#regular expressions tools

[desertskiespodcast]

I tried to write a novel. Not once. Not twice. But about 12 times. Here's how that would play out: 1. I sit down and knock out 10 pages 2. I share it with someone 3. They say "It's goooood" like it's not good 4. I ask for critical feedback 5. They say, "Well....the plot just moves so quickly. So much happens in the first few pages it doesn't feel natural." So I'd write more drafts. I'd try to stretch out the story. I would add dialogue that I tried to make interesting but thought was boring. I would try including environment and character descriptions that felt unnecessary, (why not just let people imagine what they want?) Anyways, I gave up trying to write because in my mind, I wasn't a fiction writer. Maybe I could write a phonebook or something. But then I made a fiction podcast, and I waited for the same feedback about the fast moving plot, but guess what??? Podcasts aren't novels. The thing that made my novels suck became one of the things that made Desert Skies work. I've received some criticism since the show started, but one thing I don't receive regular complaints about is being overly-descriptive or longwinded. In fact, the opposite. It moves fast enough that it keeps peoples attention. I always felt I had a knack for telling stories but spent years beating myself up because I couldn't put those stories into novel form. The problem wasn't me. The problem was the tool I was trying to use. All that to say: If, in your innermost parts you may know that you're a storyteller but you just can't write a book, don't give up right away. You can always do things to get better and there's a lot of good resources. But if you do that for a while and novel writing just isn't your thing, try making a podcast, or creating a comic, or a poem, or a play, or a tv script. You might know you're an artist but suck at painting. Try making a glass mosaic, or miniatures, or try charcoal portraits, or embroider or collage. You might know you're a singer, but opera just isn't working out. Why not yodel? I could keep listing out examples, but the point is this. Trust your intuitions when it comes to your creative abilities, but don't inhibit yourself by becoming dogmatic about which medium you can use to express that creativity. Don't be afraid to try something new. Don't be afraid to make something new. You might just find the art form that fits the gift you knew you always had, and what it is might surprise you

[vunblr]

Wounds and Walls

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Millennial!Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. A little angst.

Summary: Bucky starts to walk into his new civilian life but struggles with his painful past, while slowly building a connection with someone who sees through his walls. As the relationship deepens, he must decide if he’s ready for something more, or if he’ll hide and push it all away.

Word Count: About 12k.

note: Revised version. It is the first fic I wrote after many years away from writing and I wasn't entirely happy with the result, so here we are.

Before the government officially recognized Bucky as a victim of Hydra’s manipulation and mandated his participation in Dr. Raynor’s therapy program to avoid prison or other legal consequences, S.H.I.E.L.D. had already stepped in. They proposed a more unconventional approach, enlisting Y/n, a mutant with the extraordinary ability to heal not just physical wounds, but mental and emotional scars. Her mission was clear: stabilize Bucky to reintegrate into civilian life, ensuring he posed no harm to others or himself.

At first, he resisted any form of help from her. His reluctance wasn’t just about pride; it was rooted in years of distrust and the unshakable belief that he had to face his past alone. The idea of a “quick fix” only made him more skeptical, feeding the suspicion that she might be just another tool for the government to keep him under control, another reminder of how he had been manipulated and weaponized as the Winter Soldier.

The Blip had taken an even greater toll on him. The sudden shift in society forced him to adapt to yet another unfamiliar world, one where even the tiny constants he relied on were gone. Steve’s departure cut deeper than he wanted to admit; Bucky had thought they’d face this new world together, brothers in arms like always. Instead, Steve had abandoned him, leaving him to shoulder the weight of his demons alone. It was a wound Bucky hadn’t even begun to process, and one that made accepting help from anyone feel impossible.

Despite his initial resistance, her patient and steady approach began to wear down his defenses. Bucky clung to his reserved, cynical attitude, but he grudgingly allowed himself to cooperate. Slowly, the barriers between them started to lower. Eventually, once it was determined on paper that Bucky was stable and no longer posed a threat, the government had the justification it needed to loosen its grip and adopt a more lenient approach to monitoring his progress. His sessions with her came to an official end, and he was granted a conditional release, with the requirement that he continue regular therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor.

As part of his reintegration, Bucky was “strongly encouraged” to take up temporary residence in a carefully selected apartment building. It wasn’t long before he made a startling discovery: Y/n “coincidentally” lived in the same building, and even more “coincidentally,” in the apartment next door. Bucky couldn’t shake the suspicion that someone had orchestrated this arrangement, placing her nearby as a subtle, silent support system.

She hadn’t expected to see Bucky in the hallway of her apartment building. It had been a perfectly ordinary afternoon until she spotted him, effortlessly carrying what looked like bags of clothes in one hand while balancing a microwave over his opposite shoulder like it weighed nothing. When their eyes met, she caught the fleeting shock on his face before he quickly masked it, his expression slipping into something more neutral.

Curious and more than a little suspicious, she approached him with raised eyebrows. They exchanged awkward pleasantries—Bucky, ever the man of few words, offered a brief explanation: the government had rented the apartment for him as part of his continued reintegration.

It felt almost too convenient. Her thoughts immediately flickered to S.H.I.E.L.D., and she couldn’t help but suspect they’d had a hand in this arrangement. Maybe someone wants me to work for free, she mused with a wry smile

Their mismatched schedules during the week meant they rarely crossed paths, and for a while, their lives remained parallel but distant. Sundays, however, became the exception—though not intentionally at first. It started one rainy weekend when the power went out in the building, and she’d knocked on his door, flashlight in hand, to check if he needed anything. She’d half-expected him to brush her off, but to her surprise, he opened the door and invited her in, muttering something about “safety in numbers” as he gestured toward his couch.

They spent the evening with candles flickering between them, sharing the leftovers she’d brought over and exchanging stilted small talk that eventually gave way to a more comfortable quiet. He didn’t share much, but he didn’t seem to mind listening as she filled the gaps with anecdotes and idle chatter.

The next Sunday, she knocked on his door to ask for sugar for a cake she was baking, half-expecting him not to have any. To her surprise, he did. When she mentioned the cake, she noticed a flicker of interest in his usually blank expression. Feeling a little bold, she offered to bring him a slice as thanks. He doubted but eventually nodded, admitting that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had homemade food.

Later, when she knocked again to deliver the cake, he opened the door looking awkward, but unexpectedly offered her coffee in return. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. He was watching a documentary about the '90s, and as they sat with their mismatched mugs, the screen played a segment on music. The first notes of Step by Step by New Kids on the Block filled the room, and she couldn’t help but laugh, confessing that she used to love the song as a kid and would dance to it in her living room at five years old. He let out a barely-there smile, the kind that vanished almost as quickly as it came. It wasn’t much, but it felt significant, like the first stone in a bridge being laid.

Over time, Sundays became their unspoken ritual. Sometimes they’d watch movies or documentaries. Other times, they’d just sit together, her talking while he listened, occasionally nodding or grunting in response.

She never pressed him to talk, and he appreciated the lack of expectation. Her presence was steady, unobtrusive, and comforting, like the soft hum of a fan on a hot day, something he hadn’t realized he needed until it became a constant.

As time passed, something shifted between them, and Bucky began to open up, little by little. The cracks in his walls revealed glimpses of the man beneath the brooding exterior, and she couldn’t help but notice the subtle changes. His shoulders seemed less tense during their Sunday hangouts, and he started to relax more on the couch. Occasionally, there was a slight uptick in his voice when he shared a rare observation or commented on a movie. Though he wasn’t exactly chatty, she could tell he was trying. His words were sparse but deliberate, and as he grew more comfortable, he began to contribute to their conversations in his understated way. A dry comment here, a thoughtful observation there, his eyes met hers more often, and the silences between his responses felt less heavy, settling into something warm and companionable.

As the weeks turned into months, she realized her feelings for him were beginning to shift too. Thoughts of Bucky started to linger beyond their casual Sunday hangouts. It wasn’t just the time they spent together that stayed with her; it was the way she found herself worrying about him on the days they didn’t cross paths, or when he seemed more withdrawn during their conversations. Her mind wandered in unexpected ways, catching herself stealing glances at him that were far from innocent.

It was hard to ignore just how handsome he was, how effortlessly he made her heart skip a beat. The way his blue eyes glimmered on the rare occasions he smiled, or the way her breath hitched when he stretched on the couch, offering a fleeting glimpse of his lower abs, left her feeling like a schoolgirl with a serious crush.

-----

One Friday night, piercing screams shattered her sleep. The sounds were raw and anguished, cutting through the stillness of the apartment. They were coming from the other side of the thin wall—Bucky’s place. She froze, her heart pounding as she recognized the unmistakable signs of a nightmare. But this wasn’t like the restless murmurs or muffled groans she’d overheard in the past. These screams were different, drenched in pain and terror.

Her stomach knotted with worry as she quickly got out of bed, moving toward the balcony the two apartments shared. A low, weathered wooden fence separated their spaces, and she hesitated for only a moment before climbing onto a flowerpot, swung one leg over the fence, and then struggled to follow with the other, cursing her pathetic fitness level as she landed awkwardly on the other side, graceless and unstable.

Peering through the glass of the sliding door, she saw him on the floor, tangled in his sheets, tossing and turning violently. His movements were frantic, his face contorted in fear and anguish as he thrashed against whatever demons haunted him.

“HET!” he cried out desperately, the guttural sound ripping through the room. “Pozhaluysta, prekrati!”

Her heart clenched at the sight. This wasn’t just a bad dream, it was a vivid, visceral reliving of some past trauma. She had no doubt it was connected to his time under HYDRA’s control.

Without thinking, she opened the door and stepped inside. Moving carefully, she approached him, the floor creaking softly beneath her feet. His screams ebbed into harsh, labored breaths, but his body remained tense, caught in the grip of the nightmare. Slowly, she knelt beside him and, with a tentative hand, brushed his hair back from his damp forehead.

As she touched him, she sent a gentle wave of healing energy through him, hoping to ease his turmoil. Her powers couldn’t erase memories, but they could soften the edges of his distress and dull the sharpest parts of his anguish. His breathing began to slow, the lines of tension on his face gradually easing as the energy worked its way through him.

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not there anymore. Wake up,” she murmured, despite the ache in her chest.

As her hand rested gently on his forehead, Bucky’s piercing screams subsided into soft, pained whimpers. “Bol'no...” he mumbled incoherently, his voice heavy with anguish. Despite her whispered reassurances, his body remained restless, his movements erratic and desperate as the nightmare held him captive.

“No... don’t...” he murmured weakly, his voice trembling with fear and conflict. His legs began to shake, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. She hesitated, her mind racing with the risks of waking him in this state, he could lash out instinctively, putting her in harm’s way.

Swallowing her fear, she made up her mind and knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “You’re safe,” she murmured again, as she transferred more healing energy into him by force.

The contact seemed to calm him. His movements grew less frantic, though his body still flinched now and then, as though reacting to something particularly disturbing in his dream. Still, the nightmare’s grip seemed to weaken, her presence slowly chipping away at the fear and pain that had consumed him.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly as confusion clouded his features. He looked disoriented, his breathing uneven as his gaze swept the room until it landed on her. For a moment, he just stared, his expression shifting from alarm to recognition. His shoulders sagged slightly as relief washed over him.

“You…” His voice was hoarse as he ran a hand down his face, piecing it together. He looked at her sitting on the floor, with her hair tousled and an old nightie that kissed her knees. Her expression was a mixture of concern and awkwardness. “...woke me up.”

She nodded quickly, her hands fiddling with the hem of her clothes. “You sounded like you were… trapped in something bad,” she said softly. “And you were about to wake the entire neighborhood. I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

Bucky pushed himself upright, with slow movements, like his body weighed more than usual. The exhaustion clung to him in every line of his face, and his voice came out quiet and raw. “Thanks… and sorry.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, big guy. You were suffering.” She shrugged, trying to downplay the moment, but her next words came tumbling out unbidden. “Um… do you want me to stay? You know, for the rest of the night? In case…” Her stomach tightened immediately. What made her think he’d want her to stay?

To her surprise, he paused, considering her offer. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Actually… yeah,” he admitted, still tinged with weariness. He shifted slightly. “If you don’t mind staying close. Just for a while.”

For a beat, she just stared, startled. Quickly regaining her composure, she nodded. “Not at all. I mean, look at your state. Where uh… do you want me?” Her cheeks flushed the second the words left her mouth, and she wanted to die of cringe. That could’ve been phrased better.

Bucky didn’t seem to pick up on the unintended innuendo, or maybe he just didn’t care. He tilted his head slightly, motioning toward the makeshift bed on the floor. “Close is good,” he said simply. “Just… lean against me or something,” he added, curling up into a somewhat protective position as he waited for her to settle in next to him..

Swallowing her nerves, she laid down beside him, her body angled carefully so as not to crowd him. Tentatively, she rested a hand on his side, her palm finding the steady rise and fall of his ribcage. “Like… this?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more unsure.

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let out a breath that sounded like a mixture of relief and resignation. “Yeah,” he murmured, his hand briefly brushing hers in an unconscious gesture. “This is good.”

As the silence settled between them, she stayed still, attuned to the warmth of his body and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. He didn’t say much after that, but the way his tense shoulders gradually relaxed spoke volumes. Whatever nightmares had plagued him earlier, they seemed a little further away now.

Exhausted from using her powers at such a high level for the first time in ages, she had finally allowed herself to relax, succumbing to the pull of sleep almost instantly.

-----

When she woke, sunlight was already streaming through the curtains, signaling it was late morning. Something big and warm was pressed against her, enveloping her in heat and security. Still caught in the haze of sleep, her eyes fluttered open slowly. She became aware of the steady rise and fall of breathing against her back, and then of the arm draped snugly around her waist.

Her heart skipped a beat as she registered the sensation of someone instinctively pulling her closer, his hold firm yet unconsciously gentle. He let out a low, sleepy grunt, his nose brushing against the sensitive crook of her neck as he nuzzled deeper, inhaling softly. His breath, warm and even, tickled her skin, and a quiet hum of contentment escaped him.

As the events of the previous night filtered back into her mind, realization struck her like a slap. She remembered where she was, and more importantly, with who.

Wide awake now, her senses sharpened, and noticed with increasing alarm that he was still nuzzling her neck, his face burrowed against her as if drawn to her scent. A traitorous warmth spread across her cheeks as his arm tightened slightly, and she could feel the firmness of his chest against her back.

Panicked but trying not to disturb him too abruptly, she whimpered pathetically under her breath and began tapping his bare shoulder with hesitant fingers. “Bucky,” she whispered urgently. “Bucky, wake up.”

Her soft taps and whispered plea had no effect. In fact, he murmured something incomprehensible and -oh no, oh no, oh no- his hand slid just slightly lower along her side, his fingers twitching as if seeking something in his sleep. Her heart thudded in her chest, her face a furnace of mortification.

Desperate, she abandoned subtlety and swatted the back of his head with just enough force to jolt him.

“Guh-!” he startled awake, blinking rapidly as if trying to dispel the remnants of a dream. His eyes, half-closed and unfocused, darted around. “Huh? What time is it?” he mumbled, his voice gravelly from sleep.

It took a second -or several- for the reality of the situation to register in his brain. As he shifted slightly, his gaze landed on her, and the proximity of their position. The arm draped around her, the way their bodies were pressed together. The faint warmth lingering where his face had been tucked into her neck.

“Oh. Oh,” he breathed, his entire body stiffening. A faint flush began creeping up his neck, spreading rapidly to his cheeks. He immediately withdrew his arm, sitting up fast. “Sorry.” he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I was… dreaming. I didn’t even realize-” He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at her. “Are you… okay?”

She nodded quickly, trying to mask her flustered state. “Yeah, I’m fine.” To distract herself, she stretched her arms lazily above her head, the motion easing the lingering tension in her muscles.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Bucky glanced around the room as though looking for something else to look at. The awkwardness between them lingered until finally, he addressed her. “So, uh… Saturday. What plans do you have for today?” he asked casually, though the faint edge of self-consciousness was impossible to miss.

