#they have no speech they use no words no sound is hear from them yet their voice goes out into all the earth

[aspirant1598]

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Children's Dialogue

Language is extremely complex, yet children already know most of the grammar of their native language(s) before they are 5 years old.

BABBLING

Babbling begins at about 6 months and is considered the earliest stage of language acquisition

By 1 year babbles are composed only of the phonemes used in the language(s) they hear

Deaf babies babble with their hands like hearing babies babble using sounds

FIRST WORDS

After the age of one, children figure out that sounds are related to meanings and start to produce their first words

Usually children go through a holophrastic stage, where their one-word utterances may convey more meaning

Example: "Up" is used to indicate something in the sky or to mean “pick me up”

Most common first words (among the first 10 words uttered in many languages): “mommy,” “daddy,” “woof woof,” “no,” “bye,” “hi,” “yes,” “vroom,” “ball” and “banana”

WORD MEANINGS

When learning words, children often overextend a word’s meaning

Example: Using the word dog to refer to any furry, four-legged animal (overextensions tend to be based on shape, size, or texture, but never color)

They may also underextend a word’s meaning

Example: Using the word dog to refer only to the family pet, as if dog were a proper noun

The Whole Object Principle: When a child learns a new word, (s)he is likely to interpret the word to refer to a whole object rather than one of its parts

SYNTAX

At about two years of age, children start to put words together to form two-word utterances

The intonation contour extends over the two words as a unit, and the two-word utterances can convey a range of meanings:

Example: "mommy sock" = subject + object or possessive

NOTE: Chronological age is NOT a good measure of linguistic development due to individual differences, so instead linguists use the child’s mean length of utterance (MLU) to measure development

The telegraphic stage describes a phase when children tend to omit function morphemes such as articles, subject pronouns, auxiliaries, and verbal inflection

Examples: "He play little tune" or "Andrew want that"

Between 2;6 and 3;6 a language explosion occurs and children undergo rapid development

By the age of 3, most children consistently use function morphemes and can produce complex syntactic structures:

Examples: "He was stuck and I got him out" / "It’s too early for us to eat"

After 3;6 children can produce wh-questions, and relative pronouns

Sometime after 4;0 children have acquired most of the adult syntactic competence

PRAGMATICS

Deixis: Children often have problems with the shifting reference of pronouns

Children may refer to themselves as "you"

Problems with the context-dependent nature of deictic words: Children often assume the hearer knows who s/he is talking about

AUXILIARIES

In the telegraphic stage, children often omit auxiliaries from their speech but can form questions (with rising intonation) and negative sentences

Examples: "I ride train?" / "I not like this book"

As children acquire auxiliaries in questions and negative sentences, they generally use them correctly

SIGNED LANGUAGES

Deaf babies acquire sign language in the same way that hearing babies acquire spoken language: babbling, holophrastic stage, telegraphic stage

When deaf babies are not exposed to sign language, they will create their own signs, complete with systematic rules

IMITATION, REINFORCEMENT, ANALOGY

Children do imitate the speech heard around them to a certain extent, but language acquisition goes beyond imitation

Children produce utterances that they never hear from adults around them, such as "holded" or "tooths"

Children cannot imitate adults fully while acquiring grammar

Example:

Adult: "Where can I put them?" Child: "Where I can put them?"

Children who develop the ability to speak later in their childhood can understand the language spoken around them even if they cannot imitate it

NOTE: Children May Resist Correction

Example: Cazden (1972) (observation attributed to Jean Berko Gleason) – My teacher holded the baby rabbits and we patted them. – Did you say your teacher held the baby rabbits? – Yes. – What did you say she did? – She holded the baby rabbits and we patted them. – Did you say she held them tightly? – No, she holded them loosely.

Another theory asserts that children hear a sentence and then use it as a model to form other sentences by analogy

But while analogy may work in some situations, certainly not in all situations:

– I painted a red barn. – I painted a barn red. – I saw a red barn. – I saw a barn red.

Children never make mistakes of this kind based on analogy which shows that they understand structure dependency at a very young age

BIRTH ORDER

Children’s birth order may affect their speech.

Firstborns often speak earlier than later-born children, most likely because they get more one-on-one attention from parents.

They favor different words than their siblings. 

Whereas firstborns gabble on about animals and favorite colors, the rest of the pack cut to the chase with “brother,” “sister,” “hate” and such treats as “candy,” “popsicles” and “donuts.” 

The social dynamics of siblings, it would appear, prime their vocabularies for a reality different than the firstborns’ idyllic world of sheep, owls, the green of the earth and the blue of the sky.

MOTHER'S LEVEL OF EDUCATION

Children may adopt vocabulary quite differently depending on their mother’s level of education.

In American English, among the words disproportionately favored by the children of mothers who have not completed secondary education are: “so,” “walker,” “gum,” “candy,” “each,” “could,” “wish,” “but,” “penny” and “be” (ordered starting with the highest frequency).

The words favored by the children of mothers in the “college and above” category are: “sheep,” “giraffe,” “cockadoodledoo,” “quack quack,” the babysitter’s name, “gentle,” “owl,” “zebra,” “play dough” and “mittens.” 

BOYS / GIRLS

One area of remarkable consistency across language groups is the degree to which the language of children is gendered.

The words more likely to be used by American girls than by boys are: “dress,” “vagina,” “tights,” “doll,” “necklace,” “pretty,” “underpants,” “purse,” “girl” and “sweater.”

Whereas those favored by boys are “penis,” “vroom,” “tractor,” “truck,” “hammer,” “bat,” “dump,” “firetruck,” “police” and “motorcycle.”

Tips for Writing Children's Dialogue (compiled from various sources cited below):

Milestones - The dialogue you write should be consistent with the child's developmental milestones for their age. Of course, other factors should be considered such as if the child has any speech or intellectual difficulties. Also note that developmental milestones are not set in stone and each child is unique in their own way.

Too "Cutesy" - If your child characters are going to be cute, they must be cute naturally through the force of their personality, not because the entire purpose of their existence is to be adorable.

Too Wise - It’s true kids have the benefit of seeing some situations a little more objectively than adults. But when they start calmly and unwittingly spouting all the answers, the results often seem more clichéd and convenient than impressive or ironic.

Unintelligent - Don’t confuse a child’s lack of experience with lack of intelligence. 

Baby Talk - Don’t make a habit of letting them misuse words. Children are more intelligent than most people think.

Unique Individuals - Adults often tend to lump all children into a single category: cute, small, loud, and occasionally annoying. Look beyond the stereotype.

Personal Goals - The single ingredient that transforms someone from a static character to a dynamic character is a goal. It can be easy to forget kids also have goals. Kids are arguably even more defined by their goals than are adults. Kids want something every waking minute. Their entire existence is wrapped up in wanting something and figuring out how to get it.

Don't Forget your Character IS a Child - Most of the pitfalls in how to write child characters have to do with making them too simplistic and childish. But don’t fall into the opposite trap either: don’t create child characters who are essentially adults in little bodies.

Your Personal Observation - To write dialogue that truly sounds like it could come from a child, start by being an attentive listener. Spend time around children and observe how they interact with their peers and adults. You can also study other pieces of media that show/write about children's behaviour (e.g., documentaries, films, TV shows, even other written works like novels and scripts).

Context - The context in which children speak is crucial to creating realistic dialogue. Consider their environment, who they're speaking to, and what's happening around them. Dialogue can change drastically depending on whether a child is talking to a friend, a parent, or a teacher. Additionally, children's language can be influenced by their cultural background, family dynamics, and personal experiences. Make sure the context informs the dialogue, lending credibility to your characters' voices.

Sources and other related articles: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Writing Notes: On Children ⚜ Childhood Bilingualism More: Writing Notes & References

[slayingfiction]

Mastering the Art of Dialogue

Dialogue is the lifeline of any narrative. It brings characters to life, propels the plot, and creates depth in the story. However, writing dialogue that feels real and engaging can be challenging. Here are some tips to help you refine your dialogue-writing skills:

1. Listen to Real Conversations

The foundation of great dialogue is authenticity. Spend time listening to how people speak in real life. Notice the flow of conversation, the interruptions, the ums and ahs, and the unfinished thoughts. Real speech is rarely grammatically perfect or fully articulated. Incorporating these nuances can make your dialogue more relatable.

2. Each Character Should Have a Unique Voice

Your characters should be distinguishable by their dialogue alone. A teenager will speak differently from an elderly person; a doctor will use different terminology than a street artist. Think about their background, education, and personality. These factors should influence their speech patterns, vocabulary, and even the rhythm of their dialogue.

3. Use Dialogue to Show, Not Tell

Dialogue is a powerful tool for showing the reader what’s happening without explicitly telling them. Through conversations, you can reveal your characters' thoughts, feelings, and intentions. For example, instead of narrating that a character is nervous, you could show it through their stammering dialogue or their avoidance of direct answers.

4. Keep It Concise

In real conversations, people often meander through their thoughts. In written dialogue, however, it's important to be concise. Every line of dialogue should serve a purpose, whether it’s moving the plot forward, revealing character, or creating tension. If a piece of dialogue doesn’t add value to your story, consider cutting it.

5. Read Your Dialogue Aloud

One of the best ways to test your dialogue is to hear it. Reading your dialogue aloud can help you catch awkward phrasings or unnatural speech patterns. Better yet, have someone else read it to you. This can provide insight into how your dialogue will sound to your readers.

6. Use Subtext to Your Advantage

Not everything needs to be said explicitly. Subtext—the underlying meaning behind the spoken words—can add depth and complexity to your dialogue. Characters might say one thing but mean another, based on their emotions, relationships, or situations. This layering of meaning can make your dialogue more engaging and thought-provoking.

7. Balance Dialogue with Action and Description

While dialogue is critical, it should be balanced with narrative description and action. This balance helps maintain the pacing of your story and ensures that your scenes are visually and emotionally compelling. Action and description can also provide context that enhances the meaning and impact of your dialogue.

Conclusion

Great dialogue can transform a good story into an unforgettable one. By applying these tips, you can craft dialogue that captures the essence of your characters and engages your readers on a deeper level. Remember, writing is a craft that improves with practice. Keep experimenting with your dialogue, and don't be afraid to rewrite until it sounds just right.

Writing dialogue is a skill that can be honed over time. The more you practice and read, the better you'll become at capturing the essence of conversation on the page.

[tagidearte-spam-sb]

The Daycare Attendant and Their Dialogue

A little ramble on some of the things I've noticed about their ways of speaking. This post ended up being predominantly about how they refer to one another. Most of this is speculation mixed in with my own views on them and their relationship, without discarding some other possible alternatives (for instance, although I do view them as two AIs that heavily rely on each other to function properly, I do not cast aside the interpretation that they are the same person).

(note: although I have played SB and Ruin, I did not play HW2 myself. All I know about that game has been through let's plays).

Sun is, obviously, the chattier of the two. Not only are his sentences longer, he speaks more of them in a row than Moon does - in fact, we only see Moon going on and on in Ruin (which we will discuss later).

Both of them use a lot of repetitions when speaking. From their infamous "clean up, clean up" line, to Sun's panicked "you like glitter glue? I have glitter glue!" and "light's on! Light's on! Keep the generators on!", to Moon's "hidey hide, hide away" and "bad children must be punished. Bad children must be found", "knock knock", etc. One of the first things Eclipse says is also a repetition ("warning, warning"). They appear to occasionally rhyme their words too, or at the very least use similar sounds in their sentences. This is a robot that works with young children, so it's not surprising.

On that same vein, their main insult to misbehaving children (and employees... or at least Cassie's dad) is also a repetition: "naughty, naughty" (which turns into "naughty boy" for Gregory), "rulebreaker, rulebreaker", and "bad kid, bad kid". In fact, it appears they repeat words more often when they're mad/stressed (Sun's no no nos, Moon freaking out in Ruin). Taking into account they get mad pretty easily when things don't go their way, it's not surprising we hear it so often, but it's neat.

Although both of them speak in an almost song like manner, with Sun's run on sentences flowing well between one another, Moon is the one where this is more evident due to how much shorter his lines are.

Moon is also the one who speaks in a more childish manner. Not only are his phrases shorter, he doesn't articulate them as much as Sun does, and seems to prefer shorter words and sounds, especially giggles. This makes Sun appear more developed. Key word being appear.

Sun tends to speak as if he's entertaining a crowd, doing his best to keep the attention on himself while trying to keep it fun. This is most evident in his level explanation parts in HW2, but it's also clear in SB. In Ruin, this is absent for... obvious reasons.

Both of them are somehow direct in their way of giving orders/saying what they want to do. When they can't be direct, they find workaround truths in order to conceal what they truly want to say, while keeping the main order clear (such as Sun saying the player will hurt their eyes if they work in the dark and ordering them to keep the lights on, rather than saying Moon will kill them so keep that room bright. Direct, but nicer).

Not at all important to FNAF speech lore but I think it's funny: Sun says the infamous Vanny line during the daycare intro section. "Are you having fun yet? (Are ya, are ya?)". 0.5 seconds after Gregory just stands there, which coincidentally is what Vanny does 0.5 seconds after Gregory gets into a vent (numbers exaggerated). I don't know. I just think it's funny. Replaying the daycare section after hearing Vanny yapping that line non stop gave me flashbacks.

The way they refer to each other and the pronouns they use are an entire thing, so let me separate it in two parts.

So that this post doesn't become scrolling hell on the tags, I'll keep it below the read more line:

Sun

Sun is the one who refers to himself the most. He frequently uses "I" or "me" when talking about himself, and does it way more often than Moon. Examples of this are "I have glitter glue!", "I'm stuck in a nap", "it really speaks to me", "I feel dumber just looking at it" - you get the point by now. The reason I'm going hard on this point is to contrast his way of speaking to Moon's.

When it comes to him referring to Moon, we only ever hear it twice. In HW2 he says "He'll wake up if the lights go out!". In Ruin, he says "Not me, the other me!". Besides those two voice lines, he merely alludes to Moon without ever mentioning him by name or by pronouns (such as when he says he'll turn the lights off himself, implying he'll let Moon deal with you, or when he says you can't work in the dark and instead of saying the real reason as to why, he cuts himself and goes "You'll- hurt your eyes if you work in the dark").

This is interesting for two reasons: one, we only see him directly mention his counterpart when he's in a ruined state (the HW2 voice line comes from the mask off section, when they're broken down. At least I think so); two, he simultaneously views Moon as separate from himself ("he'll wake up") and as a part of himself/another side of himself ("the other me"). You can take that as them really being the same "person", or as a reflection of their complicated body sharing situation. Take it as you will.

As far as referring to himself and Moon at the same time, he only does it in Ruin when he states "We need to be whole".

Moon

The way Moon structures his sentences means that he seldomly actually refers to himself directly. For instance, he doesn't say "I will find you" or "I will punish you", putting himself as the subject of the sentence. Instead, he puts others as the subject, wording it as "Bad children must be found" and "Bad children must be punished". This is consistent across all of his voice lines except one... Well, technically two.

To get it out of the way: there's a deleted voice line where he says "I'm putting you in time out", a line he and Sun share and which worked the same way the clean up one does - them saying the same thing, a push towards them being the same person ordeal.

The only in-game time he refers to himself directly is in Ruin. This line is also the only time he refers to both himself and Sun as a duo. This line is also the longest line of dialogue Moon has.

"(groaning noises) Naughty! Naughty! Make it stop! The light makes us hurt! Grind Grind! Grinding gears inside my head! We can't move. Error! Error!"

This line, much like Sun's, is interesting for various reasons. Even though Sun is no longer with him (being stuck in the VR world and separate from Moon, shown by how Moon can't move because the lights are on but his body can't shift into Sun, so he's completely stuck), he first refers to himself as a "us" - adding Sun into the mix. Then he refers to himself alone, "my head" instead of "ours", before going right back to a plural.

We can assume one of three things here: one, Moon refers to himself as a we more often, adding Sun into the mix, a complete opposite of his counterpart who typically speaks in singulars; or two, Sun is not as absent as he appears and in that moment he is in fact with Moon, just stuck on the passenger sit, hurting alongside him; or three, this is merely an effect of this being in the Ruin DLC where the whole point of the daycare section is to fuse Sun and Moon into the Eclipse, so the writers decided to bring the point home further. If you have more options, feel free to add them.

Side note: This voiceline also shows Moon's speaking patterns pretty well. Putting "the light" as the subject instead of "we/I", the rhyming, the repetition, the clipped sentences compared to Sun's endless ones, the noises, the scratchiness, the vague childlike mannerism... All ending with "we can't move", way more straight to the point, said right before he freezes up, which deviates from the "other subject first then me" rule due to the pain tearing through him at the moment.

Moon does not call Sun "the other me" or anything similar in any of the games. He never refers to Sun as if he too was Sun. However, we can assume his view on their situation probably mirrors Sun's - being in the same body and all -, so take it as you will.

And as for Moon referring to Sun as a separate individual... He does not refer to him as a "he". Instead, he actually mentions his counterpart by name, saying "No more Sun". Meaning he's the only one of the the two that has canonically used his other side's name. I think it's interesting how the least chatty one is the one actually calling the other by name and not the other way around. And yes, you can say it's a way of speaking and he's referring to the concept of the sun rather than saying his name, but taking into consideration Sun never utters the word moon, I'd say it's still quite a big thing.

In my headcanon land, due to the happenings at the Pizzaplex, Sun is probably too embarrassed and mortified to even mention Moon. Moon, on the other hand, has no reason to have such troubles besides hating Sun for (in his perspective) keeping him locked in a prison of light. So for me, it makes sense we never see Sun saying Moon's name, and it makes it more impactful when he actually acknowledges Moon as the other me rather than a he.

Eclipse

I lied there's three parts.

Eclipse has very few voice lines. The only one that matters here is "We need to clean this place up before we can open in the morning." This is pretty straight to the point: Eclipse, unlike Sun and Moon, doesn't use an "I". They immediately speak in the plural. They do not view themselves as just Eclipse, but rather as both Sun and Moon combined, at the same time.

