#so would it be hard for her to blame him and resent him for it. No

[mugentakeda]

i think i hauve covid

[flwrkid14]

Love, in All its Impossible Forms

Tim Drake loves with everything he has. He always has. And maybe that’s his fatal flaw—he doesn’t know how to hold back. He throws himself into it the way he throws himself into everything else: completely, recklessly, without a second thought for his own safety.

But love, for Tim, is never simple. It comes in forms that twist and tangle, leaving scars even as it gives him something to hold onto. And if you ask him, he could probably tell you exactly what kinds of love he’s experienced.

There’s love that is doomed.

Steph was chaos, energy, and unrelenting determination wrapped in a bright smile. She was Tim’s equal and his opposite all at once, and when he loved her, he did so fiercely, wholeheartedly. She didn’t just step into his world—she tore through it, unapologetic and unstoppable, showing Tim a version of himself that didn’t have to be so calculated, so controlled.

But their lives were chaos, a whirlwind of masks and missions, and when the dust settled, there was never enough left of them to make it last. Tim loves her in a way that feels like holding sand; no matter how tightly he grips, she keeps slipping through his fingers. And maybe that’s why he held on so hard—because he knew she’d never stay. Steph was never meant to be tamed, and Tim loved her too much to try.

Even when it ends, there’s no anger, no resentment. They don’t blame each other for the way things fall apart. They don’t have to. They always knew, deep down, that no matter how much they wanted to hold on, it was never meant to last. It wasn’t about a lack of love—it was about the world they lived in, the lives they led, and the way they could never quite fit together the way they needed to.

Steph was the love that burned brightly but couldn’t last, no matter how much either of them wanted it to. She was the fire he couldn’t hold onto, the storm he couldn’t contain, and the one who left her mark on him in ways he’d never forget. They were love, doomed from the start.

Then there's love that dooms them.

Kon wasn't just Tim's best friend—he was everything. A partner in every sense of the word. Loving Kon felt like second nature, so easy and so effortless that Tim didn't realize how deeply it ran until it was too late. Until Kon was gone.

When Kon died, it destroyed Tim. Grief didn't come in waves-it came in obsessions.

Tim couldn't let go, so he didn't. He turned to stolen data and secret labs, creating clone after clone in a desperate attempt to fill the void Kon left behind

It wasn't about moving on. It wasn't about closure. It was about holding on to the only person who ever made Tim feel like he could breathe, even when it was killing him to do so.

When Kon returned, whole and alive, it should have been everything Tim had dreamed of. But the shadows of what Tim had done lingered between them. The lengths he went to, the obsession that fueled him—it left cracks in the foundation of what they once were. Kon loved Tim, he always would, but part of him wondered if he'd ever been loved for who he was, or for what Tim couldn't let himself lose.

And Tim, for all his brilliance, couldn't figure out how to bridge the gap he'd created. He oved Kon with everything he had, but love born out of desperation carried its own weight, and he wasn't sure how to lay it down.

So they stayed in the gray space between what they were and what they could have been, bound by love so fierce it hurt, but too fractured to fully mend. They were doomed by their love.

Finally, there’s love that dooms anybody else.

Danny is chaos, but not the kind that breaks Tim—it’s the kind that grounds him. Danny exists between worlds, between life and death, and yet he’s more alive than anyone Tim has ever met. He doesn’t fit neatly into any box, doesn’t follow any rules, and yet there’s something about him that feels inevitable, like gravity or the pull of the tide.

Danny doesn’t ask for Tim’s sacrifices. He doesn’t need to be saved, doesn’t want Tim to burn himself out in the name of love. Instead, Danny challenges Tim to slow down, to stop trying so hard to hold the world together and just be. With Danny, Tim learns how to live in the moment, how to breathe without feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It isn’t an easy love, but it isn’t supposed to be. It’s a love that demands courage, the kind that doesn’t come from donning a cape or taking a hit for someone else. It’s the courage to be vulnerable, to stop hiding behind plans and strategies, and let someone see every cracked, raw piece of himself. Danny is relentless in breaking down Tim’s walls, not to fix him but to show him that he’s worthy of being whole.

Together, they are something untouchable. Their love is an anchor and a storm, a lighthouse and the waves crashing against the shore. It’s a love so big, so consuming, that it leaves no room for anything else.

And that’s where the doom lies.

They are the kind of love that consumes the world around them, leaving it scorched and battered in their wake. Not because they want to hurt anyone, but because their connection is so fierce, so all-encompassing, that nothing else can survive in its shadow. They are the eye of the hurricane, calm and steady, while everything outside is chaos.

It’s the kind of love that makes people ache to touch it, to understand it, even as it destroys them. The kind of love that people will write stories about and linger in though, long after the last page has turned. Love, that will echo through time in whispers and legends. But no one will ever truly understand it, because no one else could ever bear the weight of it.

Danny is the love that makes Tim believe he might deserve to be happy after all. Together, they are the love that dooms anybody else—unapologetic, overwhelming, and utterly unforgettable.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Request: could you maybe write about Kurapika obsessed with breeding his sister to restore his clan?

tw: incest, brother/sister, dubcon, breeding, manipulation, obsession, rough sex, mating press, isolation, victim blaming

All characters depicted are 18+

Kurapika has never been the same since the entire Kurta Clan was slaughtered by the spiders, except for him and his younger sister, ever since that fateful day he's been obsessed with two things; retrieving the Scarlet Eyes, and protecting his sister, his biggest responsibility, his only family left, his entire world.

His obsession with vengeance dies down slightly once he meets his friends, but it never fully goes away, always being on his mind when he's away from the group, and the obsession will reignite tenfold after the incident in Yorknew which nearly got his precious friends killed, and with that his obsession with his sister will increase too.

Kurapika will keep his sister on an excruciatingly short leash from that point onward, never letting her out of his sight for prolong periods of time, not wanting to risk his dear sister's safety. Unfortunately for her, Kurapika will begin to project his desire to restore his clan onto his sister, deciding to use her as a vessel for that goal.

He isn't a horrible brute that would harm his sister for his lust, even if he's going to have to get a bit rough with her due to her struggling and squirming, Kurapika will speak gently to her, even when he's holding her down, thighs pinned against her heaving chest as he fucks her into her raw.

"Fuck, p-please stop moving... This is for your own good, for the good of our clan... You don't want to be a failure to our clan, do you..?"

Kurapika is fucking her for procreation, not pleasure, so he isn't very considerate of how rough he's being when he slams his hips against her's. He doesn't go out of his way to cause her pain and discomfort, instead seeing any discomfort she voices as an unfortunate but wholly necessary side effect of their clan's restoration.

He hates to have to hurt his sister, but she just won't stop moving and struggling under his assault, all that crying and thrashing is making it hard for him to be gentle with her, so he'll have to pin her down with all his weight as he fucks her. Having to resort to such drastic measures because of her uncooperative behavior hurts him a lot more than it hurts her, and he's sure to let her know that.

The sensation of both fucking his own sister and taking the first step to rebuild his clan is too much for Kurapika to ignore, his usually black eyes glowing a vibrant scarlet from the intense feelings he's experiencing, both physical and emotional, and when Kurapika sees that his sister's own eyes have also turned a bright scarlet, the same as his own, it turns Kurapika on even more.

Kurapika loves his sister, he really and truly does, even if his actions speak otherwise. How could he not love her? She's his only family left and the only remnant of their slaughtered blan besides himself. She's their clan's future, and he'll be sure to let her know just how much he adores her when she's filling her up with cum.

"Shhh, shhh, just take it... I know it hurts for now, but you're a good girl, I know you can take it, that's why your big brother loves you so much..."

Kurapika might be obsessive, but he isn't delusional, he knows that his sister is likely going to fear and resent him after this, but he's also an optimist at heart, and he believes that her opinion will change once she brings a baby or two into the world.

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: lucky's choppery (series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

mob!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, vague smut, implied blowjob, mention of abortion (not to reader), mad scientist tony stark, laboratory, mentions of gambling, alcohol, smoking, vague mentions of physical violence, angst, some fluff (?), criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: wowee, i wrote this so fast (i already had the dialogue and some writing ready for like 80% of this chapter, so it was pretty easy to fill in the rest). hoping to at least get one more chapter out but no promises, beginning to feel a bit burnt out and my birthday is on sunday yippe. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love @calwitch permanent taglist: @globetrotter28

main masterlist | series masterlist

The crowded sea of workers flooding out of the factories for the evening parted like a tide before Bucky, his strides purposeful, shoulders squared. The setting sun cast the Smokestack District in a haze of burning amber and ashen grey, the air thick with soot and the sharp tang of metal. Even here, in the industrial veins of Sootstone, men instinctively stepped aside lest they be trampled underfoot.

This Stark friend of his was apparently buried deep within the district, tucked away in whatever workshop or lair he called home. Even if their fathers had once been in business together, Stark seemed to have chosen a different path that didn’t dance as closely with the violence that pulsed beneath the city’s surface. You had no doubt that his work, whatever it was, still dipped into the murky waters of illegality. The Smog Boys and their associates rarely kept company with anyone clean.

You let your mind wander, dissecting the possibilities, if only to drown out the roar in your thoughts. For once, Bucky Barnes and his uninvited quests were a welcome distraction.

But no matter how much you tried to shove it aside, Becca’s revelation clung to you like a thorn buried deep beneath your skin. Her words would haunt you long into the night. You knew they would. You’d toss and turn, picking them apart, unravelling them until they unravelled you.

Your father—the man who had half-heartedly raised you, the man who had buried himself in drink and violence, the man who had driven your mother into an early grave—was not your father. Not the man you had thought him to be at all.

The realisation felt like a gaping wound in your chest. The years you had wasted on him, the countless excuses, the hesitant forgiveness. It was all for nothing. You had bent yourself backwards trying to make sense of him, trying to make peace with how he had broken you repeatedly. And yet, he was just another name to add to an already endless list of cruel men.

And your mother—gods, your mother. You had resented her for the life she had chosen, for trapping you in the Warrens, for binding you to poverty and suffering. You had never understood why she stayed, why she had chosen him, why she hadn’t run far from Blackstone and disappeared into the countryside. But now, it all slotted into place like the final piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realised was incomplete.

A sickness curled in your gut. You had hated her.

Your lip was raw from how hard you had been chewing it, and you forced yourself to focus on the roll of Bucky’s shoulders as he marched ahead, unphased, a cigarette hanging from his lips. You hated yourself for ever blaming your mother when she had endured atrocities. She had shown remarkable strength in escaping, in carving out a life of her own in the shadows of Sootstone. She had run from that wretched place, hidden in plain sight. Marrying your father…it must have been a last resort. Perhaps the only man who would take in a woman in her condition.

And she had never told you. Neither of them had. Did your father—no, the man you had believed to be your father—even know the truth? He had never spoken of the Church of Light beyond vague, half-drunken warnings, letting the weight of it gather dust in your memories. A ghost of something unspoken.

But you had never forgotten.

There was a plan forming in your mind—a quiet, insidious thing. A plan to destroy the Church of Light, to repay them for the cruelties they had stained your bloodline with. That day with Michael—gods, Michael— it had given you confidence, perhaps even delusion. You had power. Power strong enough to tear them apart, to bring them to their knees. But beyond any misplaced ideas of grandeur, you knew a truth. You couldn’t act alone. Not in such an obvious way. The Church was vast—multiple temples, hundreds of members. A massacre would not go unnoticed, and the coppers wouldn’t hesitate to drag you to the gallows. It had been a miracle you had escaped them as a teenager.

And every power, every body in this realm, had limits. 

