#do. not. settle. they are politicians. not your friends.

[tired-and-swaggy]

people still mad at chappell but once a again she is correct… you NEED to criticize politicians. even the ones you vote for. obviously there is a better choice in this election. but that does not been to accept her awful policies. you should always fight for what you believe in. never settle.

[reikoinoue]

♡ tomorrow’s catch-22 ♡

caleb, sylus, xavier, rafayel, zayne

warnings + notes: manipulation, sedation, cnc (consensual nonconsent), read at your own caution ♡

i tried really hard to not write something for this banner, but there's been thoughts brewing in my head, despite me not being interested in obtaining this banner. so, this one is for all of you girlies out there who are super hyped for this event.

this is by no means close to canon, just my personal take on things ♡

radiation, contamination, chaos...

several years ago, an unprecedented disaster plunged this city into a lunatic abyss.

growing, mutating, losing control...

the prisoners in danger have long been excited.

is it deception, or a willing descent? driven mad by the contamination, they are...

"praedators."

the sounds of your footsteps echo throughout the facility as you flipped through the reports on your clipboard, eager to begin your assessment for the 5 praedators. admittedly, the prisoners had an almost wild look to them, further accentuating their masculine beauty. a part of you knew that you should keep your distance and complete your search for their respective activators within the allotted time-

yet still, you couldn’t deny the anticipation that courses through your veins at the thought of interacting with them. smoothing back your uniform, you stand outside the first cell...

[ he is an ambitious politician who is eyeing the entire city. ]

perses, the councilman, meets your gaze while donning a confident smirk, yet you knew that face all too well. he was once your childhood friend known as caleb, a man who once swore to protect you with his life now turned mad due to the contamination the city had succumbed to.

his magenta eyes darkened considerably with hunger now, with him fighting against the restraints placed on his wrists, clearly trying to reach you. he lets out a bark of your name, "this wasn't the reunion i was expecting, pipsqueak."

you maintain a neutral expression, coming closer to caleb as a predatory gleam was seen in his gaze. with each step that you take, you watch as caleb lets out a wince, his breathing turning even more labored, "you're in pain right now, correct? i'm here to help you."

your voice manages to soothe him, calming him enough that your former childhood friend stops fighting against his restraints. getting down on your knees, you caught the way caleb's breath hitches in response, eyes suddenly being eclipsed by darkness at the mere sight of you. as you assessed his body, you saw something glittering, settled on the base of his chest.

your gloved hand reaches out to take the dog tag in your hand, "this necklace i gave you, you still kept it?"

a flash of tenderness was seen in his gaze for a brief moment, but it was gone just seconds later, replaced by a defiance that made your blood boil in response. you grip at the pendant, earning a smirk from caleb, "what are you doing?"

you didn't answer him, choosing instead to shove it within his mouth, earning a grunt from him. "didn't i tell you before that you'd be more attractive if you shut up?" making quick work of examining his body, you trail your hands down his back, feeling him stiffen before letting out a gasp.

you immediately step away from him, feeling your eyes go wide when caleb manages to break apart his constraints, "since you chose to enter this room... you'll take responsibility for what happens next, right?"

you tremble, seeing the growing madness within his gaze as caleb takes slow and deliberate strides closer to you, his smirk growing by the seconds while stating, "what? scared? keep up this act of being all high and mighty, and you'll regret it."

before you could save yourself and escape from the confines of this prison, caleb already grips at your wrists, pinning you against a nearby wall as his fingertips dance around your center, tracing at your inner thigh as a wolfish grin spreads across his devastating features. "the path ahead is treacherous... so why don't we lose ourselves in each other?"

your gasp was quickly swallowed by caleb's searing kiss, with his large hands gripping at your sides as he quickly tears the leather skirt of your uniform off of you, leaving you in your lace panties. a low growl of satisfaction was heard coming from caleb when he kneels before you, sliding off your panties while chuckling at the moisture left in the fabric.

"you've always been needy for me, even now..." not wasting another second, caleb gets down on his knees before pressing his hot lips against your aching cunt, making you cry out to him as you delved your hands into his hair. you felt him slipping his tongue within your slick folds, collecting all of the moisture as your legs trapped him against you.

feeling your release quickly approaching, you arch your back against the wall-

yet before you could even cum within his mouth, caleb pulls away from you, placing a harsh bite against your swollen clit as you nearly cried out in frustration.

"oh, i don't think so... this will be my revenge for you disrespecting me so blatantly within this cell." he hoists your body against the wall once more, sliding down his leather pants as he revealed his cock to you. your mouth salivates at the sight, allowing caleb to spread your legs before impaling you with his cock.

you cling to him, sobbing from how full caleb was making you feel while he fucks you against the wall. he lets out a dark chuckle in response, "what happened to all that courage?" he asks you with another powerful thrust all while letting out a shuddering breath of your name. he hides his face within the curve of your neck while whispering within your ear, "are you doing this out of pity? then... when the night is over... will you stay with me?" he breathes in your scent before biting down against your shoulder, "will you descend into hell with me?"

with the way caleb was making you feel, you found it hard to deny him, knowing that you would follow him anywhere and everywhere with his cock buried so sweetly inside of you.

[ you better have your last words ready before this man knocks on your door. ]

his back was facing you, tartarus, the mysterious assassin, quietly waits within his cell (a cage, fitting for a madman like sylus). you place the clipboard to the side, adjusting your uniform before taking out the ring of keys. finding the correct one, you made quick work of unlocking the cage and stepping inside.

fastening the keys back on your hips, you call out to him, earning a dark chuckle from the madman, "how did it feel to watch me?"

his crimson gaze meets with your neutral expression, and when you take a step forward, sylus immediately began to pull at his restraints in an attempt to grab you, "you scared?"

you shake your head and spoke in even tones, "i'm only here to help you ease your pain. the contamination has already spread through your nerves."

sylus tosses his head back, letting out a harsh laughter, "oh sweetie, your idea of help is heartwarming. why don't you come closer, little bird? help me come outside the cage... come, just a little more."

you remain still, not daring to move an inch closer as you felt a bead of sweat running down your cheek, "when you approach your prey, you must ensure your own safety first. you taught me this, sylus."

“prey…?” sylus remains unfazed, with an almost amused expression painting his features. knowing that you had to swallow your discomfort and fear, you step closer to sylus and walk around his form, assessing his body for any signs of the activator.

you keep your eyes honed in on him, listening to his soft breathing and grunts a little too intently. you stop walking around him, eyes drawn to the middle of his chest when you reach out to him-

only to be stopped when you felt his hands gripping at your wrists, preventing you from touching him. "you...!"

unable to overpower him and reach for your weapon, you visibly panicked when sylus wraps an arm around your front, pressing you against the cage while preventing your escape. you struggle against him momentarily, yet visibly relax when his hands touch at the spot between your legs.

he traps you between his body and the cage, biceps coming around you keep your head locked within it. a whisper of your name (filled with a dark longing) was heard against your ear, and you found yourself powerless to sylus when he reaches down to slide off your leather skirt, managing to free himself from the confines of his own pants as the tip of his cock was felt brushing against your slick walls.

in one, powerful thrust, you were left gasping for him, hands gripping at the bars as sylus moves his cock in and out of you, basking in the way your walls gripped him tightly in response. "ngh, you missed me, didn't you? me and m'cock. you needed this, right?"

your soft mewls echo throughout the cage, making you see stars each time he sheathes his cock back inside of you. a thin trail of saliva manages to escape from your lips, making sylus chuckle when he grabs a hold of your chin, keeping you still before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he doesn’t stop his rapid thrusts when he hotly whispers within your ear, "now you'll never fly away, my little bird."

and when you could feel his tongue tracing at the shell of your ear, you knew that you were a goner.

[ danger often hides behind the softest eyes and the sharpest fangs. ]

as you step into hermit the ex-enforcer's cell, your eyes were met with an icy gaze filled with contempt. xavier kept pulling at his restraints, trying to get to you. "you tricked me, you trapped me here knowing what would happen...!"

you simply let out a hum in response, not denying his words of accusation as you stepped closer to him. you take a moment to assess his body, nearly jumping back when he violently pulls at his restraints. "why... don't you want to become like me?"

stepping closer to him, you grip at his hair, revealing his neck to you while pressing the tip of your nose against his skin, "relax, i'll let you go once you're back to normal."

xavier was restless when you pull away from him, using the palm of your hands to explore his body, your touch descending upon his muscular abdomen. you felt him inhale sharply, letting out a shuddering breath while telling you, "your hand is warm."

you continue to assess his form, hearing xavier's whispered phrases "do you hate me? do you think i'm a monster?" why did his words sound like he was trying to seduce you? his once icy gaze now darkened considerably with hunger, making your own heart pound rapidly in response. ignoring the familiar ache between your legs, you slowly got down on your knees-

only to see the prominent tent against the front of his pants.

you were left speechless at the sight, licking your lips while hearing xavier let out a series of amused chuckles, "this is your doing, so... what'll you do now?"

with a sigh, you brush back your hair before gripping at the front of his pants, pulling it down in one quick motion. his erection was settled directly in front of your face, lifting your hand to give his cock a harsh stroke.

"ngh!" xavier's groans echo throughout the cell each time you worked on pumping his cock with your hand, "this won't do... looks like i'll need to take care of this before continuing your assessment."

collecting the beads of precum that escapes from his tip, you use it as lubrication, feeling your walls clench with need at the sight. "ah, fuck, my hands are just making you harder. maybe i need to do more drastic measures...?"

relinquishing your hold on his cock, you take a step back and take off your uniform, stepping out of your panties while unclasping your bra. the sight of your nakedness makes xavier's cock grow even harder for you, with it twitching considerably, desperate to be buried inside of you.

stepping closer to xavier, you brace yourself against the chain-linked fence, guiding his cock toward your entrance with your free hand before sliding down on him. you both toss your head back at the sensation of his cock completely sheathed inside of you. you had began setting a slow and steady pace when xavier breaks free of his restraints.

his large hand now grips at your backside, pinning you against the fence as you were subjected to his cock continuously pounding itself in and out of your heat. "do you like that...?" his eyes were clouded with lust just then, rapidly pumping his cock as your breasts bounced in tune to his every movement, "don't be scared..." he tells you while hiding his face within the base of your throat, "it'll be over soon enough... then, you'll never leave me."

each time xavier slides his cock back into you, you found yourself losing all thoughts of coherency, willingly becoming dumb on his cock.

[ a praedator rose from the ashes. the entire city is but a playground at his disposal. ]

you stand outside of tamino's cell, the leader of flowin' fire's eyes glaring into you, as if challenging you to take a step forward and come into his cell-

if you dared to.

rafayel remained calm even as he was captured, not putting much of a fight as he kept repeating your name over and over again, denying anyone else the 'privilege' of assessing him.

so, given little choice, you marched directly towards his cell. upon seeing the determined expression on your face, rafayel gives you a smile.

"why so hesitant, princess? come on inside... have a chat with me."

just find the activator and get out of here. you repeat that single phrase like a mantra, using the master key to enter his cell. shutting the door from behind you, you look down at rafayel, convincing yourself that he was kept in restraints and would have no power over you-

as if sensing your turmoil, rafayel's smirk widens as he began taunting you, "what am i to you? a madman? a monster? or just a pitiful prisoner?"

"that's quite enough," you harshly hiss at him, getting down on your knees while placing a hand on his chin. he lets out a grunt upon feeling the pad of your thumb tracing at his bottom lip before opening it slightly. a flash of annoyance was seen in rafayel's gaze, "you're checking my teeth? there's a muzzle here."

i need to move closer if i want to find that activator. removing yourself from his lips, you stand back to your full height, coming around him as your eyes were focused on the spot hidden behind his long hair. just as you were about to part the strands, rafayel manages to stop you, pulling you directly into his lap. "what's this supposed to be? another plan of yours?"

your eyes go wide with panic, looking down to see that he had already torn apart his restraints and was now holding you against him. letting out a grunt of your name, rafayel frames at your face with his two hands, keeping you still before surging forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that takes your very breath away.

you writhe against his embrace, hands pounding against the front of his chest-

but to no avail.

feeling his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip makes you tremble in response, letting out an involuntary moan as you felt his smirk against your lips. "exposing your weakness to a monster... you lost, princess."

a devilish smile paints his expression when he pulls down your skirt and panties in one, swift motion, placing your naked sex against his thigh while whispering sweet nothings within your ear, "you're not allowed to leave me anymore, princess." he whispers hotly to you, dragging your wet cunt across his muscled thigh as you were given little choice but to cling to him.

losing all of your dignity, you eagerly grind your hips against his thighs, riding him while basking in his praise with your needy mewls and moans echoing throughout the cell.

[ nobody gets to walk out of his prison. not when they are alive, at least. ]

you take quick strides into the warden's cell, meeting galen's calm expression as you shut the cell door from behind you.

an unhinged smile spreads across zayne's features, clearly happy at seeing you even in this situation. "ah, so you've decided to come and see me again."

you step forward, pulling out a syringe filled with a glowing, almost deep amber liquid flowing inside of it. recognition flashes within his gaze at the sight of the syringe, "a frenzy enhancer? you're going to use it on me?"

"yes, the warden should be well-aware of how it affects the praedators." you step closer to zayne, watching as he pulls on his restraints while remaining tied to the chair. his eyes blearily met your gaze, allowing you to push his head back while revealing his neck to you. pressing the tip of the syringe against it, you push the thin needle within his skin, earning a low hiss from him as you injected the frenzy enhancer.

once the liquid was gone, you take a step back, tossing aside the syringe while watching him, fascination shining within your eyes. zayne struggles against his restraints, letting out a series of grunts while meeting your gaze, "stop holding yourself back... you need to do this and confront your true self."

he tries once more to break away from his restraints, "i don't know what i'll do to you. what will you do next... since you chose to remain in this cage with me...?"

you were ready to speak when the sound of something ripping apart causes your eyes to widen. now freed from his restraints, you had to run and seek some form of backup-

yet the sensation of powerful arms being wrapped around your waist stops you from moving forward.

"where do you think you're going?" he carries you back with him, settling back against the chair while pulling down his pants, allowing them to pool against his feet before quickly shoving down your skirt and panties.

not even waiting for your response, zayne harshly grips at your hips before forcing you down on his cock, the sensation of it all making you cry out to him. your back was arched against him, allowing the obsessed warden to move your hips up and down his erection. you felt your eyes slowly begin to roll to the back of your head, the squelching sounds of zayne fucking you echoing throughout the cell.

he rests his head against your shoulder, allowing you to bounce yourself on his cock, "you're not allowed to leave as you please anymore... from this point forward, you're mine."

and with how much zayne was filling you up with his cock, reaching places deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed, you fell into his sweet trap, allowing his corruption to spread through you with little resistance.

a.n. - oh mannn do i feel tingly and sinful while writing this 🫠 please excuse this unedited mess, i wrote this in a haze.

all stories are written by reiko; no plagiarizing, reposts, or translations are allowed.

[spencerscoven]

the alternate … art donaldson

Art has a proclivity for giving attention to his enemy. He hates her— but particularly hates how she has Patrick wrapped around her finger even more.

warnings ; smut .. slutty drunk freshman art x Patrick's gf, infidelity .. unedited for now! oops!

It didn’t take much time for Art to settle into Cornell— it wasn’t just the tennis or the girls, of which he quickly learned were rather women, or even the academics. His hesitation on his attendance was especially foolish, especially in moments like these as he rolled over, crushing the red solo up beneath him. The buzzing in his jean pocket persisted, just like it had for the last five minutes before, causing him to utter another affirmation to ignore it into her mouth.

Maybe the women had one or two things to do with it.

"Maybe just get it?"

"Why?"

"So you... can tell them you're busy."

He hummed into her mouth as the girl above him detached herself, moving to grab the stitch of her top to remove it as he tilted his hips to reach for his phone.

Patrick.

His calloused hands came up to push her thighs over his hips, sitting up to read the rapid series of text Patrick had sent. And Art soon saw— was still sending. All of them ranged from different ways of him asking Art to check up on you, letting your attendance be known. Patrick's texts detailed the simple request of him checking to see if you were taking your alcohol well. Another saying he hoped you wouldn't get roofed. And one that blatantly asked that he didn't let any of "those Ivy League assholes" fuck his girlfriend.

Art rolled his eyes, resentment laced in his actions as he muttered condolences and pledged to "be right back", his large hands taking the knob of the door and peering out into the dark hallway to find you. When a look wasn't enough, he left the room door slightly ajar, stepping completely into the hallway filled with red cups, colored lights, almost sidetracked by his team that pulled him by the neck and fought to put a drink in his hand. With a light smile still gracing his face and beer in a can, his eyes wondered up to your face, watching as your lips wrapped around a bottle of Corona, some leaking out the side of which you swiped away with the back of your hand. He felt the same kind of resentment he usually felt when he saw you when Patrick visited fill him from his chest out. He watched as you leaned against the wall talking to someone. He took in your skimpy skirt and top with less resentment, though.

He especially didn't like it when the next time he looked for your face, you were staring at him, eyes hooded and smile nasty and condescending.

"He told me to look for you."

"I know." You raised your eyebrow dismissively, almost wanting to laugh at Patrick's good intentions. He knew what you'd say about Art. Just like you assumed what Art said about you, yet he asked him anyway.

"And by that, he means look after you." Art leans in, lips close to your ear as the music sounded. You roll your eyes as he lingers there a moment too long and you expect him to say something more, but he never does.

"We both know I look fine."

It takes a beat before he responds. "We both do."

"And we both know you don't want to babysit."

"But I'm a good friend."

"I've known corrupt politicians that are better friends than you, Art."

He sways away from you, facing the rest of the party as he rolls his eyes with the kind of insularity he only reserved for you, tipping his head back to finish the rest of his beer and tossing it towards the trashcan, only to miss.

He turns to you, irritation flaring as he stabilizes himself on the sticky wall behind him by holding your hips. It's something you're willing to let go of, your breath clicking as he whispers: "You smell like pot."

"It's a free country."

"Okay," he challenges, pursing his lips as he leans closer. "What's in your cup?"

"What? Yours and Chelsea's not good enough for you?"

His upper lip raises, in a look of both disgust and toleration as he grasps your wrist, forcing you to bring your own bottle to his mouth. The contents of it are mostly able to be swallowed but the rest flow from the corners of his lips, down his chin, to his throat where his Adams apple bobs as he swallows. You wipe it instinctively, causing you to both freeze for only a moment. He shutters before he opens his mouth again to slur,

"Chelsea?"

