#thank you to everyone who reblogs or comments

[flawssy-227]

thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged this story! there will be another part posted today at 5pm :). can't wait for y'all to read it!

The Babysitter | Joel Miller x F!reader

hello :) first time writing/posting a pic in actual years (first time on this blog also). hope you enjoy. please leave some feed back!

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader, no outbreak au! Sarah lives! slight age gap

summary: you baby sit for Joel and the two of you can't keep your hands off each other

warnings: slight age gap, dirty talk, babysitter kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, m!receiving oral, mentions of dicks... I think that's all

word count: 1.9

rating 18+

The sun had long faded in Austin, the only light in the Miller’s living room was coming from the floor lamp and the television, which was on but turned down low so you wouldn’t disturb Sarah. You had just put her to bed at Joel’s request. A short text sent to you earlier, knowing that you’d be babysitting a little longer than normal on Tuesday night.

Gonna be a late one. Sorry princess.

You’d simply given him a ‘thumbs up’, not really minding hanging out with your favorite 8 year old. Your afternoon had been wildly enjoyable with Sarah–she was way too mature for her age and it was probably inappropriate how much you considered her a friend, but whatever, you’ve had a stressful couple of weeks and she was one of the only bright spots. Well, her, and her incredibly attractive father that you sometimes hook up with.

Things with you and Joel were… how should you put it? Complicated? 

You had started babysitting for Joel and Sarah during the first semester of your Master’s program at University of Texas, just a little over a year ago. You and Sarah fell into an easy routine–you would pick her up from school, help her with her homework, and give her some of the feminine energy she was surely missing with only having Joel and her Uncle Tommy around. And you really enjoyed it. You were never one for little kids, and at her age, you were certain she would be annoying as hell to deal with, but nope, Sarah Miller was intelligent and inquisitive, albeit a little headstrong. You admired her, and really respected Joel for doing his best practically on his own.

You and Joel also fell into an easy routine. One night of staying late and sharing beers led to you face down and ass up on his couch and having one of the best orgasms of your life. You both promised each other you would quit, not wanting to complicate anything since you and Sarah had such a close bond, but you quickly broke that promise, again and again and again.

After a few months of hooking up a couple nights a week, Joel told you he was seeing someone–Tess, an age appropriate mom from Sarah’s class and he wanted to pump the brakes on whatever it was the two of you were doing. You acquiesced, begrudgingly, but it was only a few weeks later that Joel said things didn’t work out and you ended up back in his bed, on his couch, and bent over the kitchen counter.

It wasn’t serious between the two of you. You had a lot going on with wrapping up the last semester of your Public Policy Master’s, and he was busy building his business and raising his daughter. But that doesn’t mean you would be opposed to something a little more serious developing. In fact, you were pretty sure you were in love with Joel. But he definitely didn’t need to know that.

You must’ve been completely zoned out as you didn’t hear Joel’s old pickup truck pull into his driveway before he entered his living room and called your name.

“Hey princess,” he said, that deep Texas drawl that made your insides melt flowing easily from his pouty lips. “How’s Sarah?”

“Perfect, as always.” You glanced up from the couch shooting a smile his way.

God, he loved your smile.

“She helped me make dinner and then we did her homework. I deep conditioned her hair, too,” you added. “You know, you gotta take her to a salon once in a while, Joel. You know, one that knows about black hair?” You had been bugging him that the 15-in-1 monstrosity he calls shampoo he and Tommy use would not work on Sarah’s curls.

Joel smirks to himself, absolutely loving the way you care about his daughter. “I’m workin’ on it, darlin’.”

A comfortable silence hits the room and Joel goes to his fridge to grab two beers. Your gaze is back on the TV, some old episode of Law & Order playing that barely has your attention.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, reaching for the beer without looking at him.

“Had a date.”

“Tommy Miller has a date? Now that is surprising.” You giggle as you take a sip of your beer. Joel tracks the way your throat looks as you swallow.

He takes his time to take in what you’re wearing. A sweater that tapers around your waist perfectly and a short black skirt. You look sexy, effortless. Joel realizes you always do. Like everything you wear is custom just for you.

“Is this how you dress for work, darlin’?” He lets his large fingers play with the edge of your skirt, barely grazing over your skin. “Kinda slutty,” he adds, smirking at your surprised face.

You school your features quickly and he knows he’s screwed by the sickeningly sweet smile that graces your face. You quickly place your beer on the coffee table in front of the couch and turn to face Joel. “Me? Slutty? No, Mr. Miller, I’m a good girl.”

Joel eyes you from head to toe so slowly that you feel little bursts of heat crawling over your skin. He frowns at you playfully, groaning exaggeratedly as he takes another draw from his beer. “Don’t know about that, princess. Good girls don’t wear slutty little skirts like this to work.” His hand slides up your skirt and grazes over the damp slit of your underwear before he tugs them down your legs. The low whistle he lets out sends a chill down your spine. 

“And good girls definitely don’t wear tiny little panties like this to work.” He brings your thong to his nose, lewdly taking a deep inhale that only makes your wetness grow greater. “Dirty girl,” he sighs out. “Trying to seduce your boss?”

You moan at the sight of him, it was so debauched, so dirty, but it only made you more eager to fall into whatever role play this was. 

“No, Mr. Miller, I would never try to seduce you. I promise I’m a good girl,” you plead. You watch as he absentmindedly toys with your damp thong, running his other hand over his growing bulge. You get an idea that’s going to drive Joel wild.

“Can I show you, Mr. Miller?” you ask, earning a quirked brow from Joel. “Can I show you just how good of a girl I am?”

Joel groans at how easily you fell into this dynamic tonight, not necessarily what he had planned when he came home. He spreads his legs and pats his thighs, “Yeah baby, show me how good you can be.”

You eagerly hop off the couch, taking a throw pillow with you and placing it on the ground and kneeling on it in between his legs. You let your hands rub across the tops of his thighs and give him a wide eyed look that he would almost call innocent if he didn’t know you better. You reach for the zipper of his jeans, grazing your fingers over his bulge before you pull his hard cock out and sigh dreamily. Joel definitely had the best looking dick you’ve ever seen.

Growing impatient at your slow pace, Joel grabs the back of your head and you instinctively stick your tongue out to lick at his tip. You groan at the heady taste of precum on the bulbous head. You slowly start to jerk him off, keeping your mouth only at his tip to tease him.

“You gonna show me how good little babysitter’s suck cock, princess?” he peers down at you, watching how your eyes flutter closed at his words. 

You let out a needy whine. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

You inhale deeply, making debauched eye contact with Joel before you take as much of him as you can down your throat. Joel was big–thick and long in a way that your friends swore you were exaggerating. You’ve taught yourself how to take him down your throat, proud that you were able to go from taking a meager 4 inches of him when you first started hooking up, to now being able to brush against his trimmed hair at the base.

You can taste the sweat from his work day on your tongue as you start to move up and down. Your cheeks hollow out to make a suction and drool is pooling from your mouth. You’re trying not to gag, but the sheer size of Joel makes it damn near impossible. He looks down at you, eyes filled with something a little more than lust as he watches you swallow his cock further into your throat. Spit bubbles are pooling at the side of your mouth and your eyes are glassy with unshed tears. He shuts his eyes tight trying to stave off his orgasm–wanting to enjoy you just a little while longer. You release him with a pop and jerk him off as you start sucking his balls.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Miller?” you ask teasingly, voice already sounding a little hoarse from the exertion.

He looks back down at you, willing himself not to cum. He hums and nods the best he can, scared words will be too much for him.

You shift on your knees, readjusting as you gear yourself up to take him again. Joel thrusts slightly into your mouth, fitting perfectly and you moan around him, the vibrations making him twitch in the back of your throat. You push him deeper into your throat and Joel places his hand on the back of your head in a way that’s less forceful, and more caring. Like he’s just reassuring you that he’s there. He’s making little grunts and moans and you can’t help but drool a mix of your spit and his precum down onto his balls.

You look up at him and see his brown eyes softly looking back down at you. Way too sweet for what you’re doing.

You’re getting sloppier and sloppier, veering towards cock drunk as Joel tells you he’s about to cum.

“Where d’ya want me, baby,” he slurs, in his own fucked out state.

You can’t let up now with Joel being so close to finishing. You bare down, deep throating him to a point that nearly makes you gag, but you will yourself to power through it. Joel starts to thrust into your warm, wet mouth before he moans a little too loud and spills his cum down your throat. 

He’s so deep you barely taste him, only letting yourself up when you feel him relax underneath you.

You both catch your breaths for a moment and after a while, Joel pulls you up from your underarms and sets you over his lap. You almost forgot you weren’t wearing any underwear as your now soaking heat is pressed over his wet cock. Even soft it’s firm and thick. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes heavily. Brown eyes looking down into yours before he kisses you sloppily, tasting himself on your tongue.

You smile appreciatively, dropping your head to his shoulder and smelling the remnants of his cologne from earlier in the day. You’re insanely horny now but happy nonetheless that you made him this fucked out, feeling a surge of confidence at the thought.

“So,” you start, your smile breaking the warm silence between you two, “am I a good girl?”

Joel laughs, rubbing absent minded circles on your back. He thinks he loves you. “Yeah, princess, you’re the best damn girl around.”

**if you made it this far please leave a like, comment, reblog or a dm with some feedback! I want to get back into writing so this was just me dusting off the cobwebs... ty :)

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 2 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. He knew there was no point in pushing further. Grace was like a fortress, guarding whatever secrets you had entrusted her with. Talking to her felt futile, like arguing with a wall that refused to crack.

“I won’t press you for more answers,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension lingered in his tone. “At least tell me this—is she in trouble? Is someone trying to hurt her or threaten her?” His jaw tightened as he spoke, his concern leaking through despite his best effort to remain composed.

Grace hesitated before answering. “No,” she replied firmly, her gaze unwavering.

A part of Bucky felt a wave of relief at her reassurance. If Grace said you weren’t in danger, then maybe you were safe. But another part of him sank deeper into confusion and sadness. For two years, you had been his constant, his safe harbor.

You weren’t just his wife on paper; you had been someone he could rely on, someone who listened to him without judgment. Now, the thought that you might be facing something he had overlooked made him feel hollow.

Had he missed something? Overlooked a sign? The thought gnawed at him as he stood there in silence. You had always been a good listener, absorbing his worries and frustrations like a sponge. Better than any therapist he’d ever paid for. In fact, since marrying you, he had stopped going to therapy altogether.

But then it hit him. You’d rarely opened up about your own life. He couldn’t even recall the last time you shared anything personal. Was that his failure? Not listening to you when you needed him most? His chest tightened with guilt as he realized that the contract, which was supposed to ensure mutual understanding, might have become a barrier instead of a bridge.

Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He glanced at the screen and saw the agency’s number.

“Mr. Barnes, it’s about the arrangement,” the voice on the other end said.

“What is it?” His tone was curt, impatient.

“Your wife has decided not to renew the contract.”

He gritted his teeth. “I know that already.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice continued, cautiously. “But she also returned the money you gave her.”

Bucky froze, his grip on the phone tightening. “What?”

“She left it with us. I’m sorry for the way this unfolded, Mr. Barnes. If you have time, we’d like to meet and discuss this in person.”

He clenched his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“Understood. One more thing—Miss L/N left a message. She wanted you to know that she’s sorry.”

Bucky ended the call without a word. His mind was racing, a cacophony of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t untangle.

