#my birthday is the day before the release

[ladiesworldsblog]

I nodded silently, my cock tried to get hard, but she locked it and reminded me, that it’s her privilege afterwards to release me.

I lost sight of her during the party several times, but as she appeared again, she had that lovely sexy smile, that special glow on her face - and I instantly knew where this was coming from.

It was a great party and I really enjoyed to see some of my friends again, there aren’t too many chances as some of them live far away from our place.

As he last guest left our house, I looked around to search for my wife, I heard her calling me to the bedroom. She made herself feel comfy on our bed, had taken her shoes off and gave me a daring peek on her pussy. She was so swollen red and slimy, I discovered lots of dried cum on her cunt.

My slutty wife had fun for sure. She spread her legs for me and I could see, that cum was oozing out of her pussy. I knew what she expected from me. I crawled onto our bed between her legs and started to kiss and lick her sensitive area.

She started to tell me, that she has snacked some of my friends and she reminded me, that obviously everyone of them has so much more to offer in size, thickness, technique and stamina compared to me. And she let them cum inside of her.

She undressed her blouse to let me see her beautiful boobs, while I was eating her out like a hungry wolf. Obviously I did it right, she was getting close and finally she came so hard and had her contractions, he toe curled and she gave me her lovely O-face.

She needed to calm down a minute or two and told me to get rid of my clothes, she’s ready to give me her birthday gift now and she showed me the key. I had hoped for a release tonight, but of course I didn’t dared to ask or beg for it, otherwise I would have risked to ruin my chance.

We snuggled and cuddled while she unlocked me, I still had sperm on my lips and in my face and she kissed me passionately to get a taste of cum, she loves the taste. She rolled on her back and let me mount her, my cock was hard and she helped me to get it into her well used pussy.

She usually doesn’t like the missionary position - at least not with me, she did it as a favor for me. And I enjoyed it, much more than she did. Her silky and sloppy cunt felt so fucking great, it has been a while for me, since she gave me that pleasure.

While I was slowly fucking her and she faked some moans to give me an impression that I‘m making something right, she started to tell me the names of our guests, who had the same pleasure before. She already had told me four names as she made a pause and I thought this would be it. But she pulled me close and whispered a fifth name in my ear.

I was shocked and looked deep into her lustful eyes, I couldn’t believe it, but she just nodded and I pulled out and jerked my cock until I sprayed her whole body with my juice. She gave me a winning smile and instantly locked me up again.

Of course, I licked her clean and enjoyed the taste of my hot sperm and inhaled the scent of sex from her lovely body. She didn’t told me the name of another friend, it was my dad’s name. He always had an eye on her and I remember that I‘d seen him flirting with her today, but I never imagined that she‘ll let him have her. I was so wrong.

She told me that she can’t believe that I‘m his son as he’s quite hung and knows how to fuck a woman and make her cum on his cock. She cuddled and kissed me, telling me to get some sleep now. And as my mind was already spinning, thinking about my old man having fun with my wife, she added that he invited us for dinner the next day. And I felt how my cock was trying hard to escape its prison, but I won’t get lucky again soon.

[imagineshere-forall]

- the calendar ✰ e. buckley (smut version)

Summary: an unexpected person stars for the 118 in the firefighter calendar  Genre: angst & smut Warnings: smut (quickie at work, oral m receiving, unprotected p in v) & swearing & jealousy  Pairing: evan buckley x fem!reader Word count: 2.6k Note: this is my first ever time writing smut so pls pls be kind (or i’ll cry) but also pls leave constructive criticism, if it is bad i need to know so i can get better.

Due to the strict ‘no fraternisation’ rule at the 118, you and Evan had kept your relationship a secret. There had been a few times where someone had nearly caught the two of you, including Eddie walking into the shower room while you and Buck were sharing one cubicle, but no one had caught on yet. In this scenario, Buck had quickly picked you up, wrapped your legs around his waist and covered your mouth with his hand. 

Everyone had just assumed the two of you were best friends, you guys had lots of inside jokes and were always working out together, and today was no different. All the men were working out extra hard as the firefighter calendar had just been announced and they were all fighting to star.

Last year, Chimney had surprised everyone and had represented the 118 in the calendar, so the competition was on. Today was the last day of submissions, and impulsively you had decided to enter some photos for the calendar. You didn't need to take any new photos as for Buck’s birthday the month before, you had done a sexy photoshoot and periodically sent them to him, printing off a few which he kept in his wallet. 

After the submissions had closed, everyone had been eagerly checking the mail for the calendar delivery as they had decided not to announce who was featuring for each firehouse prior to the release. 

Weeks later, you walked into the fire house and were met with whistles by some of the men who you had not spoken to much. Forgetting you had submitted pictures for the calendar you were confused at the sudden attention you were receiving. 

“Why is everyone being so weird today?” you asked walking up to Hen, who was also looking at you funny.

“You don’t know?” questioned Hen, to which you simply shook your head.

“Good morning, Miss August!” Eddie exclaimed as he saw you appear upstairs. Suddenly the pieces clicked together, you must have been picked for the calendar.

“Miss August? What are you talking about?” Evan looked up, pausing as he poured himself a drink.

“y/n here, was chosen to represent the 118 in the firefighter calendar.” Eddie said as he pulled the calendar off the wall, flicking to August.

Suddenly, you were met with a picture of you on your knees, wearing your fireproof trousers but no top, the suspenders on your trousers over your shoulders, giving you a small bit of modesty. The strips of fabric only just covered your nipples, the outline of piercings visible through the fabric of the suspenders. 

You looked up to Buck whose jaw clenched as he took in the picture before him, which he had seen before, as a copy of it lived behind his driver's license in his wallet. You could see as he tried to regain his composure before deciding what to say next. 

“I, uh, I wasn't aware you had submitted pictures for the calendar?” Buck questioned, his voice wavering as he tried to hide his agitation. Now, Buck was usually not a jealous guy, but seeing that picture of you on display on the wall of the firehouse made him want to drive to every firehouse and rip up all the copies of the calendar that had been printed. 

“Yeah, I did it on the last day of submissions, I didn't think I'd get picked so I just forgot about it,” you smiled as you spoke to Evan. The two of you held eye contact, not paying attention to the rest of the crew bustling around you. “I must admit I was confused with the wolf whistles when I walked in this morning.” 

This sentence triggered Evan’s protectiveness.

“People have been whistling at you? Who? Point them out.” Buck demanded as he walked over to the balcony overlooking the main floor.

“Buck, dude, calm down,” Eddie said as he walked over to Buck “She’s single, and she looks great, of course there’s gonna be some attention.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie looked at Buck as he paced, clearly confused by his behaviour.

“Oh y/n, I’ve been meaning to get your help with something, could you come help me?” Buck asked, ignoring the looks Eddie was sending his way.

“Uhh, yeah, just let me drop my bag,” you said as you headed to go put it down.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Buck grabbed your bag and walked to the locker room downstairs and put it in your locker. 

“Buck?” You asked repeatedly as you followed him, getting louder each time until he finally stopped pacing in the locker room. 

“Sorry, it’s just, I don’t like everyone seeing you like that,” Buck whispers as he walks towards you. Thankfully the two of you were in a blindspot to the rest of the firehouse so no one could see as he put his hand up to your face and raised your chin so you were looking into his eyes. “Everyone keeps looking at you, because they think you’re single and I just wish I could tell everyone you’re mine.”

“I’m sorry Buck, I should’ve asked you first,” you whispered.

“No, no, it’s your body and you look great in those photos. I just get a little insecure sometimes,” Buck whispered, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke. 

“I love you Buck.”

“I love you too. Also, I’m going to be having a boner for the entire month of August at work now, so thank you for that.” Buck laughed

“You know, my shift hasn’t officially started, and I was thinking I needed a shower. Plus, jealous Buck is kind of hot.” you said as you pulled Buck towards the showers.

“That's interesting, because I was thinking I needed a shower after that last call,” Buck said as he used his free hand to start unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You definitely do,” You said as you started to unbutton your own shirt. 

Buck’s hands quickly copied yours and raced to unbutton his shirt, as he did he leant forward and harshly attached your lips to his. With your shirt unbuttoned, you placed your hands on Buck’s shoulders, pushing him into the shower cubicle behind the pair of you and easing the shirt off his torso. You and Evan moved in sync as he simultaneously pushed your shirt off your shoulders.

Your feet tangled together as you passionately tumbled into the cubicle. With your lips still locked you reached down and began undoing your belt, Buck quickly following suit. Within seconds, both of your clothing was heaped on the bench, leaving the pair of you in your underwear. 

You reached your hand down between the two of you and you could feel Buck’s hardness through his underwear. You gently palmed him, causing him to groan and lean into you. He very quickly shed his underwear in a desperate effort to feel your skin on his. 

You separated your lips, causing Buck to groan at the loss of contact. Buck’s disappointment was short lived as you began to kiss your way down his neck and his torso. As you dropped to your knees you looked up at Buck who gently stroked your head, beginning to clasp your hair into a ponytail. 

You leant forward and used your hand to hold Buck as you began to deliver small licks to his tip, causing Buck to groan loudly. 

“Please stop teasing,” Buck whimpered. At this you took him in your mouth causing him to drop his head back against the wall in pleasure. 

As you knew your time was likely to be cut short any moment, you sped up your bobbing on Buck’s cock. After a minute you removed Buck from your mouth and licked a stripe all along the underside of him and cradled his balls as your tongue serviced him. 

“Get up here, I’m going to finish soon if you keep that up,” Buck pulled your head away from his crotch and pulled you up so you were standing again. As you stood, precum and saliva leaked from your mouth and you wiped your mouth as you looked back at Buck.

He quickly reached behind and unclasped your bra, kissing your neck and chest as he did so. He kissed down the gap between your breasts and then paid attention to your nipples. He took one of your nipples in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the piercing that lived there, while his other hand twisted your other nipple. Unable to speak from the sensations, you just moaned in pleasure, holding tightly onto the curls at the nape of Buck’s neck. 

His lips went back up to your neck, and his hand went down to your underwear and started pushing your panties off your hips and helping you step out of them. Once your underwear was flung to somewhere in the cubicle his fingers danced over your pelvis before landing on your clit. He rubbed gently with his thumb before his fingers slowly worked their way down to your opening. His fingers gently pressed against your thighs, encouraging you to slightly part them to give him better access. 

“You are so beautiful,” Buck breathed. His face was mere millimeters from yours, with his curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat of the excitement. 

