#are any of these tags even working? who can tell

[ariestrxsh]

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content warning: smut, an insane amount of teasing, dirty talk, praise, sexual touching, masturbation, oral (f!receiving), mentions of sex, power play, switch!chris, switch!matt, switch!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary: matt and chris decide to participate in no nut november. the competition gets even more interesting when you get involved, making a bet with the two boys about who can last the longest while you're actively working against them.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 this fic was inspired/requested by this ask, and this ask, and the song/title was requested by this ask 🤍

love potions

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day One

"Oh, come on. You guys aren't seriously participating in that stupid trend, are you?" You scoffed after you'd walked in on Matt and Chris talking about their latest competition. "It's not just a trend. It's like a sexual reset," Matt said to you in a serious tone.

"Oh. Okay. I still think it's stupid. Why would you want to torture yourselves for a whole month?" You shrugged. "It's like a test of willpower and whoever makes it longer without needing to nut wins No Nut November," Chris explained.

"What do you win?" You wondered, looking between the two of them. "You're just the winner," Matt shrugged. You rolled your eyes. "And what are the rules?" You inquired, wanting to hear more. "No sex, no masturbation, and you can't do anything to make yourself cum," Chris replied.

"That's crazy. If the regulations are going to be that strict, I think you boys both need a little incentive," you smirked at them. They both glanced at each other and back at you. "What do you suggest?" Matt wondered aloud. "How about whichever one of you loses has to watch the winner fuck me, hmm? Don't you think that'd make it a little more interesting?" You proposed.

"Incentive? That sounds like a punishment," Matt replied, lifting his brows in a shocked manner. "Only if you lose," Chris teased him with a smug smile plastered on his face. "Punishment, reward. Same thing. Same desired outcome," you sneered at them.

"I think that would really help incentivize me," Chris eagerly nodded at you. "Can we both just rub one out real quick and start right after that?" Matt asked, biting his lip. "No, Matt. November has already started," you smirked at him.

"Okay, so the winner of No Nut November gets to use me however they want, and the loser has to watch. But I have a few rules of my own I'd like to instill. You guys both have to make it at least two weeks. If the loser caves on week one, the bet's off, and no one gets to use me. Also, I get to tease you guys as much as I want," your lips curled into a malicious grin.

"That's not fair," Matt glared at you. "Sure it is, Matt. If I'm the reward, don't you think it's only fair that I get to put in place some rules of my own?" You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. "Okay, fine," Matt huffed, rolling his eyes. "You boys are really in for it. I've been extra horny lately," you said in a luscious voice, looking them both up and down.

"What if we both go the whole month without breaking any rules?" Chris asked. "Then you can both tag team me," you smirked, glancing between the two of them. They both eagerly nodded at the sound of that.

"And what if we both lose at the same time?" Matt asked curiously. "Then I get to use you two however I want, and I get to humiliate you while you finish," you responded, putting your hand over your mouth to hold back a chuckle.

"Oh, don't tell Matt that. He'll like that too much," Chris teased his brother. Matt punched him in the arm. "Ow!" Chris shot back, rubbing his arm. You were already planning all the different ways you were going to try to seduce them and make them slip up.

"I'm going to go run some errands. I'll be right back," you teasingly waved at them both before strutting out the door. "Whoops," you said, purposely dropping your keys so you'd have an excuse to bend down in front of them.

Unfortunately for them, you were wearing your favorite pair of jeans that hugged all your curves perfectly, and as you accentuated your movements while you bent at the waist to fetch them from off the floor, Chris and Matt's eyes immediately traveled to your bottom.

Then they both glanced at each other, exchanging a look. It dawned on them that they may be in over their heads. You waltzed out the front door on your way to buy a new lingerie set along with some other things to tease them with.

A few hours later, you came back in with a few shopping bags in hand. "What did you get?" Matt wondered, peeking into the bag. He caught a glimpse of white lace before you yanked them away from him. "You'll find out," you told him, tucking them out of sight and wondering off to go plan your strategy.

You had a few tricks up your sleeve, but you couldn't just whip out your craziest idea in the first week. Your tactic was to keep it playful at the beginning, just little touches that would linger a few seconds too long and subtle comments here and there to fluster them.

Over time, you'd slowly work your way towards the more overt seduction after they'd let their guards down.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Two

Throughout the day, you kept finding reasons to lightly and sensually touch both boys. You'd playfully hit Chris in his well-toned bicep when he'd say anything funny, and afterward, you'd make some comment to puff up his ego.

"You been working out? Your muscles look so hot lately," you said to him in a sexy voice, your eyes dancing over his lips while you spoke to him as you squeezed his upper arm. "You're gonna have to try harder than that," Chris arrogantly stated, well-aware of what you were doing.

Later on, you went up to Matt after spritzing yourself with a new perfume you'd gotten recently. "Hey, Matt. I want to get your opinion on this fragrance," you innocently told him, holding a lot of eye contact.

You tilted your head up, and he leaned down to smell where you had sprayed it just above your collarbone. Notes of jasmine and lavender filled his senses.

"Mmm. It smells nice," he commented. "No, you're not close enough," you responded, running your fingers through his hair and reeling him in nearer to you until his nose was resting against your neck.

"What do you think? If we were on a date and I wore this scent, would you take me back to your place and fuck my brains out?" You seductively asked him, gently massaging his scalp with your fingertips.

"Shit," Matt muttered, blood started rushing to the tip of his cock as he pulled away from you. "Nice try," he said, leaving the room.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Five

You decided to ramp it up just a little bit. Throughout the day, you kept purposely dropping things so you could bend over and show off the little thong you wore under your miniskirt.

They couldn't help but fall for it every time, even though they knew you were doing it for the sole purpose of riling them up. You loved witnessing the desperation slowly creep into their expressions while you taunted them. You held a lot of eye contact while talking to them, purposely staring at their lips a lot and licking your own while you watched them become nervous.

That night, Chris was in his room, sitting shirtless in his gaming chair and playing a video game when you came into the room and started rubbing his shoulders for him. "Mmm. You're so tense," you stated, working through a knot on his shoulder blade. "Gee, I wonder why," Chris chuckled.

He let out a soft, satisfied groan as you massaged his back for him, making sure to whisper praises in his ear. "I bet you're so sore because you've been hitting the gym so much, huh? It really shows. Your back looks so toned right now," You cooed.

"What else am I going to do with myself?" He smirked, knowing he'd been working out every day since November started to fend off his sex drive. "I bet since you exercise a lot, you have good stamina, don't you? Bet you could fuck for a long time," you whispered in his ear. He responded with a loud scoff.

"I bet you're the kind of guy who likes to get off multiple times a day, don't you? So this must be extra hard for you. You're so disciplined for not caving yet. I could never do what you're doing. I swear, I'm horny all the time," you told him.

"I am disciplined," he reiterated. "So disciplined in fact that this doing nothing for me." But it was a lie. His dick was starting to perk up at your words and your tone of voice. "Mhmm," you said, unconvinced as you left the room to go tease Matt.

He was downstairs making brownies in the kitchen when you found him. "Have you been a good boy? Keeping your hands out of your pants, hmm?" You gave him a sly smile. He immediately met you with a needy look. Matt was a little more transparent than Chris, not quite as good at hiding how turned on he was.

"I've been good. Still going strong," He nodded at you while he stirred the brownie batter. "So well-behaved. Good boy," you said, your tone saturated with lust. Matt started to get a little hard at how you were speaking to him, but he tried to take his mind off you with chocolate.

"You should try this. It's really good," Matt said, dipping his finger into the brownie batter, but before he could get another taste, you gently grabbed onto his hand, and as he looked over to make eye contact with you, you were slipping his digit between your parted lips and sucking off the chocolate.

"Mmmm," you hummed with your mouth wrapped around his finger, subtly moving your head back and forth. His dick twitched in his sweatpants and he let out a soft whimper as you excited all the nerve endings on the tip of his finger.

"Maybe you're not such a good boy after all. I think you liked that a little too much," you taunted him, releasing his hand from your grip. It took everything in Matt not to run upstairs and go jerk off to the thought of your mouth on another one of his extremities. Instead, he went back to making brownies.

"You can't have any more until they're ready," he glared at you, trying to will away his erection.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Six

It was nearing the end of the first week, and you approached Chris early one morning as he was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and flipping through his phone. "It's almost the end of week one. How do you feel?" You asked, coming up behind him.

You seductively ran your fingers along his chest, whispering into his ear and making sure your hot breath hit the side of his neck while you did. "I feel great. I haven't had any urges at all," Chris lied through his teeth, trying to ignore the way you were touching him.

"Oh really, hmm? Maybe I'm not teasing you enough," you chuckled into his ear, gently nibbling on his earlobe. He let out a soft moan and his cock immediately grew hard. "Not even a single urge, huh?" You provoked him, staring down at the tent in his pants while you started to kiss his neck.

"Fuck, you're making this so difficult," Chris got up and stormed off, leaving his cereal unfinished. "Better not be going to touch yourself!" You called after him.

"I'm not. I'm going to the gym to burn off some of this energy," Chris huffed, heading to his room to change into basketball shorts. You smirked at his arrogance he'd displayed a few minutes earlier before nearly folding under your touch.

Around this time, Matt came downstairs in his Pokémon pajamas and started rifling through the fridge for something to eat.

"Hey, handsome boy. How did you sleep?" You asked, gently caressing his arm and asking in a sultry voice. "Really good," he said, avoiding eye contact and trying to hide the fact that he had morning wood.

"I slept well, too. Except I had this dream that I can't stop thinking about," you seductively bit your lip. "What did you dream about?" Matt naively asked. "Well, I'm a little embarrassed to say, but it was a wet dream. About you," your eyes flicked up to meet his. "Really?" He asked, falling right into your trap.

"Yeah, you were making me scream your name because of how big your cock was and how hard you were fucking me," you teased him, painting a picture in his head. "Fuck. Please don't tell me anymore," Matt replied, still peering into the fridge.

"You mean, you don't wanna hear about how I played with myself after I woke up from it?" You simpered at him. Matt let out a loud sigh and pulled out a carton of eggs and some bacon while he ignored your temptress ways.

"You don't wanna hear about how I rubbed my clit in circles and filled my pretty, pink hole with my favorite dildo while I thought about you and moaned your name?" You snickered. "This is so unfair," Matt replied, covering his ears and looking at you with his desperate expression and his puppy dog eyes, his dick aching in his pants.

"If you think I'm being unfair now, you just wait," you responded before skipping off to go plan your next move.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Nine

A few days later, Chris came out into the living room to find you sprawled out on your yoga mat in a tank top and spandex shorts. "Oh, thank god you're here. Mind helping me with something really quick?" You innocently asked him, batting your eyelashes in his direction.

"Depends. What do you need?" Chris skeptically asked, narrowing his gaze. "Will you come over here and help stretch me out?" You requested, smirking at him as he grew flustered at your word choice. "Fuck this. You're on your own," Chris said, immediately walking the other direction.

"Chris! Wait!" You called after him. He stopped, let out a loud sigh, and slowly turned around. "What?" He asked impatiently. "Chris. I'm not trying to pull anything. I just really need your help. Please. My muscles are so sore," you begged, pouting at him.

After a few seconds of deliberating, he rolled his eyes and started heading back over towards you. "Fine. What do you need me to do?" Chris asked, kneeling down on the floor next to you and immediately regretting it when you spread open your legs.

"I need you to push my thighs apart," you told him, trying to conceal your condescending grin. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Chris snarked at you. "No, I'm not kidding. I'm really sore. Just put your hands on the insides of my thighs and push down," you directed him.

He did as you said, trying to ignore the damp spot on the front of your shorts. "Oh, Chris. You stretch me out so good," you maliciously moaned. He clenched his jaw as he glanced into your eyes. "I haven't cum in nine days," Chris responded.

If looks could kill, the look Chris was giving you right now was damn near fatal. "Nine days? Only twenty-one more to go!" You sneered, reminding him he wasn't even a third of the way there yet. "You fucking bitch," Chris dug his fingertips into the fleshy part of your inner thighs and started pushing them apart until you let out a pained whimper.

"Oh, Chris. Don't stop. I love when you're mean to me. It turns me on so much," you responded in a sultry voice, flipping his power move back onto him. He let go of you and stormed out of the room to go play video games and take his mind off what was between your legs.

About ten minutes later, Matt came downstairs, his eyes immediately falling onto you in a compromising stretching position. "Oh, Matt. I'm so glad you're here. Think you could give me a hand or two real quick?" You cooed, motioning with your finger for him to come here. Matt nodded despite the fact that he knew you were up to no good.

"What do you need?" He asked, eager to please you in any way. "Will you give me a little massage? My muscles right here are very sore," you motioned towards the muscles on your inner thighs while you bit your lip, peering up at him. "O-okay," Matt stuttered, walking into the next trap you set.

He couldn't help notice how wet you were, but he tried his best to ignore it. He kneeled down between your legs and started massaging where you had asked. You let your eyes roll back in your head and let out a few satisfied sounds as he worked his thumbs on each one of your fleshy thighs.