Grateful for a change of topic, she stood up, smoothing her old cotton nightgown and brushing at imaginary dust particles. “Actually, I’m heading out to buy some clothes with a coworker. She invited me to go out to a nightclub with the gang tonight. It’s been years since I’ve been to one.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression caught somewhere between intrigue and skepticism. “A nightclub? That sounds… interesting,” he commented dryly, the hint of sarcasm poorly masking his curiosity. “So I take it you’ll need some new threads first?”

“Yup,” she confirmed. “I mean, I’ve got a decent sense of fashion, but I have no clue what’s in style for places like that anymore. Honestly, I don’t pay attention to what people wear when I see them stumbling home after a night out. I’m usually just walking my dog in old sweatpants or something.” She smiled wryly. “So, she’s helping me look sexy for tonight.”

“Right,” He frowned inadvertently.

“Right,” she echoed, eyeing him for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, since you seem… more than fine now, I should head out. I’m sure you’ve got a packed day ahead, like watching paint dry or maybe finally returning some of those missed calls from Sam.”

She gave him a quick wave and turned toward the balcony, her steps light but deliberate.

Still sitting on the floor, Bucky tracked her movements, his gaze lingering longer than it should on the gentle sway of her hips. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the silhouette of her body through the thin cotton gown, and his jaw clenched before he managed to pull his eyes away. Then he noticed where she was heading.

“The door is that way, in case you didn’t notice,” he said with a faint smirk, gesturing toward the proper exit.

“Oh, I know,” she shot back. “But mine’s locked. I had to channel my inner Cirque du Soleil to get over the balcony and into your place last night.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You climbed the fence?”

“Yeah, and I’d really rather not do it again. Especially with an audience this time.” She paused, turned back to him, and gave him a pointed look. “So, how about you repay me by brushing up on your rusty espionage skills and opening my door without wrecking the lock?”

A lopsided grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, “You’re serious?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Come on, you’ve got the skills, big guy. Don’t tell me they’re all gone now.”

He let out a low chuckle, pushing himself off the floor. “Alright. Let’s see what I can do.”

------

Later that afternoon, she returned to her apartment with a couple of bags filled with casual clothes, as well as the evening’s potential attire tucked into the mix. She rummaged through them, pulling out the items she thought might work for the nightclub. Objectively, she wasn’t thrilled about the outing -it wasn’t exactly her scene- but she knew she needed to socialize more, to build connections, and maybe, just maybe, find someone to distract herself from the growing attraction she felt toward her grumpy neighbor and friend.

A neighbor who, thankfully, seemed blissfully unaware of her feelings.

He didn't seem interested in her that way, and the prospect of him discovering her little crush was mortifying. Also, she knew he had been attempting to date lately, surely encouraged by Dr. Raynor.

Her mind wandered back to that evening when she’d seen him leaving his apartment with a fresh flower bouquet, heading off to meet the chirpy Asian bartender from down the street. Or the time she’d spotted him in the hallway with a single rose wrapped in flimsy paper, his sharp casual-formal attire making him look infuriatingly handsome. When she raised an eyebrow at him, his only response was a gruff, “Tinder,” before disappearing out the door.

He never shared much about that part of his life, and honestly, she didn’t want to know. The thought of sitting through a conversation about his undoubtedly gorgeous dates, smiling and pretending to be happy for him wasn’t her idea of fun.

Before her thoughts could spiral any further, she patted her cheeks with both hands, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. She had clothes to choose and a night to prepare for.

-------

After some deliberation, she narrowed her options down to two outfits but found herself hesitating. Against her better judgment, she decided to ask for his opinion. Complicated feelings aside, Bucky was still her friend. And once upon a time, he’d been quite the ladies’ man. Even if he wasn’t that guy anymore, his insights could still prove useful.

She marched to his door and knocked three times. “Bucky, are you home? I have a favor to ask.”

After a moment, the door swung open, and without missing a beat, she held up two hangers, shaking them slightly for emphasis almost against his face. “I can’t decide what to wear tonight. Can you help me figure it out? I’ll pay for Sunday’s pizza if you do.” She presented the options: a short black dress with a daring neckline and a red blouse paired with a matching miniskirt. “What do you think?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed briefly before he managed to mask his reaction with a neutral expression. The black dress was sleek, bold, and undeniably sexy -too sexy if he were being honest with himself-. The red blouse and miniskirt weren’t much better, the skirt’s length leaving little to the imagination.

He knew she was asking for his advice as a friend, but something twisted in his chest at the thought of her wearing either outfit. The idea of her going out in them, surrounded by strangers who didn’t know her like he did, made him uneasy.

His grip on the hangers tightened slightly as a faint, irrational pang of jealousy bloomed before he could push it away. Who else is going to see her like this? Who are these work colleagues, and how many of them are guys? But it wasn’t just jealousy, it was protectiveness, too.

Bucky had spent so much of his life guarding himself from the world that the idea of her stepping out there, dressed like this, left him feeling restless. It wasn’t about the clothes, not really. It was about her. The thought of anyone getting too close or treating her as anything less than she deserved made his stomach turn.

Clearing his throat, he gave her a measured look. “Depends on what kind of vibe you’re going for.”

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her expression. “Vibe?”

“Yeah.” He held up the black dress. “This says you want to stand out, make a statement. Maybe too much of a statement.” Then he switched to the red blouse and skirt. “This one’s… playful, but honestly, are you sure it’s comfortable?”

Her lips twitched as she fought back a grin. “Are you saying they’re too much?”

He shrugged, his gaze steady but warm. “I’m just saying you don’t need all that to look good.”

Her cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment, and she crossed her arms. “You’re not exactly helping me choose here,” she noted with a playful huff, snapping him back to reality.

Bucky had to admit, the idea of her going out dating, dancing, or doing anything that a single woman her age might do besides spending Sundays on the couch with him, had never truly crossed his mind. Somehow, he’d stupidly taken for granted that she’d always be there, maintaining the easy status quo of their relationship. Ad infinitum.

But now, the possibility of her stepping out of that unspoken bubble between them hit him, and hard.

Was he ready for something else? Not likely, not when he still felt so damn broken. And the idea of ruining what they had for a failed attempt at something more profound, was unthinkable. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her because he couldn’t get his act together.

So, he forced himself to remain calm, even as his emotions clawed at him. The last thing she needed was his unresolved mess clouding her chance to have fun.

He took a breath, keeping his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “The black dress makes an impact,” he admitted truthfully. “It’s bold, sexy…” His gaze shifted to the red ensemble. “This one’s daring too, with the shorter skirt, but…” He paused, his jaw tightening briefly before he finished, “If you’re looking to turn heads, I’d say go for the black dress.”

He handed the clothes back to her, with a composed expression, though his thoughts were anything but. He plastered on a faint smile, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “You’ll look great, no matter what.”

She accepted the hangers with a small smile, clearly unaware of the turmoil behind his response. "Thanks, Buck. I owe you a pizza," she said with a soft smile, and before thinking twice, she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

The brief warmth of her lips caught him completely off guard. He stiffened, his body betraying him with an instinctive flinch, as though his mind couldn’t immediately reconcile the tenderness of the gesture. “No problem,” he murmured, his voice low and almost distant, eyes tracking her as she quickly retreated toward her apartment.

Once her door clicked shut, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His fingers brushed against the spot where her lips had landed, lingering there like he could somehow preserve the fleeting warmth. For someone like him, feelings were a minefield, buried deep and marked off-limits, hidden alongside memories he refused to revisit. She wasn’t supposed to matter like this. At first, she had just been his neighbor, someone who stubbornly broke through the walls he tried to keep fortified.

But over time, things had shifted, quietly at first, like the subtle tug of an undertow, until suddenly it felt like he was drowning.

He sighed deeply, his gaze locked on her door as if it held all the answers. What the hell are you doing, Barnes?

------

On the other side of the wall, she closed her door with a thud, leaning back against it as her stomach twisted in knots. She replayed his flinch in her mind, dissecting it with a mix of confusion and frustration.

Last night, he had wanted her to stay in his makeshift bed after the nightmare, and, for fuck’s sake he even snuggled against her neck in the morning like it was the most natural thing in the world. Asleep, but he did. And yet now, a simple kiss on the cheek had him recoiling like she’d crossed some unspoken line.

Her heart clenched. This is why you need to stop. Whatever feelings she was developing for him, they had to go, and fast. He wasn’t interested in that way. She needed a distraction, something -anything- to pull her away from this spiral.

Fueled by a mix of determination and frustration, she shoved aside his suggestion of the black dress. When the time came, she defiantly slipped into the skimpy red miniskirt and blouse instead. The choice wasn’t just about looking good; it was about reclaiming control over herself, and her emotions. Bold cat-eye makeup followed, along with a slick of glossy red lipstick. Grabbing her purse, she stormed out of the apartment with purpose.

Bucky had just returned from the store, whiskey in hand, when he heard her apartment door open. He turned just in time to see her step into the hallway. His breath caught.

She walked toward him with an effortless sway, the red miniskirt hugging her curves, the glossy lipstick gleaming under the hallway’s dim lights. She looked every bit like a woman who was about to turn heads, and Bucky felt like a deer caught in headlights.

She smiled at him, breezing past with a casual wave. “Goodnight, Bucky,” she said brightly, not even sparing him a second glance.

“Have fun tonight,” he managed to say, his voice tight and strained, as though his throat had suddenly gone dry.

The elevator doors closed behind her, leaving him frozen in place, nearly dropped the bottle.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand down his face as though trying to rub away the image burned into his mind.

That moment, seeing her like that -knowing she was going out dressed like that-sent his thoughts into a tailspin. He had been trying, desperately, to keep things platonic, to see her as the friend and neighbor who had stumbled into his life at just the right moment. He had tried to distract himself by diving again into the waters of dating after… he can’t even remember how much time, to no avail. But the truth was impossible to ignore now: he wasn’t just fond of her. He wasn’t just grateful for her company.

He wanted her.

And it scared the hell out of him.

-------

Just as she was about to exit the building, the rusty main door lock jammed. Great.

After several increasingly aggressive attempts -rattling the knob, shaking the damn thing, and even delivering a few half-hearted kicks- she finally surrendered. She knew who could help her and grimaced. After managing that catwalk exit showing him indifference, now she needed to crawl back to him for assistance.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned around and knocked on his door. It creaked open on its own, poorly shut. Inside, Bucky was slouched on the couch, whiskey in hand, eyes fixed on the flickering screen of a soccer game.

“Hey,” she called softly, trying to sound casual, hoping to mask the awkwardness of her reappearance. “Are you in the mood to roleplay a locksmith?”

He didn’t startle, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he turned to face her. He took a deliberate swig straight from the bottle before responding, “Again? Don’t you have other neighbors to disturb at this ungodly hour?” he asked a dry tone.

His words were sharp, but she noticed his gaze briefly drop just for a second- skimming her legs before returning to the bottle. The tiniest flicker of frustration crossed his face, like he was annoyed with himself for looking at all.

Her stomach flipped, but she trampled the thought before it could take shape. She was not going to that place just minutes before going out “Come on, Buck. It’s getting late. I’ll make you those garlic snacks you like for tomorrow’s movie night, deal?”

She clasped her hands together, bowing slightly in mock pleading, only to instinctively adjust the hem of her skirt as she straightened. She saw his eyes flick down again, lingering just long enough on the exposed skin of her thighs to make her heart stutter.

Clearing his throat, he tried to sound unaffected. “And you’ll buy me a six-pack. The expensive kind.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Want me to clean your windows too? You know what, give me that.” She took three steps, grabbed the bottle from his hand, and took a generous swig of liquor. ‘Screw it. If he’s going to act all tough, so do I.’  She felt his eyes on her again as she tipped the bottle back, and the weight of his gaze, combined with the burn of the whiskey, made her feel bold, maybe a little too bold.

He clenched his jaw as the amber liquid caught the light, the movement drawing his eyes to the curves beneath her blouse. A heat surged through him. Frustration, arousal, and something raw he didn’t want to name.

“Sure,” he said gruffly. “Help yourself.”

She smirked, handing the bottle back. “What’s with that frown? I thought we had already cleared the phase of that staring thing of yours. Besides, sharing is caring.” She cleaned a stray drop on the corner of her mouth and winked. She fucking winked at him.

Bucky grunted, playing off the moment with a scowl. But his mind was racing by the way she waltzed back in, drinking his whiskey completely unfazed by his presence and ready to go out with some random people to do whatever in a club. He tried to reprimand himself. She was his friend, his neighbor. They had a dynamic: a light-hearted, sarcastic friendship that worked. And now, he couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to just reach out, close the space between them, and…

“It's nothing,” he lied. “Just thinking about stuff I have to do with Sam.” Suddenly conscious of how closely he was observing her, Bucky forced himself to look away, focusing instead on the bottle clutched loosely in his hand.

She noticed the stare this time but decided to let it pass. “If that’s the case, that door’s not going to open itself, so move your firm 106-year-old ass and open it, will you?” she quipped, her voice carrying a playful edge. It was the kind of comment that would normally pass between them without much weight, but this time... she felt it hang in the air a little longer than usual.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a second, something playful sparked in his blue eyes. “Firm, huh? Seems like someone’s been staring.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. She cursed herself for slipping, but quickly waved it off with a flick of her wrist. She wasn’t about to let this turn into any kind of flirting after all that self coaching about auto-preservation. “Tic-toc, Bucky,” she said, keeping her tone nonchalant as she raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the hallway. She added a little authority to her voice, more for her own sake than his. She had to steer the conversation back to normal.

The spark dimmed at her response. He nodded stiffly and brushed past her, tensing his shoulders as he headed toward the door. Guess I read that wrong. He told himself it was for the best. Safer.

As Bucky knelt to inspect the lock, she couldn't help but glance at his broad back. The way his muscles flexed under the thin fabric of his shirt was almost hypnotic, her gaze briefly drifting lower before she caught herself. Stop it, she mentally scolded, forcing her eyes to a safe, innocuous spot: a blank patch on the wall that suddenly seemed fascinating.

With a screech of protesting metal, Bucky shoved the old lock using his vibranium finger. The door creaked open, and he stepped back, making a dramatic flourish with his arm. “There you go,” he said, almost indifferent. “If you don’t need anything else, I’d like to get back to watching the soccer match.”

She smiled, hoping to keep things light, even when feeling a weird tightness in her chest. Without thinking, she quipped, “Well, go watch your soccer, then, and wish me luck. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone!”

Bucky’s hand, still resting on the doorframe clenched slightly, the wood almost creaking under the pressure. The pang of jealousy was immediate and sharp, a wave of possessiveness that he had no right to feel hit him hard. He swallowed, forcing himself to play it cool. “Good luck,” he responded tersely, managing a strained smile on his lips. It was a pathetic attempt to mask the truth. Luck had nothing to do with what he wanted for her that night. He wanted her to return home alone and unclaimed, just as she had left.

------

Alone in his apartment, with the TV long forgotten, Bucky paced restlessly on the old wooden floor. Each step echoed the growing anticipation and anxiety eating him from within. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more painful than the last. He could almost picture her with some faceless guy, laughing, dancing, maybe even kissing him. It wasn’t his place to feel this way, he knew that. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

Across town, she stepped into the club, momentarily overwhelmed by its sheer size. Neon lights pulsed in time with the heavy bass, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. The whiskey she’d downed at Bucky’s apartment warmed her blood, taking the edge off her nerves.

She grinned, letting the electric atmosphere seep into her. Liquid courage, she thought, ordering two tequila shots when she reached the bar.

The sharp burn of the tequila was quick and welcome, igniting a spark of confidence. She laughed with her coworkers, the energy of the room infectious, and allowed herself to be pulled onto the crowded dance floor.