“Buck please,” You groaned, his fingers were slowly exploring you, causing you to gently bite down on his muscular shoulder. 

“Please what baby? I need to hear your words,” he breathed heavily. His fingers were delicately reaching the most pleasurable place while his thumb worked your clit. 

“I, I need your cock, please” You spoke breathlessly. Despite being with Buck many times, the passion had never ceased and every single time with him was exhilarating. 

“Where baby? Where?” He teased. He knew damn well where, he just loved watching you writhe under his thumb. 

“B-Buck, Please, in-inside,” Every syllable was hard for you to push out as you edged closer to the brink. 

“Just let go first,” He said. As he did, you felt your legs begin to wobble, luckily Buck had began to hold you up with his other hand before. You let out a loud moan as he fingered you over the edge and then he quickly retracted his fingers. He maintained eye contact as he licked your juices off his two fingers. 

“Delicious,” he muttered. 

“I think we’re going to need this for the noise,” Buck said as he leant past the wall and turned the shower on. You both stood in the far end of the shower part of the cubicle as you had learnt the hard way that shower sex, under the water, was very dangerous and ended up in fits of giggles. 

Buck grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, pressed your back into the wall and littered your neck in light kisses. 

“Who’s teasing now?” You asked as you felt Buck’s length gently stroke your pussy but not going in. He breathed a laugh and pressed his lips to yours for a moment. 

“As you wish ma’am,” Buck whispered as he maneuvered himself to your entrance. You hissed as he started to push himself into you. Another thing you were not used to despite being with Buck so many times, was his size. 

“More, please.” you grunted, trying to grind yourself into him to get him deeper. 

At your request, Buck’s hands tightened on your thighs, his mouth attacking your neck and pushed himself all the way in. For a moment, he stilled, allowing you to get accustomed to him and then slowly began to thrust. 

Each thrust hit you so deeply, putting you in a state of bliss. So much so, that you nearly didn’t hear the door to the bathroom open. You quickly tapped Buck’s shoulder to alert him as he was borderline drunk on you, and could not form a coherent thought, let alone be aware of his surroundings. 

“Buck? Is that you?” Eddie’s voice rang out.

“Y-Yeah,” Buck stuttered. He was still inside you and struggled to reply without moaning. You gently pushed your hips into him in a desperate need for friction. 

“Are you okay? You sound funny?” Eddie asked. This made you nearly laugh so one of Buck’s hands quickly covered your mouth, and he glared into your eyes. 

“All good, water just went cold,” He shouted back, focusing on trying to sound normal.

“Have you seen y/n? Her shift is about to start and we need to do a handover?” Eddie asked. 

“I think I saw her take a phone call, I’m sure she will be back in any minute,” Buck replied as he slowly began pulling himself out of you. 

“Okay, thanks. See you back upstairs when you’re done” Eddie said.

“I’ll be done any minute,” Buck smirked as he slowly re-entered you. 

You both waited for the bathroom door to close, and once it did Buck began pistoning his hips into you at an ungodly pace. You must have looked like a mess as you leant back into the wall, holding tightly his shoulders. 

“Buck, please,” you moaned. He reached on of his hands down between you and rubbed your clit causing you to lean forward and bit his shoulder. 

“I’m so close,” He grunted as he continued to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. 

The edges of your vision began to blur as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. The coil in the pit of your torso clenched so tight until you finally let go. Your legs began shaking, unable to catch your breath as you came all over his cock. 

Buck kept his pace as he worked his way to his end, his load shooting deep inside you as you milked him. He leant forward, his forehead against yours as he tried to regain his breath. He was still inside you and was still leaking cum as he kissed you gently.

Once you had both caught your breath, he slowly pulled out of you and set you gently on the floor. 

“That was amazing,” he sighed as he began to get feeling back in his legs. 

“Now I really need a shower,” you said as you pushed the two of you under the water, beginning to wash the two of you. “I love you, Evan.”

He gently kissed you on the shoulder before lathering the two of you up with soap. The next few minutes were spent with him delicately washing you, and then you him. 

This moment of intimacy felt so special, you almost didn’t want to get out of the shower. You were in pure bliss in this moment with him.

“You are the love of my life,” Evan breathed as he kissed you gently. 

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: eye for an eye (series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, smut, p n v, unprotected sex, table sex, light fingering, hair pulling, begging, past wounds, physical violence, angst, wound description, threats, some fluff, protective bucky, bucky barnes had issues, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: hi!! i spent all of jan doing my 50k word challenge on the daughter of rotsál first draft, but i thought i'd take these first few days of feb to update this fic! i also released a smutty/fluffy oneshot called sweatpea you should check out! my birthday and uni is coming up soon so i'm gonna try squeeze in some more work on the daughter of rotsál draft before that and maybe one more update / another one-shot but i'll see how i go! anyway, enjoy this is a spicy one! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love permanent taglist: @globetrotter28

main masterlist | series masterlist

The shipment warehouse was a vast, hollowed-out space. Shadows stretched long beneath the dim, hanging bulbs. The scent of aged wood, alcohol, and rust lingered in the air, the faint remnants of the whiskey that passed through here on its way to buyers. Though mostly empty, clusters of wooden crates were stacked against the far walls, some sealed, others pried open to reveal their glass cargo, bottles of dark amber liquid reflecting the weak light. Scattered metal production tables dotted the floor, their surfaces scratched and stained from years of work. These were the stations where workers packed the shipments, but now, the tables sat abandoned, save for one.

At the centre of the warehouse, in front of one of the tables, three men sat bound to chairs. Rope bit into their flesh, tight enough that their fingers were already turning an ugly shade of blue. The table before them had been repurposed for something far crueller than packaging liquor. A collection of weapons lay across its surface—blades, hammers, pliers, each one arranged with careful deliberation. 

By the main entrance, Steve and Sam stood guard, their figures solid and unmoving, you eyed them cautiously as you passed through the threshold. They didn’t quite meet your eye, and you wondered if they could hear the deafening pulse that roared in your ears. The cold night air filtered in through the open doors behind them, a scattering of ash decorating the stone floor.

Bucky entered beside you, his steps slow and deliberate. But you could feel the unspoken tension rolling off him in waves. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his shoulders squared rigidly, his jaw tight. The walk over from the Sootline had been silent, even if you could practically feel the heat of rage radiating off him. He didn’t seem eager to talk to you, even if his gaze would occasionally flicker to you to make sure you still followed along behind him. Maybe he feared he would find judgment in your eyes because he never held them for long.

“Bucky—” You called out softly, but the gangster shied away from your touch, the fabric of his sleeve slipping through your fingers. 

He strode forward, each step heavy, his boots striking against the stone with a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound echoed through the warehouse, filling it like a countdown ticking. You knew him. You had to remind yourself of that. You knew this man—the sharp edges of his cruelty, the weight of his fury, the way violence coiled beneath his skin like a second nature. You knew him intimately; you had felt the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his hands, and the steel of his will.

And yet, in this moment, he felt distant. Unreachable.

Even if he was angry, even if he had been cold and dismissive, his rage was not aimed at you. This was because of you. Because of what happened. The thought should have been comforting, a reassurance that you were not in his path and that his wrath had a different target. And yet, the knowledge did little to ease the weight pressing against your bruised ribs; it didn’t stop the breath from hitching in your throat as you took in the scene before you.

You were safe. You knew that.

But safety did nothing to silence the unease creeping through your veins.

The Iron Rats reacted the moment Bucky neared them. Two of them shrank back, their chairs creaking as they futilely tried to recoil from him. Their eyes darted between Bucky and the weapons on the table, their breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. One of them had already begun to tremble, his lips forming silent prayers, his body betraying him as he shook against the restraints.

But the third man—the one at the end—was different. He didn’t cower, didn’t flinch. He simply stared ahead, eyes hollow, his expression unreadable. It was as if he had already accepted whatever was coming and made peace with the inevitable. 

“Barnes.” You snapped louder this time, voice clipped. The gangster paused his movements, not even turning to look back as he raised his hand, silencing you with a raise of his index finger.

“I was considerin’ if the bird needed to see this.” He finally broke his silence, voice low with a dangerous edge. “But I think she needs’a understand, don’t ya think?” 

His hand struck forward, grasping one of the cowering men’s chins, forcing his head to look in your direction. You could tell his grip was bruising, even from a distance, the skin around his thumb growing white at the pressure. “She needs’a understand what happens to dirty fuckin’ rats that come crawling into my territory.”

Bucky released the man with a sharp shove, and the Iron Rat nearly sobbed in relief, his chair rocking back violently from the force. His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Bucky barely spared him a glance. Instead, he dragged his fingers down the front of his suit jacket in one broad stroke as if ridding himself of the filth he had just touched. 

Then, without looking, he reached for the table, his fingers curling around the worn handle of a butcher’s knife. The blade was thick and heavy, meant to cleave through bone as quickly as meat. As he lifted it, it scraped against the metal tabletop, the sound sharp and grating—final.

Bucky turned to you, his fingers curling around the handle, weighing it in his grip like an executioner deliberating his next stroke. His gaze pinned you in place.

“Left or right, doll?”

The question landed like a punch to the gut.

“What?” You stammered back in response.

“Left or right?” His voice was eerily steady, too casual for the brutality hanging in the air. It was as if he were asking you to pick a wine for dinner, not deciding which limb would be lost. Your throat tightened. The Iron Rats were barely breathing, one whimpering, his chair creaking under his tremors.

You forced your voice to work. “Barnes, don’t you think we’ve caused enough damage?”

You knew you'd made a mistake the second the words left your lips.

Bucky’s head snapped towards you, his jaw ticking, something dark and dangerous flickering behind his eyes. The shift in him was immediate, electric. He abandoned the bound man without hesitation, closing the space between you in a few sharp strides. Your pulse stuttered.

He was on you in seconds, looming, his presence suffocating. You turned your head instinctively as his breath fanned hot across your cheek, but there was no escaping him.

“No.”

The single word was like a hammer shattering stone.

“We ‘aven’t caused nearly enough damage after what they did.” His voice, low and venomous, left no room for argument. His free hand clenched at his side, fingers twitching with barely contained rage. “You think I’m gonna let these filthy fuckin’ rats walk away after puttin’ their hands on you? Huh? After hurtin’ you right under my fuckin’ nose?”

Your breath caught, your ribs tightening under the weight of his fury. He leant in, close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear. His words were a vow, a sentence carved in stone when he spoke next. “You’re under my protection. Mine. You’re mine. So fuckin’ choose, doll. Left or right?”

