#especially after Ruin’s betrayal

[unnamed-proxy]

TSAMS au where Ruin is actually 100% cured (coping) and the gang managed to get ahold of Bloodmoon before he ran out the daycare, so now R.E is trying to act like a parent figure to them, since they made/built him, and incidentally helping out both of their issues a lil bit in the process (Bloody’s trust issues and Eclipse coming to terms with everything Ruin did via ‘fixing’ it)

[sunderwight]

Shen Yuan who glitches in his transmigration, but the original Shen Qingqiu still dies of a qi deviation.

So the System still needs someone with narrative relevance to throw Luo Binghe into the Abyss. In a fit of desperation, it contrives circumstances after Shen Qingqiu's death to move Luo Binghe to An Ding Peak (not that difficult), and then the System makes Shang Qinghua be Luo Binghe's new scum master who casts him down.

Airplane's thrilled, really. Cultivators aren't supposed to get ulcers but damned if he doesn't come close to one anyway. Between Shen Qingqiu and then just a while later Liu Qingge both dying from qi deviations, and Shang Qinghua looking like a stiff breeze could take him out any day now, poor Mu Qingfang is also just about at his wits' end.

But it's not all bad news! On An Ding Peak, Luo Binghe actually finds himself surrounded by the kinds of people who are accustomed to being bullied by the rest of the sect. So they're pretty sympathetic to him, and it's easier for someone with basic laboring skills to advance on that peak too. His chores don't decrease too much, but he actually gets rewarded for doing them well, and no one tries to kick him out of the dorms or anything. Shang Qinghua doesn't either go out of his way to bully or praise Luo Binghe, correctly reasoning that his best shot at not getting a gruesome death is to just be a more forgettable bad guy than an abusive dirtbag or a heart-wrenching betrayal. He doesn't sabotage Luo Binghe's cultivation (no point, and it would just farm resentment later) but he also doesn't go out of his way to help him improve (not gonna arm his inevitable maybe-probably-murderer with better weapons!), so Luo Binghe's situation sees an overall improvement but not the zero-to-hero treatment he'd have got with Shen Yuan either.

When Shang Qinghua shoves Luo Binghe into the Abyss (he just full on picks him up and tosses him like a sack of beans, better to rip it off quick like a bandage), LBH is upset, but he's not especially surprised or dismayed about Shang Qinghua's part in it. Later on he'll be kind of confused, because he just assumed that of course the righteous sect cultivator would abhor the demon, but it turns out Shang Qinghua has been working for a demon since before Luo Binghe even came to the sect? But then it still kind of makes sense because a Heavenly Demon would definitely pose a risk to Mobei Jun and to Mobei Jun's rule. Shang Qinghua, he supposes, is just really loyal to his specific demon.

Luo Binghe's subsequent revenge quest is also somewhat mitigated by the Abyss actually not being that bad.

The Abyss is not actually that bad thanks to the glitched out Shen Yuan having been camping there for several years now.

So when Shen Yuan's transmigration failed it failed because he "woke up" during the process, realized where the System intended to put him, was like no way in goddamn hell am I being that guy about it, and actually kind of won the ensuing tug-of-war. The System couldn't put him in Shen Qingqiu but Shen Yuan didn't want to go back to his dead body either, so he ended up stuck in the nearest available space for lost interdimensional beings. Which was the Endless Abyss.

Luckily Shen Yuan's quasi-transmigrated imparted an equivalent cultivation level as Shen Jiu's to him, and the glitch made him able to sense and manipulate certain extra-dimensional energies, so he manifested as this weird godlike being able to manipulate and control aspects of the Abyss. So he set about transforming Airplane's Torment Nexus into a viable ecosystem (the current version would not be anything approaching sustainable were it not for divine/narrative intervention, and is constantly on the verge of destabilizing into unlivable ruin that would only be fit for some particularly hardy microorganisms).

It's still like, a monster land full of demonic creatures and terrifying phenomenon, but with Shen Yuan's assistance it becomes something more like a demonic wildlife reserve than a dimensional horror plane. Though it is still a dimensional horror plane, and Shen Yuan is its chief dimensional horror. He treats it sort of like those dungeon building or wildlife park sims, figuring out how to keep everything in balance while still preserving all the interesting parts. A lot of the extreme survival issues of the Abyss are more of a result of it being environmentally unstable than a result of its actual denizens, and once he smooths out a lot of the messy dimensional edges and creates stable vents for the fluctuating energy run-off, the demonic inhabits start behaving less like horror movie monsters and more like animals. They're still wild and dangerous and prone to killing one another, but also more cautious, and able to access enough stable resources that they can even start to be picky about what they pursue.

Turns out that a lot of creatures in the Abyss actually don't like fighting and dying and being brutally injured on a regular basis, even if they can heal from it!

Shen Yuan has even discovered that some like chin scritches (he's not terribly worried about habituating them to people, given how rarely any people actually access the Abyss, but also because he's not really all that people-ish himself these days).

This means that one of Luo Binghe's first encounters with the horrible creatures of the Abyss, is in fact a pack of wolf-like monsters thoroughly avoiding an actual fight with him. In fact most of the denizens of the Abyss just avoid him. They can smell the Heavenly Demon energy rolling off of him, and given the current abundance of alternatives to dealing with that, virtually none of the monsters actually choose to challenge him. There are still a few that will go after anything that's bleeding, but that problem stops once Luo Binghe's physiology heals his wounds, which takes like... a couple hours, max.

Despite the stories he's heard, Luo Binghe is relieved to find that the Abyss is not quite so terrible as all that. Normal survival skills suffice for seeing him through much of it. He's able to hunt for food, scavenge for tools, and even finds potable water fairly easily. After a few weeks, he also comes across a ruin which seems to be inhabited.

The being inhabiting it is plainly a god, although he demurs and refutes such assertions whenever Binghe is too frank. He's a strange being, at turns looking like some queer approximation of a human, at other times blinking and winking in and out of existence, in patterns of strange lights and oddly geometrical fire. But he's surprisingly not hostile, letting Binghe rest in his residence, and even directing him towards points of interest. Accompanying him, too, though he seems to think that Binghe doesn't notice the odd almost spiderweb-like patterns that appear on things which he's influencing. The god calls himself The Peerless One, or at least that's what Luo Binghe infers from some writings on the ruin. The Peerless One offers instruction, seemingly without thinking about it, and gets flustered at being addressed by title, so Binghe also begins to refer to him as Shizun after a while.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[loveindefinitely]

02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

[won4kiss]

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— LOVE APOCALYPSE

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. stranger! park sunghoon x fem! reader synopsis. in which two lost, lonely, broken souls find love at the worlds end. literally. genre. angst ,, fluff ,, suggestive?? wc. 3100. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog & like !! <3

THE WORLD ENDED ON A FRIDAY,

You remember it clearly because it was a rare day off from your exhausting 9-5 secretary job, one where you had planned to do nothing but enjoy a cup of coffee at your favorite café and catch up on books you have been meaning to read. Instead, the serene sunny morning was shattered by panicked screams, gruesome sights and sirens wailing through the city streets.

The news spread quite quickly, making headlines on news channels before everything had shut down, a mysterious virus was turning people into mindless, flesh eating creatures. Within hours, the city descended into chaos. You barely had time to gather some essentials and flee your un-secure apartment before the streets were overrun with the infected flesh eaters.

As days turned into weeks, you wandered through the overrun city, surviving on scraps and hiding from both zombies and desperate humans. Your optimism, a trait that had always been your guiding light, remained intact despite the unpleasing reality around you.

You clung to the hope that somewhere, there was a sanctuary, a safe haven where people were rebuilding their lives, a place filled with survivors and loved ones, and you would make it one day.

You had seen glimpses of humanity at its worst—looting, violence, betrayal—but you chose to believe in the goodness that could still exist amidst the ruins. Your cheerful demeanor, once a source of joy to your friends, now served as a piece of hope for yourself. You refused to let the darkness win and consume you.

It was during one of these aimless wanderings that you met him.

You had stumbled into an abandoned convenience store, scavenging for anything useful, when you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Heart pounding, you turned around, with your quite lousy makeshift weapon—a broken broom handle—only to find yourself face-to-face with a stranger, a very handsome one at that..

He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell over his cold, sharp eyes. His expression was unreadable, a mask of indifference that made your breath catch in your throat. He was armed, a large knife strapped to his belt and a gun slung over his shoulder, the epitome of survival in this new world.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself," he said, his voice low and dangerous with lack of emotion.

You hesitated for a moment, then lowered your makeshift weapon. "I'm not looking for trouble, Just trying to survive." You say with a shaking voice.

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing at your anxious state. "You won't last long if you keep wandering around like this. The city's not safe, especially for a small one like you."

"Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine! Thanks for the tip," you replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "What's your name sunshine?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to such direct questions and humour in times like this, he hadn’t seen anyone this happy in a long time. "Park Sunghoon. And you?"

"Y/N." You say with a curious tone.

He gave a curt nod, then turned to leave. "If you're smart Y/N, you'll get out of here before nightfall. The zombies are much more fast and active after dark."

You watched him go, a strange mix of relief and slight disappointment swirling in your chest. He was the first living person you had seen in days, and despite his cold dangerous demeanour, there was something about him that intrigued you.

The next time you encountered Park Sunghoon, it wasn't by chance.

You had found temporary shelter in an old dust filled bookstore, the thick walls offering some semblance of protection. It was there, while sorting through the scattered books for anything useful, that you heard the familiar sound of footsteps again.

"Didn't I tell you to leave the city?" Sunghoon's voice broke the silence, startling you, letting out a little squeak.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I was looking for supplies. This place seemed safe enough."

He sighed, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

You bristled at his tone. "I'm doing just fine on my own, thank you very much."

Sunghoon's eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again. "You're lucky you haven't been caught by a raider or a pack of zombies. Look, I have a safe place not far from here. If you want to survive, you'll come with me."

The offer took you by surprise. You had expected him to mock your optimism or brush you off as a lost cause. Instead, he was offering you an alibi, protection.

"Why should I trust you?" you asked, wary of his intentions.

"Because out here, trust is all we have," he replied, his voice as steady as can be. "And because I could have left you to fend for yourself, or easily killed you already because of how bad you are at covering tracks, but I didn't."

You studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay.. I’m trusting you because you have a very fair point. I'll come with you."

“Smart decision” Sunghoon says with a small smile.