As for the DCA being two AIs or one... in Ruin, Sun thanks Cassie after Eclipse is activated. It's left ambiguous. You can say Sun speaking afterwards proves they're not one and the same, "with the Sun and Moon AIs still running separately somehow", or you can assume Eclipse existing doesn't mean Sun and Moon can't keep doing their thing under safe mode, albeit in a less chaotic manner, allowing Sun's voice to come through but not making him any less Moon - he is Moon, he is Sun, and they are complicated yet very simple.

I believe in whichever version is more convenient at any given time, with a preference for "two codependent AIs" given what the games show us. Although, going by everything I collected here, the only theory I believe to just not be supported by canon at all is the one with Eclipse as a separate thing all together. Eclipse refers to themselves as a "we', not an "I". Eclipse activates when you make Sun and Moon "whole". It canonically makes no sense for Eclipse to be a third thing. (Please remember this is a post about what's in the games, the canon of FNAF. AUs and fandom or whatever, you do you).

That's it. Hope you enjoyed my rambling. Uh artblog unpaid promotion @tagidearte thank you for making it this far.

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[sarshles-cheescake-li]

Link Click, internet slang, and Chinese culture

On the Chinese internet, there's a nickname for Link Click called Shiguang Daidaoren, meaning "the blade-bringers of time" instead of "the managers of time," the original title. Calling something "blade" is Chinese internet slang for something being angsty; whether it be derivative content or the originals themselves. Another meme is that Link Click isn't zhiyu (治愈，healing), which it is tagged as on Bilibili, but zhiyu (致郁，causing depression).

Link Click, especially its first season, is a deeply emotional and sentimental show. And it's a shame that so much of it gets not so much lost in literal, linguistic translation as much as it does in cultural, contextual translation. Many people can understand Emma's pain of being away from her parents in a new city, working a difficult job. But watching the scrolling comments on Bilibili, you get the cultural context of it -- the massive migration patterns within China from rural to urban, the children growing up and having to shed their local fangyan (方言) or, less formally, tuhua (土话)("speech of the locations" and "old-fashioned words," respectively) in exchange for Beijing Mandarin. This massive nation, nearly twice the population of Europe and only about 6% smaller in terms of area, is so diverse as to have created (what is close to) an immigrant experience for its citizens entirely within its borders. You visit your parents on Chunjie (春节）, lunar/Chinese new year, on packed trains during the largest singular human migration event on Earth, annually. And when you get home, you are faced with something different from the cities you now live in -- everything from the buildings to the furniture to the clothes they wear. I hadn't realized how deeply I missed the gaudy, garish mianao (棉袄，coats) and mianbei (棉被，cotton blankets) until I saw familiar shades of too-bright burgundy in the hands of Emma's parents. The concept of this original-home, laojia (老家, old-home) is so strongly baked into our lives that every time I meet another Chinese person, I cannot but help but ask them 你老家哪儿啊? Where is your original-home? And even though I know nothing about Chinese geography, every time I hear the answer, a little piece slots into place nonetheless.

In slang, if something made you cry or otherwise feel an emotion you weren't expecting to feel, you refer to it as pofang (破防，breaking defences). And maybe it says something that an expression of human emotion is viewed as a failure in some defences, but that's introspection for another time. Watching on Bilibili, with its hundreds of comments scrolling by "My defences have been breached" and sobbing onomatopoeia, people in the comments saying that they miss their mothers and fathers -- I, too, miss my family. When Cheng Xiaoshi, in Chen Xiao's body, tried to speak his host body's local variation and came up with butchered dongbeihua (东北话, words of the east-north), I nearly fell out of my chair. It was the sound of home, of my grandmother telling us to hush around noon because our neighbours were napping and my grandfather showing me how to play spider solitaire.

Cheng Xiaoshi's breakdown in episode 5 hits hard for its vulnerability. "I'm scared of the dark" has the same literal meaning as "我怕黑," sure, but there is something devastatingly childlike in that three-syllable declaration of fear. Where English so often derives meaning from complexity, from winding metaphors and beautiful prose, Chinese can derive breathtaking meaning from less breath than it takes to say the word analogy. 我怕黑 is stripped of any grown-up pretenses of control or dignity. It is the barest this statement can be: I. Scared. Darkness.

And what he says following, too. 我害怕一个人. Longer yet no less potent. Alone, or lonely, has many translations in Chinese. 孤独. 寂寞. 孤单. 单独. Many more synonyms for all the different ways you can be lonely. But 一个人 is, once again, an almost child-like way of saying it. Before you have the vocabulary to express these complex emotions, 一个人 is a perfectly working expression. Translating it character-by-character, it means one singular person. It is something you say when you've been left behind. When you've been made to face everything by yourself. When the world is so, so, big, and you are just one singular person, with no companions to stand with you.

And, ah, Li Tianxi's Chinese nickname, 小希. It is the last character of her full name, with a "little" shoved right in front. It is an affectionate way to call someone younger than you. It is different from Xixi, its English rendition, because a repetition of the last character is a more generalized, affectionate nickname, whereas diminutives are almost always reserved for someone younger than you, when used in real life. The diminutive says don't be scared. I'm here now. I'll handle it.

There are endless details in Link Click that make everything about it seem a little bit more like home. The word 面馆 which means something a little, subtly different than "restaurant" or "noodles shop," a difference lost without the context of the phrase 下馆子 and the way adults say it with the gladness of once-children who only ate meat on new years. The "honorifics" as English calls them, to me more of just -- ingrained parts of someone's name. Within the snap of Mandarin syllables there is meaning and memory in every character. Jie, mei, di, ge, lao, da, xiao -- they are more than their literal meanings. They are a relationship, a promise.

Perhaps I am overthinking this, awkwardly Chinese as I am: too localized to be considered first-generation, too stubbornly attached to relate to second-generation. Maybe these linguistic subtleties only exist and matter in my mind, a writer of both languages (though I must say, my Chinese prose leaves… much to be desired) with a knack for pedantics. Regardless, I hope other Chinese fans of this show share this feeling. And surely, other people will, too. All the rural children who left home to pursue higher education and opportunities in faraway cities; the raised-in-poverty who spent their childhoods dreaming of buying their family new coats; the speakers of languages long since abandoned by their childhood friends. What a delight it is to see yourself in stories, neither exception nor abnormality but a norm. What a joy it is to be one of one point four billion.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on tumblr lot more people know about it which great! that improve life of all AAC users. but pretty much with anything disability/developmental disability space on social media (which need certain amount of cognitive/intellectual & language abilities be on even if have support), good majority you see be teen & adult people who already literate learn language via speech n write *first* n then *independently* learn AAC base on it *later*.

especially symbol based AAC, but all AAC, is new system n hard n take long time learn even when you literate & not moderately severely cognitively disabled. but also, “literate teen/adult independent learn AAC” not at all full face of AAC user community.

as in like. experience of theirs. not universal. independently motivated & able to look up different AAC options different AAC apps, compare n contrast. download app n immediately know how to use, or able figure out by self. first time use app n may be clunky n slow, but make sentence on first try. need learn AAC, but most of that learning is for where words are (if button based), how exist as AAC user in public with confidence, etc. those all valid but not true for everyone who need AAC, especially not developmentally disabled children (& some adults) with complex communication needs.

most developmentally disabled children (n some adults) w complex communication needs who need AAC, can’t just hand them tablet with symbol based AAC app or text to speech AAC app n then wait for magic. many of them developmentally delayed in way, not taught in way that fit them (e.g. gestalt language processors), n their language abilities behind peers, so they can’t read, can’t spell, can’t grammar, etc.

some of them need learn where word is not by read word, sometimes not even by understand symbol, instead is by other people press button n hear sound n associate that with meaning n location on AAC n symbol associate with it. in other words, they learning language alongside AAC.

for some their learn process look like, learn how use AAC say one word. n then much later, try make two word message, “want food” “go school.” “two word message” incredibly common goal for many these developmentally disabled children, teens, n even adults, that is something rare n truly extraordinary for that person that need be celebrated.

for others it look like learn by phrase (gestalt), then slowly break it down into smaller phrase n chunks n finally single words.

many of them babble (click random/seemingly random buttons on high tech device, stim with it, etc). but ultimately, won’t be able learn all by self. need be taught, see you accidentally spill water n crying, maybe you “feel” “sad”, n when that happen you “need” “help” from adult. need learn AAC by adults around them constantly model with it, constantly use it in conversation, show them how use. because they learning language along side it.

but also some of them don’t know what this thing in front of them (AAC… device, low tech boards or picture cards, etc) is. don’t know what communication is or you should do that. don’t know people exist who you should communicate to & with. heard many parents n SLP say they try model all time, try all kind of stuff, but child just not seem interested in it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t use it.

people who use AAC, not all them struggle with only speech. some them struggle with language, with intellectual/cognitive. some of them very developmentally delayed.

n some people, too disabled learn or use AAC. yeah, they exist.

for people who cannot use / cannot only use speech to be understood, AAC can be life changing. but is so much more complex thing. AAC still not as widely used n accepted n properly taught n supported as should, some parents n professionals n schools still many pushback n refuse. but sometimes answer to “have you tried AAC for them” is “yes, but they need long time n lots help to learn n we not very far yet even though spent long time on it” or “yes, but they simply not show interest even after constant model” or “god, wish can, but insurance only cover if show some amount of communication competence n ability use AAC, while only give 1 month trial, which simply not enough time” (wide spread thing that happen) or “yes. many types. it not work.”

for many AAC users & AAC user-to-be, it not as simple as “be handed AAC n check back in while they figure out by self”

[sinner-as-saint]

stealing hearts

Mob!Bucky x Thief!Reader 

Run-through: His mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist. 

Themes: thief!reader, mentions of homelessness and parental death, slight angst, mob!bucky, dom!bucky, slight daddy kink, sex toys, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, fluff, cocky!reader

a/n: more mob!bucky bc i need to write him for my mental health

“Where is he?” 

You heard a deep, surprisingly calm male voice ask, followed by multiple footsteps that echoed outside this dark room which resembled a dungeon, or rather a large storage room filled with boxes. 

You heard someone correct the man. “Uh, it’s a woman, sir.” 

The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, then resumed. The first authoritative voice spoke up again. “She was alone?” 

“Yes.” 

Silence. More echoing footsteps. “I’ll handle this. Wait here.” Immediately all the other footsteps stopped and only one continued approaching. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man walked in. You knew who he was, you’d broken into his home after all. Bucky Barnes. You had seen his face on the news multiple times. He was also easily recognisable because of his metal arm. He was the one most people feared around here. He was the infamous mob boss. Filthy rich, arrogant, merciless. But powerful more than anything. 

He took one look at you, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, and scoffed. The asshole scoffed. 

You glared at him. “Spare me whatever dark villainous speech you have planned and just shoot me already.” You hissed, looking away from him. 

He was quiet for a second. Then said, “What makes you think I have some dark villainous speech prepared?” His voice was surprisingly softer than how he sounded outside. Smooth, rich voice. The kind that felt like a caress. 

You turned to look at him again, still glaring, “All you old, rich bastards are the same. You love to hear yourselves talk.” 

He chuckled this time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in a slow circle around the chair you were currently tied to. “I’m not that old. Besides, wealthy is the right word here.” He ignored the way you scoffed at his words, and continued, “Also, a thief who hates wealthy people? Very original.” 

You sarcastically chuckled this time. “See what I mean? You love to hear yourself talk.” 

He stopped right behind you, where you couldn’t see him. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t start racing immediately. Out of your sight, he could have a gun pointed at your head right now and you wouldn’t even know. 

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Letting the anticipation build. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking on the ropes didn’t work, you tried that earlier. So you said, “At least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you kill me.” 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. 

When you gave him your name, he sighed and said, “Who said I’m gonna kill you?” 

Oh? 

“Well I can’t imagine you’re gonna let me walk away just like that either.” You’d been observing rich people all your life, you knew how they operated. You knew he would ask for something in return. 

“No,” He said, remaining out of your sight. “No, I won’t let you walk away just like that.” He confirmed. 

You laughed humorlessly. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.” 

He ignored you. “Who sent you?” He asked. 

Ah, the interrogation. Again. “Your loyal guard dogs already asked me that while they were tying me down. And they used some very colourful language too,” You scoffed. “And I’ll repeat what I said to them. No one sent me. I don’t work for anyone.” 

He began walking around you again, coming to a stop right in front of you this time. You looked up at him. Damn he was… kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but smirk, then failed at hiding it. 

“What’s with the smirk?” He asked. You were surprised with how calm he was with this whole thing. It was unnatural. 

You held his stare as you spoke, “Nothing I was just thinking about how I used to watch the news growing up and they always mentioned how much of a big bad monster you are. But there’s not even a single battle scar on your pretty face.” 

He chuckled this time, shaking his head as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “Stop making me sound old. Also, the scars are everywhere but on my face.” He said, stepping closer, bending down a little so he could whisper, “And did you just call me pretty?” 

Your smirk faded. Your murderous glare returned. “Fuck you.” You said quietly. 

He stepped back with a proud smirk on his face. “How did you get in here? With no help? I’m finding that hard to believe.” 

The smirk came back. “You’re doubting my amazing thieving skills? I spent years perfecting them mind you.” 

He sighed. “Years? You look twenty-five at most, have you been stealing shit since you were a kid?” 

You shrugged, or tried to, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Dead parents, grew up with shitty relatives, ran away from there, been a thief ever since.” You summarised your life in that self-deprecating way you always did. 

He didn’t laugh, or chuckle. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Where do you even live?” 

You gave him a sassy smile, “I’m a thief, I break into somewhere new each night. You’d be surprised at how many vacant apartments with comfy beds there are in this area.” 

Again, he gave you that same poker face. Handsome poker face. “And you broke into my house tonight for what? To sleep?” 

“House?” You gasped dramatically. “This is a damn castle. Though the décor is a little too dark, then again it suits you, you know? Nice gardens, by the way.” 

He sighed again, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “Why did you come here? And how? How did you get past my guys?” 

You took a deep breath and began explaining, “Number one, I came here to steal whatever expensive things I could find. Though you do have very nice comfy beds but I never,” You put more emphasis, “ever, sleep in a house when the owner is home.” 

“Charming.” He commented. 

You continued explaining. 

“And as for how, well I spent the last few days hiding and watching. You have thick bushes out near the entrance of your castle. I stayed there, observed and learnt your security guards’ schedule, and found out that the multiple cameras around your property also rotate. I figured out that I had exactly a fourteen-second window to get past the gates. I found a chance and took it. Picking the locks was easy. But then your people just had to catch me while I was halfway through stealing that lovely painting from your lovely library.” You finished with a smile so sweet it had him sighing again. “And now here we are.” 

He mumbled something under his breath about god saving him, then he walked to the door and opened it. He called out a name and someone came running. A young man with a sweet face, looking younger than you even, walked into the room. 

“Peter, I need you to make all necessary arrangements.” Bucky pointed in your direction and said, “She’ll be staying with us. Looks like we have a new member.” 

You ignored Peter’s very confused look, and hissed at Bucky. “What? I didn’t agree to this!” 

Bucky turned to face you with a serious look on his face. “You have no job, no income, and no place to live. I’m offering you all three and you are not in a position to refuse me.” He continued over your attempt at cutting him off. “You have skills I could use. From now on, you work for me.” He paused. “Agreed, little thief?” 

You glared at him. Damn. A job, a salary, and a roof over your head? The bastard knew you couldn’t refuse. You had to be smart here. He could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. Instead he made you this almost irresistible offer. This could only mean that… 

“You really need me for something, don’t you?” You asked, suddenly sounding cocky. 

He clenched his jaw. And that was confirmation enough. “We’ll talk business later.” 

You laughed in his face. “Alright, alright, don’t get too excited. But if I’m working for you, I have some conditions and requests.” 

He blinked. The Peter guy was so quiet and still you almost forgot he was in the room. “What makes you think you’re in a position to have conditions, or make requests? I could’ve killed you the moment I saw you, you know that?” That cold voice of his would’ve sent shivers down anyone else’s back. 

“But you didn’t because you need me.” You argued with a sly smirk. “Now, here’s everything I need,” You turned to Peter and began listing, “A nice room, preferably the guest bedroom at the end of the right wing.” You winked at Bucky and said, “I checked it out earlier and it has the best view.” You turned to Peter and continued, “I also want a whole new, complete wardrobe, with bags and shoes and everything.” You looked at Bucky and said, “Can I also have a car and a chauffeur?” 

He frowned. “No.” 

“What if I need to move around? Run errands, go get my nails done and all?” You fake pouted. 

“I said no.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, can I have a pet horse?” 

Bucky sighed, “No.” 

“A puppy then?” 

“What are you, a child?” He questioned. 

You smirked, “I mean you’re probably old enough to be my father.” You teased him and tried again, “Can I please have a puppy, daddy?” You knew the way you said it sounded far away from innocent. 

Bucky walked over to you so fast your brain barely registered it. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and stared deep into your eyes. “If that’s the case then daddy can also put you over his lap if you keep being a brat, and spank your little butt raw until you either cry or come, or both. Is that what you want, little thief?” 

You were breathless as you whispered, “No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and damn it, you both knew it in that moment. 

Bucky smirked. “Good girl.” He whispered. Then stepped away and turned to Peter and said, “Untie her and get her whatever she wants.” He looked at you as he said, “No cars, horses, or dogs.” 

Then he left the room. Leaving you speechless, and very much wet. 

— 

Peter, you learnt, was one of Bucky’s assistants. Whatever Bucky asked him to do, he did. That included sending a group of mean looking men out to shop for all that you had written down on your ‘Requirements’ list. 

He showed you to your requested room and promised your stuff will be here before the end of the day. And sure enough, by the time the sunset everything you had asked for was brought to you. 

You squealed when you entered the closet, excited to put away all your new things. Clothes, accessories, bags, shoes, toiletries, makeup, skin care products, and more. 