You’d never had the full opportunity to explore the depths of this cursed power you’d been gifted, this death that clung to your very being. You couldn’t know if you had what it took to destroy them all in one fell swoop without destroying yourself in the process.

Your gaze flickered back to Bucky. His expression was guarded, jaw tight, eyes locked ahead as smoke curled from the cigarette between his lips. Even now, with his muscles still taut from anger, he exuded a dangerous calm. A readiness to act, to strike.

You could use him.

You could use him, use the Smog Boys to rip the Church of Light apart. If it became a gang war, the coppers wouldn’t so much as bat an eye. They’d let the criminals handle their own if Bucky's name was attached.

And you would be protected—so long as you could keep his attention.

The thought twisted something deep inside you. Was it wrong to think this way?

Then again… had he not used you, too? Had he not sought you out for your power, for what you could do for him? Yes, he had paid you, but at what cost? There was no permanency in this. You were just another indulgence, another fleeting pleasure. He had told you himself—he didn’t think himself a man capable of love.

Maybe you could have loved him. But him loving you?

It would be foolish to think so. Foolish to believe he could care for you beyond lust, beyond the pull of your body against his.

Your thoughts twisted in on themselves, tangling like a mess of threads in your mind, squeezing, choking, refusing to come undone.

The streets of the Smokestack District grew narrower as you followed Bucky deeper into its labyrinthine alleys, the industrial skyline choking out what little remained of the evening light. Buildings leaned into one another like drunks in an embrace, their brick faces blackened with soot, their windows murky with grime. The air stank of coal smoke, damp rot, and something metallic—oil, or maybe blood.

At the end of a particularly filthy lane, past a crumbling row of tenements, you finally stopped in front of what appeared to be an unassuming butcher’s shop. A weathered wooden sign, its red paint peeling, hung above the entrance: Lucky’s Choppery. The display window was lined with thick cuts of beef and strings of sausages, though the glass was so smeared with grease it barely reflected the gaslights flickering in the street.

You eyed the butcher’s block just inside, where a cleaver had been buried deep into a slab of meat, its blade glinting under the weak glow of an overhead lamp. The floor, lined with well-worn tiles, bore the dark stains of years of blood and brine. 

Bucky shoved open the door without hesitation, the bell overhead giving a feeble jingle. A lanky kid behind the counter—maybe eighteen at most—jerked up from where he’d been counting money, his dark eyes widening.

You glanced around, taking in the place. “Your friend Stark… is a butcher?”

Bucky huffed, crunching his cigarette beneath his boot. “It’s a front, doll.”

“Good to know…” You exhaled slowly, shifting your weight as the kid behind the counter fumbled with the till.

Bucky stepped forward, tapping the counter with two fingers. “Parker. Here to see Stark.”

The boy—Parker—flinched, his expression tightening. “Stark—you’re supposed to say Lucky—”

Bucky’s brow creased. “Who the fuck is Lucky?”

“It’s the codeword—” Parker sucked in a sharp breath, pressing his lips together like he was already regretting this conversation. “Mr. Stark is busy, I’m afraid Mr. Barnes…”

Bucky gave him a flat look. “Kid, I’m sure he is. But do you think he’s gonna be pleased if he finds out you turned me away?”

Parker swallowed hard. His shoulders sagged, and with a sigh, he jerked his head toward the back. “Alright… come on through.”

You followed Parker behind the counter and through a heavy wooden door into the backroom. The temperature dropped immediately. The air was thick with the lingering scent of salt and raw flesh. Rows of bloodless animal carcasses hung from iron hooks, swaying slightly from the draft that slithered through the room. You stepped carefully as Parker led you toward a door set into the far wall. The door's surface was scratched and worn, but the metal handle was polished from years of use.

Parker pushed it open, ushering you both in. You winced as you were blinded by the buzz of lightbulbs hanging overhead, illuminating the space. 

A laboratory. 

It was a chaotic masterpiece of metal and magic, stitched together in an unholy fusion of science and the occult. Copper pipes ran along the walls like veins, some hissing with steam, others crackling faintly with unnatural energy. The exposed brick was scrawled over with chalked equations, half-translated runes wedged between calculations that looked like they belonged to some deranged engineer’s fever dream.

Workbenches sagged under the weight of strange devices—bronzed contraptions with whirring gears, delicate instruments of glass and silver, and something that looked suspiciously like a heart pulsing inside a vat of thick, viscous liquid. Along the far wall, a large metal figure loomed, wires and arcane sigils wrapping around it in a spidery embrace. A dull red glow pulsed from within.

And at the centre of it all, hunched over a mess of gears and copper wiring, was the man himself.

Stark.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His dark hair was a mess of careless waves, tousled as if he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times while deep in thought. A faint shadow of stubble darkened his sharp jaw. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, exposing forearms slathered with grease and soot. His vest, once fine, was smudged with oil and singed at the edges, and his half-buttoned shirt carried the distinct stains of burnt metal and something vaguely alchemical.

Perched on his nose was a pair of brass-framed goggles, their lenses thick and dusted with soot, the left one cracked down the middle. A tiny, flickering spark of blue danced across the metal frame as if whatever enchantment he’d woven into them was barely holding together. He had the look of a man who was equal parts genius and disaster, the kind of bastard who could build something to change the world but would probably set his own lab on fire in the process.

And, of course, he didn’t even look up as the door swung open.

“Who's this? A present for me?” His voice was rough. He finally glanced up, gaze narrowing as he studied you. “I see magic about her—”

“She ain’t for one of your experiments, Tony,” Bucky interrupted, stepping between you and the mad scientist. “She’s with me.”

“Huh.” Stark exhaled, leaning back against his worktable with an air of disappointment. “Shame. And touchy, too… I take it this is your infamous spirit-raiser?”

“What?” you muttered, stiffening.

“He experiments with magic and technology,” Bucky explained dryly. “Thinks he can… power metal with magic.”

“That’s possible?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Stark’s expression turned downright wolfish. “Oh, it’s possible. Just needs the right conduit.” He stepped forward, his fingers twitching like he was already picturing carving something out of you to power one of his creations. “I mean… if I could just experiment with a drop of your magic, it doesn’t hurt, I promise… just a prick, bit of bleeding, long-term possibilities can include sudden death buuut—”

Your expression melted into something of horror.

“Oi, that’s not why we’re ‘ere, Tony,” Bucky cut in sharply. “I’m hostin’ a party. You’re invited.”

With a flick of his wrist, he produced a pristine envelope from inside his suit jacket, the deep red wax seal still unbroken. The contrast was almost comical—elegant, refined, and utterly out of place. You doubted Bucky had penned the invitations himself; the script was too precise and delicate. No, he’d likely had some poor girl painstakingly scrawl each one by hand while he barked orders from the corner of a smoky room.

Bucky’s expression remained flat, but his tone had an unmistakable edge when he added, “Preferably, you’ll keep your hands off my bird while you’re at it.”

You had to fight the urge to snap your head toward him in shock. His bird? Had one week tangled in your sheets left that much of a mark on him? The man hadn’t even taken you on a proper date—unless you counted brutalising a handful of Iron Rats as a romantic outing.

Stark paused, his keen gaze flicking between the two of you like he was dissecting a particularly interesting experiment. The glint in his eye was pure mischief. “Your bird, aye? Didn’t realise things were so… serious.”

Bucky scowled, jaw tightening. “Shut ya fuckin’ gob and take the invitation.” He flicked the pristine envelope onto Stark’s cluttered workbench, where it landed atop a mess of copper wiring, scattered blueprints, and a wrench smeared with something that definitely wasn’t just grease.

Stark picked it up, popping open the seal with ease. “Alright, alright.” His expression shifted slightly as he skimmed the contents. “This ain’t got anything to do with that Smokin’ Jacks business?”

Bucky smirked. “Somethin’ like that.”

Even with the vague way they spoke, you had heard rumours.

The Smokin’ Jacks were a gang of gamblers—slick bastards who ran their operations like clockwork, their fortunes made not through brute force but by sleight of hand. They had gambling dens throughout Blackstone, and their debts were written in blood.

The Smog Boys and the Smokin’ Jacks had long held a hesitant truce—so long as the Jacks didn’t turn their tricks on the poor bastards in the Warrens, there was no need for bloodshed. Their scams and schemes were reserved for the rich and reckless of the Flower District, the men who never knew the weight of a real loss.

But lately, there had been whispers. The Jacks weren’t keeping their word. Their debt collectors had started crossing into Smog Boy territory, leaning on the desperate and the weak, pressing them for coin they didn’t have.

Bucky didn’t take kindly to broken deals.

Stark folded the invitation with an almost exaggerated neatness, tucking it into the inner pocket of his grease-streaked waistcoat. His eyes gleamed, sharp and knowing, the kind of look that suggested he saw a game unfolding that only he knew the rules to.

“Guess I’ll be there, then.”

Bucky gave a short nod as if he had expected no less. He reached into his coat pocket, retrieving his cigarette case with a flick of his wrist. But before he could light one, you stepped forward, words spilling from your lips before you could stop them.

“You just wrapped up that business with the Iron Rats, and now you’re goin’ after the Smokin’ Jacks? Can you be any more reckless—”

Bucky turned his head toward you, exhaling slowly through his nose, cigarette forgotten. “Don’t make me remind you whose fault that Iron Rats business was.”

Your jaw clenched. “You’re the one who escalated it—”

“Yeah, well, you sure were into it, weren’t you?” His voice dropped, low and taunting, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Sure fucked me afterwards like you did—”

Heat shot up your spine, equal parts fury and disbelief, and before you even realised what you were doing, your hand was fisted in the sleeve of his coat, yanking him toward you. He barely moved, only grinning down at you with that infuriating glint in his eye, like he was daring you to do something about it.

Behind you, Stark let out a low whistle, then a chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. “Well, well. You two are a real pair, aren’t ya?” He leaned back against his workbench, arms crossed, amusement dancing across his features. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and wrenched his arm free, though not before squeezing your wrist briefly—just enough to remind you who was stronger. “We’re leavin’,” he muttered, turning toward the door.

“Try not to start a war before the party, Barnes,” Stark called after him. “But if you do—” he grinned, “—make sure I get front-row seats.”

You cast one last glance at the chaos of the lab, the scattered notes, and the eerie hum of machinery before following Bucky out. You didn’t need Stark to tell you that. A war was already brewing.

—

Your front door creaked as you pushed it open, the familiar scent of candle wax and herbs greeting you as you stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the amber glow of the streetlamps outside, their hazy beams spilling through the lace curtains. You shrugged off your coat, glancing over your shoulder as Bucky followed you in.

Only, he didn’t move the way he usually did.

Gone was the effortless swagger, the quiet, calculated control he carried himself with. Instead, he lingered near the door as if he wasn’t sure whether to stay or turn and leave. The sight unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

“You stayin’ the night?” You asked, tone casual despite the tension between you. “Or are you gonna go over to keep an eye on Becca?”

Bucky exhaled, rubbing at his jaw before answering. “No. I’ll have Nat watch over Becca. Think I’m the last person she wants to see right about now.”

There was something distant in his voice. You had noticed a shift in him during your quiet walk back from Stark’s lab. You turned, leaning against the edge of the table as you studied him. His shoulders were taut beneath his coat as if he were bracing for something.

“Are you angry with her?” you asked carefully. “For what she said to me?”

His lips pressed into a firm line. He took a moment before answering. “Can’t say I’m not a bit upset, doll.”

You sighed. “I wouldn’t take it out on her. She was just tryin’ to protect you.”