You look at him quizzically, your mouth opening once, twice, three times, only to say nothing but erupt in laughter that rocks your head backwards and your body closer to his. Art looks around frantically, his mouth tilting downwards as he looks around, grasping your hips forward and gritting his teeth as he repeats himself.

"Chelsea? What's the fucking joke I'm not getting?"

"The girl that you just— my fucking god, Art. I know you look the way you do, but you couldn't even remember her name?" You tilt your head towards the doorway, insinuating the room you're sure his cologne still lingered in. He groans, his head falling forward in a laugh as his right hand on your hip runs up the side of your torso, his head spinning.

"I'm not a very good date, am I?" You can nearly taste the alcohol on his tongue and you're out of laughs, humor gone as a consequence of being so close to him. And maybe he's too drunk to realize it's happening, but you're too cross to care when his thumbs rub circles on your hipbone, of which he had to invade underneath your waistband to do.

"I almost finished my night like this." It's so quiet that you're unsure if it was for you to hear. But it doesn't matter, as your hand runs up his arm and shoulders, eyes following over the ripples.

"This is not the same."

Your other hand trickles down to his waistband, guiltily skating over his bulge as you feel his pocket for his phone.

"Arthur, Patrick told you to check on me. So, tell him I'm okay."

"I told him that I'd check on you. I also told him you were a bad idea, like I always do," He saws it lowly, as if it's not supposed to slip out and has only found it's way because of his level of intoxication. You scoff, pushing him backwards as you're suddenly slightly more sober. You rock back and forth, eyes rolling back, but the distance is not created before you can hear him finish: "but I never said he didn't have good taste."

You don't like that it's still said in the way only drunk and resentful Art could deliver it. "You're not a very good fucking friend."

"To who, you?" He makes it his personal duty to invade your space, his face in somewhat of a snarl. You know that some would see this as uncharacterized for Art, but it's most familiar to you. It feels somewhat like home. Albeit, a house fire, but home.

Your first encounter with him was glancing behind yourself at move in, and seeing his blonde locks brushed back by calloused hands as he looked at you, then to your racket.

Your second encounter was only minutes later, when he stood next to his raven haired friend who asked for your number as he rolled his eyes with a knot in his jaw, as if he didn't find you worthy. He tugged on the shirt of his friend, telling him there were better things to do. Better, he had said.

And that never made much sense to you. Because in your relationship with Patrick, there had always been the inconsequential three.

"You're not my friend," You begin, mind calculating how many rooms and doors of Cornell's largest final club you'd have to go before finding somewhere, anywhere, that would fit just you. "Never was."

Art's only silent for a moment, nose flaring and eyes squinting. his shoulders are tense, and if you were to look down you'd see his hand balled in a fist.

"What? What now, Art?"

"You never gave me your number."

He watches as your eyes furrow in confusion, the heat in your eyes rising rather than deflating. And he speaks again:

“You gave it to Patrick. But you never gave me your number.”

Without your bottle, your hands search for something to do, blinking frantically. They resort to touching yourself in the same places he just had, your fingers running down your torso quickly, your hip bone. When you touch your shoulder is when the two of your gazes meet once again. Art watches through blue as you nod your head slowly in both horror and understanding.

You're quick on your feet. He's watched countless of your matches, even when he had no business doing so. But he is too. So when a short string of curses land out of your mouth and you march down the hallway, he's on your heels.

And all you can think is that you know his gaze better than any other. It wasn't something you intended but through these sporadic games, your body and soul had bargained to be familiar with Art more than any other. If he leaned against the net or lunch table, it became the kind of resourcefulness of movement that was so particularly him. It was rare you called on him, yet necessary when it was a matter of Patrick. He was always there, steadfast and urgent. It'd be days before you learned of the lecture he missed because of it. And while your boyfriend was off being a pro, Art never was slow to tell you how good his female counterparts around him were, while you were "only barely whopping college ass".

But somehow he was always there. You found his gels and handle tape in your tennis bag. You had more than half your dining points still because you were just "a casualty of being present” when he was buying his own lunch. And it all made you feel as if he was just very...

"You're a fucking con artist," You shoved him against the door of which he only narrowly made it "A fucking wolf in sheep's clothing."

It made you even angrier that he was stronger than you but willing to let his body fall back, lips pierced in a thin obedient line as his back hit the door repeatedly under your assault until he grasped both your forearms, holding them closely together. A wince escaped your mouth, his strength relenting and becoming lighter but still he held you. He leaned down, attempting to meet your face that now focused on the hardwood below.

"I know I'm the bad guy. Still, what's it gonna be?"

You didn't look up at that. But you did at the vibration that sounded in his pocket just seconds later. There were always three.

Art doesn't waste a moment to release your arms, wrapping his own in an enclosure around your head to reach your lips, tugging you impossibly close to him. You can't help but not move-- letting him twist your head and invade your lips. It's only until you release a small moan you latch back.

After Art's kiss, your night was haunted. It was distorted beyond your eyes' power of correction. So when a pair of lips landed on yours again, you came back home. You gave in.

His hands ran down your body, invading each and every corner of you. Your hips, your waist, the small of your back, the back of your thighs which he used to hoist your body upwards and against the doorframe, caging you. As the wet kisses sound on your neck, you look past his head to the room you two now occupied, no bed. Just various pieces of miscellaneous covered in cream sheets. When you look towards the window, releasing another whimper as you feel his middle and index finger prod at your cotton panties, you can see dust aligning with the moonlight.

Like everything else he does, he's good at the way he touches you. No, nearly instinctual. Art's fingers curve and level themselves out inside of you, yet he leaves his palms frigid, rubbing your clit back and forth with the surface of it. It makes you all so weak, Art murmuring your name as the two of you lower to the floor, you're suddenly reminded of the urgency of the matter.

"Art, I need--"

"I know,"

I know,

I know,

I know.

He repeats the sentiment into your skin and it almost makes your eyes brim with tears as you feel his bulge covered by denim slot against your soaked underwear. The feeling is delicious, so you excuse your decorum when you buck your hips against his. You watch as he detaches himself from you, the depth of his blonde hair twinkling in the moonlight. His lips and chin are swollen and wet from your messy kisses that appeared to be more tongue than anything. He lifts your hips to remove your skirt on his own once he catches the way your eyes watch him, still. He looks at you, sick with the same fever, but now you're not quite sure what this illness even is.

His hands move to tug your shirt up, yet you push his hands away, making them double up on his belt as both of you scramble to slide his jeans below his ass. You also help him when he leans to grab your right leg, sliding it up and against his hip as he sways above you. You watch as he thinks, only for a moment, places a feather right kiss on your knee, whispers something you can't hear, and promptly shoves his dick inside of you.

The force of it slams your head against the door, the hinges rattling but the surprise of his size makes it so you hardly notice. You close your eyes immediately until you're struck with the realization that you hope this never happens again. You hope you're never drunk enough, or lucky enough to have your boyfriend's best friend's dick rocking you back and forth ever again. You near your eyes open, willing to at least let yourself savor what little you have now, gazing in the middle of you two where you can see him disappear inside of you repeatedly.

Art huffs above you as your name escape his lips repeatedly as if it hadn't been the first time. You find yourself unable to cope, grabbing the hardwood until you realize there's not much give. So you resort to firmly biting his shoulder between your gasps and yelps. which only surges him on to drive into you faster, his hips snapping and the sounds of both your flesh filling the room.

You feel his clammy hand reach for the hair at the nape of your neck and you allow yourself to submissively follow regardless of your confusion. Art's breath mingles with yours as he asks:

"Is it good?"

You don't answer.

"Does it feel good?"

Your brows furrow together as you nod your head up and down as if you’ve been doped, chest heaving uncontrollably. He meets your lips and it feels as if he's kissing you solely for himself as he drags his hand on your cheeks and forehead, ridding your face of your sweat and hair. His other hand circulates your clit with a firm hold and you feel the familiar sensation approaching. Your skin felt both as cold and hot as it ever had, your teeth penetrating your bottom lip, biting Art in the process.

"I don't think we should do this.." You spit out quietly in intervals, because it feels like the right thing to say right before you come all over his cock and he leans down to look at the mess you've made in bliss. The results that it gives are fruitful, as you feel his fingers' relentlessness on your clit still. But you can tell he's struggling to stay where he is, trying to milk every moment he can inside of you.

You use your feet to push his hips back, arms reaching above your head as you untangle your limbs. Your legs remain sprawled out on his thighs, of which lay on his calves. The silence between you two is like molasses, and he stares at your core as you brush your socked toes against his abdomen, then cock.

You see a frown form on his face, but you're also met with the needy repeated rise of his hips that meet your foot and help you grind against him. You watch in awe as his eyes don't leave yours, confusion filling the air. You bring your feet faster, rubbing against his tip and watch as Art's whimper fills the air and his cum shoots to his lower stomach and your sock, his eyes closing, throat repeatedly bobbing as he rides his high. You watch as the thrusts into you become increasingly slower until they stop completely and the two of you are left still once again. You marvel in the way it seems almost as if he always gets what he wants. And Art isn't quite sure of what to make of you at all anymore, with his ears ringing and chest warm.

On his knees, he cascades towards your body that slumps against the door frame. He moves towards you slowly at first, hesitating if you wanted any of this at all. But you don't decline the warmth of his chest as he pulls you in, wordlessly. You let him bury his nose to your scalp as he takes you in.

And you both agree that if this may be a story of tonight alone, you both might as well melt indistinguishably into it once again.

[thewinter-eden]

Don't Look At Me Like That

images are mine (except middle HH pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 4 of the skz crack!horror series (this concludes the Hyung Line).

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you.

warnings: Terminal illness, smoking, asshole family, political family, angst, unrealistic trust fund, drugs, implications of overdose, implications of involuntary overdose, assault, discussion of surgery, depictions of cysts/tumors, USD instead of Korean Won, Gossip Girl reference, some language, kidnapping.

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

The first igniting drags of your cigarette feel like a second glass of wine. For a second, you’re lighter than air and the world tips on its axis.

Your family hates your penchant for cigarettes. They call you disgusting; unhygienic; stupid.

Although, In a way, your literal toxic trait has actually strengthened your personal hygiene��a rigorous unskippable skincare routine, to fight the weathering of your face, expensive and regular dental care to prevent the yellowing of teeth, your hands under a constant layer of hand sanitizer and scented perfume to combat the clinging stench of smoke, every surface of your bedroom cleaned daily and your laundry crisply pressed and regularly washed—just because you’re a shameless human chimney doesn’t mean you intend to wear the grime of cigarette smoke as an accessory.

Not that any of that matters anymore.

You take another drag and feel your body settle into the familiar rhythm. In front of you, on the other side of your glass cage (read: bedroom window) the city stretches out in front of you, lights poking holes in the blanket of darkness that covers it.

The clock reads 6 PM.

Lifting one hand, tapping a black-polished nail against the glass, watching your arm tremble, you give a resigned sigh and blow a puff of smoke through the opening. The plume rises and disperses into the atmosphere, vanishing before your eyes.

You finish your cigarette and crush the filter into your ash tray, yanking the curtains closed. The next few minutes are muscle memory—shrugging out of your robe, spritzing it with vodka to remove the smoke smell, exfoliating your hands and arms with a sugar scrub, brushing and whitening your teeth, covering yourself head to toe in moisturizer.

All for the sake of appearances.

When you close yourself into the bathroom to change half an hour later, all you smell is coffee from the sugar scrub and the sickly sweet aroma of your flowery lotion.

“You’re coming, right?” Your best friend Lisa’s voice booms through the phone, the sound of pounding music and raucous laughter filling the background.

You’re already dressed, brushing excess highlighter and powder off your face as you stand before your mirror. “Of course I’m coming, I promised you I would. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” You take a second to check your watch.

Lisa had made plans with you to meet at the party at 8, but she always arrives early enough to be four or five drinks ahead by the time you show up. This inevitably leads to her finding someone to spend an hour in the closest lockable room with and you calling your dad’s driver to take you home.

It’s not that you don’t ever want a hook up or a boyfriend or anything, it’s just that you’re the seventeen-year-old daughter of a politician and you have rules.

You can’t be out after 11, you can’t be seen with mile-deep cleavage or thigh-high hems, and you certainly can’t be drunk in public—especially as a minor. So you smooth the fabric of the just barely appropriate outfit you’ve chosen and check your reflection one last time.

It takes a second to convince yourself that the heaviness of your eyes isn’t because of your dark liner, that the dullness in your expression isn’t obvious.

“Well hurry on over. I’ve found someone you just have to meet.”

When you arrive, you’re wading through a house that’s teeming with high schoolers, the walls reverberating with pounding music. You find Lisa near the kitchen, one arm slung around the neck of one of her friends, the other hand clutching a plastic cup.

When her eyes land on you, she all but screeches your name over the clamor and reaches for you. The girl that she was just leaning on takes the opportunity to pull away and stretch her arms upward, trying to correct the awkward hunch that Lisa had put her in. She shoots you a grateful smile and disappears into the crowd, looking for her boyfriend.

Lisa’s in your face in the next second, her breath already reeking. She catches you in a tight, sloppy hug, the contents of her cup splashing your shoulder as she trips. “I’m so glad you’re here,” She says, and if her body language says drunk, her voice certainly doesn’t. Her lipstick is smeared and she’s staggering a little but her voice is crisp and sharp. “I was worried you’d change your mind again.”

She runs a hand up the back of your neck and playfully squeezes the knot of your hair that you’ve taken the time to elegantly pin.

It’s a ritual at this point.

You have the worst habits—smoking and drinking and slipping your curfew after everyone’s asleep—but you don’t go anywhere without a Princess Grace-like appearance. Because it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re not shitfaced on the front page the next morning. Even if you’ve snuck out at night to meet a boyfriend, when the cameras catch you on the streets you’re perfectly coiffed and sleekly styled.

Even now, you don’t look like you’re dressed for a high school party so much as a cocktail one, but Lisa tells you it makes you look more like Blair Waldorf than the homeschooler you’re always worried you emulate.

You push her hand out of your hair and check to make sure the pins haven’t come out. “Did you get me one of those?” You nod towards the cup in her hand and her eyes light up.

She nods towards the kitchen. “I got you, babe, come with me.”

You follow her, one hand reaching for her hip to steady her when she falls off one of her high heels, and then you’re in the kitchen and the noise of the party is muffled behind the heavy swinging door.

There’s one other person in the room with you, a tall, slender guy near the sink, shoulders hunched slightly as he gazes out the window. You’re still trailing after Lisa, but your eyes are taking in the long black hair that the guy has pulled back in a half pony, the slim-cut jacket with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the ripped jeans that cinch at his small waist and hang loosely around his legs.

When the two of you enter, his head turns, and you see the sharpness of his jaw, the definition of his features. There’s a flutter in your chest when his dark eyes land on you, and you whip your head away, crowding yourself behind Lisa.

She’s crushing something with a spoon, dumping it in the cup she’s just poured for you. Then she spins on one heel—surprisingly stable as she does—and passes it to you. “Here.”

You stare at the powder floating on top, and then back at her. “What did you put in this?”

“Nothing heavy.” She assures you, and knocks back a couple of the tablets herself. “Just something to take the edge off. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t matter anyway.

You drink, sucking in the yeasty beer with fervor, trying your hardest not to taste it as it goes down. Before you can finish the cup, Lisa catches your arm and turns you towards the man at the window. She introduces you without giving you a chance to question her, and tells you his name is Hyunjin—the guy she wanted you to meet.

He turns to you fully, eyes tracing you head to toe. There’s a gentle smile on his full lips as he notices the blush that rushes to your face. “Nice to meet you,” He says kindly. “I think I’ve seen you on TV.”

As the words reach your ears, you feel yourself growing more guarded despite the opposite effects of the alcohol. You’re used to being recognized, you’re used to being used for your dad’s fame and fortune. You’ve been burned before, and you have no intention of using this time to be manipulated again.

So you pull yourself up into a respectful posture and prepare to treat him like the occasional politically-conscious “fan” who asks you to take a picture. It doesn’t happen often, but you do tend to be popular amongst the poli-sci students at the local college.

“He’s a senior.” Lisa says, and gives you a nudge towards him. “He’s going to study art.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, and you look over Hyunjin again. At second glance, he does look the type. He’s effortlessly fashionable, quiet, reserved—at least on first impression. You extend your hand politely. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you a practitioner or a history buff?”

At your strictly professional tone, Hyunjin laughs under his breath and steps in to take your hand, enveloping it in the warmth of his own. “A little of both, I suppose. I sketch and paint. Lisa tells me you’re quite the watercolorist?”

You blush a little at the recognition of your most intimate hobby. “I play around with it a little, but it’s just for fun.” When you notice he’s still grasping your palm, you gently pull your hand back.

Lisa grips your arm again, and leans in so close that you can smell the cologne of the last boy she had her hands on. “Why don’t you two hang out a little? You’re both the same about parties, so I figured you’d get along. Cool? I’m going to go find Mingyu.”

There’s nothing you can say to make her stay, even if you could think of the words to try. So you just watch her disappear, the noise of the party warbling strangely as the door swings back and forth behind her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes snap back to Hyunjin. “What?”

“When I said I’d seen you on TV.”

“Oh.” You pull another long sip from your drink and wince. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re standing like you’re at a press conference.” His eyes are alive with mirth as he watches you subtly try to shuffle your posture, brows lowering.

You’re coming back to yourself, your body acclimatizing to the atmosphere and whatever it was that Lisa put in your drink, your nerves no longer responding to every little glance that Hyunjin gives you. So you just shrug a shoulder and search the kitchen for your drink of choice. “I’m not uncomfortable as long as you’re not interested in some kind of fifteen minutes of fame bullshit.”

There it is.

You drain your beer as Hyunjin chuckles behind you and rinse your cup of the vile liquid, instead filling it with about four ounces of whiskey from a glass cabinet.

Hyunjin watches your movements with an eyebrow cocked. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant to be a party favor.”

You nurse the drink slowly, settling into the comfort of the initial burn. “You gonna tell on me?”

He examines you again, shaking his head. “Not if you pour me one.”

You do, and then settle back against the counter. “Why come to a party if you’re going to hide in the kitchen?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Kinda surprised your dad lets you come to something like this.”

You used to be, too. Now you just huff. “As long as I’m not a scandalous headline tomorrow, he doesn’t care where I go or what I do. And I don’t usually hide in the kitchen.” It’s true, you don’t. There’s a handful of people out there that you like to talk to, a couple of them you even like to dance with if the occasion calls for it, but right now you’re not itching to leave where you’re at.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you, and he glances towards the door. “Then why—”

“Because I’m talking to you.” The confidence comes with the whiskey. The taste of it in the back of your throat distracts you from the blush you would ordinarily be fighting if you had said those words soberly to someone as attractive as Hyunjin, and right now you’re just enjoying the way his eyes crinkle and the sweet smile explodes across his face.