Sunghoon led you through the maze of deserted streets, moving with the cautious and practiced ease of someone who had long ago adapted to this danger filled world. You struggled to keep up, your optimism flickering in the face of his silent determination.

His safe house turned out to be an old apartment building, protection provided with makeshift barricades and booby traps. Inside, it was sparse but functional, a resemblance to Sunghoon's meticulous nature.

"This is it," he said, closing the door behind you. "You can stay here as long as you don't slow me down, or put my life in danger.”

"Thanks," you replied, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "I'll try not to be a burden." You whisper with a small ounce of worry.

To be honest, you were terrified of being alone, and for some reason, Sunghoon’s presence felt like a warm blanket being put over you.

Sunghoon didn't respond, instead turning his attention to a map spread out neatly on the table. As he planned the next day's supply run, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your heart at his cold demeanor. Despite everything, you still believed in the goodness of people and humanity, and you hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could break through Sunghoon's icy exterior, and get to know the true him.

Life with Sunghoon was quite far from easy. His cold, over calculated approach to survival clashed constantly with your care free, compassionate, life risking outlook, leading to more than a few heated arguments.

"Why do you insist on risking your life for strangers?" Sunghoon had snapped one evening after you had returned from helping a group of survivors fend off a zombie attack. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "And why do you insist on shutting everyone out? Not everyone is out to get you, Sunghoon. Some people just need help. Have some humanity.”

His eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get it, do you? Out here, it's every man for himself. If you keep putting others first, you'll be the one ending up dead Y/N.”

"And if you keep pushing every possible human being away, you'll end up alone," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. Then, without another word, Sunghoon turned and stormed out of the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Days faded into weeks, and despite your constant bickering, you and Sunghoon developed an understanding for each other. You learned to navigate his cold exterior, seeing glimpses of vulnerability beneath the surface. He, in return, began to see the strength in your optimism, though he would never admit it.

It was during a particularly dangerous supply run that the turning point came.

You had made your way into a heavily infested part of the city, desperate for medical supplies. Everything was going smoothly until a horde of zombies ambushed you, forcing you to take shelter in an abandoned building.

As the zombies clawed at the doors and windows, you and Sunghoon found yourselves trapped with no way out.

"Great plan, Y/N," Sunghoon muttered, his voice dripping with venom and sarcasm.

You ignored his jab, focusing instead on finding a way to secure the doors. "We need to block the entrance, hoon. Help me move this shelf."

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, you managed to barricade the door, buying yourselves some time.

"We can't stay here forever," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration. "We need to find a way out."

“Well no shit” You say as Sunghoon shakes his head at your words, his heart pounding slightly calming down with your familiar bickering.

You glanced around the room, your mind racing. "There has to be an exit somewhere. Maybe a fire escape or a back door."

Sunghoon shook his head. "The back door is probably blocked. Our best bet is probably gonna be the roof if we don’t wanna become their next meal.”

The two of you made your way to the roof, careful to avoid attracting the attention of the zombies below. As you stood on the edge, observing the surrounding buildings, you felt a pang of despair. The city’s view out before you, a sea of ruins and danger.

"We're going to have to jump," Sunghoon said, his voice steady despite the look of terror in his eyes.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "We'll make it. We have to." You say with tears prickling into the corner of your eyes.

As you prepared to jump, Sunghoon reached out and grabbed your hand. "Stay close. We do this together."

With a deep breath, you took the jump, your fingers tightly intertwined with Sunghoon's. The jump was terrifying, but you made it to the next building, landing in a heap on the roof.

For a moment, you lay there, gasping for breath. Then, to your surprise, Sunghoon pulled you into a tight embrace. His face hurried into your neck as you feel tears falling onto your skin.

"Don't ever do that again," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I can't lose you, that was too close-“

You pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Sunghoon, I—"

Before you could finish, he kissed you, despite the dirt on both your faces, and crazy knotted hair, it felt magical, like every puzzle in the world had been connected, him capturing your lips with desperation and passion pouring into each second of it.

Without wasting another second, Sunghoon pulls you onto his lap, going for a softer gentle kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer if possible, leaving soft kisses on his neck.

“Stop doing that, or I’ll really lose control.” Sunghoon says caressing your cheek, with that all-too familiar look of love oozing out of his eyes.

“Then lose control” You whisper, and he doesn’t waste another second.

In the aftermath of the situation, the dynamic between you and Sunghoon shifted. His cold exterior began to thaw, revealing a depth of pure emotion you hadn't ever expected. The arguments continued, but they were now laced with an underlying tenderness, care and love that neither of you could deny.

One night, as you sat together on the roof of your apartment building, watching the stars, Sunghoon had finally decided opened up to you about his past.

"I used to have a family," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "A little sister. She was everything to me."

You listened, your heart aching for him. "What happened?"

"The virus," he replied, his eyes distant. "We were trying to get out of the city and when she was out of my view for a second- she was infected. I had to… I had to end it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand and caress his cheek which at this point was now damp with his icy tears. "Hoon, I'm so sorry."

He squeezed your hand on his cheek with his free hand, his grip tight. "That's why I can't afford to be soft, Y/N. I can't let myself care, because caring means losing."

"But caring also means living," you said softly. "It means having something to fight for."

He looked at you, his eyes searching. "And what about you? Why do you keep holding on to hope?"

You smiled through your tears. "Because hope is all I have. And because I believe that no matter how dark things get, there's always a chance for something better."

As Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, then pulled you into his arms. "You’re right Y/N, things really do get better.” He whispers giving you a gentle smile before pulling you into a kiss where you can feel all emotions clashing together.

The days that followed were filled with a renewed sense of purpose. You and Sunghoon worked together to add more protection to your safe house, scavenging for supplies and helping other survivors whenever you could. The bond between you grew stronger, forged in the fires of hardship and tempered by the tenderness of newfound love.

But the world outside remained dangerous, and the threat of the zombies was never far away.

One fateful night, the horde descended upon your building, drawn by the noise of a desperate survivor's cries for help. You and Sunghoon fought for ages now, but the sheer number of zombies was overwhelming.

"Y/N, we have to go!" Sunghoon shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion.

You nodded, grabbing your backpack and following him up the stairs. The building shook with the force of the zombies' pounding and moaning, the walls creaking and groaning under the pressure.

As you reached the roof, you realized with horror that there was no escape as last time. The neighboring buildings were way too far to jump, and the fire escape had collapsed.

"This is it," you said, your voice trembling. "We're trapped Hoon."

Sunghoon's eyes blazed with determination. "No. We fight."

He handed you a gun, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. "Stay close to me." Sunghoon says before leaving a soft kiss onto your forehead.

The two of you stood side by side, ready to face the herd. As the first zombies approached the rooftop, you fought with everything you had, your love and determination for each other giving you the strength to keep going, you didn’t want to give up, not when you had a purpose, someone to want to live for.

In the midst of the chaos, with the last few zombies, Sunghoon was knocked to the ground, a zombie lunging at him. You acted without thinking, firing your gun and taking down the flesh eating creature before it could reach him.

"Sunghoon!" you screeched, helping him to his feet.

He pulled you into a fierce embrace, his breath hot against your ear. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens, I love you."

Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him, pouring all your love, fear and desperation into that one kiss.

To your luck, A group of survivors on motorcycles burst onto the rooftop after hearing all the commotion, guns blazing as they cleared a path through the horde in the streets.

"Come on!" one of them shouted. "We've got a way out!"

You and Sunghoon didn't hesitate, following the survivors down a makeshift ramp that led to a big pick-up truck. As the last of the zombies were taken down, you climbed into the truck, your heart pounding with relief, your hand tightly clasped with Sunghoon’s.

As the truck sped away from the city and terror of the night, you focused on the feeling of Sunghoon's hand, the weight of everything you had been through settling over you like a heavy blanket.

"We made it," you whispered, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief.

Sunghoon squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and a gentle look of admiration and love. "We did. And as long as we're together, we'll keep surviving."

The journey to the survivors' camp was long and bumpy, but you and Sunghoon faced it together, drawing strength from each other. The camp itself was everything you had hoped for in a world gone mad, a place where people were rebuilding their lives and fighting for a future.

As you settled into your new home, you and Sunghoon found solace in each other, your love a guiding light in the darkness. The arguments and angst that had once defined your relationship now gave way to a deep, unbreakable bond.

And in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, you found happiness. For in a world where survival was never guaranteed, love had become your greatest weapon, your most cherished treasure.

Together, you and Sunghoon faced the challenges of the new world, knowing that no matter what came your way, you would face it together. And in each other's arms, you found the strength to keep going, the courage to keep fighting, and the hope to keep dreaming of a brighter future.

For in the end, love was the ultimate victory, the one thing that even the end of the world couldn’t take away.

˚୨୧⋆｡˖˙ ᰋ ──

@won4kiss 2024

[apt502-if]

DEMO (JULY. 10. 2024)| INTROS

Apartment 502 is a 18+ slice-of-life romantic drama inspired by shows like New Girl and Friends.

Content warnings include: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence.

Moving from your small home to New York City was supposed to be a dream. You were supposed to start your new life with your long-distance partner and dive headfirst into full-on adulthood. Everything was supposed to be perfect. How can you not love being in your mid-twenties in the Big Apple?

That is until your put-together, white collar partner dumps you the same day you arrive.

Fun.

Essentially homeless and determined to make the life you dreamed of, you take a last-minute offer to move into the spare bedroom in Apartment 502. Now, you're twenty-five and living with three other longtime best friends with their own drama and messy interpersonal relationships. Parties, late-night pizza runs, drama, fights, heartbreak, betrayals...maybe the life you want won't be as easy as you first thought.

Will you find romance in the city that never sleeps?

**Apartment 502 is a romance, angst, and drama-centered story **

design your mc from clothing style to appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.

choose 1 of 5 jobs that grant you different scenes and different people: (artist/musician, news anchor, writer, teacher, bartender )

curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the hijinks Apt. 502 has to offer, especially the drama that ensues. Style your MC's room and their aesthetic style.

navigate angsty and dark dramas that weave your roommates in a a narrative that can either save their friendship, or break them apart.

engage in a romance with 1 of 6 characters: one of your roommates, your ex, your neighbor or work rival.

Ruin relationships or mend them. Center yourself around the roommates and become part of the core group.

Follow Apartment 502 throughtout MC's first year as a roommate: from holidays, to birthdays, to everything in-between.