His head tilted slightly, expression unreadable. “I can make my own choices.”

“Bucky… I just—” You began but you cut yourself off as the gangster finally spoke.

“I’m…” He hesitated.

You blinked. That alone was enough to unnerve you.

You had never seen Bucky hesitate, not like this. He always had something to say—sharp, sure, commanding. But now, something unfamiliar wove itself into his voice. Vulnerability.

“…Grateful.”

The word came quietly like he almost couldn’t bring himself to say it, and when you looked at him, really looked at him, you saw it—the slight furrow of his brow, the way his hands flexed as though he didn’t know what to do with them.

“For what you did for Becca today,” he finished.

You swallowed hard.

“Well,” you sigh, “I couldn’t have just left her there—”

“I’m serious.”

His voice was firm now, but there was a softness beneath it. He shifted his weight slightly, jaw working as he forced himself to continue. “I know she is cruel, but she is my blood. My responsibility.”

You let his words sink in, picking them apart in your head.

“I don’t think she’s cruel,” you murmured. “I think she’s a woman who’s built her walls so high to protect herself. Now she can’t tell a friend from a threat.”

Bucky huffed a quiet breath, barely a sound at all.

“I can tell you why she’s like that,” he said. “And I’m afraid I’m on that list.”

Your brows pulled together. “I wouldn’t blame yourself—”

“Sometimes I worry, doll.”

Something in his voice… a weight settled in your ribcage. It was lower now, rougher like the words were being dragged from some part of him he never let anyone see. His fingers twitched at his side, clenching once before flexing open again. His jaw went tight, and when he finally spoke again, the words came slowly, carefully.

“I worry that I am becoming my father.”

Silence stretched between you. You didn’t think. You just reached out, fingers brushing over his hand, grounding him, offering something—anything—before he could retreat behind the walls you could already see rising.

But it was too late.

His body went rigid, tension snapping through him like a wire pulled too tight. His hand twitched under yours as if instinct told him to grip, to hold on, but then…He pulled away. The moment his expression hardened, you knew. Whatever softness had been there was gone in an instant, buried beneath cold calculation and the armour he had worn for so long. “I should go,” he muttered, voice clipped.

“Bucky—”

But he was already turning, already stepping away.

The door swung open, and before you could say another word, he was gone, the night swallowing him whole.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, his presence lingering like a ghost you couldn’t quite banish. 

—

Three days later, you made the—likely foolish—decision to deliver a care package to Becca. You knew you’d probably receive a tongue-lashing for it, but a small, wicked part of you wanted to be the better person. You had sourced some gin from the Flower Districts, strong, quality stuff that the upper-class women drank. A classier alternative to the harsh whiskey that the Smog Boys brewed and likely already lined Becca’s shelves.

The alley was dark and damp, the scent of piss and rotting wood lingering in the narrow space. Your breath curled in the cold air as you hesitated in front of her door, fingers tightening around the woven basket in your hands.

Maybe your presence wasn’t the best idea, given what she was recovering from. Perhaps it was best to leave the package and disappear into the night unseen. The message would be there, but you’d be spared the inevitable onslaught of curses she would toss your way. You imagined whore would be right at the top.

With a quiet huff, you bent to place the basket on the doorstep. Inside, nestled together, was the bottle of gin, a fresh loaf of bread, butter, and some cold-cut meats you had hunted down at the Sunday market. You knew Bucky and Nat were caring for her, but you wanted to be sure.

The door creaked open just as you straightened up.

Bucky.

He stepped out, locking up behind him, keys dangling from his fingers with an idle sort of ease. He was dressed in his usual suit—dark, well-fitted, with the coat buttoned up against the cold. The brass glint of his pocket watch chain caught the dim light as he turned to you.

For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. But it passed too quickly to catch.

“You just can’t help yourself, huh?” His voice was low, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

Your mouth opened before your mind could catch up, fumbling for an excuse. I was just making sure she’s alright. I was worried. I care. But instead, you settled for, “Sorry, I was just… ah. Care package. For Becca. Thought she’d need it.”

Maybe it wasn’t best to admit to your convoluted, backward scheme of making the woman feel bad through kindness. 

His gaze dropped to the basket at your feet, scanning its contents with a slow, deliberate look before exhaling through his nose. Without a word, he bent and picked it up, turning it slightly in his hands.

“She’s out with that Brackett kid,” he muttered, shifting the basket to his other hand.

You hesitated. “That’s… good?”

Bucky arched a brow as he pulled out the bottle of gin, tilting it slightly to read the label.

“Still gonna kill him,” he said flatly, setting the bottle back down.

You bit back a smirk. “Of course you are.”

He didn’t smile, but something about his posture loosened—just a fraction. The last time you had seen him, he had stormed out of your flat. You couldn’t tell if he was still feeling stand-offish, or if the sharpness in his tone was just habit. The keys clinked softly as he turned them over in his palm, watching you with that same brooding expression.

He placed the basket on the hallway table, pulling shut the door and locking it with practised ease. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” he murmured, voice measured, almost lazy. But there was something deliberate in it, like he was waiting to see how you’d respond.

You hesitated, shifting on your heels. “Didn’t think you’d want to.”

Something flickered in his gaze, just for a second, before he looked away.

“Yeah, well,” he said, slipping the keys into his pocket. “You keep showing up, don’t you?”

You exhaled a short laugh, though your pulse was a little unsteady. “Guess I do.”

Bucky made a noise in his throat, something between amusement and resignation. Then, with a tilt of his head toward the street, he stepped past you.

“Walk with me,” he said, not looking back.

It wasn’t a question. And, despite yourself, you followed.

The night air bit at your skin as you fell into step beside him. The streets of the Warrens were quieter in this part of town, though the distant hum of nightlife still clung to the air—rowdy laughter spilling from taverns, the occasional shout of a drunk stumbling home.

Bucky’s flat was deeper in the district, past the noisier streets, tucked above an old tailor’s shop. He didn’t say a word as he led you up the narrow stairwell, the scent of dust and mothballs lingering in the close space. At the top, he flicked the key between his fingers before unlocking the door, pushing it open without much ceremony.

Inside, it was… surprisingly nice. Not lavish like Becca’s, but well-kept—orderly. The furnishings were simple: a sturdy wooden table, a leather armchair that looked well-worn but hardly used, a small bar cart against the wall with only a handful of bottles. Unlike Becca’s place, which was decorated with velvet drapes, gilded mirrors, and delicate trinkets, Bucky’s was bare. Functional. You got the sense that he didn’t spend much time here.

He didn’t look at you as he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the chair. Instead, he reached for the bar cart, grabbing a bottle and two glasses. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

He poured the amber liquid out and slid one of the glasses toward you across the wooden table, his own drink resting loosely in his grip. You hesitated for only a second before taking the offered glass, the cool weight of it grounding you. The scent was rich and smoky, promising a slow, lingering burn.

Silence stretched between you for a long moment, the soft clink of glass against wood filling the space. Finally, you exhaled, rolling the whiskey between your fingers before speaking. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Bucky lifted a brow. “About what?”

“You storming out of my flat the other day?” You sighed, leaning back against the edge of the table. “Look, I didn’t expect a thank you if that’s what’s got you all wound up.”

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and searching, something unreadable in the depths of his blue eyes. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “I’m not wound up.”

You scoffed. “You’re impossible.”

That pulled a smirk from him—slow, teasing. “Did you want me to stay?” There was a beat of pause before he huffed a quiet laugh, swirling the whiskey in his glass. When he finally looked at you again, amusement curled at the edges of his lips. “Did you miss me?” he drawled. 

“Maybe.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, but there was something else beneath it—something you couldn’t quite name. His gaze flickered over your face, searching, considering.

“Careful, doll,” he murmured, tilting his glass toward you in a slow, deliberate toast. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

He watched you as you lifted the glass to your lips. The first sip hit hard, burning its way down your throat and curling warm in your stomach. You coughed, barely suppressing a wince as the heat spread through your chest. Bucky smirked, tilting his own glass to his lips with far more ease.

“Shit, is this Smog Boys stuff?” You rasped, blinking away the sting.

“Off the market, yeah.” He hummed, stretching back as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sank into it with a sigh. “Some of it, we brew strong. Just for us boys.”

Your gaze flickered to his hands, the way his fingers idly traced the rim of his glass. He had settled into his seat with the ease, legs spread wide, confidence dripping from every lazy shift of his body. The sight of him like that, whiskey warming his blood, watching you with quiet interest—it sent a pulse of heat low in your stomach.

You tipped back the rest of your drink, hissing at the burn, then shrugged off your coat. The heavy fabric slipped from your shoulders and crumpled to the floor between his feet. Bucky’s gaze sharpened. You lowered yourself onto the discarded coat, knees pressing into the worn wood through the fabric, your hands smoothing up the inside of his thighs.

His body reacted before his words did. His legs spread a little wider, welcoming you in, his breath hitching just slightly. You nuzzled against the rough fabric of his trousers, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“What’re you…” He trailed off as your nails ghosted over the buckle of his belt.

His hand caught your wrist, and you smirked at him, tilting your head. “I wanna taste you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, his fingers tightening on your skin for just a moment. Then, with a quiet curse under his breath, he tossed back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down with a heavy clink.

“Shit, doll,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, lower, as his free hand went to his belt. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

From where you knelt, you could see the way his breath had quickened, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before undoing his belt.

Your pulse thrummed in anticipation, thighs squeezing together beneath your skirts. Bucky exhaled sharply as you leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against the fabric covering his length. His head tipped back, a quiet groan slipping from his lips, one hand smoothing through your hair.

He was always so controlled, always so composed—but now, beneath your touch, you could feel him unravel. And gods, you wanted to watch him fall apart.

[crumblekitten]

I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight

Luke castellan x fem!reader

words: 1.8k

AO3 link!

warnings: almost kissing, Luke is crushing HARD, set before the events of the lightning thief

what’s on the ratio?: mirrorball by Taylor swift

Late into the night, Luke sat alone by the campfire, his eyes fixed on the flames that danced before him. Camp Half-Blood lay quiet, its cabins and tents shrouded in darkness, but Luke felt no comfort in the stillness.

The familiar warmth of the fire couldn’t touch the chill creeping through him, nor could it silence the voice of Kronos whispering deep in his mind. The Titan's influence had grown stronger, twisting Luke’s thoughts like tendrils winding around his heart. Kronos promised change, retribution, and a chance to reshape the world that had failed Luke time and time again. He remembered the promises he’d made to himself, the anger that burned hot against the Gods and the camp that felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. The desire to betray it all simmered within him, almost a relief after the years of resentment. And yet, an ache persisted. Luke’s thoughts drifted to Annabeth and Thalia. He could still hear their laughter in his mind, feel the shared hope that had once driven them to protect each other at any cost. Together, they’d vowed to build something better, to be family to one another in ways their parents had never been. Those promises weren’t so easy to turn his back on. The memories made him feel heavier, anchoring him to something he couldn’t shake, and for a fleeting moment, he hated it. He hated how much he cared. The fire snapped, and Luke watched as a stray ember floated into the night sky before disappearing into the shadows. He clenched his fists, knowing that in the end, he might only have himself. Luke barely noticed the faint crunch of footsteps behind him, his gaze still locked on the fire.

“Luke?” Luke turned abruptly at the sound of his name. His eyes lit up with surprise, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Y/n” he murmured her name fondly. It was a name that held a special place in his heart, the sound of it evoking a complex mix of emotions. He hadn’t expected to see her. “What are you doing here?” “You okay? Travis and Connor said that you didn’t come back to the Hermes cabin after lights out” Luke tried to appear nonchalant, forcing a lopsided smile.