It’s cute.

He’s cute.

He shuffles his feet beneath him for a second, the air between you comfortable as he lets the effects of your statement fade. When the flustered state is mostly gone from his face, he glances up at you again, almost shyly. “You’re really pretty.” And then, feeling the weight of his own words as they drop off his tongue, his eyes widen and he hastens to soften their impact. “I like your earrings.”

But you just smile, watching the pink in his cheeks as he swallows a regrettably large gulp of whiskey.

“You’re really pretty, too.” You say, and his head snaps around to you.

For a long second, he just stares at you.

It’s not often that you find yourself talking to someone you want to open yourself up to, someone you like to see so flustered, but he’s so completely enchanting that you can’t take your eyes off him and you don’t want to stop saying things that make him look at you like that.

There are only so many things that you can enjoy in a life like yours, and you want to enjoy this.

Hyunjin pours you both another drink.

You’re grateful, especially because there’s a nagging part of you telling you to go outside and smoke a cigarette, so instead you bring your cup to your lips and sip. You move to reach for a bottle of lemon juice and it puts you right next to him, feeling the radiating warmth of his side as you mix your drink into a whiskey sour.

He doesn’t move away.

Out of the corner of your eyes you catch the faintest tremble of his hand, and a smirk curves your lips.

His eyes are on you as you pinch a sprinkle of sugar into the drink and then suck the granules off your thumb.

You turn slightly, so close that you don’t even have to reach to offer him your drink. “Want to try?”

His eyes flick from yours, to the drink, and back to your face. Hyunjin’s tongue appears to swipe across his lower lip, and then he nods, taking the cup from you.

You thoroughly enjoy the swirling in your stomach when his fingers brush yours.

He drinks from your cup, face scrunching slightly as he takes in the taste of it.

At the crumpling of his eyebrows, you frown, suddenly interrupted from the sense of control you feel. “You don’t like it?”

Hyunjin lowers the cup from his lips with a look of surprise, shaking his head. “I love it.” He holds it out to you. “Would you show me how you made it?”

It’s not a complicated drink, the whiskey sour.

You find yourself smirking again, and push the cup back towards him. “Keep it. I’ll make myself another one.” And you take his whiskey from him, turning to fix yourself another drink. When he just stands there, mentally processing how he somehow ended up trading drinks with you, you know you have him.

So when he edges closer, the heat of his body flooding into your skin, you’re not surprised. You keep your hands moving, your eyes on your drink, pretending you don’t notice the way he’s suddenly leaning into your side.

“You smell good,” He says lowly, and your heart does a flip.

But you play it off casually, focused on getting the lid off the lemon juice bottle. “You like it? I’m not so sure yet.”

It’s gotta be the oldest trick in the book, but he takes the opportunity like it’s a written permission slip and then his face is at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the whisper of his breath on your skin.

“I like it,” He murmurs.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place his cup on the counter next to you, and then both of his hands settle on your arms. His touch is light, gentle, his thumbs smoothing questioning strokes against your sleeves, asking permission.

When you tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, it’s a yes.

His lips are on your shoulder then, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arms.

Your entire body heats up.

He’s leaning into you, trailing his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, then slowly up your throat until your head is edging back, leaning against his shoulder, giving him access. Hyunjin’s hand slides up one arm, cupping the curve of your neck as he litters wet kisses across your jaw, and his other hand reaches around to cover both of yours where you realize that at some point you abandoned your efforts to make a drink.

He turns you around and you let him, throwing your head back as his mouth leaves a glistening trail across your collarbones and up your throat, moving up to suck gently at the point of your jaw beneath your ear. “I really do like your earrings.” He whispers, and you feel him flick the dangling gemstone with his tongue.

You’re trembling under his hands, and you wish you could say it’s from his highly effective ministrations, but you know it’s not. You peel your eyes open, all but panting as his arm circles your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead drops against yours, and you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“Can we move this somewhere more private?” He whispers, and then he’s sucking at your jaw on the other side, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips.

You can’t help a laugh. “More private than the closed kitchen where it’s just us?”

“Please?” He whimpers against your throat.

You have absolutely no reason to protest. You’re nodding, aching, allowing him to push you towards the kitchen door, because this could be it. This could be your last. He’s every fantasy you’ve ever had, the absolute embodiment of beauty and seduction, and even one night with him could be everything.

What do you have to lose?

You stand to lose more by turning him down at this point.

So when his hands guide you through the living room, your ears barraged by music and laughter, your eyes assaulted by the flashes of too much skin and way too much pda, you just lean into his touch around your waist and let him find a room to duck into.

That’s how you find yourself pushed onto your back on someone’s bed, your heart in your ears as Hyunjin straddles you, his face returning to its spot against your throat, kissing his way towards your collar.

You feel his hands trail up your sides, his thumbs sweeping at the swell of your breasts, and for a second, you panic.

You’re not sure what he’ll think of you, how he’ll react to you when he finally gets his hands on you, but you can’t even worry about it for long because he’s nipping at your throat, his hands dragging your arms above your head.

Breathing in gasps, heart hammering as he laces the fingers of one hand through both of yours, trapping your hands above your head, you arch yourself into him as his free hand comes back towards his hip.

“You really are very pretty,” Hyunjin breathes into your ear, and then he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I just want you to know that.” Still holding your hands, he settles his weight back on your hips and pulls something out of his pocket.

You frown at him, chest heaving with breathlessness, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hyunjin brings his free hand back into view, now holding something cylindrical. Bringing the end of it to his mouth, prying off a plastic cap with his teeth, you can see the object as it catches the light.

A hypodermic needle, filled with something.

He spits the cap out of his mouth, eyebrows pinched in concentration. “Don’t move, angel, this doesn’t have to hurt.”

But you’re not moving, you’re just staring at the needle, trying desperately to make sense of the complete shift in atmosphere. You’re no longer trapped in a lovers’ embrace, you’re trapped. He has your hands immobilized, your lower body caught beneath his own, completely vulnerable.

He arches his body, reaching to slip the needle into a vein in your arm, and you understand.

You understand.

A deep sigh rushes out of your lungs.

You thought you’d have more time, but at this point, what does it matter?

Just before the needle pricks your flesh, Hyunjin seems to realize that you’re not fighting him at all. His eyes flick down to you, and he finds you blinking solemnly at his shoulder, not a single emotion on your face.

He pauses.

You close your eyes, suck in a deep breath, and let it out.

There’s no fear, no more surprise, no apprehension.

Just exhaustion; resignation.

It doesn’t matter. He leans in towards your arm again, angling the needle to prod your vein. You don’t even flinch as it pricks your skin, sliding into your flesh. His thumb hovers over the plunger, but doesn’t press.

He’s never had a mark just lay there.

They’ve never just…accepted it.

He glances at your face again. “Angel…do you know what’s happening right now?” You had only had a few drinks, and the flush of your face could be from the drugs or the drink or his lips on your throat, but surely you should be a little concerned by the sheer volume of what he’s about to push into your bloodstream.

“I know,” You respond flatly. “He shouldn’t have bothered, honestly, but it’s not like he knew.”

Hyunjin’s brain stutters with confusion. “He?”

“My father,” You say, and your eyes meet his. “He wasted his money, hiring you to kill me.”

Huh.

That’s not at all how he expected this to go.

“I guess he’s paying Lisa, too, since she started with the pills.” It stings, knowing your best friend would accept cash to kill you, but you also know that your father wouldn’t have offered an insignificant sum.

Whatever he’s paying Lisa will set her up for life.

“So they’ll find me, tonight or tomorrow, just another stupid teenager who tried to have too much fun, and the two of you are just the dumb high school friends to corroborate that it was just an accident. Right?”

You don’t cry, you don’t fight, you don’t yell.

He stares at you, shocked. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“You don’t seem apprehensive about killing a girl for money.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. “It’s my job.”

“So you don’t go to this high school, then.” You mutter sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t go to any high school.” Then he catches your gaze again. “But it really is my job. It’s not like it’s personal.”

You take a second, absorbing the reality of what’s happening to you. It’s over.

It’s over.

This is it.

Forget three months.

It’s over now.

You weren’t prepared for this timeframe, but you are prepared. You have coped.

It’s not a new idea.

So you just nod. “Okay.”

It’s like he starts to lean to finish the job, and then pulls himself back. “Why did you say he shouldn’t have bothered?”

You laugh then, a loud, inelegant burst of laughter, almost directly into his chest.

He’s startled, eyes wide, leaning back on your hips to stare down at you. “Angel, I’m literally about to kill you, why the hell are you laughing? There’s no way you’re that drunk.”

And you’re not.

The sheer adrenaline of his lips on your skin burned through that alcohol what seems like hours ago, and now you’re just sinking into oblivion, still laughing.

Finally, tears of irony in your eyes, you wheeze up at him. “Go ahead and finish it, Hyunjin, or whoever you are. It doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’m alright. Finish it.” You nod upwards, towards the direction of your joined hands, and wish that the scent of his skin wasn’t still making your head swim.

It’s really not the time to be attracted to the assassin whom your father hired to murder you.

But he’s stuck, indecisive.

Because you’re laying underneath him, sniffling past a rush of humor—of all things—completely unconcerned and telling him that you’re alright with him killing you. That you’re alright with him subjecting you to a drug overdose that’s going to be painful and terrifying and the end of your life.

At this point, you seem to be more alright with it than he is.

And then you’re smiling at him. “Thanks for being nice about it.”

His heart lurches. “What the hell.” He yanks the needle out of your skin, releases your hands, and sits back on your hips again, eyes wide and unbelieving. “I mean—what the hell? What is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes. “He must not be paying you much if you’re willing to back out just because I’m pitiful.”

Which isn’t true, he’s supposed to be paid quite a lot for this job, but he just can’t comprehend how you’re reacting.

“Why shouldn’t he have bothered?”

You’re no longer trapped except for the way he’s straddling your hips, so now you’re just laying against an uncomfortable pair of pillows, feeling the pins of your updo poking into your neck. If he’s supposed to kill you, why won’t he just do it? You search his eyes, finding only confusion and concern.

Sighing, you reach for his hand—the empty one that used to be holding both of yours against the headboard.

Oh, how you expected a very different outcome from this situation.

He flinches as he suddenly finds you bringing his hand towards your chest, jerking it back when you lay his palm over your breast.

It’s almost comical the way his face heats up.

Clearly, his earlier show of attraction towards you had been aided by a hurriedly consumed volume of alcohol and a professionally put-on flustered attitude, but now, when you made him touch you, he seems genuinely awkward.

And, for your side of things, you were going to let him feel you up anyway, so what’s the difference now?

You quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you for anything, just give me your hand.”

He doesn’t protest when you catch his hand again, his cheeks flushed pink, until you drag his fingers across the slope of your breast and they trip over a lump of flesh that’s hard as a rock. The flustered color drains from his face, and then he’s frowning, leaning in, moving of his own accord to swipe his fingers over the place once more, as though he wasn’t sure he felt it the first time.

You let him.

When he pulls his hand back into his lap and stares at you, you just smile. “Did you know, in the early days of breast cancer surgery, a woman went in to have a lump removed, and when she came out of anesthesia, she was missing an entire breast, some ribs, and like half of the muscle wall of her chest? And the fuckass doctors were like “we got it!” Like, you don’t burn down the house in order to kill a spider and then say, “Don’t worry, we got it!””

Hyunjin blinks at you, mentally parsing your unexpected rambling. “They’ve, uh…come a long way in terms of cancer surgeries, I think.”

A puff of breath escapes your lips, another sardonic laugh. “It’s too late for that. It’s in my bones, my lymphatic, everywhere. I got to it too late.” You roll your eyes and press a palm to your forehead. “So, yeah, he shouldn’t have bothered. Three months and I would have been out of his hair for free.”

A few seconds pass as you process the words you haven’t yet admitted out loud to anyone, as he processes what you’re telling him.

He’s trying to kill a girl who’s already dying.

No wonder she didn’t care.

“So, how much is he paying you?” You question lightly, eyes searching for the syringe. You assume he’ll finish the job—everybody has to pay the rent, and it’s not like you’ve got your life ahead of you anyway.

Hyunjin scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Three million.”

You outright scoff at that, shocking him once again. “He’s ripping you off, dude. Did he tell you why he hired you?”

“I don’t ask. I am a professional, you know.” He brings his hand to his chest like he’s offended, and allows the slightest smile to twist his lips when you roll your eyes again.

You wedge your hands under you. “Can I sit up? I need to smoke and you’re killing my back.” You wiggle your hips and try to scoot yourself back. As he lifts his own hips off of you, you raise an eyebrow. “Not that I mind.”

At that, he flushes again.

Laughing softly, you pull yourself up to sit against the headboard, dragging your knees to your chest, and watch as he sits himself in front of you, cross-legged. For the time that it takes you to slide a cigarette from your purse and light it between your lips, he’s silent, watching you.

The syringe is at his side, laying between the wrinkles in the blanket, forgotten.

“My trust fund defaults back to him if I die before I hit eighteen.” You inform him. “And it’s 25 million dollars.”

His mouth falls open. “Why the hell is your trust fund so much money?”

“When my mom was dying, my father promised her he would help her allot her estate into a trust fund for me, plus a hefty sum from his own assets as a romantic gesture. For all his faults, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved her.” You scoff, sucking in a comforting drag of smoke. You’re careful to blow it away from him, to knock your ashes into the ring tray on the bedside table instead of allowing them to fall into the carpet. “But that was fifteen years ago, and I guess he forgot that he loved her once.”

“So he wants your trust fund.” Hyunjin says, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm. “Because he forgot he loves you too?”

Your lips pinch. “I’m just a reminder of when he used to be a better man.”

Silence ticks between you, and the smell of your cigarette permeates the air. You can’t care enough to apologize to him for your filthy habit, because if it’s the last cigarette you’re ever going to have, you might as well enjoy it.

But he doesn’t seem put off by it, instead wrapping his hands around your ankles and pulling your feet into the criss-cross of his legs so he can scoot closer to you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You’re surprised, but not displeased with the gentle embrace of your legs.

“I don’t want to kill you, angel,” He says, and rests his chin on your knees.

It’s too much, the doe-eyed boy staring at you through the dim light, holding you close to him and running his hands up and down your thighs, fingers sweeping low enough to run across your hips.

You can’t look at him.

Turning your eyes away, you knock the ash off the end of your cigarette and laugh. “That’s so kind, thanks.” You drop the rest of the butt into the tray and brush your hands together. “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s get you paid.” You scoop up the syringe and hold it out to him, eyes wide and inviting.

He takes it from you, but he doesn’t take your arm again.

In the quiet of his indecision, you can’t help yourself. Your fingers find the soft swoop of his hair falling over his forehead, letting a few strands slide through your fingers before you pull yourself together and extend your arm to him. “Do it, Hyunjin.” You say softly, ignoring the way your movements made him look at you. “If you don’t do it, he’ll hire someone else. His campaign isn’t doing well, he’s facing asset forfeiture—he needs the money. If you don’t kill me, someone else will.”

Hyunjin’s hand finds yours, his fingertips smoothing up the underside of your forearm towards that vein that he found earlier. A drop of blood has gathered where he pricked you, the trail where it dripped dry and crusted.

You’re not scared, you’re not worried.

You’re a little relieved, actually, that you don’t have to pretend anymore. Because you’ve known for months that your time is running out. You’ve known for months that no one would care even if you told them.

The pounding of the music outside the door fills the space, reminding you that you were supposed to come in here to have the night of your life, and now, instead, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen is going to inject poison into your bloodstream and leave you to die on a stranger’s bed.

That does dishearten you a little bit.

He presses his thumb against the vein. His eyes flick up to yours. “When is your birthday?”

You cock your head curiously, wondering. “Next month.”

Hyunjin lets the vein go and sets the syringe down near his hip. “I’ll make you a deal.” He takes your other hand, too, peering into your face with sincerity. “If I keep you alive until your birthday, we split the trust fund, 70-30. Then at least you don’t let your dad win, and maybe you can see if there’s some super expensive doctor who can help you. Or something. What do you think?”

You blink. “You’re going to trade being an assassin for being a bodyguard just for eight million dollars?”

He smirks, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Seven and a half, actually. And it’s a better gig than killing a dying seventeen-year-old just so her asshole father can take her trust fund. So, what do you say?”

You’re almost a hundred percent sure there’s no doctor or surgeon in the world who can fix your cancer at this point. All the ones you’ve spoken to so far won’t even recommend radiation or chemo, because there’s no point. They keep saying things like “quality of life” and “keep you comfortable,” not, “if only you had more money.”

But it’s interesting, this deal he’s put forward.

Die tonight or spend a month with a gorgeous young assassin?

Is it even a choice?

“We split it 50-50.” You say. “All I want to do with my half is give it to cancer research.”

He’s surprised again, his mind now struggling to grasp an influx of almost thirteen million dollars, and he nods slowly. “Okay. So we have a deal?”

He’s already holding your hands, so you can’t exactly shake on it, but you nod with a shrug. “Deal.”

You’ve never seen a smile as sweet as the one he gives you after that. “Good. Get your coat, angel—you’re coming home with me.”

Eyebrows skyrocketing, you follow his movements as he bounds off the bed and scoops up your purse. “So you’re going to kidnap me instead of murdering me?”

He holds out a hand and waits for you to take it. “Are you arguing?”

You let him haul you off the bed and find yourself laughing as his arm circles your waist and he hurries you out of the room. “Not in the slightest.”

Comment a request to be tagged! Han's is next :)

PART 2 INFO

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[gingiesworld]

Ghost (2/?)

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 4.8k+

MINORS DNI 18+

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong @alexawynters (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

It was a struggle for Y/N to settle in to living at the compound, although it was a comfort to them for Wanda also being there, when she’s not on missions, it was hard for them to be completely comfortable, knowing that the others didn’t really trust them.

“Welcome back girls.” Steve smiled once both Wanda and Nat returned from their recon mission, Wanda could sense that Y/N wasn’t at the compound.

“Where’s Y/N?” She questioned before greeting the team.

“They went on their own mission.” Tony informed her.

“In other words, killing in cold blood.” Steve scoffed, earning a glare from Wanda.

“It’s not cold blood if it stops Hydra from ever forming again.” Bucky retorted, turning Steve’s attention to him.

“You don’t know that these people have links to Hydra, for all we know it could just be their own hitlist.” Steve countered, watching as Bucky shook his head.