"That's it, Matt. Just like that," you whined in a sexual manner, causing his dick to twitch in his pants. "Go up just a little further," you said, guiding his hands closer to your pussy. He nodded, doing as you asked. "Good boy," you moaned as he rubbed that spot over and over again. His eyes shot wide open.

"Can you move up just a little further?" You wondered, batting your lashes. "I-I can't," Matt shook his head, knowing if he moved up any further, he'd be right on your private parts. "Here," you said, grabbing his hand and placing his thumb directly on your clit.

"There you go. Now move it in circles. A little more pressure. Oh, just like that. Good boy," you cooed, looking seductively at him. Matt knew it was a dangerous game for him to be touching you there, but he couldn't stop.

He loved the words and sounds that were falling from your lips. He loved the way you were looking at him with desire in your eyes and pleasure written all over your face.

"Faster," you whispered, throwing your head back. Your shorts were soaking wet where Matt was massaging you with his thumb, and your legs started to shake while your cries of delight became louder. Chris came downstairs to see what all the commotion was.

You started seeing stars as your orgasm crashed over you. You moaned Matt's name over and over as he rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles, completely mesmerized by you finishing for him. Your whole body trembled until your climax subsided while Chris watched from the bottom of the stairs.

"Holy shit, Matt. I think you just lost No Nut November. Fucking pussy," Chris smirked. "What? I did not! I didn't break any of the rules!" Matt exclaimed defensively. "He's right, Chris. He didn't break any rules. He did, however, make it way harder on himself to follow the rules," you devilishly grinned, peering down at Matt's neglected cock that strained at the fabric of his pants, begging to be stroked.

"Now you gotta deal with having that boner until it goes away on its own," you chuckled at him, closing your legs and getting up. You rolled up your yoga mat, bending down in front of them both, and they each angrily groaned at you and stomped out of the room.

You were plotting your moves for the next few days. Meanwhile, Chris had a plan of his own. Upon learning that he was allowed to touch you however he pleased as long as he wasn't sticking his dick in you, he decided he was going to make you sweat a little the same way you were doing to him and Matt.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Twelve

The next night, in an attempt to turn on the boys, you tried on your new lingerie you'd bought at the beginning of the bet. You stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom dressed in a white lace bra and matching panties, knowing it was going to drive Matt and Chris crazy.

You wandered off to the living room where Matt was sitting on the couch, flipping through movies on Netflix and trying to find something to watch. "Hi, Matt," you cooed, leaning up against the wall. "Hey," Matt responded, his eyes flickering over at you and back at the television, and then back over at you when he realized what you were wearing.

"Wow," he whispered, studying the way you looked in white. "I have to show you something," you said, wandering over to him and straddling him on the couch. "What are you doing?" He asked, accusingly.

"Look," you said, pulling down your bra to reveal your breasts to him. "I got them pierced about six months ago, and they were finally healed enough for me to change out the metal," you couldn't contain your smug smile as you flashed Matt.

"Wow," he whispered again, reaching up to grab both your breasts, and he ran his thumbs over the heart-shaped rings. You shuddered at his touch. "They're so much more sensitive now," you whimpered. "Did it hurt when you got them pierced?" Matt asked, looking up at you. "A little, but I liked it," you snickered and bit your lip.

Without thinking, Matt leaned forward and took your right nipple into his mouth, delicately swirling his tongue around and gently suckling on it before moving to the left. You let out a few soft whines while he pleased you. You started to rock your hips back and forth, grinding up against Matt's rock hard cock.

"Okay, that's enough. You're being totally unfair right now," Matt said, lifting you off of him and shoving you to the other end of the couch.

"Hey, what's the matter, Matt?" You asked, crawling back over towards him. He jumped to a standing position. "I have to get out of here. You're too good at this," Matt grabbed his keys off the coffee table and headed out the door, fleeing from temptation. You smiled to yourself, getting so close to making him cave for you.

You picked up the remote and started searching through the various streaming services, waiting for Chris to come home so you could tease him next. Chris came bursting through the door, mad as hell. There was something about his demeanor that was off and slightly unsettling.

"Are you okay, Chris?" You asked him while sitting on the couch in your lingerie. "It's been twelve days since I've had an orgasm. I'm full of testosterone and cum, and I've had a shitty day, and I can't even to go to my room and beat my meat about it. I need to take all this aggression out on someone," Chris responded, his eyes sparkling and his lips curling into a smile as his eyes landed on you.

He walked over towards you, fell to his knees in front of you, and forced your legs apart. "You're such a fucking tease, skipping around in my house in your fucking lingerie. I hope these weren't expensive," Chris growled, ripping a hole in your lace panties.

You gasped and your eyes widened as you watched while Chris' lips latched onto your clit. He started moving his tongue in fast, jagged movements, making animalistic sounds while he ate you. "Chris, it's so sensitive," you squirmed around beneath him. "I don't mind," he smirked at you as he went back to assaulting your pussy with his mouth, sucking on your clit and licking it at the speed of light.

"Oh, Chris!" You called out, tugging on his hair, but he didn't let up. "If you want me to stop, just say that," he said, his lips vibrating against you. You didn't want to tell him to stop because you knew he would altogether. Malicious compliance was always one of Chris' favorite pastimes. "Don't stop, keep going," you whimpered, closing your thighs down around his ears.

You pulled down your bra again, gently tweaking your nipples while you looked down at Chris. His eyes flicked up at you. "Oh, my god. I didn't know you had your tits pierced. That's so fucking hot," he whispered, reaching up and grabbing a handful in each palm while he went back to eating your pussy like he was enjoying his last meal.

He squeezed your breasts and started pinching your nipples and rolling them between the pads of his fingers. You threw your head back and let out a satisfied moan as you began to shiver. "Yeah? You think you get to cum after all the shit you've been pulling?" Chris said, withdrawing all attention right before you finished.

"Nice try, fucking slut," Chris responded, spitting on your pussy and getting up to walk right back out the door. "Chris, please!" You called after him, nearly on the verge of tears from being teased like that. Chris slammed the door shut behind him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Well played, Chris," you whispered from the couch, staring down at the torn fabric that barely covered your bottom half while you decided to take matters into your own hands. You reached down to soothe the aching feeling Chris stuck you with after leaving you high and dry.

You rubbed your clit in fast circles with one hand and pinched your nipple with the other as you finished, remembering the way Chris' mouth felt on you. Just as you were trembling and reaching your much-needed climax, Matt walked back in through the door after finishing up his late night drive, his eyes immediately landing on the way your fingers were manipulating your clit.

"Oh my god. You're relentless!" Matt exclaimed before running up the stairs to take his mind off the scene that had just unfolded in front of him. You breathlessly chuckled about being caught. You hadn't meant for Matt to walk in on you and be tempted by you even further, but you weren't mad that it had played out that way.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Fourteen

You decided to kick it up a notch in the teasing department. By now, both Matt and Chris were very skeptical of you any time you wanted to show them anything or ask for help with something, so you had to get more creative with it.

You started taking naked pictures of yourself in the bathroom mirror after your shower, saving the good photos. After walking out into the hallway in just a towel, you opened up the group chat and sent in the best nude photo you'd taken, following it up with an "Oops! Didn't mean to send that! ;)" But they both knew better than to trust that it was a simple mistake.

When Chris opened your message, he let out a loud, annoyed grunt that resounded throughout the house. A few seconds later, you heard Matt's voice from down the hall, "You're evil!" You decided to strut around in your towel for the rest of the night, randomly dropping it while you were around the boys.

They used what willpower they could muster to keep their eyes off you as you relentlessly teased them with your body. While it was the closest they'd each gotten to saying fuck it about the whole No Nut November challenge, no one caved that night...

INTERACTIVE CHOOSE-YOUR-OWN ENDING AHEAD:

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 if you choose to have Matt and Chris both fail the challenge and become your submissive little fuck toys, click here 🤍

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 if you choose to have Matt and Chris win the challenge and turn you into their submissive little fuck toy, click here 🤍

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[whoreforsexymen]

The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn��t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 16

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 4.5k

Note : Only two chapters after this!! Honestly these last three chapter will be like an extended epilogue. Small flashbacks are indented! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

"Take Your Shape"

Rebuilding with Yelena had been almost as difficult as rebuilding with Bucky—but for entirely different reasons. With Bucky, the wounds revolved around love. Despite everything, at least he was familiar— at least he still felt like home. 

With Yelena, the fracture was messier, harder to untangle. She was a friend, sure, but she wasn’t nearly as close to you now as she’d been before the memory loss. Everyone kept insisting you two were like sisters, and it drove you mad—not knowing what that actually felt like.

You’d seen glimpses of it, in the video Happy showed you. You saw the two of you laughing, hanging out at the compound, but it wasn't the same. Watching those moments felt like peering into someone else’s life, someone else’s memories with no idea how you got here.

How had you gotten so close, and yet so… distant?

The pang of betrayal still swirled in your chest; she hadn’t warned you, hadn’t given you the truth when you needed it, even after knowing how much it would shatter you. You had craved human connection in the hospital room— maybe that's why you let her stay. But now, with all that anger simmering beneath the surface, you needed much more time to process this alone, and as it turned out, it took much longer than you had expected.

For the next couple of days, you couldn’t get past the fact that the woman who had allegedly been like a sister to you had chosen to keep you unaware of the mountain of lies your boyfriend had built.

Friday.

The first step came one evening, when she showed up at your apartment unannounced. She was standing there, hands shoved into her pockets. A fire of emotion swirled within you— Sadness. Resentment. Hope. 

But above all, you found yourself missing her.

“Can we talk?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let her in. Back in the hospital, when the truth had first come out, you hadn’t had the energy to argue. But here, in the privacy of your apartment, you did. What followed was a long conversation full of starts and stops, accusations and justifications.

“It wasn’t my decision to make,” Yelena said at one point, frustrated. You couldn’t tell if it was aimed at herself or at the situation.

Her words weren't an instant fix, but they planted a seed. Over the next few days, there were more conversations over training. You didn’t hold back your feelings, and to her credit, Yelena didn’t shut down, she didn’t deflect. She didn’t change the topic like she used to. Slowly, you began to see her choices not as malicious but as a misguided form of love manifesting from someone who had gone through so much. It’s poetic, really— how she was a platonic mirror of Bucky.

In the end, she just held back because she didn’t want to be the reason you were hurt. 

And now, knowing all you knew, you couldn’t hold it against her—just as you couldn’t hold a permanent grudge against Bucky. 

Friday, the next week.

The real turning point came when you introduced her to Alex. It hadn’t been part of any grand plan, just a chance encounter. 

You’d been out for coffee with Alex— catching up after the museum closed— when you spotted Yelena heading toward you on the street. There was a flicker of hesitation—a moment when you weren’t sure whether she’d stop or walk on by. But Alex, ever vigilant, recognised her from the photos you showed her and sensed your tension. So Alex, ever the diplomat, had stepped in with a warm smile, bridging the gap before it could grow too wide.

“Why don’t you join us?” Alex had offered.

Yelena hesitated, glancing at you, “I guess I could spare a minute,” she nodded.

A minute stretched into an hour. 

At first, Yelena sat stiffly, her words overly careful. But Alex had a way of breaking down walls without anyone realizing it was happening. She leaned into Yelena’s stories, genuinely interested. Alex laughed in all the right places, continued to moderate the conversation just when you thought it was ending.

Both you and Yelena began sharing training mishaps, laughing like old times again. In return, Alex shared stories of things that happened in the museum after you left, like the time she accidentally dropped a fossilized dinosaur tooth during a museum tour and had to convince the students it was a fake (she had broken it, of course).

After a while, you found yourself sitting back, sipping your coffee, watching them as though you were an outsider. There was something so gratifying about seeing Yelena, usually so guarded, taking a liking to a civilian friend of yours.

Later, as you and Alex walked back, she turned to face you.

“I can see why you keep Yelena around, after everything,” Alex said, “Though she’s a little... intense.”

“She’s the kind that grows on you,” you replied. For the first time in a while, you felt a sisterly warmth grow in your heart for the Russian.

This must be how it felt like the first time— when you joined the avengers and got close to her.

Alex nudged your shoulder playfully. “I like her.”

Thursday, the next week.

Much to your surprise, Yelena and Alex only grew closer from then on. 

Their friendship seemed effortless, almost as though they’d known each other for years. It reminded you of why you’d been drawn to Yelena in the first place: it was her wit, her stubborn charm that kept you both on edge.

Seeing Alex bring out that side of her so easily felt like watching two puzzle pieces click into place.

The weekly lunches at the diner soon became a ritual. The first time, Yelena had scrutinized the laminated menu with a dramatic sigh before declaring, “This place better not kill me.” Predictably, she’d found something to complain about. “The eggs are overcooked, the toast is cold, and the coffee tastes like dishwater.” She’d said it with such exaggerated disdain (in a thick Russian accent) that even Alex had giggled.