The music thumped through her veins, the bass so loud it felt like a second heartbeat. For a while, she let herself go, the weight of her thoughts about Bucky -about them- fading into the kaleidoscope of lights and sound. Each rhythmic beat seemed to push her farther from the strange tension that had been lingering between them, leaving her free to revel in the moment.

Yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, his strained smile lingered like a ghost she couldn’t quite shake.

------

Bucky found himself awake, staring at the ceiling, restless as he checked the time on his phone more often than he’d like to admit. The thought of her out there -dancing, laughing, maybe already with someone else- had him teetering on the edge of something raw and unrelenting.

Finally, he sat up from his nest on the floor with a groan, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck it." Patience wasn’t his strong suit on the best of days, and tonight was no exception. He wasn’t about to sit there letting his mind spiral, conjuring images that made his chest tighten and his teeth grind.

He stood and grabbed his jacket, moving with a quiet, focused purpose. He wasn’t being possessive, he told himself; he was just concerned. Nothing more. He’d check on her, make sure she was okay, and leave. That was it. No ulterior motives.

The cool night air bit at his skin as he slipped out of the building, heading straight for the club he knew she had gone. The monstrous neon-lit structure came into view, its pounding bass audible even from the street. Bucky melted into the shadows as naturally as breathing, years of training guiding his steps.

This wasn’t a mission. He wasn’t stalking a target. He was just... checking in. ‘Just to see how she’s doing’, he repeated in his mind, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

Inside, the club was a sensory overload: pulsing lights, bodies moving in sync to the beat, and a sea of unfamiliar faces. Bucky’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd, his chest tightening as his search dragged on longer than he’d expected. Then, finally, he saw her.

Her flushed cheeks and disheveled hair told their own story, a story that stirred something primal within him. His chest tightened as he watched her throw herself into the rhythm of the music, her body swaying effortlessly to the heavy bass, her face lit up in carefree abandon. Bucky's gaze lingered, drawn to her in a way that he couldn't fight anymore. The pulsing lights of the club flashed around them, but his focus was solely on her, everything else fading into the background.

The pull was undeniable. His feet moved before he could think better of it, closing the distance between them until he was standing just inches behind her, his tall frame looming over her smaller form.

She sensed his body immediately, a presence that seemed to engulf her. Startled, she opened her eyes, prepared to spin around and tell some stranger to fuck off. But when she turned, her heart skipped a beat.

"…Bucky?"

Her voice was a mix of confusion and something else, relief, maybe? It broke through the haze clouding his thoughts.

His breath hitched as he took her in up close: the flush of her cheeks, the strands of hair sticking to her damp forehead, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. And then there was the feel of her under his hand. His gaze dropped to where it had landed instinctively: on her hip.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second, and then reality crashed over him all at once, releasing her as if burned.

“Fuck,” he muttered, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes darted away, scanning the crowded room as if it held an answer. “I just... needed to make sure you were okay,” he admitted. His voice was low, rougher than he intended. The excuse felt hollow even to him, but it was all he could offer.

Despite the awkwardness hanging in the air, her heart warmed. Bucky had actually left his apartment, and crossed the city, just to “check” on her. Maybe her situation wasn’t as hopeless as she sometimes thought. Either that, or they were due for a serious conversation about boundaries.

She smiled, trying to ease the tension. “That’s sweet of you, Buck, but completely unnecessary,” she said with a teasing lilt. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Sweet?” he echoed, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone. “That’s a new one for me.”

He exhaled heavily, his jaw tightening before he spoke again, slower this time, as though weighing every word. “Look, it’s... complicated. But the truth is, I couldn’t stand the idea of you being here, alone, in a crowd like this.”

His voice carried a rawness that caught her off guard, the admission revealing more than he likely intended.

Her teasing smile faltered for a moment as his words sank in. There was something unspoken lingering just beneath the surface, and it was enough to make her heart ache. "Well," she said softly, her tone shifting, “I’m not alone… but if it bothered you that much, why didn’t you just ask me to stay?”

Her question hung between them like a challenge, and for a moment, their eyes locked. His stormy blue gaze held hers, and she saw it, the conflict, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crack. He wanted to say something, to let her in, but the fear of rejection or exposing too much kept him frozen.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped before he could muster a response, his defenses kicked in. His expression closed off, and he abruptly turned away, as if running from the crushing weight of his feelings.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched him pull back, the sudden distance between them far more than physical. ‘No. Don’t shut me out now.’  Before she could stop herself, she reached out, wrapping her hand around his gloved metal one, the cool leather stark against her warm palm.

“Wait.”

He froze, every muscle in his body going taut. For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t turn around, didn’t even breathe, it seemed. He stood there, caught between the magnetic pull of her touch and the ingrained instinct to retreat into the safety of solitude.

“You came all the way here just to startle me like some creep and then leave?” she joked, her voice light as she tried to break through his stoic exterior. Her hand tightened around his, grounding him, pulling him back into the moment. He didn’t move, but the tension in his body was undeniable, the silent battle raging inside him clear from the way his muscles tensed under her touch.

A long, awkward silence stretched between them before Bucky finally spoke. “Look, I don’t want to make things weird between us,” he said, his voice low and earnest, with just a hint of vulnerability seeping through his usually controlled stance. "But… promise me one thing.” He turned slightly toward her, leaning in closer, close enough that only she could hear what came next. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, thick with intensity. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid while I’m not around, okay?”

His closeness overwhelmed her senses. The scent of cedar, leather, and something undeniably him filled the space between them, making her pulse quicken. Heat flushed through her skin as she felt the full weight of his presence, intoxicating, magnetic. She cursed herself for how easily he affected her. Her resolve, the careful wall she’d built to keep things casual between them, was crumbling. At that moment, it was impossible to pretend she didn’t want something more. "Actually, Buck…” she started, “Since you’re here… I’m getting tired, and I want to go home. Will you take me?” Her words hung in the air, simple but heavy with unspoken meaning.

Bucky’s gaze widened her suggestion. The offer was unexpected, yet in the charged atmosphere between them, it felt inevitable, like the tension that had been simmering for too long was finally bubbling to the surface. "Alright then,” he murmured. “Let's get you out of here.” Without hesitation, he slid his arm around her waist, his touch was firm but cautious, as though he were testing the waters. The warmth of her body against his heightened his awareness of every subtle movement she made.

“Ready for the ride home?” he asked, his voice huskier than he intended as he raised his hand to hail a cab. His fingers brushed lightly against her side, an unconscious gesture that felt more like reassurance, though he wasn’t entirely sure if it was meant for her or himself.

She nodded, and without another word, Bucky guided her toward the waiting car, his hand still resting on her waist as if that physical connection between them had become essential, something he wasn’t willing to break. Once inside, he slid in beside her, their thighs pressing together in the tight confines of the backseat.

“So,” he said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper as he turned slightly toward her, “what exactly did you have planned for tonight before I crashed the party?”

She tilted her head back against the seat, eyes closing as though she were unwinding from the pulse of the club. A soft, wry smile played on her lips. “Dunno,” she began, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability beneath the casual tone. “Getting loose, maybe meeting someone... and feeling wanted, for a change.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, her words hitting him in a place he didn’t want to acknowledge. Feeling wanted? The thought of her searching for that validation in someone else sent another surge of possessiveness through him.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly tone, “considering how much trouble I’ve caused tonight already...” His fingers, tentative but bold, trailed slowly along the curve of her thigh, the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin fabric of her skirt. His touch was deliberate, slow, igniting something raw and unspoken between them. “...you’d better believe you’re wanted right now.”

The weight of his words, paired with the slow, burning sensation of his fingers against her thigh, made her bit her lip. He wasn’t just saying it, he was showing her, in every deliberate move he made, exactly how wanted she was.

She gasped at the feel of his touch continuing upwards, her body reacting instinctively as her legs parted slightly. She turned her gaze to him “I didn’t think that you…” she whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice was rough and low, thick with barely contained desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying not to want you... and failing miserably.” Without another word, Bucky shifted closer, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her skirt, seeking and finding the warmth he had long denied himself.

Feeling the brush of his hand on her thigh, she suppressed a moan as heat started pooling between her legs. Then her eyes darted to the rearview mirror and realized the driver was stealing curious glances toward their activities. She felt a flush of embarrassment and hastily grabbed Bucky’s wrist. “Wait,” she whispered, nodding subtly toward the mirror. 

Bucky followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the driver’s prying eyes on them. A dark, irritated look crossed his face as he made eye contact with the cabby. His fingers hovered on her thigh for a second longer before he reluctantly withdrew.

She quickly crossed her legs, the movement causing her skirt to ride up, offering a tantalizing glimpse of soft skin. Swallowing hard, he turned his attention back to her face, his eyes dark with lust, but remained composed the rest of the trip. 

As the cab pulled up to their building, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. He opened the door and stepped out, offering his hand to help her exit the vehicle. The cool night air and the stillness of the street seemed to break the spell that had enveloped them, grounding them momentarily.

On the elevator, the silence between them was heavy. They exchanged fleeting glances through the mirror, but neither could hold the other’s gaze for long. Their minds swirled with thoughts, mostly Was this all a mistake? 

When finally, the doors slid open, he stepped out ahead of her, leading the way down the hallway to his apartment. His footsteps echoed loudly in the quiet space, punctuated by the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat in his ears.

Once inside, Bucky turned to face her, his expression a mix of uncertainty and raw, unbridled lust. "So..." he started, looking for the right words. "What happens now?"

She bit her lower lip, suddenly feeling exposed under his intense gaze. This is it, she thought, her heart pounding hard enough to echo in her ears. The heat between them was almost suffocating, her skin prickling under the weight of his stare. “I want you to… continue what you started in the car,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Relief and raw hunger washed over his features as his broad frame loomed closer. Without a word, his lips crashed against hers, the kiss rough, desperate, and possessive. She melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair, tugging gently as she deepened the embrace.

Time stilled, the world beyond his dimly lit apartment faded into irrelevance as his metal hand gripped her hips. He pulled her flush against him, and the unmistakable press of his hard cock against her belly sent a rush of slick arousal pooling between her thighs.

When their lips broke apart, gasping for air, Bucky’s mouth didn’t stop. He trailed along her jawline, his scruff scratching deliciously against her flushed skin, before lowering to the sensitive skin behind her ear. He nipped, earning a soft gasp, and then soothed the spot with his tongue, his lips leaving a hot, wet trail down her neck.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his voice thick and hoarse with barely restrained need. The heat of his breath sent shivers racing down her spine. “And I’ll give it to you. Anything. Just say the words.”

Her head fell back instinctively, exposing more of her throat to his wandering mouth, every nerve ending sparking to life under his touch. Her body moved on its own, grinding against the firm ridge of his hardon, seeking friction. A breathless whimper escaped her lips, her hands roaming the expanse of his broad chest, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt as she pushed it upward, desperate to feel him.

“Bucky…” she whispered, her voice shaky, barely audible over her heart pounding. “I want you. All of you. Right now.”

His lips stilled against her skin for a split second before he pulled back, his eyes locking onto hers with such fierceness that made her knees weak. “You have me,” he growled. His hands moved to her thighs, lifting her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing.

Pinned between him and the nearest wall, her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. His hips rolled against her, the hard length of him grinding against her soaked panties, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her body as his hands roamed the curve of her waist.

“You had to wear the damn blouse, hm?” he murmured, his tone dark and reverent all at once. His lips captured hers again, his teeth grazing her lower lip before his tongue delved inside, deepening the kiss. Her back arched into him, her body desperate for more as the heat built between them, spiraling out of control.

Bucky’s hands moved with practiced ease, tugging the hem of her blouse upward. Instead of wasting time with buttons, he pulled it over her head in one deft motion, the fabric whispering against her skin as it slid away. Before she could catch her breath, his fingers found the clasp of her bra at the front, flicking it open with a sure twist.

The garment was discarded to the side, forgotten, as his intense gaze dropped to her newly exposed skin. The cool air brushed against her hardened nipples, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his hands as they slid up her sides to cup her breasts.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he muttered like the words were torn from him without permission. He leaned in, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat and lower, until his lips wrapped around one pert nipple and sucked.

The wet heat of his tongue sent a shockwave through her body, her hands clutching at his shoulders for support. A soft, breathless moan escaped her lips, her hips rocking instinctively against him. “Bucky…” she whimpered, her voice barely recognizable, thick with need.

A soft, breathless moan escaped her lips, her hips rocking instinctively against him, the hardness pressing between her thighs sending shockwaves of need coursing through her. Bucky growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin as his lips traced a fiery path down her neck.

“What about this, huh?” he murmured, his tone dark and reverent all at once as he roamed the fabric of her skirt on her hips. The accusation in his tone thrilled her, but she couldn’t resist firing back.

“You don’t like it?” she teased breathlessly.

“Didn’t like other men looking at you in it,” he growled, tightening his grip. His blue eyes were stormy, fixed on her face with a mix of frustration and want. “You put this on, asking for trouble, didn’t you?”

“Well…” She smirked, with a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “That was the idea, yes.” she shot back, her breath hitching as his lips claimed hers again in a rough and possessive kiss.

His brows furrowed, and without warning, he grasped the hem of her skirt. “So trouble, huh?” he rasped, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. With one sharp tug, the fabric gave way, the sound of the seam tearing echoing in the quiet apartment.

“Bucky!” she gasped, looking down at the ruined garment now discarded on the floor. “That was brand new!”

His smirk deepened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as his hands moved to her hips, his fingers hooking into the sides of her panties. “Well,” he murmured darkly, “you wanted trouble, sweetheart.” With one smooth motion, he tore the delicate lace, the ruined scraps joining her skirt on the floor. “Now, you’ve got it.”

Before she could respond, Bucky downed her to the floor and dropped to his knees before her, his broad shoulders aligning with her hips as his hands gripped her firmly. He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, locking his gaze.

With a steady, almost reverent motion, he guided one of her legs up, draping it over his shoulder. His hands slid down to her other thigh, gripping and spreading her gently but firmly, holding her steady as he settled between her legs.

“Stay still,” he rasped, his voice low and commanding, the timbre sending a shiver through her body. His fingers dug into her thighs just enough to steady her, with a mix of strength and care that left her dizzy with anticipation.

“Look at you,” he muttered, as his gaze burned into hers. “Fucking gorgeous.”

The first brush of his lips against her was featherlight, a tease, but it sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her core.

“Bucky…” she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair as her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, his tongue darting out to taste her. The wet heat of his mouth made her cry out, her hips instinctively bucking against him. His grip on her tightened, holding her in place as he worked her with a mix of deliberate strokes and teasing flicks, the rhythm of his movements driving her higher. Then, he sucked hard at her clit.

Her head fell back, her nails scraping against his scalp as the coil of tension in her belly tightened. “Oh my God, Bucky…” she moaned, her voice breaking.

He growled against her, “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his words muffled against her, before diving back in with renewed fervor.

She was trembling, her body on fire, every nerve ending alight under his relentless attention. “Bucky… I-” she gasped, unable to finish the sentence as her world shattered around her, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her boneless.

He didn’t stop until her trembling eased, his hands steadying her as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh again, his scruff grazing her sensitive skin. Standing, he cupped her face in his hands, before his lips found hers again, this time with a slow, simmering heat that promised this was far from over.

With one last lingering kiss, Bucky pulled away and took her hand, his calloused fingers warm against her skin. Wordlessly, he led her down the hallway to his bedroom.

Inside, the soft light of the street spilling from the window cast long shadows across the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, his lips were on hers again. His hands eagerly roamed her body, while hers found the hem of his shirt, tugging at it insistently.

“Not fair,” she murmured against his mouth, a teasing lilt to her voice as she tugged the fabric higher. “I’m the only one without clothes.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to let her lift the shirt over his head. As the garment came off, he hesitated for a split second, his gaze dropping, the faintest flicker of self-consciousness crossing his features.