As he turned to leave, Grace finally broke her silence. “She told me to tell you not to look for her,” she said, her voice low but resolute.

Her words landed like a punch to his gut. He turned back to face her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t look for her,” Grace repeated, softer this time, as if trying to ease the blow.

Bucky’s lips parted, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. Without another word, he turned and walked away, her parting message crushing him with every step.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The matchmaking agency didn’t have an official name. To the outside world, it appeared to be an upscale wedding organizer. But beneath the surface, it operated a discreet business, catering to an elite clientele. The agency specialized in PR, celebrity pairings, and finding partners for those seeking unconventional marriages.

To join this matchmaking service, clients paid exorbitant fees, a cost justified by the agency’s ironclad guarantee of success and confidentiality. This exclusivity made it accessible only to the wealthiest 1%. For most clients, love wasn’t a priority. Many were too jaded, too broken, or simply unwilling to risk their hearts again, yet they craved the semblance of companionship.

Companionship didn’t necessarily mean intimacy. Some sought emotional connections without physical ties, while others wanted a blend of friendship and trust. In essence, the agency sold what its clients desired most: a reliable partner tailored to their needs.

That’s where Bucky came in. He wasn’t looking for love. He needed someone he could trust, someone who fit seamlessly into his life. You had checked every box. You charmed his parents and, more importantly, his grandfather—a critical seal of approval.

Now, Bucky sat in the CEO’s office of the agency, his jaw set and his posture rigid. The room was sleek and modern, dominated by a white sofa where both of them sat. He accepted the black tea she offered but barely touched it.

The CEO, a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties, sat across from him, her demeanor professional but empathetic. She had started this agency after her own marriage fell apart. Betrayed by her husband’s infidelity and weary of meaningless dates, she realized she wasn’t alone. Many shared her frustration with traditional relationships. That realization had birthed her unique matchmaking business.

She leaned forward slightly, her expression neutral but observant. “Thank you for making time to meet with me, Mr. Barnes,” she began.

Bucky’s voice was clipped. “Do you know what she did?”

“Yes,” the CEO replied calmly. “She came here yesterday and asked me to give you these.” She placed two envelopes on the table between them.

“This one contains the check for the money she received. She’s returning it to you. The other is a letter she wanted you to have.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to the envelopes. They were unassuming, just thin paper, yet they felt heavier than the multimillion-dollar contracts he signed daily. He hesitated, his fingers brushing over the edges. Despite his composed exterior, uncertainty gnawed at him.

“Would you like me to open them for you?” the CEO asked gently.

“No, thank you.” His voice was firm, though his hand trembled slightly as he picked up the envelopes.

Slowly, he opened the first one. Inside was a check for the exact amount you’d received when signing the contract—$2 million for two years.

His chest tightened. So that damn $1 was enough to make you leave? Why?

Didn’t you say the money was meant to help you break free from your parents’ control? You wanted to save it to open a café, to buy a boat, to carve out a life of your own.

With a deep breath, he opened the second envelope. This was the one you had specifically instructed to be given to him. He unfolded the paper, hoping for answers, for clarity.

Instead, there was only one sentence:

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

Bucky scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. His grip on the paper tightened as his jaw clenched. What kind of joke is this? Of all people, he never thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of such a cliché. And didn’t everyone know? The person who said those words was usually the one placing blame.

So it is me. I’m the reason you left.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as the weight of realization settled over him. He thought back to the countless times you’d listened to him, your quiet understanding, your patience. Had he ever done the same for you? Had he missed the signs that you were unhappy?

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Did you see her face yesterday?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

“Yes,” the CEO replied, her expression unreadable.

“What did you see? Was she sad? Angry? Happy?”

The CEO took a moment before answering. “I sensed relief when she handed me the check.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed, his chest constricting at her words. Relief? Was that all you felt after two years together?

“But,” she continued, her voice softening, “when she gave me the letter for you, I saw regret in her eyes.”

Bucky froze, those five words—I saw regret in her eyes—hitting him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the letter still clutched in his hand.

If you regretted it, why did you leave? Why didn’t you say anything? Was it really so unbearable to stay?

His thoughts spiraled as he sat there, motionless, staring at the remnants of what he thought was a stable arrangement. The unanswered questions twisted in his mind, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

“Forgive my frankness, Mr. Barnes,” the CEO began, her tone professional yet slightly playful. “Since you’re officially single now, would you like me to add you back to the list?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened as he leveled a cold glare at her. “Marriage is the last thing on my mind.”

The CEO nodded, her smile faint and understanding. “Of course. I apologize for asking.”

Bucky stood, adjusting his suit jacket with deliberate movements, signaling the end of the conversation. He turned to leave, but the CEO rose to her feet and extended her hand toward him.

“It’s been a privilege having you as our client, Mr. Barnes,” she said with a polite smile. “I hope our paths cross again.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded her. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and shook her hand, his grip firm but curt. “This is the last time I’ll be here.”

Her smile didn’t falter, remaining calm and composed. “Safe travels, Mr. Barnes. And thank you for using our services.”

Bucky released her hand without another word, his expression unreadable as he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. His footsteps echoed in the quiet, elegant office, a stark reminder that this chapter of his life was closing for good.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky slid into the backseat of his car, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, hesitant but professional. “Where to, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat. “To Grandpa’s house.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the car wove through the streets, Bucky stared out the window, lost in thought. His mind wandered to his grandfather, Paul—stubborn, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly perceptive. He wondered if the old man already knew you had left or if he was still blissfully unaware.

Ever since you met his family, you’d formed an immediate bond with Paul. The connection between you two had been almost effortless. You once told Bucky that, having never known your own grandparents, you’d always yearned for an elder figure in your life.

For Paul, who often clashed with Bucky during their 20-minute tolerance window, you were a revelation. You brought out a side of him Bucky rarely saw—a livelier, softer version of the strict, commanding patriarch. Paul saw in you the granddaughter he’d always wished for: someone who called him, visited him, and actually listened to his long-winded stories.

Yet even that bond hadn’t been enough to make you stay.

When the car pulled up to the grand estate, Bucky stepped out and made his way inside, his movements tense and deliberate. He headed toward Paul’s study, where the old man often spent his afternoons.

Pushing open the door, he paused. Paul sat in his wheelchair by the fireplace, glasses perched on his nose, reading a letter. The firelight cast warm hues across the room, highlighting the lined face of a man who had lived through decades of triumphs and disappointments.

Before Bucky could announce his presence, Paul’s voice broke the silence.

“She left, didn’t she?” The elder’s tone was heavy, filled with resignation. He crumpled the letter in his hands and tossed it into the flames, watching as it curled into ash.

Bucky froze, guilt knotting in his chest. “She… she said goodbye to you?”

Paul didn’t look up. “And about the agency.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. Did Grandpa know everything?

“Grandpa, I can explain—”

“Shut up, you stupid boy!” Paul snapped, his voice rising with a force that belied his age. His hand moved to his chest as if to steady himself. “You fooled me twice, Bucky. Twice! First, you made me believe your marriage was real. Then, you made me believe I finally had a granddaughter.”

Bucky instinctively stepped closer, his hand resting gently on Paul’s shoulder, his other moving to massage the elder’s chest. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I—”

Paul shook him off, his eyes blazing with disappointment. “And don’t get me started on that ridiculous matchmaking agency. It’s absurd! What happened to normal relationships? Real love?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Paul’s voice cracked, the anger giving way to heartbreak. “You broke this old man’s heart, Bucky. I thought… I thought I could finally go in peace, knowing you had a wife. A good girl by your side. But now…”

He saw it with his own eyes—that Bucky and you were a perfect match. Turns out, it was all a lie. It broke him.

“Tell me,” Paul said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “does she mean anything to you? Or was it just a contract?”

Bucky hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

Paul’s eyes narrowed, his disappointment deepening. “You know what? She was right to leave you for a single dollar.”

The words hit Bucky like a slap. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. Everyone seemed to blame him for your departure—Grace, the agency, and now his own grandfather. What did I do that was so wrong?

He finally snapped. “If she didn’t mean anything to me, would I have walked out of a $100 billion meeting to go ask where she is?”

It hurt even more because he had lost his best friend. A wife was just a word to him, but a best friend? Yes. Yes, you were. You meant a lot to him, and to his grandfather as well. And you just left without a proper goodbye, as if he didn’t deserve one. He needed answers.

He even skipped a meeting worth billions of dollars. For him to miss it means you are worth more than billions to him.

Paul’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from anger to realization.

“Then what are you doing here?” Paul barked, his voice regaining its edge. “Go find her!”

Bucky stood, stunned into silence.

“Don’t come back until you’ve found her!” Paul continued, pointing toward the door. “And forget about the company. It can survive without you. She’s the one you need to fix this with.”

Bucky nodded stiffly, his expression a mix of determination and frustration. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the study, leaving Paul alone by the fire.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As Bucky stepped out of his grandfather’s house, the weight of the conversation still hanging over him, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before answering.

"Sir," came the voice of his head of security.

Bucky sighed, exhaustion creeping into his bones. "Tell me at least some good news," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"We found her."

The words hit him like a jolt of electricity. His pulse quickened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of hope lit in his chest.

Bucky straightened up, his posture shifting from defeat to determination. "Where is she?" His voice was sharper now, his body leaning forward, eager for any hint of where you might be.

This was the news he’d been waiting for, the answer he desperately needed.

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[inthelibrarybtw]

get to know college!basketball!captain!rafe

college!basketball!captain!rafe who has loved sports since he was a kid, fell in love with basketball when he was around 10 and took it seriously from that moment on. he wants to go professional after college if he can but is also working on his finance and administration degree. He has always been very smart and doesn’t worry a lot about grades but understands the importance of them, reason why he got a full ride in college and got recruited for the basketball team. who is very disciplined with everything that he does, once he commits to doing something he will do it and will do his best. he loves going out with his friends but also likes to stay in, secretly he loves cooking all thanks to his mom and his sister. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is very cocky and a flirt, knows he is good-looking and that’s the reason why everyone thinks he’s a player, he has never had a girlfriend in college. Everyone seems to know him and or fall for him, he doesn’t really care about it but it boosts his ego. He has been around a bit yes, but not as much as people think, he is picky even if he doesn’t like to admit it. He thrives on teasing people, especially his friends but he’s also very kind and intentional, not everyone gets to see this side of him. His family is very important to him, he has a good relationship with his parents and sister. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is very easy to please, just some good food, music, and his friends and he can be the happiest man alive. who loves watching movies and of course, never misses one basketball game, usually watches them with his dad or his friends, it’s his favorite thing to do. Has never missed one basketball practice since he was 10, just the very counted times he has been sick. His love language is physical touch, gifts, and acts of service the last two he prefers giving them than receiving them. Quality time could be added to but in very specific scenarios. His favorite artists are J. Cole, The Weekend, and Kanye. who is also a dog guy, every time he sees a dog he asks if he can pet them. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who loves being an older brother but sometimes he wishes the age gap wasn’t that big, fortunately, he has a cousin his age who might as well be his sister. they grew up together and are kinda inseparable thanks to that. He usually goes to her to talk about his feelings, since he knows he won’t get judged by her. he’s not the best at showing his feelings, or so he thinks, usually his eyes speak volumes, and anyone can see it but him. no, but really, talking about how he feels sometimes can be the hardest thing he can do. he tends to put everyone first and even if he’s this confident guy when it comes to his feelings he’s anything but. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is incredibly perceptive about how other people feel as long as the feelings are not directed at him because then he’s blind. who likes to take time to get to know someone and help as much as he can. who also can easily get angry when things don’t go his way and when this happens he prefers not to talk to people in case he says something he doesn’t really mean. If he’s really frustrated he tends to isolate himself to calm down but if he needs to talk to people he will be very cold towards them, and he immediately regrets it.

authors note: i always have trouble writing intros because i don't know what you should know before reading and what you should discover while reading but i finally finished it. i'm very obsessed with him, and i hope you guys too :)

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @masonmountme69 @winterivory if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[simp4konig]

Goodbye, tumblr.