Peter came by again in the evening, bringing you dinner and said, “Boss said he’d see you in his office tomorrow morning at eight. Don’t be late, please. He hates it when people aren’t punctual.” 

You’d be lying if you said the mention of Bucky didn’t immediately remind you of what he said earlier about you being on his lap and… ugh. Damn him. 

For the first time in a long time, you went to bed with a full belly that night. And you squealed again when you got in the comfy bed, freshly showered and moisturised. As you drifted off to sleep, feeling weirdly warm and safe, you forgot all about your meeting with Bucky the next morning, and how you needed to be up early for it. 

— 

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. So much had happened in such a short time. One moment he was having a quiet, calm day of golfing with Sam, and the next he got a phone call from his security guys that his mansion had been broken into. 

He went from spending a rare day off with his best friend, to having a sassy, drop dead gorgeous thief in his guest room. He sighed, sipping on his whiskey, holding the phone to his ear as he looked out of his bedroom window. 

“Oh, I know that sigh of defeat.” Sam laughed through the phone. “Is she really that pretty that you couldn’t even use your brain?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. And here he thought calling Sam to complain about everything was a good idea. Of course the latter would only make fun of him. In fact, he thought, maybe Sam would team up with you and you two would make fun of him together. 

“Shut up, Sam. I’m serious.” Bucky sighed again, “She pisses me off but at the same time… I don’t know. This girl has been living like a fugitive since she was a kid. I looked up the relatives she ran from, her uncle and aunt, and honestly, anyone would run from them. God knows what kind of messed up shit she’s witnessed and been through her whole life.” 

Sam was quiet, listening. 

Bucky continued. “You know the bushes near the entrance? She hid there for days. Days, Sam! Through the rain, and cold nights all just so she could study the guards’ movements. She probably didn’t eat that whole time. Who knows when’s the last time she had a warm meal? She’s so resilient. And strong. But so sassy, and the way she runs that mouth it makes you want to-,” 

Bucky exhaled, exasperated. And continued. 

“She has that look in her eyes, you know?” Bucky thought back to earlier when he first saw you. “Life hasn’t been kind to her. She has really sad eyes. Like she was forced to grow up and take care of herself. I couldn’t…” Bucky trailed off, “I couldn’t just let her go back to living like that. Go ahead, make fun of me for it.” He sighed. “She’s gonna be really useful to me.” He stated. “You remember last year? When I was ambushed by Roger’s men? Something of mine was stolen then, and I’m gonna get it back using her.” Bucky already had a plan made. “I needed a skilled thief anyway. I mean she managed to break into my house, that means she actually is really good. She could even lead some of my guys when they go-” Bucky stopped talking and asked, “Are you even listening?” 

Sam chuckled, “I am, I am. It’s just rare to see you admire someone like this. Who knew big bad Bucky could be so soft? You better let me win next time we’re golfing, otherwise I’m telling everyone that you have a crush on the thief.” 

Bucky groaned, “What is this? What are we, children? I do not like her like that, alright? I’m about a decade and a half older than her. And she won’t stop reminding me of it.” 

Sam laughed again. “Oh I like her already. Anyway, have fun with your crush and tell me how it goes.” 

“Goodbye, you asshole.” Bucky ended the call and shook his head at the thought of what Sam said. A crush? On a thief? No way. 

As he made his way to his study room, Bucky couldn’t help but pause outside the guest room in which you slept. He could hear soft snores coming from within. Something in him felt satisfied that you were able to sleep soundly here, not having to find vacant places to break into. He wanted to keep it that way. 

Why? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, Sam was wrong. 

As he sat at his desk in his study room, Bucky tried to get work done but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Something about you was different. Bucky never trusted people this easily, let alone allow them into his home. 

That reminded him of something… Bucky found the list that Peter had left on his desk. The list of Requirements, as you called it. And as he read all the things his men had to go out and buy earlier, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. 

Oh this could be fun. Bucky couldn’t wait for your meeting the next morning. At eight sharp. 

— 

When you woke up, the sun was in your face. But you hadn’t felt so warm and comfy in a long, long time so you relished the feeling. You let out a yawn, opening your eyes slowly. And you found yourself looking right at a rather pissed off Bucky standing at the end of the four-poster bed, with his hands in his pockets. 

All black suit, perfect hair, and those blue eyes… 

“Oh hi,” You said, taking your sweet time as you sat up in bed. “Good morning.” 

“It’s two in the afternoon.” Bucky hissed. “Who sleeps in for that long? You and I had a meeting at eight this morning. I was waiting.” 

You yawned again. “I’m sorry, this bed is really, really comfy.” You said, as if that was a decent excuse. “Maybe you shouldn’t have put such nice beds in your guest rooms if you didn’t want your guests to sleep in.” 

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he was trying very hard to contain his annoyance. “You are not a guest. You work for me. So when I tell you to meet me in my office at eight, I want you there.” 

You smirked, peeling off the covers and slowly crawling over to the end of the bed where he stood. You knelt on the bed right in front of him, “Oh? You want me?” You teased, knowing he would snap at any moment now. 

You remained kneeling on the bed as his metal hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, squeezing just a little. The smirk on your face stayed in place this time, only pissing him off even more. “Watch your mouth, little thief.” He said. 

“Or what? You’ll spank me till I… what was it you said?” You repeated his words from the day before, “Till I cry, or come. Or both?” He remained quiet. His hand tightened around your throat, choking you a little bit more. You couldn’t help but whisper, “Jokes on you, I’m into this shit.” 

Bucky let go of you immediately. You laughed in his face as he shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket again. 

“Get out of bed and get ready. Meet me in my office in half an hour.” He ordered and turned to leave. 

“But I’m hungry,” You said right before he could walk out of the door. “You can’t treat your guests like this, you have to feed me.” 

Bucky refrained from groaning. “Fine,” He said, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His broad shoulder. “I’ll have someone bring up some food for you. Now hurry up, don’t be fucking late again.” He barked. 

—

Bucky was embarrassed to admit to himself that his hands were shaking as he left your bedroom and walked to his study room. Fuck, less than twenty-four hours and you already had such a bizarre effect on him. 

Bucky shut the door behind him, and closed his eyes to find some kind of composure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The sight of you in those black satin shorts and that tight, excuse of a top… fuck. The sight of you so comfortable in bed had messed him up so much he’d gripped you by the throat like an animal. 

He was grateful you didn’t seem to notice the hardness in his pants. He needed to get a grip. How the hell was he supposed to boss you around if this is what a brief interaction was doing to him. 

He sat at his desk and waited. And about twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the housekeepers with a tray of breakfast food. Bucky waited some more and after a short while, there was another knock at his door. Before he could even open his mouth to say something, you walked in. 

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. Just who allowed you to look this good? You were glowing after a good night of sleep. You looked incredible in your little sundress. Bucky watched as you took a seat on the other side of his desk before he even asked you to. The smell of your body wash and perfume drifted over to him, and he was almost salivating. 

He kept watching as you moaned in delight when you took your first sip of coffee, then your first bite of warm croissant. 

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your breakfast at,” He checked his watch, “almost three in the afternoon,” He spoke, finally. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss your position here in my house and as my employee.” 

You scoffed through a mouthful of some kind of pastry. You swallowed it with a sip of coffee and said, “So formal, my god. Just tell me where to go, what to steal and I’ll do it, no need to be so poetic about it.” 

Bucky sighed. “I don’t need you to steal anything at the moment. There is something, but the time isn’t right. I will let you know when it is. But as of now, I have other plans for you.” 

You frowned at him as you finished your breakfast. “Okay… I’ll do them under one condition.” 

“Enough with your conditions.” Bucky hissed. 

Despite his warning, you continued, “There’s this old, abandoned apartment complex,” You said, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk like it was your own, scribbling something down, “I have some stuff hidden in there that I need. Not much, just two boxes. I know you won’t let me go but could you have someone go get it for me, please?” 

Bucky looked down at the address and apartment number written on the paper. “What stuff?” He asked. 

“Just stuff I’ve stolen over the years.” 

He scoffed, “But you have everything you need here.” 

You nodded, “Some of the things are… priceless.” 

Bucky nodded. “Fine. I’ll have someone go get it. Now, about your role here. You’re gonna start training with the guys tomorrow.” 

You frowned, “I’m a thief, I don’t need exercise.” You argued. 

“No,” He said, calmly as he leaned back into his chair. “But you need to learn how to fight, how to use a gun, a knife, self defence, how to be part of a team and all that.” 

Okay. Things got very real. You stayed quiet and nodded. 

“Can you drive?” 

You shook your head. 

“I’ll have someone teach you.” 

You shrugged. “So, no stealing for now. Only training like I’m going to battle. Anything else?” You asked. 

“Yes, actually.” 

–

About an hour later, you stood in the middle of what Bucky called your new workstation. You looked around the spacious room, impressed. It looked a lot like a lab, with every equipment a thief could ever need, even some new tech that you yourself weren’t familiar with. Weapons, trinkets, everything. 

“So you want me to teach your guys how to steal using this stuff.” 

“I want you to teach them necessary skills.” Bucky corrected. “Strategies. How to be observant. How to pick locks, how to be discreet, how to be invisible and hide for days, how to use a narrow, fourteen-second window to infiltrate a secure place. Whatever else you can teach. Minus the stealing.” 

You smirked, leaning against your new desk. “So you like what I do, huh?” 

Bucky ignored that. “Don’t cause any trouble.” He said. “I’m paying you to do a good job here.” 

You looked around again, not able to fight the genuine smile that formed on your face. “It’s like paying a kid to be at the playground.” You smirked, looking at him with determination in your eyes, and some mischief. “I’m gonna have so much fun here with my new friends.” 

“Do not hurt my guys, I need them.” 

— 

The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. You woke up each day, excited for a change. No more having to be constantly on the run, no more having to steal for food, clothes, or find shelter. You had more time to live now, not just survive. 

Plus you had the lab. It was your favourite place ever. Surrounded by gadgets and tech you didn’t know could exist, weapons that you were starting to get the hang of, and Bucky’s guys that you used as if they were your test subjects – you actually had fun each day. 

The dynamic between you and Bucky changed too. And it all started the day after he first showed you your new lab… 

“My guys have your stuff from the old apartment. It’s in my office, come get it.” He spoke through the phone – your new phone – ordering you to come collect your stuff. 

You almost ran out of your room and to his office. When you got there, the two boxes were placed nicely on one side of his desk. A cardboard one, and the other one was a medium sized metal code-lock box. He stood behind the desk, watching you. 

“As requested,” He pointed at the two boxes, “Your stuff.” He paused, then said, “Open them.” 

You froze. “Uh, what?” 

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I’m gonna allow you to keep your stolen goods in my house, I should know what they are. Now come on, open the boxes. I need to check them.” 

You walked into the room, shutting the door behind you. As you approached the desk, you tried to find a way out of this. “You don’t need to. They’re nothing. Just things I’ve collected over the years.” 

Bucky gave you the usual, handsome poker face. “Would you like me to open them?” 

“No,” You said quickly. You rushed to the cardboard box, opening it to let him see the contents. “See? Just books I’ve stolen from everywhere.” You explained as he looked inside the large box filled with old and new books. 

“Now the other one.” He said, eyeing the metal box. 

“That one has… um, personal things.” You said. “You don’t need to see all that.” 

Bucky walked around the desk, stopping only when he was inches away from you. He leaned a little close to your ear and whispered, “I have received bills of all the things you made my guys buy recently. Some of the bills explicitly listed each and every piece of lingerie and underwear you ordered, including a certain little red thong you’re possibly wearing right now.” He said, making you shiver. “And now you wanna talk about boundaries?” 

You pulled away to look at him, seeing the proud triumph in his eyes. “Fine.” You refused to let him win this one. You reached for the box, unlocked it, opened the lid and waited. Bucky was quiet. Too quiet. “Say something.” You whispered, “This is very awkward.” 

Finally he did. 

“Get on the desk.” He said. You froze again and seeing that you weren’t moving he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I said, get on the desk. If I’m gonna allow you to keep all of these toys, then I better test their… effectiveness as well.” 

You avoided his eyes, focusing on the top buttons of his shirt as you asked, “What kind of rule is that?” 

“My kind.” He replied. “Now get on the desk. Legs up and spread them so I can see exactly what I have to deal with.” 

Fuck. 

You sat up on the desk, feeling just a little coy as you lifted your legs up and placed them on the edge of the desk, spreading your knees as far as they would go so he could look at you down there. 

Bucky scoffed. “See? There’s that red thong.” He pulled his metal hand out of his pocket, placing it on your inner thigh, slowly inching upwards. His cold fingers lazily teased your clit, then slid down to inspect your wet folds. He pulled the thong to the side and mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you. 

You let out a quiet whimper which made him groan. 

You looked down in between your thighs, his hand teasing you like it was the most casual thing. You sheepishly looked up and into his piercing, icy blue eyes that were already staring at you. You couldn’t look away. 

“Which one’s your favourite?” He asked. And it took you a little while to realise that he was referring to the pile of sex toys in the metal box. 

“The, uh… the vibrator.” You answered. Your face got all hot but you refused to seem embarrassed. 

Bucky smirked, pulling his hand away to reach for the vibrator. Light pink wand with a bulbous head. Bucky looked at it, then at you. He looked down at your wet folds and spat before turning the wand on and pressing it right on your clit. His spit helped the toy to move around better as he circled your clit with it, before moving it up and down your slit. 

You couldn’t help but moan and gasp as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Of course Bucky noticed, and he scoffed as he lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release.

“No,” You whined, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, “Please…” You begged. 

“Look at me,” he said, softly. You looked back at him as his other hand wrapped around your throat. Bucky leaned in enough so that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke. “You will come when I allow it, you hear me? 

You nodded immediately. 

“Good girl.” He said as he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, as you stared into his icy blue eyes. He moved the toy around a little more before lifting it off you again, turning it off this time. “You can take your books and go now, this box stays with me.” 

He put the vibrator back safely, shutting the box. 

You closed your legs, hopping off of his desk. “What do you mean it stays with you? You can’t just… just steal my toys!” You frowned at him, pissed. 

Bucky gave you an annoying smirk. “Yes I can. Now whenever you need a toy, you can come ask for it. If I feel like it, I’ll let you have it.” 

Bastard. 

You left his office angrily that afternoon. And vowed never to beg for any of the toys in that box. Let him have it. Screw him, right? 

Wrong. 

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fingers didn’t relieve you as much as the vibrator would have. And that’s how you found yourself swallowing your pride and knocking on his office door. The lights were on so you figured he’d still be in there. 

“Come in.” He said and you could already hear the smirk in his voice. 

You opened the door, walked in and shut it behind you. “I need it.” You said, looking at him as he lounged on the couch near his desk. 

“Need what?” He asked, acting oblivious as he placed his drink down and pretended to be confused. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “The vibrator. Please.” 

He leaned back on the couch, with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh I put it in the trash. I put all of them in the trash.” 

You blinked. It took a moment for the anger to surface. You took a step towards the couch. “Do you know what I had to do in order to rob that sex store? I had to fight the guy who was closing up for the day. With a baseball bat! And you know the worst part? He was one of my ex flings!” 

Bucky let out a chuckle. 

“Don’t just sit there and laugh! What am I supposed to do now?” 

He gave you a mischievous look and said, “Come here.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest and stood there in the middle of his office. “No.” 

“Keep being a brat and I will drag you here by your hair if I have to.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Try me.” And those words had you moving towards him at once. 

You reached the couch where he was sitting and stood in front of him. “Now what?” 

“Get on my lap.” 

You rolled your eyes, refusing to show how his words and tone made you want to drop to your knees and take him in your mouth instead. “You’re such a disgusting, old, pervert who just wants to-,” 

He cut you off by pulling you into his lap and grabbing you by the throat. His metal hand squeezed your throat just enough to make you whimper. “What did I say about you and your smart mouth? Hmm?” Then he scoffed and said, “Right, I forgot you’re into this shit.” He squeezed your throat a little more. “If I reached down there, would I find that you’re completely wet and ready for me?” 

You whimpered again, instinctively grinding on his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Look at you,” He murmured. “You won’t need your toys now,” He said, “If you need to come, you ask for my cock. Understood?” 

You nodded immediately. 

He smirked. “Now, will you be a good girl and fuck yourself on daddy’s cock or what?” 

You whined, nodding, “Please…” 

Bucky couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss then. All your whimpering was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

You kissed him back, allowing him to almost tear your PJs off of your body. You only pulled away from the kiss to say, “We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.” 

Bucky nodded, reaching to pull a condom out of his pocket. “Remind me about the birth control thing tomorrow.” 

You watched as he undid his trousers and put the condom on. The moment it was on, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss again. He helped you as you lifted up and then slowly lowered yourself down on his hard cock. 

You couldn’t look away as he held your stare. You both gasped and moaned as you finally sank down on him. Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside at first. Bucky felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his face as he grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up, filling you up.

You moaned out loud as he did. “Fuck, you feel good, little thief.” He whispered. 

Once he was buried deep inside you, you leaned in to kiss him again while lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as he groaned, filling you up and being all snug inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” He swore again, “You feel so tight around daddy’s cock.” 

The tip of his cock reached places you never knew existed. You whimpered, whining in pleasure as you took a good look at the man beneath you. He oozed power, manspreading on the couch with you on his cock. 

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. Grunting and moaning under his breath as you sped up even more, riding his cock and making him lose his damned mind.

“You have such a perfect little cunt…” He said, “It’s all mine now.” 

You were whimpering and whining yourself as you took more and more of him. But you couldn’t help but tease him, “And here I thought mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing.” 

Bucky playfully slapped your thigh. “I make the rules here. From now on, mixing business with pleasure is a very good idea.” 

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “Fuck,” You whined. 

His hand circled around your waist and he pulled your warm body closer to his. He was still very much clothed, except for his cock being out and buried inside you. Meanwhile your PJs were on the floor, leaving you completely naked on his lap. Something about that contrast made it even hotter. 

