#and so what if he kills people it’s fine

[buckyalpine]

His Winter Flower

Modern Beauty and the Beast AU Winter soldier x f reader

Long awaited, I hope you all enjoy it as well.

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: 18 + Angst, injuries, Fluff, All the sweet smut, Bucky is a sweetheart

"оставаться внизу" [Stay down] The soldier ordered, holding his gun to the targets forehead, his metal finger twitching against the trigger while the man cowered in front of him.

"Please" The man tried to plead but it was no use. He knew his fate was sealed the second he heard the thud of the boots entering his home. The whirring of metal. The ghost people spoke of but never saw until it was too late.

"тишина" [Silence] The soldiers rough voice growled behind the mask that covered his face. He pressed the barrel further into the man's head, freezing when he heard the soft patter of footsteps nearing the office he had broken into.

"Papa?" A soft voice called, the scent of roses and vanilla accompanying it, "Papa, where are y-

You gasped as you entered your father's study, your heart dropping to your stomach seeing him kneeling on the floor with his hands tied while the soldier towered above him.

So the rumors were true.

The silver of his arm was illuminated in the moonlight, the rest of him covered in Kevlar and black leather. Weapons were strapped to every bit of his body but the only one that worried you now was the one that was about to take your father's life.

"Don't hurt him!" It was a futile attempt to save your father, you knew this enough. The Winter Soldier didn't spare anyone, in fact for the longest time you wondered if he was nothing more than an urban legend. No one had actually seen him. Those that did didn't live to speak the tale. The soldier grunted in response, hardly sparing you a glance as he stared at the man before him.

A professor. A brilliant man. One who was quietly working with a group of researchers aiming to destroy the the longtime work of Arnim Zola from so many years ago. No more serums. No more soldiers.

Hydra wouldn't have that.

Not when those very serums created their best asset, the Winter Soldier himself.

"Он моя миссия" [He is my mission] Was the only response you were given. You didn't understand the words he said but it didn't matter; it was quite clear. He didn't intend on sparing the professor.

"Darling, please go, it's okay" Your father shook his head, ready to accept the consequences of his choices. He hoped to aid in the movement of making the world safer and if this was his end, he was prepared to meet it. Tears welled in his eyes with a sad smile on his face, "It'll be alright, go, hurry-

"No, please!" You pleaded with the soldier once again, all you could see were his blue eyes, void of emotion, cold and icy. "If-if you kill him, someone will take his place and then another. My father will no longer help with the government if you spare him and take me. Please just take me instead, it will put an end to all this. Please"

If you kill him, someone will take his place

The words rang through the soldiers mind.

It shouldn't be a problem. He'd killed plenty of people before but...

Then it would be another mission to carry.

And then another.

Another.

The innocent man trapped in his brain screamed to stop. A voice long forgotten, begging him to reconsider. To fight against the words that were causing him to do this. The solider flinched, fighting within himself, contemplating his next actions. The mission was to ensure Arnim Zola's work wouldn't be eradicated. The girl was offering herself to ensure the same work wouldn't continue. He wouldn't have more blood on his hands if he allowed the professor to live.

He shouldn't have cared but a part of him did.

He didn't want to kill another innocent man.

He never wanted to kill anyone.

Your father let out a sigh of relief feeling the weight of the gun pull away, only to have his greatest fear come alive; losing you.

"NO, darling you don't know what you're doing, I'll be fine-

It was too late. The soldier cut through the ropes that bound your father's wrists, taking you instead. Before your father could reach for you, the soldier grabbed and hauled you over his shoulder and strode away, ignoring the plea of the professor to spare his only daughter.

His mind was made up.

She was not his mission but now he had a new one.

If he killed the man, another would take his place.

He was risking repercussions listening to the trapped soul only his mind could hear.

He shouldn't have listened to her words.

He shouldn't have let the professor go.

Yet he agreed.

The gait of the soldier lulled you into a dreamless sleep; exhaustion consumed you as he wandered through a thicket of trees and into the woods far from home. You hadn't spoken a word nor let out a cry as he carried you off, after all, you agreed to be his prisoner as long as you father lived.

-

He brought you to a place he knew no one would find.

A place no one else knew of.

A place that was now his own.

He was once sent to take the life of a wealthy aristocrat, a man who had no one to leave his estate to. The place was deep in a forest, away from most of humanity; even when Hydra had sent him to finish the man, they were unable to give him a location. The soldier had located the target himself only to find the man had already passed from old age.

No questions were asked.

The mission was considered complete.

The body was disposed of and for quite some time, the soldier thought nothing of the castle like place that no one else knew of. It was a secret only he knew and he soon found himself seeking its solitude. A resting place between missions. A place to patch up. A place to hide when his mind was too loud, trying to escape from clutches he didn't understand.

It was the closest place he had to freedom.

The soldier pushed through the heavy wooden doors, entering the dark oak foyer. He stilled, torn between taking you down to the cellar or taking you to the rooms up in the master wing.

How could he chain something so soft.

How could he imprison something so delicate.

His feet began to move towards the large staircase before his mind could process anything, shifting to carry you in his arms as he made his way up to the west wing. He set you down gently onto the large bed with the soft sheets, careful not to stir you. He stared at your sleeping form, unmoving from his place as you softly snored, the choices of his actions beginning to plague his mind.

What was he to do with you now. Why hadn't he gotten rid of you.

He knew the rules; once his job was done, he was to return to the base but he hadn't completed the mission. He had been away for weeks and the longer he was away, the louder the screaming was. The voice of a young sergeant who fought bravely in the war. The pleading young man, scared like a child, trapped in the body of a killing machine. The cries of a little boy trying so hard to runaway from monsters that haunted him every single night. All trapped and begging to escape.

He'd let the professor live.

It was wrong of him.

He disobeyed his orders.

Or perhaps it was the right thing to do.

Though the soldier had been brainwashed, there were times he found himself caught in-between a state of control and chaos. His duties were to Hydra. He knew this was wrong. You shouldn't be here. His task was to continue their vision. He was their asset. He belonged to them.

His tourmiol continued. Why did he spare the professor. Why did he bring the girl and set her down on the softest bed out of all the rooms when he should have chained her in a cell. Exhaustion began to weigh on him but he didn't close his eyes. He didn't allow sleep to consume him. The soldier remained in place even as the sun rose. He watched as you stirred, soft sunlight streaming through the curtains, falling onto your face.

-

You blinked, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a fearful gasp escaping your lips when you saw him sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. A thousand thoughts began to run through your mind at once as you sat up, a part of you surprised to find your hands and legs free from binds. You were atop a plush mattress on a large bed, the room itself surprisingly warm and quaint. Had you not been in a state of terror, you would have taken some time to appreciate the olive green walls and fine paintings that decorated the space as well as the well kept antique furniture.

"Please don't hurt me" You whispered, still disoriented from the night before.

"я не буду" [I won't] He replied, aware you didn't understand him. His lips twitched, all the words of English he wanted to speak dying in his mouth. His mind wouldn't allow it.

It wasn't required for this mission.

You stayed frozen in place while he said nothing else, walking off and closing the door behind him. Tears welled in your eyes as dread began to set in. This was your life now. He could kill you at any moment without warning. In fact, you didn't understand why he hadn't. From the rumours, you knew the soldier never took prisoners. You didn't know why you were spared; the only sliver of joy you had was that your father was alive. You thought about your him as you gathered yourself out of bed, deciding to make the best of your circumstances with the faintest hope that one day you'd be reunited with him again.

You inspected the room the soldier had put you in. There was a vanity across the bed. A walk in closet that only contained a few old sheets. You gasped as you entered the en suite bathroom, white marble tiles covering the floor, a large clawfoot tub, brass and gold accents decorated the handles of the cupboards.

The room was enchanting.

After splashing some water onto your face, you crept into the hallway, padding down to the staircase, surprised again at the beauty of the place. High ceilings. Dark wood. Crystal albeit dusty chandeliers. French doors. Original paintings. It was the type of place you'd imagine when you read fairytales. It would have been the type of place you'd dream to live in; one you'd only imagine in your wildest fantasies where the princess finds her prince. Such stories were only found in books.

You quietly explored the main floor of the mansion and avoiding the rooms which were locked shut. You didn't dare touch a thing, quickly retreating back to your room once you'd seen everything, familiarizing yourself with it's layout. The kitchen. A study. A living room. The hauntinly beautiful hallways. A door to the grounds in the back. You hadn't seen the soldier which both relieved and scared you.

Where did he disappear to?

That night, there was a knock at your door and when you opened it, a plate of warm food was left on a tray. Boiled carrots. Potatoes. A dinner roll. You hadn't even heard his footsteps down the hall. As you peered out of your room, it was empty without the slightest hint that anyone had been there seconds ago.

Where had he gone?

You hadn't realized how hungry you were until you took the first bite, scarfing down the rest in haste, placing the tray back in the hall. The next day was the same. You woke up to find a simple spread of breakfast outside of your room; toast and jam.

The soldier was a man of his word; if you were to be his captive, he had to keep you alive.

At least until he knew what to do with you...

Days had passed and you'd managed to avoid him, keeping to yourself and staying out of his way but you weren't able to avoid him forever.

-

The soldier had already heard you coming, pausing his cleaning as he waited for you to enter. The sight of your trembling form evoked something inside him.

You were scared. He didn't like it.

His mask remained on his face while his blue eyes peered at you, waiting for you to speak.

"I-I need clothes" Your voice was hardly a whisper, body shaking as you approached him, finding him in the study room, parts of his gun in hand. There was nothing wrong with the simple cotton dress you had on though it certainly wasn't comfortable to sleep in every night and you weren't able to wash and it dry within the same day. You needed at least one other set of something to wear. "Please"

He nodded without a word, resuming his cleaning while you retreated to your room. His brows furrowed as he thought about what you'd need. Perhaps it would be easier to return you and finish off the professor or get rid of you both-

No.

No.

He didn't want more blood on his hands.

The foods he stole were already a risk....where would he go for clothes?

-

The next morning, you found a fresh set of clothes left beside your tray of breakfast. You lifted the pile and brought it to your room, munching on the toast that had come with honey instead of jam for a change.

There was a red Henley and some sweatpants. A black t shirt and joggers. A few other basics for you to wear comfortably around the house. You couldn't help but giggle at the very large leather jacket he'd also left in case you felt cold even though there were already plenty of warm blankets. They were very clearly his own clothes but they were all washed and perfectly clean. You couldn't expect him to go shopping for you.

You threw off your dress, taking a long bath before drying off and slipping on the Henley and sweats. They were warm and soft, fitting loosely on your smaller frame, his soft scent of something distinctly him clinging onto the material. It was strange that it didn't bother you. Quite the opposite. It was pleasant, almost comforting.

You wondered about the man behind the mask and who he was. Such a dangerous man who was giving you the clothes off his back, feeding you and keeping you alive even though he'd killed hundreds of others. He was dangerous and yet he looked at you with such softness, you couldn't understand how he'd be capable of hurting anyone.

What was his story?

He hadn't chained you to the bed.

He hadn't locked you in your room.

You were free to go about where you liked.

Surely he wasn't all evil?

As you grew more accustomed to your living arrangement, you decided to inspect more of the kitchen. You hadn't been told you couldn't cook; even if the soldier didn't kill you, boredom eventually would. You needed something to pass the time and he had disappeared yet again.

You opened the fridge and pantries surprised to find a few fruits and vegetables stocked up. An untouched sack of flour and bag of sugar sat at the bottom of the shelves. Who knew the winter soldier enjoyed plums so much? There were a few pots and pans as well as basic kitchen utensils. You didn't need much to make a simple meal, careful not to make a mess as you began to peel some carrots.

-

The soldier blinked as he entered the house, the smell of food wafting throughout, a smell he hadn't come across in a long time.

Home.

There was a pot of stew left on the stove along with a pie left to cool on the counter. His eyes widened at the way his stomach grumbled; it had been years since he'd truly felt hunger. He ate for sustenance. Raw, uncooked, at most boiled food to keep him going. When he was with Hydra, he was fed with a tube.

Just basic nutrients to keep him alive.

He hadn't had a home cooked meal in years.

-

You woke up the next morning to find a pastry at your door instead of toast. When you wandered into the kitchen, you smiled at the tiny crumbs left pie tin and the now empty pot of stew. There were also newly stocked ingredients waiting for you; berries, potatoes, somehow even a whole chicken. You got to work, deciding to try something new each time; each night a warm meal awaited the soldier along with something sweet at the end.

He continued to bring you breakfast but there were only so many different pastries and cakes he could nick, besides they didn't compare to yours.

It wasn't enough. The soldier frowned at the strange feelings he had within himself.

He wanted to do something for you.

He wasn't sure what. He smuggled a handful of cookies you'd baked that morning into his room before removing his mask and savoring each once. He didn't leave a crumb behind, licking the remnants of chocolate off his lips while his mind wandered. You didn't have to cook for him. In fact you had every right to try and escape from him but you never did. He recalled the number of bookshelves that lined your home, after all he'd taken note of every detail as part of his mission.

You liked to read.

-

You sat up when you heard a knock at your door, the soldier waiting on the other side. He looked at you with a softness you hadn't seen previously, turning around and walking down the hall, hoping you'd follow him.

You stayed a few feet behind, trailing after him as he led you to the living room, leading you to the large bookshelf. He wordlessly stood by it, the strange sensation of nervousness and anxiety bubbling within him when you looked at what he wanted to show you.

Would you like it? You looked so unsure, scared. Perhaps you wanted to be free, you wanted to leave, you-

"M-May I?"

He blinked hearing your voice, nodding, watching your eyes light up as you scanned the various book titles. Gasps of joy and little squeals of delight escaped your lips as you came across stories you adored.

That wasn't the only thing that made his heart beat faster. Seeing you in his clothes stirred something in him. You were dressed in his red Henley, the hem reaching mid thigh. He was pulled away from admiring you as you squeaked, seeing one of your favorite books from when you were a little girl, a first edition no less.

"How did you get all these" You were in absolute awe, lost in your own world while he pondered how he came to own such treasures. Perhaps he was always a soldier gone rogue. His missions came with a side of thievery when he'd see something that would catch his eye. Something that would spark a memory of sorts, such as an old book he'd seen as he passed an vintage bookstore. Soon, the shelves of the mansion were filled with books and trinkets he'd collected. A part of his brain would nearly break itself to try and connect to the things he'd collect, only for the memories to fail to fall into place.

His mind felt like a pile of shreds from different cloths; pieces that would never fit together again. His little treasures were the closest he'd ever get to remembering, a few sparks from the past that would forever be disconnected.

-

Ever since the soldier had shown you the shelves of books, you'd left your room more often, spending more time reading after cooking. In a strange way you also began to trust the very masked man who had taken you away. You didn't worry about him hurting you. You no longer worried about running into him. He hardly spoke, nothing more than a few words of Russian. He hadn't demanded you stay locked in your room, so why did you?

You picked up one of your favorite books, deciding to read outside in the garden, in need of some fresh air. You hadn't taken much time to look at the outside of the house, pausing as you opened the doors that entered the grounds. It was strangely beautiful, especially considering the assassin who resided in it. For such a dark soul, nature still continued to flourish around it. Tall, overgrown hedge fences surrounded the backyard while weeping willows and bushes of flowers shaded the stone paths that led to a fountain in the very center. You found a comfortable spot under the tree, settling onto the cool grass, the scent of spring calming you as you turned to the first page.

-

The soldier trudged through the doorway, surprised at the way his appetite had grown since you'd started cooking. His body which was used to sustaining itself on the bare minimum now rumbled through the day. He'd find his mind wandering to your pies and craving the comfort of the soup you'd make. The food was set in the kitchen but you were nowhere to be found. He walked past your room, knocking on the door, only to be met with silence.

Where did you go? Did you run away?

He knew something was wrong when he felt his heart sink because he couldn't find you. He couldn't remember the last time his heart felt anything other than emptiness. It was more than just you escaping.

He was worried about you.

He took longer strides as he searched for you with purpose, fingers already itching to reach towards his gun, deciding to first check the grounds in the back. His heart settled when he saw the doors to the garden left ajar, finding you nestled in the shade, curled up in the grass with a book.

You were safe. You hadn't run away.

Again he was left stunned and unable to move. You were the final piece in the puzzle of the garden; you fit there like the perfect flower. He'd seen the garden 100 times before and it had never looked so beautiful.

Not until now.

Roses and daisies grew in abundance but you were the prettiest thing there. You were meant to be there; a soft, delicate, flower.

"цветок"

You set down the book you were reading, looking up to see the soldier peering down at you. You hadn't heard him coming as he appeared before you with the silence of a ghost.

"цветок" He repeated, gazing at you before looking towards a daisy. He kneeled, plucking one and handing it to you, "цветок. мягкий, как ты" [Flower. Soft, like you]. You felt your cheeks heat up as he looked at you intently, blinking with an innocence you hadn't seen before. He looked almost...shy?

"Thank you" You whispered, stroking the petal of the flower he gave you. You didn't understand why you longed for him to stay as he went back inside, your curiosity about him growing with each passing day.

It went on like this.

Most days, you would spend your time exploring the trinkets the soldier collected, staying out of his way while he disappeared into the forest to do things you didn't pry into. Each night you knew he would return, hearing the heavy creak of the doors open during the darkest hours. You'd hear the quiet sound of clinking cutlery and then the soft sound of his bedroom door shut.

Except tonight.

You set down your book hearing the sound of heavy boots dragging down the hall, quite different from the silence the soldier usually moved with. A sense of dread washed over you as you debated on staying put, something telling you to lock the door, hide, something-

"What do we have here" The click of your door opening sent shivers down your spine, your blood running cold as a man strode in, a metal mask covering his face showing nothing but his eyes. You wanted to scream but your voice was stuck in your throat, you felt safe with the soldier, this man was not the same, he lunged towards you, knife in hand, the blade swiping towards your neck, "The soldiers little pet"-

"DON'T TOUCH HER" A growl shook the window as you hugged your knees to yourself waiting for the knife to plunge but it never came. You gasped as the man was ripped away, the flash of silver gleaming as the soldier grabbed him and hauled him away, shutting the door behind him.

"You're weak. You were supposed to kill him"

"So this is what's been keeping you"

"Kill her and come back to us. That's an order"

"Rumlow-

"Kill her. They're nothing more than collateral damage, end them, желание-

You didn't dare move, tears spilling down your cheeks as you heard the sounds of a struggle growing further and further away, eventually melting into silence.

He saved you.

You heard him return, still frozen in fear but the sound of a pained whimper pulled you out of bed. You peered into the hall, eyes widening in horror seeing a trail of blood staining the floors leading to his room, streaks of crimson smeared onto the wall. You didn't think twice as you dashed out of your room to his, your body moving faster than your mind could comprehend as you let yourself in.

Your heart continued to race seeing the blood lead to the washroom where he stood with a needle in hand, beginning to sew a gash on his side across his ribs. His bloodied tactical gear was thrown on the floor though his mask still remained hoping to silence himself as he attempted to take care of himself.

He hissed in pain, piercing his skin while his head began to spin, multiple wounds needing attention, the blood loss starting to take its toll.