Your stomach twisted. The Iron Rats were silent, frozen, waiting for your answer as if it were their final prayer. You swallowed.

“…Right.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth curled, but there was no warmth in it. It was a razor-sharp thing, all teeth and no kindness. His eyes gleamed with something feverish, something manic.

“Good girl,” he purred. The praise was smooth, almost sweet, but his grip on the knife tightened, knuckles whitening around the handle. And then he turned. The Iron Rat barely had time to process what was happening before Bucky moved.

The butcher’s knife came down in a single, brutal arc.

A sickening crack filled the warehouse as steel met flesh and bone, followed by a scream so raw, so agonised, it turned your stomach. The man convulsed against his restraints, his bound arms jerking wildly, but there was nowhere to go.

Blood splattered across the metal tabletop, dark and glistening. It pooled. Dripped and painted the concrete floor beneath him. His severed hand tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, fingers twitching uselessly in the growing puddle of red.

Bucky barely spared the carnage a glance. “You touched her,” he said coldly, voice devoid of sympathy. 

“So I took your fuckin’ hand.” He tilted his head, considering the sobbing, writhing man before him. “Consider it generous that I ain’t takin’ both.”

The Iron Rat howled, his body convulsing. Tears streamed down his face, his cries dissolving into choked, incoherent pleas for mercy. Bucky wasn’t listening. He wiped the blade clean against his sleeve, smearing crimson across the dark fabric like a war trophy. Then, slowly, he turned to the second man, pointing the stained blade at him.

“Your turn.”

The second Iron Rat thrashed in his chair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. His eyes, wild with terror, darted between Bucky and the ruined stump of the first man. Blood still poured from the wound, pooling beneath the chair, seeping into the cracks of the warehouse floor. The stench of it—sharp, metallic, raw—hung thick in the air.

“Please,” he sobbed. “Please, I—I didn’t even—”

Bucky slammed a heavy hand down on his shoulder, silencing him with a violent jolt. The Iron Rat flinched, chest heaving, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. Bucky turned to you again, the knife glinting under the dim warehouse lights.

“Left or right?”

Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging deep enough to leave crescent moons in your skin, but the sting barely registered. Your mind screamed at you, an urgent, panicked voice clawing at the edges of your thoughts. Stop this. Say something. Tell him it’s enough.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew the truth now, Bucky wouldn’t listen. Any sense of cold calculation had snapped within him, as if his father himself had possessed his body. His blood was up, his fury ran red-hot and unchecked. Reason was a foreign concept to him in this moments, swallowed whole by vengeance and violence.

Your breath felt thin as you watched him, as you remembered what was left of Varlan Crey. The Rat King, so smug, so untouchable, had been brought to his knees. Felled not by magic or blades, but by the sheer, unrelenting wrath of Bucky Barnes. He had survived, maybe by the hand of a small mercy. Or maybe just dumb luck. Because you had seen it—the flicker of real, unguarded fear in Crey’s eyes. The raw understanding that, for the first time, he had stood at the very edge of death and only barely stepped back in time.

You swallowed, throat dry as dust. “Left.”

A shuddering breath left the Iron Rat, some final, pitiful sound before—

Bucky moved.

The blade came down hard.

The crack of severed bone and the wet, visceral tear of flesh split through the warehouse. The man’s scream ripped through the air, raw and broken, his body jerking violently against the chair. Blood sprayed across the table, warm and thick, dripping onto the floor. His severed hand landed with a sickening slap, fingers twitching before they went still.

Bucky tightened his grip on the man’s shoulders, keeping him from toppling the chair over as he convulsed in agony. He wiped the blade again, slow and deliberate, his gaze flicking to the last Iron Rat—the one who hadn’t made a sound.

The man met Bucky’s eyes with an eerie, empty calm.

No trembling. No pleading. Just quiet resignation.

A slight, bitter smile played at the edges of his lips as he tilted his head, gesturing to his left hand, which was secured against the arm of the chair. A soldier offering himself to the executioner.

Bucky exhaled sharply, amused. “Good choice.”

And then he brought the knife down.

The man grunted as the blade severed flesh and bone in one clean stroke, but he didn’t scream. His body twitched, stiffening against the pain, but he bit it down. His severed hand dropped onto the table this time, fingers curling inward, as if gripping something unseen. Blood seeped from the wound, a slow, steady stream.

Bucky studied him for a moment, almost impressed.

Then, satisfied, he tossed the knife onto the table with a dull clang. The first two Iron Rats were still crying, writhing, staring at their stumps like they could somehow undo what had been done. The third just slumped in his chair, pale and shaking, but silent.

“I think I should take an eye next, for even lookin’ at you. What’d you think, doll?” Exhaustion lay heavy in your bones as your eyes fluttered shut briefly. Bucky was upon you again, his gaze softer now, the fury still burning beneath the surface but tempered. He reached for you, his bloodied fingers grazing your arm in a touch that was meant to be comforting. “Eye for an eye, after all.”

“I don’t…” You stammered but leant into his touch by default. Steve and Sam had adverted their eyes, their expressions unreadable as they pressed their lips into a line. 

“I’ll choose for ya, how’s that sound, doll?” He rubbed a bloodied thumb across your cheek. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping something in your eyes could pull him away. But his eyes settled on the faded split in your lip, and his gaze hardened. “They have to pay.”

Bucky stalked off towards the array of weapons displayed along the table once more. The knife he chose gleamed under the dim light, and Bucky tested the edge against his thumb. A single bead of red welled up but he paid it no mind. His attention was elsewhere—on the trembling man before him, the one still staring at his bleeding stump, breath hitching in raw, animalistic terror.

“Please,” the Iron Rat sobbed, voice wet, desperate. “Please, Barnes, I can’t—I—”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like the weight of their begging was nothing more than an inconvenience. His hand was steady, practiced, as he tapped the knife tip against the man’s chin, tilting his face up.

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask for pleas,” he murmured, voice eerily even. “Left or right?”

The man shuddered violently. He turned slightly, eyes flicking to you as though you could save him as if you had any say. You swallowed, your tongue thick and useless, pinned in place by the weight of Bucky’s presence and the inevitability of what came next.

When no answer came, Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Left it is.” The knife sank into the man’s left eye in a swift, brutal motion. A high and raw shriek tore through the room, sending a shudder through your bones.

You flinched, but only slightly. The movement barely registered.

You had seen Bucky covered in blood before, had seen him like this before—violent, efficient, merciless. Yet you had also seen him in moments far removed from this carnage.

You had watched him bleed and had pressed your hands to his wounds to keep him from slipping away. You had felt his warmth seeping between your fingers, his breath shallow but steady as he let you take care of him. He had trusted you then, let you see him vulnerable when he could have just as easily pushed you away.

He had defended you against the Rat King, standing between you and the man who had wanted to carve you apart. If it hadn’t been for him, would you have been at the mercy of the Iron Rats? Tied to a chair like the three men before you? There had been no hesitation in him then, just like there was none now. And it was all for you.

The thought made your stomach tighten, but not in fear. Not entirely.

Bucky wiped the knife clean on the Iron Rat’s pant leg, a simple, thoughtless movement, and turned to the last man. The final Iron Rat had been silent the entire time, watching the carnage with eerie detachment. Even now, as the scent of blood thickened the air and his fallen comrades moaned and sobbed, his expression barely shifted. He only blinked, slow and deliberate, as Bucky approached.

“Ya know what I’m gonna ask,” Bucky said, voice quieter this time.

A pause.

Then, a small sigh.

“Right,” the man murmured, resigned.

Something flickered in Bucky’s expression—curiosity, maybe. Approval. He didn’t make him wait. The blade sank deep, and though the Iron Rat tensed, his breath hitching sharply, he made no sound. Blood welled, thick and dark, spilling down his cheek, but he simply slumped against the restraints, his ruined eye weeping crimson.

Bucky lingered, staring at him, head tilted slightly. Considering. Perhaps even disappointed.

Bucky only clicked his tongue before turning back to you. The shift was subtle but immediate. The hardness in his expression softened, his eyes no longer carrying the cold fury he had wielded so effortlessly moments before. His hand, still warm despite the blood smeared across his fingers, reached for you, grazing your waist.

“See, doll?” he murmured. “Now they know.”

Your breath caught.

You should have felt horror. Revulsion. But instead, as you looked at him—his jaw speckled with blood, his chest rising and falling evenly, the fire still smouldering behind his eyes—you felt something else entirely. Something that made your fingers twitch, something that made your chest tighten.

Maybe, just maybe, this was more than just lust.

You weren’t sure whether that should’ve terrified you.

But at that moment, staring up at him, your heart still pounding, you weren’t sure you cared.

—

Bucky quickly issued his orders: everyone was to leave but you. Sam and Steve moved without hesitation, grabbing a bloodied, barely conscious Iron Rat by the scruff of their necks and dragging them towards the exit. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the cold warehouse air, thick and rich, settling into your lungs with each breath.

Bucky didn’t watch them leave.

He stood with his back turned, broad shoulders taut, tension coiling through his body like a predator still primed for the kill. His suit jacket lay discarded on the blood-splattered table. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled to his elbows, the fabric marred with streaks of red. His hands—still wet with it—hung at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if the violence hadn’t yet left his system.

You hesitated before moving, carefully stepping past the grotesque remnants of severed hands littering the floor. You focused on him instead, on the way his body seemed stretched too tight like he was waiting for another enemy to appear from the shadows.

Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, smoothing a hand over his forearm. The muscles beneath your fingers were rigid but warm, his pulse steady despite the chaos he’d unleashed.

“You showed them your hand,” you murmured, your voice soft and testing. “What will you do now?”

Your fingers traced a slow path up his arm, featherlight over the muscle, following the curve of his shoulder. When he didn’t pull away, you grew bolder, stepping around him until you stood before him. His face was speckled with blood; the scarlet splattered across his jaw and streaked along the bridge of his nose. His blue eyes, cold and unreadable just moments ago, stirred—just barely—as they settled on you.

“They needed to be taught a lesson,” he said simply, his voice still edged with the lingering embers of rage. A repetition of the words he’d spoken before.

You sighed through your nose, your hands splaying across his chest. His shirt was warm beneath your touch, the steady rise and fall of his breath grounding you. You pressed yourself flush against him, seeking—what? Comfort? Reassurance? An answer you weren’t sure you wanted?