Her eyes softened as she took in the scars that marred his chest and shoulder, where flesh met metal. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing gently over the jagged lines of his scars, trailing soft kisses along the seam of his prosthetic.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered against his skin.

The words made his throat tighten, and his cheeks flushed with warmth. “If you say so,” he muttered, with a rough voice and an emotion he didn’t quite know how to express.

She smiled, her fingers grazing his jaw as she kissed him again, slow and deep.

Gently, he guided her toward the bed, the back of her knees meeting the edge before she sank onto the mattress. He followed, climbing on top of her with a careful but commanding grace, his weight settling between her thighs as he braced himself on his forearms.

“You are the beautiful one,” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers as his hand slid up her side, exploring every curve with deliberate care.

Bucky’s lips trailed down her neck, his hot breath igniting her skin as he moved lower. His mouth found her breast, and his tongue teased a hard nipple before he drew it into his mouth. The way his teeth grazed just slightly the sensitive skin to suckle on it after, sent a jolt of pleasure that had her back arching off the bed. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him closer as he feasted on her, his free hand kneading the soft flesh of her other breast. He alternated between them with, relentless attention and when he finally pulled away, with his lips glistening, he shifted his weight back onto his knees, moving his hands to his belt. With a quick flick, he unbuckled it, the metallic clink cutting through the thick silence of the room. He made short work of his pants and boxers, discarding them onto the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Her eyes widened as he revealed himself, unable to hide the surprise from her face.

Bucky noticed her reaction, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. He quirked a brow, saying nothing, though the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.

Without breaking eye contact, he positioned himself between her legs, his broad hands sliding up her thighs to spread them wider. His gaze softened slightly, his confidence faltering just enough for a faint blush to creep up his neck. “I, uh… I should warn you,” he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.”

Her chest swelled at the vulnerability in his voice, and she reached up to cradle his face, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. “That’s okay,” she murmured with a small smile, her voice warm and reassuring. “We’ve got all night to practice.”

The tension in his shoulders eased at her words, and he let out a soft laugh, the sound rough and filled with affection. “Well, that is certainly reassuring,” he muttered, leaning down to capture her lips again, aligning his body with hers as he began to guide himself into her, slow and steady.

The tight, wet heat enveloped him, and a deep and guttural groan escaped his lips. His body tensed, his breath hitching as pleasure slammed into him with an intensity he hadn’t anticipated.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, freezing in place. His jaw clenched as he willed himself to calm down, every muscle in his body taut with restraint.

She watched him, her hands resting lightly on his forearms. “What is wrong?” she asked with concern.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Give me a second,” he rasped, “I almost -fuck- almost lost it already.”

Her lips curved into a small, understanding smile. She reached up to stroke his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his flushed skin. “Take your time,” she whispered, her voice soothing and full of warmth.

He opened his eyes, the stormy blue depths meeting hers, and he gave a small nod. He pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath before pushing in a little farther. The sensation overwhelmed him again, his hands gripped her hips like a lifeline as he cursed again under his breath. “Goddamn it,” he growled, stopping once more, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he fought for control.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as she whispered, “It’s okay. We’re not in a rush. Just... feel it, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a low, shaky laugh. “You’re too fucking good to me,” he muttered, lifting his head to look at her again. He took another breath and moved slowly, inching deeper this time, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He paused twice more, cursing softly each time, but her patient touches and words made him feel like he could take all the time in the world.

Finally, with a low, satisfied groan, he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers. He stilled, his head dropping to rest against hers as he breathed heavily. “Jesus Christ,”

She was doing her best to be patient, to let him take his time, but the throbbing heat of his cock buried deep inside her was becoming impossible to ignore. Her body ached for more, for movement, for relief from the unbearable tension coiling tighter with every passing second.

Biting her lip, she gazed up at him, his eyes still closed, his jaw clenched as he worked to steady himself. The sight of him like this -raw, vulnerable, and completely consumed- only made her need intensify.

Tentatively, she shifted her hips upward, a subtle roll that sent a jolt of pleasure sparking through her body. The sensation drew a soft gasp from her lips, and she couldn’t suppress the small whimper that followed.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, the sharp inhale he took betraying just how much he felt her movement. His gaze locked on hers, dark and full of warning, but there was no mistaking the desire burning behind it.

“Careful,” he rasped, “You’re making it real fucking hard to keep control here.”

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, her patience finally wearing thin. “Maybe I don’t want you to keep control,” she whispered, as she rocked her hips again, just enough to feel him twitch inside her.

Bucky groaned deeply, pressing his face into the crook of her neck as his composure continued to crack. His body trembled against hers, his restraint unraveling with each passing second. “Fuck,” he growled, his voice low and strained, teetering between a warning and surrender.

Her response was to arch her back, her body molding against his as her nails dragged lightly down the sculpted planes of his back. “Stop holding back,” she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. “It’s like you’re punishing yourself.”

Her hands moved to his nape, fingers brushing softly through the short hair at the base of his skull. “What’s wrong with cumming, Buck?” she whispered, with a tender voice.  “Let go. Next time-”

Her words were cut off by a sudden, hard thrust, his hips snapping forward and burying him so deeply inside her that the blunt head of his cock kissed her cervix. A sharp gasp tore from her throat, her head falling back against the mattress as pleasure and shock rippled through her.

When she met his gaze, his blue eyes burned with steely determination. His jaw was clenched, his face tight with a focus that seemed almost unshakable, as though he’d summoned every ounce of his training to suppress his body’s overwhelming need for release.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice rough and deliberate, “I’ll make it last.” His hips snapped forward again, hard and precise, pulling a cry from her lips as her body arched beneath him. He grit his teeth, his breath ragged. “I’m not… a fucking teenager. I won’t just… soil myself. I won’t do that to you, doll.”

She blinked up at him, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for air, the meaning behind his words sinking in. His old-fashioned masculine pride wouldn’t let him lose control, wouldn’t let him spill before ensuring her satisfaction.

Her lips parted as a rush of understanding -and desire- flooded her. Sliding a hand down between them, she touched herself, her fingers finding her slick folds and swollen clit.

His thrusts faltered slightly as he realized what she was doing, his eyes widening briefly before darkening with renewed hunger. “Fuck, doll…” he rasped, his voice hoarse and laced with awe as he watched her.

Her fingers moved with purpose, working in rhythm with his powerful thrusts. The added sensation sent sparks of pleasure racing through her body, her moans growing louder as she climbed higher.

“Bucky,” she gasped, her free hand clutching at his back as the tension coiled tighter, every nerve ending alight. Her movements grew more frantic, and she cried out as the release she craved finally shattered through her, her walls clenching hard around him.

That was all it took. With a guttural groan, Bucky’s restraint broke, his hips slamming against hers as he buried himself deep, spilling into her with a force that left him trembling. He collapsed against her, his breath ragged and uneven, his body a heavy, satisfying weight on top of hers.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the room filled only with the sound of their labored breathing. Finally, Bucky lifted his head, his damp hair clinging to his forehead as he looked at her with a mixture of relief and adoration.

A soft smile curved her lips as her hand caressed his stubbled cheek, "You okay?" she asked softly.

Bucky nodded, his steel-blue eyes searching hers, with a certain vulnerability flickering beneath the surface. "Yeah," he murmured. "Are you?"

Her answering smile was all the reassurance he needed. "More than okay,".

He exhaled a shaky breath, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, pulling her against him, his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

She lay quietly in his arms, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest, as their breaths gradually evened out. But even in the calm, she could feel certain tension lingering in his body.

“What’s on your mind, Buck?” she asked softly

He hesitated, “I’m just… thinking.”

Her brows knitted together, “About what?”

Bucky sighed, his hand pausing its movements. “About how much of a goddamn mess I still am,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and most days, it feels like I’m one bad decision away from falling apart again.” He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder. “But then there’s you.”

She remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts.

“I can’t stand the idea of you with someone else,” he continued, almost bitter as if the confession cost him. “It’s selfish, I know. You deserve someone who’s got their shit together, not someone like me.”

Her heart ached at his words. She reached up, cupping his cheek and turning his face so he had no choice but to look at her. “Bucky,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the emotion swelling in her chest. “You’re not a mess. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still here, still trying, and that says more about who you are than anything else.”

He sighed, his hand moving to cover hers, holding it against his cheek. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m broken.”

“Maybe,” she conceded softly, leaning closer. “But it isn’t have to be forever. You just need time. And you’re not alone in this.

His stormy blue eyes searched hers, raw with emotion, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But instead, he pulled her down, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft, reverent, and full of unspoken promises.

A faint breeze filtered through the open window, carrying the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the distant hum of the city settling into the night. Bucky closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath that seemed to carry years of tension away with it.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured, the words so low she almost missed them.

“You don’t have to,” she replied softly, her voice muffled against his pulse point. “Just let yourself have it.”

Headers by @/strangergraphics

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader

As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!

Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’

[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]

There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”

“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”

“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.

The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.

“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”

“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”

His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.

“Perfect match.”

“Excuse me?”

He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.

Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.

“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”

The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.

A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.

“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.

The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.

“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.

“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”

A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.

“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.

“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”

Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.

“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.

He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.

“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”

For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.

“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”

“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.

You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:

“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”

Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.

“Who’s a buffoon?”

The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.

“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.

“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”

As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:

“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”

“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”

“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”

Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.

[classjezter]

Does the autobots notice baby Optimus mimic elita one face or has elita notice it herself if so what are their reactions? ( another option is just the autobots see him mimic elita and just try’s not to laugh at it.)

Yup! Optimus copying Elita is so common becomes a running joke amongst them, he tries his best to be a mini her

More on Baby Optimus’ mimicking habits below cut 🔽

At first, Elita was caught off guard by Optimus’ mimicking, but once she realized what he was doing, she couldn’t help but find it both amusing and endearing. The idea that he admired her enough to copy her is enough to stir something warm in her spark, and it always makes her smile.  But there was a bittersweet edge to it as well. Whenever she sees Optimus trying to be stoic, furrowing his little brow like he was carrying the weight of the world, it hit too close to home. It was a painful reminder of the real Optimus, the strong and steady leader who had always carried the burden of their people. Now, that same bot was just a sparkling trying to imitate strength he no longer remembers having. She buried those feelings deep, refusing to let them show. This tiny Optimus didn’t need her sorrow or her grief. He needed stability, warmth, and care. Instead, she played along, dubbing him her “little shadow” whenever she caught him mirroring her stance or movements. And if anyone so much as looked like they were about to laugh at him, they were met with a sharp glare and the threat of immediate consequences, even if, deep down, she herself was chuckling at the sight.

B-127 absolutely loves Optimus’ mimicking habit and quickly takes it upon himself to help the little Prime learn how to talk properly. Their "yapping" sessions become a regular thing, were B-127 speaking endlessly and repeating some words more slowly so Optimus can attempt to copy them. He started with everyone’s names, repeating them and pointing to each Autobot to help Optimus associate them. Thanks to this, Optimus mainly learns new words because of B-127. While B loves teaching new words, deep down it feels a bit wrong, it used to be Optimus guiding him, but now the roles are reversed.

Ratchet found Optimus’ copying habit amusing, though he would never admit it out loud (the others can tell). Altough didn’t quite know how to react when he noticed Optimus mimicking his behavior. As much as he tried to hide it, the sight of the little sparkling trying to copy his movements and expressions would always catch him off guard, leaving him with a strange sense of pride and amusement. Ratchet couldn’t help but feel a little impressed at how the tiny bot managed to capture the exact drama of his signature sighs, the way his optics would narrow in frustration. The little one had an uncanny ability to get it just right. But what he found the most amusing was when Optimus would try to mimic his lectures. Whenever he caught a glimpse of the sparkling trying to "lecture" another bot (often in the form of angry chirps and beeps that barely made sense, but the fact that the little guy gave it his all, puffing out his chest and making dramatic gestures, trying his best to sound authoritative? It was adorable) Ratchet would have to hide a smirk behind his gruff exterior.

Wheeljack was the first to actively notice Optimus’ mimicking habit, catching on that the little guy was trying so hard to be like his caretakers. At first, he found it hilarious, trying so hard not to laugh at his little face and discourage him from doing it, so much so that he actually had to leave the room to laugh outside the first saw Optimus’ attempt to deliver one of Ratchet’s infamous "lectures," with serious beeping and tiny, frustrated hand waves. But when Optimus started copying him as well Wheeljack didn’t know whether to laugh or panic. Watching the sparkling attempt to fiddle with tools, tilting his little helm the way Wheeljack does when thinking, or even trying to mimic his excited hand gestures makes something tighten in his spark. He doesn’t think he’s the best role model to copy.

Jazz finds Optimus’ mimicking habit both ridiculously entertaining and unexpectedly heartwarming. The first time he catches the little Prime trying to match Elita’s confident stance, he nearly busts a gasket trying not to laugh. He gets a particular kick out of how the sparkling tries to mimic Elita’s glares; they lose some of their intimidation power next to his adorable attempts. And of course, Jazz also makes sure to tease the others about it every single chance he gets. But beneath the amusement, Jazz notices how instead of them looking up to Optimus as usual, it’s now Optimus who is watching them, learning from them, shaping himself based on them. It hits hard, and there’s something oddly humbling about it, so Jazz takes it as both a privilege and a responsibility. If Optimus is going to mimic him, then he’s going to make sure the kid learns all the right moves. So, naturally, Jazz starts playfully encouraging the habit, teaching little Optimus some smooth, confident gestures, even showing him how to pull off some dance moves.

Prowl was initially baffled when he first noticed Optimus’ mimicry, the sight of a tiny sparkling trying to copy his every move caught him off guard. At first, Prowl tried to remain indifferent to the habit, seeing it as nothing more than the typical behavior of a young sparkling trying to imitate his elders. But when he caught Optimus trying to copy his precise movements and disciplined posture, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of pride. Though he would never admit it, Prowl found it oddly endearing when Optimus imitated his thinking poses or tried to replicate his seriousness. And despite his usual stoicism, even he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sparkling’s adorable attempts, especially when Optimus would mimic his exasperated sighs or focused expressions, sometimes giving the smallest of encouraging nods when Optimus successfully copied his movements. While he tried to remain pragmatic, part of him was impressed by how much the little one wanted to be like him. It’s a complicated feeling to process.

Ironhide was initially surprised when he first noticed Optimus mimicking him. He wasn’t exactly used to being copied, he was more the type to set an example through action rather than words. At first, he’d chuckle under his breath and brush it off as something that would pass with time. But over time, it became clear that Optimus was always attentively watching him and the others, looking up to them, it reminded him of the little moments with the real Optimus, before this whole thing happened. He’d quietly chuckle when Optimus tried to replicate his booming voice or his stubborn gruffness, even if it came out as beeping and babbling. So, while he’d grumble about the whole thing, there was no mistaking the quiet pride he felt for the little guy.

In summary, OP occasionally copies others to learn from them, but his number one is still Elita

[peascribbles]

𝑬𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔: 𝑨 𝑷𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒉𝒍𝒆𝒕

A few snapshots of the shenanigans you get up to with your dragon. - addendums to abundance and choice dragon!sylus x gn!reader, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, drabble format, sfw; 800wc

I. Provide a reassuring, secure dwelling.

Most of the peculiarities that accompanied living with a dragon were tolerable with the passage of time. There was one exception, when you woke up early for the nth time because every single muscle in your back was screaming at you.

You mentioned you couldn't sleep on piles of gold forever, and he'd muttered about picky mortals under his breath.

Hours later, you spotted him atop a treasure mound pulling out various delicate fabrics, delicately held in his claws. You were presented with a makeshift nest he put together for you, made of assorted drapes and velvet finery.

A strange ritual took place in the transitional period that followed: out of sheer stubbornness, he insisted on using the gold piles as his bed, flippantly stating he would sleep there, apart from you. After he thought you'd fallen asleep he would migrate to the nest without fail, his tail coiling around your leg to keep you pressed to him. The nights would unfold this way for a good while, until he finally surrendered to the temptation of the silken fabrics, swathed in the promise of your welcoming, warm embrace.