Hey, everyone!

It's been a while since I've updated — and, I'll have you know, that this will be the last time that I'll be updating.

From 20th August 2023 to 9th November 2024 I've been posting fanfictions: first, with König; then, once with Ghost; finally, with Nikto. As of right now, I have 770 followers. At some point, I even had over 850.

First of all, thank you for these last seventeen months. Initially, I was a lurker here on tumblr. Aside from a single short, obscure fanfiction with König, I didn't post much else — that is, until @puff0o0 inspired me with her self-aware König au.

My self-aware König fanfiction exploded, and it remains my most popular post to this day. My other successes have been "König mistakenly shooting you on the battlefield" and "Intimate König headcanons". Another of my all-time most popular posts was "Zombie Apocalypse AU with Ghost" — that one made a lot of you cry. I am not sorry. Thank you for sharing your emotions with me, because seeing your comments made me smile, and satisfied that my work was poignant enough to invoke so many tears in many of you.

Finally, for Nikto, my "General headcanons", "Flirtatious Reader x ...Dense? Nikto", "Obsessed! Nikto", "Fem! Reader Asking Nikto To Clasp Her Bra", and "Reader fussing over Nikto's injury" all were popular, and these posts in particular received a lot of feedback, comments, reblogs, and asks afterwards, which I am thankful for.

My decision to quit tumblr isn't impulsive — I've been considering this ever since the AI craze was trending and the several times that COD drama was prevalent. Other reasons include the fact that I am bombarded with goddamn porn and NSFW content as soon as I open the app, wasting time scrolling absentmindedly when I could be more productive and accomplish something more, loss of interest in COD, loss of interest in posting publicly, a phobia of having my work copied and/or stolen, as well as my envy of other creators, which can write two paragraphs and receive thousands of notes, while I can pour my heart and soul into my stories, and receive a few hundred — the last point in particular was the most discouraging.

While all of these are factors contributing to my choice to leave, there's one that's far simpler than any of them: I just don't feel like it anymore.

Truth be told, writing has been and always will be a hobby. This blog was initially a hobby which I indulged in, yet it overtime became a chore. Nowadays, posting has been less for pleasure and more to satisfy you guys, because I hate to deprive you of content when you follow me and have been loyal for so long.

That's not to say that I'm quitting writing! Not at all. I'll still be writing! Writing stories is still my passion, as is reading. I just won't be posting publicly anymore.

Thank you all for supporting me during my teen years. 16 was — contrary to what pop culture would lead you to believe — not sweet. I'll be 18 soon, and the interactions that I've had with you all have shaped my view of people, and I have received so many kind comments, personal messages, asks, and reblogs. And no, I am not 18. I was 15 when I made this blog. Writing has been my passion since I was 12, or so? Since I have nothing to lose, I might as well be honest with everyone now.

Now, the thank yous to my mutuals:

@puff0o0 — was life a celebrity to me when I first started writing. 😱 When you followed me back, I was so so happy! You were my best friend, and even if we've drifted apart, I still wish you all the best. 🫂💞🩷💗❤️💖✨

@m-carriaga2021 — my first ever follower! 🥳🎉🎊

@best-soup — someone who was kind when I first started out, which meant a lot to me. ❤️💗🩷

@lvl3r-002 — my own No.1 fan?!! What an honour!!! 🥹🥹🥹 Thanks for your unconditional support and encouragement, Azzy. ❤️❤️❤️

@muffinscoffee, @allaboutirem0, @simpforkonig, @dustycrusty09, @thestirringpot, @god-o-bees — left comments which made me smile. ☺️💞💞💞

@nevadancitizen — wrote a self-aware au fanfiction inspired by me?!! 😭💘💘 Your reblogs were wonderful, too. The notes, comments, and even analysis that you added in the tags were really meaningful, and such feedback was so, so kind. 🥹💖✨

@aethelwyneleigh27 — also like a celebrity to me. I was SHOOK when I found out that you were following me?!! 😭😭😭💞💖 Will forever remember our boop wars. 🤭🩷😽😻🐾

@dobbie-doo — randomly started messaging me out of the blue on tumblr, and over-time, we became good friends. Thank you. 🤍❤️💙

@tomurderornottomurder — I couldn't stop thinking about your reblog of my Zombie Apocalypse AU with Ghost for a week straight. I'd open tumblr just to reread the tags. 🥹💗💞🩷

@zoloftwithdrawalnausea — an amazing artist. How I received the privilege of being mutuals with such a talented individual as yourself boggles the mind, honestly. 🤯💥 Wishing you all the best with all your studies, and maybe you'll one day meet your 100 Niktos goal! 🥰❤️💕💞🩷✍️

@willthegrouch — another exceptional artist. I have no fucking clue how I managed to become mutuals with someone who's painting digital masterpieces. 🤯💥 Good luck in your future, and all the best in your art. 🩷🙏

@dom-lly — Again?!! Another brilliant artist?!! 😭😭😭 When I got followed back I right about DIED. 🪦 Your art for Jujutsu Kaisen is SO fucking GOOD (and that isn't selling it enough). I have never watched JJK but seeing your art occasionally pop up was wonderful. Your work is awesome. 👏👏👏💖

@unhingedpolycule — amazing artist and witty writer. Love Love LOVEEE all of your content about Krueger x Nikto. Not only is your art stupendous, but your writing and ideas are clever, too. It was an honour to be your mutual. 🩷🩷🩷

@goarristars — you produce stunning artworks and I consider your rendition of Nikto's face as canon, full-stop. No one can tell me otherwise. 🗣️‼️ Your work is awesome, and I hope that you continue to pursue art, as you're really talented. 🎨❤️💛💚

Quiet lurkers include @marigoldpollen, @eevee-of-eternity, @miss-multi45, @bellaluvsmakarov, and @shroompette — I noticed you, and thank you for being here! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you to @revnatheshadow for your support and kind words, @kawaiiexpertcowboy for sending me a message and telling me how much you liked the Ghost faction, and @honeyandbiscuitandtea-cafe for your spam — unexpected, but extremely nice to see after having been absent for so long! ❤️❤️❤️

@itsagrimm — we've drifted apart, but it's for the best, since I was never sincere about my age to anyone, and not to you, either. Still, I will never forget our exchanges about Nikto and Metro that made us good friends for a while. Without meaning to, you taught me a lot about life, opened my eyes and made me less close-minded, offered me a ton of information I hadn't previously known, been strong support for me when things were rough with my parents, and have been kind, witty, clever, patient, interesting, and inspiring. Sure, you could say that you're ordinary and not extraordinary enough to be an inspiration, but you are to me. I'm actually studying Law now in college, and it's super interesting! I'm predicted to have an A*, and it's achievable! My dream is to study Russian alongside Spanish at university, and get a Modern Languages Degree. Thank you for everything — I wish you all the best.

And thank you to all of my followers — those that have been following me from the start, are still following me, were followers but unfollowed, and the recent ones.

Thank you everyone. For everything.

And goodbye.

[booksandabeer]

Crowdsourcing a Fic Rec List: Stucky & Peter Parker

Well, look at that!

Due to the numerous responses to this post, and since things have become a little cluttered there (different reblog threads, some recs are in tags or in comments, etc), I thought it would be a shame if anything got lost. So, I decided to compile a list of all the submitted recs for Stucky fics that also feature Peter Parker. Of course, I couldn't help myself and added a rec of my own. Fics that were mentioned multiple times are only listed once, and, if one was provided, I kept the original commentary. I hope I credited everyone correctly. If I got something wrong or missed anything, please let me know.

Thank you to everyone who shared recs, commented, or reblogged the original post to get more eyes on it. You're all wonderful! 💙

Here we go:

💙 recommended by @thankssaragorn

🕸 taking my time but I don't know where by cosmicocean | 35K, T so much fun, post-TWS Bucky lowkey mentoring Peter in being a hero and then some family and healing stuff, very sweet. 🕸 Steve Rogers Is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee | 4K, T a goofy oneshot where Peter joins Steve on his Bucky-hunt. 🕸 the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider | 59K, T | part 1 of 2 in rattle universe series an IW fix-it where Tony & Steve try to fix things and Peter & Bucky are trapped in the soul stone together, also trying to fix things. Features irondad if that ain't your thing. 🕸 Dear Teacher, With Love by fancyh | 61K, T doesnt ~strictly~ fit the prompt but i love it so much im always gonna rec it. Bucky becomes a HS teacher post-TWS and Peter is in his class they rlly don't interact a ton but I just love this fic i can't help it.

❤ recommended by @sparkagrace

🕸 Steve and Bucky low key adopt Peter Parker by Andthrowmethekey | series in 3 parts | 3.5K, T 🕸 Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap by AggressiveWhenStartled | 28K, E | part 1 of 2 in The Old Codgers GreatestHits Album series

🤍 recommended by @eternalspine

🕸 longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak by honeycombclaire | 96K, M | part 1 of 2 in trigger words series Peter being raised by Bucky in Hydra as an assassin but he was Tony’s biological son that had been kidnapped as a toddler. I literally cannot say enough good things about this fic you should all go read it right now. I would inject it in my veins if I could. It genuinely took me several days to be normal again after reading it. There’s even a sequel!

💙 recommended by @arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

🕸 Astronomy in Reverse by pansley | 185K, T

❤ recommended by @maplefiasco

🕸 Make it Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, E another super fun one by [this author]. 🕸 When I Am On Your Shoulders by Lady_Blackwater | 165K, M Steve reconnects with Bucky while going through a divorce from Tony and trying to navigate parenting their teen son Peter. I remember binging this in a day, I couldn't put it down.

🤍 recommended by @funkylittlelurker

🕸 Is this child Venomous? by rWolfWrites | 80K, M | part 1 of 4 in Stucky Shares Custody of Peter Parker series It's angsty as all get out, but it has a happy ending. Basically, it's a HYDRA Peter AU, wherein Peter is an asset right along Bucky. Peter is like, 12 at the youngest, so it's mcu Peter, don't worry. Bucky drops Peter off a Steve's house, designation Steve as Peter's new Handler. You can see why this might be bad. I won't spoil much, but the Maximoff twins also come into play! (Bucky saves them)

💙 recommended by @leihaddock

🕸 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf by BlueSimplicity | 67K, E Explicit between Steve and Bucky & Bucky basically lowkey adopts Peter. 🕸 Rainbow Dinosaurs by holla_the_forestfairy | ~1K, G short but sweet queer story

❤ recommended by @fsbc-librarian

🕸 Peter & Bucky Are Pals by DJ_unicornsrgr8 | series in 11 parts | 147K, G-T This series is set in the verse of Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail, which is absolutely wonderful. 🕸 Steve Rogers' Dad Face and Other Common Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, T | part 1 of 4 in Workplace Hazards series 🕸 we leave through the fire by justanotherblond | 41K, T | part 1 of 3 in timshel series -> Also, always worth checking out the library for more fics!

