#the amount of times I changed their faces

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (7.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

The night that changed everything

Content Warning: Angst, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna is his own warning, Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state Sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). This is a +18 post so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you. Not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

W.C: 5.8K

A/N: Hi besties! Here we have the night they spent together. I hope you guys enjoy it!

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

8:25 p.m.

“Are you sure we can’t just order takeout?”

Sukunas eyes met yours.

“No. We’re staying to eat.”

Sukuna was used to your insults. The oh so clever ways you found to call him an idiot, a manwhore, a joke. He was used to the rage you put behind your words whenever he found a way to get under your skin. He even was used to the physical violence you enforced against him, a small scar over his left eyebrow served as an amusing reminder of the time you threw a vase at his face for “accidentally” dropping hot sauce all over you before you went out with your friends. The three stitches his wound required had been worth it as soon as he saw you coming out of your room with a different dress, the amount of exposed skin turned down a notch.

Sukuna was used to receive and be the source of your rage. It was fun. It was entertaining. It was comfortable.

What Sukuna wasn’t used to was the emptiness behind your eyes. Ever since that night the spark he liked ignite was gone, almost as it had been sucked out of you. The memory of that night replayed constantly on his mind.

“Get the fuck of me!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

A curling scream echoed in the alley behind the bar.

Sukunas heart rose to his throat. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even remember where he had placed his keys or his gun, a kitchen knife in his hand as he had left his apartment in a rush. He hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes or a shirt, nothing more than just a pair of black sweatpants and desperation joined him as he ran through the dark streets of Tokyo.

Ryomen Sukuna was a man with many faults. Prone to anger. Sociopathic tendencies. Narcisism in its most pure form. He wasn’t a stranger to rage or violence but the wrath that rose in him the moment he heard your scream wasn’t of this world. Worlds could be burned just by the mere touch of the fire of his rage.

“Get off!”

The back door had been locked, probably by one bastard inside. His body smashed again and again against the door unsuccessfully, the metal bolt stopping him from wreaking havoc inside. You must’ve been close to the back door as he heard you calling for him.

“Sukuna!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

He heard the echo of a slap.

Tick

There had been few instances where Sukuna had blacked out because of anger. There had been one time when his little brother Jin had been pushed into a wall by a group of older kids, his head hitting the concrete.

That had been the first time Sukuna had ever been arrested.

The second time had happened more recently. He had been foolish, unprepared for betrayal. Jogo, a strange guy that he had dealt with in the past and a guy that claimed to be his ally, had tried to put a leash on him. He had dared to use his family and friends to control him, threatening everyone from Uraume to his little nephew Yuji. No one had found Jogo’s corpse yet.

This time had been different. Usually, he retained a couple of the memories of what had transpired, he remembered the screams of those kids, he remembered the look in Jogo’s eyes as life left his body. He remembered them begging, pleading him to stop.

This time he didn’t remember running to the front door, his body smashing against the glass of one of the shop windows making sharp little pieces of crystal collide against his skin, leaving trails of blood behind. He didn’t even remember feeling the same pieces of glass crunching under his bare feet, painfully digging in his skin.

He didn’t even remember your cries or screams, neither the silence his entrance had caused. The only thing he remembered was the image that welcomed him when he finally went through the kitchen doors. Three men were in the kitchen with you, pressing your body against the bar. Tears ran down your face as struggled against them, sheer panic plastered all over your face. He remembered how wide your eyes had been as one of the men pressed a blade against your neck, stopping Sukuna in his tracks.

He remembered your tears. He remembered your fear. He remembered your anger. He remembered the way you had grabbed a knife, stabbing them man that held you hostage in the side of his torso.

He didn’t wake up until your voice called his name once more, stopping him from his frenzy as his fist collided again and again against the man’s face. Your face was drenched covered in blood, purple and black spots already forming along your cheek. His knuckles were raw and broken, the man under him more likely than not dead. They didn’t hurt him as much as the pain the sight of your bruised face brought him.

“Sukuna…” your voice died on your lips.

His hands reached out to you and for the first time you had recoiled before he could even touch you.

He was going to kill them, all of them.

“Are you ready to order?” A feminine voice brought him out of his thoughts. A pretty waitress stood in front of them, her smile directed towards him.

“Two miso soups” He grunted.

Usually, his unfriendly demeanor was enough for people to leave him alone. Unfortunately, the waitress had been too focused on his physique to be deterred by his personality.

“Coming right up.” She said as she finished writing on her notebook. She pushed her short black hair behind her ears, a blush spreading through her face. “I like your tattoos”

“Mmm”

His eyes fell on his cellphone, hoping she would get the message.

She didn’t.

“I have a couple of them myself. I have two on my arm and one… well I couldn’t show you where the other one is.”

Any other day Sukuna would’ve taken the bait, even better with you watching. But when the corner of his eye caught you staring through the window, any sort of satisfaction left his body.

You weren’t even looking at him.

“Mmm”

He didn’t spare her a glance.

The waitress opened her mouth one last time, hoping that to at least get his attention.

“It’s nice of you to take your sister out to eat. Not a lot of brothers are this nice.”

Tick.

“What the fuck makes you think she’s my sister?”

The waitress had finally caught his indifference… a little too late.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I was just– “

“I know what the fuck you’re trying to do.” Sukuna cut her off, his eyes burning through the girls skull. “I don’t do desperate sluts, especially not the ones that whore themselves out when I already have company.”

“I-I’m sorry, I– “

“I don’t give a fuck about your apologies.” Sukunas eyes burned with fire, his fist hitting the table gathering everyone’s attention. “What makes you think I, let alone anyone in this restaurant with functioning eyes and a sense of smell, would even touch you? You think an ugly, desperate, fish smelling skank like you can–”

Your hand reached to his “Enough.”

A battle of stares ensued. Carmin eyes stared at yours, the anger they carried could’ve made even the strongest man shiver under them. Not you. Never you. Not even when yours where void of any emotion.

As always, you won.

“Go. Ask another waitress to bring our food.” You told the girl, eyes still focused on him. “I already have enough fish in my soup.”

Sukuna chuckled.

A few moments later two steaming bowls of miso were dropped off at your table by a male waiter.

“I don’t like miso soup.” You broke the silence.

“Lie. You don’t like porridge.”

“How do you even know that?”

For a second, Sukunas heart began racing, an annoying habit it had acquired for the past few months.

“I know everything you hate just in case I have to use it.”

“Asshole.”

He brought the white bowl to his lips, the savory taste of the broth lingering on his mouth. He had never considered himself well-mannered so it wasn’t a surprise when mere seconds later, the bowl was emptied from any liquid.

Yours, on the other hand, remained intact. Your eyes had gone back to the window, thoughts lost so far Sukuna couldn’t decipher them. The dark circles below them were poorly concealed, the darker tone crashing against whatever makeup product you were using to cover them.

“Brat.”

You didn’t turn to him, but he knew you were listening.

“Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

Tick

Sukunas laugh filled the air, his head pulled back as he rubbed his eyes. Your head finally snapped to his direction, eyebrows furrowing with frustration the longer his laugh continued.

Thirty seconds was all it took for your patience to run out.

“What’s so funny?”

He took a deep breath, his hand holding his stomach as the pain from laughing too much took over his abdomen.

“You.”

You scoffed “What about me?”

Sukunas smile widened with the cockiness that’s characterized him.

“I never took you for a weakling.”

Your jaw hardened, teeth grinding so hard he could almost hear your enamel disintegrating itself away.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Fire.

Scalding, raging fire. Your eyes opened wide, burning everything on their path.

Sukunas skin filled with goosebumps.

“You’re going to let a couple of fat, weak, disgusting pigs beat you?”

Your breathing hitched before your hands turned into fists.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned in.

“All I see is someone who’s letting herself be controlled. Look at yourself.” His eyes traveled along your face and your clothes, earning yourself an eye roll. “You’re starving yourself away, not sleeping, pretending you're fine as if nothing happened or at least trying to. They couldn’t hurt your body but you’re letting them kill away your mind?”

His words weakened your anger, your eyes watering a second later. Sukunas chest ached uncomfortably, as his mind told him to turn away from the source of his pain. He hated it. He wanted it gone. Whatever strange concoction of feelings you brought was foreign to him, but it was powerful enough to make him lose focus.

“You want to prove me wrong?”

He didn’t give you time to answer.

“Eat. Now.”

10:17 p.m.

“What are we doing here?”

Sukunas foot stepped on the rear brake making the motorcycle coming to a stop. He parked a couple of streets away, making you both walk until you reached a small white house in the outskirts of Tokyo.

You both walked to the white mid-size sedan parked outsides, making your way to the driver’s door. Your hands stopped him when he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his elbow

“What the fuck Sukuna? You’re going to get us arrested.”

“Not if you shut the fuck up.” He whispered, shaking your hand off. “You don’t remember this car, do you?”

Your eyes scanned the vehicle, looking through the window for any clues. Once your eyes landed on the driver seat where a chocolate axe body spray laid, they lit up with recognition and disgust.

“Daichi? My ex-manager?”

He tied one last knot.

“Remember the scrap yard Uraume and I used to hang out around when we were kids?”

“Yeah?”

He threw his keys at you, barely giving you time to catch them.

“Take my bike and meet me there.”

You stood there frozen as you processed what he said but Sukuna didn’t have time to wait for your brain to finally start working.

“Go! Now!”

His elbow crashed against the crystal, shattering everything on its path. The alarm went off, finally snapping you out of it. It didn’t take him longer than 3 minutes to silence the alarm and have the vehicle up and running. After years of experience taking bigger and better vehicles, a 2005 dodge wasn’t going to be a problem, it had almost been boring. You were long gone once the porch lights turned on, the echo of his bike speeding away filling the streets instead.

A short man with dark hair and an overhanging stomach came out screaming, a broomstick in his hands. Sukuna’s right foot dug in the gas pedal leaving the smell of burnt tire’s behind as his middle finger stuck out of the window.

10:41 p.m.

 The rubble pathway to the boneyard made Sukuna remember why he preferred his bike over a constricted, heavy, metal box. Every rock sent the stability of the vehicle out the window making it seem as he was using the car to swim against the current, the two sixpacks of beer clashing against each other in the back.

Five minutes later he finally found you, his bike resting next to a torn down SUV as you paced back and forth. He didn’t had time to get both feet out of the car before you came to face him.

“What the fuck?” You yelled; your breathing heavy as your hands shook. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Perfect, he thought to himself.

“Out of the way, slut.”

You scoffed, not before closing the door on him. The door collided against his hand and the brewing anger only you could pull out of him came to surface. His first instinct was to grab you by the throat, wishing nothing more than throwing you to the ground. Instead, he smashed the door closed as the back of his mind pleaded him not to upset you.

Upset you.

Since when did he care?

Throughout the years he had never cared for your emotions other than your anger. Your anger has always been the prime source of his entertainment, the things he had said, the things he had done, all for his own sake. He had pulled tears from your eyes, he had hurt you emotionally and sometimes physically just to pull a good laugh from himself.

He didn’t care about you.

But why did your tears haunt his dreams ever since that night?

“You’re fucking insane! We could get arrested!”

He scoffed, opening the passenger door. “Calm your tits, brat. No one is getting arrested.”

“You fucking calm your tits when I tear your head off for sending me to prison.” You turned away from him.

He took out the packs of beer along with a metal bat he had paid the liquor store owner for. He cracked open a can, the shaking of the car taking effect in the drink making it explode as soon as he opened it.

Sukuna welcomed the bitter taste of the liquor, anything that could distract him from the nuisance your presence brought him.

 “Here.” He placed a metal bat in your hands.

“What am I supposed to with this?”

“Hit the car.” Sukuna said as if it was obvious.

“What?” You looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “No, what the hell?”

“Hit the fucking car.”

You pushed the bat back to his chest, forcing him to hold it. “I’m not hitting the fucking car, idiot.”

“Alright, if you’re not hitting the car then you have to admit you’re not ok.”

“What?”

Your tone hardened and he could almost see the walls building themselves back up.

“You heard me.” Sukuna repeated, opening a new can as he crushed the first one. “Hit the car or tell the truth.”

“I’m not doing shit.” You turned to his bike, your hands digging in your pockets.

Sukuna pulled you back by the arm, his hand snatching his keys out of your fingers.

“You’re not going anywhere until you either beat the shit out of this car or you fucking tell the truth.”

You tried to pull yourself free, but his grip was made from steel.

“Let me go”

“Make me.” 

His eyes wondered down your face, staying on your lips for only a quarter of a second. You moved yourself closer to him and for a moment Sukuna thought you might kiss him. His body unconsciously filled with anticipation, only to have you snatch the bat out of his hands.

Hard, heavy footsteps carried you away until you reached the front of the car. You got into position, your hands gripping the handle so tightly he thought you might hurt yourself. You looked back at him one last time, only turning once he gave you a small nod.

Smash

“Again.” He barked. Sukuna had expected you to fight back but the sound of the metal colliding against metal surprised him.

Smash.

“Again.”

Smash

“Again.”

Smash

“Fuck your job.” You yelled, your voice cracking in the last word.

Smash

“Fuck your pathetic life.”

Smash

“Fuck you, you mother fucking abortion looking like bastard!”

Smash

“Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Fuck you!”

Your angry screams had turned into wails, each one more painful than the other. The more you hit the car the faster your façade fell, showing him every dark thought you had forcefully hidden away from everyone. His heart began pounding against his chest, his own heartbeat deafening him from your suffering.

Something unexpected happened to Sukuna that night.

Physical touch for him mostly meant sex, or at least with the intention to end in sex. Sukuna was rough edges and violence; kindness and tenderness were never part of vocabulary and he preferred it that way. Why would he spend time in something he never saw a useful purpose for? Love meant weakness, and weakness was dangerous for men like him.

If love was useless to Sukuna, then why did he reach out for you? Why did he pulled the bat away, throwing it to the side as his arms wrapped around you? Why did he pushed your face to his chest, hoping his shirt would wipe your tears away so he wouldn’t have to see them?

“Stop it!” You fought back. “Let me go. Let me fucking go!”

He didn’t budge.

Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him like he was your lifesaver. He could tell you were still struggling, fighting with everything in you to keep the tears inside. Even after finally breaking apart you still tried to find strength to not collapse.

He liked that about you, even if he would never admit it. Not even to himself.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked as you pulled back from his embrace, but his arms wouldn’t release you. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna was left speechless for the first time in his life.

What was he even trying to get out of this? Didn’t he hate you? With everything that had happened between you, why did he go out of his way to help you and expected nothing in return?

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. Red, slightly swollen eyes looked back at him and the pain in his chest intensified. “All I know is I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He would destroy worlds to erase the sadness behind your eyes.

11:03 p.m.

“Isn’t it weird we’ve known each other for almost a decade, and this is the first time we’ve actually hung out? Outside of sex of course.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He said as he drank the last sip of the last beer.

A mountain of smashed cans rested beside him as you both laid down in the hood of the now broken up car with the word “Rapist” scratched up in all sides. Both your jackets laid below you to protect you from the coldness of the metal as you looked at the dark sky.

“Why do you think that is?”

 He looked at you, laying on your back and staring at the stars, your eyes finally lost in something else other than the darkness in your head. He could almost see the real you again.

“Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

You laughed.

“Yeah well, you’re not a spring breeze yourself.” You countered asclosed your eyes, a smile adorning your face.

Sukunas hand itched with the need to touch you, almost as if it had a mind of his own. This wouldn’t have bothered him as much if what he wanted to touch were your breasts or reach for that sweet spot between your legs, he would even be ok if it was your thighs, the soft sensitive skin along them always calling for him.

Instead, he wanted to reach for your face, trace along the path of your tears all the way down to your lips. He wanted to reach out for your hand, figure out if entwining his fingers with yours would be as great as he pictured in his imagination.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” You said with a smirk.

He was glad your eyes were still closed, or you would’ve seen the slight blush crossing his face.

“As if, brat. I would go blind if I looked at you for too long.”

You scoffed. “Then why haven’t you? I see you looking at me all the time.”

His brain froze, his heart missing a heartbeat.

“Keep it up and I might think you actually like me, pretty boy.”

“I haven’t reached rock bottom yet. Maybe then you might have a chance.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

Sukuna laid back down on the car as he forced his heart to stop beating so fast. He wasn’t wrong when he said you were a pain in the ass, especially now that he couldn’t even control his body.

“I know that you burned down the store I used to work in.”

He didn’t answer, unsure on why you were bringing it up.

“Why did you do it?”

Another thing he wasn’t sure of. Somehow, when it came to you, he wasn’t sure of a lot of things.

He couldn’t tell you that, though.

“As much as I hate you, you’re Uraume’s sister.” He took a deep breath, hoping his lie would be believable enough. “They’re like family to me.”

“So, I’m like family to you too?”

“No.” He answered too fast for his liking. “You’re more like a pebble in my shoe that for some reason Uraume loves.”

“Is that the only reason why you did it?” You kept questioning to his dismay.

Did you know? There was no way you could know, right?

“Why else would I do it? You’re my friends annoying little sister and a slut I’ve fucked a couple of times; there’s nothing more to it.”

His words seemed to end the discussion, but he had his own questions brewing.

“Are you planning on telling Uraume?”

He felt your body tense up.

“No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I–“ you cut yourself off, searching for the right words. “I don’t want them in all of this. Want it or not, you killed a guy, Sukuna. I might have too, we don’t know.”

“I handled it.” He interjected but that wasn’t enough for you.

“It doesn’t matter.” You turned to your side, facing him. “If I tell Uraume two things could happen and both of them end with them going to prison.”

“You don’t give them enough credit if you think Uraume would get caught.”

“It’s not about that, Sukuna. If I can stop them from getting in more trouble than they already are, I’ll do it.”

Even if it didn’t make sense to him, he could understand the thought process behind it. He didn’t know how aware you were of the “business” him and Uraume dealt with, or how deep in the neck they were. But he understood your desire to protect them even if they had committed far worse crimes.

And with that a thought popped in his head.

“You not being able to sleep… is it because I killed that guy in front of you?”

“No. Well– not in the way you think.”

He gave you a look, telling you to continue.

“When you killed that guy… I didn’t feel sad or scared.” You took a deep breath. “I-I felt relieved, so fucking relieved. It was almost like I enjoyed it, which I guess it makes sense with all things considered but–”

You hesitated, and Sukuna could sense the silent battle you were having over whether to speak or not.

"I was angry too. I was angry I didn’t kill him myself. I was angry I couldn’t see his eyes drain of life and… I was angry I wouldn’t be the last thing he saw when he died.”

Sukuna could sense the shame in your words, the guilt of your feelings filling you again. He wanted to reach out to you, engulf you in a tight embrace again but he stopped himself from it.

“You… you think that makes me a monster?” You asked.

He wiped away a lonely tear that fell from your left eye.

“I know monsters and you’re not one of them. You’re just human.”

 “Yeah, a fucked up one.”

“Not as fucked up as me, right?” He shrugged.

You chuckled at his words. “Yeah, that bit is true.”

In a surprising move from your part, your fingers found his hand as you entwined them with his. Your warmth invading Sukunas senses as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Thanks.” You whispered. “For all of this.”

He could only bring himself to say one word.

“Sure.”

12:38 a.m.

“How are we going to get in? I don’t even have the right clothes.”

“Shut it. I know a way.”

After asking to go somewhere different, Sukuna wanted to know what you had in mind. When you said dancing, it was obvious it wasn’t what he had hoped for. He had hoped your idea of somewhere different would be his apartment, particularly his bed but he wasn’t too picky with the surface.

Instead he found himself guiding you through an alley behind The Underworld, a popular night club in the middle of Tokyo. After he found the back door he looked on windows near the backroom, finding one of them unlatched. He pulled it open, moving to the side as he waited for you to jump in.

“You’re not really serious, are you?” You asked incredulously.

“You in or not?”

You looked through the alley, searching for any unwanted spectator. After finding nothing, you rolled your eyes before walking to him “Fine, whatever.”

Both of you came out of the backroom, Sukuna guiding you both to the employees only resting area with a door that guided to the bar area. Darkness barely lit up by strobe lights and a couple of ambiance light welcomed you as soon as you crossed the door. The bass music hit your bodies through the air, each low down filtering through your bones.

You were clearly underdressed, both of you wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, his only possible salvation the black leather jacket he carried most places. Theres was nothing to worry though, the darkness in the club were enough to cover you from everyone else’s eyes.

Passing next to the bar, Sukuna managed to swipe a bottle some poor bartender had left unattended, rushing you to the other side of the establishment. You took charge once you were at a safe distance, guiding him to the middle of the dance floor. Red, purple and blue lights hit you in the face and he thought he had never seen anyone as majestic.

Every thought he had of you confused him, some of them even sending him to a panic, but he also knew he enjoyed them. He enjoyed the fire you once again carried inside you, the way your eyebrows furrowed whenever he would spout hateful names towards you, or the way your eyes crinkle when he had pissed you off too much.