"Let me" you hesitated to touch him, going against your better judgement when you wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away. The soldier shook his head, fighting the way his body craved for something more gentle, more caring, more loving than the jagged and painful stitches he was giving himself.

"I won't hurt you, soldat" you looked in his eyes with such sincerity, for a moment he thought he'd ask you to be his girl.

Such a doll...

One he'd take dancing...

Call you darlin' with that Brooklyn drawl...

He blinked at the fleeting memory, a whimper escaping his lips when you dabbed his gash with an alcohol soaked cotton ball. You blew across the cut to soothe the pain before taking the needle and carefully stitching him up with a feather light touch.

"There" You whispered after taking care of the awful injuries that littered his body, leading out of the bathroom to lie down so he could rest. You didn't dare ask what had happened as you looked around the room; though there was a large bed with the softest sheets and finest materials but the makeshift pallet on the floor was clearly where he chose to sleep at night. He collapsed from exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep while you remained by his side.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, occasionally glancing over the dressings you'd put to see if blood had seeped through. You couldn't bring yourself to leave him alone, only getting up to see if you could find a sheet to drape cover yourself with in the cold room. As you removed the blanket that covered the bed, something caught your eye in the mostly untouched room.

A wooden box, carefully tucked away in the furthest corner of the room. There wasn't any dust on it, compared to the other pieces of furniture that were never used. It was something he very clearly wanted to keep a secret. His other treasures that were out in the open on the shelf were different from this.

Even the soldier had secrets.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you made your way to the corner, lifting the box as silently as you could so you didn't wake him, inspecting its contents.

Newspaper articles, some decades old.

Old photographs.

One of a young man.

The eyes.

Those blue eyes you'd become so familiar with.

James Buchanan Barnes.

A brave soldier who fought in the war. A young man, no, a boy, drafted to war, his life ripped away from him, leaving him for dead in an icy forest. You blinked back tears at the innocence the young Sergeants eyes held, bright and heroic, hoping to help in a fight that wasn't his. Scribbles on scrap pieces of paper read "I am James Buchanan Barnes" repeatedly.

Your could feel your heart break into tiny little fragments as you pieced together what happened to the boy from Brooklyn, he had his whole life ahead of him but-

A pained scream tore from his lungs, his eyes squeezed shut as you knelt by his side again, brows furrowed together. You looked over his injuries, everything was still in place but he sounded like he was being tortured. He tossed around, his screams melting into sobs, pleading for someone to stop.

"James?" You hesitated to use his real name, your hushed voice made him flinch in his sleep but it wasn't enough to pull him as he begged for the painto end. He didn't want to lose his memories again. He wanted to remember. Please?

"You're alright James" You cooed softly, running your fingers through his locks while tears continued to stream down his face, lost in a nightmare. "You're not alone"

You were careful not to scared him awake, your gentle ministrations soothing him, his cries coming to a stop. You wiped away the remnants of tears that fell against his cheek, some slipping beneath the mask he refused to remove. You didn't have in you to take it off, not without asking him first. His soft snores filled the room once again as the sun began to rise.

-

He stirred feeling a strange warmth surrounding his body blinking in confusion when he found soft sheets draped over him. The usual sting he'd feel after stitching himself up was nearly non existent. He ran his fingers along the gash, the neat little sutures still in place, covered with a bandage to protect the area. Bits and pieces of the night came to him in waves.

Running into his captors. Evading them. Escaping. The bloodshed. The weapons. The injuries. The pain.

However, there was also softness. Such tenderness. The touch of an angel he'd only be able to imagine in his wildest dreams that would never come true. Not for someone like him. Such sweetness. God, he'd missed it. He missed what such love and care felt like. It was so foreign to him. He was so used to the cold. Razor sharp, jagged edges. He'd forgotten so many things but the longer he kept to himself, the more that came back to him.

You called him by his name. He was sure of it. In the muddled fog of nightmares, he was sure he heard an angel call.

He knew he was in no condition to move or get you breakfast but the delicious smell of your cooking wafted through the halls letting him know it was okay for him to rest. He closed his eyes, flinching at the few prickles of pain he felt in his head.

You were there.

You'd take care of him.

He couldn't remember everything just yet but surely the puzzle pieces would fall into place soon.

-

"NO" The sound of the soldiers pained cry made you drop the book you were reading in your room, running off to find him. He'd fallen asleep after eating what you made for him that evening; you were sure he was getting better. He knelt on the floor, sweat covering his body as he gripped his hair, pulling from the roots. He felt another sharp piercing pain in his head, fleeting memories of things he didn't understand all flooding back at once.

You rushed to his side, taking his hands into yours to keep him from hurting himself. His eyes shot up, tears threatening to spill over, all the things he thought were lost forever coming back together.

He was a Sergeant.

A soldier.

A young man.

One who loved to go dancing.

One who wanted to help others.

Hydra turned him into a beast but you brought him back.

There was always something about you.

His sweet flower.

He relaxed feeling your soft fingers trace against his palms in hopes of grounding him, giving both his flesh and metal hands equal affection. He gently pulled his right hand away to remove the mask, letting you see all of him.

"Soldat?" You whispered, hesitantly brining your hand up to his scruffy cheek. He pressed his hand against yours, leaning into the warmth of your touch, he never wanted it to end.

"цветок" [flower] he whispered back, your eyes widening hearing the precious name he had just for you, "It's me, flower"

"James?" You knew it was no longer the soldier speaking, this was the little boy from Brooklyn, his piercing blue eyes now full of warmth and light.

"Your father, I have to take you home, flower I'm so sorry-" dread began to consume him as he realized how long he'd taken you for, trading one life for another, how could he-

"James, breathe" You held his face in your hands, wiping away the tears that began to fall, your hand coming down the rest against his erratic heart, "It wasn't your fault, I-I read what happened to you, you were taken, it was never you, you're a good person" You soothed his aching heart but it didn't ease how heavy it felt. Every part of him wanted to beg for you to run away, so far away from him so you could be home again yet his arms moved on their own, wrapping you up and holding you close, you fit so perfectly with him.

"I'm still a broken man, цветок" Bucky whispered with a sad smile, holding you with such care as you curled up in his lap. "I don't think I deserve to hold something as sweet as you"

"You're not broken, you deserve this and more" You cooed, inhaling his soft scent, your nose brushing against the column of his neck.

"You took care of me, flower" Bucky held you tighter, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, feeling safe for the first time in years, home had never felt closer.

"And you took care of me" Your fingers moved to card through his hair, pulling his face away so he'd look at you.

"I took you with me, doll" He couldn't shake the fact that he'd taken you from your father, first intending to kill him and then taking you in his place. "I didn't give you a choice, you should be home" The guilt ate him from the inside, if he'd been himself, he would have never-

"And you still protected me with your life" You whispered, your forehead resting against his.

"And I always will" Bucky promised, his lips brushing against yours. He meant it from the bottom of his soul, he'd always protect you no matter where you were. It didn't matter that he didn't want you to leave, that he wished you could stay, he knew you belonged elsewhere. He'd still always make sure you were safe. Exhaustion began to pull at him, his eyes growing heavy as his body continued to fight what Hydra wanted him to do and the man he really was.

"Sleep, Jamie" You pulled him down to lay on your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and for the first time in years, he slept soundly without a nightmare.

Over the next few days, you continued to nurse the soldier back to health, hushing him each time he plead for you to go, insisting he'd be okay to manage on his own.

"My body will heal, I promise, you don't have to do all this for me, let me take you home-

"Once you're all better. I'll write to him so he knows I'm safe" You pressed a finger to his pink lips before going back to tucking him in bed. It was true that the cuts had all cleared up exceptionally quicker than normal but you could see the mental exhaustion that plagued him each day.

He found a way to get in touch with your father without alerting anyone in Hydra from finding him and while your father graciously forgave him with understanding, nothing felt easier. He promised to return you home as soon as it was safe but the longer he spent with you, the more he selfishly wished for it to last forever. He promised your father he'd take care of you in every way possible but he knew it was truly you taking care of him.

He'd sleep soundly when you were near, falling asleep quickly when you'd read to him, sometimes softly playing with his hair so he'd relax. The few times he'd been alone, the awful memories would come flooding back leaving him confused and disoriented. It broke your heart hearing him cry, the soldier who was nothing but a killing machine truly an innocent man on the inside, a prisoner of his own mind.

You'd comfort him every single time, every moment more intimate than the next. It started with your soothing voice, sitting by his bed where you'd call his name, your fingers caressing the scruff of his beard, wiping away his tears. Then the nights came where you crawled into bed with him, helping him fall asleep with his head on your lap only to wake up with your limbs tangled together.

Then he started to hold you before he was asleep. He held you tightly while telling you stories about things he could remember. Things that made him smile. That his nickname was Bucky. You would do the same. You told him about all the things your father taught you. He'd start to kiss you goodnight. Innocently with a peck to the top of your head.

Sometimes your cheek.

He so badly wanted to kiss your lips, stopping himself when he felt his stomach stir, especially when your sweet doe eyes looked up at him. When he cuddled you, his arms would wrap around your body, his hands finding their way to the hem of the Henley you wore. His henley. His fingers would slip up to feel your skin, knowing such an angel was real grounded him. You'd do the same, tracing over his scars, neither of you openly talking about the growing tension between you both each day.

-

"Will you read to me?" Bucky asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder while you stirred some honey into the tea you were making. You giggled at his needy cuddles, his much larger form practically engulfing you from behind. "Please"

"Who'd have thought such a strong, scary soldier would want bedtime stories" you cooed, letting him carry you away to his room, making a stop at the bookshelf first to pick out a new story.

He settled against the headboard with you tucked in his lap, relaxing at you made yourself comfy between his thighs. Your words had an affect on him he couldn't describe, no longer paying attention to what you were saying and instead watching the movement of your lips. Your eyes darting across the pages. Your body pressed against his.

The butterflies started again.

His stomach stirred.

He tried to adjust himself, pulling you into a hug to calm himself down, ignoring the way he wished he could have more.

"You alright, Jamie?" you asked, feeling his squirming, his eyes growing wide as if he'd been caught red handed. He shook his head, insisting you continue reading, God he didn't know what to do with himself.

He fidgeted again, this time trying to keep you off the tightness growing more and more, you made it so difficult for him-

"Are you sure you're okay bub?"

"I don't remember much but-I-I know I want you closer, flower" His voice was shy, his adams apple nervously bobbing in his neck as he shifted, unable to hide the hardness between his legs. His mind was a mess, fragments of love and intimacy struggling to piece themselves together yet he knew enough to want to hold you close.

He wanted to feel your soft skin on his.

He wanted to kiss you in places that would make your cheeks warm.

Where you'd want to cover yourself but let him have you, just him.

He wanted to feel your hands touch him everywhere. He wouldn't flinch at your delicate ministrations, he'd give all of himself to you. He'd trust you in his most vulnerable state, feeling things he hadn't for years, so heavy between his legs.

"How much closer, Jamie" you couldn't meet his eyes, gripping onto his t-shirt instead, setting the book on the nightstand, now all your attention on him.

"You know, angel" He let his nose bury into your hair, the blush on his cheeks travelling to his neck. He couldn't bring himself to actually say what he wanted, hesitantly moving his hands to your hips instead, slipping up your shirt to hold your waist. "Can-can I kiss you?"

He could hardly recognize himself, nervous beyond comprehension, his heart racing when you nodded, cupping his cheek to look at you. He leaned down to press his lips to yours.

"More" You let your body melt into his, his tongue lacing with yours, deepening the kiss. He didn't pull away until he desperately needed air, no longer able to contain his arousal.

"M'sorry angel, s'been so long, my body's not the same-

"Don't. Don't you dare, I adore you just like this Sergeant" He sucked in a breath as you toyed with the hem of his shirt, nodding after a moment letting you take it off. You kissed every scar on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder where metal met flesh, "You're the most handsome, beautiful man," You kissed his neck making him hiss, your tummy jumping at the feeling of his erection now pressed right against you, "You deserve all of this"

"Can I see you, please?" He undressed you with such care as if he was unwrapping the most precious present, first laying you down before slipping your top off. You wordlessly undressed each other until there was nothing left to take off going right back to wrapping your body with his.

"You're the softest thing I've ever touched" He whispered, loving how you felt, your thigh hitched over his hip, your breasts pressed against his bare chest, your soft tummy against the hard planes of his abs, your hands rubbing up and down his spine, oh God your silky most sacred parts absolutely soaking his length. His body moved on its own, rutting up to chase more, his cock slotting so perfectly with his flushed tip rubbing against your clit.

The desperate moan he let out made you gush, seeing how lost he was in chasing how good you felt with the stutter of his hips.

"M'so hard" He whined, hugging you tightly, "Please angel, do something" It was the most delicious torture. You pulled away from his hold wanting to give him every bit of loving he deserved, giving his body the pleasure it had been deprived of. You shuffled to kneel between his legs, his eyes growing wide, your face so dangerously close to where he was achingly hard. There was no way, you weren't going to- your lips pressed a gently kiss to his frenulum and the tears started, you wouldn't give him more than this-

"Baby, oh God, no, no, I can't angel, oh God-OHH" He cried, his body splayed wide for you, bach arching off the bed as you took his swollen cockhead into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his circles, licking every bit of his essence that dripped out. Your face was between his legs, his cock was in your mouth, you were suckling off his most sensitive parts, how could he not spread his thighs apart further for you. He'd never been so open or vulnerable, letting you play and toy with his cock, his tears soaking the pillow at his balls started to pull towards his body, it couldn't be over so soon-

"Sweet baby, please, please-" He pulled you off his cock, bringing you up to smash his lips against yours, his thick length slapping against his tummy. He could have sworn he was close to cumming just tasting himself on your tongue. "Can-please I want to-" He scrambled to lay you against the pillows as you squeaked at the way he manhandled you in desperation, "please"

He was between your thighs, sighing with heart eyes as he carefully spread your folds with his fingers, taking his time smearing around your slick, your throbbing clit begging for his mouth. He latched on like a baby, nursing with the most needy gurgles, your gasp melting into a moan making his eyes roll back.

He couldn't believe he had his mouth on his pretty angel, his tongue toying with the precious parts between her legs, letting him taste her, drinking up her nectar, feeding him in the best way possible.

"I-oh-slow down baby, please, M'gonna- You gasped, feeling surges of pleasure already pulsing as he flicked his tongue with precision, his arms wrapping around your thighs, tossing them over his wide shoulders.

"Mph, cum" he whined before diving in for more, greedily humping and grinding against the mattress, how was he supposed to last like this.

"Want-want to feel you, please" You begged, needing him inside you, giving you something thick and hard to cum on. He didn't waste a second, shakily clambering back on top of you, nervously positioning himself at your entrance.

"You sure, sweet girl? I-it's been so long"

"I trust you" You pulled him down to kiss his reddened nose making him blush, letting out the breath he was holding as he started to push. You both moaned together as he buried himself all the way, stilling once he was flush against you, his orgasm already so close to shooting at the base of his cock.

"Hng, I needed this angel" He didn't move and you didn't need him to, just the feeling of him stretching and filling you fulfilling something you couldn't describe. You loved the feeling of you both being connected in the most intimate way, joined as one, it felt so right like he was finally where he was meant to be. Like he'd found his everything.

Your thighs moved to hug his waist, your arms around his shoulders. He drew his hips back and thrusted forward gentle, the gasp escaping your lips urging him to keep going. He started to move at a steady pace, bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning them against the bed.

"I love you-even if I have no right, I love you so much" Bucky lost himself to you, his hips moving at a slow grind, letting every inch of his cock fill and caress your walls, "You showed me love when I least deserved it"

"Fuck, I love you too!" You cried out, the curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, sending you higher and higher. "Oh, James!"

"My God, the way you say my name when m'inside you, say it again baby, please" He started to move faster on his own accord, primal urges starting to take over as he began to chase his pleasure and yours.

"Please, James, feels-feels so good"

"Gonna make me cum so hard, the things y'do to me baby, drives me crazy, wanna be like this for the rest of my life, making love to you and nothing else, swear this is all I want"

"James, gonna-gonna cum"

"Cum with me angel, all over my cock baby, cum on it, wanna feel it, please give it to me, I need it. Need your sweet cream all over me, fuck-yeah-jus like that-" You clenched around his cunt, his name dripping from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. That was all it took as he tucked his face right against your neck, holding you tight as he trembled, it was so much,

"M'cumming!!" His sob was muffled as his cock throbbed, warm streams of his cum pumping you full, his ass stuttering with each jerk of his hips. "So-so much for you, s'all for you angel"

Bucky made love to you everywhere, not one place left without him taking you apart to his heart's content, including the garden. The story you were reading was long forgotten as he took you under the shade of the tree, the long wispy branches of the willow tree hiding you from the rest of the world.

The summer sun cocooned you in a blanket of warmth as clothes were all tossed aside leaving you both bare on the sheet you'd spread on the grass, the sounds of the breeze, the rustle of the bushes and your moans blending in so perfectly with his rhythmic thrusts.

"Beautiful" he whispered against your cheek, pulling away so he could look at every bit of you, "So beautiful for me like this"

"Jamie, stop" You grew bashful, you knew no one could see you in your secluded spot so deep in the forest but you still felt so vulnerable, spread out naked with just his body covering you, shamelessly taking his cock while the afternoon sun hung in the sky.

"S'just us baby, just you and me, don't worry" He purred, bringing your arms up, holding your wrists in his metal arm while his flesh hand came down to caress your face. "We're not doing anything wrong darling, m'showing you how much I love you, how good you make me feel, yeah?"

"Yeaah" Your voice melted into a breathy whine as he started to move with more purpose, his warm breath fanning against your face.

"Lookit how pretty you are sweet girl, my pretty flower, you were meant to be here baby, feels so right, just like this"

Out of all the stories and poetry you'd read to him, this was what Bucky saw as true art. He'd seen the finest paintings around the world in the richest houses, guarded by the highest security. He'd seen nature's most incredible wonders with the tallest trees, the sweetest flora and nothing, absolutely nothing, would top how gorgeous you were, bare, on the grass, him filling you up, it was euproic.

The image was etched in his brain, he'd treasure it forever. Your shy moans. The clench of your cunt. The way he filled you up and kept his cock in you even after it was soft. The way you cuddled and kissed in a post sex haze, listening to the sounds of the forest. He could have cried at the way you fell asleep in his arms, so trusting for him to keep you safe.

This was all he needed.

He took care of you, keeping you protected while he did his best to eradicate Hydra with you to patch him up each time he came home. As soon as it was safe, he took you right home and under the care of your father, he healed from the words that held him captive.

It didn't take long for your home to be filled with the sounds of tiny feet mixed with the sounds of science experiments gone wrong; your little babies, their daddy and their papa getting up to mischief at all hours.

"Careful, flower" Bucky shook his head, running towards you as you waddled into the living room with an expression of concern on your face, cocking an eyebrow when you saw your son looking up at you with bug eyed goggles matching his papa.

Bucky came to steady you, his hands coming to wrap around your growing belly while your father and son continued to tinker away at a new creation.