II. Offer a variety of food.

You bring up his exclusive diet of meat when you realise that's all he's eaten since you met him.

"Sweetie, I'm part dragon, if you haven't noticed." He says through a mouthful of raw antelope, his lips dyed scarlet with its blood.

"Yes, but even you need a healthy, balanced diet. Back then, I befriended a stray lizard in the Sanctuary by bribing it with fruits and vegetables," you reply straight away, having anticipated his response.

He arches a brow and opens his mouth to interject, but you continue, "not to mention, food can be a source of happiness too. There are so many flavours and textures you're missing out on. Allow me to show you."

Though he remains sceptical, he obliges you in gathering the ingredients for a salad with some simple dressing the next day. You'll never forget the look on his face after he took a bite.

III. Engage in novel forms of play.

"How about a chase or two around the den? I could use a stretch."

Any chance to exercise his human legs comes as a novelty – after all, flying is his main form of cardio. You manage to evade him for a few minutes, but he gets you when you tire, pinning you to the ground with a triumphant gleam in his eyes; not unlike the expression of a predator that's caught its quarry.

These games of tag turn into a regular amusement, and you're glad for it. At least there was another option besides hide and seek now.

Sometimes he initiates them during your late afternoon excursions to the valley bordering his city, and you aren't always the one being pursued. He enjoys it the other way around too, stealing playful glances over his shoulder as you run hot on his heels through the grassy slopes, the wind mussing up his hair, laughing as the waning light drenches his eyes in the splendid shades of a thousand blazing sunsets.

IV. Decorate the enclosure.

You'd been waiting for his curiosity about humans to surface again, and leaped into action the second Sylus brought it up, his tone almost shy.

"Show me more of this… art."

You first taught him how to combine water with finely ground clay to create pigments—he'd generously carved out wide stone bowls for you to hold them in, hollowing them out like they were made of paper.

A few adjustments had to be made along the way to account for your difference in species. While your fingers sufficed as artistic tools, the same couldn't be said of his rigid claws. He couldn't apply the mixture with any shape or form other than thin and crooked lines. To accommodate him, you went and plucked a handful of hairs from the wild horses that roamed his lands, and bound them to a stick with some rope to create a brush that he could use instead.

His cave served as a vast canvas from then on. You never told him what to make; just extended patient encouragements to stave off the occasional flashes of self-doubt that threatened his budding creativity.

Days became weeks, then months, as the walls were covered with his paintings, alongside yours. He gravitated to drawing the panoply of animals that called his territory home—aurochs, ibex, eagles, and bison, to name some—with intense earnestness, his brow furrowed in great focus. One time, you saw him tucked in a concealed nook of the lair, sketching a dragon and human cuddled together.

It took every ounce of willpower you had to wait until that evening to tackle him down and smother him in kisses. In between each press of your lips, you mumbled, "I— love you— so— damn— much, you silly man."

[cavegirlpoems]

So many TTRPG people, like yourself, seem to exist in a world where players don't actually enjoy the campaigns they're in, and don't actually like playing with the people they play with, and your whole approach to game mechanics seems like it's about trying to bribe these people to continue playing at a given table.

i have no idea where you get this idea from, I play a bunch of different games - including freeform text rp, fest larps, parlour larps, regular tabletop campaigns, longform play-by-post games and narrative wargames - and I have a lot of fun doing it. I wouldn't be a game designer if I didn't actually enjoy games. The thing is, if you study game design and ttrpg theory seriously, you think about the intent behind design decisions. Game design doesn't just happen by accident, the designer put a given rule in for a reason. So, you ask yourself why the designer made the game the way it did, and what they were trying to achieve.

A significant tool for game design is considering the feedback the game provides; what behaviours that ruleset rewards and what it discourages. (You can apply this analysis to other games, too, like video games). When I'm talking about a bribe, it's in that context; how does the game reward you for doing things, and what things does it reward. (For example, 'scrabble' rewards you for playing words with weird letters in them by making those letters worth more points.)

The thing is, ultimately, every game relies on a simple proposition; that if you volunterily use its rules, you will have fun. You don't need to follow the rules, and you can have fun without them, but the idea is that using the rules will let you have more fun, or a different type of fun, than if you didn't. (For example, throwing a ball around is a bit fun, but if everybody agrees to follow the rules of basketball, you get a different experience that a lot of people prefer). So, the only bribe you're making on the interpersonal, out-out-of-game level (unless something weird is going on) is "if we play this game it will be fun". When I talk about bribes and incentives, it's *inside* the game, after we've all agreed to the game's proposition of "if you use the rules, you will have fun".

Now, what counts as an incentive varies by game. Some, like Warhammer 40k, are challenge-based, and have ways to keep score of success and victory; here, things that signify overcoming the challenge are your incentives; how you get a high score, how you win, etc. Others, like most ttrpgs, are creative-based. What constitutes an incentive within the game's structure is less precisely defined. By and large, though, these incentives tend to be things like increased agency within the game fiction, space for creative expression, and experiencing and learning about more of the game fiction. (In this structure, 'being more mechanically powerful' can be thought of as a way of granting a player more agency, because their actions are more likely to succeed and result in the outcomes that they want. If the mechanical growth is lateral as well as vertical, then how to get more powerful is - itself - a venue for creative expression in what to prioritise, which is also a reward).

In the same way that you have the adage that 'restrictions breed creativity', the same goes for Fun. Limiting your scope from anything-goes freeform by voluntarily agreeing to use a set of game rules can produce similar results. Voluntarily limiting your agency in the fiction according to a set of game rules produces a friction that players of roleplaying games find enjoyable to push against. In this context, a reward structure within a game serves the useful purpose of signposting which direction you should push to get the fun kind of friction. A game which limits your options, and then gives you more options when you engage with certain behaviours, is telling you that those are the intended behaviours. Likewise, a game that limits your options even further when you do something is encouraging you not to do that. This is because game designs are not neutral and universal, they exist to create specific experiences. A game that rewards you by giving you more space for creative expression when you get in a fight - and gives you less space for creative expression when you avoid violence - is one that wants you to engage in violence, because it's designed to be a game where you have fun by fighting. This isn't bribing the players to sit down at the table and play the game; that has already happened outside the context of the game. They have already agreed to the game's offer of 'if you use these rules, you will have fun'. Rather, this bribing is within the game-space, the games mechanics encouraging the players to engage with it as intended, in the way that will be most fun. IE: these incentive structures are a tool the game uses to achieve the promise it makes; they guide the players towards the fun that they volunteered to have. Hope that makes sense. * * * Now, your initial ask is a weird take that's entirely unrelated to anything I've posted, and - particularly from an anon account- oddly antagonistic. I don't know if you're genuinely confused about game design, or arguing in bad faith. Either way, this probably doesn't merit the small essay I've produced, but have one anyway, it's always fun to clarify my ideas in written form.

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[naomi-nana]

Hii! I saw your post that you're open for kn8, I was wondering if you could do soshiro hoshina with a fem reader who's a doctor of the third division?

The way she acts towards him as if she hated him, giving him snarky comments and easily get irritated at his teasing antics (especially whenever he breaths lol).

But in reality that's the opposite, she doesn't know how to act towards the vice captain when it comes to having someone she likes (aka falling in love).

✎ᝰ. help me out, doctor !

you're preparing to take a break, but it seems like this superior of yours isn't going to let that happen. oh well, you have to indulge him now.

featuring : hoshina soshiro

cw : fem!reader, doctor!reader, mentions of blood, injuries, scars, fluff, soshiro might be out of character??, bad grammar i think

a/n : HII i hope this was what u had in mind, anon🙏 i really had fun making this!! thank you for your request :D

as a doctor, you rarely can catch a break around the third division. well, not because most of them are weak, but it's because they're almost all too reckless for a warrior, that they often come back bruised. scratches, minor wounds, even worse injuries — they came to your office for help.

not that you mind, though. the job pays well. fortunately for you, today is your day off. so you can take a break for as much as you'd like. actually, you already had a spectacular day planned for yourself. going to a cafe full of cats, a walk around the city, visiting an art museum — krrk... until the annoying sound of a door creaking open reached your ears, making you turn around in frustration.

it seems like a certain vice commander won't let you to take a break, at all.

"vice commander," you called out to him, holding onto the last shred of your sanity with a little, polite smile. "is there any reason as to why you're visiting my office in the beautiful morning of saturday?" a vein pops in your forehead when you see his grin. from the looks of it, this maniac doesn't seem to have the desire to leave quickly at all.

"so, this is yer office?" he whistled, hands in his pocket as if judging your small little space. it's not small, actually. to be quite honest, it's very big. there is a lot of medical equipments lined up on the wall, floor, and your desk. each equipments ranging from small tools for light injuries — to the most advanced tool the JAKDF could offer. though, hoshina often visited this office himself for 'regular check-ups'. so there would be no reason for him to even ask you that.

"yes, vice commander. this is my office." honestly, you could just hit his head with a hammer right now and nobody would know. but, this is your superior you're talking about. you have to hold yourself. "i think you've visited this place many times enough to know how this place looks. so, if you're wishing for a tour—"

"no. i dont want a tour, i need help." he cuts you off with a deadpanned expression, making you want to crawl out of your skin. is this what maniacs do when they're bored? deprive their subordinates of weekends? if so, that's cruel. "... very well. what do you need help with?" you sighed. well, if he just needs a little help, there's no way you can reject him.

suddenly, the air shifted. his expression grew serious — way too serious — and it made you hold your breath. wait, is there actually something serious he wanted to tell you? maybe you should cancel those plans after all.. he takes out his left hand from his pocket slowly, while a bead of sweat trickled down your temple. and when he pulled it out, on his hand was...

"i got a papercut. help me out."

the silent that followed was deafening.

"you *beep*! i held my breathing for a few seconds, felt the *beep* nerves ride up my spine, and this is what i got? a *beep* papercut?! you've got to be *beep* kidding me!" of course, that is just your inner thoughts. you can't possibly say that to your superior, so you just smile through the pain. "oh, is that so? well, sit on the couch. i'll heal you." was your actual response.

he laughs, before sitting on the couch. "im very grateful yer still here, name! the other doctors left already, so i didn't know what to do with this." he grinned, actually a little grateful that someone was still in the medic department. to be perfectly honest, hoshina knew how to treat a papercut. heck, even elementary schoolers can treat those type of injuries themselves. yet he can't help but hope you're still in your office.

"well, i was actually planning to leave, vice commander," you confessed, taking a medkit from the shelves and putting it on the table. "but it seems like the universe has other plans for me. hahaha!" you continued, letting out a pained laugh. at this time, you would've been walking around the park already. unfortunately, you're now stuck here with you weird superior.

"sorry 'bout that." he quipped, making your lips twitch. you opened the medkit and took out a small bottle of antiseptic. "give me your hand, vice commander." you muttered, the polite smile you once had left your face, replaced by a look of focus. you hold out your palm expectantly. he obeyed your words and let his hand rest on yours. his palm is rough, probably due to the intensive trainings he did, but it is also warm. so warm in fact that you just can't resist the urge to squeeze it in your hand.

"wow. im honestly a little surprised you didn't call an ambulance over this," you threw a sarcastic jab without looking at him, focusing on pouring the antiseptic on a clean cotton pad instead. "why would i? we literally have the best doctor in here." he replied, making you pause for a second. after pouring some antiseptic, you set the bottle down to the side and gently pat it on his thumb a few times.

"flattery won't get you a lollipop." you grumbled, throwing the now dirty cotton ball in the trash can. you then take out a batch of small bandages from your medkit, one that you had just bought a few days ago. you really didnt expect to use the first bandage on a papercut, but oh well.

"those are lame. i was kinda hopin' for one of those cute ones with animals on it."

"well, unfortunately, im not a convenience store." you retort, ripping off the packaging and grabbed one of the 'lame' bandages to put it on his cut. "well, it's all done now, vice commander. i hope the next time you visit, you wouldn't be having a papercut again."

"so, what would i be having then?"

"maybe a more serious injury would be nice."

"so cruel." he stood up from the couch, hands in his pocket once again. "well, i'll just find another excuse to see ya again." you looked up at him when he says that, ready to say something snarky once again. but, your brain couldn't think of any words when you see his red eyes staring at you.

you hated that you think he looks handsome with his eyes open. you hated the fact that your brain short-circuited for a few seconds when he looks at you like that. you hated the fact that you forgot why you're rushing to get him out of your office, too. "...please leave my office." you said, shoving the medkit closed with a snap.

"oh, right, today's weekend, ain't it?" he suddenly asked, reminding you of your neatly planned day for today. ah, well, screw it. it's already past the visiting time for the art museum anyways. your ticket also already expired, so you'll spend your weekend weeping in your dorm just as usual. "yes, yes it is. why do you ask?"

"yer too kind for treatin' me on yer off day. i'm startin' to feel a lil bad." he tilted his head, possibly pondering about something. but what came out of his mouth next was not what you were expecting. "let's go to that cat cafe you were talking about with okonogi yesterday."

or maybe you'll spend the day with him.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[jojaxcola]

how i make expressions (no audio) (flashing/fast movement/fast zooming in and out warning)

(from no. 15)

When it comes to making different faces in my work, I tend to go the lazy route as much as possible instead of drawing a brand new face. I do it to save time and keep frames more consistent (and to better emulate the feeling of a minimally-moving talking head).

Before this, I make a complete render of the face and shoulders. Things that need to move independently (usually bangs or anything else directly covering the face) stay on their own layer, but everything is merged onto one layer as much as possible. This makes everything a lot easier to manipulate later.

I like to make a copy of this layer group for every frame (in the video, these groups are labeled 1, 2, 3, etc. in the bottom right corner). The end of the video shows me going through each of them (note that there is quite a bit of flashing there)

Typically what I do to make changes is:

I use the liquify tool to push around the shoulders, eyebrows, and the corners of the mouth, this tends to make the affected areas look blurry so I also manually clean the changes up with my regular brush/eraser if it's too obvious

I also use the liquify tool to open/close the jaw a bit depending on how open the mouth is

I use the lasso tool to grab and tilt the head, and then clean up the neck with the brush and eraser

I manually redraw different iris positions, different eyelid levels, and different mouths using my regular brush

(For those who haven't used the liquify tool, in photo editing it puts an invisible mesh on top of the current layer, you can then push/pull that mesh to apply the same transformations to the underlying image)

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 13]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the scarf around your neck. It was another day of going to Hongjoong's place to do your gardening duties. Also, it was the first time seeing him after you cried in his arms at his mother's grave.

"Gosh, can you be any more embarrassing?" You asked your reflection with a click of your tongue. With a soft sigh, you went to gather your stuff.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You ran to open the door, thinking it was the chauffeur that was usually sent to pick you.

"Oh! Hongjoong! I was not expecting you." You blinked as he stood at your door.

"I was in the area for a meeting and thought I could come pick you instead. I hope you don't mind, the chauffeur told me what floor you live on." Hongjoong smiled, tucking his phone back into his coat.

"Not at all. I'm about done, please come in. Don't mind the mess." You said, letting him step in.

"Thanks. Take your time." He bowed his head and entered behind you, removing his shoes in the entrance way.

"I have to bring these down, it shouldn't be too heavy." You gestured before running back into your bedroom to get your socks and handphone. Hongjoong looked around the place, contrary to what you said, there was no mess at all. It was a cozy, little apartment, simple but neat.

"That should be everything... Would you like a drink? Sorry I didn't offer you one when you came in." You chuckled, putting your tools together into a tote bag.

"No worries, I'm good. I had a coffee on the way here." He smiled from his seat on your couch.

"We can go now." You said to him.

"Sure, let me help." He took one of the bags that had fertiliser in it, leaving you to carry the light stuff. Your heart warmed at the sight of the Porsche convertible, he must have brought it for you.