“Beg.” He said, “I want to hear you beg me to let you come.” 

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his blue eyes. 

“Please daddy,” You whimpered, “Please, can I come?” 

Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. “Hold on, just a little,” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Just a little,” He whispered, “Wait for me.” 

“Please… I can’t,” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” You said as you caught your breath. “I’ll wait next time.” 

Bucky laughed. “It’s alright. You were still such a good girl for daddy.” He murmured. 

—

That night changed everything. 

Ever since, each time you annoyed Bucky he would just fuck you against the nearest surface. Safe to say you began to annoy him even more. 

But he could also be kind sometimes. For instance this one time when he found you in the library: 

You were lounging on a sofa, reading when he walked in silently. 

“Winter’s tale?” He surprised you with both his literary knowledge and presence. 

You peaked at him from behind your book and said, “Leontes is such a cunt. Quite like you sometimes.” 

Bucky ended up fucking you right there on the sofa. And then promised to get you your own bookshelf in the library because he didn’t like the way you stuffed your books among his on the current shelves. It’s messy and immature, he said. Grown ups don’t keep their books like this, he said. 

Bucky could also be so confusing at times. Like how he would always treat you like the thing between the two of you was just a casual fling. But then he would get jealous whenever he saw you getting too close to any one of his guys while you trained with them. 

“I will be overseeing your training from now on. No need to join the guys in the morning.” He said out of nowhere when you joined him for dinner in the dining room one night. 

“Why?” You asked. 

“Because you distract them too much with your shenanigans. Constant flirting, walking around in your little workout outfits, all that needs to stop.” He spoke, avoiding your eyes. 

You smirked. “So we’re gonna be early morning workout buddies from now on?” 

He sighed, “Don’t make me regret this.” 

You chuckled, “Oh you will regret this.” 

He did. But in the best ways. So each morning workout either started or ended with a nice fuck sesh. 

—

You were at your workstation one morning when Bucky walked in with a serious look on his face. 

You’d just seen him a couple of hours ago for your ‘workout’ so you wondered why he was back. Usually he left you alone for most of the day, only finding his way back to your bed late at night. So this was unusual. 

“What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to murder someone?” You asked as he stood right in front of you with an earpiece in hand. 

“Put this on.” He said. 

You did as he asked. And waited. 

Bucky grabbed his phone, walking to one of the nearest screens and a few taps later, you were looking at the live feed of some kind of body cam. 

“What’s this?” You asked. Just then, you began hearing muffled voices coming from the earpiece. 

Bucky turned to you. “My guys are… retrieving something of mine from a secret location. I need you to guide them.” 

Your eyes widened. “Wait, is this it? Is this the thing you needed me for?” 

Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “Just do as you’re told.” 

You nodded, quickly looking back at the screen. “Who’s leading them?” You asked. 

Someone’s muffled voice replied from the earpiece. “Thor is.” 

You nodded, looking at the screen. “Right. How could I miss those biceps that are bigger than my head?” You said. 

Bucky smacked you on the butt and said, “Focus.” 

“I am, I am. I got this.” 

Anf for the next few minutes, you led the men through whatever maze of a building they were in. You found the location within seconds and managed to have a blueprint of the place. You warned them of the cameras, told them when to move and when not to. You instructed Thor how to pick an ancient looking lock that led them into an even bigger maze. But you did everything right, used the right strategies, the right tricks up your sleeves, and you managed to get the guys out of there safely, with the mystery package they stole. 

Once they were out in the clear and confirmed that they were on their way home, you turned to Bucky and asked, “How did I do?” You waited eagerly for his response. 

Bucky just smirked and said, “Good. You passed the test.” 

Your smile faded fast. “What? What test?” 

Bucky explained, “The guys weren’t actually out stealing shit. I just wanted to see how you would do in a situation like that. And you did great. Congratulations, little thief.” 

He turned to walk away but you called out. “You know, I deserve a nice gift for being so amazing.” 

“Do you now?” He asked, not turning around. 

“Yes, I want a dog!” 

Bucky paused at the door. “No.” He said and left. 

“Please, daddy…” You pouted. 

“No.”

Oh well, it was worth a try. 

— 

The next morning, you woke up and got ready for yet another day of annoying Bucky. However, when you stepped out of your bedroom door, you noticed something outside your door. 

It was a basket. And inside it slept two puppies, two of the fluffiest little balls of fur you’d ever seen. Once the shock passed, you began tearing up immediately. 

You picked up the basket as slowly as you could and made your way to Bucky’s bedroom. You walked in without knocking. And there he was, standing in the middle of the room, getting ready for the day, buttoning his black shirt, casually looking like a god. Once he saw you, his playful smirk showed itself. 

“So, how do you like-,” He stopped talking the moment the first tear fell down your cheek. His smirk disappeared. “What is it?” He asked. 

You carefully placed the basket down, the puppies inside it sleeping soundly. Then you rushed to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

Bucky hugged you back instantly, though confused concerning your reaction. Out of all things, he didn’t expect this. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked, softly. 

You sniffled, hiding your face in his chest. “I was thirteen when I ran from my uncle and aunt’s house.” You said, voice muffled. “And they had dogs so I grew up with them. But when I took off to be on my own, I couldn’t have a dog because I could barely take care of myself.” You sniffled again. “And it’s hard being without animals when you grew up around them, you know?” You let more tears wet his shirt. “Thank you,” You said, finally. 

Bucky held you as your shoulders shook with your sobs. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and whispered, “Oh baby, I’ve got you now.” 

You pulled away to look at him, both of you ignoring the patch of wetness your tears left on his grey shirt. “You got me two puppies.” 

Bucky smiled down at you. “You deserve it.” 

You sniffled, “You’re being nice, what do you want?”

“Nothing,” He rolled his eyes, “Now get out of here.” 

You stayed put. “I can’t. I have to make it even.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “How?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, let me suck your-,” 

He cut you off by pulling you closer, a hand wrapped around your throat already. “You are very tempting right now, in your little red dress. And if you don’t want want me to tear it off right this instant, I’d suggest you-,” 

You cut him off this time, “Who said I don’t want you to tear it off?” You asked with a smirk. 

Bucky sighed before pushing you down on his bed. “I’ve got a busy day ahead.” He said, looking down at you as he hovered above you, “But you don’t care about that, do you?” 

You giggled, shaking your head. “Not one bit.” You said, running your hands over his chest and his strong shoulders. 

He smirked, giving in. He leaned in for a brief kiss while he pulled your dress up and placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them. 

Your heart raced in anticipation. His hand slowly dragged your thin underwear down your legs and threw it around somewhere behind him as he inched his face closer to your already dripping core.

“Such a fucking brat.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath.

“Shut up, admit it. You’re obsessed with me.” You sassed, then moaned out loud when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your clit. You felt a familiar rush in your veins. Fuck he was addicting. 

Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning more moans out of you as your back arched off the bed. His bed, you realised. This was the first time you two were fooling around in his room. 

Only now did you realise how it smelt like him. Dark, male, addicting. But most of all, dangerous. Fuck, just his scent made your head all foggy in lust. 

Bucky had you squirming, moaning, a complete mess under him in no time. “I love seeing you like this,” He said, kissing your inner thighs, “Too busy moaning for me to run that smart mouth.” 

You couldn’t answer as your legs trembled around his head, he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed his tongue deeper into you, making you cry out of pleasure. 

“See what I mean?” He chuckled, “I bet you want to say something sassy so bad right now, but you can’t.” He playfully bit you before sucking on your clit. “Daddy’s tongue has you all tongue-tied, huh princess?” 

You cried out. “Please… please daddy,” You whined. 

With a proud smirk, a look of determination in his pretty blue eyes, and a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you gushing out all over his tongue, lapping up all that you gave him. While you moaned and squirmed on his bed as he sucked on your sensitive clit until you calmed down. 

You kept your eyes shut as you caught your breath, feeling him leave small kisses all over your thighs. 

When you opened your eyes again, his face was right above yours. His devious blue eyes looking down into your wide open ones. You were certain all he saw in your eyes was hunger. For him. 

“I want you,” You whispered, sliding your hands into his hair. “Now.” You demanded. 

“Brat.” He hissed when you tugged on his hair. 

You smiled. “Pretty sure it’s princess.” You teased. 

“A bratty fucking princess then.” He didn’t give you a chance to sass back as he leaned in for a deep kiss, holding himself up with one hand as he quickly undid his trousers. You helped, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Bucky moaned into the kiss as you did, and the sound of it sent shivers down your back. 

You gasped, and whined into the kiss as he carefully slid into you, filling you up entirely, inch by inch. Stretching you out deliciously like he did all the time. Bucky wasted no time, he pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan into the kiss each time until the makeout turned lazy and messy, filled with gasps and moans. 

You noticed he wasn’t being as ravenous as usual. He was… trying to be gentle with you. 

Indeed he was. Your heart skipped a beat when Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. He was groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly, and you were unable to focus on anything other than him. 

His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud. 

“That’s it, princess.” He whispered against your open mouth, “Tell me who’s making you feel this good. Who’s fucking you, huh?” 

You kept whimpering his name over and over again as he fucked you nice and slow, kissing his way down your face, from your collar bones to down your chest. And you cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

You opened your eyes as he pulled away to look down at you, his lips soft and pink and parted as he breathed rapidly, fucking into you a bit faster. 

Something shifted in that moment, you weren’t sure what. But something changed. 

His brows furrowed as he tried so hard to hold back and make you come before he did. “Fuck,” He swore. “Come for me.” He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for daddy, princess.” 

You felt the pressure building in between your hips as he sped up even more, his metal hand reached down and grabbed your hip gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other.

Bucky pushed his face into you and nuzzled your neck as he growled in pleasure. With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone, moaning and whimpering under him, grinding against him hungrily while he came right after, filling you up again. 

He stayed there, limp on top of you for a brief moment, before he slid off of you and laid down beside you. He caught his breath while you blinked rapidly, trying to calm your racing heart and figure out what the hell just happened. 

Before the awkward silence settled in completely, you got up on shaky legs and fixed your dress. “Well, this has been fun. I gotta go feed my new kids now. See you later.” You grabbed the puppy basket and almost ran out of his bedroom. 

As you shut the door, you heard him laughing to himself. A boyish, carefree laugh that made you smile. 

— 

With your new dogs, training, your lab, more training, days flew by. 

Whatever Bucky had planned, whatever big heist you were supposed to carry out, you knew it was coming soon. 

You often wondered what would happen once you successfully stole whatever he intended for you to steal. You didn’t even know what it was yet. Must be something precious either way, if all this planning went into it. But what after that? Would you no longer work for Bucky then? 

Would this… whatever it was between the two of you that both of you absolutely refused to acknowledge – no matter how much Sam teased you both for it – would it all end? 

You were lost in thoughts of all this when you found yourself mindlessly making your way to Bucky’s office one evening. Your two dogs, loyally in tow. 

You found Bucky in an equally sour mood as you, sulking at his desk with a drink. 

You shut the door behind you, leaving the dogs outside as you made your way to Bucky. He looked up at you and silently patted his lap. You made yourself comfortable on his thighs, an arm around his neck as you leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. His stubble rough against your nose and cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, “What has you looking like an evil god plotting the end of mere mortals who are standing in the way of you dominating the world?” 

He chuckled at that. “You are so annoying you should be grateful at least you’re pretty to look at.” He mumbled, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. You assumed it was whiskey. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. But then you noticed that distant look in his eyes. Unfortunately, you were very good at reading people. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. 

“What is it?” 

He let out a sigh. “You never ask me what I’m keeping you around for.” 

You shrugged. “You said you’d tell me when it’d be the right time. I’m just waiting, I guess. You told me about Rogers and his men and how they stole something from you. The details aren’t necessary, whatever it is, I’ll get it back. I promise.” 

Bucky placed his glass down and turned to look at you. His metal arm held you securely on his lap. “It’s my mother’s ring.” He said. “The ring has been in our family for generations. All the men propose to their women with it.” He paused, then added, “I have nothing left of hers. Just the ring.” 

Damn. Well. You would have never guessed that. A family heirloom? Why would Rogers tell his men to steal that? How would he even know to steal that? 

You began to ask just that. “How did-,” 

Bucky answered before you could even finish your question. “Steve, Sam, and I used to be friends. I always thought we’d be friends till the very end. But then Steve went rogue, power got to his head.” 

Shit. No wonder Bucky and Sam were so close, they survived the downfall of a strong trio. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmured, gently stroking his cheek. “I’ve never had close friends like that, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose them. But I can tell it makes you really upset.” You pointed out. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get your mom’s ring back. And I will even kick Steve for you if you ask me to.” 

Bucky gave you a faint smile. 

“Just get the ring back.” He said, staring deep into your eyes. “I need it.” 

Oh? The thought of him on one knee, asking someone to marry him was surprisingly uncomfortable. But you pushed all that aside. 

“So when do I go?” 

— 

Another week later, the plan was ready. Bucky’s men were ready. You were ready. 

You had the location, had studied the blueprint very well. You’d be in contact with Bucky the whole time through the earpiece. Steve was rumoured to be out of town. His guards would not be expecting the heist. This was perfect. 

Or so you thought. The moment you got near Steve’s house, a gut feeling told you something was off. And you must’ve mumbled something to yourself because Bucky’s voice came through the earpiece just then. 

“I’ll say it again. The moment you sense something wrong, fall back. Do you hear me?” He used the cold, bossy tone. 

You scoffed and replied, “Yes daddy.” 

A few of the guys chuckled around you. And you could hear Bucky sighing as you giggled to yourself. 

You noticed the guards getting ready to move, the typical security rotation. You looked behind you and whispered to the guys, “We have exactly twelve seconds to make it past the gates. Don’t be too loud, and follow me. If you can’t make it, stay back here and keep watch. Everyone understood?” 

They all nodded silently. 

“Okay… now!” 

Not all of the guys could make it. Some had to stay back because the twelve-second window was too short for everyone to beeline through the gates. 

But the group of you that made it past the gates and into Steve’s house were in for a big surprise. It was a trap, Steve wasn’t home but his people had been waiting for you. 

What was meant to be a clean heist ended up in a crossfire. 

You could hear Bucky barking orders through the earpiece. “Fall back! Now!” 

You almost did… but fuck you were so close. So close. That was when you took the earpiece off and tucked it into the pocket of your cargo pants. He may have been right, but the adrenaline was too much to resist. You’d missed this feeling, this rush of being so close to danger, to being caught… 

So you went for it. 

Walked deeper into the trap. 

You knew where the ring was kept, you had the little box in your hand. You didn’t have time to see what it looked like as you put it away in your pocket, along with the earpiece that Bucky surely was still screaming through. 

And then. The room exploded. 

Then there was nothing. Just ringing in your eyes, and blurry images in front of you. You coughed, gasping for air and all you got were dust in your lungs. 

You faintly remember hands reaching for you, dragging you, trying to get you to walk. But your body did not cooperate. It refused to. 

You don’t know how much time passed. Or where you were. 

You could hear the panic in his voice as you tried your hardest to reorient yourself. Bucky was here? You were lying on the floor somewhere. You couldn’t remember much. 

The heist. The ring. A lot of fighting. An explosion. 

Ah, an explosion that threw you across the room causing you to collide against a concrete wall. 

Your side hurt, badly. Your head throbbed. Your vision was blurry, but at least Bucky was here. He was here, you could hear his rapid footsteps approaching. 

“Baby….” His voice sounded distant. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” He had never sounded so vulnerable. Due to the way your body moved, you assumed you were in a rapidly moving vehicle. “Look at me,” You felt his hands on your face, “Princess, please…” You couldn’t focus too well on what he was saying, “... sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… baby, please…” 

Then there was just darkness.

And pain. 

And a headache that refused to go away. 

But you were with Bucky so you gave into the darkness. You knew you were safe now that he was here. 

— 

When you woke up, you realised you were in Bucky’s room. On his bed. The headache was still here, not as bad as before though. 

The room was dimly lit, so you figured it must be well into the evening. The house was quiet, but as you tried to sit up, you heard him. 

“Thought you were gonna sleep for two more days.” 

You couldn’t help the smirk. “I slept for two whole days?” Then you panicked, looking around, “Where are my dogs?” 

“Safe, fed. Sleeping.” Bucky stepped out of the dark corner of the room, but didn’t come any closer. He was quiet for a few moments. Then, “You almost got killed.” He stated, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but no less handsome. 

You scoffed. “As if that’s all it would take to kill me. You know, I once fell from two storeys and survived with just a twisted ankle. I’m amazing like that,” You winked at him. “Besides, I did a good job. I managed to get your precious ring,” You went to pat your pocket, only to realise that you were no longer wearing those cargo pants. 

Of course, he wouldn’t have left you in those same clothes for two days while you recovered. You looked down under the blanket and you were wearing clean clothes. His clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt smelled like him. 

“Looking for this?” He held his hand up and there it was. Prettiest piece of jewellery you’d ever laid eyes on. You could see the big, heavy stone from here. Dark green, black, silver. It looked elegant, and like it was crafted in some fae realm. It was truly unique. 

“You changed me.” You pointed out, looking down at the clean clothes. 

He gave you the same poker face. “What does it matter? I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count.” He said. 

“And you made me wear your clothes.” You gave him a bratty, triumphant look. 

He glared at you. “I’m sure my clothes feel more comfortable than those tight little dresses you wear all the time.” 

You gasped dramatically, “You mean those tight little dresses you fuck me in all the time?” 

That had him walking towards his bed immediately. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not right now, you’re hurt.” 

“Aww,” You teased, “You care about me.” 

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. “I guess I do.” He said, reaching out to touch your face carefully. 

You couldn’t look away from him. He was so gorgeous. Even in poorly lit rooms with his face half hidden in shadows, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. 

He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, “I know I’m pretty, stop drooling.” 

You scoffed, shoving on the shoulder. The muscular bastard of course didn’t even move an inch. 