“You don’t understand Steve.” He spoke calmly. “You were never a part of Hydra, you were never their puppet, manipulated into doing their work. You were always the good one, on the good side.”

“That doesn’t mean that what they’re doing is right.” Steve raised his voice slightly.

“So, would you rather there be a chance that Hydra rebuilds, without any one being able to stop it?” Bucky questioned. “Innocent people going missing for them to be experimented on and tortured?”

“We would be able to stop it the right way.” Steve tried, making Wanda chuckle dryly.

“No, we wouldn’t.” She spoke up. “What Y/N is doing is the right way, they are making sure that no innocent people will ever be hurt again, no families would experience the loss that we have all endured, that Y/N has endured.”

“This is unbelievable.” Steve muttered as he turned to walk away.

“They’re right, Frosty.” Tony added, making Nat chuckle at the nickname. “Y/N’s way is more of a preventative measure.”

“Do you agree with this?” He asked Natasha, who looked him straight in the eyes.

“If I thought there was a chance that someone would rebuild the Red Room, I would do what Y/N is doing right now.” Natasha told him honestly, her arms crossed. “So yes, I do agree with them.”

“But these people have families of their own.” He tried as Nat shrugged.

“It stops them from brainwashing their children, or grandchildren into thinking Hydra would be the solution to every government or world issue.” She told him firmly. “Governments, politicians and agencies all have their own agendas to benefit themselves, I remember you once said that when you went against the Sokovian Accords to protect your best friend.”

“Bucky was innocent, we all know this.” Steve tried weakly, knowing he was losing his argument.

“I still have a lot of blood on my hands, innocent blood.” He reminded him. “It doesn’t matter if I was under their mind control and had no idea what I was doing, but it was still my hands that followed through on their orders, the assassinations.” With that Steve just walked out, leaving them all behind in a huff.

“When will he get that self righteous icicle from up his ass?” Y/N spoke from behind them, making everyone turn around, the smile on their face growing as their eyes met Wanda’s.

“You’re back?” Wanda questioned as Y/N nodded. “I thought you would be gone longer?”

“I am, as they say, efficient at my job.” They smirked, making her shake her head.

“I’m happy you’re back.” She told them, patting their arm awkwardly before she stepped away. “I am going to get cleaned up.” She said as she started her way towards her room, Nat followed her into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“What was that?” Nat questioned as Wanda shrugged, feigning ignorance. “You know exactly what I mean, Wanda, with the awkward pat.”

“What do you want me to say?” Wanda questioned as she sat on the edge of her bed. “That I have some unresolved feelings, especially since they came back into my life after spending a couple of years thinking they had died in my arms.” She sighed as she began to play with the sleeves of her sweater. “Truthfully, I don’t have any unresolved feelings towards them, because I know how I felt about them. I remember the feeling as though it was yesterday and I still have those feelings, maybe even stronger now.”

“But what about Vision?” Nat questioned as Wanda shook her head.

“I don’t know, I know I felt something for him, but with Y/N it’s different.” Wanda admitted. “I can’t quite explain it because I never thought I would ever feel as safe as I did when I was in Hydra.” She chuckled lightly before continuing. “I know how weird that sounds, given Hydra’s history and all, but they made me feel safe, I knew that while I was there, I wouldn’t ever come into harm's way, neither did my brother. Y/N cared for the both of us, unlike any of the other guards who worked there.”

“What about when they weren’t there? They must have needed to take a day or two.” Nat questioned as Wanda shook her head.

“They were there every day, without fail.” Wanda told her. “Or they had the only other guard they knew that they could trust, watch over us while they accompanied Strucker. Y/N saved both myself and Pietro, on multiple occasions, knowing just how it would end for them if they ever got caught.”

“You were in love with them.” Nat stated, earning a shush from Wanda.

“I was.” She whispered before she looked at her hands. “And I still am.” She admitted. “But I don’t know what to do, I’m not even sure I am ready for it myself, especially with Vision in the picture.”

“You do know, you will have to choose.” Nat told her. “You know both of them would want you to be happy, no matter what or who you decide.”

“I know.” Wanda took a deep breath. “But I am not ready to lose anyone else, not yet, not ever.”

“I’m sorry about Steve.” Bucky spoke as he entered the training room, seeing Y/N at the weights. “He thinks that there is always a choice, especially when people's lives are in our hands.”

“But how many people has he killed during war? How many enemies has he killed during missions?” Y/N questioned, putting the weights down. “He thinks he is doing good, following orders like the good soldier, for the same government in which Hydra had hidden inside of over the decades.”

“Trust me, I understand where you are coming from.” Bucky started before being cut off by them.

“You don’t understand.” They told him. “Once he knew that you were still alive, he never gave up on you, he fought to get you back to being you. He is your friend, your brother in arms, I never had anyone who would fight for me like that. I had my family taken away from me, I watched them die before my own eyes and I was just a stupid kid who couldn’t save them.” They took a shaky breath before continuing. “I couldn’t save my younger brother. He was barely five years old and he died in my arms. Strucker watched me break on that night, he took away the last bit of happiness and hope I had left. So yeah, I remained with Hydra, following through on the orders I was given, that was until I met Wanda and Pietro. They reminded me what it meant to be family, to have someone who would go to the literal ends of the earth for you, because they would have died for each other, and their home. They reminded me that, maybe yeah, working with Hydra isn’t the greatest choice, hell, it’s not smart either but they only joined because they were misled, Hydra took their beliefs, their faith and used it for their own gains, making themselves two weapons that would match the greatness of the Winter Soldier. Steve may have seen war over the years he’s been on top, but he hasn’t seen the same war that you and I have so he doesn’t understand.” Bucky only nodded, knowing they were right with everything they had just told him. “Not everyone’s war is the same war, whether it be physical or mental.” With that they walked away, heading up towards the kitchen to grab some water.

“You’re new here.” A voice sounded as Y/N opened the fridge.

“Unfortunately, I am.” They answered, turning to face a teenager.

“Are you an Avenger?” He questioned excitedly.

“Not really, no.” Y/N answered him honestly. “Are you?” They questioned him.

“No, Mr Stark doesn’t think I’m responsible enough.” He told them, jumping down from the counter. “But I am your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.” He smiled confidently.

“Oh, so you’re the bug kid?” They teased him with a smirk.

“No, I’m Spiderman.” He answered them seriously.

“Just a question, how do you manage to climb walls or ceilings, if it's because your skin is like that of a spiders, how does that work through the costume?” They asked him, a serious expression on their face.

“I don’t really know.” He pondered, thinking about it. “I never really thought about it.”

“I’m only joking, kid.” They told him with a light chuckle, heading towards the exit. “I need to go and shower, but it was nice meeting you Spiderman.”

“Peter, Peter Parker.” He held out his hand for them to shake.

“Y/N.” They introduced themselves before heading straight to their room, Steve entering shortly after they left.

“Don’t interact with them.” He ordered Peter. “You don’t know what kind of killer they are.”

“Technically, aren’t we all killers in some way.” Peter told him honestly.

“They are different, dangerous and untrustworthy.” Steve told him sternly.

“I think I can trust my own judgment Mr Rogers.” Peter told him confidently before retreating towards Tony’s lab, leaving Steve defeated.

As the days went on, Y/N still remained distant from the rest of the team, only going to the kitchen for food or water, and training at night while everyone was either asleep or occupied with other things. One night, they never expected to have company whilst they were doing their own training.

“Hey.” Nat spoke up as she entered the room, watching as Y/N soon started to put down the equipment they were using.

“I was just finishing up.” They started before grabbing their belongings and heading towards the exit.

“I didn't want you to leave, Y/N.” Nat told them calmly. Y/N observed her, trying to figure out what she wanted. “I know it’s hard for you to settle in here right now, especially with Steve on his high horse.”

“What are you trying to get across?” Y/N asked her, tilting their head as Nat shuffled on her feet and glancing around the room.

“You were right, we all have blood on our hands, whether we intended or not.” She started, Y/N remained silent as they listened to her. “You are more alike to a vast majority of us here, we have all had a bad start in our careers but we had the chance to turn it around, fight for something that’s worth fighting for and Steve, he just doesn’t understand that. He has always fought for good, he has never had to endure the lack of choices the rest of us here have. He just doesn’t understand that sometimes freedom of choice isn’t always an option.”

“That’s not going to change how he sees me, he won’t ever trust me, not alone nor a part of this team.” They told her honestly.

“Then prove it to him.” She told them firmly. “Prove it that you can be trusted, not only as a part of this team but as a person.” Y/N then turned to walk away before she started to talk again. “You know, Wanda seems happier with having you here and back in her life. I’ve never really seen her so settled here, not before you came here.”

“She deserves to be happy.” Y/N spoke quietly, turning back to her once more. “That’s all I have ever wanted for her, to be happy and safe, and I know she is safe here with all of you.” With that they left the training room, leaving Nat alone in the empty room. Y/N had started to feel a new sense of belonging since having that conversation with Nat, feeling more at ease in their new home.

“So, you only have one more job left on your Hydra Agenda?” Maria questioned as she joined Y/N in their room, looking over the information they had gathered on the last name.

“Yeah, but this may be harder than all of the others.” They told her, giving her the folder. “Theodore is the head of an old Mafia family, his location is like a fortress.” They informed her. “It’s going to be harder for me to just sneak in and get the job done under the radar like I have all of the others.”

“And it seems he has doubled his security measures too.” She murmured as she combed through the pages. “So you’re going to need a team.”

“But with this one, we may be able to take down this whole organization itself.” Y/N stated. “It will help the local police too, especially since most of the crime here is caused by them.”

“We can always talk to Fury about putting a team together and then we can take them.” Maria told them. “I’ll speak with Fury and see if we can spare a team of SHIELD agents and when we can get this job done.” Y/N thanked her before she left their room, shortly after Wanda entered, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey.” She spoke softly, gaining their attention, gesturing to her to come inside.

“Hey.” They smiled awkwardly as they turned their desk chair to face her. “Are you okay?” They asked as they watched her walk around their room, observing the decor.

“You haven’t decorated, you know, like made this room your own.” She told them as she turned to face them.

“Well, I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to do.” They admitted shyly. “I haven’t really thought of colours or anything else like that since, well you know.” They looked down at their hands, sadness evident in their posture.

“That’s okay.” Wanda reassured them. “Maybe we can make this room more your style if you’d like.”

“I don’t even know what my style is.” They chuckled as they rose from their chair, heading towards their closet. “I think I just dress in the same colours of my uniforms, which luckily is always black.” They didn’t watch as Wanda found an old picture of herself and Pietro when they were teens.

“You found this?” She questioned as she picked it up, a small smile on her face.

“I uh, Maria found it on the ground near me when they found me.” They admitted sheepishly. “I couldn’t not keep it, I know this is going to seem messed up but you and Pietro were like the only family I had ever had over the years. You both made me see what it was like to finally have hope and someone who would always have your back.”

“It’s not messed up.” She whispered shakily, her eyes burning into Y/N’s, neither of them breaking away. “I just thought it was lost forever.”

“No.” They shook their head. “I lo..” They stopped before thinking carefully what to say. “I like having that picture around, because it reminded me of the two of you.”

“You know, Pietro thought highly of you, even with your position at Hydra.” She told them as she placed the photo back down. “When we thought you died, he uh, he was almost as broken as I was.” She admitted as she sat down on the edge of their bed, playing with her fingers.

“I am sorry.” They apologised once more, only for Wanda to wave it off.

“You don’t need to keep apologising for that.” She chuckled lightly as she looked in their eyes, her gaze soft as she spoke. “The important thing is that you are here, you’re alive and I finally have you back.” She took a shaky breath as Y/N listened to her words. “I understand that you couldn’t come and look for me, and that’s okay.”

“I did want to find you.” Y/N admitted shyly. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay, that you were safe and well you are, given the circumstances.” They took a deep breath before they spoke once more, looking at her intensely. “I really am sorry about Pietro, he was a hero, not just to you or me, but to the whole world and your home.” Wanda nodded before she wiped her eyes, Y/N was quick to move to sit beside her, cautiously wrapping an arm around her.

“Thank you.” She sniffled as she looked at them as they sat beside her. “But, maybe we should go shopping for some paint and decorate this room. Get you out of this compound and maybe have some freedom from work.”

“Yeah, we should do that.” They agreed as they removed their arm from her. “Maybe after my last target.”

“Are you almost done with that list?” She questioned as Y/N nodded.

“I just have to assemble a team to accompany me on this one.” They told her. “Unfortunately, this last one knows that someone is onto them and well, it’s going to be extremely difficult to do my usual thing.”

“I can help.” Wanda started as Y/N shook their head no. “Why not?” She questioned as she stood up, her eyes burning into them.

“I just.” They started before they let go of a breath they were holding in. “Fury is picking the team so I don’t really have a choice who is joining me.” Wanda observed them, hoping they would say something else but only to receive silence.

“Okay.” Wanda pursed her lips before she headed towards the door, wanting to say something more but deciding not to as she left them alone in their room. Y/N looked at their door before they groaned and lay back on their bed.

“You know, it’s kind of sad how you both tip toe around each other.” Nat spoke up with a smirk as she leaned on their door frame.

“Are you sure you don’t have some sort of superpower?” Y/N questioned as she just chuckled.

“Nope, I am just extremely bored and well I have been asked to accompany you, Maria, Clint and some other agents on your next trip.” She informed them as she stepped in their room. “But you should really grow a pair of balls and tell her how you really feel.” She told them quietly as she stepped inside their room and closed the door.

“I don’t know what you mean.” They tried as Nat moved to sit in their desk chair.

“Yeah, you do.” She told them. “I can see how you look at her, ever since you came here you give her the same look every time.”

“I can’t tell her.” They said as they sat up, facing the Widow. “I just got her back and I don’t want to lose her again. I can’t do that again, she was my lifeline whilst we were both in Hydra, the one person who helped me hold on to the hope that I had already thought I had lost when I was younger.”

“Trust me, you won’t lose her.” Nat told them softly. “I can see just how important you are to her too.”

“Really?” They asked hopefully.

“Really, it’s kind of a hobby of mine to observe everyone and figure out things before anyone else does.” She told them with a smirk. “I don’t like to be the last to know, and it’s even better when I know things before Stark because he hates not always figuring things out.”

“Thank you.” Y/N spoke shyly as they picked at their cuticles. “It’s nice to have a friend, if that’s what we even are.” The two shared a laugh as Nat nodded.

“We’re friends.” She told them as she stood up. “But, I would kick your ass if you hurt Wanda in any way shape or form.”

“You wouldn’t need to.” They told her, watching as she raised a brow. “I would kick my own ass if I ever did something to hurt her, no matter how small it is.” Nat smiled before she headed towards the door.

“Good.” She smiled before opening the door. “I shall see you at the briefing for our mission.” With that she left the room, Y/N remained in their spot, thinking about what Nat had just told them before deciding to get up to find Wanda. Searching her room and everywhere else they could think of before they entered the kitchen, watching as Wanda cooked as Vision helped her, Wanda laughing as Vision spoke to her, their chest tightening at the scene that played before them before deciding to head back to their room. Not realising that Wanda knew they were there, a sad look in her eye at the doorway of the kitchen before she continued her conversation with Vision.

“Are you okay, Wanda?” Vision questioned as he observed her change in mood.

“Oh, yeah.” Wanda over compensated as she continued to cook.

“I am not entirely an expert on human emotions, but I can see that you are clearly troubled by something.” He told her. “You have actually been like this since Y/N had arrived here.”

“It’s nothing.” She tried to wave him off.

“Wanda, I like to think that you and I are somewhat friends.” He spoke as he watched her actions. “And not just because of the connection with the mind stone, so I just want you to know that if ever you need to talk about anything, I am always here for you.”

“Thank you Vis.” Wanda spoke quietly, keeping her eye on the task at hand as the next few moments were filled with silence before she spoke again. “I just want to know why they wouldn’t want me to accompany them on their last job on this list, they told me it’s a dangerous one and that they need a team.” She slammed the wooden spoon down as she continued. “I have my powers, I am in control and I will help more so than any of the trained SHIELD agents Fury will assign.”

“Maybe they’re just thinking about your safety.” He reasoned with her. “I understand that they have always wanted to keep you safe, as from the stories you have told me.”

“But I need to think about their safety too.” Wanda told him. “I can’t go through losing them, not again, I’m not strong enough.”

“You are stronger than you think Wanda.” Vision told her before the two carried on with their task.

As the days went on leading up to the mission, Y/N had tried their hardest to avoid both Wanda and Vision, after witnessing their interaction in the kitchen as they both cooked, but as they were getting their gear all set, secretly hoping for Wanda to come to see them off, but she had had the same idea as them.

“All set?” Nat questioned as they approached the car, getting in the passenger seat without another word.

“So, does everyone understand what the plan is?” Y/N asked her, ignoring her observing glance.

“They do, no one comes out alive.” She informed them, watching from the corner of her eye as they nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” She asked them as she drove towards their destination.

“Yeah.” They told her bluntly.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause it seems like you have your knickers stuck up your ass right now.” She told them, making them look over at her.

“I am sure.” They told her. “And for the record, I wear boxers. Knickers would strangle my bollocks.”

“I didn’t want to know that!” She exclaimed with disgust on her face, making Y/N chuckle as they approached the rendezvous point for their mission. Seeing the team of agents who were assigned along with Maria and Clint who were both ready to complete the mission. “But, we’ll get this bastard.” She told them as they got themselves ready, placing their mask over their head before exiting the car with her, weapons in arms as they approached the others. Maria was going over the plan once more, making sure that everyone knew their positions and the goal of this mission before they all made their way to infiltrate the fortress. Clint being their eyes from high above, alerting them all on comms of when they had come across an enemy, ready to take them down.

Both Y/N and Nat were making their way swiftly through the halls, shooting anyone who was a threat to either of them, heading straight towards Theodore’s room. Y/N had one goal in mind and that was to completely disable any chance of Hydra being reborn. As the air was filled with the sound of gunshots and yelling, both Nat and Y/N had approached the door to Theodore’s room, Y/N had signaled for Nat to breach the door, throwing in a flashbang before Y/N had entered the room, shooting anyone who was armed in the process before their eyes found Theodore, who had a gun raised at them.

“What do you want from me?” He questioned as he had aimed his weapon at Y/N’s head.

“This.” Y/N answered bluntly before pulling the trigger, watching as he dropped to the ground as Nat followed behind them.

“Looks like you didn’t need to buddied-up after all.” She smirked as they turned to face her. “You practically cleared this room on your own.”