"If the things can't fit in the boot, I'll have them on my lap." You told him as he loaded the stuff in.

"We should be fine. It'll be uncomfortable to have things on your lap." Hongjoong said as he arranged the stuff to make space.

"There." He placed the last bag in and closed the boot. After opening the door for you to enter the passenger seat, he closed the door and ran over to the driver's side.

Before moving out of the parking space, Hongjoong put the hood down then started to drive. It wasn't as awkward anymore but you did still feel embarrassed after what happened last time. He saw you cry and you cried all over his probably expensive suit.

"Is it too warm? Shall I put the hood back up?" Hongjoong asked, having noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face.

"No, not at all. You don't have to put the hood back up. I'm enjoying it, don't worry." You shook your head, continuing to look out instead of look in Hongjoong's direction.

"Welcome back, sir."

The intercom voice sounded as Hongjoong pulled up to the gates of the estate before they opened the let you in.

"Although it's such a long walk, the greenery along the driveway makes it such a nice sight." You commented. Hongjoong let out a hum of agreement.

The others must heard of Hongjoong's arrival at the gate because you saw a butler and two maids waiting there for your arrival.

"There are stuff in the back, take it and help her bring it to the back garden." Hongjoong said, coming out of the driver's seat.

"Yes, sir. Right away." They stepped forward to retrieve your items from the boot as Hongjoong opened the door for you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You were still not used to this, you've always done everything yourself without any butlers or maids.

"Right this way, ma'am." One of the maids bowed, leading you into the house. Hongjoong re-entered the car and drove off, presumably to park his car.

"(y/n)! You're here." Mingi grinned.

"Hi, Mingi." You bowed your head, still finding yourself acting formal with the others.

"Have you eaten?" He asked with a tilt of his head, munching on the slice of toast in his hand. You mentally chuckled, imagining all the crumbs he must be dropping onto the ground.

"I have. Thank you." You smiled.

"Good. If you get hungry, ask the chef to make you something, alright? Don't go hungry." He winked and went upstairs.

"Miss, shall we leave the things here?" The butler asked as you stepped out into the backyard.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you so much for your help." You bowed repeatedly to them. They smiled and bowed back to you before taking their leave. The first thing you did was take your notepad out to check your to-do list for today.

"Good morning, (y/n)." You turned to see Seonghwa standing there, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. He was dressed in a button up white shirt and wide pants, making him look casual but elegant.

"Good morning, Seonghwa. How has your morning been?" You asked with a smile.

"Busy as usual. Have you seen Hongjoong? I heard he went to pick you up after his meeting." He enquired.

"Yeah, he did. He dropped me off out front and I assumed that he was just going to park the car but I guess not?" You giggled as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

Another thing you learnt was that while Hongjoong kept everyone else in check, Seonghwa kept Hongjoong in check.

"Never mind him then. How has the garden been coming along?" He moved closer to look.

"Hopefully making progress. I managed to move the plants to where they need to be, in the proper soils without having to compete for nutrients. Today, it's laying fertiliser and all that." You explained.

"The plants are in good hands then." He chuckled and you nodded your head. Seonghwa's phone ringing pulled him away, the both of you bowed your heads to each other as he entered the house to answer the call. You let out a sigh of relief, still feeling slightly intimidated by him and his energy.

"Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?"

"Ah!" You yelped, jumping back and clutching onto your heart, as you came face to face with Jongho. He smiled cheekily at you before straightening up.

"You scared me, Jongho." You let out a sigh as you picked up the trowel that you dropped.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?" He raised an eyebrow, repeating his question.

"He's a little intimidating... His aura and everything. Like a critique that you want to try and impress...? I don't even know if that makes any sense." You tried your best to explain it to him.

"I get it, Seonghwa hyung has that effect on people." Jongho nodded.

"But you know, we're not that scary. We may seem like we're scary people but we're not." He added.

"I know, I'm slowly learning that." You giggled as you used the trowel to loosen up the packed soil around the plant roots. Jongho watched you take the fertiliser and add it to the soil, using your hands to manually pack it in so it wouldn't be too tight.

Jongho stood there, watching you. He has never met a girl that was willing to get down and have her hands in the dirt. It still amused and amazed him to watch you work.

"Is there anything else you need, Jongho?" You asked, realising he was looming over quietly.

"Nope. Just watching you work, it's rather fascinating and I'm learning something new when I do." He shrugged.

"It's just taking care of the plants. It is concerning that your previous gardeners never did these. But it's not surprising, considering all the mistakes I found." You mumbled the last part.

"You're funny, (y/n)."

"I just don't like that the plants suffer at the hands of someone who is literally paid to take care of them." You sighed.

"I get it, I get it. Don't worry, that guy is gone and we have you now." He smiled.

Although, when Jongho said 'gone', you assumed it meant that the previous gardener was fired. You didn't know that Jongho meant that the guy was no longer alive.

"Ah, Jongho ah. Stop disturbing her and let her work. You should be doing your own work too!" Seonghwa yelled from the glass doors, presumably having finished his phone call. Jongho scoffed, offended that Seonghwa would suggest he was disturbing you. You giggled at their banter, they were really close.

"Well, I'll see you later, (y/n)." Jongho did conceed. You waved as he entered the house to go back to work.

"Alright, what's next?" You stood up, dusting your hands. You went to retrieve the other bag of fertiliser to move to another garden patch. These fertilisers were all personally mixed together by you.

"Grow well." You wished the plant, hoping your custom mix of fertilisers would provide the plants with what they needed.

"Maybe one day, there'll be a compost area here for all the waste." You thought out loud.

"We should, there's enough space." You turned to see Hongjoong standing there with a small smile on his face. He had gotten rid of his jacket and was in a shirt and pants.

"Seonghwa came to look for you earlier. Playing hooky?" You teased.

"Just because I wasn't in my office, he thinks I was out skipping work." Hongjoong rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch." Hongjoong said. You straightened up, digging for your phone to check the time. Indeed, it was already a little after noon, you didn't think you spent such a long time doing this.

"Sure, I lost track of time. Didn't know I spent so much time doing just this." You gestured. Hongjoong waited for you before walking back to the house.

"I'll go wash my hands and freshen up." You excused yourself and went to the bathroom to wash your hands and face.

"Ah, (y/n)!" Yunho ran to into you as you were exiting the bathroom. You smiled and waved at him.

"Are all of you working from home today? I seem to be running into most of you and it's only lunch time." You chuckled. Yunho laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I never know where my brothers are." He admitted.

"I guess you all have different schedules that it'll be hard to keep track. Poor Seonghwa." You giggled.

"Nah, I bet hyung secretly likes to nag us. Him and Hongjoong hyung." Yunho joked, the both of you snickering. Hongjoong watched you and Yunho laugh as you headed over.

When did you two get so close?

"Today is a warm day, you should take more breaks in the shade and make sure you drink a lot of water." Yunho smiled kindly. You nodded and bowed your head. Of course, Yunho noticed that Hongjoong had been looking at your interaction the entire time. But he wanted to rile the captain up more.

"This way." Hongjoong said to you. You stepped into the dining room, it was your first time here since you started working in the estate. Or rather, this was the first meal you've had with them.

Usually, you sit in the living room or garden gazebo to eat. Honestly, it was really intimidating.

"Sit wherever you feel comfortable." Hongjoong gestured.

"Really? Looks like there are assigned seats..." You mumbled to yourself. But Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your back to guide you forward, the seat to the right of the head.

"I sit here, you can sit with me." Hongjoong said. The seat felt like it would be the seat that's occupied for sure.

"Come, (y/n). That's Seonghwa hyung's seat." Jongho entered the dining room, pulling you along.

"You lied!" You pointed accusingly at Hongjoong, who blinked.

"Hwa doesn't care, the others are just trying to make him scarier than he actually is." Hongjoong rolled his eyes. But you were not taking the chance, you moved to sit where ever Jongho and Yunho told you to, which was next to Jongho, opposite Yunho.

"Yeosang hyung sits here but he's out for a meeting so you're good." Jongho said as the butler pulled the chair out for you to sit. You quickly bowed to him and sat down.

"Who's scarier than he actually is?" On cue, Seonghwa walked in, typing away on his phone.

"It's nothing." Hongjoong sighed.

"It's only noon and you're already sighing." Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his best friend before taking his seat, which was the exact seat Hongjoong had offered you earlier.

"See? Told you." Jongho leaned over to whisper to you and you hummed with a soft giggle.

"Just get lunch." Hongjoong said to the butler, rubbing his forehead.

"Nice to see you here, (y/n)." Seonghwa finally noticed you and smiled at you. You returned the smile and nodded your head then the trays of food came in.

"Lunch is served." The maids and butlers said as they placed trays in front of you. Your eyes widened, this was how you imagined royalty was served their meals. The food was good, regular fare, but plated nicely and arranged on an individual tray. You have never been served like this before.

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asked.

"No, not at all." You forced a smile and picked up your chopsticks. Just then, Mingi came into the dining room, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Mingi. That's rude." Seonghwa scolded. Mingi rubbed his eyes, a clear sign that he had just woken up.

"Oh, (y/n). You're having lunch here today." Mingi acknowledged as he took his seat beside Yunho. You nodded and swallowed your food.

"Did you just nap since breakfast?" Yunho asked his best friend.

"Dude, I told you I didn't sleep last night so I have sleep to catch up on. I keep having issues sleeping." Mingi said, running his fingers through his messy hair as the butler put his tray down.

"You're too used to doing night stuff, that's why your body clock is having issues adjusting." Hongjoong pointed out.

"I should just be on night shift, I'm only doing Yeosang's work because he's busy taking over San's- Mmph!" Mingi's sentence was cut off as he crumpled over, wincing in pain. He turned his head to shoot Yunho a glare.

"Are you okay, Mingi?" You asked worriedly. Mingi met Yunho's eyes, who shifted in your direction.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hit my toe against the chair leg." Mingi lied as he began to eat. You didn't notice the sigh of relief Seonghwa and Hongjoong let out.

"If that's not enough food for you, you can always ask for seconds, alright? They always make extras for us." Jongho told you.

"This is more than enough for me. I might not even be able to finish this." You chuckled.

"Is the food to your liking?" Hongjoong asked.

"It's very good. Thank you." You smiled as continued to eat. If the food wasn't to your liking, Hongjoong would have asked the cook to make you something entirely differently.

"Seconds." Seonghwa raised his hand and Yunho did the same, the maid coming forward to get their plates for more food.

"Oh gosh, I'm so full. And I should probably get back to work. Thank you for the meal." You stood up and bowed to the boys at the table, hightailing it out of there before anyone could say anything else. The 5 just sat there, blinking, stunned before turning to their captain at the head of the table.

"(y/n), hold on. Is something wrong?" Hongjoong came out from the dining room right before you could go out the glass doors. You paused in your tracks and turned around.

"No, Hongjoong. Everything is fine." You fiddled with your fingers.

"Was it that awkward and uncomfortable?" He tilted his head. You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's not any of you... It's just... I'm supposed to be a worker too... Feels inappropriate to be sitting in that fancy dining, getting served like that." You winced.

"Oh, (y/n). There's no need for you to worry about that. You're not a worker-worker... You're my friend, it's different." He chuckled.

"I know, it just takes a while to get used to. I'm not familiar with any of this but don't worry!" You rubbed your arm.

"(y/n), if you're uncomfortable, just tell me. I know it can all be very intimidating. Don't feel forced to do anything." He smiled. The both of you walked out to the back garden together.

"No, I don't feel forced at all. And it's not just that..." You cleared your throat, trying to figure out how to find the words to tell him. Maybe you should just leave it. Telling Hongjoong your feelings might just make things more awkward between the two of you.

"Are you worried about what happened when we went to see my mum?" He asked in a soft voice.

"How... How did you..." Your eyes widened.

"I figured. (y/n), you know I don't care about stuff like that right? I'm not bothered and it doesn't change anything." Hongjoong smirked. You nodded slowly.

"Thanks." You murmured.

"Now come. I think it's finally time for me to give you a proper tour of the place." Hongjoong clapped his hands.

"Don't you have to work? Don't any of you have to work?" You threw your head back with a groan. Hongjoong just laughed and gestured for you to go back into the house for the tour.

"Hang on." You paused and he nodded.

"Take your time." He watched you fiddle with one of the bags you had brought and retrieved what looked like a small white linen bag.

"Mingi! Luckily you're still here. I just remembered that I had this in my bag of gardening stuff. Here you go." You handed the taller the small white bag just as he was leaving the dining room. Both him and Hongjoong looked confused but Mingi lifted the white bag to take a sniff of it.

"It smells good. What is it?" He blinked.

"Dried lavender. I use it as a natural insect repellent for plants but it's very good to help sleep too. Since you said you have trouble sleeping, you can put this by your pillow." You explained.

"Oh, thank you, (y/n). I'll definitely put this by my pillow." Mingi smiled, continuing to sniff the bag.

"I hope it helps." You smiled and he nodded before heading upstairs. You were unaware of the now slightly sulky Hongjoong behind you.

"You didn't have to do that, you know? He's just childishly whining about it." Hongjoong commented. Your eyebrows raised slightly at his words, was Hongjoong jealous?

"I know but I wanted to help since I already have the dried lavender. So I thought why not? It's not 100% effective but it may help just a little so no harm." You shrugged as you followed him up the stairs to see the rest of the house.

"Honestly in our household, almost everyone has trouble sleeping. Not sure if we're just constantly thinking about work or something." He pointed out.

"Oh, really? Well, I don't have anymore on hand now but I'll keep that in mind and bring more the next time I come." You giggled.

~

Series masterlist

[critrolestats]

New Blood, Old Regards

Thanks to @eyeofthenewt1 for this art piece!

Greetings! Although the Stats Team is still in a state of retirement, we’ve periodically updated several of our Campaign 3 Running Stats categories and galleries thanks to the efforts of a new team of data collectors. This team, consisting of Archivists Astral, Ethereal, Fey, and Shadow, have been preparing since the beginning of the year to launch their own site, and that day has come! With that, we’re pleased to present:

The Omen Archive

Although they have been providing CritRoleStats updates for our Campaign 3 records, their site will be its own thing with its own tools, toys, and focuses, such as graphics derived from their own databases of data. Please visit them at their website, reach out to them, and check them out on their various social media pages:

Website: https://www.omenarchive.com/

Twitter/X: https://twitter.com/omenarchive

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/omenarchive.bsky.social

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/omen_archive/

Tumblr: https://omenarchive.tumblr.com/ ( @omenarchive )

CritRoleStats will continue to update our databases and running stats pages with the data we receive from the Omen Archive until the end of the campaign, so that anyone from academics to casual fans have access to a complete catalogue of three campaigns worth of data. After that, our site will be completely (accessibly) archived, and our legacy will be carried on entirely by projects like the Omen Archive.

Thanks Are In Order

Outside of our final livecast, we realize we went out without the proper thanks to the community members who helped us grow. We’d like to take this opportunity to give credit where we feel it’s due.

We’d like to thank the team at Critical Role for their support over the years, with special thanks to Dani Carr for both her wonderful spirit, tenacious work ethic, and the marvelous send-off she gave us.

We’d like to thank the creators in the community. Thank you to the artist community for letting us feature your wonderful talent to give vibrancy to the numbers and words we’ve filled. Thank you to the information gathering community, from the wiki workers to the meta analysts, for giving your time to help make Critical Role more accessible. Thank you to the academics for finding value we didn’t know we had in our work. Thank you to everyone who creates in this community, whether your medium is music, words, stats, or art; whether you share for a large audience or for the joy of your private home or table; whether you encourage others with high presence, or quietly inspire and support from the shadows. Your creation makes the world a more interesting place.

We’d like to thank both our patrons and our Ko-Fi supporters for allowing us to carry on for as long as we have, and to make sure our work can continue to reach those who want to be informed and inspired. Thank you to our regular visitors, as well; traffic is supportive in several ways!

