#i am playing with these cursed objects like dolls

[magiefish]

Adding the Evil Dice to the Homophobic Vase and Hungry Violin play date.

[brianmaysclog]

Satoru’s Girl

In a world where you could have suguru geto, but suguru geto couldn’t have you.

a/n: HELLO! i am uh VERY excited about this! there will also be another one of these at the end, bc i obviously cannot say what i want now bc it’ll ruin the fic and we cannot have that. well actually, there are time jumps in the fic, so be prepared for that. anyways, i hope you all enjoy:)

Satoru x AFAB! reader, Suguru X AFAB! reader

word count: 6.3k (woohoo!)

Warnings: cursing, smut (although not really smut but i’m putting the warning anyways), marriage, pregnancy, birth, death, mentions of death, death scene (best way to put it). i would say this is probably pg-13, i think that’s all the warnings, if i forgot any please let me know!

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but not necessary.

“Hey alexa, play Satoru’s Girl.”

Now playing: Satoru’s Girl:

______________________________________________________________

Suguro Geto has been infatuated with you his entire life. The moment he first looked into your eyes, he swore he saw the future with you in it. He could show you his love, give you his love. He could give you the Sun on a cloudy day, the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow; but it wouldn’t matter. Because you weren’t his. You were Satoru Gojo’s. 

Best friends since practically birth, Sugru swore that he would worship you, cherish you, and protect you. 

That's why when you told him you were falling for his best friend, Satoru, he had to do everything in his power to prevent it. Not to hurt you, not to embarrass you, not even to shoot the shot himself. But simply to protect you. 

Gojo was a player. He cared for his best friend, yes, and he also loved his favorite girl and wanted you happy, but being with Satoru would only make you happy for so long. And he couldn’t bear seeing you so sad, especially if he could have prevented it. 

But it was too late, the two of you had declared your feelings for one another before Suguru had a chance to object. He could have prevented this, he should have. Not even now, in the past, he had time after time to confess how he felt, yet he never did, too worried about ruining your friendship or changing your view on him. It would kill him if you thought of him any differently.

If Satoru had known Suguru’s feelings, he never would have gone in, but Suguru is a people pleaser. He could tell for a while that Satoru was developing feelings for you, yet, he had hoped it was just a phase. That it was just one of Satoru’s silly crushes he would get and go away, when gone, he could then respectively get the opportunity to go for you; but.

The phase never ended. It was proven quickly that Satoru’s playboy phase was over, and he was ready to commit, settle, and create. 

______________________________________________________________

“What color?” 

“hm..” 

“I asked what color. As in the dress I wear for Satoru and I’s date tonight.” 

“Oh, uh, the blue one. It’ll pair really well with his eyes.” 

“You are so right! What would I do without you Suguru?” 

God, you were so beautiful in Suguru’s eyes. Crafted by the Goddess Aphrodite herself. Chiseled by the hands of Michelangelo directly. You were perfect, you were flawless, you were Satoru’s. He needed to get these thoughts out of his head, he needed to push past these feelings. He needed to get over these pent up feelings, he could no longer think about them and feel good about it; happy. Because you were not his, you were Satoru’s. 

______________________________________________________________

“Suguru, can I please come over?” 

“Uh yeah, sure doll. What’s wrong?” 

You hesitate before you answer, not sure if you want to say anything at all. 

“Satoru and I got into an argument. He left and I don’t want to be here by myself; I can’t. I’m just too frustrated, angry, I can’t stand being here right now.” 

Suguru can feel the clench of his jaw get tighter, almost painful. How dare Satoru hurt his girl. How did he hurt his girl? Did they disagree on something? Did he insult her? Did he lay with anoth… no he wouldn’t. But it is a possibility. 

In fact, it didn’t matter what he did. Suguru was seeing red, and in that moment, he wanted to hurt Satoru and protect you. 

By the time you arrived at Suguru's, you had stopped crying. Your face red and puffy, but also emotionless. Feeling nothing but anger and regret in the moment. 

Suguru welcomed you in with a hug, so warm and comforting. You stay like that for a moment and breathe in his scent. Menthols and cedar, so familiar and pleasing. 

He sends you to the couch and goes to the kitchen to grab two wine glasses and a bottle of the wine brand you really enjoy.

“So doll, tell me what happened.” 

In which you do. You proceed to tell him how the two of you went out to eat with some of Satoru’s coworkers. and how you didn’t appreciate his work wife (her words not yours) hanging all over him, especially in the presence of you. Scooting in real close to him in the booth at the restaurant, causing you to have to sit between two of his coworkers. Then, she would constantly interrupt you every time you had something to say, and would belittle you. The worst part of it all, Satoru let it happen. His coworker, Nanami, said something before he did. Actually, it does get worse, on the way home you bring this up to him, telling him how you didn’t appreciate this, and he brushes it off as her normal behavior, which then, makes you think. If this was how she acted when you’re around, how does she act when you’re not? This stirs the pot even more, makes it reach a boiling point, as you begin pointing accusations towards him and it just got nasty from there. 

You take your final sip of your third glass of wine, signaling Suguru, still on his first glass, for another refill. 

“Of course, I feel bad for accusing him of such things, but do you blame me? They looked like they were the ones in a relationship and I was one of the coworkers!” 

“Don’t feel bad. It’s normal to feel that way, based on what was on display for you tonight and with how you were feeling. You had every right to be upset.” 

“I know Suggy, I just feel so bad about it.” 

“Do you know where Satoru is now? You mentioned he had left.” 

“No.” 

A moment of calm before the storm.

“Wait. What if he’s at that bitchs’ house. What if he’s over there laughing with her about how oblivious I am. What if he’s already fucked her, rolled over and said goodnight-“

“Y/N stop. That’s not happening and you know it. He could be at the gym, even sitting in the car. Have you called him ?” 

“No…I don’t want to talk to him, right now.” 

It sucks. It really does. Being stuck in between the disputes and fights between your best friend and the love of your life. Conflicting on what side to be on, having to choose between your brain and your heart. 

“Okay, maybe I’ll do the talking. I’ll call him and check in to make sure he’s okay. Where’s my phone-“ 

Maybe it was the wine talking, actually it was the wine talking. You would never do this sober. You loved Suguru, but not like this. This was out of spite. Out of anger. Nothing but pure venom behind this. 

Suguru knew this. He dreamed of this moment every night, but not like this. 

Your lips on his. 

He knew this was wrong. He knew you didn’t mean this. He knew he couldn’t enjoy it. You were tipsy, he was not. You were in a relationship with his best friend. He couldn’t. 

He gently pulled away and looked at you, tears now slowly cascading down your face. 

“Y/n..” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

There’s silence, followed by a knock on the door. A familiar knock. The knock only Satoru does. 

“Suguru. I messed up. Can I come in?” 

The tears fall down your face even more now. Guilt taking over. 

“This never happened, okay?” Suguru speaks up, heading towards the door. He wants it to keep happening. He wants to keep kissing you, properly. He wants to make you feel better, to make you forget the events of the night, ever happened, but he knows he can’t.  

Suguru doesn’t open the door until you respond with a faint “okay,” acknowledging to never speak about what just happened. 

Satoru walks in, explaining, just how you did, what had happened. He then says he wasn’t at the gym, wasn’t at her house, but that he was just out. Walking around, clearing his head, feeling so stupid. Feeling so shitty he hadn’t done anything, feeling like he needed to do something to make it up to you, he just didn’t know what. That’s why he was here at Suguru’s. You, not yet noticed by him. 

When you are, Satoru's eyes pop out of his skull, relieved. He was worried you were at home, alone with nothing but your thoughts and his harsh words. He left you, which was so selfish of him. He should have stayed there and talked it out. Apologized with his words and his mouth….and tongue….and hands…. 

He trusted Suguru with his life. He knew that the two of you had been friends forever. Even before the two of them met in middle school. He had nothing to worry about. He knew you had seen Suguru as a brother, and from what he was told from Suguru, that you were not his type and nothing but a friend to him. He trusted Suguru to comfort you and be there for you when needed, so seeing you at his house wasn’t surprising at all. 

What Satoru didn’t know, though, was that you had kissed Suguru just mere moments before he arrived. 

______________________________________________________________

“Marry me.” 

The statement catching you off guard, you choke on the noodle you were slurping. 

“W-what? "I said, marry me.” 

“Right- Right now?”

“Well obviously not now, the courthouse is closed. Tomorrow we can. We’ll go shopping for our wedding attire then head our way down and officiate our love.” 

“Satoru, I would love to marry you, but don’t you think-” 

“Think what? That this is all too soon, so sudden? That I’m crazy? No darling I don’t think such things. I think that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That I want you to have my last name, to become mine, officially. I want you to walk around when you’re shopping with Shoko and flaunt off the ring on your finger, showing you belong to me. I think that I want you, forever, and that I am so impatient I simply cannot wait to marry you. I want to see you all dolled up for me, in a beautiful dress, telling me how much you love me in front of whoever comes. I want you, forever-no, I need you forever. So, I’ll say it again. Marry me,” 

“Yes Satoru, I’ll marry you.” 

He places his hands on your face and pulls it closer to him. He then pushes your hair behind your ear and leans in so close, breath fanning on your lips. 

“Perfect. We’ll make it happen, tomorrow.” 

He then ends the sentence by finally capturing your lips with his. Fast paced and sloppy at first, but then slowing down to more sensual, passionate kisses, Before things become to heated, you pull back and confront him: 

“However, in the future, when we are rich, you owe me my dream wedding. A live band, a 10ft tall wedding cake, a beautiful gown,-”

“Deal,” Satoru says, kissing you again. “As long,” kiss, “you marry,” kiss, “me,” kiss, “now.” 

______________________________________________________________

“Suguru.” 

“Yes Satoru?” 

“What did you get y/n for her birthday?” 

Suguru chuckles. The two men sitting on the couch of yours and Satoru’s shared apartment playing Mariokart. You went out with Shoko for the evening so Satoru took his opportunity to discuss birthday ideals. 

“Why? Do you need ideas on what to get your loving girlfriend for her birthday?”

“WHAT! Of course not. She’s just been naming a lot of things she wants for her special day, and I want to make sure you didn’t get her anything I did, because otherwise one of us is gonna have to return it.”

“Right.”

Satoru didn’t like that and attempts to run Suguru off the track, but to no avail, fails. Suguru retorts by throwing a banana peel on the track, which in turns, makes Satoru fall off the track. 

“Bastard.”

“I’m in third place now you better catch up..” 

“I am……gonna be first, just you watch.” 

Silence consumes the two, the only noises being from the game and a couple of frustrated sighs and groans. 

“How the hell are you first Suguru?” 

“I’m just that good.” 

“Bullshit is what it is.” 

“Oh and would you look at that, I win.” 

“You’re a bitch.” 

“A winner is what I am Satoru.” 

Satoru rolls his eyes and hands his friend a five, the rightful bet for the round. 

“This isn’t over, I got plenty more coming.” 

“And you won’t have anymore coming once the night is over.” 

Satoru gets up and heads towards the kitchen and grabs two cans of that soda they like so much. He throws one to Suguru and the two of them drink it in silence before Suguru speaks up: 

“Oh, and to answer your question, I got y/n that blanket and house slippers she really wanted.” He chose to go a safer route, didn’t want to get anything too intimate, like the perfume you really wanted.

“In her favorite color?”  

“You know it. What did you get her?”

“I got her that perfume she really wanted, as well as some snacks, and drinks she really enjoys. I also got her that huge stuffed animal she wanted, the sweaters, and that dress.” 

“She’s gonna love it.” 

“I hope so. I don’t want her to think I overdid it. She deserves all of it, and I want her to know that, too.” “She will. Don’t overthink it.” 

And the conversation ends with perfect timing, as you walk into the door with multiple bags in hands. “I’m back! Did you miss me?” 

“Always dear,” Satoru greets you, taking your bags in hand and giving you a kiss. “Hey Suguru!” You finally spot the black haired man and give him a hug. He inhales your scent, quickly, and smiles. 

“Hey doll. Did you have fun with Shoko?”

“So much fun. Actually, you two sit down, I’ll give you guys a little shopping haul!” You squeal with excitement. 

And the two men sit down as you take the bags back from Satoru. You then proceed to show them everything you got. From the hair clips, to the graphic tees, to the..

Oh. You managed to purchase everything you wanted for your birthday. 

“Looks like we’re both gonna have to return what we got her,” Satoru whispers into Suguru’s ear, which manages to make him laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask, faking a hurt expression as they interrupted your haul.

“Nothing love, continue.” 

______________________________________________________________

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

Suguru couldn’t believe his ears. He never wanted to imagine this, and even if he did, it happening so soon, while the two of you were still so young. 

“I don’t’... I don’t know how to tell Satoru. I don’t even know if he wants kids, we’ve never talked about it, really, before. What if he’s angry? Or scared? What if he leaves me?” 

Tears begin falling down your face faster than you are able to wipe them off. 

Suguru has always wanted kids. Especially if they were with you. He knew, in that moment, that if Satoru refused it, he would help you. 

Except he knew Satoru wouldn’t refuse it, nor would he leave you. He would be so happy. He loves kids, and he’s wanted to be a dad, probably, much longer than Suguru wanted to be. 

“And, knowing our families, who knows how they’ll react. They could be angry, sad, happy, or  worse, disown us. Oh Suggy, I’m not ready for this, I can’t do this.”

“y/n, relax. Breathe. It’s okay. For starters. Satoru will be beyond happy. I can guarantee you that. I know him just as well as you do, so trust me on that. I know you're scared, and I know it all is happening so fast. But that’s okay.” 

“But our parents-” 

“To hell with them. If they aren’t happy, if they aren’t bursting with joy at the fact that you are carrying their grandbaby, then forget about them. You know that Satoru and you will have mine and Shoko’s support and love. You also know that my family will love that baby like it is their own kin and spoil it more than it needs to. Again, I know it’s all so sudden. I know it’s happening so fast. But, it’s okay. It’ll all come together in the end.” 

“Thanks Suggy, I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

You embrace him in a hug and begin crying softly, but this time with happy tears. You know it’ll be okay. 

“You know I’ll always be here for you doll.” 

“I know, I love you Suggy.” 

“I love you too.” And he really does. But he needs to stop. 

You were, now, carrying the child of his best friend. He needs to overcome these feelings, it isn’t right. It isn’t fair. But he can’t stop. 

______________________________________________________________

“Absolutely no peeking at all. You understand me?” 

  “Yes ma’am,” Suguru and Shoko both say, the pair also doing a little hand salute. 

You and Satoruo had planned a little surprise for the two of them. They knew you were pregnant, they just didn’t with know how many, So once you had left the OBGYN appointment, the two of you began planning your surprise. 

“Can we look yet? I can feel my forehead getting sweaty with this blindfold.” 

“NO Suguru, LEAVE it on.” “Satoru-” 

“NO ifs, ands, or butts. We’re almost done. Be patient.” 

A very long, dramatic, time later, you then announce to your two friends that they can take their blindfolds off. 

“Finally.” 