He liked the way your lips moaned his name when he fucked you silly.

You had started dancing, arms in the air as you swayed your hips. Of course, you also danced like a slut, hypnotizing him as you enjoyed the music. He took a sip of the vodka bottle he carried, his carnal instincts taking over finally. It had been almost too long since the last time he had felt you around his cock and now that you were here, he wanted nothing more than taking you to the bathroom and make you scream his name.

He stalked you, like a predator waiting to catch his prey, anticipation overfilling him the longer you kept your eyes closed. You lifted your arms a little too high, revealing to him the black laced thong you were wearing.

He lost control.

Sukuna spun you around, grabbing your hips between his hands. You had gasped when he had grabbed you, but once you recognized him you went back to your dancing, hips now moving along with his touch. Your ass pressed against his crotch, effectively springing up his cock as soon as he felt your warmth. His hands wondered up your body, squeezing your tits on the way up to your neck, pushing you more against him.

He didn’t care if everyone could see you and for the way you looked at him, neither did you. Somehow his brain had been taken over by his basic instincts, his body craving more and more like a thirsty animal. Your eyes traveled down to his lips as you leaned in close enough for him to almost taste you.

Finally, after so long.

However, you pulled away, a sultry smirk on your lips.

“Can you go get a glass with ice? I like my vodka cold.”

He was going to fucking kill you. He tried grabbing you but you scaped his touch, your smile getting wider.

“Nuh huh, ice first.”

Fucking bitch.

Sukuna scoffed as he turned away, trying to find a table where to swipe the glass with ice so he could go back and put you in your place. With the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him, still dancing in the middle of the floor. You were riling him up, the playful look in your eyes telling him you wanted him too. Fine, he would play your game if you accepted the consequences.

After what it seemed like the hundredth table, he finally got the stupid glass filled with ice. He turned around, ready to make his way up to you but the sight of you pushing a guy away stopped him in his tracks.

Tick

He threw the bottle along with the cup, the people surrounding him complaining as they got splashed. Sukuna made his way to you, pushing people to both side to get them out of the way. Your jaw was tightened as you backed away from the guy.

The unknown man didn’t see it coming, two hands grabbing him by the shirt and smashing him against the wall, Sukunas body and strength caging him in a dangerous position.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You yelled in the guys face.

“I–I’m sorry, I–“ The man tried to explain but his words were met with another shove, leaving his lungs without air.

Sukuna pulled out a knife he kept with himself at all times, the spade blade touching the guys neck.

“I’m going to fucking kill you for touching her.”

Whatever pathetic words he was about to plead with died in his throat as you called for Sukuna’s attention.

“Stop it.” You pulled on his shoulder.

Sukuna pressed the guys neck more, surely blocking his airways. He would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for the second pull you gave him, this time strong enough to move him. He released the man, the later collapsing to the floor.

“Let’s go.” He said as pulled you by your hand. You were about to say something when a couple of tall, well built men stopped you in your tracks. They had to be the bouncers.

“You’re going to have to go with me, kids.”

Sukuna laughed. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat you up in front of your girlfriend.”

He gave you a look with the corner of his eye, your eyes wide and open. At first he thought you were scared of the confrontation, he found that thought deeply offensive, as if he couldn’t take a couple of old, wasted, meatheads. But once he saw the way your lips commissure raised, he recognized the look you gave him.

You were having fun.

“Run!”

Your fingers laced with his as you pulled him forward.

Sukuna had to give it to you, when it came to running no one could beat you. Ever since you were kids it had always been a bitch to play with you. Somehow even at eight years old you had figured out how to turn into Usain Bolt, your little legs driving you too far for him to catch you.

You swerved through the sea of people, pushing some of them on your way as you tried to put as many obstacles between the men and you. Your escape was cut short by a big man jumping on your way, trying to catch you in his arms. Sukunas heart raced as he saw you almost getting caught so he smashed himself against the man, pushing both of them to the floor. You looked in shock as the chairs flew out of the way, hitting many people on their path.

“Go!” He yelled at you before standing up, pulling you with him.

You ran past the doors, jumping over the crowd control rope so you both run down the street towards Sukunas bike. Four men were now on your persuit, their footsteps heavy and slow compared to yours.

“Get back here, fuckers!” One of them yelled once you were too far away to be caught.

Both of you hopped on his bike, leaving tire smoke and stains behind as he raced through the empty streets in Tokyo.

“I can’t believe we did that!” You cheered as you held onto him.

“I forgot you turn into Usain Bolt when you run.”

You chuckled. “Shut up.”

Sukuna felt the weight of your head on his back as your arms grew tights around him. You took a deep breath, almost as if you were inhaling his scent, before liberating the air, your body relaxing against his.

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

His heart dropped down, he assumed because he could not get laid tonight, having played along you game for nothing. That must be why, he told himself. Except the back of his brain already craved your presence even if you were still next to him.

“Alright.” Was his only response.

It didn’t matter anyways, he would get his chance another day.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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[reocidal]

when your parents told you to follow your dreams, they didn't quite expect you to want to be a florist. consequently, they were also unsure of what to say when you opened up a quaint little flower shop in the most peaceful corner of the city. but hey, at least the "dream" that you followed wasn't a 6'5" tattooed criminal on the run from the police! so by the time the income started really flowing in, you had garnered all their support.

nowadays, with no important occasions around, business had become kind of slow. that didn't stop you from enjoying your job every single day, however, and said enjoyment only seemed to increase as a certain silver-haired gentleman slowly became a more and more common sight at your store.

the first time you saw him was almost a year ago. you'd dropped a bunch of change on the ground, and when you'd finally finished gathering the stupid coins into your hands, you'd noticed — to your chagrin — that someone was waiting for you to finish, and probably had been waiting for a while.

you'd stammered out a bunch of nonsensical apologies without really looking at him, blinking in surprise when he started laughing. the man in front of you, while being much taller and larger than you in general, was doubled over, giggling like a child. as the two of you exchanged small talk, it became clear to you that while he was loud, bold, audacious even, bokuto kōtarō’s soul was undeniably sweet — almost as sweet as the scent of the flowers he'd bought for older sisters. speaking of which, that was absolutely adorable. when he left that day, you could only hope to see him again. because, as you watched him walk away, spiky black-and-silver hair growing more and more distant with each passing second, you realized that the small interaction you'd had with him had resulted in him unwittingly stealing your heart in broad daylight.

as much as you'd wanted him to return, you didn't even think it’d happen this soon — a week and a half later, not that you kept count. of course not. you also didn't purposely spend more time fixing up the bouquet he was purchasing today, a get-well-soon present for someone's mother, apparently. how cute.

that day, he left you blushing and giggling like a teenager with a crush. to be fair, he had called you pretty. and in your opinion, he was prettier. you didn't see him for almost a month afterwards, when you'd almost given up hope. he'd spent extra time talking to you that day, as if to make up for missed visits, even after you’d fixed up his bouquet and he'd paid. in the excitement of seeing him again, you'd forgotten to make the bouquet slower than usual. but as you (dejectedly) waited for him to leave, he leaned against the counter oh-so-handsomely, large hand dwarfing the flowers comedically while he chatted with you about every topic that came to mind.

after this, the visits became more spaced out, but they never quite stopped. and everything went perfectly fine. if “perfectly fine” meant you falling harder for bokuto every time you saw him, and if it meant akaashi growing tired of the endless amounts of flowers that were dumped on him every other week.

until one day, when everything changed. bokuto hadn't come to (see you) buy flowers that day, and you were feeling a little disappointed (read: a LOT) when you finally moved to close for the day. it was only then when you heard a breathless gasp of your name from behind you. turning around, you came face to face with none other than (the love of your life) bokuto kōtarō.

“hey?”

“hey, y/n, hi.” he ws uncharacteristically nervous, normal outgoing personality nowhere to be seen. “can you — can i buy some flowers?”

“oh, sure!” yeah, you'd been about to close the store, but you'd also do almost anything for this man. what was five extra minutes of work, if it gave you ten with bokuto? “what's the occasion?” you asked him — a staple of the conversations you'd had over the counter.

“g’na ask someone out,” he replied, looking away. your heart dropped.

“oh,” you replied, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible — cry about it at home, not here. “what flowers do i put? and who's the lucky, um, person?”

"baby's breath, red carnations, and uh, red roses," he announced, crumpling up the note where all this is transcribed. but he ignored your question.

“cool,” you said, cringing at the sound your own voice. “here you go, it'll be $30.”

you couldn't bring yourself to look at him again, turning around to busy yourself with something, anything—

“y/n.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but he didn't let you.

“y/n, i think you're coolandcuteandprettyandawesomeandjustperfectwillyougooutwithmeplease.”

it took a moment for you to register what he just said. “bokuto, what?”

“i’m sorry!” he looked mortified, like he'd start crying any second. “i just really like you a lot! and the flowers are for you! i’msorrythiswasstupidi’mnevercomingback—”

“um,” you say. “um, it's okay, i— i like you too.” like was an understatement, but whatever.

and then he looked up at you with a stupidly huge, radiant grin on his face, eyes lit up with hope and love, and it was quite possibly one of the most beautiful sites you'd ever seen. “so you'll—?”

“yeah,” you replied, smiling so had your face hurt. “i’ll go out with you.”

y/n - 1

universe - 0

red carnations: deep love

red roses: i love you

baby's breath: everlasting love

© reocidal 2025 ; repost of a deleted fic !

[rueclfer]

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part two

a/n: i remember talking about this on the timeline a couple of months ago and it has rotted in my brain ever since !!! happy birthday touya baby <3 i am ssssoooooo normal about you!!

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

it's been almost a year since touya had started his rehabilitation program, and here you were, like clockwork, willingly sharing his rock hard hospital-grade mattress with your head cushioned against his chest and the same chirpy attitude he couldn't quite understand how you mustered up this early in the morning.

"wanna go get breakfast?"

"no."

"wanna go on a walk?"

"no."

"wanna call fuyumi? mom? spinner? see what they're up to today?"

"no."

a beat of silence passes between you two.

you roll onto your front and prop yourself up onto your elbow, turning face to face with him.

"why do you always have to be so grumpy in the mornings?" you groan, bringing your hand up and swiping away at the stray tuffs of hair hung over his forehead from a night's worth of tossing and turning.

"told you 8am is a crazy time to come visit. every day, too." he scoffs, a slight smirk tugging on the corner of his lips as he reaches up and lazily drags a finger across your jaw. "don't you have better things to do?"

"you're lucky, visitation hours only start at 8am. i'd be with you 24/7 if i had it my way." you whisper, leaning into his hand. "connected by the hip, drinking from the same cup of water, you'd be sick of me in less than 48 hours, and i wouldn't care."

touya instinctively tries to pull away before you melt into his touch, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you release a heavy exhale in content.

the palm of his rough and scarred hand laid flush against the softness of your cheek. he barely has any feeling in his hands anymore, but somehow he feels everything.

this is the first time that question had crossed his mind, like a wild animal running across an unlit road. an audible laugh almost escapes his mouth.

he could only ever hope that you'd come back the next day.

the thought never leaves him. it's always lingering in the back of his head, followed by an internal scoff.

marriage doesn't mean anything. you two love each other, and that's all that matters. marriage is only paperwork. marriage doesn't equal love.

marriage doesn't equal love.

but sometimes it takes one look at you for him to get all choked up, and when this happens he thinks about telling you exactly how he feels. he wants to tell you how much he loves you. it hurts him to be left with no words that could amount to that feeling you give him, so instead he's left balling his fists and pressing the crescent of his nails into his palm trying to ease this ache in his chest.

years later, after touya had completed his program, you're overlooking the city from your shared apartment together.

you've been out running errands and he had spent the day in therapy and meeting with his siblings afterwards. naturally you'll find yourselves sitting across from one another on the fire escape chatting about your days through a shared cigarette and cup of tea.

you're looking out towards the distant city lights. touya's looking at you.

nothing much has changed.

you're sporting the same hoodie you snagged from his closet from what felt like an eternity ago. you picked up smoking thanks to his influence- but socially of course, as you'd like to correct him whenever he makes a snarky comment. you still can't bring yourself to toss that tattered blanket you left with him the first night the hospital staff allowed you to sleepover with him.

and for the millionth time since that morning a few years ago, that question crosses his mind again.

and for the first time, he doesn't roll his eyes or scoff at himself, but instead his mouth goes dry and the palms of his hands grow clammy.

you nudged his leg with your foot. "what're you thinking about, spacey?"

he's thinking about why you're still here. why do you still choose to come back? even after all those years ago when he was ready to leave you behind in this lifetime?

he's thinking about as long as you'll have him, he could spend his life with you doing exactly this. he'll deal with it all- the insufferably loud mornings, shameless PDA, the nagging, the babying, all of it. he doesn't mind at all.

"can i marry you?"

touya sucks in a sharp breath of air and presses his lips together in regret the second the words slip from his mouth.

"if you wanted to leave, you would've by now." he reminds himself- the only thought that'll keep him sane.

"really?" you exclaim, almost spitting out your tea.

touya looks back at you with wide eyes, the butt of the cigarette slipping from his fingers and onto the cold metal of fire escape, spewing sparks of ash against his leg.

a moment of silence passes. then two.

"what do you mean really?"

"you really want to marry me?" your smile grows into a wide grin, making his cheeks flush and stomach twist.

touya’s body moves without a second thought. he crawls over to you and perches himself on one knee. he feels like an idiot. he bites down on his lip in embarrassment as he takes your hand in his cold and rough palms, bringing your knuckles up to his lips.

"really," he mutters against your skin, his voice shaking, "if you’d let me.”

the question lingers in the air for another moment. years of thinking about this, and yet he was far from prepared. he should’ve taken you out. he should've gotten dressed up. he doesn’t even have a ring to give you.

tonight wasn't so different from any other night, but there was a burning ache in his chest that was desperate for that confirmation of forever with you- something that he couldn't have ever been ready for.

you lean forward and move your hand from his grasp to the side of his jaw where you pull him in. 

“you and me, touya. it's always going to be us.” you whisper before colliding your lips with his- sealing a silent promise to one another.

[scarlet-bee]

[Plain text:

Very important, please give me a minute of your time and read my story. [red heart emoji] [watermelon emoji] [Palestinian flag emoji]

[ID 1: The title of a GoFundme campaign, reading:

Help Abdallah Mousa and His Family Escape Genocide

$1,416 USD raised of $30,000 goal . 102 donations

End ID.]

My previous account was banned, you can, it was starting to spread and my campaign got attention but unfortunately it was banned, you can see it from here

I will rewrite my story again. I hope you read it carefully and help if you can.

I am Abdullah Musa, I am 20 years old. I am still a young man. I do not have any job and I cannot get money. It is unfortunate to ask for money in this way, but that is life.

The campaign started after hesitation and deep thinking, but I saw myself forced to do this campaign for several reasons. The first and most important reason is to evacuate from war, fear, and the terrifying sounds of bombs and planes, to escape from living in a tent, to escape from fear. I want a life in which there are only the basics (water, food, electricity, internet, and safety).

[ID 2: Piles of wreckage and rubble.]

[ID 3: A camp of many tents, close together.]

[ID 4: Many buildings, seen from far away, partially or completely destroyed.]

[ID 5: Abdullah sitting on the floor of a tent. End ID.]

The second goal, which is very important to me, is to study medicine and complete my dream that I had since childhood. I had started my first year of university and I was planning my future and dreams, but everything went away when the war came and destroyed my university. Yesterday, I started studying in Egypt and my friend sent me a picture from the beginning of the school year. It was a sad feeling.

[ID 6: Partially destroyed buildings, with missing windows and walls.]

[ID 7: A partially destroyed building, with missing windows and walls, and a collapsing roof.]

[ID 8: Abdullah standing i the street, smiling for the camera.]

[ID 9: A photo, taken from above, of buildings and people walking in the street. End ID.]

This is a picture of me when I was a kid and my dreams were there.

[ID 10: Abdullah as a child, standing in front of a mural on a wall, and holding an award. End ID.]

Can we make the donation rate more than 10%?

- share 83.3%

- donate 8.9%

- nothing 7.8%

Final result from 180 votes

You can donate to me through:

(Before you donate, remember that you will change my life for the better.

1. GFM

2. PayPal

Vitted by

1. @90-ghost Link vitted

2 . Gaza Fundraiser List by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi . Link315

I want to get out of the war and I want to live with the basics of life (water, electricity, safety, medicine, education, internet, food) with my family, but each person needs $5,000 to travel and this is a very large amount, I need your help, do not ignore me if you read this message, one day before the war I was a person just like you, I was studying at my university and living inside my house, but now my university has been destroyed and I live in a tent and this is very difficult, especially in the winter, we have frozen from the cold, I know that it is shameful to ask for money in this way, but this is life and I am still young and I do not have any job, I hope you help me if you can, it is a human story and a life story [emojis: cold face, broken heart, face holding back tears, Palestinian flag, tired face]

Short term

4,011$\4,500$

489$ left

2 days left

End plain text.]

Very important, please give me a minute of your time and read my story.❤️🍉🇵🇸

My previous account was banned, you can, it was starting to spread and my campaign got attention but unfortunately it was banned, you can see it from HERE

I will rewrite my story again. I hope you read it carefully and help if you can.

I am Abdullah Musa, I am 20 years old. I am still a young man. I do not have any job and I cannot get money. It is unfortunate to ask for money in this way, but that is life.

The campaign started after hesitation and deep thinking, but I saw myself forced to do this campaign for several reasons. The first and most important reason is to evacuate from war, fear, and the terrifying sounds of bombs and planes, to escape from living in a tent, to escape from fear. I want a life in which there are only the basics (water, food, electricity, internet, and safety).

The second goal, which is very important to me, is to study medicine and complete my dream that I had since childhood. I had started my first year of university and I was planning my future and dreams, but everything went away when the war came and destroyed my university. Yesterday, I started studying in Egypt and my friend sent me a picture from the beginning of the school year. It was a sad feeling.

This is a picture of me when I was a kid and my dreams were there.

You can donate to me through:

(Before you donate, remember that you will change my life for the better.