Atlas/Athena [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. A is the elusive and isolated musician who makes a living writing songs for others and doing gigs down at the local bar. A is quiet, nonchalant, and prefers their isolation. After getting their heart broken by their high school sweetheart, A has swore off love and vowed to focus solely on their career. A has no room for love, and they make it clear.

Appearance: Olive, freckled skin. Atlas has shaggy brown hair that falls in front of their eyes in a wolf-cut with bleached white dyed pieces at the bottom. Athena's brown and white hair falls down her back with black, straight-cut blunt bangs. They usually wear all black and have a variety of piercings.

Callum/Calliope [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. Cal is the ultra nice, slightly uptight, easily flustered college professor who is currently dating their longtime partner...that everyone seems to hate. Cal seems very in love with them and is oblivious to their best friends' irritation, but is that all a ruse?

Appearance: Cal has golden blonde hair. Cal's hair is curly fluffy while Calliope's falls down in soft ringlets around her face. Pale skin and green eyes. C dresses down, wearing basic clothes like button-downs and plain dresses.

Levi/Lani [f/m] - 1 of 3 roommates. L is boisterous, arrogant, and the comedian of the group. L makes their money as an influencer and uses their abundance of free time to pick up all kinds of people. L doesn't believe anyone can get them to settle down, especially considering they've never been in love..nor believe it exists.

Note: you can only romance L by starting a purely physical relationship first.

Appearance: Russet brown skin and long black hair that falls down their back and tied in a messy bun. L usually wears a white, billowy button down tucked into black slacks with an abundance of rings.

Garrett/Gaia [f/m] - Your neighbor. G is friendly but distant, always looking down at their phone when they see you. They seem disinterested in the happenings of Apartment 502. You can't help but wonder more about them...and their young child.

Appearance: Brown skin and curly black hair. G usually has headphones on, and Garett's hair is cut into a curly undercut while Gaia's is primed in a slick bun. They're usually dressed in a pristine black turtle neck and matching black pants.

Rainn [f/m] - your perfect, financially-stable lawyer ex. You thought what you and Rainn had was special, until they abruptly dump you the same day you were set to move in. The worst part? They live in the same building.

Oddly enough, Rainn doesn't seem to be acting like someone who should be completely moved on...

Appearance: Rain either has a severe black bob or black slicked back hair and usually seen in a pantsuit or business-casual clothes. They have tan skin and bright blue eyes.

Mason/Mona [f/m]- your old academic rival...who is now your co-worker. What are the chances you two ended up in the same place? M seems to have a lot of fun making things harder for you at your new job, especially considering you guys are competing for the affection of your boss. Tch.

Appearance: Long or short dyed white hair and tan skin with bright brown eyes. (M's outfit is dependent on job of choice.)

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

Why I HATE the Silco and Vander Flashback

As a Silco fan I was so hyped for it but now I wish it hadn't been in the show in the first place.

1- Ruins the Character's Reaoning

The only question this scene actually answered was why Vander betrayed Silco, and it answered it in one of the worst (and most annoyingly cliche) ways possible.

We knew from S1 and the writer's responses that Silco and Vander led the revolution, what happened on the bridge changed Vander, and then he betrays Silco. Most people came to the conclusion that, seeing the destruction and orphans, Vander decided fighting back was too risky and advocated for peace. Silco, on the other hand, believed that they needed to continue fighting for freedom and refused to give up. Vander, fearing that Silco would instigate more destruction and destroy more families, attempted to kill him to protect his people.

But now we know Vander apparently tried to kill him not because he was worried about his people, but because he was mad that his one friend died. This just makes Vander look way worse and takes away from the nuance of his character. Vander didn't take in the kids because he felt guilty for what he did, but because he knew their mom and had a duty to her to take them in. Did Silco's guilt for starting the fight that killed Jinx's mom cause him to adopt her, too? Everything being about their mom takes away from the character development and uniqueness in why these characters did what they did.

2- Left Questions Rather than Answers and Created Even More Inconsistencies

We already knew before Season 2 that Silco and Vander worked in the mines, that at least Vander was familiar with Felicia, and that Silco intigated the bridge fight by throwing a molotov, but so many things are unanswered or now incredibly inconsistent.

What is Benzo's relation to Silco and Vander? He knew Silco well enough to recognize older him in thick fog. Why does he hate Silco so much? Did he ever know Felicia, or did he only show up in Vander's life after the betrayal?

If Silco instigated the fight, why does Vander say it was also his fault in the letter? Why does Vander say to Benzo "We both know there's worse things than enforcers out their"? What is he talking about? He seems to be talking about Silco since he touches the brace covering the scar Silco slashed on his arm. But this makes no sense for Vander to talk so badly of Silco if he also blames himself and regrets what he has done to his brother so much.

Where was Silco after Vi and Jinx were born? We see Vander interacting with the kids and their parents after, but not Silco, and the kids do not recognize him in s1e3. It's like he just vanished and there is no clear reason why.

Why is Silco so eager to kill Vi and Jinx in S1E3 despite him knowing their mom and making that promise to her? The reasoning for him wanting to was already very murky but this just makes it worse and once again takes away from the nuance.

3- Silco's Design

Yet another inconsistency. I personally hate Silco's new hair and think it looks really stupid, but it is what it is. The real problem with it is that it doesn't fit with what we see in season 1.

In season 2, young Silco has long hair and bangs like Jinx's. But in season 1, during the betrayal, young Silco's hair isn't even shoulder-length and his bangs are way shorter. So perhaps he cut his hair sometime before the fight? But we see that even on the bridge, during the revolution, Silco's hair is long. His hair is even long when Warwick hallucinates a post betrayal Silco, even though Vander has seen Silco with shorter hair.

This is especially bizarre considering the inconsistency with Vander's hair in season one. During the drowning scene, he has no beard and is young, but during the bridge scene he has a beard and looks much older. The writers have stated that this was due to communication errors with Fortiche and that Vander and Silco were not meant to look so much younger during the betrayal, so that they would make a similar error again is odd.

(Speaking of the design, a 100% personal reason I was disappointed was that in the concept, Silco wears a sleeveless outfit that shows off his muscular arms, yet they once again gave him long sleeves. I know what you may be thinking, but imagine they showed Vi's abs in the concepts but didn't actually show them in the show. Keep in mind that not only is Silco the only major character to die before season 2, he is also the only one who we don't get to see fully or partially shirtless (even Heimerdinger can be seen shirtless in the s1 Chinese Artbook). I thought they would at least give us a brief glimpse of those arms but instead they took the extra time to model sleeves. I will never understand how we got to see shirtless Salo before Silco's biceps. ☹️)

Besides that I felt like the way Silco especially was animated was very off, like the animator had never seen a Silco scene before and knew nothing about the character. I knew he would be a bit different, such as being less pessimistic, since this was before the betrayal, but it was just way too off. It's difficult to describe and I'm still trying to put a finger on what exactly was the problem, but one thing I noticed was that his smile looked unlike the way he normally smiles. His eyes are usually half-lidded, even in the S1 flashback, but they aren't that way at all. And no, it isn't just that it's weird seeing him with two good eyes, because he never felt off at all in the s1 flashback. He just overall gave off Jason Spisak vibes instead of Silco.

I also really hate that the way they were animated gives off a bit of a feeling that they were both into Felicia. Please not Snape and Lily again.

[girlkisser13]

dating azula would include

• it’s canon that azula has no game, so you’re the one who’s making all of the moves on her. she’s so oblivious when it comes to love.

• this girl is ALWAYS blushing around you. even after you guys start dating she still blushes around you.

• she's always trying to impress you with her firebending, constantly making sure you're watching her.

• she will 100% pout if you miss something.

• azula enjoys the finer things in life. being royalty allows her to spoil you with extravagant gifts and grand gestures.

• loyalty is paramount to azula, so she expects complete loyalty from you. betrayal is something she would never forgive.

• azula enjoys engaging in strategic games and intellectual debates with you.

• despite her tough exterior, azula has moments of vulnerability. these are extremely rare, but you would see glimpses of her softer side, especially when she feels safe and trusted.

• azula thrives on challenges and would appreciate if you aren’t afraid to challenge her back.

• she loves you because you challenge her, not because you roll over for her.

• your relationship makes her feel alive.

• azula enjoys excitement and adventure, so dates would often involve thrilling activities, from exploring ancient ruins to sparring matches.

• understanding azula's emotional complexity would be crucial. you’re patient and perceptive, recognizing when she needs space or support.

• if you’re a firebender, azula would take a keen interest in your training, often giving tips and pushing you to improve your skills.

• she isn’t to big on pda because she doesn’t want to appear weak. she loves holding your hand under the table though.

• when the two of you are alone it’s a whole different story.

• she and zuko are the DEFINITION of touch starved.

• at first, she never initiated any type of physical touch. you were always the on who wanted to hold her hand or tried to cuddle with her.

• over time, she began to feel more comfortable with the idea of physical touch and began to crave that intimacy. now she ALWAYS has a hand on you.

• azula values quality time and would appreciate activities that allow her to bond with you, such as sparring, strategizing, or even watching the sunset together.

• as azula works through her past traumas and emotional scars, you would play a significant role in her healing process, offering support, understanding, and unconditional love.

• azula’s loyalty to you is unwavering. she expects the same in return and would go to great lengths to ensure your safety and happiness.

• your relationship with azula would be built on mutual respect and admiration. she values that you’re able to respects her strengths and supports her weaknesses.

• she loves you deeply and intensely, making the relationship thrilling and deeply fulfilling.

• you’re the first person to show her what love truly feels like. you’ve got this girl HOOKED. <33

[emmyrosee]

Suguwara with 8!!!

8 with sugawara… confessions 🥺🫶🏻

He stands in front of your locker for a concerning amount of time, fiddling with the note in his hand as he ponders the pros and cons of confessing to you.

Pro: you’ll say yes.

Con: you’ll say no, laugh at him, dump your milk on his head and walk away with no regard.

Koushi doesn’t know if he should risk it. After all, you have known each other for years, who would he be to ruin such a stable friendship with feeling that may or may not be reciprocated?

“Koushi?” Your voice snaps him back to reality, and he fists his note in his hand sharply. “You’ve been standing in front of my locker for the past five minutes. Everything okay?”

He says nothing. His mouth feels cottony and dry, and when he tried to choke out words, they only come out as squeaks. His brain decides to shove the note at you, his cheeks blazing with nerves and his hands trembling as he holds it. You smile softly and take the folded note from him, unfolding it and flicking your eyes up at him.