“I think it's charming” Alex had replied, which earned her one of Yelena’s rare, unguarded smiles.

After that, every Thursday, like clockwork, the three of you crammed into the same corner booth, under the same faded mural of a desert highway. Over time, those lunches became a refuge from whatever was going on that week— whether it was a mission gone wrong or some exhibition that needed long hours to set up. These days were always filled with teasing banter, long-winded stories, and the occasional vulnerable heart-to-heart conversation.

Slowly but surely, you could feel the cracks between you and Yelena mending, the tension that had once boiled over dissipating like sea foam. Forgiveness, you realised, wasn’t a singular event, but a collection of moments— of these moments.

Thursday, the next week. 

One Thursday, as the three of you stayed long after the plates had been cleared, Yelena leaned back in her seat, one arm draped over the backrest, suspiciously close to Alex’s shoulders. “You know,” she said, twirling her coffee spoon, “if I’d known Alex was this entertaining, I would’ve stolen her from you a long time ago.”

Alex tilted her head to look at her playfully. “I don’t think you could handle me full-time.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “You’re probably right.”

You rolled your eyes, a laugh slipping out.

That day, before going your separate ways, Yelena raised her coffee cup. “Here’s to second chances.”

You hesitated, a flicker of pride behind your eyes, before lifting your own cup. “To second chances,” you echoed, the clink of ceramic against ceramic feeling like a momentous occasion.

Thursday, two months later.

The chatter of the diner hummed around the three of you, a comforting backdrop of clinking plates, shuffling waitstaff, and the faint melody of Motown playing through the speakers

The tension that had once defined your interactions with Yelena, born from everything that had happened with Bucky, now seemed faded. In a way, it had been completely repaired by these weekly lunches.

Across the table, Alex was mid-story, her fork waving through the air as she recounted her new kitten’s latest reign of terror.

“And then she destroyed the blinds,” Alex said with a dramatic flourish she used in museum tours.

Yelena chuckled, her chin propped on her hand as she watched Alex with a mix of amusement and intrigue. Maybe even affection.

But sure enough, the lull in Alex’s story gave her the opening she needed. She turned to face you, tilting her head.

“So,” Yelena began, “what’s going on with you and Bucky?”

The shift in conversation was sudden, but you weren’t surprised. Yelena was nothing if not direct, and she had a way to steer the conversation in whichever way she pleased.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up, her fork freezing mid-air, curious. “Oh, good question,” she said eagerly. “You haven’t really talked about him much lately. Are you two… okay?” 

You hesitated, your fingers absently picking at the corner of your napkin as you considered how you should answer. “We’re… figuring it out,” you said finally. 

Yelena raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s vague,” she said, skeptical. “Try again.”

Surprising even yourself, you laughed, setting the napkin aside as you leaned back in your seat. “It’s just… complicated,” you insisted, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“Now that’s more interesting,” Yelena smiled softly. “Go on.”

Alex leaned in too, her elbows on the table. “Start from the beginning,” she said, grinning. 

You sighed, but there was no malice in it. “Fine,” you relented as your thoughts drifted to the past few months. 

“I told you about the dinner, right? The day I came home?”— they both nodded— “Well, the next day, he asked if he could come over for coffee. I almost said no—But… I agreed.”

Yelena made a soft, approving sound, “And?”

“And,” you continued, smiling faintly, “he showed up with two cups from that little café down my street. You know, the one with the crawling plants? We sat across the kitchen table, and it was like we were strangers on a first date. It was… weird, but not bad. We just talked. About music, about books, about how he wanted to start swimming more. It felt…” You trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Normal?” Alex offered, her tone gentle.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Normal.”

The knock at the door was soft, almost hesitant, like Bucky was giving you time to change your mind, to pretend you weren’t home anymore. For a moment, you just stared at the door.  You needed this. No, you wanted this.  You wanted him.  When you opened the door, you saw Bucky leaning on his heels with two coffee cups in his hands, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. His hair was tied back, and his leather jacket looked just a little too warm for the season. “Hey,” he said, offering a small, nervous smile as he held up the cups like a peace offering. “I, uh, I know you ran out of ground coffee at home so I got your favorite. Unless you don’t want your favourite. In which case—” “I want it,” you interrupted, an exhausted smile on your face, “Thank you, Bucky.” His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Good. That’s good.” You stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. The air felt heavier inside, the awkwardness wrapping around you both like a scarf wrapped too tightly around your neck. Bucky followed you into the kitchen, setting the cups down on the table and pulling out a chair before glancing at yo. You sat down, gesturing for him to do the same. He slid into the chair across from you, his metal fingers tapping lightly on the edges of the table. For a moment, it was painfully quiet, the silence stretching long enough for the faint hum of the fridge to fill the room. You stared at the coffee cups, fiddling with the coasters. “Thank you,” he started, running a hand over his face. “For giving me a second chance.” You sipped your coffee, watching him over the rim of the cup. He was trying. You could see it in the way his fingers fidgeted, the way his eyes flickered up to meet yours and then darted away again— he was bracing for rejection. “You did ask nicely,” you said finally with a teasing chuckle, as if saying ‘you’re okay. You’re not crossing a line.’ The tension wasn’t gone, but you both had eased it last night.  He winced, unsure of what to make of your dry humour. “You brought coffee.” you offered a shy smile. “That’s something,” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Baby steps,” he said softly. As you settled back into your chair, the conversation began to flow. It was hesitant at first, but soon enough, you were talking about music, about the book you started reading when he left last night, about how he was thinking of taking up swimming again because, "it might be nice to feel weightless for a bit.” It felt… strange, but also familiar. It was the kind of moment you didn’t realize you needed until it was happening. And even all the awkwardness and the lingering edges of frustration, it felt normal. As you finished your coffee, you caught him glancing at you, the tiniest hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Just… thanks for letting me come over.”

Yelena leaned back. “So, he’s trying to win you back with caffeine and small talk?”

Your laugh came easier this time, the tension in your chest easing. “Something like that.”

Encouraged by their attention, you went on.

“There are still nights when he texts me late, confessing that he’s been pacing for hours, anxious about me— about us. At first, it scared me. I didn’t know how to help, didn’t know if I even could. But now…” You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Now I call him. I stay on the line. I let him talk, let him share pieces of himself he wouldn’t've told me otherwise. It’s hard to hear sometimes but it feels important. Like he’s finally trusting me.”

“And do you talk to him about… your stuff too?” Alex asked. 

You nodded, the memory of those late-night conversations blooming a warmth in your chest. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can. Vulnerability isn’t just a one-way street, and we’ve….we’re both still learning.”

One night, you were jolted awake by a string of text notifications. You checked— it was all from Bucky. I can’t sleep. Been pacing for hours.  Thinking too much. About you. About us. You’d stared at the screen, unsure what to say or do. With a deep breath, you decided to call him.  The phone rang once, then twice, before he picked up. His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in hours. “Hey.” “Hi,” you’d say softly, leaning back against your pillow. “Anxious again?” A small, self-deprecating chuckle would follow. “Yeah. Sorry. Did I wake you?” You lied. “No.” Then you let him talk. At first, it was fragmented—confessions spilling out in pieces. He’d talk about the nightmares, the way he sometimes felt like he didn’t deserve to be loved. “It’s like…” he’d say one night, voice cracking just enough to make your chest ache, “I keep waiting for the day you’re gonna wake up and realise I’m not worth it. That this—” a pause, a sharp inhale “—that I’m too much.” Your heart broke, but you didn’t interrupt. You’d learned not to. Instead, you stayed on the line, letting him speak until the silence between his words grew longer, like the storm in his head was finally passing. “Bucky,” you said when the quiet stretched too long. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right? I gave you a second chance because you’re worth it.” His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to believe that.” And slowly, he was. Somewhere along the way, you started sharing your struggles too.  One night, you admitted, “I still feel guilty for not being able to remember. I— I feel like I’m never going to live up to the expectations that people have of me. Like I’m never going to be enough ever again.” Bucky had gone quiet, and for a moment you worried that you’d said too much. But then his voice came through, “You’re more than enough. I don’t know I’ve told you that recently, but you are.” That night, you cried after hanging up—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming joy of being heard. Your relationship wasn’t perfect. You both still stumbled, still had moments where the walls crept back up. But those late-night calls had become a lifeline, a place where both of you could be messy and imperfect and still… safe.

Alex’s eyes were thoughtful, Yelena’s lips pressing into a contemplative line.

You cleared your throat, “But it’s not all heavy, I promise. We’ve been going on more dates again— like walking through the city or grabbing dinner at places we used to love. He’s even started leaving little notes around my apartment. Cute stuff, like reminding me to take care of myself when he’s not there.”

This time around, dating Bucky was like rediscovering a book you used to love—familiar, comforting, but still filled with moments that could surprise you. The casual dates were your favourite. As you walked down the streets together, the bustling noise always felt muted. He always made a show of remembering little things—pointing out the bookstore where you’d once spent hours, or stopping by a food truck where you’d apparently eaten a ridiculous number of tacos one summer. You didn’t remember, of course, but you trusted him.  Dinner dates were no less charming. Bucky had a knack for choosing the right place—not too fancy, just enough character. “You deserve something better than just takeout,” he’d said once. You could see the effort in every small gesture: how he’d pick up your favourite dessert on the way back home, or how he made sure you had no training drills the next morning when he planned a late night. And then there were the notes. It came after the first month, when you gave him the spare key to your apartment again. The first one caught you off guard, a scribbled “Hey, don’t forget to eat lunch today” stuck to the fridge. You’d smiled, shaking your head, and tucked it into a drawer. But they kept coming. Little scraps of paper, each one carrying a piece of him—gentle reminders, sweet compliments, even terrible doodles that made you laugh until your sides hurt. One morning, after a particularly late mission, you’d found one stuck to your door: “Proud of you. Rest—you earned it.”

Yelena’s brow arched, intrigued.

“One morning,” you continued, the smile on your face growing, “I forgot my jacket, and he showed up at the training ground with it. Didn’t say much, just handed it over. He bought like four of my favourite chocolate bars and stuffed them in my pocket.”

It had been a long, cold morning at the training ground. You’d left in a rush, forgetting your coat. You mentioned it to Bucky when you ran into him in the kitchen that morning, beating yourself up mentally for being forgetful— a particularly touchy subject for you. It was just your luck that Clint had prepared to do outdoor training. You spent the first hour of drills shivering in the cold. You weren’t expecting him to show up—Bucky had been busy with his own schedule—but there he was, standing by the edge of the field with your jacket draped over his arm. He didn’t say much, just walked over, handed it to you, and nodded. But when you slipped it on, your hands brushed against something bulky in the pockets. Curious, you reached in and pulled out not one, but four of your favourite chocolate bars, the wrappers crinkling as you stared at him. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he said casually, knowing how much forgetting had upset you. “Bucky…” you began, but he just shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as if to downplay the gesture. “Don't make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a small smile. But it was a big deal. Not because of the chocolates, not even the jacket, but because of the way you realised he truly cared. That night, when you found another note tucked into the chest pocket—“you’re enough, even when you forget”— you couldn’t stop smiling.

“That’s sweet,” Alex let out a small chuckle. “He’s really trying, isn’t he?”

“So am I,” you nodded, though your voice was quieter now.

Yelena hummed, finally breaking her silence. “Sounds like progress,” she said in approval, “Though I’m still surprised you haven’t kissed him yet,” Yelena remarked, leaning back in the booth, arms crossed like she owned the place.

“We’re taking our time,” you rolled your eyes. “I don’t want to rush into something just because it’s familiar.”

Yelena hummed, playfully scrutinizing. “Must be hard,” she said, her voice wrapped with faux sympathy. “Especially because he follows you around the compound with those big, stupid puppy dog eyes.”

Alex, who’d been happily munching on her toast, choked on a laugh. “Really?”

You scoffed, but your cheeks warmed ever so slightly. “We’re still rebuilding,” you replied, brushing off the teasing, pretending it didn’t hit closer to home than you wanted to admit.

Yelena’s eyebrows softened at your words, her sharp wit momentarily dulled by concern.“Speaking of your little ‘rebuilding phase’... let’s talk about this mission you’re going on with him tomorrow.”

Alex perked up immediately. “Mission? Oh, is this classified?” she teased, holding up her hands like she’d been caught eavesdropping. “Should I, like, cover my ears or something?”

“Relax, Alex,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Just a standard recon mission. Nothing exciting.”

Yelena stirred her coffee as if it had committed a crime. “What was Sam thinking? Pairing you two up now of all times? While you’re still… patching things up. He should’ve sent you with Torres instead. That guy’s boring enough—gets the job done, no drama.”

“Torres isn’t boring,” you protested, half-defensive, half-amused, knowing Sam would smack her upside in the head for talking about his friend that way. “He’s just… new, still a little shy. Give him a break.”

“Whatever,” Yelena waved her spoon dismissively. “He’d still be less of a potential disaster than you and Bucky.”