“Yes,” you conceded, your voice quieter now, steadier. “But you’ve shown ‘em your hand.” 

Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric, gripping him, holding him there with you. “You’ve told ‘em another woman is close to you—other than your sister. One that commands enough of your attention for you to do this.”

His eyes flickered with amusement. “Ya scared, doll?”

“No.” The answer was immediate, instinctive—but the certainty of it wavered, even in your own mind. Was that really the truth? “I just want to understand why you’d expose a weakness like that.”

He snorted softly, his bloodstained hands coiling around your waist, holding you there. His grip was firm and possessive but not forceful. There was no threat in his touch, only something else, something deeper, something that made your stomach twist.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe he would finally say something—something real. Something sweet. He always left you with vague declarations of ownership and lust.

Because he cared, he had to—right? No man would do what he had done tonight if he didn’t care. No man would make a spectacle of his violence, an open display of his wrath for the sake of a woman if she meant nothing? He had carved his rage into flesh and blood for you and left a message in the ruined bodies of those men. You mattered to him.

Didn’t you?

But when he finally spoke, his words weren’t what you wanted.

“You have your worth, spirit-raiser.”

A flicker of disappointment bloomed in your gut. You could have pulled away. Should have, maybe. But you didn’t because you needed something from him: reassurance, protection. Proof that he would stand between you and whatever enemies would inevitably come for you now that he had placed you in the centre of this war.

Perhaps tonight had been proof enough.

Conflict and confusion pressed heavily in your chest, warring with the heat between you.

Fuck Becca’s warnings.

There was something here, wasn’t there?

Your hand slid up, fingers ghosting over the rough stubble of his jaw. You cradled his face, pulling him closer. His breath was warm, tinged with the faint scent of whiskey and blood, and for a moment, you hesitated—just a moment—before pressing your lips to his.

Bucky responded instantly, like a man starved, his eager hands gripping your waist with a bruising intensity as if grounding himself in your presence. A sharp wince pricked at your ribs, but the hunger in his kiss quickly drowned it out. His lips moved against yours with fervour, rough and consuming, parting only to let his tongue sweep into your mouth, claiming and demanding. You melted into him, your body yielding beneath his, heat pooling low in your stomach as his touch ignited something primal in you.

He moved with purpose, guiding you backwards. His hands were restless, roaming up your spine, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your blouse, searching, craving skin. The cool air kissed your exposed flesh as he fumbled with your buttons, the urgency in his touch making his movements clumsy. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss as your own hands wandered lower, gliding down the firm planes of his chest. The taut muscle beneath his white collared shirt flexed beneath your palms, solid and unyielding.

His breath hitched slightly as you dragged your nails over the crisp fabric, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat beneath. You felt the shudder in his body as your fingers found the buttons of his vest, slipping them free with deliberate ease. Bucky’s hands found your breasts, moulding the soft flesh through your brassiere with a rough, needy grip, his thumbs sweeping over the peaks in slow, teasing circles. Your head tipped back, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as heat coursed through you.

The vest was discarded in a swift motion, tossed aside without care, and before you could fully react, Bucky’s strong hands lifted you effortlessly, hoisting you onto the cold metal of the production table. The chill of it sent a shiver through your body. Still, the heat between you and him was overwhelming, obliterating any thought. His body pressed between your legs, the hard line of him nestling against you through the fabric of your skirts.

His mouth devoured yours again, possessive and unrelenting, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a sharp, fleeting bite before his tongue soothed the sting. You whimpered quietly into his mouth. Clinging to him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low groan from deep within his chest. His thumb grazed over your nipple, teasing through the lace, and your breath hitched.

The world beyond this moment ceased to exist. There was only Bucky—his touch, his breath, his desire pressed into your skin like a brand. And you welcomed it. Welcomed him.

You could already feel the hard length of him, pressing insistently against your inner thigh through the layers of fabric. His heat was unmistakable, searing even through the barrier of clothing, and a shiver rolled through you. The anticipation was unbearable. You reached for his belt, fingers nimble and eager—

But Bucky chuckled, low and deep, knocking your hands away with an easy flick of his wrist. His pupils were blown wide, dark pools of hunger that drank you in as you leant back on your elbows, your body sprawled out before him. His lips were swollen, slick with the mingled taste of you both, his breath warm against your skin. Your chest heaved, one breast exposed where he had tugged it free from your brassiere, the cool air sending a shiver through you.

“Greedy, ain’t ya?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but his touch was anything but teasing. His hand slid beneath the heavy fabric of your skirt, fingers dragging up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely had time to process the sensation before he grabbed the delicate waistband of your tap pants and tore them down your legs, the lace rasping against your skin as he wrenched them past your ankles and boots.

The discarded scrap of fabric landed somewhere on the warehouse floor, forgotten. His hands were already on you again, possessive, insatiable. You let out a low groan, head falling back as he trailed a digit through your wet slit, humming in delight as he found you already dripping with desire. “Don’t need an arousal potion for this, do we?”

You ignored his quip, instead wrapping your legs around his waist. He chuckled at you, rewarding your eagerness by pressing one of his digits into your cunt. You clenched around him with a whimper, hips rocking as you internally begged for more friction. 

“Let me hear your noises, doll.” Bucky commanded, his spare hand trailing up your thigh. You whined softly, bucking your hips once more in a silent plea. The gangster smirked down at you, pressing a second digit into you as you squirmed beneath him. 

“Please, Bucky.” You mewled, pulling him closer with the legs hooked around his back. He obliged, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. You could hear the squelching of your wetness, your body shuddering with impatience at the leisurely pace. 

“You want more?” He purred, teasing you with a quick flick of your clit with his thumb. You clenched around him involuntarily, a breathy gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure rocked up your spine, a new wave of electricity flooding your gut. 

You pushed yourself up, hands grasping his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt as you pulled your bodies flush. The heat of him seeped into you, intoxicating, overwhelming. Your mouth found the column of his throat, breath hitching as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his exposed skin. His pulse thrummed beneath your lips, quick and heavy, and you traced it with your tongue, savouring the salt of his skin.

Bucky let out a sharp exhale as you dragged your mouth along his adam’s apple, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh before sucking a bruise into his neck. His grip on your thigh tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, but you didn’t care. You wanted them. You wanted him to brand himself into your skin the way he had branded himself into your mind.

“Please,” you breathed against his ear, voice hushed, desperate. Your tongue flicked along the shell, teasing, before you nipped at his earlobe, letting your teeth catch just enough to make him groan. “I need you inside me.”

The words sent a shudder through him, a growl vibrating deep in his chest. “Turn around, bend over the table. Now.”

Your head tilted, temple resting against the firm plane of his shoulder as you gazed up at him, your breath uneven. His fingers twitched inside you, a steady rhythm still building, each pump igniting a slow, unbearable heat in your core. A sharp gasp left your lips as pleasure twisted through you, your body tensing in response.

“My ribs—” you managed to gasp, wincing as the dull ache reminded you of your bruises.

Bucky stilled for a moment, a flicker of something soft crossing his face, a rare moment of tenderness blooming between the two of you. His breath was warm against your cheek as he considered your words, his free hand smoothing over your hip as though grounding you.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured, low and reassuring, though the husk of his voice betrayed his restraint. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

Gentle. A rare promise from a man like him.

Then, just as quickly as he had stilled, he withdrew. A wet heat lingered in the absence of his fingers, and you shuddered, your walls clenching around nothing. A soft whimper escaped before you could stop it, your body betraying the ache of emptiness. You unhooked your legs from around his waist, knees wobbling as you moved, turning yourself around atop the table.

The cold metal kissed your stomach as you laid your front flat against it, one breast still bare from where he had pulled the fabric away. A shuddering breath left you, anticipation thick in your veins as you braced yourself against the surface, your hips lining up with the edge.

Behind you, you heard the sharp metallic clink of his belt buckle, followed by the slow rasp of leather sliding free. The head of his cock pressed against your slick opening, teasing but not quite entering. You whined into the table as his large hands stroked up the back of your thighs, gripping the flesh. 

“So wet,” he muttered. His voice was thick with hunger as he pushed your skirts up, bunching the fabric around your waist, leaving you utterly exposed to him. His hands trailed down, calloused palms smoothing over the curve of your ass before he spread you open, admiring the slick evidence of your need. “So good for me, huh, doll?”

A desperate whimper left you, your body shivering under his touch. You pressed your folded forearms beneath your chest, arching your back in an attempt to save your bruised ribs from the unforgiving metal table.

Then, at last, he pressed into you.

A gasp tore from your throat, your body instinctively tensing as he stretched you open. The intrusion was thick and slow, overwhelming at first, your cunt clenching down against the pressure of him. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your thumb, muffling the choked moan that threatened to spill free. Bucky cursed under his breath, withdrawing just enough before easing back in, working you open with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Ya like this, don’t ya?” His voice was low and strained, his grip tightening on your hips as he pinned you in place. The firm drag of him inside you sent sparks of heat flooding through your veins. “Like me claimin’ you? Like knowin’ I’d fuckin’ tear through them bastards just to keep ya safe?”

A broken moan left you, your body trembling against the metal. Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting into your palms as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust pressing you further against the table. The slick, filthy sounds of your bodies moving together filled the empty warehouse, the echo of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged breaths.

Bucky groaned, his hands wrapping around your hips as he rocked into you harder, deeper, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. Your mind swam, the bruising grip of his fingers the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Tell me, doll.” His voice was rough, a demand wrapped in silk and sin. His hips snapped forward, driving into you so deep it left you gasping. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“Please—” The word came out in a small, needy sob, your voice trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.

Bucky growled, a deep, guttural sound. One of his hands abandoned your waist, sliding up the length of your back before tangling in your hair. His fingers twisted into the strands, yanking your head back with a sharp tug. A strangled moan burst from your lips, your back arching instinctively. Your nails scraped against the metal table, searching for purchase as he fucked into you harder, faster.

The steady, brutal rhythm of his hips grew relentless. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. A filthy symphony of desperate moans, ragged breathing, and the wet, obscene sounds of him driving into you echoed. Bucky groaned, the sound low and primal as he chased his release. His grip on your hip was vice-like, anchoring you in place as he pounded into you without mercy. You could only hope Sam and Steve weren’t lingering nearby to hear the sinful chorus of your pleasure.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as your body tensed, pleasure spiking hot and fast through your veins. Your legs trembled beneath you, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm coiled, threatening to snap.