1. GFM

2. PAYPAL

VITTED BY

1. @90-ghost LINK VITTED

2 . Gaza Fundraiser List by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi . LINK315

@awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @junglejim4233 @heritageposts @pcktknife @chososhairbuns @illuminated-runas @imjustheretotrytohelp @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness

@visenyasdragons @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda

@4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural

@northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @sygol @fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @ot3 @aleciosun @fluoresensitive @a-shade-of-blue

@tortiefrancis @tsaricides @flower-tea-fairies @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @feluka @nabulsi @khizuo @transmutationisms

@schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 29

(Art of Bakeneko Che'nya made by the talented @twisted-desires )

Warnings; yandere, multiple yanderes, platonic intentioned yanderes and romantic intentioned yanderes, yandere poachers, sit-down talk with guard yanderes, general boundaries being set, surprisingly rational yanderes, irrational yanderes, facing yandere poachers, tough on yandere poachers, use of the word 'rape' against poachers, emotional harming and manipulation, emotional moments, Harpies, Merfolk, Nemean Lion, Gnoll, Drider, Unicorn, Nymphs, Various Fae Species, Kelpie, Werewolf, Naga, Genie,

Extra Note: I will be adding more Royal Sword Academy students and RSA will continue to play a part in the story I just need to decide a few things for them (Names and Species) if y'all feel like sharing ideas, I am open to hear them.

~~~~~~~~

You looked outside at the group of gathered males and sighed to yourself. It had been a full two days of this lock-in since Malleus had decided to take up post and the Dragon had yet to move from where he settled. Crowley stayed with you in the dorm while the other professors went to teach their respective classes. Thankfully Idia had passed off a tablet to Vargas who then brought it to you in your dorm and you were able to virtual attend the classes you had that day.

Part of you worried that Malleus had not gone to his classes, but you had to remember he and Lilia were not at Night Raven to learn the material like the other students. They were present for Malleus to learn how to interact with others outside of his castle and learn how to deal with others who were unlike him. Naturally, the Diasomnia guarding group also switched out and several had pitched tents outside of your dorm to switch who slept, who went to classes, and who guarded. Clearly the Diasomnia group believed in Malleus and were willing to support whatever he decided to do.

Crowley had decided your scent was no longer that strong pheromone of ovulation and was moving away from that part of your cycle. As your cycle continued that meant you were going to have to call Malleus back to your side as you had promised the Dragon. Still, you wanted a moment of peace before calling upon the Dragon.

There was no way you were going to let things continue on as they have been, and serious changes needed to be made. Dealing with the past three days taught you that much.

First, you had to have a sit down with all of your guards, currently assigned or not, and have a conversation with them about the inappropriate behavior of trying to break into your dorm. Second, you would have to lay boundaries and you knew Malleus would like them least of all. Finally, you knew you would have to deal with those Fae poachers as they continued to refuse to speak to anyone other than you. Though you didn't want to speak to any of them, you would have to in order to ensure Erikír didn't get a simple slap on the wrist for his behavior.

There was so much you needed to do and you hoped vaguely that you would be able to keep the staff as your guards for the week before having another dorm selected. Being around them was an incredibly domestic feeling and it gave you so much peace of mind to have the nest to yourself for even the small amount of time. Setting boundaries would likely be difficult, given the clear disparity over what was considered appropriate to these beast men versus what you considered appropriate.

For now, you needed to tell Malleus you were no longer ovulating and uphold your promise. You would likely have to let him cuddle and hold you but you also figured Crowley could call the others counted among your guards to have this boundary setting conversation with them. All you could do was hope they listened and received the information well.

"Headmage?"

"Yes, my little bird?"

"I think it may be time to talk to everyone about this situation and what I am thinking going forward. Can you tell them all to meet here?"

"Yes, but are you sure you want to invite them in? It still may be too soon."

"My scent is no longer what it was when I was ovulating, right?"

"Correct."

"Then it should be fine. I have a few choice words to say to them, but first I need to tell Malleus. I did promise him, after all."

The Crow nodded, stepping away and tapping at his phone with a serious expression. Luckily, all of the professors were already back after their classes which meant they would all be present for this meeting as well. It made you feel a little more at peace with the idea of the extra protection given what the topic of conversation was supposed to be.

You opened the large front door and noticed the way the Dragon sitting a short distance away didn't even turn his head. He had no reason to as the sound could only be someone leaving seeing as he refused to allow anyone other than the staff entry into the dorm and no one was willing to challenge the Dragon. A few students had apparently tried several times, but Malleus sent them fleeing rather quickly.

"Tsuno?"

Your voice caused an extreme change in the Dragon, his large head immediately whipping around to stare at you with wide green eyes. As soon as he saw it was in fact you he easily rose to his feet and began a quick trotting pace to where you stood. You could feel his purr rumbling through the earth before you could hear it as the Dragon bowed his head and paused just short of touching you. His tongue flicked out slowly, retracting and telling his instinctual mind your season was over for now.

He was quick to return to his humanoid form, wrapping his arms, wings, and tail around your body as he nuzzled against your neck. Others standing nearby were quick to notice his change in behavior and you recognized several of those that had joined ranks and were keeping guard among the Diasomnia students. Naturally, the Hoard was quick to run over and join Malleus as they were all clearly overjoyed to see you again and have the Hoard be complete once more.

You had seen Lilia more recently than the others, but it was clear they all were almost stressed by the lack of time spent with you. Despite this fact that there has been distance between the Hoard, they were clearly happy to be around you once again. The memory of these beasts and their growing addictions flashed to the front of your mind but you were quick to push it to the side for the time being. If you were going to survive long enough in this world to escape it, you would need to use that affection and addiction of theirs to your benefit.

"Thank you all for guarding me these past few days. I'm probably going to have to make all of Diasomnia something yummy to say my thanks seeing as it looks like the whole dorm showed up."

"Not just Diasomnia, Mademoiselle Trickster."

You glanced over to see Rook, Epel, Vil, Jade, Floyd, Jack, Trey, Kalim, and Jamil also approaching. Malleus let out a low growl but didn't try to stop the approaching students who knew well enough to pause just beyond the Dragon's reach. Vil was first to hold up his phone, as if showing Malleus the screen was going to calm him.

"Relax, Dragon. The Headmage just sent out a group message asking all guards- current and prospective- to come to Ramshackle. Apparently (Y/n) wants to talk to all of us. You can stop growling at us now."

Some part of you wondered if Vil was so bold to talk to Malleus because he knew the Dragon wouldn't act out while holding you or because he didn't fear the intimidating beast. Still, Malleus seemed to begrudgingly accept the Harpy's words as truth while he continued to softly purr and growl in his mixture of joy to hold you and anger at the nearby monster men. Despite him continuing to growl, Vil seemed to accept this well enough and approached the doors to the building to enter.

"What are you up to, Schoenheit?"

"I'm going inside. If we were all called to meet here, I'm getting a seat while I can. Not all of us enjoy standing all the time."

With that, the Harpy slid inside and past the Dragon as the others began to hesitantly follow suit.

~•§•~

You sat facing the group with Grim laying on your lap, perched neatly atop one of the chairs you had dragged away from the dining table nearby. Everyone who was a guard or was going to be one of your guards had shown up to hear what you had to say and even several Royal Sword Academy students were called to this meeting. They all sat in silence as you regarded them one by one, even Malleus chose to sit among the others with his Hoard standing around him.

"As you all likely know by now, I have been at the whims of my cycle these past few days and have willingly sequestered myself from everyone other than the staff and Grim for my own safety. I am aware a certain- shall we say- mob formed outside of my dorm a few days back."

The silence was palpable as you spoke and judging from the way a few of the others glanced away from you, you could tell a few of them had been part of that mob. Still, you tried not to linger on the thought for too long as you continued to speak.

"I won't ask who here was among that mob. I don't truly want to know. What I do want to make clear is this; though I don't know who among you took part, I am extremely disappointed in everyone who had any part in that mob. None of you- I will say it again- NONE of you are allowed to choose my fate for me or use my cycle as an excuse for your own motivations. Now, I understand not all of you fully comprehend my cycle or what it means for me going through it. I intend to clear up that and quite a bit else about Humans and myself during this."

You saw the way Riddle seemed to lower his head somewhat, refusing to meet your gaze and you knew Vargas had to remove Riddle from Ramshackle several times. The way Rook glanced away from you as you spoke told him he likely regretted his actions attempting to scale the walls of the building to get in. Even Leona seemed to be taking your words like they were vinegar he was being forced to drink.

"My cycle is abnormal for many species, even where I come from, Humans had an unusual cycle compared to the other species. Our cycles are monthly and continue until we are no longer fertile. Each new cycle beginning again marks another loss in overall fertility until I am no longer able to reproduce. My overall fertility is nowhere near over and it will likely be years until that happens."

You noticed the way Malleus almost seemed to become distressed at this news and it unsettled him to think you could have a limit to your fertility. Lilia was equally distressed by this news as he secretly hoped for you to bear more than a few young and that just out a time limit. Jack seemed somewhat thrown off by this and his ears visibly drooped somewhat.

"Humans don't have a heat. We ovulate. It means increased fertility, not increased need to mate. We don't need to mate if we don't want to even during ovulation. I understand this may be different for other species that do have heats and can die if they are not bred. Humans are not one of those species, so get that thought out of your minds right now. There is no justification for acting like I am a slab of meat to be claimed because I sure as hell am NOT. Any who treat me as such going forward will no longer be permitted to be one of my guards. That does mean anyone."

You glanced pointedly at all Housewardens when you said this just to ensure you got your point across that they were not exempt either. Most refused to meet your gaze.

"If I am seeking a mate for the peak of these cycles or for general company, I will say so. If I don't say anything about it, then I am not seeking a mate and will not look favorably upon those trying to offer themselves as such. I understand there is a bit of a territorial dispute taking place among the various dorms regarding me, so I will say this now; I am not territory. I am thankful you all are willing to guard me, that does not mean any of you get to try and fuck me unless I ask. Again, if I am seeking a mate, I will say so. I am not currently seeking a mate. This is subject to be changed only by my wishes."

Ruggie's ears visibly flattened at this, but he did not argue with your words. Interestingly, Vil seemed to be nodding along almost eagerly and seemed quite content with your words. The staff- including Ambrose, who arrived with the Royal Sword Academy students- also seemed to be in agreement with your words.

"Now, that doesn't mean there aren't any of you who have caught my interest. There are several," you noticed Malleus tense out of the corner of your eye, "but even if I do choose to seek a mate, I will choose to progress that relationship slowly, so don't think my interest or me starting a relationship is a free pass to try and breed or mate me. It is not. I understand that what I consider acceptable and appropriate interaction is not the same as what is considered acceptable or appropriate here and vice versa. I would like to know what assumptions you all have about Humans and either lay these myths to bed or give a more detailed explanation to their accuracy."

You glanced around at them and they quickly realized you were waiting for one of them to speak. Naturally, Lilia was the fastest to think of something and was eager to begin this dialogue.

"It is believed Humans consider touches to their stomach to be sexual in nature."

"This is false. It is strange, but not typically considered sexual. I would rather no one touch me without my permission but I understand communal scent, grooming, and physical contact is a key part of socialization here. I just ask that my chest and between my legs remains a no-touching zone. I can concede to social grooming so long as it remains purely social. Anything else?"

Several more ideas were thrown out and you spent your time debunking these theories and proving them to be false or true. Even Riddle's question about the Queen's rules regarding Humans and their breeding patterns was brought up, despite how nervous it made the Unicorn. Theory after theory and question after question was asked by the group and you did what you could to answer them while also making your own stance on these situations clear in how they pertained to you.

Some questions were not really questions about Humans as a whole, but more questions about you personally and you still attempted to answer them accurately. Even as the group turned from shameful after your scolding to curious and interested, you kept going until they ran out of preconceived notions and questions. Eventually there was only one question left, and Malleus was the one to ask it.

"Now that the peak of your cycle has passed, are you going to choose other guards for the remainder of this week?"

"No. I think the staff are doing a wonderful job and I am enjoying my personal space."

"... Will myself and the rest of the Hoard be allowed in your nest again?"

"Yes and no. I would like to talk about the apparent lack of personal space I am given on a daily basis. I understand that I need to be guarded due to the poaching activity, though that need is not as high in here thanks to Idia's upgrades. I also understand it is rather normal here for beds to be shared and that the Hoard's presence helps you rest peacefully, but that doesn't mean I want bedfellows every day. Can you agree to sharing the nest every few days instead of every day? That way you get the comfort of your Hoard and I get to sleep alone some nights."

Though you would rather get your nest exclusively for yourself and Grim, you also understood that it was a wise idea to keep Malleus close. If he was your strongest ally, it would be better to keep him endeared and keep him close even if you wanted space for yourself. If anything, it would be wise to see if you can have a more in depth conversation with Malleus about the Hoard so you can both abide by the rules it has and keep the Dragon contained in a state of calm.

"... Will it make you happy if I agree?"

"Yes."

"This is... Amenable. Very well. I can agree to these terms."

"Wonderful, now to address the situation at hand, these Fae poachers, what still needs to be done with them?"

~•§•~

You sighed and tried to calm yourself as you were flanked by the three you had asked to join you. Naturally, others were accompanying you as well but would wait outside of the holding cells to ensure they could intervene if needed. Malleus, Lilia, and Crowley all agreed to simply be present but to allow you to talk to these Fae as it was their only condition to their cooperation.

The first one you planned to speak with was an almost visibly nervous Boar beast that waited anxiously for you to arrive. His pig nose twitched every few seconds as he idly scraped his tusks on the table in front of him, one leg bouncing as if he were trying to work out the stress he felt. Apparently, this was a familiar Fae to Lilia as he had fought alongside this Boar a several centuries ago before Humans died out. You had figured Lilia or Crowley would recognize several of these Fae from their own pasts and you hoped their presence would make the Fae more agreeable.

Still, they were here to see you and talk to you, so you knew you would be asking them most of the questions.

The Boar Fae tried to stand when the door opened and you walked in, his hands chained to the table in front of him so he couldn't rise to meet you the way he wanted to. It was clear the lack of mobility was bothering the Boar as he almost seemed to pull and struggle against the chain that kept him in place. All of that fight and struggle died when Lilia joined you, the Bat standing over your shoulder with his arms crossed as you sat across from the Boar man.

The Boar Fae stared at Lilia for a long moment, refusing to look away from the frowning Bat before you spoke and his eyes locked onto you. It was clear he was trying to figure out who it was he wanted to focus on, the Human he desperately wanted to see or the Bat he went through hell with.

"You wanted to be questioned by me, so here I am. I do expect you to answer honestly when I ask you questions. Understood?"

"..."

The Boar stared for a moment before letting out a soft sound that oddly registered to your mind, as if he were speaking another language but you could still somehow understand him. His noise was much like a chittering hiss but you still heard words among the almost garbled sound despite how you felt like you weren't supposed to be able to understand him.

"Finally... A Human. Beautiful, soft, little Human..!"

His hands reached out to you but the chain stopped him once more and he let out a distressed noise. It was odd to you to hear his words among the garbled noise and you vaguely wondered if it was normal to understand what he was saying. Perhaps it was some slightly different dialect that allowed you to understand what the Boar was saying.

"Yes, I am Human. No, you can't touch me. You've done enough harm by siding with that moron Erikír. Now, do you understand I expect you to be honest or did I make a mistake choosing to speak with you?"

"You... You can understand me?"

"Yes. I still expect an answer."

"... Yes. I will answer your questions honestly. I... I'm so sorry for what I agreed to."

You stared in silence for a moment before wordlessly opening a notebook you brought with you, writing down the assumed species of the Fae man and information that Lilia had once fought alongside him. Were this any other circumstance, you would have comforted the Fae who was clearly distraught and ashamed, but this Fae planned to allow Erikír to put his webbed hands on you and you couldn't forgive that. It didn't matter if he apologized, he was still willing to see you be enslaved by that fish-dick prince for his own gain.

"What exactly did Erikír promise you?"

"A half-Human half-Merfolk egg to raise as my own."

"And were the others promised the same?"

"Yes. We were all promised our own child for our aiding his endeavors."

"Did you feel even the slightest bit of guilt, knowing you were taking away my freedoms and imprisoning me for a man who planned to rape me so you could get this egg?"

"..."

The Fae went silent, his gaze looking away from you and his head bowing. You could see how his nostrils flared and he breathed heavier through his snout as if upset by your words. It was your intent for being so direct with him in the first place.

"Did you or did you not feel guilt for what you knew would happen to me?"

"Yes. I knew it was wrong and I did feel guilt. ... I just wanted my child back."

"What child?"

"My Human child. She- I found her in the arms of her dead mother, so trusting and helpless. Looking to me for guidance and protection. I just want my baby to come back to me."

You felt a twinge of pity for a moment but pushed it aside, knowing that you could show no mercy to these Fae. Just because they were hurting didn't mean they were justified with their abominable actions. Taking a moment to write down his answer and gather your thoughts.

You said you wanted to break their fragile hearts and minds for what they did to you, it would be remiss to back down now.

"Your baby is gone. You know this. Replacing her with a child borne of force and abuse is in no respect a good way to honor the memory of your child."

"But I-"

"You wanted a child so badly you were willing to imprison and sell that child's true mother into slavery to be raped and used as an infant factory. How would your daughter feel knowing you were willing to do such a thing?"

"I..."

"Furthermore, what if someone had done that to your daughter? Took her from you and raped her to give others her children?"

"... It's different-"

"How? How is it different? Because it is being done to you?"

"..."

The Fae was visibly upset and trembling at this point, your words cutting him deeply as he began to sob, his head falling to the table. He seemed to be trying to hold himself together as he gasped and shook, trying to stop himself from screaming in pain. You stood slowly and he reached out quickly, grabbing your wrist as he continued to sob and tried to pull your hand to his face for comfort.

With a quick twist of your wrist, you freed yourself from his grasp and he cried out, trying to reach you again. It was clear he was in mental distress as he sobbed so heavily and tried again to seek comfort from you.

"Wait-! Please don't go! I'm sorry! I'm-!"

"Would your daughter be proud of the man you have become?"

He went silent even as his tears streaked down his face, his hands falling limply to the table as he stared at you and watched you leave. The three followed you out of the room and you had to stop to lean against the wall, trying not to cry as well despite knowing you were still angry at the Fae. You felt such pity for him even with everything he did and it hurt you to be so painfully harsh to the man despite it all.

"(Y/n), you don't have to do this-"

"Yes. I do. All of them need to know their actions have consequences and that their selfishness has caused me pain. They can feel my pain and agony for what they chose to do to me."

Lilia cuddled up to your side in an attempt to soothe you, resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping a wing over you. The Bat was a wonderful comfort and you were surprised to feel feathery wings also wrap around you to hold you as Crowley mimicked Lilia's actions. It was soothing in ways you didn't know how to fully articulate despite it all.

"I didn't know you could speak Fae."

"What?"

"He was speaking the language of the Fae. Most non-Fae species can't understand Fae language. But you could."

"It just sounded like words to me."

"Something to figure out later. For now, are you ready to question the next one?"

[sethsclearwater]

Hiii I’m so happy you’re back!!

Can you please write something to do with dry humping involving paul (I feel so embarrassed writing this😭)

PLEASE LMAO😭😭

...

"c'mere," paul's voice was heavy as he rolled the two of you over, settling between your thighs. one broad hand slid up your side, quickly finding your breasts as he got to work massaging and groping through the thin fabric of your t-shirt.

while his other hand knotted in your hair, he tugged your head to the side to expose your neck, allowing him to get to work kissing and suckling the sensitive skin there. a quiet moan left your lips, your head falling back against the pillows as your eyes fell closed.

"how much time do we have until we need to leave?" you asked breathlessly, running one hand up paul's bare back until you could thread your fingers through his hair and gently massage at his scalp.

you didn't see it but paul was rolling his eyes before he lifted his head so he could meet your gaze, "why are you thinking about that right now?" he asked, lips curling into a faint smile as he worked to contain his laugh at the blush that quickly crept up on your cheeks.

"jus' didn't wanna be late," you whispered, features softening as you looked up at your imprinter, slowly getting your breathing under control again now that you had a break from his incessant touching.

"won't be late," he reassured, though you weren't even remotely convinced, already knowing paul was notorious for prioritizing sex with you over just about everything else in the world so a bonfire at sam and emily's place definitely wasn't beating what you figured you two were about to do.

the smile he had been working to contain quickly broke out on his face as he watched you run through everything in your head, "5 minutes," paul conceded after a moment, chuckling when you went to sit up but he slid his hand up to your shoulder to gently push you back down.

"5 minutes is plenty of time to work with princess," he mused cockily, smiling even deeper when you conceded with a small nod, relaxing back into the bed as you decided you were interested in seeing what exactly he was planning on doing with the limited amount of time.