“Ah, you know those Stoll brothers. They need to stop being so nosy. I’m fine, just enjoying the night air.” You see through Luke’s mask of emotion, and you slide onto the seat next to him “whatever’s bothering you…you should talk about it” Luke raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Is that a suggestion or a direct order?” He couldn’t help but tease her, his tone slightly sarcastic. “Can’t help people who don’t want to change, I’m here to talk about it and if not I’m still here”

Luke paused for a moment, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. He was used to keeping his worries hidden, to being the one others leaned on, not the other way around. Slowly, he turned back to face her, his expression softening. “It’s just…the camp, the Gods, it all feels so suffocating sometimes. I…I don’t belong here.” Luke admitted, his tone tinged with bitterness. “But I made a promise…promises, actually, to people who’ve become like family to me. And I can’t just abandon them.” “Do you think they would understand if you wanted to leave camp?” Luke let out a heavy sigh, conflicted emotions playing across his face. “I don’t know. Some might understand but others won’t, and they’ll blame me for betraying them. They don’t see how much the camp sucks the life out of me.” He ran a hand through his hair, gazing into the fire. “I’ve always been told that as a son of Hermes, I have to obey the rules, stay in line, but that’s not me. I can’t keep up the act for much longer.”

“Do you think that if you didn’t make those promises you would have left a long time ago?” Luke hesitated, considering the question carefully. “Maybe,” he finally admitted. “I’ve always had this restlessness in me, something pushing me to break free from the mold everyone wants me to fit into. The promises I made… they grounded me, gave me something to hang onto during the tougher times. But they’re also chains keeping me here when I just want to break free.” Luke sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. “If it wasn’t for those promises, I probably would’ve ditched camp ages ago.” You find yourself wanting to reach for his hand but you hold yourself back, you had a crush on Luke for years, and now probably wasn’t a good time to act on those feelings “what would you do if you left camp?” He shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d find some other way to survive. Start over. It can’t be worse than this constant tug of war between my loyalty to the camp and my restless spirit.” He glanced over at her, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “But then I wouldn’t be with my friends, with my…” He trailed off, the words remaining unsaid. Luke’s gaze focused back on the crackling fire, his expression distant. “You really think they’d understand if I left?” “I think annabeth would, she might want you here but you’ve been here since you were 14, you deserve the chance to find freedom. She knows that much”

Luke absorbed her words, a flicker of hope sparking within him. “You’re right. Maybe Annabeth would understand.” He paused thoughtfully. “But it’s not just her I worry about. What about you?.. What would you think if I left?” His gaze held hers, a mixture of sincerity and an underlying longing that he tried to suppress. “I would miss you. But like I said you deserve a chance to find that freedom” Your voice is saddened but decided to give a truthful answer, Luke’s eyes remained fixed on yours, searching for any hint of doubt. After a moment, he broke the silence, his voice unusually earnest. “You’ve always understood me better than most. I value your opinion. And… I’d miss you too, if I left. I’m not sure what it is about you, but I’ve always felt like you see the real me. I don’t have to pretend around you.” His words hung in the air, filling the space between them. Your gaze turns to the fire. cheeks red from the cold winter air, it may have also been caused from the blush slowly dusting your face.

Luke’s eyes remained on you, taking in the way your cheeks flushed and your gaze returned to the fire. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. “Your cheek feels like ice,” he said softly, concern etching his features. Without thinking, he took your hand in his own, the warmth of his touch offering a quiet comfort. In that instant, the boundaries between you seemed to blur as he leaned a little closer. As Luke leaned closer, the weight of everything he held within seemed to vanish. The world around you faded away as their eyes locked. “Do you think… maybe I have something to stick around for here?” His words were a whisper, a confession that held both a hopeful question and an unspoken promise. The flickering firelight cast a golden glow on your faces, making him appear even more handsome as his expression softened. Luke’s thumb gently traced small circles against the back of your hand, the motion a quiet, tender reassurance. He held your gaze steadily, searching for any sign of hesitation or rejection in your eyes. “I’m sure you could find it” you stare into his eyes you body heating up at the closeness.

“Maybe I already have.” Luke replied, his voice barely a whisper as the space between you continued to close. Every breath felt like a silent promise, a shared secret. He reached out, his fingertips gently brushing against your cheek, tracing a path from her temple to the curve of your jaw. His touch was gentle yet deliberate, like a painter committing every detail to memory. Time seemed to slow as your faces were just inches apart, the silence filled only by the rapid beating of their hearts. His eyes held hers captive, the firelight reflecting in his gaze making them appear molten and intense. “We should go back to the cabins” You pull back from Luke slightly Luke blinked, the world slowly coming back into focus around him. “Right. It’s late.” he agreed, his voice barely audible. He released your hand, the warmth he’d felt lingering as if imprinted on his skin. He stood up, offering his hand to help you up as well. “You should have worn a jacket or something. You’re freezing.” “I’ll be okay” Luke wrapped his own jacket around her shoulders firmly. “Here, take this,” he insisted, his eyes gentle yet determined. “No arguments. I can’t have you catching a cold.”

*

As you walked together, the jacket draped gently around your shoulders, Luke’s eyes briefly flickered to your hand. The impulse to reach out and hold it was strong, but he resisted, unsure of where the night would take them. In the quiet of the camp, your footsteps were the only sound. He wondered if you felt the same connection he did, or if it was just his own wishful thinking. The moment between you had been real, he was sure of it. “Do you ever wonder…what could’ve been?” he asked, his tone soft but filled with unspoken longing. “I don’t think about it that often” “I think about it more than I’d like to admit,” Luke mused quietly. He turned to you, noticing the way the moonlight played across your features, making you even more beautiful. “Why didn’t we ever…?” He left the question hanging in the air, his gaze filled with curiosity and a touch of regret. There had always been a connection between you, an unspoken understanding that made Luke’s heart yearn. “Ever what?” Luke let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know. Get together? I mean, we’ve always been so close.” He paused, his gaze locked on yours. “You understand me better than most, probably better than anyone here. I just… it feels like we might have missed our chance.” His words were tinged with a mixture of emotions, uncertainty and longing. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt a deep connection to you that he could never quite shake. “You never asked.” You smile at him before walking up to the door of your cabin and walking inside.

Luke watched you disappear into the cabin, the moonlight casting a faint glow over his features. He stood there for a moment, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Maybe I should’ve,” he murmured under his breath before making his way back to the Hermes cabin, the question of ‘what if’ lingering in the air like an unanswered prayer.

“I know they said the end is near But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you” -Taylor swift

[krisantium]

Junho's conversation with his mom about Inho gave us a glimpse of the turmoil Junho has been through for years after the incident with his brother.

When he said "if that's the case, he would have resented me instead. If I had just died...", it was just him saying how guilty he is feeling regarding his brother's situation. He scolded his mother for blaming herself while what he said to her is the exact things he wants to hear. That it's not his fault. That Inho chose this. That he had nothing to do with his brother's choice to become a monster. We knew from one of his scenes in season 2 that he went to therapy for his mental state. He's been trying so hard crawling away from the hole that eats himself over and over. He should have never accepted that kidney. He should have just died so his brother could sell that kidney to get the money for his wife's treatment.

And in his squid game wiki (I don't know how to check if this is canon or not), it is stated that when Inho joined the game in 2015, he was still at university. He was away from home. And it is likely that he was struggling with his school or financial at that time so he couldn't do much for his sister in law. And all the money that he and his mother's had at that time was used for his school instead of Inho's wife's treatment. This probably is the reason why Junho told his mother in that scene "we also struggled at that time, he knew that" (again, that's the exact thing he wants to hear), and the reason why his mother said that she's afraid that Inho would think that she favors Junho over him.

And so Junho puts the blame on himself. He knew his brother. He knew that a piece of him is gone with the departure of his wife. "Hyung, why?" was the last words he said to his brother. It was implied that he had flashback of that scene over and over. Maybe, he already knew half the answer. What he still wants to know is if is it true that a part of Inho's heart actually resents him after everything that happened, and that was enough for him to leave everything behind?

And it haunts him. And that's why he needs to go back to that island and asks his brother the question himself.

[theballadofthesunandthestars]

After reading SOTR, it was so refreshing and heartbreaking to read from the point of view of a character who loves so openly. Haymitch bleeds love everywhere he goes; not just for the obvious people like Lenore Dove, or Sid and Ma, but for everyone.

His complete and utter adoration of Lenore Dove? How her flaws, her recklessness and impulsiveness just makes him love her all the more. How he can’t always keep up with her, but he doesn’t resent her for it, just tries his best to and loves her when he can’t understand. The contrast between Snow wanting to control Lucy Gray, even going so far as to say that he wishes she was back in the Arena so he could know where she was, and Haymitch wanting nothing more for Lenore Dove than to be free, even trying to tell Lenore Dove to move on from him when he dies in the Arena.

The way Haymitch expresses such adoration for Hattie, how he admires her hard work and hugs her when she gives him his birthday gift. How he tries to protect her during the Interviews.

Haymitch’s love for his family; how he finds them annoying sometimes, but he loves them. He ruffles Sid’s hair and takes on the role of his father, how he lets Sid drag him out on a clear night to look up at the stars. He hugs his Ma and speaks of her with admiration for her work, even as he’s just as annoyed by her work ethic.

Louella McCoy, who crushed on Haymitch for a week, and it just endeared her to him, made him fiercely protective of her. He never looked down on her for being childish, and he did everything in his power to get justice for her.

Lou Lou, whom he despised at first, only to love her anyways. He didn’t even know her real name, didn’t know anything about her except that she was from Eleven and that she was recording what they were saying, but he loved her anyways because he can’t help it. It spills out of him. He protected her and tried to make her death quick, tried to get justice for what happened to her just as much as he did Louella.

Wyatt, Maysilee, and Effie are my favorite examples of how Haymitch sees the flaws in people, but loves them anyways, embraces them even. Wyatt Callow, who he started by resenting him for his father’s gambling practices, only to grow to love Wyatt for his quick wit, then to mourn him when he was killed on the first day. Maysilee Donner who was spoiled and mean in his eyes, yet he could still see her rebellious and determined nature, her kindness for the other Tributes as she wove their tokens, and he held her hand as she died, cementing her in his mind as his sister. Effie Trinket, who despite her Capitol upbringing, despite her parroting Capitol propaganda lines, Haymitch can’t help but notice her empathy and kindness, and she becomes the only one who can seem to care for him after his Games.

Every single Tribute that he adopted as his own, his flock of doves. He never once thought about winning over any of them, choosing instead to do everything in his power to protect them. He kept the fire running and made nightlights for the young Tributes who feared the dark. He tried to play it cool when meeting with Amphert, but when Amphert hugs him, he just drops the act and hugs him right back. He stayed with Wellie and helped to feed her the best he could, reassuring her the whole time and strategizing how he was going to make her the Victor. He blamed himself for every one of their deaths.

Fuck, even the rabbits in the Arena he becomes fond of. He viewed them as allies and felt guilty when he had to use them to determine what was poisoned.

Haymitch Abernathy loves hard and fast. And that’s what Snow took; his ability to love. He trapped Haymitch into the rascal persona he had put on for the Games. The message he sent with Lenore Dove and Ma and Sid and every single Tribute who Haymitch couldn’t save, was that he would kill anyone Haymitch loved. So he drove people away from him. Forced distance between him and the District Twelve tributes. I think that didn’t even stop him from loving them too, only to watch them killed in the Arena. A yearly reminder of that message.