🤍 recommended by @booksandabeer

🕸 Praetorian by RecoveringTheSatellites | 28K, M | part 1 of 2 in Amor Manet series Historical AU featuring Bucky as a pagan witch, Steve as a disgraced former Praetorian Guard, and Peter as a young recruit to the Roman army. Maybe a bit of a cheat, since Peter is not central to the story, but in the moments he does appear, he definitely makes an impression, and what we get to see of his mentor-mentee relationship with Steve really resonates. Also, look, this is just a banger of a fic with lots of action and romance that everyone should read.

💙 recommended by @stuckydrewx

🕸 Extra special treat! Drew shared a whole other fic rec list that she made a few months ago. Yay!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this crowdsourced rec list—you're all fantastic!

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Fifteen

Summary: Revelations from the past, blessings move things forward.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, jealousy related to possible prior sexual activity, Invidia (goddess of Jealousy) mention of prior voice between Reader & another female servant, Blandus is a man who owned Reader, mentions of abuse from a father

❤️s, reblogs, feedback & comments are welcome! 💐 Let me know if you want to be tagged! 💐 Thank you for reading! 💐

You winced. You flinched.

“Sorry, my lady.”

“It’s ok.”

The pins pricking your skin were beginning to annoy you. You had never thought it would be this involved. When your older brother had been married, you were too young to be aware of all that was involved.

“Is our future empress decent?”

Your heart stilled, you glanced at the woman, fussing on her dress. After what had happened with him and Dundas the previous evening, you did not know what to expect next from Caracalla.

“Yes.” You swallowed.

There was a swish of fabrics and a soft, chirp that gave away to Dondas’s presence as well.

“Sire.”

The woman fluttered the material that hung on you before she quickly bowed and knelt.

You bowed as well, keeping your eyes down cast.

A soft chuckle, a sound you had only heard perhaps while he fed or watched the bouts in the arena.

“Look at you.” The usual malice was not there.

From what little you could see, he moved in a soft blur of the colorful fabrics.

“Leave us. Go to the hall. You can finish when we are done speaking.”

Dondas, chirped and squeaked. It almost sounded as if she was echoing what he had said.

“Yes, sire.” The woman whispered. The steps faded away.

“My future sister. I always wanted one.” He made a thoughtful sound.

Dondas chirped once again.

“You can look up.”

You did.

He actually looked soft. Like how did when he addressed Geta when he spoke of missing him. It was a rare sight.

“I have not liked you. Geta has never had favorites.”

You swallowed.

“He has always gotten the best so he never needed favorites.”

You pressed your lips together.

“However, last night Dondas;”

He paused and looked at her in an even softer manner.

“Dondas, appears to like you. Appears to feel that you are worthy to be empress along side my brother and myself.”

Dondas, clapped on his shoulder.

Maybe there was more to his little monkey than everyone knew, you mused. You never known such an animal to be so in touch with those around it. Perhaps, a horse maybe or the chickens when you would sing to them. But never an animal such as this. You were grateful for it though.

“She accepts you, I accept.”

You moved to show respect to what he said and to Donas.

“I am grateful.” You finally whispered.

He nodded. Then he took a step that was quicker than you could breathe and he was in front of you.

“If you are planning to harm Geta, Dondas or me. It will be an action you will regret.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, glancing at Dondas before looking back at you. Dondas, you watched clutch his clothing.

“I will have the Praetorian guard hang your entrails and your head. I will tell the world of your betrayal.”

Fear, crawled down your back. He so easily could switch from being so soft to as sharp as any solider’s blade.

“There is no betrayal in my heart sire.”

A smile crossed his face once again, Dondas even gently patted his cheek.

“Good. Now, I shall have you return to having your clothing prepared for the celebration, wedding of you and my brother.”

“Thank you.”

Once more there was a blur and soft whisper of the clothes that hung on him and be was gone.

******

“Was she tested?”

He was used to his mother fairly well composed, calm even but she was the opposite of that right now. He wasn’t sure how he felt seeing her in such a manner.

“Has she paid a visit to Asclepiades?”

“Yes, mother.”

Nothing made him feel more like a child than when having to answer to her. Her doubting his wishes, made knots form in his stomach. He did not want his anger get the best of him.

“You took notice of her in the royal box?” Her voice growing shrill.

He nodded.

“Why not the streets?” She sneered.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

His mother whirled around, the fabrics fanning out, some of her jewelry clinked dramatically. She took a step towards him, her eyes narrowed.

“It’s good your father is dead. He’d have words with you.”

“More like the back of his hand would be meeting my face, my mouth to silence me.” He muttered, remembering the few words exchanged but the hits that were and the ones that landed.

“Don’t speak ill of him, he is dead.”

“He is. I’m not. I speak the truth, I’m sure we will argue once the boat takes me the side of the river he now is on.” He replied cooly.

“I have to agree, I am certain that will happen too.” She pressed her lips together. “If I’m being honest, I had thought if you were going to marry anyone, I would have thought it would have been Tertia.”

“Seriously? She is nothing more than a vessel, you gave Caracalla and I. When, she preferred him over me I looked elsewhere.“

“She did?”

“She has a thirst for blood that drew her to him. So she easily went to him. I lost interest.”

He shrugged.

“Perhaps, it was the guiding of the gods. His illness could have been a resulting of bedding her.”

“I had never known, the servants whispered differently. “

“Because I carried on the appearance of the bedding. It ensnared her but I never allowed anything further.”

She shook her head. “You were always very smart. Knowing of your rightful place in our world.”

He allowed himself to enjoy the compliment. They were so scarce.

“She is smart as well.”

He met his mother’s eyes directly.

“You would find her amusing.”

“Great.” She rolled her eyes. “Exactly, what is needed a smart and amusing empress.” She sneered.

“Did word also reach you, that she did save my life.”

Geta, could see her pause. Something shifted in her stormy eyes

“What?”

“Not too long ago, an assassin crept into my chambers. She stopped him, then the next day I delivered justice.”

“Good.” She paused. “But how do you know, she wasn’t in on it?”

“I know.”

He pressed his lips together, he eyed the vase near him. He wished he could throw it. An anxiousness came over him, he wished he could expel it.

******

Relief, filled you as you slipped into the stola you had started the day in. You were finally getting used to how slip on these more luxurious ones. They were not as complicated as you first thought.

Aelia, had laid it out for you while you had bathed. It was so lovely and soft. A smile played on your lips as you grazed your finger tips along the fabric. You could have never imagined anything feeling like this, it was as gentle as a breeze.

As you walked over to where the sol shone in and flowers grew; you were grateful your time with the woman who was working on your wedding tunic and veil were finished. The pins were getting too much.

Despite, the all the people that were now in the royal domus, you were able to make your way over to where flowers grew and the sol shone in. Kneeling down, you brought a flower to your nose and sighed. Their fresh scent was very pleasing.

“My sweet blossom, I was hoping I’d see you.”

Geta’s voice came from behind you, your heart beat harder in your chest. Turning, you saw him standing near one of the mighty columns.

You stood with a quick glance around, you went over to him. You wanted to reach out, take his hand but you didn’t.

“There are whispers that my brother spoke with you.”

You nodded. “There was no anger when he did.”

“Oh?”

“From what he said, you never played favorites and he had not liked it when you did it with me.”

Geta, shook his head. “That illness, that illness…”

His gaze went beyond you, he rung his ringed hands. His words were stuck in his mouth.

“Yes.” You gave him a worried glance before continuing. “He feels that since Dondas accepted me as empress, he should as well.”

His eyes drew back to you, they grew. You finally reached out and took one of his hands. It was heavy with the rings but was cool to the touch.

“Dondas?”

You nodded.

He swallowed. “It makes his thoughts and reasoning a mess.” He sighed. His hand moved within your grasp so that now he could hold your hand.

“Yes, but Geta at least he has finally accepted me. This will make our wedding not as difficult. I wouldn’t want him to have a fit during or after during the celebration.”

“True, very true. Though, now there is there is my mother. She has questions.” He pressed his lips together once more. “And your brother, he rides to the city. What if he disapproves?”

You went with what you felt in your heart. You had seen the man. When he came to your small room, telling you he was yours fear had filled you. He was not as fearsome or terrible like the whispers had spoke of. Now with him in front of you, saw beyond all the stories, you saw beyond his anger that took ahold at times.

“Geta, you are the emperor of Rome. You have chosen me.”

Your heart clenched.

“The gods guide you, they speak through you. They brought you to me. I will follow you always. No mortal, will stop me.”

He smiled then. His hand reached up and cupped your cheek. “I did.” His thumb caressed your cheek. “And I will always thank the gods for their guidance.”

*******

Your words had hit him, it had pleased him that he had chosen so well. He was entering a new part of his life. Becoming a husband, would add an interesting part of who he was.

Pacing and turning the rings on his fingers he mused on what laid ahead.

He knew the people of Rome were fickle. But he kept them fed and entertained. Acacius, was a loyal and fantastic General. His brother and his illness clung to him. He wish there was something that could be done. At least Dondas, despite it being an animal appeared to bring him calmness.

******

You stood straight as the woman walked around you, looking you up and down. All you wore before her was the bracelet and ring, Geta had given you.

She had given Geta, his sharp eyes sharp eyes.

“Your skin is very smooth, unblemished.”

“Yes, Empress dowager.”

She drew close. She smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, it was oddly comforting despite the menacing air that hung around her.

“How did you come to Rome?”

“I said goodbye to my mother, little brother with a small loculus that held some food, a few coins and a small length of ribbon and cloth my mother twined together, to remember my family. And off I walked.”

She rose an eyebrow. “How did you manage to work in the royal box?”

“A man, Blandus seeing my potential took me in. He taught me how serve wine, small dishes and how stand in the shadows. From there a day came, and Tertia who I now see fluttering around here had taken ill one day or Blandus wished me to take her days in the royal box.”

“I see. And you had said to my son, you never laid with a man. You never laid with this Blandus?”

“Never, he enjoys the company of men.”

“Interesting. Tertia, you say?”

An expression, you could not read washed over her face.

“I believe she may have laid with my sons.”

Knowing, Tertia could have laid with Geta sparked an anger in you, you were not familiar with. You swallowed.

“Do you not like her?”

“I only know little of her. She has a fury, I wish to not ignite it.”

You remember, she had ripped at your braids the day at the end of her illness when her strength came back. She was practically a mortal version, of Invidia. News, had come to her of your presence in the royal box. If it had not been for some weakness from when she was ill, you were convinced she could have hurt you more.

“She did seem to have a level of determination. When the dispatch had reached my gates, that my son was to marry I thought it would have been to her. I had never heard of you.”

The spark within you grew to a flame that would grew and flicker from a candle.

“I am to flutter about like a butterfly with exquisitely delicate and colorful wings to bring the pleasure of a good wine, cheese or fruit to those I was to serve. I would never intrude on any of the whispers in the royal box or any place I was told to be.”

The woman smiled then. “My son, whose first love was poetry spoke of the beauty of your words.”

A pleased warmth came over you dampening the anger filled flame.

“That was quite beautiful.” Her smile grew. “I am glad I have only now heard of you. Get dressed.”