“Koushi,” you begin, and he could throw up right now. This is it, the rejection, the heartbreak, the betrayal- “I know.”

You what. “You what?”

You snicker, “I know; Daichi told me.”

Traitor. Koushi sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, “I’m going to kill him.”

“Dont- he saved our friendship,” you say, smiling sweetly. “I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore, with how you were avoiding me. I was so hurt, until he told me.”

He swallows thickly- you thought he didn’t want to be friends? That’s the last thing he wanted! Especially if it was hurting you, and-

“What’re you doing?”

“Reading the confession.”

“Dont!” He whines, making a mad dash for the letter, which you expertly flick out of his grip. “I didn’t know you knew, it’s so embarrassing!”

“It’s cute!” You giggle, avoiding his grabs. “Gotta kiss me if you want it back.” He tenses up and his cheeks blaze again, and you laugh and ruffle his hair, “I’m kidding. I’d be an asshole to pressure you into kissing me.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughs, letting you pull him into a hug, your arms tossing around his neck. “I feel the same way, Koushi. I accept your confession.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes,” you snicker. “More than you know.”

[imjusthereformymindpalace]

Shigaraki One-Shot

hi everyone! it’s my first time posting on Tumblr, so please bear with me! this is just a short drabble(?) that wasn’t proofread and mainly just self-indulgent lol hope you all like it!!! :)

comment any suggestions! i wanna write more of tomura!!!

5 Things You Didn’t Know About Tomura (That You Learned Later On)

Shigaraki x AFAB reader!

1. He’s a sore loser

He doesn’t like losing in video games. He’ll throw the remote onto his bed, cursing, and get up to throw away his can of beer, leaving you to sit in his room for over five minutes. You can hear him cursing under his breath as he paces in the hallway outside of his room, ignoring Spinner’s advice and Dabi’s teasing. You can’t do much other than wait for him to come back and restart the level he initially lost.

He doesn’t like losing to heroes either. He’ll scream and scratch at himself, mumbling loudly of his failed plans, cursing the heroes for ruining his villainous schemes of destroying hero society. He’ll turn to Kurogiri, waiting for his direction to the escape warp. Once away from the scene and back at the hideout, he’ll kick the nearest item to him (a chair), and scratch wildly while ignoring the burning sensation of embarrassment on his face. He hates losing.

2. He loves sweets.

He won’t admit it. But he does enjoy the silky smooth taste of chocolate as it glides against his tongue. He’ll sneak pieces of hard candy while on standby during missions, leaving a trail of wrappers as evidence of his presence. He’ll keep enough in his pocket in case you ever ask him for one, or anyone in the League for that matter. But he won’t offer any first. He loves sweets too much after all.

3. He hates the idea of wearing glasses.

He’ll deny the fact that his vision isn’t as good as he thinks it is. After an appointment with the Doctor, he’ll come back to the base with a small case in his hand. When Toga asks about it, he’ll grumble that it’s none of her business and slam his bedroom door behind him. Sitting on his bed, he’ll open the case and grab the thin frames delicately so as to not disintegrate them. He’ll rest the center on the bridge of his nose and peer through the thick lens. Being able to see perfectly only increased his frustrations and it took every ounce of strength not to throw the case against the wall as he put the glasses away.

Hearing your quiet knocking, he’ll allow you entry and move to the side as you settle next to him on the bed. Wordlessly, you reach for the case, take out the glasses, and place them on his face, adjusting them until he’s no longer squinting at you. Seeing your smile as clear as day made the frustrations slightly less, but still. He hates wearing glasses.

4. He won’t ask for your attention.

He won’t ask you for it directly, no. He’ll mope around, coming up to you and asking what you’re doing. Regardless of your response, busy or otherwise, he’ll sit or stand next to you. He’ll watch what you’re doing and not say anything, just inching closer to you and pretending that he doesn’t notice you noticing what he’s doing.

At times, he’ll walk away for a couple minutes, with the excuse of getting a drink, only to come back empty-handed and lingering in your presence. He’ll start rambling to get your attention, whether that be about missions or his current level on a video game. When you finally get the hint and bring his chest against yours, you feel his breath steady in beat with yours as he sighs into the top of your head. He loves attention.

5. He loves you, he hates it. But he loves it more.

He appreciates that you’re an asset to the League. Your fighting skills are competent and your quirk has proven itself useful many times in battle. You’re able to hold your ground around other members of the League, Dabi especially. He doesn’t have to worry about a betrayal from your part, aware of your allegiance to the mission of destroying heroes.

He likes that you’re not picky when the League is scarce on food. He thinks it’s nice that you don’t care what you look like as you scarf down leftovers from nearly two days ago. He thinks your costume is neat, like one from a villain in a video game he used to play. He also likes what you look like under it. What you look like under him. The way you make him feel. He loves it.

And he hates it. The way you distract him from his goal of destroying. How your smile gives him hope, a concept so foreign to him that it makes him nauseous. He hates how aware he is of the mere countdown of societal destruction, and his role as the leader of such a movement. He hates it. But he loves it. He loves how you watch him with admiration as he fights the world’s top heroes.

He loves knowing you’re counting on him for a brighter future. He loves knowing that he’s the reason you’re standing down from the fight. He loves seeing you from far away, your midsection growing, solid proof of the legacy he plans to leave behind. Oh god, he loves it. He loves you.

[merlinspussy]

I was rewatching Merlin S5EP9 a little while ago and I noticed a little detail which, albeit doesn’t add anything to our understanding of the plot, really portrays Arthur as a character that has been both trained to kill from birth and someone who has faced several betrayals from the people he loves.

I’m not sure if anyone has pointed this out before, after all the show ended over ten years ago now but if that is the case, then I guess I’m adding my piece to this discovery:

In every single scene where Arthur and Gwen are together and he’s pretending he doesn’t know that she’s enchanted, he’s either defending himself or is ready to defend himself.

For example, I’ll start off with the obvious:

Arthur doesn’t eat or barely eats when he’s around enchanted Gwen.

Logically, Gwen’s probably not poisoned the food because one she’s already tried that and two I imagine the castle was on high alert for any poisoned food so soon after Arthur actually was poisoned. Even so, he can’t bring himself to eat the food because how can he be sure she hasn’t? She managed to poison him effortlessly before. He is going to let his guard down now he knows that he can’t (temporarily) trust her.

That said, he might not be eating because his wife has been ensnared by Morgana and any worry he is feeling is likely also ruining any appetite he might have. It’s up for interpretation I suppose.

Secondly:

In this scene, Arthur picks up a dagger and starts fiddling with it.

Subconsciously or not, his training and instincts have kicked in and he’s ready to defend himself if Gwen suddenly drops the ruse and attempts to kill him. Now obviously, Arthur wouldn’t dream of killing Gwen but, like I said earlier, he is a warrior who has been trained from birth and has also suffered numerous assassination attempts and betrayals from people who he has loved.

Now do I think Arthur initially struggled with reconciling enchanted Gwen and his wife? Of course, it’s only natural, but as we see here:

Arthur seems to realise that the wife before him is still the wife he loves and that any evil that was residing in her heart was not hers but Morgana’s. He seems to come to this because Gwen, though she is pretending, sounds remarkably sincere when she asks Arthur if she had done something to offend him. Which I feel is a very painful echo of something Gwen would say to Arthur had she not been enchanted. Which is why he promises that there is "nothing he would not do" for Gwen. He really wants his Gwen back.

All in all, I really like these details because I think it really fits Arthur’s character because it just reinforces how he has grown up. With the show’s comedic element, it can be easy to forget where these character have come from, especially Arthur who is more often than not shown to be a bumbling idiot with the emotional intelligence of a brick wall.

I also think it is the staple of good acting when an actor is able to embed unspoken quirks and mannerisms within their performance. It is the sort of dedication and detail which brings the characters to life.

[grahambaham]

Controversial opinion, especially for any Jason Todd fans out there (I'm one of them), but I completely understand why the fans in, the 80' I think, voted to kill him off. Hear me out, okay?

Jason was at first a literal Dick Grayson copy, was legit given his backstory and personality with the name being the only change. And for a while that was all they knew about and, rightfully so, hated about him. Now I'm not sure whether he was given the whole Alley kid who tried to steal Batman's tire story before or after his death but either way, in those fans' minds, Jason Todd was just a boring replica of Dick Grayson and no one liked him. If I was alive and a fan back then, I honestly would have done the same thing.

WHICH IS WHY I HAVE SUCH A HUGE PROBLEM WITH THE WRITERS DOING TO JASON THE EXACT SAME THING THAT GOT HIM KILLED OFF BEFORE!!!

Jason immediately after getting brought back to life was a villain. He wasn't misguided, he wasn't an antihero, my man was a Villain with a capital V. He didn't protect workings girls or children from any drugs or anything, he just made one off hand comment to a guy not to sell to kids and that's it. One of his only interactions with any prostitutes is to mock her for her past and decisions that led to her becoming one. Bruce did not abuse him or attack him unfairly. Jason had not only tried to kill Joker or other horrible villains, he killed anyone whether they were rapists, or robbers, or petty fucking thieves and he didn't do it for justice or whatever the fuck but because he was angry and taking it out on everyone he could get his hands on. He stopped Batman from going after Nightwing after Bludhaven blew up with him in it. He blew up a school. He beat up Tim in his little Robin panties and was a fucking villain.

I love Jason. But I love him as the messed up asshole he is. Not as some misguided wittle antihero. Which is why I despise the fact that the fandom latched onto the completely inaccurate version of him, because the writers of DC had started writing him the way the fandom wanted and he is now irreversibly ruined. Aside from the already mentioned stuff, they made him into a copy of Dick Grayson (for the second fucking time) and Helena Bertinelli.

Helena is the one protecting women and children, the antihero that often uses violent force. She's the one with the reluctant sibling relationship with Tim. Jason was not Tim's Robin by the way, Dick was. Tim does not like Jason one fucking bit and spends most of their forced interactions roasting him so bad he has to buy burn salves. Also her personality was taken and given to Jason in some ways too, like her manner of speech and stuff, but I'm willing to let that slide as accidental.

From Dick Grayson, they mostly took his relationships, romantic and platonic. Jason slept with Barbara and Kori both, which aside from just being dumb as hell is also weird and creepy because Jason is six years younger than them at least and they knew him as a fourteen year old when they were at least twenty, and they would never date someone so much younger than them, they aren't fucking creeps. Then they took Starfire and Arsenal and made them forget their own lives to join Jason's little antihero team (neither of them are antiheroes what the fuck) and act like the sun shines out of Jason's ass and he's their leader or some shit when they would never follow him before that, especially Roy who has led so many other teams and does not deserve that shit. Some fans also ship him and Jason, which is both creepy and character assassination for Roy's entire character more than him being friends with Jason and in the Outlaws already is.

Also, Pit Madness is not a thing you fucking brainless losers. Stop trying to justify and erase the flaws that make him an interesting character. His anger has always been due to the trauma of being tortured and dying and the misguided feeling of betrayal he felt for Bruce. He was unwell and taking his problems out on others. So, repeat after me: PIT MADNESS IS NOT A REAL THING!!!

Thank you for reading <3

[the0doreslover]

Hey, I wanted to ask if you take requests!! If you do would you do Theodore x Reader angst to fluff

where like Theo gets jealous because of a rumor and paranoid thinking Reader will leave him for someone else (you choose who) but In reality it was all just made up from some girl that has a crush on Theo

And at the end he apologises multiple times to Reader because he didn’t let her explain

If not just ignore this! Have a great day.

shadowed trust

Theodore had always been a bit of a paranoid guy, but he had never been this jealous before. He sat in the Slytherin common room, his brow furrowed as he read the newsletter. The rumor had spread like wildfire, and now it had even made it to the papers.

Theodore couldn't believe what he was reading. The words were etching into his mind, The rumor suggested that you, his girl, his darling was growing close to someone else. Someone he knew all too well, someone he had considered a friend – Adrien pucey.

It was as if a wand had been plunged into his heart, and he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. Theodore had never been one to easily trust others, but he had allowed you to breach the walls he had built around his heart. You were the one person who had made him believe in love again, especially after his mother, and now it felt like that love was slipping through his fingers.

That night Theodore couldn’t put himself to sleep his mind kept going back to the possibility that the whole time he was thinking of you with nothing less that love and adoration you were thinking of adrien, the supposed rival. He couldn't fathom the idea of losing you, of waking up one day to find that you were no longer a part of his life. The anxiety clawed at him, making it hard to breathe. He had to talk to you, had to know the truth, even if it meant facing his worst fears head-on.

That evening, he found you standing in the astronomy tower, a place were the two of you shared the most fond memories. You looked up and saw him approaching, a smile lighting up your face, but it quickly faded as you noticed the turmoil in his eyes.

"Teddy, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Is it true, what they're saying about you and adrien?" He couldn't bring himself to utter adriens name, the bitterness seeping into his words.

Your eyes widened in realization, and you quickly understood the source of his distress. "Theo, that rumor is false," you said earnestly. "I can’t believe you would even believe that, i don’t have feelings for anyone else. You're the one I love."

He stared at you, he wanted to believe you when he saw the sincerity in your eyes. But his insecurities quickly replaced that sight as he unfolded the paper that he pulled from his hoodie pocket and showed you the page that had a picture of two people in a heated situation.

“are you being serious? theodore you can’t even see their face!”

“when did you start thinking about him?”

“theodore what is wrong with you?”

“was it when we were on our first date?” he continued

“theo stop-“

“was it when i first said i love you?”

you stared at him in shock as he continued listing scenarios while walking closer to you.

“was it when i first made love-“

you didn’t want to listen anymore, your hand came and swiftly slapped across his face.

“don’t speak to me till you come to your senses” you scoffed with glossy eyes.

theodore seethed as he watched your figure walk away

The next day at breakfast was rough, you were sitting with luna while theodore sat with his friends

Draco crossed his arms, looking at Theodore with concern. " So you're letting baseless rumors ruin your relationship? You should trust her. i don’t know why i even have to tell you that"

Blaise nodded in agreement. "We all know how much you care about her. Don’t let something as stupid as rumours break a good relationship mate"

Pansy chimed in, "Theodore, i’ll give this to you bluntly, Y/n is my best friend and you really fucked up, i heard about everything last night she came back to our dorm in pieces and if you actually believe these rumours... Honestly you’ve made a right mess of this one"

Theodore sighed before noticing the familiar face of adrien on his way out the hall

It was him he should be angry with.

“You’re right” he started

“i know” pansy smiled

“i should be mad at adrien!”

before anyone could react theodore had gotten up and stormed out the hall where he had saw adrien.

“Oi Pucey”

“hm?”

Before adrien even registered who called him theodore’s fist had connected with his cheek.

Adrien was flung back and theodore didn’t even blink before jumping on top of the boy and beating him.

Ignoring the cheering crowd that had now formed the fight seemed to be getting worse as blaise and draco had now come to intervene.

you watched next to pansy in disgust as the boy you loved was beating a poor boy who hadn’t done anything.

adrien got a good few punches in near the end before finally they had been separated.

Theodore couldn’t hear anything as he felt himself getting more angrier by the minute. He stared back at the crowd and for a second his eyes met with yours before you turned away in disgust and dragged pansy along with you.

theo and adrien had both been taken to the infirmary with a strict warning from mcgonagall that if they do much as touched each other again there would be serious trouble.

they sat in silence for a few minutes before theo broke it.

“just tell me if they’re true”

Adrien looked taken aback by the sudden conversation. "I don't know what you're talking about, mate."

"Don't play dumb," Theodore snapped. "These rumors about Y/N and you. Tell me the truth."

Adrien hesitated,"I didn't start the rumors, but I heard people talking about it. I thought it was just gossip, nothing serious."

Theodore's anger shifted into frustration. "You should have put an end to it, not let it spread like wildfire."

Adrien looked remorseful. "I know. I'm sorry, when marissa asked me if there was anything going on i should have been more stern."

Theodore clenched his jaw, his anger dissipating as he realized what had happened "Marissa? Slytherin Marissa?”

“yeah”

“the one who has had a crush on me since second year!” he raised his voice a little bit

“oh shit! mate you need to apologise to y/n”

Just then, you entered the infirmary, carrying a tray with ice packs and ointments. You didn't say a word but walked over to then handing them an ice pack.

“madame pomfrey wanted me to give them to you” you said bluntly before making a move to walk away.

Theo wasn’t stupid he knew that madame pomfrey could of given it to them herself but he wasn’t about to question anything, he was just happy you had come to see him even if it was just to make sure they were still alive. He grabbed your hand quickly stopping you from leaving.

"Y/N, i’m sorry”

you didn’t say anything, instead you turned around and took the ice pack from him and placed it on his new forming bruise

“i should of trusted you”

You continued to apply the ice pack without meeting his gaze.

“i was being irrational and i know you would never cheat on me. I don’t deserve you, even now you’re here helping me”

you finally met his eyes

“i love you y/n”

“i love you too”

“i promise i won’t ever let a stupid rumour by stupid marissa get to me ever again”

“wait… marissa started this rumour? i’m going to bloody kill her” you spoke for the first time making theodore laugh

“it seems we’re both the jealous type no?” he grinned

a smile finally broke out on both your faces as he leaned into you, his lips meeting yours for a short sweet moment before adrien cleared his throat.

“piss off” theodore groaned before yanking the curtain around his bed and pulling you back into him.

[cod-dump]

Step dad Graves is so so funny. Especially if they’re close in age and both secretly love it whilst putting up a fuss. Let Ghost collect father figures and Graves get to impart knowledge . Let Graves hate it at first then get some Ghost lore and be like “…I’m not your stepdad I’m only 6 years older than you…… what do you mean you never had a birthday cake…… what do you mean you were made to laugh at a dying prostitute…… “well guess I’m getting this man a skull cake and we’re playing catch in the yard

The more Graves learned about Ghost the harder it was to pretend he didn’t like him.

They were barely friendly when they worked together going after Hassan and Graves’ betrayal ruined whatever that was. Graves cutting ties with Shepherd and fully working with 141 (to atone for his past and right wrongs all while being able to still work) Ghost had greeted him with much expected hostility.

And Graves responded with indifference. He figured things would stay that way, Ghost would never let go what happened and Graves would never show any care for the man beyond comrades. But then Graves started learning bits and pieces about him, the longer they were around each other the more Ghost started to start talking to him with actual conversations instead of threats. That’s how Graves learned about his fear of snakes. The Ghost, the man who would pick up a fucking spider bare handed, an animal lover to the core, was terrified of snakes.

Graves discovered this during a mission together. They had spent that time in that forest in almost complete silence, waiting for Price to give them the go ahead, when the fearsome Ghost jolted where he laid, flinging something into the bushes nearby before moving away from the spot he had laid in without even moving an inch for two hours.

“Fucking devilish bitch!”

Graves saw the tail end of a snake darting away, and that was when he learned about Ghost’s fear. And that would open up to him learning a lot more about Ghost, more than he ever imagined due to their not so friendly work environment. He, of course, originally was going to taunt Ghost over his rather surprising fear, planning to exploit it until it was no longer effective.

But, of course, he would learn something else related to the snake. Ghost seemingly was deep in his mind after running in with the limbless creature, and he offered up a explanation for his irrational fear (irrational considering all the other creatures he adores).

“Old man liked to force them in my face. Thought how I squirmed was hilarious.”

And just like that, after that piece of information was processed, Ghost didn’t say another word. Graves was left with that piece of history involving Ghost he never expected to learn, let alone from Ghost himself. And after that, Ghost seemed to open up to him more. Graves would like to think he heard himself some leeway with Ghost by not going through with his original intentions on teasing him. It was the only thing that made sense as to why Ghost was starting to warm up to him.

Warming up to him to the point he was willingly offering up more of his lore.

“Don’t like crowds, especially not in dark places.”

He dropped that on another mission, completely unprompted. It was a mutter just for Graves to hear, even though Gaz wasn’t far away. That made something stir within him, something about Ghost just telling him something instead of a man who he is considerably much closer with. And that slight tug of his heart strings became pulling when he learned why he didn’t like crowds. And his old man was behind the reason as well.

The more Graves learned about Ghost, the more he hated his probably long dead father. There was a twisted similarity to Mr. Riley and Graves’ own father. And that just made him become protective of Ghost. He started treating Ghost like he did his Shadows. He was pretty much Shadow materiel with skill and efficiency, but now he was a Shadow to Graves because of what he went through.

Graves had a type he went for when recruiting Shadows. He looked for skill, experience, attitude — But he also looked at their history. He has a soft spot for those with bad home lives, made him feel more connected with them. If he was looking over Ghost’s records with the intention of recruiting him into Shadow Company, man would’ve been a Shadow after he learned about Roba.

“Since when are you two friends?” Soap had questioned, Graves noticing the jealousy in his voice but also the curiosity.

“I can understand his accent better,” Ghost jabbed at Soap, his eyes squinting slightly to show he was smiling under his mask.

Soap made a very insulted gasp, “Oh, is that so?”

Graves felt at place finally, standing next to Ghost as he and Soap bickered. It turned playful rather quickly and Graves felt more at ease next to Soap than he had since they first met. And, dare he even think it, Ghost felt comfortable standing next to him. Finally opening up, finally dropping his metaphorical mask of hostility (Graves doubts he’ll take off his actual mask any time soon).

And, of course Price noticed. He noticed a while back, Graves knows he had. Man knows anything that has to do with his boys, especially Ghost. He hadn’t said a word, never hinted in any way to show he knew. He just acted like it had always been. It was like he wasn’t even surprised. Goes to show he knew Ghost was better than anyone.

“Good to see you two finally getting along,” Price said to Graves one evening, the two had long retired to bed while the boys stayed up playing cards (not UNO, they would be enemies before morning and it would take a few days to get them to drop the pettiness).

Graves hummed, taking a moment to realize what Price was talking about. He didn’t expect him to say anything without Graves mentioning it first.

“We’re tolerating each other.”

Price hummed back, slight smirk on his lips. He knew. He knew that Graves considers Ghost as one of his Shadows. As one of his boys.

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 5

summary: the morning after the party, paige and azzi grapple with their feelings. as they navigate the aftermath of their shared moment, both struggling to read each others' emotions and define their relationship.

cw: fluff, slight angst.

disclaimer: everything i write is fictional, any and all similarities to real life is not intensional.

word count 4.7k +

author's note: ik yall are fed up with my melodramatic ass i’m sorry 😭

paige's pov:

the morning light through my blinds is harsh and telling. the events of last night flood my mind. slow dancing in the street, pleading her to hear me out.

i remember everything.

the hurt in azzi's eyes, gentle and hopeful. her kiss on my forehead felt more like a goodbye than anything else. a rush of embarrassment courses through me. all my desperation for nothing.

years of carefully towing the line between friendship and something more, all undone by my alcohol fueled vulnerability. this wasn't to say i didn't mean it, though. i felt a strange relief that night, even if she hadn't believed me, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

i should text her and apologize.

my fingers hover over the screen, debating what i should say. what do i even tell her after all of this? i'm left without words, everything i've ever wanted to say, was said last night.

the words i want to type burn in my throat: "i meant every word i said."

but i can't bring myself to do it. the memory of azzi's pained expression, filled with a slight pity. her gentle rejection, while seemingly reluctant, stops me cold.

what if i tell her i remember and it ruins everything? what if my honesty costs me the most important person in my life?

my chest tightens, an anxiety builds between my ribs. and to make matters worse, i'm definitely hungover from last night.

maybe it's better if i just pretend i forgot.

the thought of denying my feelings feels like a betrayal—both to azzi and to myself. i've spent years hiding my feelings, making them smaller, more manageable. but now that they're out in the open, how can i possibly go back from that?

my mind races with possible messages to send her, each one feeling like a step backward. maybe this is what she wants? maybe azzi doesn't feel the same and was just trying to spare my feelings? give me an out, an opportunity to forget and move on.

she wouldn't let me tell her i was in love with her.

the phrase still lingers on my tongue, catching in my throat. i need to think logically here, but my mind is fuzzy and filled with what-ifs.

the next few days blur together in a haze of anxiety and embarrassment. every time my phone buzzed, my heart skipped a beat, hoping it was her.

i tried everything to keep my mind off of her. i spent hours on the court, lobbing up the ball. my performance was lacking, my body reflecting my mind. i ran drills until my legs burned and my lungs ached.

i couldn't outrun my feelings.

i prayed that god would save me from this. give me the right words, the courage to speak to her. i begged god to take her away from me if it wasn't meant to be.

every time i closed my eyes to pray, i saw her face.

i had a few days between the end of the season and training camp, so i went back home to minnesota. packing away all of my emotions in a carry-on bag. thinking that if i pretend to forget long enough, maybe i really will.

i can leave everything here, all of my mistakes, left behind in storrs.

i should be happy to see my family, especially after so long. i've missed them immensely, but as we greet each other, my mind still wanders to her.

"welcome home, paigey!" drew calls from the driveway, standing between my mother's legs. my heart aches, he's gotten taller since i last saw him.

"hi guys," i greet them both, my voice steadier than i felt. they helped me carry my bags into the house. it came naturally to them, after years of supporting me through tournaments and travel. but this time was different. this time, they were carrying more than just clothes and basketball shoes.

deep within those zippers—the heartache, the regret, my unspoken truth. everything i tried to leave behind.

the weight of my baggage laden on my family's shoulders.

the rest of the day, we fall into a familiar rhythm. mom's home-cooked meals, drew's relentless teasing, the comfort of my childhood bedroom. it was easy to slip back into the role of their little girl, a hometown prodigy, untouched by my mistakes of today. it's almost enough to make me forget about everything.

but during family dinners, i'd zone out, wondering what azzi was doing. checking her socials, even though i knew she wouldn't post. was she thinking of me? did she miss me? was this killing her too? i felt guilty for being so absent-minded from my family but i couldn't stop it.

they're my family but azzi was my home.

i went to bed feeling heavy. our days of no contact burdening my heart. it's the worst at night; i haven't been able to sleep much.

the darkness of my childhood bedroom felt suffocating. the walls closing in on me with the momentum only fear brings. my sheets tangle between my legs as i toss and turn. the bright red numbers of my alarm clock taunt me, blinking with expectation.

2:17 AM. i stared at the ceiling. my room so dark, i couldn't tell if my eyes were open.

i miss her voice.

the way she'd whisper to me in the dark of my bedroom. her words like a blanket, soft and heavy.

3:34 AM. i grab my phone, scrolling through our last text. my thumb twitches over her contact.

i miss her touch.

the calmness she carries in her fingertips. the way she ordered my body with just the stillness of her hands.

4:22 AM. i tuck my knees into my chest, burying my head between them. without her, i feel like a kid again.

i miss her eyes.

a knowing spark that glistened at me occasionally, cutting through her poised resolve. the way her eyes lightened when it caught flickers of sunlight, my little pool of honey.

caught in the small space between her eyelashes, i drifted to sleep. it'd only been an hour or two when i heard my phone ding. reflexively, my heart races, hoping it's her.

i reach for my phone, my heart stopping for a moment as i read the text. 

surprise hits me first. azzi's family had always been like a second family to me, but her timing is insane.

then comes a wave of dread. would it be weird? azzi and i haven't spoken in three days, not that i've been counting. our last interaction burned in my mind. does azzi even want me there? had she told her parents what happened?

hope flutters in my chest. maybe this is a chance to mend things, to be normal for a night. the thought is interrupted by a creeping sense of doubt in my gut.

what if azzi doesn't even know i'm invited?

my fingers hover over the keyboard. part of me wants to accept immediately, desperate for any connection to azzi. but another part of wants to decline, to shield myself from confrontation.

as a middle ground, i like the message. giving myself time to debate my decision. this dinner invitation feels like a crossroads. whatever i decide, it could change everything. again.

azzi's pov:

the familiar creek of the third step on the staircase takes me back. my grandparents' house held a special place in my heart. maybe it was the cozy 70's bohemian style that carried through their decor.

maybe it was the fact that it's only twelve minutes from paige's house.

i've been waiting for her to reach out first. after that night, after everything she said, i didn't know where her head was.

god, i feel awful.

i let my fear shut her down. i should have let her finish, should've told her i feel the same. she tried to tell me she's in love with me, words i'd been dying to hear since we were fifteen.

i tried to keep my mind off it, but the guilt was eating me alive. i threw myself into anything else, impatient to relieve this feeling.

i spent hours with my headphones on, letting the music drown out my thoughts.

but every song was about her.

the lyrics distorted to say her name, echoing through the cavern of my heart. i heard her soft breath between beats, real and steady. guitar chords mimicking the hum of her content.

when the silence became too much, i read for hours. clinging to the words on the page, desperate for them to take me away from this reality. i'd almost finished two whole books in the span of three days.

but every story mirrored our own.

i was living between the pages of my favorite romance novels. the missed connections and unspoken tension, all much too real to bring me any comfort.

every distraction felt hollow in comparison to my guilt. a persistent shadow, clouding everything i do.

the happiness that i used to find so easily, died on her lips that night.

the afternoon sun filtered through my curtains, i set the table, getting ready for dinner.

"azzi?" my mom calls from the kitchen while washing the dishes. "i was thinking you and grandma can make some of those chocolate chip cookies paige loves," her voice nonchalant.

my heart flutters when i hear her name, and before i can say anything, she continues. "i invited her over for dinner tonight," she says smiling.

paige. here. tonight. as in a few hours from now, tonight.

"what?" i choke out, my mind racing.

my mom misreads my panic for excitement. "i've missed her, you remember all the summers she's spent here," she says, looking back down at the dishes.

how could i possibly forget?

i sprinted back upstairs, my thoughts spinning. she was going to be here. sitting at my dining room table, looking as beautiful as always. after everything that happened.

i imagined all the different ways tonight could go. what if she doesn't want to see me? what if i ruined everything?

i hope she meant everything she said.

my thoughts shifted to my appearance. if tonight really was going to be the night i finally open up to her, i needed to look nice. i tear through my closet, clothes littering my floor.

i settle on a soft pink sweater. she once told me she liked the fabric, she'd run her fingers down my spine melodically.

maybe she'd reach out to touch me tonight.

my hands shake slightly as i apply my mascara. i fan out my eyelashes, i wanted her to look at me. when i get to my lipgloss, i'm reminded of her. all these little moments we'd share, carried a new heaviness after her confession. i dab a bit of concealer under my eyes, hoping to create an illusion of peace i don't feel.

i stare at myself in the mirror, imagining finally meeting her eyes. rehearsing what i might say to her.

"i'm sorry. i should've let you finish. i feel the same way."

the words blend together in my head, like a mantra. i'm going to get it right this time.

i take a deep breath, attempting to steady my heart rate. tonight could change everything, for good this time. if she remembers, if she still wants me, i'm hers.

i'll tell her everything.

i hear a car door slam outside. she's here. a combination of fear and hope stirs in my stomach. we can make things right.

i run down the stairs to open the door. our eyes lock, and my world falls away from me. there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, looking just as vulnerable as she did that night. her lips parted slightly, the ghost of her confession haunting her expression. her eyes soften, just for a second, before she catches herself.