he didn't waste any time, diving back down to suckle at your neck and massage your breasts again but this time, he began rocking his hips against yours. despite his sweatpants and your jeans getting in the way of doing what he really wanted, it felt good.

the lacey fabric of your underwear pressed up against your clit as he pressed his hips into yours, the steady pressure combined with his hips rocking providing the perfect amount of stimulation to have you letting out low moans within a few moments.

"paul please-" you whined, fingers tightening in his inky hair as he chuckled against your collarbone, clearly proud of how quickly he managed to get you to change your mind about prioritizing getting to emily's.

"please what princess?" paul mused, lifting his head from the crook of your neck so he could look down at you and take you in, not stopping the way he was rocking his hips against yours.

a low whine escaped your lips as you struggled to find the words you needed, the eye contact with paul only adding to your difficulty as he seemed to be pretty proud of how he was working you, "wanna feel you," you managed to get out, whining when he just chuckled and shook his head.

"gotta get to emily's, remember?" he teased, rather abruptly stopping his movements against your hips, his hand giving your breast one last playful squeeze before he was dropping that hand as well.

"paul-" you started and he laughed again when he saw the panic covering your features, your mind changing rather quickly about the whole thing when you were reminded of just how good he always managed to make you feel.

he quickly pressed a cocky kiss to your lips before he was getting out from between your thighs, "relax princess, we've got all night, yea?" he smiled, taking your hand into his so he could help get you up and ready for emily's.

[therealmylesmorales]

black reader teaching sevika how to do their hair

Anon, pucker up rn we’re going to kiss 😚

But to all of my natural hair girlies, I’m sorry. I have locs so imma write it from that perspective

I Killed You

Warnings: Sevika. Minors leave me alone

Sevika loved your hair, it was one of her favorite things about you. She loved seeing you put in new styles you saw online and the vivid colors you dyed it every once in a while. You didn’t mind the small fascination she had with your hair. If anything, it was nice that she wanted to know more about it.

So, one day, when Sevika saw you getting ready for your retwist, you weren’t surprised when she stopped you. “Teach me how to do your hair.”

”Is there a please in there somewhere?” You teased. “Why the interest?”

Sevika huffed at you. “You always complain that your arms hurt when you’re done. Just…thought I’d help.”

You didn’t answer her right away, still waiting on one little word.

“…please.”

You reached to grab her chin in your hand, purposely squeezing her cheeks together. “You’re so sweet. When you wanna be.” Quickly kissing her puckered lips, you pulled her into the bathroom before she could change her mind.

Soon, you were seated in a chair in front of the bathroom counter; your favorite loc gel along with a small comb and a large amount of metal hair clips were placed neatly in front of you. Sevika was standing behind you, looking at your head full of hair with an intense look.

“Walk me through it one more time,” she muttered,

You grabbed one of your locs to show her. “Separate one from the other—it’d be easier if you tied the rest up so it’s not in the way.” You gestured to the container of gel sitting on the counter. “Put a small amount of this on the new growth, and follow through with the comb; remember to twist to the right—“

”Why right?”

You could only shrug. “Pretty much everyone does it that way. When that’s done, just put a clip on the part you twisted. And you’re done!”

Sevika slowly nodded, preparing the next loc for herself. “Simple enough.”

Sevika did the rest of your hair in silence, only muttering quietly to herself as she did so. But every time you looked in the mirror, you could see a small smile that never left her face.

[underratedbreadcrust]

Chance Equals Fortune — Chapter One

Squid Game | The Salesman x F!Reader

Summary: you find yourself questioning your next moves, debating whether to take the salesman up on his offer. meanwhile, somewhere else, the salesman and gi-hun play a game and exchange some words.

Warnings: swearing, mention of guns, ,drinking, nothing too bad.

a/n: tiktok just went down i am in despair. btw, holy crap, i didn't expect to get that much attention on my previous chapter, thank you all so much for the support! i am so sorry it took so long for this to come out but from now on i will do my best to upload consistently. the next chapter shouldn't take as long as this one.

Words: 2.9k

<<previous part

456-034

You rolled the card between your fingers, the glossy surface reflecting the numbers through the poorly lit bar where you were currently seated. The weight of the card—the one that would change everything—lay heavy in your hand. You brought the glass up to your lips, taking in a large swig of alcohol and downing it all in one gulp. Your mind drifted back to the game, the endless rounds of ddakji that stretched on far longer than either of you had expected. Your mind couldn't stop drifting back to the man who gave you the card, the salesman. His arrogance in approaching you and the confidence in his tone believing he would win, made beating him feel that much sweeter. Not to mention, you couldn't get out of your head the promise he had made—the games.

“The prize involves a large sum of money.” Those were his words. “A chance to change everything.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face in frustration as the replay of his words refused to cease. You weren't stupid. No organization on earth would be willing to offer large amounts of money to those in debt without wanting something in return. 

What the hell would I be getting into? 

You could feel it in the way the businessman described the games, the hesitation beneath his perfect, pre-rehearsed words. The games were possibly dangerous, deadly even. 

Your thoughts continued to float back to the man, unable to let go the image of his defeat. He hadn't expected it, you had. You remembered the way his eyes had shifted—just a flicker—but it had been enough to feel the rush of power that coursed through you. The kind that surged up your spine as you watched him stumble, the look of frustration barely contained under his sharp features. It brought a twisted smile to your face, a sort of satisfaction that you hadn't felt in a very long time.

You scoffed at yourself, you can’t let a single interaction with a person who matched your competitive energy let you fall back into that dangerous train of thinking. It was that sort of attitude that led you to your financial problem in the first place. 

Disappointment. Deceit. Debt.

You'd already dodged enough bullets, danced with enough sharks to know the results of your reckless actions. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to fight it, your need to play had always won over any rational reasoning. Something about what the man had offered felt different, a new kind of gamble. Bigger stakes, bigger rewards. You could feel the possibilities swirling in your mind.

As you stood from your spot, pocketing the card, everything felt fuzzy—like you were floating, drifting on the edge of a decision, unsure if you should let go or pull yourself back to reality. You weren’t such a lightweight but right now it seems as if you’ve passed your limit. You try to regain your balance as you stumble towards the exit, the loud music and flashing lights disorienting as you bump into multiple people along the way.

Once you reach the outside, the fresh air makes you feel like you’ve rediscovered how to breathe. You inhale deeply, doing your best to walk along the dimly lit streets of Seoul, the sidewalks inhabited by those enjoying the city's nightlife. You call for a cab and once you’ve given the address to the driver, you sit back against the seat and take in the views drifting by. The city's neon lights blurred into streaks against the darkness, drowning everything around you in an almost dreamlike haze.

If I were to join the games….

The thought made your pulse quicken, in anticipation or fear you couldn’t tell, both emotions had melted into a single feeling long ago. The rules were simple. Win, and you could start over, away from the poverty and death threats that have taken over your daily routine. No matter how far you ran, your creditors always found you. Last time it was money, next week they would take your eyes. You knew that you would no longer be able to survive on your own, not anymore.

The thought made you chuckle…survival. What was survival if not just a slow death with a different name? A quieter, more painful death.

Finally arriving at your apartment, you paid the driver with the bit of cash you still had on you and walked up the steps of the building. Once you reached the front door, you stood motionless, feeling the outline of the card through your pocket, the weight of the decision pressing down on your chest. Out here, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you didn’t stand a chance. But now, you were given a choice. A choice to win.  

The corners of your mouth twitched as the decision hardened inside of you. You never lose.

So why stop now?

“Let's play a game.”

At the moment, both the salesman and Gi-hun were sitting across from each other, face to face, observing each other's expressions under the multicolored fluorescent lights inside the motel. One of their faces showed loathing and disgust, his eyes glossed over with hatred and the pain of everyone he had ever lost. The other eyes were the complete opposite. Instead, shining at the prospect of a new challenge, a game in which either won or lost, would grant him one more chance to play. The blood marks on his face were the only betrayal of his deceptively put-together persona.

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in the movies. It’s called Russian Roulette.” He carefully placed one of the bullets in the gun’s chamber as he explained the rules. “But I’d like to make this game a little more serious,” his smile widened as the look in his eyes became increasingly more manic.

“Cut to the chase,” Gihun snapped.

The salesman’s eyebrow quirked in surprise. The man in front of him seemed nothing like that quivering coward who he met at the subway station long ago. Now, instead of darting, fearful eyes, Gi-hun’s gaze was almost vicious looking. Having transformed from that of a prey to a predator. I wouldn’t expect any less of the man who has been chasing me for the past 3 years. “We’ll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over,” his head tilted, his words serving nothing more than to provoke Gi-hun, “What do you say?”

Gi-hun glared at him, his jaw clenching and his lips pressing into a thin line. He was back to the start. Once again being forced to play games to have the chance of gaining an advantage. Now instead, he was required to risk all the work he had done up to this point to get closer to the man in charge. He gulped as he slowly nodded his head. It seems his gambling addiction was still rooted deep into his being. However, instead of splurging his mother’s money, he had to wager his life. What other choice do I have?  The thought of all of his pain and labor to stop the games being in vain if he died didn’t even cross his mind. If I’m only one more bet away from the frontman, then so be it.

With that, the clash of two unrelenting forces began. As the rounds progressed, they each pulled the trigger, the odds of death increasing each time the gun shot blanks. Their postures became more rigid as they passed each other the gun. “Time to Say Goodbye” playing in the background, the slow and beautiful melody a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere between the two players. 

The recruiter took every opportunity to insult the other man, enjoying pushing all of the buttons he knew would rile up his competitor. He found it amusing just how effortless it was to provoke him. His confidence reached an all-time peak as the game reached its second to last round. The chance of dying now 50%. “Let me guess what you’re thinking right now…Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow this guy’s face off.” 

He knew it was dangerous to anger the man with a gun in hand, but above all, he wanted to prove his point. “But I’ll have you admit one thing.” Show him that he’s the same piece of shit that groveled at his feet for a bit of spare change during their first interaction. “That you’re a piece of trash, just like everybody else.” 

Even if it cost him his life.

The man was sure his opponent would cave. His survivor's guilt not being a good enough reason to pull the trigger. He could practically envision his next actions. Gi-hun’s hold on the gun would tighten, his expression filled with that disgusting self-righteousness. His hand beginning to shake at the prospect of dying before ultimately plunging the gun in the other’s face and— 

Gi-hun brought the gun up to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The gun didn’t go off.

Well shit.

Gi-hun slowly pulled the gun away from his head, his hand trembling as he pointed it at the salesman. The man in the suit looked at Gi-hun before tearing his eyes away and glancing at the weapon. He hesitantly lifted his hand, his fingers brushing the firearm as his arm drew closer—

“No.”

The salesman blinked at Gi-hun. “No?” As Gi-hun yanked the gun away from the salesman’s grasp, a swarm of questions began to form at a rapid pace inside his brain. What was he playing at? What was he going to do?

Why won’t he let me kill myself?

Gi-hun let out a heavy sigh as he slumped his shoulders and dropped his head. He fidgeted with the gun as his face turned contemplative, weighing over his current options. He looked exhausted. Finally, he redirected his focus to examine the other man, his eyes raking over his form as if that way he could unearth a deeply concealed secret.

“To let you die now, just because you lost…would be no better than what he does.” Silence. The air became thick. The only sounds audible were the ending notes of the song still emanating from the businessman’s phone. Suddenly, a cackle burst through the room, the noise sounding foreign in the serious setting. The mirthless laughter erupted from the salesman as Gi-hun’s words sunk in. In an instant, he shot up from his seat and clutched onto Gi-hun’s shirt, jerking him forward so that their faces were mere inches away.

“Who. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Mr. Seong,” the recruiter spat out the words, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low tone. His mouth contorted to a sneer, his previously carefree demeanor now resembling that of a wild animal. Any concern for his appearance was long forgotten. “Do you think your pity grants you any worth to your already pathetic life?” The anger in his eyes burned like a wildfire, threatening to consume everything in its path. “You may be ashamed of your sins, but there is no use trying to deny who you really are. Why try to act like either of us  are any different from what fate has dictated for us?”

“Because!... I cannot accept that the only way to end the games is by being as immoral as the people who created them!” 

“Unlike you, I have learned to live with the fact that there is no other way to accomplish your goals. If you want to alter society to cater to your beliefs, then the process requires an equal amount of sacrifice. Whether that be your own…or of others.”

“Does that hold true for you?” Gi-hun tilted his head as realization settled in his eyes. “The only way you've managed to maintain that cynical outlook on life is by surrounding yourself only with experiences that would prove your point?” As he spoke, he once again brought the gun upwards, pushing it with such force to the salesman's chin it was sure to hurt. “Tell me, was you being an underling for them ever actually about getting rid of humanity’s waste?…or was that just an excuse for your own shortcomings as a person. Is that why you’re so eager to get put down like the dog you are? Eager to die the same way your father did?”

“My father! And many like him are a weight that hinders society’s ability to progress!” His voice rose to a shout, the veins in his neck becoming visible against his red skin. “That is why the games were created, to get rid of the bottom feeders who live their lives lurking in the shadows of accomplished men!” 

He paused. He looked down at his hands, still tightly holding onto Gi-hun’s shirt, and saw that his knuckles were white from how hard he was clutching. He let go, shouting would get him nowhere, not when he was dealing with someone as ignorant as Gi-hun. I can't let his words get to me. He took a deep breath before he began again, this time in a much calmer voice. “Those who contribute should not be forced to bear the burden of putting up with those who don’t,” his lips quirked up in a small smirk, “do you think your mother wanted to spend her late years providing for you?”

Gi-hun clenched his jaw. “I realize my faults now, and if I could go back to change them I would…but I can't. Which is why I need to shut these games down, because I need to fight for what I can change—what needs to change. Not just dwell on the memories of my past mistakes.”  He paused. Slowly, he loosened the pressure of the gun against the salesman’s chin. He tilted back into the chair, creating space between the two. His chin jutted upward as his facial expression hardened into determination. “And you're going to help me.”

The businessman chuckled as he adjusted his suit and tie, “I have no reason to. Even if I did want to assist in your little heroic endeavor you wouldn't stand a chance.” His gaze turned distant and empty as images of the past flooded his mind, “I have seen firsthand just how controlling ambition is, how far people are willing to go to satisfy their hunger, one man won't make the slightest difference.”

“Then prove your point. Help me get in and I’ll show you that all you need in one person to create a spark,” his voice was steady and unwavering. His confidence akin to that of a sturdy tree, firmly rooted in the ground, and standing tall against the storm that was the man sitting across from him. “After all, you lost. You lost against me and that’s eating away at you, right?” It was Gi-hun’s turn to laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on him. “I know that you more than anyone respect the rules when it comes to games. Now that I’ve decided not to kill you, you still need some form of punishment to tell yourself that you can take a defeat with dignity. You owe me”

The recruiter’s jaw tightened.

Gi-hun continued, “Unless you'd like to admit that you really are a dog. Favoring serving your owners above respecting the outcome of the game. In that case, you would be a hypocrite, and you'd have to admit you're no better than those you claim to hate.”

He blinked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned Gi-hun, for the first time since meeting him he was taking the time to really look at him. For once in his life, the recruiter is seemingly at a loss for words, his quick wits abandoning him. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of all those whose lives he had taken. He didn't believe that humanity's greed would come to an end just because one individual happened to be the exception. But Gi-hun was so disgustingly optimistic. So, he thought he might as well offer the one piece of advice that would allow Gi-hun to stand a chance.

“Fine.”

Gi-hun froze in shock, he hadn’t expected the man to actually be willing to help him.

The salesman interlocked his fingers as leaned forward, his aura turning into that of a successful strategist. “In that case, there’s someone you’ll want to meet. Her name is Kang No-Eul. She is employed as one of the guards for the games but has recently been displeased with the system she works for,” his hands moved randomly as he emphasized the points in his words, almost as if he were discussing a presentation. “She is a North Korean defector, and the only thing she wants is to have her child cross over as well.” He spoke in a light, almost playful tone, “If you were to help her…she would be indebted to you.”

Gi-hun looked at his lap, he didn’t want to emotionally manipulate a mother into helping him by using her child. The more he thought about it, he knew he didn’t have any other choice.

“That way, you could convince her to aid you in pretending to be a guard. You won’t be able to protect the players that way, but you would be on the inside of the inner workings of the games. More power. More control.”

The salesman abruptly stood up, snatching the phone off of the desk and shoving it into Gi-hun’s chest. “Her contact information along with everything else you will need is in there.”

Gi-hun looked up, concern suddenly lacing his features, “What about you?”

The salesman gave an empty smile.

“Does not matter. They are bound to find out what I did soon enough."

@scuzmunkie @onyxmango @riellarielle25 @laurenbenoit70 @azmosposts @moxxxane @milfsarefineashell @okayiamkassandra @giaeunnxz @mullty @outofst1le @recordofragnarokfan2

i am so sorry that the the reader didn't interact with gong yoo but this was kinda necessary for the plot. i promise they will exchange words in the next one. please keep commenting i loved reading your thoughts on the last post.

[limarkova]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 7.

Prev

The gun was cold in your hands. After everyone had left for patrol, you had snuck into Jason's room. Knowing he wasn't in the manner made it easier to do soon. You took one of his smaller guns and 4 boxes of ammo. It took you longer than you would have liked to match the bullet in the gun's magazine. Still you were able to find the right ones. He also had throwing knives hidden in his room which you gladly took.

Now standing on the small private beach in the back of the manor grounds, you shot at discarded cans. Your old tablet played videos on gun safety and how to aim. Still you couldn't hit a can. It was different from throwing a blades.

With a blade there were many factors. How you held the blade played a part. The best way you found was to hold the blade towards you balancing it on your middle and index finger. Than lightly push down with your thumb towards your palm. Bring that up over your head than throwing and releasing. When you released, how much power you put in, and amount of pressure you placed with your thumb depended on distance. Aiming was just a matter of when to let go.

Yet it seemed like very little of that applied to guns. Sure there were sights to help you aim. But that didn't mesh well with how you were used to aiming with knives. Plus the kick back was starting to make your wrists ache. Jason was doing this shit one handed. Maybe you were holding it wrong, the videos weren't giving you a good view. Adjusting your grip you tried again.

Bang. The can stayed upright but at least the gun didn't kick back as much. You were able to keep from flinching too much as well so you were adjusting to the noise. There was a new chip in the rock next to the can. You sighed before setting the weapon down. This wasn't working.

Yes, you had improved. No longer hitting the sand or the cliff face behind your target. Still you weren't hit the can and weren't even that far away. There was no way you could face these guys without a weapon. Grumbling in frustration, you took one of the throwing knives and threw at the can. That one actually hit.

You reached over and paused the video. It was than you heard something. It was faint an inhale of breath from behind some rocks. Breathing throught your nose, you steel your nerves. Going off on Dick ealier was going have consequences. Maybe Bruce had sent someone to take you back. There was no telling. Smiling at the screen, you said, "Break time."

You changed the video to a dance routine you liked. Taking the first position in the dance you waited.

Dance was a hobby you picked up from Barbara. You had watched her do some old ballet routines from when she was seven. Orginially she had preformed them for Dick back when you were one, you could barely remember the movements. Still caused a small spark in you, a want to be like your big sister. The spark remained for two years. You started learning from videos when you were three. You never did them where anyone could see you, preferring to learn privately. In the experiments, you would use the routines in your cell to check that your muscles still functioned properly.

Now you used it as a way to observe subtly. The spins and position changes allowed you to take stock of your surroundings. Mid song is when you saw him.

He was hidden in alcove with a deep green cloak. He was tall around the same height as Jason. A part of you question if he just came from a Ren Fair because of his clothes. However that didn't seem to matter as much as his size and the sword at his hip. He was probably trained to use it too. You didn't doubt he could fight just as well as Bruce. You would have one shot to take him out.

The choreography had you turn away from him. When he couldn't see you grabbed a knife from the holster. Twirling back around, you flung it straight for his head. He caught it by the handle right in front of his throat. Too low. "Impressive. Going for a killing blow before I can start the fight."

The man step forward spinning the blade in his hand. You step back and began thinking of ways out. He stopped five feet away from you and tossed the dagger towards you. "Though your throwing form was off causing the blade to not have as much force. I can excuse that for the creativity of blending it with a dance."

"What?" You caught the dagger feeling it sink into your hand. You turned it subtly allowing the wound to heal.

The man nodded to your hand, "That also makes you intriguing. A girl capable of healing with great potential that needs only to be refined."

The climb up the cliff's edge was not a viable option. You could run into the sea, swim or just let yourself drown. Yet you couldn't judge if he was capable of swimming or if he would buy the fake death. If he came from the experiments he would know drowning didn't actually kill. There was no way out. The man gestured, "Get into a throwing position."

You paused, looking at him. Why did he want you to get into throwing position. If he was take you back than letting you fight him seemed useless. He tilted his head making his gesture again, "Do you not wish to learn?"