********

You were in your room once again dressing. Exhaustion had a firm grip on you. From the pin pricks than followed the words of empress dowager about Tertia whirled in you. A part of you knew it should not be felt, he had chosen you afterall.

“Blossom, today was a day of many blessings.”

Geta’s voice reached you, despite you not even hearing the door opening. You turned to receive him, a soft warmth filled his face.

“Dondas and Caracalla were the first;” a soft chuckle broke his lips. “and now that of my mother.”

He was serious once more but not any less happy looking.

“Blessings abound.” You smiled, your stomach lurching.

You noticed a stillness come over him. “Is there something lurking or casting a shadow upon you?”

“Your mother spoke of things that brought the cloud of concern to me.”

You had promised to follow him, you would tell him.

“My mother does have a manner that stirs emotions, what did she say?”

He took a step closer to you.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringcokewhore @justalittlebitshy

[starshinedreamer]

Rebloging because I just want to take a moment to say a genuine THANK YOU:D to everyone who liked, rebloged, or left comments on this post! It really makes me happy to see this post getting a lot of attention so quickly because I had a lot of fun working hard to create this drawing, and it's quickly become one of my favorites! It seriously makes my day when I get notifications seeing that someone liked my art!🥹 You all are so sweet and amazing and I wish you a wonderful rest of your day/afternoon/night!😊���

Wild learns another one of Four's secrets✨

(Link designs created by @linkeduniverse)

Without blur under cut vvv

[soul-eater-novel]

Suikoden I Soul Eater Light Novel Translation - Chapter 22!

For your reading pleasure and enjoyment, below the cut is the full rough English translation of chapter 22 of the official 1998 Suikoden I Soul Eater novel (volume 3 of 3). Individual page translations and original Japanese text can be found in the chapter 22 tag. As always, feedback on translations is welcome. Thank you so much to everyone for your support and your comments. They keep me going! Eventually I want to run a Kickstarter to officially license and print these books! Email me at rinuzuki@gmail.com if you're interested in helping plan this.

Chapter 22: The Man Who Chases the Night

A gentle, early summer breeze blew across Lake Toran. As the wind blew in through the window of Tir’s room, he was laying on his bed, gazing up at the blue sky. 

Four months had already passed since his battle with his father, Teo. After they defeated Teo’s units—the main force of the Imperial Army—there hadn’t been any other big battles, but a war was still raging in Tir’s heart. 

Just what is the Soul Eater?

He had been able to think of nothing else since Leknaat’s visit after the battle with his father. Even when he was training with his staff, even in the middle of military matters, even when he went out fishing with Yam Koo for a change of pace—all it took was him noticing one aching twinge of the rune on his hand to send his mind tumbling back to that question. 

Tir went around asking everyone he could think of. He started with Cleo, then the rune master, Jeane, and even Luc, Leknaat’s disciple who bore the True Wind Rune... but none of them knew anything about the Soul Eater. 

I only know two things for sure. One, the rune is cursed. Two, something strange happens to it each time someone dear to me loses their life. 

But these two facts brought him no closer to understanding the true nature of the rune, and his spirits failed to lift as the days passed. Gazing at the clear blue sky, Tir thought to himself, If I could leave on a journey right now, I’d try and look for clues about my rune. 

He took a breath and jumped up from his bed. Well, doesn’t hurt to try, right? he thought, and went to Mathiu’s room. 

There he found Mathiu, Lepant, Kasumi, Viktor, and Flik. The five of them were putting their heads together discussing something. 

“Heya, Tir! Perfect timing,” Viktor said, turning to him with a grin. He got up from his seat and stood next to Tir, smiling cheerfully. “We were actually just talkin’ about what to do next. Wanna go on a trip with us? Whaddya say?”

“A trip? Why?” Asked Tir, surprised by the sudden question. “What’s going on?”

“Lord Tir, the Liberation Army has already liberated the Great Forest and the Kunan region,” Lepant began by way of explanation. “For the moment, we have also taken back the Goran region, which Lord Teo’s forces had captured. Our strength grows by the day. If we can incite more revolts in other regions, the Imperial Army will focus their attention on putting those down.”

Mathiu continued, expanding on Lepant’s ideas. “We thought, for this purpose, it would be beneficial for us to spread the word in other regions about how we defeated Lord Teo, the strongest in the Empire. There’s no doubt that Lord Teo’s military might had everyone under the Empire’s thumb.”

Lepant spoke again. “Since we defeated Lord Teo, the Imperial Army is reorganizing. They are calling back their regional forces to put down the rebellions closer to the capital. This means that the Imperials have left many regions low on defense. So we’re thinking it’s best to seize on this gap in their armor to bring together rebel forces from many different regions into one force.” 

“Now we just need to decide where to go first.” This time it was Kasumi who spoke. “They say that, in recent days, the Imperial Army has completely withdrawn from the Lorimar religion in the southwest of Kunan. In the place of their army, it seems they have dispatched a single general to that area.” 

“And that general’s forces number how many?”

“None. The general is there alone.”

Flik crossed his arms. “Then what of the Lorimar Fortress?”

Lorimar Fortress was the name of the stronghold which straddled the upper reaches of the Dunan river that flows between the Lorimar and Kunan regions. 

Kasumi frowned. “The fortress was completely empty of soldiers, too. I went to see for myself. Not a single soul. But the weirdest part was that the graves for the fallen soldiers had all been disturbed.”

“Graves, eh?” Viktor rubbed his hand across his unshaven face. “How ‘bout it, Tir? A stronghold where all the graves’ve been messed with... everyone gone but the lone general... Lorimar’s sure fulla puzzles. Sounds like a pretty good adventure, don’t it?” 

“Mmh... but can I really go?” Tir hung his head, dejected. 

“Hear me out, Tir,” Flik chimed in. “In Lorimar, there’s this place called the Village of Warriors. Even the Empire recognizes their strength. See, in this village, all the men are warriors and all the women are mages. Ignoring all Viktor’s nonsense, if we could enlist the people of that village to the Liberation Army’s cause, they would make a powerful ally, don’t you think?” 

“You keep saying’ ‘they’ like they’re a buncha strangers.” Viktor butted in, grinning slyly. “Hey, Tir. Wanna hear somethin’ good? Flik’s actually from that very village of warriors. And his village has this very interesting ritual. To be recognized as a warrior, the men of the village gotta do this ceremony to become an adult, right? They go on a journey to make a name for themselves. Seems they can’t come back ‘till they’ve done somethin’ really noteworthy. And guess what? Till this day, Flik ain’t ever gone back...” 

“Put a sock in it!” Interrupted Flik, clearly riled. “I’m trying to go back now, aren’t I?!” 

He got up from his seat, pushed aside Viktor, and stood in front of Tir. “Come on, Tir. Let’s go. You gotta get some fresh air. Staying cooped up in the castle all the time is bringing you down, right?”

There was kindness in Flik’s voice. Tir lifted his eyes to look at his friend and saw a gentle smile on Flik’s face. But he hesitated before answering. 

I’m the leader of the Liberation Army. I can’t just leave the castle on a whim... 

Tir’s gaze shifted to Mathiu and he saw that the tactician was smiling, too. “Lord Tir, do not fret over us. The Empire does not even have the resources to launch an attack right now. Besides, as our leader, it is one of your duties to recruit new allies for the Liberation Army, is it not?” 

“Right! That’s that, then!” Viktor and Flik yelled at the same time, each thumping Tir on the shoulder. 

“Okay, hurry up and get ready, Tir! We leave tomorrow,” said Flik, already leaving the room himself at a brisk trot. 

“What, so soon?”

“Y’know what they say, gotta strike while the iron’s hot!” Viktor cackled gleefully, slipping past Tir, who was still reeling. 

Mathiu followed and called out, “I need to talk to you, Viktor!” 

Viktor turned on his heel and the pair went back to Mathiu’s rooms. 

Just as Tir was about to leave, Kasumi spoke his name softly.  “Lord Tir. It is good, sometimes, to take a trip and distance oneself from battle. Lorimar is beautiful this time of year.” 

“That’s true. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open,” Tir replied absently on his way out. 

Maybe this is the perfect excuse to try to unravel the mystery of the Soul Eater. 

Tir’s hopes rose and his heart started to beat a little faster.

＊＊＊

The next day, Tir and the others took a boat from the castle docks, heading toward Kunan. The Lorimar region lay alongside the Kunan region, accessible via the Lorimar Fortress. Flik thought that, even on horseback, the trip would take about a week.

Tir’s guard was composed of Flik, Viktor, and Cleo. At first Tir had just planned to go with the two men, but Cleo asked to come along as well. Gremio and Teo’s deaths had left gaping holes in Tir’s heart, and he thought Cleo must be feeling similarly. So it was decided, in the end, that the four of them would go together to Warrior’s Village. 

They docked at the town of Teien off Lake Toran and offloaded their horses and cargo. Once they had everything ready, they left the town. Galloping across the fields, Tir saw what Flik had meant—the wind here felt different than at the castle.

Is it summer already…? 

This was the first time he had visited Kunan in the four months or so since the battle with his father, Teo. A pleasant, early summer wind blew here, laden with the scent of grass. The field at Scarleticia Castle that had run dark with blood during the battle now burst with fresh life, looking like a completely different place. 

As they continued their journey, traveling across the wide fields, camping outside, sitting around the fire, Cleo and Tir both slowly began to smile again. Maybe this change was due to the warm, pleasant weather, or maybe it was thanks to Viktor and Flik’s easygoing, amiable company. 

During their trip, Tir asked Flik more about Warrior’s Village. Flik told him that the mayor of the village was a man named Zorak, unrivaled with the sword, but also unmatched in his love of chatting endlessly. He also told him that once a man of the village was recognized as an adult, he could give his sword a name. Tir asked Flik what he had named his sword, but the older man just smiled sadly and didn’t answer. 

It took four days to cross the Kunan region on horseback. They passed through Lorimar Fortress, eerily empty, and continued on for three days. At last, the four arrived at Warrior’s Village. 

Nestled in lush greenery, the village felt quiet. Simple huts with straw-thatched roofs dotted the village. A clanging sound came from somewhere, perhaps a blacksmith at work. The four travelers felt their hearts relax in this peaceful environment. 

Feeling the evening breeze on his skin, Flik looked around the quiet village and let out a big sigh of relief. Maybe happy to be back in his hometown after so long, a smile played on his lips. “All right, first things first! Let’s go give the mayor a visit.”

Flik strode forward, the wind pushing his blue cape out behind him. Tir followed after, then Viktor, and Cleo came last. Flik walked through the village square and went straight to the large house on the left. He knocked on the door. 

“Mayor Zorak?” he called out. But there was no reply. 

“Is the mayor in?” Flik tried once more, but, again, no reply came. “No good, looks like he’s not home.”

“Flik, wait.” Cleo held a finger to her lips. 

Listening closely, they could hear the sound of someone muttering inside the house and clattering noises as if someone were ransacking the place, searching for something. 

“Hey.” Viktor whispered, pointing at the door. Flik nodded. He turned the doorknob and cautiously pushed the door open. It swung open slowly, hinges creaking. Peering through the gap, they saw a solidly built middle-aged man moving from room to room in a blind panic. Lost in his search, it seemed the man hadn’t heard Flik. 

“I’ll show you to look down on the Warrior’s Village, Neclord...!” they heard the man hiss. 

“What did you just say?!” Viktor cried in shock. 

“Viktor?” 