I hope after the revolution, Haymitch felt free to love without fear again.

[esotericbluntbaby]

intoxicated conversations

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: after finding out you've decided to move back to the states following your break up, hamzah indulges even more in the satisfaction of weed. surrounding the comfort within all the pain it gives him, he decides he needs more than what the drug can give him.

mentions: angst, weed/drug use, angsty love confession, slight argument, dialogue-heavy, hurt/comfort, happy ending, she/her pronouns, kinda toxic and possessive hamzah, kinda toxic reader, sfw!

supermodel by sza

--

the break-up was as painful as jumproping on broken shards of glass.

the relationship was short-lived, as if it died within the first moments it was bloomed. words were left unsaid as if your relationship was a letter that was never sent; a letter that got lost in the mail and lost in translation between the two of you. the exchange of "i love you" simply never happened, which kept you both dwelling on the possibility of a future. calendars were marked with red ink on dates you were supposed to go out, half of them being crossed off and rescheduled throughout the span of the year you dated.

you wanted to say the three words that could have fixed the relationship; in fact, you craved it as much as a cannibal craves the flesh of a fresh human. in a way, hamzah was your flesh and you desired to taste as much of him as you could. however, humans aren't meant to know how another human tastes, not like that; at least, that's what you thought. fear drove you apart, however, resentment accompanied the panic that rose in your heart each time you felt like telling him how you truly felt about him. arguments began to arise after every conversation; it soon became tiring to talk to each other.

eventually, the fire grew cold, the ice decided to melt, and the relationship felt more like a dead plant that the both of you decided to water at different, separate times. you ended things with him, leaving a painful gap in your heart where he once resided in. with his absence came the presence of a lonelier, melancholy emotion that you always seemed to feel. though you tried blaming it on the fact that it was always raining and cold and that you were probably deficient in vitamin d, you knew in your heart that it was because you regretted ending things with him instead of talking yourselves through it. running away from your problems, you decided to run away from the specific problem at hand; you decided to move back to the states.

--

hamzah was currently on a facetime call with martin and mandy, bewildered at the information that just came out of mandy's mouth so nonchalantly.

"she's what?" hamzah's eyes widened, picking up his phone from leaning on his pc.

mandy sighed, "i tried talking her out of it, but she's so set on going."

"well, where's she moving to?"

"back to california. she said something about 'needing vitamin d'" or some bullshit excuse," mandy began to type on her macbook.

martin decided to interrupt the tense air with his usual personality shining through, "should we go get pizza tonight, gang?"

"wait, mandy," hamzah interrupted as he ignored martin, "are you upset over her moving?"

"i'm upset at both of you, right now."

hamzah threw his hands up in defense, "what'd i do?"

"you guys decided to just break up as if it's as simple as that- as if it would get rid of all the memories and feelings and-"

"i'm gonna stop you right there- what do you mean 'you guys?' she broke up with me."

martin interrupted, once again, "well, did you fight for her?"

hamzah was genuinely puzzled, as if the concept of fighting for someone was foreign to him, "what?"

"like," martin continued, "when she brought up breaking up with you, did you even try to convince her not to?"

"well, no-"

mandy egged on, "that's what i mean by 'you guys.' you guys decided to just end things when it got hard."

"i'll be fine," hamzah lied, "we never ever said 'i love you.'"

martin shrugged, "just because you never said it, doesn't mean it wasn't there."

--

hamzah's lie caught up with him in the middle of the night in the way that grief catches up to a mourner as the light shines on their tears. though he's slightly ashamed of it, he kept a bottle of your perfume after you both went your separate ways. spraying it onto his pillow, he inhaled the familiar scent and began to feel his body relax. the mere remembrance of you also reminded him of your forthcoming absence.

still inhaling your scent of his pillow, guiltily, he took out the cart hidden in his drawers. he told himself he'd try to quit, yet, it felt like a good time to bring it out once more. smoke filled the air in front of him as he took a long drag out of the mouthpiece and allowed himself to feel everything around him: the relapsing, the smoke in the air, the presence of your perfume, and the absence of your body.

one hit turned into two, as two somehow multiplied into four, and hamzah was absolutely blasted. he didn't even realize that, somehow, his legs were picking himself off of his chair and was now leading him out of the door. eventually, he felt his hands put his car keys in the ignition and start. he didn't know where he was going; he simply let the intoxication take control of his body as his mind floated elsewhere.

--

it was 9:00 at night as you heard a knock on the wooden door. getting up from taping boxes closed, you looked through the peephole to make sure there wasn't a maniac only being separated from you by the door in front of you. you weren't sure if your eyes were fooling you, or if it was your desires deceiving you once again and taking you away in a drunken state, but you were 99% sure that it was hamzah. taking the risk, you decided to open the door, revealing his half-lidded and ruby eyes, accompanying his swaying body.

your eyebrows furrowed, "hamzah?"

"hey," he sounded slightly drunken off of substance, "can i sleep here for the night? i don't want to be alone."

"what-"

"just on the couch. please."

you noticed the state he was in and didn't want to leave him to drive home, "okay."

helping him into your house, you helped him lay on the couch. you helped put a blanket, which you got from underneath your couch, over his shivering body. though you were about to leave to go to your room after mumbling a goodnight, he grabbed your hand.

"stay."

you blinked, not knowing if you heard him right, "what?"

he pulled you slightly closer, "just stay. talk to me a little. how've you been?"

"maybe we should wait until you're sober, hamzah, i don't-"

"no, it has to be now. if i'm sober, i won't be able to talk."

"what do you mean?" you questioned, getting comfortable on the couch

he lightly scoffed, "don't worry about it- just stay here and talk to me. answer my question."

"what question?"

he began to play with your fingers, "how've you been?"

"i've been okay."

his eyes opened as wide as they could, "are you lying to me?"

"uh, no- no, i'm not-"

"y'know," he rested his head on your thigh and gazed up at you, "you've always been a horrible liar."

"hamzah."

"are you mad at me? i'm sorry."

a pang of guilt entered your chest, "no, hamzah- i'm not mad at you. i just think you should go to bed. it's late and you're not in the right state to be talking to me or, honestly, even being here."

"you opened the door for me."

"what?"

"you opened the door. you looked through the peephole and saw me and you still opened the door. why?"

"because i didn't want you to be driving in the middle of the night in this state."

he crossed his arms, "well, i drove here. i can drive back if you want," he says as he began to get up.

"no," you laid him back down on the couch, "it's okay. you can stay. we can talk tomorrow."

"but-"

you got up from the couch, "goodnight, hamzah."

--

the next morning came shortly after you fell asleep. expecting a familiar face on your couch, you were surprised when your apartment seemed empty. looking throughout each room, decorated with boxes, you couldn't find hamzah anywhere. you, then, felt a vibration in your pocket.

hamzah

10:07 am | hey, thanks for letting me stay with you. i'm sorry that i crashed your apartment. i didn't mean to and it won't happen again.

you

10:08 am | oh its np. ur good.

--

except, it did happen again a couple of days later. once again, as you were packing boxes with miscellaneous decorations found in the space around you, you heard another knock on your door. mimicking your actions from the first time he knocked, you looked through the peephole and opened the door once you realized how red and glossy his eyes were.

"i'm horrible."

confused, you simply allowed him to come in and helped him sit down on your couch again, "what's the matter?"

"i said i wouldn't do this again and here i am. i'm sorry."

in all honestly, you pitied how hurt he seemed; you didn't know why and you didn't want to take advantage of his drunkenness. yet, you were also somewhat selfish in the situation. you wanted to know why he kept on showing up at your apartment high. is he manipulating you? is he aware that you would always open your door to him if he was intoxicated? you needed to know.

"hamzah," you held his hand and softly asked, "why do you keep coming here like this?"

"i dunno. you'll have to ask me another time."

you sighed, "is this just gonna keep happening?"

"i dunno. your apartment looks empty."

in the midst of him showing up, you almost forgot that you only had a couple of days to pack everything up, "oh, yeah. just- y'know, getting rid of some stuff."

"martin told me you were moving."

"he did?"

"him and mandy."

you lightly rubbed the veins on his hand with your thumb, "hamzah, i won't be here after three more days. i need you to remember that when you're sober. i'll even text you it because this place will be empty."

you waited patiently for a response, realizing after five minutes that he fell asleep with his head on top of you. trying your best to balance out your leg with a pillow, you managed to get up without waking him. taking a blanket and putting it onto him, once again, you left the room.

--

the next morning, like always, he was gone. this time, you decided to text him.

you

11:42 am | hi, hamzah. i just wanted to let ur know that i'm not mad at u for coming over when ur high, but i won't be in this apartment after thursday. if u wanna get high and come over again, u got like 2 more days lol

11:43 am | im only half joking

11:43 am | i hope everythings okay w u

11:43 am | each time u come here u seem so out of it

hamzah

12:23 pm | no yea i get it

12:23 pm | i'm sorry again

12:24 pm | i dont know why im always there

12:24 pm | it's like i get high and then i just

12:24 pm | lose control of everything im doing lol

12:25 pm | i would say that it wont happen again but i cant promise anything

you liked the message right after he said it, as another message was waiting to be sent in the text message box on his phone.

12:25 pm | i'm sure it'll happen again

12:25 pm | i miss you

yet, the messages were highlighted and deleted.

--

moving day came quickly without a visit from hamzah and you were upset. though he wasn't sober, you missed simply hearing his voice. you missed how he looked at you with glistening eyes, adoration still laced in the stares he gave you as he was laying on your lap. you felt horrible about missing him; he was only coming over as drugs poisoned his body, mindset, and sense of judgement, yet, you simply liked seeing him.

your apartment was now empty and you were sitting on the floor, taking in the fact that you were genuinely leaving. you knew you could back out of your lease at any moment if you wanted to. your stuff was in the moving van downstairs, so it wasn't like this had to be a permanent decision. for someone so adamant on leaving, the change of heart almost gave you whiplash. hamzah entered your life with a plague and, somehow, you were refusing treatment. you sat on the cold, hardwood floor, rethinking your decisions, as another knock was heard from the other end of the door.

this time, you didn't want to let him in. he wouldn't let you leave if he did. you would see the pain in his eyes that he's so desperately trying to get out with the weed he's been smoking, and you would let him in. this time there was no couch to sleep on. there was no boxes to question about. there was nothing there. you heard a muffled voice come from the door you were staring at.

"i'm sober, i swear. let me in, please."

--

you and hamzah sat on the floor together in silence. a part of you was afraid of listening to him. if anyone was able to convince you to stay, it'd be him. yet, another part of you was begging for him to convince you to stay. internally, you were a seesaw that was constantly imbalanced with different weights on each side.

"hamzah, i can't just sit here- i have to leave soon and-"

"i love you."

your eyes widened as your heart began to beat quicker, almost as if your heart was a ticking time bomb that those three words became the detonating trigger. you finally made eye contact with him, as his eyes were already on yours. this time, for the first time in the past couple of times you've seen him, his eyes were normal. there was no hint of red in them and no glossiness. he wasn't tipsy and you didn't have to help him figure out where the floor was or where your furniture went. this time, he couldn't sober up and leave.

"you decided to tell me this now, as i'm leaving? hamzah, what the fuck is wrong with you?" your voice raised slightly louder, "you waited until the final fucking day that i was here for you to tell me that?"

"i've been wanting to say it ever since we started dating. i was scared-"

"you don't think i'm scared? i'm fucking terrified. y'know, i almost moved to a whole fucking country just to get away from my problems and then i- suddenly, i just realize that you were the fucking problem this whole time! are you serious, hamzah?" you noticed a grin appear on his face, "oh, you're smiling? what the fuck are you smiling about? what could possibly make you happy in this moment. i'm literally yelling at you for being a genuine dumbass-"

"you said almost."

the anger you felt dissipated as confusion took over your emotions and facial features, "what?"