“I’m gonna go bring you some food.” He said, taking your hand in his metal one. “You’ve been unconscious for days, you need the energy.” He slid the ring on your ring finger so casually it took you a few moments to realise what he’d just done. 

Only when he got up to walk away did reality hit you. Hard. “Wait, what the fuck?” You held your hand up, “What does this mean?” 

Bucky gave you a shrug, “Get used to it.” 

“Bucky!” 

“What?” 

You blinked, mouth open, your body frozen in shock. “Did you just… are you for real? I thought the plan was to get the ring back so you could display it in your office and admire it like the deranged villain you try so hard to be.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Change of plans.” 

You lowered your eyes, tracing a finger over the big stone on the gothic looking ring. “You can’t marry a thief.” 

Bucky sat back down again, taking your chin between his fingers. “Why not? You stole something very precious the day you broke into my home, and this is your punishment now. A life sentence, if you will.” 

“What did I steal?” 

“My heart.” 

You groaned at his cheesiness, leaning in and hiding your face into the crook of his neck. “You bastard.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I love you too.” 

You were quiet for a moment, breathing in his scent. It grounded you. But then you pulled away and asked, “What about Steve?” 

“I’ll deal with him.” Bucky answered, sounding grave and cold. “He hurt my princess,” He said, pulling you closer so much that you were almost on his lap, “I’m gonna kick his ass.” 

You giggled, “Well technically he hurt your princess because she broke into his house to steal. Honestly, he had every right to hurt your princess.” You argued. 

Bucky smirked, “So you agree? That you’re my princess?” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “Technically I’m your fiancé but I don’t really care about labels so yeah, I’ll be your princess or whatever.” 

He laughed, “Oh you don’t get to be nonchalant about this. I’ll throw a big party, invite the whole city if I want to. And you’re gonna be the centre of attention the whole night, parading around in a pretty dress of my choice, showing off your ring, and telling people how much you’re in love with me.” 

You groaned again. “You are insufferable.” 

“I love you too, princess.” He repeated, kissing your forehead.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #43 Part 1

Everything had been going well on their trip. Danny was going to tell his parents all about his past, and about being the half dead ghost king. Unfortunately, Danny’s life had a reputation for how terribly unlucky he was. He and his family were caught off guard, and even Danny couldn’t prevent himself from fainting when hit in the back of the head with what he assumed must have been something metal.

When he came too he could tell his arms were bound together behind his back and there were two others adjacent to him. He didn’t shift or open his eyes to avoid letting their abductors know he was awake. He could hear some soft tapping that almost sounded like chalk. There were hushed whispers but they were too muffled to hear. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed but he was starting to get a little bored. He knew his family was probably with him, they were right next to him and would have noticed him getting kidnapped. 

Eventually he heard a rustling sound next to him, they must be waking up too, “Maddie? Danny?” Their soft voice spoke.

There wasn’t a reply but that meant Danny was correct, well at least about his dad. He wasn’t 100% sure if mom and Jazz were here but he needed to figure out a way to get out of this without letting their kidnappers know he had powers. 

Another shift this time in the opposite direction. “Mom? Danny?” 

“Jazzie-Pants!! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you did they?” His words were a bit panicked and almost made Danny reveal his awareness.

“No. I’m fine, Dad? Where are we?” Jazz sounded more annoyed than worried.

A voice interrupted them before their dad could respond, “Quiet hunter scum,” the bags were removed from all of their heads and then ice water was thrown out of a bucket at them. Everyone else groaned as they were shocked awake by how cold it was.

Danny figured there was no use pretending to sleep now so he opened his eyes. They had been captured by cultists and were tied next to each other with a large circle drawn out in chalk. The circle, from some of the runes Danny could make out, looked like a summoning one. Upon further examination they looked more closely to the ones that would summon him, too bad it won’t work since he’s already here… They don’t know that though, and he could use this opportunity to mess with them.

One of the cultists, probably the leader, stepped forward and started speaking toward his followers and started a really long winded speech but a couple things caught Danny’s attention. One they were sacrificing him and his family because his parents hunted ghosts so the Ghost King would of course seek revenge. Two there were five of them there, that meant an extra person was tied up as a sacrifice as well. Who that was Danny didn’t know but he had to save them, he’d get them all out of here.

“That’s all quite fascinating but what does this have to do with me?” A familiar voice said. Danny knew exactly who the voice belonged too and it wasn’t his Mom, Dad, or sister. The fifth person happened to be his twin brother whom he hadn’t spoken to since before he faked his death.

Damian, from the sound of his voice, was behind Danny probably on the other side of his Dad. Danny hadn’t said anything yet so Damian was unaware Danny was there. The dark cavern like room didn’t allow a lot of room for light but there were quite a few candles and torches illuminating the space.

Before anyone could say anything else a loud crash was heard, Danny couldn’t see as the noise was behind him and the room descended into chaos.

Master Post:

[moondirti]

Who from the 141 speaks the best arabic do you think? From one arab girl to another, it’d be so hot if any of them were fluent 🫠

if my memory serves me correctly, we get a bit in the first campaign from price. to me it seems to be a basic knowledge. a few sentences he picked up on the field and memorised to make his job easier. evac orders, cardinal directions, how to ask for water, food, medicine. that kind of stuff. pure utility, though that’s his approach to most things.

i like to believe (call it bias or whatever) that gaz is fluent. this ties in to my headcanon that he’s the only member who attended and graduated uni, but he strikes me as someone intensely curious about everything. introducing him to something, be it language or cuisine or a skill he hasn’t mastered yet, is like knocking down the floodgates. it’s his time in urzikstan that does it. hearing the way it rolls off farah’s tongue (let’s ignore doumit’s canon pronunciations), or how she’s able to translate a long, winding, clumsy sentence to something short. beautiful.

there’s a word for everything, he finds. one for the state of gossiping with your friends over morning coffee. one to congratulate someone on their cleanliness after a haircut. one that means may you be the one to bury me, for it would be unbearable to live without you – that is used so casually in conversation, kyle is stunned when he learns the true meaning. it doesn’t hold the same expectation, the same trepidation, as it does in english, though it retains its weight all the same. he wonders what makes a language so special that its intrinsic devotion has found a common place within its cultures, and he sets to find out.

this turns into a thing. more rambling under the cut.

the largest learning curve is the alphabet. the sounds that don’t exist in his mother tongue. he’s especially hard on himself when it comes to enunciating them properly – half the beauty is in the way words flow together, and there would really be no point in indulging in arabic’s more lyrical aspects if he’s off pitch. he gets the hang of it eventually, of course, one too many vocal exercises later.

the weathered dictionary he picks up at a second hand store teaches him that most words have three letter roots, and that it isn’t so easy as to look them up alphabetically. picking up new vocab becomes infinitesimally harder, then. for twelve million choices, the distinction between some words comes down to diacritical marks. necklace, decade, contract, held, complicated, and knots are all spelt the same way, yet pronounced ever so slightly different — a fact he learns the hard way when he tells the cashier at the kibbeh place he frequents that he likes her decade.

reading. reading is what helps him get over that.

(he probably should touch on basic grammar first — nouns, verbs, particles, sentence structure, that sort of stuff — but figures he'll pick it up as he goes, basing his methodology on an inability to remember any rules for the english language. he grew up hearing it, reading it, watching it, surrounded by it, so it just is what it is now. why work so hard on task books made for kids, then, when he can just get right into the meat of the matter? acclimatise through force.)

he picks up stacks of books upon books upon poetry. naguib mahfouz. ghada al-samman. al-mutanabbi. mahmoud darwish. it takes him a month to get through the first, and another month for the second. which only means he really takes his time with them, roving over the same line until it's etched into his memory. the cadence, the beats for pause, the way a word he has to punch from his throat is followed by one that lilts, all sing-songy. eventually, he starts to (inadvertently) mimic that sweeping manner of speech, employing it in contexts which certainly don't call for it.

the cashier — the very same one whose age he mistakenly stressed, despite the fact that she couldn't have been much younger than him — is far too nice to say anything about it, smiling instead, endeared, while he waxes poetic about meze.

farah calls him out immediately the next time they catch up.

apparently, no one speaks in classical arabic anymore, go figure. it would be like talking in shakespearean english, she tells him. he imagines it, iambic pentameter and all, and cringes, newly determined. his own research unearths (though it wasn't really a secret) the fact that there are roughly 25 different dialects belonging to different regions — and while some are pretty similar (syrian and lebanese), others could classify as a whole other language on their own (moroccan).

reddit tells him what he already knows; that the best way to learn is through exposure. there are no dictionaries for patois. and farah, despite her total enthusiasm at his interest, is far too busy of a woman to help.

(really, it just gives him an excuse to finally do what he's been meaning to.)

the next time he's craving kibbeh, he's fixed on not making a fool of himself when he asks the cashier out to lunch.

[lidiasloca]

more than this (azriel x reader)

summary: after Azriel and reader had a summer together, the last thing Az was expecting was to face her again. (angst).

previous chapter

chapter eight

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AZRIEL'S POV

“Do you miss her?”

The question didn’t shock me. It was Cassian who asked, so of course it didn’t surprise me. His eyes silently asked me every time I let him into my apartment—though that wasn’t often.

“For fuck’s sake. You won’t even say a word? A single word?” he asked, exasperated. If my brother was losing his temper, it was only because he’d been trying all day. Well, technically for two whole months. And still, he hadn’t given up. Maybe now he would.

“I’m not in the mood to talk,” you mumbled, just to give him something.

“Yeah, no shit. You haven’t been in the mood to talk for a long time, Az,” he replied, but at least he sounded calmer now. “You can’t go on like this. Your life is waiting for you outside this apartment.” He sighed deeply before adding what I knew would be a low blow. “A life without her.”

I didn’t know what was so different in the air today, but I felt like trying to talk about it. For once, I knew deep down I had to. “I don’t want a life without her.”

“You had a life without her before. And you were just fine.”

Nothing had been fine without her.

I didn’t feel like arguing, so my heart gave my mouth a confession to share. “I want her, but I can’t have her—and that’s my fault.”

“Sometimes what we want isn’t what’s good for us. Maybe she wasn’t the one for you…”

She was not the one for me.

She was not the one for me.

Over the loud thoughts in my mind, I could hear Cassian continue. “Sometimes giving up is the right thing, Az. And you have to—”

“Shut up.”

He met my eyes instantly, alarm and quiet anger in them. “You never let me help you, brother,” he said, defeated.

“You cannot help.”

“You’re not helpless, you—”

“YOU CANNOT HELP ME!” I stood, anger surging through my veins. “You can’t! I HAVE FUCKING LOST MY MATE. MY MATE! AND YOU THINK YOU CAN HELP WITH THAT?!”

And that was that.

Cassian was shocked. “Your mate?” he muttered.

My lack of an answer was enough for him to stand, walk toward me, and say plainly, “I can help you—I will help you because you’re my brother, Az. Because I love you, and I know you deserve your mate. No matter your mistakes, I know you like no one else, and you are a good person. You’re not defined by one mistake, you hear me?”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “How could you help me?”

He looked down thoughtfully. “I have an idea. It’s not great, but it’s an idea.”

Hope sparked inside my heart. “What?” I asked eagerly. But Cassian suddenly turned and started walking toward the door. “Cassian,” I called, but he kept going. “Cassian?!”

Once at the door, he turned. “You won’t like the idea.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“Exactly. I can’t let you stop me from trying.”

“Cassian,” I threatened, watching his hand on the door handle. “Alright,” I gave in, knowing he’d do it anyway. At least I’d rather know. “I’ll let you do it. But tell me. Please.”

“I’m going to talk to Elain.”

…

And now she was here. Y/N was in front of me, her eyes surprised as if she hadn’t been the one coming to my apartment and knocking on my door. As if she wasn’t the one with the upper hand here, the only one who with one word could ruin my life.

Or save it.

One word is all it takes.

“Can we go to the lake?” is what she says instead, and it makes me think maybe it doesn’t depend on her words, but simply the sound of her voice.

Yes, the melodic sound of her enchanting voice could save me. So the answer comes easily out of my lips. “Yes.”

The familiar path we take to the lake is uncomfortably memorized in my heart, and I guess in hers as well. Every step I take, I’ve taken many times before with her, but it feels like that was in another lifetime.

No one has dared a word yet, and I fear I am not strong enough to start. I know I should, I know there are many unsaid speeches I owe her. But my lips won’t move to my command.

“Elain came,” she states plainly.

It’s plain and short, but I am still grateful the silence is finally broken. I am not so grateful when I realize I have to reply to that. Talking about Elain is not ideal.

“Cassian might have had something to do with that.”

She turns her face to me, giving me a pointed look that I know means no harm. She’s simply analyzing me so she doesn’t have to ask. “No. She came for herself. And for you.”

I regard her back, still walking. “Did she?” I inquire incredulously. I am sure Cassian sparked Elain’s visit, but of course, she would have had a more relevant reason to talk to her.

But doing it partly for me?

The last time I spoke with Elain had been a very rough night. I remember what I said, what Y/N said. The day had been cruel enough, and I ran to the one I had put through an even crueler time. Elain.

“Yes,” she replies, nodding. “She told me about the last time you saw her. That night…” Her voice turns weak at the last bit. I feel weak at the memories her words bring. The wound feels fresh now that she’s near again.

Silence unfolds upon us, helping both of us swim deep into the ocean of pieces of our shared lives.

As if on cue, the lake finally appears in front of us. It is still the same as the last time we swam in it together, as if it were a space created just for us, only to be undisturbed when we weren't there.

I silently ask her with my eyes if she wishes to get closer to it. She gives me an approving nod, so I walk toward it and sit on a large rock by the lake. She sits next to me.

“I’m so sorry.” I turn to her quickly, my eyebrows rising in utter shock.

“What? You don’t have to be sorry about anything,” I mutter too quickly to come out clearly.

“Of course I do. Yes, you do more. But I will always be sorry about what I said to you that night.” She sighs, shifting her gaze away from my eyes. “I wish you could forgive me.”

I open my mouth, even more surprised. “Y/N, of course, I forgive you. Don’t…” I try, but her words, even if I don’t hold them against her, still feel hard to forget. Hard not to let them kill me slowly. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I should. I must.” I wait until she looks at me again to go on. She needs to see I mean it. Every bit. “I’m so sorry. What I did to you and Elain was the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I regret it every day. I’m so sorry I betrayed your trust.”

The air feels thick with unspoken emotions—betrayal, disappointment, maybe even love—all mingling in the quiet. At last, she says, “I forgive you, Azriel.”

My mind goes blank with raw confusion and shock, trying to grasp some coherence in her words. She forgives me. I don’t have to ask her why, for she sees the confusion on my face and continues.

“Because I love you.”

What.

“Because I love you still, Azriel. And because you are my mate. And because I know you truly are sorry.”

Hope sparks inside me, quick and strong. And when I let thoughts of the life we could have together take hold, it’s a fire that roars in my heart.

She loves me—maybe, after all, I still had a chance. Perhaps not everything was lost as I thought. Perhaps I had everything right in front of me.

“You love me…” I blurt out in question, because I still need confirmation.

“Yes,” she replies, and if I weren’t already reeling from this, she smiles sweetly. Her smile. Y/N’s smile. It had been so long since I’d seen it bloom on her beautiful face.

The last time had been in this very place. As if reading my thoughts, her eyes travel to the lake in front of us. Her smile deepens, and to my surprise, I smile as well.

There is a burden I’ve thrown away with her words, with the opportunity she’s given to what I thought I had lost.

Her eyes travel through the beauty of the place as she says, “This lake…”

“Yes,” I quietly mutter, because I know what she’s thinking.

She then turns to me, and it’s her eyes that remind me how much I love her. “Do you remember? This lake? Us?”

“I remember everything.”

-Characters by Sarah J. Maas

HEY! IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY AZRIEL MASTERLIST HERE <3

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[bvidzsoo]

I'll go animal to keep you next to me

⭔ Stalker!Wooyoung ⭔ 

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader

∞ Warning: stalking, mentions of murder and kidnaping ∞ Word count: 4.9k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, stalker!au, university!au, strangers to enemies!au ∞ Rating: nc-17 ∞ Summary: Not having enough money to pay your monthly rent and also your college bills, you start working at a nice coffee shop. One day, a mysterious man with a little girl in his arms comes inside and orders an Iced Americano. Why is that after that day you find white roses in front of your front door each day? Who is giving them to you? And what does this mystery person want from you?

∞ A/N: Hii, lovelies! Last update for the week as I'm going on a mini-trip tomorrow ^^ Wooyoung's part looked a lot different in my mind initially, but the drabble turned out like this, I hope it's good! I might just turn my initial idea into a oneshot or smth lol. Most probably Hongjoong's part will be next when I sit down to continue this mini-series, so keep an eye out for that. I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy!

⭔  Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥  Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥ 

            How we perceive others is a peculiar and particular thing. How others perceive us is another thing we do not have power over. Sometimes, people can tell when somebody isn’t a good person, and sometimes, somebody manages to hide their dark side so well you wouldn’t even know until their mask slips and their true nature starts showing through the cracks. A good-hearted person will always try to see the good in everyone, in everything around them despite their friends' warnings about said somebody. A kind person will try and ignore all the red flags they seem to be getting from said somebody in favor of writing it off as paranoia. Because a handsome man with a sharp jawline and a Roman nose, high-pitched laughter that sounds like a witch's laughter, and is good with children cannot be a crazed man, right? He cannot hide his ugly nature underneath this perfect mask that seldom cracks, seldom.

I had met him in a coffee shop while I was on my shift, desperate for this part-time job to keep the bills paid as my parents paid for my university. It was a fair arrangement, I had been on board with the idea, but after they had to lay me down at my previous well-paying job, I was rather desperate and accepted almost any job to be able to pay this month’s rent. The coffee shop was in a relatively safe part of the city and was usually frequented by college students, so I had never truly felt unsafe. The bus station was right in front of it, so I didn’t even have to walk through dodgy alleyways to get home, or anything. Yet, somehow, when a man who looked like he was sculpted by a Greek God walked inside the coffee shop, my heart dropped and my arms got covered in goosebumps. It wasn’t even from his unnatural beauty; it was due to this very quiet voice in the back of my mind warning me that he was dangerous. But that voice must’ve been wrong because there was no way in hell a little girl would be clinging to his side and calling him uncle if that were the case. So, against my better judgment, I had ignored the warning voice, and instead, smiled widely as they arrived at the counter, our coffee shop’s welcoming speech rolling off my tongue like second nature.