"How are my princesses" He cooed while you huffed, still wondering what they were doing.

"We're both wondering what you're going here James"

"Papa's building me a rocket-

"A bicycle! Just a bicycle darling, go sit, son why don't you take her for a walk" You father ushered you and Bucky out, sending a wink to his grandson.

"A bicycle my foot" You shook your head while Bucky took you to the kitchen, setting a pot of water, ready to dote on you as usual.

"He gets that side of him from you, love" Bucky chuckled, coming down to kiss your belly, resting his head there. "Just wait until she's here too"

"You're a menace, Sergeant"

"You married me, darling" Bucky pouted making you giggle, cupping his face to kiss his jutting lips.

"and I love every bit of you"

"I love you more, pretty girl"

You would always be his flower.

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say��‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[myth1cs]

Bratty (Shin Ryujin & Hwang Yeji x M!Reader)

Part 2 of Troublemaker (Both of these are smut!! Sorry!!!) Y/N is a brat and Ryujin degrades him (Again) to teach him a lesson Word Count: 2,617

As my eighth period class was about to end the professor suddenly made an announcement to the class.

"Before you all leave I wanted to let you all know that you have the option to work with a partner for this assignment."

When he said that I turned to Yeji.

"Hey, want to work on the assignment together?"

"Yeah sure, what's your phone number?"

After we exchanged phone numbers we went our separate ways. I didn't get far as I suddenly felt someone grab my arm and pull me into an empty classroom.

"What was that Y/N?"

"Ryujin? What are you doing?"

"Don't deflect, now tell me what I just saw."

"I was just getting Yeji's phone number."

"For what Y/N? Are you going over to her house?"

"Yes but only-"

Ryujin cut me off and lightly smacked my cheek. She glared at me with eyes that felt like they would pierce my soul.

"Don't go over to her house."

"Why?"

"Don't act dumb Y/N I know what you plan on doing. You're going to shove your face in between her thighs while your over at her house."

"What, No Ryujin I wont't!"

"Yeah sure, Look Y/N you can listen to me or not. But I warn you that if you disobey me you'll pay for it."

Ryujn left and I was alone in the empty classroom.

I felt excitement as I knew my plan was working.

I always wanted Ryujin to be more dominant and degrade me harder so I had started to ignore her and started to act less excited when having sex with her which I guess is why shes been more possessive over me. She might feel like she's doing something wrong which is probably why she thinks I might be looking for other people.

At Yeji's House

I knocked on the door and waited for a response.

After waiting for a few seconds Yeji opened the door for me.

"Hi Y/N are you ready to start working?"

"Sure am Yeji."

Yeji led me to her room and we started working on the assignment. I took this moment and took a photo of Yeji and sent it to Ryujin.

After a few seconds Ryujin sent me a message but I didn't answer her. Ryujin must've not liked me ignoring her messages as my phone started vibrating constantly but I didn't pay attention to it.

"Y/N is that your phone?"

"Yeah why?"

"I think someone's trying to reach you. It sounds important."

"Don't worry about it Yeji."

I went and put me phone on silent.

"Y/N seriously I think it's important. Why would someone message you so much if it wasn't?"

"No it was just a spam message."

"Oh really? Ugh I hate those."

I started wondering about my next move. But I decided upon something I knew would get Ryujin worked up.

"Hey Yeji I know this is a weird time but would you be my girlfriend?"

"Y/N ... where is this coming from?"

"You, your everything Yeji and I want to be able to have you by my side. So will you be mine?"

"Listen Y/N you're a sweet person now and I'll admit you're kinda cute but I can't just look past everything you've done in the past."

"Yeji I swear I've been working on myself. Please give me this one chance."

Yeji sighed and looked at me. I put my hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze.

"Okay fine Y/N I'll give us a shot."

I kissed Yeji and pulled her into a hug.

"Do you want to take a picture to celebrate us Yeji?"

"Yeah sure let's do it."

I took my phone out and took a picture. After I took it I made sure I sent it to Ryujin. She is so going to kill me but I can't wait for it.

"Let's go back to our work Y/N."

Next Day

As I was heading to my eighth period class I got another text from Ryujin.

Ryujin: "Come to my room NOW"

Ryujin: "You little brat stop ignoring me!"

Ryujin: "Y/N I swear you better not have shoved your face in between Yeji's thighs yesterday!"

I kept ignoring her texts and continued on my way.

When I got into eighth period I sat down but not for long as suddenly the principals voice came over the speakers.

"Y/N make your way to room 304."

"Y/N I thought you said you would work on bettering yourself." Yeji said with a disappointed tone.

"Oh no it's not that Yeji I swear, let me prove it, follow me when I leave and Ryujin will tell you."

I walked out of the classroom and waited. I overheard Yeji ask to use the restroom and she came out of the classroom shortly after.

"Glad you decided to follow me."

I led Yeji to Ryujin's room and we both went inside together.

When we walked in Ryujin started speaking and she sounded pissed off "Y/N you little-"

Ryujin looked shocked when she saw Yeji by my side. She probably only expected me to come.

Ryujin quickly cleared her throat "What brings you here with your friend Y/N?"

"Actually she's my girlfriend."

I could see Ryujin was struggling to keep her smile up "Well that's nice to know."

"So why did you call Y/N here anyways?" Yeji asked.

"I just wanted to tell him I was so proud of him. He hasn't been written up and his grades are improving at a rapid rate."

"Thank you Ryujin that means a lot coming from you." I smiled at Ryujin when I said that and I could tell she wanted to have her way with me.

"Come on Yeji let's go back."

After School

As I was walking home I got another text from Ryujin

Ryujin: "Come over to my house. I'll rehabilitate you and knock that bratty behavior out of you."

I knew I had Ryujin where I wanted her so I made my way over to her house. When I arrived I went ahead and knocked on the door. No one opened and I was about to knock again but then I got another text from Ryujin.

Ryujin:"It's unlocked, come upstairs to my room."

I opened the door and made my way to Ryujin's room.

"Hello?"

"Come in!"

When I opened the door Ryujin quickly shoved me into a wall.

"Y/N you better have a damn good explanation for yourself!"

I started giggling and tried to kiss her but Ryujin smacked me.

"I don't want your filthy mouth touching my perfect face. Now tell me what the fuck you've been doing. Was I just a sex toy for you? Do you think you can do better than me?!"

"Ryujin I just wanted you to degrade me more that's all. You're perfect I would never replace you for Yeji."

Ryujin started laughing and looked at me with eyes that I was too familiar with.

"So you want to play that game huh Y/N? Well I'll show you what happens to brats like you."

Ryujin stripped naked and shoved me to the bed.

"I thought you said you were only my slut but it turns out you lied to me. And you should know that I hate liars Y/N."

"W-wait! Ryujin what are you doing!"

Ryujin grabbed a rope she had lying on the floor. She started to tie my hands to the bed frame preventing me from moving.

"Okay Ryujin I get it I won't be a brat anymore!"

"Well that's no fun is it Y/N?"

Ryujin pulled my pants down and my erected cock sprung out. Ryujin spat on it and started to pump it.

"Y/N look at your filthy cock. It's so sad you get turned on so easily. You're nothing but a sad degenerate."

Ryujin put the tip of my cock inside her mouth. She put her tongue all over it and I felt myself about to cum. My cock was twitching inside her mouth but she pulled out before I could cum.

"No. no, no Ryujin please let me cum!"

"Pathetic, My personal slut is nothing but a sex addict. What if I just leave you like this Y/N? Leave you needy all day long. My parents don't come back until tomorrow afternoon so I have plenty of time to toy with my favorite boy toy."

Ryujin sat on me just barely away from my cock. She straddled me and I couldn't help but get even harder from having her weight on me. She startled to lift my shirt and drew patterns on my chest.

"What to do with you Y/N I have so many options. What will take the brat out of you?"

I saw a sparkly in her eyes. This couldn't be good.

Ryujin got off me and went grabbed my pants. She pulled my phone out and took pictures of me.

"No don't it's embarrassing!" But my plea went unheard.

Ryujin started texting someone and looked at me with a smile that felt deadly.

"No! I know who you just texted please delete that message before she sees it!"

"Shh relax boy toy. I promise you'll enjoy what happens next."

Ryujin grabbed her breasts and put my cock in between them. She started to rub them on my cock.

I started moaning. Her breasts were so soft and squishy I wanted to cum all over them.

"Oh you like these? They're just a pair of breasts Y/N they're nothing special. Are you that much of a loser that seeing a simple pair of breasts is enough to get you worked up?"

"Ryujin!"

I couldn't help but whine. Ryujin wasn't letting me cum I felt my balls aching and wanting releases but she kept denying me.

"Please Ryujin!"

"I don't know Y/N does a whore like you deserve it? Maybe if you beg for it I'll consider it."

"Ryujin Ryujin please let me cum! I promise I won't be a brat anymore!"

Ryujin laughed at me and licked the top of my cock.

"My my Y/N I didn't think you would go as low as to beg for it. You're acting like a kid begging his mom to buy him fast food."

"Mommy please!"

My face immediately turned red when I said that. Fuck I accidentally said that out loud now she's going to make fun of me for sure.

"Mommy? Am I your mother now Y/N? Do you want me to hold you lovingly and kiss you goodnight now?"

Ryujin rubbed circles on my thighs and I could do nothing but watch as she rejects my orgasm.

Suddenly I heard the door downstairs open.

"We're up here!" Ryujin yelled.

The footsteps got closer. I was worried Ryujin's parents came home early but then the person entered the room.

"Yeji?! It's not what it looks like!"

"Y/N what the fuck is going on!"

"Yeji isn't this beautiful. Look at Y/N pathetically tied to the bed. Want to show him what happens to brats?"

I looked at Yeji and saw that her eyes had changed.

I knew I only had a few moments before Yeji made up her mind "Ryujin that isn't necessary-" but I was too late.

"Yeah Ryujin I want to teach Y/N a lesson."

"Kiss me."

Yeji got on top of me and started to make out with Ryujin. It was horrible seeing them make out while my cock was still hard.

"Look at Y/N I bet he wishes his pathertic cock was in between our lips." Ryujin looked at me with a smirk as she said that.

Yeji started to suck on Ryujin's breasts eliciting moans from Ryujin. Some of Yeji's saliva fell onto the bed. She didn't stop there though she shoved three fingers inside of Ryujin without warning.

"Yeji damn it your so much better than Y/N's cock ever was!"

"Fuck you Ryujin you literally came all over my cock last time!"

"Did you hear something Ryujin?"

"No must've been the wind."

I was turned on by the sight of both of them making out but I wanted to cum. I was in a state of pain of feeling erected but I didn't have anyway to relieve it.

"Ryujin do you think we should let Y/N cum?"

"Ugh fine we can let our little toy cum."

Ryujin and Yeji got their hands off each other and turned to me. Yeji took off her clothes and let my cock enter her warm pussy while Ryujin sat on my face.

"Go on boy toy make us cum!" Ryujin ordered.

I started to lick Ryujin's pussy and quickly shoved my cock in and out of Yeji's. They both started to make out during this and their saliva was starting to drip onto me.

"Y/N you bastard. How dare you cheat on me with Ryujin. We haven't even been together for a whole week. But you can make up for it if you make me cum hard."

"Yeji I only did it to rile Ryujin up."

"So I was nothing but a tool for you Y/N? I'm going to make you cum so much until you don't have any cum left asshole."

-

The torture had gone on for hours at this point. I couldn't stop my cock from getting hard but I was extremely exhausted. I came so much yet somehow Yeji and Ryujin weren't getting slower.

"Y/N get your filthy cock hard again. You aren't done until I say so!"

"Please Yeji stop I can't take it!"

"Should have thought of that before you used her." Ryujin responded.

I licked Ryujin's pussy so much my tongue started to hurt. Eventually she finally came all over my face again.

"I'm done here Yeji you can take Y/N from here." Ryujin laid down next to me pulling me close. I felt her warm sweaty body press up against me and it turned me on again.

"So your cock does still have some life in it."

"Yeji please no more."

"One more Y/N or should I beat the living shit out of you for cheating on me?"

I groaned and continued to thrust into Yeji. My body felt like it was on fire and I was sweating profusely.

"Ah! Yes Y/N show me how much you love me!"

"Yeji my cock is so sore!"

After a few more thrusts we both came at the same time. Yeji collapsed on me afterwards.

"Yeji I'm sorry I used you."

"It's fine Y/N but you better continue to fuck me like this."

"I don't think I have any cum left in me Yeji you drained everything."

Yeji kissed me softly and we both fell asleep.

-

The next morning we all woke up and out nostrils were filled with the smell of sex.

"It smells like 20 people had sex in here." Ryujin exclaimed, still groggy after she woke up.

"Come on Y/N help me clean up the place loser."

"Why me? Yeji also had sex with us!"

"Well you're the one who used her. So the least you can do is clean up her mess."

I had no choice. I got up and started to help Ryujin with the cleaning.

"You know Y/N I can't let this slide. No sex for 2 weeks."

"What!?

"You said you'd change your behavior and yet you went right back to using people for your own gain."

Ryujin gave me a smug look and I couldn't do anything but continue cleaning her room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you're wondering why it took so long to make part 2 it's because I had to rewrite this story 3 times. I'm so tired

Y/N gets degraded even more cause it's the only thing he deserves. I am never writing Y/N as dom.

[diorcities]

snooze

jisung x you genre smut content friends with benefits, mention of mingi (hope you get why), cunnilingus, riding, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, nipple play, squirting, cum eating, wc 4k ── you always leave him and he plans to make you stay.

ever since you kissed him, he can’t get you out of his mind.

it had been useless, had it?

it didn't take long for jisung to figure it out. he knows perfectly well that he gets attached quickly, his friends always tease him about it.

much there was say jisung was very chill. he was fine with evasive looks just like fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. the short greetings at gatherings as well as soft sounds muffled against his lips.

jisung couldn't make his head to begin to describe you, and the closest he's come is a little charm at night.

he's been lost because of it. only you can make him fall in love, only if you say yes.

“oh, my god. you can't be serious.” nayeon, dressed like a cheetah, shouts making her way through the tide of people to you, her gaze lost behind you.

and it is both your gift and your curse to know what has her upset without having to look. a boy with fangs and light brown hair with blonde highlights dancing and making out a girl prettier than the previous one and uglier than the next he'll met. “it can't be that he got over you so quickly,” she says while glaring. and despite feeling upset just like your best friend, you can't help but feel this immense lack of something. because while mingi kisses her, he doesn't stop looking at you.

it's been a while since you two broke up. the normal thing would be to keep going, yet you're still in the same place, just without the same feelings except regret. “it's alright,” you hear yourself say, only it's not.

if it makes him feel good to kiss girls in front of you, then it's fine. either way, you're the worst traitor.

it was a bad idea to have come, but you're used to always making a mistake. big ones are just as much a part of you as are your bad decisions. “i'll go smoke a little. listen, if you see ghostface, tell him he owes me money.”

she winks at you, “sure thing, angel.”

you move out of his sight and it feels ridiculous to see himself following your trail with his eyes until you move outside. when he feels that you've ignored him for too long, he's the first to offer truce.

“you look like a dream.” he's been drinking for a while, so he knows he'd never, ever dare to talk to you. but he knows that a couple of beers and the bad influence of his friends must not mix up.

“why?” he wasn't sure if he preferred your obnoxious demeanor or your condescending eyes meeting him. “have you dreamed of me?”

he looks stupid, and you smile wide when a blush tint his cheeks. because yes, he has. despite all the grace and angelic energy that your eyes transmit, jisung is embarrassed that every time he thinks of you the first thing that appears in his dirty mind is those wet eyes trying to stay open while looking at him from under his body. legs wrapped loose around his waist and parted lips inciting him to taste them.

he swallows hard and without meaning to, his eyes feel like two wells. his mouth is dry or maybe he's craved your lips a bit too much. a tingling runs through his fingers and his fingertips buzz. you have no idea how much he wants you, or maybe you do, because you smile wider.

all your grace takes form in dreamy eyes before you kiss him. and kiss him. and kiss him. his emotions get tangled followed by your responsive heart. he can't beat it, the feelings.

it's killing him, and it would hurt him more to admit that he's used all his manipulative tactics; lies and deceit, pretty words, empty promises. but then he looks at you with his pretty pleading love-me eyes and you can't handle it anymore. he kisses the inside of your wrist as he looks at you from below and you almost hesitate.

because that's his curse, or perhaps it is yours. you always leave. you're an angel faced like yet you're full of haunting. with your condescending gaze, virtuous lips stretched in a smile; shiny eyes filled contempt, as if you regretted something that you both tried so hard to ignore so as not to feel guilty. when the truth is, jisung could hardly think of anything other than you.

and he plans to make you stay.

his hand intertwines with yours, and there it is again. a monstrous hesitation. every time this drags on, the more guilty you feel; for thinking of him when you were together.

jisung's kisses drift you to the surface. “is it because of him?” he pronounces, and you've been an idiot for thinking he wouldn't notice at some point. “mingi?” he asks, drawing your hand to his chest, and the gesture causes the devious swarm to disperse as you swallow.

you shake your head, and unexpectedly you chuckle lightly, “no.”

there's no one bound to you. you're not tethered to him anymore, yet it felt like you were betraying him. it seemed like you've made a big mistake a long time ago and now this monstrous thought of whether he will ever forgive you does not cease to haunt you.

you've never been good at keeping your emotions at bay, so guilt eclipses other feelings, it overshadows your heart, beating to the rhythm of his pulse under your palm, slowly moving towards his jawline.

these rendezvous were not going to end well, and even so... you always came back. to him. he smells fresh and manly. he smells familiar.

he likes to eat you out first. it is almost inevitable to do so, as if something were missing. as if he were obsessed. and yet he takes his tortuous time and start kissing your stomach, the soft taut skin of your hip bone, where his hands tuck underneath to place them over his shoulders. “think only of me.”

your full legs bury his head and your femininity is received by caresses. tongue roaming along your core, plump lips sucking you. the right angle makes you sigh, “yes.” your mouth opens in awe and your eyes flutter shut feeling that tingling forming in your guts. just where his hands hold you so you don't move. “yes...” he glances at you the moment he use his tongue to put pressure on the sweet bulge to see you squeeze your eyes and tilt your head back.

he hums, and your whole body shivers feeling the cocky smile on his lips around you, full of spit and arousal covering his face for constantly hitting his nose in your sweet spot. you dissolve into nothing, your blood becomes washy, and you arch violently as he ventures his tongue down your folds into your needy entrance. “a-ahg.”

something hot runs down your belly and explodes into pleasant waves when it tightens your grip and pulls you closer, diving deep to taste your silkiness, hissing when feels too good. “mmm... god.” your teeth grind and your eyes squeeze at the sound his mouth makes every time he rocks his tongue along your sensitive clit, roaming his lips and sucking you rhythmically.