Then he tugged your hair again, the sting mingling with the pleasure in a dizzying rush, and you came undone.

Your cunt clenched around his cock, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your body spasmed beneath him. Stars burst behind your eyelids, pleasure flooding through you in rolling waves. Wetness dripped down your inner thighs, evidence of your release slicking his length as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Bucky let out a deep, shuddering moan, his hips stuttering as he followed you into bliss. His grip on you tightened, his cock pulsing as he spilt inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum. He kept thrusting, his movements growing erratic, chasing the last remnants of pleasure as he wrung out every drop of ecstasy.

His fingers slowly uncurled from your hair, his grip loosening as the tension drained from his body. You collapsed against the table, breathless and spent. You lay motionless beneath him, allowing him to use you as he rode out the final waves of his release, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

Gods, you were going to need to take an anti-pregnancy potion after this.

[ladysherreeamore]

Nic and Luke are a couple of shit stirrers

They wanted us to believe they are "just friends"

after they heard us saying it's what we needed to hear to stop shipping them but it's too late for that, we've invested 8 months of countless breadcrumbs and some were far too obvious to think it was just a coincidence or that it was about anyone else.

Here are some of the breadcrumbs we can't get over:

-Nic has worn Lukes milk shirt (pretty intimate and shady for her to do if he was dating A

-Luke has posted a Spain dump that is 100% Nic coded

-Nic said "people want me to marry Luke" in her Times article instead of saying he's just her friend

-Luke did his entire People Nic coded including Mimicking Nicola's poses, color coordinating with her, and doing his this or that interview which was Nic coded and also mentions marriage just days from when Nic mentioned marriage

-Nic wearing her claddagh ring (which is Luke coded) in the position in the position of being in a relationship then switching it to her left hand in the position of being married

-Nic has a polaroid of her and Luke on her phone as if they were in a relationship, which would ve weird if either of them were dating other people

-Nic already called it a relationship twice when talking about Luke

-They both liked multiple post from people who were friends to lovers and married

-Luke only going online to post about Nic, like, or comment her post

-Nic including a Kate Spade box that was Luke coded

-Nic posting old photos (suspicious)

-Nic disappearing as soon as Luke came back from Rome

-They both disappeared for Christmas and NYE and the adjacents and friends were shown to be with other people.

-Nic showed herself at dinner at an Italian restaurant (what looked like a date for 2) on her birthday but didn't show the other person or tag them

This is when things started to look suspicious:

-Luke's mom commented on a distant relative's Facebook post convieniently asking about cyprus and Spain (both places connected to Luke and A) and his mom just happened to mention "my son Luke's gf is from Cyprus" like she doesn't know who Luke was 🙄 why did she wait days just to make this comment? Would she say gf instead of girlfriend?

- Deuxmoi posting pap pictures of Nic and Jake that were obviously old and staged

- In an interview, the man just so happened to say "People want you to get married" 🤨 So he didn't know you mentioned that in the Time article? The PR team didn't tell him not to mention that? Why those exact words? I think Nic wanted that question to be asked to try another way to get people off the ship she kept going all this time.

- Luke was away from the spotlight so long and when he finally appears he just happened to bring the one person that would stir some shit up in the fandom and play like he's actually dating her

-Luke didn't post Antonia to his grid and the only way he would somewhat post her to his grid was with a black screen with a black heart and a link to a tiktok (not assiciated with her at all) to Boss business page that had a video of them where she isn't even tagged in 😂🤣💀💀

-Nic just happened to have an audiobook that she supposedly didn't write while it relates to her life with Luke? Are we sure she didn't write it? She does have an english degree! Are we sure this isn't a biography? Why did she showcase this out of all of the audiobooks? Why was it released the day before Luke's birthday? If she wanted the shipping to stop, why agree to this book? She isn't helping her case 🤭

Mr. and Mrs. Shit Stirrer

They have been listening to what we say on our post and on the lives so if you don't want them to know something, don't share it publicly

Things they heard us mention and have done:

- Some have said"Nic and Jake might not be a couple because they aren't holding hands with interlocked fingers" then they started holding hands with interlocked fingers in the next pap photos

- We all said Nic has never said "Just friends" so she said it in her interview after almost 8 months 😂

- Lukola's said "Nic must be in Luke's interview with him because he keeps looking to his left" he looked to his left in a video during the boss event

- We said "Luke may not be dating Antonia because he looks miserable and they aren't acting like a couple" after he goes inside and is abke to look at his phone he started looking happier and acting like a couple while he knew the cameras were watching them

If Luke starts doing anything he wouldn't normally do after we've mentioned it online, i'll know it's because they were watching us 👀

I think some of us may have been too close to the truth or they wanted to distract us from something 🤔

whatever it is i'll play along until the truth comes out

[yuurivoice]

Do you plan any live streams before Bittersweet Director's Cut premiere? Or are they part of no content on YouTube before that project is finished?

Coming out of my cave finally because I've been very "I'm not doing shit until this thing is ready" but I do think that at the very least there will a pre-BSDC stream that is specifically a hype stream for the release. It will probably include...other things! I do not know exactly WHICH of the other things it might include, but I anticipate that by the time we're doing the pre-BSDC stream, there will be other things for us to discuss and hype up.

Also, don't think I've forgotten Faust and his birthday. His Birthday getting postponed will be a "plot point" of his eventual stream. I just thought it would be a disservice to him to drop a random live stream after weeks of nothing, where people would be more occupied asking about where and when things are happening rather than him. He's a diva who wants it to be all about him. lol

Other than that, I'm focused on getting content back on track starting this Thursday with the camping Seth audio, and then roll right into Valentine's day content, then.........BSDC? I think? We're really close, should be looking at a finished video this week and checking for edits, then scheduling. I want to have at least 2 weeks to promote and build hype, especially since things have been quiet. But I also wanted to regular posting back on track before then so we don't have a "man this guy won't shut up and post anything" situation lol

And, a crumb I can share. Maybe Bones will make an appearance in a special audio.......

[cosmowgyral]

"The Vicious Wildcat is Clumsily Affectionate"

▪︎ Kagari's 1st Birthday

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

This is my very first time reading and translating a Kagari event and since he's not yet out in the EN servers, there might be terms that will be used differently when he's finally released.

Chapter 1

A while after coming to Kogyoku with the bookstore owner, I noticed that on a certain day, the town was bustling with more people than usual.

Emma: It’s Prince Kagari’s birthday?

Town woman: Yes, it has become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate.

Emma: That’s why it’s so lively.

(I didn’t know it was Prince Kagari’s birthday.)

The town’s residents seem to be in high spirits, and the aroma of dorayaki fills the air.

Town woman: You should wish Prince Kagari as well.

Town woman: I’m sure he’ll be delighted if his favourite lady celebrates with him.

A woman I had become acquainted with since coming to Kogyoku, gives me a shove with an innocent smile.

Town woman: Now if you say you’re having trouble deciding on a present, I’ll help you with it.

Emma: Thank you so much. But, I’d like to think of something to give on my own.

(I wonder what it is. I sense an odd pressure…or maybe it’s just my imagination.)

The woman left in a good mood with words of encouragement, suggesting she was satisfied with my response.

(Whether I’m his favourite or not….I’ve been helped by Prince Kagari many times since coming to Kogyoku.)

(Now that I know it’s his birthday, I have no other choice but to celebrate.)

(Alright…)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(….Wha-what’s with this huge line?!)

When I packed my bag with the present and headed to the castle, the square was crowded with people who had come to celebrate the yasha [1].

(From swordsmen to nobles…and even commoners, there really is an incredible number of people.)

At the end of the line, I catch a glimpse of a person with striking red hair.

Prince Kagari, standing at a distance, remained expressionless as he received a constant barrage of wishes and gifts.

(He is acting like it’s none of his business. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying this at all.)

As I stood on my toes to have a better look, a pair of emerald eyes greeted mine.

(….Prince Kagari is sensitive to gazes, so I wonder if he noticed.)

(I might have been a nuisance by watching too much.)

I turned away and took shelter under a nearby cherry tree.

(I wonder what I should do. With so many people waiting in the queue, it really is difficult to go and wish him.)

( I wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but I guess I’ll have to come back later----huh?)

When I casually looked back, I saw that Prince Kagari had disappeared.

Instead, an aide is standing in his place..and despite not being the yasha, people continue to offer him wishes and presents.

It was a strange sight.

???: You’re wide open, princess.

(!?)

As I turned to face the unexpected voice close to my ear, a hand closed across my mouth.

My back made contact with a tree trunk as I was pulled into the shade of trees.

Emma: Nnnn…!!

(Before I knew it, Prince Kagari had caught me from behind.)

He easily pushed me against the trunk even though I was struggling, and then he brought his face close to mine.

Kagari: Do you promise to behave?

I nodded vigorously and he finally took his hand off my mouth.

However, the distance between us remained the same, and Prince Kagari, with his hands on the trunk behind me, seized me.

 (I need to calm down…)

(Maybe he’s sticking close to me so the others won’t find him.)

I instinctively lower my voice so that my breath doesn't touch him.

Emma: Why are you here, Prince Kagari?

Kagari: I saw you.

Emma: So you came to see me?

Kagari: I came because I thought you called.

(Maybe that’s how it looked to Prince Kagari.)

Even though I feel guilty, my heart was ticklish.

Kagari: If you plan to stand in the line, don’t.

Kagari: It will continue till midnight.

Emma: That long…

Kagari: At night, there's a party. It goes on through the entire night till the wee hours of the morning.

(It’s amazing that they celebrate whole day long. I don’t expect anything less for Kogyoku’s yasha.)

While I was impressed, Prince Kagari remained expressionless.

He looks at the long line like it has nothing to do with him, and his expression is so bleak that it’s hard to believe he is the one being celebrated.

Maybe Prince Kagari isn’t interested in celebrating his birthday.

(…What if he thinks of me as a bother as well?)

Kagari: So, why are you here?

I turned my face away from him.

Emma: Well….there was a huge crowd, so I…was just curious.

(I can’t admit I came to celebrate too.)

I hid the bag with his present behind me.

Prince Kagari paused for a moment.

Amidst the awkward silence, the noises of the crowd felt distant.

(I tried my best to hide it, but it might seem too obvious.)

However, Prince Kagari didn’t say anything and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: Will you come with me, princess?

Emma: Eh…I..Prince Kagari?

Contrary to his request, I was almost forcefully taken inside the castle in secret….

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prince Kagari threw me into a room and brought out a large basket from somewhere.