Slowly you got back into throwing position. He walked over to you. The first thing he did was kick your legs slightly further apart. Afterwards he made you bend your knees slightly. He than grabbed your hand, paused, and had you pull it back just a little further.

Once satisfied with the adjustments, he walked back to his spot 5 feet away. "Throw."

You did. This time he had to stop in front of his face. The throw felt more powerful and you had an easier time staying balance. With some minor adjustments he fixed a problem you hadn't fully realized you had. This allowed you to grab another blade and get in position quicker.

He smiled once more. "Again." You did, this time aiming for his throat. He caught the knife once more, nodding once again. The two of you practice knife throwing for a few minutes. In that short time he had you do underhand throws and side thows. He clapped after another successful throw, "Enough."

You were out of knives. He moved towards you again and handed the blades over to you. As he handed them to you, he started to speak. "Don’t fuss with the gun for right now. With a blade you are more dangerous to people not paying attention."

Once done he handed you an ornate blade. It was incredibly sharp with a blood red handle in the shape of spider lilies. The handle was a polished wood that shone in the moonlight. There was a sheath underneath the blade that could be strapped to your hip. "When next we meet I will show you how to use this blade efficiently."

"Where will we met again?"

"You'll know." He turned and left without another word. You grabbed Jason's gun before leaving yourself. The whole encounter felt like a dream.

Stephanie was physically watching Orphan's assigned target but mentally she was thinking about (Name). When she first arrived at the manor, she had been fed stories by Tim. Of how she stole his mask and yelled at him for replacing Jason. So as the next Robin she avoided the girl.

Than she became Batgirl for a brief sprint. Which made her made her more wearily about accidentally coming off as replacing Barbara. When she did try reaching out to the girl it was awkward. Plus the girl seem perfectly content living life without her barging in.

Steph had left her be figuring she had plenty of other siblings to bond with. There was no way in a manor full of people she was alone. Right?

God, now she just felt stupid. Assumptions really had made an ass out of her. Right now she was just waiting for the man to get off the phone with whoever he was talking to. After struggling to find anything beyond (Name)'s mother and she had switched task with Cass. The girl seemed more interested in doing the research anyway, so what was the harm.

She would finish investigating for the day, take a nap, than take the girl out somewhere. Maybe have a girls day with Barbara and Cass tagging along. Get their nails done, haircuts, bat burgers, maybe karaoke. Was any of that stuff (Name) was interested in? Whatever the girl had gone through was pretty traumatic, based solely on the breakdown Dick described. She deserved to have a fun day where they could spoiled her. Maybe she could take her rollerskating. Steph stopped her planning as the guy finished the phone. First they had to make sure these guys were handled.

Crashing through the window, Spoiler caught the guy off gaurd. He jumped reaching for a weapon. She grabbed his wrist and pinned him to wall. "Hey Matthew. Let's have a quick chat."

"Look, Whatever you're here for I didn’t do it." The guy, Matthew Jenkins, struggled against Spoiler's hold. He had worked with James and Marcus at a security firm two years ago before spontaneously quitting four days before (Name) disappeared. The same had occurred with two other man, Henry Duncan and Gregory Hartley. Signal had already reported that Henry was dead and had been for awhile. Maybe five or six days

"Oh, okay. So you have no contact to (Name) Wayne?" Spoiler pushed on his wrist a little harder making him cry out in pain.

"Who?"

"Playing dumb won't help you. I already know you were using her debit card to pull cash." They didn't actually know which of five man were pulling cash from the card. Based on video analysis there had be at least three of them making the pulls, so odds were good.

Matthew froze in Spoiler's hand, sucking in a breath. Looks like she was on the right track. "Shit, that girl really was a Wayne?"

Spoiler twisted his wrist just a little bit. He hissed through his teeth, "Yeah. Keep talking."

"Fuck. Look we didn't know exactly what they were doing to the kid. We just watched the room they kept her in and moved her to research room when asked. They usually carted her back when we were on lunch. It was just a good paying job and she never looked to badly hurt."

"How much were they paying you."

"Fithteen hundred a week." Matthew lightly banged his head against the wall, "Shit I should have tapped out when Henry did. I knew the girl was going to get us in more trouble than she was worth."

"Henry Duncan?"

"Yeah. Is he doing okay, we haven't heard from him since he stormed off the job?" Matthew shifted in Spoiler's grasp.

"He was found dead in ditch two hours ago. Marcus Antonio was found shot last night in his apartment." Matthew let out shocked breath and shook his head.

"We are fucked."

"Maybe not. If you answer all my questions I might be able to get you out of Gotham." It was a gamble but one Spoiler had to take. This guy could give her at least a location on where they held her and maybe who was paying them. Especially if three of them were dead. "First, you mentioned Duncan tapping out. What happened to make him leave?"

"They had said the testing was almost completed. They just had one last test to make sure everything was successful before we would know if we'd be getting raises or let go?" Matthew started. "We were informed to never look in the room unless instructed to."

"Henry didn't listen did he?" Spoiler let up on his wrist. He was more scared of these guys than her right now, better to let that fear keep him talking.

Matthew shook his head, "Henry didn't listen. After the final test he got curious because she was oddly quiet. We could usually hear her muttering to herself. He said she looked like a deflated balloon."

Matthew paused taking a deep breath. "We all looked. I don't know what they did but her chest had caved in on itself. There also something growing in her. Honestly I thought she was dead until she blinked. Henry lost it, said he wasn't going down for whatever they had done to her. We all almost walked out but James stopped us. If the last test was marked successful we'd each get a raise to five thousand dollars a week."

"You know what happened to James?"

"The kid killed him. She also took out Greg's eye with a fucking scalpel. No amount of money is that shit." Matthew banged his head to the wall.

Spoiler paused processing. Money was a huge motivation to this guy, so chances were he knew who was paying him. "Where was the money coming from? Not just for your paycheck either."

"The girl’s card and her tuition. Her dad was giving her fifteen thousand a week. They use that to buy a generator and some other shit to keep the building off grid. We would pull cash for them every once and a while but most of it came from the accountant. They would divert the kid's tuition to James, he paid us." That explained where the tuition was going.

"Who was in charge?" Spoiler needed a name. Sure she had a lot to rely back at the cave but she needed just a little more.

"I don't know." The pressure return to his wrist. Matthew started struggling, "I don't know, I work with some intern chick who took notes on girl's status and the accountant."

"Good enough. Give their names." Spoiler gave his wrist one last twist.

"The intern chick's name was Isabella, I never got a last name. Just heard a rumor that she was related to the big boss. The accountant was..."

"Mr. Davis, so glad to finally be able to meet you." The man zip tied to his office chair glared at you. After the training on the beach you discovered you still had five hours before anyone got back to the manor. Using the Gotham Subway you had gotten to Davis' office. Surprisingly the man was still there. Hurriedly packing files into a briefcase. You used the knife to keep him under control until you could zip tie him to the chair. The man had proven right, a knife was more powerful.

You glanced at the files. Documents approving a change in wiring numbers, written approval for changes to the limits on your checking account as a minor, and so much more. All incriminating with Bruce Wayne's signature on the bottom. You turned your gaze to Davis twirling a throwing knife in your hand. Sitting on his desk made you eye level with him, "Now what were doing with these?"

"Fuck you brat." His word turned into a cry of pain as you threw the knife. It cut a line across his cheeks.

Standing from his desk you walk towards him. Pulling the stranger's dagger from the sheath you held it over his hand, above the knuckle of his left thumb. "Let’s try again. What were doing with those files?"

"I'm not scared of a fucking ten year old." Of course. You were a baby faced ten year old. Who would be scared of you? If you wanted information from this man you had to scare him into giving it to you.

Pushing down on the blade, he started to scream. It took a minute find where the blade could cut through. Mangled his hand pretty bad but eventually his thumb came off. He slumped in the chair, panting. Was this how you looked when they cut off your body parts?

"Will you answer me now? I really don't want to have cut off another one." You picked up his severe digit, rolling it around in your palm. There was a disturbing calm in the violence. It was as if you could finally relax. Maybe the experiments had messed with your head more than you thought, "Well."

"Fine. I was told to destroyed them." Davis spat the words out inbetween harsh breaths. Finally information.

You lifted an eyebrow and set the thumb on his desk, "By who?"

"Clint Owen. He was my son's doctor." You began to think through the people you saw in the experiments. There were six scientists that would poke at you. Clint was probably one of them, especially if he was a doctor. They hadn't used names near you.

"What did he tell you about the experiments?" The more information the better, you needed to know what Bruce gained from this. Davis stayed silent. There was an intense staring contest between you two. Finally you sighed, "Okay, fine. Your ring or your pinkie? I'm thinking pinkie, personally."

"No, I'll tell you." Davis started to struggle in the chair as you walked closer. "Owens told me, it was a way to get organs for dying kids. That's all I know, he offered to give my son one of the kidneys."

"Really? You did all of this for a kidney?" At least you knew where your kidney was now. Wrong thing to focus on but your head was getting buzzy from the violence.

"He would have died without it." Davis shook his head. A part of you felt a little bad for cutting off his thumb. The man was just desperate to save his kid. Could you really blame him for that? "Beside, the Waynes needed to be taken down a peg. Why not remind those idiots their money can't do shit to save anyone, even their own? The little bitch had it coming."

Nevermind. You stabbed the knife through his right hand. He pissed himself, gross. You began talking over his screams "Did I ask for your shit rate opinions? No, I didn't. Stick to telling me the facts or your losing the hand. Who was involved in the experiments?"

"Three doctor's from the Martha Wayne Childern's Hospital, One researcher from Gotham U and his student assistant." He screamed the words at you. A part of you contemplated twisting the knife just because you could. When had you got so violent? Eh later problem.

"Names." You sounded bored even to your own. Maybe you should be concerned, how do you get here again?

"I don't know." The darker part of you won, twisting the blade in his hand. He started struggling again. "I'm telling the truth, I really don't know. They weren't on any payroll I had access to."

"Who's Sionis?"

"Black Mask. He provided the weapons for the guards." Oh that wasn't good. Black Mask was violent hopefully you could just ignore him as an ignorant arms dealer.

You paused looking him up and down. This wasn't a lot of information. Yes, you had a name and occupations for some of the scientists. There were also the documents showing Bruce Signed off on this. The paper proved he was involved by themselves. But than the take the Waynes down a peg comment didn't fit. "Who was on payroll?"

"Doesn't matter half of them are dead."

"Is that an opinion?" You removed the knife from his hand.

He paled and began pushing back in his chair, "James Lenon, Marcus Antonio, Henry Duncan, Gregory Hartley, Matthew Jenkins. They were the ones guarding the place. The first three are dead, the fourth guy left Gotham after losing his eye. Jenkins is the only one left in town."

Maybe you could get to Jenkins before he left. Than again those guys didn't seem to know much. You could hear them talking through the door at night. They nickname for the scientists and never talk much about the experiments other than supplies. What else could you get from him, "Who was in charge of the experiments?"

"Owens."

"Are you sure?" Davis paused. He gave you a wide eye pleading look while nodding. You looked out the window while trying to connect the pieces.

If Cass was the one who found 'the school' than you needed a connection between her and Owens. Of course Bruce wouldn't let someone like Davis know he was connected. With Davis's disgruntled attitude towards Bruce, he was likely state up to rat on the wrong people. With no clue about Bruce's real involvement it be easy to brush him off as a rouge accountant. Probably claim forgery on the signatures too.

"Well. I got everything I needed." You flipped the knife in your hand. Grabbing the briefcase you turned towards the door.

"Wait, you gotta let me go." Davis tried shuffling the chair. You looked towards him and considered. He could alert Bruce to your investigation.

You gave him a sheepish smile. "Right my bad." You walked behind him and the smile dropped. The next few moments blurred into your mind but than you were the fire escape. Holding a briefcase and changing into some clothes you had brought with you. Checking time you realized you had 3 hours to get back to the manor.

The rest of your investigation would be on hold until you were fully trained and they were lulled into a false sense of security.

Bruce starred at the body of his accountant. His hands had been mutilated and his throat slit. Written in his blood on the wall behind the body was, "Don’t Forget Me."

Both remaining gaurds had implicated Davis as the one that tranferred the tuition money to them. Said they didn't know names but faces of the scientists. Their last lead pointed to Davis as having more information. (Name) wouldn't tell them anything if they went by her interaction with Dick. Yet he was dead when they got here and all of his financial records had been thrown about the office be covered in blood. It seemed most of the ones on (Name) were missing either way.

The next best hope was to look into Meta Traffickers who went off the grid two years ago. Maybe they could look into doctors too since one was needed for that kind of experiment.

Bruce's eyes drifted to the words on the wall. There was no way they would forget this person. Not until who ever they were was behind bars for what they did to (Name). Bruce's hands drifted to the center pocket of his suit and pulled out a photo.

It was him holding (Name) as an infant. A broad smile on his face as he cradled the squirming infant. Looking back at the scene Bruce made a silent vow to not let the people who hurt her get away.

Prev

Taglist:

@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills @yhin-gg @charlenexoxo1 @a-lurking-fae @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist @kittzu @bat1212 @vanilliona @welpthisisboring @plsfckmedxddy @tulnukaz @eyeless-kun @daisy56789

[newkatzkafe2023]

Monkeys meeting a reader who can see into the future like Bruno Madrigal, as is constantly left isolated from others.

I mean come on nobody sees these as warnings to try and AVOID?

We don't talk about (Y/n)😶

(Lmk Wukong) What ostracized for being able to see bad news in the future?! AS IF?! he wished he had met you a long time ago. He would have been able to avoid so much of life's bullsh*t, but here you are, nervous isolated and very, very, very, very kind. Wukong eventually fell in love with you because of your care for others dispite your emotional burnout and isolation. You started to feel the same to finally feeling safe enough to trust and love again.

(HIB Wukong) Now this is the first time he's ever been curious along with his son Luier. Learning that somewhere out there their is a beautiful but very isolated female monkey with the power to see the future. That makes Wukong wonder a few things and went to find you to get some answers. When you guys do met you the first thing he saw was burnout and sadness, Wukong immediately felt sympathy for your depression and mood. He and the children worked to lift your Spirits reminding you that life is beautiful, as Wukong kissed your face.

(NR Wukong) Ohhhhh Mystery Green eyed monkey lady, how exciting that is for him. Although he would be curious to know why such a beautiful jade siren, is all alone by herself in the night. That's when he learns about your gift you can see pretty far into the future, it probably explains why you keep slipping away from him so easily. Wukong decided to get tricky and he soon had you where he wanted you, right in his arms wooing you all night long.

(MKR Wukong) Oh jeez good luck pushing him away, Wukong has not been deterred by some nasty rumors before and he ain't gonna start now. He met you all alone in your cottage because he heard you can look into the future, but what he wasn't expecting was a pretty little monkey. Wukong was suddenly besides himself having such pretty eyes on him, and got extra stubborn to leave you be. Soon after finally helping him he made sure to bring you along too, holding your hand leading the way.

(Netflix Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh Man this...this is a very deep untreated cut, Wukong knows about isolation, being ostracized, and rejected better then any mortal and immortal ever😥 Deep down despite his bravado and loud mouth he wouldn't wish that kind of loneliness upon even his enemies. Which is why he would go out of his way to break you out of your shell, so what of you can see the future all he sees is his future with you😉

(BMW Wukong) Your isolation would not deter him what so ever, you were the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. Wukong would do anything to get you to spend time with and date him, but you were extremely pessimistic about his chances for a good time with you. Though with the way you were receiving neck kisses from Wukong, that wouldn't take long to change your mind.

(Destined one) Wow you....you were beautiful and what's more is that you have an intriguing little gift. Though the Destined one immediately felt a large amount of depression from you, especially your isolation and pessimism. He definitely took it upon himself to give support and care to you, As he takes it upon himself to show you the bright sides of life bring a small smile to you.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🐀

[threadbearsweater]

lemonade | rafayel, love and deepspace

you're the neglected wife of a financial mogul, left to your own devices for weeks at a time while your husband is away on business. rafayel is the cute, much younger maintenance man who takes care of your pool. it's been a long time since you've felt the touch of a man, and rafayel is eager to change that.

tags: female reader. age gap- rafayel is in his early 20's, reader is in her late 30's; reader and her husband are financially blessed (they're rich asf); infidelity and the guilt that comes with it; cunnilingus, making out, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint. 3.9k words (i don't know what happened)

Your husband comes to bed hours after you retire most nights, and is long gone before you even open your eyes most mornings, leaving only the scent of his aftershave and expensive cologne hanging in your bedroom. He’s always sure to leave a kiss somewhere– on your shoulder, your cheek, your forehead. It’s sweet and tender, sure. He’s sentimental like that in a morbid sort of way; what if it’s the last time he’ll see you, and one of you has to go the rest of your life without the other, knowing that there wasn’t some sort of affectionate exchange when you last saw each other? 

You wish with all your heart that he would wake you to make love. Or that he would– at the very least–  sit down to have dinner with you once in a while before you slide his plate into the microwave and ready yourself for bed. Of course you love him, and you know that he loves you; the lack of intimacy, however, makes you stir crazy, worried, agitated. You knew when you married him that much of your life would be spent without him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you began to feel neglected and forgotten. No amount of money he could spend on you could ever make up for the basic biological need to be touched, to be loved. To feel desired. To know that your husband– the man you promised yourself to so many years ago– wanted you for more than just a sense of security and a pretty face waiting for him to come back home.

This morning was no different from any other. You wake slowly and pull the silk sleep mask from your eyes to find that it’s already past nine. You curse yourself silently for sleeping longer than you intended and slip out of bed to open the blinds. There’s already a sultry summer haze that seems to have settled in, making everything appear out of focus when you look out across the expanse of your property. Nothing moves to indicate that there’s a breeze of any kind at all. You sigh and stretch your arms above your head, deciding that today will be a pool day. 

The pool was dug last spring as an anniversary gift, and your husband spared no expense in creating a little slice of paradise for you to enjoy. You had hoped it meant he would spend a little more time at home with you, but so far he’s only been swimming in it once. You, on the other hand, enjoy it almost daily in the warmer months. Alone, most of the time, excepting the periodic presence of a groundskeeper, your cleaning lady, or the pool maintenance guy. 

You're expecting to be alone today, so after breakfast you choose one of your more revealing swimsuits and a sheer coverup, figuring you’ll work on a nice, sun-kissed glow while enjoying the controlled temperature of the water. You bring a book, some tanning oil, and a few snacks to avoid having to return to the house until you’re sun and chlorine soaked enough to satiate yourself for a little while. The poured concrete patio is already hot, so you tiptoe across barefoot quickly, your steps punctuated by little exclamations (“ooh! ouch! shit!”) as you make your way poolside. The cool water is a balm as you lower yourself in, breathing a sigh of relief before treading out into the middle of the pool.

For a little while you float with your face turned toward the sky. The sun isn’t quite directly overhead, but it’s late enough in the morning that you feel the heat on your skin, the humidity already heavy in the air. You breathe, you relax. You take in the moment, appreciating it for what it is, and vow to make your husband swim with you when he comes home this weekend.

You spend a little time in the water, then a little time reading, snacking, and sunning yourself on a patio lounge chair. It’s peaceful and easy, and since you don’t really have any other plans for the day, you let yourself enjoy the leisure and luxury without worrying about the time. At some point while reading, you drift off to sleep like a cat on a sunbeam, warm and content.

~

“Madam?” 

You blink awake and frown, a little disoriented to see someone else’s face so close to yours– a relatively unfamiliar one, at that. Instinct tells you to push away this person who intrudes upon your personal space, so you shove your palm against his nose and sit up quickly. The culprit yelps in pain, his own hands flying to his face and pushing yours away.

“Hey, what was that for? I was just trying to wake you up so you don’t get overheated out here.” His voice is a bit nasal and hollow sounding from where he has his hands cupped around his nose, but you recognize him immediately once you’re fully awake and coherent.

You apologize profusely. “Rafayel! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you!” You cover his hands with yours and pull them away from his handsome face, scanning for any damage you might have done. Thankfully, all looks well, except that maybe his nose is a bit red, but that could also be from sun exposure. He rubs it and pouts, almost as if he wants you to believe that you did indeed hurt him. “You don’t usually come on Thursdays. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here today.”

Rafayel has been taking care of pool maintenance for you since the beginning of this year. Your other maintenance guy was a local university student, and when he graduated and moved on, your husband hired Rafayel to take his place. He’s been a reliable employee so far, hardworking and trustworthy; not to mention, he’s easy on the eyes, and you’d shrivel up with embarrassment if he knew how many mornings you spent admiring him from the kitchen window. 

He gestures toward the enclosure where most of the pool mechanics are hidden. “Needed to change one of the filters I didn’t have with me last time I was here. I was at your neighbor’s house this morning and figured I’d stop here too.” 

“Well thank you.” You rub your eyes and yawn, shielding your eyes as you squint up at the sky. “How long was I out?”

Rafayel shrugs and perches on the side of your lounge chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He wipes a sheen of sweat from his forehead. “Couldn’t say. I’ve only been here for like, ten minutes? And you’ve been asleep the whole time.”

You lean down to grab your cover-up that fell onto the patio at some point during your little cat nap. Rafayel swoops down to grab it first and hands it to you with a cheeky smile. You thank him and slip it over your head; if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you saw a shadow of disappointment pass through his gaze, but it’s gone before you can be sure. 