Despite silencing the already quiet voice, I couldn’t shut down my body’s natural reactions to the man and I found myself having to force the smile to stay on my face, averting my eyes onto the young girl to try and remain genuine.

“I’d like an Iced Americano, Y/N.” Hearing him say my name made me blanch for a second, eyebrows furrowing as I wondered from where he had known my name until I remembered my nametag.

“Will that be all, sir?” I had asked with a polite smile as the little girl whined and pointed at the chocolate chip cookies we had in the fridge and the man, who looked barely a few years older than me, hummed and looked at me with his sharp eyes. They softened whenever he looked at the little girl and then grew harsh anytime he looked at me. His gaze was calculating and scrutinizing almost, full of wonder for a second before he was smiling dashingly, taking me off guard. I had seen many handsome men in my life before, but there was something almost ethereal to him. His dark hair fell around his face in untended curls making it look natural yet attractive. Something about his eyes made his gaze look almost lazy yet filled with sharpness, the mole right underneath his eye giving his already unusual face a charming glow.

“Two chocolate chip cookies, Y/N.” And there he was, saying my name again with a certain edge to it, and I gulped as I nervously typed in the rest of his order, telling him the total after I checked whether he needed anything else. The little girl had started singing as I got to brew his Iced Americano, and I could feel the man’s watchful eyes follow my every move as he muttered something to the little girl occasionally as he took her into his arms. I tried to calm my nervously beating heart, not quite understanding why I was having such a visceral reaction to the man. The warning voice I managed to silence in my mind was certainly gone, yet I couldn’t find it in myself not to flinch slightly away when I handed his drink over and our fingers touched accidentally. The man’s eyebrows had raised as a dangerous smirk painted his lips as he took the red straw between his teeth, waiting for me to bag the two chocolate chip cookies. Handing them over too, the little girl took one of the bags happily and pressed a sweet kiss against the man’s cheek, making him chuckle as he threw a glance at the cute girl. But then, the other bag was placed back onto the counter and slid towards me.

“For you, pretty girl.” My heart had halted as his pressing gaze bore into mine, making my cheeks flush as I stumbled through my words to thank him for his unnecessary kindness, “My name’s Wooyoung.”

And then he was gone with the little girl, the straw of his drink still between his teeth and pretty lips as he put on his shades, tickling the little girl’s side, making her giggle as she had dirtied her mouth with the chocolate from her cookie. After that first encounter, I had forgotten about Wooyoung rather quickly, with too many worries on my shoulders and too many new faces entering the coffee shop daily, making it hard to remember just one person, but perhaps it would’ve been smarter if I had remembered him. Wooyoung. White roses started showing up in front of my flat’s door every day after that warm day at the coffee shop, and I had no idea who they were from.

            The second time, based on my recollection, when I saw Wooyoung again—not that I could be sure of it—was on a random Friday night, months after having met him at the coffee shop, in an overcrowded club as I was celebrating my friend’s birthday with a large group of friends. Most of us have met at our university courses, some of us have known each other since highschool. I was relatively new to the group but they were nice and rather protective of me, I felt safe and appreciated with them. Not being a huge fan of clubbing and the sweaty crowd, I needed a few drinks in my system to make me loosen up, so, it was no surprise that I was tipsy not long after we arrived at the place. I couldn’t pre-game with them as I was on the afternoon shift at the coffee shop and had to lock up, but due to my low alcohol tolerance, it came as no problem catching up with their intoxicated states.

The music was loud and the flashing lights blinded me every few minutes, but I was enjoying myself. Arms high up in the air and hips swaying to the beat, I was surrounded by my friends who were screaming the lyrics to the songs that were played, and I finally felt free after ages. It was refreshing, relaxing, and most of all…I finally felt stress-free. I was enjoying myself, laughing and playing around as my friends and I played random dance challenges on the dance floor, roping in a few others as well as they seemed to be amused by our shenanigans. I felt eyes on me all night, a heavy and intense gaze, but I couldn’t pinpoint just one person. Perhaps it didn’t help that my vision was hazy from all of the alcohol I had consumed, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. We were in a club, after all, everyone was looking at everyone, surveying the crowd and the people, probably looking for someone to hook up with for the night.

When my throat had started feeling parched and my stomach a little unsure, I pulled aside one of my friends and told her I needed a drink. She was eager to accompany me to the bar and I was even more eager to down a whole bottle of water in under a few seconds. My friend chuckled and asked for another one, knowing that I would need it, and she was right, the second bottle of water was gone in no time too, but this time I did share it with her as well. I wasn’t as thirsty as seconds before. But we weren’t satiated just yet, so, my friend asked for two rounds of some sour shots that I didn’t care to memorize the name of and once we had downed them, I was positive I would be throwing up in the morning with a head-splitting headache on the horizon. But that was tomorrow me’s problem, tonight was about having fun.

Just as my friend and I had decided to head back to the dance floor, the tall bartender came over with a pink and orange-looking cocktail, motioning for me to lean closer as his voice wasn’t audible over the loud music and even louder crowd. Apparently, the drink was from someone sitting down at the bar, and the bartender had said the man wanted me to know that a pretty girl like me deserves a sweet drink. Finding no harm in that, I thanked the bartender and tried to find the man, but upon being unsuccessful, I allowed my friend to lead the way back to our friend group as we shared my drink, which was definitely too sweet. Despite being curious of who the mystery man was that bought the drink for me was, I never came across him. Feeling those piercing eyes on me continued throughout the night, but I never quite seemed to make eye contact with anyone who could’ve been the culprit. I suppose it was meant to stay as a mystery. It also didn’t help that in a confusing flash of moment when someone crashed into me from behind and I turned to look at them, I had thought it was Wooyoung, from the coffee shop. But before I could actually make out his face, he was gone.

Underneath the blinding lights, as I was guided by my intoxicated mind, sometime along the night, I had felt arms sneak around my waist and then a broad chest pressing up against my back. I didn’t find it in me to complain and shake the man off, instead, I turned in his embrace and danced the night away by his side, vision too hazy to see his face clearly. But he was tall and he had muscles that could certainly crush my skull if put in a headlock, not that I thought he was dangerous or had evil motives, it was simply an observation that entered my fuzzy mind. But despite us enjoying each other’s company and even finding common ground in surprising subjects, after the man had excused himself to the restroom, he never returned. I was confused for a while until I realized he had probably found himself another company, and I couldn’t blame him or feel bad about it. We were here to have fun and if he found someone more suitable, that was alright. It’s not like I had found my soulmate in him.

What I didn’t expect, however, was to find another white rose in front of my door two days after clubbing with an added gift box to it. It was peculiar, it made me feel uneasy, but I’ve been receiving these roses for four months now, however, the gift was unusual. I still couldn’t figure out from who the roses were from, and despite my friends advice of reporting it to the police, I kept it to myself for now. What were they going to do? Probably send me back home after they tell me they can’t do anything about it, unless I was actually harmed, or this mystery person shows their face. Another shocking development to my day was switching on the TV as I wiped my kitchen clean, gasping and feeling faint for a second as despite my hazy memories I could recognize the face of the missing person they had shown in the news. Apparently, his name was Kim Mingyu, and he had been missing for exactly two days. It’s been exactly two days since we’ve been clubbing, and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure he didn’t return to me because he found somebody else to mingle with. As I went to phone my friend in a confused and worried frenzy, I realized the consistent eyes I had felt on me at the club had disappeared just as Mingyu had gone to the restroom.

I was scared to open the gift box, and when I did, my eyes widened and I panicked, scared to even touch the necklace that was so obviously Kim Mingyu’s. A letter with few words on it had been slipped inside it, underneath the necklace, and it read, ‘Pretty thing he was, unfortunate that he had to go so early on’. Instead of phoning my friend, I phoned the police.

            A month had passed and Kim Mingyu was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t known him for long, but it pained me that police could find no leads on him. I was ruled out as a suspect after I called and informed them of the box put in front of my door and they came to speak to me. The investigation was still ongoing, and I was asked to be very cautious as apparently whoever hurt him was the one probably sending me the roses. Rightfully so, I have grown paranoid and scared for my safety, often times I would only leave my apartment if one of my friends could accompany me. I still couldn’t give up my job, so most of the time I just sucked it up and put aside my fear, knowing that I was the safest I could be at the coffee shop with all the cameras in and outside, as well, watching and surveying everything. The roses never stopped showing up, and if at first I found them beautiful and kept them, now they lay in a pile in the trashcan, thrown out every day before I left for my classes. The grounds of the university were safe too. The only time I actually felt scared for my safety was when the crowd wasn’t big, or when I heard footsteps outside my flat. It could’ve only been my neighbors, but I still couldn’t know for sure.

Tonight, however, I finally gave in to my friends' naggings and went out to a barbeque with them. They were worried about me and I could understand them. They rarely saw me now, unless they would come over for the night or walk with me to my destinations. It was hard, I was trying to return to normal and ignore this weird paranoid feeling that I was constantly being watched, even inside my apartment. My gut had twisted before I left my flat, the quiet voice in the back of my mind warning me to stay out of my flat tonight, to just sleep over at my friend’s house, but I couldn’t do that. Her boyfriend was coming over and I didn’t want to be a burden. I already felt bad for always needing someone to be by my side, I didn’t want to inconvenience her even more. I was a big girl and I could take care of myself, it was just that stupid voice trying to scare me and nothing else. I was safe, besides, if whoever was sending me roses hadn’t approached me after five months of possible stalking, then I was alright, they certainly wouldn’t approach me now.

It was past eleven in the evening when I finally made my way home, belly full and tummy hurting from continuous laughter, body and mind at ease from having been with my friends who knew how to up-lift my spirits. I felt fine, serene even, and perhaps the fact that there wasn’t a rose in front of my door today only added onto feeling less worry. Perhaps this somebody had gotten bored of me, finally realized there was nothing special about me, or even fun. I unlocked my door and walked inside my small hallway, dropping my bag onto the floor as I stepped out of my shoes and wore my slippers, hanging my coat onto the hanger. I grabbed a hair tie from the small bowl on the shelf and tied my hair in a low bun, excited to shower and change into my pajamas and perhaps read a bit before going to bed. I had the morning shift tomorrow and I didn’t want to go to bed too late tonight. But as I started shuffling towards my bathroom, I froze in my steps as I realized there was light humming coming from the kitchen and the aroma of multiple foods combined in the air.

My muscles grew tense as I felt around my jeans for my phone, feeling dread when I realized I had left it in my bag, which was on the floor in the small hallway. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I started tiptoeing back to the hallway, but jumped and almost screamed when a body in the darkness rounded the corner, leaning against the wall. The person was now blocking my way towards the hallway and I gulped as my heart started racing, eyes narrowing as I tried to see through the darkness and recognize the person. Perhaps it was one of my friends’, it must be them. I has to be them.

“You’re home later than I expected.” I shuddered as I exhaled, the voice unfamiliar as my heart now beat even faster. So it wasn’t any of my friends. This wasn’t good.

“I—I was out with my—friends.” My voice sounded unsure, and I tried not to tremble too much as the person hummed nodding. I still couldn’t see their face; the blinds were drawn in the living room and I realized it wasn’t me who left them like that.

“You threw my roses away.” The voice sounded disappointed, accusing. I gulped, feeling a chill run down my spine as I eyed the exit. I needed to do something, I couldn’t just stand here and wait for something horrible to happen to me.

“There, uh, there were too many of them.” I whispered, fumbling with my hands as the person just hummed again then sighed loudly.

“Did you have fun at the barbeque, pretty girl?” I gasped quietly as he asked that question, making me shake as I realized he hadn’t only been sending me flowers, he was probably watching my every step. Had this person been inside my flat before? Were there cameras inside? I felt like crying, but I quickly swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to keep my composure.

“It was alright.”

“I cooked us dinner.” I bit my lower lip and flinched as the man pushed off the wall, approaching me very slowly as if he waiting to see if I would run away or not. I did think of running away, but I had no idea whether he was armed or not, whether he’d try to kill me or not if I flee. Not that I was safer staying put, my last dying hope was in talking my way out of this.

“I’m starving.” I lied through my teeth as the man chuckled, a low rumble, and then finally stopped just a few steps in front of me. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked up in his eyes, searching his face to familiarize myself with his features in case I do make it to the police to report him, but I was taken aback when I realized he seemed somewhat familiar. A sharp jawline and a Roman nose, asymmetrical eyes and a sharp gaze, I had seen him before. Months ago, perhaps at the coffee shop. Perhaps he was the man with the little girl. I needed a second to remember his name as my eyes stopped on the mole underneath his eye.

“Wooyoung?” I whispered uncertainly, flinching away when he reached a hand out towards.

“I knew you’d remember me, pretty girl.” He whispered smirking, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he touched my hair despite me trying to cower away, “Look at you, you’re prettier than I remembered you were.”

I gulped and tried to take a deep breath as Wooyoung stepped closer, making me back away, but then he was gripping my arm painfully and I froze, heart beating out of my chest in fright.

“Don’t lie to me.” Suddenly his voice dropped octaves and I shuddered as his grip tightened, making me wince, “How can you be hungry when you’ve been to a barbeque?”

“I didn’t eat much; I didn’t have an appetite.” I was quick with my lie as I tried to smile at him, arms covered in goosebumps as he traced his fingers down my skin, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. The quiet voice in my mind was loud now and my gut was twisting painfully, making me wish I had listened to the warnings before it was too late. Could I escape this man? What should I do now?

“Is that so?” Wooyoung hummed, grabbing my hand in his as I nodded wordlessly, my body refusing to move when he pulled me after himself. His hand was cold, his fingers decorated by chunky rings, “Won’t you have dinner with me?”

“Ye-yes.” I stuttered and forced my legs to move after him, to follow him towards the kitchen just around the corner as I desperately glanced towards my small hallway, wishing that I had some telekinesis powers to make my phone come to me.

“And how was your day, pretty girl?” Wooyoung’s voice was warm and pleasant as he led me inside the kitchen, making my mouth fall open in shock at the sight. The table was set beautifully with candles in the middle and a huge bouquet of white roses in a vase that wasn’t mine. Wooyoung walked me to the chair that was furthest from the door and pulled it out for me, smiling cheekily as I gulped and remained standing. He said nothing as our eyes met again under the candlelight and I was losing the battle of trying to stay calm as my muscles started contracting, my heart beating too fast. I felt trapped in my own flat, threatened and unsafe with a man that broke in and had been stalking me for almost half a year now.

“It was—what do you want?!” I snapped, finally losing my cool as Wooyoung just chuckled, leaning his hip against the chair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done so a long time ago, pretty girl—”

“Stop calling me pretty girl!” My voice was shaky as I snapped, eyeing the table as I lunched for a knife before he could stop me. I held it in front of myself as I felt panic finally overtake my body and mind, making my hands shake uncontrollably and chest rise and fall rapidly.

“But you are a very pretty girl, Y/N.” Wooyoung pouted, looking down at the butter knife in my hand with an amused expression, “Since you seem scared, I’ll be honest with you. I want…you.”

I gulped as my eyebrows furrowed, growing more confused and scared by the minute. Wooyoung didn’t say anything else just stood up straight and stalked towards me with a confident stride, lips pulling into a menacing smirk again. I raised the knife as my hand shook, and lurched forward with zero intent of actually stabbing him, perhaps I hoped it would intimidate him. But before I could blink, he gripped my wrist harshly and twisted it until I dropped the knife with a pained cry, face scrunching up in pain as I was whirled around and immobilized by Wooyoung’s arms as he pulled me against his body, his warm lips pressing against my ear as his hot puffs of breath made me shiver. I was breathing loudly as Wooyoung hummed quietly, the hand that was still holding my wrist loosened slightly as his fingers started caressing my skin. It made my stomach churn as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wasn’t working too well.

“Let go of me.” I tried to demand, but it came out as a helpless whisper and I felt Wooyoung’s lips press against my temple, making me flinch as I tried to trash around, but despite his lanky form he was strong. Way too strong, and I realized I had no chance of escaping unless he allowed me to.

“But if I let go of you, you will run, Y/N, and I can’t have that happening.” Wooyoung muttered and then sighed as if this was inconvenient to him, “I don’t want to watch you from the shadows anymore, I’ve done that enough. It’s time we get to know each other like normal people—”

“There’s nothing normal about this situation right now, Wooyoung.” I cut him off with a snare, trying to yank myself free again, “You’ve been stalking me for months.”

“Indeed,” Wooyoung confirmed and I felt like throwing up, “but that was because I had some pretty bad business to take care of first. If people would’ve seen us together they would have targeted you, and I can’t have that happening.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked in a whisper and stumbled forward as Wooyoung suddenly released me as I tugged against his arms again. I ran into a chair and caught myself just seconds before falling over. I eyed the exit as Wooyoung cleared his throat behind me.

“I have many enemies, Y/N.” Wooyoung spoke up with a casualty to his voice, and I glanced back and watched as he popped a grape in his mouth, giving me a questioning look, “Can’t have you kidnapped and tortured.”

That was all I needed to hear as I bolted towards the front door and tried to grab my bag too in the process, but realized I didn’t have time if I wanted to free myself. But as I threw the door open, I was met with two huge men blocking the doorway. They were dressed in black suits and had sunglasses on despite being inside. I gasped as they didn’t even look at me and whirled around as Wooyoung came walking to the hallway with a tsk rolling off his tongue.