Kagari: Put this on first.

Emma: H..hakama [2]?

Kagari: Next, wrap this around your face.

Emma: A scarf?

Kagari: And finally, put this on your waist.

Emma: A sword..?!

Kagari: Now tie your hair in a ponytail.

Emma: Um…

(Why is he asking to change all of a sudden?)

I tilted my head as I received the things handed to me one after another, and then Prince Kagari picks up the hakama and reaches for my clothes.

Kagari: If you don’t know how to put on hakama I’ll teach you.

Emma: N-no, I’ll try to do as much as I can myself!

(I’m not sure what’s going on but I think it isn’t anything bad---.)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(----But, why did it come to this?)

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

➽──────────────❥

I think I've found a new favourite in IkePri, guys.

(1) Yasha or yaksha refers to guardian deities in Buddhism. In ancient Japan, these terms were given to demonlike warriors.

(2) Hakama are a type of Japanese trousers.

[inkedinfusions]

𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | suguru geto chapter 2

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

⊰–prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

chapter word count: 3.1k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: Thank you all of the birthday wishes! I had a lot of fun on my bday, and I'm hoping your day is a little better with this update. Here is to Suguru, who charms thugs and ruffians with his dreams, while Y/n just wishes she had more money and more alone time. Her partner makes a special appearance too, so props to Gojo for just appearing there while I was writing the scene. 

Thanks for reading!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 arrows again after Suguru releases you from the chair, and you head for the window again when a quick survey of the room does not reveal any other way to exit the tower. You wonder if there's a hidden mechanism or a secret door you don’t know about, but like a good thief, you aren’t about to ask someone armed with a pan about their secret entrances. 

“I’ll go first,” you offer, perched on the windowsill. “You know, to watch for threats and whatnot.”

There's an undertone of jest in your voice, like you can’t believe someone is afraid of going to what basically is their backyard. But you aren’t here to judge—even though you do, a little bit—so you just leap out the window after Suguru answers with his own scoff. 

Oddly, the way down is harder than the way up, but you chalk it up to the adrenaline that pumped through your veins when you first arrived. So you carefully descend with your arrows, driving them into the points where the stones meet, pulling them out when the other one is anchored at a lower point. 

You notice Suguru has not come down yet, so you erase all possibilities of a hidden door, given he would already be out if there was one. Or he could be a coward and waiting for you to reach the ground, but something tells you that is not the type of person he is. Which is a wild assumption, given you met like thirty minutes ago and you had already suffered two concussions at his hands. 

But that's water under the bridge or something. Your head wasn’t as precious to you as was the possibility of a new, richer life elsewhere. Wild. Well, no time to unpack that.

You crane your head upwards, debating on whether to shout for him, maybe offer him assistance. It's not long before you decide against it, however, because next thing you know, his hair is plummeting down. You turn your head again and just as quickly press yourself against the wall, missing Suguru, who is sliding down his hair, by just a few centimetres. 

“Geez! Warn a woman first!” you call out after him. 

Suguru pays you no mind, frozen right above the grass, staring at it with childlike wonder. You sigh and resume your way down, when the crunch of the grass alerts you of his movements. 

You watch as he runs from grass to wildflower, chucking off the boots that took you (metaphorical) hours to convince him to wear. You sigh as he dips his feet into the water of the stream, although you can’t deny there is something endearing in his joy at seeing the world. It's sad, yeah, but also you don’t think about it too deeply. You're strangers anyway, and you’ll be strangers tomorrow too, after the lanterns. There’s no need to care more than you need to. 

So you follow after him, picking up the discarded boots he left in the middle of the field. Suguru runs to the exit of the valley, the cave guarded by the vines. There it is that you find him, with his hair running wild after him, a flock of birds flying just so through the rays of sunshine that hit his dark locks, turning them gold.

“How’d you do that?” you ask.

“Do what?” Suguru responds, clueless. 

“...Forget it.”

He looks at you like you’re the weird one, like a flock of birds didn’t just frame him perfectly, like his triumphant entry to the outside world didn’t look like something out of a fairy tale book. He raises his eyebrows at you when you continue to look at him disbelievingly, but his attention is quickly taken away by a small pond. 

“Sooo…” you start, walking towards Suguru, who is now crouching by the pond to pick up a lotus flower. “Is your curiosity satiated, princess? Perhaps it’s best for us to go back now—”

���Are you kidding me?” he says, head whirling to meet your eyes. “I’ll never have this opportunity again. Besides, what mother doesn’t know won't kill her.”

“Mother?” you ask. “She seems… protective.” 

And a total nutjob, is what you don’t add. 

“She just wants what’s best for me,” he says. “You don’t think… you don’t think I’m a terrible son for going against her, right?” He pauses. “Oh my god, this will totally kill her.”

You shrug, not really in the mood to play therapist. 

“Oh this is terrible!” he exclaims, straightening up. “She thinks I’m up there, where it's safe and I’m here just… watching flowers!”

“Sure,” you say. 

“But also,” he continues, “she can’t keep me locked away all my life, can she? I’m going back”—he turns to you—“just not now.”

“Well, you know,” you say, approaching him. “This is fine. You’re what, my age? Yeah, I’d say rebellion is pretty standard behavior.”

“Really?” he asks, skeptical. 

“Mhm,” you nod, an idea suddenly forming in your mind. “It will tear your mother apart, mind you, but it’s part of life. But it will tear her apart,” you repeat, just in case the first time didn’t convince him.

“Tear her apart?”

“Oh yes,” you say, reveling in the hesitation in his voice. “It will probably take months—no, years for her to heal from this betrayal. Normal mother–son relationship, nothing to bat an eye about.”

“Betrayal? Wait, I never said anything about betrayal—”

“But there’s no need to thank me,” you interrupt, amping up the theatrics to a hundred. “I mean—oh wow, I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I would be willing to let you off the deal.”

“Now, I know how this sounds,” you continue with fake modesty, “but you won’t owe me anything for this wonderful advice. Just my satchel,” you quickly add. “Here are your boots, and we can just head back—”

“Head back? No, we aren’t heading back,” Suguru says. “I’m seeing those lanterns.”

“Ugh!” you complain. “What’s it going to take for you to see reason?”

“Only thing I'm interested in seeing is those lights, Starlight,” he says with a hint of condescension that makes you itch.

“You are terrible! I can’t believe I even agreed to this—”

You are cut off by Suguru, who goes tense at the sound of a moving bush. It's too animated for it to be the wind, but you look at it with more curiosity than fright, while Suguru looks at it with a mix of nervousness and fear. 

A small, white bunny leaps out of the bush, and you can't contain your laughter when Suguru flinches at the sudden motion. You wheeze when the tension practically melts from his shoulders, when his anxiety-riddled expression turns into something more irritated. 

“Oh my!” you gasp dramatically. “It's the most dangerous creature in this forest! Whoever could save a helpless maiden like me from this ferocious bunny?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Suguru retorts sarcastically. “Bet you won’t be laughing when a thug jumps out of some bushes and strikes you down.”

“You don’t like thugs? Noted,” you say, another idea popping into existence. “Now, on a completely unrelated note—are you hungry?”

“Why is there a restaurant in the middle of nowhere?” Suguru asks as you walk through a fenced path. 

“Why is your tower in the middle of nowhere?” you shoot back. 

Suguru opens his mouth to snap back, but closes it again. “Fair,” he grumbles. 

“Anyway, it should be close. I don't mean to brag, but,” you brag, “I’m pretty well versed on these woods.”

“Uh huh,” he says, skeptical. 

“It's true!” you defend. “And it's the perfect place for a princess like you!” you carry on, ignoring his protests. “It's even got a duckling, see?”

You point to the emerging wooden sign, the natural lines of the wood running through the words The Snuggly Duckling. It is, of course, no place for a sheltered guy, but like any other thief worth their lockpicks, you are decidedly picking at places you’re sure would make Suguru tense like with the bunny earlier. 

“...Chameleons are better,” he says.

“Is that what your lizard is?” you say, prompting the reptile to emerge on his shoulder. It glares at you again, like it somehow knows you are trash talking it, and you back off, putting up your hands to show your surrender. 

Suguru huffs something akin to laughter, but you’re pretty sure he is just laughing at you—not with you. Well, who’s laughing now, mister? you internally ask when you swing open the door.

“Waiter! Your finest table please!”

Like magic, the whole tavern goes silent at your explosive entrance. You know you can command a room, but this was just ridiculous. Works in your favor though, so no complaints will be heard from you.

There is a weird ass guy covered in rats in the corner smiling creepily, another with a very pointy hook just to the left of you, and—well, let's just say the whole tavern is crawling with all the thugs one could possibly imagine. It was dirty, smelly, unsettling, and perfect. 

You start walking with Suguru, who, to his credit, is doing his best to not let the tension in his shoulders show. But he can’t fool you. His eye twitches, his muscles contract. You’d enjoy the scene if you didn’t have your eyes on something better. A chance to scare him and get your satchel back without actually entering the kingdom again. 

“Very nice place, right?” you chirp as you guide Suguru deeper and deeper into the crowd. This leaves him with no choice but to follow you as you make various remarks about the place. 

“Look at all these nice, hardworking gentlemen,” you continue. “This is just the beginning princess, the bottom of the barrel. Hey, you okay there? You’re looking paler than usual. You know, there are much worse—”

“Holy shit!” a voice interrupts from the sea of thugs. “It's you!”

You snap your head towards the origin of the voice, narrowing your eyes when nobody you recognize emerges from it. Just a lanky looking guy, with dusty black hair and a pair of big round shades, the kind you would see on blind people. 

“I think you have the wrong person,” you start. “Never in my life have I seen—”

“Oh, cut the crap, it's me,” he says, lowering his glasses. The brightest blue hits your pupils, making you immediately recognize your partner in crime. 

Your eyes widen. “What are you doing here?” you ask, scrunching your nose when you notice the state of his hair. “And why is your hair like that?”

“Like what? I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” he says, like his hair didn’t just turn a hundred shades darker in the span of a few hours. “And who’s this?” he asks, turning his eyes to Suguru, who is tenser than ever. “Oh ho ho, I didn’t take you for—”

He is thankfully interrupted when the thug with the hook uses it to pull him away, which is great, because now you don't need to strangle him with your own hands. On the other hand, what is not so great, is the way the hook is now being pointed at both you and Suguru. 