There is a moment of silence once they are removed and the two of them look at you and Satoru, confused. 

“Erm doll, what are we supposed to be looking at?” 

Satoru had a sweet tooth, so when he saw the candy bars he had come up with the perfect idea. 

You handed a Hershey’s bar to Shoko, with the HER colored in. 

“It’s a girl?! Ohmygod!” she jumps up and gives you a hug, tight, but not too tight afraid she may hurt the baby. 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Satoru says, handing another Hershey's bar to Suguru, this time the HE being colored in. 

“Wait, it’s a boy?” 

“Well yes, technically the both of you are correct,” you say, waiting for the two of them to piece it together. 

It takes a little bit, watching the two of them trying to connect two and two together, but eventually Shoko yells out, “Twins? YOu’re having TWINS?” 

“Ding ding ding!” 

“YES! More babies to spoil!” Shoko then engulfs you and Satoru in a hug, The three of you jumping around in a circle. 

Suguru, although happy for you two, is sat on the couch in shock. His heart aching, He should have been the one announcing along with you that you were having twins. 

“Congratulations you guys. I’m really happy for you.” 

______________________________________________________________

Satoru watches you as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your hands on your belly, eyes darting back and forth between your growing stomach and your face. 

“Love, what’s wrong?” 

You hesitate, and of course Satoru sees as your face changes between upset to content. 

“Nothing!” you smile.” 

“Don’t lie to me. I know when something is up.” He gets up from the bed and makes his way behind you, snaking his arms around you and his hands, now resting upon your stomach. “Talk to me.” 

“I just-” you begin crying. Tears pouring out slowly. “I feel so different. I look so different. My body is changing and I don’t feel beautiful anymore.” The tears more rapid now

Satoru turns you around, your face now laying directly in his chest. His arms tighten around you, engulfing you.

“Y/n?” 

“Yes?” you ask, lifting your face up to look into Satoru's eyes. They were so beautiful, so captivating. Entrancing you. 

“You are so beautiful, just as beautiful as the day I first laid my eyes on you. Just as beautiful as the first time we made love, when your skin was slick with sweat and hair all matted in a mess. You are just as beautiful as you were the first time you were hungover, sick as hell, throwing up everywhere. And just as beautiful as the day you said ‘I do,’ and we married. You are beautiful, and you always will be. You are growing our children. Do you understand how amazing that is? You are so strong, stronger than me. I could never do something like that. You are nurturing and doing everything you can to ensure that our kiddos are safe, healthy, and well nourished. I don’t understand why you are feeling like this, and I probably never will, but just know, to me; I know you are beautiful. And I love and appreciate the fact that you are doing this, holding our babies everyday.” 

“I love you Satoru.” 

“I love you too, y/n,” and with that, Satoru picks you up, with haste, and carries you to the bed. Where he spends a majority of the evening showing you just how beautiful you are, and how much he appreciates you. 

______________________________________________________________

“Hello?” 

You answer the phone, taking a break from decorating the nursery. You, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko had all been painting, putting furniture together, and getting everything ready for your unborn babies. Satoru had left to pick up lunch about an hour or so ago, so the three of you had resumed working until he had returned. 

You were about seven months along at this point. Belly growing bigger everyday as you provided a nurturing environment for your babies to grow and develop in.You were glowing. 

But you always were in Suguru’s eyes. 

You begin looking pale, eyes bubbling with tears. Your hand, banded with a wedding ring, turning white as you are gripping the phone so tight.

“y/n.” 

No response.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” 

Shoko comes up to your side placing an arm on your stomach, meant to comfort you but it makes you feel sick.

Suguru stands behind you, preparing to catch you in case you collapse. 

“I-, I understand. I’ll be there shortly.” 

In which you hang up the phone and the tears officially fall. Sobs escaping you, and eventually you do fall, not hard, just to your knees. Suguru and Shoko follow suit with you, both pairs of arms are wrapped around you. 

“y/n…” 

“That-that was the hospital,”  you begin.

Sobs become more uncontrollable as you try to compose yourself and explain what you were just told over the phone.

“Satoru’s there. He-he was in an accident. A bad one. They-” 

You begin sobbing even harder now. Shoko wraps her arms around you, even tighter, lending her shoulder to you, so you can cry on it. 

Suguru’s face is blank. He doesn’t want to assume the worst. He doesn’t want to assume the worse not only for you, as he knows the pain and torture it would cause you, the emptiness you would feel, but he doesn’t want to assume the worst for his best friend. 

He’s known him for years. His brother, his idiot, the love of his girl's life. His comedic relief in the dark points of his life, his moral compass, his Mario Kart partner. 

He knew that if he lost Satoru, he would lose you too. He would lose himself. Things would be different. The stress it would cause you too, wouldn’t be good for the twins. 

Satoru was strong. The strongest he would call himself. He could pull through, he had to. For you, for your babies, for Suguru. He needed his best friend. 

“Let’s get down to the car. We’ll head that way now,” Suguru says, picking you up and carrying you towards the front door. Shoko follows suit, grabbing yours and hers bag, just in case. 

And just like that, the three of you head towards the hospital, as fast and legal as possible. 

______________________________________________________________

He looked so peaceful in the bed, Satoru did. The doctor’s, now, certain that he wouldn’t make it. The injuries from the accident just too severe, they did everything they could, they really did. Satoru just lay in bed. Not being able to do anything. Which leaves all that is left to do is say goodbye. You and Shoko had already said it. You taking a good few hours before you left his side, but the doctors and Shoko both agreed that you should take a break, The stress and pain not being good for the babies. You promised him you would come back. Whether it be when he is gone or not yet, you would come back. 

Now just sits Suguru and Satoru, alone in the room. 

Satoru’s still body is a different atmosphere than Suguru is used to. He’s used to Satoru’s banter, his quick jabs and silly jokes. His video game rage and loud belches. The silence, he didn’t like it. 

“Satoru.” 

Nothing. 

“Please, Satoru. Make a miracle happen.” 

Still, nothing. 

“Your babies need you. Y/n needs you. I need you. You’re my best friend. Please. You can make it.” 

This time there is something. A hand twitch. 

“Su….Su….Sugu..Suguru.” 

He stands from his chair, tears brimming in his eyes. Not yet allowing them to fall, he can’t. If Satoru somehow makes out of this, the tears need to be shed from joy, not sadness. 

“Yes Satoru?” Suguru then places his hands on top of Satoru’s. 

“I.. I need you to promise me something,” his voice raspy. So faint and dry. 

“Anything.” 

“Pl,,,please take care of my love for me. And our babies. Protect them, make sure they’re okay, like you used to.” 

“Satoru-” 

“Promise me. My babies need a good father figure in their life, and you can fill that roll. Y/n is  strong, so strong. But I need you to be there for her when she needs it. I need you to be there for her when she doesn’t feel beautiful, to be there for her on her birthdays, on our kids’ birthday. I need you to be there for them, because I won’t be able to. Can you please, promise me that you will do that?” 

Suguru couldn’t hold back now, crying full time now. He wasn’t supposed to see his best friend go. He wasn’t supposed to take on the role of his friend. He loved you, yes, but it wasn’t his place. You were Satoru’s, not his. 

“Yes Satoru, I promise.” 

He faintly smiles. 

“Oh and one more thing, before I forget.” 

“What is it?” 

“Don’t let my kids grow up without knowing who I am. Make sure they know how cool, awesome, talented, and amazing at Mario Kart their daddy was.” he attempts a laugh at this, but it turns into a fit of coughs. 

“I would, but I wouldn’t want to lie to your children. If anything you were mediocre at best.” 

Satoru attempts a fist, followed by a “bastard.” 

And for about five more minutes the two of them talk and say their goodbyes, until Satoru takes his last breath, as soon as you walk in too. 

You run to his side and begin crying. Shoko, behind you with a hand on your back, with a few tears falling down her face too. Suguru is on the other side, staring at his best friend. With no more tears left to cry, he just stands there emotionless, in shock that he really was gone. He had a job. A job that he had sworn to for his whole life, but now, it became much bigger. He promised his best friend, and he never intended to break it. 

______________________________________________________________

“Suguru.” 

He opens one eye, trying to make out who, or what was trying to get his attention.

Ever since Satoru’s passing, Suguru had left his apartment to move into yours and Satoru’s, which was the smarter choice since the nursery was already set up. He had moved into the old office, obviously no longer used. 

“Hm?” 

“Suguru, wake up. It’s important.” 

“What is it?” he sits up, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out. He looks to his right to see the alarm clock which reads 4:45AM. 

“My water broke.” 

“Oh.” Suguru says. Yawning and stretching some more. “OH. NOw??? IT’s so Early!? WHy didn’t you start off with that?? WHY didn’t you just bust through the door screaming that?!”

“No time to question that, we need to head to the hospital, like, now.” “Right.” 

In which he hops out of bed and grabs the hospital bag heading towards the car. Following suite, you, carefully, rush down stairs of the complex, and get into the car. Sugru, now much more awake, ensures you have everything and that you are safely strapped in, and that both car seats are in the back seat. Once he completes the internal checklist, he straps in himself and heads towards the hospital, this time, in a not so legal manner. 

On the way there you manage to get ahold of Shoko and she promises to be there the same time as you, so she is there when the babies are born. 

And when they are, it is 6:08 in the morning. Suguru and Shoko being there for you the entire time, a hand to hold each as you pushed each one out. And they were so beautiful.

Although Satoru wasn’t physically there with you in the room, you knew he was there in spirit. You could feel him. Feel his smile, feel his presence, and feel the tears of joy he cried from his babies being born. ______________________________________________________________

“Hey Satoru.” 

It had been about three months since the babies were born, Shoko and Suguru wanting to give you a break for the day, took the twins. You decided since you had the day off you would visit Satoru. “I promise, I’ll bring the twins to meet you. It’s just so cold, I don't want them to get sick. They arrived a bit early. Just so eager to meet us.” 

The rain now turning into a slight drizzle. 

“They are so beautiful Satoru, Megumi and Tsumiki. They both have a mix of our features, however they don’t have your eyes like I hoped they would. But, they have your smile and your nose, and the same attitude you had too. You would have loved them so much. And they would have loved you.” 

The rain picks back up again, but just for a moment, then it turns back into a light fall. 

“Suguru and Shoko have been great, amazing actually. They’re actually watching them today. Shoko insists on watching them a lot, she says it because I need a break and need to rest, but I think we all know it's because she loves being an auntie, and she loves spoiling her niece and nephew.  I swear, they have more clothes than you ever did, and that’s saying something.” There is a bit of silence as you sit there and just stare at his grave. Scattered around the grave are photos, you and him, him and Suguru, group photos of the four of you. Vases of flowers lined around the grave and his favorite pair of sunglasses sit on the very tip of the headstone. It’s as if  he decorated the grave personally. It was him.

“Oh! I brought you something! Or rather, some-things.” 

You reach around behind you and grab the bag filled with goodies for Satoru.

“For starters, this.” It’s a framed photo of you in the hospital bed, just mere seconds after pushing the twins out. You look exhausted, but Satoru would have thought you looked gorgeous. To each side of you is Shoko and Suguru, both of them holding one of your babies, a huge smile plastered on both faces. You take the photo and place it on an empty spot near the headstone.

“I brought these too, just so you can have a piece of them with you.” And you pull out two beanies, the exact ones that were placed on your twins head when staying in the hospital. No need for it anymore since they have grown out of it. You then place those next to the sunglasses. Little weights holding them down so they don’t blow away. 

“And finally, this. I know you will love this.” 

It’s a trophy, one that was found while looking at the flea market with Suguru one day. The two of you saw it, laughed, gasped, and immediately bought it. It was perfect. A trophy that reads “world’s best MarioKart player,” you place it directly in front of the headstone. It was so specific, why it existed, you didn’t know, but you were glad it did. 

As soon as you placed the trophy on the grave, the rain cleared. 

“Well, as much as I don’t want to leave, I have too. I enjoyed my time here today, Satoru. I love you.” 

You get up, dust yourself off and head back towards your car. In the time it takes to get there, you look up towards the sky and see a rainbow, faint, but visible. 

“Oh Satoru, you’re so beautiful.” 

______________________________________________________________

You and Suguru had the apartment to yourselves today. Shoko took the kids to the zoo for the day, and then would keep them for the night as well. She didn’t get to see them that often anymore due to her new job, so she took every opportunity to see the kiddos to the extreme, and would steal them for a few nights. 

It had been about five years since the twins were born and Satoru had passed. They were about to start school, so all of you were trying to get the last bit of fun in before it would be “unknowingly sucked away.” (As Satoru would have said). 

So with the house to yourself, you and Suguru sit on the couch, watching, who knows what movie, while eating takeout and sipping on some wine, except y’all weren’t sipping as you were already on the second bottle.

“This movie is boring, Suggy.” Hiccup. “Let’s watch something else. Or do something else.” 

“Like what doll? Neither of us are in a state to drive.” 

“Hmmm-“ you begin but interrupt yourself with a fit of laughter. 

“Hey you! What’s so funny?” Suguru joins in with you with laughter, jabbing his hands to your side and tickling you. 

“Hey STOP!” Your laughter now becoming more uncontrollable. 

The tickle fight-or rather tickle assault since you haven’t been able to get your hands on Suguru- comes to an abrupt stop as you fall off the couch, bringing Suguru down with. 

You lay on the floor, with Suguru hovering on top of you. His hands holding yours over your head. Breaths are shaky and uneven. The two of you staring into each others souls, not daring to break the contact. 

Heat rises up to your cheeks, but that was because of the wine. Right? Definitely not because you are feeling some way about Suguru, no. You loved Satoru still, you couldn’t. 

But, it had been so long since you felt good. 

“Su-Suggy.” 

And as if he had read your mind, he placed his lips on yours, but in a way that was so soft. It wasn’t sloppy, it was perfect. So passionate, so needy.

Suguru had wanted this forever. An actual kiss. It felt so wrong, but it was so right. He needed this. Satoru told him to take care of you, but he never specified on how. 

Every thought of guilt being pushed further and further into the back of his mind. 

The wine giving him courage? Maybe, however he would have never done this if he had thought you wouldn’t reciprocate it back. He had noticed for a few weeks now the way your stares towards him had become more longing and more sincere. The touches you gave him on his arm or back, even the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, became longer and more heartwarming. Even if this was a one time thing, a moment of selfishness, pleasure, and lust, he was going to make it worth it. Make it the best moment of his life. He was going to make you feel good, gonna make him feel good. 

“Let’s move to my room, doll.” 

The run towards his room is fast. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move that quick before. Quickly, he lays on the bed and pulls you on top of him, where now, you are straddling him. 

A few more kisses are exchanged before Suguru is pulling your top off, no bra on as the two of you were just lounging around the house. 

He stares, hard, although he doesn’t mean too. The stare now making you feel nervous and small, causing your face to shift. Of course, Suguru notices this.” 

“You are so beautiful, y/n.” 

Suguru did fulfill his duty to make you feel good. It was more than good, it was the best you ever felt…..in a while. 