"i 'almost' moved to a whole fucking country. you said 'almost,' that means you're not going to."

"no-"

you wished you could slap that stupid smirk off his face, "no, you're going to stay. you said 'almost.' you never wanted to move- you were waiting for me to say it, weren't you?"

your jaw slightly dropped for a moment; you didn't even realize that your subconscious peeked through your anger, "no, that's not-"

"i love you."

"hamzah, stop-"

"i fucking love you."

the two of you suddenly became closer than you were, interlocking lips as if they were hands that were molded together. the nostalgia took over any sense of judgement you previously had, including the anger that you previously felt for him. for someone who wanted to run away from their problems, their problem being hamzah, you gave into what your subconscious truly wanted fairly easily. it, somehow, isn't surprising that you decided to kiss the problem. mid-kiss, it suddenly dawned on you that perhaps you were also the problem. you both decided not to speak, which was on the both of you. he pulled away, fixing your hair for you and kissing your cheek before speaking again.

"you let me in. you looked through your door and, each time i came over, you let me in. you can say whatever you want about me. you can say i'm a fucking dumbass. you can call me an asshole for coming here over and over again and fucking with your head without realizing. i even apologize for that," he kissed your forehead, "but my point is: you can say all of that, and somehow not hate me."

"i don't hate you, hamzah. i never said i did-"

"when martin said you were moving, the first thing i did was spray the perfume i stole from you onto a pillow. then, i smoked so much of my pen that the battery died both times i came over. i need you here. i thought i needed a place to crash whenever i get high and lonely-"

"really, hamzah?"

"let me finish before you get mad. no, i didn't need that. i need you here. do you know how fucking hurt i was after i found out from mandy that you were leaving before i even had the chance to fix things? you think i'd let you just leave without me trying to get you to stay first?"

you sighed, "you let me leave when i left you."

"and look at where that got me. baby, i'm a mess without you. i don't care about anything anymore. there are times where i just sit in bed all day and mope about you because letting you go was the worst mistake i've ever made in my entire life. i can't just let you leave again- not after knowing where that left me the first time. i need you back. i'll do anything. i'll beg for your forgiveness, just- please. stay."

"what do you mean by 'stay?'"

"let me fix things. let me make things better. i'll fight for you," he placed his hands on your shoulders, "i'll say the things you can't say. i'll do the things you can't do on your own. i'll do it- i'll do all of it. please. stay."

your voice got as soft as a whisper, "where would i stay?"

"with me. stay with me."

he pulled your chin towards his lips and kissed you gently, once more.

"i love you. stay."

you interlocked your hand with his, as you sat together on the floor of your old apartment.

"help me move my stuff?"

--

authors note

i kinda hate how i ended this but this came to me in a dream LOL

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 3 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Australia, sir."

Bucky froze in place when he heard that. Australia? It was so unlike you. In all the time you spent together, you always talked about visiting Europe. That was your dream—to save enough money to open a café there, buy a boat, and travel around the continent.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter now. At least he finally knew where you were.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded.

After his security team gave him the location, Bucky immediately called his pilot to prepare the plane. Within minutes, he was on his private jet, accompanied by his assistant, who sat nervously across from him.

The assistant hesitated before asking, “Sir, when do you want to reschedule the meeting?”

Bucky didn’t look up from his phone. “If I’m not in the company, there’s a vice president. Let him attend the meeting instead. The company pays him a high salary for a reason. If he makes the wrong agreement at the meeting, I’ll fire him.”

The assistant swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting with the pen in his lap. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the cushion as silence settled between them. The hum of the jet’s engines filled the cabin. His gaze drifted to the window, the clouds blurring past.

The matter of this marriage was far more complicated than any company matter.

He broke the silence. “Do you ever have marriage trouble?”

The assistant’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question. “Uh… yes, sir.”

Bucky turned his head slightly toward him. “Have you ever argued to the point where your wife left the house?”

The assistant hesitated, his hands stilling. “That’s… no, sir. We argue sometimes, but not to that extent.”

Bucky exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I see.”

His situation wasn’t like those couples who separated after endless fights. This marriage was different—it was based on a contract. There was no need for messy legal proceedings or divorce lawyers. No drawn-out drama. It was supposed to be simple, painless.

But it wasn’t.

He rested his elbow on the armrest, his fingers pressing against his temple as memories of his parents’ divorce flashed through his mind. He’d witnessed it all—the yelling, the accusations, the blame. He could still remember the cold, suffocating atmosphere in the negotiation room as both sides tore each other apart. And they’d forced him, a child, to sit there and watch.

They called it love once, but what he saw was anything but. His parents acted like children while he was expected to be the adult.

Marriage was supposed to be a union between two mature individuals who respected its meaning. His parents may have loved each other once, but they destroyed that love with betrayal and adultery.

It was full of lies and deception. For young Bucky, hearing the arguments was painful. Even now, he still feels a lingering resentment toward his parents.

Bucky shook his head, clearing the bitter thoughts. He’d never wanted a traditional marriage because of them. When his grandfather, Paul, had told him he needed to marry to inherit the company, Bucky had been clueless about what to do.

That’s when he remembered a friend mentioning a matchmaking agency. “It’s expensive, but it’s worth it,” his friend had said.

And it was expensive—but it was worth it. With you, he’d fulfilled his grandfather’s condition and taken over the company. You were his perfect partner.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He rubbed his chin as he rewound every moment he’d spent with you, searching for something he might have missed. He couldn’t think of a single instance where he had disrespected you. Both of you respected each other’s personal space and schedules. He knew you had a close relationship with Grace, your best friend.

Friends.

Friends?

His brows furrowed. Now that he thought about it, Grace was the only friend of yours he really knew. While you had met most of his circle, he knew almost nothing about yours.

Bucky leaned forward, clasping his hands together tightly. After giving it more thought, he realized the imbalance in your marriage. He was the dominant one, the one whose needs and routines shaped the relationship.

And he had barely noticed.

His jaw tightened, the weight of his ignorance sinking in. For the first time, he wondered if that was why you left.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After a long flight, Bucky’s plane finally touched down at the destination. He had managed to close his eyes during the journey, but rest was impossible—his thoughts were consumed by you. Memories, questions, and unspoken words replayed endlessly in his mind.

As he stepped off the plane, the crisp air hit his face, bringing a brief sense of clarity. The head of his security team approached him immediately.

"Sir, we’ve found her location," the man reported.

"Where is she?" Bucky asked, his voice sharp with urgency.

The security detail led Bucky toward the docks, their hurried footsteps crunching against the gravel. His heart was pounding, each step feeling heavier as the weight of anticipation bore down on him. He scanned the area, his sharp eyes searching frantically for any sign of you.

And then, he saw you.

There you were, standing near the edge of the dock, the soft breeze tugging at your hair as you stared out at the endless horizon. The setting sun cast a golden glow around you, making you look almost ethereal, like a mirage he’d conjured in his desperation.

His breath hitched. Relief washed over him first, flooding his chest so quickly that it nearly brought him to his knees. After days of relentless searching, and agonizing over where you could be, there you were—within reach.

But then came the ache. A sharp, searing pain in his chest that he hadn’t expected. Seeing you standing so calmly as if the world hadn’t turned upside down for him, struck a chord deep within. You looked so at peace, so distant, and he couldn’t understand it.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He closed the distance between you in long, determined strides, his emotions spiraling into a chaotic storm. Relief, anger, confusion, longing—it all melded together as his voice broke through the silence.

He called your name, loud and raw, the sound carrying across the water.

You turned, startled, your wide eyes locking with his. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. He saw the flicker of surprise on your face, the way your lips parted slightly as if you were about to say something. But what shook him most was what he didn’t see.

There was no regret in your eyes.

Bucky’s chest tightened, his fists clenching instinctively at his sides. How could you look at him like that—so calm, so unaffected—when he’d been unraveling without you? He reached you in a few quick strides, his hand shooting out to grab yours before you could move another step.

Bucky’s heart pounded as he called out your name, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves. You turned, visibly startled but composed, no trace of regret on your face.

He didn’t stop running until he reached you, grabbing your hand before you could step onto the yacht. "Why did you leave?" he demanded, his tone raw with frustration. "Didn’t I say we’d talk this through?"

You look at him, your eyes steady but filled with quiet resolve. “I don’t want to continue the marriage contract."

“I know.” He fell silent, his gaze locking onto yours. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

"No," you replied, shaking your head with a soft smile. "Didn’t you get the letter I left for you?"

Bucky frowned, the words unsettling him. The letter? What could it possibly say that justified this?

"It’s not you," you said, your tone steady. "It’s me."

"Lies," he shot back, his voice clipped with disbelief.

"It’s not," you insisted firmly.

"Explain it to me like I’m five years old," he demanded, his frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface.

You sighed, gathering your thoughts. "In the contract, we promised no lies, no deception. We even agreed that if one of us developed feelings, the marriage would end before things got messy."

Your gaze softened as you added, "Bucky, I love you."

The confession hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him stunned and speechless. He had braced himself for accusations, for anger, but not this.

You took advantage of his silence, gently pulling your hand free from his grasp. You turned to the captain of the yacht and gave a subtle nod, signaling him to start the engine.

As the boat began to drift away from the dock, Bucky’s senses returned. "Where are you going?" he called out, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Anywhere," you replied, your words floating back to him.

Standing at the edge of the dock, he could only watch as the boat carried you farther away.

From your place on the yacht, you glanced back at him. “What a fool,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I told everyone not to let you find me.”

The captain, standing at the helm, turned to you and asked, “How far do you want to go?”

"Keep sailing until I say stop," you said, your tone resolute.

"Alright," the captain replied, steering the yacht into the open sea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The yacht moved steadily through the endless expanse of blue, its wake cutting a gentle path through the water. You stood at the edge of the deck, the wind brushing against your face, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea. The horizon stretched infinitely, meeting the sky in a blur of hazy gold and blue. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the breeze tangle your hair and the sun warm your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you thought. The kind of beauty that felt untouched, unclaimed—exactly what you were searching for.

“This is it,” you murmured, barely audible to yourself.

With steady steps, you approached the captain’s cabin. He glanced at you briefly, his expression questioning.

“Stop here,” you said.

“Are you sure?” His voice carried the weight of uncertainty.

“Yes.” Your answer was firm, final.

He nodded and went to work, releasing the anchor with a heavy clunk as it descended into the ocean’s depths. The yacht slowed to a gentle halt, rocking slightly with the rhythm of the waves.

Without hesitation, you peeled off your clothes, revealing the simple swimsuit underneath. The air felt cool against your skin, but it didn’t matter. You stepped to the edge of the deck, your toes curling over the rim. For a brief second, you inhaled deeply, and then you leaped.

The water embraced you like an old friend. It was cold but refreshing, its weight washing over you, pulling you into its quiet, endless depths. You swam, letting your body move freely, unbound by the constraints of gravity or obligation.

You dove deeper, the light above you diffusing into shimmering rays that danced like silver ribbons. Down here, there were no walls to confine you, no contracts to dictate your actions. It was just you and the ocean—an infinite space where you could finally breathe.

For the first time in years, you felt free.

You floated on your back, staring up at the vast sky. The sun cast a golden glow across the water’s surface, making it sparkle like liquid diamonds. You let out a long breath, your body rising and falling with the gentle waves. This was what you had been looking for—a release from the weight of expectations and the burden of feeling tethered to things you didn’t truly want.