“Woah, hey, I think there's been a misunderstanding,” you say, when a poster is shoved into your field of vision. It's your own, but now your hair is frizzier than ever, not even with the right length. Honestly, who was making these posters?

“Is this you?” a guy with a fur cape and large viking helmet. 

Before you can deny it, the guy with the hook and all the others start circling you. “Oh it's her alright,” he says, throwing Satoru into the mix. “And that’s the other one.”

“Wow, I’m so flattered—but I could never be that beautiful,” he tearfully says. “I'm just another poor guy from the outskirts—”

“No one believes you, Six,” you say, tired of his charades. 

“His name is Six?” Suguru whispers to you. 

You shrug, then flinch when the hook is once again pointed at you three. “Don’t try to run, missy,” he says gesturing for another ruffian to go get the guards. “That double reward is about to buy me a new hook.”

You are pulled away by the back of your shirt by another ruffian with Satoru, and then once again by a different one. “I can use the money,” one of them says. 

“Not fair!” another one complains. “I’m the brokest one here!”

“Hey!” you exclaim. “Let me go!”

Satoru is struggling at your side too, easily overpowered by the number of ruffians. You can’t see Suguru anymore, only hear as he says something, but now is not really the time to worry about him, not with the ticking time bomb that is the guards. You needed to get out of here and fast. 

The big guy starts preparing to throw a punch at you, probably to knock you out to make the process of delivering you to the guards easier, when out of nowhere a branch directly above him snaps, striking him dead center on the head. 

“Put them down!” you hear Suguru yell, everyone's attention on him. 

“You chose a feisty one,” Satoru whispers to you. 

“Shut up,” you whisper back as Suguru goes on a tangent. 

“—and it's been my dream since forever to see those lanterns,” you notice him sneering, “so release them or so help me god, a concussion won’t be the only thing you’ll walk away with.”

Silence. 

All of the ruffians are both shocked at what just transpired and at Suguru’s words, standing still in their places with wide eyes. You notice Satoru moving as discreetly as possible, and you prepare yourself to bolt, when the thug holding you both picks you up and hands you on the wall. You look helplessly at Satoru, who is trying not to laugh. You swear, you could both be in the gallows and he'd still crack jokes. 

Suguru steps back as the guy with the hook approaches him, now handling an axe. You should've never brought him here—your goal was to scare him, not have some ruffians skin him alive. Hell, the guards are on their way too, so now you’ll get caught without ever stepping foot into the kingdom. 

The thug hovers over Suguru, when he speaks up, surprising you. “I had a dream… once,” he says, throwing the axe at a startled musician in the corner. The poor guy starts playing background music, oddly changing the atmosphere at the tavern. What the fuck? 

“I look malicious, yes,” he starts. “And violence wise, my hands”—hand, you correct in your head—“are not the cleanest. But despite my temper and my hook, I've only ever wanted to be a renowned pianist.”

He starts absolutely shredding  the piano he had led Suguru to, forming a nice harmony with the corner musician. And hey, he might not have the best look ever, but this guy could play some pretty nice tunes. 

“I could be up on the stage playing Mozart,” he says, and you are awestruck at the way he flawlessly plays with his hook. The piano keys come off and towards Suguru, who blocks the way with his pan, now with a relaxed grin.

After a few unsuccessful attempts at getting off the wall, you instead decide to get lost in your own mind, hearing bits and pieces of the ruffians’ dreams. One wants love, another one to be a florist. The big guy that had hooked you to the wall apparently collects ceramic unicorns, which, hey, to each his own.  

“This place wasn’t this loony the last time we came here,” you tell Satoru. 

“It's been years, the place is bound to change,” he answers. “But now that we are here, who really is that guy?”

“He has the circlet,” you grumble. “Wouldn’t give it back unless I agreed to take him to the lantern thing the kingdom does.” 

An idea pops into your head, and you turn to Satoru with an innocent smile. “Hey, you love festivals! Wouldn’t you like to—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off. “This is a you problem, Starlight.”

“I hate you,” you lie. 

You may not hate him, but you hate the way he smiles like he knows it's a lie. Which it is, but that doesn’t make it better. You are then startled by the blade that points your way. 

“And what about you?” hook-guy asks you. 

“Sorry?”

 “Your dream,” another one clarifies. 

“I’m a heavy sleeper,” you say, not missing Satoru’s snort. Then you immediately regret it when multiple blades stand dangerously close to your neck.You huff, gesturing for the bug guy to unhook you from the wall. To your surprise he does, and you begin to spin your tale. 

“Though crowd,” you mumble. “It’s not that deep, I just want to be alone and with money.”

It's enough for the ruffians, who cheer, following Suguru’s example. You lean against the wall where Satoru still hangs, helping him down after a while. 

“But really, what did you do to your hair?”

“You like it?”

“No.”

He grins. “It's just ash so I don’t get recognized. Glasses too.”

Amidst the chaos and glee, the door slams open by the guy who had gone to find the guards. Your eyes widen and you quickly pull Suguru to the side, leaving Satoru to his own devices. You’re pretty sure his disguise will hold, and now you’re more worried about the other guy than him. 

You put your finger to your lips as you hide behind the bar, signaling Suguru to be quiet. You’re grateful when he doesn’t question you, falling as silent as a valley with no trees. 

“You!” you hear the captain question. “Where is Starlight?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t see her,” you hear Satoru chirp back, and you’re sure he’s about to play the blindness card. “As a matter of fact, I can’t see at all!” 

Yeah, there it is.

“Find her!” the captain orders, slamming his arm just where you are hiding. “Turn the place upside down if you have to.”

You contain a flinch when a hook appears right in front of your face, your eyes following the arm back to the thug it belongs to. He signals you with his eyes to the floor in front of you, pulling a lever and revealing a secret passageway. 

“Go,” he mumbles when you crawl to it. “Live your dreams.”

“Thanks,” you say, touched.

“Not you,” he says. “I'm talking about him. Your dream stinks.”

Suguru chuckles at the offended expression you pull when you grumble and grab a lantern, following you into the dark of the tunnel, pan in hand, after thanking your savior.

[burntcheerio]

best birthday present ever.

All’s fair in love and poetry… New album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. Out April 19 🤍

store.taylorswift.com

📷: Beth Garrabrant

[doctorsiren]

Like with any media I get into, an AU is sure to follow, so here’s something @sleepysquib and I have been cooking up!

We wanted Haibara to live, that was it :D

Here’s a “brief” summary of his whole deal:

During August 2007, his second year at Tokyo Jujutsu High School, he went on a mission with fellow second year Nanami Kento. The mission’s level turned out to be higher than expected. Haibara received critical wounds, but was able to escape with Nanami with their lives. He was healed by Shoko’s reverse curse healing technique.

After his brush with death, he realized that he needed to be taking this more seriously. That, combined with Geto’s betrayal, led him to becoming less naive. However, he didn’t want to lose his positivity, so he focused on increasing his abilities through his emotions, eventually becoming promoted to Grade 1.

After graduation, Nanami still ran from the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, while Haibara stayed in that world. He saw his role as something akin to a superhero, and took it in stride, calling himself “Cupid” and being very public about his status. He quickly became popular and gained a fanbase, taking pictures and signing autographs for them when he has time.

Being received well by the media and being good on camera, Haibara became somewhat of a PR boy for the jujutsu sorcerers. He could make a bad situation sound less terrible through his natural charm.

Nanami and Haibara remained best friends during the time that Nanami was working as a salaryman. Eventually, Nanami learned the bakery lesson and realized his place was as a sorcerer. He returned to that life and was quickly paired with Haibara for many missions.

Haibara knows that the world isn’t the happy place he wishes, but he tries to be the change he wants to see and spreads positivity. He also does this in hopes of lessening the amount of cursed spirits created by the negative emotions of humans.

As a result of always expressing positivity, his negative emotions are naturally bottled up. He does this on purpose, stockpiling his negative emotions so he can release and harness their power if a battle becomes that dire. His last resort is to unleash his negative emotions, which increases his power greatly for a brief period of time. After this burst of power, he is left exhausted and drained and will need to recover. He is aware that he is being “toxically positive” but does so to increase his power with negativity later.

He doesn’t express joy all the time and doesn’t force himself to express it every moment of the day, but he will always express positivity in public and during battles to keep up morale and his image (although he doesn’t care about image in a narcissistic way).

He is liked by most people and others vent and confide in him. The personal sharing of their negative emotions adds to that stockpile that he can use if necessary.

Haibara tries to not express his own negative emotions to others because it will decrease that stockpile inside and he knows he needs to save that for dangerous battles. He knows it’s not healthy but he does it for the good of Japan, seeing himself as a superhero.

Much like a cursed spirit, his greater power increases when those around him have expressed negative emotions, but he doesn’t like to acknowledge the fact that he has something in common with cursed spirits.

Lives by the mottos of “With great power comes great responsibility” and “greet the world with open arms”

[hellomehlo]

*breathing into a paper bag*

[front-facing-pokemon]

[holly-mckenzie]

zindagiofficial When all has withered… will love endure? #Barzakh Premieres 19th July on Zindagi YouTube and @zee5shows

#ZindagiOnYouTube #FawadKhan #SanamSaeed Poster credits: @Mahoor_Jamal @abdullahharisfilms @huba.akhlaq

[fancycolours]

3 days until this beauty is released! 😭🧡💚

AND ONE WEEK UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY! 🤩

[lesbiancarat]

JUN Digital Single ‘PSYCHO’ Official Teaser 1

[good-beanswrites]

Hello! I'd like to request "There's an 80% chance of this working out" from List 5 with Mahiru and Mikoto! Horoscope Girl and Tarot Boy...what will they do...

Ooh this one was so fun, thank you!! It was really neat learning about tarot :0 (It'll take a bit longer, but I got carried away with the idea and also started writing something of Mikoto doing a reading for Fuuta hehe). It always makes me sad that Mahiru doesn’t trust Mikoto at first, so it was really fun to picture them bonding over things like this during T1! I never thought of them having that in common and my mind has been opened to this duo asdfsdfds

“Alright, I’m going to need you to manifest your energy as hard as you can.”

Mahiru squeezed her eyes shut. Her face scrunched up in concentration. She let out a little hum of effort as she poured all her emotions into the card deck under her fingertips.

“Uh… maybe not that hard, Mappi.”

She looked up with a giggle. “Right, right! I’m just so curious!” Well, she was curious about how a tarot reading itself would go, not about what it would tell her. Mahiru was fairly confident of her upcoming verdict, and the cards would only confirm it. So far only one prisoner had been named guilty, and everyone could see he was just a bully. Mahiru was nothing like him. She would be forgiven. She just knew it. 