But Viktor ignored Tir and barged into the house. “Hey, old man! Did you just say ‘Neclord’?!”

“What the—?! Who the devil are you?!” The man stopped rummaging in his closet and turned to Viktor, a fierce glint in his eye. He had an eyepatch over one eye, his face covered in scars from sword wounds. It was Mayor Zorak. 

The mayor looked ready for battle. He wore a crimson cape, a dark green breastplate, and golden knee plates. His very expression brimmed with the dignity befitting the mayor of a village of warriors. 

To everyone’s astonishment, Viktor lashed out at the mayor, completely out of control. The man in front of them now bore no resemblance to their easy-going friend. 

“Shuddup! I’m the one askin’ questions here! Answer me! What do you know about Neclord?!”

Tir and the others rushed to pull Viktor away from Zorak. 

“What’s come over you, Viktor? Calm down.” Cleo spoke to him in soothing tones while Viktor continued to glare at the mayor. 

Something big must have happened to shake Viktor up this badly. 

Tir moved to stand in front of Zorak. “I am Tir McDohl, leader of the Liberation Army. My sincerest apologies for entering your house so suddenly and without permission. We meant no offense.”

Zorak’s remaining eye widened in surprise, then narrowed to look at Tir more closely. “What? Leader of the...? Well, this is a surprise.” He smiled good-naturedly. “I am Zorak, mayor of this village. Word of your activities have reached us even here. You honor me greatly by coming all this way to visit.” 

A little embarrassed by how politely Zorak spoke to him, Tir was at a loss as to how to reply. But Zorak looked past Tir, noticing Flik for the first time. 

“Oho! Why, if it isn’t Flik! Have you returned to our village to present your achievements?” His tone changed completely from the one he had used with Tir to a much stricter way of speaking. 

Flik wilted a little under Zorak’s gaze, but answered. “N-no, sir. That’s not why I’m here. I thought I would give you a report on what I hope to achieve, which is still in progress.” 

“Hmm. Well, in that case, get on with it, boy. Spit it out.”

“Mayor, you spoke of a Neclord just now. Who is that? It seems my colleague here is an acquaintance of his...”

“Acquaintance, my ass! I’m no friend of that bastard’s.”

Glancing over at Viktor’s outburst, Zorak agreed. “Mmh. It seems this gentleman does have some connection to Neclord. Let us discuss this matter in more detail.”

The mayor led them to the living room. They sat on the sofa, and Zorak began to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush. “This tale brings me great shame, but please hear me out. It was about three months ago that a new general, Neclord, first came here to rule over this region. In the beginning, our village was an ally of the Scarlet Moon Empire. If you follow the records back to Solar year twenty, Klift the Crusader...” 

“Mayor...” Flik hastened to intervene. “We’re not here for a history lesson. We would like to know about Neclord, please.”

“R-right. Of course. Neclord moved into this area and cast a terrible spell. He turned all of our dead into zombies and skeletons... undead monsters.”

“Ah, I see.” Cleo nodded. “That’s one mystery solved.”

The disturbed graves at Lorimar must have been the result of Neclord raising his forces. 

His gaze earnest, Zorak went on. “Neclord took the old castle in the southeast for his base and now he has begun using his army of undead to terrorize the neighboring villages. He made the villages hand over their young women. Our own daughters...!”

“Yep, that’s his M.O., all right,” Viktor grumbled. 

Zorak’s face suddenly clouded in frustration. “Neclord demanded the same of our village. I had to give him my own daughter, Tengaar. On our pride as the Warrior’s Village, we fought back... but Neclord used his powerful magic and defeated us.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it goes with him.” Viktor shut his eyes, scrubbing his hands along his scruffy stubble. 

For a moment, no one spoke. Flik broke the silence to ask, “So what became of Tengaar?”

“She was abducted, like all the rest! But the Warrior’s Village will not let it end like this!” Zorak roared, jumping to his feet. “I was just preparing to storm his castle and take back our daughters and our pride. Tomorrow I will march with fifty hand-picked warriors to attack. We’ll capture Neclord and wring his neck!”

Viktor sighed loudly, stopping Zorak in his tracks. He looked straight at them and said bluntly, quietly, “Yeah, it ain’t gonna work.” 

His words were met with shocked silence. Zorak raised his voice. “Wh-what?! Explain yourself, sir!”

“Like I said, it ain’t gonna work.” Viktor drawled in his usual laid-back way of speaking. “You attack Neclord by any normal means, you’re just sendin’ your men to an early grave for no damn reason.”

Zorak grabbed him. “You dare mock the warriors of this village?! Your insolence knows no bounds, sir!”

Flik and Tir hurriedly got between the two and pacified the older man. The mayor glared daggers at Viktor for a while in loathing, but eventually spoke again. “My apologies for getting worked up. However, Lord Viktor, why ever would you say that we cannot bring down this enemy?”

“Mr. Mayor, Zorak...” Viktor replied, his voice soft. “I understand how frustrated you must be feelin’, havin’ your daughter abducted like that. But you gotta understand. Neclord ain’t a creature you can defeat by any normal means of attack. It’s best ya just think of him as a impossibly powerful opponent.”

“Yes, of course we realize how powerful he is. That is why we—”

Viktor once again interrupted the mayor with a loud sigh. “That’s not what I’m sayin’. Neclord ain’t human. The power of his rune turned him into a vampire. That’s why normal weapons won’t even scratch him.”

“What?!”

“You need somethin’ special to bring that bastard down. Beats me what that something is, but until you find a weapon that’ll have an effect on him, no point in rushin’ in.” 

“I see...” Zorak stared at the floor. “I had no idea, Lord Viktor. I apologize for losing my temper. Please forgive me.”

“S’all good. You’re worried about your daughter, ain’tcha? It was me who got bent outta shape first.” Viktor smiled, looking oddly forlorn. “By the by, you know anywhere we could get our hands on a weapon that’ll defeat a vampire? Since you’re the mayor of the Warrior’s Village an’ all, figured you’d know a thing or two ‘bout weapons.”

“Hmm...” Zorak hummed in thought. “While I do not know of a specific weapon, there is a temple to the west of here. Qlon Temple. They are said to be miracle workers. Especially for those who have troubles with runes—knock on their gates, and they may offer you an answer in the form of a divine revelation...”  

“What did you say?!” Now it was Tir’s turn to shout in surprise. 

Troubles with runes! That’s me! I’ve got those!

Staring at Tir, Zorak continued. “It may sound odd, but that is what the rumors say. If it was a rune that turned Neclord into a vampire, then they may be able to tell us a method of defeating him.” 

“Qlon Temple, got it!” Viktor practically leapt out of his chair. “Okay, I’m gonna go check it out. I’ll head there, and if there’s a weapon that’ll defeat Neclord, I’ll find it and bring it back.”

“But I couldn’t possibly wrap you all up in this—it isn’t your battle to fight...”

“It’s okay, Mayor Zorak.” Tir jumped to his feet, too. “The Liberation Army was formed in order to free people from the misrule of the Empire. If this Neclord is harassing you, then it is our duty to fight him and put a stop to it. Please, allow us to travel to Qlon Temple on your behalf.” 

“Lord Tir...” Zorak let out the breath he had been holding. “Of course. Thank you so much. We will continue our preparations for the raid on Neclord’s castle, and will await your return.”

“‘Sides, I’ve got a private score to settle with Neclord,” Viktor growled almost to himself, his tone brooking no argument.  

***

Their next course of action was decided. They would depart for Qlon temple in the morning. Zorak let them stay at his house that night. The four travelers were able to eat a meal and rest their bodies, exhausted after their travels.

Though he was getting a little tired of the mayor’s chatter, Tir did enjoy the tour he gave them of family heirlooms—weapons, armor, and other artifacts—passed down through the generations. And so the night deepened. 

Flik came back from meeting up with old childhood friends and, at long last, everyone climbed into their beds. Wrapped up in his warm blankets, Tir listened to the sound of the wind blowing outside the window and thought. 

If I go to Qlon Temple, maybe I’ll learn something about the Soul Eater.

Once again, he began pondering the nature of the rune on his right hand. 

Creak...

He heard the quiet creak of floorboards. Listening closely, he heard footsteps walking over to the window, where moonlight flooded in, and then a big sigh. Viktor stood at the window, looking at the moon, which had risen high in the sky.

“What’s up, Viktor?” Tir got out of bed and went over to stand at the window with him. Standing in the moonlight, Viktor’s expression looked sorrowful, somehow.

“What’s up with you, Tir? Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Of course, Tir was worrying over the Soul Eater. But since they came to this village and met the mayor, he had gained yet another worry to add to his list. Viktor, who knew so much about Neclord. Viktor, who turned into a completely different person when it came to the subject of Neclord. 

What in the world has he been through?

“Hey, Viktor. How do you know so much about Neclord, anyhow?”

Viktor’s sharp gaze met his, like a knife to the stomach. “You really wanna know?”

“I... think so...” Tir faltered. Staring back into Viktor’s eyes, Tir recalled that Viktor had never spoken a word about his own past. Not a word. Not when they first met, not during all their travels together, not even when they fought at each other’s backs.

“Tell me, Viktor,” Tir commanded, still looking him straight in the eye. 

“All right... but you asked for it.” 

Sighing wearily, Viktor began his tale. 

He had come from the City-States of Jowston—that age-old enemy of the Scarlet Moon Empire. Born and raised in North Window village in the south of the city-states. 

One night, when he was twenty-one years old, Viktor had gone to a neighboring village to buy something. But when he returned to North Window, he found his home utterly changed. Fires burned throughout the village. As he made his way through the town, his ears were filled with the moans of the suffering, and even covering his nose, his nostrils still filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Treading carefully, he returned home… to find his family had been turned to zombies, and were eating each other’s flesh. 

He was shaken to his core. The villagers-turned-zombies swooped down on him. Amid his tears and his rage, he swung his sword, chopping down zombies in droves. 

That was when Neclord appeared before him. Purple hair oiled and slicked back, his face as pale as a corpse. The man’s lips twisted in an unpleasant, condescending smile. His long, skeleton-thin body was clad in pitch-black formal attire and a cape, black on one side and crimson on the other. He leered at Viktor and declared, “It was I who turned your friends and family into zombies.”

Unable to contain his rage, Viktor stabbed Neclord. But being a vampire, Viktor’s attacks had no effect. Instead, he himself was driven nearly to death’s door. 

“And that’s when my journey to hunt down Neclord began...” finished Viktor, still looking up at the moon. 

“I’m so sorry, Viktor...” Tir mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I had no idea...”

He understood how painful it was to recall these kinds of memories and felt bad for making Viktor talk about his troubled past. But Viktor’s usual carefree manner returned and he spoke to Tir kindly. “S’okay. Was thinkin’ I’d have to tell you about it someday, anyway. ‘Bout time I found the bastard, eh?”

The ghost of a smile twisting up the corners of his mouth, Viktor ruffled Tir’s hair, making a bird’s nest of it. “Get some rest, kiddo. I’m gonna look at the moon a while longer.” 

“Okay, Viktor...”

Tir padded across the wooden floor and climbed back into his bed. Viktor eventually got under his own blankets. Tir fell asleep listening to him sigh. 