You didn’t understand why, but in this moment of letting go—of money, of love, of the life you’d meticulously built—you felt alive.

All your life, it had been about money. Growing up with a father whose high income only highlighted what was still lacking, you learned early that nothing was ever enough. There was always another competition to win, another prize to chase. Independence wasn’t just encouraged; it was demanded.

Money became your anchor, the thing that kept you afloat. You thrived on it, obsessed over it. You checked your bank accounts daily, reveling in the sight of green numbers climbing higher and higher. It was intoxicating, the sense of control and success that came with it.

Each time you earned more money, it was a step closer to impressing your parents. Impressing them became a lifelong goal—one that would finally make them say, “We’re proud of you.” But no matter how much you earned, it was never enough.

And then there was love—a concept you understood in theory but never cared to possess. Money filled the void better than any romantic notion ever could. Love was messy, complicated, and it demanded sacrifices you weren’t willing to make. Money didn’t ask for your vulnerability; it only required your focus, your ambition, your endless thirst for more.

The two were the same, you realized. Money and love—they both left you parched, chasing something that always seemed just out of reach.

Then what were the other things that made you confront money and love at the same time?

When you joined the matchmaking agency to find a wealthy partner, you hadn’t really thought it through. There wasn’t a grand plan, just the vague hope of finding someone who could meet your terms. Honestly, you expected the candidates to be older men—someone seeking a companion to attend events with, nothing more. You had even specified one unique condition in your profile: no intimacy.

So, it came as a shock when the person who agreed to your circumstances turned out to be Bucky Barnes—a man only two years older than you. Not only that, but he was willing to pay an impressive amount to seal the deal.

When it was Bucky’s turn to lay out his requirements, everything seemed to align perfectly. He needed a partner who could convincingly play the role of a devoted spouse, just long enough for him to inherit his family’s company. You knew you could handle that. Pretending to be his loving wife? It felt like an easy role to play.

His parents were simple to fool, far less intimidating than your own strict, demanding family. The real challenge, however, was his grandfather, Paul. With his sharp eyes and no-nonsense demeanor, Paul had a knack for spotting liars. Yet, even he couldn’t see through you. You gave him exactly what he longed for—a granddaughter-in-law who treated him with genuine care. That part was easy because you understood what it felt like to crave love and approval.

The first year flew by without a hitch. You and Bucky played your roles to perfection. The arrangement opened doors for both of you—financially and socially. When the time came to discuss extending the contract for another year, you agreed without hesitation. The benefits far outweighed any drawbacks.

But then, somewhere in the second year, things began to shift. You started to feel something for Bucky—something dangerous. It wasn’t part of the deal, and you hated yourself for it. From the start, Bucky had been upfront about his feelings—or lack thereof. For him, love was a waste of time. He had no use for romance, and you had respected that. Until now.

You couldn’t stop it, though. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your emotions, they crept in, uninvited. It was written clearly in your agreement: no feelings, no complications. If either party broke that rule, the contract would be terminated immediately.

So, you buried your feelings as best you could. Love was messy, unpredictable, and it made you want things you couldn’t have. It filled your mind with fantasies, leaving you restless and craving more. And you despised it.

You just needed to hold on a little longer.

But then, everything changed.

Two days before the marriage contract was set to end, something happened—something you hadn’t anticipated.

And in that moment, you realized nothing would ever be the same again.

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[demonic0angel]

for the burning man anger management AU you did, maybe it comes out that the joker is behind all this? mix in the previous hatred of the joker plus the distress of the fake cheating and jason todd would end up publicly beating the joker to death. or jazz would kill the joker

Part 1, part 3

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!" Jason roared.

Tim winced. "I don't know what to tell you. Kon and I went investigating and we found out that the Joker has someone captured with your face. They apparently found a lookalike and then used plastic surgery to do the rest."

Jason was almost vibrating with rage. His fists clenched hard enough for his short nails to dig into his palm, sending droplets of blood onto the floor.

Tim stared at him in horror.

"Jason..."

"I can't believe this," Jason hissed, shuddering as he suddenly hated with every fiber of his being, "He killed me, he hurt Barbara, our family, and now he's ruining my marriage?!" He turned to Tim with green eyes blazing. "Does Jazz know about this?!"

Tim shook his head. "No, but I did tell Young Justice because they helped. Dani knows."

Jason covered his face, unintentionally smearing the blood. He breathed in and out deeply, trying not to explode from sheer rage and hatred.

These past several days, he had skipped sleeping to investigate into the cheating evidence. He had worked tirelessly day and night to take care of the house and Crime Alley as Jazz continued to go to work, and their marriage descended into a relationship like roommates.

Jason did not blame her. Jazz had not treated him harshly or mention that she did not believe him. She had only acted politely, as if she had entirely closed herself off to avoid hurting herself. She was still kind, but his sweet, mischievous wife had hidden herself away.

Jason had never wanted to tear apart Gotham City like this before. It was as if he wanted everyone to feel the same pain as he did. He was full of so much resentment and frustration these days that he had unintentionally resorted back to his mindless killing ways before Jazz had helped him with the Pit Madness.

And now he found a real, proper outlet.

Jason hummed and then said, "Alright. Thank you, Tim."

Tim nodded. "Of course. So... what are your plans after this?"

"I'm going to find the Joker," Jason said emotionlessly. "Then I'm going to torture the information out of him before I blow a hole through his brains. Then I'm going to hunt down everyone and anyone who was involved in this and then I'm going to go home and beg Jazz for forgiveness."

Tim paused. Then he nodded again, more stiff this time, "Okay. I'll get you a list of everyone I know who was involved."

Jason smiled coldly.

"Perfect."

Well, no matter what, Jason would fix his marriage with Jazz. Even if he had to massacre the entirety of the Joker's lot to do so.

[muchanmocha]

Opinion on hyuluka? Like do you think hyuna cares about luka or not? :0 (sorry I just want a hyuluka analysis..)

Thanks for the ask! There were so many things that needed to be brought up that it made me dizzy lol

-

Hyuna -> Luka is probably the most complicated of any relationship line in Alnst because there are layers upon layers of conflicted emotions tied into it and ultimately it's this turmoil that forms a knot in her heart that she can't untangle or cut.

Does Hyuna care about Luka?

Yes, of course. Undeniably and uncontrollably.

Does she want to care about Luka?

Absolutely not. Everything in her life would be so much easier, so much simplier and straightforward if she didn't.

"I should have never approached him and treated him kindly from the very beginning.... Should we talk about something else?"

— Hyuna about Luka, Artbook

Hyuna wishes she had never approached him because if their paths had never intersected, she never would've had the chance to love him, treasure him. To hate him, resent him. And he in turn never would've had the chance to love her or betray her.

But loving Luka was never a choice. Not for her.

[Breakdown of the incident here]

Needless to say, Hyun Woo's death is the event that impacted what became of their relationship the most.

She blames him — he was the one who started it, he was the one who committed the act, he was the one who ultimately betrayed her in killing Hyun Woo, her most precious person.

She also can't blame him — Hyun Woo's death was accidental, Hyun Woo was the one who raised his hand first, Luka doesn't appear to even see what he's done, his crime is that he didn't know how to love but how could she put blame to that?

She blames herself — they were fighting over her, she never stood up for herself when it came to Luka which prompted Hyun Woo to feel obligated to stand up for her, meaning that ultimately her indulgence of Luka is what led to this.

How is she supposed to process this? How is she supposed to move on? She can't.

And that in and of itself is Luka's fault. His lack of acknowledgement of everything not Hyuna means he himself doesn't process Hyun Woo's death.

Can she blame someone who doesn't know? Can she forgive someone who doesn't understand? She can only resent him.

— Breakdown of Hyun Woo's incident

Arise and walk reflects both Hyuna's love for Luka and her inability to forgive him. Her refusal to, because the very fact that he makes her want to forgive him is what makes her unable to forgive herself.

It's worth noting that Hyuna understands and sympathizes with Luka on a deep level which is why it's hard for her to fully blame him.

But no matter how she feels about him or how much she tries to run away from what happened, reality is still there.

Hyun Woo's death was not just the loss of one of her most precious people. It's the loss of all of her most precious people.

One to death, and the other to the fact that she will never again be able to let herself love him for his role in it.

In the end Hyuna -> Luka is a love-hate relationship where she wants to hate him, but she can't, and she wants to love him, but she can't.

(Additional probably unpopular opinion under the cut)

Whenever I say "love" in this post I don't necessarily mean romantically.

I actually don't think Hyuna holds romantic feelings towards Luka in this timeline. She cares for him yes, very deeply. But not romantically.

In Wiege we see what could have been in another universe.

Hyuna and Luka always had the potential to love each other romantically but I think part of the tragedy of the alternate universes is that that wasn't possible in this one.

It wasn't possible because it's this one.

Alnst broke Luka, which in turn led to the inevitable events leading up to Hyun Woo's death. This all happened too soon, too early for that potential in Hyuna to romantically love Luka to develop.

In other words, they could have been.

If not for 'Alien Stage.'

(I personally don't have a problem with that bc *points at blog title awkwardly* romantic relationships aren't the be all end all for me. But if you're a shipper, the loss of this potential can be taken as part of the inherent tragedy of Alien Stage.)

[xo-hoon]

𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘆𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘆𝗲 — p.sh

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: revenge, angst, smut, fluff

synopsis: Sunghoon nurtured a profound animosity towards his childhood friend, Lee Heeseung, blaming him for his sister's death. To Sunghoon, his sister was the only person who had genuinely loved him, making Heeseung's perceived betrayal unforgivable. This deep resentment sparked an intense desire for revenge, driving Sunghoon to extreme measures to achieve it. But to what extent would he go to find satisfaction in his vengeance against Lee Heeseung? Would his plans unfold smoothly, or would everything take an unexpected turn, throwing his schemes into something he didn’t expect.

word count: 7k

warnings: swearing, kidnapping (kinda), possessive hoon, mentions of death, fake marriage, depression.

an eye for an eye: part 1 - masterlist

The familiar feeling of emptiness flooded his body. Sunghoon’s eyes were lifeless as the they gazed at the coffin where his sister’s remains lay.

This was the same feeling he had when his father’s mistress left him at his biological father’s mansion.

He felt the coldness of his father towards him. He felt the hatred of his father’s wife. He saw disappointment in his grandparents’ faces.

He was unloved and unwanted, it was a no brainer.

For a six-year-old child, it was all too much to take. When he was living with his mother, he was treatedlike shit. And when he lived with his father, there was no difference at all. It’s no wonder why he became wary of people. He wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, nor be in the same room as them. He would only go out to eat and return to his room to lock himself up. He even thought back then that his existence was big bad joke.

But one day, a girl with the same dark brown eyes as his went inside his room and forced him to leave the house and drink up some sunshine. He had no other choice but to follow the girl because she would never let go of his hand.

Truth to be told, Sunghoon found the girl irritating, he wanted to hurt her. But when she said that she was his sister and that she would protect him from all evil, he was left speechless. Because for the first time in years, there was a person who wanted to protect him. Her older sister’s smile made him cry, not because of sadness, but because of happiness.

He let out a hollow laugh. He will never see those smiles of her sister ever again. Those good old times would now be just a mere memory.

He slightly turned his head when he heard someone familiar talking behind him. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched as he stared at the cause of his beloved sister’s death, Lee Heeseung. His bestfriend and her sister’s boyfriend.

With heavy feet, he stood up and approached the guy and his father who he was talking to.