Mikoto started shuffling the cards. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, yes!”

To be honest, she’d had her suspicions about Mikoto for a while. His smile was too perfect at all hours of the day. (Even someone as cheery as her knew a smile like that couldn’t be consistently real.) She’d seen enough cheaters who chatted as easily as he could with everyone here. His nicknaming habit was a cute one, but she was keeping her eye on how informally he acted with little basis for friendship. She knew for sure he was a dangerous flirt when he’d grabbed her palm to read her fortune, launching into talk of life and love lines. However, none of that meant he was lying about his tarot expertise -- so who was she to refuse his offer to read her cards?

Her eyes glimmered as she watched Mikoto lay out three cards before her. Though he used the same theatrics he had for the others, she was just as entranced. It was just so magical, she thought.

Mikoto circled his palms over the cards. “We’re going to begin by looking at the past and present to get a bit of perspective before we move on to what your future will hold, alright?” He’d already explained that the cards couldn’t read one’s future as much as they offered self-awareness. He said it was all about being in tune with oneself, and the world. She was sure someone like him was already perfectly aligned within himself, but she could admit her heart carried her away at times…

Mahiru held her breath as he flipped the first card. She studied his face for any trace of negativity. Seeing her worry, he slipped back into his usual smile. “For the past, we have the Reversed Page of Cups,” he said. “This suit deals with emotions and intuition.”

Mahiru nodded, excited at the accuracy. Her past certainly had its share of intense feelings. 

“This card in particular may mean emotional insecurity, or immaturity. It could also point to an avoidance of reality, something that’s not being faced head-on.”

She nodded, with a little less excitement this time.

“It also represents a specific person who influences you.” His face lit up, recalling Mahiru’s favorite topic. “Pages can represent a companion! Is there a romantic someone in your life who may have been causing some emotional insecurity?”

Picking up on the way her face paled, he said quickly, “or maybe not! They could be a messenger, or a childlike figure, or…” He reached for the next card. “Moving on, uh, to the present. Ah! This is a really good sign.”

She perked up.

“Here’s Justice. It’s fairly self-explanatory, representing the consequences that follow your actions. It’s about cause and effect, and accountability. It means things are happening according to karma, which is natural.”

He turned over the last card. “And finally, when looking to the future, we’ve got the Two of Swords. Swords deal with the mind -- conflict and communication. That’s… interesting.”

Mahiru’s eyes grew round. “What’s interesting?” She slid the card closer to herself, studying the picture. A blindfolded woman with two swords. There was water, and the moon. Was that bad? Was the woman unhappy? She was all alone. What did that mean?

“Don’t worry,” Mikoto soothed. “It just means you’ll make a big choice. Well, actually, it means you’ll get stuck, so you need to make a choice. I just thought it was funny, we’re here wondering about Es’ decision, but it turns out you’re the one who needs to make a decision.”

“Ah,” she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now we can look at the big picture. It seems like some of your past problems may have come from emotional issues, so you’ll want to keep an eye on your emotions going forward.” Mahiru shifted. “The fact that we pulled Justice should reassure you about being here. I’ve heard some of the others complain that they don’t belong here, or it’s all a mistake, but this card is showing you that it’s just cause and effect. The events of your life are running their natural course.”

It was true, even she had been unhappy that her actions were being labeled that of a murderer. After all, those were an entirely different breed of people, right? Someone like Fuuta, who was guilty. People like her and Mikoto could never raise a hand to another. It was good to know, then, that this was all meant to be.

“And going forward, you’re gonna want to make sure you’re being decisive. Face your problems head-on, and communicate. If you can do that, things will be alright.” He folded his hands on the table, finished his reading. 

Mahiru thought for a moment. A smile crept onto her face, growing larger and brighter by the second. She clasped her hands together. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much for doing this. It’s told me everything I need to know.”

“Yeah?” He picked the cards up, shuffling them back into the deck. She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket, pointing to some lines scribbled down.

“Yes. I’ve been jotting down some birthdays, see? I’ve had to make a few guesses until I get more information, but if Es is either a Scorpio or a Virgo… as a Capricorn myself… we’re very compatible, look! Capricorns have excellent communication with both of those signs, and you said that’s what I’ll need to get through this tough decision.” She turned the paper over to reveal more notes. “On top of that, my extraction is scheduled right before my birthday, during Capricorn’s governing period. At that time, things will be aligned more in my favor.”

Mikoto’s eyebrows raised at her notes, impressed. “Wow! You have this all worked out, huh? If that’s the case, you seem very prepared to have a successful interrogation.”

She steepled her fingers. “I’d say there’s an 80% chance of this working out!”

“Definitely!”

He returned her beaming smile. Things would be perfect. Nothing to worry about.

[cosmowgyral]

"The Vicious Wildcat is Clumsily Affectionate"

▪︎ Kagari's 1st Birthday

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

This is my very first time translating/reading a Kagari event and since he is not yet out in the EN server, there might be terms that will turn out different than what I have used here when he is finally released.

Chapter 2

Man with a horrid appearance: What is with this guy?

Emma: I…I won’t let you take even one step beyond this point!

In a back alley, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the town people, I came across some tough-looking men.

I gasped at the weapons hanging from their waists, but I unsheathed the sword that Prince Kagari had given to me.

Man with a horrid appearance: I don’t really get it, but you know us, don’t you?

(…..No, I have no idea.)

Man with a horrid appearance: Let’s go.

The men drew their swords laughing vilely.

They were real ones, different from my replica.

The blades were aimed at me- but before anything could happen, the man at the front was crushed by a shadow that fell from the sky.

Man with a horrid appearance: What?!

Kagari: It’s a shame.

In the blink of an eye, the men were blown away along with their swords.

They got slammed into the wall and fell to the ground with their eyes rolled up.

The fight was over within seconds, without Prince Kagari having to draw out his sword.

(I will never get used to seeing his extraordinary strength.)

Kagari: I don’t feel any sense of accomplishment. I wanted to face enough strength to draw my sword.

(…..I wonder how many people exist in Kogyoku who are worthy of being a match for Prince Kagari.)

When I came to my senses and tried to pull out my fake sword, Prince Kagari spun around and grabbed my hand.

Kagari: Princess, the correct stance is this.

Emma: I see…

Kagari: Also, being hesitant amidst a battle is prohibited.

Emma: I didn’t notice.

Kagari: I thought so. Even in the guise of a subordinate, you look weak.

Emma: ….Sorry

(I’m only an amateur so please forgive me.)

(I never thought I would be asked to help with a capture.)

While holding my hand, he puts his other palm on my waist.

As I straightened my back with effort, Prince Kagari looked satisfied despite his expressionless face.

Cat: Meow…

Kagari: Ah, wait.

(A cat?)

A cat appeared out of nowhere and rubbed against Prince Kagari’s feet.

He knelt down, patted his head, and gave him a small folded piece of paper.

The cat quickly picked up the paper and left.

Emma: That was…

Kagari: Mike no. 1

(That’s a weird name.)

Kagari: He often wanders around the town. If you want to contact me, you can rely on him.

Emma: Not a carrier pigeon….but a carrier cat.

Kagari: Yeah

(He’s a good cat. I’ll remember him.)

Emma: The paper you gave him….

Kagari: I called my subordinates. It is always a pain to clean up afterwards.

Prince Kagari answered calmly as he stood up and looked down at the men lying nearby.

Kagari: This is a ‘present’ given to me every year amidst all these birthday celebrations.

Kagari: I was hoping for a worthy opponent, but I got disappointed again this year.

(Someone sends him assassins on his birthday?)

Prince Kagari is the faction’s main fighting force and the trump card of this territory.

As long as Kogyoku’s yasha is present, the safety of the territory is guaranteed, so it’s no surprise that there are people who would attempt to breach the ironclad defense.

(But to target him even on a special day like this..)

Kagari: Princess

Prince Kagari presses his thumb between my eyebrows.

(….I wonder if my eyebrows were furrowed.)

Kagari: You will still be my subordinate.

Emma: Are you okay with such a weak subordinate?

Kagari: This will make it easier for them to attack.

Kagari: You’re the only one who can be such a tempting bait.

(If being together like this helps Prince Kagari….)

Emma: I’ll do my best as a bait.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Men in town: Happy birthday, Prince Kagari!

Town woman: Dorayaki is being baked all over town today. In fact, there’s hardly a single store that isn’t baking them….!

As soon as he stepped onto the main street, Prince Kagari was swarmed by townspeople.

Kagari: ..Yeah

He shows no interest in the wishes and gifts that shower him, and his reaction is just as empty as it was at the castle.

(Everyone is smiling and their words sound sincere, so why do I feel something strange in their attitude?)

I need to listen more carefully and pick up words.

Men in town: It’s thanks to Prince Kagari that we can live in such peace.

Town woman: Please protect us forever. We will do anything to achieve this…!

(…..)

(Oh, I see. This is….)

(It’s just a way to win over Prince Kagari’s favour.)

(Everyone is celebrating because he is essential to the peace of this territory.)

(But it is still a celebration….)

Town woman: By the way, Prince Kagari, have you received greetings from Emma yet?

The sound of my name made me leap.

Kagari: I haven’t received it.

Town woman: In that case, I’ll make sure to tell her to wish you the next time we meet.

Town woman: I have no doubt that her wish will please you the most.

Knowing people’s thoughts, I started to realise the full amount of the pressure I was under to celebrate the Yasha.

 (…I don’t think celebrations should be forced.)

What welled up inside me was more than just frustration; it was a feeling of sadness.

(I hesitated to celebrate earlier because Prince Kagari didn’t seem interested in the celebrations at all….)

(I think we should celebrate him properly. Not to appease him or anything like that….)

Emma: Prince Kagari

To get through the crowd quickly, I casually grabbed his hand.

Men in town: By the way, Prince Kagari, it seems you have brought along an aide we have never seen before.

Kagari: He’s my new subordinate and is also quite a skilled swordsman. You all should be careful.

Kagari: If he draws his sword, he can easily cut off your heads.

The lie delivered with a straight face seemed incredibly effective; so I took advantage of them being flustered and hesitant, and quickly pulled Prince Kagari’s hand and left the place in a hurry.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After receiving several more ‘presents’, Prince Kagari headed to the banquet as the sky began to darken.

Kagari: I have an appointment today.

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