“I like to be efficient.” They told her as they moved to exit the room, looking behind her as they watched one of Theodore’s men enter the hall, their gun raised as Y/N moved to push Nat to the side before shooting him themselves.

“What was.” Nat started before she turned to watch as Y/N fell to their knees, holding onto their stomach before she moved to them. “We need a medevac now! Theodore’s room, Y/N’s been shot.” She spoke through her comms as she soon put pressure on their wound. “Be careful, they’re using diamond tipped bullets!” She told them as she tried to keep pressure on their wound. “You’re going to be okay.” She tried to reassure them, listening as the gunfire was starting to die down.

“Nat!” Maria yelled as she ran through the hall towards them.

“It’s bad.” Nat told her, watching as Y/N was slipping out of consciousness. “Really bad.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Maria told her. “We have a chopper ETA 5.”

“But.” Nat tried again as Maria shook her head.

“Trust me, they have survived worse than this.” She reassured her. “We’re going to get them to Dr Cho and you know yourself she is the best.” Nat nodded as she kept pressure on the wound.

“Y/N?” She called out as she noticed their eyes closing. “Y/N?” As she kept calling their name, more agents and medics had arrived, Maria moving her to allow them to do their work as they lifted Y/N onto the gurney.

“Come on.” Maria pulled Nat with her, heading straight towards their car and heading straight towards SHIELD HQ. “Since when do you care about them?” Maria questioned as she drove, Nat’s eyes remained on her hands which were covered in Y/N’s blood.

“I uh, we’re friends.” Nat told her honestly, diverting her gaze towards the road ahead as Maria sped through traffic. “But they saved me.”

“What?” Maria questioned.

“They uh, they pushed me out of the way.” She mumbled, her eyes going back to her hands. “I wasn’t paying attention behind me, and Clint never warned us of any other assailants. He should have informed us, he was informing the rest of you. I heard him on comms.”

“What?” Maria questioned, her brow furrowed as she thought for a moment. “He had the drone monitor. Do you think it was deliberate?” She questioned as Nat thought for a moment.

“He wouldn’t have been able to tell who was me or Y/N on the monitor.” Nat responded thoughtfully. “Do you think it was deliberate?” She questioned as Maria shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I will find out when we get back to HQ.” She answered firmly, wanting to get to the bottom of it.

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Douma, Akaza and Kokushibo.

General warnings for the next chapters: nsfw (minors do not interact), modern au, age gap, dom!muzan, sub!reader, sugar daddy dynamics, choking, semi-public sex, car sex, spanking, vaginal sex, virgin reader, business agreement, murder, death, torture, trauma.

Warning for this part: none! Just Muzan sending Douma and Kokushibo to stalk you.

Plot: Kibutsuji Muzan, the ambitious, high-flying politician the world needed, knew that in order to resemble the incarnation of the perfect man, ready to lead the Country, he would have needed a beautiful, young girl by his side. He did not care if it was real love, or just a façade. All he cared about was to make a certain impression. Meeting you was literally a manna from heaven. You signed the agreement, he treated you like a goddess. This was the beginning of a twisted fairytale, but you knew better than falling for him and, surely, he was not going to lose his mind for you. Or so you thought.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

THE AGREEMENT.

Muzan stared at the pictures scattered on his desk. He had made up his mind. You were truly a delicacy, indeed. It appeared like Douma had done a pretty decent job in searching the city for a woman whose appearence whetted Muzan’s appetites.

You were young, cheerful, working at a local restaurant to pay for your studies: the perfect candidate for being the future First Lady.

He knew everything about you. Your address, your friends’s names, your zodiac sign, your favorite ice-cream flavor and even your ex’s identity. Tracking you down and spying on you was easy. How could you, a sweet, lovely girl, imagine that the soon to be President had his plum red eyes on you? Your naivety intrigued him. He could play you like a doll, spoil you like a child and treat you like a princess. He did not care if your heart was going to belong to someone else. All you had to do was smiling for the pictures, being his future wife, show the world you were head over heels for him and, naturally, tell the medias you were his property.

He was confident about the outcome of your first, fateful encounter. He was a good-looking man, persuasive and pretty intimidating even. You would have probably fallen for his charm and forgotten about the terms of the contract anyway.

A knock on the door was the signal that you had arrived. Sending Douma to pick you up would have probably been detrimental to the mission and he knew better than letting you slip from his fingers. Kokushibo, on the other hand, was the best choice he could have ever made. Prefessional, authoritative and precise, he had apparently fulfilled his mission.

“Come in” Muzan said, flicking his gaze up to the door.

A second later, the door creaked open to reveal Kokushibo. He took a step forward, taking his sunglasses off and bowing his head to his boss as a sign of respect “She’s waiting for you in the dining room” he announced flatly, causing a smirk to cross Muzan’s face.

What an obedient girl you were. He was almost taken aback by the way you had decided to follow a stranger in a Maserati and trust what he had said. Either you were smart, or far too easy to play with.

“Thanks, Kokushibo. – Muzan stated, straightening his tie and grabbing the contract from the messy desk behind him – You are dismissed” he added shortly, walking past the tall dark-haired man and making his way to you, the new branded attraction of his house.

You were sitting on a black-leather chair, the goblet of red wine, a Chianti, that the dapper bodyguard had poured for you was settled on the crystal table, inviting you to take a sip. You resisted the tempation, it would have probably offended Mr. Kibutsuji, if you had not waited for him.

Yes, you knew who was requiring your presence. You had a really good photographic memory and you had recognized the shiny car of the politician’s bodyguards. You had watched it on the tv’s reports, you had seen it parked nearby your house for the past six months. He had probably sent his dogs to stalk you.

What truly puzzled you was why he wanted to see you. Kokushibo did not answer your questions. You had not told him you knew who he was working for, or that you had figured out who was asking for you. You had just followed him to the car without making a scene. He was a kind man, after all, just a bit frosty.

To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was the deep, velvet voice that kept you company during your lunch breaks, when you turned the tv on in a pathetic attempt to catch up with the daily news.

“Y/N L/N, welcome to my residence” Muzan said, a small smile curling his lips.

He was handsome, tall, elegant, standoffish and filthy rich. You were not used to interact with people coming from the upper class, let alone trying not to embarrass yourself in the presence of the man of the hour, the man that people loved and loathed at the same time.

“Good evening, Mr. Kibutsuji. – you said, standing up quickly from your seat and walking up to him – How may I help our soon to be President?” you quizzically asked him, eyes downcast not to falter under his piercing gaze.

You had stopped three, or four strides away from him not to invade his personal space, but your breath hitched in your throat when he met you midway. The alluring perfume he was wearing intoxicated you and, when he gently grabbed your hand, you were forced to shift your attention on him again. You were paralyzed, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were focused on him and him alone. He brought your hand to his lips, letting them brush over the back of your hand in a drammatically slow and intimate demeanor.

Shivers ran down your spine and you released a breath you did not know you were still holding, when he flashed you a sly grin, the same he directed to the camera, when he made his glorious appearences on the most popular talk-shows of the Country.

“Please, darling, call me Muzan. – he cooed, gesturing for you to take a seat and hesitantly letting go of your hand – I’m so glad you’ve accepted my anonymous invitation. You’re brave” he commented, walking over to the table and filling his own goblet of wine.

You softly smiled and made your way to your seat “Just observant. I thought I had recognized the car and your bodyguard” you admitted, reaching your hand out to grab your own glass.

The dark-haired man hummed, as he swirled the reddish drink into the cup “I should have known you were smart, a quality I absolutely adore finding in a woman. – he purred, sliding some papers towards you on the polished surface of the table – To answer your question, the reason why you are here lays within the lines of this contract”.

A contract?

You forrowed your brows, your eyes settling on the neat pile of papers under your nose. Did he want to hire you for something? You thought he already had a secretary and you clearly were not suited to be his bodyguard. What did Kibutsuji Muzan want from you, a mere student, then?

“I’ve personally drew up the contract. We can discuss some terms, if you are not comfortable with them” he explained, taking a sip of his drink and walking towards the stained glass windows of the large dining room. The landscape was breathtaking. The city lights, the skyscrapers dominating the industrialized area of the city and the yellowish lights of the cars rushing down the avenues were the spectacular view you were beholding.

Reading the whole contract would have probably taken you hours. There was no way in Hell you would have signed it without pondering each and every clause, but you gave it a quick reading and some words were now permeating your brain.

‘Wife, payment, tv, affectio maritalis, sexual performances, moving, money’.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your shaking fingers fidgeting with the charm of your necklace, a small, silver crescent moon, as you blurted out your question “What do you exactly want me to do?”.

Muzan did not turn to face you, he kept his intense gaze trailed on the city line instead “Be my wife” he simply said, earning a gasp from you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you breathed out.

“Adore me in public, love whoever you want privetely. Just a yes and I will shower you in money, gifts, respect and a life you could only dream of for the rest of your life… Are you in, my sweet Y/N?” he taunted you, turning towards you with the most dazzling and wicked smile you had ever seen in your whole existence.

You did not know what crossed your mind in that very instant and the following moments were fuzzy and fragmented, but all you knew on your way back to your small flat was that you had agreed and, when Kokushibo told you that he would have come to pick you up in the weekend, you were ready to start this new life as Kibutsuji’s ‘babygirl’ , as he had called you before you left.

You slumped onto your bed, droopy eyes and tipsy, unaware that a pair of golden and rainbow-colored eyes were watching you slipping into a well-deserved slumber.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi, there!

It’s my first post on this platform and I still need to understand a few basic things about Tumblr. Hopefully, I’ll be able to give you weekly updates, but I make no promises. This is going to be a small fan fiction and my main project for a little while. However, don’t worry, I’ll try to update some other one-shots & scenarios about other characters. Likes, comments and reposts are really appreciated!

X O X O

[deliciousangelfestival]

Arrogant Ex-Husband - Chapt 1

Character: Mob!Bucky x Model!Reader

Summary: In a strategic alliance marriage arranged for political gain, reluctant bride Y/N, dreaming of a modeling career, finds herself unwillingly wed to James 'Bucky' Barnes, a reluctant groom.

Words Count: 1,816

Series Masterlist with Prologue and Moodboard

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Y/N stared out the tinted car window, the city lights flickering in the distance. Her father, a seasoned politician, clenched his jaw as he spoke into the phone, his voice seething with anger.

"Unbelievable! I trusted you, Rick. Trusted you with our family's reputation, and this is how you repay me?" Y/N's father barked into the phone, the tension in the car palpable.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, stealing glances at her father's furrowed brow and the visible strain in his eyes.

The weight of the scandal involving her step-brother was evident (private video got leaked), threatening to unravel her family's name and her father's political career.

"What do you mean you can't contain this? I need a solution, not excuses," her father continued, tightening his grip on the phone.

The distant hum of the city echoed the frustration in the car. Y/N caught snippets of her father's conversation as he navigated the chaotic political landscape.

"You know what's at stake here, Rick. My candidacy, the family legacy — everything! I can't have this scandal tarnishing our name."

The car sped through the city streets, the outside world oblivious to the turmoil within the vehicle. Y/N's father listened intently to the voice on the other end, occasionally gritting his teeth.

"Handle it discreetly? No, that ship has sailed, Rick. You need to fix this, and you need to fix it now. I don't care what it takes. If you can't, then don't bother showing your face again."

The call ended abruptly, leaving the car in silence except for the distant sounds of the city. Y/N's father took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, but the frustration lingered in his eyes.

"Y/N," he finally spoke, turning to his daughter. "We need a solution, and it seems Harold Barnes is offering one. I don't like it, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Y/N nodded, her gaze shifting to the city lights, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with challenges and unexpected alliances. The weight of the situation settled on her shoulders like an unshakeable burden.

There was a helplessness in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment that she couldn't escape the intricate web of family ties and political obligations.

Suddenly, Y/n received a message from her best friend, Honey, telling her that there was a casting for a famous brand that had just opened. 

Of course, Y/n wants to join; her eyes lightened up. Her father noticed it. He grabs her phone and puts it in his shirt pocket. He said something that hurt her dream. 

"Forget it, you're going to be a rich wife. Why would you ever want to be a model?"

That's hurt Y/N's feelings. 

Did her father forget that his former wife used to be a famous model? 

Did he also didn't know what his daughter wanted?

In the confined space of the car, surrounded by the distant glow of the city, Y/N felt the suffocating lack of freedom.

The walls of her father's decisions closed in on her, leaving her with no escape. Her once-promising dreams were now tethered to the demands of a family in disarray, the consequences of choices she didn't make.

It was her step-brother who ruined her father's image. But why it has to be her who fixes the mistakes?

Y/N sighed heavily. What could she do?

Her father didn't even care about her anymore since she brought his mistress into the house without apologizing that because of his adultery, Y/N's mother took her own life.

************

As the car moved through the city's labyrinthine streets, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, her every move dictated by a situation she had no control over.

The path ahead seemed like an unpredictable journey, with the enigmatic figure of Bucky Barnes's grandfather looming as both a lifeline and a shaper of her destiny.

When the car arrived at Barnes Residence, Y/N and her father were welcomed by Harold Barnes, a formidable figure with a commanding presence.

The imposing mansion, nestled in the city's heart, exuded an air of authority that matched the reputation of the Barnes mafia family.

As the car stopped, Harold Barnes stepped forward to greet them. His steely gaze assessed the situation, and a subtle nod conveyed acknowledgment and expectation.

"Senator [L/N], Y/N," Harold greeted with a firm handshake for Y/N's father and a courteous nod to Y/N.

Though measured, his voice held an undeniable weight that spoke of years spent navigating the intricate world of politics and organized crime.

"We appreciate your timely arrival," Harold continued, his tone hinting of formality. "Please, come inside. We have much to discuss."

Y/N exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with her father before following Harold Barnes into the opulent residence, where shadows seemed to dance across the grandeur of the mafia leader's abode.

The air hung heavy with unspoken agreements and the looming presence of a pact about to be forged. 

In the expansive Barnes Residence, as Y/N's father engaged in a serious discussion with Harold Barnes, Y/N found herself wandering through the mansion's labyrinthine halls.

The grandeur of the house overwhelmed her, each room a testament to the power and history of the Barnes family.

As she strolled, she saw a slightly ajar door, a subtle invitation into the unknown. Driven by curiosity and the need for a momentary escape, Y/N couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open.

*****************

The room beyond was dimly lit, the shadows playing on the edges of the walls. In the center, bathed in a pool of muted light, sat Bucky Barnes in a wheelchair. His presence carried an air of solemnity, and for a moment, their eyes met in an unspoken exchange.

Though physically present, Bucky seemed to inhabit a world of his own. The room, filled with an unspoken weight, held traces of a life altered by unforeseen circumstances. Y/N hesitated, sensing the vulnerability in his gaze.

The silence between them spoke volumes, a shared understanding of their challenges. In that fleeting moment, Y/N glimpsed a complexity in Bucky that transcended the public perception of the disgraced figure.

There was a story etched in the lines on his face, a narrative that begged to be unraveled.

Harold was about to call the butler when he saw Y/N wavered to enter the library room.

Ever perceptive, Harold Barnes noticed Y/N's hesitation at the library entrance. With a measured stride, he approached her, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate situation unfolding.

"Y/N," he said in a voice that held both authority and understanding. "Allow me to introduce you to Bucky Barnes." With a gracious gesture, Harold opened the door wider, revealing the dimly lit room and the figure in the wheelchair.

Harold followed suit as Y/N stepped into the room, guiding her toward Bucky. The air in the library seemed to shift, carrying an unspoken weight that Harold acknowledged with a subtle nod.

"Y/N, meet Bucky Barnes," Harold said, his voice a low hum in the quiet room. "Bucky, this is Y/N [L/N], the daughter of Senator [L/N]."

His gaze meeting Y/N's once again, Bucky offered a nod of acknowledgment. His eyes were complex, a silent invitation to understand the unspoken stories that lingered in the room.

Sensing the need for a private exchange, Harold excused himself with a nod. "I'll leave you two to talk. Take your time," he said before quietly closing the library door, leaving Y/N and Bucky in a space where the echoes of their shared circumstances seemed to resonate.

Y/N offered an awkward introduction in the hushed library, her voice breaking the stillness. "Hi, Bucky. I'm Y/N." Should she continue her introduction by saying, 'I’m also your future wife. Next week we will get married.'

Bucky remained silent, his gaze steady yet revealing little. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, threading through the quiet room.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, Y/N glanced around the library briefly before her eyes settled on Bucky's face. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but notice his striking features—handsome, yet marked by the complexities of a life altered.

As her gaze traveled to his left arm, the room seemed to hold its breath. There, in the dim light, she observed the bionic limb, a symbol of both strength and vulnerability. Y/N's eyes lingered, recognizing the silent struggles etched in the contours of that prosthetic.

As Y/N's gaze lingered on Bucky's missing left arm, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Bucky, wise to her scrutiny, felt a twinge of discomfort and offense.

The unspoken vulnerability that Y/N had observed seemed to boil over into a harsh reaction.

"What, never seen a guy with a missing arm before?" Bucky's words, laced with bitterness, cut through the silence. His eyes, once steady, now held a glint of wounded pride.

"You probably think I'm some kind of freak, right?" His tone grew sharper, the pain beneath the surface manifesting as anger. "Well, get used to it. This is what I am now."

Y/N, taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, tried to find the right words. Before she could respond, Bucky's words turned more cutting.

"And what's your game here, huh?" Bucky's voice escalated, the accusation palpable. "Marrying me for my family's wealth? Just like your father, always after power and money."

The words hung in the air, a heavy accusation stung with a truth Y/N hadn't expected. Bucky's resentment, fueled by his insecurities, lashed out, and in that moment, the library became a battleground for emotions too raw to be contained.

As Y/N absorbed the harsh words, an apology caught in her throat. Unable to face the hostility, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before swiftly leaving the room.

The door closed behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the dimly lit library. As the echo of her departure lingered, an unexpected pang of regret stirred in Bucky's chest. He couldn't quite comprehend why he had lashed out with such venom. She hadn't done anything to deserve his bitter words.

Now alone with his thoughts, Bucky replayed the scene in his mind. The realization of his unjust accusations settled heavily on his shoulders. He clenched his jaw, grappling with a surge of remorse that, though unexpected, held a raw truth—he shouldn't have said those words to her.

Bucky gazed at the window behind him, overwhelmed with guilt for involving an innocent woman in his troubled life. The agony of losing his left arm was unbearable, and the need for therapy for his leg added to his suffering.

He felt like a villain as if he had intentionally trapped an innocent woman in this marriage.

The weight of his actions pressed down on him, and the city beyond the window seemed to mock the dramatic turmoil within his soul.