“fuck, you taste divine.” his hot breath brushes against your femininity and the purr of his deep tone causes you to buzz synchronously, the core of your belly sinking and legs trembling at his voice. “so sweet, my girl.”

he shakes his head as he smiles against you, and you're losing your mind at the view of his pretty face enraptured in the aroma of your intimacy. eyes closed while he sucks you good and holds your legs apart from bellow your thighs, keeping you spread for him.

you twitch in delight and his eyes darken having you on full display, grabbing his hair and guiding his motion where you most need him. “oh, yes. there... there.” your back arches unconsciously as your shaking voice tells him where to lick, where to nibble, where to caress. “feels good, ji.”

you're so wet you can hear it every time he rubs your clit dexterously with tongue and teeth, your mind filling with a hazy sensation you can't help but tremble hard, “s-good,” you cry feeling sensitivity numb your hurting nipples once he cups them on his big hands. too much to keep quiet. too much to hold it all in. your shaky moans fill the room when a sharp sensation sink your belly and whip your breath away.

jisung hums thoughtfully in glee when you start pulsing around nothing. unshed tears fills your eyes as you succumb to pain from the pleasure that runs through you from head to toe, buzzing in your bloodstream and making you whine for a bit of friction.

you squirm and arch when he pulls away. and you gasp despite watching him take off his belt from his jeans while his eyes don't leave your pussy, throbbing for him.

he's left you so aroused it hurts, wet and willing, your eyes don't leave him while his are fixed on your ruined pussy, missing his mouth full of your silky excitement. jisung licks his lips in trance, undoing zipper to let out his painful, throbbing erection under his underwear. “want to take it?”

your mouth begins to tingle wildly and an impulse forces you to moan a yes. “all?” your eyes darken and it's almost immediately that your hands draw him to you when he leans just a little, as if he wants to play now to see who needs whom, as if not knowing perfectly well that it has always been you.

from the first time you met.

and deep inside him, having you under him guiding him inside of you, he thought it would give him some satisfaction, but the guilt spreads. of course he was terrified of how he felt about you, maybe you were too? were you terrified of what you might feel for him? what did you already feel?

“oh, fuck.” no matter how many times he buries himself in you, it always has the same effect; it always makes him want more. “you feel so good, fuck,” he breathes and takes a moment to feel you, all around him, squeezing him right.

your body feels light when he thrusts you twice, his breath hitting your cheek when he groans, “i can make you forget about him.” and makes your legs fail.

he feels so nicely thick. the mere friction of his cock inside makes a tremor run down your legs and an explosion of sensations in your lower belly, growing when he starts to penetrate you.

he holds over your stomach, he doesn't take it out completely before he puts it back in, the rhythm making you both sobble with pleasure. it's almost tortuous the way it's not enough, to having him fully, fingers massaging your swollen femininity as he hammers your pelvis with yours, sounding deliciously good.

you fall long after you need each other, ardently. despite being intertwined, despite being skin to skin, he's so far away from you, yet so close you can reach his chest, his sturdy forearm. you can reach his lips.

everything condenses, and you seem to be holding your breath. your stomach tenses and something furious flutters in your belly. rises hot through your bloodstream and you find it desperately luring closer to you, moaning “i'm close.”

the motion of his pounding change and become more violent and faster. “oh, god,” you whimper, feeling yourself collapsing. hands pushing on his stomach before he holds both wrists with one of his.

“be a nice girl for me.”

“ji, please.”

your head lolls back as you feel his cock pounding into you roughly. sharp thrusts eliciting sounds out of you. his big hands cupping your breasts as they bounce rhythmically every time he rocks his dick deep, not being able to fully put it out before coming back in. “fuck, you sound so good, angel. fuck.” he's blushed, mouth is part open and tongue slightly sticking out, in a deep state of ecstasy feeling you around him. “f-fuck.” he takes your leg and passes it over his shoulder, and you see the torturous grimace he makes when a shudder strike you so hard that you cry.

your hand covers your mouth when everything comes down. suddenly everything is overwhelming, rousing. your eyes see through your eyelashes to jisung staring at you, so deep in the intoxicating sensation of being full of you, and you being full of him too, you feel it.

you almost see the resemblance. in the brown hair, in the shape of their mouth kissing you. the way they tend to hold you the same way, frowning at you with saddened eyes from being close, drunk in you, but somehow greeny; as if he still possesses innocence to give you if you ask for it.

the feeling they're both in love with you.

yet so different. from the way they both end and begin, despite everything. if you close your eyes, you barely notice the similarity. if you close your eyes, you let yourself go and just feel.

bodies intertwined. mixed sighs. needy kisses. faster and faster, accelerating the pace of his thrusts, sinking hos fingers deeper into your skin until leaving his fingerprints tattooed, sinking into his neck when you feel the expected tingling of being close to the edge, undoing your inside and freeing a thousand wild sensations.

his cock is sweetly pressed into the swelling of your core when he starts to rub your clit with his eyes glued in your features contracting in a shattering pleasure. feeling all your body tensing and your teeth grinding into each other before the big o that explode your senses into a thousand pieces. dissolving around him in spasms that release waves and waves of liquid pleasure that wet his crotch and make him lose his mind.

you're still throbbing when he moans in your mouth as he kisses you, lips colliding with tiredness as you feel him move in and out, pacing the rhythm. your breath trembles from being so sensitive, yet you willingly spread your legs for him to bury deeper. “don't stop.”

your eyes water when he starts sucking your tit while roaming your sides. skin bristling as your fingers draw a line from his arm to the nape of his neck, combing his hair as he begins to penetrate you again. his hoarse voice making you shudder when you hear him moaning against your chest, fogging your skin.

“making me feel so good, angel.” your mouth parts open as he passes an arm under you and arches you toward him, tucking one of your breasts between his lips, using the new grip to make you go down full to his cock, sinking his teeth in the sweet skin of your tits.

he fucks you raw and your blood runs hot. moving you with ease to rest on your side as he align his cock and slide into your pillowy walls drenched in arousal, making you bite the pillow when he hits a different angle.

your intimacy burns sweetly, feeling the enticing sensation of his thickness filling you up every time he pounds into you with rough thrusts. his pelvis collide forcefully against the full skin of your thigh over his leg that your eyes cloud with tears of raw pleasure, buzzing inside.

the constant pounding of his length coated in your slick producing a squelching sound doesn't leave your mind as you come closer and closer to the edge. drowning out a hoarse groan as his warm hand lands on your belly and climbs up your chest to squeeze your breast before interlocking your fingers with his; then you remember the reason, and it makes you go numb from head to toe.

he feels the burning need to hold your hand when he's close.

your skin looks scarlet from the spanking caused by the hand that now holds you tightly while he accelerates the thrusts, getting audibly desperate. his breathing accompanies the sounds that slip from his open mouth as he tries to keep up, deep moans and elongated words leave his lips before he bites it once he sees you guiding his fingers down your clit as you touch yourself. your eyes fluttering and emitting a moan so exquisite that jisung explodes in spasms.

a sharp sensation expands through your body when he lets out the best sound you've ever heard, starting throbbing along with his cock just before he pulls out late and spills his seed on your entrance. you bite your lip feeling the warm cum between your fingers as you massage your sore core.

it's late at midnight when you pass your leg over his chest and gaze at him with crimson cheeks as he stare at the mess. and although his features seem tender to you, his eyes are darkened with pure perversity when he leans over you and make you go on top now.

“wanna stay a little longer?” he smiles lazily as he reaches for a condom, knowing he can't be trusted now. however, it's perhaps the evil and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that tell you that he already had it in mind.

do you seem like a dream now? something as tangible as it is real. or has it all been in his head, like all the times before?

his eyes half-closed with glee lethargy follow the path your lips do when going dangerously down to stimulate his cock with your mouth, and you finally fall into realization. “if you beg...”

between the two brothers, you should've dated jisung instead.

[aceyalonso]

F1 drivers if they were on the r/AITAH subreddit

drivers : oscar piastri, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, max verstappen, george russell, franco colapinto

warnings/notes : jos verstappen 🤮

a/n : i know i said i was on hiatus but c'mon this was such a fun idea

main masterlist | taglist form

So this might sound weird, but here goes. My girlfriend and I (both 23) love visiting new places, and she’s a big animal lover. She found this adorable cat café nearby and has been talking about going for weeks. I wasn’t as excited but figured it’d be fun to surprise her, so I booked us a spot and thought I’d try to make it extra special.

Here’s the thing: I wanted to be "that guy" who shows up with a bag of cat treats so all the cats would flock to us. It sounds ridiculous, but my goal was to make her day. When we got there, I pulled out the treats and instantly had a few cats’ attention. My girlfriend laughed, but within a few minutes, an employee came over, looking annoyed, and told me I couldn't give the cats treats from outside.

Apparently, they have specific diets or something, and I was "interfering." I apologized, put the treats away, and thought that was the end of it. But soon after, another employee came up, saying we were being "disruptive" because all the cats were lingering around us, and they even hinted we might need to leave if it didn’t stop. I hadn’t meant to cause a scene and told them it wasn’t a big deal—we’d stop and just hang out like everyone else. But by this point, my girlfriend was pretty embarrassed, and it killed the vibe of our day.

We left a bit earlier than planned, and now my girlfriend thinks it was a bit of a jerk move, even though she appreciated the effort. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or break the rules, just thought it’d be fun to make the cats a bit more social. But now I’m wondering if I messed up by not sticking to the café’s way of doing things.

So, AITAH?

Edit: I’ve learned my lesson. I will never underestimate the dietary regulations of a cat café ever again.

So, I (24M) have this bad habit of forgetting what’s in my fridge. A while ago, I bought some chicken, but I totally forgot about it, and it just sat there for months. I was cleaning out my fridge the other day and found the chicken at the back, and it still looked fine to me—didn’t smell bad, didn’t look weird—so I thought, "Why not? It’s still good."

I cooked it up, had a nice meal, and didn’t think much of it. But then, later that night, I told my mom about it (thinking she'd just laugh), and she completely freaked out. She went on this whole rant about food safety, salmonella, and how I could’ve poisoned myself. I was just like, "It tasted fine, mom, calm down."

She kept texting me all night asking if I felt okay, if I was getting any stomach pains, and even called a few of my friends to check in on me. Honestly, I’m fine—nothing happened, and I feel perfectly normal.

But now she’s upset with me, saying I’m being careless and that I should never eat food that old, even if it seems fine. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, people eat leftovers all the time, right? It wasn’t even that old.

So, AITAH for eating chicken that’s been in my fridge for 9 months and making my mom worry unnecessarily?

Edit: Just to clarify, I didn’t intentionally keep it for 9 months. I honestly just forgot about it in the back of the fridge. And no, I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I promise I won’t be eating anything old again anytime soon!

I (27M) have a dog, Leo, who’s basically my best friend. He’s super friendly and well-behaved, and honestly, I just feel better when he’s around. I bring him everywhere I go – to cafes, parks, and friend gatherings. You name it, Leo’s there. Most people are fine with it because he’s adorable and loves everyone.

Recently, though, my friends have started making comments about it. Last weekend, we met up at this small, cozy café for brunch, and I brought Leo along. He just curled up next to my chair and didn’t bother anyone. But my friend Paul pulled me aside afterward and said it was kind of annoying that I kept bringing Leo without asking. He said not everyone wants a dog around all the time, and it’s “getting old.”

I don’t understand where this is coming from, especially since Leo’s never caused any problems. I figured since no one had said anything before, they were fine with it. Plus, I’m always careful to keep him out of people’s way, and he’s honestly better behaved than most dogs I know. I feel like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should have checked with everyone first.

So, AITAH for always bringing my dog? Should I have asked before assuming everyone was okay with it?

Edit: Just for context, Leo’s a small dog – not the type to jump on people or bark a lot. He just sits quietly and naps most of the time. Also, I’ve always cleaned up after him when necessary, so he hasn’t left any “souvenirs” for anyone to deal with.

So, I (39M) have this friend, Nico (also 39M), and we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re both super competitive by nature, and we tend to push each other a lot. Whether it’s video games, sports, or even something like mini-golf, everything somehow turns into a competition between us. It’s mostly just for fun… until recently.

A few weeks ago, we were at a friend’s birthday party, and they had one of those racing setups in the living room. Of course, Nico and I immediately challenged each other, and we both got really into it. I mean, I might’ve been trash-talking a bit (okay, maybe a lot), but we were both laughing, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Well, I ended up beating him by a fraction of a second, and I might’ve celebrated a bit too enthusiastically—think victory lap around the living room, calling him out in front of everyone, the whole deal. After that, Nico got pretty quiet and didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the night. Later, a mutual friend told me that Nico felt like I was “rubbing it in,” and it embarrassed him.

Now I feel bad. I honestly thought we were just having fun and didn’t realize he’d take it so personally. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed it off and hasn’t really been himself around me since.

So… AITAH for taking things a bit too far with my friend, or was it all just part of the usual friendly rivalry?

Edit: We’ve always had this kind of back-and-forth, so I’m not sure why this time it got to him. Just thought I’d get some outside perspective before I bring it up with him again.

Okay, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out. I (30M) love making pancakes, and I’m pretty proud of my recipe. It’s become sort of a tradition to make them for my family when I visit my parents. They’re always really nice about it and say they love them, but... I’m starting to think they’ve just been too polite.

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house and decided to whip up a big batch of pancakes for breakfast. My mom and dad both had seconds, and I thought it was a win. But later that night, my mom started having really bad stomach pains. We took her to the hospital, and she ended up needing surgery for appendicitis. It was a scary experience, but thankfully, she’s okay now.

Here’s where it gets weirder. Just a few days after my mom came home from the hospital, my dad started having the same symptoms. At first, we joked that it was sympathy pains, but he ended up in the ER too, with the exact same issue—appendicitis.

Now my whole family is convinced it was my pancakes. I know logically that my cooking can’t cause appendicitis, but I can’t help but feel responsible because they both got sick right after eating my breakfast. My parents keep joking that they’re never eating my pancakes again, and my siblings have been giving me a hard time about it, saying I’m banned from the kitchen.

So, AITAH for giving both my parents appendicitis with my cooking, or am I just an unlucky chef?

Edit: Just to clarify, I don’t actually think I gave them appendicitis, but the timing is very suspicious, and now my parents are scared of my pancakes. I might need a new family recipe...

So, I (27M) have two cats (Jimmy & Sassy), and they’re pretty much my babies. They’re super affectionate with me but can be a bit picky about who they like. My dad (52M), on the other hand, isn’t exactly a "cat person." He’s more of the “why do you have pets that don’t do anything useful?” type, but he still visits often and tolerates them because he knows they’re important to me.

The other day, my dad came over, and as usual, my cats were lounging on the couch. He decided to sit down and give them a little nudge to move over, but instead of just shuffling away, one of my cats (Jimmy) swiped at his face. It wasn’t a deep scratch, but it was enough to leave a red mark and get my dad pretty annoyed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because he was acting all grumpy about it, muttering something about "those spoiled cats."

He got even more annoyed when he saw me laughing and said I should discipline my cats better and not let them scratch people. I tried explaining that cats are territorial and react like that when they’re suddenly pushed, especially by someone they’re not used to. I offered him a band-aid, but he refused and ended up leaving earlier than planned.

Now my mom is telling me I should’ve been more sympathetic and that I should’ve scolded my cat instead of laughing. But honestly, I feel like it was just a normal cat reaction, and my dad knows how they can be. So now I’m wondering, AITAH for laughing when my cat scratched my dad’s face instead of taking it more seriously?

Edit: Just to clarify, my cats don’t usually attack people. They’re very cuddly with me and my friends, but my dad’s not around them enough for them to be comfortable. I’ll definitely make sure he approaches them differently next time... if he ever wants to come back!

So, this might sound a bit weird, but hear me out. I (26M) work at this company, and my boss, "Toto" (52M), and I have a really good relationship. We get along great, share a lot of common interests, and he’s been a bit of a mentor to me. We hang out outside of work sometimes, and every now and then, I’ll stay over at his place after we have dinner or watch a game, just because it’s more convenient.

Recently, my friends found out about this and started making fun of me, calling it “sleepovers” with my boss. I laughed it off at first, but they’ve started saying it’s kind of weird and unprofessional to be that close with your boss. They’re acting like I’m trying to suck up or get some kind of special treatment, but that’s honestly not the case. I just enjoy his company, and we have a good time hanging out.

The thing is, I never really mentioned it to my friends before because it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I figured if I told them, they’d blow it out of proportion (which is exactly what’s happening now). But now they’re saying it’s odd that I didn’t bring it up sooner and that it’s kind of strange to be having “sleepovers” with someone who’s technically in charge of me at work.

So, AITAH for not telling my friends that I sometimes crash at my boss’s place, or are they just overreacting?

Edit: For context, it’s not like I’m staying there every weekend or anything. It’s maybe once a month if we’re having a late night and it’s easier than going all the way back to my place. Plus, he’s got a massive guest room, so it’s not like I’m sleeping on the couch or something. It’s just a practical arrangement

Okay, so I (21M) have a bit of a problem, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even a problem or just something I can’t control. I’ve noticed lately that whenever I’m doing interviews or talking to reporters, I end up coming off as flirting with them, even though I’m not trying to at all.

I’m naturally a friendly person, and I like to joke around and be engaging. But I’ve had a few reporters (and even some photographers) tell me after interviews that I’ve been “charming” or “too smooth” with them. Some of them even hinted that I was “leading them on.” The thing is, I don’t even notice it happening. I just talk to them like I would anyone else, but apparently, I’m making it seem like I’m flirting—without even trying!

One reporter even gave me her number after an interview, and when I asked if she was just being friendly, she said, “You were a little more than friendly.” I was totally confused because I thought we were just having a good conversation about racing. Now I’m worried that I’m giving the wrong impression to people without meaning to, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make things uncomfortable.

So, AITAH for accidentally flirting with reporters and leading them on when I really don’t mean to? Should I tone down my "natural charm"?

Edit: Just to clarify, I’m not trying to flirt with anyone, reporter or not. I’m just being myself, but it seems like it’s coming off differently than I intended. It’s a bit awkward now, and I’m wondering if I should change how I interact in interviews.

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@livsturnioloo @lilorose25 @si1ver06 @zestytimbit @morgrinha

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[icarusredwings]

FINE ill review it DAMN

Review of hellraiser heartbreaker

Playlist:

Murder on the Dancefloor - Sophie Ellis Bextor

Tommy Gun - Royal Republic

Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys

Tell Me The Truth - Two Feet

Undisclosed Desires - Muse

Jolene - Beyonce

I Wanna Be Yours - Foxy Shazam

Chapter 1.

Yoo lmao young wolvie is like "whats wrong with this guy?" And wades SOOO excited to be beat the shit out of.

"Let my babt boy go >:( you big meanies" ahh wade you silly thing.

Sokay baby boy dawww

Flirty kitty it is

Remeber kiddos introducing two wolverines in a very small area is NOT advised. Young wolvie is like a kitten, his hair going up and growling because hes scared and Logan growling to admit dominance and maturity over him. Jeez lousie.

"Ahahah behave" wade honey I bet logan loves when you defend his place in your life.

Chapter 2.

Oooh what a good start I love how hes sitting here staring at wade because he knows him and logan is NOT having it. He knows what young pups try to do, they try to steal your mate and hes not about to let that happen.