"hey, az," she says, her voice a little too casual. "it's been a while."

we hug awkwardly, our bodies stiff with the burden of unspoken words. "yeah," i say into her shoulder. i'm upset with myself, i still can't find the words.

instead, i just hold her a bit tighter. a firm grip on her shirt, i feel her heartbeat race against my chest. for a moment, i think she might pull away, but then i feel it—her finger, tracing down my spine, dancing over my vertebrae through the soft fabric of my sweater.

just when i begin to melt into her touch, she pulls back, holding me at arm's length. when we part, there's a soft pink flush in her cheeks that wasn't there before. she flashes me an awkward smile, raising her eyebrows slightly, before leaving to greet my family.

does she remember? is this her way of telling me?

we held on for a moment too long, our embraces lingering past the point of a casual greeting. i'm left standing right where she left me, my skin still tingling where she'd touched. the motion of her fingers, like morse code on my spine, a message i'm desperate to decode.

i watch as she effortlessly charms my family, slipping back into the role as their favorite. the floor buzzes underneath my feet with an undercurrent of tension.

paige belongs here, she always has.

at dinner, we sit next to each other, our elbows almost touching. i swear these chairs were not this close together when i set the table.

as everyone settles in, an uncomfortable silence falls upon the table. i catch my dad shooting my mom a look, gesturing for her to say something. she returns the look, annoyed, then looks down at her plate. she opens her mouth to speak but my grandma cuts her off.

"azzi, honey, you never bring any nice boys around. haven't met anyone special yet?" she smiles between mouthfuls.

boys? huh.

paige nearly chokes on her food, a smirk flickering across her lips. regaining her composure, she glances at me, holding in a laugh. her eyes are wide, filled with anticipation, eager for my response.

she can't help herself, chiming in, "yeah, azzi. no cute boys catching your eye?" her voice drips with mock innocence. i catch her tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek, a gesture of pure arrogance. she tilts her head to the side, eyes searching my face.

god, she looks hot when she's being cocky like this.

"i been...busy. you know how it gets in college," i avoid her eyes, careful not to let my thoughts show. but inside, i'm screaming.

i do have someone special. she's sitting right next to me.

my grandma doesn't let up, clearly amused by the topic. "come on, a pretty girl like you? what about that nice boy from the men's team?"

i feel a heat burn through my face, spreading down my neck. i bounce my leg anxiously, trying to find a way to change the topic.

she continues, "i'm just saying, honey. love is a beautiful thing." her eyes shift to paige now. "you shouldn't let it pass you by," she examines our response.

i look up to meet her eyes, attempting to speak up again, when i feel it suddenly. paige's hand rests on my thigh, a bit higher than my knee, slowing my nervous shake to a stop. the placement feels almost suggestive, more intimate than our usual touch.

my breath catches for a moment, and i become aware of the warmth of her palm against my skin. she speaks with her hands, for the second time tonight, stroking her thumb in a sweet, yet somewhat possessive gesture. she gives me a reassuring squeeze before speaking up.

"she brings me around, am i not special, grandma fudd?" paige interjects, pouting; her voice playful but sincere.

she speaks with intention and a hint of something—protection? possession?

my grandma's face lights up like this was the reaction she's wanted the whole time. "oh, of course you are, sweetheart." her eyes darting between us, "i've always thought you two share something very...unique."

the way she says the word 'unique' makes my stomach flip. had she seen it all this time? had everyone seen it? were we the last two to notice?

paige's hand remains on my thigh, a comforting weight. i cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently. a silent thank you.

the rest of dinner goes smoothly, chatting about old memories and stories. i'm desperate to know what's going through paige's mind. i notice the little things:

the way our hands brush when she passes me the salt, our fingers meeting for a moment too long.

the stolen glances when she thinks i'm not looking. the way her eyes flutter when i catch her looking.

how she stumbles over her words when they ask about our last hangout, avoiding eye contact.

the way she tenses up when our knees touch underneath the table, but she doesn't move away.

each moment is a contradiction of the last. her actions are a slow waltz—a push and pull between familiarity and distance. by the end of the night, i'm convinced she remembers. but something inside her keeps pushing it away.

i don't wanna pretend anymore.

after a few hours of this, i know i can't let this continue for much longer. we need to talk, really talk. and soon.

paige's pov:

"can we talk?" azzi's voice is soft and hesitant. my heart skips a beat, a familiar palpitation i've felt around her for years.

i nod, following her up the familiar stairs to her childhood bedroom. the staircase is lined with family photos, filled with memories i've been trying so hard to forget—or pretend to forget.

how can i truly forget when azzi's smile in these pictures makes my chest tighten? she's been missing from my heart for years, it swells at the thought of her.

azzi shuts the door behind us gently, my eyes scan her bedroom. it hasn't changed much, still leaking with her personality. her bedroom walls are covered in photos of us, a tapestry of memories.

i catch sight of an old film camera. azzi's grandma had given it to us right before i moved to storrs. the sight of it brings a rush of emotions from that night i'm not prepared for.

"you still have this?" i ask, lifting the camera. it feels heavier than i anticipated, or maybe i just feel weak under azzi's gaze.

she unravels me in just a few blinks.

her eyes soften, "yeah, of course. we used to take that thing everywhere."

my heart aches at the memory—taking the camera to games, practices, summer trips. i liked the challenge of capturing her beauty between tiny frames of film. though, no photo could ever truly capture the extent of her allure, i had fun trying. i'll always be her photographer, and she'll always be my perfect model.

"do you remember the first roll we ever shot on here?" i tilted the camera, my voice softer than i intended.

"yeah," she says, pointing to a set of photos on the left side of her wall.

i lean in to look at a photo of myself, mouth full of azzi's grandmas' cookies. i'm smiling at the camera, my happiness driven by azzi standing on the other side of the lens.

we were so young.

as i look at the photo, memories flood back. azzi watches my expression, noticing my composure change. "we captured some good memories that night..." she trails off, deep in thought.

like our first kiss.

that was probably one of the best decisions i've ever made. the memory washes over me, warm and bittersweet. the softness of her lips, the slight tremor in her breath. we were so young, so nervous, yet so sure in that moment.

it was simple then. our feelings existed in the small space between our lips, protected from the outside world. i didn't have to put words to the flutter in my chest or the warmth in my cheeks.

loving azzi was as natural as breathing, just as essential too.

i miss the simplicity of it all. i could love her without the burden of expectation. i'd prove it to her eagerly, in everything i did. holding her hair back when she drank too much. folding her clothes cause she hated doing laundry. reading her favorite books, desperate to understand her mind.

our love was in the details—the way she'd adjust my form in practice, save the last of her favorite snacks for me, read to me so i could fall asleep.

loving her has always been the easiest thing. it's everything else that's gotten so complicated.

i want someone, something to blame for this. is this just how things get as you age? the simplicity of love becoming frustratingly far away. maybe it was time, the pressure of sports, or maybe this was bound to happen. maybe we were always meant to put words to these feelings—to call it out boldly by it's name.

maybe it's time.

everything from that night reappears in my mind, this time under a different lens. the thoughtful box of memories azzi gave me that night—had she felt the same way all this time?

i glance at azzi, noticing a sudden change in her expression. she looks like she's just remembered something important, her eyes widening slightly. she starts to pick at her fingers nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"hey, paige?" azzi asks, still looking down at her hands. "did you ever finish that book i gave you that night?" her voice brimmed with nervousness. she radiated an emotion i couldn't quite place, clinging to my response like it will save her from her feelings.

i shake my head, feeling a little guilty. "not quite. i saved the last chapter."

i learned that from her actually. the way she cherished the things she loved, always saving them for the right time.

azzi's eyes light up, a mixture of relief and anticipation washing over her. "you should read it," she says quickly, her voice carrying an urgency that confused me.

she hesitates before continuing, her eyes closing for a moment in a long blink. "about the other night, when you said..."

my body goes cold. my drunken confession. i panic, the fear of confronting my feelings overwhelms me.

what if she's just trying to let me down easy? what if i misread everything?

"oh, yeah?" i force out a laugh. "i hope i didn't say anything too embarrassing, you know how i get when i drink."

i can't risk it again. i'm sorry, azzi.

azzi's face falls slightly, but she quickly masks it. her eyelids flutter, she stares at the floor. i can see the thoughts flickering through her mind. she sees right through me.

"no, no you weren't embarrassing," her voice lowering to a whisper. she locks eyes with me now, intent on making me hear her. "you were actually quite...poetic."

i'm no poet, i was just speaking from the heart.

i swallow hard, knowing she's giving me another opportunity. but i resist, remembering the pity in her eyes that night. "poetic, huh? that doesn't sound like drunk me at all," i joke weakly.

azzi narrows her eyes at me, tilting her head to the side. "you don't remember anything at all?" she questions.

i refuse to meet her gaze, "it's all pretty fuzzy, az."

i'm lying, and we both know it. but i can't bear to see that look of pity in her eyes again.

she takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated. she mutters an "okay" underneath her breath.

the sound of rain pattering against the window fills the silence between us. i hadn't even noticed the storm brewing outside, too caught up in the storm of emotions in this room.

"listen, it's getting late i should go," i say, my voice strained like i'd been screaming, even though i hadn't said anything at all.

as i turn to leave, azzi calls out, her voice soft yet determined. "paige, you can talk to me...when you're ready."

god, she's still so sweet to me. i don't deserve it, not now.

i pause at the door, guilt coursing through me. i know she sees through my lie, knows i remember everything. she knew the moment i stepped foot into this house. she could see it in the softness in my eyes, feel it beneath my fingertips.

"thanks, az," i whisper, before walking down the stairs.

for a moment, i'm tempted. to stay, to talk, to finally be honest. but the fear of getting rejected again, of ruining what we have, is too strong.

katie stopped me as i headed for the door, "leaving already?" she looks a bit sad. "it's pouring out there, why don't you stay the night?"

and share a bed with azzi? after that conversation, absolutely not.