At that moment, Bucky couldn't escape the feeling that he was playing the role of a heartless antagonist, making an unwitting woman suffer in the shadows of his pain.

Author Note :

Hey friends,

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Chapter:

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7, 8 , 9 ,10 , 11, 12 , End

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[adventuresofalgy]

The restless wind had rushed through the tall spruces all night, and by the morning it had swept the drenching Scotch mist far, far away… for the moment, at least…

And, much to Algy's astonishment – for the weather birds had told him that it would remain misty and wet all week in the wild west Highlands of Scotland – the sun was beginning to shine. However, the rather-too-brisk south-westerly was ruffling his feathers in a way that was considerably less than pleasant in the cool January air, so, like many of his smaller feathered friends, Algy decided to seek cover in a dense, evergreen bush.

He knew that some of them favoured the handsome bay tree which grew in a sheltered spot in his assistants' garden, so he decided to try it for himself. Settling down on its dense branches, Algy found that it did indeed afford a great deal of protection from the wind, and the invigorating aroma of its leaves, which continued to glow bright green, even in the depths of winter, lifted his winter-weary spirits. Relaxing happily in the arms of the welcoming bush, Algy began to recite, for the benefit of any smaller birds nearby who might not have the advantage of a good literary education:

How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crown’d from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all flow’rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose. Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear! Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men; Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow. Society is all but rude, To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So am’rous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress’ name; Little, alas, they know or heed How far these beauties hers exceed! Fair trees! wheres’e’er your barks I wound, No name shall but your own be found.

[Algy is reciting the first three verses of the poem The Garden by the 17th century English metaphysical poet and politician Andrew Marvell.]

[solar-serpent]

🌈Based on your talents, what business should you launch?💰🪙

Hello! I hope everyone is doing great. I'm going through a phase where I started wondering if I wanted to go back to work for an employer, or even if it was worthy after I've acknowledged all my potential and the fact no one would ever pay for the real price of my work. Aquarium era is hitting me harder, and I bet you too are feeling this call to reach financial freedom. We deserve it.

I want to contribute with your awakening.

Please take a deep breath, focus on what's in front of you and pick the picture you feel more attracted to.

Pile I → Pile II

Pile III → Pile IV

🌱Pile I🌱

OMG, pile 1, you are so kind and empathetic that people want to open up to you and ask for your opinion/advice on topics such as recent breakups, petty fights with mom, best friend betrayal drama and so. Even though that's not the main purpose for them going into your store/business. If you weren't an entrepreneur, you could've been an excellent therapist since your serene demeanor and polite speech would make others believe they are speaking to a good friend. You show you care for what you are being told by providing meaningful replies, and I could swear people go crazy over your attentive gaze. Some of you are natural, others are really good actors (no one is to be judged here). Your patience and warm personality real or not sells, people could purchase anything from your business if you are the one assisting, which can be a boomer if you are aiming for leaving someone else in charge and doing the counts behind the scenes, knowing you are one of the best sellers.

You could own a coffee store given how good you are at building spaces where people will gather and feel safe. Not only that, you can create beautiful settings that will make others immerse in a new world like the tea room from a dollhouse or within a Monet painting. You will succeed at making them distance themselves from real world's problems, thus they could be more open to speak about something that feels so far away. To be honest, I don't think everyone that chose this pile would identify with this business idea. For some serving, cooking and simping chai latte over the daily gossips feels like a waste of their potential. You guys are right, another part of group which's artsy in nature is more aligned with fashion, beauty, and textiles. But I swear you all have the potential to manifest large amounts of money in one sale. I didn't have to crack my head open thinking about what type of business could allow that as designing is your strong suit. You are a master when it comes to making colors, fabrics. and whatnot march. A small part of this group loves sweets and how food can make others happy, therefore you could settle down for having a bakery and specializing on wedding cakes. However, some of you are contemplating the idea of running a drift or wedding dress store. For the ones willing to work with the brides, I assure your business will do well. You have the patience of a Greek hero going against the gods' will, so I see you nailing sales that took plenty of your time and energy.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 2🌱

I didn't know "giving a fuck" was a talent until I drew your cards, dear pile 2. You are strong people, you don't care if others start hating you for doing your job. Like 5% of the people who picked this pile dreamed with being a hitman and go ahead guys, you'll do great. Now, a large percent of you have questionable morals, allowing you to work in fields where you can turn corrupted and earn wealth as a politician, lawyer, or even a doctor. I know those are career choices, but the real business for you is owning agencies, institutes, clinics, and funeral homes. I am not even making the latter up. Some of you won't care about the taboo-ish nature of your work. You approach business with level-headedness and practicality, thus if it pays wells as any other job related to humans needs... dealing with the deads is easier than their family but you will still do the job or you will hire someone to do it eventually. Curiously, you are great at making people feel better. You aren't that talkative, but you know how to make others laugh with your silly jokes, pulling weird faces, providing them with food or water and much needed space.

Some of you are radicals and into activism. You have plenty of pent-up anger and aggressiveness inside of you that you will directed at facing opposing forces. You might start a charitable cause and talk people into volunteering. Yeah, I know it won't give you money or not so much, but hear me out! You could own an institute for people with special needs or another for learning languages. There's a high chance you might end up working with foreigners, what gave you that business idea when you thought on how to help them improve their lifestyle. Some of you could be interested in farming or owning a supermarket. You would feel inclined to hire immigrants regardless of the consequences. Actually, what are consequences to you? You don't fucking care. You see people suffering, you help them. There's no other logic in your brain.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 3🌱

Ok, guys, I love how unbothered you are when it comes to your line of work and what people have to say about it. Unlike pile 2, you are not interested in top positions that might lead to corruption, dirty money and living a very intense life. You are the complete opposite, you are humble and like to contribute to the community. You have a great intuition and observation skills, so upon checking your town or the place you want to install your business in, you will know what spot in the market needs to be filled right away. You can also tell what the community's needs are; you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, so you could feel inclined to run a fish or convenience store. I feel like you want to belong, so not only your business won't cover a necessity, but also will turn into something traditional, even "iconic" for your neighbourhood. Is a music store still a thing? I feel like a small part of this group longs to have one.

You have all what it takes to manifest a long-lasting business. You are highly talented at nurturing and you might see your business like a "baby". It's not just your money source, but something to care about and fight for. Some of you might be interested in running an esoteric shop, where people is going to get their cards read or purchase herbs, incienses, candles, and so on. Mostly, this pile wants to have an unique business or for it to be the sole provider of something. E.g, you might own the only bookstore with coffee services at town. Also, I believe some of you will settle for moving out to a town or the countryside and start a business over there.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 4🌱

Hello, guys! This pile is slightly different from the rest since I feel like going straight to the point and sparing unnecessary details, but I might annoy you as I'm not leaving nothing unsaid. You are known for being busy and most times you seem to be in a hurry. You are always working on something, even in high school your friends knew you were too invested on your studies and earning money than hanging out with people your age. You probably like technology and travelling, so you could own a business like a travel agency (in your country or another), transport or event planning company. In all honesty, you might end up running all three of them. The term "workaholic" does not make justice to what you are, but I will call you a genius. You were born to steal the spotlight by your innovative style at the moment of giving birth to your ideas into the real world. You can mix all your interests together and create a new business that will leave people gawking, like an app who allows users to match with vacation spots instead of people or something like that?

Some of you will rather work with tourists, renting cars, boats, and properties so their basic needs are covered. I don't know how many of you are sporty but you are adamant about turning one of your interests/hobbies in your business. You might run your own indoor rock climbing centre. If you were to ask me for specifications on what's your talent, I would say you are a natural when it comes to businesses and you hold such control over your emotions. You put your sole focus on work, nothing can distract you from achieving your goals. Not even your family, so I can see you making up to your dear ones with expensive gifts or generous check after you missed an important family event again.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

[givethemsmut]

Cody Rhodes x Reader

Made of Gold | Chapter Six

I pretended to not be bothered the whole time the girls gossiped and gabbed about their jobs.

Every time I caught Brandi’s eyes cascade over me I simply smiled in her direction. I felt like a politician’s wife, keeping myself from pressing her intentions.

Cody reappeared, that same smile he flashed, but I could tell his eyes were a storm. The blue suddenly seemed more fogged and his body didn’t seem relaxed anymore.

Walking over to him casually, hiding every ounce of excitement to be rescued by him. Offering my lips to his, he pressed his mouth to mine, only deepening the simple peck. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and I instantly knew he noticed his ex.

He went from the Cody I knew who was always making a joke to the Cody the wrestling world knew - a performer.

This kiss was to show her he moved on.

I had nothing against making her jealous. Cody was supposed to be a fling yet here I was riding on his bus, at his job, pretending to be some trophy wife.

“Well, hello to you too.” He was still holding me against his chest, arms tightly around my waist, engulfing me in him.

“Sorry, that took forever but we had to go over the entrance and pyro. You okay? They eating you alive?”

Trying not to glance over my shoulder I noticed his eyes shift. “Met your ex girlfriend. She seems nice.”

Cody pulled away enough to lock eyes again. “I didn’t even think about her being here. All I thought about was getting the chance to be The American Nightmare here.”

I let him toy with her by using me, the way he let his hands smooth down my ass. “Don’t worry about it. We never talked about being exclusive... I can’t imagine this life promotes healthy relationship.”

Maybe I dodged a bullet.

I tried to play it casual and cool, not show my cards when I forced myself to smile even though I knew every part of me was falling for him.

I would never admit the way he noticed her and preformed hurt.

Layla warned me about the connection you’d feel to the person who took your virginity. I didn’t believe her until I met the threat of not having him anymore, a gorgeous woman named Brandi.

“Babe,” he didn’t add anything after as if he was defeated before he truly spoke.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna go freshen up on the bus. You do your thing.” I pulled away, keeping my fake smile pasted on and making sure Brandi bought every second of it.

Walking away our hands tethered until our fingers held on until they couldn’t. I found my own way back to the bus, yanking the door open, and fell into the bed we hadn’t slept in yet.

Sinking into the bed I tried to digest that Cody was boiling down to the fling. I was mentally trying to cut the invisible ties that bonded us but every time I closed my eyes I saw him ravishing me the way a stranger couldn’t.

He felt like the only person in the world who knew me. My body, my mind, the person I wanted to be instead of the trauma response I am.

Cody knew every sensitive spot, he knew exactly how much I could take before he sent me over the edge, he knew exactly what I liked when he fucked me.

How could two people fit so well physically and it mean nothing emotionally?

If Cody really wanted Brandi back then I was going to help him do just that just to not lose him. I could settle for friends.

Scrolling on my phone for way too much time I finally dug through my suitcases to find something even more sexy. I wanted to outdo all the designer backstage and I knew Brandi would be watching.

Slipping into a tight black dress that hugged every curve I paired it with thigh high boots I touched up my hair before I proudly walked back into the venue for the start of the live show.

While I got ready I did some research on WWE, who was who, and whatever else I could arm myself with.

The event had came alive, everyone running around and getting ready for their moment to shine. I could hear the fans in the stadium roar as I tried to find Cody.

Simply turning around I felt myself be pulled into a hard body. His lips pressed against mine and I felt myself melt into his arms when I realized the stranger was Cody.

My body knew him before I could even register it.

His mouth so close to mine I could taste him on my lips still, “I don’t want her back. I don’t know what she said to you but fuck her.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I tried to find a lie but came up empty. “You took my virginity but it doesn’t mean you have to pick me, Cody. Let me help you. You helped me so much.”

“Are you serious?”

Noticing her walk into view behind him I nudged him making him aware she was watching.

Gently pushing me into a wall behind us I suddenly lost track of her entirely. His eyes got dark with his hands planted against the wall, boxing me in. His tongue crept into my mouth with so much intensity I felt my clit pulse between my legs in response.

His hand swept up between my legs and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. “I don’t even have to check… I know you aren’t wearing panties by the way you want to so badly rub your knees together.”

I licked his neck up to his lips and watched him switch from hungry to starved. My lips covered his ear, whispering, “that’s perfect, keep going.”

Not removing the hand between my legs only snaked up further until the pads of his fingers clashed with my clit. I clung to Cody like I had no choice.

“Do you need me to prove I only want you by fucking you right here while everyone watches?”

The sharp tone of his voice skated to the bottom of my spine as I tried not to collapse against him.

That authoritative voice that seemed to echo slapped me sober while I hid my face in Cody. “Cody, wasn’t getting caught once today enough? I’m gonna send you a fine. Anywhere but my backstage.”

He scolded us enough to have Cody’s hand fall from between my legs but not pull away.

“You’re ticketing me?” He was looking at me but talking to his boss standing right behind him.

The large man, sporting a slightly weathered look, came closer before responding, hand on his shoulder. “Your ex is standing right over there. You have a bus, use it. Welcome home.”

Cody kissed me again only without his tongue this time he left me a wet mess clinging to the wall for support. “I have a match in twenty. Hang out, get some food, I’ll be quick.”

Shaking my head I nodded, still unable to move as I felt myself vibrate still. I was prepared to just head back to the bus when Brandi stopped me, something I would have anticipated if I wasn’t drunk off him still.

“That’s his MO you know. The girlfriend experience then he dumps you out of nowhere.” Her shrill voice only made it sting worse.

“Let me guess… you saw him all over me and the jealous monster sitting on your shoulder told you to warn me. Out of good intentions, right?” I crossed my arms expecting something more than petty remarks from an adult.

Rolling her eyes, “don’t say I didn’t warn you. Maybe you should ask him yourself before you’re expected to get an abortion too.”

“Oh sweetheart, I already knew you were the ex without him saying one word. You should work on your poker face.”

“Don’t pretend his house isn’t littered with my things. Did he tell you we were going to get married?”

I crossed my arms, loathing her for ruining my high. “I’ll bite - then what?”

Closing the gap between us, she stood right in front of me. “Then his dad died and he left WWE. Cody and I have unfinished business. I suggest you don’t get in the way of that.”

Cody’s life choices were making more sense, all the details he left out.

“Cling to that unfinished business because it’s the only thing you’re gonna cling to.”

I left her standing there out argued by a seventeen year old when I found myself back on the bus.

Yanking the tight dress like it personally offended me I tried to cool down but every part of me wanted to break things. Pulling over my head an American Nightmare shirt I skipped bottoms in exchange for a lace pair of red panties.

Cuddling up against his pillow I took a deep breath of him.

I must have fallen asleep when Cody’s body bullied mine into turning over on my back. Kisses covering my face and chest messily when I heard him whisper, “I have to be inside you baby. I’m addicted.”

Still shaking off the fact that I was just sleeping I felt his hands push up my shirt up enough to enjoy my lace panties.

Lazy, sleepy, moans escaped my mouth.

“My shirt and now these? Are you trying to kill me?”

Shaking my head yes I let my legs fall apart just for him to fill the space, not before tugging my panties down my legs. Out of his torn shirt and wrestling pants he smelled like fresh soap. His hair was still wet when I let my fingers smooth through his locks.

Reaching for the night stand, he fished around the random objects crashing against the sides of the drawer. “Fuck,” he exhaled sitting back between my legs. “I’m out of condoms baby.”

“I don’t care, Cody.”

Leaning up, meeting him more than half way, my mouth nipped at his. Feeling empowered by how heavily he was breathing I flipped over, pushing my ass into his crotch and letting my hands press against his bed.

Every hard inch wedged against my ass, his hands smooth up my shirt to cup my tits.

“You’re gonna let me fill up this tight pussy? Already so wet for me.” He groaned the words out and his hand guided himself to my entrance. Pushing my ass back on him, I exhaled at the familiar stretching as he filled the void between my legs.

I couldn’t help but moan while my hands fisted the sheets. Bucking his hips I quickly got use to his size all over again like he hadn’t been stretching me out to accommodate every thick inch for months now.

Muffling my moans I buried my face in the pillows as our bodies collided over and over.

“What a good girl… fuck… so fucking tight.”

Grinding my ass back into him, out of breath I moaned through my words. “It’s too big, Cody. I’m gonna come.”

Not releasing my nipples, I continued to squirm against him like it would provide any relief. “I know baby, taking this big cock so well. Tell me you’re mine.”

“What?” I gasped without realizing it.

“Tell me who you belong to. Tell me you’re mine.”

Throwing my ass back, I nearly came undone at how it felt to ride Cody this way. I could feel my legs shaking every time I pulled forward only to impale myself again.

He was giving me every ounce of control over him and it felt overwhelming. He was strong in ways I admired and yet I was bringing him to his knees with my pussy.

“Cody,” I whimpered completely compliant to his demands. I was his whether I liked it or not.

“Just like that.” The grit in his voice told more than looking over my shoulder couldn’t. I could tell his jaw was clenched in anticipation, his eyes closed, and the way the veins decorated his muscles before he came.

My cheek pressed against the cold covers, I moaned through the orgasm cascading over me.

Every muscle in my body stilled as the orgasm rocked through me and I felt out of control.

Cody’s hands grasped around my hips and smoothed up my back. “God damn. I could fuck you for forever.”

Collapsing next to me in the queen sized bed in the back of the bus splattered with his name I crawled over his chest, letting my arm rest over him. “Forever is a long time. You’ll be an old way before me.”

Choking on his laughter he tried to tickle me but I but could feel the exhaustion pouring out of him.

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t have expectations, Cody. You don’t have to woo me.” Casually snatching the water bottle from the night stand I took a swig while he sat up against the headboard.

“What did she say to you?” The playfulness drained from his expression.

“That didn’t sway me, Cody.”

He repeated himself only this time it was much more intense while I watched his fists ball up. “That you were supposed to be getting married… slick comments about abortions and you dumping girls after you get your girlfriend experience fix.”

“Wow. What a fucking, bitter, bitch. She tried to trap me in getting her pregnant then my father died. I went off the deep end and we broke up. End of story.” I could tell he didn’t want to truly talk about it even though he asked.

Leaning against the headboard I could feel our shoulders brush, “how long did you date her?”

His head fell to the side and I watched his eyes scan up to mine. “Long enough. A year.”

I exhaled in the form of a wow. Cody had ex-girlfriends, of course, but knowing the details made it hurt worse.

“Come on, you’ve had boyfriends.” His face got close to mine and I felt his hand smooth over my bare ass. “Maybe not like that… but I can still be jealous too.”

Straddling his lap slowly I placed my hands on his shoulders. “I’ve had boyfriends, of course, but no pregnancy scares or rings on my finger.”

His eyes were foggy again and his strong hands held my hands behind my back enough for me to welp out-loud. “I can tell by the way ride my tongue that someone’s ate that pussy before. I can tell by the way you wrap that hand around me it’s not the first time you’ve touched someone. You don’t have to engaged or almost pregnant for me to be jealous that some boy has touched you. It’s gonna happen, I just wanna be the last man to fuck you.”