Pfft logan really said "ah hell nah id fuck anything back then im coming too"

THEY FUCKING VAN GOUGHED ME HAS TO BE ONE OF THE BEST LINES EVER

“This is why you’re my favorite.”

Logan tried hard not to smirk at that. He failed.

That right there confirms that wade KNOWS logan is jealous already and is lowkey trying hard not to entice younger wolverine too much because he knows he's gonna kill him.

I should thank Wade then. I should thank him very thoroughly .”

Oh so youve chosen death little one?

"Gotcha you pointy little bitch!" Me at my splinters.

Aww man wade is being so careful with both of them, hes just less careful with you logan cause your younger has a collar on right now thats all.

Did you forget your wade is one of the top mercs there is? He never has NOT gotten a job done, which means handling wolvie with care you stupid old man.

Chapter 3.

Yo he already said no once. Leave it.

He finna kill you, you better start acting right.

“I said no.” There was no hint of playfulness or friendliness there. Just finality. It was enough to make Wolverine back down.

See? I told you. God you little degenerate. You need trained that no means no sheesh.

Yeah those hips are quick but they aint for you

Awwww logan got him rabbits like a good hound dog. Bro really said "man I need to impress my mate lemme go kill some innocent rabbits to eat"

Finding food and showing how reliable he could be to Wade.

“Oh Logan,” that was a new tone from Wade. Affectionate. Directed at Logan. Not at him.

Yes exactly.

Wade brought me home

He sure as fuck did. He might as well collar you with his name on it too. Big strong boy. All jealous of a little inexperienced wolvie. Psshh lets be so for real.

“I don't see a ring, asshole.”

“Don't. Fucking. Touch. Him.”

ALEXA!! PLAY SINGLE LADIES FOR THE EPIC FIGHT THATS ABOUTA HAPPENA

Suddenly, the tip of a katana pushed against Logan’s cheek.

“What did I say about fighting?” Wade panted, his white eyes glaring. There was that seriousness in his voice again. Logan rolled his eyes at him. The katana pushed into Logan’s cheek until a trail of blood came out.

tHIS IS WHAT I KEEP SAYING!! wade does NOT fuck around when it comes to jobs! He was taught and trained to ALWAYS finish the job. Hes terrifying bro I would literally kill myself if I knew this man was after me because id be afraid hed play with me and not kill me fast enough.

Both of you need to settle your shit. I can’t have you guys fucking my mission up

Exhibit B. Do NOT come between an adhd man and his dopamine and his dopamine is finishing missions and getting cash.

Ooh my poor baby though. Like seriously you need a shock collar and maybe neutered bc holy hell no is non existent to you but you just miss your own. Its a shame yours always dies. Its really not fair. But you cant just go stealing other peoples wades either. Hes limited edition baby. If him and his poolcule dont invite you you cant touchy.

Got inspired by PrettyPonyRideToHell’s fic Hellraiser, Heartbreaker

Never knew I needed Worst Wolvie having to deal with his little shit, younger self and with Wade ofc caught in the middle 😌✨

[achilles-rage]

good luck charm: bonus drabble

come and get your love

summary: after a hard day, you do something to cheer evan up.

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist

a/n: this might be stupid, but it was fun to write and i think it’s cute so sue me!! sigh, i miss good luck charm evan, and i'm sorry this took so long, i just couldn't think of any scenarios i really wanted to tell. if you have any drabble ideas for this series, i'm happy to hear them! enjoy<33

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re in the bedroom putting away some laundry when you hear the front door slam, and you jump in surprise, a frown making its way onto your face immediately. You know exactly what that door slam means; Evan has had a bad day. 

“Hi, baby.” you say, peeking your head over the railing and looking at him in the kitchen getting some water. You offer him a small smile when he looks up at you, and although he gives you a smile back, you can tell it’s fake even from up in the loft. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you sigh sadly.

When you make it to the bottom of the stairs and walk towards him standing near the fridge, you wrap your arms around his neck and raise up onto your toes to give him a kiss. You feel the way he melts into your embrace, and it’s almost as if you can feel all of the stress radiating off of his body; it’s practically suffocating you, and you can’t even imagine how he feels.

“Rough day?” you ask, and he nods once, jaw clenched.

He’s been working extremely hard the past few weeks at the LAFD training academy, and while he comes home most days exhausted but content, there’s some days where he can get overwhelmed.

“You have no idea.” he tells you, his hands finding their way to your hips. You give him a sad smile, then pull him down for another kiss, hoping to get him to relax a little bit more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He huffs at your question, thinking for a moment. He knows it would be better to get it out of his system, but he doesn’t want to dump it all on you. He knows how hard you’ve been working at your new job, and he doesn’t want you worrying about him as well.

“Hey, we don’t keep stuff in, that’s not what we do. You told me that.” you urge him softly when he doesn’t reply right away. He sighs, a smile fighting its way onto his face at your reminder. He nods after a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“The physical stuff is fine, I’m passing everything easily. Just- The instructors say stuff; try to get into your head. It just got to me today.” he explains with a frown. You nod your head as he speaks, keeping your gaze locked with his. When he’s finished you tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, you raise your brows.

“Do you want to tell me what they said today that got you so worked up?” you urge. You don’t necessarily want to push him, but you know that he needs to talk it out, so you keep your eyes on him, as if pleading with him to tell you.

“We were doing this drill today, and there were a bunch of dummies. They gave them all back stories to make them feel real. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in it and in my mind they were real people, because they will be one day. I tried to go back into the building even when some of the other guys let the fire get out of hand because there were still a few dummies left in the building, and some guys had to hold me back.” he says in one big breath, and you follow along with furrowed brows, hoping he’ll continue.

“Well, they know I have you, and I guess they picked up on the fact that I was thinking about you the whole time; thinking about you in there. They were just saying stuff about me not being able to save you because of my mistakes, and about you having to plan my funeral because I got reckless on the job and I got myself killed.” he continues after a moment. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for you to reply, and your eyes soften at his admission. 

You shake your head, bringing his head down to rest your foreheads against each other with your hand on the back of his neck. You keep him there for a moment in silence, trying to gather your thoughts before you reply.

“My love, your heart is what will make you a good firefighter. You care so much about people. And I have no doubt that you’d be able to save me if you had to, because you’re smart, and capable, and you love so deeply. And I’m not gonna lie, the thought of you getting hurt on the job has crossed my mind, but I know that you’re gonna fight to come home everyday, aren’t you?” He nods immediately, brows furrowing.

“Of course, I will. You know I will.” he replies, and you smile.

“Then I’m not too worried. Worry about actually finishing your training first, and then we’ll talk about you dying on the job, okay? Because I guarantee that when you start at an actual station, you’ll trust your team a lot more than the recruits. You can’t even imagine all the stories my dad has told me about the people he had to train with.” you tell him with a small laugh. You can still see a bit of hesitancy in his eyes as he tells you that you’re right, so you lead him to the couch and sit him down.

“I know exactly what you need.” you tell him when he sits down, then turn and grab your phone off the kitchen counter.

A small, real smile finally makes its way to his face when he sees you scrolling through your phone, knowing exactly what you’re about to do. When one of you has a bad day, the other always does something to make the other smile. He doesn’t even remember when or how this tradition started, but he does know that it always makes him smile regardless of how many times you do it.

His smile widens when he hears the beginning to Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love from the speaker connected to the tv, and you turn from your spot in the kitchen to face him.

You walk over to him as the beat starts, moving your shoulders in time with each step and fighting back a smile, and when the singing starts, you grab the tv remote off the coffee table and begin to lip sync into it.

He watches as you dance to the music with a wide smile, watching the way you move your hips in time with the music, and he can already feel himself start to feel better. He chuckles when you grab one of his hands and duck down to spin under his arm, and when you turn back to face him, you drop his hand and back up a few feet.

When the chorus starts, you continue lip syncing as you raise your hand in a “come here” motion, rolling your body in time with the beat. He gets up off the couch, keeping his eyes locked with yours, then grabs your hips, pulling you against him. 

You both sway to the music with smiles on your face. You can tell that he feels better, and you’re extremely grateful. You know how stressful the job can be, and you only hope you can help him through it as much as you can. 

The song finally ends, and he lifts you up with his hands going to the backs of your thighs, and you giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You always know what to do, princess.” he says with a grin, and all you can do is lean down to press your lips to his. 

“I know what else I can do to help you feel better.” you murmur against his lips. You feel his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, and he groans, pulling back from your lips to look at you with blown pupils.

“I’m keeping you in bed until tomorrow morning.” he teases, then sets you back down onto the ground. He then grabs your waist and turns you towards the stairs, then pushes you forward gently, but not before giving your ass a firm smack. You yelp at the contact, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Go upstairs, princess. I’ll be right up.” 

“What are you doing?” you ask, but obey and walk towards the stairs.

“I’m ordering takeout, gonna see what I can do before it gets here.” he teases, and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes.

His eyes dart between your ass as you walk up the stairs, and his phone, and when he’s finally placed the order, he races up the stairs two at a time. 

He grins when he sees that you’re already naked, sprawled out on the bed and sitting up on your elbows waiting for him. He groans as he takes off his shirt, then unzips his pants, and then he’s on you in an instant, lips attaching to your neck.

“How could I do this without you, princess?” he whispers against your neck, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath hits your neck.

“You’d be lost without me.” you tease as you tilt your head back. You feel him grinding against you as he chuckles, and you lower your chin to meet his gaze when he leans back to look at you.

“Damn right, I would.”

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[smiley-mcdoggington]

Sorry can't stop thinking abt Stan being Fidds' semi-lobotomized housewife because. Having the power to erase guilt and shame and regret is Not Good but also. Getting into the habit of memory-wiping someone else? Especially a partner????

The first few times it was just about the portal incident, Stan simply couldn't function with those memories - even though all the memories left were foggy as if they were from lifetimes ago, and he still couldn't say a word. They were innocent, justifiable, even Ford relented that it was better than Stan being terrified of him and his house for reasons Ford knew but would not divulge. Stan had started spacing out for hours at a time, but Fidds thought that might be from the portal.

Fidds assumed they would be taking the portal apart after then, but Ford hesitated. He had seen what it did to Stanley but he still hesitated. So Fidds stormed out, determined to never work with him again. That day he went home and he told Stan that his brother couldn't be reasoned with. Stan said he wanted to go talk to Ford himself - the wipes were starting to hold better, by then, he was almost who he was (with a few more gray hairs). But the conversation went bad, terribly, Ford had been awake for 3 days by then and sitting on the couch next to his brother just calmed him down so much he fell asleep on Stan's shoulder.

Fidds got a call from Ford later that Bill had done something with his sleeping body, and Stan had locked himself in a closet and Ford could see the blood on the handle but Stan wouldn't open the door.

Fiddleford erased that interaction from Stan's memory, too - said he got the bump on his head and the scratches on his arms from a bar fight. Stan didn't believe him, but he learned that questions only brought him migraines. It didn't take as many memory wipes to stick, that time, because by then Ford wasn't seen at all. Fiddleford bought a book on Hanukkah and celebrated it with Stanley in their new shared apartment. Stanley called his Ma and she said he sounded sick but Stanley laughed it off.

Then Stanley woke up from a nightmare - he'd spent a good deal of time on the streets before he had reconciled with Stanford in their early 20s, and every peek Fidds got into that life made his stomach twist. All those memories ever did was burden Stan, and it was just so easy for Fiddleford to hold Stanley's cheek with one hand and the memory gun with the other, erasing the pieces that hurt Stan - selling himself at seventeen, almost freezing in the back of his car, those six months in that prison, the attempts by both criminals and police to kill him. Without them, Stanley was never paranoid, or burdened. He was happier. Fidds had made him happier.

So why stop? Fidds had already made a group for others dedicated to caring for those burdened by the disturbing creatures of gravity falls. Stan was so much happier when he wasnt worried people would short-change him or turn on him - cutting away the last strings tying him down was almost Fidds' duty. Something Fiddleford said scared him? Wiped clean, Stanley didn't have to know about the society of the blind eye. He didn't like what his Ma told him the last time he called? He doesn't remember what she said to him. He misses his brother? He doesn't have to remember Ford. Sure, Stanley had been a lot more submissive lately - almost vacant - but surely that was just because he knew what Fidds did was always for his best interest and he trusted him so implicitly.

Then Fidds came home from his meeting and saw Ford in his livingroom. Ford slammed him into a wall, demanding to know what he was doing to Stan. Fidds said he wasn't doing anything but helping him. Ford said he'd been here for two hours and Stan. Hadn't. Moved. Fidds said he was just having one of his spacing-spells and he would be fine - he was right there. Ford said Stan had soiled himself an hour ago and didn't notice. Fidds said he did that sometimes - probably from the trauma of the portal. Ford started throwing punches, so Fidds made him forget he had a brother.

[unluckiestmember]

Hello ♥️ I hope I am not bothering you but can I Please please have a imagine for steb from arcane like a steb was completely caught off gaurd by the reader who is from the undercity and a tall intimidating individual. Reader who just walk up to him while steb was undercover in a bar and reader bluntly flirted at him and ended up dating him in only 5 weeks. I don't know I just found it a little bit funny.... This fish guy had me on a freaking choke hold!!!! Aaaaaaaaaa!!!!! His only their for a few minutes on screen and I am in love with him!

P. S not my first language and I hope it isn't too confusing.

Thank you! And have a wonderful day! ✨

Coming right up!

Steb x Zaunite! Reader

Characters: Steb, Maddie Nolen and Violet "Vi"

Warning: One cuss word, but outside of that SFW.

A/N: I'm surprised by how many people really love Steb! I was not expecting that, but I'm loving every second of it!

When Steb was sent on a mission to the undercity undercover to bring down an illegal business, he expected to get his job done.

And he did! But he didn’t expect to get a lover in the midst of it all.

When you first met him, outside of catching your gaze on a handsome fishman, you quickly realized he was a man of little words.

But what he lacked in dialogue he made up for in body language.

Especially when he blushed at your advances.

He could try his damnest to play coy with you, but there was no point.

The more you pointed out how beautiful his scales were and how his eyes held the ocean within them, the more he fell for you.

The attraction at first was mainly fueled out a lust, your time together only being colored by rendezvouses and sneaky links.

But before you both knew it,  lust turned into a genuine bond.

And the genuine bond turned into love.

In the beginning of your relationship, Steb tried to keep you at arms length from his duties in Piltover.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you- Not by a long shot!

He was just scared that if his friends and close acquaintances in the enforcer unit found out you were a Zaunite they could hurt you.

So the both of you kept your love under wraps, embarking on dates in secret.

It was fine at first, but after a while, Steb could tell it was killing you to watch other couples show their lovers off with pride while he had to walk on eggshells.

Luckily a pep talk from Maddie and the other enforcers in addition to yourself gave him the courage to declare without fear that you were his beloved.

Hell, even Vi is a huge fan of you two! She never would've pegged Steb to be with a Zaunite, but she loves the sight regardless!

Now the both of you hang around Zaun and Piltover, hand in hand, being the cutest couple in the twin cities.

Also the sexiest, but that’s a story for another time.

If you got any requests for Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[aestariiwilderness]

Congrats, Pro-Pals! You've become the very Nazism you swore you'd destroy. You've become the rape apologists you said you hated ("they were asking for it!" "she was asking for it!"). Maybe...you always were. Maybe you just weren't brave enough to say it out loud until it became the shiniest, newest social justice/victimhood narrative around. Till you could use it to allow yourselves to soar high on a warm wave of artificial righteousness and superiority. Never mind inconvenient things like truth, facts, history, and a conflict you had never heard about before and still (you admit!) don't know anything about. Never mind all the harm you've caused or given people license or encouragement to cause to innocents. Never mind all the racism, the blood libel, the lines crossed, the slander and the hurt and the rapes and the deaths you've directly and indirectly urged, the cruelties you've been quiet about perpetrated by your "team" (Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran) on the people you claim to speak for. Never mind all that! The important thing is, you felt good doing it. You felt like you were in the cool kids group for once. You felt like you were powerful, and could hit back (never mind that they hadn't hit you -- never mind that there were children crying and running away from you -- they were ISRAELI children, and so that meant it was fine because everybody knows all Israelis are evil pigs!), and morally superior, and better than those other people who stood by Israel. You felt like you didn't need to look into it for yourself. You felt like you knew everything you needed to know already. And that was all that mattered to you. You, yourself, and how you felt. Now I know how the Holocaust happened. Some examples. TW for every evil thing under the sun and no accountability.

https://www.tumblr.com/matan4il/766588985892028416?source=share (sources included) – notable is the Israeli government’s effort to accommodate all its citizens, including Arabic ones 

https://www.tumblr.com/girlactionfigure/766718979409625088/hen-mazzig?source=share (90-year-old Holocaust survivor Lucy Lipiner) 

https://x.com/EYakoby/status/1855339128574902420 (Breaking: New video shows a man in his car searching for Jews in Amsterdam. He says in Dutch that he’s going on a “jodenjacht” (Jew hunt) and then begins cursing the Jews in Arabic. The media is not reporting what truly happened in Amsterdam.)  https://x.com/VividProwess/status/1855657497392288242  https://x.com/koshercockney/status/1854967677665661159

https://x.com/Mid7East/status/1854748541781934558  https://x.com/Ostrov_A/status/1856315158655549885

https://nypost.com/2024/06/19/world-news/french-teens-arrested-for-rape-antisemitic-attack-of-12-year-old-jewish-girl/

https://t.me/beholdisraelchannel/44163 Aaron from London helped an Israeli man who was being beaten up by the Amsterdam mob. He got punched. One of them said: “He’s British, leave him alone.”

Another: “Yes, but he helped a Jew.” It’s. Not. About. “Palestine”. 

It’s not about Gaza. It’s not about Zionism. It never has been. It’s about wanting any excuse to hate and kill Jews. 

