#you don't look at him and think that's a deeply sinister man?

[comraderoscoes]

.

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 19

starring: ghostface x ftm!male reader

reuqest: You want kinky? Musk kink, boot kink, choking kink, and of course knife play with Ghostface (whichever version) the ftm!reader fought back when GF tried to kill em, they all get sweaty and turned on so the fighting turned to fucking, Ghostface being Ghostface, he's all degrading, making the reader do stuff like grind on his boots, lick the blood off his knife and fuck themselves with the handle of it, all those good shit, what you think? Not too far?

warnings: smut, cursing, degradation, pet names, slut shaming (calling you slut and whore), knife play, blood, boot riding, choking, mentions of killing, face slapping, orgasm denial, fingering, kinda dub-con, nipple play, slight pet play

how did you go from trying to fight for your life against the infamous ghostface to having your hands tied up and rubbing your soaking cunt against his thick boats "good slut" he deeply spoke, you didn't know who he was you just knew he was a kinky mother fucker.

"please just let me go, i won't tell any-" trying to plea for your life wasn't a good plan to start with as the man suddenly slapped you across the face and brought his hand to your neck, tightening it till you were gasping for air.

"if i wanted to hear you complain i'd ask you, but i didn't so shut the fuck up" he spat out, it's like he had no remorse for your life, he only wanted you to whore yourself out for him, he brought the knife to your cheek and slightly pushed it into your cheek, blood dripping down your face slowly that ghostface then wipes onto the knife.

he forces your mouth open with a squeeze to your neck and you obey, he runs the blade across your tongue, making you taste the same blood you drip "you close" he asks, you look up at him with defeated eyes and nod slowly drawing a sinister smile from under his mask.

he flicks his boot up into your pussy suddenly making your cry out in pain to the thrill of him, watching you cowl in pain and fear as he rubbed his boot across your sensitive lower lips "wait please- ah i can't" you tried to stop him but you couldn't break out of the restraints he put on you.

"i don't care what you can or can't do, keep that cunt dripping wet and open for me and i just might let you live" his voice was deep and assertive before his hands moved to bring you onto his lap, his hands roaming all over your body like you were a piece of art, a piece of art he wanted to demoralize.

"such a girly boy huh, acting like such a player on the outside but just a bitch who likes being degraded" he brought the handle of his knife to your folds, rubbing the sensitive thing agonizingly slow until he slips it in, acting such as a rougher rigged version of a dildo, you moan out before trying to drop your head onto his shoulder but his hand wraps around your throat to stop you.

"mm mm i wanna see that slutty face" he keeps his grip tight and unrelenting on your neck as he thrusts the knife deeper and deeper into you, you legs were quaking from the multiple orgasms you've had to hold in for the past hour because he wouldn't let you cum.

he stopped moving the knife making you whine out in desperation but with a slap to the face you shut that up real quick "if you want it you can fuck yourself on it" he says, smirking ear to ear under the mask as you rut your hips onto the handle like the slut he knew you were.

"yeah keep goin' just like that" his hands travel to flick and squeeze you nipples making you flinch and whimper in ecstasy, your orgasm was right there to coming out "please mr can i cum" you begged, you were embarrassed for being so desperate for the same man that just tried to kill you but the pleasure was to much.

"you promise to split this cunt open whenever i want from now on" he slips his glove off his hand and rubs his fingers across your clit "yes yes yes i promise" you were spewing out nonsense at this point, his fingers dipped into you "then go ahead cum for daddy like a good puppy" with these words you sprayed out a leg shaking orgasm all over his lap, soaking his pants and hand.

but he brings his soaked and to his mouth and sucks off the beautiful taste of you "i expect you to be waiting for me tomorrow night" he says pushing you off him and sneaking out your back door leaving you fucked out on the floor, but it's bothering that you actually were ass up waiting for him the next night.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft@wompwomp-1mh3re

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Aaa back to my origins, I missed writing for Chrollo, he is such an interesting character with some many layers to peel off. Got inspired to write this after doing a lesson for my course where me and my group were discussing about the meaning of life and, y'know, philosophical questions like this would get Chrollo debating for hours just so he could understand his darling opinions.

The room was dimly lit, the only light source was a flickering candle on a worn-out table - the room Chrollo rented this time left to be desired, quaint, old. Shadows danced along the cracked walls, creating an atmosphere that was both claustrophobic and eerie. And you were almost certain that you saw a roach running somewhere. You hated here.

Most of all, you hated him.

Chrollo's dark eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze sending even more chills down your spine. The air as always was thick with tension, one could not have a simple conversation with someone like him im peace.

He leaned forward, his shadows swallowing the light as he let his book rest on the table before turning to look at you again. You could almost see the gears turning on his head. Chrollo was calm and composed but there was something deeply unsettling about him — an aura of danger that lingered just beneath the surface.

Maybe it was his eyes. His very beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that were so similar to two black holes devouring and tainting anything they fell upon. He rested his chin on his hand, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips as he observed you, as he searched through your soul for something only he knew about.

"Entertain me, dear," Chrollo began, his voice smooth, almost gentle, yet laced with a sinister undertone, drumming his fingers against his leg, "What do you think is the meaning of life?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. You hesitated, knowing that your answer could shape the course of this conversation. He liked doing that; giving you something to think about to mold you into who he thinks you should be. Chrollo was unpredictable, his mind a labyrinth of thoughts and intentions that were impossible to decipher, yet you were learning how to read his mannerisms.

If he could read you like an open book, then you should learn and do the same to him. Two can play this game.

He was a man who could kill without remorse, who was used to steal and take without feeling nothing for the victims, even then here he was, asking you to ponder something as profound as the meaning of life. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to curse him; the man who took you from your old life.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I think the meaning of life is… To find s purpose. To create something that gives our existence meaning, whether it's love, art, or even just surviving the challenges we face. Don't you think?"

Chrollo's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Purpose, you say? Interesting." He leaned back, crossing his arms as he considered your words. "But what if your purpose is tied to destruction, to chaos because the world failed you? Can that be considered a valid purpose?"

The question sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what he was getting at. Chrollo's life was one of bloodshed and mayhem, his purpose seemingly intertwined with the suffering of others. The thought of justifying such a life made your stomach churn, but you couldn't afford to show weakness.

Sometimes, you mused, Chrollo must think of you like a butterfly strapped to his table while he dissected you.

Or that's how you felt.

"Purpose is subjective," You replied carefully, your voice steady despite the unease creeping through you. "Some might find meaning in creation, others in destruction. But I believe it ultimately comes down to how we perceive our actions and the impact they have on the world around us."

Chrollo's eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze becoming almost unbearable. "And what about you?" He asked, his voice soft but deadly serious. "What is your purpose? What meaning do you find in your life?"

The room seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder, more oppressive. You could feel the weight of Chrollo's expectations pressing down on you, as if he was daring you to give the wrong answer. Your mind raced, searching for the right words, the right response that would satisfy him.

"My purpose..." You began, letting your eyes fall to your folded hands. You didn't have one, not anymore at least, he stole that and any chance that you could find it. "My purpose is to live. To experience everything life has to offer, the good and the bad. To find my own path, whatever that may be."

My purpose is to survive you, to kill you. But not yet, dear. You concluded mentally, imitating his tone.

Chrollo studied you in silence, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was almost suffocating, the silence stretching out until it felt like it would never end. Then, slowly, he nodded, as if accepting your answer — though you couldn't tell if he was satisfied or merely amused.

"An admirable sentiment," He said finally, though his tone was laced with a special kind of amusement. "But remember, the path you choose may not always be under your control, life has a way of steering us in directions we never expected. I'm certain you're quite familiar with this."

Chrollo was a man who thrived on control, on manipulating the lives of others to suit his own ends. It annoyed you greatly that he liked to pour salt over the wound, teasing you about your current predicament.

This time you didn't look away. You held his gaze, refusing to let him see the fear that threatened to consume you. If you were going to survive him, you needed to be strong, to show him that you weren't just another victim.

"I suppose that's true," You replied, forcing a small smile. "But I also believe we have the power to shape our own future, to defy and erase certain aspects of it."

Chrollo's eyes gleamed with a dark amusement, and for a moment, you thought you saw something dangerous flicker in his expression. "Perhaps," He nodded, his voice low and almost mocking. "But remember, in the end, the meaning of life may be nothing more than what we make of it… Or what someone else makes it for us."

The conversation ended with those words, the tension in the room slowly dissipating but leaving behind an unsettling feeling that lingered in your chest. Chrollo rose from his seat, his movements graceful and deliberate. He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leave, his presence as haunting as ever.

"I'll buy us something to eat, behave yourself in the meantime."

As the door closed behind him, you were left alone with your thoughts, the candle's flame flickering weakly in the darkness. The meaning of life, what did it matter in a world where someone like Chrollo Lucilfer existed, where lives were manipulated and discarded without a second thought?

You couldn't shake the feeling that, in his own twisted way, Chrollo had found his meaning right here and now.

And if he did, if he found his meaning, you didn't want to know what it was.

[bruciemilf]

There's something deeply touching about Jason knowing he'll never be the kid Bruce saved again, but still maintaining some quirks, mannerisms, habits, pieces of young Jason Todd. They're small but cut deep.

Jason, when he allows himself to stay at the manor as a tiny indulgence, still acts like there's a barrier of lasers protecting Alfred's cookie jar, just so he and Dick would have an excuse to compare leaps.

He's still waiting for the lights to fall asleep so he could visit the library and get angry at Tim, or Bruce, or both, twins in audacity, for dig earing the pages they knew he'd read.

Of course Bruce finds him because he always looks for him, ridiculously fluffy pink robe that Selina bought him sagging on him.

He ignores the ball of sadness exploding in his stomach as he realizes Bruce is the one looking up at him now. It feels like a robbery, premeditated and calculated, " Jaylad, you have to nap."

" Bruce, I am a grown ass man, you cannot fucking tell me to NAP--"

There's an unspoken type of authority that surrounds gentle parents. Is Bruce a gentle parent? Well. He doesn’t need to hit Jason to get what he wants, that's for sure, " Excuse me?"

"...Just one more page?"

Bruce is also very weak for them, thought. "..Fine. don't tell Alfred."

When Dick proudly shows off his patrol record for the week, all preppy and shiny besides Bruce at the kitchen table, Jason hears it all the way from the couch.

Damian is a very sore loser when it comes to Mario Kart, he learned, " Todd! TODD! Come back here and taste DEFEAT! FIGHT ME LIKE A WOMAN, COWARD!"

" So yeah, 40 arrests are pretty good, I'd say,--"

" 40? That's adorable, I got 70. On a broken leg."

Bruce, suddenly spooked, turns to him, " You had your leg broken on patrol?!"

" A broken leg? Awwww. Killer Crock almost bit my face off, but hey. Nice of you to try."

"Waylon bit you?!"

" At least I'm not a COP!"

" YOU'RE STILL A COP?!"

" I'm working on it, okay?!"

But the biggest thing? Jason's so unflinchingly clingy on Bruce; When they first meet this 'Justice League' Batman joined, Jason requested to be there. A robin caricature, but he doesn't trust any of them.

Aside from Diana. Diana's always the exceptions.

" This is Superman, " Bruce may think that little blush goes unnoticed, but it certainly doesn't. " And this is my ba-- This is Red Hood. I trust him with my life."

Don't cry don't cry don't cry Jason chants in his head.

Superman extends his hand and a honey sunshine smile, " Red Hood?! Oh, I've heard so much about you. We have to work together sometime. Share stories about this one here."

He heard about the guy's X Ray vision. He hopes that if he does take a peek, he sees the sinister pull of grin on his lips, all teeth and no niceness, " I'm more of a hugger."

" Oh. Uh... Sure. I love hugs."

Jason makes sure to whisper, " He doesn't kill but I do," before pulling away. Then he turns to Bruce, going from standing at his full height to relaxing a little bit,

" I want bat burgers on the way."

Bruce hums and signals for him to lean down to get his head petted. Jason does. Even if he's embarassed.

[willalove75]

could you do one where reader goes to the village alone for some reason and almost gets assaulted (r#per I guess?) but fortunately Alcina saves her just on time, and they have some kind of comfort sex🙏

Thanks so much for the request!!

I definitely have requests that are much, much older than this one but I immediately had an idea when I saw this request so we're just going with it hahah

Warnings: s/a attempt (no actual s/a or detailed description) but please be careful reading anyways💕

Tags: Angst, fluff and smut

The cool summer evening air envelopes you as you make your way down the path towards the village. You can feel the tears evaporating off of your skin as they dry on your cheeks.

You know it isn't safe to be outside of the castle when it gets dark, but the fight you and Alcina had was the worst one you've had yet. She was angry after a meeting with Mother Miranda and the other Lords and all you wanted to do was help. She was too caught up in her rage and threw insult after insult at you, not realizing how deeply her words cut into your heart. She screamed at you to get out of her sight. You threatened back, saying if she kicked you out she'd never see you again, that you deserve to be treated better than that. Her only response was her chilling chuckle and the words "go ahead, see if I care. You're nothing but a pathetic maiden to me. You think you're special, but just know I can have a new you in a second if I so wished."

That was the last straw. Desperately holding back tears you ran from her study and out the door, only stopping to grab a shawl with the Dimitrescu sigil embroidered on it from the closet before leaving the castle. It was a gift from Alcina, she said that as long as you bore her crest, you would be safe.

Hurrying down the path, the sun sank lower and lower into the sky. You knew you needed to be inside before nightfall before the lycans began to roam the village.

The village finally came into view, you were so close, until a growl rumbled from the tree line. Not wanting to wait to find out what creature made the noise, you started to sprint towards the nearest building. The snarls and growls behind you let you know whatever it was was chasing you. After a brief look over your shoulder you saw a lycan sprinting and you kicked it into a higher gear and ran faster than ever.

As the buildings came closer you saw a few men outside, you recognized the building as the back of the village tavern.

"HELP!" You screamed, waving your arms at the men. "LYCAN! HELP ME!"

The men stopped what they were doing and turned towards you as you ran faster and faster, the lycan also gaining speed. One man pulled out a shotgun when you ran past him, practically falling into one of the other mans arms after tripping on a discarded bottle. The first man fired his shotgun at the lycan and you heard a "THUD" as it dropped to the ground.

Trying to catch your breath and calm your nerves you kept repeating over and over "thank you, thank you so much."

"Now, now, what's a little maiden like you doing all alone in those woods at night?" The man you fell into asks as he holds you by your arms.

"I-I was just on my way back to the village, I didn't realize how late it was." Eyeing your surroundings you notice that it's only you and the three men outside, no one else was in sight. "But thank you so much, I owe you all a pint at least, but I really should be getting inside."

You try to pull away but the mans grip tightens.

"Well hold on now darlin', what's the rush?"

"I really shouldn't be out this late."

"Well you have us here hero's to protect you."

"I really appreciate it, but please, let me buy you all a drink."

"I think we can come up with a better form of repayment, don't you think?" He says, looking to the other two men with a sinister smile.

Just then two more men stumble out of the back of the tavern.

"What the hell was that noise?!" One of them shouts.

"We found a damsel in distress." The man holding you says. "We were just discussing a form of repayment."

All five sets of eyes settle onto you and you knew then and there that you ran away from one monster, straight into the arms of another.

Fight or flight kicked in and you tried to pull away from the man but his grip tightened. Pulling your knee up, you make contact with his crotch and the man lets out a groan before his grip loosens. The moment he falters you make a run for it, only for one of the other men to grab you by your shawl and keep you from getting away.

The men drag you to the ground, kicking and screaming, fighting with all your might to get away. One of the men notices the Dimitrescu coat of arms on your shawl and he chuckles.

"Lookie here fellas, looks like we have one of the Lady's little maidens."

The look in their eyes grows darker as they start to move in on you.

-

An hour after your argument, Alcina was finally able to calm herself down. It was then that she realized the true weight of her words and the guilt set in. How could she have been so cruel to you? You were irreplaceable to her, she hoped deep down you knew that but she needed to make things right. Standing from her desk she began to search for you in the castle.

After checking your old room, the library, the kitchen, the atelier and your favorite sitting room she began to worry.

"Daughters! Come here now!" She calls.

The three girls appear in front of their mother moments later.

"Yes mother?" Bela asks.

"Have any of you seen y/n? I cannot find her anywhere."

The three girls look at each other and back at their mother, all shaking their heads "no."

"We haven't seen her mother." Daniela says.

"Why? Is she in trouble?" Cassandra says with a wicked smile.

"No, no she is not. I said some things I never should have and now I cannot find her." Worry starts to creep into Alcina's chest when she realizes she hasn't been able to hear your heartbeat, fearing that maybe she finally drove you away for good.

"Please excuse my interruption my Lady," one of the maids says after overhearing the conversation. "but you said you are looking for y/n?"

"Yes, have you seen her?" Alcina asks, turning towards the maid.

The maid turns her gaze to the floor and begins to tremble under the stare of her mistress.

"I-I-"

"If you know something maiden, speak. Now." Lady Dimitrescu says as her patience begins to thin.

"I saw her run out of the castle just over an hour ago my Lady."

"WHAT?!"

The maid cowers and trembles more.

"She looked upset, I tried to call after her but she didn't hear me. She ran through the doors and was gone before I could catch up to her."

Alcina looks at her daughters with fear in her eyes. The sun had set not long ago, she desperately hoped you made it to the village before nightfall but you would have been cutting it close.

"Girls,"

"On it mother!" Bela says.

"We'll find her!" Daniela says.

"And we'll kill anything that tries to harm her." Cassandra adds.

"You girls search from above, I will follow the path to the village. We must go quickly."

Without addressing the maid again the four Dimitrescu women run out of the castle towards the village.

-

One man manages to pin your arms to the ground as two others try to stop your kicking legs while you thrash in their grasp. The man you kneed in the balls leans over and backhands you hard across the face, stunning you for a moment.

Tears begin to run down your temples into your hairline as you cry out for help.

The man leaning over you glares down at your trembling form.

"You're a feisty one, eh? We're gonna have so much fun breaking you."

His breath reeks of alcohol and cheap tobacco, unlike the scent of Alcina's breath that usually smells like her sweet wine and expensive cigarettes. You close your eyes and wish by some miracle she could hear you, that she would come and save you. But you knew you were grasping at hopeless straws. She wanted nothing to do with you, even if she did there's no way she would be able to hear you in distress. You felt crazy but part of you wished for her so hard you thought you were making yourself remember the scent of her perfume as if she was right here. As if you were smelling it right this moment.

The mans hands grab at you and you squeeze your eyes shut, praying that they either kill you right away or grow bored of you quickly.

The man begins to taunt you and mid-sentence you hear him cry out in pain and feel something warm splatter across your face. Your eyes snap open to see black blades sticking out through the man's chest. He gets thrown to the side and in his place you see the familiar cream dress. As your eyes move up the figure you swear you're hallucinating. It's not until you see a pair of gold eyes, glowing with murderous rage staring back at you.

"Al-Alcina-" you choke out as more tears fall. This time they're tears of relief. Behind Alcina you see the man with the shotgun aim at her back. "Alcina! Look out!" You scream.

The gun goes off and her body lurches forward for a moment before she stands up straight once more. Looking down you see blood begin to pour from the exit wound of the bullet before it slows. Alcina turns to face the man and in one swipe she slices him to ribbons as his body parts fall to the ground. You notice the shotgun wound on her back heals, leaving nothing but drying blood and a hole in her dress as the only evidence of the wound.

The man holding your hands puts you in a chokehold and brings a knife to your neck. Alcina turns to see the man and her eyes flare dangerously. A buzzing noise gets louder and louder before you hear the man behind you scream in pain. He drops the knife as his arm gets pulled away violently. Turning towards the sound, you see Cassandra with her sickle through the mans arm, dragging him away.

"Don't you DARE put your FILTY MAN HANDS ON HER!" She screams in the mans face as he trembles.

More buzzing grows louder and Daniela and Bela appear behind the last two men that were holding your legs, they had backed away but were too stunned with fear to run. The girls put their sickles to the men's throats to keep them from running.

Alcina bends down and hesitantly reaches her hand out towards you. She doesn't want to startle you any more but she's also fearful that you won't accept her help after the things she said to you.

Meeting her eyes once more you let out a sob and push yourself off of the ground and into her arms. Alcina is taken back for a second before wrapping her arms tightly around you and holding you close. Relief washes over her, she found you, and you were safe. Her grip tightens after thinking about what could have happened if she showed up even a minute later. Quickly pushing that thought out of her head, she strokes your hair and kisses your temple; whispering in your ear over and over that you're safe and that she has you, that no one can hurt you now.

"Mother." Bela says. "What would you like us to do with the man-things?"

"Oh mother can we hunt them?! Pretty please?!" Daniela asks, batting her eyelashes at her mother.

Cassandra chuckles darkly at the thought. "Yes mother, can we please? We haven't had fresh man blood in so long."

"There is one for each of us!" Daniela adds.

Looking at her daughters, the Countess smiles.

"Of course, daughters. Lead them away from the village and you may set them free to hunt. Please be safe and return to the castle when you're finished."

Exchanging excited glances, Bela and Daniela stick their sickles into the legs of the men they were holding and the three girls begin to drag them away into the forest.

Turning her attention back to you, Alcina continues to stroke your hair and comfort you as your sobs begin to soften.

"Hush draga, hush. You're safe, you're safe now my darling. Nothing is going to hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

"You came."

"Of course I did." She says as she stands with you cradled in her arms and begins to make her way back to the castle.

"I thought they were going to- I thought they were going to kill me. I didn't- I didn't think you were going to come." You said through tears.

"I will always come to your aid, draga mea. Always."

"But, you said-"

"Shh, let us go home, you need rest. Then we will discuss what happened, alright my love?"

Nodding into her you cling tighter to her dress and she holds you closer to her chest in response. The gentle sway of her arms, the smell of her perfume, you begin to relax in her embrace as your adrenaline ceases and exhaustion takes over, lulling you into a deep sleep.

Looking down at you in her arms, fast asleep, Alcina berates herself for ever speaking such vile words to you. Aside from her daughters, you are her whole world. She curses herself for making you believe that she ever saw you as anything less.

Finally making it back to the castle, you begin to wake up as Alcina ascends the stairs to her chambers.

"Lets run you a bath, draga mea." She says. You nod in agreement.

After turning off the taps and pouring in your favorite soaps and oils, Alcina helps you undress and sits you in the tub. As she washes you, she examines the marks the men left on your body. Luckily there were nothing but a few small cuts and light bruising, but Alcina can't help but feel like each mark on your body was her fault.

Her eyes fill up with tears as she caresses the red mark on your face where the man struck you. Meeting her gaze, you're surprised to see the unshed tears that are building.

"I am so sorry my darling." She says quietly, just above a whisper. "I never should have said those horrible things to you. I didn't mean a single word I said. You mean everything to me."

"I do?"

"Yes. I could never replace you, ever. I was angry when I said those things. I know that doesn't excuse my behavior but I never meant for you to leave, I never meant to drive you away. I never-" she pauses as a few tears roll down her cheeks. "I never meant for you to get hurt. This is all my fault. I am so, so sorry."

"You hurt me."

"I know I did, draga. I hurt you so deeply and I regret every word I said to you. I will never forgive myself for what happened tonight because all of this, this is my fault."

She wipes her tears away and continues to bathe you. The two of you fall into silence as she washes your hair and combs out the knots. After the bath Alcina wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you into the bedroom. You pull on a nightgown and crawl into bed while Alcina goes back into the bathroom to wash off the rest of the blood she had on her. She comes back out in a nightgown and lays next to you in bed.

Alcina pulls your back tightly against her front and you feel her nuzzle into your hair before taking a deep breath in. She exhales with a hum and places light kisses to the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter closed as you relax into her touch.

"You mean everything to me." Alcina says softly between kisses. "No one can ever replace you, draga mea. Not in a thousand years."

Her breath cascading across your skin causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Alcina notices and you can feel her smirk into you. The hand she has resting against your stomach slowly moves up, coming to rest just under your breasts. The movement against your nightgown causes it to rise to the tops of your thighs.

A battle wages in your mind, part of you is still angry with her. She hurt you, so badly. The wounds of her words are still fresh. The other part of you wants her to take you. Even though you bathed, you can still feel the hands of the men on you. You want her touch to erase them from you, for her to claim you as hers once more.

Alcina picks up on the battle waging in your head. You have no idea how she always seems to know what you're thinking, but she always does.

"Do you want me to stop?" She asks with genuine concern in her soft voice. She knows you've been through a lot today and doesn't want to pressure you into doing something you don't want to.

"I - I don't know." You whisper back.

Alcina rolls you towards her, your eyes locking onto her golden ones. Her pupils are enlarged but she's holding herself back. The hand resting just under your breasts moves up to cup your face, her thumb caressing your cheek.

"I don't want to do anything that will cause you more stress, draga mea. I need you to tell me what you want."

"I don't know what I want, I just want you." You say as tears fill your eyes.

"Oh, my darling. May I kiss you?"

Nodding your head in a tearful "yes", Alcina leans over you, gently pressing her lips into yours. Her feather-light kisses practically make you melt as she peppers your lips with them. Snaking your fingers into her raven locks, you gently hold onto the back of her head, deepening the kisses.

Alcina pulls away just enough to look at you, your lips barely brushing against each others. Her sparkling golden eyes look deeply into yours and she says "I love you, draga mea. I wish I would have told you sooner, but I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."

Your breath catches in your lungs at her confession. Never in a million years did you think she would ever love you. Words try to crawl their way out of your throat but a small whimper emerges instead. There's so much you want to say to her right now but your brain is swirling so quickly the words don't come. Instead of using your words, you do the only other thing you can think of - which is pulling her into you and kissing her with a fervor, conveying your message to her with your lips.

Matching your intensity, Alcina's lips envelop yours - although she's still hesitant to push you too far. Sensing her hesitation, you take her bottom lip between your teeth and tug at it, letting your teeth drag against it as it slips from between your lips. At first Alcina lets out a small gasp of surprise, but when she feels her lip between your teeth she lets out a low groan.

The moment her lip snaps back Alcina captures your lips with hers once more. This time with a hotter, more passionate kiss. Her tongue glides across your lips and you part them, allowing her in. Large hands trace the curves on your body, coming to rest at your hips. Alcina adjusts herself above you and you instinctively spread your legs, making room for her between them. She settles herself against you, careful not to put the full weight of her body on you. Rolling your hips into her, Alcina pulls your nightgown up to your waist and returns her hands to your hips.

"Alci, please." You pant between kisses. "I love you. I need you."

Alcina lets out a low growl in her chest and she peels your underwear down your legs before tossing them aside. Pulling her lips from yours, she inhales deeply, smelling your arousal as it greets her senses. When she looks back down into your eyes you notice only a sliver of gold remains from her blown out pupils.

Her long fingers dance up and down your legs as she plants kiss after kiss into the skin of your jaw and neck. When she drags them up the inside of your thigh she wastes no time and immediately cups your heat when she reaches the apex of your thighs. Her fingers explore every inch of you, gliding through your folds effortlessly as she coats them in your arousal before resting the tips of her fingers on your clit.

You moan into her ear as she begins to make small yet firm circles around it. A light flush begins to develop across your cheeks, slowly making it's way down your neck. Her breathing increases but she keeps her slow, relaxing pace.

Alcina's free hand cups your face as she continues to cover you with kisses. She can practically smell the scent left behind by the men, even after your shower - and all she wanted was to erase them from your body, covering them with her own. Her fingers alone begin to work you up so much you can feel an orgasm building as your flush deepens. Alcina picks up on how much your body is reacting and she slows her ministrations down further, causing you to whine.

"Don't stop, please." You whimper into her ear.

She coats her finger in your arousal once more before pulling back and looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure, my love? We don't have to-"

"Please, I need you. Take me Alcina." You say, cutting her off.

With one more passionate kiss, Alcina parts your lips and lines her finger up with your entrance before looking deep into your eyes.

"Relax my love, let me take care of you."

Before you can even respond she starts to slowly slide her finger into you with a gentleness you've rarely experienced. Knuckle by knuckle Alcina slowly fills you, pushing deeper into your heated core.

"Good girl, just like that." She says before her finger bottoms you out and you let out a moan of pure pleasure. Sliding her finger almost all the way out, she pushes back into you again a little faster, but still slow and gentle. When she reaches the spongy patch deep inside she curls her finger against it and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out another moan.

When you start to rock your hips to her rhythm, Alcina sets a modest pace; thrusting into you, curling her finger and pulling almost all the way out and repeating her pattern. Your orgasm begins to build and you pull her lips down to yours, capturing them in a heated kiss. As your tongues intertwine, the flush on your body reappears, deeper and hotter than before. You throw your arms around her neck and keep her close. If she wanted to, she could easily break free from your grasp but instead Alcina leans into you, allowing the closeness of your bodies to comfort her as she continues pleasuring you with her finger.

"Can you take more of me, my darling?" She whispers in your ear before nibbling on the lobe.

"Yes, please." You pant in response.

Your velvety walls stretch in a blissful way when she adds a second finger, the sensation causing you to cry out in pleasure. Alcina keeps her steady pace and brings her thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles around it.

"Oh gods! Fuck!" You whine into the fabric of her nightgown as your orgasm builds once more.

The room falls silent, the only noises being made are of her fingers thrusting in and out of you and your muffled whines and pants as she brings you closer to your release.

Both of her fingers curling into that spot deep inside causes your back to arch off of the bed, allowing Alcina to push deeper into you. She can feel your walls tightening around her finger but she doesn't quicken her pace, she keeps it steady, hoping to build you up slowly instead of fucking you into bliss like she normally does.

Part of you was surprised she didn't start thrusting faster and harder but another part of you is enjoying the slow build of your orgasm so much you never want her to fuck you differently than this ever again.

The coil in your stomach tightens more and more as more whines and whimpers fall from your lips. Alcina kisses you passionately again and you moan into her mouth as you get closer and closer.

Alcina picks up the pace only a little as she feels your walls begin to clamp down around her, knowing you won't last much longer. She pulls her lips from your and looks deeply into your eyes.

"I love you, so much draga mea." She says as her thumb caresses your cheek.

"I - I love you Alcina. Oh fuck, I love you so much. Please, please." You whine.

She picks up her pace a little more and you struggle to hold her gaze as her now black eyes bore into yours. The coil in your stomach is so tight it's about to snap, your body feels like it's on fire and you arch into her touch more, allowing her fingers to drive deeper than before.

"Ah, fuck! Alci, I'm - I'm gonna -"

"Cum for me my darling, let go. I have you." She whispers into your ear.

A few more thrusts is all you needed to fall over the edge as you cry out. Your orgasm rips through your body and all you can do is cling to Alcina as tightly as possible as she helps you ride wave after wave of pleasure. Alcina whispers praises as she guides you through your orgasm, doing her best to prolong it as long as she possibly can in an attempt to give you as much pleasure as possible.

It's not until your back collapses down onto the mattress and your walls finally relax around her that Alcina slides her fingers from your soaked center.

You can't help but whine at the loss, causing a light chuckle from Alcina. She lifts herself off of you and pulls you into her chest as the last of your aftershocks course through you. Her cool skin helps your heated body as you relax into her arms, focusing on the light throbbing between your legs and the tempo of her breaths as her chest rises and falls against you.

Alcina runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you on the head. She holds you close, not wanting to let you go, almost as if you'll slip through her arms and disappear if she doesn't.

"I love you, Alcina." You whisper.

"I love you so much my darling girl. I promise I will never hurt you again. I will never allow anyone to ever hurt you again draga mea. I will protect you, always."

Pulling away a bit, you adjust yourself to be able to look into her golden eyes. You can see they're filled with regret, with fear that you won't ever forgive her.

"I know you will. I believe you. I trust you. I forgive you." A tear falls down her porcelain skin and you wipe it away. "I love you." You say as you pull her so her plush red lips meet yours.

"I love you too, my darling. Forever."

When your lips part, Alcina tucks you under her chin and the soothing beat of her heart lulls you into a dreamless, peaceful sleep. Alcina releases a breath she didn't know she was holding when she feels you drift off in her arms and she swears to every god that may exist that she will never allow anyone, including herself, to ever hurt you again. That she will protect you for the rest of her life. And never again will you be subjected to the pain she's caused you today.

"I promise you, my love, I will protect you. Forever. You are mine, and I will love you always."

[lovelyiida]

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 5: THE BREAKDOWN

"we just want our son back."

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER

SYNOPSIS: as the years went by... bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo wants to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

❥ WARNINGS: implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording, and content.

❥ CHAPTERS

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WORDS: 4.02K

"Office whore Y/n L/n takes the cake, honestly."

"Please, I can't talk about it anymore!"

Around three days after the whole shit-show of a performance your boss put on, you cowered away from the whole office scene entirely; you were on paid absence, of course. Red Riot tried to get a hold of you, but you never responded to any of his calls and emails.

Things were becoming too intimate for your liking.

The line between secretary and lover was blurring right before your eyes, and you didn't even know the man's damn birthday. So now you sit here, eye to eye with the one person you really didn't want to see—your sister.

"We have to talk about it so that we can get it out of your system, and so you can get back to work with Mr. Money," she laughs. One thing you knew about your sister is that the both of you never got along. From stolen clothes to stolen boyfriends, if someone told you they could pay to push her in front of a bus, you'd say, "How much?"

But at the end of the day, she was your sister, and you loved her. She was there when you had many breakdowns, mid-life crises, depressive episodes, etc. And you wouldn't let just anyone push her in front of a bus; you'd do it in a heartbeat for free.

So when your sister arrived at your doorstep as a "surprise," the sight of her face made you break down in tears and confess everything that has happened to you. It's like she could sense when you're in utter despair.

As your sister stands in your kitchen, you sit on the floor with a bottle of wine and take turns from the bottle, talking ever so thoroughly about the situation.

"I mean, the man asked for my hand in marriage after shunning my existence in front of the press! What am I to him?" you say, tear stains drying on your cheeks. Your sister frowns at your state, bending down to your level, she smiles.

"What you are to him is reliable, headstrong, hardworking, and hot as fuck. He knew he couldn't lose you, so he needed to keep a tight leash on you," your sister responds, swiftly snatching the bottle from your hands. She stands back up and sets it on the counter.

"Everyone's life is given to them for a reason; what you don't realize is that the universe just blessed you. And you're getting everything you've ever wanted and more," she says, her tone calculated and sharp. With a smile on her face, you could tell she was plotting something.

You sniffled to yourself, wiping away excess tears as you looked into her eyes. "What do you think I should do?" you whimpered. With a smile, she spoke, "Play his game." Furrowing your eyebrows, you became confused at her answer. "And what do you mean by that?… 'Play his game'?" You asked.

With a roll of her eyes, she stood up once more. Extending her hand out to you, you grabbed it with ease and hoisted yourself up. With swift movement, she grabbed both sides of your arms and looked deeply into your eyes.

"You make him want you even more than he wants you, and once you get what you really want… you leave and never turn back," she said with a sinister smile. It took a little bit to really grasp what she was saying.

"Don't think of it in a harsh or conniving way. Think of it as a get-back. A taste of how much he's treated you like shit, how he's disrespected you; embarrassed you; put you through hell and back every single day! If you gave him a single taste, you'd fight for you and all the other secretaries that he's done wrong."

Looking into her eyes, you saw her burning passion to protect and take up for what's right… to help you get what you deserve.

"Now you have something none of those girls had, and it's a chance… it's up to you if you'll take it," she said.

You pondered with your thoughts. Everything that she said was right. From all the moments when you were disrespected and degraded and made to feel like absolute shit, maybe it was time to finally fight back. This plan, while not what you initially had in mind, started to appeal to you. It would give you a chance to turn the tables, to regain some power and control in a situation where you had felt powerless.

With newfound determination, you looked back at your sister and nodded. "You know what? You're right. I'm not going to let him walk all over me anymore. I'll play his game, and I'll make sure he knows that he messed with the wrong secretary."

Your sister's smile widened, proud of the strength and resolve she saw in you. "That's the spirit!" She exclaims in excitement, quickly getting yourself up from the ground, you grab your sister by her sides and walk her towards the door.

"Thanks for the advice, I'll let you know if I have another life-defining breakdown," you say softly. Earning a chuckle from your sister, she silently nods at your praise "any time." Letting go of her, you watch as she lets herself out. As you watched the door close with a thud, you let out a sigh.

Feeling a mix of nerves and excitement, you prepared yourself to face "Mr. Money' once again. This time, though, you were armed with a plan and a newfound sense of self-worth. You were ready to play his game and take back the control he had taken from you for far too long. With a determined glint in your eye, you stormed to your room and picked up your phone from your nightstand.

It was time to show him that you were nobody's lapdog that just followed anyone's orders, it was time to fight back. Opening your messages you immediately press onto your boss's contact and begin tying into a frenzy.

To: Dynamight (BOSS)

coming into work tomorrow

same time as usual?

Placing your phone down, you turn away to make a run for the bathroom but the buzz from your phone puts you into a halt. Scurrying for the phone you pick it up and race for the bathroom once more.

As you sit down to "handle your business," you turn on your phone to see an immediate text back from your boss. You let out a disappointed sigh as you read the message.

from: Dynamight (BOSS)

sure

Nonchalant as per-usual.

After finishing your business, you get some dinner and prepare for bed, as you finally lie on your pillow you can't help but smile at the thought of your plan. The thought of seeing him the next day made you shiver for all the wrong reasons.

As you drifted off into a deep slumber, you never read the next message he sent to you back...

Things went smoothly for your return, at least so far...the day just started.

You woke up and got ready for the day ahead of you and comfortably sat outside your apartment doorstep to wait for your knight in shining armor. As you waited there you realized one thing about your plan.

There weren't necessarily any steps or phases to it, just great. It's not anything new that you have to do something on your own.

You started to think hard, what were you even going to say to the man when you saw him?

Hey Dynamight! Feeling better after being called the office slut the other day!

No, that’s not how it’s going to go.

You need to stay calm today, no matter what is thrown at you. Even though that may seem hard because every day is a new problem with your boss, you think you have it in you to do so.

Should you even accept his proposal? He has a right to know an answer, but you’re just not ready.

Going from Secretary-to-fiancé wasn’t that exact promotion you were thinking of when you walked through the two front doors of this office.

Keep calm. Stay cordial. Stay balanced.

Stay grey.

As you stand outside, you clutch tightly on your bag. (Late) documents held inside as the cool breeze of the early morning air tickled your neck. With a frown on your face, you shiver whilst looking at your watch.

10 minutes past schedule, that’s a new record.

As you casually checked between your watch and your phone; you began to throw yourself in a frenzy. So now he doesn’t even want to show his face? Are you that embarrassing?

Rolling your eyes, you turn your phone off and shove it into your work bag. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you tread your tired feet towards the bus stop.

Thirty minutes roll by and you stand in front of the offices’ glass doors, waiting to be walked through with just a push. But it wasn’t that easy, at least not today that is.

Your eyes were dry as the fluorescent bright lights bore into the core of your irises; slightly red and agitated from the night before (mental breakdown and lack of sleep in all). You close your eyes to try and soothe them, but the uncomfortable feeling in your chest begins to take over. Imagining the sight of everyone’s faces as you walk through those doors makes your chest sting with anxiety.

Blinking your eyes open, you began to frantically check yourself. Was your skirt too tight? Were your buttons too loose? Did you wear the dark lipstick, or the nude one?

Even the tiniest of details could throw your alibi out of the window; not that you hide any…only thing that you hide is the underlying self-embarrassment you feel.

But what’s new?

Licking your lips ever so slightly, you take in a deep breath and walk through the doors. The sound of the door breaking open causes everyone to crack their eye.

With your face held high and a new swing to your hips, you take in the situation around you. Coworkers amongst coworkers chatter quietly to themselves. The sight almost makes you want to vomit, but you promised yourself to not show any weakness.

Eyes set on a deep brown wood door of your boss’s office, step ahead and stop in your tracks. The golden plate etched with the hero’s name shined ever-so dull. Seems like it hasn’t been polished, maybe you should get someone to fix that—

Focus!

Blinking down at the matching golden knob, you reach towards it. Your fingertips lightly grazed the handle, treating it as if it were the more delicate; fragile thing on earth. Your other hand laid firmly against your skirt, hand balled in a fist; slightly shaking.

“Just do it, Y/n” you whispered to yourself. Cursing under your breath, cowering at the thought of what was (obviously) behind the door.

Taking slow deep breaths, you then grasp the door entirely. The feeling of the cold metal graced your skin. Adding a cooling comfort to your body; hot with anxiety.

“my god”

Looking up, you turn to see a random group of workers looking at you. Snickering at your efforts to open the door. Eyes sharp with judgment and lips turning upwards in a sinister smile. Their energy oozed with toxicity.

Pretentious fucks.

Swallowing your spit, your eyes begin to tear up. Head leaning low, your nails dig into the skin of your palm. Your face grew hot as you tried your hardest to stifle in the wanton sobs you yearned to let out.

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’

Lips quivering, you let go of the door handle and adjust your things. Turning around you quickly head for the door. You felt as if the room was closing in on you whole, your body felt heavy and your heart felt like it was going to burst.

“should’ve never came,” you mumbled.

“Y/n!”

Startled, you stop ahead for the voice before you. Looking at the ground, you could make out from the shoes who it was.

“Mr. Riot?” You slightly whimpered.

“Hey, I was looking for ya! Sorry, we couldn’t get ya today—“ the redhead cuts himself off. A silent pause fills the room, if your head wasn’t so stuck on the floor you would’ve seen a very rare sighting.

An angry Red Riot.

His red eyes shoot across the room, piercing metal bullets into each and every person in the room. Mr. Riot was an indescribable force when upset. He’s the total opposite of himself.

From a cheery, happy-go-lucky optimist, to an absolute brute. You feel him grab ahold of your shoulder, his large hand warmly covers your shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Come on—take this conversation to my office…” he says, his tone almost unrecognizable. Deep and monotonous, unusual from the peppy and colorful use of tone he’s had equipped.

Following him over, raising your head just a little. You notice how you walk a new path today. Just beyond a new set of frosted glass doors lies a whole new office.

The workers seemed laid back, getting their work done. The slight tune of music added to the atmosphere of the office— is that a cat?

“Muscle!” The hero beamed.

With quick steps, the hero scoops up the grey-haired feline. The cat lets out a startled noise as the pro-hero picks them up. The hero turns towards you and extends the fur ball towards you.

Blinking, you let out a soft smile. Before you could reach your arms out, the hero placed the cat under his arm. Reaching out for your bags, he takes them away from you, letting you reach your arms out for the cat.

“Ms. L/n, meet Muscle,” he hero quipped.

You look into the blue-eyed animal, silently cooing. You place the cat in a cradle position. “Why the name muscle?” You slightly chuckle.

Walking alongside him, he turns a corner. Smiling, he stops at a billboard, turning you to look; you can’t help but chuckle.

‘NEW OFFICE KITTY NAME: PLEASE VOTE!’

1. Sunshine

2. Misty

3. Muscle

4. Cat

5. Feline Riot

It was nice seeing how Riot would interact with his workers, he kept things light and casual. Unlike the other side of the building, maybe you should’ve applied here first.

“Personally, I chose muscle. Feline Riot is too corny, right?” He says. This earns a laugh out of you, holding out the cat in front of your face you smile.

“Well, I’d have to agree. But I think sunshine would be nice, but I think cat is quite silly as well.”

With a smirk, you bring back the animal into your embrace. The hero nods, taking note of your response. With a sigh he turns back around, “Well c’mon; that’s up for the people to decide.”

Walking a few more doors down, you head into Red Riots' office. Your eyes widen, letting out a small gasp; you are amazed by the interior of the office.

Surprisingly not as red as you thought.

Besides the obvious action figures and cardboard cutouts, his was modern. Sleek glass and cutting-edge metal. And maybe he was quite a botanist as well, his desk (along with other various places) sprinkled with succulents and hanging plants scattered around the area.

Walking slowly, your eyes catch a large wooden shelf. Adorned with many awards, collectibles, and photos.

One of these photos you couldn’t believe.

“Oh my god!” You whispered to yourself.

“Yep, the older days…kinda get a little teary-eyed when I think about it for too long” he replied bashful yet humble.

“Look at you guys, there’s you, and Mr. Dynamight!” You chuckled. Looking at a group photo of the notorious class 1-A of UA High. More than half the people in this photo are currently in the top 10 for pro-hero.

“Yeah, that’s us! We were so young and determined, but that’s what fucked some of us over in the end eh?” He says.

You frowned, unsure of what he possibly could’ve meant by that. But you chose not to probe. Breathing in, you walk away from the bittersweet photo and sit down by his desk.

“So…why am I here?” You asked.

The pro hero rolled his eyes at your response, “I mean—I feel like I should be asking all the questions around here—what happened back there?” He asked, his voice filled with concern.

Pressing your lips into a line you shuffle in your seat. Letting out a sigh you put “Muscle” down to frolic and place your hands in your lap.

“Just the coworkers that’s all, they can just be assholes y’know?” You chuckle, trying to blow off the situation. This earns a not-so-amused expression from the hero.

“Mhm—I hope you know that bullying of any kind is strictly prohibited within these corners we call our office. I can drop anyone from here just as easily as your boss can” he says sternly.

Eyes widening you shake your head, “I promise you that no one needs to leave this office. They need that job just as much as I do… no matter how much they deserve it.” You say softly.

The pro-hero nods at your response. “Reconciliation before retaliation is what I always say!” He says, tone somewhat defeated.

A long pause is set after his words, it was somewhat comfortable. Unlike your boss, when it’s silent it’s suffocating, almost deadly.

“He wants to apologize…we want to apologize for not taking you here today. I totally forgot to swoop in and bring you once he canceled on you. Got to take my kids to school today, I couldn’t miss up on that opportunity,” he smiled.

You nod understandably, “so then where is he?” You asked.

“Uh…he’s at a meeting,” Riot responds. Turning your head to the side, you were confused by his words. “He knows not to go to a meeting without me, damn show off…thinking he can do everything himself—“

“No, it’s not that! It’s a more personal meeting.”

You paused, irritation turning into curiosity; you sit back and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Personal you say?”

“So you bring me all the way over here to talk about—babies?”

The blonde says, trying to not show the visible anger in his every being. Sitting before him was his mother in father, visibly distraught; over what? Babies.

Currently sitting in the living room of his old home, he was called over to have an "important" talk with his parents. He assumed maybe it was time to hear one of the inevitable.

They are dying, they're selling the house, or they're disappointed in him (the third one is highly unlikely). But no, they’re bitching about babies.

“It’s just— your mother and I aren't gonna be young for too long. We’re not asking for too much, maybe at Ieast have a girlfriend?” Bakugo’s father tried to soften the blow.

“Excuse me?”

It failed.

“Oh please! By the time he settles down I’ll be a grandma when I’m goddamn 90” his mother complains. "I mean, have you ever lost your virginity Katsuki?" She quips in.

"Mitsuki!" his father complains, throwing his hands towards his face he lets out a sigh.

"What did you say, woman!" Bakugo says in anger, the blonde shoots from his seat and walks closer towards his mother. Bakugo's father stands with him and gets in between them.

"Please guys, not today" his father groans.

"No, no, no...she's the one who started it, stop trying to fight her own battles for once," Bakugo says. "I'm not just some teenager you can talk to any type of way, I'm the fuckin' #2 hero; understand me?" His tone is quiet yet poisoning as it seeps through his teeth.

The blonde peers over his father's shoulder and looks into the matching red eyes of his mother. Her frown; visible with disappointment.

If only she could look back and see how tired he was, if she would actually understand.

Ever since Bakugo stepped through the doors of UA High School, things haven't been the same between him and his parents. One of the major costs of becoming a pro-hero. He's not able to be at home like he used to, it would come to times like this where the overwhelming emotions would all spew out.

Anger being one of them.

"Do you even love us anymore?" Mitsuki whimpers, tears begin to brim her eyes as she rises from her seat. Bakugo is taken aback by the accusation.

"What the fuck are you going on about?" he says, offended that his mother could even come to such a conclusion. Bakugo looks at his father, eyes wide and searching for answers.

Looking into his father's eyes, he finds the results that he regretted to find.

"Oh, so you feel the same way?" he chuckles, hurt prevalent within his tone.

"Son...you're always busy, even when ya' aren't," he says quietly, his father lands a hand on his shoulder as he tries to console him but it doesn't work.

The blonde groans, slapping his hand away from him, and backs away. This makes his father frown, "you don't call us or text us! Every day me and your mother watch you risk your life on TV wondering whether or not another battle will be your last!" he says.

Bakugo's head starts to hang low.

Lips pressed into a thin line, Bakugo's father places his hands on his hips in defeat. "We can't always come and pick up the pieces when you break down at our doorstep in the middle of the night, you have to talk to us Katsuki—"

"Do you even know how much I sacrifice just so that the both of you are able to go to sleep at night?" Bakugo's voice grows strong, hands balled into fists; smoke growing visible from his palms.

"Do you even know how many nights I go to sleep and wake up from night terrors just so that the both of you can go out freely? Every day I'm out there busting my ass so that the both of you can live normal lives. And I'm not doing enough? Okay."

"That's not what we're saying son—"

"Then what the hell are you saying?" Bakugo exclaims.

"Because that's what it exactly sounds like to me! It sounds like you guys don't care what I go through as long as you reap the benefits—"

"You seriously think we want you out there risking your life for us? Katsuki you could quit the next day and we would care! We just want our son back" Mitsuki says. Exasperated and teary-eyed, she clings to her son.

"We don't want you to bottle things up anymore, we don't want you to suffer as you think we do. You have to talk to us in order for us to be there for you!" Mitsuki yells.

A rift of silence follows after her words.

Bakugo looks at both of his parents with a frown, biting the inside of his cheek he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Hands softly simmering down, he softly pushes his mother away.

Reaching in his pocket he pulls out his phone and calls the only person on his mind.

"Hey bro, when ya comin' in?" Kirishima says on the other end.

"Ejiro," the blonde says.

"What's wrong?" The redhead's tone matches Bakugo's with a twinge of worry. "Not comin' in today, um...just take over for the time being alright?" he says.

"Got it," Kirishima says.

Bakugo ends the call and throws his phone on the couch. Walking back into the brown couch, he crashes down and sighs. "If we're gonna talk we're gonna do it now."

His parents then look at each other then at him, with no words said they follow suit and sit next to him on the couch. "Just say whatever is on your mind, we're here for you," Mitsuki says.

Swallowing his spit, Bakugo says something he never would've thought to come out of his mouth.

"I have a fiance."

WOOOOOO WELL SHIT, THANK YOU FOR 1K!!!

Apologies to all of my readers out there, I’ve been so busy with school that it’s consumed my life whole. I hope you all understand :(

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥: @r-ans, @xo-evangeline, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00 , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @xasilex , @the-queen-of-sorrows , @itgetzweird08 , @yoyosocks165 , @pebblepoop , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback ,  @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @urdecentartist09 , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @katsu-shi @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @alicen23 , @xasilex , @elegantvoids , @lowkeyremi , @plutounderbridges , @k0z3me , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @winterv-black , @chuugarettes , @kiarathace , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @hyu-hl , @katsukisxslut , @optimisticprime3 , @cosmicbreathe , @yessimo

[brw]

It baffles the mind to me how people will insist Ben Percy's Beast is right and correct and is the natural end version of Hank and that since day one he was always going to end up like that, not just because it implies absolutely nobody has actually read Hank in any pre-Bendis comic ever, but also because Evil Hank as Percy writes him makes everyone look massively incompetent, and I'm not even talking about just X-Force, I mean the entire larger X-Men community.

Emma Frost. World class telepath. Repeatedly is shown to not have that many qualms about digging into people's minds if they're hiding something from her. Confronts Hank at least once directly, and yet did not actually care enough to do anything other than act huffy when confronted with his actions. At most, she was pissed at him ruining her party. You can torture whoever you want, old buddy, but causing an inconvenience at my party? Now I'm mad.

Jean Grey. Even greater telepath. Was on X-Force herself, even, and also does not have many holdups about tearing down people's walls if the needs be. We even see her do just that, but her problem is him keeping things from her, and not the actual content of most of his actions. And after she leaves, she just seems to plug her fingers in her ears and go lalalala? The stuff at the Hellfire Gala, keeping Wolverine as clones, she doesn't care, she's too busy X-Mening.

Wolverine. Epic cool warrior guy who is supposed to be the best there is, whose talents Hank clearly admires enough to clone repeatedly to do his bidding, who is simultaneously a lone wolf and also the guy everyone wants to have on their team, who is the only guy who can see through Hank or whatever. Not competent enough to kill one big blue furry man who has spent the last 5 years at a desk job. That completely alludes him.

Domino has luck based powers that are supposed to help her in any situation, but I guess getting rid of evil blue man is too much to ask. Couldn't even get a bucket propped up under an open door. "He was always like this, he was always evil" she insists, but after learning he's controlling a small nation with plant people at the Hellfire Gala she still busts out the Cha Cha Slide with him on the dance floor.

I guess neither Jean nor Logan bothered to tell Scott his old friend was committing war crimes, because he doesn't seem to know or to give a fuck.

Kitty and Kurt know enough to joke about it, but do they actually confront him? Does anyone care enough to actually try to put a stop to it directly, if they're all seemingly convinced he's beyond help and fundamentally evil? No, they've got other shit going on. No time to care about Hank making a future where he is God-King, we gotta stop Sinister doing that same thing, but I guess when Hank does it, who gives a shit.

Quinten Quire is an omega level telepath who apparently nobody thought to say "hey man, can you use those Phoenix-level abilities to get Beast to stop killing people?". He was too busy giving himself a bigger dick in resurrection protocols, I guess.

I could go on, but point is, I genuinely don't know how you insist that era made so much sense and was the perfect version of Hank and everyone was simply too naive to see that this was who he always was, because it makes everyone look like an incompetent moron! They can't kill one fat blue furry man??? He hasn't done field work in years! And yet that's too much to ask! The only reason he died was because he was in gay love with some fuckass actor from New Jersey. It's deeply embarrassing for everyone involved if that's the reality of things, and I have no idea why you want all of your favourite characters to be incompetent dipshits who think "Wow, isn't Hank evil?" and then refuse to actually do anything about it.

And all this could have been averted if Hank was, you know, Hank. Hank isn't charming and cultured and well-read and funny and polite because he's a good person, those are his innate traits, and as we see with Dark Beast, they can twist in the opposite direction. That would literally be all it would take. I mean a lot of things would still suck, but at the very least, it would make everyone's inability to do anything a little more understandable, and allow things to feel tragic, like that Hank becoming increasingly evil and separated from his ethics is a loss and one we all mourn, instead of the insistence that he was always going to turn out that way.

Emma walks in to try and set things right with Hank, but gets distracted by good conversation and jokes and the same man who treated her as a member of the X-Men when she first joined and not as a heartless monster, who built her piece by piece back together when people were joking that finding out her murderer would be too much work, because everyone wanted her dead. It's hard to connect the evil actions she's heard Hank doing with the kind and charming and personable man in front of her, who matches her intellectually and well and truly respects her, and so she accepts that things are either exaggerated or that Hank will ultimately come back into himself, and that she can trust him not to disrupt her party.

Just a few little moments like that would have gone so far. An evil Hank McCoy is ultimately still Hank, and should still be funny and dropping Aristotle quotes and Shakespeare and being a good friend, because those are not traits exclusively to moral people, and it would make everyone's seeming incompetence a little easier to swallow. It's harder to see the evil actions that Hank is doing for what they are, when he's making you laugh so hard your belly aches or pondering intellectual questions with you, rather than just repeatedly saying "I'M THE BASTARD YOU NEED" before making a torture station in outer space.

There's so many ways this entire arc could have, at the very least, had some intrigue and actual character work to explore, the ways Hank has always used a larger than life persona to deflect and hide, and how that could become increasingly warped if you're dead set on having him be evil, and make the whole thing feel less like a character assassination and more of a tragedy. Hank McCoy becoming evil should hurt. It should feel like a great loss that someone who had been so kind and empathetic and nurturing became increasingly amoral and evil and even sadistic, and all the characters involved should feel that loss, and that even could be why they struggle to actually do anything for so long; they're so loyal to the Hank that once was, they can't see the Hank that is.

But all that is lost when the only character suggesting that something else might be to blame is Colossus, who immediately gets shut down as being ridiculous and silly, and everyone else stands and nods that Hank is really evil now, and isn't that a shame, and maybe he was always like this, but are we actually gonna do anything about it? Nah, we got a party to throw, we gotta get our fancy dresses on.

The entire thing is so unbelievably infuriating, because all it would have taken for someone to actually not even like Hank, but just want to be consistent with prior characterisation and have him be fun. A villainous Hank should ultimately be fun. That's probably the main reason why Dark Beast has endured for so long; he is fun to see and be around. He's a fun character to see on your page. That's what Hank needed. But I guess Sinister was taking that place so instead we got blue Kissinger and it is genuinely such a travesty that this dogshit is celebrated by comic fans who throw up in their mouths if you suggest reading an Avengers comic to broaden their horizons.

[dreameralive]

but on a tangent almost completely unrelated to that last post of mine i do find it very interesting how wildly the characterization of Slenderman changes from person to person. i don't just mean slenderverse vs creepypasta here, i mean... well, everything. but i'll mainly be focusing on slenderverse, here.

this is partially why i wish people explored the slenderverse beyond the popular video series' of it, but i think it really is worth considering each depiction of Slenderman, especially ones that drastically vary from the 'norm' that we may think of when it comes to the character. take the blog JustAnotherFool (which, while now only available via the Internet archive, is something i highly recommend giving a read!), for example. there, Slenderman is portrayed as this horrific, spiderlike creature who wears a fedora and rips people to shreds himself. it's completely the opposite of almost every proposal of Slenderman i've ever seen in the context of the slenderverse - he's not a silent observer, nor a commanding authority. he's a beast. he's angry.

even in popular slenderverse webseries', he changes a lot. for example, in Marble Hornets, he's a, like i said, silent observer. although he brings so, so much devastation to these characters lives, he doesn't seem to have all that much investment in them. it's a matter of hopping from one to the next to the next to the next. it's about spreading. now, compare this to mlandersen0 or everymanhybrid, where Slenderman actively seems to almost delight in tormenting these characters, for presumably, as long as he possibly can. he is an active force in these peoples lives. everything he does to them is so deeply, deeply personal. he goes so far as to maul someone who was abusing Vinnie in the Fairmount timeline. why? well, the text says it itself. "the man doesn't share."

there's also the humanization of Slenderman, like how i mentioned above, where he seems to have some sort of psychological capabilities to him. he is choosing to do this. he is choosing to hurt people. which is deeply, deeply sinister. a horror that wants you to suffer, specifically. a horror that knows what it's doing. a horror that does it all simply because it can. but there's also blogs and series' where he's portrayed as nothing more than a stupid animal, or some sort of infection. where he runs on instincts, a need to feed or to spread, and nothing more. which is also quite disturbing. a horror that does it all simply because it can do nothing else.

this is all, of course, only really scratching the surface. and anyway, i don't really know what point exactly i'm trying to make here. but, i guess this is a good conclusion to end on: please don't be afraid to stray too far from popular depictions with your portrayal of Slenderman! and please look into more slenderverse media that isn't simply MH/EMH/etc! it's good stuff!

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Panaceum deleted scene

A yo, I promised to post the part I cut out during the editing because it was bad for the narration flow. Essentially, at first instead of having the whole conversation with Angel via text, Valentino invited him to the studio, just to exercise his control and waste Angel's time. It would be in character. But storytelling wise it was an unnecessary complication that didn't do any favor to pacing.

So, yeah, I would say "enjoy" but it's just Valentino being a terrible person so I just say: tw // abuse

Valentino sneaks out of Vox’s apartment and heads to his office. Though the office might be a misleading label. This is the place of pleasure and power, not paperwork. Plush, velvet-upholstered sofas beckon invitingly, their curves accentuated by the soft glow of dimmed, amber lighting. A mirrored wall stretches from floor to ceiling, reflecting the room's decadent ambiance and adding an illusion of endless space. Against one wall stands a well-stocked bar, gleaming with crystal decanters and polished glassware. The rich aroma of aged whiskey and exotic liqueurs fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of incense and musky cologne. In the center of the room, a small pole dance platform awaits – an invitation for potential new stars, and a promise to Valentino’s guests.

As he waits for Angel Dust, Valentino puts on some music – one of his own albums – and methodically removes all the VoxTek cameras from the ceiling, one by one.

Their absence is the first thing Angel notices upon his arrival. Stepping through the door, he quickly surveys the room, likely gauging the level of danger he’s in, and immediately questions:

“No show today?” His tone carries a hint of challenge, but Valentino detects the undercurrent of curiosity in his voice. Understandably so – everyone in Vees' inner circle knows that Valentino is always under the watchful eyes of VoxTek cameras and has never expressed dissatisfaction with it. He’s a performer after all, always more than willing to put on a show for his biggest fan.

Valentino arches an eyebrow, his gaze piercing and judgmental as he ignites his cigarette. "Nothing worth watching. Jesus, look how fat you got. Giving up coke doesn't serve you well, Angel Cakes," he comments with a cruel smile, the smoke swirling around him.

"What do you want, Val?" Angel responds, his tone steady despite the tension radiating from his body. He holds Valentino's gaze, unwilling to yield an inch. Yet, beneath his facade of confidence he visibly struggles against an invisible force, as if he's constantly battling against the weight of Valentino's influence. He tries to convince himself that he feels nothing, but it's just pointless. Valentino has woven himself into every fiber of Angel's being, leaving an indelible mark of his control.

“Sit down.” Commands Valentino instead of answering and Angel immediately sinks into the big, comfortable chair, almost pushed into it with the contract's bonding force. Valentino gestures toward the large, golden bowl brimming with cocaine. "Treat yourself."

Angel must be fucking crazy if he thinks that he can play tough with his owner.

"I'll pass," he retorts almost mechanically, though his lack of conviction is palpable. Despite Angel's efforts to project self-control, Valentino notices the way he clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm. The scent of his discomfort and craving hangs heavy in the air and Valentino savors it, inhaling deeply. That’s the best part of playing with addicts - no matter how good they are at the game, they possess one glaring weakness that can be exploited to devastating effect. It's this knowledge that crowns the man who deals in addictions as the true king of the city.

"You know I don't like to be denied," purrs Val, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around Angel's face like a sinister caress. "Maybe I should just..." With a swift motion, he reaches out and grasps a fistful of Angel's hair. Hard. "Put your ugly face into it?"

Angel doesn't even flinch. His breath trembles slightly, but there's a calmness about him that unsettles Valentino. Could he be on sedatives? It’s not possible his Angel has become so numb and boring.

"Wouldn't be a very constructive talk then, would it?" Angel suggests, prompting a cheerful yet deeply infuriated laugh from Valentino. Laughing it off is the only way he can prevent himself from succumbing to the urge to lash out and check how many hits to the table Angel’s head needs before it cracks open. It's maddening when his toys fail to perform as expected.

"Look at you, you grew some balls," Valentino remarks, releasing Angel's hair and ruffling it affectionately. "But you are right. I need you to arrange a meeting with the Radio Demon."

Angel frowns, adjusting his suit with a hint of theatrical irritation.

“Can't you like, do it yourself?” he asks and he fucking dares to be annoyed with Valentino’s demand.

“Oh what do you think I should do? Call his hell phone? Message him on sinstagram? Visit in person?” Velntino snarks, rolling his eyes. “You stupid bitch.”

Angel simply nods, acknowledging Valentino's response, and takes a moment to consider his own options. "Yeah, I can ask him," he concedes, probably realizing he has little to lose by doing Val this favor and perhaps even less to gain by refusing. "But you know how he is. Can't really force him to do anything."

"No need to force, though I'd like to see you trying," Valentino huffs, exhaling another cloud of red smoke that envelops Angel's body like a possessive embrace. "Just tell him I want to make a deal," he adds, noting the surprise in Angel's widened eyes as they once again dart towards the broken cameras.

"Me. No one else," Valentino clarifies before Angel can voice his unspoken question. It's amusing how his pet always skirts around mentioning Vox's name, as if uttering it could summon him, despite the fact that Vox's invisible presence has long been intertwined with their relationship. Or perhaps because of it.

"But if I do it, you can't tell him I had anything to do with it," Angel asserts, a hint of fear finally creeping into his voice.

“Fuck, I really was too soft on you if you are seriously more afraid of Vox than me,” Valentino scoffs, shaking his head. But honestly, understands. He has never been able to bring himself to finish Angel's miserable existence - both, out of sentiment and cruelty. Vox however, jealous of Valentino's attention just waits for the right moment when Val gets bored with his doll and he will be finally permitted to dismember it and burn what remains. He explicitly told Angel once, because that much Valentino allowed him. Vox is always so entreating when he lets his sadism to shine through the perfect mask.

"You know that if he learns that I helped you betray him—" Angel begins, anxiously nibbling on his sleeve, but before he can finish, Valentino smacks the table with such force that it cracks under his palm.

"I'm not a sellout bitch like you," Valentino growls, baring his teeth, like he was ready to rip Angel’s neck.

"Okay. Okay. I..." Angel takes a deep breath, desperately searching for the right words to defuse the escalating tension. He realizes a few seconds too late how badly he fucked up. It's enough to instill genuine fear of what he might have triggered. “Misinterpreted the situation.”

"Like hell," Valentino hisses, fixing him with a murderous glare. "Now fuck off before I make this meeting about you."

Angel doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles off the armchair, finally released from Valentino's earlier command, and hastens out of the room. As the door closes behind him, Valentino sinks back onto the couch, lighting another cigarette in an attempt to quell his emotions. He knows he just needs to see this through to the end, and then Vox will be the one left worrying about plans and consequences. Oh, Vox. Vox would undoubtedly be ecstatic if Valentino got rid of Angel. Perhaps it would be the definitive proof to the Media Overlord that Valentino's heart belongs solely to him, finally securing Vox's confidence in their relationship. Though he definitely would be disappointed that he didn’t have a chance to turn the last hours of Angel’s life into some fucked up snuff movie. But one can’t have everything.

Valentino finishes his cigarette and decides to get to work. He must keep himself busy waiting for Alastor’s answer, and cameras must roll if he doesn’t want to listen to Vox whining when he will finally check the books again.

[tozettastone]

This is the scene that explains the basic porny premise of the silly Bleach fic that has been possessing my brain.

(Heads up for it being very dubcon, like, the whole concept, but there is nothing "on-screen" in this post).

Uryū wasn't sure what he'd expected, but somehow despite throwing himself into the power of an arrancar he'd tried quite hard to kill not very long ago, he had not really expected that... well, that certain activities would be demanded of him. Sex. He meant sex. "You want... to have sex?" It wasn't quite sinking in. "With me?" Uryū could feel his red his face was, burning in the chill of Hueco Mundo's endless night. Szayel raised one eyebrow. He crossed his arms. "From the look on your face, you'd think that was a fate worse than death. It meets your criteria, you know." No physical harm he couldn't easily recover from. That was... regrettably true. What could he even say to that? No, sorry, losing his virginity to a hollow would damage him in a mysterious non-physical way he couldn't articulate? It ...would, was the thing. Ishida Uryū did not think of himself as a very romantic or idealistic person, but deep down (very, very deep down, if you asked anyone who knew him) he was. Romance might have been relegated to the parts of himself that valued his pride over his wellbeing and thought wearing a mantle made him look incredibly cool, but it was still a fundamental part of his personality. Hollows were creatures who knew only hunger, but these arrancar were evolved enough to have more sophisticated desires, and as far as he had seen they were cruel, conceited, and selfish. He had expected a certain amount of, well, bullying and violence, within the limits of the agreement they had made. He had just not expected... this sort of demand. And for a young man who still blushed when friends talked about who they wanted to kiss, this scenario was deeply alarming. He had... sort of thought he'd be married? Before he ever had sex with anyone? He wasn't such a prude that he felt marriage a necessary component of sexual activity, exactly, but it certainly seemed the safest and most natural progression of that part of his life. It was what his grandfather would have expected of him. "It does," he said slowly, feeling his stomach twist a little. "It does meet the criteria in our agreement." A deal was a deal. And if he withheld his participation in these 'experiments,' would Szayelaporro then withhold water? Uryū already knew the answer to that. "Then we're in agreement. Take your clothes off," he ordered. "Now, a quick survey while you do that. Age?" "Eighteen. In November." Szayel wrote this down. "Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with a member of your own species?" "I... No." "Good, we can strike off the sections about communicable diseases, reproduction, and prior emotional attachment conferring bias. Wonderful. You're still wearing clothes, I see." He smiled faintly, just a sinister curve of his lips. "Do you need help, quincy?" Szayelaporro twirled the pen in his fingers and his hand drifted towards the hilt of his sword, which heavily implied the kind of 'help,' he would provide. "I don't," he said, and then, blinking rapidly, face red, he began unlacing his mantle. There was a part of Uryū's brain that was screaming that he should fight or run, anything to avoid this surreal and terrible fate. But if he was good at anything, it was keeping a cool head. There was a cold mathematics going on behind his eyes, and it told him that now was not the time for bold action. He needed Szayelaporro's skills and resources, he'd made a deal with Szayelaporro accordingly, and he was going to have to keep up his end unless circumstances changed significantly. So. He was going to fuck the hollow, and he was going to live. (One of the other things Uryū was great at was compartmentalising his feelings.) A different part of his brain said that surely this could not happen to him, that surely something would interrupt before he had to submit to whatever a hollow's idea of sex was. His belt came free with a whistle. He noticed distantly that he seemed to be breathing faster than normal. He coiled the belt neatly and put it on the floor at his feet.

[shalscumbunny]

Way to love

Summary: There are ways to love apparently, because you and Shalnark undoubtedly have different concepts of love despite having known each other for exactly one year.

Pairing: Shalnark X F.Reader

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, violent acts, toxic relationship and beginnings of stockholm syndrome

Author’s note: I always mention it in all my writings in English, but better safe than sorry, English is not my native language so it is very likely to find many mistakes and also that I know practically nothing about writing “X character and Y / n”

Sites: AO3

Love is horribly insufferable, a rung adrift, with no path or predetermined place to get to, that's probably its magic.

But... What is love really? Your way of seeing it was so pure and solemn, like in novels or books available to anyone. For you it was a symbol of sacrifice, joy and dedication, supporting and wishing the best for your loved one. It's supposed to make you feel good, cause great joy at every moment, however...

The man behind you perhaps did not understand, or he had another way of seeing love that you were unable to understand, because you doubted that your concept was wrong, you could not be wrong.

His love did not make you feel good, it hurt you deeply, when you looked at him, you only felt hate, contempt and anguish, there was no kind of joy.

"I knew the dress would suit you" he flattered, leaning on your shoulder

"I guess...” You answered discouraged.

"I thought going out to eat would cheer you up a lot"

“here is not much difference between eating outside and inside if I am with you”

“Always so kind”

You looked at Shalnark in silence while he fixed his hair, he had an appearance that was far from his true self, the truth is, you wouldn't believe the entire list of his crimes if it weren't for the fact that you had known him for exactly one year.

It is curious that the way of loving an "angel" was so sinister, like his way of acting and thinking, at least for someone for you, it was simply a mystery.

"Aren't you bored of me yet?"

"Bore of you?"

“I don't feel any kind of love for you, why do you keep me with you?”

"Who said I need someone to love me? I just need someone to love”

You were dismayed by his response, love doesn't make sense if it insn´t reciprocated, it's supposed to be that way.

You took a deep breath when Shalnark's hand took your neck from behind, panic invaded you, however the grip did not allow you to turn to look at him, they only connected glances through the mirror, even so, his turquoise eyes were penetrating, as if they were looking at each other, face to face.

“I will not deny that the fact that you love me would make me immensely happy, but being able to love you without any restrictions is better than anything, when you are close to me, I feel so immensely happy, just having you by my side makes my life makes sense” He argued in your ear

"It's a sad life" You denied trying to get away from him

"Sad... I don't think so... I feel so much peace now, having you here, with me, submitted to me, without the possibility that you can turn to someone else, it's magical" He spoke smilingly

Your blood ran cold as Shalnark's hand applied force to your neck, your breath quickening with fear, like an animal, a small prey in the jaws of his predator.

“It's desperate... Don't you think?” He whispered mockingly to continue increasing his pressure on your neck “The heart beating painfully, the body trembling, feeling short of breath... God, it's truly horrible”

“What the fuck?” You asked with a weak voice, but without any intention of begging for your life, your pride had more power than you, you preferred to die rather than beg him, since you did not understand the direction of the conversation

"When I'm away from you, I feel so much worse than this" Not being able to love you and have you for me is ridiculous, from the moment I saw you, I stopped knowing the life you weren't in, I need you as much as you need the air right now, I couldn't get bored of someone I can't have enough" He replied in a sickly sweet tone “When I'm not with you it's like I die slowly, although not from lack of air, but it's much more painful”

The blond let go of your neck after finishing answering you and you began to cough, recovering your breath little by little, to then manage to get away from him a bit, holding your neck in disbelief and scared.

"Now do you understand a little of how I feel when we're apart?" Shalnark asked, holding your chin by force and forcing you to look at him.

You moved away to stop looking at him and ran to the bathroom to get away from him.

As you rinsed your face, it dawned on you that apparently being so close to suffocation was helpful in understanding Shalnark's twisted way of loving.

He does not believe in the sacrifice or purity of love, he lives on the sick and possessive side, he does not need to be loved, he can live only knowing that his beloved is his in any aspect, he delights in the fear and dependence that only love generates the fear of loss, the need to survive and the joy of taking everything without having to lose anything.

"I forgot something, Y/n" Shalnark added after knocking on the bathroom door.

You remained silent, leaning against the door, pressing your forehead against the wood and closing your eyes tightly.

“It really won't take me long to make you love me, now this is your world, you don't have anyone else, just me, you're human and you'll always want to survive, you also need me like air, even if you don't want to admit it”

Again you were silent, Shalnark smiled, if you didn't contradict him, you literally agreed with him, which was really true, you didn't say anything, you just tried not to think about the times when a smile adorned your face when you saw Shalnark after arriving for several days of travel or how pleasant his affection could be from time to time, you finally turned to the mirror embarrassed to see your face flushed.

Thank you so much for reading my shit 🖤

[inkdemonapologist]

*slides with a rare pair*

I think the fandom is generally not as big in rarepairs but I ended up shipping Joey with Nathan even after TIOL, I honestly believed they could have a good chemistry together. Either as a fluffy ship for joey to have a good pull on him from acting impulsively (since nathan is confirmed good) or as a legit evil business partners thing. The way Nathan was characterized in TIOL gives the impression he didn't know everything about joey but still was somehow very fond of him.

((randomly throwing that out there just because I think about it so much))

Sorry if its random ^^"

Golly gosh hang on OP I just need a minute to contemplate the idea of Joey x Nathan as a rarepair. LIKE… a majority of people I know in fandom agree that they had SOMETHING going on, so it feels like it shouldn’t be one, aND YET… I HAVE NEVER SEEN CONTENT FOR IT….. apparently i need to draw Nathan smooching Joey to fill this void……

Anyway, I DEFINITELY AGREE that the idea that Nathan had Feelings for Joey is really not hard to make a case for. You just point to that one TIOL footnote where Joey is like “Nathan likes creative people, he secretly wishes he were like us” and Nathan’s like “no I don’t, I just Like Joey So Much that I enjoy his creativity, isn’t it just like him to miss the compliment” and then congratulations you’ve made an utterly convincing case even BEFORE you get to the part where Nathan suddenly starts up an entire animation studio to keep his old friend’s dream alive, or that Nathan was someone who was close enough to Joey to “get the call” upon Joey’s death, or any number of examples of Nathan’s tremendously fond teasing in the other footnotes of TIOL. The little teasey note when Joey says "I always make fun of you!" and describes Nathan's face as "looks annoyed but isn't really" and Nate's like "yeah that's accurate". Nathan’s love for Joey is blatant and obvious, enough so that I was quietly shipping them even when I was part of the chunk of fandom that expected Nathan to be sinister; it’s just up to interpretation whether it was romantic, and whether it was requited.

Admittedly I do chafe a bit at the binary morality of “confirmed good” – most of what we can surmise from BatDR is that Nathan was Genuine. He genuinely worked hard, he genuinely loved his son, and he genuinely believed in Joey. He’s also, like, a mega rich guy who is obliviously putting a lot of that money to work in covering up his famous friend’s abuse and exploitation and Actual Murder of employees, so. No matter how well-intentioned he might be, if you're as rich and famous as Nathan Arch you don't get to just Not Realise Employees Can Be Exploited without being a little bit complicit for not looking harder. I don’t think it has to be an either/or of Good vs Evil – Nathan just strikes me as a well-intentioned and genuine guy who also has some serious blindspots, who maybe would just keep making excuses for his good friend as he learned more and more of the truth. And its INTERESTING when you consider him re-publishing TIOL in hopes of showing what he believed Joey was really like -- the charming man he liked so much. How did Nathan read TIOL and come to that conclusion? Joey's insecurity bleeds off every page, and Nathan admits in the footnotes that Joey makes things up, doesn't like to be corrected, might be lying in some of his stories, and has a habit of talking his way into what he wants even when he shouldn't. Either Nathan was SO smitten that he was completely blind to Joey's.... joeyness, or these were qualities that endeared Joey to him. He liked Joey being a bit of a scamp!

I’ve said before that my most deeply held unprovable BatDR headcanon is that Nathan was having an affair with Joey, and Wilson found out about it but Tessa never did, but I think that’s mostly fun for the characterisation it gives Wilson. When it comes to Nathan and Joey themselves, I absolutely headcanon Nathan’s affection as romantic, but I think I was more intrigued by their relationship back when it seemed like Nathan was going to be sinister! Like, if Nathan really had screwed Joey over in order to gain control of the Ink Machine like in some of those early theories, it would be delightful if all his footnotes were actually still true. If it's not just a performative “OH YES MY POOR DEAR DEAD FRIEND JOEY cool grab his stuff” motivation, but that the fondness is real, it just didn’t stop him – "you understand, old friend, business is business!" Obviously the story didn't turn out that way, but I think the possibility really grabbed me, haha.

It is kinda funny, though, that the way Nathan’s characterisation has turned out, you wonder what made Joey interested in him. Was it just the positive attention? Was it just his money? Nathan seems like such an easy mark (see: his reaction to the Lottie letters), and Joey isn’t very complimentary to him in TIOL, but he’s also reasonably fond, and brings Nathan up a few times as someone he counted on for advice that he actually took. Joey felt Nathan didn’t really understand him, but he seemed to value his friendship. This largely guileless, earnest guy who’s characterised as hard working……… who else do we know….. who might fit that description…………………… Joey Drew Stop Getting Involved With Married Men Challenge,

[lesbianp1lled]

as a fellow gold star who's never been lucky enough to experience reciprocated love and has been led on by many bi women, I probably do read more male gay fiction than lesbian fiction tbh. because I obviously don't get anything out of straight romance, osa makes me nauseous or feel nothing at best, however every time I even watch a video of a lesbian couple or read lesbian fiction I get so deeply envious and sad, not in a toxic hateful way ofc, just flat out crying out of loneliness like an idiot.. so m/m fiction is the only emotional relief for me to relate to homosexual love while also being completely detached from any personal feelings since I'm not male nor into males.

I have no trauma with men, have thankfully never even had to pretend to have any romantic feelings towards any in my 25+ years and have never had any self-insert thoughts about any of the gay fiction I've read other than the occasional 'I wish I had a lesbian version of that relationship'.

I want to make it clear that it's not about internalized misogyny, just plain lesbian solitude and the feeling that no woman is really attracted to women (I know it's ridiculous but that's my trauma) and specifically to me. which is all the more upsetting since as I guess a conventionally attractive feminine woman I have to beat straight men off with a stick.

although I do realize now that this sort of escapism and detaching yourself from your own sexuality to get secondary emotional fulfillment from fictional relationships completely unrelated to you isn't healthy in the long run. it's just very hard to find a gf in my homophobic country so I've used fiction as a crutch to not deal with my own personal life.

I do think most so-called 'fujos' who actually fetishize gay men are bihets though who think thirsting after fem gay men makes them qweer, when that's literally ultimate het behaviour. just saw one call herself a lesbian while openly lusting after a gay man, saying she wishes she wasn't a lesbian and that he wasn't a 'man kisser' so they could be together because 'she needs him bad'. girl, you never were a lesbian, probably not even bi, also actually consider ki!!ing yourself, these homophobic fakebians have 0 shame nor logic denying the existence of homosexuals of either sex.

no lesbian would ever conjure up such a homophobic double 'conversion' fantasy, I'm enraged to the point of wanting to hurl. the gen z larpers are so unhinged now that they genuinely don't even respect homosexuality existing, all they do is fetishize opposite-sex homosexuality while spouting actual 'corrective' r*pe level hetero fantasies which I've noticed a lot of bihets from either sex have. a lot of this obsessing over 'p3gging' and feminizing men is born out of their fetishization of gay men, doubt any of them would even enjoy any of that, they just want to 'queerify' their zesty straight sexuality to look subversive, they even pretend it's 'feminist' somehow.

and ofc they either support the homophobic tiffies who larp as gay men of eventually become them, straight up admitting to wanting to r*pe gay men under the pretense of totes being men as well while wanting to have het aka piv sex with males.. it's sinister how every gay fandom is overrun with transhets or normie hets, don't even get me started on the yuri hentai fetishizing het male 'transbians' invading 'lesbian spaces' made up mostly of bi women anyway.. it's just way too personally offensive and painful to even witness.

what should be the only safe haven and a joyous source of entertainment makes me spiral with rage against the hetero machine instead. so often I see sb seemingly decent, exclusively posting about gay topics only to eventually reveal they are a bihet thirsting after opposite-sex homosexuals and my heart drops again. where are the real lesbians?

so while I know from personal experience that people can enjoy fiction that doesn't relate to their sexuality, it is rare and usually related to some sort of trauma. I know het women who never consume het romance because it's so unrealistic/ insulting to their experiences and only read f/f fiction. whereas for me I do now admit it stems from loneliness and trust issues with women, fearing all women will turn out to be hetero and leave me to the dust again. my ex told me I was the perfect woman for her and that she'd never date a male again only to ghost me randomly and get married to a male who looks like he could be her uncle within a year or two lol.

I was just happy to see a lovely post from a woman about her wife only for her entire feed to be about obsessively thirsting after a ton of famous men. imagine just getting married to a woman as a same-sex attracted woman only to write insane s3xually harassing comments like a het coomer towards a grown strange man (who at least presents stereotypically gay btw, common denominator), saying bs like he's 'her pwecious pwetty boy' whose abs give her an aneurysm.. and it's just some skinny twink, no offense. I've never even met het women this male-crazed. bet her wife's the same if she tolerates that. they genuinely think calling a vaguely 'pretty' man their 'girlfriend' justifies their hetero attraction towards males as a supposed 'lesbian'. they truly are our worst most insidiously evil enemy, they're the ones who embolden trans-identified het males to believe they can be included in lesbianism. I'd rather stay single and loveless forever than humiliate myself by dating a bihet like that..

I would never trust sb is actually a lesbian if they have a dedicated account for posting about men, fictional or not, obsessing over a particular man/ men. nah, I'm a fan of some male singers etc but having an account for posting about everything they do is simply not lesbian behaviour even if they pretend it's platonic admiration. no lesbian is that obsessed with a man/ men.

that’s the main sign to look out for, it's one thing to root for a gay couple and completely different to have any ideation about inserting yourself into that relationship or fantacize about the men in question. which is so disgustingly homophobic as well, idk even if the characters are bi, having het thoughts about people in a same-sex relationship is gross peak bihet behaviour. I'm also generally heterophobic to be fair, spare me of any mention of osa.

so it does bother me that anyone female who consumes any male gay fiction/ media is automatically associated with these homophobic osa lunatics, however as mentioned, it is unfortunately often justified. there is ofc gay fan fiction in particular written by hetero-attracted women which fetishizes gay men but a lot of it is just general escapist romance from a female perspective, reading more like a lesbian relationship which is why it's relatable to lesbians as well while retaining that sense of detachment. I truly just need one good woman to fix me lol and bring me out of this self-destructive denial of myself as a romantic/ sexual person who deserves love.

I have hope for you anon that you will find the woman of your dreams one day, even in a homophobic country it’s still possible 🙏

I get why you read m/m fiction. It’s just when these women are SO OBSESSED with m/m fiction and nothing but m/m fiction that I side eye them. Like I said before, I have read books with m/m characters in them, even though it’s not my first choice, i’d go for a sapphic book first, but I think there are good m/m stories too! I read Maurice which is one of the first classic gay books by e.m foster a few years ago and it’s really good even though mid-way through to the ending it’s quite sad.

[ltbarnes]

Resurrection Chapter 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes was only nineteen when the lives of his parents and little sister were taken right in front of him by the ruthless members of the Odinson mob. His father’s mistakes have turned Bucky into a vengeful and cold shell of the charming boy he once was, now deeply rooted in the criminal lifestyle of the Stark mafia. Sudden attacks ignite the conflict between the two forces of the city, refueling the rivalry that has been rather tame for years. Nine years since Bucky’s life fell apart, he finds it shattering once more when what was supposed to be long dead returns to the living.

Pairing: brother!mafia!Bucky Barnes x adopted!sister!reader, mafia!Thor Odinson x reader, mafia!Loki Odinson x reader, eventual Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: violence, fire, mentions of trauma, Steve being a supportive and very concerned friend

A/N: things are starting to happen 👀 next chapter is going to be bigger though!!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1

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"Hydra did."

That five-letter-word has been echoing in Bucky's mind for three fucking days. He thought they were gone, pulverized to dust when they rescued him two years ago. Hydra was only a naive group of greedy businessmen looking for a way to make more money—sure, they managed to keep him imprisoned for almost a year, but from what he's heard about them they most likely watched The Godfather a few too many times and got excited.

It bothers him more than he lets on, the loss of memories from that year. Sometimes he has nightmares about it, he thinks. Flashes of needles and the stench of rusty blood, pale lighting and sinister words in Russian, pain so prominent that he nearly shatters his own teeth. Bucky wishes he knew more, if only to gain control back over himself. He feels like he hasn't really been his own person ever since.

For as long as he can remember, the Starks and the Odinsons have battled for the reigns of the city through constant back-and-forth sabotage and fraud. Overpowering one another by being smarter, more heinous and sinister. But there was never much bloodshed involved. It was always about the game for them. Bucky used to believe that Tony and Thor might have been doing this for fun. But there have been some strains over the years and the tension has grown exponentially—a war is brewing and he's not sure anyone can stop it.

But why in the goddamn hell would Hydra order someone to give Stark-intel to the Odinsons and not themselves? It's been bugging everyone in the Stark mob for days now. More people have been killed during these days by them than for the last six months. No matter who they ask they can't get any information on Hydra—it seems like that man who confessed is the only one willing to talk.

"Don't tell me things like that, Buck," Steve says through a gulp, nearly whispering while leaning closer.

Bucky lets a huff escape his lips. Steve has this constant fear that he will be killed by Bucky's superiors if they find out what he knows. While that would never happen, there is always a chance the Odinsons can figure out his importance to Bucky.

"No one is gonna lay a damn finger on you, you know that," Bucky says, leaning back onto his chair. "Hydra is nothing. They're just tryna' appear bigger and badder than they are."

"Well, what if they..." Steve lowers his voice once more while glancing around the café. "They could still be dangerous. Look at what they did to you, Buck."

A short, tense silence is exchanged between them. The kidnapping is a sore subject—Bucky was thought to be dead after all, and that took a goddamn toll on his best friend.

"I'm fine, Steve. Nothing is gonna happen, except maybe roughing them up if we ever can find wherever the fuck they are," he says.

Steve sighs, closing his eyes for a second before shaking his head. "You're gonna get yourself killed someday."

"Well, you better be the one writing my eulogy then."

They don't get times like these much anymore. Steve and Bucky rarely sit down together, talking through what has happened in their lives for more than 10 minutes at a time. But they've been sitting in this goddamn café for two hours now, and neither of them want to leave anytime soon. Things have been a little bit back and forth when it comes to their friendship the last few years—Bucky's lifestyle doesn't exactly mesh well with a righteous firefighter Captain. But today Steve feels like home and those days are usually good ones.

Mostly Bucky is teasing Steve about the group of teenage girls giggling each time the blonde glances over his shoulder. Somehow the punk still hasn't realized how much of a hunk he's become—watching him entirely unknowing of the attention he gains from people is balancing on the border of comical and painful. Then the conversation shifts back to Bucky's well-being and if he ever thinks about leaving the criminal life and Bucky tells him for the hundredth time that leaving is not really something you do and he doesn't really want to. That's his family right there.

He couldn't ever leave them to fend for themselves. Yelena and Nat and T'Challa and Sam and Pietro and Wanda and everyone who have nestled theirselves into his stone cold heart. Wouldn't ever say it out loud, but he loves them. And he loves the pain, the distractions. Everything was taken from him, but he gained some things too. The violence is necessary at this point, to make up for the soft feelings blossoming in his chest when his family laugh together and share inside jokes and do things for each other. Even though they kill and maim and steal, there's still warmth.

Steve doesn't really understand that if they could do anything else, they would. No one wakes up one morning and chooses to involve themselves in a web of crime and sins like this. But everyone is too far gone now. You can't live a normal life when hundreds of people want to kill you. Natasha never wished for her little sister to grow up as an assassin, and Pietro never wanted to see his twin kill somebody without a trace of remorse. Now that Bucky knows them he wishes nobody had to lay a finger on someone else again.

"The day is coming up soon," Steve says, glancing out of the window with a gulp. "Have you thought about what you wanna do this year?"

Bucky is stunned into silence. If he's honest, he has tried to avoid thinking about the anniversary of his family's death as much as possible. With each year it just gets harder. Whoever told him that it gets better with time was lying, because why does his heart clench more painfully with each year you don't get to live?

"I don't know. Maybe...no, it's dumb."

He shakes his head to himself, leaning back against the seat. Last year he and Steve went to Coney Island and bought ice cream, sitting on the same bench overlooking the water for five hours. His ma loved going there during the summer. They talked about old memories, what little he can still remember about the two of you.

"No, tell me," Steve says, leaning forward over the table. "It's not going to be dumb, Buck."

"Maybe we could go to that restaurant, with the 40's clothes and all that," he mumbles, eyes downcast onto the crumbles on his plate. "Y/n always said she wanted to work there when she was grown up. Had to be 19 to work there and...she would be that age now and all that."

Steve gives him a small smile. "That sounds great, Buck."

Driving on the dark roads towards the Stark mansion feels empty. Meaningless. For two hours today he had a sense of normalcy with Steve. As if they were two old buddies catching up after work, reminiscing about their teenage years and planning for the next meet up. While all that is true, the scene is marred by Bucky's past and present, and the future equally grim and bloody.

Bucky is stressed. The resurgence of Hydra has lead to sleepless nights and constant heart palpitations that leave him unreachable for minutes in the middle of conversations. He tells everyone they are harmless but he can't quite convince himself about that.

The entirety of the inner circle is gathered in the old library of Stark's house. Mahogany shelves line the walls of first edition books and hidden weapon cabinets, framing the large desk in front of Tony himself.

"Had this talk with some—what's his name again?" Pietro asks, snapping his fingers in the direction of Yelena who rolls her eyes in irritation.

"Rollins."

"Yes. Rollins. Didn't get shit out of him. Yeah, that didn't go very well."

"But you're sure he works for Hydra?" Tony sighs, pinching his eyebrows together with his fingers.

"Uh-huh. Like 98% sure," Pietro answer. His sister just glares at him. "Had this octopus badge on him. Never seen before."

"It was a skull with tentacles, idiot."

Bucky tenses up, a flash of long forgotten images overtaking his periphery. But he doesn't show in the least—instead a stoic figure with his arms crossed stands in the corner. And Natasha still notices. Goddamn woman.

"What?" she barks out, looking directly at him.

The heads of the room lay their attention on his now wide-eyed face, expecting a large scaled revelation when all there actually is is a blurry memory.

"No, I just—remembered the skull. That's all," Bucky mutters.

"You saw it when they had you captured?" T'Challa asks with a stiff, single nod as an answer. "That's not irrelevant, Barnes. It is important. Anything you can give us is appreciated."

Bucky breathes out a puff of air, shaking his head. T'Challa grew up in an influential Wakandan family, and is yet to have dropped the formal niceties each time he talks. The foul language in this circle has not rubbed off on him. And while it may annoy some, Bucky finds it as a nice change from all the shit he hears.

"Alright. Be on the lookout for it, okay?" Tony says, running the palm of his hand over his face tiredly. The man has been awake for several days in a row looking for information. "At this point anything is good. I'm fucking tired. Don't even know if these guys are the real thing or the Odinsons are messing with us."

A collective sigh followed by a shake of heads spreads through the room of exhausted assassins and henchmen, the collage family of a middle-aged mob heir.

The two of them—Bucky and Tony—have never really gotten along that well, but Stark seemed to feel somewhat guilty of the fate of his family. George was working for his father after all when he died. When Bucky came seeking for a sense of belonging four years ago, Stark took him in despite the reluctance. And now he's one of the best men he's got.

From time to time they clash. Bucky is stubborn and Tony even more so. But there's some form of respect there that makes him stay working for Stark.

"You know what? All of you just focus on this from now on until we find the Goodfellas," Tony says with a wave of his hand. "Hundred bucks on Al Pacino being the boss. Now get."

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It's three in the morning and Bucky is four hours into staring up at his ceiling when he gets the text from Nat.

Northwest warehouse blown up. Bet's on Loki and his phonies. Outside now.

And Bucky is not even mad that he gets ripped from his bed in the middle of the night. He wasn't sleeping to begin with and the glass he usually gulps down at the end of the day stands untouched on his coffee table.

With three guns strapped to him and two knives in his jacket pockets, he runs down the stairs to the sight of Nat leaning against her car.

She's stonefaced as usual, but there is a barely noticeable nervousness in her hold that sends signals of urgency into Bucky. He's not in the mood for a fight this time, but the possibility of an ambush is great with a stunt like this.

Within twenty minutes they stand in front a burning warehouse, half blown to bits and half buried in ashes. He has to fight the urge to cough as soon as he opens the car door, in fear of being made fun of by Nat.

"Goddamnit," he mutters, right hand tangled up into his hair.

A building on fire is not reason enough to keep away though. Not for them. Instead the heat and smoke is merely an inconvenience as they head closer, searching for any sign of the arsonist who put one of their most important warehouses down.

"How the hell did they find this?" he asks.

The sound of footsteps on gravel and structures tumbling down does not drown out the lack of answer from Nat. And maybe it's dumb to expect an answer, because she does not know more than Bucky, but it always feels like she just knows.

It's when he has to cover his mouth with his jacket that he halts his steps. Closer than this is impossible without burning up himself.

"Nat, do you—"

Bucky looks around for his companion without any luck. She's gone from where she was at his side merely ten seconds ago.

"Nat!"

The panic quickly builds inside Bucky's traumatized body. Logic is pushed away and the conclusions are instantly drawn to death, to bleeding out on the pavement with an Odinson bullet in her chest.

Calm breaths quickly turn frantic as he spins around in place, trying to decipher a redhead from the anxious blur. He can't lose her. Another one taken by the Odinson mob is not something he can handle. That would be the end of him.

"Calm down, Barnes. I found something."

Natasha comes back from around the corner of the warehouse with a ring in her hand. A thick ring with a pattern of thunder bolts and storm clouds carved into the worn silver. Bucky gulps, letting out a deep breath while shaking his head to himself.

"This is Thor Odinson's," he says while taking it from her outstretched hand, acting as if he didn't have the start of a panic attack a few seconds ago.

Turning his head over his shoulder, Bucky searches for any sign of company on the grounds. All sound comes from the fire. No sighting of mysterious enemies waiting to ambush.

"Where did you find this?"

"Right around the corner. Must've slipped off his fucking finger while they ran out of here," Nat answers, doing that same sweep with her eyes as him. Empty, for now.

"How did they—tried so fucking hard to hide this location. Tony will kill us."

Nat sighs, shaking her head. "I'll handle it. But I think we got ourselves a mole, Barnes, and it sure as hell isn't a newcomer."

The drive back is filled with speculation that is mostly one-sided. It has started raining and Bucky is driving slower than he normally would during rainstorms. Doesn't want to get into an accident with Nat in the car and all that.

She's already calling in for an emergency meeting less than six hours since the last one. This one will probably be bigger—a stunt like this borders on being a war declaration.

As they pull up outside of the gate, there's already dozens of sleek, black cars standing on Tony's driveway. Bucky has his arm leaning against the window as he waits for the gate to open, biting on the fingernail of his thumb despite telling himself he would stop ages ago.

It's tense as a stretched rubber band as he and Nat enters the room, this time the large dining hall with a ridiculously large table occupying half of the space.

Bucky throws the ring onto the table, letting it glide over until it starts spinning in place right in front of Stark. The goateed man stares at it for as long as it takes for the ring to still before picking it up.

"Odinson," he says, holding it up while inspecting it, letting the entire room packed with associates and members catch sight of the big finding.

"Found right outside the burning warehouse." Natasha sits herself down a few chairs away. Always leave one empty for her, if you don't want to be torn away from your seat.

Tony lets out a grunt of thought, leaning back in his chair at the top of the table. Several seconds of tense silence passes by before he speaks again.

"These damn fuckers," he mutters, throwing it down onto the mahogany. "This is the last fucking drop. I want a team infiltrating an Odinson meeting tomorrow. Just listen in, don't want to hear about any shootings or clashes afterwards," he says while still having his eyes on the ring twirling in between his fingers.

Silence. Some people are still afraid of speaking without being spoken to, even though Tony wouldn't even bat an eye. Launch a snarky remark, maybe, but when you talk as much as him you can't really complain while others do the same.

Tony raises his gaze, pointing it out subtly through the room with a dismissive expression.

"You guys stay. Everyone else can go."

He waves his hand. If you are supposed to stay you know, because it's always the same people. Over 50 people push themselves out of the room while only eight stay.

"T'Challa, Sam, Nat and Barnes. I want you four to go tomorrow. Got sources that tell me they're continuously meeting at this renovated old factory uptown."

They nod, gulping, because going in on each other's territories is never fun. It's stressful and scary to know that if you're caught you will most likely have a bullet lodged into your head.

But Bucky doesn't care. Maybe that's why Stark always sends him to stuff like this. He simply does not care if he gets a bullet shot through his body.

"Stark," Nat says, that usual stoic expression on her face and arms crossed around her.

He nods in answer, rising up from his seat before dismissing everyone else. Bucky knows she's going to discuss a possible leak of location from within the mob. And even though he wants to think that no one in this room would betray them, he knows you could never be too cautious.

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TAG: @kneelforloki

CHAPTER 3

[prettyflyshyguy]

Ok place your bets how angry am I going to get at spn for their handling of S4 Sam because Dean's right.

"So far all you've told me about is a manipulative bitch who uh, screwed you, played mind games with you and did everything in the book to get you to go bad."

Yeah babey I'm tired, it's my day off, and I've braved myself up to tackle the tumultuous S4 because it's giving mixed feelings!!!!

You know the drill. Unhinged thoughts, commentary and screaming under the cut. I've been in full media analysis mode for the last week so it might get a little academic too, who knows.

A warning - I'm not enjoying the Heaven x Hell sub plot. I know, I'm sorry (not really.) I will persist as long as I can but you can't rip seasons 1-3 out of my cold dead hands because I'm clinging to them too strongly. They just hit the spot near perfectly. World's biggest fandom member disappointment, and proud, over here.

Anyway commentary bellow!

S4E9/10 - I Know What You Did Last Summer & Heaven and Hell

Ok so, this is a real topic, and I'm going to tread lightly here, but I appreciate the sinister undertones of Ruby coming onto Sam and him actively pushing back - he's vulnerable, abusing a substance, and she's actively taking advantage of that and doesn't stop after he makes it clear he's uncomfortable the first time. A boundary is broken and pushed through. Very icky. I have seen spoilers for Ruby's character (unfortunately!) and like, have to say, she got me. But I think I'd start to really clue in with this episode that something is deeply not ok - based on that one scene alone.

I am however, deeply worried, that the emotional manipulation is not going to be handled with the consideration it needs (especially with regards to a woman coming onto a man and being too pushy) and it'll be played off lightly. I guess we'll find out. But I'm getting defensive already. Appreciate that Dean clocks it immediately however.

On a lighter note - go psychic boy go

Anytime Dean makes this face I go mental. He looks like a concerned version of the Eyes emoji. Top 10 expressions I have too much fun trying to replicate in art. Buddy being dead for 6 months must've sucked you've missed so much Oh No.

Supremely embarrassed that it ONLY JUST CLICKED that they're doing a whole Sam's with the Demons, Dean's with the Angels thing.

I'll focus in on the most specific shit and then something so blunt will fly over my big idiot head. Amazing.

Ironic of course, and clearly intentional that its cause Sam was always appointed the 'better one' but that's only cause Dean purposefully inserted himself as the moral-fall character as a way to try and protect Sam. Obsessed with that concept, not so much with the heaven v hell stuff.

REGARDLESS, two angels rocking up and Ruby's immediate response being to turn on the demon eyes makes me wonder - is this intentional - did she choose to do this, was an otherworldly force compelling her to do it?

No I'm not just asking these cause I'm cooking up ideas for Sam to get more demonic nooooooo what're you talking about noooooooo

Hilarious that Cas and his mate rock up like "Hello we are literal fucking angels, we want this human woman please we're going to kill her now, please hand her over"

like they can't just yoink her regardless.

And this is starting to stray into "Why Shy really isn't enjoying the heaven-hell stuff in spn" - which I should save for an entirely separate post, but most of it boils down to the stakes don't feel serious anymore, the comparative power levels of character's feels unbalanced, it takes away ANY weight to Sam's personal faith as a character trait, and--

I'm sorry I just cannot get behind any of it. Really dislike it. Unfortunate. Oh well. Sozzles.

Heaven and Hell was a real hard episode for me to watch for a number of reasons and overall, I deeply disliked it, but the ending scene of Dean breaking down was extremely well done so huge props for that. Fantastic writing and acting all through. Much to consider!!

S4E11 - Family remains

The summary for this one looks. Fun.

"And what am I running from?"

"What you told me. Or are we pretending that never happened?"

OUGH. OUGH. AUGH. OOMF. ACK. AUGH.

I appreciate that unlike every ghost hunter I've watched on youtube, this show recognises that EMF readers cannot be completely trusted. 10/10 thank you supernatural. One small little line about the needle being wacky, and Dean noting that there's power lines right next to the house. Love it.

Nice.

I can sense I'm going to enjoy this episode.

I LOVE A GOOD GHOST-HUNTING EPISODE!!

Also love that this episode forcibly made the boys reconcile with the confliction of killing humans vs killing creatures, but the humans were in a way like the creatures (monsters), the same way the monsters can be like humans.

Anyway, tonal whiplash, yet again with this show:

S4E12 - Chris Angel Is a Douche Bag

The Winchesters need worksafe inspector fake ID because It'd be perfect for this episode specifically

I LOVE the three older magician characters. These guys are great.

WHAT

Anyway this is a good bit. This is a really good bit.

Yeah Sammy what kind of kool aid are you drinking?????

That was.... A weird one but a fun one.

Anyway I'm really starting to feel like I want to cherry pick eps but I'm going to hold off. Till I hit S5 at least.

Like I rabidly consumed seasons 1-3 like a starving animal and now I'm reluctant to watch episodes cause I know there's good shit in here, and each episode has some important development moments for characters, or relevant plot that I want to know about so I don't feel like I can start picking and choosing episodes based on descriptions yet. But damn. Lot more misses than hits for me this season. Seriously considering buying a dvds of just S1-3 cause GODDAMN. Loved almost everything about the first three.