*** Table of Contents

★ Chapters 0-1 ★ Chapters 2-3  ★ Chapters 4-5  ★ Chapters 6-7  ★ Chapters 8-9 ★ Chapters 10-11  ★ Chapters 12-13  ★ Chapters 14-15 ★ Chapters 16-17 ★ Chapters 18-19 ★ Chapter 20-21

«-first // archive // Ramsus-kun Scanslations

[morningnoodles]

my sole entry for bagginshieldtober 2024. fix it version of the ending under the cut ✿

big shoutout to @acorn-and-oakleaves for hosting this year's bagginshieldtober!! come join us on discord, folks (❁´◡`❁)

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 3 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Australia, sir."

Bucky froze in place when he heard that. Australia? It was so unlike you. In all the time you spent together, you always talked about visiting Europe. That was your dream—to save enough money to open a café there, buy a boat, and travel around the continent.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter now. At least he finally knew where you were.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded.

After his security team gave him the location, Bucky immediately called his pilot to prepare the plane. Within minutes, he was on his private jet, accompanied by his assistant, who sat nervously across from him.

The assistant hesitated before asking, “Sir, when do you want to reschedule the meeting?”

Bucky didn’t look up from his phone. “If I’m not in the company, there’s a vice president. Let him attend the meeting instead. The company pays him a high salary for a reason. If he makes the wrong agreement at the meeting, I’ll fire him.”

The assistant swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting with the pen in his lap. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the cushion as silence settled between them. The hum of the jet’s engines filled the cabin. His gaze drifted to the window, the clouds blurring past.

The matter of this marriage was far more complicated than any company matter.

He broke the silence. “Do you ever have marriage trouble?”

The assistant’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question. “Uh… yes, sir.”

Bucky turned his head slightly toward him. “Have you ever argued to the point where your wife left the house?”

The assistant hesitated, his hands stilling. “That’s… no, sir. We argue sometimes, but not to that extent.”

Bucky exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I see.”

His situation wasn’t like those couples who separated after endless fights. This marriage was different—it was based on a contract. There was no need for messy legal proceedings or divorce lawyers. No drawn-out drama. It was supposed to be simple, painless.

But it wasn’t.

He rested his elbow on the armrest, his fingers pressing against his temple as memories of his parents’ divorce flashed through his mind. He’d witnessed it all—the yelling, the accusations, the blame. He could still remember the cold, suffocating atmosphere in the negotiation room as both sides tore each other apart. And they’d forced him, a child, to sit there and watch.

They called it love once, but what he saw was anything but. His parents acted like children while he was expected to be the adult.

Marriage was supposed to be a union between two mature individuals who respected its meaning. His parents may have loved each other once, but they destroyed that love with betrayal and adultery.

It was full of lies and deception. For young Bucky, hearing the arguments was painful. Even now, he still feels a lingering resentment toward his parents.

Bucky shook his head, clearing the bitter thoughts. He’d never wanted a traditional marriage because of them. When his grandfather, Paul, had told him he needed to marry to inherit the company, Bucky had been clueless about what to do.

That’s when he remembered a friend mentioning a matchmaking agency. “It’s expensive, but it’s worth it,” his friend had said.

And it was expensive—but it was worth it. With you, he’d fulfilled his grandfather’s condition and taken over the company. You were his perfect partner.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He rubbed his chin as he rewound every moment he’d spent with you, searching for something he might have missed. He couldn’t think of a single instance where he had disrespected you. Both of you respected each other’s personal space and schedules. He knew you had a close relationship with Grace, your best friend.

Friends.

Friends?

His brows furrowed. Now that he thought about it, Grace was the only friend of yours he really knew. While you had met most of his circle, he knew almost nothing about yours.

Bucky leaned forward, clasping his hands together tightly. After giving it more thought, he realized the imbalance in your marriage. He was the dominant one, the one whose needs and routines shaped the relationship.

And he had barely noticed.

His jaw tightened, the weight of his ignorance sinking in. For the first time, he wondered if that was why you left.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After a long flight, Bucky’s plane finally touched down at the destination. He had managed to close his eyes during the journey, but rest was impossible—his thoughts were consumed by you. Memories, questions, and unspoken words replayed endlessly in his mind.

As he stepped off the plane, the crisp air hit his face, bringing a brief sense of clarity. The head of his security team approached him immediately.

"Sir, we’ve found her location," the man reported.

"Where is she?" Bucky asked, his voice sharp with urgency.

The security detail led Bucky toward the docks, their hurried footsteps crunching against the gravel. His heart was pounding, each step feeling heavier as the weight of anticipation bore down on him. He scanned the area, his sharp eyes searching frantically for any sign of you.

And then, he saw you.

There you were, standing near the edge of the dock, the soft breeze tugging at your hair as you stared out at the endless horizon. The setting sun cast a golden glow around you, making you look almost ethereal, like a mirage he’d conjured in his desperation.

His breath hitched. Relief washed over him first, flooding his chest so quickly that it nearly brought him to his knees. After days of relentless searching, and agonizing over where you could be, there you were—within reach.

But then came the ache. A sharp, searing pain in his chest that he hadn’t expected. Seeing you standing so calmly as if the world hadn’t turned upside down for him, struck a chord deep within. You looked so at peace, so distant, and he couldn’t understand it.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He closed the distance between you in long, determined strides, his emotions spiraling into a chaotic storm. Relief, anger, confusion, longing—it all melded together as his voice broke through the silence.

He called your name, loud and raw, the sound carrying across the water.

You turned, startled, your wide eyes locking with his. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. He saw the flicker of surprise on your face, the way your lips parted slightly as if you were about to say something. But what shook him most was what he didn’t see.

There was no regret in your eyes.

Bucky’s chest tightened, his fists clenching instinctively at his sides. How could you look at him like that—so calm, so unaffected—when he’d been unraveling without you? He reached you in a few quick strides, his hand shooting out to grab yours before you could move another step.

Bucky’s heart pounded as he called out your name, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves. You turned, visibly startled but composed, no trace of regret on your face.

He didn’t stop running until he reached you, grabbing your hand before you could step onto the yacht. "Why did you leave?" he demanded, his tone raw with frustration. "Didn’t I say we’d talk this through?"

You look at him, your eyes steady but filled with quiet resolve. “I don’t want to continue the marriage contract."

“I know.” He fell silent, his gaze locking onto yours. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

"No," you replied, shaking your head with a soft smile. "Didn’t you get the letter I left for you?"

Bucky frowned, the words unsettling him. The letter? What could it possibly say that justified this?

"It’s not you," you said, your tone steady. "It’s me."

"Lies," he shot back, his voice clipped with disbelief.

"It’s not," you insisted firmly.

"Explain it to me like I’m five years old," he demanded, his frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface.

You sighed, gathering your thoughts. "In the contract, we promised no lies, no deception. We even agreed that if one of us developed feelings, the marriage would end before things got messy."

Your gaze softened as you added, "Bucky, I love you."

The confession hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him stunned and speechless. He had braced himself for accusations, for anger, but not this.

You took advantage of his silence, gently pulling your hand free from his grasp. You turned to the captain of the yacht and gave a subtle nod, signaling him to start the engine.

As the boat began to drift away from the dock, Bucky’s senses returned. "Where are you going?" he called out, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Anywhere," you replied, your words floating back to him.

Standing at the edge of the dock, he could only watch as the boat carried you farther away.

From your place on the yacht, you glanced back at him. “What a fool,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I told everyone not to let you find me.”

The captain, standing at the helm, turned to you and asked, “How far do you want to go?”

"Keep sailing until I say stop," you said, your tone resolute.

"Alright," the captain replied, steering the yacht into the open sea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The yacht moved steadily through the endless expanse of blue, its wake cutting a gentle path through the water. You stood at the edge of the deck, the wind brushing against your face, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea. The horizon stretched infinitely, meeting the sky in a blur of hazy gold and blue. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the breeze tangle your hair and the sun warm your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you thought. The kind of beauty that felt untouched, unclaimed—exactly what you were searching for.

“This is it,” you murmured, barely audible to yourself.

With steady steps, you approached the captain’s cabin. He glanced at you briefly, his expression questioning.

“Stop here,” you said.

“Are you sure?” His voice carried the weight of uncertainty.

“Yes.” Your answer was firm, final.

He nodded and went to work, releasing the anchor with a heavy clunk as it descended into the ocean’s depths. The yacht slowed to a gentle halt, rocking slightly with the rhythm of the waves.

Without hesitation, you peeled off your clothes, revealing the simple swimsuit underneath. The air felt cool against your skin, but it didn’t matter. You stepped to the edge of the deck, your toes curling over the rim. For a brief second, you inhaled deeply, and then you leaped.

The water embraced you like an old friend. It was cold but refreshing, its weight washing over you, pulling you into its quiet, endless depths. You swam, letting your body move freely, unbound by the constraints of gravity or obligation.

You dove deeper, the light above you diffusing into shimmering rays that danced like silver ribbons. Down here, there were no walls to confine you, no contracts to dictate your actions. It was just you and the ocean—an infinite space where you could finally breathe.

For the first time in years, you felt free.

You floated on your back, staring up at the vast sky. The sun cast a golden glow across the water’s surface, making it sparkle like liquid diamonds. You let out a long breath, your body rising and falling with the gentle waves. This was what you had been looking for—a release from the weight of expectations and the burden of feeling tethered to things you didn’t truly want.

You didn’t understand why, but in this moment of letting go—of money, of love, of the life you’d meticulously built—you felt alive.

All your life, it had been about money. Growing up with a father whose high income only highlighted what was still lacking, you learned early that nothing was ever enough. There was always another competition to win, another prize to chase. Independence wasn’t just encouraged; it was demanded.

Money became your anchor, the thing that kept you afloat. You thrived on it, obsessed over it. You checked your bank accounts daily, reveling in the sight of green numbers climbing higher and higher. It was intoxicating, the sense of control and success that came with it.

Each time you earned more money, it was a step closer to impressing your parents. Impressing them became a lifelong goal—one that would finally make them say, “We’re proud of you.” But no matter how much you earned, it was never enough.

And then there was love—a concept you understood in theory but never cared to possess. Money filled the void better than any romantic notion ever could. Love was messy, complicated, and it demanded sacrifices you weren’t willing to make. Money didn’t ask for your vulnerability; it only required your focus, your ambition, your endless thirst for more.

The two were the same, you realized. Money and love—they both left you parched, chasing something that always seemed just out of reach.

Then what were the other things that made you confront money and love at the same time?

When you joined the matchmaking agency to find a wealthy partner, you hadn’t really thought it through. There wasn’t a grand plan, just the vague hope of finding someone who could meet your terms. Honestly, you expected the candidates to be older men—someone seeking a companion to attend events with, nothing more. You had even specified one unique condition in your profile: no intimacy.

So, it came as a shock when the person who agreed to your circumstances turned out to be Bucky Barnes—a man only two years older than you. Not only that, but he was willing to pay an impressive amount to seal the deal.

When it was Bucky’s turn to lay out his requirements, everything seemed to align perfectly. He needed a partner who could convincingly play the role of a devoted spouse, just long enough for him to inherit his family’s company. You knew you could handle that. Pretending to be his loving wife? It felt like an easy role to play.

His parents were simple to fool, far less intimidating than your own strict, demanding family. The real challenge, however, was his grandfather, Paul. With his sharp eyes and no-nonsense demeanor, Paul had a knack for spotting liars. Yet, even he couldn’t see through you. You gave him exactly what he longed for—a granddaughter-in-law who treated him with genuine care. That part was easy because you understood what it felt like to crave love and approval.