Thank you to those who have been with us, whether it’s the very beginning, sometime in the middle, or even if you’re tuning in just now. Your patronage and your expression of value in our work has been a blessing. (Thanks for the 1d4.) We’d also like to thank everyone who has continued to visit the site in spite of the lack of regular content creation on our part, and are grateful that so many of you are still finding use in the previous campaigns’ worth of data, as well as the current one.

We love you all very much. Now, back to retirement!

[officialnostradamus]

Emmrich is a man to whom words come easily. Metaphors are a chorus, a never ending symphony easily plucked from the sea of linguistic knowledge picked up over the years. Similes are like the rain on a fall afternoon, a persistent mist, natural and pleasant. He has always chosen them with precision, the careful insurance of saying exactly what he intends, even where description allows for beauty. That’s why it is such a unique experience to be rendered speechless on a regular basis. 

In his life, Emmrich has spoken to many people with great skill or talent, people who were effortlessly charming, or brimming with genius, people who were incredibly beautiful. Even people that were all of those traits at once and yet he rarely stumbled. So what is it about Rook that twists his tongue into a knot? Why, when Rook calls him on his whim to impress, does his throat close and his jaw slacken? How is it that they look at him over a mortuary table, refer to him as dapper and his vocabulary escapes? They look up at him from beneath their lashes, soft eyes and that perpetual curve to their lips, and they flatter him and Emmrich’s eloquent tongue becomes useless.

Until they finally take the leap. With the certainty of affection beneath his belt, Emmrich is dedicated to finding new ways to express himself. A soliloquy of adoration comes easily and he can serenade Rook until the night is old. It’s when Rook turns those charms on him he has to feint. If his mouth is no good for words, he’ll put it to better use. His surprise becomes a queue, a reason to find Rook’s lips with his own and show them just how he cherishes them. What a joyful excuse to draw them against his body, to kiss their hand, their forehead, the lovely curve of their neck. The way their body melds against his is as lovely as any sonnet he could curate. If he can’t speak then he must paint his affection on their skin with thorough, patient hands and hot mouths.

Words have always been Emmrich’s finest tool and, yet, he is moved by how Rook inspires him to new levels of artistry.

[kiemiu]

dating skater!chris | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons + scenarios wc 1.1k (library) + (request)

skater!chris who invites you to the skatepark to show off his impressive moves. first thing he wanted to do was show his skills off to you. he wanted you to fawn over how cool he looked and brag to your friends about how awesome he was. his daydream was, sadly, short-lived. his nerves became so shot that he was unable to land any of the tricks he had practiced hours before your date. he was disappointed in himself, not to mention embarrassed. but once you reassured him and called him 'cute' for trying to impress you, he was a goner. in that moment he told himself he'd fail all of his stunts if it meant you'd call him cute again.

skater!chris who ultimately falls trying to impress you by attempting a difficult stunt. after awhile, chris's nerves aren't as shot around you anymore and he's able to land his regular stunts. he still does become a bit too cocky and tries to bite off more than he can chew by doing difficult moves he's only ever seen professionals like tony hawk pull off. after a particularly rough landing, you'll rush to his aid with your book bag that you thankfully had stocked with first aid supplies. disinfecting his cuts, and even giving them a light kiss after applying your disney princess band-aids. he swears that you have magical kisses and sometimes fakes injuries so you'll give him one of your healing kisses. you always give in, even when you don't see any hints of an injury.

skater!chris who teaches you how to skate. he'll stand in front of you and hold a firm grip on your waist as he gently guides you up and down hills and sharp corners. at some point he'll start teaching you to push off on your own without his help and he'll become so proud when you start to skate around comfortably without his help.

skater!chris who has your initials carved into his skate board. when applying his new grip tape to his board, he used a razor blade to carve out your initials including his in a heart that remains in the middle of his board. he actually thought of the idea after your second date together. and now, everytime the grip tape wears off and is no longer of use, he scraps off the old design and replaces it with a new one and repeats the same ritual by carving out your initials into his board.

skater!chris who buys you your own skateboard. after expressing your want to skate with him, chris wastes no time in getting you a board. he goes to a local skate shop and customizes your board himself, picking out all of the tools needed to assemble a skateboard such as the wheels, the board, the grip tape, and even the deck rails. he triple checks the picture he took of your shoes to make sure he gets a skateboard you can ride comfortably on, not too big or too small. and when he gets home, he wraps it up like a christmas gift, giddy at the thought of how surprised you'll be, seeing your own personalized skateboard.

skater!chris who tries to catch you before you fall. after awhile, chris starts to teach you some tricks like simply jumping while being on the board and how not to fall on your face when there's a curb nearby. even with the easy moves you still sometimes have a misstep and come close to face-planting. chris is always close-by to stop that from happening and usually pulls you towards him before you can meet the concrete. but with as clumsy as chris is, he'll still end up falling, but the outcome is worth it to him, as you end up with no scratches or bruises from using him as a cushion.

skater!chris who treats your wounds just like you take care of his. whenever you do have a harsh landing and chris isn't there to protect you, he'll be the one to treat your wounds for you. he'll hum the doc mcstuffins theme song while applying your cute band-aids and even kiss your injury, just like you do with his. most of the time he forgets to disinfect the area though and you'll have to clean your cuts and reapply your band-aids once you get home.

skater!chris who doesn't ride the skateboard you bought him for his birthday. on his 21st birthday, you gifted him a specialized skateboard that took weeks leading up to his special day to customize. it was dosed in his favorite colors, and had graffiti tags all on it that had hints of his brothers as well as a small part of you in it. he cried when he first saw it and immediately took on the responsibility of caring for that skateboard as if it was his one and only child. he doesn't let anyone touch it, not even you despite the fact you gifted it to him. it remains hung up over his bed on his bedroom wall and to this day he still claims it as one of his most prized possessions.

skater!chris who says 'this is for you' before landing a kickflip. he'll point directly at you and make eye contact as he screams that phrase out at the top of his lungs before jumping off of an elevated layer of cement. once he lands, he throws his arms in the air and skates his way over to you, a triumphant smile on his lips as he hears you loudly cheer for him. "where's my celebratory kiss, hm?". other times when he doesn't land it, he'll quickly scramble to his feet before shouting out "uh- it was meant for the ghost behind you, this next one's for you!" and he'll keep attempting the trick again and again until he finally lands it. "first try!" it was his 19th.

skater!chris who likes sitting on his skateboard with you between his legs while you eat snacks. after hours of skating around, and filming him do his tricks, chris will take you to the nearest gas station or fast food place and gather a bunch of your favorite snacks. sitting in front of the establishment but off to the side so you're not in the way of anyone, he'll lean his head down on your shoulder and wrap his unoccupied arm around your waist. you can feel the motion of him softly chewing, and usually the sound of crunching would annoy you, but it does the exact opposite and instead helps you further relax in his embrace as you drink your shared slurpee. "i lohmf ouh" he mutters with a mouthful of french fries, making you laugh incredulously. "i love you too, now chew your food!"

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @oliviagirlsworld @koilaniazul @starsforu

[thesimstree]

Lighting in The Sims 4: How to Improve Graphics in CAS and Live Mode

Author: @nulevhroma

You might think, "What difference can lighting really make in a game?" Yet it completely transforms the visuals: making light softer, colors more vibrant, and the overall image more striking.

What kinds of lighting overhauls exist, why do you need them, and where can you get them?

Why Lighting Matters in The Sims 4

Lighting in the game affects not just the atmosphere, but also how we perceive sims, interiors, and everything else in frame. With different lighting setups, the same character can look either dull or incredibly expressive.

Lighting overhauls let you customize the game to your taste – making light gentler, more realistic, cinematic, or, conversely, more fantastical. Some mods offer subtle tweaks, while others create an entirely new visual atmosphere.

CAS Lighting

When you enter CAS (Create-A-Sim), the game uses default lighting – fairly harsh, with a cool tint, which doesn’t always represent colors or facial features the way you’d like.

A CAS lighting replacement is a mod that swaps the default lighting for something softer and warmer, or alternatively, crisp and studio-cool, while refining light/color accents.

Why Do You Need This?

— To make clothing and skin tones appear more realistic

— To eliminate harsh shadows and glares

— To make sims look more expressive and photogenic

— And of course, to make your CAS screenshots go wow!

It’s also a great way to see your sim in a whole new light – especially if you love taking photos of them or sharing looks on social media!

Popular CAS Lighting Overhauls:

1. Mika CAS Lighting by @northernsiberiawinds

Bright, soft, and ultra-aesthetic.

2. Sims 4 cas lighting mods by @breezytrait

From harsh side lighting to soft ring lights with RGB backlighting: makes sims look photoshoot-ready.

3. CAS LIGHTING MOD V4 by @helgatisha

Replaces default CAS lighting with soft, even illumination in neutral tones, enhancing facial features without harsh shadows.

4. CAS LIGHTING MOD V7 by @helgatisha

Adds soft lighting with optional red, green, or blue tinting.

5. CAS Lighting Mod - 03 by @vyxated

Four lighting presets with colored backlighting.

6. The Moon CAS Lighting by @simplyanjuta

Soft lighting with a cool-toned hue.

7. Project CAS Light by @rebouks

Bluish and green lighting tints for striking CAS visuals.

Important: These mods replace default CAS lighting. Install them as regular .package files in your Mods folder. Only one lighting mod can be active at a time.

Lighting in Live Mode

In The Sims 4, lighting provides a solid foundation for creating unique looks for your sims. With mods, you can add even more depth and vibrancy, making your screenshots truly lively and atmospheric!

Must-have lighting overhauls to enhance your game's visuals:

1. NoGlo & NoBlu by @luumia 

The essential base mod everyone needs. Removes the blue filter and yellow tint for more natural-looking gameplay.

2. Sunblind or MilkThistle by @softerhaze  

These aren’t standard .package mods – they’re custom lighting setups that require manually replacing game files. While the process demands precision, the payoff is next-level lighting control, making The Sims 4 look absolutely stunning.

To simplify setup and avoid post-update confusion, use the Post Update Setup Script by @sonozakisisterssims4Sisters. This handy .exe tool automates lighting updates and removes excess EA plumbobs/shadows for seamless, gorgeous visuals.

3. BETTER IN-GAME LIGHTING MOD by @northernsiberiawinds

A complete overhaul of Live Mode lighting: cleaner, brighter, and more visually pleasing at any time of day or weather. Installs like a regular .package file.

These mods pair perfectly with GShade or ReShade presets – together, they work magic.

What's Important to Remember When Installing Lighting Mods?

Lighting mods often conflict with each other. Only install one CAS lighting mod, and always read the creators' instructions for Live Mode lighting overhauls.

Formats vary. Some mods are simple .package files (just drop them in your Mods folder), while others – like Sunblind or MilkThistle – require replacing game files manually.

After game updates, softerhaze's custom lighting resets. Here’s where the Post Update Setup Script by Sonozaki Sisters saves the day: it automatically restores your lighting, removes EA’s plumbob, and clears default shadows.

How to Choose the Right Lighting?

It depends on your goals:

For vibrant CAS screenshots, try face-highlight mods or colored accents (like those from breezytrait or vyxated).

Playing an atmospheric legacy? Darker, realistic lighting (e.g., Dark Rooms by Northern Siberia Winds or Putricide from Project CAS Light) might suit you.

Most importantly: don’t be afraid to experiment! Lighting is your subtle but powerful ally in creating beauty.

nulevhroma:

I'm Hroma – a sims creator, mom of the Tallinn legacy, and just someone who loves to fantasize! :) You can find various GShade presets and other useful content for your game by the links!

♡ Patreon 

♡ Tumblr

♡ Tallin Legacy Tree

🌱 Create your family tree with TheSimsTree

❓ Support 🌸 Our Blog

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:19」 — c.seungcheol

» seventeen menu | s.coups menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ merman!Seungcheol × fem!Reader wc: 2.7k summary: It’s been a few weeks since Y/N last came to the small seaside town where her boyfriend resides and suffice it to say, he’s missed her greatly. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i wasn’t sure what direction i wanted to go in with this but I’m happy with the way it went. As usual, Cheol gets the daddy treatment. I swear one of these days I won’t write him with a daddy kink. It just fits so fucking well. This is kinda self indulgent but I hope my s.coups stan readers enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing! Thank you for reading. Next part of Kinktober is Wooyoung and is kinda similar to this in that he’s a siren! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), daddy kink, choking (f receiving), unprotected sex (pls use protection. Cheol doesn’t need it. He’s a merman lol), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), sex on a boat, use of pet names (babe, sweetheart, angel, pearl, etc.), and i think i got them all. if i missed any, please let me know!  kinks: Daddy kink + choking dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Baby, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Fuck,” you groaned as you pulled into a parking space. “I’m so fucking late!” You grabbed your things, rushing to get out of the car and rush to the trunk, glancing up at the sky as you pulled your suitcase out of the trunk, slamming it shut before hurrying across the parking lot.

The wind swirled around you, the smell of sea water permeating the air as you headed for the marina, suitcase in tow. The sun was beginning to set and you only had a few hours to get to the islet before sundown if you wanted to dock safely.

As you crossed the gangway, you felt a chill creep in, the clouds moving in as gulls flew overhead, calling out in successive squawks. You reached the door to the marina office, pulling it open and stepped over the threshold into the small building, smiling at the man behind the counter as he read a newspaper, looking over you with an unamused expression.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly as you walked to the counter, pulling your suitcase. “I have a reservation.” The man glanced at your suitcase, your choice of attire before he set his newspaper aside. “Name?” he asked in a monotonous voice.

As you gave him your name, he checked the book, brows raising as he found your reservation. “You’re a regular,” he noted as he started filling out the paperwork. He went over the papers, having you sign and date the appropriate documents before he handed over the keys. “I don’t think you need me to tell you to be careful,” he started. “But it’s getting rough out there,” he added.

You thanked him, promising that you weren’t going far and you’d be safe.

He showed you to the boat that was yours for the duration of your trip and went over the typical safety stuff. After a thorough last minute lesson, not that you needed it, you thanked him, boarded the boat and put your things down below in the cabin before setting off, casting off from the dock and slowly taking the boat out to sea.

You followed your GPS, remembering exactly where the islet was located.

You knew by memory how to get there but having the extra tools was nice.

The sun was at the horizon by the time the rocky shore of the small island came into view and you carefully maneuvered to the old wooden dock, tossing the rope to pull yourself parallel with the dock.

Once the boat was securely docked, you went down into the cabin to change, hoping that you weren’t too late.

Seungcheol had spent the last couple weeks patrolling the waters of the sleepy seaside town he called home. Not that he actually lived in town. No, how could he? His home was the water. He’d been expecting you to show up for two weeks now and still there had been no sign of you. Not a word, not a whisper. He was starting to get worried.

As he watched the marina, he saw no movement, the sun almost completely below the horizon. He let out a frustrated groan, diving below the surface of the icy water as he headed for the islet, hoping that maybe he just missed you and that you were already there.

As he neared the islet, he surfaced, squinting in the darkness and saw a boat moored at the dock, his heart leaping in his chest as a smile spread across his face, the urge to do a happy dance taking over him before he pushed it down and dove under the water once more, swimming straight for the boat.

You had just finished eating dinner and washed the dishes when you heard a thump against the side of your boat. Getting up from the bed, you climbed the steps to the deck, turning on the search light and moving it around, shining it over the water.

There was another thump and you quickly grabbed the handheld torch, turning it on with a click and walking over to the starboard side to peer over the railing at the water below. There was a splash and a flash of a dark shadow but you couldn’t see anything else.

Another thump came but from the port side this time, so you crossed over, about to shine a light when you heard another knock on the starboard side and you stopped, letting out a sigh of frustration.