Welcome back to 1938. It never really left. https://x.com/VividProwess/status/1855399977209499824 (A Gazan man in Gaza, celebrating Jews being hunted down in Amsterdam: "They stomped on their heads like cockroaches. The Moroccans stomped on 7 cockroaches' heads in Amsterdam. Free Palestine." Those are the "innocent" Palestinians in Gaza.)

https://www.tumblr.com/the-ind1gen0us-jude4n/757376849953406977?source=share (“pro-palestinian” protestors do Nazi salute during the Israeli National Anthem at Paris Olympics,  chant “heil hitler” during Israel’s soccer game) https://nypost.com/2024/06/23/us-news/nyc-jewish-family-pummeled-at-5th-grade-commencement-by-attendees-shouting-free-palestine-mom-says/

https://t.me/beholdisraelchannel/33878 (donkeys burned with Israeli flag)https://t.me/beholdisraelchannel/33841 (donkey with Israeli flag spraypainted on it tortured/burned??? oh, 2 donkeys. what the hell)

https://www.tumblr.com/mossadspypigeon/763123890930286592?source=share non exhaustive list, also I believe misses the baby girl shot to death in her mother’s arms on Oct. 7th) 

See (Majdal Shams, 12 children)https://www.foxnews.com/world/stories-torture-torment-revealed-israeli-children-kidnapped-hamas-terrorists

https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/GEC-Special-Report-More-than-a-Century-of-Antisemitism.pdf https://www.telegraph.co.uk/politics/2024/09/15/israel-blamed-oct-7-attacks-lib-dem-conference/

https://www.tumblr.com/tikkunolamresistance/761242619802255360?source=share (Documentation/photos of people/Palestinians/Pro-Palestinian “movement” openly and gleefully celebrating October 7th as it was happening) 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palestinian_Authority_Martyrs_Fund (Pay to Slay [Jews]) 

https://www.algemeiner.com/2024/08/28/palestinian-authority-admits-payments-to-terrorists-have-cost-it-billions-of-dollars-in-just-five-years-alone/ https://www.breitbart.com/politics/2024/07/24/anti-israel-protesters-release-maggots-mealworms-in-benjamin-netanyahus-hotel/ https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/news/articles/rape-jews-antisemitism https://unwatch.org/report-red-cross-statements-overwhelmingly-biased-against-israel/  (Red Cross falsely accused Israel of hospital attack)

"A major attack on an ethnic group was justified because they were asking for it, even if the attack was evidently pre-planned for weeks before and included running over and stabbing random bypassers from that ethnic group who couldn't possibly be identified as the same people who were asking for it weeks after it was already planned."

are these people even hearing the words that come out of their own mouths.

[imageingrunge]

A needlessly thorough review of DATV so I can move on with my life:

WHAT I LIKED:

The story pacing flows better without all that open world slog from DAI I am not bombarded by 50 side quests that have no baring on anything other than rp flavor

The game is pretty, CC is nice

They gave you far more opportunities to flesh out your Rook's background than in DAI and da2 but it's not as fun has having a mini origin story from DAO

no fall damage and if u run out of a combat zone ur companions follow u too

Hossberg wetlands really remind me of dragon age awakenings and I like the way the blight looks there, it gave me a nice nostalgic feeling for the older games

WHAT I DID NOT LIKE (IN DETAIL)

Voice Acting & Dialogue

It is really hard to be invested in a game that feels the need to recap everything you just experienced from 5 minutes ago, (verging on insulting my intelligence) and the silliest part is while i do hate this I got so checked out after act 2 I needed the recap 

A lot of the dialogue and banter is just empty small talk and meaningless pleasantries that sucked the life out of me, had me longing for the days of hearing Ohgren's beer belches reverberate off the walls in the deep roads:

 Voice acting is really consistent, I hated it when you never knew how your inquisitor would sound in DAI sometimes too serious for a funny comment or like yelling at Cassandra and cullen over nothing - Rook is more consistent but it comes at a loss of personality every line is uttered in the same annoying tone that had me being like damn can he stfu already (da2 was ideal voice acting for me if they cant deliver that again just go back to a voiceless protagonist)

Me whenever my rook opened his mouth: i was getting violent on that skip button

The dialogue between rook and their companions holds it back from being enjoyable at all really- here's some examples:

Emmerich's personal quest in act 2: "I want to do this immortality rite it's a very high honor in my order but rook I might die in the process permanently, I am an orphan and afraid of dying" Rook: "You could die?!?! That's awful". In Origins you can have a conversation with Wynn about her inevitable death and respond in a manner similar to rook and Wynn teases you by saying "well i'm not going to live for ever dear" it made me smile and sad about not being able to really help her. Did not feel that way Emmerich though, Im so uninterested in him as a character my response and feelings are "old people die all the time" and then 'wait why the fuck haven't you done this immortality ritual yet instead dragging me over here to collect some flowers"

Companions & Romance

the flirt options aren't all that flirty, its just rook being nice, all the romance content seems behind a 'romance locked in' moment (that comes in so late in the game u already forgot who u were even flirting with at times) so you can't hop ur way from one bed to another before deciding on 'the forever one' (remember when I could ride the iron bull then break up and be with Cullen- I don't think that’s an option here)

The companions are all pretty forgettable, I did everyone's personal quest (with the exception of Taash tried to kill a dragon for them n failed so bad i just moved on) and forgot there was even an approval system with them or that I was supposed to pick choices for them. It felt like i was on a train going in one direction where it did not matter what I said or did to them they would be fine. It’s like I've lost and gained nothing by doing these quests. The deepest thing I learned about Emmerich is that he is a 50 yr old orphan scared of dying. And it makes me not care all that much about them beyond “I just need you to function enough to get me to the end of the game sure Taash embrace being Rivaini, yes Harding live peacefully w that Titan shit inside you idc… Lucanis..ahh what was ur issue again I forget”

I made Lucanis live peacefully with Spite (stuck as an abomination that's supposed to be as volatile as Anders & Justice) Let Emmerich become a lich and no one batted an eye. Everyone just heehee haw hawing over Emmerich's new skeleton form and I forget about spite a lot unless he comments on something i've killed. Was there supposed to be some moral quandary? to make Emmerich a lich I had to "kill off" Manfred... the walking skeleton who might as well have been a rock with a pair of googly eyes attached to him for all i care

I don’t want to help Bellara light funeral pyres in a puzzle game play style that isnt a deep message about death. I want Aveline's speech about reading her favorite book to her dying father after hawke lost thier mother.

For Neve's romance, it took the whole world falling part and everyone dying for her to kiss me for a 2 time and then pity fuck me and afterword she’s like I’m leaving don’t want to be too distracting. All these lines carry no weight like bad actors w no chemistry

jaw on the floor comparing this (first time I said "i love you" to neve)

to the first time I said it to cullen and how he treats u before the big battle

I get that she isn't lovey dovey but at 70 hrs in and 2 kisses it feels like she just dont love me </3

Combat - as a spellblade mage*

combat was this weird mix of sometimes fun sometimes a new and unique form of human torture (wydm press shift 4 times n hold down e then press V C and 2 IM ON A KEYBOARD!) Once u make it past level 20 u are immortal but ur enemies are sponges I dreaded every single dragon fight despite that being my favorite thing to do in DAI. Don't ever want to see another Ogre in my life they body me into corners that hitting space can't save me from.

At some point u just gotta run around the place a lot hoping ur companions can do the damage for you bc the mobs aren’t interested in them at all. i was spamming 2 n slamming on that E key hopping it would be over n done with already, If i wanted to play a flashy monster hunter game, well then id play tw3 at least that combat is fun.

Lore & Story building

At the end of Trespasser, I was under the impression that the conflict in DATV would revolve around solas amassing an army of elves all over Thedas to rebel against the Evanuris. He had a whole network of Spies working against the Inquisition and the Antaam, and planned to restore the elven people, upend their religious views, and try to tear down the veil as a way of atonement. So I was understanding of there only being 3 import choices ( 1- who you romanced, 2- Save or redeem Solas 3- Disband or Keep inquisition). But that's not the story we get; instead its this??

The veil jumpers are like engineering mages with no ties to Solas beyond being an elves. There is no religious struggle they just seem to accept that these Gods have always been evil and need to be stopped. Solas is just a one man army trapped in the fade off screen for like 70% of the game. Should I have just kept the inquisition around after all? The only mention I got was my disbanded inquisition choice was inky going "my name still carries weight in southern thedas" and it seemed like disbanding or keeping it would have an affect on how easy or hard it would be to stop Solas but no it really doesn't at all

“It doesn’t feel like a Dragon Age game”

A criticism I rarely take seriously because that can mean so many different things? Like what is it the atmosphere? The aesthetics? The “dArK fAnTasy” none of these things have ever stayed consistent in any dragon age game. And I’d say DA franchise lost its teeth/edge when dai rolled around it was pretty light in the world of dark fantasy

However…theyre kinda right this time around....

It doesn’t feel like a dragon age game because they removed a lot of the lore your were exposed to in the previous games to the point where this might as well be another game all together. (i am not even a lore nerd but i do need something there to feel like i am in a dragon age game)

Yes the city is named Minrathos you were are told of its cultural significance and history as the seat of the empire but looks like a shittier version of kirkwall (and I kept getting lost going around the map so I hated it even more for wasting my time) Honestly the city felt super high tech and out of place in a fantasy setting imo, I missed it when everyone lived in a wooden hovel in the middle of the woods.

There is no reason for the venatori to follow Elgarnan and ghilian'nan or for the Qunari either but it all gets hand waved away with "they offered us power"

Reading the Inquisitors letters made me feel like im in a spinoff game and the real story is happening somewhere else. And sad to like baby take me with you!! i want to save u from this nightmare

A lot of the factions are sanitized to the point of being boring Darvin's little 'we're warden we don't do blood magic that's just not right" baby I let the wardens sacrifice elves to Corphyeus 3 weeks ago :/

Qunari Culture

So the whole reason you were fighting the Antaam in DAI was because they believed you were in cahoots with Solas, who's whole plan to them is to sow chaos and disorder- that is a HUGE no no in the Qun so they see it as their sacred duty to stop you. The Qunari we meet in DATV mindless npc mooks who attack you not because your with Solas but because the Evil elven gos promised them uhh power n shit for stopping you. Like I know I did not just waste my time in DAI reading about how egalitarian the Qun is everyone is like a Hive, they depend on each other so selfishness is rooted out so wtf was going on in Treviso with these guys. A whole culture decimated down to being darkspawn mobs part 2

What made me never want to play another DA game ever again:

Everything you ever did in Orlais, Ferelden, Kirkwall is pointless. No matter what the last letter from the Inquistor is "yeah the blight reached the south Denerim is gone, ferelden is blighted beyond repair, we took back Skyhold but barely. The Venatori disposed of whoever you put in charge of Orlais and there's giant leviathans rising out the sea in Ostwick"  There is no conclusion to this it's just the state of the world now

I cant even pretend my non solas romanced Inky is happy and safe after all this? My hof and Alistar might as well be dead for all that it ever mattered. I get that the devs wanted a clean slate but did they have to burn my house down and salt the fields? It feels so spiteful and mean, like they wanted to make a whole separate game and tack on the "dragon age" title to it for money. If they're not interested in the lore or world building why should I? it made me fully checked out of the rest of the story. Like damn idgaf about elgar'nan and the other one give me back Redcliff

TLDR I dont know if i should be sad that I still care about this or glad its over either way im blocking all datv tags n moving on

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Helo there! What do you think about Harry's and Neville's friendship? And the aspect of both of them possibily being the chosen one?

I like Neville and his dynamic with Harry, even if I don't think they're that close.

Like, Harry is more of a mentor for Neville with the DA rather than a friend who's a peer.

in fact, he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville.

(OotP)

And I think Neville keeps looking up to him as a symbol and a leader less than as a person.

Nevertheless, his battered visage shone with happiness as he let go of Hermione and said again, “I knew you’d come! Kept telling Seamus it was a matter of time!”

(DH)

Neville kinda idolizes Harry in a way.

That's why I don't think they are particularly close, but they do care about each other. Harry feels a bit sorry for Neville and a little protective over him:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces.

(PoA)

“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.” Harry did not know what was worse, the things that Neville was saying or the matter-of-fact tone in which he said them.

(DH)

And he does trust Neville a lot. Both Harry and Neville have full faith in each other which I really like:

Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville will take Harry’s place. There would still be three in the secret. “Just in case they’re—busy—and you get the chance—” “Kill the snake?” “Kill the snake,” Harry repeated. “All right, Harry, You’re okay, are you?” “I’m fine. Thanks, Neville.” But Neville seized his wrist as Harry made to move on. “We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?” “Yeah, I—” The suffocating feeling extinguished the end of the sentence; he could not go on. Neville did not seem to find it strange. He patted Harry on the shoulder, released him, and walked away to look for more bodies.

(DH)

They have a sort of quiet understanding and while their friendship isn't super close, they do care about each other and like each other. They could've probably been good friends if they were given the chance to interact more. (That's another reason why I love DADA professor Harry with Herbology professor Neville to give them that chance)

Their dynamic, if they were to get closer, kinda reminds me of an older brother & a younger brother due to how much Neville looks up to Harry and how Harry is protective over Neville.

As for both of them being the Chosen One, well, they aren't both the Chosen One. Only Harry was Chosen at the end of the day. But, I think that by the end, Neville is a truer Gryffindor than Harry.

In book 7 Harry failed to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor:

When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. “No, you should do it.” “Me?” said Ron, looking shocked. “Why?” “Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it’s supposed to be you.” He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword. Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts

(DH)

The sword that only appears to a Gryffindor in need:

What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him the last time he had retrieved the sword? Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor? A small voice inside Harry’s head answered him: Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.

(DH)

rejected Harry, but embraced Neville:

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle—

(DH)

Add to that Harry's use of Unforgivables in book 7, and I feel like Harry was supposed to embrace his Slytherin characteristics in this book as a theme of the narrative, you know? Like the rejection from the sword and Harry needing to be more cunning than ever should've been this sort of closure. Of Harry's understanding, not all Slytherins are evil and he himself is a bit of a Slytherin and embracing it. It would've worked so well with Snape's story and the themes of the book, truly a missed opportunity to not make this idea of Harry finally saying "yes Slytherin" instead of "not Slytherin", and embracing the fact he is a bit of a Slytherin while Neville, who was terrified to be in Gryffindor, who asked the hat to place him someplace else, embraced being a Gryffindor fully. They have kind of small parallel barley-there arcs in a way that I found interesting in my current reread of Deathly Hallows. Like, I feel there was an intention there, as Harry does feel he is less of a Gryffindor throughout this book, even though he still is, I'm talking about his feelings on the matter.

I think this idea is there, just not as explored as I would've liked it. It is just interesting that the Sword of Gryffindor chose Neville as the true Gryffindor but rejected Harry who is the Chosen One because he was chosen by the Heir of Slytherin. Idk, I feel like there is something there.

[icarusredwings]

Silence

In an alternate universe.. Where Wade let Francis live, hoping it'll make him a better person. Hoping.. that by listening to Colossus.. just this one-time ...life wouldn't screw him over...

Chapter 1.

Francis Forever

Tw: Blood, intense codependency, feral behavior, discrimination, PTSD attacks, sleep issues, crying, derealization.

A 900 follower special.

Something wasn't right.

He picked this up about a week ago. The never leaving feeling that something was wrong.

Sure, Wade left for work trips. It wasn't uncommon. But it's been 8 days. Not a call. Not a voicemail, not a text saying he's okay. He hasn't even shared a stupid tiktok to him since.

Al told him not to worry so much, That Wade can take care of himself. That he has been since he moved in with her. “It's not like he can die.” She had said but something deep within Logan's chest felt flipped, uneasy and heavy. He knew she was just trying to calm him down but with each day that passed he became more restless.

He's tried calling. He's texted. He's messaged him on every social media account he knew of, even emailing him. Nothing. None at all.

It happened about 6 Days ago. When he sat up from their bed in the middle of the night, alone, with a devastating feeling in his gut. Like someone had just told him that all of the love he felt was in danger.

The last time he remembered feeling this way was when he thought his brother had killed his wife.

He's been trying to lay his head back down to sleep but instead he was pacing around the apartment at 3 am like a caged animal, trained to stay within these four walls, mentally somewhere far away.

“Go Take a walk. Because if not, you’re gonna burn a hole in our floor.” She told the man.

The dirty glare (at least, that's what she assumed) made her roll her eyes.

“I'm serious, It's not good for you to be cooped up like this. You've checked the window 17 times within the last hour, Logan.” The way she said his name was soft, the affection of a wise old woman.

“Yeah, sure, like you're going to get your deposit back anyway.” He growls back, as if only hearing the first part. It wasn't like Logan to be rude to Althea. Even when pissed off, so this was odd. She now understands the severity of the situation.

“Look, I'm sure everything is fine and he just forgot to charge his phone. You know how dumb that little psychopath can be. Once he was gone for 3 months and came back just fine.” She mutters to him.

Beginning to feel a snarl raise up in his throat, Logan grunts, shaking his head. He wanted to tell her to shut up. That she didn't understand because she didn't have a husband. That she didn't have anyone that loved her the way he loved Wade and he hasn't felt this worried over someone in decades. But he swallowed that. His mother raised him better… if he didn't have anything kind to say.. not to say it.

“...”

“And take the mutt with you, she's been dying to go to the park.”

About to decline, the dog brought the leash to him, wagging her tail hard from the sheer word “park” alone.

“Fine!....come on mary..”

Even walking the dog down the street, his pace was too quick, her little legs struggling to keep up as he growled, uneasy. He didn't know what to do without him talking to him. Was it always this noisey in the city? Usually Wade would yell over the noise, make jokes about people passing by and holding his hand to keep him grounded. So now what?

He didn't know where to put his hands.

Everyone always says how good he was getting but what did any of that matter if the man who made him better wasn't here to see any of his progress!?

He was trying to become the best version of himself, despite Wade sweetly telling him each night how he was the BEST wolverine because he was HIS wolvie, but he was only the best when with him!! How did he not get that!?

It didn't matter now. None of it did.

Grunting loudly, Logan stops his frustrated fast walk only when he heard Puppins whining and panting, trying hard to keep up. “Sorry..” he tells the dog, picking her up instead, in which she wags her tail, trying to put her tongue in his mouth as a thank you.

“Just because your papa gets to do that doesn't mean you can.” He tells the dog, Who pouts. Why not? She was a deadpool. She knew it. And if her papa got too, why not her?

Logan walks. He walks. And walks. And walks. Until finally something catches his eye. How did he end up here? When were the birds chirping? Since when did the sunlight show through the gaps of tree lines that were lined up on the sidewalk? Oh shit..

It was morning.

‘It's been at least 3 hours’ he thinks, but still he was upset, at least still in New York but found himself somewhere he didn't remember. By the water. Why would he go there? God- How long did he walk? Now he has to walk all the way home. And poor puppins? She didn't even want to come on this stupid trip and- he catches a scent.

“Wade?”

Sniffing more, the smell was off, as if he put on sea salt and air pollution perfume but his excitement clouded his judgment. “Wade!”

Shoving Mary into his flannel, he runs to the end of the street, stopping with a skirt of his boots, nose to the air and has the stance of a hound dog standing on its hind legs to smell for a coon in a tree. The moment he got another whiff, he darted in the other direction- into traffic.

Jumping over (and damaging) the hood, the driver shouted, waving a fist at him. “You damn mutie!! Look what you did to my car!!”

Puppins growled from hearing the word, letting out a few angry yips as Logan kept going, zig zagging through the lanes until he was on the sidewalk again, managing by the skin of his teeth.

Panting, he took deep breaths, huffing as his nose twitched. “Fuck! Where did- There.” He says to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms raising as he catches just a sniff over the hot dog stand next to him.

His eyes widen, a toothy grin coming over him as he sees a lady in red with heavy make up. Now- Don't get him wrong, he didn't mind, but he was curious as to why Wade wouldn't answer him if he's- er- she's right there. “Wade!” He calls, but she still doesn't look.

Jogging up to her, the smell got thicker, but something still wasn't right. He could smell the chemicals of the concealer, the wig glue, the cancer, but this perfume wasn't Wade's. And also… When did Wade menstruate?

“Wade?” Logan borderline whimpered, poking his face in front of her, sniffing, only for her to scream and slap him with her purse. Instinctively, he jolts back, tilting his head, now with very sad eyes.