“You’re making this more dramatic than it’s supposed to be, pretty girl.” I tried to scurry away from him but he marched up in my face in no time and grabbed the back of my head as I tried to fight him off, but as his eyes hardened, I knew it would be best to just obey him and stop fighting, “I like you and if you don’t stop trying to run away I will take you away with me by force, Y/N. I’m giving you two choices. One, you shut up about this and don’t go to the police, you let me take you out and we’ll see how our relationship develops from there on. Two, I knock you out right now and take you back to my highly guarded and isolated mansion and you’ll never see your loved ones or anyone you knew before. Which one will you choose?”

I was shaking as I tried to gulp, but my throat was dry and my eyes shook as they filled with tears as I clawed at his arm holding my head, “First option, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Good girl.” Wooyoung grinned as he bit his lower lip, eyes taking in my face as he leaned close until our foreheads pressed together, “I’ve been waiting for this since the moment I saw you cross the road and walk up to the coffee shop, ready to start your shift, Y/N.”

My heart stopped as a tear rolled down my cheek, “You’re insane.”

“I’m just a man bewitched by you.” Wooyoung retorted with a cackle and I yanked myself away as he released me and gave me a scrutinizing stare, “You don’t have to eat dinner, I know you’re full, but I’ll be back in the morning to take you out for breakfast. Now get some rest.”

I scowled when his lips touched my cheek and Wooyoung just chuckled and walked around me towards the bodyguards who stepped aside and made way for their boss. I turned to watch him with a frown, mind torn between what I should do next. But the wink he sent me before he closed the door and I heard his footsteps fade into the background, I knew Wooyoung wasn’t to be messed with. He really would kidnap me if I didn’t do as he wished. Just who is he and will I ever get away from him? What had I done to earn his attention? I fell to the ground as the tears finally fell free, wrecking my body painfully as I sobbed.

If I ran away, would he find me?

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[steddieas-shegoes]

“Hey, Wayne said you refused to talk to the therapist.”

It was day 34 of visiting Eddie in the hospital, and there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. If Eddie would talk to the therapist, he could be released into Wayne’s care.

The therapist spent two hours with him, and apparently got nothing more than some sighs and eye rolls.

“I didn’t like him.”

“Well, we can get you another one.”

“I don’t like them either.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t even met them yet.”

“I just know I won’t,” Eddie said as he crossed his arms, hissing when he rubbed against the bandages still covering most of his torso.

“Do you want to stay in the hospital forever?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you just talk to the therapist? You don’t have to tell them everything, just how you’re feeling now.”

“I don’t want to.”

Steve was trying not to get frustrated. He promised Wayne he’d try to talk some sense into him patiently. It was proving to be harder than he thought it would be.

“What is it that you don’t want to tell them?”

“That maybe I did kill Chrissy! That maybe if she had just gone home or I told her no that she’d still be alive! Maybe Vecna would have gone to the next victim and I wouldn’t have to be here in pain!” Eddie was breathing heavily, his heart monitor beeping more rapidly the more he spoke.

Steve didn’t visibly react, though he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold Eddie, turn back time and pretend that it was possible that Chrissy wouldn’t have died, let Eddie live his life not knowing these horrors existed.

He wanted to be able to scrub the memory of carrying Eddie’s limp and bloody body from his mind so he could go back to his regular nightmares of him dying, not the man he-

“Sorry.”

Steve’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Eddie spoke his apology so softly into the room. It was a direct contrast to how he’d been before, and it was startling.

A thought occurred to Steve, one he hadn’t thought of in at least two years, but felt right now.

“You know, I used to be kind of friends with Chrissy. Not close, but we talked.”

Eddie stared at him curiously, probably wondering where this could be going.

“It was funny. It didn’t happen until I wasn’t popular anymore. I guess that just shows she was a great person.”

“Yeah. She was.”

“I remember I was sitting alone eating lunch. Jason and his crew weren’t there and she walked up to me and said ‘let’s be lonely together for today.’ And I guess that was our thing, being lonely together. It sounds stupid.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me.”

Steve looked up and saw Eddie’s wide, wet eyes staring back at him, silently begging him to continue his story. Maybe he needed this.

“It happened a few more times and then we ended up hanging out a few times before graduation. We actually,” Steve paused and bit his lip. This would give a lot away and may end up making things worse for Eddie, but he wanted to believe it would help. “We bonded over our crush on you.”

He let it sit in the air for a moment, eyes refusing to look back up at Eddie.

Until he felt a hand on his.

“You both had a crush on me? Me?!”

“Don’t tell Robin, but she was the first person I came out to. Accidentally. And it wasn’t really coming out so much as admitting I thought you were cute.”

“You thought I was cute?!”

“Well, yeah! Always playing with your hair and doodling during class. Helping the freshman find their classes. Giving those speeches. You were brave.”

“Steve. That’s not bravery.”

“It is when everyone is willing to hurt you because of who you are.”

“I barely ever actually got beat up. Words are just words.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

Eddie nodded, swallowed, then sighed.

“Yeah. I just didn’t want anyone to feel like me.”

“That’s why we had a crush on you!”

“Well, that’s nice that you bonded over that.”

Steve didn’t like the sudden change in his tone. Like he’d liked hearing the story, but now he realized it didn’t matter.

And maybe it didn’t.

Chrissy was still gone. Eddie still had to watch her die a terrible death.

They were both still traumatized.

But Steve still had a crush on Eddie that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he repressed it.

And maybe that part of the story was something that could change for the better.

“Robin told me I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, she tells all of us that often.”

“But this is about something specific.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I never got over my crush on you. And instead of saying something about it, I just thought I’d forget about it eventually.”

Eddie blinked at him.

“Chrissy once dared me to ask you out. She said when you graduate, I should do it. Just take the risk.

She was pretty sure you were into both anyways.”

“She was right.”

“Yeah, she usually was,” Steve nodded. “But the problem here is you haven’t technically graduated yet.”

“No I haven’t.”

“You could, though.”

“Maybe.”

“But you have to get out of here first.”

“I see what you’re doing, Harrington.”

“What’s that?” Steve smirked and reached out to move Eddie’s hair away from his face.

“Bribing me to graduate with promises of a date.”

“Is it working?”

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. So you’ll talk to the therapist tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice, I’m just hoping you choose you.” ——————————— When Eddie walked across the stage two months later to get his diploma, Steve was giving him a standing ovation.

He ignored his original plan of flipping off Principal Higgins, he didn’t want more eyes on him than he already had.

He ignored it because now he had a new plan. He was gonna walk off the stage, throw his cap in the air, and then kiss Steve Harrington.

Part 2: Prologue

[rubysunnday]

wanting was enough

requested by @omgbrcat: If you're willing to write for Nikolai, I'm ready to read.

a/n: they asked for fluffy... this is not fluffy like at all and for that i am sorry (i promise to write nik fluff to make up for it) ty ryn for your help

summary: Y/N has loved Nikolai since the day she met him. But now, as the blood begins to run, she has to come to terms with the fact that he'll never be hers.

The room was filled with people she knew, yet Y/N had never felt more alone or more broken.

Nikolai and Alina were engaged and Y/N found herself grieving for something she'd never had. It was an odd thing to feel a part of a group whilst also feeling a million miles away from everyone and everything.

She'd loved Nikolai since the day they'd met in the middle of Kerch, surrounded by people who wanted them dead. From there, friendship had been easy and when she'd sheepishly revealed her Grisha abilities to him - he'd enlisted Tamar and Tolya to teach her how to use them and control them.

Yet, despite the practice, her heartrender talents were still weak and, in Y/N's mind, pathetic. She understood that years of neglect and no practice would do that to someone, but it didn't help. Her confidence was non-existent and when she was surrounded by far more talented Grisha and a living Saint such as Alina, Y/N felt tiny.

Seeing Nikolai and Alina holding hands stung more than it should have. She was used to Nikolai being affectionate with people - affection was how he showed his love. But this was different. Y/N had hardly seen him since they'd gotten back to the palace and something had clearly changed between them.

Either that or it was all in Y/N's mind. She was spending a lot of time inside her head at the minute, doubting herself, doubting her abilities and her place in Nikolai's crew.

She could hear Nikolai's heartbeat from across the room - it's sound familiar and comforting to her in a way it shouldn't have been. Not anymore.

He wasn't hers and never could be hers.

She wasn't sure when friendship had turned to wanting and longing but it had. And she was trying her best to deal with it. To accept that he would never be hers.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Y/N turned and tried not to look startled at Nikolai's sudden appearance by her side. She hadn't even registered him walking over to her. Nikolai grinned crookedly at her and Y/N felt her heart swoop and glide like a bird in the breeze.

"Just wondering what your mother's definition of a big party is when this is a small one," Y/N replied, picking up a glass from a nearby tray and drinking its contents in one swoop.

Nikolai laughed, readjusting his weight from one foot to the other, his right shoulder brushing against Y/N's left. "She likes a party, what can I say. Anything under sixty people and it's intimate."

"I don't even know sixty people," Y/N replied. "I don't think I even know ten."

"It's never about the quantity of friends, it's about the quality," Nikolai replied. "A small, close friend group is better than a distant large one." He nudged her arm with his elbow. "I considered you one of my close friends."

Y/N forced herself to grin at him and tried to ignore how much the words stung at her heart. "Oh," she pointed over at Vasily as he stood up on the dais next to his father, "I think your brother is about to make a speech. You should probably go stand next to your mother and pretend to be interested."

Getting Nikolai to laugh was easy for Y/N, but even though she'd done it many times before, the sound still sent fire coursing through her veins. It wasn't the guarded laugh of a privateer. Or the forced laughter of a prince. It was just Nikolai's laugh.

"I'll be back," he warned, pointing a finger at her. "We need to discuss what you mean by pretending - I always find my brother fascinating."

"Of course you do." Y/N nodded. "I believe that, one hundred percent."

She watched as Nikolai disappeared into the crowd, appearing at his mother's side, ever the doting son. Y/N was impressed with herself that she'd managed to avoid bringing up the engagement. She hadn't had a chance to even mention it to Nikolai - it didn't seem appropriate. But she needed to know if it was genuine or just for show. She need to know for her own mind. How else would she ever be able to move on and accept she was stuck wanting for forever.

Vasily's speech started and Y/N zoned out entirely. He was a weasel of a human and represented everything wrong with Ravka in so many ways. He never had anything interesting or important to say.

It was only because she wasn't listening to Vasily that Y/N noticed the room gradually getting darker. The sun seemingly disappearing and then reappearing only to disappear once again.

She tilted her head back and, as she did so, two shapeless shadows smashed through the glass of the skylight, slamming into the ground and taking two of the first army guards out with them. One of the shadows grabbed Vasily and, in a blink of an eye, ripped him apart.

The screaming started instantly. Y/N's eyes focused on the shadows and she realised with cold horror that they were Kirigan's Nichevo'ya. At once, she began looking for Alina, who was safely on the other side of the room with Tamar and Adrik.

The Nichevo'ya shot towards her and Y/N dodged out the way, turning and running away - because what else could she do? They had no heartbeats and, even if they did, she wouldn't be able to take them down. She wasn't strong enough.

"Y/N!"

Nikolai snatched her hand and pulled her to his side as a table flew across the room, a body following in its path. Y/N gripped Nikolai's jacket for a moment before she let go and forced herself to take a step back, to create space between them.

"Down to the tunnels!" Nikolai yelled, raising his voice to be heard over the screaming. He began to move backwards, his hand still on Y/N's arm. "Regroup there!"

As Adrik and Nadia distracted the Nichevo'ya as best they could, the small party that had gathered behind Nikolai began to follow their now king and had down to the tunnels beneath the palace.

Y/N brought up the rear of the group, keeping one eye over her shoulder incase the Nichevo'ya decided to follow after them. But they seemed content to feast on those left behind in the ballroom.

She was so focused on making sure the Nichevo'ya weren't following, that Y/N didn't even notice cracks in the walls beginning to form and then splinter up and around.

Only when she saw the first piece of wall fall did she even realise what was happening. She turned around and there was no one behind her - they'd all made it through to the tunnels, including Nikolai, leaving her alone out in the corridor.

For a moment, she wondered if anyone would miss her if she disappeared.

Another piece of wall fell and, as it did, a Nichevo'ya began to appear from around a corner, it's shape constantly changing as the shadows withered and curled.

Y/N brought her hands together, searching for a heartbeat to control, but there was none. Of course there wasn't. They were made of nothing.

The cracks had reached the ceiling and more rubble fell down, smashing against the floor all around her. A particularly large piece fell away and Y/N threw herself back, barely avoiding its impact as she scrabbled across the tiled floor, trying to get to the tunnel entrance.

Her body wasn't cooperating, fear of the Nichevo'ya striking through her and rendering her almost useless. She tried not to look up at the skull like face forming in the shadows, but it was impossible to look away as it loomed over her. Almost as if she'd been hypnotised by them.

"Y/N!"

Hands came around her waist and they yanked her up and onto her feet. The roof was falling down around them now, large chunks of stone smashing into pieces on the tiles, the small bits flying back up into the air. Y/N felt something whizz past her cheek, leaving a stinging line behind.

Everything was a blur. As the rest of the ceiling came away, the Nichevo'ya launched forward, its tendrils snaking towards Y/N. They sliced down her arm and, as they made contact, Y/N brought her left hand to her right and felt something within the mass of black.

Focusing on that and that alone, Y/N forced it to slow down, to stop. Sensing danger, the tendrils came away, retreating back into the shadows. As they did, the ceiling gave way. Whoever had grabbed her from behind pushed her into the tunnels and then darkness obscured her vision.

"Y/N, look at me."

Hands rested on both her cheeks. A thumb stroked up and down her cheek bone. As her eyes began to adjust to the dark light of the tunnels, and the panic and fear began to fade, Nikolai came into view, his eyes full of concern.

"You good?" He asked softly, his eyes darting to her arm for a moment before coming back to her face.

"Sorry," Y/N said, blinking furiously. "I froze. I didn't mean to, I should've -"

"Hey, there's plenty of things we all should have done," Nikolai said gently, his thumb pressing lightly against her skin as he moved it up and down. "The Nichevo'ya do weird things to people. But we're safe, we made it into the tunnels."

Nikolai's words did little to reassure her. Instead, they made Y/N panic even more. She moved back from him and got to her feet, leaving Nikolai crouched in front of an empty space.

"You need to go see what's going on," Y/N said, putting more distance between them. "You are the king now."

A hundred different emotions filtered across Nikolai's face. His eyes seemed to grow slightly harder and his back straightened. As he went to speak, a guard appeared at his side and began to lead him away and down into the tunnels, leaving Y/N alone once more.

Y/N took a deep breath in and swore softly as she felt her arm burning and stinging for the first time. She looked down and saw a gash running from her shoulder down to her elbow.

Y/N winced as she tentatively pulled back the fabric from her arm, trying to see it better. The edges were bright red and blood was running down and to her wrist, dripping off her fingers.

She didn't feel fine but, for now, she pushed her pain and exhaustion aside, pushing herself off the wall she'd come to lean on.

The tunnels were organised chaos. Bodies lay against the walls, covered with blankets, flags, sacks - whatever people could find. Y/N walked, rather stumbled, down them, searching for her friends, hoping they were still alive and in one piece.

It wasn't long before she found them. Adrik was groaning in pain, swearing as quietly as he could as David examined his arm, his hands gently pulling away the shredded fabric from the gaping wounds on his arm and hand.

Y/N picked up her pace and rushed over to them, kneeling down beside David. "What happened?"

"Fucking Nichevo'ya," Adrik panted. He groaned, closing his eyes tightly as David pressed on the skin around the wound.

"Y/N," Nadia said, her arms around her brother, "can you do anything?"

"I'm not a healer," Y/N warned, her hand gently replacing David's as she took Adrik's arm.

"I don't care," Adrik said, groaning. "Just do something."

Y/N nodded. She took a deep breath in, trying to ignore the throbbing in her own arm. Her hands shook slightly.

David put a hand on her uninjured shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You can do it," he said quietly.

Y/N focused on Adrik's arm, on the skin and the blood thrumming through his veins and spilling out onto the floor. She could feel her energy seeping out through her body as she worked on Adrik's arm, trying to slow the bleeding and heal what she could.

As she did, she felt the pain in her arm gradually growing. It was hard to tell if the room was tilted or if she herself was tilting.

"Y/N," Tamar said softly. Y/N wasn't sure when she'd appeared. "Your arm."

"It's fine," Y/N said. She took a deep breath in as the pain got worse, her arm throbbing and burning.

Then, suddenly, it wasn't fine. Y/N felt the all to familiar feeling of nausea building up in her throat, her heart beat increased as her body ran out of energy.

Y/N swayed and she fell sideways and into David, the Durast doing his best to catch her.

Tamar was instantly at her side, her hand gripping Y/N's tightly. She pressed her fingers to her pulse point and Y/N felt the all too familiar feeling of someone else controlling her heartbeat.

"Adrik," Y/N muttered, slumping further back into David's chest, his arms wrapping around her.

"Nadia's got him," Tamar said, reaching her spare hand out to stroke Y/N's cheek. "You should've said something. Your arm is not fine."

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the tears burning. She didn't know if they were from the pain or because of how useless she felt. "I'm fine," Y/N said, trying to sit up.

Both David and Tamar pushed her back down - neither one having to use much force at all.

"Nikolai!"

Y/N felt panic rise within her as Tamar summoned the now king over to them. Tamar glanced down at her, her eyebrows raised slightly, and Y/N realised her heart had also sped up.

Fucking heartrenders.

"What's wrong?" Nikolai asked, walking over to them.

He didn't see Y/N until he moved around David and saw her lying against him, blood pooling on the floor from the wound on her arm, Tamar's hand still on her wrist.

"Y/N, saints," Nikolai said, instantly dropping to his knees beside her.

Y/N vaguely realised that he'd shed his blazer and rolled his shirt sleeves up. His hands hovered over her arm, shaking every so slightly.

"She's losing too much blood," Tamar said quietly, trying her best to not alarm Y/N, who was gradually getting paler.

Nikolai nodded. "There's a healer down the tunnel with the courtiers."