“Don’t let me keep you from your work,” you tell him, gathering the rest of your things. “I’m sure you have other things to do this afternoon besides save old housewives from heat stroke.” The latter part of your statement is very tongue-in-cheek. You certainly don’t see yourself as old, but you do have a few years on Rafayel.

He scoffs and stands up, offering a hand to you, which you accept. “Please.” He calls you by your married name, and you correct him to use your first name instead. He says it very deliberately then, and you watch the way his mouth forms, his eyes fixed on your face so intently it makes you feel warm down to your chest. “I’ll change the filter and be out of your hair in no time.”

“At least stay and get a drink before you go,” you insist. Rafayel raises an eyebrow. “What do you like? Lemonade? Iced tea?” You’re already stepping backwards toward the house, feeling buoyant, giddy. The way he smiles, the way his pretty eyes shine as he stands there in the sun stirs something almost foreign in your belly. Something you haven’t felt in months– perhaps even years. It’s almost overpowered by a gnawing sense of guilt, but you rationalize it as just a harmless flirtation. Some silly, girlish feelings brought about by the temporary rise of your body temperature from laying in the sun too long. You explain it away in your head, waiting for Rafayel to stop looking at you like he wants to say something other than what he likes to drink.

“Lemonade,” he says slowly, stepping toward you, keenly aware of how the sleeve of your sheer cover-up has fallen off your shoulder. It feels scandalous for him to witness your bare shoulder with nothing but the strap of your bikini between him and the softness that beckons. He’s thankful for the sun that has kissed his cheeks peony pink because it hides the flush he feels when he wonders how you smell. If he could just–

“Great! I’ll get you a glass while you get the filter changed. Shouldn’t take long, right?” You smile brightly at him and retreat as fast as you can into your house, closing the sliding glass door with a shuddering sigh before slumping against the wall to calm yourself. Your heart flutters. An anxious energy seems to bubble up from your throat and you giggle in spite of yourself, covering your mouth as if someone is going to overhear. 

Outside, Rafayel blows out a long, cool breath and goes about the business of changing the pool filter with trembling hands. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he can’t deny the way he feels when you look at him. He thinks it’s a damn shame that your husband works so much and misses out on seeing you every day. Whether you’re lounging by the pool, wrapped up in one of your books, chatting with friends on the phone, or otherwise keeping yourself entertained, he finds you beautiful in ways that put girls his own age to shame. And you’re all alone in this sprawling house with no one to talk to. He’s doing you a favor by showing up unexpectedly. 

The air conditioning kicks on just as Rafayel slides the door open to find you at the kitchen counter, mixing a fresh batch of lemonade. You offer him a seat at the counter. “So you’ve already been to the neighbor’s house?” you ask, trying so hard to come across as though you don’t have a reason for asking. Pure curiosity, that’s all. Polite conversation.

“Yep. I’m free for the rest of the day,” he says with a stretch and a satisfied sort of groan, leaning onto the counter as if he owns the place. He rests his chin in his hands and watches you taste the lemonade, wondering if you know how cute you look when you wrinkle your nose at the tartness. You add a couple more teaspoons of sugar and mix again, meeting his adoring gaze and feeling suddenly shy.

“What are you going to do? Any fun plans?” You taste again, satisfied this time with the sweetness, then pour a glass for Rafayel. As you pass it to him, he reaches for it at the same time. His fingers glide over yours and you gasp. Rafayel looks at you, and something passes between the two of you that feels like a live wire. You draw your hand away quickly– too quickly– and the glass topples over on the counter, lemonade lost.

“Oh!” You scramble for a paper towel, forgetting where you keep them in your panic. Rafayel is quick to help, noticing a roll of them on another stretch of countertop behind you. He grabs them as you’re using your hand as a dam to stop the stream of lemonade from carving a path to the floor. He steps in directly behind you and slaps down a fold of paper towels, and they soak up the mess on the counter immediately.

You know he probably didn’t mean to step so close, but his chest is against your back and his breath tickles the side of your neck. He huffs out a laugh– he sounds just as breathless as you feel, though you chalk it up to panic about the spill more than anything else. 

“Sorry. I’m so clumsy,” you say, silently willing your heart to beat just a little bit slower.

“Nah, you’re okay. Accidents happen.” His voice is so close to your ear you’d swear he was inside your head. He wipes the mess away, then takes your hand, leading you to the sink to rinse it off. He’s tender and deliberate, taking meticulous care to lather the soap so there’s no sticky residue left on your skin.

“Thanks,” you tell him, your face positively on fire. “You should, ah– you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” You reach for a hand towel and dry yourself quickly. 

Rafayel looks offended. “You sure? I’d hate for you to have another accident and there’s no one to help you clean it up,” he teases.

It makes you laugh in spite of yourself. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. “I’m sure you have friends waiting. It’s a beautiful day. Go, take advantage of it.”

Feeling bold, Rafayel steps closer to you again and lifts your chin so that you have to look at him. You’ve never noticed before the depth of color in his eyes– iridescent, incandescent. He is mischievous and devious all at once, and it would take a real idiot to not see what he very clearly has in mind when he steps so close to you that you could count his lashes. He begins to call you by your married name again, but you stop him with a whispered plea. 

So he says your first name– deliberate, slower still than when he said it before. His lips are so close to yours that they touch when he speaks. “May I kiss you?”

Whatever happened in the moments leading up to this one leaves you speechless, searching for the reason that you’re standing here in the middle of your kitchen– the one that you custom designed with your husband, purchased and decorated with his money– kissing the years younger man who maintains your pool. If you try too hard to rationalize it, you’ll never forgive yourself as long as you live.

Oh, his lips are impossibly soft. Silk and gentle heat, breath that tastes faintly of bubble gum, a clever tongue that slips between your lips and over the sharp edges of your teeth while his arm threads around your waist to draw you closer. Your body seems to move of its own volition; you slide a hand across the back of his neck and comb your nails up through his hair, and he moans so unabashedly it almost makes you laugh.

You’re first to break the kiss; breathless, reeling, you weakly paw at his chest, and when you don’t meet his penetrating gaze, he lifts your chin again and speaks so earnestly to you that you wonder if he’s said these words before to some other lonely housewife whose husband also left her alone too often. “This…doesn’t have to mean anything.” He brushes his knuckles across your cheek and you lean into his touch, seeking, cat-like. “Just let me make you feel good.”

You shove the guilt aside. If it’s wrong to feel desired, you don’t want to be right. Not right now. Not with Rafayel kissing along the graceful column of your neck, his hands already wandering underneath your little cover-up to knead the soft, supple curve of your hip and the round of your ass. You let him touch you, and you soak it all in like the desperate, affection deprived woman you are. 

Rafayel is fascinated with you, and you feel it with every slide of his warm skin against yours. He traces a path across your cheek and along your jaw with just the tip of his nose; he blinks, and his eyelashes whisper against you while his fingers fan out across the side of your neck. You grow bold and curious enough to lift the hem of his shirt, sighing into his mouth when your fingers trace the toned contour of his abs, the subtle indentations between ribs when he sucks in a breath at the onset of your touch. He kisses you as if to devour you. You kiss him back with the same fervor, and when he reaches to grab the back of your thighs, you let him lift you. Arms linked around his neck, legs squeezing his waist, he asks you between kisses, where is your room?

Down the hall, you murmur, fingers in his hair, lips on his brow. Second door on the left.

He carries you there, and when he kicks the door shut and lays you out on the bed, he looks at you with a reverence that nearly brings you to tears. With painstakingly slow movements, he peels away each piece of your swimsuit, breathing out in wonder as he studies each curve of your body. “So beautiful,” he whispers, kneeling on the floor in front of where you lie.

A younger version of you would have played coy. Perhaps you wouldn’t have been as confident in how your body appeared to an attractive man who wanted nothing more than to take you apart in the most carnal sense of the word. But as you lie there under his watchful gaze, as you feel his beautiful mouth tracing a path from the arch of your foot to your knee, to your thigh, you know you’re beautiful. You feel beautiful. You feel like a goddess of the highest order. And Rafayel has most certainly helped you feel that way.

So you whisper a thanks that turns into a satisfied sigh when his hands press you open and you feel the tip of his tongue between your folds. Rafayel groans and presses his open mouth to you, his grip on your thighs strong and sure. You link your ankles across his shoulders and bury your hands in the softness of his hair again, making sure that he doesn’t move farther than you want (need) him. 

And like the giver he is, he stays there. Shirtless, his pretty face buried in your cunt, strong hands pressing your legs open to keep you pliant for him. He’s so desperately turned on for you that his hips rut into the side of the mattress. He releases one of your legs to reach down and stroke himself when the need becomes too great.

He’s good with his tongue, even better with the suction of his mouth when he draws your clit between his lips. You ride the waves of your pleasure, kneading the soft flesh of your own tits, lifting your hips to press yourself further into his mouth when he moans for you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the touch of another that you’d forgotten what it was like. Your toys worked well when the need became too great to bear, but they were nothing compared to this. 

Rafayel pulls back to gaze up at you, chin and lips shining with evidence of you. The loss of him makes you whimper and scoot toward him. “I just wanted to look at you for a minute,” he says with that teasing lilt in his voice that you’ll never quite get used to. “Do you still need me to touch you?” 

You’re not above begging– not in this state. So you ask him, please, to touch you, that you’re almost there, just a little more. He laughs through his nose and slides two fingers inside you, marvelling at the sticky, wet sounds your body makes for him. He curves those fingers once he’s inside and you arch so pretty for him that he thinks he’s going to lose his mind. 

“Mouth, Rafayel. Need– neetd y–” You can hardly form a coherent thought, let alone actual spoken words.

He gets a kick out of that, but keeps those fingers moving, slow and steady, really enjoying the way your body seems to suck him in. “You need my mouth, cutie? Is that what you want to say?”

You nod. Oh, please. Please yes, and he nudges your clit with his nose before sucking it back in his mouth. You cum with lightning intensity, both the penetration and the stimulation entirely overwhelming. Your vision goes white, your breathing ragged and hoarse. Rafayel, like the good samaritan he is, grips your thighs like a vice to keep you open so he can drag his face through the silky softness of your climax, overstimulating you to the precipice of madness. You try in vain to push his head away, but he won’t be moved.

“Need to clean up this mess,” he says. His face glistens with your pleasure, and you think you’ve never seen him more beautiful.

Vaguely aware of a tear that runs down your temple to rest in one of the folds of your ear, you lie back and let him take care of you. The aftershock of your orgasm dies away eventually, though the muscles in your thighs twitch involuntarily until he decides he’s finally satisfied with his work and crawls up to lie beside you. 

Neither of you say a word for a long time. You let him hold you until your heartbeat returns to normal. He rubs your back in long, slow strokes, and you cup his face in your hands, tracing the strong line of his jaw, hsi gentle brow, the delicate fan of his eyelashes. 

“We don’t have to tell anyone,” he says, as if he can read your mind. “You just seemed so lonely today. More than usual, I mean.”

You scoff a little, though you know what he says is obvious. “More than usual? Do I really mope around here that much?”

He shrugs and shifts a little to lie back, pulling your hand across his chest. “I’m only here once a week, but you always look so sad. You were practically begging to be kissed today.”

That makes you laugh, and you give him a playful shove. “You’re one to talk.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought about it before?” He quirks a brow and turns his head to look at you.

Busted. “Maybe once or twice. But we can’t–” You sigh. The damage has already been done, if you can call it that. You’re the unfaithful wife. A literal stereotype. There’s no way you can rationalize it to yourself. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

Rafayel hums, tracing his fingertips up and down your arm. “But did you like it?”

You nod before you can overthink it. Your body still pulses with arousal, despite knowing you should be feeling anything but. “I really did.”

“Me too,” he says. “So, if it happens again, is it really so bad?”

You decide that it really isn’t so bad, especially when your husband calls later that evening to tell you he won’t be home this weekend after all. 

[despazito]

what is type drifting in dogs and what does it have to do with the chow?

It's a contentious topic, type drifting refers to the general appearance of a breed changing over time.

I should clarify that it's disingenuous to assert that dogs inherently had better structure 100 years ago, we definitely know more medically and genetically about how dogs work now than we did back then. i'll sometimes see old photos of dogs whose heads i find very pleasing but the postcranial structure is an inharmonious mess (and it's not about what 'looks' right aesthetically, the way joints are arranged decides how efficiently a dog can move which can have some big impacts on working ability and quality of life). we can thank good breeders for smoothing out a lot of those imbalances in their dogs. You know when you see a funny shelter dog that has the proportions of 3 different animals cobbled together? It is the work of breeders that purebreds as a general rule don't have that structural funkiness going on.

Over the years the desired "type" of dogs within a breed becomes standardized (after all the word conformation literally derives from "to conform"), so the population settles for a desired direction to take their breed in. The controversy starts when for whatever reason, usually a variety of factors such as judge preference, breeder preference, whose kennel is bigger or more influential in a given area, etc... that you can see desirable physical appearance drift towards certain traits over others throughout the decades.

These changes can be structurally harmless, the roman nose of the bull terrier doesn't cause any dysfunction and boils down to personal preference of what folks think a perfect bull terrier should look like. Other changes can pose more harm, such as the preference for a french bulldog to have a completely flat face+meaty neck+wider skull+pinched nostrils together creates a dog much more prone to breathing issues.

As a trend though I do feel like a handful of breeds have drifted towards a cobbier build, reduced muzzle length, a more domed head shape, more skin, and more bone. which like, isn't inherently cruel or anything, but i think we should ask ourselves why some dogs are drifting that direction because there also isn't anything to be gained from it beyond aesthetic preference.

Chow chows have gotten quite a bit meatier and stockier, here's some top chows of 2024

compared to prized chows at the turn of the 20th century when they were still novel dogs to the west, there's definitely structural differences and the dogs just looked more moderate overall.

I think where folks get confused is that it's not so much saying that meatier chow are all diseased and should cease to exist, we can still have those chows (within moderation lol), it's the frustration people like me have that the old type champion dogs if shown today would not get praised as good looking chows even though they're still purebred chows and there's nothing wrong with them! I wish clubs were more flexible in this way and were more openminded on what a purebred should look like so long as the dogs are healthy. And i don't believe drawing a line in the sand to call it a different breed is the solution either because on average purebred populations are in need of more gene flow.

How this ties in to china is that chow chow originated in china. the meatier and western type chows can be found there but so can the more moderate old type that has become harder to source from a western breeder nowadays. When you search chow chow on chinese social media (i can't read mandarin but i've copy pasted various terms from chinese dog sources) you will find a more diverse range of dogs. there are dogs that look closer to the ancestral landrace songmao, more western-style dogs, and a wide spectrum of stuff in between (unfortunately extreme breeding happens over there too, i've seen dogs with CRAZY amounts of skin that are even more exaggerated than western type).

If you're like me and have a strong preference towards the old style of chow and the native songmao i think you can understand why we have some strong opinions on the direction that western lines went lol. I'm just absolutely in love with these guys that you can still find in china, I want to meet some so bad!!

(songmao dogs)

[ryder-writes]

Anniversary Cuddles- Viktor x GN!Reader

A/n: im personally not attracted to him but he's my favorite character so I thought he would be fun to write^^

CW: Nothin :]

WC: 800-ish

The bed felt cold underneath your back. It always did now, though. There was no one to your right to warm it up for you. Your lover wasn't dead (even though it felt like that sometimes), just… busy. He was always tinkering- trying to fix things. You admired that about him. He was so determined and persistent. However, that was also one of his flaws. As proven by the way too large amount of time he slept in the lab, and therefore away from you. You didn't take it offensively, it just sucked sometimes. You missed him. It felt like he was on the other side of Piltover.

You sigh and settle down, laying on your side. Pulling a pillow toward you, you wrap your arms and legs around it. You bury your face into the top of it. The only noise in the room as you drift off is the pillow scrunching as you clutch onto it as if it were human.

-

"Another failure. What are we doing wrong?" Jayce drags his hands down his face.

"It's okay, we'll just have to try again."

"We're close to running out of combinations."

"Then we'll try new ones." Viktor suggests, not looking up from his desk.

"There aren't any new ones, Viktor." Jayce sighs. Viktor looks up from his desk.

"How will we know if we don't try?" He argues. "If we want to make Hextech work then we need to find new solutions to old problems." Jayce holds up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, good point. Good point." Looking at the clock on the wall, he notices how late it is. He stretches his arms before walking over to Viktor. "It's getting late, I'm gonna head home." He puts his hand on Viktor's shoulder, causing him to jump slightly. "You should head back too, you've been sleeping here for weeks. It can't be good for you."

"What's good for me is finding out how to fix this." He mutters.

"Viktor, seriously. It's past midnight." Viktor's eyes widen. Jayce looks at him with concern. "You okay? You look paler than usual." Viktor mumbles something under his breath. "What?"

"It's our anniversary. I missed it."

"Wait- who's anniversary? Are you married?!"

Viktor chuckles at Jayce's shocked face. "No, not yet. I have a partner. It's our two year anniversary toda- yesterday." He looks down, disappointed in himself. "I promised I would be there tonight."

"Then go."

"But, the rune-"

"Forget about the runes. You have someone who cares about you waiting for you. Go." Jayce scolds.

"You're right- I'll lock up then I'll leave." Viktor states as he's getting up. Jayce laughs:

"Oh, no. I'll lock up, since I don't trust you not to stay." Viktor chuckles as he grabs his crutch and starts walking towards the door.

"Goodnight, Jayce."

"Goodnight, Viktor."

-

When Viktor entered your shared place, he sees what he expected. No lights were turned on, and everything looks like it hadn't been touched in weeks. There was, however, a small bouquet of flowers on the table. He should have got you flowers. He mentally makes a reminder for him to pick you up some tomorrow. As he gets closer to your bedroom, his eyes adjust to the darkness.

He walks in, and what he sees breaks his heart. You're holding onto a pillow, cradling it close to your chest. He takes off his day clothes and changes into his sleep clothes before making his way over to his side of the bed. He leans his crutch on the wall and sits on the bed. He grabs the pillow from your arms and places it on a chair. You stir awake in confusion as to where your pillow went, before you look up.

"Viktor?"

"Hello, Darling. Happy Anniversary." He reaches forward and caresses your face. He leans down and kisses your forehead.

"Happy Anniversary, my love." You whisper. Your hands lay on top of each other as you lean in for a kiss. When you part, you lay back down and open your arms. That's all the invitation Viktor needs, as he's laying down and reaching for your warmth. He rests his head on your chest, your legs intertwined with one another as you stroke his hair. A content hum leaves his throat. He had forgotten how calming you were- how warm. You leave kisses in his hair as you both drift off into the deepest sleep you have both had in a while.

Other Arcane fic(s) here :]

[the-kingshound]

Spoilers abound, and though I will try to be as vague as possible, I’m going to assume that I’ll probably get accidentally more in-depth, as I quite enjoyed myself. Feel free to hang on to it until more people have read, I’d understand.

The wedding was good, it has a bit of a dissociative air to it that I think was a positive considering the circumstances the mc is in. I think the amount of story time dedicated to it is hits the sweet spot, since it is a political marriage of convenience rather than one of love and celebration. I’m liking the secretive/confidante air the siblings are taking on leading up to the meeting. It kind of makes it seem like the Camelot natives aren’t being ridiculous for trying to put distance between the Venegard family members (that and Ghaven’s gifts). It really shows how scared of the Venegard house in general that they are despite winning and despite not knowing who or if any of the other siblings are mages besides Adrei. Considering they are surrounded on all sides and literally smack dab in enemy territory, it really makes them look like cowards, though in the case of my MC their sheer size and demeanor probably makes it doubly hard to pretend otherwise. Can’t wait for MC to really use that to their advantage, after they’re done lamenting their current enemy #1 status (my mc especially since they wore the house colors).

I feel bad scaring the Pendragon mount but am having a lot of fun giving Arthur whiplash with my rough/stoic, militaristic MC (one second soft as can be for Mordred, the next scary, very very scary. They surprisingly share a lot in common with their House’s mount, it would seem). It’s not because I don’t like them, just because I think it’ll make a very funny story looking back.

“Can you believe I was afraid my bestie was gonna kill me/thought I was going to kill them mere minutes before our wedding?” He says, innocently, while the Hound wades through the blood of his enemies. “How silly of us,”

I’m enjoying Gywar’s scenes the most at the moment, but that’s because they hit a certain soft spot for me. MC is a sword, and that scene before the festivities is basically Gywar telling them that to them, they’ll need to be a shield. A guide, confidante, friend in exchange for a protection and the same in return. They seem to be scared to get close, but already hopelessly invested. It shows a vulnerability despite them very obviously trying to guard themself from the hound. Their desire to help is so earnest, and foreign that my mc finds themself in a similar position, yearning to earnestly return the sentiment while feeling like they aren’t emotionally built for that. They find themself at times, uncharacteristically softened, and at others characteristically direct in their desire to show Gywar that they’ve thrown their lots in together. It makes for a very powerful set of scenes (MC thinking of getting Gywar to rest the very second they’re allowed to, squeezed my little heart). Evaine’s scene was also v good, and my giant of a hound is on the look out for their bullies, Evaine is gonna make the shocked pikachu face soon because the second my hound figures it out, there’s gonna be a new world order in that court (goes for Yniol’s bullies too). Morien’s scene was more fun then I’d expected, and I wasn’t expecting them to make such polarizing and quick assessments of the MC (either A. You’re too cute to exist, or B. Nice, another bastard like me) but both made me smile. The scenes were really good at showing which ROs were more open, regardless of whether they were earnest and dispense their trust easily or not. Yniol was sorely missed, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were A. Avoiding Nobles, B. Concerned with Overcrowding MC, C. Concerned with Bedivere’s likely change in body language, D. Using this opportunity to check on their kids, or E. Taking their duty too seriously and working

