ticket prices and solid customer base, as well as the fact that there weren’t many other employment options for fine dining service in the area. 

In addition to being a massive prick, Gary was also a cheap bastard. There was this 6-foot tall dessert cooler in the kitchen that had a broken door, and he put off fixing it for months because he didn’t want to spend the money, so it was just sort of hanging on its hinge and you had to be really careful opening it. Inevitably, during the height of a Saturday night rush, it fell completely off and hit one of the servers, hard.  

So she’s laying there on the kitchen floor, bleeding from a serious-looking wound on her head, and Gary is standing over her and SCREAMING down at her: “Way to go - just BRILLIANT. What the FUCK am I supposed to do now? It’s the middle of the rush, you’ve got a full section, and no one’s going to be able to pick up your goddamn tables because everyone who works here is useless and incompetent! You should have been more careful!”  

I’d seen a lot of his shit, but this was the hard line, and I made a decision right then that I was out. So when I got home that night, I typed up a letter to Gary, telling him exactly why I was quitting and leaving no detail out when it came to his tantrums, his verbal abuse, and the hazards in the workplace that he wouldn’t address. I printed out 30 copies, went in early for my opening shift the following day (midafternoon - the place was only open for dinner) and hid them all over the restaurant where guests would find them: in the menus, under the napkins on the tables, in between paper towels in the restrooms, etc. Some were in really obscure places, so that they wouldn’t be found right away and would keep popping up randomly - surprise! - allowing my legacy to live on. Then, instead of working my shift, I left before the pre-shift lineup.  

Fast forward to a couple days later, when a coworker reached out and shared with me the beautiful details of Gary’s head almost exploding with rage when he found out about the letters. A couple tables read them and walked out before ordering. People in the dining room could hear him screaming from the kitchen. Apparently they were still finding letters weeks later, and every time one surfaced, the vein in Gary’s forehead would pop out and he’d disappear into his office and slam the door. It remains one of my proudest moments, and my only regret is that I couldn’t be a fly on the wall, watching this all unfold. 

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

#pettyrevenge #lol #omg

[hbosucc]

Greg Hirsch x Reader: Chapter 6

Hi everybody!! I hope you're all doing well <3 It is so dark and cold (I live in the PNW, near where the Twilight books are set, for reference lol) but I'm trying to stay cozy and keep my spirits up.

So what better way to do that than sharing another chapter! This one is very Christmassy and cozy, I hope you enjoy xoxoxo

Link to Chapter 5 (18+ minors dni)

Content Warnings:

Sexual content (less explicit in this chapter, but they still have sex)

Swearing

Reader is dealing with some body image issues. It's not the main focus but it is discussed.

Alcohol consumption

Estranged family dynamics mentioned.

“You’re sure you don’t want to spend Christmas with your family?” I asked Greg as we walked back to my apartment from the coffee shop, baked goods and coffees in hand.

          “Oh, I’m very sure.” He laughed wryly.

          “Not even your uncle—the one in Canada, I mean?”

          “Nope.” He shook his head, taking a bite of his cake pop.

          “Well, lucky me, then.” I smiled up at him, though I felt a little sad for him—somehow, I hadn’t realized things with his entire family were so bad. Not that things with my family had been great the past few years, either.

          “They don’t think you’re real, by the way.” He waved his half-eaten cake pop at me, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, they think I made you up. They call you my imaginary girlfriend.”

          “What?” I scoffed. “Why?”

          “They think I’m, like, lame and broke and stuff, I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes. “I mean, compared to them, I guess I kind of am, but it’s still like, come on guys.”

          “That’s fucking annoying.” I scrunched up my face. “They sound like they suck.”

          “I mean, yeah, most of the time.” He sighed.

          “Well, if you ever want to prove them wrong, I suppose…” I started, pulling my keys out of my coat pocket as we reached my building. “I suppose I could go with you if there’s ever, I don’t know, an event or something where they could see us together.���

          “For real, you’d do that?” His eyebrows shot up as he held the door open for me.

          I considered it for a second. “I would.”

          “But I thought you, like, really hated ATN?”

          “I do.” I shrugged, leading the way up to my floor. “But I really don’t hate you, so. If it would get them off your back, it’d be worth it to me.”

          “Wow, okay,” He said as we reached my door.

          “I mean, if you think that wouldn’t be a good thing—like, if I’d damage your reputation by being your date, or anything, then I don’t have to, of course.” I unlocked the door and threw my coat onto the rack.

          “Why would you—I mean, how do you think you’d do that?” He hung his coat and scarf and followed me into the living room.

          “I don’t know…I mean, I’m sure they all date models and stuff, and I maybe…” I trailed off, unsure how to continue without sounding as insecure as I felt. “Would they make fun of you, because I’m not, like, perfect-looking and super skinny?”

          “What?” His eyebrows shot up, and he sat down next to me. “Why would you even…even think that?”

          “I just want to make sure that I wouldn’t make you regret bringing me along.” I said, unable to look at him. “I mean, I’ve seen the women your cousins have dated, and they’re all, like, tall and skinny and gorgeous. I’m nowhere near as…well, I know I don’t look like them.”

          “Baby, no.” He said, taking one of my hands and squeezing it. “You are…you are literally so fucking beautiful. I would never, ever be worried about you…fucking embarrassing me. Like, if anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

          “Are you sure?” I looked up at him, to my embarrassment, with tears in the corners of my eyes.

          “I’m—God, I’m so sure.” He cupped my face in his hands and pulled me closer, wiping the tears with his thumbs as they spilled over. “Why would you even think something like that?”

          “I don’t know,” I said softly. “I mean, I do know, I guess. Just insecurities that I need to get over.”

          “Well, I wish you wouldn’t be insecure, because you’re so beautiful, and also just really fucking hot, and,” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “I really, really like seeing you naked. And in clothes. I just like seeing you, in all forms.”

          “Thank you, sweetheart.” I laughed, sniffling and swiping under my eyes with my sleeve. “Okay. I feel better now. Thank you.”

          “I just—Jesus.” He shook his head. “They’re gonna be so shocked that somehow, someone as hot as you decided to even, like, give me the time of day, much less have sex with me.”

          “They sound insufferable.” I squeezed his hand. “No wonder you’d rather hang out with me.”

          “Yeah, um, you can say that again.” He scoffed. “Jesus. Anyways. Do you want me to plug in the tree?”

          “Yeah, sure.” I smiled as he gave me another kiss, then stood up to plug in the lights strung around the Christmas tree we’d put up in the corner. We’d spent a free evening decorating it together with my old childhood ornaments, and he’d finished it off by putting the star on top, no stepladder required.

          “Okay, so, do you want your present now?” He asked once the multi-colored lights were on, illuminating the dim room.

          “Yes, I would love my present.” I sat up, knowing how excited he was about it. He’d been trying not to drop hints about it for weeks now; having to keep it a secret had been driving him nuts. His excitement was infectious and very endearing, especially since I’d grown up in a family that had been kind of Grinch-y around Christmastime.

          “Okay, here it is,” He grabbed a flat rectangular package from under the tree and brought it over. “It took me so long to find something, but I do think I found something, like, worthy of you.”

          “You’re so fucking sweet.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek and ripped the wrapping paper at one end, sliding the present open. As I peeled it away and saw what was inside, my eyes widened, flipping it over to the back cover, then inside to the front page.

          “Oh, my fucking God,” I said, my voice pitching higher with each word. “How in the world did you find this?”

          “Well, I can’t reveal my sources—” He started, and I swatted at him, laughing, unable to believe what I was seeing in front of me; what I was holding in my hands. It was, if my quick glance inside the front cover was correct, a signed first-edition copy of one of my favorite novels of all time.

          “Greg, this is crazy.” I said, my eyes filling for the second time that day, but for a completely different reason. “I can’t believe…is this, like real?”

          “Yeah, I mean, it was authenticated, if that’s what you mean. I made sure before I got it.” He smiled, putting a hand on my thigh and squeezing gently.

          “Thank you so much. Oh my God, Greg.” I sniffled, unable to help it. “This is literally the coolest, most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.”

          “Hey, of course.” He said softly. “I’m really, like, really glad you like it.”

          “Seriously. Thank you.” I looked into his eyes and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss, before drawing back and standing up. “Okay. My gift for you probably isn’t as good, but…” I grabbed it from under the tree and brought it back, sitting down next to him again and handing it over.

          “Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” He grinned, ripping the thick envelope open and sliding out the card. He flipped it open, and the two tickets fluttered into his lap.

          I waited while his eyes skimmed over the writing inside the card, then he picked up the tickets, and his brow furrowed.

          “You got me tickets to see Hamilton?” He asked, looking up at me.

          “Yeah. I mean, you said you liked the show, but I didn’t think you’d ever seen it live before." I pulled my shirtsleeves down over my hands.

          “That’s…oh my God, this is literally an insane gift.” He kissed me, his hands bringing my face to meet his. “I can’t believe you got fucking Hamilton tickets. You don’t even like musicals.”

          “I don’t, but you do.” I shrugged. “I can sit through it for a few hours, just for you. Unless you want to take someone else—”

          “Okay, come on. No. We’re—we’re going, obviously.” He squeezed my thigh with one hand, looking at the tickets again to read the details. “I can’t believe you. ‘Oh, this probably isn’t that good of a gift’, that’s…you’re crazy.”

          “Well, I’m glad you like it so much.” I kissed him on the cheek, curling up and laying my head on his shoulder.

          "I love it." He kissed the top of my head. “Thank you.”

          “Of course.” I took his face in my hands and gave him a kiss, long and slow.

          I lit a spiced-cranberry scented candle, and we watched a Christmas movie together, snuggled on the couch with popcorn and our now-cold coffees. Halfway into the movie, we ended up just making out, and then moved things to the bedroom. The sex was slow, sweet, and vanilla, but I wasn’t mad about it.

          “I’m just, like…I hope you know, I’m really glad I met you.” He said, stroking my hair as we lay together afterwards, coming back down to Earth.

          “I’m really glad I met you, too.” I looked up at him and smiled, kissing him softly, then snuggling into his chest again. I could see it had started to snow outside my window, the flakes showing up under the streetlights, soft little flurries beginning to coat the bare tree branches. I felt a tugging on my heart, and I knew that I was falling in love with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it—not yet. I would tell him eventually, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment: the quiet, the warmth of our bodies pressing together under the sheets, the clean smell of him, the taste of him still on my lips. It was a nice moment, and I wanted to bask in it, letting it last as long as possible.

#hbo succession #succession #succession fanfic #succession imagine #greg hirsch #greg hirsch x reader #succession x reader #x reader #gregory hirsch

[jaidasstuff]

“Best Friends” - Chris Motionless

Summary: confessing his feelings for his best friend

It was a Friday evening, Chris and I met had up at 6 pm, like every week. You could say that it was a kind of tradition between us and usually we did it every week, except for when Chris was on tour with his band. his band is called motionless in white and to be honest i’m quite a big fan girl. Him and I have been friends for basically a decade now and we both consider us best friends, at least i think we do. Lately he's been acting strange around me but I guess it's just some odd phase going on. don’t get me wrong we’re both acting strange sometimes but this time it’s something else, i can tell. I know he's a pretty busy person since he's famous and all, but I really miss the old Chris, it's a bit selfish i know that but I wish he would've never gotten this excessively famous. Things changed between the two of us these past weeks and I hate that. I'm a person that always despised change, because of my social anxiety. although it’s not just that, if I'm being honest I fell for him a while ago but never told him anyway. I won't consider it now, since there's a lot he could lose from being in a relationship at this point. chris loves his fans and they would be furious if they knew, or at least i’m fearing they will. "Y/N!" He loudly said, confused as to why i was zoning out, it got me back to reality real quick. "Oh gosh sorry, I was just lost in my own thoughts" I apologized, feeling guilty that I didn't listen to what he was actually saying. i didn’t even know what topic he was speaking about.. Gosh I must've been out of it for quite some time. "I guessed that already, Y/N" he replied smirking at me which made me roll my eyes, that little fucker always being sarcastic, which only made him even more attractive to me "but seriously we need to talk now" he said and sat up since we were both laying on his black king sized bed. "Sure what's wrong?" I asked nervously since I didn't really know what this actually was about. To be honest I was scared that he'd say something along the lines ‘i noticed your little crush on me, can’t have that so i’ll be going now’ but you never know until you do talk about it and maybe it’s just my anxiety speaking up."So I've been meaning to talk to you about something or well uh rather tell you about something" he stuttered, not looking at me but the movie that was muted and still on. "What's this about Chris? You know you can always talk to me if something is wrong or you need someone, we're best friends" I reassured him, giving him a sweet comforting smile. At least I tried to hide my nervousness which seemed to work at least a bit. Wow am i good at hiding stuff?! "I know Y/N but that's exactly what i'm talking about it.. that's the actual problem!" Chris sighed and i was confused as hell. What was the fucking problem? Us being best friends? I really couldn't think about any reason why he'd say something like that as a reply to what i just said. "Huh? I don't quite understand what the problem or well our problem is. Aren't we fine? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? at least tell me what i did before you stop being friends with me?" I asked him shaking my head, i’m getting even more nervous now. "No that's not what I meant at all!" He sighed and i knew he was getting frustrated by now "then tell me!" I replied, now looking at my best friend. I really felt bad seeing him like this but what was I supposed to do when I literally don't know what's going on.

"I fell for you, Y/N that's our problem!" He yelled and got up, trying to walk away from the situation. No that's definitely not gonna happen, he better not try to really walk away now! now I got up as fast as possible and got in front of him. Chris was very tall compared to me, it's one of my favorite things about this man. his height is something I've always loved. There are too many things i like about my best friend, it's ridiculous by now. if someone asked me to name one thing about him, i wouldn't be able to stop myself from listing everything, not just one thing. "Please don't walk away now! You know we have a rule about this" i told him as calm as i could, looking at his troubled face. Chris and me only have one fucking rule in our friendship, but it's the most important rule for me, he agreed to it because he knows why it's so important. We would never leave while fighting, it basically means we don't go to sleep while still mad at each other or walk away, anything like that practically. I'm so thankful that this promise was always kept and he never left me, so him trying to means it's troubling him a lot more than i thought. "I know, I'm sorry angel. i really didn't mean to do that, right now it’s just stressing me out so much" he softly whispered and looked down at me, he earned a small nod to reassure him that i'm not actually mad at him. "Also I do love you too you know that, right?" I admitted shyly trying to avoid looking at the man that i dearly loved. "What?" He asked, in disbelief, so I'm gonna prove it to him. I got on my tip toes and kissed him genuinely, at first he tensed up a bit since he usually doesn’t like sudden skin ship but he ended up kissing me back. that’s a good sign! It felt like fireworks exploding in my whole fucking body, i loved this already. "so what does that make us now?" i asked chris after a while of us kissing each other. "that means you, Y/N, are my girlfriend now" he replied cockily while pulling me down onto his bed "wanna watch another movie? that one was actually boring, wouldn't you agree?" he said making me laugh at his silly behavior "yes let’s watch another one! which one do you want to watch?" i asked him looking at my boyfriend. chris smiled sweetly at me while putting on some movie before replying "let's watch your favorite movie the emperor's new groove". gosh i really loved this guy!

#band imagines #fanfic #imagine #band blog #bands #chris motionless #motionless in white

[quandaryqueen]

Allrighty since u like them too, could we get some fluffy soulmate AUs for BTAS, YJ and Arkhamverse riddlers ?? 😌 (u can also add music meister to that bunch - idk anything abt him from the top of my head but seems like a funky lad)

If you could, maybe make the S/O a new and promising villain?? That's all. Do what u want! Have fun!

Chasing Romance

Edward Nygma X Villain Reader

More soulmate au's!

Music Meister's Soulmate au is written already, so I present you this fic of him.

💚 Young Justice

So in this realm, the first thing you say to your soulmate when you meet is tattooed on your body at your coming of age. Once you meet your soulmate, the tattoo fades and boom now you have your soulmate.

Silver thread I weave. Silver thread I tread. What am I? - is on your arm.

What's on Eddie's?

Fuck me!

Needless to say, Edward blushes at the prospect of his soulmate screaming that. He is a touch embarrassed and often hides his soulmate tattoo, though at least he knows he is fuckable for someone to scream that.

Though, he didn't expect it was this particular context wherein someone had finally exclaimed the phrase.

It was supposed to be your first heist, but some asshat decided to hijack your operation and opted to perform theatrics, effectively upstaging you. Cane twirling under the spotlight and all. Your eye was twitching whilst your hands shook beside you.

How dare this pompous asswipe topple over your months-worth of planning as if this were the only spot in Gotham?

"Silver thread I weave. Silver thread I tread. What am I?"

... It's your soulmate. Fucking hell this was your soulmate. And the answer was spider.

"OH FUCK ME!" You exclaimed after slamming your head against the bottom of your palm.

Edward was mutually distraught, dropping his cane in a panic as he frantically unbutton his cuff and roll his sleeves down. His arm was void of the phrase printed on it. In his shock, he doesn't hear you rant.

"I know I'm supposed to love you, that we're destined together or some shit, but what the hell man! I've been trying to cultivate my villain persona for months! Can't you just... Go to another bank? Jesus Christ."

💚 Batman the animated series

Switching bodies at a certain time and will only swap back once they meet each other.

Now imagine waking up with sore joints from sleeping on a desk, in the middle of the cold, stand to about 6 foot tall or so. On the aforementioned desk, where paper work is scattered about your soulmate's grand scheme...

Well what a coincidence, you also happen to be designing your plans for your upcoming debut as a rogue in Gotham! And Edward wakes up in your body. Oh he was absolutely curious about his soulmate and he took in all that he can see in your living space. There's your interests lying about, notes about them in your upcoming meeting. Oh he couldn't be more elated that you were planning to be a rogue! And he is more than willing to help you with your identity!

After curiously prodding with a new body, he sees your plans littered on your desk as well. In Edward 'The Riddler' Nygma fashion, finished those plans for you and decided to act upon it in chance of meeting you and getting his body back.

Why can't he just drive a car to his address? Well where's the fun in that?

So seeing your body act a different brand of uncharacteristical dramatics, you took to the scene of the crime in his body and it didn't take long for him to spot you in the crowd and finally meet you. With this, you return to your bodies and he helps you with your best first heists! Though it's borderline back seat driving, he was just excited to commit more crimes with you!

💚 Arkhamverse

A soulmate AU wherein you are marked and can feel your soulmate's injuries... It is not looking good for you.

Let's say you are mindful of your body, avoiding risks of injuring yourself to the point that stubbing your toe was a rare occurrence and you would take care of yourself for the sole purpose of making sure your soulmate doesn't feel a thing. Every accidents you have are immediately treated by you if it's minor enough, but you didn't want them to be inconvenienced with your doing.

Your soulmate, on the other hand...

Well let's see; He doesn't eat in time causing you to feel hunger, he barely sleeps and boy no amount of sleep can recover from the heavy bags under your eyes, small cuts and bruises would litter random locations on your body, mainly around the arms and legs... Then there were the worst ones like the feeling of being choked, punched/kicked in the face... Yeah.

As an upstart villain, you were getting into your very first meeting with other rogue's... And once you saw the Riddler up close with his habits and appearance, you knew.

The first thing you did was to pinch yourself on youe side, below your ribcage just to make sure it was him. It was him, he flinched and cursed his soulmate, oblivious that it was the rogue at his proximity giving him dagger eyes. Continuing to glare at him, you slam your knee on a table, catching others attention, including him where he finally puts two and two together.

"You...!" Oh he had to audacity to act as though you were majorly inconveniencing him with intentional injuries.

Not a good start for soulmates, but there were certainly changes that you were positive to reinforce. Eight hour sleep was one of them.

#edward nygma #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #edward nigma #request #young justice riddler #young justice riddler x reader #btas riddler #btas riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #bemymeal #soulmate

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Wait for Me - All I've Ever Known Part 6

I'm coming, wait for me

I hear the walls repeating the falling of my feet, and it sounds like drumming

And I am not alone, I hear the rocks and stones echoing my song

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I don’t know what came over me, asking Jordan to drive me to Sam’s grave. First off, it’s not like there’s anything there. It’s an empty wooden box. Secondly, I don’t even like going there with my family, and I rarely have the courage to go alone. Jordan and I were barely cordial at this point, why did I trust them with this? But visiting his grave had been on my mind more and more since the anniversary of his disappearance, and the question had fallen out of my mouth before I even realized what I was going to say. The only one more shocked than me by my request was Jordan, their brown eyes widening as they spun to look me in the eyes.

“I could walk, it really isn’t that far. Forget I said anything.” I said awkwardly, picking at my nail beds.

“No, no, I’ll drive you. Come on, before everyone else wakes up.” Jordan headed for the front door, not waiting for my weak protests. So that’s how I ended up on the back of Jordan’s motorcycle, sporting a massive black helmet, and clinging to their waist for dear life as we made the short drive to the cemetery. 

As they drove, I couldn’t help but become acutely aware of the way my heart sped up being so close to Jordan. The smell of leather, cigarettes, and their cologne combined with the intensity of the wind in my ears and how my entire body was pressed against Jordan’s back was going to be the death of me. But once we clambered off of the bike and began making our way through the tombstones, I felt the sinking dread creeping up on me. The fear, the grief, all the unanswered questions. Feelings I usually forced into boxes and buried in the back of my mind. But around Jordan, I had begun to let go. Being alone with Jordan was like commiserating with a castmate in the dressing room after a play, especially now that they knew more about my secrets. So I could feel myself letting go, my posture (which was usually picture perfect) almost curling in on itself as we got closer to the location I had chosen - a tall oak tree a little separated from the others.

“I picked the spot.” I whispered to Jordan. “Thought he’d like the tree.” I didn’t expect them to say anything to that. I was grateful that they didn’t, quietly walking by my side.

When I found the spot where Sam’s marker was, Jordan made a show of putting in their earbuds, then leaned against the tree. They faced the other way to give me some privacy. I sat next to the small stone, focusing on my strongest memories of Sam’s face. Memories I kept locked away. The way his curls bounced when he was excited, the exasperated look he would give me when Luke was being particularly... Luke. The songs we would sing together, the inside jokes we shared. The million times he made me watch Waterworld. The way he never failed to make me laugh when I was crying. 

Tears started to stream down my face without me realizing it. "Where are you, Sammy?" I whispered. "Where'd they take you?" My shoulders shook slightly as I sobbed. "I miss you so much. Please, come back to me." I whispered quietly to the abyss. I rested my forehead on the cold stone, feeling waves of grief wash over me. Feelings of loss and anger and pain that I force down like bile, all coming up. I just let myself sob, feeling the weight of a whole year without my best friend crushing me all at once. 

And the fear. What if he was out there? Was he in pain? Or did he just die somewhere else? Some other way? Is he just rotting away in some forest somewhere? Is he lost or afraid? So many questions, no answers. And how was I supposed to do anything about it all alone? I didn’t even know where to start. I’m supposed to be some kind of fucking hero. I’m supposed to be smart. And my brother is gone and all I can do is sit around and cry, signing my life away to the corporation that uses us however they can.They feel entitled to us because they “made” us. Grief for Sam blurred with anguish at the situation I was in now, and the sickening realization at how helpless I truly was.

After a while, I sat up straighter, the sobs subsiding as I pulled myself together. I somehow felt lighter, and more fragile. Jordan threw a travel package of tissues at my head and I laughed as I cried, blowing my nose loudly. 

“Do you travel with those or did you come prepared?” I asked, chuckling. 

“I came prepared.” They said, feigning nonchalance. They were still leaning on the tree, gazing off into the cemetery. Jordan wasn’t one to shy away from silence, allowing me time to fully pull myself together. I stood up, brushing off my pants, and walking over to them. 

“Whenever I come out here with my family, they want to make it a big thing. Did you get the right flowers? Are we in the right clothes? Can the driver wait for us?” I sighed. “Sometimes I feel like fucking Truman. Always putting on a show, never really sure who it’s for.” I admitted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I could always tell you were faking it.” They said wryly, giving me a sideways glance. I laughed, a real genuine laugh, a little too loud for the somber atmosphere.

“It kind of does.” I said, smiling back. We just stood there in comfortable silence for a moment, appreciating the strange beauty of the cemetery in the fall. 

“What makes you think Sam is still out there somewhere? Is it some kind of sixth sense?” They asked me, keeping their eyes forward. 

“No.” I said, laughing lightly, and then I paused, taking a deep breath. “When Sam was suicidal, a couple of years before he disappeared, his biggest concern was us. His family, I mean. He didn’t want to ‘cause us any more issues.’” I put the last part in air quotes, a stray tear trickling from my eye. “It’s nonsense that he would just... disappear. But no one else thought that, so...” I gestured at the graveyard around me. After a long moment of silence, Jordan spoke.

“I always thought it sounded suspicious. But that’s not really what you say to a grieving friend.” They said finally. I laughed darkly.

“Luke and I have had multiple disagreements over this particular issue. Something to the effect of me ‘not knowing our brother as well as I think I do’ and just being ‘a silly little girl who can’t face reality’.” I scoffed. “It’s good you didn’t.” I found myself glaring ahead at nothing. Jordan shifted slightly. 

“I... think I overheard one of those fights.” They said sheepishly. “Not on purpose! Obviously.” They reassured me. “But it, uh, well...”

“That’s embarrassing.” I said, laughing awkwardly. “My relationship with Luke was complicated before Sam vanished, so that just made everything messier.” I explained. Luke acted like he was so much older and wiser than us, and was always willing to do exactly what our parents wanted him to. “Anyways, my family’s fucked, I’m sure your family’s fucked, because at this point, it’s a statistical miracle to be a supe with a good relationship with their parents, now let’s go grab some food.” I said, signaling the end of this little heart-to-heart. I smiled and made the trek back to their bike. 

When we made it back to the townhouse, Luke, Cate, and Andre were all lounging in the living room.

“Hey, nerds, we were gonna watch a few movies, pretend like we don’t have a shit ton of studying to do. Wanna join?” Andre called out to us as we came in.

“Emma will kill me if I don’t invite her.” Jordan said, pulling out their phone to text her. I didn’t know Emma well, but I knew she and Jordan went way back, and that she was a riot. She’s one of those people that you want to be friends with as soon as you meet them. She lights up any room she’s in, and makes everyone feel welcome.

Before I know it, we’re all crammed into the living room. I’m squished between the arm of this old loveseat and Jordan. Emma’s sitting on a pillow on the floor by our feet, and Luke, Cate, and Andre are all piled onto an equally old couch. I grimaced at the line up Andre had selected - a series of horror movies that looked to be particularly frightening. I toyed with the idea of coming up with an excuse to bail - I wasn’t looking for more nightmare fuel. I had enough of that in my real life, thank you very much. But I felt Jordan’s thigh pressed tantalizingly against mine and I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

The first movie went fine - The Exorcist. I mean, it was scary, but I was alright. Then came What Lies Beneath. The psychological nature of it was hard enough, but when Norman was holding his wife underwater, every muscle in my body tensed. I felt my hands begin to tremble and my throat threaten to close as the room spun around me. Laughter that I knew wasn’t real was echoing in the room and I couldn’t hear anything else. 

I tried to remember what Grace had told me to do. I started counting, knowing if I made it to a thousand, I could leave without drawing too much attention.

Flashback

“Listen, Mags, I know this is a lot, and you’re scared. PTSD is no joke - and while your therapist can give you tools, they obviously don’t know everything.” I clenched my jaw as she said this - Vought had made me agree to use Vought appointed counselors and I was prevented from sharing certain details with them. “If you’re ever in public and you start feeling an episode coming on, count to a thousand, and then excuse yourself to the restroom. By that point, you should be through the worst of it and be able to make it to privacy without alerting anyone that something is wrong.” I nodded, pushing down the torrent of questions I still had for her. 

Jordan must have noticed the change in my posture because they reached over and squeezed my hand, startling me and making me lose count. Fuck. I squeezed their hand back, trying to keep myself present. I focused on the feeling of the arm of the loveseat digging into my ribs, trying to force the sound of laughter away. I took a deep breath, realizing I had forgotten to keep breathing in my efforts to maintain composure. 

Their breath was hot on my neck. “You ok, little mouse? It’s just a movie.” They whispered softly. I nodded stiffly, keeping my eyes straight ahead. “Ok, then can you loosen up a bit? I’d like to keep my fingers.” My heart skipped a beat and I dropped their hand suddenly.

“Sorry about that.” I mumbled, the embarrassment bringing me out of my flashback slightly. I looked down and realized that I was trapped in my spot, cornered between Emma and Jordan. Every part of my body was screaming at me to run. I still didn’t feel like I could breathe right. Jordan looked back at me, concern etched in their face. I realized my hands were clenched in fists in my lap, knuckles white with the effort. Jordan picked up one of my hands, the one closer to them, and gently but firmly forced my hand open. They smoothed my hand, almost massaging my palm with their thumbs as they tried to soothe me. I took a long and deep breath, trying desperately to calm down. They interlaced our fingers, holding my hand in an effort to soothe me.

Finally, the credits began to roll, and people began cleaning up and saying good night. Everything felt far away, like I had turned the volume down on the world. I went through the motions, waving goodbye and getting up to go to bed. Once I made my way upstairs, Jordan cornered me in the hallway, the same way they did when we first met.

“You sure you’re alright, mouse? Need anything?” I shook my head but found myself stepping forward and wrapping my arms around Jordan in a tentative embrace.

“It’s been a long day.” I said quietly. They wrapped their arms around me, hugging me close.

“It’s been a long year.” They corrected. “You’re doing great. Sleep well, alright?” They said, before pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And I couldn’t keep a small smile off of my face as I nodded and went into my room. Maybe everything was going to turn out alright...

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edits by @barbieprincesshilton

#jordan li #gen v #gen v prime #gen v fic #jordan li x reader #angst #gen v smut #luke riordan #sam riordan #lukes little sister x jordan li

[catgirltitties]

Tagged by @mispronouncing-michaelangelo 15 Questions for 15 Mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone? I am! My first name TaIanivaIu is a Samoan royal name that was given to my great grandfather, so I'm the 4th! It was like created for the man too, so i'm the only person thats supposed to have the name. My name Ea is Hawaiian for free spirit, but its not after someone else.

2. When was the last time you cried? That fucking sappy Halo character saying nice things to you that I got mini viral off of came across my dash again and it made me cry LOL.

3. Do you have kids? No, but id like to one day

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not too much but when i do i make it pretty obvious that im not serious

5. What sports do you play/have you played? I played a lot of peewee sports, flag football, basketball, soccer, and i played for the best high school water polo team in the US. Right now im in a rec league for basketball, softball, and football, and previously did competitive kickball! My friends call me a jock hehe

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? Eyes and hair (my favorite!)

7. Eye colour? Dark Brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings sweep!!!!

9. Any special talents? can dance and sing and uhh put my leg over my head

10. Where were you born? Los Angeles county CA

11. What are your hobbies? Nerd shit Jock shit and suckin off women

12. Do you have any pets? Nope :(

13. How tall are you? Idk but prolly 5'11

14. Fave subject in school? Philosophy hehe

15. Dream job? Music video post production director

I tag uhhhhh @biggum @fresh2definitely @coccolithophore @flowerygraves @myopicmickey for this. Reply if you wanna do this and i'll edit you into the post so you can be tagged >:)

#tag game #thank you so much for the tag !! #im sorry this is so late

[adveturousend]

Tonight is your lucky night,ma'am

pairing : Hangman x reader, a*hole bf x reader

Summary: a bad night turns into a lucky one

"This is not the way it's supposed to be" - these words were ringing inside your head constantly for the last 3 days. 3 days ago you were hapilly getting off your plane to FINALLY meet up with your boyfriend,Roy. Tall,handsome ,charming Roy. Caring, loving, insanely hot Roy. Head over hills , cross my heart and hope to die,love of your life Roy.

3 days ago you wouldn't hesitate for a second to leave your good life in Europe and become domesticated wifey if he'd ask you to. 3 days ago you would move to a cabin in the woods or a freaking cave if he'd asked you to. You would do absolutely and totally everything just to be with him. But this was 3 days ago. 3 damn days change your perspective entirely.Now, all you could think of is how stupid and naive you are. How blind you are. What a damn idiot you are. What a sad and insecure person you've become. Since you saw him on the airport you knew something wasn't right. He kissed you with his eyes open, he didnt even take your luggage on his own will,you literally put it in his hand by yourself. Not really subtle,but ok. When you had sex first time in 6 months ,it was quick and not really passionate. He seemed annoyed all the time . You wanted him to show you some of the beautiful sunny San Diego, but he wasnt willing to. He didn't even took a day off work just to be with you. It all was jus't not right. Alarms were ringing in your head but being a polite,well mannered girl ,you stayed silent. You clearly saw that he was not the same person you thought you knew ,which caught you by surprise. When you met for the first time roughly 8 months ago, he was a perfect match . 10/10. He litterally swoop you out of your feet. Dinner dates , long phone calls, flowers, chocolates ,romantic walks,gazing into your eyes, great sex, fun and outgoing- everything you ever wanted in a man...yeah well,you thought that until 3 fucking days ago.

"Let's go back ,its freezing and it's getting late" -a harsh voice snapped you back to reality and put an end to your intrusive thoughts. Well, just put them on hold ,to be more precise. You looked up to meet Roy's eyes - dark and unfeeling. If you weren't feeling cold before , the look he gave you sent shiver down your spine. Or maybe it was an ocean breeze. Or maybe both. "Let's stay just a couple minutes more?" you asked quietly . " Sky is gorgeous tonight" you added. He just scoffed and said " you can stay here all night if you want to but I am your ride and I am going ,bye" - Roy started walking away from you. You couldn't believe what you heard . And what you saw. Your bf was literally leaving you alone here!! "Hey,Roy! What are you doing??!!" You cried after him ,but he didn't respond,just kept walking. So you stood up and started running after him. Once you got to him you grabed his arm and yelled "Seriously???" You leaving me here alone? What the hell is wrong with you?!!?

His eyes were even more cold than before ,he gritted his teeth and literally hissed " I am sick and tired of entertaining your ass. All you do is holding onto me like you cannot fucking do anything without me! Since you flew in here all I do is babysit you, gimme a break woman!" With every spoken word his voice was raising and made you feel even more small than you already did. You stared at him with wide eyes and all you could say was quiet " but I came here for you... because of you, you wanted me to finally ..." "well maybe you shouldn't come,maybe I shouldn't string you along"- he cut you off. "What?" you almost choked . "What are you.." - you fight with tears that are coming ,damn,these stupid eyes of yours in the wet place ,always crying so easily. "Y/n, I cant pretend anymore. I dont want you,not anymore,6 months apart is a lot and things changed, just leave me alone" - he said and walked away leaving you alone , on the beach ,in the middle of the night, in a foreign country. He broke up with you,just like that. On the beach,in the middle of the night. IN THE FOREIGN COUNTRY. You stood there in shock. Eyes wet ,but your mind and body freezed. You seemed to not really know how to process what have just happenned. It was like a bad dream. So you just stood there, looking into the abbyss of the ocean , feeling cold breeze chilling through your bones.You haven't even registered when you started walking. You walked and walked and walked. Mindlessly. For hours.For eternity,that's what it felt like. You were slowly coming into your senses when you heard noises.Sounded like music,so you turned your head in this direction and saw faint lights in the distance. "People" you thought. "I need people right now". That was your focus right now. To not be alone. To get back safely to your hotel. Broken heart can wait. Well,it will catch up to you if you want it or not. But now, basic instinct was kicking in - just be safe. You wiped your tears, straighten your back and put on a brave face as you walked on to the door of what looked like a bar full of people you so desperately needed right now. A little drink wouldnt kill you too. You went in, awkwardly smiling and met a gaze and a smile from a very pretty lady behind the bar. You went straight to her "hey,what can I get you?" The woman asked "Hi, um whiskey on the rocks please" "I'm on it" she winked at you and started preparing your drink. All of a sudden you felt someone right beside you leaned on the bar. You looked up and saw a very handsome face and a pair of green eyes boring into you. "Penny,sweatheart ,4 more beers please" . Handsome face spoke never breaking the eye contact with you. "Just a sec ,Hangman, ladies first " said the bartender as she put your drink in front of you and smiled warmly at you. You smiled back and thanked her, pick the glass up and gulped it like water. You hissed as the alcohol burned your throat but it felt good in a way.Liberating.

"Whoa,easy ma'am! That kind od drinking gets you in trouble!" Handsome face spoke again ,this time directly to you flashing it's pearly whites in a wide smile. "I'm already in trouble so oh well I guess" you responded. His smile got even more wider and he said in a lower ,more raspy voice "Soo,do you need a rescue?" As he said it,he shifted his arms and for a brief second he touched you. His warm skin brushed against your icy cold one. You didn't know if it was just beacause he was hot,like,literally, and you were chilled to the bone or maybe it was just adrenaline washing down or maybe whiskey was doing it's job but sudden closeness of this random guy in the bar gave you some comfort. Something you needed badly right now. "I do ,actually" you heard your own voice coming out of your mouth and before you could react and take it back ,the Handsome face got a bit closer to you and said "Tonight is your lucky night,ma'am"

To be continued

#hangman x y/n #hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

[neverendingparable]

1: Yes.

2: You'd think I'd have a more readily prepared answer for this but uhhhh. I'm going to go basic bitch mode and say Freedom. I like the irony of it and it's one of the few that don't make me feel guilt or pain so that's a plus

3: Likely the 'Cold Feet' ending, by sheer accident during all the times I would try to reach the warehouse floor safely.

4: 10. Can I say 12, can I do that?

5: Please, all of you, get a decent fucking therapists.

6: After having worked in one (1) Office, I gotta say. Yeah that really is how it be, huh.

7: I look at him and think 'he is literally me.'

8: I tried only for the sake of finding out what would happen. At first, I thought I wouldn't be able to do it, but then I thought 'well what happens if I *do,*' then I thought 'how many times do I have to click for something to change.' I like the bucket but if I see it in my house that's its house now.

NOTES: Despite the lack of a 'notes' section, beneath the survey is a crude sketch of two well-dressed figures sitting at a fancy table. A thin man with three dark eyes holds hands with a short, stocky fellow while they sit in front of what looks like slabs of steak. Below the table lies a tall man with a shaved head in a blood-covered hoodie, prone in the Family Guy Death Pose, with chunks of his body missing. The drawing is surrounded by hearts.

Ulmar is about to send the survey off like he did to the first one but he stops to examine the little drawing. Once he realizes what it was, his eyes light up.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying! There is such a thing as ethical cannibalism if the people you eat don't stay dead, right? I mean - ethics is just a fancy word to throw around, I am sure my employers wouldn't care for the death of a side character who has no relation to the story at all."

He sighs, a bit wistfully. "Well, unless someone else stages a hit on Rex again, I suppose we won't get another chance. Besides, I think he is infected with something called 'eric'. Probably better not to put that in our mouths."

#sunnysynergy #asks #ulmar deluxe #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #clickonmedotexe #rex is giving you a death stare delta

[roach-pizza]

Original Character Tag Game

Thanks for the tag: @artcoffeecats

Rules: Answer the questions as yourself or as an OC of your choice.

Ik i'm supposed to tag people, but I have no idea who to tag, so if you wanna do it, please do so and tag me so I can check out your OCs.

I'll answer as Rychell Farric, Meto Clarimont, and Orincia Yinquen. If you wanna know more about them, please check out my pinned post on my blog.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Meto: You could say my name is a family name.

Rychell *shrugging*: I think so, but I didn't pay attention when I was told. Why should I give a fuck about dead people?

Orincia *rolling his eyes*: Yes. Orincia is always given to the second born male child, in my case my name was legally changed when I was 16-17, after I came out as trans.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Meto *eyes shift nervously* I'm not going to answer that.

Rychell: About twenty years ago. Ghosts can't cry.

Orincia: Last night :) :) :)

3. Do you have kids?

Meto: I don't like childern.

Rychell: No unfortunately Orincia and I tried, but it was discovered I am infertile.

Orincia *side eyeing Rychell*: Unfortunately? Based on what you've done I think it's fortunate we don't have more or you running around.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Meto: *laughs* No. Never.

Rychell: Sometimes, depends on the person.

Orincia: I don't have the time, but sometimes when I'm upset.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Meto: If there's anything worth stealing.

Rychell *nods his head*: Yeah. Same.

Orincia *middle distance stare* *sigh*: Sometimes their chest, sometimes their torso. It depends on how much taller they are.

6. What's your eye color?

Meto: Emerald, but now they have a white pupil, and red ring around the iris.

Rychell: Dark purple, but now they are orange.

Orincia: All black.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Meto: What the fuck is a movie?

Rychell: I'm interested in that happy ending~

Meto: Count me in for one of those as well~~

Orincia *annoyed*: You two are not using these people as an audience. Behave.

8. Any special talents?

Meto: I can vanish without a trace.

Rychell: I've been known to give a good blo-

Orincia *outraged*: Rychell! Absolutely not. My talent is not killing this one.

Rychell: I'm dead, you can't kill me again.

Orincia: Ha. I can try if I wanted to.

9. Where were you born?

Meto: At home.

Rychell: I was actually born in another country. If it wasn't for my parents being literal rulers, it would have caused quite a problem.

Orincia: In a garden.

10. What are your hobbies?

Meto: Sewing if you can believe it.

Rychell *pulls down his collar exposing his neck which has thick stitches*: He did a good job.

Orincia: Collecting spells.

11. Have you any pets?

Meto: We weren't allowed to have pets, but my boarding school did have resident horses, and cats.

Rychell: I collected insects as a kid, does that count?

Orincia: It's too cold to keep any such animals.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Meto: I was forced to sign up for track.

Rychell: Does underground fighting count as a sport?

Orincia: No.

Rychell: Then no :)

13. How tall are you?

Meto: 6 feet

Rychell: Six foot two

Orincia:....5 feet.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Meto: I fucking hated school.

Rychell: That was so long ago. How long Orincia.

Orincia:...hm....150-200 years?

Rychell: Yeah, I don't remember.

Orincia *laughs*:....I don't ether actually.

15. Dream job?

Meto: Does being a battle mage count?

Rychell: You hated Helina.

Meto:...yeah true.

Orincia: King, but that's not really a dream, more like an expectation.

#writblr #Liar's Mosaic #original character #tag game

[whyulooklikethat]

The pipers princess pt2

Hey pt2 of the pipers princess Idk if imma centune this b/c I wanna make a new story. BUT if i do Imma' make it kinda smutty.

Parings: Peter pan x Gn reader

“”What?” I say, not sure if I read it right. I blink just to make sure, 7:13. Peter and Felix look at each other, as if to ask a question. “The time,” I say “It hasn't changed since I got here.” “oh” Peter says “Time doesn't really work the same way here princess”. “Then how does it work?” “Sorry darling, I’ll have to tell you a little later.” he says “Felix, Take her to my hut. Now.” And with that last word I’m thrown over Felix's shoulder and carried away, though it’s now bad. I like it here though I'm not sure about my sleeping situation. It feels like the home I never had. Every part of it: Felix, Peter, the rocky shore, the ever so tall trees! All through the clothes don't look very comfy…  After about 6 minutes of Felix walking I asked “How old are you?” “128, why?” “128?!?” “Yeah, time doesn't work the same here, remember? And you didn't answer my question.” “Well what was your question?” “Why do you want to know how old I am?” “I just wanted to know what kind of age I’m going to be around for however long I’m here” “Did Peter not tell you?” “Tell me what?” “None leaves neverland unless Peter lets them” “Why would anyone ever want to leave neverland?” “don't know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TIME SKIP! (At the hut)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix gently put me down and we said our farewells. I’ve been on the island for however long and met 2 people I Think we're friends… Which in my opinion is more than long enough to go to bed. However I have no idea where in this hut I’m sleeping. So Imma stay up till Peter gets here! I need to stay occupied… I look around, see a couch and I think about how tired I am… You know what fuck it I’m sleeping on the couch!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time skip (Again) (In the morning)~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up in a bed. I sit up highly confused and then remember what happened last night. But why am I in bed? And where's Peter? And why didn’t I have a Nightmare last night? My thoughts swarm my head, drowning me.  But then I hear a familiar voice, one that snaps me out of my trance, Peter!  Looking at where the sound came from. I see Peter, looking confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear what you said.” “I asked if you were ok.” Oh, yeah. I’m ok, just zoned out.” “If you say so, want some food?” “Now that I think about it, I’m starving!” “Ok then let’s go.” “Alright” He walked over to me, taking my hand. I blink and when I open my eyes I see the same camp from yesterday. Looking at him confused I see he’s already looking at me. He looks down, as if he’d been caught. I suppose he saw our hands intertwined and let go. I however simply looked around seeing all the boys around me, all teen’s or kids: youngest being 4 and oldest 18 by the looks of it but based on what Felix told me they could be well over 300. Then I realize there all boys…

Should I make a pt3? Or start a new story?

#peter pan x gn reader #peter pan #x reader #felix x reader #felix #fanfic #fanfiction

[nizynskis]

tagged by matea @filmstar1997 for the 15 questions game thank you I love talking <33 you’re supposed to tag 15 people but let’s say 5

1) are you named after anyone? No my ma just thought the name was pretty. And it is. 🐑

2) when was the last time you cried? At the end of poly styrene: i am a cliche. The mother daughter stuff the.. 🥺

3) do you have kids? No thank God I will someday but not before I develop my brain

4) do you use sarcasm a lot? No I try not to I think it makes me into a person I don’t like

5) what is the first thing you notice about people? Their mouth! Not sure why it just pulls the face together

6) what color are your eyes? they’re green on summer nights in Seattle and gold in 70 degree weather on leap years ok enough fucking around theyre hazel but we all talk like that

7) scary movies or happy endings? Like matea said everything has a time and place but happy endings are all I can handle so I don’t go sleepless for a week

8) any special talents? Also like matea said I can fold both my legs behind my head so now I’m feeling less special about that. And I can pull off any ugly outfit perk of being a dyke

9) where were you born? Manhattan it’s a source of shame

10) what are your hobbies? I like to sew and embroider and occasionally knit but it’s been a long time since I did anything lmaooo

11) do you have any pets? My dog Willow is dachshund/pitbull she looks like a seal and she’s an angel that bites other people but not me

12) what sports do you play/have you played? I was very briefly on my high school wrestling team otherwise nothijg I have no coordination

13) how tall are you? 5’5 I think that’s 165 cm?

14) favorite subjects in school? I love English also sorry for being cringe but my economics class is very exciting

15) dream job? book editor .. 💞

tagging @franzkafkagf @gummirock @tavalen @gender444 @doradotcom