"thanks, but i'll be fine. it's not far," i insist, grabbing my keys.

as i head for the door, i catch a glimpse of azzi's face. hurt, confusion, and something else—disappointment?—flash across her features. but i can't stay.

i step out into the rain, letting it mask the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes. my hands shake as i fumble with my car keys, nearly dropping them in a puddle.

i'm doing the right thing.

the mantra echoes in my mind as i slide into the driver's seat, but it rings hollow. i grip the steering wheel, willing myself to believe it.

i can't let my feelings for her get in the way of our friendship. i'd be selfish to put my emotions over our relationship again. i'd be anything she wants me to be—even if that's just a friend.

i'm doing the right thing.

i turn the key into the ignition, reversing out of her driveway. the intensity of the storm matching the turmoil in my heart as i drive away, leaving azzi and the truth behind.

i can't be wrong again. i can't bear the thought of her letting me down easy, telling me she doesn't feel the same.

i'm doing the right thing.

back at home, my guilt eats its way through my stomach. a relentless ache that promises a sleepless night. my eyes drift to my nightstand, where a worn copy of looking for alaska rests- the book azzi gave me years ago.

sometimes when i'd sleepover at her place, i'd pretend like i couldn't sleep so she could read to me. her voice soothing like a lullaby, i lost myself between her breaths. heavy and melodic, her cadence became my cough syrup, drifting me to sleep.

i flip open to the final chapter, determined to finally finish the book. memories flood back, the way her words coated my thoughts, i can almost hear it now, as i start to read.

i've put this off for so long. terrified of the ending, the finality of a precious memory between azzi and i. saving the final chapter for the right moment. maybe that moment is now.

as i turn the last page, a small slip of paper flutters out. simple yet somehow charged with potential. i unfolded the paper, recognizing the handwriting immediately.

azzi.

my heart pounds as i begin to read. the first few words hook me in, something all too familiar. my breath quickens, my lungs expanding like i'm breathing for the first time.

i didn't need to find the words, she already had. years ago.

by the time i finish, my hands are shaking. the room spins slightly. in a strange paradox of emotions. her words lifted a weight from my chest, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. yet simultaneously, a new weight settles on my shoulders—the gravity of what i need to do now.

how long had this been there? sitting on my nightstand, packed in a suitcase, tucked into a bookshelf. how many times have i almost read this, almost known?

i guess we've both been hiding something.

i leaped from my bed, grabbing my keys, slamming the door behind me. i was exhausted seconds ago, but now, sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. i need to see her. to talk to her. to make it real.

we've wasted too much time already.

[eliasorchard]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — william j. moriarty

: william james moriarty x fem!reader, angst, comfort at end

: warnings — assassination, gore, reader kills her ex-'friend'

: time has passed, the betrayal felt in your heart has softened, and yet it all comes crashing down like a house of cards when you meet your once 'dearest friend' again. her, now a corrupt noblewoman: you decide to take matters into your own hands. but what will that exactly entail?

tonight's show was a pleasant affair — after reading about the performance at the opera tonight via the papers, you just knew you had to go (and take the love of your life). and of course, william being the devoted lover that he is, how could he refuse that excited face of yours? that gleam in your eyes and that enthusiastic smile on your face?

"i hope you're not too cold, my dear." he whispers, leaning in closer to you. the two of you are in your own private box, seated on plush velvet seats and looking over at the stage where the actors perform beautifully.

you shake your head. "no, i'm not." you smile at him. "i'm feeling warm. very comfortable." you pull the coat william offered you further closer to yourself, rubbing the fabric with your fingers absentmindedly. you're more than grateful he's here with you. after what occurred with your friend all those years ago, your emotions have been on a rollercoaster since, you couldn't help it. it's followed you throughout your life, has made you distrusting of others — you name it.

but william stayed, all throughout the rough times and the difficulty you'd been experiencing. his love never faltered.

"that is good." he nods, acknowledgingly. "...look over there."

and your eyes travel forwards to the stage, a flurry of lights; now lit softly like feathers dancing in the air. and for a mere second the entire opera, previously dim, is lit with it's luminance. it was beautiful, dazzlingly bright and had everybody's lips parting. but in that split second, when the lights shone down upon the audience, that was when you saw it. saw her. the muscles in your body froze instantly.

and william could tell something was wrong, especially when he saw you go pale and how your fingers tightened around the armrests. he puts a comforting hand on your arm, "darling... are you alright? what's wrong?"

it's like you're unable to speak, your mouth refuses to open. so william takes the initiative instead, his gaze follows your own to look where your eyes are so stuck upon. he sees it, sees her. you'd talked about her before, this person who'd ruined the majority of your childhood and teenager years. he instantly becomes sympathetic, caresses your cheekbones that are sweating with the back of his fingers.

olivia. it was her — the woman who'd stolen your inheritance and destroyed your name.

"do you wish to head home?"

this woman, she had married a nobleman. both the spouses were very corrupt and treated those of lower stations than them harshly — meaning they were already on his kill list. but the assassination can wait for another time, he thought. his priority right now is getting you away from her.

you feel a droplet of sweat on the back of your neck and it frustrates you to no end. you thought you were over this, had healed from whatever scars she'd left on your heart. was it fear you felt? or anger over the fact that she was still able to command these emotions out of you? this fear?

"...i," you begin slowly.

william leans in further, prods you on carefully. "yes?"

you inhale sharply, make an effort to compose yourself and part your lips: "i... want her life, william."

"..."

now it's his time to freeze, never did he think he'd have to hear you saying that before. but he understands, this was the extent to how deeply she'd hurt you. he takes his time thinking before eventually answering. "alright," he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead. "anything you wish for."

you stir awake to the sound of fabric shuffling. with some effort, you sit up in bed. it's the middle of the night so you have to blink multiple times for your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounds you. "mmn-.. william?"

the fabric stops shuffling for a mere second, as if to confirm that you'd called out his name. "you're awake?"

you nod your head, and wonder if he can even see with how dark it is. "you're leaving?" you don't ask where he's going, you already know the answer to that.

"yes, louis is going to groom the horses for a bit before we head out." you hear the sound of footsteps nearing you. the next thing you know, he's placed a soft kiss on your nose. he pulls back. "i'll be back soon.. wait for me in your dreams?"

you smile at that. "alright."

and just like that, as immediately as his footsteps came over, they disappear just as quickly, leaving you in the dark.

you shift to the edge of your bed once you hear him gone, you feet dangling off the edges. there's a grim expression on your face. you've already set your mind to it:

you're going to be the one to take her life. no one else.

living with william james moriarty meant being able to plan things meticulously was a given. and you, too, had picked it up. the ornate wall sconces cast long shadows as you slip through the hallway of the manor. though your breathing comes rapid and shallow, your footsteps make no sound as you steal towards the bedroom at the end of the hall.

in your clenched fist is a slender blade, the steel catching the flickering light as you progressed. too long had you carried the scars of betrayal — tonight, the debt would be repaid in full. reaching the bedroom door, you pause to steady your nerves. beyond lies the woman who ruined your life, who left you broken and destitute after ruining you.

olivia's crimes had gone unpunished for far too long under the protection of wealth and status. no more. you push the door open with a gentle creak, entering the bedroom as soundless as a wraith. moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating the four poster bed. there, tangled in silken sheets, lied olivia asleep - oblivious to her doom.

you steel yourself, approaching on light feet. you gaze down at olivia's slumbering form, at the perfectly sculpted face that had smiled so sweetly while engineering your downfall. and your hands start to shake, the knife trembling, as a storm of emotion swirls within — hatred, fear, vengeance.

no longer will you let these emotions control you, no longer will you let her control you. her death will provide you salvation and peace, you were sure of it.

yet in is in that moment that olivia stirs, eyes fluttering open to lock with your own across the bed. a gasp of shock escapes olivia's lips as recognition dawns. "you..! what are you doing here—" she breathes, starting to sit up.

but you are too swift. the blade flashes silver in the moonlight as it comes arching down towards olivia's exposed throat. there is a wet sound, a hissing gasp, and suddenly the sheets are staining crimson. olivia's body spasms once, hands grasping uselessly at the knife lodged in her neck before eventually going still. chest heaving, you stare down at the corpse, feeling.... nothing.

why was it so? why did you not feel the satisfaction you thought that you would feel? there is nothing — no relief, no catharsis, only emptiness and disgust. at yourself.

what did you do? what have you become?

a killer? your figure trembles as they look down at your now blood stained hands. reality sets in.

a floorboard creaks behind you and you whirl around, bloody blade trembling before you. "name—...?" it was james, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. he was supposed to be the one to take olivia's life tonight and yet,

william shortly makes his way up the stairs, now finished with assassinating olivia's husband. before even entering the room, he'd noticed the expression on james' face and the mentioning of your name. he should have taken this into account; constantly asking questions about the planning, who would be the one to take her life, when the plan would be set in action.. he stands silhouetted in the doorway, taking in the grim scene with hooded eyes.

"it is done, then." he says quietly. "are you.. hurt anywhere?"

"i—i didn't feel how i thought," you whisper brokenly. "there is no peace in this." you stagger away from the bed, wiping your hands on your clothes but you only succeed in spreading more gore. the blade falls from your hand and hits the marble floor with a clatter. your stomach roils and you clap a hand over your mouth, fearing you may vomit.

a heavy footfall announces william crossing the room. gently, he takes your arms to turn you towards him. instantly he's gathering you into your arms. you cry until you can no more, until your sobs have faded to weary silence in william's arms. he holds you tight to him, his chest hurts seeing you like this. it is heartbreaking seeing you like this.

pulling back to brush fallen hair from your eyes, he gazes down at you with affection "my dear, you have suffered more than any should," he murmurs. "let me ease your pain."

you try to look away, ashamed, but william's slender fingers catch your chin softly until your eyes meet once more.

"i will gladly bear the weight of your sins, (name)," william continues, "that guilt... let me take it. from this moment forth, consider olivia's death mine and mine alone. you need not dwell in pain any more."

a visible tremble courses through your body at his words. "...no, i cannot ask that of you. the crimes are mine to atone."

but william smiles gently. "you ask nothing.. i give this freely, for your light is worth far more than any life i have taken." william lifts the back of your hand to his lips in a lingering kiss that is a oath and a promise all its own.

when at last he speaks again, his voice is tender: "let me bear your sins, (name), and allow me to find what small peace i can in easing your heavy burden. say you will accept this from me, my love, and let your torment be no more."

"..." a sob catches in your throat, and all you can do is nod through very grateful tears. at last the shadows, although still heavy, feel lifted. it may still haunt you, but you know that william will be there for you all throughout it.

he will stand between you and your darkness, forever will.

just like he always has, and just like he always will.

"thank you."

© 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 ;; do not repost, translate or modify my works in any way or any platform. all rights reserved.