.

[alexanderwales]

Someone on my discord said that it didn't seem like it would take all that much work to worldbuild a plausible Age of Piracy that lasted for a thousand years. I somewhat disagree, but I think it's an interesting challenge.

To start with, some boundaries:

Piracy is the act of a sailing ship attacking another sailing ship carrying goods for the purposes of ransom, robbery, and taking on new crew from their number. I will also allow some coastal raiding, even if that's not technically piracy.

Any system/culture of piracy is going to have to consider at least two things: supply of ships and supply of pirates.

Any system/culture of piracy is going to have to have some kind of prey. The snake cannot eat its own tail.

The pirates cannot be primarily state-sponsored, though the ecosystem can have privateers in it, and there can be other tacit approval of piracy from higher powers one way or another (especially e.g. bribes).

The age of piracy needs to be relatively geographically contained and relatively continuous, rather than moving from hotspot to hotspot.

So where does this leave us? What are the big problems to solve?

We need a continuous source of trade for pirates to plunder from. This has to be a trade route, or set of trade routes, that's incredibly stable, surviving political and economic disruptions, and has a high enough value that it persists in the face of piracy.

Sort of inevitably, the people trying to move goods from one place to another do not want them stolen. We probably have to model this thousand years as a series of changes in pirate tactics and trade tactics, but also as something that moves slower than in the real world.

As above, you need a source of ships. You can potentially get these from "pirate havens", but that gets dangerously close to being state-sanctioned if this is in fact the source of ships and pirates. So I actually think you're mostly fine if no one is building ships exclusively for piracy (or only doing that rarely), and instead most of the ships come from the major powers building ships. This is historically accurate, with capture and mutiny being the main source of pirate ships.

As above, you need a source of sailors. Being trained as a sailor took some time, and there's not that much room for on-the-job training for a pirate crew, though there is some. So the source needs to be navies or merchant fleets, and they need to be pretty terrible such that piracy offers the better option. And in the real world, there were lots of indentured servants, slaves, etc. who could get a better life by taking to the seas, though they wouldn't start with skill as sailors.

So we are, I think, starting to sketch out some features of the Thousand Years of Piracy just by implication.

We have a few major continents that are separated from each other by major oceans, maybe with some smaller islands between them to serve as pirate havens, secure harbors, etc. These continents have huge amounts of trade with each other that lasts for a millennium in spite of pressure for them to go local, which means they probably can't. They have incompatible climates leading to incompatible crops, they have different mineral wealth, etc. This trade is super profitable, enough that piracy only puts a dent in profits, and is "cost of doing business".

Macro technology is stagnant for whatever reason. The Scientific Revolution was not inevitable, I think all you need are pretty regular wars on the main continents that rip through institutions of learning, or purges of philosophers for ideological reasons, or just political fragmentation that means there's not quite enough stability to get thinkers together. (Yes, we're using instability to create the stability of stagnation.)

Micro technology is ... probably fine? At some point in the 1,000 years, there are changes to the sails, copper sheathing on the hulls, different shape to the bow, all probably fine. Cannons can get better, rifles and pistols can get better, any of this still falls within "1,000 years of piracy". Certain things are there to stay. Other things fall out of fashion.

What is a problem are changes in tactics. There needs to be no particular thing that can cost-effectively be done about piracy for a thousand years, or at least not in all cases. It's easy to imagine pirates as being a part of the risk-reward calculation for merchants, for pirates to be hunted by navies interested in securing trade ... but if they're to stay pirates for a thousand years, then there needs to be no way for them to get into a stable non-pirate situation. It has to devolve into pirates, even if there are points in this thousand year history where pirates get stomped in every now and then.

One of the big risks is cooption or institutionalization of deviance. What prevents the pirates from all taking deals to become privateers, getting letters of marquee from the major powers and agreeing only to attack one side or another? We want a thousand years of piracy, not a thousand years of privateers. What's stopping the formation of a pirate kingdom, or a pirate monopoly, one that stops any upstarts and forces everyone under the same banner?

And all this I'm much less sure about. I think it's plausible, I guess, but if I had to go fill in an actual worldbuilding document where I mark down all the twists and turns, if I had to think through all thousand years of people trying to stamp out the very practice of piracy, all the things they tried and the ways they failed, that's where I think some cracks might start to show.

[crowsofdarkness]

Truth: One Shot

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 8,799

Content Warnings: language, angst, tiny bit of violence, mentions of death, mentions of drunk driving, alcoholism, and implied smut.

Summary: A next door neighbor bound with secrets; one of which nearly breaks you from the inside out.

-originally posted on my old blog-

I walked up the last few steps towards my apartment, the long and emotional day finally catching up to me. The three hour drive turned into a six hour and with half of my day gone, the thought of climbing into bed brought a soft smile to my lips. The amount of people I had to plaster a fake smile for mentally drained me so I was thankful I didn’t have to see anyone for the next 12 hours until someone undoubtedly face-timed me to check in. 

Grief wasn’t something I expected to deal with overnight and the support was nice when needed. But it had been years since that night, I was at the point in my life where I was ready to finally move on and accept it, even if his family continued to check in every day. 

Whatever joy I felt about being able to quickly slip inside and into my bed left my body when I noticed two guys hanging around the apartment door across from mine, chatting amongst themselves. Internally I groaned when I knew that I wasn’t going to go unnoticed by them. Almost every day one of them would ask for my number or ask to come inside. It never got physical and they accepted no the first time. 

It still bothered me that they tried every day. 

“Hey baby, why the long face?” One of the guys asked. 

Not wanting to deal with any of them today, I ignored them and reached my door in a quick flash, ready to get this interaction over with. However the other guy had stepped in front of me to block me from entering my apartment. 

Unbeknownst to them, I had gripped my car key in between my fingers; to be safe. 

“Please move. I’m not in the mood tonight.” I threatened. 

He licked his lips. “Come on. One night with us will change your mood. I guarantee it.” 

I sliced my eyes into him. “Move. Now.” 

He didn’t budge and the other guy was now lurking behind me. My heart hammered in my chest, not knowing what was to come. The key could only do so much damage with the two of them. 

“Everything alright?” 

I looked over my shoulder and let out a long breath of relief when I saw my next door neighbor leaning against his doorway, concern etched on his face.

“Doesn’t concern you.” The guy behind me said while not taking his eyes off of the back of my head. 

“I think it does,” my neighbor said. 

The guy that was blocking my path inside didn't bother to see who my neighbor was before he spoke up. 

“Man, get back inside. She's fine!”

“She doesn’t look fine.” 

The same guy grabbed my hand, ignoring my neighbor, and led me towards my door giving an extra hard push. 

“Tell him babe, you’re with us.” 

I haven't officially met my neighbor, only seeing him in passing, so I hoped he understood the look of despair I gazed his way. If that didn’t catch on, the way I mouthed ‘help’ should have. 

Before I could register what had happened, my neighbor had the guy behind me on the floor clutching his stomach and the guy in front of me pinned up on the wall, gloved fingers around his throat. By the look of fear in their eyes, it was clear that they finally realized who saved me. 

“I don’t want to see you lurking around here or bothering her again, understand?” 

They guys were out of sight in seconds, not wanting to get on the wrong side of my neighbor again. 

“You alright?” He asked while giving me a quick once over with his intense eyes. 

I nodded, my heart calming down. “Yeah, thank you for that. They always hang around but never got that close before.” 

My neighbor nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” 

He went to walk back into his apartment but my quiet voice stopped him. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Barnes.” 

He turned to face me once again. “You can call me Bucky. I’m around anytime if you need something.” 

We shared a small smile before slipping into our own apartments. 

The quiet solace of my apartment was everything I needed after the absolute hell of a morning I had. I never meant to raise my voice at her, she was hurting too, but she was asking questions that I didn’t even know the answer to. 

“I never said I don’t miss him, Barb. It’s just been so long that I can’t keep dwelling on the what if’s.” 

“How can you say that? Don’t you want to know what happened to him?” 

“Of course I do! But there’s no leads; no answers. I don’t know what else you want from me.” 

“He’s my son, Y/N. I will find out what happened to him whether you want me to or not!”

“He was my husband, Barb! I don’t have any fucking answers on how he died because I don’t know how he died! The cops don’t even know. So stop thinking I’m hiding something from you.” 

My mother in law meant well but she was tired of not having answers to what happened; we all were. But none of us were accusing each other of hiding something. 

I let out a deep, aggravated sigh, while I pinched my eyes shut, hoping it would help the headache that was slamming behind my eyes. My body molded into the couch, hoping that it would ease away the worries I felt. The darkness I saw behind my eyes began to fill with memories that night, hours before he died, and my veins filled with regret knowing that I was the reason he was dead. I kicked him out that night, told him not to come back unless he kicked his habit. 

Alcohol consumed his life and it wasn’t something I could deal with anymore. 

The constant fights because of him staying out all night at the bars or showing up to important things drunk as hell. 

Maybe if I let him stay, he would still be alive. 

I quickly shook those thoughts out of my mind, knowing that even if I did keep him home that night, one way or another he would have still wrapped his car around a tree. 

The only answers the cops could give me was that they believed he was driving drunk. I believed them because I knew the kind of man he was; as much as he loved me, he loved the booze a bit more. 

His mother never wanted to believe that her “precious son” could have those demons so when I told her what happened, she didn’t believe me. 

My phone’s alarm went off with the message laundry and I remembered that I had been working on my laundry when Barb called. 

Making sure my phone and keys were in my pocket, I let my door close behind me as I walked down the long hallway and hung a left, the communal laundry room coming in sight. 

I always chose to do my laundry in the middle of the night because everyone else in the building was asleep so I didn’t have to worry about someone hogging all of the machines. 

So to say I was surprised when I saw someone else in the laundry room was an understatement; mostly because Bucky had his back to me, folding away. I only knew it was him because of the metal fingers that worked to fold a shirt of his. 

“Here I thought I was the only one who did laundry at 3 am,” I smirked while walking past him. 

Bucky gave me his own. “I usually don’t but couldn’t sleep so I figured I might as well get a couple loads done.” 

Realizing that my clothes weren’t quite dry yet, I set them for another cycle before giving Bucky my attention once again. 

“Did I have my t.v to loud? I only moved in six months ago and sometimes forget that these walls are paper thin.” 

He quickly shook his head when he noticed the sorrowful frown pulling my lips. 

“Not at all. Just couldn’t sleep,” Bucky shrugged. 

 There were rumors around the complex of him, some that I opted to pay no mind too but there was one that I did believe; his nightmares. 

The walls were incredibly thin and you can hear a conversation from the person on the other side of the wall. Which meant I had heard Bucky have nightmares once or twice. Given who he was and what he used to do, I couldn’t blame him for having them. 

For a brief moment, our eyes locked and the fire I felt burning in the pits of my stomach with how intense his gaze made me bite the inside of my cheek. I had only seen him in quick passes so never got the chance to actually look at him. His blue eyes were dark, filled with exhaustion, but somehow still shone bright. His stubble that covered the lower half of his face was filled with a few gray hairs, and the long hair that he had when I saw him a few nights ago was gone. 

My mouth fell open. “How did I just notice you cut your hair?” 

Bucky smiled. “Needed something different.” 

“Well you look good. I mean it looks good. Not that you don’t look good, you do but your hair looks good too.”

Words spewed out like vomit before I had the chance to stop it. I felt my cheeks burning in embarrassment. It had been so long since I attempted to flirt with someone and the first chance I had, I blew it. 

“I’m just going to glue my lips shut now before I embarrass myself even more.” 

Bucky chuckled while lifting his basket with ease, metal arm twinkling in the overhead light. Some of the other rumors that went around the complex was that people were afraid of him because of his arm. But I always found myself intrigued with it. 

Black with gold lines twisting and turning all around his arm. I wanted to trace it with the tips of my fingers. 

“If you glued them shut then we wouldn’t be able to keep talking,” Bucky said. 

“I’m sure there are other people around here that will be glad to talk to you without embarrassing themselves.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t like talking to them as much.” 

My brow peaked at his comment. “Are you saying you like talking to me?” 

He gave me a wink before walking out of the room while calling over his shoulder. 

“You look good too by the way.” 

The previous heat I felt down below intensified and had to swallow the moan that came crawling out of my throat. This was the second interaction we shared that lasted more than a few seconds and slowly he began taking over my mind where I found myself thinking of what he was doing and how badly I wanted to talk to him or see him. 

“God, I need a bath and a large milkshake,” I groaned to myself as I reached the last step of the floor to my apartment. 

My eight hour shift that started at six this morning became a fifteen hour shift and now that it was reaching close to nine in the evening, I never craved sleep more than I did right now. 

As my door came into view, I quickly noticed that Bucky’s door was open and he was hanging around it, a few people with him. They were chatting amongst themselves and clearly having a good time so I decided not to impose. My head was down as I searched my purse for my keys, trying to go unnoticed. 

“Long day?” 

Bucky stepped away from his group of friends and leaned against my door frame. 

I nodded. “My boss asked me to stay a few extra hours; I couldn't say no.” 

“So I’d assume you’re too tired for a drink?” Bucky asked while stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got the late shift tomorrow so I want to take advantage of the extra sleep.” I apologized. 

He waved me off, saying he understood. 

“Plus, I wouldn’t want to impose on your friends.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Bucky shook his head. “But if you change your mind, the offer still stands. 

I nodded a quick thanks before I watched him walk back into his apartment, the skinny brunette girl attached to his arm. A twinge of jealousy stirred in my stomach and I let out a gruff groan, knowing that it was ridiculous of me to feel jealous. 

The rest of the night passed with nothing exciting, that was until I had decided to finally go to sleep, only to be kept awake by nightmares of that night. Flashing red and blue lights, his car wrapped around the tree, his body hanging out of the driver's side door with blood pooling from his head, and the sirens being drowned out by my screams. 

I awoke with a scream, it echoed throughout my apartment, and my chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. It had been so long since I had dreamed of that night but it was still as raw as that night. 

Once I had calmed down, I finally could hear what was coming from the wall behind me. The headboard banging against the wall in the apartment next door only getting drowned out by the moaning of what could only be described as ecstasy. 

But as soon as I heard it, it ceased being replaced by hushed voices. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Why’d you stop? I was so close.” 

“I think the scream came from Y/N’s place.” 

“Bucky, come on. I’m only in town for tonight. Don’t waste it on someone else. I’m sure that person is fine.”

Damn these thin walls. 

With a quick jump from my bed, I tossed on a sweater and sweatpants before climbing onto my balcony through my large bedroom window, allowing the fall night air to calm my racing thoughts. I don't know who I thought was on the other side of the wall, clearly that was Bucky’s room and there was a brunette clinging to him when they walked back into his apartment. 

It still stung to see someone else with him. 

Why does it matter to you? You’re not even on his radar. 

I shook the thought from my mind and looked up into the sky, hoping to see some stars. Why I ever moved to New York, I never understood. With the noise and lights, trying to look up to the night sky for some peace was inevitable. 

Tears fell and I ghastly wiped them away as I thought back to my nightmare, visions of him lying there in death, all alone. Soft sobs fell from my lips and shoulders shook with despair and hatred that I allowed him to leave that night. 

“Everything alright?” 

I slightly jumped at the voice and saw Bucky leaning against the shared railings of our balcony, a beer bottle loosely hanging between his fingers. 

“Yeah,” I nodded while avoiding his gaze. 

Thankfully it was dark out here so he wasn’t able to see my tear stained cheek. Between the nightmares and hearing Bucky having sex with someone else, I was a wreck. 

I wasn’t sure why the thought or image of him with someone else bothered me so much. This feeling was unknown, something I hadn’t felt in so long; since before my husband. Maybe that’s why I felt like this, guilty for it being because of another guy. 

You fancy him, dumbass. 

Blinking away the thought, I leaned deeper into the chair and closed my eyes, enjoying the breeze. 

“Anything I can help with?” Bucky questioned. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your company.” 

He quickly shook his head. “You’re not.” 

“I’m fine, Bucky. I just couldn’t sleep,” I kept my eyes trained on the chipped away  nail polish on my fingers. 

The curtness in my voice didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I heard a scream-.” 

“Bucky, there you are! What are you doing out here, it’s freezing!” 

Both of our eyes landed on the woman that had slinked her way next to Bucky, a hand on his back and a soft kiss to his cheek. 

My heart fell deep into my stomach and I let out a shaky breath to try and compose myself. I didn’t want to cry again, not in front of them. 

“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m talking with Y/N,” Bucky nodded towards me. 

I shook my head while standing to my feet. “I was actually about to head to bed. See you around.” 

“Perfect, let's go Bucky.” 

The brunette linked fingers with him, purposely avoiding his metal hand, and tried to drag him inside. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bucky wondered. 

I nodded, trying to hold the tears back but Bucky could see right through my facade and told the brunette he would meet her inside. Reluctantly she nodded and soon it was the two of us again. 

“She seems nice,” I motioned towards where she was previously standing. “Sounds like you two had a good night.” 

Bucky’s face fell when he realized what I was talking about. “You heard?” 

“Thin walls.” 

He cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, we’re usually more quiet.” 

“Oh, so this isn’t a one time thing?” I wondered. 

“Does it matter?” He asked. 

But then the confusion was replaced with humor, a sly smirk pulling at his lips. His elbows leaned against the railing, his face coming closer to me. We were so close now I was afraid he could tell that I had been crying so I kept my gaze trained hard to the floor beneath my feet. 

A cool metal finger lifted my chin and I sucked in a breath when I drank in his gaze, so powerful and moving. 

“Are you jealous?” 

My lips parted, unsure of how to answer mostly because I didn’t even know if that’s what I was feeling. But I did recognize one feeling and was coursing through me; comfort. 

It was a simple action, his finger lifting my chin, but that had been the first contact I’ve felt in so long that it almost over took me, the tears pooling at the corner of my eyes. 

“No,” I finally answered. 

Bucky snorted, not believing me. Whatever witty comment he had was gone when tears fell from my eyes, concern clouding his gaze. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His hands now cupped my face. 

I shook my head in his grasp. “I’m fine.” 

“Y/N,” he urged. “You can talk to me.” 

My eyes refused to meet him, knowing that if they locked, I would melt into him and tell him everything. He didn’t need that, though. He could have been dealing still with his own trauma, I wasn’t going to pour mine on top of it. I had been dealing with it on my own for so long, I could continue too.  

I breathed, feeling his pinkies gently trace circles in the back of my head getting tangled in my hair. The slight action caused a quiet moan to fall from my lips. 

Not a sexual moan but a need for more affection. 

Bucky seemed to have understood so with his metal fingers he ran them fully through my hair and begged me with soft whispers to look at him. 

I obliged. 

His blue eyes bore down at me and with his touch, I felt myself crumble into him, my hands slowly grazing up his chest to his shoulders. I was ready to let it all go, let him in. 

Until her voice sounded behind us once again. 

“What the hell?” 

Bucky turned to look at the brunette, ready to explain himself but before he had the chance, I slipped out of grasp with fresh tears falling. 

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. 

His pleas to come back meant nothing as I slipped back inside, shutting the window behind me. 

The buzzing from my phone on my end table meant nothing as I turned my back to it, adjusting a new position on my bed. With my blankets pulled up to my chin, another broken sob fell as the water from my eyes continued to stain my pillow case. 

I knew who was blowing up my phone, I didn’t need to check. 

Bucky had found my number from the apartment phone book the other day and he had been trying to get into contact with me to see how I was doing. 

It had been almost a week since that night on my balcony and I had done everything I could to avoid him. Not sure why I felt I needed too, he only was trying to help. 

Truth be told, the memories of my husband and his accident had caused me to go into a dark place, not wanting to leave my apartment let alone my bed. Since I moved to New York, I was alone, no one to share in my grief with which is why whenever a wave crashed over me, I fucking drowned in it. 

When the buzzing phone finally ceased, I breathed a sigh of relief and forced my eyes to shut in hopes of letting the dark slumber take it. 

Three persistent knocks to my window caused my eyes to spring open and when I saw Bucky sitting on the other side, I groaned. 

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, fully engulfing myself in my blankets now. 

The sound of the window opening and a large body all but crashing inside made me sit up in bed, brow perked in confusion. Bucky was standing in my bedroom now with a concerned gaze. 

“You know for a former assassin, you’re not that quiet when breaking into someone’s apartment,” I stated. 

He shrugged. “I thought about knocking on your door but figured you wouldn’t answer.” 

I nodded. “You thought right. Feel free to leave that way though.”

My back was turned to him as I laid down in bed again, pulling the blanket to my chin. Bucky didn’t need to say anything, his warm presence was still felt behind me. I let out an annoyed groan before turning to face him again and it was then that I took in appearance for the first time. Gray sweatpants and a tight black shirt that hugged every inch of his chest and torso. His metal arm twinkled under the soft glow from the lamp in the corner of my room. 