Our mouths collided when he finally loosened his grip on my wrists. Practically falling into him I felt my hips sway on top of him without meaning to.

Whimpering through our kisses I asked, “When does it stop feeling like this? I can’t help it.”

I could feel my legs shake and my body go up in flames. I was turned on so easily still and nothing extinguished that need for him.

“You wanna come again baby? This greedy pussy needs more?” His lips pressed soft kisses down my neck.

I shook my head yes knowing my pussy was already soaked from his dirty words and the way his hands were up my shirt. I was a mess for Cody, in every way you could be.

He was going to break my heart and I was gonna ignore every warning sign.

REQUESTED TAGS:

@alyyaanna

[emilky-whim]

Folklore Legacy Challenge

Hey Ya'll! I've been working on this one for a little while and I can't wait to share it with you! It's a 16 + 1 generation legacy challenge for the Sims 4 based off of Taylor Swifts album Folklore! There aren't many solid rules for this one, I mostly just want ya'll to have fun and play it in a way that makes sense to you. That being said: - Mods and cheats are ok to use (I even encourage it). - Each Gen must have at least one child to play as the next heir. - I have used lots of packs in making this, you will need: City Living, Cats and Dogs, High School Years, Get Together, Crystal Creations, For Rent, Outdoor Retreat, Island Living, Dream Home Decorator, Parenthood, Discover University, Dine Out, Stranger Ville, Get Famous, Spa Day, Growing Together + more that I've probably forgotten. - If you do not have the required packs, feel free to change what you need to as long as it is somewhat similar to the original.

Gen 1: The One

You’re a meticulous gardener with a penchant for perfection, fiercely loyal to your craft and to your loved ones. Despite your somewhat snobbish tendencies, you dedicate yourself to finding true love, and when that journey ends, you never REALLY get over it. Yet you continue to cherish your familial bliss and vibrant social life.

Career - Gardener (Either Branch)

Traits - Perfectionist, Loyal, Snob

Aspiration - Curator 

Complete the soulmate aspiration with only one sim. Your sims permanently ‘separate’ once the aspiration is complete.

Always accept invites/calls from other sims.

Adopt at least one child.

 ‘’ = You may separate them as you choose.

Gen 2: Cardigan

You're a charismatic politician, oozing self-assurance and intellect, always in the know. As a Renaissance Sim, mastering myriad skills comes naturally to you. Amidst your political pursuits, you find time for youthful adventures, savouring bar dates, maybe one day you’ll finally settle down with a cherished companion.

Career - Politician (Charity Organiser)

Traits - Self-Assured, Genius, Insider

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Master all the skills needed for the politician career. 

Go on at least 5 bar dates as a young adult.

Eventually marry a childhood friend.

Gen 3: The Last Great American Dynasty 

You're a devoted stay-at-home parent, balancing material desires with a deep love for family and furry companions. Despite setbacks like a failed marriage and neighbourhood feuds, you find solace in nurturing your family and friends, building a home filled with love, even amidst domestic changes.

Career - Stay At Home Parent (You can work any career until you parent a child)

Traits - Materialistic, Dog-Lover, Family-Oriented

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Have one failed marriage.

Become enemies with at least one neighbour.

Have your first child as a newly aged up young adult.

Move in with friends for at least one year.

Gen 4: Exile

In the world of espionage, you've always stood out. While others excel in covert ops, you thrive in building connections. Romantic at heart, yet socially awkward, you're drawn to leading, seeking solace in your club's camaraderie. After heartbreak, you relocate, shying from commitment but embracing your chosen family.

Career - Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

Traits - Romantic, Socially Awkward, Gloomy

Aspiration - Leader Of The Pack

Create and lead your own club. Become friends with all the members.

After a major breakup, move to a different world.

Never get married or stay in a long-term relationship.

Gen 5: My Tears Ricochet

Amidst canvases and clay, you've always preferred solitude to the bustle of social affairs. As a critic, you explore the depths of creativity, while crafting jewellery and crystals on the side. Despite your artistic fervour, relationships falter, leaving you to nurture your creative progenies and seek solace in your craft.

Career - Critic (Arts Critic)

Traits - Loner, Creative, Art Lover 

Aspiration - Crystal Crafter 

Have a side business selling Jewelry and Crystals.

Get left OR leave someone at the altar.

Have at least 4 children.

Gen 6: Mirrorball

In the spotlight's embrace, you dazzle as an entertainer, with moves that mesmerise and demands that rival divas. Behind the glamour lies a heart yearning for connection, seeking solace in fleeting affairs. As you master the arts of song and stage, you flit from home to home, craving new experiences and relationships to fulfil your insatiable appetite for life.

Career - Entertainer (Musician)

Traits - Dance Machine, High Maintenance, Generous 

Aspiration - Friend Of The World 

Have a secret love affair, with whom you’ll eventually marry.

Master the singing, piano and acting skills. Never master any other skills.

Live with at least 3 different sims over your lifetime. 

Gen 7: Seven

Beneath the stars, you find your playground, a whimsical astronaut drawn to the great unknown. Childhood antics linger as you escape the mundane, running away with a friend to explore the world. Haunted houses hold no fear for you, just another adventure in your quest for outdoor thrills. With each holiday, you uncover new wonders, embracing the vastness of the universe.

Career - Astronaut (Space Ranger)

Traits - Childish, Loves Outdoors, Good

Aspiration - Outdoor Enthusiast 

Run away from home as a teenager with a friend/s

Live in a haunted house. 

Go on a holiday seven times over your lifetime. 

Gen 8: August

In the vibrant world of social media, you craft narratives with precision, driven by ambition and a hint of envy for the spotlight. Amidst beachside dreams, you seek solace in Sulani's embrace, drawn to its sun-kissed shores. An affair with a married sim sparks passion, leading to a child and an obsession, anchoring you to the idyllic island life, forsaking love for the serenity of the sea.

Career - Social Media (Public Relations)

Traits - Jealous, Ambitious, Neat

Aspiration - Beach Life

Have an affair with a married sim you meet while on vacation.

Have at least one child with the married sim.

Live in Sulani for most, if not all, of your lifetime.

Never date again after your affair ends.

Gen 9: This Is Me Trying

Driven by a desire to transform spaces, you carve your niche in the world of interior design, fueled by ambition yet shadowed by melancholy. As a youth, you flee, severing ties to forge a path of your own. Love finds you in the arms of a cheerful soul, grounding you upon your return, where you rebuild bridges and strive to be the ultimate caregiver to your children, overcoming personal demons along the way.

Career - Interior Decorator 

Traits - Ambitious, Overachiever, Gloomy 

Aspiration - Super Parent

Move away as a teenager/young adult and lose most of your sims relationships.

Get married to a Cheerful sim. 

Move back as a young adult/adult and re-make all the relationships you lost.

BONUS (Only if you have the Basemental Drugs MOD) Become addicted to at least one substance and successfully complete rehabilitation for it.

Gen 10: Illicit Affairs

In the courtroom's halls, you weave tales of justice as a private attorney. Driven by wanderlust and a fear of commitment, marriage comes swiftly, but it's the thrill of forbidden affairs that ignites your passion. Caught in multiple webs of deceit, divorce looms, leading you to Henford-on-Bagley, where you navigate the complexities of parenthood alone, seeking solace in the quiet countryside.

Career - Law (Private Attorney)

Traits - Non-Committal, Advenutrist, Clumsy

Aspiration - Serial Romantic

Get married young and have at least 4 affairs before getting caught. 

Have at least one child through an affair.

Get divorced 

Move to Henford-on-Bagley to raise all your children by yourself.

Gen 11: Invisible String

You always dreamed of sizzling pans and crafting culinary delights, a romantic at heart with a green thumb to match. Love's journey takes unexpected turns—a tumultuous romance with a mean spirit, a dance of uncertainty with a lifelong friend. As the years pass, you find your soulmate as an elder, nurturing both your restaurant empire, a family and a thriving garden.

Career - Own your own restaurant (or multiple restaurants)

Traits - Romantic, Good, Green Friend

Aspiration - Soulmate

Be in a long-term relationship with a mean sim and eventually break up.

Have a ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship with a life-long friend sim.

Get married as an Elder.

Have a well-maintained garden.

Have all restaurants at 5 stars.

Gen 11: Mad Woman

Betrayed in your youth by those you trusted the most, you harbour scars deep as loyalty binds you to your cause. You ascend the ranks of the criminal underworld, fueled by anger and an unyielding pursuit of justice and vengeance. Marriage offers solace, yet the thirst for retribution remains, driving you relentlessly until old age grants the serenity you seek.

Career - Criminal (Boss)

Traits - Hot-Headed, Perfectionist, Loyal 

Aspiration - Seeker of Secrets

As a teenager, have an ex friend/friend group/lover ruin your reputation/life.

Spend the rest of your adult life trying to get revenge.

Marry a friend. 

Only find peace/let go as an elder.

Gen 12: Epiphany 

Straight out of high school to the covert operations of the military, you excel, driven by duty and a longing to provide for your family. Medals adorn your chest, earned through dedication and sacrifice. Love finds you in the arms of a medical professional, but shadows linger, as memories of battle haunt your days, a silent reminder of the price of service.

Career - Military (Covert Operator)

Traits - Overachiever, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration - Big Happy Family

Join the military immediately after finishing highschool.

Retire/quit your job as soon as you earn all available medals.

Date and marry sim with the medical career.

Live with PTSD (you can use a mod for this)

Gen 14: Betty 

Your high school romance blossoms into marriage, yet jealousy festers, leading to a massive indiscretion that fractures the trust you’ve built. Amidst the wreckage, you strive to mend what's broken, seeking solace in weekly garden dates as you navigate the rocky terrain of love. In the digital realm, you thrive as a freelancer, coding with confidence and a hint of cringe-worthy humour.

Career - Freelancer (Programmer)

Traits - Cringe, Jealous, Self-Assured

Aspiration - Joke Star

Marry your high school sweetheart. 

Have weekly dates in your back garden.

Have an affair for an extended period of time before being caught. 

Spend the rest of your life trying to heal the connection between you and your spouse. 

Gen 15: Peace

Unable to make friends, you shed the burden of high school to focus on working toward your dream job and pursue the limelight. Amidst the glittering lights of fame, you still struggle to find your place and people in the world. Eventually, love finds you in the presence of an outgoing spirit, but as stardom ascends, so does the weight of its demands, testing your quest for inner peace amidst the chaos of stardom.

Career - Actor

Traits - Socially Awkward, Creative, Squeamish

Aspiration - Inner Peace

Dropout of high school and work a part time job to earn money.

Master the acting career.

Master the acting and wellness skills.

Marry an outgoing, good sim.

Become a Global Superstar and struggle with the price of fame.

Gen 16: Hoax

Born amidst the urban hustle of San Myshuno, your artistic soul yearns for expression amidst the city's chaos. Love's path proves rocky, a journey of unfulfilled connections and shattered dreams. Seeking solace in a fresh start, you depart the city's embrace, yet the ghost of past loves haunts your brushstrokes, forever captured in the vivid hues of your yearning canvases.

Career -  Painter (Master Of The Real)

Traits - Gloomy, Vegetarian, Generous

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire 

Grow up in San Myshuno.

Be in a long-term, unfilling relationship with sim you have bad compatibility with. Eventually break up.

Have a failed relationship with a family friend. 

Move out of San Myshuno to get a fresh start. 

Never get over one of your previous relationships and spend the rest of your life yearning to have it back.

(Bonus) Gen 17: The Lakes

Amidst the rustle of leaves and the whisper of pages, you find your muse as a writer, enchanted by the dance of words and the embrace of nature. Poetry flows from you, a testament to your romantic soul. Holidays are cherished escapes, moments of tranquillity by the water's edge, fueling your creative spirit. Yet, it's in solitude that your greatest works are born, a testament to your dedication to the craft.

Career - Writer (Author)

Traits - Romantic, Bookworm, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration - Bestselling Author

Only write poetry (unless specified for the aspiration)

Go on Holiday with your spouse and family often, staying as close to a body of water as you can get.

Complete the gemstone collection.

Leave the world behind for a period of time to focus on writing (completely alone)

[simply-ivanka]

Trump’s Comeback and What’s to Come

By Karl Rove

Wall Street Journal

It seemed impossible a year ago, but the success of America is again in his hands.

And so it ended, almost abruptly.

Many pundits—me included—expected days of uncertainty, vote counting and legal wrangling. But before sunrise Wednesday, it was over. Donald Trump engineered the most astonishing political comeback in American history.

The former and future president appears to have swept all seven battleground states. He also is well ahead of Kamala Harris in the national popular vote, 51% to 47.5% as of Wednesday afternoon. If he carries every state he now leads, he will have a more substantial Electoral College victory: 312 votes to her 226. That’s a clear mandate.

President-elect Trump achieved his victory by assembling a new coalition. He added to the GOP’s traditional base working-class noncollege voters of all races; young voters, especially young men; the biggest share of the Hispanic vote since at least 2004; and the largest black percentage for Republicans in decades. He expanded his majorities in rural counties and small towns while building his numbers in cities and suburbs. His percentage of the vote ballooned in blue states like New York, New Jersey and Illinois.

Mr. Trump created this coalition by opposing Biden-Harris policies on the economy, inflation, the border and wokeness while promising to restore America’s greatness. He was aided by the sense that the economy was better and more prosperous when he was in office. And with two-thirds of Americans believing our country was on the wrong course, he became the change candidate.

When his re-election journey began in 2022, it seemed impossible to all but him, his family and true believers that he would win. The lawsuits, indictments and later the conviction would have doomed any other candidacy.

But he persevered, and his supporters grew in numbers. He knew what appealed to people in a way others—including me—didn’t see. A friend explained it to me on Monday as we walked a New York street. Pointing to nearby construction workers, he said the former president cares about people like them and they feel that. Millions of Americans who don’t believe politicians care about them, their challenges and their aspirations see Mr. Trump as their champion.

Mr. Trump also benefited from the mental and physical incapacity of the sitting president seeking a second term. It’s a scandal that Joe Biden and his inner circle thought it was in the country’s best interest that he run when he had declined so precipitously. They hid the fact that age had robbed Mr. Biden of what America needed in the Oval Office.

Challenges await Mr. Trump. The international scene is chaotic and dangerous, from Ukraine to Taiwan to the Middle East. He will have a Republican Senate but there’s still a slim chance of a Democratic House. It will likely take days to settle the final contests in California that may determine which party has the lower chamber’s majority.

America remains deeply polarized, and some of Mr. Trump’s proposed policies—such as the expensive sales taxes that his tariff ideas constitute—could prove unpopular. This could boomerang on him in the 2026 midterms. And second terms are rarely easy.

Early Wednesday morning Mr. Trump promised: “Every citizen, I will fight for you, for your family and your future.” He pledged “with every breath in my body, I will not rest until we have delivered the strong, safe and prosperous America that our children deserve.”

If the new president focuses his prodigious energies on this, he can achieve good things in the next two years. But if he makes a priority of settling scores with opponents—which he promised to do during the campaign—he’ll waste his limited time and precious political capital.

But Mr. Trump will do it his way. In Trump 2.0, there will likely be more people urging him to hit the accelerator on whatever policy idea, good or bad, occurs to him than in his first term and fewer counseling him to pump the brakes.

Some of his ardent supporters play this down. They remind us of journalist Salena Zito’s admonition to take Mr. Trump seriously but not literally. She may have a point, but it should be a greater comfort to nervous Americans that the guardrails of our system of government remain strong and effective.

This is the moment when both victors and the defeated traditionally set aside the election’s acrimony and, even if briefly, give the incoming president a chance to start fresh. Mr. Trump is the only president America will have come January. We should all wish him godspeed and pray for wisdom in his efforts. Our nation’s success is once again tied to him.

[gancegancerevo]

Rides to Lake Silberneherze Thoughts

It was great. The second major visit to Kjerag sees us return three years after the previous event to see how the nation has built itself up after the Saintess reforms the political system of Kjerag and accepts the Silverash clan’s plans to open the country to outsiders.

Degenbrecher is the main selling point of the event in my opinion and damn did they work hard to make her appealing. She’s not only very strong, very skilled, very pretty, and a lot less long-winded than the other politicians, she’s also got her own story. It’s quite beautiful to see someone immigrate to a new country and have it just be a story of finding a home you can settle with. She’s the kind of character who’s physically strong enough to survive hardship. And in a sense, she is emotionally strong as she does not hold any grudges against her old nations. Probably in part because she’s beaten up the ones she needs to and let go of what she doesn’t need. She’s very much her own person and she herself has decided she wants to stay in Kjerag as one of its people. Makes you think about all the immigrants who makes their homes in new countries and how that experience is unique to them.

Leto was adorable in this event. The way she takes everybody she passes by and makes them her friends is hilarious and wonderful. It’s also great that they made her a competent field operator. She was able to sense and threaten a Trillby Asher all by herself even if that went awry. She also knew when to call up her superiors when she needed help.

One of the best parts about her arc here is how they turn the classic father-daughter reunion on its head. Because for one, Tatyova, her mother, is alive and well. And seems to be perfectly capable of continuing to care for Leto. Leto ultimately doesn’t care about her father, as she should. Arctosz’s decision to make his family leave for political safety makes it obvious that he knows nothing about the wider world. His privileged upbringing means he has no idea about how others would treat a single mother and what it means for a child to grow up without a father. The thing that really brings it into perspective for me is the attack on Chernobog. If you don’t know how bad it was, read the Ursus Student Group side stories. It makes every excuse Arctosz make seem extra moronic. This story takes the “looking for a long lost father” trope and makes it an ode to all the mothers who had to deal with single-parenthood themselves.

Harold is quite interesting. He’s your classic bumbling high-spirited old man except he’s also a Victorian military officer. Like Degenbrecher, he’s someone who also adjusts well to Kjerag life finding work as a veterinarian and doing old man things. In spite of this, he remains loyal to Victoria and when told that he would need to attack the people he’s lived with for months, he ultimately sides with his country. This is an interesting contrast to bring in this story. About how some people would throw away their old countries while others would remain loyal. Though overall, he was just fun to watch. Especially when paired with Leto or others who humor him.

By far my favorite part of visiting Kjerag is seeing the Saintess and Enya and Kjarr do not disappoint.