Tamar, sensing Nikolai's hesitation, let go of Y/N's hand and stood up. "I'll go get them. See if you can find a bed or somewhere to lay her down."

Y/N didn't realise Nikolai had moved closer to her and slipped his arms around her back and under her legs until he lifted her up into his arms, adjusting his shoulder so that her head came to rest against it.

"David, stay with Adrik and Nadia," Nikolai said, taking a step back. "Tamar will be back soon."

Y/N was in too much pain to even try to fight Nikolai as he carried her through the tunnels. Through her half closed eyes, she could see the stares coming their way - the judgement and disgust all aimed at her.

But she didn't care. Because Nikolai was holding her close and, for a moment, she felt as if everything was ok. Nikolai was hers and only hers.

Everything faded away, leaving her floating around, relishing each touch, each way Nikolai's bare arms brushed against her.

"Y/N!"

She jumped slightly, her eyes slowly opening, taking their time to focus. Nikolai was knelt beside her, his hands cradling hers. Y/N realised that he was no longer carrying her and that she was lying down in a quieter part of the tunnels.

As her eyes focused, she noticed that Nikolai's eyes were red, his skin starting to go blotchy. Y/N moved her head slightly and saw Tamar kneeling behind her, one hand on her chest, the other on Nikolai's arm.

"Your heart stopped," Nikolai said quietly, when he noticed her confused gaze. "You went still and I..." Nikolai's voice cracked and he trailed off.

Tamar squeezed his arm as she stood up, leaving the two alone. The healer, who Y/N had only just noticed, also gave them some privacy, moving on to his next patient. Y/N glanced down at her arm and saw that it had stopped bleeding, the edges of the wound closer than they had been.

"I'm sorry," Y/N whispered, not sure what to say to Nikolai.

Nikolai raised his head, his eyes shining with tears. "Whatever for?"

Y/N didn't know. "I -"

"This is not your fault," Nikolai said, somehow moving closer. "None of this is."

One hand let go of hers, moving up to the side of her head. He began to brush back her hair with the pad of his thumb, the movement repetitive and calming enough it almost sent Y/N to sleep.

"Is Adrik ok?" Y/N asked, the memory of his ruined arm coming back at her with force.

Nikolai hesitated for a second. "He lost the arm," he said gently. "But he's alive, because of you."

"I could've done more," Y/N protested, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. "If I'd been stronger or better -"

"The outcome would not have changed," Nikolai insisted, his thumb wiping away her tears. "Even the healer couldn't do anything more. What you did do, saved his life, Y/N."

Y/N nodded once, more tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Is this not improper?" She asked as Nikolai reached over to her other cheek, wiping the tears away again.

"What?" He asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"You're engaged," she said, her voice breaking on the last word as a sob broke through.

It took a second but understanding dawned on Nikolai's face and he let out a heavy breath, tinged with sadness.

"Oh, Y/N," he whispered. "You could've -"

"I couldn't, Nik," she said hoarsely. "I had to presume that it was just me - you had your eyes set on every other woman about and I -"

"No, stop that right now," Nikolai said, leaning close. "I... I have loved you since the moment I met you. I just assumed you loved Sturmhond, not Nikolai."

"I love you," Y/N said, her voice strong. "I love whoever you chose to be. Whether it's prince or pirate -"

"Privateer."

" - king or pauper," Y/N finished, her voice quiet as whatever energy had come disappeared. "I love whoever you chose to be. I just love you, Nikolai."

Nikolai nodded, tears running down his cheeks. He leant forward, resting his head against Y/N's chest and her fingers began to running through his hair and down to the nape of his neck.

She knew he was listening to her heart beating. She was doing exactly the same. The sound familiar and comforting for all the right reasons.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Bait and Switch. || Scammer!Reader x Victim!Ghost

Rating: M Words: 2.6K~ Pairing: scammer!Reader x victim(but not really)!Ghost CW: phone scams/conning (reader never actually cons him), financial issues?, threats (Simon threatens to find reader), degradation?. other tags: crack, OOC Simon., you/your pronouns (gn!reader but uses a female fake name), obviously fake names (pun/funny), lying, joking, the weirdest meet cute? a/n: this started out as a joke/crack and turned serious/dark at the end? idk how i did this.

Simon Riley would say that being legally dead is the best thing to have happened to him and that's because it allowed him to escape a bunch of responsibilities that regular men have to uphold.

He gets paid covertly, in full, and does not have to pay taxes on his income.

He rented a flat from a sweet ol' lady, who didn't run a background check or ask for a copy of his birth certificate (terrible choice on her part), and he pays her by dropping an envelope of cash in her mailbox on the 1st of every of the month.

He not only is old enough to drink but also sounds and looks old enough as well, which means he doesn't need I.D. to buy alcohol (not that any shops or bars really care enough to check).

He doesn't have a credit card. Or a debit card for that matter. Hell, he doesn't even have a bank account, so he doesn't have to pay maintenance fees.

He doesn't have a smartphone. And up until recently he only had a pager. In fact, the only reason he doesn't have a pager anymore is because it got shot in the crossfire during a mission... so Price forced him to get a jitterbug.

In short... Simon Riley can escape a lot of things (death, taxes, Philip Graves...). But telemarketers and phone scammers are not one of those things.

That's how, on a boring Wednesday afternoon, his new phone ends up ringing, like it had been doing multiple times a week for the last four weeks.

Telemarketers.

He never got telemarketers on his pager.

He hated telemarketers.

But that didn't mean he blocked them-

"What?" He answered as soon as he picked up the phone.

An automated voice came over the call, one of those typical Siri-esque robot voices, delivering a prepared speech: "Congratulations! You've won a free cruise to the Bahamas! To claim your prize, press 1."

Oh, now, this was different. He didn't need to hear more to know it was a scam call. But that didn't mean he was going to hang up.

So Simon pressed key 1, which caused a beep to sound over the call.

"Thank you!" The automated voice continued. "We are now connecting you to a live operator to claim your prize!"

Barely a millisecond went by before you took over the call. "Good afternoon, this is Stella Gormoni with Blissful Blessings Inc.! Who am I speaking with?"

As stereotypical as it is, Simon had expected a different voice on the other end of the line... maybe from a scammer in a foreign country who'd speak heavily-accented English...

But instead, he got a sweet and professional sounding person... It almost made him second-guess the scam that was being pulled on him.

His mind moved quick at coming up with a fake name. Not just a fake one, but a pun one too. "Wanh'a, first name Aiden." He replied, his gruff voice reverberating on the call.

"And how do you spell that?" You asked him politely, and, through your headset, he could hear your keyboard keys clacking in the background.

"That's A-I-D-E-N." He replied as he entered his kitchen, spelling his first, as if that was somehow what was causing you difficulty.

"Uh-huh!" You acknowledged in a peppy tone. "And... your surname?" You asked him.

"W-A-N-H-'-A." He continued spelling as he crossed the small kitchen, hearing your fingers tapping away at your keyboard in his ear.

For a moment, you didn't talk, as if stunned into silence. Had you just picked up on the fact he was trolling you by giving you a name that, phonetically, sounded like 'I Don't Wanna'? Probably. But you hadn't hung up yet.

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Wanh'a, you just won an all-inclusive, two-week long cruise to the Bahamas!" Your peppy tone made him bite his lip to contain a laugh. Well, at least you were dedicated in continuing the scam. "How are you feeling?"

"Very well, and yourself?" Simon asked casually as he leaned himself against the door of his refrigerator, leaning down to look inside and find a snack.

"I'm doing very well, thank you, sir." You replied in a cheerful tone. "So, let's process the information so we can get you your prize, shall we?" You announced in a polite tone.

"Go right on ahead, sweet'eart." He murmured as he grabbed a yogurt and closed the fridge with his hip, sitting at the table and peeling open the lid.

"Well, for us to start, I'm going to need your-"

"Actually, I have a question, before we start." Simon interrupted your speech, cutting off your silver-tongued lies.

You went silent for just a moment before you replied with a sweet little: "Of course, what can I help you with, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"I want to know how exactly I signed up to receive this prize." Simon replied before he placed a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth.

He was trying to accomplish two things by doing this: 1) throw you off your game and make you stammer and stutter, and 2) see how long it took for you to get annoyed, and hang up on him.

"Well, that's what I was going to explain, you see-" You replied, a smile behind your voice, but his trained ears could pick up the slight frustration. It made Simon smile.

"Oh, then, I'm sorry for interrupting you, sweet'art, please go ahead." He replied and gestured with his spoon, as if giving you the stage, unnecessarily so, because you were not there to watch it.

"As I was saying... You were entered automatically into the draw by buying a cereal box of any Kellog's cereal at Tesco. I'm sure you saw a 'Win a free cruise!' sticker on yours?" You asked in a professional and sickly-sweet tone.

He could see right through your scam, he had already done that. You name a famous brand, one people trust, to trick naive or impressionable ones into believing you...

Normal people would tell you they no longer have the cereal box, many of them naive enough to believe your scam despite the fact they hadn't even bought one of those boxes in the first place...

Next, you'd ask for the card used to make the purchase, and some people were dumb enough to read their number aloud to you...

Oh, how he hated scammers. Even more than telemarketers.

"I do remember seeing something like that..." He murmured, his voice deepening, before he popped another spoonful of yogurt past his lips, loudly smacking them right against the receiver of his jitterbug.

"Well, all I need is for you to get the box and read me the code that's imprinted on the inside of the flap!" You announced.

"Well, you see, I would, sweet'art... But my sight isn't so good anymore..." Simon replied. "I'm getting up there in age, you know?" He continued eating his yogurt.

"I understand, sir." You replied. "I'm sorry to hear that. One of my cousins also started losing his vision pretty early." You announced.

Huh.

There was no hint of forced sympathy in your voice.

No, you were being genuine. That was a real story of your life you were telling him...

But you had picked up on the fact he was trolling you, right? So why were you-

"Good thing though, about this system of ours, is that you can just confirm your credit card details so we can double check them and get you that prize!" You had, your tone right back to the scamming silver-tongue you had held until now.

Secretly, Simon had to admit that he admired your commitment to the bit. He couldn't help but smile a bit, amused.

"Oh, of course. Let me just set you down while I get my card." Simon replied and got up, finishing his yogurt and tossing out the plastic container, popping the spoon into the sink, and, after setting down his phone, he walked out of the room.

Simon glanced down at his wrist watch, noting the time on it, then, approached his bedroom door, grabbing his over-the-door pull-up bars, and began doing a quick set, leaving you to 'wait' for him in the kitchen.

After a few sets, he waltzed back into the kitchen and grabbed his phone again. "You still there, da'lin'?" He beckoned in a gruff tone.

You sighed, your politeness sounding slightly more forced. He had kept you waiting for over ten minutes after all. "Yes, sir, I am. Did you get your card, Mr. Wanh'a?"

"Oh, please, enough of this 'sir' thing, Mr. Wanh'a was my mother." He replied, then went silent for just a beat, almost like he could hear your frustration sizzling on he other end.

He was being more and more obvious with his trolling... And it pleased him immensely to imagine a parasite like you seething on the other end of the line, reaching your wits' end.

"You can just call me 'Ai', it's what my friends call me." Simon continued, a smirk forming on his lips. "And we're friends now, right? You're giving me a cruise and everythin'." He added, his tone just as charismatic and peppy as his had been.

"I guess we are!" You replied, returning the overly cheery tone. "So, 'Ai Wanh'a', then?" You asked, but he could hear the mix of frustration and amusement behind your voice.

"Yeah? What d'you want, babygirl?" Simon asked, unable to resist making a more impish remark. And, unfortunately, it had the desired result. It genuinely caused your brain to blue-screen for a moment.

Sure, you'd experienced plenty of people getting angry at you when you attempt to scam them, or even trolling you the same way this bloke was doing but...

It was definitely a first, to have someone flirt with you, even if it was still part of his trolling attempt.

"Your... credit card details?" You ended up adding, your voice still showing the surprise and light meekness that came from him catching you off-guard.

"Oh, of course. Are you ready? It's a very complex number." He replied.

"Ready when you are." You added as you steeled yourself for another smartass response or run around from him.

"Here it is: 1234-5678-9987-6543." He replied, reciting the numbers 1-9 in order and then backward. "And the three digits on the back are: 210."

Oh, he was so fucking annoying! He didn't get to troll you, even if it was pretty amusing of him to do so, then flirt with you, then go back to trolling.

"Sir, if you're not interested in the cruise, just say so. There's no need for this mockery." You replied, your tone serious and professional though you were definitely seething on the inside.

Simon could tell. And he reveled in it. "Oh, but I am interested!" He replied with a smirk behind his voice. "In fact, I want to know more. Will my cabin in the cruise have an ocean view?"

Simon heard you inhale aggressively on the other side of the line, steeling yourself not to hang up on him, or down right berating him on the phone. "Yes, Ai, of course!" He heard your fake cheeriness through your clenched teeth. "It'll be a luxury cabin, actually. Isn't that great?"

"No, it's not that great, actually. I get very seasick, you see?" Simon murmured. "Not to mention, ever since my pet goldfish died, I've just never been able to look at the ocean the same..." He added in a forced pitiful tone.

You went quiet again on the other side and Simon knew he had finally worn you out. He waited to hear the clicking sound of the call falling, but, instead, he just heard you let out a sigh.

"You're very frustrating." You murmured.

"Oh, my, is this how you speak to all your prize winners?" Simon gasped dramatically.

"Shut up... You didn't have to be a smartass, you know?!" You scolded him, as if you had any ground to stand on.

"No, I fear I did, sweet'art." Simon replied as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. "You called me, interrupted my day, and wasted my time with a scam, of all things. I have every right to be a smartass and have some fun with it." He added, a smug tone obvious in the dulcets of his deep voice.

"Okay? You could've just hung up on me?" You were truly grasping at straws to justify your behaviour. It was comical.

Simon laughed dryly. "And waste an opportunity to annoy a parasitic leech like you?" He quipped.

That stunned you into silence for a moment and you couldn't help but pout a bit.

"Not to mention, what you're doing is illegal, you know that righ'? And I'm military, I could get you arrested for this." He added.

"For that, you'd need to know where I am." You retorted, maybe a bit bratilly. "Besides, I knew you were a soldier."

"And how did you know that?"

"You used the NATO phonetic alphabet while spelling 'your' name'." You replied directly. "Nobody spells 'Aiden' as 'Alpha-India-Delta-Echo-November'."

"So you knew I was military and you still went ahead with your little scam attempt? You're not that bright, are you?" He defied you, which earned him a scoff from your end.

"No, I already knew you were trolling me."

"Oh, so you just wanted to waste my time?"

"That's exactly it, Aiden."

"Sounds to me like you're just looking for trouble, da'lin'." He quipped, his voice having lowered to a gruffer tone.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. "Am not. I'm just enjoying myself. You're not the only one that can make jokes at people's expenses."

"No, you really are..." He tutted his tongue and shook his head. "Need I remind you you were trying to scam me, and other people?" He added in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I know what I was doing."

"Yeah? And are you proud of that? Proud of being a conniving little cunt who tries to take people's hard-earned money?" He taunted you.

You didn't reply. Of course you weren't proud. You still had a conscience! But you wouldn't tell him that. He wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you apologise.

"I see. You don't like what I'm saying, so you give me the silent treatment, is that it, sweet'art?" He teased. You could hear the smirk behind his words.

"I wonder if you'd still act like this if you had to face me and had to answer for yourself."

Closing your fists tight, you steel yourself again to gain some edge and reply to him. "I guess you're going to keep wondering then. Because it's not happening."

"You know, it's a shame your little computer spat out my phone number for you to call..." He trailed off.

"And why's that?"

"Because instead of anyone else, you got me... And that's just... really bad luck for you. Any other service member, you would've been fine..." He trailed off.

"What, are you some sort of General-Major-Chief thing, super high up the ladder?" You taunted.

Simon simply chuckled dryly on the other side of the line. "No. But I'm definitely the worst person you could've tried to play with."

"Oh, big scary man, what are you gonna do? Gonna come teach me a lesson?" You added, taunting him some more, clearly feeling comfortable behind your laptop, with your smartphone, sitting at home, comfortable and warm, with your pet at your feet. "Oh, I'm so scared!" You added, feigning fear in a dramatic tone.

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, sweet'art? Inviting me to come pay you a visit?" Simon asked you, his brow cocking, despite the fact you couldn't see it.

You don't know what it was about the way he spoke. The way he said that. The way his voice sounded.

It sent a shiver down your spine, a cold sweat, like he was, for the first time, not joking around anymore.

"No...?" You murmured in reply, feeling your shoulders tensing in an unpleasant way.

"Yeah... That's an invite I'm hearing..." He disregarded what you said and chuckled. "Maybe I'll come pay you a visit then, hey? How does that sound, little leech?"

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.  

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right. 

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist. 

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone. 

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging. 

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it. 

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude. 

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound. 

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls. 

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you. 

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting. 

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth. 

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice. 

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had. 

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe. 

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.” 

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good? 

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.” 

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you. 

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air. 

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.” 

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.” 

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue. 

“This might sound dumb—” 

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.” 

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.” 

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats. 

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low. 

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.” 

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?” 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.” 

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion. 

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance. 

You visit his office almost every night. 

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose. 

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar. 

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job. 

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk. 

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?” 

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—” 

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue. 

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—” 

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.” 

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves. 

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.” 

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.” 

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.” 

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you. 

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up. 

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.” 

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You snort, “Excuse me?” 

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?” 

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees. 

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.” 

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax. 

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.” 

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg. 

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .” 

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he? 

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them. 

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now. 

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?” 

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand. 

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either. 

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters. 

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice. 

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?” 

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.” 

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.” 

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.   

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.” 

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead. 

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.” 

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further. 

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes. 

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are. 

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.” 

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.” 

“Will you repeat your sins?” 

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.” 

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.” 

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right. 

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow. 

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you. 

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone. 

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically. 

“Thank you, Father.”