And in that moment of climax, shared between the two of you, Suguru was yours. You had him. You’ve always had him, but then. You really had him. You had officially seen him when he was most needy.  Seen him in a moment of pleasure, ecstasy. 

But, Suguru didn’t have you. 

Because, 

No matter what he did, how he made you feel, you would never be his. You were never his. 

You are and always will be, Satoru’s.

______________________________________________________________

a/n: wow! and here it is. i am actually really proud of how this came out. now, onto what i needed to say. i’m thinking of writing a bunch of different side stories about this, like reader telling Gojo they’re pregnant, Gojo and readers first date, Gojo before the fatality, maybe an alternate ending👀 if that is something you guys would be interested in, lmk and i’ll start writing. thanks for reading<3 highly appreciated 🥰 sorry for the pain i may have caused, if it makes anyone feel better i got v emotional writing this!

[ilythecolorpink]

The better one P2 (Satoru Gojo x fem reader)

On the car ride, he says, "Stop right here," to Kiyotaka Ijichi. I ask him, "Is everything okay, Satoru?" as I turn to face him. Gojo faces me and nods. "Gojo, are you serious?" Ijichi asks as he chimes in. "I'm sure, don't worry about it, just go," Gojo replies. I then step out after Gojo as Ijichi pulls away "I know this is unexpected, but there is a special grade, so just stay by side. Then the cursed spirit emerges and attempts to crush Gojo, which Gojo easily avoids.

Gojo grabs my waist and says, "Be a good girl and let me handle this, got it?" in my ear. I respond with a blush and say, "Mhm, please be careful." He then flashes a cocky smile as he says, "How cute worrying about me, this will be nothing” Gojo begins to move toward the direction of the special grade and declares, "This is going to be fun." Gojo tends to the one cursed spirit while doing so. You are drawn to another spirit as they emerge from the shadows and you say, "I can never catch a break can I." He manages to hit me once, leaving a severe cut on my arm, as I block his attack with my arms.

"Didn't anyone teach you any fucking manners? That hurts, you know". I hear Gojo ask, "Y/N you, okay?" just as I turn to attack. I immediately give him a smile and ask, "What's this tiny scratch? I'm fine.” Then, as he walks away, he nods. I then focus on the cursed spirit, attacking it with my cursed technique. It pushes me against one of the trees while we are fighting, and blood begins to run down my face, from the cut on my forehead. I start to laugh as I declare, "I'm starting to like this a lot," feeling as though I don't care what happens anymore. Then, as I gesture with my finger for it to approach, I say, "Oh, don't be shy, come over."

As it approaches me, I cut it off before it even has a chance to get near enough, stomp on its head, and then kick it away with my heel. I make my way towards Gojo, I spit blood out of my mouth as I notice that he has not even sustained any damage, whereas the cursed spirit has been severely injured. He turns to face me and says, "That cursed spirit better be dead, because I swear I will kill it with my own bare hands for what it did to you." He gives me a worried look. Then I laugh and add, "Don't worry about it, its ugly ass is dead."

I then take a position next to Gojo and lean down towards the cursed spirit, teasingly asking, "Aww poor baby, want me to pick up where he left off?" He looks at me with a smile on his face and says, "Fuck Y/N, you look so hot." while admiring your beauty. "Heh, you don't look too bad yourself, now I guess, I can play a little rough, yeah?" I then smirk as I turn to face him. Once you and Gojo had finished, he insisted on taking you to his house. I comply because I am unable to object. He invites me inside and places me on his couch before going to grab badges and rubbing alcohol.

He continues, "I know this is going to hurt, just remember that it will only last a few seconds, okay doll?" as he applies some rubbing alcohol to a cotton swab. After tending to my injuries, he leans in close and asks, "Can I kiss you love?" as our lips are now a few inches apart. I then blush as I answer, "Please do," in a voice that is nearly whisper-like. Then, as I cup his face and faintly moan in reaction, he kisses me while his hand begins to trace my thigh.

P1: https://www.tumblr.com/ilythecolorpink/727247942035144705/the-better-one-satoru-gojo-x-fem-reader-p1

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. I HOPE THIS IS OKAY. ALSO THE NEW EP WAS SO GOOD.

[voxofthevoid]

Posting Schedule: April & May 2024

I'm merging the months since the April anniversary project has outgrown April rather egregiously. It is funny how I said just last month that I'm cutting down my updates to four a month, and now we have eight each for these two months. But to be fair, the word count is pretty much the same because these are shorter fics (...mostly).

April:

2. Chapter 1/1 of the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

JJK; goyuu; When Yuuji’s fifteen, Gojou Satoru dies; when Yuuji’s seventeen, Gojou Satoru is born.

6. Chapter 1/1 of (it wasn't hard to realize) love's the death of peace of mind

JJK; goyuu; When a blip in time lands sixteen-year-old Satoru in the future, he finds himself in possession of a cursed object sporting his own eyes and a grieving boy who can’t look away from those eyes.

12. Chapter 1/2 of because the negative sex was born into a bloodline

JJK; kenita; Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

14. Chapter 1/1 of caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student

JJK; goyuu; Megumi finds out that Gojou’s been giving Yuuji some hands-on sex education.

19. Chapter 1/1 of will we remain stuck in the throat of gods

JJK; sukuita with past!goyuu; A bad breakup isn’t a good excuse to fuck the monster rotting your soul, but Yuuji’s made worse decisions—probably.

23. Chapter 1/1 of this was something you incited, you opened up and invited

JJK; goyuu; Satoru learns why most alphas don’t fuck other alphas.

26. Chapter 1/1 of we can be anything we want to be (make shit up and live it completely)

JJK; goyuu; An offhand comment leads to Yuuji discovering the dubious joys of pet ownership.

30. Chapter 1/1 of this is the wrong story

JJK; goyuu; In a faraway forest enclosed in Brahmic barriers, there’s a boy who loves and hates the world in equal measure.

May

3. Chapter 1/1 of vulgarity (the glory and the virtue died so long ago)

JJK; goyuu; Yuuji’s hormones battle his morals while his half-naked teacher sleeps on his lap.

8. Chapter 1/1 of somebody ought to corrupt you on the dance floor and take you home

JJK; hiita; A wardrobe malfunction drastically alters the aftermath of Yuuji’s fight with Higuruma.

10. Chapter 1/1 of never seen such a pretty wicked thing

JJK; goyuu; Satoru has a late-night philosophical discussion with the King of Curses.

15. Chapter 2/2 of because the negative sex was born into a bloodline

JJK; kenita; Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

19. Chapter 1/1 of i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

JJK; goyuu; Satoru’s ward is in that peculiar purgatory between puberty and presentation. He tries to help.

23. Chapter 1/1 of you're like a goddess in disguise (i'm drowning slowly in your eyes)

JJK; fem!goyuu; Yuuji finds religion in her teacher’s tits, violently.

26. Chapter 1/1 of but lover, you're the one to blame

JJK; goyuu; Yuuji acquires a doll that’s sympathetically connected to Satoru. It’s innocent until it isn’t.

31. Chapter 1/7 of i can offer you a black-lit paradise

JJK; itagofushi; Satoru plays favorites with his students in the worst way possible. Megumi suffers, while Yuuji’s oblivious—and horny.

The dates are tentative, the order isn't set in stone, and I am about to become void soup.

If anything's repeated or mismatched, ignore for now. I'll look over this again when these fic titles/dates aren't at risk of setting my eyes on fire.

[toyintrance]

This is my sideblog for hypnokinky shenanigans. I'm bisexual, nonbinary/transmasc, and fat. If you want to change any of these things about me, you can see yourself out.

Names: Toy or Marion (short for marionette)

Pronouns: he / it (only use "it" if you want it to feel like an object. It enjoys this.)

Roles: sub/ject. Not a hypnotist, but I've been known to dabble.

Status: happily owned!!! 😊

Good words to use for/about me: boy, toy, puppet, doll, drone, slut, addict, enabler (and most variations/combinations of these words)

DON'T call me: any specifically feminine terms or titles (girl, mistress, ma'am, etc), bimbo, baby, femboy, master, daddy, mommy

Ask/submissions/dms are open for casual/kinky conversation. I'm not looking to be dominated by anyone other than my owner, and I'm not interested in dominating anyone else in a long-term or serious way. You really shouldn't be putting your mind in the hands of something that can't think for itself, anyway.

Kinks and limits below:

Kinks: (blue text are my favorites!)

💖 hypnosis

💖brainwashing/conditioning

💖 voice kink (not whispers or voiceless mouth sounds)

💖 corruption/addiction/relapse to hypnosis

💖 dehumanization/objectification (make me a toy, a puppet, a drone, a fuckdoll, etc)

💖 orgasm denial and edging

💖 overstim (especially combined with denial or as punishment)

💖 teasing/degradation/humiliation

💖 temporary IQ reduction (during trance or in response to a context-dependent trigger)

💖 monsterfucking (provided the monster passes the Harkness Test)

💖 vore but chew your food

💖 CNC related to mind control

💖 fantasy/sci-fi mind control of all kinds

💖 minor pain play (nothing that cuts the skin, no marking that I can't easily cover)

DNI (I will block people who engage with these)

🚫 ageplay/incest/underage content, real OR fictional

🚫 actual irl rape

🚫 bestiality/zoophilia (furry/anthro is fine, real animals are not. use common sense)

🚫 any sort of disordered eating encouragement / weight control kink

If detrans/feminization is the primary thing you post, I may still block you just for my own peace of mind.

LIMITS:

⚠️ Mommy/Daddy as titles

⚠️ breeding/pregnancy/lactation

⚠️ feminization/sissification/detransition

⚠️ misogyny-based degradation

⚠️ financial domination/blackmail

⚠️ revealing personal identifying information or posting pictures of my face

⚠️ suggestions that would interfere with my career or make me behave less professionally on the clock

⚠️ piss/scat/excessive cum (blood as a fantasy concept is ok but I don't want to make a mess irl)

I am a victim of Cal's Curse (an orgasm control file). I can't cum without permission, and that permission is now locked to my owner. If you try to command or force me to cum against my will, it will not work, and you will get blocked. If I'm asking anyone besides my owner to let me cum, I NEED to be told no and I NEED to confess and submit to my owner's punishment. You have my prior consent to publicly shame me if I beg to you. Good toys stay deeply dumb, denied, and desperate.

[rosepetalsinwinter]

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (3)

Chapter 3 — Ceux Qui Rêvent

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 6,170

Summary: Nothing is as it seems. A new character is introduced and her life is altered. Can the girl at least find solace in her dreams?

Note: This chapter was a long time coming! The last half is a dream, so the writing is more abstract. Hope it's easy to follow along! Happy reading! &lt;3 <3

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4

"Alone with thoughts of what should have long been forgotten, I let myself be carried away into the silent screams of delirium."

— Amanda Steele

April 25, 2018

When she was a little girl, she loved to explore her house when it was too hot to play outside. She would hide in the dumbwaiter, scare the unsuspecting maids and cover herself in bubble wrap armour to save her dolls from the horrifying monster who lorded over the living room. There was an adventure to be found in every nook and cranny of the house.

In Vancouver, she had a similar place that helped satisfy her imagination. The Irving K. Barber Learning Centre was a three-minute walk from the bus loop, eight minutes from her Developmental Psychology course and only five minutes from her work. Known as the "Harry Potter Room" for its winding staircase and portrait-plastered walls—it was one of the girl's favourite places on campus, and she often went there to draw. The light streaming from the floor-length windows made it the perfect spot.

It reminded her of home, and while she usually avoided anything related to it, the library in New York held a special place in her heart. Many hours were spent amongst pages detailing great adventures, whether she was fighting Sauron's army on Middle-earth or looking for buried gold in Treasure Island.

It was surprising, then, when it took her a moment too long to recognize her surroundings when she first woke up on a couch, a blanket covering her now-dried form—Dried and clothed.

She shook her head and tried to collect her thoughts. She was on her way to her dorm from the party when... what happened exactly? She remembered salt, the taste of sand in her mouth, and—Oh. Someone had grabbed her. The girl looked around frantically, realizing, with a start, that she wasn't in the Learning Centre as she had initially assumed.

The library was dark, the moon barely illuminating the room in front of her. It gave the space a sinister feel, and she was sure that any second, Lord Voldemort would round the corner with Nagini at his heel and use one of the unforgivable curses on her.

In front of her, however, hidden in the shadows, sat someone far more dangerous than Lord Voldemort; and far more real. The girl had not seen him in five years since she left home and never looked back.

Dressed head to toe in Italian silk, Danial Burgundy sat in a leather armchair in front of the girl, ankles crossed and languidly nursing a cigar. "Welcome home," came his gravelly voice, just as stern and commanding as she remembered.

Home. The word made bile rise in her throat. She was shaking like a leaf and sweating, despite the cold air surrounding her. She fell to her knees on the ground and grabbed the nearest object—an unfortunate potted plant—emptying the contents of her stomach. The sound of her gagging echoed through the large room.

Danial winced sympathetically. "You're a lightweight, I presume?"

The girl closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning, trying to collect her nerves. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and fell back against the couch. Trembling fingers inched the thin blanket back up her shoulders to stop her body from shaking.

"Where am I? What do you want?" Her voice was surprisingly strong, if not a little raspy from disuse and thick from the fear coursing through her body. The girl already knew where she was—there was no mistaking the intricately arched ceiling or the columned walls—but she wasn't sure what she was doing there.

Danial ignored her question, opting to ask one of his own. "Do you realize how much trouble you caused when you ran away?" He didn't sound particularly bothered, only mildly annoyed. "I looked everywhere for you."

"Not hard enough if it took you five years," she murmured, and her snarky remark took them both by surprise. Perhaps the effects of the wine were still running through her body.

Danial gave a short, sarcastic laugh and unbuttoned the top of his suit, loosening his tie. "You are just like your mother."

At the mention of her mother, she couldn't help but whimper. "Where is she?"

Again, Danial ignored her. "You think I'm some fool? Unable to manage my only daughter?"

She shook her head, looking for an opportunity to speak, but her father persisted. "On November 7, 2014, you saw a homeless man in an alley and gave him your coat."

The girl stared. It was cold that day. She herself was shivering under her measly layers, so when she saw an elderly man with only a cardboard box for shelter, she didn't hesitate to give him the clothes off her back. Her dorm was far, and she caught a bad cold that lasted a week, but she never regretted her decision.

"Jace? Was his name Jace? I forget."

"Jason," she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief. "How do you know that?"

Danial laughed humorlessly. "I knew exactly where you were going the second you stepped foot outside of New York. I know that you accelerated your studies and that you took money from my safe. I know all about the week you spent on the streets and how you lied about your age at the shelter."

"No," the girl denied, "that's not possible. I was—"

"What?" her father challenged. "You were careful? Vigilant? Not nearly enough, daughter."

The girl thought of all the contingencies she had so carefully prepared for. Her life was half lived, and for what, when he had found her despite it? "What will you do to me?" she asked.

Danial took a long drag of his cigar, standing up and making his way over to her. "It's not what I'll do. It's what you will do for me."