The first year flew by without a hitch. You and Bucky played your roles to perfection. The arrangement opened doors for both of you—financially and socially. When the time came to discuss extending the contract for another year, you agreed without hesitation. The benefits far outweighed any drawbacks.

But then, somewhere in the second year, things began to shift. You started to feel something for Bucky—something dangerous. It wasn’t part of the deal, and you hated yourself for it. From the start, Bucky had been upfront about his feelings—or lack thereof. For him, love was a waste of time. He had no use for romance, and you had respected that. Until now.

You couldn’t stop it, though. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your emotions, they crept in, uninvited. It was written clearly in your agreement: no feelings, no complications. If either party broke that rule, the contract would be terminated immediately.

So, you buried your feelings as best you could. Love was messy, unpredictable, and it made you want things you couldn’t have. It filled your mind with fantasies, leaving you restless and craving more. And you despised it.

You just needed to hold on a little longer.

But then, everything changed.

Two days before the marriage contract was set to end, something happened—something you hadn’t anticipated.

And in that moment, you realized nothing would ever be the same again.

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[sweetheart-peaches]

Ok, I don't have the mental energy to respond to everyone but to those who left comments/reblogs:

Thank you so much! I've read everything and I've found it very helpful! I know I have a tendency to overthink things, so I appreciate how kind everyone has been with their responses! ❤️

What do I do about having a fictive in the system?

I don't have an issue with fictives (or any other kind of introjects for that matter) we've just never had any introjects before so I'm kinda confused on what to say or do and how to move forward

Like do we treat them the exact same way as our brainmade (I think that's the right term) headmates? Or is there certain things you have to do/be careful of with introjects?

This probably sounds like a silly thing to be worried about, but it's genuinely making me anxious. This is something that feels very new and I tend to overthink things a lot, especially if it's new

I just want to make sure I don't do or say something wrong, I believe the split was caused by the stress/trauma we've been experiencing and I don't want to accidentally stress them out more or overwhelm them

Like I know that not all fictives identify with their source, and I know that it is up to them to choose whether or not they want to be separated from said source, but that's kinda it. Is there anything else that might be important to know?

Or just tips on how to make them make them feel comfortable and welcome, because not only is this our first introject but it's the first time we've had a new headmate since 2020 so I'm kinda lost with how to move forward

Kinda related side-note: I'm a permanently frontstuck/frontlocked host with basically no access to the headspace which makes communication kinda hard, actively trying to make it better, but it's very rough sometimes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In Regards To Your 2024 Summary:

Holy shit it’s been another year????? The hell?????

Also! Your art style is gorgeous and that being found in 2023 and then refined throughout late 2023 and the entirety of 2024 really shows, as does your growth in panel layouts, perspective, and — as you said — experimentation. If you ever post your animation or video game art I’m looking forward to it.

As cheesy as it sounds, being able to laugh at funny comics and look at all the details of your art really made my 2024 brighter, even when things were hard. Including looking at your older art— it doesn’t need to be new to be enjoyable! I’m glad your art is well loved and it’s a privilege to have been here since the (near) beginning. I hope you take care of yourself in 2025 and beyond!

You and your art bring a lot of people a lot of joy never forget that <3

Thank you so much for keeping up with my art journey throughout these last two years! Two years!!! I am baffled at how that feels both too long and too short!

Admittedly, my art summary didn't manage to capture the fact that I did a lot of comic layouts that I'm really proud of. I also drew more backgrounds and made some very detailed works (*Dungeon Meshi spoilers for these examples*).

The growth is lot more evident when comparing my 'best' comics of 2023 to 2024:

Sometimes the growth is vertical, sometimes it is horizontal - and damn, sometimes it goes out of sight into the Z-plane. But it is always happening!

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 7

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, CMNF (clothed male naked female), continued hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kissing, manual stimulation/fingering, touching under clothes, explicit consent, dirty talk

The noise you make would be embarrassing if you couldn’t feel the effect it has on him, see the way his pupils almost swallow his irises. With your calves over one shoulder, he pulls your underwear clear. You expect him to toss them aside, but instead, he places them down gently next to your hip.

Then, he parts your legs to let the left one fall back to drape over his leg. Your your face gets hot when you hear how wet you are. Simon makes an interested noise, getting your left leg back into position as he pets lightly over the hair you’d thankfully groomed before your trip. His thumb dips down to just barely brush over the hood of your clit.

“Already so wet f’ me,” he rumbles. “Set your hips. Good girl.” As he straightens your leg, he shifts his own hips and makes room for his hand between you. The breath hisses out of him when his fingers slide across where you’re wet and wanting. “Fuck. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you whimper, resisting the urge to roll your hips into the barely there touch. “Green. Green, Simon, please, I want it.”

He doesn’t make you ask again, just lets a thick finger sink in ever so slowly. His thumb rubs soft and slow, using your wetness to glide gently over your clit. You try not to moan too loudly, to hear the way he huffs into the side of your calf. For once, he’s not staring at you. Instead, his eyes are closed, breaths shallow as his finger pulses inside of you, almost metronome steady.

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly spills into the rest of your body. You can’t help but squeeze around him, once. He’s so gentle that you can feel yourself soften and open for him, until the friction is nothing but the shivery, slow ascent toward your peak. You don’t resist the urge to tip your head back with a soft sound.

After a few long moments, you flutter your eyes open. When you look at Simon, you notice the slightest tremble in his shoulders. His head is tipped down, but you can see tension in his neck, though there’s only the lightest pressure where his temple meets the leg that is still over his shoulder.

You touch the top of his thigh, surprised by how rigid he’s holding himself. “Simon?”

“Mm?” His voice is just as soft as his muscles aren’t.

Your voice comes out just as quiet. “You okay?”

The hum he gives you is noncommittal. But he keeps petting you inside and out, steady and distracting. Three fingers on his other hand tap two times. He needs some time to think, to center himself.

Did you do something to upset him? You try to sit up to speak to him. Before you can get an elbow under yourself, he squeezes his fingers toward each other, a sudden, staggering pressure that makes you fall back with a yelp. You try to twist away, but as gentle as he is, you can’t break his hold on your leg - or between your legs.

“Settle,” he rumbles, pinning you with a heated look from beneath his lashes. He starts petting over your raised thigh. “’M okay, Bambi. Ready?”

You almost say yes. Your whole body wants nothing more but to melt into him. But… “A-are you sure?”

“’F course,” His whole face softens when he smiles. “Mos’ beautiful woman in the world ‘s in bed wi’ me. Tryin’ no’ to mess my pants like a green boy.”

You end up swallowing whatever you might say to that when he curls his thick finger back up to make quick, hard strokes against your g-spot. Even as a part of you starts purring with the knowledge that he’s so undone for you, you feel yourself start to come apart at the seams.

Simon straightens your leg, asking, “Number?” Which isn’t fair of him. You have to consciously resist the building tension in your body, resist chasing the orgasm that is building ever so slowly.

“Number, Bambi,” he prompts you again, with mean pressure over your clit.

He’s barely putting any strain on your leg, just holding your it up. “Two,” you gasp. “One and a half.”

He leans forward, just a fraction, with a grin. “Now?”

“Three-ee!” you yelp as his fingers speed up.

He holds you there, watching as you struggle to relax into the stretch. Each time you start to tense into the pleasure, he slows his ministrations, just a little. Just enough to pull you back from the edge. You want to curse him out, you want to cry. It’s agony just as much as a reward, a slow syrupy pleasure that makes everything a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Doin’ so good, Bambi,” he rumbles, what you suspect is much longer than 30 seconds later. “Ready for the other one?”

You give into the urge to arch your back as he adjusts you. Your voice is so soft you’re not sure he’ll hear you when you ask, “C’n I have more?”

Simon hums as he adjusts you to drape your other calf over his shoulder. “Ask me nice.”

Your whole body feels warm and soft and pliant. “Please, Simon, can I have another finger?”

“’F course,” he coos. He straightens your leg. It’s the barest hint of pressure. You whine as his finger withdraws, then settle when he pets at you with two. “Askin’ so nice. C’n ‘ave whatever you want.”

He pushes in, slowly, before he adjusts your leg, and you’re grateful. His hands are so large, and you appreciate them in a new way, now. His fingers are so thick you have to take a few deep breaths to let him in fully. You can feel the groan that scrapes its way out of his chest. Your own hands seek his thighs, clenching the cloth of his sweatpants in a shaky fist as he pushes your leg where it needs to go.

He doesn’t seem to need your input this time, pushing your leg just to where you need it. Or maybe he did ask, but you’re too focused on the gentle and implacable way he caresses you inside to hear him. He barely has to move to devastate you. Before, you had to try not to tense around him. Now? You’re not sure you have any command over your body. You’re at his mercy, the most serene you’ve ever been.

You can’t stop the noises you make when he starts moving again, little whines and moans that he echoes. The climax that has been building inches closer with every beat of his fingers. When he sets your leg back down, you only notice because he leans forward to brace his hand next to your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, and the hand between your legs gets so insistent that you have to gasp for breath. “Good girl, Bambi. Tha’s it. You wan’ to come, pretty girl?”

“Si-mon,” you hiccup, turning your head to mouth at his wrist.

“Yeah, you wan’ it,” he rumbles, ducking down to pant against your cheekbone as he works his hand. “You c’n ‘ave it, beautiful, take your reward. Come f’ me, now. C’mon.”

Before Simon, you’d never been able to come on command. After a few months, his voice could coax you to you peak with a little preparation. Now, with his lips brushing your skin and his presence filling your senses?

You couldn’t resist him if you wanted to.

The orgasm feels like it’s torn from behind your belly button. You can barely breathe for how it rolls through you. If Simon wasn’t caging you in, you might shake apart. As it is, you grasp at him however you can, trembling and crying out in ways you’re barely aware of. His voice anchors you through it, rasped encouragement and snarled affection that you can’t understand.

It takes all of your strength to turn your head to catch his lips with yours. Simon takes over, immediately, perfectly, and you give in to him with a panting moan. He steals your remaining breath, but also starts to gentle you down, hand and fingers gentling from earth-shattering movement to something so slow and gentle that your hips chase the echoes of sensation. He lets you. The way he kisses you, you think he really would give you anything you want.

[virgothozul]

Jsdcbbccbhcb !! Merci !! tant de personnes ont réagi au précédent post en français ahahahah 🤣 c’est incroyable ! je ne m’attendais pas à tant de réactions merci merci ! Thank you everyone for the attention on my last post !!!

This is when Miles drops at the police station like a prince, a whole year later, nonchalant about his hiatus. And Phoenix is most likely losing his 💩 3 feet away.

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

Why dis 🤓 look so mad 😭😭😭

From Ch. 23 of this fic by @sapphosscribe

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Love at First Pride 💜

Johnlock fic for the may prompts hosted by @calaisreno <3 (31st may)

summary:

John just recently discovered he is bi. So this is his first Pride Parade. And then this tall, attractive man catches his eye and he promptly falls in love.

[based on a true experience by the author]

Teen And Up Audience, 892 Words, Fluff. Alternative First Meeting, Pride Parades, Bisexual John Watson, Mike Stamford the proudest straight ally, Gay Sherlock Holmes, Genderqueer Sherlock Holmes, Love at First Sight, POV John Watson, POV Third Person, Meet-Cute, they are in their 20s, Brief Mention of Alcohol and Weed

tags under the cut!

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga