#i think if you decide to kill a character you need to stick to that decision

[milk-is-stable]

The Shoot From the Hip Hunger Games: Day 3

Masterpost (<-START HERE! the posts are best read in order)

Content Warning: descriptions of violence, blood/injury, suicide ideation, major character death

It is the third day of the Hunger Games, and as the Capitol TV logo flickers to life on the screen, a low, menacing growl sounds through the speakers. The logo fades away to reveal a large, wolf-like animal prowling through the woods. But it is no ordinary wold; it is a muttation, genetically engineered by the Capitol game masters to add extra excitement to the arena.

The mutt stops at a stream, and as it drinks its fill, the camera zooms out to reveal Jasper heading towards the spot with an empty canteen in his hands. He stops short when he sees the animal, and ducks quickly behind a tree. Peering around the trunk, he watches until the creature leaves, then he hurries back to the camp where he and his team have spent the night.

"I didn't sign up to play nursemaid," Caesar is saying to Julian, but Jasper cuts him off as he approaches.

"There's a mutt down by the stream," he says.

"A mutt?" Julian repeats, his eyes widening, and Caesar curses.

"That's all we need right now. That settles it. I'm not hanging around near that thing, and he can't move."

He gestures to where Chip is lying on the ground, his jacket draped over his body like a makeshift blanket. His face is flushed with fever, and he doesn't react as the others talk.

"His fever isn't as bad as it was a few hours ago!" Julian protests. "I think he's getting better-"

"In case you haven't noticed, this is the Hunger Games!" Caesar snaps. "He's probably gonna die anyway, just like all of us are unless we're willing to do what needs to be done! As far as I'm concerned, we should just put him out of his misery and move on."

He draws his knife and Julian takes a step back, but Jasper reaches out and grabs Caesar's arm.

"The scent of blood might draw that thing closer before we're able to get away."

"You're not suggesting we try to take him with us," Caesar scoffs, and Jasper glances at Julian as he responds.

"No, but I'm saying don't kill him here. Let's just leave, and fate can decide what happens."

Caesar rolls his eyes, but he does sheath the knife.

"Fine. But let's pack up and go now. I don't want that mutt catching us in the middle of breakfast."

The three begin gathering up their supplies, and as they do, Jasper carefully makes sure that there's enough food and water in Julian's pack. When the camp is broken down, Caesar heads off into the woods without a second look back at Chip. Julian hesitates, and Jasper leans closer, speaking in a low voice.

"You can stick with Chip or you can go off on your own, it's your choice. But I don't think you should stay with Caesar. He's not safe to be around."

"But you're staying with him," Julian points out, and Jasper gives him a half-hearted smile.

"He respects me...for now. I'll figure something out for when that changes. Listen, I'm letting you go this once, but...half the tributes are gone. I can't promise that I'll do the same next time we meet, alright?"

Julian nods.

"Good luck out there," he says, and Jasper takes his hand, in a quick, firm grasp before letting it go.

"Same to you."

He turns and follows Caesar into the forest, leaving Julian looking down at Chip's shivering form, a thoughtful expression on his face.

The camera cuts to show the mutt, once again moving through the woods. It pauses, sniffing the air, then it moves forward more quickly, a growl rumbling at the back of its throat. The camera follows along the path its walking, then moves forward, zipping past the beast and following its trajectory until it reaches another campsite.

Sally and Alexa are kicking sand over their campfire, extinguishing it for the morning.

"What are we going to do today?" Alexa asks as Sally begins taking stock of their supplies.

"Well, we're okay on food for right now," she says. "Thought it's probably a good idea to gather more anyway. We want to avoid the larger groups of tributes if we can, it wouldn't be safe...to..."

She trails off, her eyes fixed on something in the distance, and Alexa tilts her head.

"Wouldn't be safe to what?" she asks, and Sally sucks a breath in.

She drops to one knee so she's at Alexa's height and grabs her by the shoulders.

"Alexa, listen very carefully," she says. "I need you to take our supplies, and I need you to start heading north, and I need you to move as quickly as you can, but also as quietly as you can. Can you do that? Can you be quick and quiet?"

Alexa nods, though confusion is written plainly on her face.

"I can, yes. I am very light on my feet, Madame Romanoff even said so."

"Good. Then I need you to go, now, and no matter what you hear, don't stop and don't come back, alright?"

"Why not?" Alexa asks, but Sally just shakes her head.

"There's no time. Go now, and remember what I told you."

"Not to look back?"

Sally smiles sadly, and she takes Alexa's hands in hers and squeezes them.

"To keep fighting, as hard as you can for as long as you can."

Alexa nods, her little face solemn.

"I will."

"Good. Now go, hurry!"

Alexa turns, quietly hurrying away, and Sally straightens. Swallowing, she turns and faces the mutt as it comes into view. The two regard each other for a moment, Sally taking a deep breath and the hackles on the creature's back rising, then Sally lets out a defiant cry and runs into the trees, deliberately leading the mutt away from Alexa.  

The creature bounds after her, and the camera follows the pair, predator and prey, as they sprint through the woods. Sally tries her best, zigging and zagging where she can to try and put some distance between her and her pursuer, but she's no match for the Capitol's engineering. It isn't long before the mutt slams into her, sending her crashing to the forest floor. The camera pulls back, flying up above the treetops as her screams echo through the arena.

The cannon fires, and the camera cuts back to Caesar and Jasper walking through the woods.

"Let's cross here," Jasper says, pointing to a shallow spot in the stream. "That will help us mask our scent."

"We should set up a new camp as soon as we've put enough distance between us," Caesar says as they splash their way across the water. "I want to scout around for signs of the other tributes, but I don't want to lug all this gear while we do it."

The pair begins setting up a campsite, and as they work the camera zooms out, revealing a third figure crouching in the bushes nearby: Benjamin. He watches silently as the two dig a new fire pit and stow their extra supplies under piles of dead leaves.

"That should do for now. I say we follow the stream further east and see whether there are any encampments nearby. We're likely to find people near a water source," says Caesar.

"I was thinking we should head north, actually," Jasper says, pointing. "There are some tall firs over that way that could serve as a good vantage point."

Caesar makes a face.

"I'm no good at climbing trees. I think we should follow the stream."

"Well, why don't we just do both then?" Jasper says. "You follow the stream, I'll head north, we'll report back at the end of the day."  

"Fine, if that's what you want," says Caesar, and after a few more minutes of preparation, the two head off in their respective directions.

The camera zooms in on Benjamin hiding in his bush. He waits until the sound of both Caesar and Jasper's footsteps have faded, then he darts out from his hiding spot and begins digging through their supply packs. He has just pulled out a utility knife and a length of rope when his head snaps up at the sound of footsteps coming closer. He jumps to his feet, his eyes blown wide with panic, and sprints into the trees as quickly as he can.

The camera does not follow him, but rather stays on the campsite as the source of the footsteps draws closer.

"Did you see who that was?" Michael asks, and Inga shakes her head.

"They bolted before I could get a good look at them."

"Was this their campsite, do you think?" asks Johnny.  

"No...I think this is another one of Caesar's. See?" Michael says, pulling a sleeping bag from beneath the leaves. "This is what Pinocchio stole from them the other day. They must have gotten it back after they attacked us."

"In that case, let's help ourselves," Inga says.

The three spend a few minutes digging through the supplies, and Michael lets out a low whistle, pulling out a small shovel with a collapsible handle.

"Now this is a treasure," he says. "Sally was right, Caesar is definitely no survival expert, or he wouldn't have let this out of his sight."

"How come you know so much about survival, anyway?" Inga asks. "I know about plants and things from working in my father's shop, but lumber forests aren’t like real ones. They're just trees. But even though you don’t know as many plants as I do, you make decisions quickly, you don't mind sleeping rough, and you're not grumpy on an empty stomach. Not everyone would be able to handle this as well as you have. Hugh wouldn't, that's for sure."

"I thought you liked Hugh?" Johnny asks, and Inga sighs.

"I do. I just...look, we decided before we even got to the arena to try and stay away from one another. And I have a feeling he's not handling things the best."

A pop up view of Hugh appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. He is still hidden away in his berry patch, and he is tossing and turning on his makeshift bed of leaves, his eyes screwed shut and his face pinched.

The view disappears, and the camera focuses on Michael as he stows the shovel on his belt. He hesitates for a moment, then looks up at Inga and Johnny solemnly.

"Did either of you hear about...the outbreak? In District 7?"

Johnny shakes his head, but Inga looks thoughtful.

"I think so...something about a virus, right? I remember there being a lumber shortage and a planned upgrade to the town hall not happening because of it."

"Did you get sick?" Johnny asks, and Michael laughs, a hollow, empty sound.

"No...no, it wasn't that kind of virus. If you caught it, you didn't survive. It...it did something to people. Turned them into mindless monsters. There were rumors that it was a Capitol experiment gone wrong, some kind of attempt to make enhanced soldiers. All of District 7 was completely overrun. Those of us who survived the initial carnage, we had to flee into the lumber forests and try to survive. My dad and I, we spent months out there."

"Just the two of you?" Johnny asks, and Michael nods.

"Yeah...my Auntie Julep came with us, but she...well, she got the virus."

Michael sniffs, and shakes himself.

"The Capitol eventually sent soldiers to take all the infected out and get the lumber production back on track, and we found my mom again when we got back to civilization, so. It could have been worse."

"Still, it's amazing that you survived that," Inga says.

"Anyway, I'd have killed to have a shovel like this then," Michael says, patting the tool at his hip. "My dad and I, we dug these trenches and filled with sticks whittled to a sharp point. The infected would fall right into them. It was a great way to make sure we wouldn't get attacked at night while we were sleeping. But we dug them with our sticks, rocks, and our hands. We could do the same here and with this it'd only take a fraction of the time."

"Let's do that around our camp then," Johnny says. "I like the idea of no one being able to sneak up on us."

As the three continue to make plans, the screen splits into a multicam view, giving an update on multiple tributes at once. Caesar is hiking along the stream, and finds that it disappears into a cave entrance. After a quick glance around, he follows the water into the dark and disappears. Robin has left the forest behind and is tucked away at the bottom of a ravine. He wraps his arms around himself and leans back against a rock, looking up at the sky.

"Are you watching right now?" he mutters. "Cuz if you are...you were right. Doing it on my own's no good at all. I hope I get back to you soon."

Finally, Chip and Julian are foraging together. The color in Chip's cheeks is back to normal, and though they are walking slowly, they are moving.

"I can't believe they took all the supplies," Chip grumbles, and noticeably, his voice sounds different than before. The pitch is higher, and the accent has changed entirely. Julian frowns as he picks the berries from a bush.

"So you're saying that this is...your mother's side coming out?" he asks, and Chip nods.

"I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I only take after my mother at certain times, often after I've had some kind of episode. I guess that fever counted."

"I guess so," Julian says, shaking his head. "I've gotten as many berries as I can carry from this bush. How about you?"

"Same here," Chip agrees.

"Should we camp nearby so that we can eat them again tomorrow?" Julian asks, but Chip is looking at the large, dense bushes, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Such an obvious food source would be like a beacon to other tributes."

"So we shouldn't stick around, then?"

"Not just that...do you still have some matches left?"

"Uh...I think so, why?" Julian asks.

"Give me one," Chip instructs.

Julian hands one over, and Chip lights it, then squats down near the base of the bush. He holds the match out, and after a moment, the flame licks up the side of the bush. It moves slowly at first, then faster as more and more leaves catch fire.

"What are you doing!" Julian cries, stepping away from the heat as the bushes on either side of the first also burst into flame.

"If we can start limiting the food supply available to other tributes while keeping our own supply secure, we can try starving some people out of the games," Chip says.

Julian stares at him, his mouth agape.

"What?" Chip demands. "Don't forget what these games are, Julian. Only one of us gets to walk out of this alive."

"I know, but–"

Julian is cut off by a sudden, panicked scream.

The inferno grows larger and the screaming grows louder, and Julian looks at Chip with wide, horrified eyes.

Chip, for his part, looks stunned.

"Someone's IN there!" Julian exclaims.

He takes a step towards the blaze, but Chip grabs his arm.

"Don't! There's nothing you can do. Besides, like I said..." he trails off, and Julian wrenches his arm out of his grip.

"Don't touch me!" he says, backing away.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Chip begins, but Julian shakes his head.

"Maybe not now. But you will. I know you will. I can't...you can't..."

He turns and takes off running into the woods, and Chip makes no move to follow him. He looks back at the roaring fire as a cannon shot rings out through the arena, and squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head rapidly. When he opens his eyes again, his jaw is set and his shoulders are square.

"Only one of us gets out alive," he mutters, and his voice has changed back to how it sounded before. "Only. One."

The camera cuts to Jasper, who is watching the smoke rise from the branch of a tall tree. He grimaces when the cannon fires, and after a glance at the position of the sun as it begins sinking for the evening, he begins climbing back down to the forest floor.

"If I'm lucky, then that was Caesar," he mutters to himself. "And if I am lucky, then I'm also fucked."

He drops the last few feet to the earth and lands with a thud, then picks himself up and lets out a sigh.

"Let's face it though...we're all fucked in here."

He begins walking back towards the campsite, and the camera pulls up, flying back along the river to the cave that Caesar entered earlier. A figure is standing at the mouth, but zooming back in to ground level the camera reveals that it's not Caesar, but Peter.

He is holding a small bundle of kindling in his arms, and the water jug strapped to his back is freshly filled. Looking around to make sure no one is watching, he carefully steps forward, and the darkness of the cave swallows him whole.

The camera cuts one last time, and shows Alexa sitting in a patch of white flowers. There are dried tear tracks on her face, but her hands are steady as she rummages through her pack of supplies, pulling out a small packet of matches.

Before she can light one, the sound of running footsteps echoes through the trees. She quickly reaches out and closes her hands around the handle of her axe.

Julian bursts into view and she flinches, but when he spots her crouching there, he doesn't run or move to attack her.

Instead he groans, and drops unceremoniously to the ground, gathering his legs close and burying his face in his knees.

Alexa tilts her head and cautiously moves towards him, and her expression turns from fearful to concerned as Julian lets out a muffled sob.

"Go on then. Do it," he says, not looking up at her. "Kill me. I deserve it."

Alexa hesitates, then sets her axe down on the ground and scoots closer.

"Why do you think that?" she asks, and Julian looks up at her, tears running down his face.

"I can't do this," he says. "I can't do it, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know how to survive out here, and I can't...I won't..." He shakes his head, and wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Only one of us can make it out, which means we have to hurt people, and I can't do that. How could anyone do that? If that's what it takes to win these games, then I don't want to win! So you may as well just kill me now!"

Alexa bites her lip, looking away for a moment, then she forces a small smile onto her face.

"Well, I don't want to hurt anyone either," she says. "So I'm not going to hurt you. Even if you ask me to, I won't do it. If we cannot win their game, maybe the answer is not to play it."

Julian hiccups.

"What if it isn't that easy?" he asks, and Alexa shrugs.

"I think that nothing is easy. But I also think...that I'm going to keep fighting anyway. Because that's what the people who cared about me would want."

Julian nods slowly, and Alexa's smile widens slightly.

"My name is Alexa," she says, holding out a hand, and after a moment, Julian takes it.

"I'm Julian," he says. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you...friend."

The broadcast will now break for commercial. Please tune in again soon to see what else will become of our tributes on the first day of the games!

Game Summary

Deaths:

Sally was killed by an animal

Hugh was killed by Chip

Kill Counts:

Pinocchio: 2 (Maria, Jimmy)

Inga: 1 (Jim L)

Caesar: 2 (Juliet, Pinocchio)

Chip: 3 (Clarissa, Marty, Hugh)

Jasper: 1 (Pinocchio)

Robin: 1 (Janae)

Peter: 1 (Priscilla)

Game Meta

I KNOW OKAY I KNOW. I AM ALSO DEVASTATED. This damn simulator gave me Alexa & Sally platonic goodness and then ripped it away immediately and I am not okay. But then! It gives me the narrative parallels of Alexa begging someone for death to then turn around and give someone else the same comfort she received?? I am going insane. How did this happen.

Anyway, not a lot of actual structure notes to make on this one, except that I'm baffled that somehow half the tributes are gone, but this is still the longest chapter so far. That's what happens when I go in to add more backstory for some of the characters, I guess. Once again, thank you so much for reading and commenting! Let me know who you're rooting for if it's changed after today's...events.

[the-whole-thing-through]

I cannot wait for Born Again to be memory holed and for everyone to conveniently forget that it exists as soon as it gets canceled. This show has NO legs, and cannot stand. I feel zero sympathy for anyone involved who is responsible for this mess. Charlie Cox is blowing up, finally getting the recognition he deserves, and is being booked for a ton of projects right now so he doesn't need this show.

This show already has zero rewatchibility, and it JUST came out. Compare that to the Netflix show which has stood the test of time and has helped sustain a fandom for 10 years.

I think in future years ppl will look back on Born Again in the same way they look back on Sherlock season 4 and Game of Thrones season 8. Like holy shit they really fumbled the bag THAT hard. There are a lot of parallels to Sherlock season 4. A beloved property and characters that got turned into a great TV show with strong writing, fantastic acting, great characterization, etc. And then arrogant show runners get ahead of themselves and completely destroy the foundation of the story in a misguided attempt to do something "different" and thinking that they were too big to fail.

Viewership is already not great for this show compared to other Disney + Marvel projects. They have 8, 45 min episodes in season 2 to turn this ship around, which they won't do, because they already blew out the hull and sunk the boat when they decided to kill Foggy Nelson. Everything that I've been seeing announced for season 2 just comes across as a desperate throwing 'anything at the wall to see if it will stick trying to convince people to watch this show' ploy. Do you have any idea how pissed I am that DANNY RAND will most likely be brought back into the MCU, but not Foggy Nelson? Because THAT'S a character that people were just clamoring to see return, give me a break.

Anyway, at least it's a relief that this show is such a poor and pale imitation of the original, because it makes it easier to consider it non-canon. There is NO universe in which Matt Murdock exists as a character without Foggy Nelson. There is no universe in which Matt is happy and active as Daredevil and Foggy is dead. Sorry Scardapane, your shitty fanfiction will never erase that truth. 🤷‍♀️

So Foggy's scenes are: he's not sitting with his friends at the bar and they make fun of his flirting attempts, Matt gets mad at him for hiding something, he says something else that Matt gets upset by and walks off in a huff, and then he dies without even getting to see Matt one more time.

The audience then has to relive that dying moment with Matt episode after episode via picture totem and flashback, while Matt won't even say Foggy's name. And at one point it's implied Matt hears his voice, yet the show never addresses or portrays that at any point afterwards. And then when Matt finally gives in to his own temptations he simply says "Fuck it" and abandons the picture on the table

and we never see it again

not even when Matt goes hunting for answers about a case that apparently no one, neither Matt nor Karen, decided to dig even a little bit further into, they just took the police detectives word for it. They didn't even review or resolve the Benny case that got left behind in the aftermath.

But don't worry, they figure it all out after seeing one piece of paper and then bond over a Foggy-related item we the audience have never even seen before!

And then finally Karen reassures Matt that yes, Foggy loved all of him, and not even a single visual or auditory reference is given as a signal of closure. Not for Matt, not for the audience. Just dangling threads that are dropped the second they aren't relevant anymore and that I'm told over and over don't mean anything.

[arolesbianism]

Been working on redesigning Raiden

[dollishmehrayan]

# TAKE EVERYTHING AS IT WAS WRITTEN FOR YOU ── .✦ ( batboys x writer!reader who writes ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: hey so I’m back from the dead apparently, anywaysss omgg I missed you guys Hii and I will posting more content from now on and taking this seriously and these past days I was super stressed out over moving but hey my lovess anyways I decided to base this writer s/o over like anyone, like whether you write fan fic like me or write actual books, it matters to this hcs !! Tags: (batboys x writer!s/o)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

# DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He loves that you're a writer ( listen he just LOVESSS creative women like hello !? God forbid a guy likes creative people 🫠) he's your #1 fan and biggest hype man.

Tries to read your work over your shoulder while you're typing, even if you hate it “Babe, I need to know what happens next!” Like constantly over your shoulder seeing what you’re drafting and etc.

Occasionally offers cheesy plot ideas like “what if the love interest also knows parkour?” (His ideas suck)

Will 100% brag to everyone: “Yeah, my partner’s a genius novelist. Ever heard of them? You will.” OOOOO

Falls asleep listening to you ramble about story arcs and character development. It's his favorite sound.

Writes you little encouraging notes like, “You got this, Hemingway 💪” and sticks them on your laptop / tablet or wtv you have bbg.

# JASON TODD ── .✦

Loves your dark, gritty writing especially if there's violence, angst, or moral grayness involved since a lot of people don’t write angst that casually.

Offers surprisingly insightful edits or plot ideas: “This villain's motivation is weak. Give them a tragic backstory and don’t make them redeemable.”

Low-key wants you to base a character on him but will pretend he doesn’t care.

Has a soft spot for reading your fluff pieces though and will be quietly emotional about them.

Will threaten anyone who leaves bad reviews on your work. "Just say the word. Username 'Booktoklover93'? I got 'em."

He buys you fancy notebooks and pens and acts like it's no big deal, but he's proud of himself.

# TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Absolute king of writing dates you'll both sit in a café typing furiously and sipping terrible coffee.

Helps you fact-check obscure things at 3am without complaint (okay, maybe some complaint).

If you write mystery or thrillers, he treats it like solving a real case. “Wait… that clue in chapter 5…”

He totally has a secret folder on his computer labeled “[Your Name]’s Writing – Favorite Stuff” with all your pieces saved.

You’ve accidentally inspired him to write fanfic once and he WILL take that secret to the grave.

Sends you prompts or memes like “this is so your OC.” (Sorry I just keep cringing at oc 🥲)

# DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

At first, he might not get why you write fictional stories… but then he reads them.

He's completely blown away and demands to know what happens next immediately.

Occasionally critiques your logic but ends up emotionally invested in your characters.

“Why did you kill him off?” Because it served the story—” “You’re a monster.”

Will sit next to you while you write, drawing or sketching your characters in his own style.

Has probably told Alfred he thinks you’re a genius at least once when he thought no one was listening.

# BONUS WHICH MR WAYNE! ── .✦

Loves that you're creative and has the patience of a saint when listening to you rant about plot holes.

He doesn’t read everything you write, but when he does, he’ll quote it back to you at random times like a proud husband.

“Chapter 7 really showed growth. I was impressed.”

Offers to fund your writing career or self-publishing venture without blinking. “You’ll need an editor and marketing team.” SIGN ME UP !!

He also gently reminds you to eat and sleep when you’re on a deadline: “You’ve been writing for 16 hours. Come to bed and go to sleep.”

[deansbeer]

where the waves rest easy ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

♡ SYNOPSIS. you and dean take the kids to the beach, where he opens up about his past, his love for you, and the life you've built together after leaving hunting behind.

♡ WARNING(S) fluff | angst | family bonding | mentions of past violence | major character death (pls dont hate me I’ll cry) | grief. mdni ♱ 18 plus. adult content.

♡ KARI NOTES. @deanswidow also contributed a tiny lil idea for this so dedicating this 2 her <3 she's dean's baby girl because it felt right 🤍 love u pooks !!!!!

IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS SINCE DEAN QUIT HUNTING.

two years since he put the colt and his sawed-off shotgun away for good. since he walked away from the life that had defined him for so long. since he said goodbye to the monsters, the blood, and the constant weight of death hanging over him.

two years since sam died.

god, you still catch him looking at the horizon sometimes, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists like he's bracing himself for something—like he's expecting the next apocalypse to come knocking at your front door. but it never does.

because dean walked away.

he walked away for you. for your family. for SAMMY, the little boy with his brother's name and his father's stubbornness. for JEMMA, the baby girl who's only been on this earth eight months and already has DEAN WINCHESTER wrapped around her tiny fingers. he walked away because he couldn't do it anymore—because burying his brother nearly killed him, and he knew if he didn't stop, he'd be burying you next. or the kids. or himself.

and you know sam would've wanted this for him. he would've wanted dean to have what they'd always dreamed about when they were kids: a home, a family, a life that wasn't overshadowed by death and duty.

so dean quit.

he got a job as a firefighter, of all things—because of course he did. being a firefighter lets him save people without the baggage of what came with hunting. it's hard work, but it's honest work, and it keeps his hands busy. it keeps his mind busy, too, most of the time. and you? you're a kindergarten teacher, which means your days are filled with crayons, storytime, and glue-sticked chaos.

it's not the life he ever thought he'd have—hell, it's not the life he ever thought he deserved—but he loves it. he loves you. he loves his kids. and even on the hard days, when the itch to hunt creeps up on him, or when he sees something on the news that makes his instincts scream at him to grab his gun, he reminds himself why he stopped. why he has to stay.

because this is worth it.

you and the kids are worth it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

it's a friday when DEAN suggests going to the beach.

you both decided to take a day off—something rare, since your lives are usually so busy between work and the kids. but today, the sun is shining, the weather's perfect, and dean woke up with that lopsided grin you love so much, the one that makes him look ten years younger.

"whaddya think?" he asks as he pours you a cup of coffee, jemma balanced on his hip like she's always belonged there. "a beach day? sammy's been talking about it all week, and i think the squirt here could use her first dip in the ocean, don't you?"

you laugh, taking the coffee from him and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "sounds perfect."

so you pack up BABY with towels, sunscreen, a cooler full of snacks, and all the other million things you need when you have two kids under three. sammy's bouncing with excitement the entire drive, and jemma babbles happily from her car seat, her chubby hands reaching for DEAN every time he glances back to check on her. what a daddy's girl.

when you finally get to the beach, the first thing you notice is how peaceful it is. it's not too crowded—just a few families scattered along the sand, kids building castles and couples lounging under umbrellas.

and you can tell the moment DEAN steps onto the sand that this place means something to him.

you've been here before, of course—this is where he proposed to you. but there's something about the way he looks at the water, the way he takes a deep breath like he's letting go of something heavy, that makes you realize just how much this spot actually means to him.

"you okay, baby?" you ask softly, slipping your hand into his.

he turns to you, and for a moment, the smile he gives you is so FULL of love it makes your chest ache. "yeah, sweetheart," he says. "just… this place. it kinda reminds me why i'm here, y'know?"

you nod, squeezing his hand. and then sammy tugs on his leg, demanding to go play in the water, and DEAN laughs, scooping him up and spinning him around before setting him down and chasing after him.

you watch them run toward the waves, and your heart feels so full it might burst.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

a little while later, you're walking along the shore with him, jemma cradled in his arms. sammy's still splashing in the water, his laughter carried on the breeze, and you can't help but smile as you watch him. he really is a miniature version of DEAN—same green eyes, same freckles, same mischievous grin.

"he's got your stubbornness, too," you say, nudging DEAN with your shoulder.

he chuckles. "yeah, well, he gets that from both of us, sweetheart. don't kid yourself."

you laugh, leaning your head against his bicep as you walk. the sand is warm beneath your feet, the waves lapping gently at the shore, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

"you remember why i proposed to you here?" he asks suddenly, his voice soft.

you look up at him, surprised. "of course i do. but i wouldn't mind hearing it again."

he smiles, his eyes distant for a moment as he looks out at the water. "it was right after we found out sammy was on the way," he says. "i was scared out of my fucking mind, if i'm being honest. not about you—about being a dad. about screwing it all up. but then we came here, and you were sitting right there"—he nods toward a spot near the water—"and you just looked so… happy. like you weren't worried about anything. and i realized that if i was gonna do this—if i was gonna have a family, a real life—it had to be with you. because you make everything better, y'know? even when it's scary. especially when it's scary."

his voice cracks a little at the end, and you blink back tears, reaching up to cup his face. "baby…"

"i mean it," he says, his voice rough. "you saved me, sweetheart. you and the kids—you're the reason i'm still here. the reason i didn't just… give up after sam."

you kiss him then, pouring everything you feel into it. he kisses you back, jemma squirming a little between you but not enough to break the moment.

when you finally pull away, you're both smiling, and for the first time in a long time, you see nothing but peace in his eyes.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

the rest of the day is spent soaking up the sun, building sandcastles, and chasing sammy around the beach. DEAN lets him bury him in the sand at one point, laughing as both SAMMY and JEMMA work together to pile sand on top of him.

"i think they're plotting against me," he says, grinning up at you from his sandy grave.

"probably," you reply, laughing as jemma pats a handful of sand onto his chest.

as the sun starts to set, dean takes both kids down to the water to look for crabs. sammy's eyes light up every time he spots one, and jemma claps her hands excitedly, even though you're pretty sure she doesn't know what's going on.

you watch them from a distance, your hand resting on your stomach. it's still early—you haven't told DEAN yet—but you know he'll be just as thrilled as you are when he finds out you're expecting again.

watching him with SAMMY and JEMMA, seeing the way he lights up around them, there's no doubt in your mind that he was meant to be a dad.

and as you sit there, watching the man you love with the family you've built together, you realize that this is what happiness looks like.

it's not perfect—it's messy and chaotic and sometimes downright exhausting—but it's yours.

and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

later that night, after the kids are asleep and the house is quiet, DEAN pulls you into his arms.

"thank you," he whispers, his voice barely audible in the darkness.

"for what?" you ask, resting your head against his chest.

"for this," he says, his hand moving to rest over your stomach. "for giving me a reason to keep going. for giving me a family."

you smile, tears pricking at your eyes again. "you don't have to thank me for that, my love. you've given me just as much."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, holding you close. and as you drift off to sleep, you can't help but think about how far you've both come—how far he's come.

because DEAN WINCHESTER may have walked away from hunting, but he's still a hero.

he's YOUR hero.

and he always will be.

♡ SPECIAL TAGS. @beausling @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @titsout4nicholas @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @archiveofvirtue @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs @ohsc . . . ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

[cherrybr4t]

bloody bar — choi seungcheol (m)

pic cr. pinterest!

pairing: bar owner!seungcheol x fem!reader

about: tis’ that time of the year—seungcheol’s love for halloween translates into him going the extra mile, to bring in fresh faces into his bar in town.

warnings: smut, the world sl*t, smoking (reader), jason voorhees mentioned, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), oral (m.rec), fingering, slight brat taming, praising, creampie, tit playing

wc: 4.2k

—

As quoted in Mean Girls, halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. Cady has never been more right, you think to yourself as you walk down the busy streets downtown, hand in hand with your other two friends—Yuki and Mona.

Surprisingly, this year, you three are not the exception, clad in sexy renditions of your favourite movie characters. You being Gogo Yubari—but with a tiny skirt and a shirt that seems to be barely holding itself together, Yuki being Mia Wallace, and Mona a ghost bride that keeps attracting the gazes of drunk teens.

Each of you on your second can of highball, arms locked together tightly as you three trudged down the streets to find the bar where the rest of the group is waiting at. Nothing like pre-gaming before the actual pre-game.

“Fuck, I need to pee.” Yuki whines as she downs her remaining highball before throwing away her empty can. A groan rumbles from Mona, which causes you to chuckle. “Looks like there’s a toilet up front over there,” you pondered, trying to get a better look at the building in front of you.

“Let’s go let’s go—I think the bar is somewhere here anyways,” Yuki pulls both of you to cross the road with her, briefly checking on google maps which she has had open for the past 20 minutes.

The building in front of you welcomes the group of you with an open foyer, and you notice the rows of neon lights across every floor of the building, each spelling out the names of different bars that seem to be booming with business.

“Fuck, I can’t hold it in any longer,” Yuki barely finishes her sentence before running off to the restroom at the end of the foyer. You finish up your can along with Mona, before deciding to light up a stick with her while waiting for Yuki.

Meet us at level 3, there’s an open smoking area here.

You light up a stick for yourself as well as for Mona, seeking comfort in the warmth down your system, in contrast to the cold night. Leaning against the wall, your eyes run through the bar fronts staggered on this level, admiring the amount of effort they took to showcase their halloween decorations.

While scanning, your eyes meet a rather...menacing one. A person with a Jason Voorhees mask is staring right at you, leaning against the parapet directly opposite you, while waving what looks like a fake decorative knife—as if saying hi.

You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring the slight scare you felt when you saw the mystery person wave at you. One thing about you—as much as you enjoy the theatrics of being out and about during halloween, you were definitely not the biggest fan of horror movies—especially ones with killing themes where the murderer is hiding behind a sinister mask. (read: Friday the 13th)

You look away, puffing out towards the sky before listening to Mona complain about her recent internship project.

“Hey,”

A deep voice muttered. While you knew it definitely could not be Yuki, nor were you particularly interested in entertaining anyone tonight, somehow your inner instinct brought it upon you to turn to the source of the voice.

The minute your eyes lay upon the man in a black suit next to you—you let out a yelp, jumping slightly and dropping your diminishing stick.

“Holy fuck,” you uttered, hands soothing yourself by patting your chest area. A loud chuckle erupts beside you and you just know Mona is intrigued by this mysterious man appearing beside you two.

The mask looks way more eerie and daunting up close, you can’t help but take a step back—stepping on your dropped cigarette at the same time. He chuckles, and continues to wave his knife while looking at you.

Mona speaks up, letting the man know how sick his costume is, and whatever he utters next gets muffled by your loud thoughts.

Fight or Flight. This is a stupid predicament to be even thinking about fighting or flighting—it’s halloween for goodness sakes. You’re bound to meet 20 more people with the same spooky masks, but at this very moment, you’re not liking the attention from this “killer”.

Flight it is. You grab onto Mona’s hand tightly before dragging her towards the toilet at level 3. Panting as you shut the door to the women’s toilet, you hastily pick up your phone to text Yuki about the change in meeting location.

“Y/N, calm down, it’s just a man in a scary mask that’s all,” Mona giggles as she takes in your slightly frightened state. You roll your eyes, shrugging her off, “and you—will definitely die first in a horror movie.”

“Hey! That’s offensive—we know the first one to die will be—.”

“Guys! I’m right, the bar is actually in this building, on this level actually,” Yuki bursts into the toilet, waving her phone excitedly with a bounce.

Mona looks over at me, smirking before holding onto both of us, “Let the night begin,”.

—

The bloody bar. What an apt name, especially for halloween season.

You squeeze through the crowd on the dance floor before finding the table where your friends are situated at. Loud cheers erupt from the table before they usher you to get more drinks to reach their state of high.

“I’ll go fetch us some drinks—cherry vodka?” Mona and Yuki nod eagerly before holding onto your belongings so you can carry the drinks over.

With the music pumping you up, you made your way to the bar at the back, smiling at strangers along the way—stopped by a girl dressed as The Bride, insisting that you both had to get a picture together.

After some quick snaps, you finally found yourself in front of the bar, alongside a few others waiting for their drink top-ups.

“3 cherry vodka’s please!”

“Coming right up!”

Leaning your elbows on the marbled counter, you hum along to the music playing while tapping your card to the beat.

“Why’d you run away so quickly Gogo?” That familiar baritone runs a chill down your spine and you turn to your right, only to see the same man waving the same plastic knife in your face.

“Well, quick tip. If you wanna hold a conversation, maybe not wave a knife in their face?” You snap back, effects of the mask starting to wear off with the alcohol making its way through your veins.

He chuckles, before tucking away the knife behind him.

“My bad, can I have a do-over with you, pretty?” He reaches out a hand in your direction, which you narrow your eyes at. He wiggles his fingers, urging you to go for it.

Hesitantly, you place your hands in his, eager to be done with just a quick shake of hands. But he’s faster, as he lifts his mask up a little, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he settles a soft kiss upon them.

“This outfit doing a thing on you?” You can’t help but bite back at this man—though he’s done nothing wrong, except looking like a nightmare you may have had after watching Friday the 13th.

“More so the pretty woman that’s in it, rather than the costume itself—though I must say, I don’t remember Gogo looking this…bewitching.” He tilts his head, and you see a hint of his eyes behind the mask.

You snort out a chuckle, “And I don’t remember Jason being this friendly,”

“Only to people he likes, and fortunately for you, you’ve caught his eye,” he leans in closer, and you sniff a hint of bergamot and vanilla.

“Fortunately? I need to be further convinced,” you hum, starting to warm up with the warm banter. You were always a sucker for straightforward guys anyway.

With a swift movement, he removes his mask completely, hands ruffling through his locks to fix his hair.

You were stunned—to say the least. The man in front of you had the prettiest eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer he looked at you, with the prettiest cherry lips and goodness—his dimples. His dimples that seemed to be screaming out to you, to poke a finger in them.

“Seungcheol,” his dimples make an appearance yet again.

You cleared your throat, “Y/N”. You swear you saw a flash of something in his eyes as you uttered your name to the gorgeous man in front of you.

“Y/N… let me get those drinks for you, yeah?” Before you could protest, he makes a few gestures towards the bartender, before grabbing the drinks and bringing them over to your table for you.

Raising your eyebrows, you scurry nearer to catch up to him, “You’re here often?” You could only assume by the way he has a tab open here, and by judging the chummy behaviour with the bartender earlier.

“Mmm, not quite…sometimes,” he shouts over the music that gets louder nearing the tables and dance floor. Handing over your drinks to you and your friends, words get stuck down his throat as your friends pull you away to the dance floor.

“I’ll catch you later!” You push away the feeling of disappointment, knowing he’ll be around anyway.

Drinks in your hands, you sway along to the music, pulling up with your favorite dance moves with your friends. Throughout, you feel a certain someone’s gaze on you, and with a sneaky glance towards the bar, you see seungcheol leaning on his back, arms crossed with his eyes unabashedly drilling holes in your face.

With an audience, you start to feel a little more bold, swaying your hips in his direction, letting your short skirt flap around, giving him a little show to gape at.

The feeling of being under his watchful eye makes your heart beat along to the bass on the dance floor, and you can’t help but revert your gaze back to him every 5 minutes.

Once he notices you taking a break, downing some water on an empty table, he makes his way towards you. Noticing him, you send him a saccharine smile as he leans down, “Care for a dance? Seems like your friends are busy,” his lips grazed your ear slightly.

Fuck what you said earlier—you could entertain people tonight, especially if it’s a handsome stranger though sent to you in a sinister way initially.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod before walking towards the dance floor, looking back at him, only to catch him entranced by your ass already.

You roll your eyes playfully, before catching his gaze. Giggling, you made a come hither motion towards him and he swears his heart is about to pour out in the middle of the dance floor.

—

He’s seen countless people swimming in and out of his bar, but he’s never encountered anyone as enchanting as you. He thinks he’s sick to his stomach at the wave of excitement and rush you bring to him—just by looking at him.

Seungcheol holds you close, and for someone who believes you can’t find love on the dance floor with musty smells and sticky bodies, he seems to be under a spell—one casted by you unknowingly.

He’d thought he lost a chance when you ran away from his initial approach—but when you strutted into his bar, he had a sudden gyration about the idea of fate.

“Thought I’d never have the chance to see you again, pretty. Can’t lie—when you ran away from me earlier, broke my heart a little,” he can’t help his mouth from expressing how glad he is to be dancing with you right now.

“Can’t blame me—it was kinda creepy, Jason’s not high up in my list of celebrity crushes,” you wrap your arms around his neck, giggling. “And, I’m here right now so—I’d say you have the last laugh,”

“Thanking every God I know for bringing you back to me, feels like Gogo was meant to end up in Jason’s arms tonight huh,” Cheol doesn’t know what’s wrong with him and why he’s appearing like a desperate 20 year old in front of you but, all he knows is that the feeling is mutual.

“Was I?” You start to lean closer, lips barely on his neck and he’s afraid you’d notice how quick his heart rate is right now.

“Don’t do this often but, I’d really like to show you, pretty,” he holds your chin up to look into your eyes.

—

The ride back to seungcheol’s house is filled with tension, with the slight nervousness as you think about the last time you’ve made such a reckless decision.

Somehow this doesn’t feel as reckless—it feels thought out, and pre-determined. As if his house was your final destination of the night all along.

Some jokes are cracked in his black porsche, and you notice how his hands grip onto the steering wheel so tight, it starts to turn white.

As if it were the last day on earth with no time to spare, he doesn’t give you time to admire his luxurious and stunning house, not even the bmw parked beside his porsche.

“Fuck, you’re sure about this right, pretty?” He holds your face close, kicking his door shut.

“Very. Want you to show me…show me why I was meant to end up in your arms cheol,” you whisper and he dies internally at the nickname you’ve given him.

“Okay baby,” he pecks your lips. “Gonna fuck the shit out of you pretty,” the moan you let out at that makes you embarrassed but he kisses you so fervently you know you’re not the only needy one.

“Safeword, need a safeword pretty,” he’s panting with urgency, walking you backwards while his hands are unwilling to let go of your face.

“Pumpkin,”

He giggles, gives you another peck on the lips.

“You’re adorable,” and you whine, letting out a gasp as he suddenly has you in his arms, princess-carrying you down the hallway, into his bedroom.

He crashes his lips on yours the minute your back hits the soft mattress, wanting to just kiss every breath out of you.

“So pretty, fuck, knew i had to get you the minute my eyes laid on you,” his hands travel under your shirt, softly caressing your tummy.

You moan at his confession, “you have me cheol,”.

“Yeah? I do, don’t I. Got your pretty ass under me, all I ever need,” a few movements and your buttons pop open, leaving him to drool over your swells covered by a thin bra.

His eager hands grasp onto your mounds, squeezing and playing so rough till it falls out of its confines, and he immediately gets a taste, licking a bud, swirling a tongue to get it hard and puffy.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan, legs shifting and rubbing against each other to find relief in the friction.

“So sensitive baby,” he groans, switching over to suck on your other bud, fingers twisting and pulling on the wet and puffy one. You cry out at the insane pleasure it brings you, feeling crazy that you want him to make you cum just by playing with your tits.

“Want more, need more,” you whine out, legs now tight around his waist, trying to lift your hips up to grind on his clothed bulge.

“Mm baby, be patient, I play the long game—won’t be inside you until you cum on my fingers and tongue.” Though his body betrays him as his bulge grows bigger and harder through his pants. You whine, too lost in the pleasure of rubbing yourself on him.

His grips onto your hips, slamming them back into the mattress to get control of the situation.

“I don’t play nice with brats, baby. Wanna be a good girl and stay still for me?” His warning does nothing but soak your panties even more and you nod, submitting his dark gaze.

“Words, need to hear you baby,” he caresses your chin with his thumb.

“Y-yes, I’ll be a good girl cheol.” He kisses you and continues playing with your tits, cupping them, tongue flicking left and right licking your buds together.

“That’s my good girl, knew you’d listen well to me,” he travels down towards your skirt, eyes hooded as he can’t look away from you. He lifts up your skirt to figure out exactly how much of a mess he’s got you in.

Pushing the thin fabric to the side, his index finger runs through your slit, gathering all your arousal, only to bring it to your face, “look at how wet you are baby, you’re fuckin’ drenched god,” he sucks his finger dry, before diving in with his mouth.

“Let me reward you baby, show you why it’s always worth it to be my good girl yeah?”

He licks up and down your slit, before pushing his tongue in your warm cunt, eliciting the loudest moan from you as of yet. “F-fuuck” you scream out as he starts to lap at your cunt like a starved man.

Removing your ruined panties to have better access to your clit, he continues his way up, tongue flicking that sensitive nub all around before sucking it completely, letting his pretty lips play around with your clit. His eyes never leave your face—wanting to savour every look your face contorts into every second.

“C-cheol—so good so good,” your broken moans encourage him to go on even further, as he pushes a finger in easily, sliding it in and out at a steady pace.

He hits two spots at one go, his slender fingers repeatedly rubbing against that friction pad inside you while his mouth stimulates your clit non-stop.

You start to tremble and shake around him, fingers grabbing onto his locks even tighter than before. He feels you clench at inconsistent paces, and observes the tightening of your core.

“You gonna cum for me baby? Like my good girl?”

Coherent sentences can’t seem to form as you let out strings of curses and moans—along with his name.

“Cheol, cheol, cheol fuck,”

“Yeah baby, I can tell you’re there already, cum for me, show me you’re my good girl,” and with that you let go, legs gripping onto his head so tight, shaking, upper body jerking up as you let out a cry.

He rubs your clit to help you prolong your high and you catch your breath slowly, back slowly touching the mattress again.

“You look so fucking gorgeous when you cum baby, need to see that face again,” he hovers above you again, this time attaching his sinful lips on your neck, wanting to mark you as his so badly.

“Take it off—want you inside me,” you tug at his pants, wanting to feel him wreck you completely.

Chuckling, he grabs hold of your hand, pinning them on top of you. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge baby? Don’t worry, I meant it when I said I’ll fuck the shit out of you,” stepping out of his pants, you feel your mouth water at the sight of his angry bulge pushing against his boxers.

“Wanna suck you off, can I?”

He groans, “fuck baby, how can I say no to that pretty face, c’mere” you crawl on the bed towards the edge where he’s standing, helping him get rid of his boxers.

His cock jumps and you already see hints of precum dripping down his girthy length. Laying flat on the bed, you push your ass up a little to give him a show as you start to stroke him, licking his pretty head softly.

“Fuck—no teasing baby,” he throws his head back, groaning at the sight of your pretty face taking in his cock, with your ass—god your ass, he wants to bury his cock in it this instant.

You take him in inch by inch, tongue at the base, flicking around while you swallow him whole. It takes a while, but you soon take all of him in. Moaning at how full it feels, you bob your head, hands playing with his balls, stimulating him even more.

“You’re gonna be the death of me baby, so fucking good to me,” cheol grabs your hair, and starts to guide your head, hips starting to fuck himself into your pretty mouth.

Loud groans erupt from his chest as he feels his tip reach down your throat, the way it tightens and pulses around his tip makes him dizzy.

“Gonna make me cum baby, hold on hold on,” his voice makes you drip more essence on his sheets—his moans together with the sexy chuckle makes you hold your legs together, not wanting to be further embarrassed by how wet you get so easily.

He slides out of your mouth, before instructing you to lay on your back. Grabbing both your legs, placing them on his shoulder before he lines his wet cock on your cunt, gathering all your essence on his tip.

“Hurry cheol—put it in, please,” whining at how empty you feel.

He slams his cock into you, and starts with a pace that makes you scream out at the repeated hits on your g-spot.

“Fuuck—cheol, wait,”

“Told you I don’t play nice with brats baby. You were impatient for my cock—I’m giving it to you now,” his hips never faltering as he continues to pound into you.

“Hhnnngghhm,” you’ve never felt this amount of immense pleasure hitting you so quickly, and all you can do is cry out his name.

“You got what you wanted baby,” he smirks down at you, grabbing onto your ankles tighter as he feels his cock grow tighter at how good you feel around him.

“I-i did, thank you, thank you—fuck, cheol,” you cry out yet again.

“Fuck baby—thanking me for my cock like a good girl now,” he reaches down to play with your clit, wanting to see you crumble before him again.

“I’m your good girl—please,” you throw your head back once you feel the tight circles drawn on your clit. You feel the impending tight feeling down your lower abdomen and you know you’re about to make a mess on his cock.

“That you are baby, fucking my good girl the way she deserves right? Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock baby,” he bites his lower lip, and quickens the pace of his hips and his fingers on your clit. He groans at the sight of white liquid painted on his cock, the ring forming as he thrusts into you.

“You feel so good cheol, so big so full, wanna cum already,” your mind fogs at the pleasure and all you can think about is chasing the high that is about to fall upon you.

“Cum for me baby, cum around this cock like the good girl you are, yeah?” And his voice was the ultimate key to unravel that knot inside you as you feel yourself spasm around his cock, loud cries from you wave after wave.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby, can feel you so tight around me,” you prop your elbows up at his words, moaning at how hot he looks chasing his high inside of you.

“You’d like that baby? Want me to cum inside you? Fuck look at you gripping me so tight even though you just came, so greedy for my cum aren’t you,”

“Yes yes yes, want you to cum inside me cheol,” you whine out, wanting to feel him pump himself inside of you. You beg for it like a broken record and cheol lets out moans and groans before he releases a thick spurt of load inside you, staying still as his cock continues to empty itself inside your warm and tight cunt.

Pulling out, he takes a step back to admire the mixture of your liquids together, oozing out of your pink and ruined cunt.

“Gogo was definitely meant to be in Jason’s arms tonight,” you let out with a breathy chuckle, and cheol brings his hands up to cup your face, swallowing your face whole again with an intense kiss.

“That was amazing baby, Gogo definitely needs to be in Jason’s arms for the rest of all the time from now onwards,” he snuggles his head in the crook of neck, kissing the areas he marked you earlier softly.

You giggle, before a gasp from the man on top of you brought you into a state slight panic, “What’s wrong cheol?”

“Fuck…I just left the bar running—never mind, Jeonghan’s got it,” he snaps his fingers before settling himself in the crook of your neck again.

You tilt your head in confusion, holding his head up to look at him, “What do you mean you left the bar running?”

Cheol’s eyes widen before he smiles sheepishly, “Right…I forgot to mention earlier.. Bloody bar is…my bar—well technically opened it with Jeonghan, the bartender earlier.”

It was your turn to let out a gasp, “Well, never knew bar owners were as enthusiastic in participating in halloween shenanigans,” you smirk towards him before settling down on his bed with him again.

“Lucky you,” he pinches your cheeks and you giggle, rubbing your nose against his, “Lucky me”.

—

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! a little late to release this but,, i hope u enjoyed this mini halloween fic <3 feel free to comment, leave some feedback if u liked it 🩷🍒 all love,, xx 💋

taglist: @gyuguys @black-swan-blog27 @do-you-remember-summer-127 @mrsjohnnysuh

[izanacore]

tokyo Revengers ran haitani - reader is also a bonten exec but they both hate each other until one saves the other and then they hit it off - fluff angst smut anything you’d prefer

“salvatore” | ran haitani x reader

mini-collection 𓂃⋆.˚

ticket #002

synopsis: forced to take the place of the yakuza couple she killed. y/n, a bonten executive, is stuck playing the perfect wife—with ran haitani, of all people. they can barely stand each other, yet as the lines blur between duty, they realize the real problem isn’t keeping up the illusion—it’s that it might not be an illusion at all.

characters: ran haitani, fem!reader, haruchiyo sanzu, manjiro “mikey” sano, hajime kokonoi

warnings: explicit content, enemies to lovers, smut (18+) with plot, mild angst, violence, blood, gunfights, assassination, fake marriage, sexual tension, near-death experience, strong language, yakuza politics

notes: bonten timeline! anon, i’m sorry if i went overboard with this one. i just love the concept, ok?? or maybe it’s just ran haitani? idk! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

part 1

ran and y/n were on a mission. but if you saw them right now, you’d think otherwise—pressed against the wall in a dark alley, lips locked in a heated kiss, bodies grinding together. ran’s hands roamed her body, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

y/n grunted, shoving him back.

“tsk. do you think i want this?” ran whispered, irritation lacing his voice.

“will you fucking slow down?” she snapped. “i don’t want your filthy marks on me.”

ran just smirked, biting his lip. “why not? makes it more convincing, don’t you think?”

y/n rolled her eyes. ran haitani. the person she despised most in bonten. and yet, here she was, stuck playing his lover.

of all the people mikey could’ve paired her with—kakucho, rindou, literally anyone else—hell, she would even take sanzu, but he just had to stick her with him.

“you two need to work this out. your personal hatred for each other is ruining bonten,” mikey said, tone sharp and final.

y/n scoffed, pushing back her chair as she shot to her feet. “there is no way in hell i’m doing this with him—”

mikey’s sharp gaze cut her off instantly. with a clenched jaw, she sank back into her seat.

“you can count on us, boss. right, y/n?” ran drawled from beside her, casually draping an arm over her shoulder.

she shoved it off without hesitation, standing up once more—this time to leave.

sanzu’s amused chuckle echoed in the room. “women…”

ran didn’t hesitate before following her out. “y/n!”

“just leave me alone, ran.” she didn’t stop, heading straight for her room. sharing a penthouse with the bonten executives was already suffocating—having to deal with him on top of it was unbearable.

but before she could slam the door shut, ran caught it, pushing his way inside.

y/n turned to him, her expression cold. “if this is just a joke to you, then don’t drag me into it.” her voice was quieter now, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it. “i already messed up the last mission. i don’t need mikey thinking i’m useless too.”

being the only woman in bonten meant y/n had to fight twice as hard to prove herself. she had no choice—this was the only life she had left.

bonten had saved her father once, covering up his crimes when he was drowning in debt. but y/n never knew what he was involved in, not until he died as one of bonten’s men. at first, she blamed them, convinced they had taken him from her. in her rage, she almost killed sanzu that night.

but mikey saw something in her. the way she handled a gun, the way she fought. her father had trained her to survive, and mikey decided her talent can’t go to waste. now, she was loyal to him.

but none of that mattered after what she did.

it was supposed to be a simple job—steal the key hidden in the necklace of a woman. that key led to a vault full of gold that once belonged to bonten. what y/n didn’t know was that the people she killed that night weren’t just some faceless targets. they were the yakuza couple—ghosts of the underworld. their identities were so well-guarded that not even their own members had ever laid eyes on them. no one had ever seen their faces, heard their real voices. all people knew was their power.

when rumors spread that the couple had been murdered, their guards locked down the mansion, believing their leaders were still alive. the only proof of identity? the key—and the woman wearing it.

y/n.

she had no choice but to step into the wife’s role. play the part, convince everyone. and to make it worse? she had to do it with ran haitani.

mikey had assigned him to the mission. retrieve the gold. maintain the illusion. avoid an all-out war between bonten and the yakuza faction that still swore loyalty to their “alive” leaders.

their world was a stage, and they played their roles flawlessly. the infamous yakuza couple—madly in love, reckless, shameless, untouchable. their obsession with each other was well-known, a twisted love story whispered in fear.

which meant one thing: ran and y/n had to act just as obsessed. public displays of affection, touching, teasing, pushing boundaries. and when people were watching? they had to make it look real.

so here they were, tangled in each other, hands wandering, lips bruising, lost in a kiss that was too heated for a back alley. too believable.

“uh, boss… i think we need to get out of here now,” one of the bodyguards muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

ran slowly turned his head, eyes dark and sharp.

the poor guy swallowed hard, stepping back.

then, just like that, ran’s expression shifted—a lazy, mocking grin curling on his lips. “you all know damn well how my wife gets when she isn’t satisfied.” his voice was smooth, but the threat was unmistakable. “so be good little guards and learn how to shut the fuck up.”

“y-yes, boss.”

ran turned back to y/n, eyes gleaming with amusement. “now, where were we, my beautiful wife?”

y/n’s glare could burn through steel. “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“mmm,” ran hummed against her skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder. “just love getting under your skin.”

y/n slid her arms around his neck, but this time, her grip was tight—just enough force to make him tense. she yanked him closer, enough to make him grunt, enough to feel the way his muscles twitched under her touch.

then she leaned in, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “enough is enough, my love. i’m very satisfied already. shall we continue this at home? wouldn’t want our guards to get an even better view when they see me getting railed by you.”

her voice was loud enough for the bodyguards to hear. loud enough to make them stiffen in place.

ran exhaled sharply, amusement flickering in his gaze. then he chuckled, low and entertained. “as you wish, baby.”

when they finally arrived at the yakuza couple’s mansion, they wasted no time settling into the master bedroom. y/n sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, while ran loomed over her, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“so, what’s the plan, mrs. haitani?” ran drawled.

y/n scoffed. “fuck off.”

as she shifted slightly, the high slit of her dress parted, exposing more of her thighs. ran’s gaze flickered downward. he wasn’t blind—he was still a man, and y/n was undeniably attractive. and if there was one thing better than a beautiful woman, it was a beautiful woman who hated his guts. ruining her would be fun.

ran didn’t actually hate y/n. but god, she made it easy to annoy her.

she was obsessed with proving herself, like bonten would crumble if she let up for even a second. but she already had mikey’s trust, sanzu’s respect—hell, even kakucho acknowledged her skills.

so what was she still fighting for?

maybe that’s why ran loved messing with her. beneath all that pride and obsession with proving herself, she was just as reckless and unhinged as the rest of them—she just refused to admit it.

“why don’t we pick up where we left off?” ran mused, leaning in, his lips dangerously close to hers.

y/n turned her face away just before he could close the distance. “get off me, haitani,” she said coldly.

ran chuckled, unfazed, and took a seat beside her. “y’know, in our line of work, you should really learn how to let off some steam.”

y/n shot him a glare as she stood up. “i’d rather kill myself than touch your dick.”

ignoring him, she strode over to the table, focusing on the blueprint laid out before her. it detailed the mansion’s layout, highlighting the safest route to the basement vault. her men would be the ones retrieving the gold—she just had to make sure nothing went wrong.

behind her, ran lit a cigarette, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before offering her one. she took it between her lips, waiting as he flicked his lighter again, the small flame illuminating his smirk.

“so, what now, mrs. haitani?” he murmured.

y/n shot him a glare before blowing a puff of smoke right into his face. “will you drop that nickname?”

“why should i?” ran teased. “you’re literally my wife.”

she flipped him off before turning back to the blueprint.

finally, she got to business, explaining the plan while ran listened, cigarette dangling lazily from his lips.

the plan was in motion.

y/n unlocked the door to the basement vault, eyes widening at the sight before her. holy shit.

“woah. this is bonten’s?! sick!!” ran whistled, hands on his pockets like he owned the place.

after what felt like forever sneaking the gold out through the underground tunnels, a sudden knock on the door made them both freeze.

fuck.

“ma’am, sir, your dinner is here. we’ll just bring it in and place it on the table.”

y/n’s head snapped to ran. “did you lock the door?”

ran blinked. “…shit.”

pure panic. there was no time. no excuse. nothing—except—

“moan,” ran hissed.

“what?!”

“just moan, y/n!!” he whisper-shouted.

“ugh…” her face scrunched in confusion, but she did it anyway.

“louder.”

“fuck… ugh…”

“yes… baby, just like that.”

they both moaned, playing up the act.

y/n’s men exchanged glances, eyeing the two of them weirdly.

the door, which had started to open, immediately slammed shut.

“s-so sorry, boss!! we’ll just leave your dinner to the main table and—uh—give you two some privacy!”

y/n and ran rushed to lock the door before bursting into laughter.

“what the fuck just happened?” y/n wheezed.

“no clue, but that was fucking hilarious,” ran grinned, still breathless.

they stared at each other, laughter dying down until y/n cleared her throat, straightened up, and walked off like nothing happened. ran just smirked, watching her go.

and after what felt like an eternity, all the gold was safely out, retrieved by bonten.

mission fucking accomplished.

y/n’s phone suddenly rang, cutting through the silence. she glanced at the screen—mikey.

“yes, boss?”

“don’t think your mission is over yet. you two need to lay low for a while. after that, you’ll both disappear without a trace—the yakuza couple was supposed to stay hidden anyway. good work, y/n. you proved yourself again.”

a small smile tugged at her lips. “thanks, boss.” the call ended.

“who was that?” ran asked, tilting his head.

“mikey.”

“what did he want?”

“he said we have to keep up the act for a while, then we can finally ‘disappear’.”

ran smirked, tilting his head. “so you’re telling me i get to keep calling you my wife a little longer? damn, y/n, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re just looking for an excuse to stay with me.”

y/n just rolled her eyes, too exhausted to come up with a comeback.

ran took y/n’s hand, ready to leave. “let’s go.”

but just as he stepped forward, y/n suddenly tugged him back. before he could question it, she reached for his shirt and effortlessly unbuttoned the top three buttons.

his brow lifted. “woah, y/n. if you wanna fuck, you could’ve just said so.”

“shut up. we’re supposed to look like we were fucking, remember? now, play the part.”

ran grinned. “or—and hear me out—we could just do it for real. no need to pretend.”

y/n gave him a deadpan look. “i’ll kill you.”

before he could retort, she tousled her own hair slightly, making it look messier. satisfied, she took ran’s hand and led him out.

they made their way to dinner, playing their roles perfectly, before heading straight to their room for the night.

they got ready for bed, and ran was already sprawled out on the mattress—shirtless.

y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. “what the fuck are you doing?”

ran barely glanced at her. “going to sleep?”

“you’re not sleeping there.”

he raised a brow. “you don’t get to decide that.” then, turning his back to her, he added with a smirk, “either you sleep here with me or on the sofa—uncomfortably. your choice.”

y/n huffed. “fine.”

stubbornly, she curled up on the couch. or, at least, she tried to sleep. but no matter how much she shifted, the cushions were too stiff, and the cold air nipped at her skin. after what felt like an eternity, she finally gave in, slipping into bed as quietly as possible. not because she cared about waking ran—she couldn’t care less. she just didn’t want him to know he won.

“took you long enough.”

she froze.

“shut up,” y/n muttered, facing away. “couldn’t sleep there.”

ran chuckled, clearly amused. she ignored him, shutting her eyes, but before she could even think about sleep, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into a warm, solid chest.

“get off me, haitani!” she hissed, squirming. but ran didn’t budge. he was stronger. instead, he just held her tighter.

“shhh. what kind of husband would i be if i didn’t cuddle my wife?”

“fuck you, ran.”

“oh? do you want to?” his fingers teasingly skimmed her waist.

y/n stiffened, about to snap at him, when he let out a low chuckle. “kidding. i’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want.” then, more serious, “but for fuck’s sake, stop moving. i need to sleep.”

“maybe if you got your filthy hands off me, i could lie down peacefully.”

“don’t want to. i like seeing you mad.”

she huffed, debating whether it was worth the struggle. probably not. ran wasn’t letting go anytime soon. and, maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t that bad. his warmth, the way his breath fanned against her neck, how naturally her body fit against his…

y/n’s face burned.

but she let herself relax, just a little. just for tonight. it’s not like she had a choice anyway… right?

the next morning was… well, different.

ran was sprawled out on his back, one arm thrown over y/n, while she was comfortably nestled against his chest—like some picture-perfect married couple.

except they weren’t a married couple.

and y/n was about to be violently reminded of that fact.

a sudden flash. then another. and before her brain could fully register what was happening, a click.

her eyes shot open.

the first thing she saw? a fucking phone.

the second? sanzu standing at the foot of the bed, grinning like a maniac.

y/n screamed. loudly. she shoved ran off of her so hard he groaned.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

“morning, lovebirds,” sanzu greeted, waving his phone.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN?!”

“damn, your security is tight,” sanzu whistled. “so hard to convince them i’m ‘friends’—” (he even air-quoted it) ”—with the infamous yakuza couple.”

“THAT DOESN’T EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE TAKING PICTURES OF US!”

“boss wanted an update. had to send proof you two were still alive.”

y/n’s eye twitched. “DELETE. IT.”

“too late.” sanzu smirked, shoving his phone in her face. “already sent it to the group chat.”

y/n let out another scream and chucked a pillow at him. “GET OUT!”

sanzu dodged it with a laugh. “didn’t know your kink was hate sex.”

“GET. OUT!!”

“alright, alright! no need to scream, jesus.” sanzu rolled his eyes as y/n practically shoved him out, slamming and locking the door behind him.

she exhaled sharply, pressing her back against the door. then she looked down.

…only in her bra and panties.

fuck.

her eyes widened in horror as realization hit—she must’ve stripped in her sleep. a habit she had when it got too hot. and she’d completely forgotten ran was in bed with her.

so that’s why sanzu assumed they fucked.

before she could spiral further, ran—who had been silently watching this entire shitshow—finally spoke.

“good morning, sexy.”

y/n whipped her head toward him.

he was smirking. biting his lip. ogling at her with zero shame.

she grabbed the nearest piece of clothing off the floor, yanked it over herself, and bolted for the bathroom.

behind her, ran just chuckled.

the day had passed quicker than expected, and now it was already afternoon. y/n was curled up in bed, buried under layers of pajamas and a hoodie—the complete opposite of how she’d started the morning.

“seriously? you’re just gonna rot in here all day?” ran’s irritated voice cut through the room.

y/n didn’t bother responding, too focused on munching her chips and watching tv, treating him like he was nothing more than a ghost.

ran exhaled sharply before snatching the remote and shutting the tv off.

y/n rolled her eyes. “what the fuck is your problem?” she tried to keep her voice steady, but the irritation bled through.

“what’s my problem?” ran scoffed. “you’re sitting here all day like you’re not in the middle of a fucking mission!”

“can’t i have one day off?”

“no, you can’t!” ran shot back, arms crossing over his chest. “weren’t you the one who said this couple is supposed to be obsessed with each other? because right now, you’re doing a shitty job of proving it.”

y/n let out a dry laugh. “oh? what do you want me to do? suck you off in front of everyone?”

y/n shouldn’t have said that—because the next thing they knew, they were already tangled in each other, mouths colliding in a desperate, feverish kiss. y/n’s clothes were long discarded, leaving her in nothing but a lace bra and panties, her body pressed against ran’s as if she was trying to crawl under his skin.

their kisses were messy, hungry—like they’d been starving for this, for each other, for far too long. ran’s lips trailed down her neck, licking and sucking until he was sure to leave marks. y/n was just as desperate, hands roaming his body, nails scraping lightly down his chest before slipping lower.

her fingers ghosted over his cock through his pants, and ran let out a breathy chuckle against her throat. “thought you didn’t wanna touch my dick?”

instead of answering, y/n shoved him back, straddling his lap as she crashed her lips onto his again. one hand braced against his shoulder while the other worked his belt open with practiced ease. once it was undone, she gave it a sharp tug. ran lifted his hips just enough for her to yank it halfway down, exposing the growing bulge beneath his boxers.

she didn’t waste time. wrapping her fingers around him, she pumped his cock, slow and deliberate, her lips finding his neck again. ran groaned, his breath hitching as her thumb teased his slit.

“fuck, y/n…” he exhaled shakily, head tipping back. “didn’t know you were this filthy…”

she covered his mouth with her palm, silencing him with a teasing smirk. “shhh… just wanna make my husband feel good.”

her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric aside. she trailed kisses down his chest, across the ink on his ribs, lower and lower—until she was kneeling between his legs, face inches from his throbbing cock.

ran watched with hooded eyes as she licked from the base to the tip, agonizingly slow, her gaze locked onto his. his jaw clenched, hands instinctively reaching for her hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail.

“shit—” his voice broke when she finally took him into her mouth, sucking him in inch by inch. ran cursed under his breath, head falling back, fingers tightening in her hair as he fought the urge to thrust into her throat.

but restraint was never his strong suit.

his hips jerked, pushing deeper, and y/n gagged around him, eyes watering as she tried to take it all. ran groaned, watching her struggle, watching her take it anyway.

“fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he rasped, rolling his hips again.

tears pricked at y/n’s eyes, but she didn’t stop—didn’t even think about pulling away. the sight alone was enough to drive ran insane, his grip tightening as he forced himself deeper, relishing the way she took it, the way her nails dug into his thighs.

but just when he was teetering on the edge, he yanked her off, squeezing her cheeks before crashing his lips onto hers, swallowing the desperate moan she let out.

“waited so long to ruin you…”

ran’s voice was low, dripping with something dark as he manhandled y/n onto all fours. one hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her in place, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock.

he didn’t waste time. spitting directly onto her slick folds, he used the tip of his cock to smear it over her entrance, teasing her with slow strokes.

“fuck… should’ve fucked this pussy a long time ago,” he groaned before sinking into her in one brutal thrust.

y/n’s breath hitched, fingers twisting into the sheets as ran buried himself to the hilt. he started moving immediately, both hands gripping her shoulders as he fucked into her, dragging her back onto his cock with every snap of his hips.

“is that… is that all you got, haitani?” y/n forced out, voice laced with mockery even as her body trembled beneath him. she knew exactly how to get under his skin, and ran hated it.

his grip tightened. “don’t test me, y/n… unless you wanna be crawling out of here tomorrow.”

she let out a breathy chuckle. “should’ve just fingered myself—”

ran shoved her face down into the mattress before she could finish. his palm flattened against the back of her head, pinning her down as he railed her. his pace turned punishing, each thrust knocking the air from her lungs, his cock stretching her so perfectly it had her vision blurring.

“jesus—slow down, ran…!”

he didn’t. didn’t even hear her.

he was too focused on the way her pussy gripped him, too lost in the way her body took everything he gave like she was made for this.

y/n tried to speak, to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t form. only broken moans and desperate cries left her lips, her mind going completely blank as he fucked her into oblivion.

the sounds of skin slapping, the wet, obscene noises of their bodies colliding, and her shameless moans echoed through the mansion. she didn’t care. couldn’t care. all she could think about was him—the way his cock dragged against her walls, the way his grip was bruising, the way he felt so fucking good inside her.

just when she thought she might lose herself completely, ran suddenly pulled out. before she could even register the emptiness, he flipped her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress with his weight.

his gaze was locked onto her as he leaned down, tongue dragging slowly over the bonten tattoo inked between her breasts.

y/n let out a shaky whimper, her whole body shuddering beneath him.

ran smirked against her skin. “what happened, baby?” he cooed, voice dripping with amusement. “all that attitude, and now you’re just lying here, letting me have my way with you?”

his fingers trailed down her stomach, teasing her entrance, feeling how drenched she was.

“you hate me, right?” he taunted, slipping two fingers inside with ease. “so why’s your pussy so fucking wet for me?”

without warning, ran slammed back into her, knocking the breath from her lungs as he caged her beneath him. his arms braced on either side of her head, trapping her as he set a brutal pace, fucking into her with the same unrelenting force as before.

his face was buried in the crook of her neck, breath hot against her skin as he whispered, “not so tough now, eh?”

y/n barely managed a glare, biting back a moan as she spat, “shut up and just fuck me.”

ran only chuckled, amused by her defiance—because he knew she was losing it, her body betraying her even as she tried to act unbothered.

grinning, he shifted his weight, grabbing the backs of her thighs and folding her legs against her chest. the new angle had her gasping, his cock hitting even deeper, making her entire body tremble beneath him.

“let’s see who’s gonna cum first,” he taunted, watching her face twist in pleasure.

“no…” y/n turned her head, hiding her face behind her arms, embarrassed by how quickly she was unraveling.

ran loved it. loved how she had so much fucking attitude, yet here she was, taking everything he gave like she was made for it. watching her fall apart beneath him, so submissive, so fucking ruined—it was heaven-sent.

“ran… i can’t—” she whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes as her body tensed, overwhelmed by pleasure.

ran cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him before slipping his thumb between her parted lips.

“oh, you can, baby,” he cooed, watching as she instinctively sucked. “you’re so fucking good to me. clenching around my cock like you don’t want me to leave.”

he pulled his thumb free, dragging it down her swollen lips before tapping it against her clit. her whole body jolted, another broken moan spilling from her mouth.

“that’s it, baby,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “take it. you wanted me to fuck you? then fucking take it.”

y/n was gone, unable to think, unable to form words—all she could do was take him, let him fuck her raw, let him use her like he had every right to.

ran grinned down at her, eyes gleaming. “not talking back now, huh?” he teased, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. “where’s all that attitude, princess? too busy getting fucked stupid?”

he could feel it—her walls fluttering, her thighs trembling, the way her breath hitched like she was right on the edge.

“go on, baby,” he groaned. “cum on my cock.”

her body obeyed before her mind could catch up. a cry tore from her throat as she came hard, body convulsing beneath him. ran groaned at the way she clenched around him, his thrusts growing sloppy.

pulling out at the last second, he fisted his cock, stroking himself fast as he hovered over her. y/n barely had time to catch her breath before the first hot spurt of his cum painted her chest, dripping between her breasts.

ran exhaled a shaky breath, watching the mess he made of her, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“fuck,” he muttered, smearing some of it over her nipple with his cock.

y/n gave him a tired glare. “you’re disgusting.”

ran just smirked, tapping her chin with his cock.

“and you love it.”

ran wiped his release off y/n’s skin with a cloth he grabbed from the nightstand, slow and deliberate, before tossing it aside. then, without a word, he rolled onto his back beside her, breath still uneven. y/n lay staring at the ceiling, mirroring his position. the heat between them still lingered in the air, thick and unshaken.

“so… what now?” ran murmured.

“dunno. still hate your guts, though.”

“same.”

silence. heavy. loaded.

then, y/n exhaled, voice firm. “we should never do this again.”

ran nodded once. “right. this is only a one-time thing.”

except—it wasn’t.

start | part 2

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

calendula | gaku (sakamoto days)

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader, no dialogue, gakus perspective, established relationship, technically pre-canon but not relevant, tit worship, riding, unprotected sex / no prep, 18+

✮ wc ; 3.4k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; girl idk. guy i characterized off of vibes and a brief reread. this is kind of a character study. if you squint. if this characterization is completely wack im sorry i think i was overcome by lust

more importantly this fic is me attempting to practice my prose so there's no dialogue rip. i dont think it succeeded but that's why there's only one line of dialogue sdkjfhkjsd.

✮ synopsis ; gaku gives you whatever you want.

Gaku knows it’s you before he answers the door.  

From the weight and sound of footfall to the way you knock on the door—always twice in rapid succession. All of these details about you linger in his mind all day. He knows you’re going to knock on the door and waits for it. His attention is away from the screen. His avatar takes a hit and the weighted controller vibrates in his hand. He let it happen. It’d have been easy enough to dodge, since he’s got good reflexes and all. But if he takes a hit, there’s a brief second that makes it easier for him to pause his game.  

He clicks a few buttons to hit pause. Neon lights paint his bedroom walls, casting shadow on the wall behind him and dimmed by the pause menu. A simpler techno beat replaces the flashy, high energy background music of an intense boss battle. Gaku gropes his bed for the remote to turn the sound lower.  

You knock at the door just when Gaku expects you. He tosses his controller and remote onto the bed , landing with a barely audible thud.  

He opens his door to find you right where he thought you’d be. Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and eyes lidded—he stares at you, observing your expression. It’s not like he’s going to interrogate you, not really.  

He can just tell. You’re thinking about something. Could be anything. He knows a lot about you. All of things you say to him when you impolitely assume he’s not listening are kept in the same part of his mind all the other details about you are. He doesn’t think you’re upset about anything. He’s developed a sixth sense for that.  

You’re here for something else. Gaku has a guess, though he doesn’t voice it to you. Just looks on with lidded eyes and waits. Something else is on your mind, too he’s sure. He can tell you don’t want to talk about it. Or that it’s not worth talking about to you.  

You’ve got your hoodie barely zipped up, he notices. Gaku’s hoodie, actually. It’s too big on him, and falls even bigger on you, the shoulder slipping off of your frame revealing the skin underneath. Gaku lets his eyes run over the vision. Tugging at the front of your top and pulling it down, covering your shorts and making it look like you’re wearing nothing at all—you fidget conspicuously. Shifting your weight from one side to another. He gets a clear view of the set you’re wearing. Work-out clothes, he thinks.  

He feels his lips twitch at the sight of you. You pick your head up to look at him, expectant. You don’t want to say what you’re thinking, but you look like you figure he might pry anyway. Sometimes he does. In matters concern you, he often finds himself sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong in general. He does want to know, but decides it’s fine for now.  

It’s not mercy. He just doesn’t think he needs to ask. Whatever it is, he can do it for you if needs to. He does a lazy glance in the hallway for sight of anyone. 

When he finds no one, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into the room all in one go.  

You let out a squeal as he grabs you. It’s easy to do it. All the strength he’s been building has its uses other than killing. He’s learned that lesson because of you. Your hands are fisted against his chest, arms folded at the elbow--as he shuts the door behind you and backs you into it. He uses his other arm  to cage you—resting his weight on his forearm as his hand clenched into a first.  

He should give you a second to breathe. Should play nice when you’re already looking for a way to wash your hands of your thoughts.  

But, he doesn’t want to let go of you right away. This close proximity—the slight tension in the air. Feels good because it’s you. Impossibly close with unspoken understanding. 

 Already close, he wonders if it’d be fine just to linger there for a minute longer than he would otherwise.  

With an arm still around your spine, Gaku presses into your space. His nose is milimeters away from yours. The only light faint from the TV screen, the atmosphere around you shifts in the darkness. Your face is shrouded, but up this close he can see you with perfect clarity. Like you’re the only two people in the world.  Your wide eyes, glimmering with expectancy. Mouth pressed into a flat line like you’re unamused—in a way that’s completely contrary to how you’re staring at him.  

He can see every detail. A part of him thinks he could trace them out with his eyes closed.  

Both things make him wanna kiss you. Both your stubborn desire to hold onto a petty grudge (that is, him pulling you in and surprising you) and the obvious, bone-deep devoted look in your eye. 

Before you can ask him anything, Gaku lets you go. With your back now pressed up against the door, he uses his free hand to to tip your chin up and kiss you.  

You relent easy. He knew you would. Always quick to forgive him when he gets on your nerves. Your arms loop around his neck and his hands finds your hips and you kiss. Your lips are soft and warm. They taste like cheap vanilla, the artificial taste that comes with whatever chapstick you use.  

(Gaku knows the brand. As in, he could get it for you if he saw it but he doesn’t know the name. Another unimportant detail he keeps tucked away for himself.)  

He’s fond of the way you melt into his touch. Your body slumped against the door, the lazy draw of your limbs and your arms around his neck - sleeves pulled your hands. The tension bleeds from you as kiss him back eagerly.  

You always kiss too fast. The first few times he had to tell you to take it easy. You never learned. He kind of hopes you never do 

Gaku prefers to draw it out. Pull away for a while with nothing but the threads of spit and bitten lips as proof  before kissing you again. But you’re eager, excitable. Your tongue laps at his lips hurriedly, brows furrowed -desperate and whimpering. Greedy. Wanting for more because Gaku can give it to you just fine if you want it.   

You never have to tell Gaku what you want. For the most part, he doesn’t how else to operate other than give you whatever. Never asks you for any favors, just gives it because it makes sense to him. Gaku likes kissing slow, but for you—it’s fine to kiss a little faster.  

His tongue slips against your mouth. The pace changes. The air in the room becomes thick around you and Gaku can’t breathe around it it. Seemingly, neither can you, but it doesn’t deter you.  

Doesn’t deter your eagerness. He’s fond of it. Lets you suck on his tongue and kiss him sloppy just because.  

It amuses him. He lets you do what you want. Gets him hard to see you act that way, despite knowing each time you come to him for something—its already yours. Puppyish to your own demise, Gaku squeezes your hips. His hands slip under the fabric of your hoodie until he can feel the waistband of your shorts.  

Your skin is bare underneath. Just a bra and shorts then. Good to know.  

You pull away panting. Face flush, mouth spit slick. Still so adoring in a way that makes his stomach flip. Excites him in a way so few things in the world do. It makes him laugh. If he had a shirt for you to tug on, you would.  

You’re not gonna ask for it directly. Gaku doesn’t exactly feel like making you, either.  

He nudges his nose against your jawline before he bites gently into the space below your chin. A breath of laughter passes through his nose as he slips his hand into your, fingers locked and tugs you further into his room. A silent confirmation.  

Yeah, he thinks. If you want it.  

Falling into bed with you is always easy.  

You crawl into his bed like you belong there. Get comfortable in his unfolded clothes, his blankets, his pillows. You’re never in the same place very long but Gaku likes the sight of you in his temporary bed, with his things.  

The lines between you and him blur when you’re tucked in with his other belongings and Gaku sort of likes it that way. He tries not to reflect on it.  

You sit on your knees, expectant. Reaching out to grab Gaku’s hand but holding his finger, you pull him into bed along side you. He looks at you amused, head tilted to one side. You put a hand on his thigh and Gaku gets the message  - scooting himself to sit up against a wall.  

Your eyes light up, just a little. You crawl into his lap like a spoiled thing. Your knees on either side of his thighs as he’s spread out, straddling his waist with his hoodie still on. He can feel himself get hard right away. It feels pathetic every time, but it’s the way it goes. Your ass is soft as you sit on his dick like its yours. He can feel the heat radiating off you. You grind back against him tentatively.  

He lets out a deep sigh.  

He can see you a little better this way. It’s the way you’re both sitting. Gaku with his back a side wall and you just over. The light from the TV is close enough to cast on your face. Your features are clearer this way. The subtle nuances of your expression especially visible.  

It’s so easy to tell when you want him to fuck you. Of all of things he likes about fucking you (and that list is long)—it’s this face that drives him most up the wall. Makes him want for it even when he thinks less of himself for being so easy.  

You’re vicious. And talented. You’ve got a knack for assassination like no one else, not motivated by blood lust but some strange desire to be the very best at it, if you’re going to do it all. 

But you’re so debauched like this. Eyes clouded in visible arousal. Wearing an athleisure fit that’s perfectly, seamlessly tight and so see-through in all of the right places. Wearing his hoodie.  

That look on your face like you want his dick so fucking bad, so desperately—that you’d go as far as begging him. He knows you would. You practically are. A sloppy, ultimately transparent attempt to get him to pound your pussy the way you like. The way you need.  

(The way he’s made you need)  

You don’t really have to do any of it. It’d be just as easy if you barged in and pulled his pants down. He wouldn’t say no to you. Might laugh, but wouldn’t turn you away.  

But you work for things you want. Like a compulsion. If Gaku’s gonna fuck you, it can’t just be because he’s whipped beyond words (he has enough self-awareness to know, but tries not to dwell.) 

 You would want him to lust after you just as bad, get him hard and excited since it’s not easy to accomplish. There’s nothing for you to earn but you’ll earn it anyway. 

Gaku ruts his dick against your ass, feeling the outline of his cock stretch the seam of your shorts. Like he’s trying to fuck you through it. He’s hard. It’s making him dizzy, just how much. All you’ve done is kiss, he remembers.  

It doesn’t make his hard-on any less severe.  

You urge him to do it again. Rub yourself against him as best you can, grinding at his lap for friction on your clit. Your body wracks with a shiver, mouth fallen open as you use your hands on his legs to keep yourself up and rut against him for pleasure—moving back so you’re pussy is sliding against him properly. Riding his hard-on. The sheer material of your shorts gives him a preview of how you’ve got nothing on underneath, your pussy visible in the thin stretchy material. So wet it’s dampening them. They seep through the fabric. Nylon and spandex and polyester. Too thin.  

It turns him on so much it makes his head throb. 

Gaku’s hands slide up underneath your hoodie again. Your skin is warm underneath the tips of his fingers. Even through bandaged hand he can feel you just slightly. They travel upwards, until he’s at the end of your sports bra. He gets underneath the stretchy band, pulling it up until it sits bunched up over your breasts— just underneath your neck and chin.  

Your nipples are hard from arousal, pert and begging for his attention. Gaku likes the way you feel in grasp. Soft and warm and supple, sweet and pliable under his touch. His palms squeezes the fat of your tits, playing with them as you grind yourself on his cock unabashedly. Head thrown back and not entirely paying attention—something he’ll tese you for later. He squishes your tits together, testing their gravity. His fingers brushing across your nipples, flicking lightly. Teasing and rolling them with the pads of his thumb.  

Above him you shiver. Moan out his name, still humping yourself on him. He figures you’ll tucker out soon. Beg him to put in it. He decides to wait it out more.  

He leans in close, placing a kiss under your sternum before his mouth travels upwards. Gaku is meticulous as his tongue laves over the soft patches of skin. He kisses and licks first, but always finishes with a bite or bruise. He can’t help himself. He loves the way his teeth sink in. Loves the mark it leaves in your skin when he bites hard enough, the indents of his incisors and canines that linger for a long while after him.  

(Loves kissing the yellowing bruises when you have sex in the mornings. On the rare slow and lazy days where the sex more sweet than anything. He tries to save it for when you’re sleepy. For his sake and yours)  

You moan loudly when his tongue flicks against hardened buds. Impatience flickers through him listening to you. His hands grip your ass hard enough to keep you in place - no longer content with just sitting. His mouth sucks and licks at your nipples while his hands change the pace from a shallow grind to a long, deep one. 

He moves you with intention against the outline of his cock. Slowly, steadily - at the kind of pace that lets him worship your chest with his tongue and teeth without risking a bite that’s too hard. Your hands fall around his neck, as you curl into him.  

Once Gaku gets control of you like this, you’re eager to let him have it. You give into the forcefulness of his touch, the demand of it. Your words are more whimpers and please against his neck. Your nails are digging into the muscles of his back—no doubt leaving red marks for him to admire later. He’s sure he’ll get a look from Kei when he sees them.  

Your shoulders are trembling. The first word to leave your lips is one Gaku likes hearing you say. Whined against the column of his throat, muffled but loud enough for him to catch.  

“Please,”  

It’s like a gut-punch. Makes the lust in him so urgent, so heavy, so daunting—he can feel it in the way moves. His breathing is labored. He presses his head against your chest and inhales deeply. Tries to mellow and keep composure.  

It just feels like he can’t get his dick into you fast enough. Feels like there’s no amount of time he’s willing to be patient for it. He needs his dick in you now, needs to take you by your hips and bounce you on his lap.  

You did say please. He’s being fair, is all.  

Gaku grabs the thin material of your shorts and rips it right along the seam. You gasp, but you’re too worked up to protest it. Soaked all the way through, your clit is hard and demanding attention. Gaku slips his his dick out from under his sweats quickly. 

He taps the head of his cock right against your clit, rubbing it with his tip - a mess of pre-cum making it sticky. Gaku moans low in the back of his throat, eyes rolling back.  

Fuck. Fuck. You feel so wet. So fucking good. Just thinking about putting it in makes him ache.  

It’s your hand that guides the head of his cock into your pussy. 

Without prep, you’re dripping wet but still so tight. You’ve taken him enough to know your limits, but you’re eager. Just as much as he is, for him to split you in half the way he’s good at. Your pussy stretches easily to the shape of him. Accommodates what it knows so well. Your body makes home for him. 

 Gaku can hear how fucking wet you are, each inch stretching you out further and further. He holds your hips and waits for you to sink down all the way.  

When you bottom out, Gaku’s jaw grits ever so slightly. He waits for you to get used to. You slide yourself slowly, up and down until the stretch of his cock isn’t achy. He can tell when it starts to feel good for you. 

 Your pussy opens up for him so well, gets slippery and soft and so perfect for him to fuck into, he isn’t sure what he was doing before that. You feel so fucking good to him every time.  

You stop, your arms wrapping around his shoulder blades and hugging him tight. You say his name that time to substitute for please, synonyms of each other. A testament to how easy he is when it involves you.  

Gaku gives you what you want. Of course he does. He takes both of his hands and holds onto your waist and fucks you exactly the way you deserve. You cry aloud, sobbing into his neck from pleasure. Your pussy squeezes around him in that familiar way and he groans. He knows you came without telling him. He knows that feel better than anything.  

It spurs him into action. Gaku builds it up but it takes practically no time for him to piston you. Half-way between holding you up so he can fuck into you and slamming you onto his cock with endless stamina and relentless desire. Whatever inbetween he finds is a good one, makes sure he knocks into your sweet spot in exactly the right way. 

The sound it makes each time he pounds into you echoes in the room. It’s filthy—the wet sound of skin to skin and his cock stretching you over and over and over. It’s good. It’s always so good with you. 

You sneak a shaky hand between your bodies. Gaku can tell you’re getting close, your fingers clumsy and twitching. You’re trying your best to match up to his brutal pace, but the thought only endears him more. Makes him harder, growing bigger inside you. 

It’s easy enough to hold off until you cum first. Until he feels your pussy clamp down on him tight again, feels you tremble and shake in his grip as you bite into his bare shoulder and cum hard. Your whole body curling into him, crying as Gaku fucks you through it.  

When you’ve fallen limp and come down from your high— that’s when Gaku finally lets himself go. His thrusts grow sloppy - fucking into your went cunt shallowly until he feels the muscles in your stomach tense. He cums inside, unable to pull out from the way you have him gripped. Thick ropes of cum paint your insides and slowly drip back out onto his cock.  

Gaku stays inside of you even as he goes soft. He can feel you in his arms, your breathing growing steady again as you both catch your breath.  

He uses a hand to pull hair away from your face, kissing whatever he can reach. A rare, quiet intimacy that makes sense to him in the moment. You let out a giggle,  a sweet sound from your lips and Gaku finds himself smiling just barely.   

Whatever you want, Gaku thinks. It’ll be yours if he can get it for you.  

[shimmerandink]

uhhh hey shawty!! could you perchance write a little blurb abt Sevika/Vi x reader w/ a STRONG fear of commitment? if it could also be angst with a fluffy ending, that would be GREATLY APPRECIATED 🎀 i just need this bc uhm... your girl had a rough night! tyy bby 😁🩷

Hiii! Thank you for your request! I really like this setup and it was really fun and interesting to write! I both love Sevika and Vi, in other words I couldn’t decide which one to write about. In conclusion I’m giving you both!!!! Hope you will enjoy!

Arcane Characters with a s/o with a fear of commitment

Sevika/Vi

Angst/Fluff

Tags: Sevika x reader, Vi x reader, reader with commitment issues, arguing, sfw, angst with a fluffy ending 

Masterlist

Sevika

The scent of smoke lingers in the air, curling from the cigar between Sevika’s fingers. The dim lighting of her room casts long shadows across the bed, where you sit at the edge, pulling your clothes back on. The sheets are still warm beneath you, your skin still tingling from her touch, but you don’t let yourself settle.

You never do.

Sevika watches you from where she leans against the headboard, half-draped in the sheets, looking like she has all the time in the world. There’s amusement in her eyes, but it’s dulled by something else, something that makes your chest tighten.

“You always run after,” she mutters, exhaling smoke slowly.

The words make you pause, fingers hesitating at the hem of your shirt before you shake it off with a small laugh. “I’m not running,” you say, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “Just got things to do.”

Sevika scoffs, tapping ash into a tray beside the bed. “Yeah? Must be real important if you never stay.”

You glance at her, but her expression is unreadable. Not angry. Not pleading. Just… watching.

A smarter person would stay quiet. But your defenses kick in, sharp and automatic. “What, you want me to move in or something?” you joke, trying to keep it light.

Sevika exhales another slow drag before speaking. “Would it kill you?”

Your stomach twists, and you force a smirk. “Might.”

Her lips press into a thin line. For a second, you think she’s going to push, demand something from you that you’re not ready to give. But she just shakes her head, looking away as she flicks ash into the tray again.

“Whatever you say.” Her voice is even, but there’s a weight to it. One that sticks to you even as you grab your jacket and head for the door.

You tell yourself it’s better this way. Cleaner. Simpler.

You don’t look back as you leave. You tell yourself you won’t think about the way Sevika’s voice lingered, how the usual teasing edge had dulled into something else.

But the thing about Sevika is, she gets under your skin.

—————

Days pass, and the space you put between you doesn’t make it easier. If anything, it makes it worse. You still find yourself at The Last Drop, pretending you’re just there for a drink and not because a certain someone’s presence pulls you in like gravity.

And she knows it.

Sevika doesn’t chase. She never has. But she also doesn’t let you pretend like she’s not watching you from across the bar, leaning back in her usual spot with a drink in hand. When your eyes meet, there’s no smirk, no playful taunt. Just a knowing look that makes your throat go dry.

You don’t stay long that night. Or the night after.

Then, you hear about the fight.

It’s not unusual, Sevika’s always in the thick of some scuffle, whether it’s handling Silco’s business or putting some idiot in their place. But this time, it’s bad. Word spreads about a deal gone wrong, about her taking more hits than usual before the other guy hit the floor.

You’re not supposed to care.

You tell yourself that when you push through the doors of her place without knocking, your heart pounding harder than it should.

She’s there, sitting at the edge of her bed, bandaging her arm. Blood stains the gauze, dark against her skin. She looks up as you enter, surprise flickering in her eyes before she schools her expression into something unreadable.

���You finally decide to stick around?” she mutters, voice rough.

You don’t answer. You just step forward, reaching for the roll of bandages on the nightstand. Your hands brush hers as you take over, and for once, she lets you.

Silence stretches between you as you wrap the fresh gauze around her wound, trying to focus on the task instead of the warmth of her skin beneath your fingers.

Then, softly, so softly you almost don’t hear i, , she says, “I don’t get you.”

Your hands still. “What?”

“I don’t get you,” she repeats, exhaling like she’s been holding it in for too long. “You act like you don’t want this, but you keep coming back. You leave, but you never really go.”

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the bandage. “Sevika—”

“I don’t need pretty words,” she cuts in, voice steady. “I just need to know if I’m wasting my time.”

She’s giving you an out. She’s letting you choose. And for the first time, you realize, she’s not the one you’ve been afraid of.

It’s yourself.

Your breath is shallow, hands frozen where they rest against her skin. A thousand excuses rise to your tongue, things you’ve told yourself over and over. That love like this is dangerous. That staying means giving someone the power to hurt you. That if you let yourself have this, it’ll all come crashing down.

But looking at Sevika now, battered, bleeding, still looking at you like she’s daring you to be honest, you realize something.

You’re already hurt. Already afraid. And leaving hasn’t saved you from any of it.

Your fingers tighten around the bandage, but this time, not out of fear. Slowly, deliberately, you finish tying it off before letting your hands fall to your lap.

“I don’t want to go,” you say, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

Sevika doesn’t react right away. Just watches you with that sharp, unreadable gaze, like she’s waiting for you to take it back. When you don’t, she tilts her head slightly. “Then don’t.”

It’s simple. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world. But for you, it feels like the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

You shift forward, your knees brushing against hers. “I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Sevika exhales, and there’s something softer in her expression now, something patient. She reaches for your wrist, rough fingers curling around your pulse. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” she says. “Just stay.”

You let out a shaky breath, then nod. And this time, when Sevika pulls you toward her, when you sink into her warmth, you don’t think about running. You don’t think about the past, or the what ifs, or the fear.

You just stay.

Vi

The door slams behind you, rattling on its hinges.

“Are you serious right now?” Vi’s voice is sharp, cutting through the heavy silence that follows.

You don’t turn around, your hands curled into fists at your sides. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You never do,” Vi snaps. She’s behind you now, close enough that you can feel the heat of her frustration even without looking. “Every time we get too close to something real, you shut down and run.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. The words sting because they’re true.

“I’m not running,” you mutter, but it’s weak. Even you don’t believe it.

Vi lets out a bitter laugh. “Then what do you call this? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you trying to push me away.”

You spin around then, anger bubbling up to cover the fear creeping in your chest. “Maybe I am,” you snap. “Did you ever think that maybe that’s for the best?”

Vi flinches, just barely, but enough for guilt to twist in your gut. She drags a hand through her hair, exhaling hard. “For who?” she asks, quieter now, but no less intense. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Vi shakes her head. “You act like I don’t see it. Like I don’t notice how you hold back, how you stop yourself from letting this be something real. And I’ve been patient, but, damn it, I need to know if I’m wasting my time here.”

She’s giving you an out. Vi fights. And right now, she’s fighting for you.

The problem is… you don’t know if you can fight for yourself.

Vi watches you, waiting. Hoping. But you can’t say what she wants to hear.

So she exhales sharply, jaw clenching as she steps back. “Alright,” she says, voice tight. “I get it.”

Your chest tightens. “Vi—”

“No.” She shakes her head, forcing a hollow chuckle. “I’m not gonna beg you to want me.”

She moves past you, grabs her jacket from the chair. The sight of her walking away makes something crack inside you, but your feet stay planted.

When she reaches the door, she hesitates. Her hand rests on the handle, her back still to you. “I love you,” she says, and your breath catches. “But I can’t keep fighting for something you won’t even let yourself have.”

And then she’s gone. The silence she leaves behind is suffocating.

You sink onto the couch, heart pounding. The weight of her words settles deep, heavier than you expected. She’s always been the one to stay. The one to fight. The thought of her giving up should make this easier, should make you feel justified in keeping your distance.

—————

Days pass. Then a week. Then another.

At first, you tell yourself it’s for the best. That Vi’s better off without you if you can’t give her what she wants. But the longer she’s gone, the more that lie unravels.

You miss her. The way she made you laugh without trying. The way she looked at you like you were worth fighting for. The way her warmth settled something in your chest, something you didn’t even know was empty until now.

And it hits you, she was never the one you were afraid of. It was yourself.

By the time you finally gather the nerve to go to her, your hands are shaking. You find her in a small apartment on the other side of the city, one she’s been staying in since she left. The light is on inside, flickering faintly through the window.

You take a deep breath and knock.

There’s a pause. Then, heavy footsteps approach the door. When it opens, Vi stands there, her expression unreadable. She looks tired. Guarded. But not surprised.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Then she exhales, leaning against the doorframe. “Took you long enough.”

Your throat tightens. “I know.”

She studies you, arms crossed, waiting. She’s not going to make this easy. And she shouldn’t.

“I was scared,” you admit, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I’ve been scared for a long time. But losing you… that was worse.”

Vi doesn’t react right away. But something in her stance softens.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” you continue, voice steady even as your heart pounds. “I want this. I want you.”

For the first time in weeks, Vi smiles. It’s small, cautious, but it’s real.

“Yeah?” she asks, and there’s something in her voice, something hopeful.

You step forward, reaching for her hand. “Yeah.”

She studies you for another moment before tugging you inside, her grip warm and sure. And this time, when the door closes, you know you’re not running anymore.

[glitter-stained]

Ngl it really peeves me when the debate about Jason's ethics regarding killing in the batfam mixes up the question of him being a moral character in regards to sticking to his own philosophy (aka compromising with what he thinks is right to salvage relationships, but also exploding trains to evade capture, killing random goons in a gang war, etc) and the question of him being a moral character in regards to whether his philosophy is right. And even with regards to his philosophy there is his philosophy on politics, crime control and harm reduction, and his ethical philosophy itself (utilitarianism, aka focusing on intended positive consequences of actions for the greater good rather than the action being fundamentally moral or immoral in itself). Those are different things. Those require different debates and should not be conflated together. I'm not even saying Jason is right! I think utilitarianism and deontology both suck and fail at providing sufficient guidelines for moral behaviour. ("Everybody still loses" like the nihilist clown says. The symbolism of that one scene is pretty cool on that regard.)

And I think some people at dc would very much like for you to make the connection that because Jason is harming civilians/killing unnamed goons, he is a bad person, and as such you don't need to examine the way his stance on moral philosophy (utilitarianism) opposes Batman's. But that's not right, they don't get to wiggle out of the fact that utilitarianism vs deontology is a complicated debate that has been going on for ages, that there is no clear-cut answer where Batman fundamentally comes out on top, they don't get to use the fact that Jason (in the era currently discussed) is a villain to saddle us with a false dichotomy of "well jason is wrong about stuff so batman has to be right" to avoid addressing the actual question. The traits of the people being tied on the tracks do not change the shape of the trolley problem. The traits of the person deciding to pull the lever do not change the shape of the trolley problem. It's still one lever, three people tied on one track, one on the other, do you pull the lever. That's it. Yes, bending the metaphor to address other questions (such as "who keeps tying people to the tracks" to question systemic violence or "how does my bias, my prejudice and empathy impact my decision to pull the lever depending on who is on the tracks") are interesting but that's not what the debate is about. If I wrote an essay about the trolley problem in high school and focused primarily on the nature of the people being tied on the tracks, I'd get a big fat zero with "off-topic" written in red all over my essay, so I'm not inclined to allow DC comics to get away with it.

[visenyaism]

I haven't read the main series yet and I'd love to know the lore behind Harrenhal, love see you and others post about it but I sadly don't get all of it 😭

sit down followers it’s story time. Once upon a time there was this guy named King Harren Hoare. and he was king of the iron Islands where he was from, but he decided he wanted to be king of more than that also. so he invaded the Riverlands and conquered it all which was pretty easy because they were fighting each other like they always are instead of him. but being king of two places wasn’t enough he also needed to have the biggest baddest castle in all of the land. So he rounded up a bunch of smallfolk in the nicest most central important location in the riverlands and got them to building it. In his hubris he got too into it and mixed actual human blood into the mortars of the castle. unlike other feudal castles, this one is both literally and figuratively made from peasant blood. 

but he got his castle and it is in fact the biggest in the entire seven kingdoms. It’s notable for its five huge (now wrecked) stone towers. A million men could march on that thing and slide right off. but he forgot to account for the WMD metaphor that being Aegon Targaryen and his sisters flying in on their big big dragons, wanting to conquer everything that he had previously conquered. he refused to surrender because he thought his blood castle would keep him safe and they burned him and all his sons alive in it.

Ever since then, Harrenhal is this half-burned wreck of a castle but no family has been able to hold onto without all dying for more than two generations. my fav occupant was danelle lothston, a girlknight cannibal blood witch who later got executed for bathing in too much peasant blood. in the main series, the whole thing about Harrenhal is that it was the site of this tourney that happened when the main cast were teenagers where jaime lannister got knighted, ned got a crush on a dayne maybe, and lyanna got crowned queen of love and beauty by a very married rhaegar targaryen, all of which set up their generation-defining war. Harrenhal is also this cursed deeply hunted liminal space where time seems to be a lot looser. everyone thinks it’s cursed. there are many theories as to why, including:

1) harrenhal is cursed because of harren’s hubris, which is like the hubris of the lords (usually un-landed) who get handed the castle because they think they can turn it around.

2) the harrenhal curse is an allegory for feudalism, a castle made from peasant blood that eats the grasping lords who get handed it whole.

3) the harrenhal “curse” it’s just that it’s too big to defend and it’s centrally located in the Riverlands, which is important in every single war so it just sort of gets chewed up all the time and there’s no actual magic involved.

4) the Harrenhal curse is just the fact that Aegon’s descendants (Maegor, Rhaena, Daemon, etc) do have a tendency to keep coming back to kill everyone there.

5) the Harrenhal curse is a freaky blood thing that has something to do with its blood walls and a lot to do with its weirwood and the nearby isle of faces, an old god island no mortal, has ever successfully gone to, but several people have died trying. the castle is hungry for blood. 

Ultimately it is a super important place and also this haunted torment labyrinth sometimes the author will just stick characters like daemon or jaime into if they need to be stuck in introspective agony for a while. The current lord is littlefinger so everyone manifest it comes for him soon. 

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[reginaphalange2403]

Never Again

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Despite an intense dislike for one another, you and Bucky begrudgingly get paired together for a mission. You’re forced to look past your differences when things so south.

Warnings: Canon level violence, asshole Bucky (at first), enemies to lovers vibes, other mcu characters make appearances. Word count: 6.1k

a/n: AHHHH my first fic in like 6 months! this is also the first time I've ever written for Bucky or written anything like this. It was a lot of fun and I hope I did him justice lol. Enjoy!

The loud hissing of the Keurig was a rude awakening to your 7am start to the day. Unfortunately, Steve had decided to hold a team conference meeting at 8. Why he chose to annoy you all like this, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you fucking done yet?” You instantly recognized the deep, rough voice muttering under his breath behind you. Bucky had his arms folded and was impatiently waiting for you to finish up at the machine so he could make his own cup.

“Already have a stick up your ass today, huh Barnes?” You spit back at him before moving to let him use the Keurig.

“Well, I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the first thing I saw when I came down the stairs.” 

Damn. That stung. “Have you ever been nice for once in your life? Or is being a dick just a permanent part of your personality?” 

At your words, Bucky looked up at you and feigned offense “Oh, I’m nice” He assured you in an almost sweet tone, before turning cold again “…to people that deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, muttering a ‘whatever’, and left the kitchen to go take a seat in the conference room. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an atypical conversation for you to have with Bucky. Ever since you had joined the team almost a year ago - at Natasha Romanoff’s request - Bucky had been anything but welcoming. At first, you thought it was just friendly banter, him trying to sarcastically intimidate you, but it was clear by now that he genuinely had a deep distaste for you. 

Soon enough, everyone else started to file in for the meeting. Nat smiled as she took the seat next to you, her regular spot, and quietly started asking you about your morning. Bucky was the last one to enter the room, and by that point the only seat left was the one on your other side. 

He glared at you as he sat down. 

“It’s not my fault you’re always late to these things” You quipped under your breath.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart” Bucky frustratingly muttered, and you quickly opened your mouth to reply before Natasha interrupted,

“Don’t bother with him, Y/N. He’s always a grump in the mornings” 

‘No, he’s always a grump to me’ you thought to yourself, but kept your mouth shut. 

“Good Morning, everyone” Steve finally got started with the meeting, a cheery grin on his face that was all too happy for 8am, in your opinion.

“As you all know, for months now we’ve been trying to track down where exactly Ian Haverford and his men have been setting up camp and operating their illegal activities” Most recently, the team had been working on taking down a group of rouge scientists. They had somehow been creating and using a serum that was similar to the super soldier serum. A antidote that made them have increased strength, speed and agility. They then used their new enhancements to rob and kill storeowners, evade the police, and then subsequently sell the drugs and weapons that they had stolen. 

“We’ve finally located their compound, up in rural Virginia, we-“

“What he meant to say was I located their compound in Virginia” Tony cheekily butt in. 

Steve sighed, having to stop his own eye roll, “Fine, yes, Tony located the compound. Anyway, as I was saying…We believe that that’s where they’re making the serum. The sooner we go in, the less time they have to continue using the serum and giving it to more people. Now, I didn’t necessarily think this was a task we all needed to partake in. It really only requires two people to take down Haverford and gather intel on what chemicals they’ve been using”

Steve took a big breath before revealing who he had assigned to the mission, knowing he’d have hell to pay, “Y/N and Bucky will be heading to Virginia tomorrow morning-“

“Are you serious Rogers?!” You immediately confronted Steve’s decision as you heard Bucky next you,

“You’ve got to be kidding me” He mumbled, clearly as annoyed as you were.

Steve put his hands up defensively, “I know the two of you don’t always get along, but I was hoping this assignment would allow you to work together and actually have to interact beyond your bickering” 

You had never been on a mission with just Bucky before. Of course, the two of you had been on missions with the rest of the avengers together, but never just the two of you. 

Steve continued, “Besides, we need someone who’s a super soldier to infiltrate the compound. Bucky has the strength and speed to match that of Haverford’s people. And Y/N, you also have enhancements, it makes sense to send the both of you in together.” He concluded by basically saying his decision was final, and that you and Buck would be leaving on a quinjet first thing tomorrow.

During your years in the red room, you had been injected with various substances and drugs that over time had enhanced your agility, flexibility, reflexes and even your sight. But you didn’t see how that made you a necessary aspect to this assignment. You were sure Steve was just using that as an excuse, he really just wanted you to get along better with Bucky. 

Speaking of which, Buck stood up from his chair as you looked over at him, he glowered at you for a moment before scoffing, “Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it” and with that he left the room. 

You stayed, waiting for everyone else to file out so that you could speak with Steve privately. Natasha gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your shoulder, as she was the last one to head out after talking to Steve for a while herself. You were always sort of jealous of their friendship. Of course, you had Nat. Who was your closest confidant in the group. But you also wanted to be close with the guys as well. You supposed Steve was your friend, but sometimes it felt like he looked at you as more of a younger sister. 

Finally, it was just you and Steve alone in the room and you were still sitting in your same seat, Steve standing at the head of the table. He tilted his head towards you and quirked his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something. 

“Why does he hate me?” You asked quietly. You had always wanted to go to Steve for advice on how to handle Bucky, but never wished to cause a rift in their friendship or make Steve feel like he was put in the middle of something.

His eyes went soft and he sighed, “Oh Y/N” He began gently “I know it may come off that way, but Buck doesn’t hate you. He just…” Steve looked to find the right words, “has a hard time handling his emotions and how he feels about people… especially people that bring up past trauma for him” 

Steve’s little hint helped you clue in to what he was trying to imply. You knew that Bucky had a history with the red room, long before you ever did, but you never really knew the details of it or how he was involved. You were saved from Dreykov almost a year ago when Natasha returned to destroy him. You were one of Yelena’s closest friends and she had introduced you to Nat, who then saw how skilled you were and decided to invite you to join the avengers, since you really had no other home to go to. Yelena meanwhile, had wanted to enjoy her freedom a little more and chose to see the world a bit before deciding to join any sort of vigilante team. Though Natasha always held out hope that she would finally join one day when she felt ready. 

“But Nat’s from the red room too!” You defended yourself, “And Bucky treats her perfectly fine! It’s not my fault that my past is what it is. I can’t help the fact that I was raised there, why does he have to hold that against me?” You started to get emotional and Steve could tell, so he began to try and explain his friends behavior.

“Well, he’s gotten to know Natasha for a few years now, so I think they’re on better terms. Plus he kinda owes her one for how she saved both our asses during the whole…sokovia accords thing” Steve said the last part quietly while sort of shamefully looking down. Despite the fact that it was worked out now, that whole incident with him, Tony and Bucky still deeply bothered Steve to even bring up.

He continued after a moment, “He doesn’t hold it against you Y/N, it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t like the memories you bring up for him, the things you remind him of. And he doesn’t know how to properly process and work through them, so instead he just takes out that pent up anger and self hatred on you. It’s not fair to you, but it’s also not your fault.”

“Get him to see a therapist then” you muttered.

Steve scoffed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

He then walked around the length of the table to where you were sitting and gave you a pleading look, “Just give him a chance. Hopefully this mission will be the thing that finally gets him to see you in a different light. I know it’s hard to believe, but he really does have a sweet, soft side under all that brooding, if you dig deep enough” And that was what Steve left you with as he walked out, leaving you alone to mull over what he had said. 

———————

For the rest of that day, you and Bucky both avoided each other. You spent most of the afternoon locked up in your room or in the gym, perfecting a few moves with Nat’s help in preparation for your assignment. You didn’t see Bucky all day, you assumed he also was doing his best to not run into you.

Now, you were seated across from him on the quinjet, an awkward silence taking up the majority of the ride to a rural part of Virginia. He barely even looked at you for the entire 2 hour flight. Mostly staring down at his hands with airpods in, or having his head tilted back and eyes closed. As you neared the end of your trip, jet about to touch down, you noticed Bucky finally didn’t have headphones in, so you decided it would be a good time to set some things straight before you literally went into battle with him.

Cautiously, you spoke up, “Look, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye but we really need to-“

He cut you off sharply “Once we touch down I’ll take the northeast side of the compound and you can take the south side. They apparently keep their lab in a big room on the south side, so you head that way and ransack the lab while I take down Haverford, who’s quarters are up in the north end. Got it?” Not even listening to what you had tried to say, Bucky simply started barking out a game plan at you.

“Sure, but I was saying that we-“

Bucky sighed dramatically, “Look Y/N, we just need to do our damn jobs and get this over with. Alright?”

“But Steve said-“

“I don’t care what Steve said.” He snapped, “I’m not here to make nice.”

And with that, you sat in silence again for the last few minutes of the flight. The quinjet landed in an open forrest area, roughly a 10 minute walk away from where Haverford’s compound was supposed to be. Of course, you couldn’t land right next to it without risking them hearing and giving yourselves away. So, you and Bucky began the short trek to the complex, once again in complete silence the whole way there. 

Finally, you arrived upon a large monster of a building. It took up almost the entirety of the empty field that it occupied, with no windows around it whatsoever. To anyone else, it looked like from the outside to be just an eery abandoned building. You and Buck snuck around to the backside where a hatch door was used to get into the lower level of the building. 

“When we’re done,” Bucky finally spoke for the first time in over 15 minutes “How about we meet up back here at this door, so that we can leave asap and not waste time trying to find each other in this fucking maze. Good?”

You swallowed, remembering the “plan” Bucky had laid out earlier on the jet. You really didn’t feel right about splitting up with him. The compound was massive and neither of you had ever navigated it before. Sure, Steve had shown you a basic floor plan of it and talked about where he believed they were making the serum, but that was it. You didn’t know your way around this territory, and you didn’t know what Haverford’s men were like.  And on this mission, it was just you and Buck. You didn’t have the other avengers around to look out for you, or be your eyes and ears over the comms. 

“Bucky, I don’t know if we should separate. This place is big.” You finally admitted.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle” He grumbled out, which should have sounded like a compliment but came out as more of something to shut you up and get on with it.

“But what if one of us gets injured or can’t find our way back to the door?” You asked, embarrassed to be admitting your nerves to him. Bucky could see for a moment that you were genuinely anxious about this.

“We have the comms in our ears,” He began in a slightly softer tone than he had ever spoken to you before, “If you need help, just talk to me. I’ll be in your ear the whole time” 

You nodded, still a little worried but trying not to show it.

“Splitting up is the fastest way to do this. And the faster we get this done, the less time we have to spend together.” Ah, there was the Bucky you knew. Back to making jabs at you. That was the last you spoke before he broke the door open and you were in.

—————————

As discreetly as possible, you made your way through the compound, quietly trying to get to the south wing without being heard or seen. Steve said that they most likely were keeping their lab in the largest room in the building, which supposedly should be through the last door on the south side. As long as you could find it, get the records and evidence that you needed, and get back to the exit in time to meet Bucky, you’d be fine. 

You could hear Bucky through the comms, sounds of grunting and punching obviously coming from him fighting Ian Haverford’s men that he had come into contact with. 

“Looking for something princess?” You immediately stopped in your tracks at the sound of a deep sinister voice snarling at you. Whipping around, you saw one of Ian’s goonies standing just a few feet from you. 

Instantly he charged at you, but it was nothing you hadn’t ever dealt with. Before he could grab you, you took hold of his arm and twisted it behind his back, affectively turning his entire body away from you. Then, using the Widow’s Bite armor that were around your wrists, you tased him in the neck, causing him to fall completely unconscious.

It was then that you realized you had made it to the end of the hallway, and thus the last door which was supposed to be their lab. Prepared for men to potentially be in there, you unholstered one of your firearms, and promptly kicked down the door.

To your shock, the room had no occupants. You quickly reached over to find a light switch, and what you saw next was infuriating. It indeed was Ian Haverford’s lab. Full of tables and stations that held different mixed drugs and chemicals that he was using to create his own super soldier serum, one that he then used on himself and his accomplices. You also saw a station that was entirely made up of a large desktop connected to multiple computers. 

You started to make your way towards the computers so that you could plug in your hard-drive and collect the data that would supply the team with how Haverford had been making the serums. But before you could get there, a white, powdery substance started to sprits down from what looked like emergency sprinklers that were on the ceiling. The substance reeked like chemicals, similar to that of bleach but not as strong. You began to cough a little, trying to wipe the shit out of your face and eyes. You had no idea what the fuck it was or what it might possibly do to you. 

“Bucky” you half coughed half called his name into the comms, “Bucky something happened”

“What?” He grunted out, clearly still in the middle of fighting someone.

“I just got sprayed with some kind of white powder stuff. I don’t know what it was. It must have been part of some kind of booby-trap that they had on the lab, since I kicked their door in, it went off.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky immediately asked, seeming genuinely worried. 

“Yeah I mean, nothings happened yet, I’m still fine. But-“

“I’m a little busy Y/N, if you’re fine for now, just get the data from the lab and head out fast. I don’t have time to keep talking” he quickly rattled off to you, and you heard a loud scream coming from a guy that Bucky obviously just injured. 

You swallowed, still very nervous about whatever the hell just happened to you, but you didn’t want to distract Bucky any further and potentially get him hurt, “Alright. On it.” 

Plugging the hard-drive into the main desktop, you waited patiently as thousands of files started to download from Haverford’s database. As you stood there and waited, an annoying, high pitched ringing began to go off in your ears. At the same time, your vision slowly started to blur slightly, as if you were wearing the wrong prescription glasses. A lump formed in your throat and your heart practically dropped into your stomach, you hated to admit it, but this was deeply scaring you. You’d never been poisoned before. 

You rubbed your eyes, hoping maybe it would help, but nothing happened, the blurriness just got worse. On top of that, your head started to pound, most likely due to the loud obnoxious ringing. It was the powder, you knew it had to be. What else would just suddenly start causing all this? 

“Y/N? You still good?” You heard Bucky ask through the comms, clearly still preoccupied with something else but wanting to check on you. 

You debated telling him about your symptoms. You were teammates, he should know. But on the other hand, It was just a few mostly mild symptoms, and the files were almost finished downloading anyway. You’d grab the hard-drive, run out of the compound and meet him in just a few minutes. You could make it until then. Plus, you didn’t wish to further annoy or distract him from fighting. 

“Yeah. Still good!” You tried to sound as enthusiastic and convincing as possible. It must have worked, because he didn’t question you further. 

Standing over the counter, still waiting for the files to be done, you leaned over the table a bit and made the idiotic decision to close your eyes for just a second, trying to relieve the headache. 

A moment later, you felt a sharp, intense fiery pain in your abdomen as someone reached from behind you choking your neck and thrusting a knife into your stomach. You were paralyzed for just a second with fear, not even able to cry out. The ringing in your ears was so bad, you must not have heard anyone come in. 

Trying to ignore the pain, you instinctively kicked your right leg back hard, hitting the man in the groin and causing him to fall to the ground. However, on his way down, he didn’t miss the chance to slash you in the calve with the knife he had been holding. The stab was so quick you could only gasp in pain. A gasp Bucky must not have heard as he was fighting his own battles. 

Turning around, you fumbled for your firearm for a moment before finally getting it out and being able to pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his chest. Stumbling backwards a bit, you started to feel lightheaded and you were reminded of the red hot pain in your stomach. You placed a hand over the side the feeling was coming from, and immediately felt a sticky hot liquid coat your fingers. 

You didn’t have time however to investigate the stab wound, because as you glanced up, you could see through your blurry vision that 3 more men were walking in through the kicked down door. 

Lazily raising your gun again, gripping the table to keep from toppling over, you aimed as best you could, with ringing ears, blurred vision and now two stab wounds. Thankfully, your training in the red room had taught you how to aim with even a blindfold on, and with a few quick shots, the men were taken down, now lying limply on the ground in front of you. 

Bucky heard the gunshots through the comm, but since you never called his name or made a noise that would indicate you needed help, he assumed you had it under control. 

You let the gun fall from your hand, now that you were alone and for now, out of danger, you were finally able to feel the extent of your injuries as the adrenaline wore off. Ever so slowly, you peered down at your stomach and saw that the hand you’d been holding there was almost entirely now coated in blood. Without meaning to, you fell to your knees, which then painfully reminded you of the other deep wound in your calve. However, you were so tired, and the loss of blood was making it hard to do anything other than focus on breathing.  

You knew you needed to alert Bucky. You couldn’t just lie here and wait, you didn’t have that kind of time. 

“Bu-Buck” you whimpered, trying to be loud enough that the comm would pick it up. But even just trying to talk was proving to be exhausting. You knew you were losing what was probably a lot of blood. Wet hot tears started to roll down your face, you were dangerously close to just giving in to the blood loss induced exhaustion and closing your eyes.

——————

Bucky, meanwhile, had finished taking down the men on the other half of the facility and was waiting for you outside at the spot you’d both agreed you would meet. He spoke over the comms, “I took down Haverford and his men. I’m out here now. Hurry up.” Short and to the point. How he always was with you. 

Immediately, more tears welled in your eyes at hearing his voice. You were desperate, in pain, and exhausted. Despite having a deep distaste for Bucky, you knew you needed him. You needed him to come and find you. You didn’t have enough strength to speak, but luckily the sound of his voice finally brought your own voice back and you mustered up a deep, pathetic and painful whine from the back of your throat…and it was enough to be caught over your ear piece. 

He stood there for a few minutes, getting antsy. Especially since he didn’t hear fighting noises over comms, he assumed you were just taking your sweet time making it back to him.

After a bit of waiting he sighed, grumbling “C’mon Y/N, what the fuck could you possibly-“

His complaining ceased as soon as he heard your one singular cry through the comm. Bucky’s eyes went wide, heart dropping into his stomach. He’d never heard a sound like that come out of you before. 

“Y/N?” He called your name in an almost scared tone, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Bucky swore under his breath, “I’m coming, just hang on” he made that promise to you like it was an oath, and raced back inside the building. 

Sprinting to the side of the compound that you were tasked with handling, Bucky searched frantically through the hallways, popping his head into every room trying to find you….until he did.

You laid there, blood seeping across your shirt and a pool of it surrounding your one injured leg. The men that you had disarmed and killed were sprawled out around you. 

After his initial shock wore off, Bucky ran to you, kicking one of the dead arms dealers out of the way to get to you. He dropped to his knees, eyes scanning your wounds.

“Oh, Y/N” He whispered with guilt and sorrow dripping from his tone. A million emotions flashed across his face. Including anger at the men who had attacked you, but mostly at himself for allowing this to happen. 

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the tears finally flowed freely now. Aside from the pain, you were relieved. Despite you’re not getting along, in this moment you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to hold you, and tell you everything was going to be just fine.

“Okay” he whispered in a stunned tone, trying to calm both you and himself down. His hands hovered over your body as he took in your wounds and decided what he needed to do. 

 “Okay, alright.” That time, it came out more sure, “It’s alright, doll. Just keep breathing for me.”  He tried to comfort you as he whipped out his phone and let Tony and the team know they needed medical there immediately.

Bucky then swallowed, giving you a remorseful look for what he was about to do. 

“Okay sweetheart,” he began tenderly, as he took off the black jacket he had on, and then promptly ripped the sleeve of it off with his metal arm. 

“I’m gonna have to tie this around your leg to stop the bleeding. It might hurt a bit, but I gotta do it” He gently explained what he needed to do, waiting to see a sign in your eyes that at least you understood. You gave him a very weak nod, and that was all he needed to then wrap the sleeve tightly around your upper calf. 

He was right, it did hurt. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected or weren’t prepared for. However, you believe Bucky only told you about having to wrap your leg, in order to half distract you from what he did next. 

A blinding, nauseating pain quickly overcame you as he took the rest of the jacket he had, and with his metal arm and half his body weight, pressed it over your abdominal wound.

You immediately cried out and instinctively reached for Bucky’s arm, trying to push him away. 

“Shhh, I know, I know baby” Bucky, who almost sounded pain-stricken himself with guilt, began to hush you, “I know it hurts, but I have to, I have to” He grabbed your hand that had tried to push him away, and let you squeeze the life out of his own as he continued applying pressure. His thumb softly grazed your knuckles, trying to soothe you. 

While continuing to comfort you, Bucky began to look around as if he expected someone else to also come to your aid. It was then that he realized he’d need to get you out of the building in order to get you onto the quinjet. There was no way the medical team would be able to find their way around in here to get to you in time. And he could see that you’d already lost a lot of blood, and even with the tourniquet and pressure he applied, you were still losing some. 

He took a breath, staring into your eyes with a serious yet remorseful look on his face, “Ok doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you out, but we can’t let up pressure on your wound” he explained, “So, I’m gonna need your help.”

Bucky then took the hand of yours that he was holding and gently guided it over to your abdomen. Lifting the jacket, he placed your hand over your own wound, you whimpered a little at the contact. Bucky swallowed, “I know doll, but I need you to put pressure on it like I was, okay? Can you do that for me?” He looked at you pleadingly, praying that you understood what he was saying.

Having to bite your own lip to keep from crying out again, you started to press down on your stomach with the little strength you still had. Bucky could tell you were trying by your obvious change in facial expression, “That’s it. Just like that, that’s my girl” he praised, quickly swiping one of your tears away. It wasn’t a lot of pressure, but it would do. 

Ever so gently, trying to avoid hurting your injured leg, Bucky gracefully slipped his arms underneath you and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest. You moaned a little at the shift in movement, “Shhh, I got you doll. I got you” he whispered into your hair as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck. 

He quickly made his way back out of the compound with you in his arms, thanking god when he saw the medevac quinjet was already out there waiting for you guys. Bucky tenderly laid you down on the stretcher, taking hold of your hand again as soon as he was able. 

“She was poisoned with something and then stabbed in her lower left calve and left quadrant of her abdomen” He immediately started rambling off what had happened to the medical team and Dr. Cho. 

“Poisoned with what?” Someone asked, he didn’t see who it was cause he wasn’t taking his eyes off of you. 

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, “I think she said it was white and powdery, I can’t remember.” Internally, he was kicking himself so hard for not having immediately ran to you when you told him about the poison. He shouldn’t have just written you off and told you to deal with it. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things. 

Bucky sat on the little bench in the quinjet right next you, still holding your hand, while the team got to work on your injuries. Technically, he should have been sitting at the front of the jet, out of their way, but no one was going to tell an upset Bucky Barnes what to do. 

As they began working your leg, removing the tourniquet and getting a shot of lidocaine ready to numb the area, you saw them preparing the syringe out of the corner of your eye. You begin to hyperventilate, letting out a small whimper of fear. You hated all things medical, which stemmed from a deep rooted fear that dated back to your red room days. After years of being practically experimented on and shot up with god knows what, you didn’t particularly love the sight of needles. Even if you knew you were in a safe environment. 

Bucky, who was still diligently sitting right beside you, immediately recognized your anxious reaction. He too knew that fear all too well. While he didn’t like to admit it, his time as the winter solider and being left at the hands of hydra often caused him to have visceral reactions to medical paraphernalia. 

“Hey, hey” he softly called to you as he gently held your chin and brought your face to meet his, “It’s alright doll, you don’t have to look down there. Just look at me. Right at me.” He held your eyes, squeezing your hand a little tighter to let you know he was there. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me, Y/N. I’m right here” And that’s how you eventually went unconscious, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he quietly shushed you and ran his hand through your hair.

——————

The harsh lights of the medical wing practically blinded you as you tried to let your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings. 

“Hey hon” you heard a soft voice coming from your right side, whom you instantly recognized as Natasha. 

“Well there she is” another voice, coming from your left who you thought was Steve, spoke up, sounding relieved at the fact you were awake. Your suspicions were proven correct when Steve leaned over slightly into your line of view. 

“Welcome back, Y/N” he smiled, clearly exhausted but delighted by your opened eyes. 

Your voice came out raspy and weak as you spoke for the first time, “H-how long have I been out?”

Natasha grabbed a cup from off your bedside table and offered you some water as Steve answered you,

“About three days. They had to get the bleeding under control and repair a portion of your stomach that was perforated. They also gave you some antibiotics to combat whatever the hell it was you were poisoned with,” he explained, “they seem to be working though. Doc says as soon as you’re strong enough, you can finish recuperating in your own room” He ended his spiel with a smile, but there was still one question he hadn’t answered that you were desperate for.

“W-Where’s Bucky?” You wondered why he wasn’t here, as you didn’t see him next to Steve or Nat. 

“He’s right here, Y/N” Steve motioned to the back of the room where you couldn’t see, but Bucky was standing in the corner, eyes red and sunken in like he’d been crying. He immediately picked his head up when he heard you mention him. 

“He hasn’t left this room in three days” Steve whispered to you in a hushed tone, hoping Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Nat cleared her throat, “We’re just gonna go get some coffee” she looked at Steve and jerked her head towards the door, beckoning him to follow her. They both left, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves. 

Slowly, Buck made his way over to your bed, taking the seat that Steve was just in. 

He was almost fearful of what to say, surprised that you had even asked for him in the first place. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, and was positive that when you woke up, you’d want nothing to do with him. And he wouldn’t blame you.

“Hey doll” he croaked out, voice sounding strained, “How’re you feeling?”

You swallowed, “My stomach hurts, and I have a headache” you admitted, still in a bit of pain from your wound healing. 

Bucky nodded, “Do you want me to get the doctor? They might be able to give you more pain meds.” He asked, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. You didn’t know, but for the past three days Bucky had remained diligently at your bedside, alerting medical staff of any slight change in vital signs or if he thought you were cold and needed more blankets. He’d only left a few brief times when Steve had to force him to go eat or use the bathroom. 

You shook your head, “no, no I’m okay. Promise” You offered him a slight smile. 

Bucky stared down at his hands for a moment before he spoke up again, “Y/N, I am so so so sorry. This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you and not had us split up.” He spoke with such guilt and shame you almost felt bad for him, “I was so focused on my own agenda and being a dick to you, that I completely ignored when you needed help. I can’t even-“

“Buck,” you interrupted him, reaching over and grabbing his hand with the little strength you had, “this isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who stabbed me. That’s it. No one else’s” As much as you knew he fucked up with the way he treated you, you certainly didn’t think he should have to take responsibility for you getting hurt. 

“But if I had come as soon as you said you were poisoned, if I had just listened to you instead of choosing to be an asshole, you probably wouldn’t be in this hospital bed” he insisted, eyes getting watery. 

“Well, you were an asshole, I’ll give you that.” You smirked at him, trying to get him to relax, “but you also saved my life.” Bucky looked up at you, “You tied the tourniquet which kept me from losing more blood, and then made sure I didn’t have a panic attack on the quinjet. You might have fucked up a little Bucky, but you certainly made up for it” you gave his hand a little squeeze. 

For the first time since you went under surgery, Bucky smiled, “All the same, I’m never separating from you during missions ever again.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, “that sounds a little suffocating, don’t you think?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Not to me. Nothings ever happening to you while you’re under my watch again”

“Well if that’s the case,” you scooted over a little in the bed, “will you keep me warm before I freeze to death in here?” You were genuinely very cold and were hoping for someone to bring you another blanket, but you supposed having Bucky there would do.

He chuckled softly, “you got it.” Lowering the hospital bed rail, Bucky climbed in and laid down next you, pulling you up close to him with his arm around your shoulders. 

He placed a brief kiss along your hairline, “get some rest, doll. I’ll be right here.” 

————-

Taglist: @patzammit @dpaccione @fdl305 @gh0stgurl

[pancake404]

The False God's Limbo: BBI Catnap and Dogday

A little bit more of character information regarding the False God's Limbo.

Catnap/Theodore: After ten years of hunting down heretics, worshiping his only friend and God, roaming Playcare, slowly starving, and the cherry on top, the reminder of his past death with the Prototype executing him, Theo is a shadow of his original self. He doesn't feel remorseful nor pleased with his past actions as at the end of the day, they were just heretics that he had to deal with.

Catnap is cold, drained, reserved, and often described as emotionless. He has no issue speaking as it doesn't affect his throat whatsoever unlike before but he normally only talks when he feels he needs to. He doesn't care about most of the other experiments, and he especially stopped caring about the BBI Smiling Critters. To him, they're not the Smiling Critters, they are just other lab rats like him that just look like the Smiling Critters. Despite not caring though, Catnap is more than willing to threaten those that push his buttons.

However, when interacting with BBI Dogday, the heretic, Catnap decided that since he can't kill him or himself(or get out of the place), he might as well stick with one of the only familiar experiments. Though, he doesn't understand why Dogday is willingly dragging him with, it's not like he has anywhere else to go. Not only that, but he also does find that there are other toys that still have some devotion to the Prototype side and he figured that as the main devotee and priest, he feels like he has some responsibility in protecting them.

Essentially:

It's not that he is happy with what he did, he just doesn't have a reason to care. He behaves like a lost monster who has no purpose anymore.

Dogday/Samuel Lee(Sticking with this identity of BBI Dogday): After being pretty much either locked up(in this version, he had only his legs ripped off at a later time than the whole ten years) or witnessing the horror of what became the other BBI Smiling Critters, he feels a sense of failure that was placed upon him as his role as the leader but also, he doesn't want to experience any of that ever again.

Dogday when encountering Catnap imminently in the limbo, neither attacked each other but more of just stared, being unsure what to do. But after Catnap tried getting out...unsuccessfully, Dogday decided to snag Catnap and drag him along to check out the limbo further where the other toys are found. His feelings of Catnap/Theo are very mixed, he feels unsure, hurt, frustrated, sympathetic, but overall, he just wished it didn't turn out like this. He sees Catnap sort of like a loyal dog(ironic, I know) being thrown away like garbage after everything they sacrificed and were willing to do, which Catnap disagrees with. But either way, he views this Limbo as maybe a second chance for all the toys to try to move on without the threat of every toy for themselves in the factory. Though the question is if everyone else sees it that same way(spoiler, they don't).

Dogday is on edge though optimistic. He won't take crap but also has some personal nightmares(such as...you know, Chapter Three). He also doesn't want to fail at being a leader again which is difficult as there are...certain things that the other Smiling Critters(very much including Catnap) know about and therefore, they don't fully trust him.

Essentially:

It's not like Dogday isn't upset, it's just...the others(Catnap included) have reasons to not like him either. He also prefers forgiveness for a better way forward than constant battle of survival which is both made possible and impossible in this Limbo.

When thinking of their relationship, I've seen a lot of ideas such as never-ending fights and hatred over the other, a long time for forgiveness but eventually a happier ending, etc. But for this version, I'd say it's less of finally forgiving the other(mostly Catnap redemption and Dogday forgiving) but more of "Can we be friends this time?" sort of thing if that makes sense. Lastly, in this version, there are dirt that can be made for all the Smiling Critters.

Also, both are drained from the decade being in the factory and they're sort of more glad it's finally over.

[angelsberrymilk]

Hi dear!

I just discovered your Soldier Boy x Sam fics... and oh boy.. this was tense...

Would you mind writing some jealous Soldier Boy? Because i can't imagine that he wants to share his little Boy... (maybe with some Butcher or someone else who is flirting with Sam?)

Best wishes

thanks so much for the ask, anon 💚 Hope you'll like it! 💚💚

characters: Sam Winchester, Soldier Boy, Hughie, Annie, MM, Butcher, Kimiko, Frenchie

tw: homophobic SB, drug use, canon-typical SB behaviour

before any of you come for my neck, you can be both gay and spew homophobic shit. soldier boy is not gay tho, I don't think he is, but he is a fucking freak and doesnt care about sexuality or where his dick goes. he's a loser and likes to make people feel bad.

suggestive content ahead

💚 I'm not sure exactly HOW soldier boy and Sam crossed paths. Maybe Soldier Boy was walking by the side of the road, to another state because he doesn't have cash and a LOT of things changed since in the time he was on ice. so walking it is. and then maybe the sky ripped in half and Sam fell in his arms.

💚 maybe soldier boy decides that he may need some help and reaches out to The Boys to figure it out. They don't believe Sam at the beginning. They think he's lying to them or just maybe fell on his head. Sam is desperate to be believed and Hughie is like, “Hm, let's assume what you say is true, we don't have any way of bringing you back home, so all we can do at the moment is keep you safe, if you stick around…”

💚 Soldier Boy maybe contemplates leaving Sam in their hands, but at the end he doesn't, because Sam is attached to him, he says he'll stay with him, go with him, because back at home he's his older brother. And really, soldier has nothing better to do. so he sticks around with Sammy and The Boys. 

💚 Sammy is immediately liked by Kimiko, he quickly learns her sign language so they can talk, and she likes him for that, she even starts to consider him her friend. 

💚 Meanwhile Soldier Boy isn't very happy that Sammy is not spending as much time with him as he said he would. He glares at the woman everytime she walks by and he aggressively smokes 6 joints in a day, stinking up the place with the smell of weed and whatever drug he has rolled in there.

💚 Hughie likes Sammy too. appreciates his energy and knowledge. he's fun to talk to and not as aggressive as some of the rest *ahem* Butcher *ahem*. Hughie quickly asks him to tag along when he goes on errands, and has to be reminded to not yap about anything and everything to Sammy, after all, they weren't totally sure if Sam wasn't a cop or a secret agent. even tho no one believes he is, Butcher does, and whatever Butcher says, goes. 

💚 Soldier Boy grumbles everytime Hughie aks Sammy if he'd like to tag along to go collect a package, so he turns to Annie and complains, “Tell your fucking twink to stop dragging Sammy with him everywhere he goes, he'll get him killed!”

💚 Soldier Boy also just broods around, he would harass them for his own sick pleasure but he had to behave if he wanted them to help his new little friend, Sammy, so he stays put, glares at them, insults them to get on their nerves, and tries to pry as much information out of Sammy about his brother, Dean, as possible. 

💚 Soldier Boy would also see red if anyone flirts w his boy. Frenchie is pretty touchy, his love language is physical contact, he's kind, he's funny and he's smart. Men and women like him. and Frenchie happened to be a bit of a sucker for broad shoulders and puppy eyes. Oh, he liked Sam the second he saw him. He loved his little mole, his sharp nose, his sad eyes, soft hair and big, giant body of his. He was gorgeous. 

💚 and so when he notices that Sammy was stressed and in need of some relief, he offers to smoke with him, Sammy at first declines in a polite manner, but then at some point he agrees, because at this point, he has nothing to lose and he hasn't slept properly in 3 days. So he sits down next to Frenchie and they take turns smoking a joint. Frenchie watches the man’s shoulders sag, he watches him start to loosen up a bit, then he starts to whine and mumble all sorts of nonsense, he giggles and paws at Frenchie. And before their lips meet Soldier Boy barges in and hauls Sam over his shoulder, throws some homophobic slurs towards Frenchie and leaves. and Frenchie shouts behind him, “You're only calling me that because you're mad you want to fuck him too!”

💚 And Ohhh when Butcher realises Sammy is a smartypants and can manage just fine on his own in a fight? He quickly tries to convert him to the mission, tries to get him involved in their plans. Butcher realises how valuable he could be when he can hack security cameras, can shoot whatever firearm you give him and is well read and strong and pretty and smart and sooo smart and–

💚 “I brought him here for some help, not so you can bust in your pants when he opens his mouth, you pervert,”

💚 MM will also like Sammy. he likes his big brain and resourcefulness. I just didn't go into super detail because MM has a history with Soldier Boy and will try to kill him at any given chance. His storyline with Soldier Boy hurt me a lot and I feel horrible for what happened to his family at the hands of Soldier Boy, a racist piece of shit. MM is the only one really trying to convince Sam to leave Soldier Boy, that he's a monster, and the angst of it all, ohhh it hurts!!! it hurts!!!!! 

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tags

@klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katamcauley @sams-princess-hair @redcl8ver @yuetyin940 @loserluizard @arthrodira @runawaydr3amerao3 @giulmu @palepuppytimetravel @waynesmywife @rerejunebug @winbred @friendlyneighbourhoodfreak

[mythalism]

the ambiguity of solas's ending actually really does piss me off so bad. like i dont know why they think they were cooking by being vague about where exactly he ends up and whether or not he is trapped or able to leave, especially if your own player character ends up there with him, whether thats rook or lavellan. the imagery in the epilogue slides and implication in the "atoning for the blight" ending is clear but only if you're well versed in lore that veilguard does not really explore, and thats only for the atonement endings where he leaves to heal the blight willingly. where does he end up in the other endings? where did the rift behind him lead to? is it just the fade? do all the rifts lead to the black city even if he doesnt intentionally leave to go heal the blight??? if so why??? the rift opened naturally, solas didnt open it. is it just luck that it leads to exactly where we need hin to be?????? does rook even know where it leads???? do they even think before shoving him into it?????? does it even matter if he has the fucking dagger anyway????? if so whats the point of any of it??????????? WHAT THE FUCK???????

if that was just the game's refusal to employ it's own vocabulary that would be one thing, because its a larger issue in the game overall. the black city/golden city is not mentioned to my knowledge, though perhaps it is in codex entries, and so to use that terminology in the end would be confusing to the incompetent and stupid "new players" the game was written for who apparently cannot be trusted to absorb worldbuilding information on their own. but the fact that several people have asked for clarification from the devs and we have gotten more ambiguous, unsatisfying answers or straight up refusals to elaborate is so ridiculous to me. why? spoilers? for the game you are never actually going to get to make? even if it was a spoiler who fucking cares? an ending that leaves you unsatisfied because you are CONFUSED is not a well-written one. when i first finished i genuinely felt PANICKED because it was over and i didnt understand how it ended. i felt so desperate to know where exactly they were. the way the ending feels completely different if they are in the black city versus the regret prison is HUGE. those are two completely different endings. whether or not he has agency and is able to leave makes a HUGE difference in the overall messaging of his character. it makes a HUGE impact on lavellan's willingness to join him. i guarantee that like half of the people who hate the solavellan ending and were really upset by it would have felt far better about it if it was just explained where the fuck they were. like what is the point. how does it serve the narrative for the audience to leave the epilogue unsure of what just happened? and the worst part is that, while i am a full 99.9% sure that they are in the black city rather than regret jail, because thats where the blight is and thats the visual imagery used in the epilogue slides, that 0.1% uncertainty exists not because i just dont know the lore well enough or didnt understand the ending, but because i no longer have faith in bioware to stick to their own writing.

i know that it only makes sense for solas to be in the black city if his goal is healing the blight, but what if epler decides he wants solas to be in the regret prison instead being psychologically tortured because he thinks hes annoying and deserves it? what if some other dev who has a bone to pick with bald guys gets hired and pushes for it really hard in meetings for 5 years? will what they established for the ending actually matter, then? or will they do a complete 180 from what was set up and retcon the ending? and i get it- they have always done this on some level. corypheus returning after da2 to be inquisition's antagonist, for example, though i'd counter that argument with there being clear foreshadowing that he body hopped so that seed was indeed planted. or killing flemeth with morrigan in origins only to find out in da2 that she gave her soul to hawke just in time to survive. but these things have an internal consistency with the world-building that i have lost faith in the writers to continue. corypheus survives because he uses blight body hopping, an established ability that we already knew archdemons had, then elaborated on when he returns in inquisition. flemeth is an ancient unknowable legendary swamp witch who is suggested to be playing 4d mind chess with the characters even before you know about her own body-snatching, so finding out she was able to cheat death like that isn't unfounded or far fetched. but veilguard so gleefully tramples over its own world's rules and established stories, whether its stupid small mechanical gripes like rook wading through "blight pools" and exploding "blight cysts" all over themselves with no explanation meanwhile we know that felix alexius died of blight from just coming into contact with hurlock blood when attacked, and that ferelden mabari biting darkspawn was a death sentence for them unless they could be cured with a rare herb. or larger things, like.... idk. solas's characterization, motivations, and massive network of agents and supporters. or slavery existing in tevinter. or the existence of the titan's heart orbs that each evanuris has? or um. RED LYRIUM. and so much more.

i think thats why the vagueness of this game bothers me in a way it did not previously. granted, i do not think inquisition is NEARLY as vague with its lore reveals and character epilogues. its actually very straight forward and explains everything sufficiently. theres more of an argument for da2 being very vague. but previously, i would have trusted that it would be taken care of in a way that made sense, or at least was internally consistent with the world. i have completely lost that faith. instead, after playing the rest of veilguard and seeing how little respect the game has for it's own world and story and characters, the ambiguity of solas's ending is nothing but anxiety-inducing and unsatisfying. i cant even clearly analyze his character arc if i dont truly know the implications of the ending. and on top of that, what reason do i have to believe the writers will respect their own writing going forward?