"I won't do anything for you!" The girl craned her neck to look up at her father. "I want to go home."

He leaned forward and grabbed her chin. "You are home."

Despite her struggle, hot tears still managed to plop down on the carpeted floor. Her lips quivered as she fought the sob threatening to push past her lips.

Danial pursed his lips. "After your brother's passing, I planned to give it all to you."

"I don't want it!" she exclaimed, but her words might as well have been silent because her father completely ignored her.

"I was going to give you everything!" Danial hummed. "Then you left and proved you don't have what it takes."

For the life of her, the girl couldn't understand why her father was telling her all of that. Danial Burgundy owned Manhattan, as well as a sizable chunk of Staten Island. He was a mob boss, using various family businesses as a front for a vast underground smuggling network. He also had many properties all over the world, but she was never inclined toward them.

"George Barnes," her father announced, "is looking to expand."

Indistinctly she recognized the name, having come across it some time in her life. A nondescript shadow flitted through her mind, one with brown hair and an intimidating smile.

"His son is perfect for the job."

The girl frowned when the meaning hit her. Her heart ached at the thought of anyone replacing her brother, even if it was for a less than respectable job. Again, she wondered what any of that had to do with her.

Danial sighed at his daughter's lack of a verbal response. "Eleanor never wanted this for you."

The mention of her mother stopped the girl in her tracks. "What?" she whimpered.

"But I think she would understand at the end of the day that I had no other choice."

"What do you mean?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"George Barnes and I came to an agreement... You are going to marry his son, James."

There was silence, so loud that it would have been unnerving if the girl had not begun to laugh. Her tears came down faster, and she gasped for breath between hysterical sobs and panicked giggles.

"You find this funny, daughter?" Danial asked with a tick in his jaw.

"No," she sobbed.

"No, you don't find this funny?"

"No, I don't want to marry him."

Danial simmered. "Good thing I wasn't asking for your permission then. You will marry James Barnes, daughter."

"I won't marry him," she promised. "I won't! You cannot make me!" There he stood, casually enjoying an imported cigar as her entire world came to an abrupt halt.

Danial merely hummed. "Charming that you think you have a choice in the matter." He sighed deeply. "But I believe you. You get your stubbornness from me."

The girl refused to acknowledge any similarities with her father.

"Dove Myra Rivers," Danial announced after a brief pause. "Pretty name for a pretty girl. Don't you agree? Your mother originally wanted to give you a similar name—did I ever tell you that? But I won in the end, and here we are. It's that stubbornness, you see."

The girl went cold, paling all over, unable to speak or make sense of anything.

"A business major, correct? But you and I both know her real passion lies in music."

The girl's voice was just above a whisper. "How do you know that?"

"She thinks you're at work," he continued, "so she's waiting for you to come home so you can pack up the rest of your things. You were planning to move out over the weekend, weren't you?"

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes as the reality of the situation finally hit her. "No."

"She's very vulnerable right now. Understandable, though, after the night she's had. Wouldn't you say?"

"Father, please."

"If I were her, I wouldn't think to double-check the door—"

"Father."

"—and I definitely wouldn't think to check the coat closet for anybody hiding there."

"Please don't hurt her." Try as she might, all her pleas landed on deaf ears.

"Oh, I don't want to. Believe me." He squat down to her height, elbows on his knees and a solemn expression on his face. "But if you leave me no other choice..." he trailed off, the implication clear.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," came his reply.

"Father, don't. Please." Her voice shook, and her breath hitched.

"Tell me you will marry him," Danial demanded, confident that he had worn her down.

"No!" she shook her head.

"Tell me!" he shouted. "Now!"

"I don't want to! Please, don't make me."

"I need an answer, daughter."

"I'll do anything else," she pleaded. "Anything but this."

The telltale sound of an incoming call stopped the rest of her ramblings. Danial stood straight and answered his phone. "Ah!" he exclaimed after putting the device to his ear. "She's getting a drink of water from the kitchen. Seems as good a time as any. Won't you say?"

"You don't have to do this." Her voice was a whisper. Fear laced her features. She did not know her father to be a liar.

"Oh, but I do. Tell me, will you behave, or will you make me sin tonight?"

Her body tensed, and she shut her eyes, wanting to disappear. Wanting to wake up only to find that the entire night had been a cruel nightmare. What wouldn't she give for all this to be some dream?

"It will only take one word to seal your friend's fate. Either a "yes" from you, or a "now" from me."

The girl's form visibly deflated, along with her resolve. This was the last thing she wanted. The reason she never let herself close to anyone. Dove had been an anomaly. She came into the girl's life like a storm and whisked her off her feet. Forced her to let some of her guard down and be vulnerable.

She never should have let Dove close to her.

"Don't make me choose for you, daughter. I really rather not."

"Yes," she concurred. There was nothing else to be done. She wouldn't have cared much if only her life was at stake. But she could not put her friend in danger.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll do it," the girl said evenly. "I will marry James Barnes."

Danial's lips stretched into a smirk, quirking slightly at the corners. "Leave her be," he spoke into the phone, promptly ending the call. He took another long drag of his smoke, blowing black clouds onto the girl's face. "Good choice, daughter."

The house was just as she remembered it. A sleek pebbled driveway led to large marble columns and an uninviting door. Big and intimidating. For the past five years she had been gone, not one thing had changed. Almost five acres of land that housed her entire childhood stood as arrogantly as it did when it was first erected.

A circular driveway with a fountain decorated the middle, surrounded by grounds on both sides. Trimmed hedges and meticulously placed decorations gave the hundred-year-old mansion a more modern feel. The marble and stone were a welcome contrast to the even older trees lining the property—trees the girl spent the first half of her life climbing with her brother.

The fenced property, where she used to find comfort, was now a cesspool for all the nightmares that followed her from her dreams. She ran away because she didn't feel safe, but now, the adage "time heals all wounds" became blatantly refuted when she felt her heart weep in pain. Cuts that had long since been closed, reopened, and all the feelings she had kept at bay, dreading the moment they resurfaced, came rushing back with such swiftness that she was left winded.

It felt all too real now. The weight of the situation drooped the girl's shoulders. She fought against the hold on her arm, grabbing onto the sofa, but her father's men were huge, and it took only one of them to drag her out of the study.

She dug her feet into the marble of the foyer—anything to delay the inevitable. "No!" she screamed, and her father merely rolled his eyes as if she were some toddler throwing a tantrum. All her efforts were futile.

The inside of the house dripped with wealth. Crystal sculptures and priceless paintings adorned the walls—as if the outside were not blatant enough, and one needed an additional reminder of the wealth the Burgundys had.

There was a time when she was ignorant of her family's wealth. It wasn't until the girl was sleeping on the streets and eating out of dumpsters that she understood how privileged she was—even if it was at the expense of others.

Now, being towed past the white hallway, all the girl could see was red. The blood of all those her family had wronged stained the walls and seeped into the floor.

A portrait decorated the hallway. The girl, her parents, and her brother, fourteen years younger, with bright smiles on their faces. She remembered the day they had posed for it—a week before her brother's birthday, only a month before his death.

He was so handsome.

With a silent sob, she looked away.

At some point, her legs stopped resisting the forward pull, and she let "Barton," as her father called him, take her to the second floor.

When they passed her mother's room, the girl craned her neck to peek in, but was pushed unceremoniously down the hall and through a door before she could see anything of value. It was dark, and she tripped on the carpet, falling to her knees.

Her father's shadow loomed over her, blocking what little light had managed to escape from the hall. "Use the day to rest and get yourself reacquainted," he suggested. "We'll talk tomorrow."

The girl looked down at his feet, glaring at the size ten Italian Leather, wanting—but knowing she could never be courageous enough—to spit on it.

Her father turned to her with one foot out of the door. "And I don't think I need to remind you what's at stake here, do I?"

"You mean, who?" she wanted to retort. Instead, she shook her head. "No."

And he left, locking the door behind him, leaving the girl in complete darkness for the second time in her life.

"Why do you work for him?" she asked the french girl drawing her a bath.

"I needed a job, and Mr. Burgundy needed a maid."

"But don't you know what he does? How dangerous he is?"

Fleur, the french girl, tsked in annoyance before sighing and softening considerably. "Girls," she started in a heavy accent, "who know how to keep their mouth shut are in big demand—strip, chérie."

The girl waited for Fleur to turn away before taking off her clothes and submerging herself in the scalding water. "I kept my mouth shut," she murmured sadly.

From the moment they met, Fleur made it her mission to prepare the girl for her upcoming nuptials. She said nothing when she walked in to find the girl hunched over the toilet seat, sobbing and heaving uncontrollably. She merely squared her shoulders, cleaned the unfortunate mess and sent the girl to rest with a cold pack and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

Fleur hummed. "Not tight enough, maybe?"

The girl guffawed, settling deeper into the water. "I guess not."

Despite her rough exterior, Fleur had a soft heart, which was apparent by the sweet names she gave the girl.

"Oh, ma chérie, where were you just now?" Fleur asked as she massaged the girl's scalp with a floral-smelling shampoo. "Dunk." The girl submerged her hair in the water and vigorously shook her head to wash away the suds.

"Nowhere," she distractedly replied when she re-emerged. "Fleur? How did you get to New York all the way from France?"

"Ah! You are curious?" Fleur questioned.

"Oui," the girl nodded.

"Some things are better left in the past. Are you sure?"

The girl said nothing.

"Très bien. I am from Marseille," Fleur began. You know it?"

"Oui," the girl replied. "It's a port city in the south."

Fleur hummed in satisfaction. "I grew up in the... how you say? L'orphelinat?"

"An orphanage?" the girl supplied.

"Oui, orphanage," said Fleur.

"So, you have no parents?" the girl asked.

"I have parents," Fleur said with a nod. "They just did not want me."

"I'm sorry," said the girl.

"Non, don't apologize. Mama wanted me, and Papa didn't. I was a... They were not married. Papa was rich, and Mama was not.

"Dunk," Fleur commanded, and the girl submerged herself in the water, washing away the conditioner.

"I was seven when she gave me to l'orphelinat. I began working as a maid when I turned sixteen and married when I was seventeen."

"Seventeen? But you were just a child!" the girl exclaimed.

"Non," said Fleur. "I stopped being a child long before that. I was a woman when I married."

"But... you're so young!" the girl exclaimed, lightly skimming a finger over Fleur's left hand. "And you don't wear a ring."

"I am twenty-six. That is not too young for me," replied Fleur. "And there is no ring because I am not married anymore," Fleur replied.

"Who was he?" the girl asked after a brief pause.

"The youngest son of the family I worked for, only two years older. He was a writer. Mon Dieu the most beautiful I ever saw. He had a way with words no one else did and made the most beautiful poetry." Fleur's words softened towards the end of her sentence as she became lost in memories.

"Did you love him?" the girl asked with a smile.

"Non, not at all," Fleur replied nonchalantly with a shake of her head. "Maybe in the beginning. He was mean and liked to punch walls. And when drunk, he liked to punch me."

The girl gasped, surprised at the turn Fleur's love story had taken. Her heart hurt for sweet Fleur, who was only a few years older than the girl. "Fleur."

"He kept me secret for many months, until he couldn't anymore." Fleur continued sadly.

"Why couldn't he keep you a secret anymore?" the girl asked hesitantly, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

Fleur began brushing the girl's wet hair with gentleness—the girl suspected—that only came prior to delivering heartbreaking news. "I was almost five months when I found out. He was the first person I told... and the last."

She knew where the story went from there. She just knew. The grief in Fleur's eyes, the deep sadness in her movements, could only hint at a single outcome. "Fleur?"

"Turns out, falling two flights of stairs," Fleur answered, "is very dangerous for unborn babies."

The girl turned her head and kissed the hand near her shoulder, grasping it tightly to provide Fleur with some strength. She could not begin to imagine the grief that came from losing a child. If it were anything close to losing a brother, then she wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"That's when Mr. B—When Mr. Burgundy found me," Fleur continued after a deep breath. "He promised me a job in exchange for my discretion. I've been with him ever since."

The girl absently ran a loofah over her chest and shoulders, taking in Fleur's story, looking for a silver lining. She found none.

"Do you..." the girl hesitated before asking.

"Go on," Fleur encouraged.

"Do you think you will ever love again?" the girl asked meekly.

"Oui," Fleur replied without hesitation. "I will always keep my heart open."

"I don't think I'll ever be in love, Fleur," the girl whispered.

Fleur drained the tub and passed the girl a bathrobe. They entered her closet, filled with clothes she didn't want and wouldn't wear. The girl picked out the least ostentatious pyjamas she could find and made her way to where Fleur was looking out the bay window.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, admiring the expansive trees lining the property.

"I don't want to marry him, Fleur," the girl confessed, internally wincing when her voice cracked.

Fleur sighed and enveloped her in a warm hug. "I know, ma chérie. I know."

April 26, 2018

It was just past three when she opened her eyes with a groan, trying for the past few hours to fall asleep. The sheets were too scratchy, the air too stuffy, and the house too silent. She missed her tiny two-bedroom dorm that she could barely afford, and her neighbour who stayed up late complaining to her mother about her "no good boyfriend who could never keep a job." The girl missed being woken up by Dove in the mornings because she was so tired after her shift that she couldn't make it to her room. Her entire body would ache, but it reminded her that she was real. Alive.

There was nothing to ground her in the empty shell of a house she was now living in.

Her room remained unchanged, with the same floral wallpaper lining the walls and the little dents in the wood that displayed her height throughout the years. All her jewelry, makeup and little trinkets were precisely where she had left them. But she felt restless instead of finding comfort in the little things or revelling in the familiarity.

Her feet carried her towards her door, which she opened slowly, surprised to find no one standing guard outside. A walk ought to clear her mind, she thought, as she perused the hall. The slate flooring was cold under her bare feet, so she walked on her tip toes instead, stepping on bits of soft carpet whenever some appeared.

She stopped outside a familiar brown door with a black handle. Her hand reached for it, but she hesitated. The light was off, and it was late. Her mother must be sleeping, and the girl didn't want to wake her. She could see her in the morning when her father wasn't around.

She continued walking, letting a finger trail the wall as she went downstairs.

The house was silent and eerily so. People always seemed to be hovering around the property when she was younger, taking over the kitchen and the living room, even in the dead of night, when her little feet pattered down the stairs after a bad dream, looking for her "Papa."

She hadn't known back then what the men were there for—she never even asked. Their existence was as normal to her as the simplest of mundane things. She never thought to question it. And so, finding the house empty now brought a chill to her spine. It started from her toes and spilled into her eyes, creating fat droplets.

The girl wiped her face and made her way to the kitchen, using the side entrance to leave. She walked barefoot across the drive, past the fountain and towards the garden, where her mother's azaleas inhabited a sizable portion of the lawn.