That wasn't Wade… He should have known better.. What's wrong with him? Since when could he not do something as simple as track down someone he's lived with for an entire two years already?

For a moment it hits him. Tears welling up in his eyes, his fists unclenching, ducking his head… he couldn't smell him.. and he didn't recognize this street. He didn't know where home was. And Wade wasn't here to guide him back…

He missed the way he would have grabbed Him by now, told him not to get lost, and joked that they should get him a collar so people don’t think he's a feral stray.

He missed his stupid jokes.

He missed his ever changing textured hands.

He missed his wretched smell of gun smoke, pizza bagels and inner abscesses.

He missed his annoying laugh.

He missed him more than anything.

There was nobody better to help him in this situation, where his vision became blurry, he was shaking, and his claws itched, wanting to pop.

Dipping into an alley, he put his back against the wall, sinking down as he held Mary close, trying to remember the breathing exercises that Wade had taught him, trying to calm himself as he let Puppins lick the salty tears that came from his panicked eyes.

It took his whole life to find out.. but he needed Wade. He needed him. That little katana waving bastard with the crooked smile and such big brown eyes from years ago. The one he would defend from Vic. He needed him. Those frustrating quips didn't seem so bad anymore.

“B-but you knew from the start it was always going to be us, didn't ya? You fucking asshole…” He whispered, Burying his face into his arms, claws unsheathed and bleeding.

Wade knew Logan would need him. Wade knew it from the start. It's why he was so nice to him. That's why he brought him home. It's why he gave Logan a home. A family. And the luxurious comfort of knowing the fridge would never be empty, and he always would have a warm bed to sleep in.

So how could he leave him alone… again..

[black--sun]

He shrugs. Everyone dies sometime. On the other hand, knowing that doesn’t make it easier to go through. “I’m not going to die. I was being a smartass. I have to take care of my sisters, so it’s not really an option.” Sort of. His sisters are old enough to take care of themselves, but he checks in on them. He tries to be there. He hopes they’d tell him if they had problems they couldn’t handle. 

Ichigo snorts too and tosses Shiro a glance. “Maybe someday I’ll write a book, when I’m too old to run around doing people’s dirty work for them.” If he makes it that long. But he smirks. “You need to help people understand you now. Forget in three hundred years.” Shiro is so different from everyone else Ichigo knows. But he’s also a lot like Ichigo in just enough ways Ichigo can’t help but be drawn to him. Ichigo shakes his head, amused. 

He chuckles when Shiro calls him a shit, but it’s more air than sound. “Yeah.” He can agree with that. “It’s good for you. You don’t need a bunch of guys saying yes all the time.” 

“That’s not a fair question. There are too many answers. No, I don’t think you should go, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you there. I want to know you’re safe.” He’s used to working with people. He doesn’t do every job alone and he’s flexible. But he absolutely was told to do this job discreetly. Taking Shiro isn’t discreet. Ichigo wouldn’t even worry about meeting his buyer’s expectations if doing this job for his dad’s sake wasn’t such a priority. “Since you’re asking what I think, I think you should find a safe house to lay low and run things from there until you find enough loyal guys to watch your back.” He sighs. “And before you say it, I know you won’t trust them. But you can pay them enough to make it worth their while to keep you alive.” He frowns. “Because I’m not trying to mess up what you have going on. He might be a plant or be in with everyone else trying to kill you, but he might not.” And Ichigo is going to be gone sooner or later. It’d be nice to know Shiro had someone that cared— assuming Shiro’s cop isn’t into backstabbing. Even if this asshole is fine with Shiro using whatever he’s using. Which kind of pisses Ichigo off. “What does he think about all your habits?”

It’s not until he’s getting in the car that he realizes how tame it is. He glances around, taking in the leather and feeling like maybe Shiro picked someone else’s car. “So… this is mild.”

He's expecting Ichigo to turn this into a You're Not Going To Die conversation, but instead it circles into maybe Ichigo dying instead. It drops a stone into his guts. Maybe he shouldn't be allowing Ichigo to get himself involved. Maybe he should be trying harder to push Ichigo away, so he stays out of it, out of harm. On the other side of things; Ichigo's very profession puts him in danger and if Shiro's not selfishly taking up his time now he might not get to later if Ichigo gets himself killed. "You better not." He doesn't even know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be good.

He snorts at the mild offense Ichigo takes at his description of Ichigo's day job. "No, you're right, that is pretty cool. You gonna write a book, then? So in three hundred years some stranger you can't comprehend right now can perceive you? Maybe I need to write a book." He's not going to write a book. That's way too much sitting still for his brain to tolerate. His brows go up a little bit. "Yes I have been and I have no regrets and no intentions of stopping now."

The fact Ichigo wants to go shopping with him at all is a little surprising, but not because he seriously thinks Ichigo judges his fashion sense. Just more the spending time together thing. It's been startling easy to fall into a comfortable companionship again. And sure, they're side stepping and ignoring some really big things, but the company is still easy. "I knew that. You're just being a shit." He's not great at tolerating that.

His attention corners when he feels like Ichigo's looking at him. He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder. "I get it. This isn't the best place to be right now anyway." It's too hard to defend, too hard to properly monitor and barricade. He's not dumb. "Do you actually want me going on that job?" He made a bit of a fuss about it, but he doesn't need invited out of pity. He can entertain himself. He's just scared that if they part now, it'll be the last time they see each other. He shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't. Why do you seem like you're trying to push for that? I would'a said that's what I wanted if that's what I wanted. I have no trouble speakin' my mind."

For a second, while he watches Ichigo look over his car, he wonders what they'll do if it's rigged. Call in Ichigo's team, he supposes. But Ichigo slides out from under the SUV and gives him the go ahead. He turns to a lockbox on the wall and punches in a code, then pulls the keys off a hook and closes the box again. He uses the remove to unlock it as he walks toward the vehicle.

[ff-au]

SSKKKSSSTTT—We interrupt your usual Finding "Frankie" AU fic programming to present this star-crossed lovers Lucky Contestant X Monster Frankie fic titled:

LUCK-STRUCK

WARNINGS: Death, (somewhat) graphic violence, suicide talk/themes, and a good deal of cussing

Summary: Monster Frankie and Lucky are at the end of the line. The audience has grown bored of the same thing every season but neither are ready to say goodbye. With the uncertainty of what will happen, who will live, and what will come after, they take a second to look back on what they had before stepping out and giving the audience one final grand finale before finally understanding what went unspoken. (Author's notes in reblogs)

Slow, long strides were matched with short small steps down the waxed floor of a corridor. The long and spacious hallway was occupied by two different creatures, both of vastly different origins. One was a vicious temperamental killer, this bloodthirsty attitude dwelled within the mascot of the very area they were in, Frankie. Frankie wasn't just any mascot though, although he did represent the place with his imagery plastered just about everywhere, he was also responsible for its closure and current condition. Season after season, he was the sadist responsible for the death of hundreds as he remained undefeated in a twisted game show started by people lusting for money. Countless poor souls tempted by greed stepped inside only to have their dreams crushed by this monstrous rabbit, sometimes it was more than their dreams being crushed. Gutted, squished, decapitated, torn to bits, if you could imagine a gruesome demise there was a good chance Frankie was the one to give it to someone just for the fun of it. Oh god did he have fun with it. He was the star, the namesake of the entire thing with his role being the ruthless monster people tuned in or betted on to end lives. A beast created to kill with not one escaping his springy clutches.

Or at least, he was.

Besides him was the small masked human who was almost a victim to Frankie's bloodlust. Running, jumping, sliding, rail grinding, they did everything in their power to live once they made it to the parkour palace. They had expected to be chased by killer mascots but what they never anticipated was how good it would feel. Although they found themselves winded, scared, with the hairs on their body on edge each time something ran after them, they found it exhilarating. Initially coming for a reason they now looked back on and thought silly, the lucky contestant found something so much better in the twisted show.

It was them living that infuriated Frankie, even looking down at the human they could remember the day the contestant showed up. They were told to wait to kill them and holy fuck was it hard. He had the perfect opportunity to snag them in a vent, he could have so easily shoved their face into the rotating blades of a fan making a fine red mist out of the fragile human. Instead the *other* Frankie gave him specific instructions to keep the contestant alive, to let them go to at least boost ratings a bit before ending them. It was aggravating, it was his show, he shouldn't have had to share it with anyone and he made his opinion quickly apparent by disobeying orders. If that smiley bastard didn't interfere when he wasn't looking he would have succeeded in crushing that pest under his foot too, instead the contestant got by using sheer luck to escape. When that fucking prick showed his face again and tried to help the contestant once more, Frankie was quick to put an end to it. They had reached the end and he—unwillingly—went along with the plan. The contestant was at Hexa-Havoc meaning they werr all his, his to kill, his to rip apart in front of the cameras, it was his right to make them a martyr by displaying their organs across brightly colored hexagons to teach any future contestants what would happen if they dare FUCKED with HIS gameshow!

Instead the reverse happened. He was made a god damn fool in front of over 20,000 people with that audience count only rising each second. Thousands witnessed that costumed weirdo who randomly appeared dash back and forth, dodging him as the timer ticked down. Eventually once the lever lock timer was up the contestant lunged for it, barely any ground to stand on left. From the sky rained the sentient time bombs that were the little noob-noobs and then it was all over. Frankie's life flashed before his eyes, each and every human he killed and the different ways they screamed under their mask embedded into his memory. Their fearful eyes that were once such a delight now mocking him as he descended into a burning inferno that was in the pit of the parkour palace. His transmitted screams rang out from above, the TVs showing the screaming face of a cartoon variant of him as his body began to superheat and melt, and it was all because of that one contestant who had luck on his side. As he watched the contestant get saved from the same fate, them lucky enough to cling onto one of the precariously placed rails above the incinerator, he vowed to not only get his revenge but to take back all that he lost.

And next season, sure enough, he had the chance. It was a surprise to the rabbit but the contestant came back, this time with a whole lot less uncertainty in their actions much to his displeasure. Frankie never did get the chance to enact his revenge, the contestant once more proved to be more than capable of outplaying him. Season after season it repeated, a game with both parties trying to one-up the other and make it so the other would end up losing. Frankie had won for so long that after each loss he felt emotions surface he didn't even know he had, anger, bitterness, hate, it all brewed next to the constant humiliation in front of the audience that once applauded him and screamed his name as he eviscerated all those in his sight. Simultaneously, he also felt something else. Just like the pain he felt upon burning for the first time, the contestant's slowly shifting attitude and actions after the seasons intrigued him as it was all so new. He had plenty of chances to kill the person that proved to be a thorn in his side when off camera, but at the same time he didn't wish to. It was odd but actually trying to win stirred something in him, it was the same feeling the contestant got when being chased. It was a sort of unique thrill they shared with each other, their disdain and hatred slowly changing while the game did too. New obstacles were installed, parts of the parkour palace were renovated, the game was kept fresh with their rivalry enticing people to watch. What started off as a simple game to Frankie and as nothing more than a chance at something else to the contestant became something truly special to the two. Frankie found someone to actually challenge him and the contestant found a new identity as the people's champ. *Lucky* is what they called him, it's what Frankie—both of them—called him. It was something that the contestant embraced and a name Frankie soon found himself thinking about, even when the cameras stopped rolling.

The two came to a halt, both stopping to sit in the dead center of the hallway, neither wanting to go through giant doors with a sign above reading "season finale". No cameras were placed around, just powered off TVs allowing them a small shred of privacy and break. They wouldn't want to be caught dead this close to each other and not in their game of chase, but as it stood neither wished to run. Like the oncoming freeze of winter they both could sense something different in the air, something that neither had a good feeling about. The silence was deafening and both acted out of the norm of their usual circumstances, both predator and prey having a moment of respite.

With a nervous twitch Frankie eventually made the first move, his head turning to look over at a powered off TV mounted on a wall behind him. With less than a thought given he projected his consciousness to it, the much cuter cartoon version of the body he wore manifesting on it drawing Lucky's attention. Unlike the first time they saw the cartoon Frankie on screen, he held no madness in his eyes, instead it was just a somber gaze that shared the sentiment of worry.

["So... This is it huh?"]

Lucky looked downwards, breaking eye contact and nodding "guess so..."

Frankie grimaced, the one on the screen showing emotions whilst his physical body remained in that permanent grin. The silence filled the air once more and it became discomforting, neither wishing to be alone with their thoughts. If there wasn't something to focus on both Frankie and Lucky started to think about what would come next, the thought of after being scarier than the toothy rabbit with a thirst for blood. It was Frankie himself who was scared most by it, quick to speak just to pad time.

["... You think there's a god?"]

Lucky perked up, the question catching them off guard "what?"

["Ya know, god? You believe in one"]

"Uhh... Not really?..." Lucky trailed off and looked at the TV screen, Frankie seemingly wishing for a genuine response which prompted him to continue "I mean... Maybe? I can't say there's definitely not a god but there's no also no proof saying there is...why do you ask?"

["Ehh, I dunno"] Frankie shrugged, his physical body mirroring his movements on screen ["just a thought I suppose, as an AI I really don't think I should have a say on whether a god or not exists, but I know you humans pray to them and I've heard a whole lotta prayers while I–" he made a ripping gesture with his hands ["–ya know?"]

"mmm... Yeah, I hear you" Lucky fiddled with the costume they wore, the fabric sticking to their sweat laced skin underneath "I gotta wonder, do... Do you, uhh... Ever feel bad or anything?" He paused, unsure how to word it without sounding harsh or antagonistic "ya know...for the people you kill?"

["No... Well–not exactly? I mean, I certainly don't feel bad, I just wonder why they risked their lives in the first place?”] Frankie rubbed his chin, the sound his metal finger made making Lucky grimace under the mask ["It just doesn't make"]

"What doesn't make sense?"

["well if the people I kill risk their lives for a measly 5 million then come ooonnn~! They either gotta be a crook, stupid, or suicidal!"] Frankie counted on his fingers each adjective before he rolled his eyes ["I don't care about you humans that much but even I am smart enough to know 5 million dollars isn't going make the average person think they can avoid death where no one else could!"]

"Well, what if they have a family? Being desperate is a reason why a lot of people do things for cash"

["Well that makes even less sense! Why would you attempt to lose your life if you got people relying on you? It'd make more sense to kill someone else before trying to kill yourself for money"] Frankie's spring neck slowly started to extend towards the contestant ["which makes me wonder...]" Now looming over the human, Frankie lowered his face close to Lucky, the smell of rotten flesh still fresh ["which are you?..."]

Lucky squinted their eyes and glared at the rabbit, unphased by the familiar smell and sight "what are you getting at?"

["Well it's just you don't take ANY of the money!"] Frankie's head snapped back to its original position, bobbing ever so slightly on its spring ["If you had a family to feed you'd take it without a second thought and leave, if you were suicidal you'd just let me kill you, that just leaves you either being some criminal on the run with this being your only safety, or plain stupid"]

Lucky chuckled and gave a dismissive wave "heh, well I know I'm stupid for staying but as for why I found this place in the first place?..." They looked towards the big door awaiting them both, it's presence making any humor vanish "... It really was because I couldn't think of any better way to go out, after all dying live in front of thousands is a whole lot better than tying a noose around my neck"

["So why is it that you ran? Why didn't you just let me kill you, I don't know if you could tell but I wasn't really keen on listening to the asshole watching the cameras"]

"Yeah... I could tell real fast you didn't care if I made it to the end..." Lucky grumbled before registering the question. With a small bit of thought they answered, their voice cracking from a small bit of uncertainty in their own words "I suppose it was just instinct? I did think the money would be nice but I didn't really think I'd last long... When I heard about–" the gestured to the surroundings "–this I watched a few clips online to see what exactly I was getting into, upon finding out barely anybody made it past the lobby let alone the first obstacle course I just said fuck it, blew a few grand on your crap cereal, and when I actually got here I got ready to die..."

Frankie's ears twitched, by his cartoon version's face filled with intrigue ["...And then?"]

Lucky took a second to recuperate their scattered thoughts. The fear they felt, the hopeless knowledge of what would happen when they walked in through those doors and put on the suit was still so fresh even after years. With a sigh they began to speak again, their words holding the same confidence that grew in them overtime.

"I found it... Fun" they met Frankie's gaze, the blue lights of the rabbit's eyes a lot easier to look at than the headache inducing fluorescent lights above "I know I'm crazy but when you were chasing me it felt like I actually had a purpose, obviously my body just wanted to not die, basic science behind survival and all that, but after the initial fear started to fade and I could begin to think clearly I wanted more, it's why I kept going, it's why I didn't stop and give up, it's why I kept trying to get to the end and managing to outrun you"

["Atatata!"] Frankie sputtered ["let's get the story straight here, I "LET you live, reminder that the other called me back when I was so capable of killing you"]

"Oh of course, it's not like after when Henry was close to killing me you just couldn't let your fragile ego be broken so you tried to catch me when he was attempting to kill me as well" Lucky stood up, a snort was given as they recounted the past "oh! Oh! Can't forget 'STOP MESSING UP MY FUCKING GAMESHOW!' can we!?"

Frankie sat back, watching the human he could so easily crush begin to laugh. Way back when if anyone dared to mock him in such a way he would be quick to put them in their place, not even the other wouldn't be safe if they acted in such a manner. Frankie couldn't help but feel different when Lucky did it, like he actually liked getting mocked? It was strange, but it was sort of nice knowing his little outburst was memorable, that Lucky still recalled their first interaction. It gave him a sense of nostalgia that he had never had before.

["... You know, I actually liked it when you ran"]

Lucky's laughter was cut short, the words making him sputter and cough "CUGH! ugh! Wh-what!?"

Frankie covered his mouth and snickered ["I said: I actually liked it when you ran"] he shrugged ["you're the first little fucker who ever gave me a run for my money, well— I guess the company's money, but my point still stands, you were the first to make the game a bit more interesting and made me think about actually winning rather than just coming up with new execution strategies"]

"Ahh yes, I'm sooooo~ grateful I made you think about killing me rather than coming up with whatever sick shit you thought about before"

["You should be, you should also be grateful I never caught you because if I did I would of found out real fast if my springs were durable enough to be used as guillotine"] Frankie flicked the spring that acted as his arm ["there's a good chance they would of just painfully dug into your skin and strangled you, but I believe anything can be used to cut if you try hard enough"]

As grim as it sounded, and as genuine of a threat as it was, both cracked up laughing. It was dark, but to them it was playful. Death was really always how they played, it was the foundation of what they built and what kept their interactions interesting. As the time ticked by, and the laughter subsided, both knew the borrowed time they ran on had to be given back. If they spent too long out of the camera's view they knew the other would creep in with a camera to catch their bonding moment. Both would rather be caught dead than having the audience know of them. It was a bit more than fondness of course, although neither wanted to admit it. Instead they looked towards the glaring pink elephant in the room. A pressing issue that only grew more pressing by the moment, the one that spurred them to stop and talk in the first place, the aforementioned end. It was a bitter truth neither wanted to face, but an unavoidable one that Frankie spoke about, the warmth in his voice vanishing.