“Choi Seungcheol, stop fucking with me,” you snapped, your voice loud in the darkness over the sound of the waves lapping at the rocks. The thumping stopped followed by the sound of someone blowing raspberries from the stern. You walked towards the back where the ladder was and peered over the edge to find looking back at you the familiar face of the man you’d come to see.

You could see his tail, scales glittering in the beam of your light.

“Stop playing around and get up here,” you said, rolling your eyes as you turned and started to head back towards the steps to the cabin. “There’s clean, dry clothes and a towel on the bridge.”

You climbed down the steps as you heard him follow you, climbing the ladder. You could hear him above deck, moving about as he dragged himself along before the sound was replaced with footsteps.

Moments later, he appeared, barefoot and dressed in the clothes you left for him as he dried his hair and joined you below deck. “Hey,” he said breathlessly. “Hi,” you said as you sat back down on the bed. He ran the towel over his hair once more as he looked around. “Nice boat,” he said as he inspected. “How long do you have it for?”

“Just the week,” you said as you picked up your laptop, continuing to scroll through the page of real estate. Seungcheol tossed the towel in the hamper and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. You turned to look at him, the end of a pen between your teeth as you wrote down in a notebook. 

His hair was still damp, some of it sticking to his forehead. The pale blue shirt you’d given him was sticking to his body in places that had still been wet when he put it on. Your eyes roamed over his toned chest and arms, the fabric seeming to stretch over his muscles.

“So,” he started as he glanced at your screen. “Find anything yet?” he asked. You shook your head, turning your attention back to the laptop. “No,” you answered, brow furrowing as you tried to focus. “Everything is out of my price range.” You let out a sigh of frustration.

“I might have to find something outside of town…”

Seungcheol glanced at you, a frown appearing on his face. You looked at him, finding him already staring at you. “What?” you asked. “What if I got a job?” he asked. You stared at him incredulously. “A job?” you asked, clarifying that you had heard him correctly. He nodded. “I could help bring money in and then you could afford a place in town.”

You shook your head. “That would take you from the ocean,” you answered. “I’m not doing that to you,” you added as you turned your attention back to the computer screen. “I just want you close,” he admitted. You smiled at him. “I know, baby,” you replied. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

Seungcheol fell silent as you continued to scroll through the listings. He watched the way your tongue danced around the end of the pen and he felt himself starting to grow hard at the thought of your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock instead. He cleared his throat.

“Sweetheart?” he said softly.

You didn’t look at him, instead humming in response as you kept your attention focused on the screen. “I haven’t seen you in almost a year,” he continued. “Could we put the laptop away for a bit?” You glanced up at him, eyes wide. “Oh, right,” you said as you shut the laptop and set it on the shelf inside the headboard, pulling the pin from your mouth. “Sorry,” you said as you moved closer, one of your hands sliding up his bicep to the side of his neck before pulling him in for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured against your lips, one of his hands moving to the small of your back. “I missed you too,” you replied. You took his face between your hands, pulling him with you as you leaned back against the pillows, forcing him to climb over you, settling between your thighs as his tongue slipped into your mouth, caressing your own.

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Miss your face.” He kissed your neck. “Missed your voice.” He placed a kiss against your shoulder. “Missed your body.” His kisses traveled further down over your cloth covered chest and stomach. “Missed having you under me,” he groaned, bumping his nose against your mound, inhaling sharply.

“Missed tasting you, touching you, teasing you,” he said as his hands moved, grabbing the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down, pulling your panties down with them. You parted your thighs as he tossed your clothes aside licking his lips as he got an eyeful of your cunt. “Missed this,” he whispered, parting your folds and running his tongue from your slit to your clit, letting out a groan at the taste of you.

You let out a moan, head falling back as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly before teasing with his tongue in slow circles and licks. Your fingers combed through his hair as your chest rose and fell with your breathing. “Cheollie,” you moaned, stroking his hair as he continued to make out with your pussy, lewdly licking and slurping at your clit as he groaned against you.

“Cheollie,” you breathed out again, back arching slightly as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Hmm?” he answered. “I need you, baby,” you whined. Seungcheol chuckled, flattening his tongue as he pressed it against your clit, shaking his head, looking at you with dark eyes, pupils blown with lust as he continued to lick and suck. 

“Cheollie,” you whined. He pulled back “That’s not my name, baby,” he said in a stern voice. “You know what to call me.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Daddy please,” you whined. Seungcheol’s response was immediate, his tongue back on you in an instant. It didn’t take him long to have you on the edge once more, holding your hips down as his tongue played with your clit until you finally came, thighs squeezing his head as he lapped at your cunt repeatedly.

He finally pulled away, moving his hands to undo his shirt, shrugging it off and throwing it to the floor before moving to undo the ties of his shorts, pushing them down as well, his thick cock springing back up as it was freed.

He kicked the shorts to the floor as you sat up before ripping your shirt off over your head, laying your bare body back against the sheets as he moved between your thighs. He took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few languid strokes as he lined the tip with your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” he asked. You hummed in response, wiggling your hips, silently begging for him to finally give in and sink his thick cock into your aching cunt. Seungcheol let out an exasperated sigh, leaning forward to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together.

“Baby, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”

You nodded. “Y-yes daddy,” you murmured, looking back up at him with excited eyes. Seungcheol pulled back, pressing the head of his cock against your slit, keeping his eyes trained on you and holding your gaze as he started to lean forward.

You groaned as he pushed into you. Once his cockhead was nestled in your cunt, he moved his hands to the backs of your thighs, pushing them against you as he sank further into your walls, his thick cock filling your pussy and dragging against your walls until he bottomed out.

“God I missed you,” he breathed out, eyes fluttering shut as he rested, letting you adjust to the intrusion. It had been over a year since you’d been intimate and the first time always stung due to his size. Your hand moved over his, sliding up to his forearm and giving it a slight squeeze.

“Okay, daddy,” you moaned. “I’m ready.”

Seungcheol pulled back with a sigh before sinking his cock back into you, letting out a groan as he filled you with one, slow stroke. “Fuck, princess,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight around daddy’s cock.” He gave you another thrust before setting a steady pace, pumping in and out of your tight heat. 

Sex with your boyfriend was always an experience as he preferred quality over quantity. It wasn’t about how many strokes it took to have you coming undone but how well he angled those strokes or how hard they were. If he wanted, he could have you cumming on his cock in as little as ten thrusts. He’d done it before. He knew your body better than anyone, even you.

The first time you had sex had been on the beach in the dead of night. One minute, he’d taken you out to a hidden cove to look at the stars and the next he was balls deep inside you, murmuring between kisses how much he loved you. It had been a rather sandy affair and he promised the next time, he’d plan a little better.

The next time, he didn’t plan better and ended up fucking you roughly against some rocks from behind half in the water. That was the first time he fucked you without changing, his cock emerging from its sheath inside his body. He found you quite liked that and thought it was extremely erotic. Any chance he got to fuck you in his true form, he took it, even if it meant you had to be partially submerged.

The next time he got you naked, was on the boat you were renting at the time. It was smaller and more cramped but he enjoyed every second of it. It was around that time that he discovered you had a few particularly interesting likes in the bedroom so to speak.

He learned that you liked being dominated. You loved being held down and pleasured until you couldn’t take it anymore. You loved when he wrapped his fingers around your throat or filled your mouth with them. You showed him quickly that you liked it raw, filthy, and were open to a lot of new things.

Seungcheol let out a growl as your walls clamped around his cock as you teetered on the edge, moaning for him over and over in a chant like you were in prayer. Your hand found his, grabbing his wrist and guided his hand to your throat. 

His fingers squeezed, cutting off the oxygen to your brain and you finally came, crying out for him, cunt convulsing around his thick cock. He fucked you through it before setting a faster more rough pace, pounding into you. You’d gotten yours and now it was his turn.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he groaned, slamming into you as he kept a tight hold on your throat. “Likes it when daddy chokes her until she cums. Can you give me another one?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin against yours.

You nodded, head lolling as his thrusts grew in intensity and power. “Then give me another, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock.” Your thighs shook as you tried to close them but Seungcheol kept a tight hold on you, one hand on your thigh, the other on your neck as he fucked you through another orgasm before he finally came, releasing into you with a groan as his hot seed filled your walls.

He continued to thrust a few more times before he finally stilled, panting as he released your throat, his hand moving back to your thigh to spread your legs open as he looked down where his cock disappeared into your hole, a ring of cum around the base of his cock.

“You made a mess all over daddy’s cock, princess,” he murmured. You looked up at him through half open eyes as he looked up to meet your gaze. “Sorry, daddy,” you breathed. “S’okay, baby,” he said with a smile as he slowly pulled out of you.

“I like it when you make a mess.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[jinftranda]

Words I Wasn’t Able To Tell You ✧⁠*⁠。

CHAPTER 3

Synopsis: You were transported to another universe along with Ekko and Heimerdinger. Let’s just say that you didn’t expect Sevika to be your close friend in this universe, especially after she betrayed you.

Content: mu!Reader x au!Sevika, self insert : p, friends to lovers, sfw (i’ll just edit this shit if i forget something) 1st au so plz be nice 🙏

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter ??

“Welcome to mi casa!” Sevika opens the front door of her home dramatically. The door reveals a warm and comforting-looking home, these are the types of surroundings that the Sevika from your world would never live in. Her house from where you came from would never be warm and comforting like her home here, who would still have time to decorate their home when they’re under threat all the time? Of course not Sevika.

A flash of Sevika’s alley appeared. You recall the empty spaces of her alley, a couch, table, and boxes only fill her alley. Compared to this—

“Here you go again, Spacegirl” Sevika snaps her fingers when she sees you space out. Sevika enters her home after removing her outside shoes and going directly to the kitchen.

“Remove your shoes before you even think of jumping on the couch, I got you those fluffy slippers that you were gunning about at the shop, wear those instead. Grab my slippers as well, please.” Sevika spoke while grabbing utensils and tools in the kitchen.

How is this even Sevika?

You followed her instructions and saw two pairs of slippers behind the front door. A pair of regular black rubber slippers and the specific pair that Sevika told you about earlier.

It’s a fluffy pink bunny slippers.

You pick up the slippers and you remember wanting them before, back where you came from. You also remembered telling Sevika about these slippers and she gave them to you as a birthday present, unfortunately, you never saw the slippers again when— you know, she did that to you..

“Did you get my slippers already?”

“O-oh, right, I’m coming!” you shouted at Sevika after wearing the pair of slippers she got you, you also grabbed her pair as well.

“What took you so long?” Sevika questions and raises her eyebrows at you.

“Almost got lost in your home, sorry” You immediately came up with an excuse, she’d tease you if she found out you were spacing out, again.

“You and I both know that you know my house better than me—”

“Thank you for buying me those slippers, I didn’t expect you to actually buy them.”

Sevika didn’t know how to take affection very well, and your thankfulness made her flush.

“Oh, you’re welcome. Couldn’t bear the noises coming out of your mouth about those damn slippers that’s why I bought them.” Sevika snickers at you and laughs.

“I’m not that noisy.. or am I?” you have no clue if you’re noisy at this place. You do have people complaining back at home about how loud you are when you’re expressing feelings.

“Stop asking me the most obvious question, Spacegirl.” Sevika teases you with that nickname, again. You were about to have a rebuttal with her but she immediately spoke.

“Help me with my stove, will you? It stopped working again but there’s no way I’m paying a fortune for these suckers”

“Y-your stove..? What, haha..” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Yeah, you’re the only one who knows their way into my stove. Fix it up or no lunch for you” Sevika threatens sarcastically while pointing at you.

You keep forgetting that you’re this technology and builder master at this place, you wouldn’t have even known if Sevika didn’t mention the innovator’s competition— that you supposedly participated in..

“I-i’d l-love to, but uh.. I forgot how those things w-work..? Maybe call someone else? Haha...”

“You fixed these yesterday?”

“OH WOW? I DID THAT? I didn’t know that..” you really, didn’t. Your voice kept going quieter every time a word came out of your mouth.

Sevika looks at you weirdly.

“Just get the job done.”

“O-oh I f-forgot my tools! Can’t fix these things without those helpful.. t-tools!” you’d immediately be shot dead if you’re held at gunpoint and you have to make excuses.

“I bought another set of tools, it’s under the sink. So you don’t have to keep going back to your place, back and forth.”

“Oh?”

“Yes?”

“I-I’d love to fix it but I—”

“Nevermind, don’t sweat it, I’ll just do it myself.” Sevika sounds annoyed.

SHIT

“No! I’ll get right into it!” you pushed Sevika out of the way and grabbed the toolbox under the sink.

“You really don’t have too.”

“Just move out of the way!” you block Sevika from her stove and pick up a tool randomly from the box. You're just gonna have to crank it.

“Why are you holding pliers? Aren’t you supposed to—”

“I got this!” you shouted at her face.

“You don’t, just get out of the way.”

“No, no, no—”

“Just get out!”

“I’ll fix this in a blink of an eye!”

You and Sevika are practically hitting and shouting at each other’s faces. You keep swatting her in the face using your hands, not until she curses loudly.

“Shit!”

You look up at Sevika and you see a long cut on her left forearm. You immediately peak at the pliers you’re holding and see blood on them, the pliers must have cut through Sevika’s skin while the two of you are bickering at each other. You drop the pliers on the ground after the realization.

“Sevika I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean too—”

“Shut it” She turns her back to you and facepalms.

“It was totally an accident, I swear—”

“I have no problem that you don’t wanna fix my stove, you could’ve just said it straight to my face,” Sevika muttered under her breath.

“No, you got it wro—”

“Why do you have to be such a jerk about it, huh? Why not say it to me directly!”

“What? It’s not that I don’t want to help you, it’s just that—”

“What other excuse are you going to make up to get out of this?”

You hate to admit it, but Sevika is right.

You look down, just proving Sevika’s point even more. You want to tell her the truth but what is she going to say, that I’m not getting enough sleep, again?

“I’ve had enough of what you’ve done today.” Sevika turns her body around you. You look up to see her face, she looks mad.

The Sevika you’re standing in front of looks like the Sevika you knew back home.

“I let those pass through my head, but now? I won’t. I won’t tolerate any of your behavior earlier again. I keep telling myself that you’re just stressed and anxious about that stupid innovator’s competition shit.” Sevika pauses.

“But you aren’t.”

“You keep asking me why I left you when I never did!” Sevika shouts, and you look at her with a blank face.

“But this time—” You look at her in the eyes, waiting for what she’s going to say.

“I’m actually leaving you.”

You were taken aback by what Sevika said.

“Sevika I—”

“Get out, now!”

You try reasoning her out but she won’t accept it. Should’ve done it earlier..

You sigh in defeat and walk out of the kitchen, you look at her again. Sevika’s inspecting the cut on her forearm, she turns her head at you when she notices your presence.

Your eyes shoot up and grab your bag placed on a shelf that you supposedly left her house a few days ago. You grab the bag lazily and the items near where your bag is placed falls off.

You got up on your knees and picked up the small and large items. You grab something that instantly caught your eyes.

Your eyes shine at a specific item.

A picture of you and Sevika in a frame. The frame is decorated with intricate flower designs. You look at the other pictures on the table, you took a closer look at the frames for each picture and you looked back at the frame with you and Sevika’s picture.

The details on this frame you’re holding have more details than the others.

‘Is that supposed to mean something special?’

You put down the frame back on the shelf when you hear Sevika’s footsteps. You pick up the items faster than you did before and placed it back on the shelf.

You stood up from the ground and looked at Sevika, her left forearm now has bandages covering up the cut.

You looked away and put the bag over your shoulder and left her house.

‘How am I going to fix this?’

an: idk if ppl do actually read my fics but sorry for not updating yesterday guys, i was at the hospital scheduling for the measuring of my body jacket ( i have scoliosis and this body jacket will straighten my spine ) i was at the hospital when i wrote this and we kept switching places and i wasn’t able to focus properly writing this : / i’ll make the next chapters longer, i promisee. thank you for reading ’til the end : D.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated : 3