“We’re not a ‘disaster,’ Yelena,” you leaned forward, narrowing your eyes at her. “Besides, I think this mission is going to be good for us. Working together again… it’s what we need, it’s like testing a boundary together, y’know?”

Yelena raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue further, though you could tell from her expression she wasn’t entirely convinced.

But you didn’t need her to be. You were genuinely excited for this mission. It wasn’t just a test of trust—it was a step forward, a small chance to rediscover yourselves together. 

“Fine.” Yelena sighed, finally relenting. “But if you two screw it up, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so.’”

Alex shook her head at this mission talk. She wasn’t in this world, but she appreciated it. In time, she might even grow to understand it. But for now, she raised her coffee cup with a grin. “Here’s to testing boundaries!”

You clinked your cup against hers with a small laugh, stealing a glance at Yelena, whose smile had now returned. 

“To testing boundaries,” you said, more to yourself than anyone else.

The bell above the diner’s door chimed as Bucky stepped inside. You spotted him immediately, his broad shoulders framed by the doorway, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside.

“Speak of the devil,” Yelena muttered under her breath, sipping her coffee. She had not even bothered lowering her voice.

Alex, ever the peacemaker, nudged Yelena with her elbow. “Play nice,” she whispered. Then, she turned toward Bucky with an exaggerated wave. “Hi, Bucky!”

You rolled your eyes at Alex’s enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help smiling as Bucky made his way over. 

“Hey,” he greeted the table, his voice low and warm, his eyes affectionately landing on you.

“Hey you,” you greeted softly.

Yelena leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. “Tin Man finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

Bucky smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he slid his hands out of his jacket pockets. “Nice to see you too, Yelena,” he replied evenly, his tone carrying just the right amount of dry humour.

Alex, clearly enjoying herself, leaned forward. “You know, for people who fought about what’s best for her for months, you two are surprisingly civil.”

Bucky gave Alex a polite smile, while Yelena groaned and gestured playfully. “Oh, please. I was always civil. He’s the one who—”

“Not here,” you cut in quickly, “We’re not doing this here.”

Yelena held up her hands in surrender. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll behave, besides,” she said with a knowing shrug, “I think Bucky’s here to steal you away from us.”

At that, Bucky finally looked into your eyes. “If that’s alright,” he said, his voice quiet but hopeful.

Before you could respond, Yelena waved her hand dismissively. “Fine. Borrow her. But bring her back in one piece, Barnes.”

You stood, smoothing the front of your shirt, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your chest as you slid out of the booth. “I’ll see both of you soon,” you said.

After waving a goodbye, Bucky held the door open for you, the chill of the wind pricking on your skin. 

He glanced at you hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

“Hot chocolate?” You asked.

“Hot chocolate,” he confirmed, holding out a hand. It was a simple gesture, but something about it felt significant. His flesh hand—not the metal one—hovered in the space between you, waiting patiently. For a moment, you caught the faintest hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Then you reached for him.

His hand was warm, his palm slightly rough against yours. When your fingers intertwined, it felt… solid. Right. Like the two of you were anchoring each other in the moment. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand. It wasn’t the first time you’d held hands with him, but it felt like the first time since everything— since the fractures, the distance. 

“Is this okay?” Bucky’s eyes softened, his lips curving into a small, private smile, one meant just for you. 

“It’s perfect.”

-to be continued...

Taglist :

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@notsostrangerthing @wintercrows @chiliwhore @mrsnikstan @bunnygirlwriter876

[storiesfromafan]

He's Not So Bad (18+) - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: I bring you the awaited follow up to He's So Annoying 😊

I hope this ain't too bad. I finished writing it this morning before work. And just finished revising, so forgive me if there is any spelling/grammer mistakes.

Also, today wasn't such a good day at work, would appreciate some love 😅

Warnings: spelling/grammer mistakes, public sex, p in v

Prompt/s: “Can you feel how much I want you?” and “You’re mine"

Tag list: @moorningvoice @legobookstore @revesephemeres

After Potion’s class, you found Mattheo flirting and annoying you more with every shared class for the last few days. And every time you do your best to ignore him or put him in his place, he continued to drag up that night. You began to think he enjoyed remembering it, and like if he mentioned it, you’d jump back into bed with him. And you wanted too. But your better judgement told you no, he just wanted you physically.

Unfortunately this day was the day he’d followed you out of your last class – Divination – and was adamant on giving lost puppy energy. And that was even with people around.

“Honestly, why do you keep chasing me, when there are so many willing females that would gladly be your bed buddy?” You sighed turning down a hallway that looked to be deserted.

Mattheo shrugged. “I like the chase with you. It’s a challenge, love”.

“Don’t called me love!” You shot back, sending him a glare. Which made him smile.

Mattheo thought it was funny how you hadn’t clued on. How he was infatuated with you. His constant presence, annoyance and the nickname – love – were tell-tale signs of his affection for you. Hell, he’d even gotten detention the other day for hexing a Hufflepuff guy who Mattheo overheard planning to ask you out. You were his. And that meant you were off limits.

Mattheo chuckled. “Deny all you like, love, but I know you enjoy it".

Rolling your eyes while you picked up the pace, wanting to put distance between you too, as well as get back to the Ravenclaw house. The only place you could be free of the menace on your heels. If only you know what was about to come.

You felt a hand wrap around your wrist, then being pulled down a dead end of the hallway. Your body being pressed against the wall, hidden behind a statue and pillar. Another hand was pressed against you mouth before you could even make a noise. Before you was Mattheo, the person who had dragged you down here and pressed you against the wall.

Your shock expression turned to that of a glare. Which told him that you weren’t going to scream, probably tell him off, but he could handle that. So with a small, sweet smile on his lips, Mattheo removed his hand. Instantly you let him have it.

“What the hell! What are you thinking!?” You voiced, tone sharp and annoyed.

Mattheo remained quiet, admiring the fire in you. He moved the hand that had been over your mouth, to push back your hair so it was over your shoulder. Before running it along your jaw and down your neck. You shuddered. You told yourself you had to be mad, and not show how his simple actions affected you. Because they did. His touch was electric, the pads of his fingers running slowly over your skin, sending your heart a flutter.

Mattheo of course noticed the shudder, and the slight change in you. He’d been studying for so long, he knew the signs. The hand holding your wrist moved to rest against the wall next to your head, almost completely caging you in. His warm chocolate brown orbs had darkened with the thought of what was to come. So long as you let him, of course. Mattheo wouldn’t do anything you didn’t beg for. And he’d have you beginning.

Leaning in, Mattheo ran his nose along your jaw, taking in the faint smell of your perfume. Which he noted he needed to find out what it was, so he could buy you more, for it was his new favourite scent when mixed with your own smell. You stiffened at his action. You didn’t expect Mattheo to be this forward. Sure, he liked to flirt and bring up that night, maybe even tell you what else he’d like to do to you. But actually do it? This surprised you.

“You smell so good" Mattheo softly groaned before nipping your jaw, making you jump. “Jumpy, love?” He chuckled.

You shot him a dirty look, which he enjoyed oh so much. “N-no" you retorted.

Once more Mattheo chuckled, before kissing your jaw and then nipping once more. Again you jumped, but not as much as the first time. “Hmmm, you are jumpy" he commented teasingly.

You placed your hands against Mattheo's chest and push, hoping he’d get the hint and back up. But no. He only moved closer, your strength nothing for him. Before your hands could be trapped, you moved them to his shoulder. Bad move. It not only allowed Mattheo to press his body completely against yours, against the wall. But also gave him the idea you wanted him. Which you did, but tried to fight the spark between you both.

His lips moved to your neck. Kissing and nipping. You fought the rising moan that so badly wanted to be freed from your lips. No, you couldn’t let Mattheo win. Yet the moment his free hand skimmed up your side, coming to rest under your breast, you wanted to whine, wanting him to touch you there. And you know he wanted to, the way his hand slightly shaked against you, his restraint impressive. But he wouldn’t just do it, not without permission, your submission and begging.

The hands on his shoulders grasped at his white button up shirt, your nails would have dug into his flesh if not for that item of clothing. The memory of how your nails felt on and digging into his flesh flooding both of your memories. Recalling how Mattheo moan and groaned from the scrapping down his back, and the reminder he had for a few days. He wanted your mark on him always. But that would be another time.

Yet you were holding back, and he couldn’t have that. He needed you to give in to him. Mattheo pressed his lower half closer to you, his arousal pressing into your hip.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He groaned lips having moved to your ear, his hot breath tickling. “So badly I need you, love”.

Your breath caught in your throat from the feel of him and his admission. Which hit straight in the pit of your stomach, adding to your arousal. You pressed your legs together trying to will it away, but the embers were lit. From here it would just grow to an all-consuming fire. Against your better judgement, and senses, you moved a hand to the back of Mattheo's head. You grasped his brown curls, before pulling his head back so you could look at his gorgeous face. Expecting a knowing smirk upon his lips, you would have been surprised by the dark look on his face, if you weren’t lost by desire. Which mirrored in his eyes.

You pulled him in so that your lips collided in a hard, messy kiss. Giving all in. Which Mattheo accepted. The hand resting under your breast moved to cup your mound, that you sighed at. Taking his opportunity, Mattheo slipped his tongue into your mouth, claiming it and your tongue for himself. Feverishly his tongue moved with your own, a frantic dance.

While you lost yourselves in the kiss, Mattheo moved both hands down your sides. Moving over your hips and down your thighs. He moved down and you continued to move with him in the kiss. Mattheo then moved his hands back up your thighs, under your skirt, to the back of your thighs. Before you knew it, he had lifted you, bringing your legs up around his waist. His hands groping your behind, while he pushes you further against the wall. His arousal pressed against your aching core, both clothing separating those intimate places. With a hard, slow grind against your body from Mattheo, you pulled back from the kiss and moaned. Instantly he moved to sloppily kiss your neck.

“W-we shouldn’t b-be doing this h-here" you managed to choke out, as he kept grinding against you.

Mattheo groaned against your neck. “But I need you now, love. I can’t wait" he retorted. “No one will know, as long as you’re quiet".

The way his voice lowered and had this desperate tone to it, it just added to the fire. With those words and tone your last shred of sense left you. Too far gone now to back out. You bucked your core against his arousal, solidifying you heard and understood him. And that pleased Mattheo so much.

One of his hands moved to your clothed sex, fingers finding your bundle of nerves and pressing it over your panties. You groaned softly, before you mewed when he moved those fingers in circles over the nub. You rested your head against the wall, eyes closed while your hand gripped Mattheo’s hair. He moved his head back, drinking in the sight of your face and his hand pleasuring you.

When he abruptly stopped his ministrations, you shot him a dirty look. He chuckled. “Patience, love. It’s just beginning".

He placed a long, chaste kiss to your lips. While his hand moved to his slacks, he pulled down his zipped and managed to free himself. It was a moment of relief for Mattheo, for his hard member had been in torture being confined. Using his hand he pumped himself a few times before feeling the over whelming need to be inside you. So, letting himself go, Mattheo moved his hand to your panties. Pushing the clothing a side, he jostled you up the wall a little move, hand firm on your behind.

Moving himself to your entrance, Mattheo ran the tip along your folds, gathering your slick. When the tip nudged your bundle of nerves, you groaned, feeling a jolt in the pit of your stomach. He did that a few more times, enjoying the noises and how your face looked from his actions.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be in you" he sighed, lining himself up at your entrance.

You didn’t say anything, or get the chance too. For Mattheo began to push into you. Slowly the tip entered you, followed by inch after inch. He growled at how tight you were around him. But eventually he pushed all the way in, bottoming out, fully inside you. He waited a few minutes, letting you adjust to him and relax.

After a few minutes Mattheo started to pull out till the tip was just inside you, and with a snap of his hips, he pushed back inside. Over and over he did this at a slow pace. Your hands gripped his hair and shoulder, back arching, clothed breasts pushing up against him. You felt so good, like heaven, just like he remembered but better.

There you were, in a dead end of a deserted hall, with Mattheo fucking you up against a wall that was just concealed from sight. You should have protested the public setting, but when he felt so good, and made you feel so good, you couldn’t do anything but take it.

With a harsh snap of his hips, you bit back a loud moan, for he’d reached that spot with in you. And with every second or third thrust, Mattheo was hitting it repeatedly. You buried your face in his shoulder, holding onto him tighter, a small whimper leaving your lips. Knowing how good he was making you feel, Mattheo picked up his pace, chasing your releases.

You felt that coil in your pit tightening with each thrust, your sex tightening around him every time after hitting that spot deep within you. You both were a panting and sweating mess, lost in this moment and the other.

“You're mine" Mattheo groaned, thrust harsher into you. “Tell me you’re mine!”

You moaned against his shoulder, from his thrust and words. Being so sex drunk, your better judgement was out the window. “I-I'm yours" you moaned.

“I can’t hear you" he groaned, gripping your ass with both hands as he thrust deeply and moaning.

You let out a small cry when he did that. “I-I'm yours!”

Hearing you better, Mattheo grinned. Pleased with your answer. Without saying anything else, he focused on getting you both over the edge. He focused on his thrusts, long and hard, and trying to hit that spot over and over. That coil in your pit tightened with every thrust. You found yourself tell him you were close. So he worked harder. Soon his thrusts got sloppy, but he kept at it.

When you finally came, you told him just before that coil in your snapped. You tightened around him, moaning Mattheo's name and riding out your release. With a few more sloppy thrusts, Mattheo finally hit his own release, a groan leaving his throat. He thrusted a few more times as he coats your insides with his release. Mattheo buried himself inside you, body leaning against you as you both tried to catch your breathes.

It was silence, except for your soft panting. Mattheo rest his forehead against your shoulder, while the hand in his locks ran through them. He was savouring this moment. While you wondered what this meant. You were confused by his want for you to say you were his. Was it something to help him get off? Yet you were unsure of voicing that question.

After a while Mattheo pulled back, and he removed himself from you, covering you back up with your panties. He helped lower you to your feet, which were a bit shaky. But once he was sure you were standing, he put himself back in his pants and zipped them back up. It was silent between you both, for you, you were unsure while Mattheo was satisfied and content.

Feeling self-conscious, you picked up your bag and were about to leave. “Um, a-alright" you stuttered. Unsure of what to say after a quickie in the hall.

You had just moved past Mattheo, when he grabbed your wrist. “Where are you running off to love?”

You sighed. “I told you, I’m not your love”.

Not hearing a retort or him releasing your wrist, you turned to see a knowing smirk on Mattheo's face. He moved closer to you, hand moving to lock with yours, as he pulled you closer.

“Oh, but you are love” he said in that overly sweet tone. “You said it yourself, you’re mine”.

Your face flushed. While all words left you. That was the moment you realised you had unknowingly given yourself to Mattheo Riddle. You were his. And he was completely yours. Slowly a smile crossed your lips. You decided to accept your fate. He’s not so bad.

[scam-alerts]

👀 Tips and Tricks 👀

Here is a collection of useful tips and tricks to spotting and dealing with scams and those who try to share them. :)

Tip #1 - Stay calm.

This is the first and most important thing you should do in any situation involving strangers on the internet. Yes, it's okay to be unsure about something at first glance. They say that you should always trust your gut. But what you shouldn't do is let that fear and uncertainty make you hateful or spiteful towards those who might genuinely be seeking help.

Tip #2 - Wait! Let's investigate!

That ask/DM someone sent you isn't going anywhere. They send dozens of them out every day to people, so it won't hurt if you take 5-10 minutes to do a little research before you decide to take action.

Easy ways you can investigate:

1) Search the username of the person who sent the ask/DM. - You can do this by typing their name in tumblr's search function or: https://www.tumblr.com/search/username https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/username

2) Check the blogs archive to see how old it is. blogname.tumblr.com/archive.

3) Check the past reblogs of the pinned post they want you to share. - Does the persons 'real name' change every few weeks? (more on this trick here!)

4) Search part of the ask via google and the word 'tumblr'. - Do you find results of that same ask being sent by other blogs?

5) If they sent you a DM, ask questions. Ask a lot of questions. - Do they get mad or frustrated with you? - Do they try to change the subject? - Are they persistent about trying to get you to do something?

Tip #3 - Stay kind.

I know it can be overwhelming when you receive asks looking for help when you might not be able to offer anything in return. It's also 100% okay to not know if you're dealing with a real person in need or a scammer. But please, don't go around reporting every single ask you get with a gofundme saying it's a scam or making posts telling others to do the same. This might wind up hurting real people genuinely looking for help from others.

Tip #4 - It is okay to block and delete.

In many cases when you receive an ask looking for help, it's usually sent with a sad story of loss, tragedy, heartache, or an implied since of urgency. This is not to say situations from real, genuine people looking for help aren't emergencies.

Just remember:

You do not have to share any asks that are sent to you.

And it does not make you a bad person if you block someone.

Especially in the cases of scammers.

Tip #5 - Help protect one another other.

If you see that someone has shared a scam, let that person who shared it know what's going on. Let them know how and why that person they shared a post from is a scammer, tell them the various tips and tricks on how to spot scammers, and maybe they too will do the same for their friends, and so on and so forth.

If anything you might even help a lot of other people not fall for a scam if you do share their pinned post and tag it as being a scam with information as to how/why in your post.

Scammers love to change their usernames, their 'real names' on their posts and editing their stories around a little bit, and if people work together, we can help keep each other safe by making sure that others are scam aware.

----------

Thank you all for reading, I hope you all have a fantastic day and if you ever have questions about something you think might be a scam, don't be afraid to send me an ask. :)

Take care. <3

----------

Helpful links and guides: Scam Index (@scam-alerts) Useful guides to spotting scams (by @kyra45) A guide about scammers pretending to be Palestinian. A guide on how to spot Insulin Scams. Part 1 and part 2 of our current list of scammers.

[thegeekproblem]

okay, so there's no way i can actually write this fic, it's maybe too angsty for me? i just know i've been dissociating hard just thinking about it so let's purge the idea of my head. everyone feel free to write this fic, just tag me so i can go and read it. and who knows, maybe i will write it if i feel like i can get my ideas in order.

ANYWAY (timeline? what timeline?)

jason todd, after gotham war, with an implant in his head that makes him feel fear every time his adrenaline spikes, can't live in gotham anymore. once the criminal world in gotham find out about it he's hunted down like an animal, his normal nightmares just wake him up to more nightmares, there's no escape, no place safe. he runs from gotham, from the country. he leaves everything behind to go underground, as far away as he can manage. he returns to the all caste to hide from the world and as a way to at least be safe inside his head he erases all of his memories. everything. there's no bruce, no joker, no sheila, no catherine, no willis.

bruce notices the red hood is gone. he tries to search for him but there's no trace of him, he's just gone. damian says that talia helped him leave but he doesn't know where he is or if he'll ever come back. every once in a while bruce tries to look for him to no avail. barbara has a notification for a face scan world wide, tim has alarms in case he ever returns to gotham. still, jason is gone and life goes back to normal.

years pass and the world is under attack of the untitled and they have no idea how to save it. talia appears telling them the only way it can be saved is working with the all caste, there's a seer inside the caste that has seen what's going to happen and she needs to take them there. talia takes bruce to the chambers of all, even when all she wants to do is see gotham burn.

they arrive and ducra is waiting for them. (ducra knows who bruce is, who he is to jason but it's no longer important, she doesn't tell bruce any of this) ducra takes them to the seer but warns them that he's not completely here, that his mind has lived in the past-present-future and everything that could-would-will happen that he's kinda gone, that he paid the price with his memories so it doesn't matter. bruce doesn't care because he only wants to save the world and has no attachment to this seer.

they go to the chamber of the seer.

it's jason.

god, imagine jason, no memories, frustrated with the world and what it did to him, angry and unable to do anything about it looking at bruce and being like: i'm disappointed. i always wondered what type of person would do this to me? what did i do to make someone hate me this much? but i see you're just a normal human man.

A/N: if i ever get what the plot of this fic is actually about instead of just, you know, jus angst porn, i will write it. i love making jason suffer, but i also love bruce suffering the consequences of his own actions, and amnesia fics are just my jam, i fucking love them! i don't know where everyone else is in this fic, maybe dick and damian go with bruce to the chambers of all while tim and barbara man the fort back in gotham and dick goes all angsty-brother-filled-with-guilt at seeing seer!jason. and maybe jason is still a stubborn pice of shit, he still gets angry even if he doesn't understand why, he still holds grudges even when he no longer has memories. maybe seer!jason knows what's supposed to happen and joins them in gotham. also, imagine seer!jason sacrificing himself for people he doesn't remember because he knows that's what's supposed to happen. also, is there anyway to add jaydick to this fic??? i just love them so much.

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 5 - (Captain Price Fic) Background Check

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version)   Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N is a reserved former constable and master sniper in the London police force, now working full-time as an artisan. She reconnects with old colleagues at a grill house for a catch-up, where her former junior, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, tries to play matchmaker. Gaz’s attempt to set her up with the retired SAS and Papa Bear material, Captain John Price, is met with resistance as Y/N is caught off guard by the unexpected attention. @darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments)

Warning: Mention of abuse

A quick A/N:

Before jumping to the conclusion that Y/N’s victory was unrealistic or labeling her a "Mary Sue," it’s important to note that her win is grounded in practical, researched tactics. Y/N is an SCO19 sniper with urban warfare expertise—an environment where methodical planning and familiarity with tight, complex spaces trump brute force or traditional military tactics. Her role emphasizes precision, adaptability, and outthinking her opponents, which made her success plausible in this exercise.

On the other hand, Captain Price is a seasoned veteran with broad expertise, but his experience as a generalist operator wasn’t perfectly suited to the specialized demands of urban combat in this scenario. He underestimated how critical environmental mastery and sniper strategy were to the outcome, which reflects real-life situations where even the most skilled operators can be outmaneuvered in domains outside their specialty.

P.S.: I looked into this a lot (and spent time watching actual combat exercises) so I could make it as realistic as possible. 😊

Background Check

The faint buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Price sat at his desk, staring at the screen of his computer, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The glow from the monitor cast a pale light on his furrowed brow as he replayed the events of the exercise in his head. He had lost, and not just in the way a typical soldier loses a battle. No, this loss gnawed at him in a way he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t just about tactics. It was about the person on the other side—Y/N.

He hadn’t seen it coming. The way she maneuvered her team, the way she used the urban environment like it was a living, breathing thing. Price, a seasoned veteran with more combat experience than most men could dream of, had been outwitted by a sniper whose reputation, he now realized, was far more than just a title. She was a specialist in a way that went beyond his initial expectations.

Underestimated, huh? He thought with a grimace, his gaze falling to the glass in front of him. He’d poured himself a drink earlier, though it felt more like a reflection of his frustration than anything else. He downed the whiskey in one smooth motion, the burn of it doing little to ease the tension in his chest.

His mind wandered to the way Y/N had handled herself—stoic, calculated, always thinking three steps ahead. She had been quiet during the entire exercise, a stark contrast to the boisterous, competitive atmosphere around her. That quiet precision, though… that was what set her apart. A trained sniper who knew how to stay hidden, blend into her environment, and take her shots at the perfect moment. She was more than just a "tortoise," she was a master at urban combat, a niche so many seasoned veterans struggled to adapt to.

But what irked him even more than losing was the mystery around her. No one in the unit seemed to know much about her personal background. On the surface, Y/N was just like any other operator—quiet, focused, and deadly in her own right. But it was the little things that made her stand out. She was incredibly dedicated to her team, always putting others first, making sure everyone was covered and watching each other’s backs. In a way, she was more dependable than anyone he’d ever worked with.

Her work ethic was impeccable—Y/N had a way of getting the job done without fuss or fanfare. She didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, yet she constantly exceeded expectations, even when the odds were stacked against her. Her teammates respected her for that, and though she wasn’t one for idle conversation or personal revelations, they could always count on her to show up when it mattered.

Still, despite the respect she commanded, there was something distant about her. She kept to herself, didn’t share much about her past, and preferred to stay out of the spotlight. She had no need for recognition, no desire to be celebrated. Her actions spoke louder than any words ever could, and that was the way she liked it.

But for someone like Price, who was used to reading people, that lack of transparency only made her more intriguing. He’d been around long enough to know when there was more to someone than met the eye. And Y/N? She was a puzzle—one he was determined to solve.

----------

Subject: Background Inquiry - Y/N (SCO19)

To: [Recipient Name] CC: [Relevant Personnel]

Body:

I need you to dig into the file for Inspector Y/N, codename "Tortoise." I know the clearance restrictions on her record—believe me, I'm well aware—but I have my ways of bypassing that. The thing is, she’s been in this game a lot longer than anyone's let on. I’ve seen her in action, and if I’m honest with myself, I’ve underestimated her. Urban warfare is her domain, and from what I’ve seen, she’s more than just a sniper. She’s tactical, calculated... and frankly, she’s left me rethinking everything I thought I knew about this line of work.

I need everything—her previous deployments, training, any contracts or associations with PMC units, and anything that might explain what makes her tick. I’ve got a feeling there’s more to her than meets the eye, and I don’t intend to keep looking the other way. She’s got a certain... presence, and it’s time I understood what drives her.

Be discreet about this—no issues with clearance or security. You know the drill.

Regards, Price

----------

As soon as Price hit send, he leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts pressing on him more than the usual operational headaches. He had a habit of never letting anything—especially people—slip under his radar, but this was different. Y/N was different. It wasn’t just her tactical expertise that had caught his attention; it was something intangible, the way she operated with quiet precision, and how her mind seemed to anticipate every move before it happened.

He shook his head, trying to focus. But that damn patch she wore—the snapping turtle patch—kept coming back to his thoughts. The way her team rallied behind her, despite her quiet demeanor, spoke volumes. They clearly respected her, even if she didn’t show it. And then there were the glimmers of a deeper edge beneath her calm exterior—a sniper who didn’t just take the shot, but took the time to understand her environment and her enemy. " That’s something I can respect."

But then there was the matter of what had happened during the training exercise. He thought he was winning—had been winning, until it all came crumbling down with one last sweep. Her team had used the environment to their advantage—exactly how she’d been trained. And she? She’d been silent, invisible in the chaos, only to hit him square in the head when he’d least expected it.

He poured himself a glass of whisky, staring at the amber liquid. "No one had ever gotten the drop on me like that," he thought, taking a slow sip. He’d been fighting in these kinds of environments for years, but here she was, operating with a kind of patience and intuition he couldn’t shake. There was something compelling about that, something that made him want to know more. "Maybe I need to rethink my own game. "

As the glass clinked gently back on the desk, Price exhaled slowly. He’d sent the email—he’d find out what he could about her background. The more he knew, the better.

The sharp buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He picked it up quickly, eyes scanning the message.

[Recipient Name]: I’ll look into it, sir. I’ll be discreet. Should have something for you within the next 24 hours or less. Don’t worry about the clearance, I’ll handle it.

Price stared at the screen for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He considered typing something back, but decided against it. No need to overcomplicate things just yet.

---------- As Captain Price sits back, nursing a glass of whisky in his office, the chime of a new email cuts through the quiet of the night. He straightens, his gaze narrowing as he clicks open the message.

----------

Subject: Preliminary Information – Y/N (Codename: "Tortoise")

From: [Recipient Name] To: Commander John Price Date: [Insert Date, 00:10 AM] CC: [Relevant Personnel] Priority: High

Body:

Commander,

Here is the preliminary information on Inspector Y/N, as requested. This is a brief summary, but the full records are still being processed. I will ensure everything is pulled through, but here’s what we have so far:

Family Background: Y/N was born in Portsmouth, raised by a former Royal Navy officer who became an MI5 operative. Her father’s career gave him certain leverage, both in the Navy and with intelligence services. While there is some indication of her mother being complicit in the abuse, details are scarce.

Domestic Abuse Incident: There’s a documented case regarding domestic violence within the household. Social services were involved in the past, though much of the intervention was limited due to the father’s influence.

Missing Persons Report (Age 14): A police record from when she was a teenager indicates a missing persons report filed after a violent argument with her father.

- Missing Persons Reports (Age 14–19)

Frequency: Three documented incidents. Reason: Reports filed by concerned third parties (school staff, neighbors, or local authorities) after witnessing escalating domestic disturbances or after Y/N was seen leaving home for extended periods following physical or verbal altercations. Outcome: Each report ended with Y/N either being found staying with friends or local shelters. Upon investigation, she was repeatedly returned to her family home despite indications of domestic abuse, citing lack of concrete legal evidence or parental assurances. (Reports and Records as per attached)

I’ll send a follow-up once the full profile has been compiled.

----------

Price leaned back in his chair, the glow of the computer screen reflecting off his face as he read the email. His brow furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening with every word. The contents were brief but revealing—a glimpse into a past that no one had spoken of, not even in passing.

The mention of multiple Missing Persons reports spanning Y/N’s teenage years hit harder than he expected. It wasn’t just the reports themselves, but what they implied: a life lived on the edge of survival, marred by conflict long before she picked up a rifle. The term "domestic disturbances" felt sterile, almost dismissive, compared to the reality it hinted at—physical and emotional wounds that couldn’t be bandaged over.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his usual composure slipping as he stared at the screen. Her father, a Royal Navy officer. A man who should have been a protector, but instead was the source of her suffering. And her mother, passive at best, complicit at worst. It painted a grim picture, one Price wished he could unsee.

It was personal. Too personal.

The idea of Y/N—a woman who carried herself with such quiet strength—having endured that kind of upbringing stirred something in him. Anger, yes, but also a deep sense of admiration. She hadn’t just survived; she had risen above it, carving out a place for herself in one of the most grueling professions in the world.

He glanced at the timestamp on the email. Midnight. This wasn’t the kind of thing you could read and forget about, especially not at this hour.

Price sighed, his hand drifting to the glass of whiskey on his desk. He picked it up but didn’t drink, instead letting the weight of the glass anchor him. He knew he shouldn’t dig deeper—it wasn’t his place. Yet, the thought of leaving this half-finished made his stomach twist. There was more to her story, and now he couldn’t ignore the curiosity—or the quiet protectiveness—that had taken root.

"Y/N…" Price muttered to himself, setting the glass down as the memories stirred unbidden. This wasn’t new. If anything, he’d been aware of her long before she’d proven herself in the field.

It had all started with Gaz’s cheeky attempt at matchmaking, showing Price that picture with a grin and the bold claim: “She’s your type, Captain. Strong, smart, and she’s not the kind to immediately fall for your charm. Bet you’d have to work for it.”

He’d glanced at the picture, expecting nothing remarkable, but it had stopped him in his tracks. She was a beauty— petite, but a strong profile, and a kind of quiet confidence that spoke volumes even in a still photo. Gaz wasn’t wrong; she was his type.

"Drop by her stall," Gaz had urged a week later, nudging him during a casual chat. “She’s at the she's at stall 30, Just don’t make it weird.”

Price had rolled his eyes but eventually humored the idea. He’d wandered through the rows of vendors, trying to look casual as he approached her table. And when he’d seen her in person? Hell, the photo didn’t do her justice. She was a beauty in an understated way—focused as she sorted her wares, her movements deliberate and graceful. It wasn’t just her looks, though. There was something magnetic about her presence, something that had rooted him in place longer than he’d intended.

Of course, none of that mattered when he’d tried to strike up a conversation. She’d been polite but curt, clearly uninterested in his charm or his rank. She wasn’t rude—just distant, the kind of distance that said don’t even try.

And yet, here he was, unable to let it go.

What had started as light interest had deepened into a quiet admiration, especially now. Watching her in action during the exercise wasn’t just impressive; it had been humbling. She wasn’t just competent—she was exceptional. Calculated, efficient, but fiercely protective of her team. The Tortoise nickname wasn’t just a joke; it was the way she operated, outthinking and outlasting her opponents with sharp precision.

And then there was her past. The cold, hard facts from the report still lingered in his mind, their weight pressing heavy on his chest. She wasn’t just tough—she’d had to be.

Price exhaled, a short, bitter laugh escaping him. He wasn’t sure if he admired her more for what she’d endured or for the fact that she’d let none of it define her. Either way, it made him want to know her even more—a thought that unsettled him, because this wasn’t just professional. It hadn’t been for a long time.

"Damn it, Kyle…" he thought, shaking his head. The lad had been right, and he hated it.

The screen dimmed as the email timed out, but Price remained seated, lost in thought. Some questions could wait until morning, but he doubted his mind would let him rest until he knew the whole story.

Price reached for his whiskey, staring into the amber liquid. “Well, John, you’ve stepped into it now,” he said quietly, the weight of what he’d uncovered settling heavily.

[suzy-queued]

Art Tag

Thank you @deathclassic and @doshiart for tagging me!

How did you start drawing? What year was it that you become more seriously and consciously interested in it?

I always drew, and didn't think too hard about it. I chose art electives whenever I could in middle and high school. I specifically chose to NOT major in art in college because "I need a real career." Joke's on me ... I ended college with a degree in fine arts/illustration.

When you felt the urge to share your art with other people? When did you start posting your drawings on social media?

I shared art with friends pre-internet. We'd pass images around at slumber parties and draw art as gifts. I posted online for the first time in the late 90s, illustrations for horror stories that I drew.

Your first/earliest drawing. What were your impressions of it back then and what are your feelings now?

I was always meant to be an illustrator rather than a straight-up artist. Here is a book I created in 1981. I loved it! My spelling wasn't bad for being 6 years old.

Your first fanart ever 1986. This image from Poltergeist II. I flipped to the back page of my sketch book and drew it in secret.

Your first gallavich fanart Kinktober 2021. Charcoal and spray paint.

When you had bad days and things didn't work out, what inspired you to keep trying? I think it was the confidence instilled in me by a supportive family. I never felt like a bad day meant doom and gloom; it just meant things weren't working that day. I don't have qualms about throwing out a piece that isn't working and starting over.

Show your old piece that you strongly dislike and tell why. I don't hang on to pieces that I dislike. They've vanished in time.

Show your old piece that you very like and tell why. What's the difference with the previous? I drew this with colored pencils in 1988. I was proud of how closely it matched the album cover.

Show your old piece that you were very proud of back then. This is one of my first horror story illustrations, for "That Hell-Bound Train" by Robert Bloch.

Do you do any practice sketches or warm-ups before you draw something big? Sure! Here are a few.

Sketch vs Final. Show your process. This is from the Big Bang 2021, for Lem's story!

Your most recent drawing. (Everyone has seen this already -- LOL)

Give yourself some praise! Look at what improved in your art! Do I have to? I don't like to compliment myself because I'm still learning, even after all these years. I can draw more photographically now, but I was looser/freer in the past. Who's to say which is better?

Any advice you'd give to your earlier self? Never stop taking figure drawing classes!

Set a goal for yourself for the coming year. To not let the doubt creep in and keep pushing boundaries. To develop more of a personal style.

Tagging some of my favorite artists ... @deedala @michellemisfit (thinking of you babe!) @vintagelacerosette @darthvaders-wife @heymrspatel

@gallawitchxx @filorux @crossmydna

[sakuyomihana]

The Way Home.ft Wriothesley

Hello everyone~! This is short story dedicated to our handsome man, Wriothesley! Happy belated birthday! I wanted to finish this work on the day of his birthday, however I couldn't, my brain juice left me. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this little fic and look forward to the next chapter of my series, 'Tangled Threads Of Hearts'! Please do give it a read, thank you~! *Disclaimer: This is an original work done by me. Pls do not steal it or repost anywhere else. Thank you and have a happy reading day~!

Who could have ever thought that upon first meeting, you and your blind date would have hit off so well..? Running a hand through his already mussed up hair, Wriothesley could only sigh at the outcome. Wriothesley, the strongest and mightiest chief of the local prison as well as a renowned brawler who has made a name for himself in the entirety of Tevyat. This man, feared by many, prisoners and citizens alike, was your bestest friend and reliable confidant since your younger days from middle school till you were both full fledged adults. Amongst these merits, he also has a very difficult past. Childhood abuse and neglection, you could probably guess what that resulted in. He had to serve a sentence in the boys’ home, despite his actions that can be considered as self-defense. With such a childhood, Wriothesley had difficulties trusting in people. As a result, he barely made any friends in middle school. That’s when you came along…

You, [First Name] [Last Name], the ever cheerful and shyest person that he has ever met. He often wondered how he managed to befriend someone like you, the sweetest and most caring individual. That's how you got the moniker, ‘Sweetheart’. It definitely was a term of endearment, but that did not back him away from using it as you were just that sweet. You did complain about it and asked him on several different occasions to change it but it was all futile attempts. He loves teasing you and that hasn’t changed now that you were both adults. So whatever transpired? Well, it all began when you decided to approach him one day. Being the shy person that you were, it took a lot of courage for you to even start a conversation. Wriothesley had caught your eyes for the longest time, since the moment you met. You always wondered why he was alone and why no one ever dared to approach him. Your friends at the time shared with you what they knew from the rumors circulating around him, but that didn’t deter you from trying to befriend him. Knowing how incredibly stubborn you were, your friends supported you in your efforts.

What started out as you trying to protect him from his bullies, with you timidly telling them off to him having to protect you from your own actions. Something about you and what you had said to him spurred him to take action.

“S-stooping to some-thing so l-low as bullying, it’s just not right!”, he could tell that you were afraid. He wondered why you would go to such lengths for someone like him.

“Hah? What’s a chick doing here? Girls shouldn’t get in boys’ business, get out of here!”.

“*sigh* He’s right, girls shouldn’t get involved.”.

“A-and w-what! Aren’t you gonna try to stan-stand up for yourself?”.

“*sigh* How does any of these concern you? I can take care of my-”, he tried not to brush you off rudely, however he was cut off by your next words.

“B-but I ca-re about-t you! Even i-if others d-don’t, I will still care about you!”, he felt a chord struck in him. And that was when he leapt in front of you and shielded you from the perpetrator. Till this day, Wriothesley still remembers what he felt in that moment and the rush of adrenaline that came when he moved to defend you. He still remembers it as clear as day, it was the start of him feeling something new, something indescribable. From then on, he could be seen tagging by your side wherever you went. With how frequent people see you guys together, people start to tease the both of you left and right. Plus the nickname, it definitely did not help with the loosening of attention.

The indescribable feeling that he felt grew day by day, the more he spent time with you. He didn’t realize that what he felt was love all along, no, not familiar love but true love. The kind of love that makes him yearn for your attention, yearn for your warmth and yearn for your affection. The kind of love that makes him warm and fuzzy on the inside, where his heart begins to beat faster when you are in his presence. He only truly realized what he truly felt on the day where you were meeting with your blind date that your parents had introduced you too. He desperately wanted to stop you from attending, however he felt like he was in no position to choose the path that you wished to walk on. The constricting feeling in his chest worsened upon laying his eyes on you and your blind date, who knew your date would have turned out so well. You have given him enough, for a sinner like him, he didn’t dare to taint your spirit or body with these accursed sins. He chose to let you go… let you go and pursue your own happiness..

->>>>>>>>>

  In a bar on the outskirts of the city, Wriothesley sat at the bar counter alone. Swirling the glass in his hand, as he watched the liquid twirl and the ice clinked against each other when he came to a stop and downed the glass in a second. The bartender behind the counter dutifully poured him another as soon as the glass was empty, repeating the process until the man himself was satisfied. He wasn’t much of an alcoholic drinker, preferring tea over the latter but today was an exception. After downing his fifth glass for the night, the chair beside him creaked a little. Recognising the familiar presence beside him, he told the bartender without hesitation, “Bartender, another glass for this beautiful lady beside me please.”.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight, Chief Prison Guard.”, graciously accepting the filled glass into her hand as she greeted the man. Taking a small sip from the glass, she let out a small hum of approval before placing it down in front of her and raised a hand to prop her chin with an elbow against the counter.

“A penny for your thoughts?”.

“I could say the same about you.”.

Letting out a huff, the man downed another glass. The lady, also known as Clorinde, follows suit right after, emptying her glass in one gulp.

“Bartender, another!”.

“*chuckles* I fear that we are both here for the same reason.”.

“And what would that be, pray tell?”.

There was no need for Clorinde to answer, as the man himself clearly knew what she meant. It hasn’t been too long ago since you announced that you were getting engaged to none other than your boyfriend of three years. When Wriothesley first received the news, he was devastated. He knew fully well of the consequences of his own actions, he chose to let you go, so why now..? It took days for Sigewinne, the head nurse of the prison to drag him out of the office to get some fresh air.

“You need not say anything, Wriothesley. Sigewinne was the one who told me that you are here, after she managed to get you out of your office. I understand how she feels about you being cooped up in the office, drowning in paperwork. But most importantly, I get how you feel about all of this…”.

There wasn’t anything that could ever escape this perceptive woman’s eyes, it wasn’t a farfetch that she would become the bodyguard of Fontaine’s President as well as the strongest champion fencer of the country. Behind all of these positions, Clorinde and Navia Caspar, the heiress of Spina di Rosula were both yours and his most loyal friends since the day you guys met in university. Ever supportive of your relationship, the women held onto the hope that you two would eventually get together, however, all hope had been dashed when you announced that you were getting together with this random dude that your parents had matchmake for you. Navia berated Wriothesley for not making the first move when he had the chance but in the end, she understood why he did it. Although she was still disappointed at the outcome, she still supported your decision as long as you're happy with it. Clorinde too. However, the shock and surprise that they felt from your sudden engagement was too much for them to handle.

They were one of the first few to know about some issues that you had with your current boyfriend in your second year of the relationship. The small issues then have already converted to big issues, so why on earth did you agree to his proposal? The only person who was out of the loop was the man beside her, Clorinde sighed. She understood why you didn’t want to let the man know because of how hot-headed he will become, yet she still wished that there was something more she could do for you.

“..So? Will you be attending?”.

“I.. I will be there.”.

“Why the sudden hesitation?”. (Oh you know damn well why, ma’am.).

He chose to ignore the question posted at him, instead turning back his focus to the drink before him. Unsatisfied with his attempt to escape, the female posted another question as a statement.

“Navia and I will be helping [Name] pick a wedding dress at the bridal shop some time this weekend, of course the groom will also be present.”, the sudden mention of your name immediately made him return his attention back to the woman beside him.

Knowing how much he still cares about you, she downed her drink with much vigor and immediately stood up causing the chair to scratch against the floorboard, catching the man off guard.

“I know [Name] will be very happy if you came, so I hope to see you there?”.

With that she left him alone with his own thoughts.

“*sigh* What a pain in the arse..”.

->>>>>>>>>

  The day before the wedding, you and your fiance were set to meet up at the wedding venue to do some final checks and retire for the night in the accommodation provided by the hotel. With some spare time available, you decided to pay the Spina di Rosula a visit with Clorinde in tow. 

Against the better of your own judgement, you had agreed to your fiance’s proposal months ago. You understood how shocked your two friends were when you told them your decision, you understood where they were coming from with everything that had happened. However, you had your reasons. Your parents had undergone a heavy debt after losing their money to a scam investment, you, their only daughter with a career at the government office was actually financially able to help pay off your parent’s incurring debt but the thing is, they didn’t believe that you were able to secure a job as an official employee. You weren't very close to your parents after all, maybe that was why you could relate with Wriothesley just a little. They always hound you to provide for them, more so now after you found a job, saying something along the lines of having to return the favour for how they raised you and what not. So guess what they did? They found an unknown partner for you, rich enough to pay off their debt for them because he ‘likes’ you.

You were honestly skeptical about this arrangement but there was nothing you could do. The first meeting turned out to be pretty okay, so that was why you went along with it. What you didn't realize at the time was how your best friend felt about all of this, not until Clorinde told you (not the full truth). That was why you tried to reach out to him, in any way you could, unaware of the feelings he harboured for you.

After chatting over a warm cup of tea and some macarons made by your dear friend, you left the two to their own devices and made your way towards Hotel Debord to meet up with your fiance. Along the way, there was someone striking who caught your eye. There was no way you would have forgotten those raven and grey tufts of hair that you used to admire from afar, how the ends curled to look like dog ears will always be something you find cute from such an intimidating and refined man. Catching sight of your stare, the man in question lifted himself up from his leaning position against his motorbike and began walking towards you with a helmet in hand. With each stride he took, your heart began to beat faster. Oh how you missed this feeling, this feeling that you yearned for to be reciprocated but could never.

‘Stupid me, there’s no way.. I’m too far gone.’, you chided yourself for having such thoughts.

Putting your feelings aside, you calmed your erratic heartbeat and gave him the brightest smile you could master.

“You came at last. I was waiting for you, Wrio.”.

He missed the way his nickname sounded with your sweet voice, but alas there will be no more of such interactions after tomorrow. Sucking in a breath, Wriothesley lifted the hand that had the helmet and handed it to you. Smiling softly, you took it with gratitude and understanding. The corner of his eyes softened at your gesture, he finally said.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, my lady. Care for one final ride around the city on this trusty old boy for old times sake?”.

Chuckling at his antics, you took his outstretched hand.

“Sure, why not. For old times sake.”.

With that, the two of you took a quick ride around the city. Hidden in the shadows of two buildings were Navia and Clorinde, who were both keeping watch over both of you, ensuring that no one would come and disturb this peaceful time.

The next day.. You fell asleep the night prior pretty easily, perhaps the ride that Wriothesley took you on was a great way to calm your nerves. You were getting ready in the hotel room, with the help of two other bridesmaids, who were Chiori and Charlotte, you were starting to look like a bride. Amidst the banters and laughter on such a joyous occasion, something sinister seems to be lurking by. All the guests should have arrived by now, so it was about time for you to make an entrance. However, your groom-to- be was nowhere in sight. Last night he was here with you in this very room, this morning too.. So where in the world could he have gone..? A sense of dread had crept up your spine as you continued waiting, your friends were busy with handling the guests, thus leaving you alone with your thoughts. Time was ticking and the groom still isn’t here, so you decided to step out for a bit and look around the area. He couldn’t be far, you told yourself. He could be mingling with the guests and forgot the time, you assured yourself. He- ?!

The next thing you knew, you were already running down the hallway of the hotel. Navia was just about to head back up and check on you before catching sight of you running towards a different direction, surprised and worried she called for her two bodyguards, Melus and Silver to investigate the direction which you came from and figure out what you saw. After her two trusted associates were gone, she quickly called Clorinde to inform her of the situation. The team then split up with Navia catching up to her bodyguards, Clorinde and a few others dealing with the guests and lastly, leaving Wriothesley to chase after you. With a racing heart, the man dashed at the speed of light to every place he believed you would visit, to every nook and cranny he could find, hoping to find you before you did anything unthinkable. Wriothesley always had a bad gut feeling about your fiance, he tried to stop you, tried to warn you but you never listened. He didn’t know why you were so adamantly stubborn about this, he wished you could speak your mind and just share whatever like how you always did with Navia and Clorinde.

“Have you found her?”.

“Not yet.”.

“Shit, this is getting more troublesome than it's worth.”.

“Have you gals' figured out what’s up?”.

“*sigh* Navia did and… I’m not sure if you want to hear this..”.

He could feel his breath hitched in his throat…

“Just say it, Clorinde.”.

“*sigh* That cheater had planned on eloping with his new girlfriend and… [Name] caught them making out in the lobby..”.

He could feel his blood starting to boil in his veins, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white but then he faltered. The news had infuriated him, he wanted to return right this instance to give him a beat down but something else had caught his attention amidst the chaos in his heart. He finally found you…

“I-I’ve found her..”.

“Oh thank the archons-”, he didn’t let the female on the other end finish before ending the call and slowly trudged towards your sobbing form.

You didn’t know why you were crying this hard, you shouldn’t be and yet.. You should have expected this, you shouldn’t have taken the risk. But now you have gotten too deep into this hell hole that you have carved yourself. You had unexpectedly fallen in love with the man that you were supposed to hate because of your family. Tears continued to flow uncontrollably down your already drenched cheeks, your make-up was ruined, everything was ruined. You were too ashamed to face your friends, Navia and Clorinde who had supported you throughout despite their disapproval and lastly, the man whom you called your best friend but had failed to ever truly rely on when you needed him the most because of your pride.

Your sobs were disrupted by sudden footsteps heading your way, you didn’t dare to turn around to see who it was, ashamed and not wanting them to see your ugly side. You soon broke down again the moment you were enveloped in a familiar warmth and scent, the scent that you had missed oh so much, the scent of the man you knew that you no longer have the right to love, the man who has always been the one hidden deep within your heart…

“Hey Sweetheart, it’s alright to cry. There is no need to apologize for anything, Clorinde had told me everything. I wish that you would just lean on me once, do I seem that unreliable in your eyes?”.

…

“No matter where and when, you are always welcome to have me as a listening ear. I’ll always be by your side, just like back then.”.

…

“Hey, remember what you told me? I’ll repeat those words again and again, I care about you. Even if no one does, I still care about you.”.

…

“Let’s go home, our home.”.

                                        - The Way Home -

[countrymusiclover]

5 - Finding my way back

Part 6

Detective Stabler’s Daughter

Hi y'all here's a long awaited update for this story. I'm not sure what should happen next so I am urging you my readers to send in story ideas

Tag list - send an ask to be added @person-005 @kmc1989 @littlestarsfw @kittycatcait219 @hiireadstuff

The next time I blinked my eyes opened I saw that I was in a dark bedroom. There was no windows in the room from what I could tell when I looked around trying to find a way out of here.  I attempted to sit up on whatever mattress I was laying on but my arms gets yanked backwards. "Gah!" I winced looking over my shoulder as much as I was able to seeing that my wrists were restrained by thick ropes.

I heard footsteps coming closer to the locked door that was in the corner of this room I was apparently trapped inside. "Good, you're awake. I was beginning to worry I had hit you too hard before we can have any fun."

"Who the hell are you. I have nothing against you and I haven't ever done something to make you want me to cause harm to me." I asked the stranger squinting in an attempt to see who my ubdupter was.

The stranger flipped on a lamp switch showing me a woman who had tan skin and long black hair.  "My name is Angela Wheatley.  My husband was Richard Wheatley."

"I don't know who that is.  I don't even know who you are, lady."

She grabbed me by my chin with one of her hands. "I helped your father buy food for your youngest brother El.  I know you have five other siblings but you're the only one who's interested in the field your father works in."

"You took me to get to my father?"

She nodded, releasing her grip. "Your mother isn't right for him.  He deserves to suffer for what he did to my son.  He killed my son."

"So you think taking me will make him fall for you.  That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

She climbed on the bed, slapping me across the face.  Bending my head down I noticed a key in her other hand while she was hovering over my body. "You better watch what you say to me."

"You won't keep me trapped here." I paused briefly before kicking her in between her legs where she collapsed onto the ground in agonizing pain.  She spit out the key and I was somehow able to catch it in my mouth.  Shifting my body around as much as I was physically allowed where I could put the key inside the handcuff lock until one of them fell off.  Undoing the other one cuff I held my aching wrist hearing her groan starting to get up from the floor.

I snatched the handgun that she had laid on the table beside me. Frantically looking around the room I saw a set of stairs where I began running up them. Yet when I almost got away she grabbed me by the back of my hair, yanking me down to the ground. "I have been nothing but nice to you and this is how you treat me!" The woman held the knife to my throat.  She moved one hand around my throat, choking me a little.

"My father will never be with someone like you" I grunted trying to kick her again but she cut me across the stomach with the blade. I winced when she held the blade against my throat again.

She removed the blade off of my throat giving me the chance to breathe. She turned her back to me so I snatched the gun hitting her in the leg when I slowly pulled the trigger making me jump at the sound. "You little bitch!" She held her bleeding leg stumbling toward me where we got in a fight on the floor trying to either hold onto or grab the weapon. She got close to getting it from me but I kicked her in the rib and hit her over the head with the gun. Scrambling to my feet I gulped gripping the gun and pushing my way through the door.

Getting outside I saw the truck in the driveway, scrambling into the driver seat with the door unlocked.  I grunted seeing blood on my forehead in the mirror. Finding the keys in the engine I grunted driving off, not sure where I was heading. Touching the screen in the car I typed into maps the nearest hospital. "Please...please stay awake." I struggled to keep my eyes open driving as fast as possible but when I got on the interstate ramp my eyes fell heavily and I turned the car towards the wall and stopped blacking out.

I could hear a monitor blinking in the background by the time I had begun to wake up.  I slowly opened my eyes but shut them when there was a bright light in my eyes. "Ugh.....Where am I?" I whispered to myself feeling very tired but had very little pain at the moment meaning I must be at the hospital and receiving pain meds.

"Y/n!" I winced hearing someone cheer my name and whoever it was flung their arms around my neck hugging me tightly.

I froze for a second before I could register that it was my sister Kathleen. "K-Kathleen." Wrapping my arms around her neck she sniffed into my hair.

"I can't believe you're here. I knew something was wrong when you were avoiding my messages." She chuckled through happy tears.

Shifting my body weight up higher on the pillow I winced while holding my head and it had to be after I hit my head on the steering wheel of the truck. "Yeah I'd never leave you unread. Hey uh...could you get me some ice for my head?"

"Yeah of course." She scrambled off the bed and quickly left the room.

Shutting my eyes I sighed, laying my head back further against the pillows. Dropping my hands down into my lap I felt someone watching me from the doorway. "Whoever is staring at me I'd suggest you say something before I start crying for help because there's a stranger in my room."

"Uh sorry, Y/n. I just..." Turning my head in the direction of the voice a smile graced my face seeing Spencer standing in the doorway. His curly hair was a tousled mess and his clothes were slightly messy. I also could see some bags underneath his eyes meaning the search for me had taken a hit on him. "For the first time in my life I think I'm at a loss for words."

Sniffing through happy tears I wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms. "Spencer....ah!" I winced trying to get out of the bed but I felt a pain in my thigh making me remain there.

"Y/n..." He crossed the room so quickly I didn't have the chance to blink. He gently but firmly wrapped his arms around my waist bringing me against his chest.

Moving my fingers up his chest I threaded my fingers through the fabric of his shirt. Feeling tears piling down my face I buried my face into his chest sobbing heavily. "Spence..."

"I should have stayed with you that night." He mumbled through some tears of his own.

Shaking my head no, I knew he would start blaming himself for what happened to me. "Don't do that, Spence."

"But if I had just stayed." He attempted again.

Breaking the hug slightly I held onto his shoulders staring into his brown eyes. "Spencer, this is not your fault. You couldn't have predicted someone would come looking for me."

"I just wish it didn't happen to you.." He admitted lowering his gaze from mine briefly.

Running one hand through his I sent him a half smile. "You found me, you'll always find me.  Just like Prince Charming finds Snow White. That's all that matters."

"I did, didn't I? Even though I don't entirely understand the reference." Spencer says back to me before I flung my arms around his neck, he wrapped his arms around my waist kissing my forehead until someone else's voice entered the room.

"Y/n!"

"Daddy!" Barely pulling my head away from his chest with heavy tears I saw my father standing in the doorway, relieved but terrified that the woman who took me might try a second time.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[howdyfriend]

wheee thank you june!! haven't done one of these in a while :)

Hi! I'm Howdy!

What's something you're really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

Forensic science, specifically forensic taphonomy and entomology. I first discovered it after taking a forensics course online in high school, and fell in love with the science of the above fields. I love how they work together and what they can tell you about the deceased in an investigation. Super fascinating.

What's your favourite way to spend your weekend or free time?

Recently it's been hopping on criticality acclaimed mmorpg Final Fantasy XIV lol. I have a free company full of people who are lots of fun to chat and play with so I'm usually there hanging out with them :) If not I'm trying to schedule hanging out with friends, going to the library, baking, drawing, reading, playing with my dog, or listening to music.

What's a piece of advice or quote that has stuck with you throughout the years?

I can't say there's any singular bit of advice that sticks with me. I am a collection of a lot of advice given in a lot of different directions. It's hard picking out just one 😅.

What's your go-to comfort food or drink when you're feeling down?(Bonus points if you include a recipe)

Spaghetti and meatballs and a London fog :)

I make everything from scratch for my spaghetti (sometimes even the pasta itself!), so that's a bit too complex for one post. London fog is easy tho.

1. Steam some milk

2. Steep earl grey tea in a small amount of water (about a quarter cup)

3. Combine in mug of choice. Leave bag in mug for extra steeping.

4. Add sweetener, I use a spoon of vanilla syrup.

5. Froth milk and done!

What's the most meaningful gift you've ever given or received?

I'm going to pick based on objective use rather than sentimentality because if I get into that I start feeling guilty about picking one gift over another lol. In terms of objective use, my laptop. It's been great for school and games and connecting with friends :). I'm learning a lot on how to fix it myself as well, so I feel like im fighting back against things like planned obsolescence in my own little way.

BONUS: What's one little fun fact about you that most people don't know about?

hmmmmmm. swallowed a toonie once. don't do that it's not fun. I had to go to the ER. idk I share a lot. I don't have much else, lol

tagging no one cause im lazy <3 thank you june, love you and miss you lots, let me know when your free days are id love to come up and visit.

Tag Game!!

I thought it'd be fun to make a tag game for everyone, so here's my version!!

alongside this picrew, and 2 pictures you think describes you, answer some questions about yourself.

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

i'll go first

I'm Alyssa!

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

Mythology! I've been super into mythology in general since I was in middle school, and i can just talk about it for hours. I first discovered it when my friend forced me to read Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series, and it spiraled from there.

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

Most of the time I have to take extra classes during weekends, but other than that I read whenever I can! Be it a physical copy, a pdf or even fanfiction I spend most of my time reading. But when I can find some time for myself I either write or make bracelets. Sometimes I work on my ocs' lore with my friend, so it really depends on how busy I am at that moment.

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

My mom once told me "If someone isn't willing to value you or your efforts, don't waste your time on them. Don't give your all to people who won't do the same." And while it sounds mean at first, it's actually helped me over the years.

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

Sütlaç has been one of my top comfort foods for years now. It's a Turkish dessert made with rice, milk and sugar (and cinnamon, honey or nuts if i'm feeling fancy) Though sometimes i make cookies instead!

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received?

I made over 300 paper stars in a sitting for my friend, each star representing a day i'd have known her on her birthday. I chose paper stars because they meant a lot to her. I also got her a (plastic) rose because she told me she thought she'd never get flowers from anyone.

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

I used to be afraid of dogs when I was younger. The reason was because my granddad had a little dog that loved running around. Whenever we went to visit my grandparents the little thing would chase me around the garden until one of us dropped because of exhaustion. I think this was my first childhood trauma.

Tagging (no pressure!) : @romaritimeharbor , @kopivie , @ruruumin , @strxnged , @femivi +

@mlkbwunnies , @aureusveill , @milk-violet , @camvrin , @strryskys + anyone who would like to join!

[permanentreverie]

literature moodboards: if you could see the sun by ann liang (ver 2)

“Yes, is the obvious answer. I do hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate you so much that whenever I’m around you, I can barely think straight. I can barely even breathe.”  

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[itspileofgoodthings]

I assigned reading homework for the weekend and was hit by this wave of irritation with the implicit lying that goes on where they act like they’ll read the homework but they never actually do and so I called them on it and started teasing them and of course they laughed but then I was like “you know my secret dream is that you go home and you walk in the door and someone wants to do something fun with you or you get a text but you hold up your hand and say ‘no no, I have to read ten pages of Beowulf’ and then you sit down and do it” and they scream-laughed at the idea but I like to think it at least presented it to their minds as a possibility

[peppermintack]

show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw

[cuteniaarts]

Here *throws random and actually much more important than I realised at first OC redesign at you after two and a half years since the OG*

Meifeng, Ming-Hua’s cousin! I just randomly remembered that she exists while putting together my OC family tree and since the only art I have of her is… nearly 3 years old and mediocre at best, and Kat and I have recently spent so much time focusing on Red Lotus siblings, I thought “Hey, why not redraw her? Just because she’s a cousin and not a sister doesn’t make her any less special than Lien-Hua, Summiya, Aiza or Haya!” (On that note… Nia give someone a brother challenge. The only one that counts is Aiza and she’s only a brother half the time)

Some headcanons about her, both new and old (the old copy-pasted over and slightly edited to save everyone the second hand embarrassment of going to look at my old art), which will go under the cut because this has gotten LONG:

Old:

Older than Ming-Hua by around 10 years

Her dad is the older half-brother of Ming-Hua's mom who’s… not the most fond of their side of the family

Has never left her home in the Foggy Swamp Water Tribe

Master healer, specialises in children. Can't have any of her own because of the high pollution levels in the swamp which is why she puts all those motherly instincts into teaching and caring for kids

Got a scar on her leg while saving Ming-Hua from some wild swamp creature when the latter was a child who was absolutely convinced she could handle everything herself and never listened to anyone. Ming-Hua still insists she had everything under control that day

She tried to understand Ming-Hua's perspective on things, she really did, but ultimately tribe mentality and fear for her cousin’s safety, believing her not to be nearly as capable as she claims to be, won over

Attempted to stop Ming-Hua from running away but was, obviously, unsuccessful

Was the one consoling Nuying after Ming-Hua left

Helped Suiren learn waterbending and held genuine affection for the girl, although she ultimately refused when Suiren begged for the chance for her and Midori to escape from Haya and live with the tribe. She thought that while Suiren would most likely adjust well, Midori was simply too Gaoling to survive in a place as dark, damp and isolated as the Swamp. She regrets that decision every day since she found out Suiren became an assassin

Mourned Ming-Hua more than anyone else in the tribe when informed of her death

New:

Was the one who babysat Ming-Hua a lot when Nuying was going through one of her depressive episodes after Cadeo left, and Ming-Hua actually enjoyed spending time with her because she was a lot less overbearing and protective than her mother. Was the first person to start calling her Ming. Sometimes Ming-Ming, but Ming-Hua had a tendency to deliver a very hard kick to the shins every time she tried that

Never left Nuying’s side when she got sick in the years following Ming-Hua’s disappearance, no matter how much everyone, including her own father, told her to stay away, there’s nothing she can do to help her. In her final moments, Nuying was delirious with fever and called out for Ming-Hua. Meifeng didn’t have the heart to remind her that her daughter left so instead let her hair down, covered her own hand in water and told Nuying that she was “right here, mom. I’m right here” and stayed like that until Nuying passed

When Ming-Hua returned, Meifeng was the one to break the news to her. Later, when Ming-Hua asked how and when it happened, she couldn’t quite stop herself from snapping at her because she should have been there, Meifeng shouldn’t have had to pretend to be her so her mother could die without worrying about where her daughter was. Their relationship never really fully recovered after that fight

Still, she had met Suiren when she was little on the rare occasions when the Red Lotus passed through the Swamp and Ming-Hua chose to take her daughter to visit the tribe. She never met Midori, but she did see Ming-Hua pregnant with her once

Didn’t know about Ming-Hua’s imprisonment until an 11-year-old Suiren told her because world news don’t reach into the heart of the Swamp. She just thought they had decided to stop visiting. The news crushed her but… a part of her couldn’t help but go “you should have fucking listened to me when I told you to stay, then this wouldn’t have happened”

Her teaching Suiren waterbending involved mostly the basics of combat (she herself doesn’t know much of it since she’s a healer), plantbending and healing. Suiren reached her level of mastery and proficiency as well as figured out icebending on her own through sheer determination and spite (she’s so much like her mama 🥹🥹🥹)

Is the only one from the tribe Suiren had ever confessed to about being an assassin. That knowledge broke her heart and she spent all those years absolutely terrified that Suiren would meet Ming-Hua’s fate. When Suiren stopped visiting at one point (when she left for her mission to kill Kuvira, got injured, recovered at ATI, reunited with her parents, broke Kuvira out and started living with her, etc etc) she had assumed that it really did happen, until Suiren randomly showed up one day with Kuvira in tow (Meifeng did not approve bc of the whole spirit vine thing 😅)

Absolutely reunited with Ming-Hua at some point and it was an extremely emotional moment

Ripped Cadeo a new one when he suddenly appeared looking for his daughter after 45+ years after it became common knowledge that the RL are all alive and no longer wanted by the law

All in all… quite an interesting character that I really should do something with at some point, bc how come Ming-Hua’s family is the only one to get 0 attention in our discussions?? #justiceformeifeng2024