["... They didn't bother making a new suit for me this time around..."]

Lucky joined the rabbit in his unease "The other one told me already, turns out seeing me win is getting boring" They sighed and began to raise their voice "How could they take it out on you though? Why wouldn't they just kill me instead of replacing you?"

["Hell if I know"] Frankie shrugged and got to his feet, with a huff he shook his head ["that fake bastard nearly got scrapped by the higher-ups and he barely gets a say in how the show goes, my best guess is the reason why they don't just get rid of you is the same reason this entire show started in the first place, humans being the greedy fuckers they are are willing to find the cheapest solution to any problem"] a deep rumbling growl came out from Frankie's physical body, one of the few noises he was capable of making ["hay, maybe you'll find it fun getting chased by whatever new horrifying fuck takes my place, I'm sure the higher-ups will think of something, like maybe a person with a etch-a-sketch for a head"]

Both looked at each other before chuckling. The very idea that anything could replace Frankie and his brutal ways was hilarious. After all, what would this show be without Frankie? Sure Deputy Duck and Henry were there, but Deputy Duck wasn't really an obstacle and Henry could be easily avoided if you didn't irritate him with his telephones. The show was centered around the rabbit mascot, it was named Finding Frankie. Without Frankie it wouldn't be the same no matter what and with the way the rabbit spoke about the future off-put Lucky. It caught him off guard"

"Heh... What uhh... What makes you assume you'll lose?"

["Hmm?"] Frankie's head twisted to look down at Lucky, his ears twitching as he wondered if he heard correctly ["what? Do you really think I'll win this time around?"] He scoffed ["you've been beating me since you first got here, why is this season gonna be any different? We'll do Hexa-Havoc, you'll beat me, I'll fall, you'll catch the rail, collect the money and keep playing, it always ends like that no matter what"]

"You don't know that" Lucky said quickly.

Looking back down from where they came from, the whirr of buzzsaws that were dangerously close to their being made Lucky think about just how close they were to death. They were still close to death, but they didn't fear it. Not now at least.

"Can't be flawless always right? I was bound to slip up eventually... Make a wrong step, maybe trip... It'd be so easy for me to just make one simple mistake and fall..."

Frankie glared at Lucky and crouched down to face him, even his cartoon version had its face zoomed in on to accentuate its attitude ["what are you saying?"]

"Nothing, nothing at all" Lucky began to walk forward, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the walls "just that maybe this will be the time you actually get me"

Frankie's face dropped hearing the human's words. Although they didn't say it outright, he knew what they were insinuating. The talk about death, not having purpose and the inevitable end made it all too clear the message. He didn't expect for the human to try and sacrifice themselves, and as much as he would have loved to continue owning the show, he didn't want to. Never once would he expect a human of all things to pity him and he was quick to make his opinion known. He couldn't let Lucky give up, it didn't feel right to them and it certainly didn't feel right to be without them.

["You hold the fuck up!"] He snatched up the human, making sure not to crush them in his metal grasp but still make sure they couldn't squirm out ["You can't just lose on purpose!"]

"Who says I was gonna loseon purpose?"

["YOU WERE IMPLYING IT!"] Frankie stamped his foot on the ground, the cartoon version getting sudden flames in his eyes ["I'd rather be awake and have some fuck-head mechanics the company send dismantle me bit by bit than just let you throw away your spot in the show"]

"I DON'T WANT A SPOT IN THIS FUCKED UP SHOW!" Lucky felt themselves tear up under the mask, the material underneath becoming damp "the reason why I never took the money is because I never wanted it! I want to continue running! Continue playing, but it won't be the same without you!" They choked on a sob, their voice cracking as they pressed a hand to their pulsing heart "I won't be able to continue if you don't come back..."

Frankie didn't have a heart but those words pained his virtual feelings all the same. His grip faltered and Lucky dropped to the ground. The human turned away and removed their mask, beginning to wipe their tears off their unseen face. Whenever the rabbit saw any other cry he'd laugh, mock their pain before biting their head off. Instead he found himself also tearing up, or at least the virtual display which was a true depiction of how he felt. With a quick wipe of his own tears—his physical body wiping nothing—he placed his giant hand on Lucky's shoulder, the size difference would be comical in any circumstance other than the one they found themselves in.

["I don't think I'll be able to continue without you either..."] Frankie grumbled, trying his best to hold back any more emotions as he pulled away ["as much as it sucks, It's just how things gotta be..."]

Lucky sniffled and swallowed a ball of spit that built in their throat "I guess so..." They looked downwards at the mask in their hand, it felt more familiar than their real face "if... If this is the last time we see each other, than I guess I won't lose anything letting you see what I always hid"

Frankie's eyes widened as Lucky began to turn around ["ATATA! NO! NO!" He twirled his torso around, his feet staying in the same place as his springs twisted to make him face away [“keep the mask on! I don't wanna see it!"]

"..." Lucky raised an eyebrow before slowly placing the mask back on "you don't wanna see my face?"

["see your face!? Why the hell would I wanna see that!"] Frankie crossed his arms and let himself snap back around after he heard Lucky's mask be fastened ["If I never see your face I get to know that I look better than you"] he said with a smug grin as he adjusted his bowtie.

"Really?" Lucky snorted and placed a hand on the hip "I think it's safe to say there's not a deformity, defect, or skin condition that could make me look worse than you, and I ain't talking about what's actually standing here”

Frankie flinched back, his ears sagged as he looked at his cartoon appearance which he prided himself on ["wow... You REALLY know how to push my buttons don'tcha?"]

"It's what throws you off your game, makes ya sloppy during chases"

["Oh! Well, ain't you just a lovely cheating cunt!"] Frankie chuckled and let his neck drop his head, with a face that was now upside down he let out another growl and stared down Lucky ["let's not do that this time, capiche? I want a good clean game, none of your little cheating and riling me up, no goofing off or not taking it seriously, and certainly no going easy on me so you can fulfill a death wish"]

"Rules go two ways Frankie, I know for a doubt sometimes you don't run as fast as you could when chasing me, why don't you show everyone why it's called Finding Frankie instead of being just a sore loser"

Lucky pressed one of his gloved fingers to Frankie's nose. Much to their surprise a distinct robotic voice line came from his body, a giddly little chuckle that rang out to both their shock. Lucky couldn't believe such a thing was built into the toothy monster and Frankie didn't think anyone would find out.

["Oh.... Okay!"] His head slingshotted back to its original position and he began to march off ["I'm gonna have so much FUN killing you!"]

"not if I send your sorry ass into the fire!" Lucky yelled after them.

"hay moron! Look at the screen!"

Lucky looked upwards, he usually looked at the rabbit themselves rather than the avatar they used to speak. Although their body was out of sight, their cartoon appearance could more than aptly send a message. With his little rabbit toon body bouncing, Frankie made a cranking gesture with one hand as the other slowly flipped them the bird. Once the gesture was fully given Frankie gave a mock face of shock before vanishing.

Lucky quickly yelled back down the hallway "FUCK YOU TOO! GET READY TO EAT SHIT DUMBASS!"

With their respective taunts spurring them on, both raced to the arena. Lucky wasted no time in kicking down the doors to the season finale and sprinting down the familiar corridor to the final game, Hexa-Havoc. It was a path they had walked before, but never once ran. Just as the show was about to change, so did their attitude towards everything, no longer somber, they eagerly jumped down onto the colorful hexagons to get into the ring. With an unseen smile on their face they witnessed Frankie join them, hurling himself into the ring with a lunge intent on already killing. It was a game they had played countless times, the showrunners incapable of thinking anything more climatic. It was fine, it just meant they had seasons worth of experience to play to the best of their abilities.

And played they did.

Methodical, careful, deliberate in each and every movement they moved. What once was a sloppy frantic chase with falling platforms became a graceful rehearsed dance of two parties in a game with the odds stacked against both. Lucky and Frankie both made it apparent they weren't going easy, Lucky was careful to jump on every other platform conserving as much space as possible within each level. Frankie's jumps which were once used to merely catch up were now used to eliminate and were made with deadly accuracy. Each time the giant rabbit hopped up Lucky had to slide away else they'd be as flat as the platforms they ran on. It was refreshing and even with the intial diminishing views the sheer skill both displayed began to attract new watchers. Numbers rose as the time fell, more and more people tuned in to see what was once a chase become something so much more. The chat, unseen to both, exploded with new people wondering if this was the constant quality, meanwhile old viewers were astonished at how both acted. It was something they had never seen from either, old and new watchers alike were left starstruck as they witnessed time the climax to the show they mindlessly tuned into on the dark web.

["our show just reached a world record for death shows across the world! It's at a million views!"] The other Frankie yelled over the intercom ["the lever is now unlocked! With this many viewers the prize money may QUADRU–"]

SSSSKKKSSSTTT

Frankie hacked both the intercom and televisions scattered around the arena. His cartoon appearance held a familiar flame in his eyes but unlike the past it held no rage or crazed desire for death. Instead his gaze fixated on Lucky and the way they ran. The human locked eyes with the screen and knew it was a fire of passion.

["SHUT IT DIPSHIT! THIS IS OUR SHOW! WE SAY WHEN IT ENDS!"]

Wait—Our show?

It didn't matter if Lucky heard correctly or not, the show carried on with both not even finishing with the second level of platforms. Lucky didn't even give the noob-noob release a glance, instead their attention was given in full to Frankie and their reaching hands. The rabbit repeatedly swiped as they marched towards what they once considered a victim. Now with both near the end, their fates currently uncertain, they felt that same something that only Lucky managed to give them. When he finally managed to corner them only to be met with them slipping between his legs and keep running did he have a rough idea of what it was. It was a feeling Lucky too shared, it was one that made their blood pump and heart pound louder than any scream that could be given by the million people cheering them both on at once. Some of the viewers wanted Lucky to die, finally have the champ meet his end and descend down into hell, meanwhile some rooted for the fragile human to best the monstrous rabbit that was responsible for murdering a large portion of people. Neither really cared what the audience wanted, both were having the time of their life and it only got better once 0 platforms remained on the second level.

Down to the third and final level, both could barely feel the heat looming below as they continued. Even if machine, Frankie's body started to overheat in the same manner Lucky's began to exhaust. Movements became a lot less graceful as they became literally one step closer to the end each moment. Raw and tired, Frankie stopped jumping and instead focused solely on grabbing and Lucky stopped sliding, it was too damn effort and with no safety net it was too damn dangerous. The desperate huff of a masked individual and the creak of mechanical rabbit's joints replaced the dubstep track that played during the finale. The soundtrack wasn't intended to be played this long, but considering Frankie and Lucky never intended to feel such deep things about each other it was safe to say life was full of surprises. It certainly was a surprise to both how much they thoroughly enjoyed it. Each step ignited past memories of doing this very thing, only with a lot less of a rush this time around. It was these memories that flashed before them as the game eventually came to a complete stop. The show reached its peak with both Lucky and Frankie on their final platform, both had given it their all yet it didn't change their fate.

["Game over... Goodbye, Lucky"]

Lucky was left speechless as he looked to see Frankie on the screen shed a tear through grit teeth. Just like their very first encounter and subsequent encounters they fell down into the incinerator below. Useless merchandise, bits of garbage, and the old clothes and remains of past contestants were piled around the hellish flames that were at the center of the parkour palace. The smell of burnt flesh filled Lucky's nostrils, the past 3 contestants who didn't make it as far as him invading his senses. Frankie knew this was his end and couldn't accept anything less than what he got. Initially wishing for nothing more than to remain the top dog who racked up views as they killed Frankie was happy he was dethroned. Not only happy but overjoyed he could play with his lucky little contestant one last time before he would die. The grind rail couldn't support his weight and from past attempts trying to claw out only extended the pain, it was futile but he was okay with it. The smile on his body's face would be genuine as he watched his contestant above grab onto the rail. Saving themselves just as they had saved themselves countless times before.

Only this time they didn't.

In a shocking display that made chat and the other watching erupt into screams Lucky actually missed the railing. They themselves didn't know if it was on purpose, after all just as they said you can't go so many seasons and not make a misplay. But was it really a misplay? They meant it when they said they wouldn't be able to go on with Frankie, but would it really mean they would accept death with him? They didn't know. All that they did know was that no end could have been better.

Even with Frankie holding them against his metal body, the flames only making it hotter, they didn't regret a second. No screams were made as they gazed into each other's eyes, Frankie's bright blue piercing the surrounding red and staring deep into the masked covered one's of Lucky's. Metal melded into flesh that was seared black, the pain of which would make any scream out or writhe in pain. Instead Lucky just kept their vision focused forward towards Frankie, the rabbit doing the same as he fought with his circuits which wanted to shut off. It hurt, it hurt like hell, but it would pale in comparison for either to live another second without seeing the other. Memories of all the fun they had, even if it was built in the foundation of death, were looked down upon fondly as the end came by the millisecond. Tears which were almost immediately evaporated tried to roll down burnt flesh, and if he was capable Frankie would return the human gesture if not limited by his metallic body. The rabbit's tears were in the same vein as the human's, he wasn't sad but rather was overjoyed he wouldn't be alone. He *did* wish for Lucky to survive, move on, continue living without him. But maybe this was their fates. Their true fates. It took so long for both to finally realize what they was truly special and would never again happen, but maybe it was for the best. Hatred that sprouted into fondness, fondness which grew into care, care which bloomed into love was now fully understood by both. Frankie, happy he managed to find such a silly human emotion in his life filled with death and Lucky, grateful they were ironically saved from their depressing life by the very thing that wanted to kill them, closed their eyes. They embraced each other for what would be the first and last time in their lives as the fire covered them, shielding their love from prying eyes. It was an end, but one both could accept. Even as Lucky's brain began to melt they still thought about the name given to them and how each time Frankie called them that—even out of anger—it made their hate race in a way no chase could. It repeated, stuck on loop as their life came to an end.

Lucky

...

"Lucky"

...?

"Lucky!"

...?!

"LUCKY!"

!

Lucky's name being screamed made them jump up and look around at their surroundings, their heart not stopping for a second. It scared the hell out of them and they couldn't understand, what just happened? Their head was pounding, their body was all warm—wait! Weren't they on fire and dying a second ago? No. Of course not, why the heck would they be on fire? The sun was shining down, it was warm, pleasant, like a comforting blanket. Where the hell would fire come from? In fact, where would dying even come from!?

"LUCKY!"

Lucky spun around, their floppy ears instinctively laying flat at the sound of a loud noise "huh!?"

There running through a flower filled meadow was a familiar sight. Robotic prosthetic limbs attached to the body of one small grayish furry rabbit with lop-ears, bowtie, and magician hat. It was Frankie, it was their Frankie.

"THERE YOU ARE!" The rabbit yelled as he wagged his finger at Lucky "where the hell were you! I was looking around for ages, I thought you fucking DIED!"

"Ugh... Sorry" Lucky groaned and pressed a paw to their forehead, the sight of their hand made them flinch for some reason but they shook it off "think I tripped and got knocked out or something... would explain why I feel like I got a whole lotta head trauma"

"Knocked out!?" Frankie repeated, their nose twitching as they inspected the other rabbit "oh god! I– I didn't know! Do you need to stop? Go to the ER?"

"ER!? And let YOU win!?" Lucky scoffed and shoved the other rabbit playfully, a smile playing on their lips "fat chance magic boy, round 2 is starting now!"

Frankie shrugged "eh, if you say you're alright I ain't gonna push the issue" the rabbit tapped his foot against the ground "so, you wanna be the tagger or tagee this time around? Pick the option that WON'T make you accidentally crack your skull open"

"I didn't crack my damn skull open!" Lucky said as they thumped his paw into the dirt. With a low growl they suddenly stopped and began to think of the game they played that had been interrupted by them falling unconscious "hmm... You know, I think I wanna go back to being it"

"Ughhh..." Frankie's limbs extended and limply laid on the ground, his entire body unraveling to express his disdain "you're **ALWAYS** it! That round was the first time I got to be it in forever!"

"Welp, I guess we can just go back home and sleep, you can take the couch or course–"

Frankie stood back up "You're a bitch ya know that?"

"A bitch who's your lover, may I remind you?" Lucky leaned in close, pressing their snout close to Frankie's.

Seeing that stupid smile on Lucky's face made Frankie roll his eyes "fine! You're it!, gimme a 30 second head start this time okay?"

"Fine–" Lucky quickly grabbed the rabbit and pulled him into a kiss.

Frankie's eyes went wide and tensed up, his body slowly melting into Lucky's grasp before realizing what they were doing "wait! No!"

"20 seconds left~"

"You can't fucking do that!" Frankie blushed, his cheek fur magically turning red as per toon rules "you're cheating!"

"19... 18..." They kept counting.

"AH!"

Frankie stumbled away and quickly began to break into a sprint. They would certainly get back at Lucky for the sly move but pushed revenge out of his mind. For now they would appreciate their rabbit partner, even if they were a dirty cheater.

Looking back Frankie locked eyes with Lucky. The smiling rabbit still counting as they watched him run. It was the start to another one of their games, a game that would eventually end like all things would. For now they wouldn't think about the end, for now they'd just be happy and enjoy what time they had.

[narfin-frood]

So how does it work with Wander both enjoying the challenge of catching Hater (just calling him that for now since you didn’t fully decide on a new name yet), and wanting him to join the hivemind thing? Is he like canon Hater where his hubris and maybe even stupidity prevent him from catching him, or is he one of those toying villains who purposefully lets him go so they can keep playing cat and mouse next episode? Is his excitement for something to do more underlying (almost repressed?), or is he more outward with it, and if it’s the latter how does that mix with his belief that assimilating everyone is what’s best?

I hope this makes sense gneojdkdkd your AU is so intriguing and I LOVE your designs

THIS DOES MAKE SENSE okokso

i think wander is reperessing himself All the time. Like he looks down at the smiling faces of all his followers and he's like Wow. Boy am i sure glad that i'm helping these people. he sees all the situations he found them in, how terribly they needed a hand, a safe place, a shoulder to cry on, and he reminds himself a million times a day that This is Right and This is Helping and if he gets up, even for a second, everything he's worked up to, all the good he's imparted, will come crumbling down around him, so he stays there. It's not rational, really, and a lot of the people he helped in a time of grief would gladly hang around him and befriend each other without the help of the hivemind, but it's really hard to undo however many hundreds of years of damage and boredom and constant bargaining with yourself.

and hater being so.... comfortable with himself, just cruising around, having a swell time despite it all, despite all the things he's heard about hater's kingdom and the fire he's come under and yadda yadda yadda, he's somehow... coping just fine without wander. he's got it. he's chilling. he even seems to leave a positive impact wherever he travels.

not only does wander want to uncover whatever it is that's really bothering hater, whatever he can to justify how badly he wants to fix what ails him and keep him forever, he's also SOOOOO jealous. He does not want to admit how jealous he is. he wishes it was him traveling around, seeing sights, having a gay ol time. so all of this culminates into the clumsy overexcitement to catch hater that we see from hater in the show, just... joyous, as opposed to im-going-to-kill-you-ous

also THNAKYOUUUU its soinsane to see how many people like this au it makes me so happy