Even in somewhat darkness, he looked breathtaking. 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” I questioned. 

When he shook his head, I reluctantly sat up and motioned for him to sit; he hesitated. 

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be inviting you in my bed right now,” I stated. 

Realizing I had a point, he finally relaxed and sat on the edge of my bed. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” 

“You didn’t,” I reassured him with a small smile. “I’ve been dealing with some things lately, that’s all.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky suggested. 

I gnawed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not it was a good idea to talk to him about my problems. I didn’t want him to think less of me because of them. 

You know he wouldn’t. 

“I don’t want to keep you,” I began. “Especially if you’ve got company.” 

Bucky immediately shook his head. “That’s over, I promise. You’re the only one that has my attention.” 

My heart soared with his words and the redness that crept from my cheeks to the tips of my ears didn’t go unnoticed by him. I let out a deep breath to gain whatever courage I could and wondered where to start. 

“I, uh, was married.” 

Bucky’s body tensed at my words so I gently laid a hand on his knee. “Was. Not anymore.” 

He relaxed with my touch. 

“My husband, Rick, died about eight years ago. Next month actually,” I admitted. 

His face fell. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve done my best to move on, try to create this new life without him. Which is why I moved here. I thought a fresh start would help.” 

“Why did you wait so long to leave?” Bucky asked. 

“My mother in law. We only had each other and I never found the right time to leave. But the grief and questions became too much to bear so I had to stop thinking about how she felt and start taking care of myself.” 

I almost didn't notice Bucky slip his flesh fingers between mine as I continued to tell my story. 

Almost. 

“She was so hell bent on finding the truth on what happened that her accusations pushed me away.” 

“With his death?” Bucky questioned. 

I let out a low sob. “Yeah. He-uh-he was driving drunk one night and crashed his car into a tree.”

My body shook with fresh tears as the memories began replaying like an old movie in the back of my mind, the wounds tearing open once again. 

Bucky had snuck up next to me, wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest. I seeped into him, allowing his soft words of comfort to ease my pain. 

“The images of him hanging out of his car haunt me to this day. I can't go to sleep without seeing him, bloody and cold,” I cried into his chest, hands grasping at his shirt. 

He didn’t say anything, he didn't have too. If anyone understood how I felt, it was Bucky. His large hand rubbed circles on my back while I continued to sob, finally letting go for the first time in so long. I didn’t realize how bad I needed someone to just listen to my problems and comfort me, not criticize how I feel or accuse me of keeping secrets about Rick’s death. 

“His mother blames me,” I muttered into Bucky’s chest. 

“Why?” 

I pulled slightly away from him and looked up into his eyes; they were clouded in sorrow. He cupped my cheek and with his metal thumb wiped the tears away, the coolness of it easing the redness caused by my cries. 

“I couldn’t deal with his drinking any longer. It was ruining our marriage so I told him that he  needed to leave and only come back when he was sober. Rick’s mom didn’t want to believe that he had those demons but he did. I held onto him for so long that I couldn’t take care of him any longer.” 

“He got so good at hiding when he was drunk that I had no idea he was that night. Maybe if I had known, he would still be-.” 

“Hey,” Bucky lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. “You cannot blame yourself for his actions, okay? None of what happened is your fault.” 

I wasn’t so sure if he was talking to me or more so himself. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that knew about The Winter Soldier's past that Bucky had so much trouble not blaming himself for what he did during that time. 

My head pounded from all the crying and I had nothing left in me, emotionally, so all I could do was nod in his grasp. 

“I’m here to help you with whatever you need to get past that guilt, alright?” 

I nodded again. “Thank you, Bucky.” 

He responded by pulling me into his chest once again, allowing me to ease into his comforting touch as he continued to run circles over my back. 

Time had passed, the two of us locked together with my sobs being replaced with constant yawn after yawn. 

Bucky began to pull away. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” 

I squeezed him a bit, not ready to let go. “Few more minutes? I haven't felt this kind of comfort in so long. It’s nice.” 

His lips brushed the top of my head and I melted into him again, my heart beating so hard against my chest I knew not only could he feel it, Bucky could hear it as well. 

“Take all the time you need, doll.” 

My heart fucking soared at the pet name. 

Our laughter bounced off the walls of the complex as Bucky and I both ascended up the staircase towards home. I had been on my way home from work when I bumped into him one block away, with a bouquet of fresh flowers grasped between his metal fingers. 

“You mentioned that you had a rough day at work so I thought these would make it better.” 

His words from when I questioned him about them brought a smile back to my face. 

Ever since that night last month where I told him about Rick, we had grown incredibly close. He was there for me when the nightmares got bad or I needed someone to talk to; with me also returning the favor. 

Even if he was in therapy to deal with his past, I was still by his side to lend an extra ear and a comforting hold. 

If anyone was to ask what we were, I would tell the truth; friends. 

That love to steal longing glances, the occasional flirty banter, and fingers lingering on one's skin longer than normal. 

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to get me flowers, Buck,” I reiterated my words from earlier. 

He shrugged as we turned the corner of the hallway, our apartments coming into view. 

“Anything to bring a beautiful smile to your face,” he mused while throwing an arm over my shoulder. . 

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” I giggled while patting his chest. 

My feet came to a halt when I saw the lone figure leaning against my door, arms crossed in what appeared to be one thing. 

Anger. 

“Barb, hi. What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. 

She shook her head. “Eight years. Today.” 

My heart dropped. Bucky had been such a good thing in my life lately that I had forgotten Rick’s death anniversary was today. 

“Oh.” I muttered. 

Barb scoffed. “That’s all you have to say? What would Rick have to say about this?”

She motioned towards Bucky who still had his arm around me so he quietly slipped away and tried to leave but I gently grasped his arm to stop him. 

“I can go. I’ll talk to you later,” he suggested. 

While I shook my head, Barb’s demeaning voice spoke again. 

“I think that’s a good idea. She doesn’t need you right now.” 

My eyes snapped over towards her. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to speak to him like that?” 

“Doll, it’s alright.” 

“Doll?!” Barb shrieked. “How long has this been going on? What would Rick think?” 

I shook my head in disbelief. “Nothing because he’s dead Barb. Has been for a long time.” 

“I cannot believe you’ve moved on already. He was your husband for god sakes! He loved you dearly and this is how you repay him? Fucking the first man that touched you.” 

Anger radiated off of me, Bucky noticing the way my breath became erratic so he gently laced our fingers together and nodded towards his door. 

“Come on, let’s get inside.” 

In our many talks I had mentioned a few times about how demeaning and cruel my mother in law could be but I put up with it for years because I was married to her son. The constant belittlement from her had knocked me down to my lowest and now that I was finally starting to feel better about everything thanks to his help, Bucky refused to let me get back to that low. 

I held him back with a shake of my head before giving Barb my attention. “I don’t know why you came here. Like I said on the phone last week, I still don’t have the answers you’re looking for, Barb. Whether you want to believe it or not, your son was an alcoholic and it was his actions that night that killed him. I know it’s not easy to hear but Rick is gone and your quest to find answers to questions that don’t exist isn't going to bring him back.” 

Barb shook her head, looking at me bewildered. “No. There’s a witness that was there that night. They said they saw someone in the road before RIck crashed. He swerved so he wouldn’t hit them. Not the lies you’ve been saying!” 

“I’m not lying about anything!” I snapped, mouth ready to spew hateful things towards her. 

Bucky squeezed my hand as if he could read my mind, knowing what I was about to say. 

I took a deep breath to calm myself, knowing that no matter what I said to her Barb would never change her mind. She could never see her son in such a negative light. 

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Barb. But I know that I can’t keep doing this with you; Rick wouldn’t want this. As much as we loved each other, he wanted me to move on. We talked about it all the time that if something happened to one of us that the other wouldn’t dwell on the heartbreak. He had demons, he tried to drown them with alcohol but they knew how to swim.” 

Tears pricked my eyes. “Rick would want me to be happy, to find love with someone else. He would want the same for you.” 

Without another word, I let Bucky lead me inside of his apartment, ready to finally leave Barb in my past. 

“Are you alright?” Bucky questioned once inside. 

I sat on his couch with a soft groan and nodded. “Yeah, it needed to be said. I hate that it took so long though.”

Bucky trekked around his apartment placing the flowers in a vase then grabbing a beer for him and a glass of water for me. I smiled a thanks as he sat next to me, his hand placed on my knee. “I’m sorry for what she said to you,” I frowned. 

He shrugged. “It's nothing you need to apologize for, doll.” 

With his flesh hand on my knee and the metal one lounged on the top of the couch, his fingers inches from my face, I began tracing the gold lines, mesmerized by the design. Before when I would look or touch it, Bucky would flinch because he was afraid of how I would react to it. 

“I don’t understand how you’re not afraid of it,” Bucky wondered. 

“The way I see it,” I began while linking our fingers together, “This arm was your fresh start. Your old one did all of those horrible things and this one has done so much good, you can’t let the weight of the old one hold you back.” 

A smile pulled wide on his face. “Who needs therapy when that advice is free.” 

I giggled with a wink. “Plus, I come with some extra perks.” 

Bucky smiled smugly with his eyes turning dark. “Care to explain what those perks are?

My lips went dry and I rolled my tongue over them, hoping it would help. The intense gaze I felt from Bucky was enough to lock me into place on his couch with my hands now in my lap clasped together in hopes they stopped shaking with nerves. 

They didn't. 

There was something between us, that wasn’t a question. But what exactly, I wasn’t too sure. We would flirt back and forth and have some small touches here and there but that’s all it was. Neither of us were brave enough to take the next step in this relationship. 

I gnawed on my bottom lip while staring in Bucky’s eyes and I noticed the way his breath caught in his throat, unable to move as I slowly, oh so agonizingly slow, closed the distance between us. Meters from his lips, I hesitated though, my warm breath fanning over his plump lips. This close I could see how pink and full they were, practically begging to be kissed; ravished.

Lips parted and ghosting over each other, I could feel the softness against mine and when I glanced up into his gaze I noticed Bucky’s pupils were blown with desire. 

Fuck it. 

I crashed my lips to his in a slow but firm kiss, testing to see if he wanted this as much as I did. Soon we began to meld together, his hands gripping my hips while mine found his broad shoulders, nails digging slightly. He hissed against my lips, the sensation burning low in my core when he repaid the favor by digging his own nails into the bare skin of my back. 

I nibbled on his bottom lip, begging to taste him, and his tongue slipped between my lips, exploring every inch of my mouth and I groaned when the heat expanded from my core all the way to my head, making me dizzy. 

Our breathing had become ragged with desire, wanting to feel every single inch of each other's bodies. Bucky’s flesh hand tangled in my hair while his metal hand lifted me with ease into his lap, sprawling his fingers over the plump of my ass. My own hands ran down his chest, down his stomach to ghost over the belt of his pants before they snaked underneath his shirt, the skin of his stomach hot with lust. 

“Bucky,” I moaned into his mouth when I felt his hips press into mine. 

The hardness of his cock pressed against the confines of his jeans and a low groan echoed into his mouth when he pressed up against my heated core again. 

Bucky’s lips left mine to start biting and nipping at the skin of my neck while I rutted slowly but firm into him. My hands gripped and pulled at his shirt, yanking it off of his head in a snap. I felt him tense under me as my eyes glazed over where the skin and metal of his arm met, the scars still looked fresh to this day. 

I left soft, pepper-like kisses over each scar, letting him know that it didn't bother me. 

“Bucky,” I breathed his name once again. “I need you.” 

He spewed a few curses into the crook of my neck before finally pulling away, locking our lust blown pupils together. “Are you sure about this?” 

I traced a finger down his cheek and scratched at the stubble on his face. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.” 

That was all he needed before tossing me over his shoulder, and carrying me to his bedroom. 

The coolness from his metal fingers felt almost orgasmic on hot skin as we laid next to each other in bed, in a post-climax haze. Bucky’s fingers traced my spine from the top to bottom, over and over again, and he would leave light feathery kisses where his fingers missed. 

It had been a couple weeks since our first kiss and we had been spending most of our time in his apartment since he had the bigger bed but tonight he surprised me by sneaking into my window while I was asleep, wrapping me in a warm embrace. 

“For an ex assassin, you’re still not that quiet,” I muttered into his warm chest. 

“I missed you,” he breathed into my hairline. 

We then proceeded to spend the next hour tangled in between one another. 

Our relationship had blossomed in those few days even if we had decided to take things slow, not needing to rush or put a label on it quite yet. Even though we both knew how we felt about one another. 

His soft lips left the skin of my back and found its new mark on my neck, Bucky continuing the mark he began earlier. 

“Bucky, I’m so tired,” I whined, playfully smacking him away. 

With a fake groan of annoyance, he pulled away not before leaving a kiss on my forehead. 

“I’m going to grab a glass of water then I’ll come back to bed.” 

The dark slumber was within my grasp, fingers dancing towards it, so all I could do was nod in response. The bed shifted with the sudden change in weight and I wrapped the blanket around me, allowing the darkness to fully engulf me but only to be yanked from it a short time later by the sound of glass breaking. 

“Babe, you alright?” 

Silence. 

“Bucky?” 

More silence. 

Pulling my brows together with confusion, I quickly dressed myself in Bucky’s shirt that he had worn over here and walked into the main living space of my apartment expecting to see Bucky cleaning up whatever broke. 

However, I only saw the broken glass from a cup and a picture face down on the ground next to my couch. 

“What the-?” I muttered while picking it up. 

My heart sank when I saw what picture it was; Rick and I on our wedding day. 

I mentally smacked myself because I thought I had taken down whatever was left of Rick in my apartment when Bucky and I started seeing each other. It wasn’t fair to him that I still had pictures or mementos of a past love up. 

“Fucking dumbass. No wonder why he left,” I cursed to myself. 

I scurried back into my room and reached for my phone, typing out a message. 

I’m sorry that you saw that picture. I thought I packed everything up. Can you come back so I can make it up to you?

A few minutes went by with no response so I sent another message. 

Or I can come over there if that’s alright. 

A few more minutes went by with no response from Bucky so with an aggravated groan, I tossed my phone onto my bed with myself falling close behind. 

“Way to fucking blow it, Y/N,” I grumbled while running my hands over my face. 

Two days. Two fucking days Bucky had been ignoring my texts, calls, and persistent knocks to his door. I had been a wave of different emotions the last two days; Anger, confusion, and hurt; mostly hurt. 

I never knew that Bucky had an issue about my past marriage since I talked about it openly with him so much and he helped me heal that part of mind and heart, moving on completely from it; with him. 

The time we spent together was some of the best parts of my life and I would be a fool to say that it meant nothing to me. Bucky had become an important person in my life and the mere thought of losing him forever weighed heavy on my heart. 

A heart that took so long to mend from past heartbreak and loss. A heart that took forever to find that perfect someone to pick up the pieces, make it feel whole; loved. 

I sat up in bed with a start, the blankets falling from my body, when I was slammed with the sudden realization; it hit me so hard I almost fell right back into my bed. 

I was in love with Bucky. 

And I wasn’t going to let him get away. 

Throwing whatever clothes on I could find, I was standing in front of Bucky’s door in less than a minute, knuckles rapidly knocking with no end in sight. 

“Bucky, can you please open the door?” I called through the thick piece of wood. “I really need to talk to you.” 

More knocking followed by more begging. 

“I’m not going anywhere until you let me inside,” I informed him with crossed arms and all of my weight perched on my left foot. 

“Do I have to pull some ex assassin bullshit and sneak in through your window?” 

The door in front of me opened revealing a very tired looking Bucky and I cringed when I remembered that it was almost four a.m. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize what time it was.” I apologized. 

Bucky simply nodded. “It’s alright.” 

He went to shut the door again but I blocked it with an angry hand. “You’re not going to shut me out again. For two fucking days you’ve been ignoring me with no explanation.” 

“Y/N, please-.” 

“No!” I shot. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you but I don’t deserve to be shut out like this especially after everything we’ve gone through and the things I’ve told you.”

Bucky ran a hand over the subtle on his cheek before nodding, allowing the door to open a bit more with me slipping inside before he could change his mind. I was in such a rush to tell him how I felt that I hadn’t noticed his sleeping attire; a pair of very tight black briefs and his hair was a tousled mess of slumber. 

As breathtaking as he looked, Bucky needed to know how I felt. 

“Did I do something wrong? I know you found that picture of Rick and I.” 

He was quick to dismay my worry. “It wasn’t about the picture.” 

My shoulders raised with confusion. “Then what is bothering you? Is it me, are you over us?” 

“No, doll, trust me.” He hesitated to reach for me. 

“Then tell me why the fuck you’ve been avoiding me?!” I snapped, voice raised in anger. 

“I can’t,” Bucky shook his head, refusing. 

“You’re kidding, right?” I scoffed. 

He was in fact not kidding with the stern face he bore. 

“God, I’m so stupid!” I covered my face with my hands. “I let myself open up to you, let you in my life when I needed someone the most, trusted you with my heart and you ripped it away from me. Right when I started to fall in love with you.” 

Bucky blinked. “Wh-what did you say?” 

Tears pricked my eyes. “I love you, Bucky.” 

“Doll,” he breathed, unsure of what to say next. 

“You don’t feel the same,” I nodded to myself, realizing what his silence meant. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” 

Hasty wiping away the tears, I stormed past him only to be stopped by his metal fingers grasping at my wrist, pulling me into his chest. His lips crashed onto mine in a powerful kiss, tongues quickly finding each other in starvation for each others taste. 

We shared many kisses but this one was different; it was the kind that made you fall to your knees with dizziness. 

A good kind of dizzy. 

“I love you too,” he pressed into my lips. 

My heart jumped into my throat as his revelation. “Then why have you been ignoring me?” 

Bucky stepped back slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you. I wish I would have told you sooner, it might have saved you.” 

“Save me from what?” 

“Falling in love with me,” he linked our fingers together and set me down on the couch. 

We sat with our knees touching and my heart was hammering so loud in my chest I knew Bucky could hear it. My mind raced a million miles a minute with different thoughts of what he had to tell me. 

“The reason why I left the other night was because when I saw that picture, memories came flooding back, almost over taking me,” Bucky began. 

“Memories? Of what?” I pressed. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in clear distress. “I know what happened to Rick.” 

I nodded. “Yeah because I told you. He was driving drunk.” 

He disagreed with me. “He wasn’t drunk that night.” 

I looked at him with confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

With one last deep breath, Bucky fully confessed to his past transgression. 

“Rick wasn’t drunk that night. He was sober and driving to meet with the head of the local Hydra group. I don’t know what Rick told you he did for work but whatever it was was a lie. Rick was hired by SHIELD to take back the super soldier serum I had stolen back in the 90’s.” 

My eyes blinked with disbelief. “You’re lying.” 

“I wish I was, doll. I knew who killed Rick.” 

“Who?” I asked, afraid of knowing the truth. 

Bucky hesitated, breath getting caught in his throat, before he spoke with broken words. “The Winter Soldier. And that was me.” 

His bottom lip trembled the same time his nose scrunched up his disgust for his previous actions. 

My whole world came crashing down from the heavens, falling into large pieces of debris around me. My heart was ringing in my ears that I swore I misheard Bucky. Everything I thought I knew about Rick’s death was a lie? Had Barb been right this whole time?

“No,” I stood to my feet with a start. “You’re fucking with me.” 

Bucky reached for my hand but I snatched it away, a look of hurt flashed across his face. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t have a choice,” his broken voice begged me to understand. 

I stopped pacing. “How’d you do it?” 

Bucky refused to answer, only standing to try and get me to stop moving. Anger spilled out of me and I pushed his shoulders to force him back onto the couch. 

“How did you do it?!” I seethed. 

His tongue rolled over his dry lips. “I got in the way of his car so he would have to swerve out of the way. When he crashed, I had to make it look like he was drinking so I injected him with alcohol so it looked like he had been drinking all night.” 

“No,” I sobbed. “This whole time I thought he was at a bar getting fucking wasted and was on his way home when he was actually sober!” 

Bucky flinched but kept his eyes trained at his shaking hands. 

“You fucking left him there to die!” I screamed. “You could have saved him!” 

Bucky was on his feet now, shaking his head rapidly. “It wasn’t me, doll. I swear.” 

“But you still did it!” 

I shoved his chest, hard, and he stumbled back a bit but kept his stance. 

“I wish I never did, Y/N. If I could take back everything I did when I was The Winter Soldier, I would; you know that,” he begged me to listen. 

Sobs plowed through my body causing me to shake and fall to my knees with the truth of what happened that night. The man that I found myself falling in love with had killed my husband. How do you get past that? 

But it wasn’t him. He had no choice.

I screamed at the voice in my mind, telling it to shut up. 

“Doll,” Bucky knelt down to reach for me. 

My fist collided with his cheek knocking him onto his ass and rage took over my vision as I straddled his hips, landing blow after blow to whatever part of flesh I could hit; face, head, neck, chest, stomach, and flesh arm. 

Bucky never stopped me, allowed me to hurt him; try to anyway. The super soldier serum that flowed through his blood every day made it so it felt like he was getting slapped by the wind. 

“Fuck you, Barnes! I hate you!,” I bellowed while going to attack his metal arm. 

In a swift movement, I was now being straddled by Bucky who had both of my hands pinned above my head with his metal fingers gripped tight. Tears fell from his eyes onto the skin of my neck and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

I writhed in his grasp, trying to break free. “I do! You’re a monster, I hate you!” 

When the words left my lips, I immediately regretted them. I knew that he wasn’t a monster, I was only angry at his revelation. I never meant to call him that. Whatever anger I had spilled out of my body through the floor beneath me and I tried to break free once again from Bucky, to reach for him. 

“I didn’t mean it,” I cried. 

He nodded before pulling me into his chest, arms now wrapped around me. He hushed my cries with whispers of sorrow and promised to make it right; make everything right with me and us again. 

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

My hands clutched at the muscles of his back, my own words being muffled by his chest. 

How could anything be right with us again with me now knowing the truth? Nothing would ever be the same.