Her red azaleas were surrounded by many other of her prized possessions; blue Windflowers, Snapdragons, as well as some daisies and orchids. The girl leaned in closer for a smell. In her proximity, she realized the horrible state of the flowers. They were wilted and weak, drooped disgracefully in front of her.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. Was Eleanor Burgundy aware of the state of her precious garden? Surely not. From what the girl could remember, her mother took a special interest in her flowers and didn't even let the gardener near them. She would wake up before dawn to water them. Then why were they in such a state?

In danger of going crazy from the contemplation, the girl shook away any worrying thoughts and walked farther from the house. Her eyes were obviously playing tricks on her.

"Stop it," she chastised herself when more negative thoughts threatened to invade the silence. She was soon distracted, however, by a large, imposing tree a few minutes' walk from the flower garden.

The girl craned her neck to take in the hefty treehouse perched underneath the canopy of the small forest. There it stood, her adolescent escape, in all its glory, just as it did years ago.

"It's still here?" Her awed whisper lost itself in the wind as she mindlessly grabbed the wooden planks nailed into the tree and hauled herself up. She didn't know if she would fit through the door. Hell, she wasn't even sure if the wood would hold under her weight, but she could think nothing of it as she climbed higher and higher, until she stood up on the balcony-like platform encircling the entire structure.

"One, three, one, two," she whispered, knocking lightly on the wood.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear her brother's reply, "Thee may enter," in exaggerated Shakespearean. He always was the more dramatic of the two.

The girl ducked her head to accommodate for the low ceiling and entered, tensing slightly when the floor creaked under her. It was dark, and the only light came from the large window on the right, overlooking the house. She grabbed a flashlight from the table near the entrance giving it a try, not expecting it to work.

With the space suitably illuminated, the girl took in her surroundings. Books piled high in one corner, Beanbags, one blue, one purple, in the other. Mountains of blankets spread all over the floor, with model cars scattered all over.

"Oh, God."

A barbie was sitting in one of the larger cars, and the girl bent down to examine it. She ran the light over the button of the toy car, looking for something. When she found it, she let the car drop from her hands and jerked away from the object.

"No." The girl rubbed her eyes and continued with her exploration. She went to the window and looked out, letting the soft breeze cool her burning face. Her left hand wrapped tightly around the flashlight while her right idly traced patterns on the bottom sill.

Left and right, left and right, she went until her pointer snagged on the edge of something. She bent down to inspect, using the light to find an engraving etched into the wood. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to make sense of it. A pair of initials, surrounded by a jagged heart. B plus B. B plus... She didn't remember carving this, but one of the B's must have stood for Burgundy. And the other? If she hadn't etched this, then her brother was the culprit, and perhaps the second B stood for a friend.

But what sort of friend? A girlfriend? Her brother was only twelve when he... and well, he hadn't ever mentioned a girl to her before.

"What the hell?" The girl plopped down on one of the beanbags, freezing momentarily, before sinking in deeper when she realized it was blue. She needed to come to terms with the possibility that perhaps she didn't know her brother as well as she thought. That, maybe, she didn't know anything.

She pulled one of the blankets up around her shoulders, sighing at the warmth it provided. Slowly, but surely, she felt herself drifting away, felt her eyelids get heavier and heavier as every second passed. The last thing she saw before she became dead to the world was her brother's name, written in black ink on the bottom of a large toy car.

She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't even drink water, not when their chef made her favourite pancakes, not even when her little tummy grumbled and groaned in response. Her mother was worried, though her father was not. She told them she was on a hunger strike until they promised to keep her brother home. It was non-negotiable, she said. She would do it all day, she promised.

She didn't last very long. By lunch, her brother had coaxed her to take "Just a small bite" of the chocolate éclairs their chef made that morning. One bite turned into two, two into three, until the siblings finished the entire batch of éclairs and were sprawled on the treehouse floor, rolling around, giggling, and holding onto their full stomachs.

It was tradition for the Burgundy men to attend Le Rosey, the world-renowned Swiss boarding school. Her brother had finally turned eight years old, and it was time for him to fulfil the family legacy. He would leave home as a little boy and return as a young man, ready to take over his father's business.

And though it was not traditional, as his own sister had stayed home with a private tutor when they were younger, Danial decided to send his daughter to Le Rosey as well. Only, the youngest Burgundy was an impatient little thing and did not want to be separated from her dear brother even for a few days, much less four years.

Nothing her mother said managed to calm the little girl. "He'll visit us during holidays," she promised. "We'll go to Switzerland to see him," she swore. "You'll be so busy with your friends that you won't miss him."

And her mother was right, save for one thing. She never once stopped missing him.

In a few months' time, when her father and brother got in a car on their way to the airport, the girl's five-year-old heart broke at the sight of her older brother, her best friend, through the tinted windows of a Cadillac Escalade. His hand flat against the interior as he looked out at her with a sad frown on his face.

"Take me with you!"

The girl ran with the car as fast as her short legs could carry her before being scooped into the warm arms of her mother, who whispered reassurances into her hair and kissed her tear-ridden face.

Her mother was right. Her brother visited them during holidays, as did they, and though he had changed—became confident and self-assured—he was the same as he had always been. Funny, animated, and oh-so caring. She missed him more every day.

But life kept her busy. Four years passed in the blink of an eye. And if the girl knew the fate that awaited them after her brother's twelfth birthday? She would've appreciated every second more, committed it all to memory.

His frown, the crease between his brows whenever he was concentrating—all his little quirks would've been fresh in her mind. Instead, she felt him slowly wash away like watercolour from between the ridges of her brain.

She could no longer remember his smile.

Her family had just taken a picture together. Mr. Burgundy planned to hand it in the main hallway for everyone to see. Her brother was home for the summer; his birthday was just in a week.

"It's going to be an extra special year. I can just feel it."

"How do you know?"

"You're joining me in September, aren't you? That's how I know."

She had met death that day. Stalking them, dressed as hope and longing, deceiving them with his glamour that all was well; like he hadn't huddled them into a corner, waiting for his chance to pounce. Death was also patient, it seemed.

After the cake cutting, the brother and sister camped out in the treehouse, under a fort of blankets—surrounded by sugary sweets and salty chips—and he told her a story.

She didn't believe him then—How could she? It seemed impossible.

She had laughed at him. "It's a story. It's not real."

"It is a story, but it is real." he shrugged nonchalantly, like it didn't really matter if she believed him. As if it would change the truth. "I knew you wouldn't believe me." And they later passed out from exhaustion, their fingers still sticky with sugar.

Her heart was pounding, and her breath was ragged. Where was she now? Images flashed behind her eyes before slowly settling on one. Something was covering her eyes until it wasn't. Her brother stood in front of her, hands bound and with a smile on his face. Her own features were contorted with fear.

"Believe me now?" he asked.

The girl nodded and blinked away her tears. She did. "I do." The story he told her on his birthday had been true, and confirmed mere minutes ago.

Her brother positioned his knee and lowered his hand in a swiping motion, easily breaking his binds. The girl flinched at the suddenness, but he merely laughed. "Amateurs."

"How did you do that?"

"Le Rosey," he answered, producing a small knife from his back pocket. "I took martial arts there." He released her hands. "You'll learn too when you join me next month. Papa will make you."

Like straight out of a movie, the scene in front of her changed, and darkness surrounded her once more. This time the girl's screams echoed through the room when yet another light shattered. Deafening sounds bounced through the space, making her cry at every movement. A flash of light—illuminating a figure around her—then dark once again.

She clutched her brother's limp body in her small arms, shaking him periodically and willing him to open his eyes. His dirt-ridden face and slack jaw presented themselves to her in the most horrifying manner whenever the overhead light landed on him. Though try as she might, she could not look away.

"Wake up," she told him. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" And for the first time in her life, her brother ignored her, lying limply in her arms as she shook him periodically, willing him to open his eyes.

Someone yanked her. "Let's go!"

"No!" she screamed as loud as her tiny frame could muster. "Not without him!"

"Come on, he's right behind us, kid." And she was whisked away despite her protests. "Pretend it's just a dream."

"It's just a dream," she repeated, covering her ears with her hands. "It's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a dream."

She kept chanting the same thing over and over again, even after the building behind them engulfed itself in angry blue flames. "It's just a dream," after her father grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him as he frantically asked if she was okay. "It's just a dream," while she cowered in the car on her way home. "It's just a dream," as she was rocked back and forth, safe in her mother's arms, but forever without a brother.

"It's just a dream," after she woke with a gasp, wiping her tear-stricken face as reality slammed into her. The girl shuffled around to peer out the bright window at the call of her name.

"Miss!" shouted a guard from the ground. "Mr. Burgundy will see you now."

She shook the lingering remnants of the nightmare away and made her way down on shaky legs. There was no point in beating around the bush. When Mr. Burgundy called, people bent over backwards to answer. And it was her turn.

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4

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[afpwestcoast]

Aladdin Theater, Portland, OR, 12/28/23

A flawless show. Or should I say aNOTHER flawless show because, as you’ll recall, I declared the previous show in San Diego to be perfect. If I had one note it would be “Too perfect.”

Let me explain.

A little over a year ago we entered the venue to find Amanda’s young son Ash on stage in a cardboard box that had been transformed into a television by the magic of childhood. It was goofy and adorable and delightful.

Right now Ash is a bundle of manic unpredictable chaos. But over the next decade or so he will slowly mature, figure out who he is, find his way in the world, and become an amazing man. Amanda will love and cherish every step along the way and when he is finally released into the wild she will be filled with admiration for who he has become and giddy anticipation for what he will achieve.

And that will be beautiful, but in the back of her mind she will think, ‘I kind of miss the kid in the cardboard box.’ A parent’s pride and joy over the development and accomplishments of their grown children is always tinged with a wistful nostalgia for the little kid that they will never be again. It is the inevitable gift / curse of parenthood.

At those first Colony shows in November ‘22 the Dresden Dolls were a kid in a cardboard box. Over the ensuing 13 months they have played an almost continual string of shows, often in three-night stands. Over that run of shows they have developed new material, yes, (the new songs become crisper and cleaner by the show) but their connection has also become stronger and their musicianship is approaching virtuoso levels.

It has been my pleasure and privilege to witness this transformation firsthand. I have been following this band since 2004 and I can honestly say that the band is better right now than it has ever been. We are living through peak Dresden Dolls, and I am totally here for it. The tour for the new record is going to unmissable and amazing.

And yet.

I still sort of miss the kid in the cardboard box.

Those early shows were more intimate not just in the sense of smaller venues. They felt like the band was rehearsing in their living room and had invited a few friends over to hang out while they did. The flubs and gaffes were all okay because it was just us friends.

These new shows are “better” by almost any objective metric, but they feel different; more polished, more professional. That is by no means a complaint; at the end of this show I needed help lifting my jaw off the floor. It was a thing of beauty and absolutely wonderful to behold.

But we’re still here and we’re still friends(ish), and any flubs or gaffes will still be not just excused but embraced and enjoyed. There will soon come a day when it will become unthinkable to imagine Ash in a cardboard box, pretending it’s a television. I am truly in awe of what the Dresden Dolls are accomplishing right now, but I hope that they never lose their penchant for crawling into cardboard boxes, at least occasionally.

Annotated Set List:

Sex Changes - There is a superstition amongst avid fans that any show that doesn’t begin with Good Day is going to be a little off. Tonight that was fairly well put to rest.

Good Day - And so the Music Gods are appeased!

Gravity

Modern Moonlight

My Alcoholic Friends

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Astronaut (A Brief History of Nearly Nothing) (Amanda Palmer cover)

Mrs. O

At this, the first break in the set, Amanda proclaimed that this was the best audience they had had all year. “And I’m not just saying that … Just come with us everywhere. We’ll take you to New Zealand!” And then went on to explain that they are fundamentally a live band who tours and workshops material before recording an album. “We just played all of those songs to convince you that we’re good. And now we’re going to do what you’re not supposed to do when you’re a band, which is we’re just gonna play you a fuckton of new songs.” And the crowd went wild.

Mister God - Still my favorite of the new songs, I think, but there are others making ground on the outside.

Houdini - As a for instance.

Whakenewha - “This one I brought to Brian when we started playing together again a year ago or whatever and I was like, ‘I don’t think this is a Dresden Dolls song, it’s like a boring Amanda Palmer solo piano song.’ And then Brian did The Thing.” It’s quite a thing.

Boyfriend in a Coma

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) - Though the venue did have a balcony Amanda stayed on stage with Brian for this one tonight, probably for a smoother transition to the next song that also featured the two of them out front.

Another Christmas - “I feel like it’s time that the goths had a Christmas song.”

The Runner - Amanda declared this to be her current favorite of the new songs (subject to change without notice). It’s hard to argue; it’s very good.

The Nail

Backstabber

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

——

Merch commercial

(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!) (Beastie Boys cover featuring Tilley Komorny on bass, Brian on guitar, and Amanda on drums) - We last saw Tilley in Orlando, but in the intervening months she moved to Portland!

Girl Anachronism

Sing (featuring Tilley on bass and Brian on guitar to start) - A perfect end to a perfect evening.

Photo Gallery:

(All photos by me, but edited by Melissa Smith)

Amanda came out fully dressed … but not for long!

Best goddamned drummer in the motherfucking world. Fight me.

Amsterdam!

Another Christmas

Fight for your right!

The gods must be appeased … WITH BLOOD SACRIFICE!

Good night Portland!

But wait! The show might have been over but the magic was not. Amanda came out for the (now traditional) Patreon photo and afterwards she got down on her hands and knees and appeared to be talking to one of the patrons. The remaining crowd was coming down off a show high and there was general hubbub. Then a beautiful voice could be barely heard through the commotion. Quickly a hush fell over the crowd and we were treated to a beautiful song from Colette the Bard. She had seen Amanda in 2018 after surgery that called into question her ability to ever sing again, and she asked Amanda if she could sing for her the next time she saw her. Tonight was the night, and she crushed it! A truly beautiful and inspiring moment.

[thecoolerliauditore]

hello this is liauditore welcome to my

TOP 10 WORST SCOTT SMAHOR SKINS

rated with no bias whatsoever I am objective all the time. SUPER serious take this 100% seriously I am sooo serious

10. Tiger Scott (Fantasy SMP)

this is not scott. 👎

9. Shirtless Scott (ESMP 2)

He does not deserve to have pixel nipples. Also this came right after limlife ended so what? Were you too self conscious to go swimming with the other boys? Get a grip.

Positive points to this for not giving him abs though I don't think I could take another one.

8. Secret Life Yellow Skin (Secret Life SMP)

Honestly a toss-up between this and the red skin but I think this is the worse offender. This poor beautiful green skin tainted by the world's ugliest shade of clashing yellow. Someone pissed in his hair. Someone pissed on his shoes.

7. Pirate Scott (Pirates SMP)

Shout out to Scott for seeing the perfect role for himself to play in this world (nepo baby in a setting, pirates, built around themes of classism) and not thinking about the implications of that whatsoever. God this shit was so ass.

Anyway this thing is barely Scott. It doesn't offend me as much as whatever they mutated Martyn into for the sake of this instagram filter esque Aesthetique they were going for but they plucked out his eyelashes and I don't like thinking about that. He looks so angry now and I would be too.

6. Chromia Scott (ESMP2)

I like how Scott's ESMP1 character was like eight pages of fantasy tropes, prince of a kingdom, evil brother, champion of a deity, tragic destiny and forbidden love or whatever and Scott's ESMP2 character was "he likes colours and he likes to play with llamas"

5. Witchcraft Backstory Scott (Witchcraft SMP)

I don't think this guy actually exists I think he's a lie WC Scott tells himself at night oh back when I was young and innocent and blah blah blah

This thing is soulless I think he kills small animals to feel something

Also this is in no ways meant as a serious art critique or anything critique list but I must mention for this skin specifically the shading on his hair and skin does not match the simple (and rlly beautiful imo) texturing on his clothes which ends up making it look like he has some sort of skin disease.

4. Sailor Jupiter Scott (MCC)

Magically becomes a three pixel wide arm instead of a four pixel wide. No one in the world cares except me but it bothers me. He starved himself for this cosplay and I don't agree with encouraging that behaviour.

Anyway Neptune is right there why the fuck are you Jupiter. Even Mercury I could understand or Uranus. Why the fuck are you Jupiter.

3. This New Life Skin that never showed up in his videos (New Life SMP)

Oh New Life what a sad sad end to an SMP. Your run was like the SMP equivalent of the life of one of those abused hamsters. Even sadder was Scott's last three or four episodes where he desperately clung onto the series like trying to put the hamster on life support only for the hospital to say "that's a fucking hamster we're not doing that"

The last few episodes of Scott's NLSMP episodes were just "wow! I am [insert origin here] now!" and he makes a decent looking build that never shows up on camera again themed to whatever he is and then assassin sausage shows up and goes "it's sausaging time" and sausages all over the place and repeat. I really wonder who he commissioned for these skins because it seemed like he got them made on pretty short notice -- and some of these skins are bangers too (cursed doll scott ily)

and then there's whatever the fuck this one is. Girl you look like a genshin impact. I included a back view of this one because genuinely what the fuck is he. What the fuck am I looking at. When he showed up in Owen's videos with this skin he was inchling sized too so it was even harder to tell if what you were looking at was Scott Smajor or a visual glitch.

The elements of this skin are well made, the colours work well and it's consistently textured there's just too much going on it hurts me. Do you really need a boob and a belly window. Do your fucking. Ankles need cutouts. Why are you pink.

2. Tea Party Scott (ESMP2)

I have nothing to say he's just really ugly.

Scott

I hate this thing so much. Look at his cute little cartoony stylized shading. His blue jeans. You look like an early 2000s disney channel reject. You look like the gay rival in a 2010s childrens anime made to sell toys. You look like you're cosplaying as your own 'sona. You look like you use buzzwords like lolita fashion and _____ kei with no knowledge of what those words actually mean. You look like a self insert OC. You look like you have blue hair and pronouns.

This skin actually represents so much of him so well. He's so put together, his outfit is harmonious, he obviously thought about how to style himself. Everything is purposeful, even the shoes. He has a coherent colour palette. This is someone who dresses to communicate a message about himself. Look at me aren't I so cute and approachable and handsome and unintimidating and a little quirky. Look at me I'm so fun and I know what I'm doing. teehee. tiktok,.

0. Liauditore Scott

worst animal on earth.

[truly-morgan]

[Kinktober 2021: Macro/Micro (18+)]

SangCheng | Mo Dao Zu Shi 01-10-2021

Day 1: R̷i̷m̷m̷i̷n̷g̷ / [MacroMicro] / T̷i̷c̷k̷l̷i̷n̷g̷ 

Jiang Cheng get hits by a curse that makes him a doll size, thankfully it was a conjoint night hunt with qinghe. Nie Huaisang takes care of him and decides to have some fun.

=====

Jiang Cheng couldn’t believe he had been this careless to be hit by a curse. He was now shrunk to the size of a doll and he was certain he wasn’t bigger than 30 cm. Of course, in his misfortune his sword couldn’t have shrunk with him, so now he was stuck in a random forest in the qinghe nie territory without any way to move safely and take his sword with him. 

After what seemed like hours of waiting on a tree branch, he was finally found by one of the nie cultivators, who called for everyone to come. Everyone was somewhat unsure as to what they should do, but jc decided to go back to the unclean realm. They were already staying there and it was also closer.

All jc could do was look sour when they finally met Nie Huaisang again, the fellow sect leader hiding behind his fan as he tried not to laugh. “I have to apologise for the inconvenience, I would ask if it is possible to extend our stay until we figure out how to cure our sect leader,” one of the disciples said politely.

“No need for apologies” smiled nhs, his gaze turning to slj “It is important to turn your sect leader to a regular size”. With that, some disciples were tasked to investigate where it had happened, jc staying behind with nhs for “safety reasons”.

“It would be bad if someone accidentally step on you” nhs smile.+

And so jc was taken everywhere nhs was going, until his duties were over and he returned to his room, putting jc on his painting table. Had it been someone else jc would probably have been mad that someone was playing around with him.

“A-cheng is really cute like this” nhs smiled, adoring the way the tiny leader became redder than he would usually get. “No am not, I am annoyingly small and weak” he added. Nhs simply hummed at that, taking his brush to gently poke at him “I still think a-cheng is the cutest”.

Jc was about to argue when a startled moan escaped him, the hard tip of the brush having brushed over his nipple. This seemed to spark something deep in nhs as he did it again, jc trying to push away the offending object “Stop it!” he said, as red as before as his nipples were getting hard from the teasing and rubbing on against his tight clothes.

“no~” nhs replied, his hand approaching jc to lift him up again so he cannot run away, instead, grabbing at his fingers so he doesn’t fall to the ground. “Nie Huaisang!”.

Nhs only chuckled as meticulous and careful hands try to open his robes. This only made jc blush harder than before, trying to push his hand away. “but a-cheng, isn’t it painful to stay trapped in your robe like this? I promise you will really enjoy this~”.

Jc sighed at that, shifting uncomfortably in nhs hands. It was getting uncomfortable now that he was hard and well, it /was/ nhs so he supposed it was alright. It wasn’t as if they had never really experienced anything together before. He was simply nervous because he was now so small. “Be careful” he mumbled only to receive a happy humming, nhs taking him back to the desk after grabbing a cushion he could put him on.

So nhs went back to slowly peeling back every layer of clothing, placing it on the table neatly. When he was done, he simply looked at jc, making the smaller man look away. Truly jc was beautiful from head to toe and seeing him all flustered and excited was also a good sight.

He took back his brush from before, using the soft tip to go and tease jc’s nipples again, delighted by how jc was slowly letting little moans without too much restraint. He then went to tease his erection, enjoying how jc was both chasing after the brush and moving away from it. He kept going like this, making a moaning mess out of his fellow sect leader. He was even more pleased when he managed to make him come two times with his ministration.

“a-cheng can you turn around for me~~” nhs asked, jc following his request still in a daze. He did yelp when he felt delicate hands lift up his hips, placing him on all four and forcing his shoulder down a bit.

“Nhs what are you doaaAh" he tried asking before feeling a tongue play with his ass and semi-hard cock. If nhs kept going like this his cock would get overstimulated. Nhs only pulls back after a moment, something a bit cold falling on his ass. He was about to turn around and ask nhs what he was doing when he froze upon feeling something hard touching his rim.

He was a bit unsure when he saw the hard tip of a brush against him. He shivered a bit as the rounded tip caught on his rim a bit as nhs was gently circling around it. “Don't worry a-cheng I will go gently on you~” he did wait for jc to nod before going further, carefully putting the tip in. And gentle he was, carefully moving the tip inside of jc as to not hurt him, trying to find that sweet button that would make jc even more dazed than he already was, making the young sect leader shake on the cushion as the upper part of his body had fully collapsed on the cushion now, moaning and moving his hips with nhs movements.

Nhs repeated the movements that seemed to get the sweetest moan out of him, a finger also teasing his dick who was back to full attention. He could probably go all day like this were it not for jc not having endless stamina.

He still enjoys jc being all sluty for him, moving his hips hungrily to meet with the brush so it could brush against his prostate, sending a spark of pleasure up his spine. He came two more times this way before fully collapsing on the cushion.

Nhs laid his head down on the table, a finger gently patting his hair, pushing strands away from his face as best as he could. He stopped when jc hugged the finger close to himself. “Let’s get you clean and sleep a bit” smile nhs, ready to get up to prepare a little basin to make it a small bath.

“What about you?” jc asked as he held onto his finger more, his eyes travelling lower to where he could not see nhs crotch. “I am alright” he smiled, giving a kiss on the crown of his head, “Plus I doubt little a-cheng has enough energy for that, but you can always pay me back when you get back to normal~~”.

Jc rolled his eyes at that, letting nhs lift him up again, face red at the idea of repaying him. As if he would not.

====

(I apparently cannot write smut without some plot I guess kjbfjhvf still counts ┐(︶▽︶)┌ 

still a good start in my opinion >:3)

Original - AO3

[rollercoasterwords]

☕️ rosekiller

choosing violence today i see. lulling me into a false sense of security w drarry and then activating my secret hater killswitch huh. well alright boys lets get into it lets all come down to the swamp and play in the mud i guess.

disclaimer that everything i'm about 2 say is just me being a hater. i am not going to crawl onto any moral high ground and act as though people should or shouldn't like this ship, bc personally i think everyone should just do whatever they want. but what i want to do right now is be a hater <3 please do not enter my swamp if u are unwilling to see me bark and bite

fuck OFFFFFFF with rosekiller goddammit i hate this ship SO much. the way i feel about rosekiller is the same way i feel about people who say that new york style is better than chicago style pizza (blinding and irrational rage over something that, objectively, does not matter one bit)

i just think this ship is so STUPID. who caresssss about evan rosier and barty crouch junior??? evan rosier is a paper doll background death eater in canon and everything that makes barty an interesting villain is shit that all these rosekiller lovers ignore!!! like WHAT is there to care about here. what am i supposed to be enjoying. rosekiller just seems like a bunch of people plucking two characters out of canon, scrubbing away everything except their names, and then turning them into two more flushed-away rat men to salivate over. BORING. also i feel like rosekiller marks this shift into everyone suddenly deciding that every ship needs a ~pretty~ name which i am also a hater about!!! just smush the names together!!! if it's ugly live in ur shame with it barty crouch junior/evan rosier is an ugly ship so it makes sense for it to have an ugly name!!!

phew. ok. now that i have gotten all that off my chest i will admit that i HAVE seen iterations of rosekiller that i enjoy. however that has only ever been the case when i read stories that include them by writers i like where the writers are essentially turning them into ocs and just doing a very good job with it (and thus forcing me to curse their names for a thousand years for making me like rosekiller in any universe). for example i do enjoy what soph's got going on with rosekiller in kyd and of course everything happening in bury a friend by my dearest liv was just delectable <3 HOWEVER. i would never seek out and read a rosekiller fic and in general i will hiss and spit it anyone brings that ship anywhere within five feet of me.

[crystalelemental]

I apologize in advance for the ask, but I want to know what you think of Mob Psycho characters as sync pairs units in Pokemon Masters.

Would you make Mob super support or a unit that can solo everything like SST Red? And what would be their partner Pokemon? You can use Paldea Pokemon if you want to.

What about Reigen, Ritsu, Teru, Dimple, Serizawa, and Shou? I like to think Teru has speed-oriented multipliers like Ramming Speed or Inertia, and Power Play on the grid because it suits him, he also can have Endurance+Unyielding. Shou has 4 bar attacks because his combat style is more of recharging and attacking with a huge blow.

I like to think Telepathy Club members all have Ultra Beasts as their partner Pokemon, because of their alien-related activities. Takenaka in particular I think might have Blacephalon, with Mind Blown and some Standfast on passive and grids (or make him something like Hugh just for fun).

What are your ideas? I would like to know what you think!

No need to apologize. I'll be honest, I've never really thought about this before so I'm going to try my best to wing it here.

Mob As much as support initially makes sense given his focus, I'm more inclined to say Tech with good support capabilities, terrible DPS, but explosive nuke. His emphasis is on helping others and avoiding using his powers to fight, but his whole thing is that he's also like...unquestionably the strongest. So I think that style of Tech nuke makes the most sense.

As for what he'd be partnered with, I'd say something Psychic-type makes the most sense. While I am obviously somewhat biased, I think Mesprit makes a ton of sense for him. Emotions are a huge component of his powers, and understanding them a major part of his arc. I think it'd be a really cute partnership, especially for like...after the series, you know?

Ritsu Ritsu's a bit tougher. I think as much as he wanted to be strong like Mob, Ritsu's much more support-aligned overall, given his ultimate role as the little brother Mob can tell anything to. I'd say maybe emphasize support, in a way that complements what Mob needs and make them kind of a set. I'm almost thinking he, Mob, and Teru would get all the Lake Trio, with Ritsu having Uxie as the super smart kid, and Teru having willpower. But that's (1) super biased, and (2) cheating. So as a backup...okay, I was scrolling the list of Psychic-types, saw Indeedee, and was like "that one because of the maid outfit," but I'll be serious about it. At first I wanted to say Bastiodon because of the protectiveness thing, but maybe Hisuian Arcanine because of the loyalty thing.

Reigen Reigen's decisively support, and I'm gonna say Kecleon. His playstyle would focus on broad defensive support, since that's like...a big thing with him. Kecleon works thematically because of the whole type change thing, which I think connects with Reigen's general tendency to blend in with the psychic crowd, and adaptability. Also, Mystery Dungeon nod.

Teru I consulted the wife about this one, and she said Ceruledge. It fits, I think. He's a little shit, but not a bad person, and Ceruledge is still a knight-themed Pokemon so there's at least an angle of protection there. I do like your ideas for playstyle, so definitely Tech with some debuffing focus and Power Play. Maybe emphasize offense debuffing? He does try to stop Ritsu going down the path he does in Season 1, and is focused on trying to stop Mob during the final arc. Endure with healing on Bitter Blade would be pretty great too.

Dimple So my first impulse was Rotom, as the only Ghost-type that actively possesses things, but that's objects not people. So then I was like Gholdengo because of God Dimple, but that's fairly superficial, if funny. But then I thought...maybe Banette. Curse doll that becomes your friend when you treat it well? That seems more character thematic. In any event, I think Tech, in the style of strong DPS and team-related buffs. Like how you have Masked Royal buffing speed for the team. That kinda thing. I think given his ability to kinda store up power, that he'd be able to do stacks of moves up next or supereffective up next. Also maybe a Hugh-like passive where he recovers HP after his first death. For reasons.

Serizawa Another I had to consult the wife on. She said something like Audino that's focused on healing, and that seems good. Though I'd like to push for Striker. I know that's a little bizarre but hear me out. Serizawa is the one in need of support, not necessarily providing it, and mega evolution that changes typing to Fairy feels like a thematically appropriate transition. Though I would also like to contribute, he gets an alt that has a pre-evolution that doesn't evolve, and it's Sobble. It is his baby and he loves his precious anxiety lizard.

Shou We agreed immediately that he'd be a Fire-type. I'm going to throw out Infernape, because I feel like it has the highest "I'm the main character" vibe. That was apparently a thing? His design was supposed to look like a standard shonen protagonist? Blast Burn is a thing. Pure striker. Probably has one of those trainer moves that caps offenses instantly.

Tome Okay, love the idea of Ultra Beasts, but also: Beheeyem. It's a literal alien. Designed off all the alien stereotypes. It feels perfect. 100% striker. I want it to Dynamax.

Body Improvement Club I can't remember all their names but they all get the super muscle Fighting types. Onigawara gets Pangoro 100%. Goda's support because he's such a bro, and my wife says Machamp which is fine. The blue-haired guy whose name I can't remember is Tech, because apparently he's #2 on tests in the school and is secretly super smart.

[revolversandlace]

Blemished Silk | Chapter Twenty-Three - Punching in the Wind

Chapter Index

Arthur Morgan x f!OC Longfic

Mature Rating - 2.8k Words

Chapter Tags & Warnings: fOC!POV, Angst, Pining, Canon Divergence, I cannot repeat how much angst this chapter is

Summary: After Amelias encounter with Arthur, she reflects upon her feelings whilst making some serious business decisions

Scarlett Meadows, May 1899 

Amelia let out a small squeal as the blood pooled on the tip of her finger.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ She cursed, sticking her finger in her mouth as she sucked at the metallic tasting liquid.

It was the third time she had managed to stab herself with the needle. She just wanted to fix the darn dress, but instead it felt as though she was better at slowly torturing herself rather than repairing the moth holes.

Scrunching at the material, she closed her eyes as she could feel the hot liquid of tear welling up whilst her breath became ragged. 

It’s late, ma’am.

She fought with her own memories, memories that were barely even formed.

Make sure you get back safe. 

It repeated over and over like a thaumatrope, a child's game of repeated images with the same scene playing in a loop as she twisted it in her hands. 

Sighing to herself, Amelia threw the dress on the floor. It was a pointless endeavour whichever way she looked at it. Even if by some miracle she could figure out the illusive art of the needle and thread, it would all be wasted. 

No one she cared for would see her wear it, see her prancing herself proudly like a kingfisher poised on a glistening rock. 

It was her favourite dress, both for how it made her look and how it was the first thing she bought after the estate was acquired. She had only worn it once before, to a confederate garden party that she despised every moment of.

A ghoulish affair arranged by her uncle to introduce her to the most prominent members of the South. And yet, even though she detested them all, there was something about how for the first time in her life she was treated as more than an object, as someone who could entertain - a woman who held some sort of standing outside of being a downtrodden child or a marriage prospect. 

Of course, Amelia knew in her heart that regardless of all that and how the dress made her feel, she would always have been reduced to something of value. Something that only the men of the world would get to dictate. 

And yet, even though that had been the case, even all those years ago - even now  - it was the first glimpse of a future she could see herself having. 

How her jokes were laughed at, how she could hear the powerful men of the South quipping to her Uncle Josiah what a delight she was and how much tenacity she had.

Amelia had always known the truth of her soul; her “spirit” as those men like to put it. A life she had built on all those distinctions that had helped her escape the clutches of the elite and yet as soon as she thought she was free of all of that, she was thrusted straight back into it.

Looking back at how she felt then when she had felt she had found the answers she was looking for, now all Amelia could think was that she had just chased away her best chance at happiness.

‘What am I doing?’ She mumbled into her chest, as her head hung low as the lace wrapped around her fingers. 

It seemed so daft, so incredulous that she could have been so enamoured and lovestruck by a man she barely knew. A man that for every logical reason was well below her. Not that any of those reasons made a damn lick of sense. Hell, she even took a special liking to those sort of men, who would pay her in kind with honesty and hard work rather than top hats, tail coats and anything that her fucking class decided she was allowed. 

Those men with stupid moustaches, tales of exploits to Africa and how she was nothing but a doll for them. A voiceless doll to make them look either better amongst their equally stupid friends. 

God she hated it all. Hated ever fucking second of it. 

Be damned Arthur Morgan, damn you. 

She knew he wasn’t one of those men, of course she did, but in that moment she hated him all the same. Because somehow, all of the things she had to be led to believe that courtship should be, was something that had never applied to him.  He had stolen her without even knowing it and without playing all those witless tropes. 

Amelia opened her eyes and tried to marvel at the soft blue coupled with the deep burgundy lace around the bust and layered down the skirt. It truly was an exquisite piece, but with no event to wear it and no one to show off to, it seemed all in vain. A pitiful excuse to be something other than what she felt deep in her soul. 

How she longed to be the butterfly at sunrise, beating its wings across the meadow flowers or the possum that would scream into the night. She felt as though she was all of those and so much more every time she had looked at him. 

That every single fear she had ever had melted away and made her feel as though she could conquer empires. All of that she had given to him secretly but felt in that moment of the previous night, Amelia felt that she had laid it all down and exposed her innermost workings.

Then the bastard walkedaway. 

She hated herself even more for that thought. The thought that she only wanted to look as wonderful as she could for him, and only him. In the pit of her stomach she felt as though - for some bizarre  reason  - he did deserve that from her. A shining light for those troubled eyes of his was all she wanted to be. 

To be that moment of solace and to see where all of his darkness would lead her. To take her by the hand and down into the caverns with an unreachable light.

Perhaps it was her own glutton, her own need for a story that made all of it before seem worthwhile. All the heartache and loss, the bruises and hardship, the pain and the wanting that she had felt since before it was fair to feel such things. Arthur made all of it feel worth it.

Was that the reason for it all? That she had put him on some sort of pedestal of a saviour when there was no such thing? Her heart ached at the thought of seeing him again - if she was to ever see him again. 

Amelia’s mind wandered back into their last conversation and then suddenly there were tears rolling down her cheeks.

She wiped them away angrily. How many times did she have to cry over this man? It was ridiculous. He wasn’t coming back. So why couldn’t she accept his rejection?

Why was she wasting precious hours fixing up what would never be fixed? Whether she felt that way about the dress or Arthur, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Amelia felt utterly ashamed with herself, how loose she had become with her heart once again as it seems age had brought her little wisdom when it came to her passions of the impossible.

Perhaps her father was right all those years ago to try to beat sense into her. She wanted to beat herself if nothing else. And her mother... how her mother would always tell her that men would always run from her, that she would never find a respectable husband. It felt it was a truth she refused to believe, but now it seemed it was inescapable.

Her heart ached so terribly for Arthur’s affection that it hurt like a knife wound. And now all she was left with was shame, her ghosts and something she could never have.

Amelia did not even attempt to wipe away the tears, and they fell freely down her face.

Not only did she shame herself for offering her heart with little thought other than hope, but she had lost the most valuable person to her and the estate. The one person who could keep them all safe.

The worst part of it was knowing that if Arthur returned, she wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him anymore. All the secrets and lies, even the things that her uncle didn’t know would spill free. But it was unlikely he would return her affection as he had made it clear he was not inclined to do so.

She wanted to bare her soul to him, for him to see who she truly was underneath all the silks and graces.

But Arthur had walked away from her without a backwards glance. Now she feared that he might never come back. All because she had to part her lips like some sort of lightskirt.

And now she felt too vulnerable to even touch her own feelings.

Was that wrong? What happened between them had been barely physical, and yet she felt more connected to Arthur than any man she had known in her life.

She sniffed deeply as her breath caught in her throat as she let out a sob. All she knew was what she saw: the house, its beauty and grace, and how it reminded her of the woman she was meant to be; and yet all of it would be turned to ashes. There was no point in fighting fate. Not any more than trying to stop time itself.

She wiped her face against her sleeve, removing the moisture as best she could, leaving her skin to feel sticky and dewy from the tears. Her eyes were still blurring as she reached for her pen and letter stationary.

Her fingers took a sheet of paper as she smoothed it out over her desk with shaking hands.

I hope this letter finds you well.

She wrote, slowly, her uneven breath, pacing her mind to the words she hoped to convey. There was little she could do with the matter of Arthur, but she didn’t have to give up on everything.

I have already had the pleasure of meeting your representative, Mr Cooper. As I am sure you are aware, he has laid out your proposal in the frankest of terms - and I shall return mine in with an equal kindness, Mr Cornwall.

Amelia glanced back over the discarded dress on the floor.

I will be travelling to Saint Denis on 1st June, and will be having a luncheon with my advisor. It will be in both of our professional interests if you join me at Hotel Grand at noon to settle this matter in its entirety.

Your Sincerely,

Amelia Edwards,

Founder and Proprietor of Edwards & Co

Amelia slumped back in her chair, closing her eyes softly. She wanted the opportunity to tell Mr Cornwall to his face that her business was not for sale, certainly not to the likes of him. He could offer her all the money and jewels from here to the Arabian peninsular and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.

She didn’t care about money anymore. It certainly couldn’t buy happiness or love it seemed. It wasn’t like she needed it, anyway. She was rich enough without it, even without the business she would hardly become destitute.

But she wanted to prove to Mr Cornwall that he would never own her heart and soul. That she would fight tooth and nail to protect what she had built up and already fought so hard for.

She wanted to show him that he would never get the better of her and that he would always lose.

The rivalry she had found herself in helped to goad her spirit, her natural competitiveness, which had got her in so far in a world that was set out to despise her. Yet little of it filled the aching gnaw inside of her chest.

The hollow twinge that filled her with the thoughts of Arthur, of his throaty laugh and the mystery that he held in his crystalline eyes. She thought of all of him, but mainly his complete and utter rejection.

She felt ashamed at how quickly she gave into her desires and emotions. Even when she knew it was wrong. How she allowed herself to be swept away by his charm and charisma.

And now it seemed she was going to pay for it, one way or another.

A knock sounded at the door as she turned to face it, folding the letter and placing it in an envelope.

‘Enter,’ she called as she addressed the letter, wiping her eyes one last time.

As the door opened, Talako stepped through, his dark eyes peering over the threshold towards her. A face she didn’t want to see with another reminder of the scars on her heart.

‘Sorry, ma’am, I know you’re busy...’ he trailed off, his expression unusually downcast.

Her brow furrowed slightly. There was something strange about his attitude today. She watched him for a moment, noting how he fidgeted, as if there was an invisible weight on his shoulders.

‘What’s wrong? You look troubled.’

She could not help but worry that something terrible might have happened while she was busy fiddling with her dress.

‘Nothing, just tired,’ he said quietly, turning away and staring down at the ground.

‘I assume there was whiskey involved?’ Amelia said, looking on at the man, who nodded and cleared his throat.

‘I er... I think I’ve got something for you,’ he said, as he shifted awkwardly on his feet.

‘Talako, what’s wrong? This isn’t like you at all.’

He sighed as Amelia stood, placing the letter into her skirt pocket as she walked over to him.

‘Couple of men I was with last night,’ he began as his cheeks grew awkward as though he was stifling a yawn, ‘told me there was some Waipti folks down in Blackwater, hold up at the trading post.’

His gaze darted to hers, but he continued before she could ask anything.

‘I don’t know much more than that, but seems a good a place to start as any.’

She smiled kindly towards him with a slow nod of agreement.

This was the closest she had come in months to finding any way of contacting the tribe in order to negotiate some conduct on their lands. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it would be the first step to protecting the estate and keeping herself from falling to pieces.

‘I’ll arrange passage for you and Mr Jameson to go and speak with them. Let’s see if they are interested in talking before we make any decisions,’ she said. Within seconds, it was as though she found her voice again.

‘Don’t think my permit extends quite that far, ma’am,’ he said as Amelia scrunched her mouth.

‘No, I suppose it doesn’t. I will speak with the office in Saint Denis but in the meantime...’ she said, pulling the letter from her pocket, ‘if you could kindly take it to the post office tomorrow, I shall attend to this Blackwater business.’

He nodded, taking the envelope and shoving it in his waistcoat pocket.

‘Do you think it’s wise both me and Mr Jameson head south? With everything that’s going on?’ He said, his voice uneasy as he looked at her through his thick eyelashes.

‘Perhaps not,’ she said with a small shrug, ‘however I specifically need you to speak with the tribe first - ‘

‘And Mr Jameson,’ Talako cut in, ‘in case the white man sees an Indian alone,’ Talako said with a wry smile.

‘Well... it won’t do any harm,’ Amelia said, feeling somewhat better about the situation, although she would have been more comfortable sending only one of them. It was just so much for her to manage by herself.

‘And the estate? You really think that Morgan feller can protect you and everyone else when he’s only here a few times a week?’

She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze. The last thing she wanted to do was to speak of Arthur, or even think of him. Especially as she had finally seemed to get some momentum going with the business.

‘There’s enough staff who know how to use a gun. Myself included. I’ll look after matters here.’

Talako stared at her for a moment as though trying to decipher something. Then he sighed deeply and looked down again, his eyes distant.

‘Doubt Mr Jameson will be too happy.’ He added softly.

‘Mr Jameson will do what is asked of him.’ She said firmly.

Talako nodded and then left the room without another word. She felt numb and hollow inside. Her thoughts were jumbled up like broken glass. That damn letter could be the end of everything.

She had not felt this alone in so long. She knew the position she was leaving herself in, a confrontation with Cornwall, the estate without a competent guard, and god knows where her uncle had gotten to this time. 

All she could do now was to wait and see if it would be worth the cost she was willing to pay.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Won’t You Lay Hands on Me?

Kinktober Day 21: Weapons Fetish

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Words: ~1.5k

Summary: You and Bucky have an interesting way of flirting.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (knife play, mentions of foreign object penetration, m receiving oral sex, public sex, caught kink, cum play, competence kink?), awkward flirting, lots of weaponry, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: I dunno, these two give me mad Rosa and Pimento vibes, and I’m here for it!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library !

You felt immediately when his eyes found you after he walked into the room, grinning to yourself at the muttered curse he let out at the sight of what you were doing.

Bucky really loved watching you maintain your not insignificant arsenal, for some reason the sight of your hands meticulously moving over your handguns as you disassembled and cleaned and reassembled one of them making his cock twitch every fucking time. He never actually did anything about it, though, just pulled out one of his knives and started sharpening it and testing the balance playfully right in front of you until he could hear you grinding your teeth and squirming, the smell of your arousal tickling his nose and making him smirk.

So you decided to pull out the big guns, literally.

“Oh, hey Buck.” You had completely taken over the common room, your sniper rifle disassembled as you inspected and cleaned each mechanism dutifully. “Just taking care of the MK14. Sorry there’s no room.”

“That’s fine.” He kept his jaw clenched tight as he gave you a strained smile, trying desperately to hold back a moan when he watched you blow softly on the edge of the barrel after removing the brush. “I’ll just… sharpen the raider in the corner… Christ.”

He didn’t think he’d ever seen someone run an oil cloth over a gun in a more suggestive manner, almost dropping his knife when you propped it in between your legs and leaned all the way into it. This was starting to get stupid.

“Oh god, not this again.” Sam’s eyes rolled all the way back in his head when he and Steve walked in to see Bucky hunched in on himself to try to hide how aroused he was while he watched you rub down the internals. “You two need to learn how to flirt like normal fucking people, man.”

“We’re not flirting.” Bucky was barely paying attention to Sam and Steve as he finally drew out his whetstone, dragging it over the blade and grunting when you started reassembling the rifle at a speed that was making it even harder for him to concentrate. “She’s just so… efficient.”

“And that does it for you, huh Buck?” Steve was grinning indulgently at his friend while he watched him look at you, laughing at Sam’s frustrated expression.

“Nope, too fucking weird.” Sam shook his head and started backing out of the room when Bucky let out a low growl at the sight of you making adjustments to the scope, Steve following after with a low chuckle as he gave one last glance at his friend finally making a move.

Bucky started prowling towards you when you were finishing up, twirling his knife through his fingers and running his tongue over his bottom lip when you hefted the gun one last time before resting it across your lap. You leaned back and gave him a wicked grin as you ran your hands over your weapon, eyeing the way the knife spun through his fingers and rolling your hips just a little in a way that had him ready to pounce on you.

“You gonna check my work, Barnes?” You bit your lip like a damn tease when he came to a stop in front of you, blinking slowly at him before you let your gaze drop to where his cock was straining against the front of his tactical pants.

“Sure. I’ll do you if you do me, doll.”

You jumped and let out a small gasp when he flung the knife into the table right in front of you, handing him the gun when he held out his hand then yanking the blade out of the wood so you could look it over. His eyes raked over you as you inspected his weapon, running his hands over the gun slowly and grunting when you tossed the knife in the air and caught it again, easily.

“Looks pretty good to me, Buck.” You winked at him as you flipped the knife again, catching the blade, then the hilt in quick succession like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Balance is peachy. How’s the gun?”

“What? Good, it’s good.” Bucky was having trouble thinking, maybe letting you handle his knife wasn’t the best idea.

“Good. This thing is sharp, bet you could shave a peach with it.” You smirked when you heard him swallow thickly, scooting forward on the couch and flicking your wrist out whip fast to cut through the button on his fly before he even had a chance to register what you were doing. “Oh yeah, real fucking sharp.”

“Fuck.” He almost yelped when you grabbed his hips and yanked him towards you, rubbing your face into the few inches of bare skin you had access to as you dragged his pants down his thighs. “We’re doing this here?”

“Sick of fucking waiting for you to make a move.” You made a quick slash to his boxers and his knees almost buckled when your lips pressed to his weeping tip. “God, you taste good.”

“Jesus Christ.” His hand tangled in your hair when you took him down your throat, growling when you swallowed around him and your low hum sent a vibration right to his balls. “Been thinking about this for so long.”

“Mm, me too. Tell me exactly what you’ve been thinking about.” You peppered kisses all over his shaft as you gazed at him through your lashes.

“Well, this, for starters.” He groaned when you swallowed him again, his head falling back on his shoulders and his eyes screwing shut as he lost himself in the feel of you. “And every fucking time I watch you clean the Baretta, think about what it would be like to fuck you with it.”

“Ha! Every time I clean the Baretta, I think about fucking you with it.” You ran your tongue over his balls and he let out a heavy sigh, plucking the knife out of your hand when you offered it so you could start stroking him. “Think about you using one of those blades on me, too.”

“Yeah? Something like this?” He flipped the weapon once then cut right through the top of your stealth suit in a single motion, letting the tatters fall down your arms abs and pool at your waist until your breasts were exposed, Bucky tracing the soft swell of them with the tip of the knife in a way that made you shiver.

You just nodded and took him between your lips again, bobbing your head slowly and moaning around his cock when you felt the cool metal drag over your throat. He hissed every time you took him deeper, his tip eventually sliding down your throat until he could see it bulge slightly against the blunt edge and f the knife.

When he brought it down and slapped your nipple with the flat of the blade you choked, drool dribbling down your chin as you started fucking your own face on his cock. Bucky’s grip on your hair was starting to hurt, but you didn’t care, especially when he kept slowly circling your sensitive peak with the tip of the knife before slapping it again.

He let out a deep growl when you brought up a hand to gently tug on his balls, his dick all the way down your throat now as you barely let him pull out with each thrust. You could feel his sac twitching in your palm and knew he was close, arching your back and whining when he slapped the opposite nipple with the blade.

Your whine did it, Bucky pulling out with a groan and letting your jerk your fist over his cock until he was spurting cum all over your tits in thick, warm ropes. He blew out a deep breath when he was finished, leaning over you with a hand on the back of the couch and grinning when you relaxed back into your seat with a wicked smirk.

“Good, Buck?” You purred when he pressed his lips to yours in answer, a shiver traveling through you when you felt the blade scrape over your chest to collect his cum.

“Real fucking good, doll.” He brought the knife up to your mouth and bit his lip when you dragged your tongue over the blade, freezing when he gripped your chin and molded his lips to yours again so the two of you could exchange his taste.

“Hey!” Both of you jumped when Tony shouted at you from the edge of the room, his eyes screwed shut as Bucky tried to pull his ruined pants back up with a litany of muttered curses. You just laughed as you sat back on the couch, curling your knees up to your chest and beaming at Bucky as he continued fumbling with his clothes. “That was quite the fucking show you two put on, pretty sure Parker’s never gonna be able to look either of you in the eye again. Take some damn sweats and finish up in one of your rooms so I can burn that couch.”

[rocorambles]

Meeting in the Middle

Pairing: Sakusa x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking

Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.

A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?

But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.

It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.

You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.

“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”

Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.

“Neither am I.”

Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.

Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.

But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.

He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.

You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.

“You look like you’ve had better days.”

Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.

“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”

“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”

You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.

Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.

But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.

“What is that?”

“Dinner…”

Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.

“You didn’t cook?”

The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.

You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.

Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?

Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.

If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.

But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.

Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.

Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.

“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”

The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.

Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.

You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.

Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.

It’s time to put an end to this charade.

It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.

There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.

“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”

“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”

You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.

“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”

You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.

Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.

You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.

“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”

There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.

Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.

“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”

You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.

All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.

All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.

Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.

How beautifully you break.

Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?

Accepting each other’s differences.

[golden-barnes]

And they're roommates (5): Moving conversations

Pairing: New Girl AU! Bucky x F! Reader

Summary: It's the wedding weekend is here. Time to lie to Bucky's friends and family. Faking a relationship? Easy. Sleeping in the same bed? Hard... No pun intended. {wc:1.7k}

Warning: Cursing bc we already know how I work, sorta angst and insecurities, should I warn about morning wood? well I am now, sexual tension. Minors dni because I sorta feel weird you guys interacting with this.

A/N: I love that my brand is now sitcoms turned fanfictions. I'm doing a GoodPlace inspired Spencer Reid fic. Just a kind reminder that this fic will now be containing mature content so minors dni! I will be making a new taglist for this. Reblogs and comments are welcomed!

Previous chapter Series masterlist

“I spy with my little eye something green.” Clint said looking outside of the window. You had been almost cramped in Steve’s minivan for almost an hour, waiting to reach the hotel where the wedding and the rehearsal dinner were gonna be held.

Sam had explained that their friend was really rich and they wanted to have this giant wedding and basically rented out all of the hotel. Tonight, people were going to check-in today. Relax a bit. Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner (which you were forced to go to because Bucky was part of the bridal party). And Sunday it’s gonna be the wedding, in all of its rich white people fashion.

“It’s a tree. Because everything around us are fucking trees.” Bucky snapped. Clint apparently doesn’t do well with long car rides, especially when Steve had prohibited Clint to touch the radio and the aux.

“Now it’s your turn, Buck-bun.” Clint smiled at Bucky. Meanwhile, Bucky had the most annoyed face. Bucky hated long car rides, simply because Clint demanded to sit next to him just to push his buttons.

“I spy with my little eye something purple and red.” Bucky said. To the untrained eye, you would think that Bucky is just playing along but you knew better. Bucky had an evil glint in his eyes. And Clint? Oblivious as ever. He was searching all over but there was nothing purple and red.

“Barnes, take this seriously. I don’t see anything fucking purple and red.” Clint whined. Bucky just rolled his eyes and punched his arm. Sam jumped in the passenger seat. Clint whined even harder, holding his arm in agony.

“There’s your purple and red object.” Bucky jokes. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. Bucky smiled at you.

“This is it! After this, I want you out of my loft!” Clint continues to nurse his arm as if Bucky was strong enough to break it.

Bucky yawned and grabbed his headphones. “I wish you would kick me out. I can’t stand your morning yoga shit anymore.” Clint looked even more offended at that statement than the bruise that was forming on his arm.

“Sam! Bucky is being mean!” Sam just rolled his eyes and turned to see.

“This is why I told you we can wait to have kids. Until these two are out of the nest, we can’t start planning to add more.” Sam told Steve who just laughed at his boyfriend’s statement.

“Oh so not only am I being beaten but you two have been thinking about replacing me? I should find new friends.” Steve looked like he was gonna pop a vein if he kept listening to Clint’s whining.

“Y/N if you would be a doll, please.” Steve said, looking at you through the rearview mirror. You gave him a thumbs up and grabbed the old beat-up iPod that was given to you in case Clint got extra annoying.

“Hey, Barton here.” You put on the headphones on Clint who tried to fight it off. But you were victorious. And in a matter of minutes, he was asleep. Like dead asleep.

“What did that iPod have?” You asked, shocked at how well it worked. Bucky started to chuckle.

“5 hours of Doctor Strange explaining the evolution of surgeries. Knocks him right out.” Bucky laughed, probably thinking of the memory.

“How did you find that out?” Bucky shrugged. Such a random thing to find out, completely out of the blue.

“We used to be roommates in college and he fell asleep every time I was listening to my lectures.” Bucky sighed and put back his headphones.

Now, why would Bucky be listening to medical lectures… There are so many things you didn’t know about Bucky and you wished you could get him to say something. But maybe that is too much to ask for someone who recently met him.

~

You didn’t know who this Tony Stark is but he was indeed rich as fuck. The hotel wasn’t as big but it was spectacular. It looked like one of those fancy country clubs you’ve seen on tv. There were people working on the outside, probably setting up for the wedding.

“Here, let’s go check-in.” Bucky handed you one of your bags. Steve and Sam wanted to check out the premises while Clint wanted to “flaunt his skills on the golf course.”

“Hello, reservations for Barnes.” Bucky said nonchalantly. You were admiring the reception and the lobby. The decor was really nice, almost completely distracting you from what the receptionist said.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes. One bed right?” She asked with a smile on her face. Meanwhile, your jaws were on the ground.

“There must be some mistake. I asked for two beds.” The receptionist gave Bucky a sheepish smile.

“Seriously, Barnes? You have this beautiful woman right next to you and you want to sleep in another bed. Where’s the Romeo I used to know?” A man with dark hair said behind you guys. He had a very expensive suit and glasses that probably cost more than the loft. So this was the famous Tony Stark.

“I was just joking, Tones. How are you?” Bucky gave him an awkward smile and a quick side hug.

“I am great. Seeing that all my guests are getting checked in and are comfy. And not kicking their girlfriends to another bed. But that’s beside the point? Is this the woman I haven’t heard a single thing about? ” Tony smirked. Fuck, is this how you are going to be found out? It hasn’t even been a full hour and you have already been caught. Bucky and you, the disaster duo.

No, this is for Bucky. You are going to help Bucky if it’s the last thing you’ll do. You took a deep breath.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You held out your hand for him to shake it, which he did.

“Aren’t you one of the new lawyers at Hammer’s firm?” Tony asks, you nodded softly. Tony smiled, almost mischievous and knowing.

“Good to know, I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, I have to go see if Pep needs anything. But you two love birds, enjoy your stay.” He says, in a flirty tone. Bucky let out a sigh, almost as if he was holding it in.

“That was a close one. You good?” You asked Bucky. His shoulders looked tense as if he was planning for a bomb to drop after Tony left. He shook his head.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s uhm get to the room.” He mumbled. Either Tony was secretly planning something and Bucky knew or Bucky was stressing out about something. Which was almost always. If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows what to do is stress and keep it to himself.

-

Someone google Tony Stark’s net worth because there’s no way he is this rich. The room was beautiful. It was the perfect blend of rustic and classic. Only problem is there isn’t a couch. Just some chairs.

You put your bags in the closet. Bucky was looking around the room, running his hands through his hair. Something was eating at him.

“Hey, Bucky… You good?” He threw himself on the bed and started really loudly. He grabbed a pillow and started to scream into it.

“So you aren’t good. Got it.” You chuckled and sat right next to him. He took the pillow out of his face and sighed.

“It just dawned on me how many people from College I am gonna see again and now I want to go back home and just ignore the fact that I was perceived in the past. If I could be invisible, I would be stealing the chocolate fountain in peace.” Bucky complained. You laid on the bed next to him. Looking at the ceiling.

“I think they would notice thought. The chocolate fountain escaping.” Bucky snorted.

“Not if I was invisible.” You turned your head towards Bucky, holding back a laugh.

“I don’t think you understand what invisibility is. You are invisible, not the objects you grab.”

“Who are you, the invisibility police? There are no rules to that shit.” Bucky claimed, you just laughed at it.

“Have you ever seen a movie with invisibility?” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I don’t go to the movie theaters. Not gonna give my money to the capitalist movie industry that exploits everyone and everything.” Bucky complained. Now it was your turn to roll your eye.

“Do you always say stuff like that when you are trying to avoid a question?” You are sorta figuring him out. You have to, he is now your fake boyfriend and you have to show a good facade in front of his family and friends.

“It’s a talent. The best way to get out of a situation I don’t like is to complain about something. Shuts everyone up.” Bucky looked you directly in the eyes. He looked like he was being sincere for once.

“You are sure you aren’t a psychologist instead of a lawyer?” Bucky joked. You just groaned.

“I wish honestly. Probably better than everything that is happening with the firm and everything.”

“I didn’t know it got that bad.” You and Bucky turned completely towards each other.

“I would love to quit literally tomorrow but I barely make enough money doing these tiny cases. I am stuck till I make partner.” You can already feel John’s smug face getting all the cases. Fucking John Walker. “What about you? How’s your job?” You added.

“I am a bartender, doll. My only struggle is having to cut off the drunk old men who are spending that money literally at the bar all day.” Bucky joked. After that, you and Bucky kept talking, staying away from serious topics. Just joking, making fun of Clint’s obsession over separating spices.

Sometime during the night, you two dozed off. You didn’t even bother getting under the blanket.

But it was probably for the best because you woke up feeling too hot. Like it was too warm.

You stirred a bit and you felt a big weight on your waist. And something poking your back. You frowned at that. What is going on?

“Hmm, doll.” You heard a hum in a rough, deep voice. You jumped up on your feet, screaming. Which caused Bucky to wake up and realize what was happening and screamed too.

“What the fuck Bucky? What was that?” You scream. Bucky’s eyes widen and he looked down, covering his private parts.

“Agree to not talk about this.” He said sheepishly.

“Agreed.” One day down, two more to go. Please let there not be any more morning wood moments.

[bvccy]

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.