Before I gush about yuri though, I should say I love how Enya, and especially her relationship with  Enciodes has evolved. She’s much more active in the goings-on of the nation and is willing to use the Saintess as a state official rather than just a ceremonial position. She and Enciodes managed to separate their personal lives from their work in nation-building and it’s so interesting to see it play out. Enya inserting herself when Enciodes tries to avoid more direct interactions. The whole banquet scene with Harold. It was great especially when they both admit that the Head of the Silverash clan and the Saintess have a similar vision and plan for Kjerag’s development and both go silent when others ask about the relationship between Enya and Enciodes Silverash as siblings.

Enya and Kjarr have to be the most wife and wife coded characters I’ve seen in Arknights so far. Like a pair well into their golden years, they have a mutual respect and trust of one another while still disagreeing on some issues. There’s also that sense of both of them playing an active role in the relationship rather than the usual one stays at home and one works sort of dynamic. I especially like when Kjarr is like “babe, are you sure I shouldn’t use my god powers?” and Enya keeps insisting that they can’t rely on god to fix things for them. And of course the eternal pestering of Kjarr for a statue adjustment. If she can’t ask Enya for it, she’ll let Degenbrecher and the Trillby Asher do it. I always love Enya and Kjarr and this has cemented my favorite Kjerag dynamic even more.

Lastly, I really appreciate the way they included the Doctor this time. It’s not the take control of a situation you’ve only been aware of for a few hours. Instead, they made reasonable assumptions about what others are plotting and taking a few small steps to push pieces into the best place possible. Kinda like how they can’t rely on Kjeragandr, they also can’t rely on the Doctor of Rhodes but that doesn’t mean either of them can’t do one small move themselves.

P.S. What do you mean Kjerag has a battleship under Lake Silberneherze. Though it might be more shocking that Enciodes expressed approval of Sciurus before Ratatos did AND that Ratatos liked Sciurus naming the battleship Walnut to mess with her kids.

[two-white-butterflies]

riptide | a. targaryen

Description: Aegon's friends wonder why he has all the coolest things, even though he doesn't have a job. Pairing: college-student!aegon/ceo!reader two

"Do you call someone a sugar mommy when they're younger than you?" Aegon scrolls on his phone, reading the thousands of messages that you sent to him. His brother's eye widens, placing the bottle of beer down the table loudly.

"So the person that your dating is a sugar mommy?" his brother insinuated, and Aegon freezes on his tracks. It was well known around the campus that he was taken, but no one knew by whom. They didn't even know if the person he was dating was a girl or a boy.

All that they knew was that they managed to leave gifts for Aegon everywhere around the campus. From flowers to handwritten notes, everyone was interested about his love-life. The professors had a running bet - some of them think that his lover is a politician, others think that they're an actress - but one thing was for certain, they didn't know who she was.

"I mean - you do change your wardrobe every season," the man pointed - staring at his brother's new coat. Aemond was a little jealous of his older brother - it must be nice to have some sort of power on your side. "It's called having flair," his brother snorts, while taking a swig of his beer.

"Flair requires money - and our father doesn't send us a lot of that." Aemond rolls his eye, reaching for his phone to scroll on his instagram. "I mean, good for you. It's hard to find money in this economy." Aemond sighs, leaning down on his chair.

He still had a few thousand dollars in his bank account - but he'd need to find a job in order to afford rent next month. "- just make sure that they're not a mafia boss, or something." the man teased, smiling as he sees a meme of Thomas Shelby on his newsfeed.

"I'd give the world if she was just a mafia boss," he mumbled, eyes drifting off to the gala that you were attending. You looked ravishing wearing that designer gown - too bad he wasn't there to dance with you, as he was occupied with another event.

"Are you following her on your instagram?" Aemond inquired - scrolling down his brother's 'following' list. Aegon's eyes narrowed, closing his phone and attempting to peek through his brother's.

"No," he lied - thinking that it would be enough to stop Aemond.

"Is she following you?" Aemond questioned - scrolling to the left to access his 'followers' list. "Can you stop stalking me?" Aegon glares and another sigh escapes his brother's mouth.

"Why can't you tell me? I tell you everything," he complained in a manner that only a little brother would. "I told you about Alys," he asserted, thinking that it would be enough to sway Aegon.

"She's a fucking cougar," Aegon cursed while rising to his feet.

"- as for my girlfriend, you'll know when we get married."

agn.high: i can't help, falling in love w/ u 💚

27 comments 2,971 likes

aemtargaryen: HINT 👀 - agn.high: she has two eyes

toelicker69: happy bday future sister-in-law 💗 - agn.high: she says thanks!! - aemtargaryen: how tf does helaena know?

Alexander_Gomez: NICE YACHT BRO 🫶🏾

Everyone was whispering behind his back - apparently a big box was brought in front of his apartment, and nobody knew what it was. "This one's big," Aemond remarked while helping his brother bring it inside their shared room. "The same thing can be said about me," Aegon joked - settling the box loudly on the floor.

He reaches for the phone on his back pocket, prepared to call you and ask what you gave him.

"Hello, baby." your melodious voice floods his senses, his stomach is filled with butterflies.

"Hey baby, I got a package - do you know what it is?" he asked, seeing no evidences of your address or name on the box.

A small laugh exits your mouth, and he could hear the chatter of the office from behind you. "You should open it baby, I got to go now." you smile while hanging up.

He places the phone back on his pockets, watching while his brother opens the box with an exacto knife. "I just hope it's not expensive enough to get robbed," Aemond crossed his fingers - lifting the top sheet of the styrofoam from the object.

A gasp escapes his mouth as he realized that it was the gaming pc that he was pining for. "Oh my god," he cursed, a smile paints his lips as he opened it further.

He made a mental note to thank you once your meeting was over.

(your name)'s story

@watercolorskyy

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 9

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: screaming, crying, throwing up. i hope you guys enjoy this part as much as i do. also, sorry for the hiatus. i kind of got distracted with life. anyhoo. also. not proofed.

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

previous part | series masterlist | next part

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

“So, when you said a former agent, you meant…” Clint trails off, looking at Fury and Coulson for confirmation.

Bruce sits next to Tony, hands clasped underneath his chin in thought, eyes trained on the screen, analyzing it.

Coulson and Fury nod, but before anyone else can say anything, Bucky speaks.

“It’s Y/N.”

—

“Y/N’s alive?” Sam asks, but it’s mostly rhetorical. Fury and Coulson are the only ones who are not surprised.

“Agent Y/L/N-Barnes seems to be alive, yes. Of course, there is always the possibility that it’s a mask,” Coulson says.

“It has to be her,” Bucky mumbles to himself, focusing hard on the stilled image of you. He has believed you’re alive against all hope for months, and here you are, escaping Capital Hill.

“But if she’s alive, and if she’s the one killing U.S. politicians, then is she working with HYDRA?” Sam asks, anxiously eyeing Bucky.

Fury sighs, “We don’t know. All we know is that we need to stop her before word that an Avenger killed the president gets out.”

Bucky speaks up then.

“She’s not working for HYDRA. She wouldn’t do that.”

Tony sends Bucky a sympathetic look before playing devil’s advocate.

“We can’t know that. It’s out of character, but we never know how much HYDRA is truly capable of. They brainwashed you, so who’s to say they didn’t her?”

The room is tense, and Bucky is acutely aware that the team, his friends, are sympathetic. They’re sympathetic because they agree with Tony. Bucky shakes his head.

“That took years to program The Winter Soldier,” Bucky says cautiously, “and Y/N has a hell of a lot more to fight for than I did. If she’s working for HYDRA, then she’s playing an angle. Don’t you think it’s odd they let Bec go so easily? She had to have struck a deal.”

“Then why doesn’t she escape?” Natasha muses, but her tone tells Bucky she’s simply wondering aloud.

“Well, we wondered why she didn’t contact us through her phone,” Clint reminds. “Turned out she had a plan there; she led us right to the Siberian facility.”

Bucky shoots Clint an appreciative nod.

“Becca did say that they wanted her until Y/N struck a deal with them,” Steve remembers.

The room turns to look at him.

“We didn’t know what to do with that before now. We thought Y/N was dead, but if they faked her death, then that gets us off their backs to have her do what they want.”

“Still,” Sam says, “why not run?”

“They’re probably keeping a close eye on her. On us, even. She would run unless they have something to hold over her,” Natasha points out.

The team gets quiet for a while; everyone gets lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Fury breaks the silence.

“We don’t know who else HYDRA is targeting, but we imagine there are more assassinations planned.”

—

“Alright, so, it’s settled,” Tony says.

The team had spent hours devising a plan to rescue Y/N, anxiously and meticulously going over every detail and turning over every rock.

The Avengers let out a breath they weren’t aware they were holding. At this point, as if on cue, however, Coulson enters the conference room he and Fury had vacated hours ago.

“Coulson?” Steve asks, eyebrows raising at the appearance of the agent.

Coulson nods in acknowledgement, a tight smile spreading upon his lips.

“Stark, can you pull up the security camera footage for the complex?” Coulson asks, staring at the screen showing your SHIELD ID photo, background, skill set, and a list of the crimes you’ve committed up to this point.

Tony nods, voicelessly tapping at the device in front of him, pulling up the cameras. The screen changes from SHIELD’s information on you to a split of each of the complex’s cameras. Coulson takes a step forward, staring at the screen, analyzing it for something the Avengers don’t see.

“Coulson?” Natasha speaks. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“That,” Coulson points at the third box from the right. Tony zooms in on the mentioned camera footage.

“Shit.”

—

“Get Bec out of here!” Bucky demands, picking Rebecca up and handing her to Sam as the complex’s alarm system sounds. Sam nods, holding the toddler close to his chest before running off to get her somewhere safe.

“Buck, what’s your plan here?” Steve questions.

Bucky ignores his friend, taking off running towards the roof of the complex. The security footage showed the intrusion on the northwest most part of the building.

“Buck!”

“I’m saving my wife,” Bucky grumbles, putting more power in his steps, launching himself faster ahead.

—

When Bucky makes it to the roof, he does not have to try too hard to find you. In fact, he notes that you’re startling easy to find.

“Honey, I’m home,” you say cheekily, waving a casual hand at your husband when he lays eyes on you for the first time in months.

“Y/N,” Bucky breathes out, taking a step forward.

You’re leaning against the wall that surrounds the perimeter of the roof, arms crossed.

“James.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“I don’t particularly believe you,” you say, eyeing the dark bags beneath his eyes and the tired demeanor he holds.

“You’ve been gone for months. We thought you were dead. It’s not been so pleasant.”

You hum, pushing off the wall and walking towards the man. You step up against him, resting a gentle hand upon his chest.

“Hmm,” you hum. “You’re not wearing a suit, you didn’t bring any weapons…” You allow yourself to trail off, watching carefully for a reaction.

He gives you a look. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” he says cautiously, but something about the situation feels off. He isn’t sure he believes the statement himself anymore.

You sigh and step away.

“You’ve heard, I’m sure, what I’ve been up to.”

“I have.”

“Not very on brand for me.”

“No.”

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, neither is what I’m here to do.”

“And what are you here to do?” Bucky feels anxiety creep up his chest.

“Marking 3 names off my list,” you say. “You’re not all that close to Captain America, are you?”

Bucky immediately clocks the question as odd. Not only is it weird that you’re addressing the murders you’ve committed as off brand, but to ask him about the only person from his past life as if he’s someone he met recently? To address Steve as Captain America? Bucky remembers the conversation the Avengers had recently, and he thinks you must be playing an angle, waiting for him to figure it out. He also knows your mannerisms better than his own, and he has never known you to speak so formally to him.

He feels a memory trying to come forward. A missing puzzle piece that would help him understand what’s going on.

You sigh, pulling Bucky away from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, James, but I’m on a tight schedule, and I can’t hang out here all day. So, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a To-Do list.”

Bucky stands a little taller.

“Doll, I can’t let you cross out names on that list.”

“Sure you can, and you will.”

“Why would I do that?”

You pout. “Because you promised to support me in good and bad,” you say, referring to his wedding vows.

“I didn’t mean stand by while you murder the people closest to you.”

“Well, shit,” you say before you throw a right hook into Bucky’s jaw and sprint towards the stairs while he’s distracted.

Bucky clutches his jaw with his hand before standing up straight. He usually would have anticipated the punch, but this whole situation has thrown him. And you have a habit of getting him to let his guard down.

“Shit,” he says before taking off after you.

You manage to avoid Bucky for a while as you make your way through the compound, but he does catch up to you.

You lay eyes on Steve and you sprint in his direction.

“Y/N! What? Stop! You don’t have to do this!” Steve attempts to reason, holding his shield up to deflect a bullet you send flying his way. Steve notes it wasn’t hard to deflect, and he stores that information away for later. After all, SHIELD first took note of you for to your sniping ability. You don’t miss.

“Sorry, Rogers,” you say, shrugging. “I’m just a girl doin’ what a girl’s gotta do. Y’kno—Agh!”

You are cut off, letting out an unattractive yelp as you fall to the floor. It takes a moment to get you bearings, but you quickly realize Bucky had tackled you.

You fight back, but you allow Bucky to slide your gun away from you and across the floor.

“Y/N, stop!” Bucky begs, grabbing hold of your wrists with his metal hand and holding your arms taut while he holds your body down by straddling your torso.

You—to Bucky’s surprise—stop. Then, you raise an eyebrow as if to ask, “What do you want?”

“What are you doing? Killing the president? Trying to kill Steve? What’s your angle here?”

“Have you ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?” You ask.

Bucky gives you a look. Your question, after all, is out of left field. You ignore the look and continue.

“It’s a Greek myth. Orpheus and Eurydice are in love, right? But Eurydice does and is trapped in the Underworld. Well, Orpheus goes on a quest to get her back, and the only condition Hades gives him is that he doesn’t turn around on the way back out of the Underworld.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“If he turned around, Eurydice would be trapped in the Underworld forever, and she and Orpheus would never be together again. Never have a life together.”

“Y/N.”

“Orpheus turned around. I always thought that was stupid. I mean, I guess if you love someone, you’d want to turn around and check on them. Make sure they’re still there. But, on the other hand, if you love someone, and trust them…”

“You trust they’ll still be following you even if you don’t turn around,” Bucky finishes.

“Orpheus didn’t get a second chance to save Eurydice. Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid Orpheus would tell the humans all the secrets of the Underworld. Some versions say that the Muses kept his head, though, to sing songs forever. They managed to hear his voice even after he died.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t turn around, James.”

“What?”

While Bucky is confused, distracted by your story, you wrench your wrists out from his grasp and thrust up with your hips. You manage enough momentum to swing Bucky off of you and you climb on top of him, switching positions.

“Well, my targets are gone,” you sigh, glancing down the hallway you had seen Steve run. You click your tongue and return your focus to Bucky, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, knocking him out.

—

@just-henny y @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansqueen @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom

[super-paper]

The Villains' Pastime: Gourmet Food Highlights

Another day, another event focused on the LOV and their targeted psychic attacks on Skeptic's blood pressure (+ ReDestro's wallet)

The event starts with the gang fully embracing the freeloader lifestyle: lounging around and playing cards, ordering premium food on the PLF's dime, and doing absolutely nothing to actually help out with running the organization they violently took over like a week ago.

Everyone praises Tomura for being good at cards, with Compress and Twice wondering how he can be so good at reading others even though most of them are wearing masks. Jin then proceeds to shout out what his hand is, solving part of the mystery behind Tomura's undefeated winning streak in record time.

They want to play another game, but Tomura shoots them down bc it's close to noon and he's hungry. They agree to stop playing cards and get some lunch, and start talking about what sort of gourmet (read: expensive) foods they should try next. Tomura breezily talks about how nice it is to finally have money to burn (he's the worst ♥️), which inevitably summons Skeptic from the fourth ring of hell to bitch everyone out about wasting the PLF's precious funds.

"Thanks a bunch~" If Skeptic murks you in your sleep, you really only have yourself to blame Mister.

No one does "endearing in a criminally insane way" quite like Tomura. 😬

Trumpet senses that things are about to get ugly (or that skeptic is about five seconds away from a full blown hypertensive crisis) and intervenes, suggesting that they play a game of cards-- If Tomura wins, the PLF will foot the bill. If Skeptic wins, they either have to pay for their own lunch or just go hungry.

Tomura (quite predictably) says "fuck that" and tells Spinner just to go buy them lunch at a convenience store.

>be me >be stuck in a secret base hidden deep in the mountains >be literally miles away from civilization and the nearest town >tfw warp gate is doing ten-to-life and warp sludge is being gatekept by the world's most toxic Ivo Robotnik cosplayer 😔 >my boss, fully aware of all the above, orders me to walk to the nearest town and buy him a frozen burrito from a gas station >mfw

IS THIS YOUR MAN, SPINNER.

Tomura lightly bullying his friends and making unreasonable requests is nothing new, but this one strikes me as hilariously mean spirited even by his standards bc it’s also implied Tomura expects Spinner to foot the bill on top of all that:

BRO FALL IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE 😭

Trumpet eventually convinces Tomura that it would actually (read: obviously) be faster to just settle the issue with a game of cards-- Tomura finally gives in, and they settle on a game of blackjack.

Compress explains the rules of blackjack and offers to deal the cards-- Trumpet shuts this down immediately and says that HE will deal the cards, thank you very much:

As an aside, I love how utterly shameless they make Compress in these events lmao.

Tomura and Skeptic begin their game, and Tomura quickly makes it apparent that he approaches blackjack with the same suicidally reckless abandon as he does pretty much everything else:

Out of context MHA, eat your heart out.

Spinner, Compress, and Dabi all worry that Tomura has drawn too many cards and is gonna lose by default, but Jin and Himiko both express their faith in his abilities as an ill-gotten bread winner (<3)

Tomura and Skeptic both reveal their hands, and we hard cut to the aftermath where the LOV are gushing about all the high quality meat they bought on the PLF's dime while Skeptic seethes in the corner.

>Tomura

> making logical choices

well, there's your first mistake.

Trumpet tells Skeptic to stop being a hater and dig in, casually siding with the LOV now that they've won their premium beef:

Trumpet:

Like a true politician.

The lunch party continues until ReDestro enters the scene... gushing about some high quality meat he managed to get ahold of and asking the League if they'd like some hot pot. :) Skeptic realizes his life is a cosmic joke. The event ends.

Bonus Stuff:

This is starting to feel less like a case of the LOV simply liking sushi and more like a united effort to haze Dabi. Deserved, tbh.

Jin telling Himiko to eat her veggies and Compress fondly watching her eat her weight in meat......... they r SO cute wtf..................,😭

>I start joking about Tomura being the most rancid godawful tsundere in existence

>somewhere out there, apollo draws back his dodgeball arm

He sure complains a lot for someone who grumpily indulges their every whim, huh.