“You’re not welcome here, Lee Heeseung. Leave” His voice was hard and heavy.

“Park Sunghoon!” His father reprimanded.

“Uncle, can you please give us a minute? We’re just going to talk.”

“If you want to explain what happened, then let me tell you that you’re just wasting your time.” He said, blankly, not showing an ounce of emotion to the guy in front of him.

“Please, Sunghoon, listen to me. I didn’t want all of this to happen. I-I’m sorry.” Heeseung sounded so pathetically contrite, making him want to vomit.

“So you want me forgive you just like that, Heeseung?” He sarcastically remarked. Heeseung shook his head with a sigh and looked at Sunghoon with pleading eyes once again.

“I know it was partly my fault, and I am also hurting, Sunghoon. You know how much I love your sister, and I wouldn’t ask for this to happen.”

“You wouldn’t ask for this to happen?” He sharply retorted what the guy said. “It was the middle of the fucking night, yet you asked her to go out riding in your stupid car. You asked her to leave even if it was already late. Clearly, you asked for this the happen! You are the reason why my sister is lying there!” He lashed out, pointing at the coffin where her sister’s lifeless body lie.

“It was our anniversary! I invited her out because I wanted to surprise her!” Heeseung’s left hand balled into a fist he was sure the right one would do the same if it weren’t in a sling due to the accident.

“Yeah, and because of that stupid surprise, my sister died.” He saw the look of hurt in his best friend’s eyes, but the pain that he is seeing wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to beat the shit out of Heeseung and kill him with his bare hands, but that would be too easy.

“I didn’t know that a drunk driver would appear and hit us! If only I knew… I-if only I knew…” Heeseung’s eyes reddened with pain.

Sunghoon’s greeted his teeth, turning away. “Leave.”

“Sunghoon, please….”

“Just leave!” he hissed. “Leave and don’t ever show your face to me ever again.” He said in a serious tone.

“Sunghoon?” He was quick to turn his head towards the source of the voice. There stood Y/n, standing next to Heeseung as she anxiously glanced back and forth between the two. “Why would you say that to my brother?”

His lips pressed firmly with a stern expression. “Because his idea of a pleasant surprise is a bad joke.”

That was all he said before returning to his seat. He didn’t bother to look at the two again, and he wasn’t able to see Y/n’s eyes widen in surprise. He only heard the faint farewells of the two to his father.

Once again, Sunghoon confined in his own lonely world. He feels like he was cursed and happiness was forcefully denied to him. Losing his sister who helped him break free from his dark world was painful.

Losing a friend that he considered a family was painful.

Losing the woman he had learned to love was painful.

In just a snap, he lost the people who gave color to his world.

10 years later…

The service crew was very attentive, Sunghoon noticed. The place was modern and cozy. He hadn’t taste any of the pastries yet, but they looked appetizing. All in all, the bakeshop was pretty impressive. There’s no wonder why a lot of people go here.

On the other hand, it was quite a surprise that he’s in the shop. This was the first time he set foot in this place.

He wouldn’t bother to come if it weren’t for something important, especially since the owner of this bakeshop is the sister of someone he despises.

Yes, he knew you owned this place.

Your town is small enough for him to not know that. So, why the hell would he choose to meet someone in your haven of all places? There was a ninety-nine percent chance of him seeing you there. But what can he do about it?

His ‘oh so noble father’ commanded him to meet with the girl he liked for him. Obviously wanting him to settle down already. And because that he is the only son of his beloved father, he has no right to oppose to it.

He felt his phone rang and he answered.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Mr. Park.”

Said the girl on the other line. The voice sound forcefully seductive it sounded cheap to his ear.

“May I know who’s on the other line?”

Sunghoon asked lazily and almost rolled his eyes.

“This is Shin Yuna. I’m the one you’re meeting at the bakery in town.”

His eyes went searching for a woman who was on the phone, probably speaking with him. At the door he saw a woman wearing a tight-fitting yellow dress. The woman had a phone pressed to one ear, her eyes scanning the inside of the shop. Looks like she was the one he’s waiting for.

He ended that call once her eyes landed on him. Evidently, she’d recognize him. A sensual smile appeared on her bloody red lips and she started walking towards him.

He should feel lucky because the woman was a catch. Her skin was smooth and fair, she had shiny, long hair. And in his opinion, aside from her hourglass figure, the girl’s flawless legs were her best asset, free from any scars.

She was gorgeous all right. But it doesn’t have an impact on Sunghoon.

Yuna must be one of those girls who are pretty on the outside, empty in the inside. Beautiful but annoying and boring.

He stood up as the girl approached. He offered his hand but she didn’t take it. Instead, she leaned to give him a kiss on his cheek. Okay, he wasn’t at all shocked by that.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Park” she greeted

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Shin.”

“Please, call me Yuna.” She said with a wide almost flirty smile. “Then call me Sunghoon.” He motioned her to the seat in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, have you ordered anything yet” she said as she sat.

Sunghoon shook his head. “Not yet, I was waiting for you. And it’s my first time here, I don’t know what food to choose.” Her hand rested on his arm and he wasn’t born yesterday to not know that she was openly flirting with him.

“Oh Really? You should try their famous gyeran-ppang. It’s a fluffy loaf of bread with a whole egg inside. It’s really good, I suggest you try it.”

Sunghoon suddenly remembered you, gyeran-ppang was your favorite ever since. Be it sweet of savory. He didn’t expect that those two could be brought together.

“If you liked it, maybe I should try it.” He simply said, trying to push away the memories. Yuna’s eyes sparkled, and he wanted to roll his eyes, but Sunghoon retrained himself. What was an hour of enduring this infront of her, right?

“Okay, I’ll just go to the counter to order, since this is a self-service shop.” Yuna said as he noticed a slight frown on her face. “I hope next time they hire waiters here so customers won’t have to go to the counter to do the job.”

Ah, he knew it.

His assumptions were correct, the girl only visually pleasing. Deep inside, she was a typical rich brat. He found his father’s taste in girl quite funny.

“It’s like hitting two birds with one stone. The service would be aster, plus it would provide jobs for jobless people. That way, more customers would go here, and it would reduce the number of unemployed people.” She annoyingly added further.

God help him stop himself from sneering. As if he’d believe that shit. What could this girl possibly know about work and helping other people?

“Yeah, you’re right.” He answered dryly. “I’ll order, I’m the guy here and I should be the one treating you and taking care of things.”

She sweetly smiled at him once again. “Why, thank you, Sunghoon. I’ll have two gyeran-ppang and one iced coffee. And please ask for a fork and knife while you’re at it.”

“Alright.” He gave her a small smile and quickly stood up, immediately walking his way to the counter to escape his date. He wished the serving of their food would last longer, but the workers in the shop were indeed good at what they do. In less than six minutes. He was back at his table with Yuna waiting for him.

“Go ahead and try it.” She urged him to sit down as their order was served. He took a bit of the gyeran-ppang and he instantly knew why it became popular in the area.

“It’s good right?” He simply nodded in response. Yuna then picked up the bread knife and fork that he requested earlier and used them to eat.

“Why use a fork and knife? It’s a finger food.” He couldn’t help but to ask.

“Oh, eating it with my fingers would be a mess, and my lipstick would smudge if I eat it directly.” Sunghoon avoided raising the corners of if his lips.

“I see. I’m surprised that you eat food like this and have that kind of body.” Yuna let out a shy laugh at his statement.

“I’m very conscious with what I eat, but when I tried this a few weeks ago, I forgot the diet. I even bought boxes of it for the orphanage that we were helping, And the kids loved it too.”

She was trying to impress him by mentioning the word orphanage? Would it be a bad idea to laugh? Or was he being too hard on this girl? After all, what did he know about Yuna? He didn’t even bother to make an effort to find out about the girl’s demeanor before coming here. Is her values really worth his time? Sunghoon bit his lip to stop himself from commenting something he’d regret saying later on.

Sunghoon glanced at the entrance of the bakeshop and he swore he felt his heart pounded. A pang of nostalgia when he saw a familiar figure arrive.

You were like an angel minus the wings and the halo. You were wearing a simple with dress that gave you sweet and innocent look. He didn’t expect that you would become even more beautiful than you are over the years. Your rosy white skin was flawless, he longed to touch it. Your lips were full and naturally pink. He almost tasted those once and he suddenly had this urge to kiss you.

He sighed forcefully, everything about him was cold earlier but he felt so damn hot in an instant just by seeing you. He wanted to own you, he wanted to make you his.

Sunghoon felt his heart race at he continued to stare at your face, feeling the rush of warmth in his body.

The beautifully scattered moles on your face made you look more unique ang exquisite to him. Back then, Sunghoon thought he could spend the rest of his life just by looking at your lovely face. Your beautifully sculpted brown eyes with thick and long lashes were still bright and full of life. He wanted to lose himself one day while looking at those hypnotic vivid orbs.

You walked you way towards the counter and greeted your staff with a bright smile.

The sun’s heat was nothing compared to the warmth of your smile. You were like the sun, only brighter, with inky black hair shining.

Now that’s his kind of pretty. You would always be his kind of pretty. Your beauty was ethereal, it was second to none in Sunghoon’s eyes. He mustered all his strength to look away from the person who evoked such emotions from him.

He tried to put his focus on the person in front of him, but his eyes would occasionally wander back to you.

“So, what are you busy with these days?” He heard Yuna asked him.

“Work, I guess.” He shrugged. “We export high quality mangoes to our neighboring countries.”

“Oh. Yeah, my parents and I visited your mango farm once. And I must say, your place is very refreshing.”

“Thank you, how about you? What your work?” He asked to have something to talk about, not because he wanted to know.

Yuna took a sip of her iced coffee before responding.

“I’m an interior designer, I often have famous celebrities as my client.” She said, feeling proud. “You know that one actor in squid game? He was my last client. Tell you what, his mansion was large, so I was very happy that I got the project.”

He tried his best not to look bored.

What does he care about celebrities? He hadn’t even watched this movie that she was talking about. But he needed to endure all this for two reasons. First, he didn’t want to be rude no matter how his inner demon wished to be. And second, to distract himself from your presence.

His only problem now is how will he hide himself from the owner of this bakery.

—

“Hey, Ning. How are you all doing?” You asked your worker working on the cashier as you entered the counter.

“We’re doing fine, Y/n. It was a bit of a hassle earlier because there were loads of customers, but it was overall doing alright. I mean, what’s a little hassle when you can earn profit, right?” Ningning said, smiling widely.

You giggled. “Yes, true. Sorry for being late, I wasn’t able to help you here. I just had something to take care of back home.”

“No, Y/n. It’s all good, you’re the boss here after all. You don’t have to worry about a single thing, we got you.” She said reassuringly, smiling softly at you.

“Yeah, Y/n. Besides, we know you’re going through something tough right now. How was everything anyway?” Sunoo, your amazing barista, asked. You sighed deeply before answering the young man.

“It’s not settled yet, our ranch is still a mess.”

“Oh, Y/n. Don’t be down like that, you’re going to get through everything sooner than you think.” You just smiled a Sunoo’s statement.

You needed money to rebuild the barn. You needed to hire new workers to manage the ranch. It could all be solved with money, but the problem is you don’t have much of it.

Ever since your parents died few years ago, your brother took over the management of the estate.

But what can Heeseung do when half of his life was into car racing? Even you don’t know how to run a ranch because your job is making different kinds of delicious bread. Before you and Heeseung could even realize it, the inheritance your parents left you both was slowly falling apart.

And now you and your brother wanted to save the precious land. You would give all the earning from the bakeshop just to make it work, but it was just wasn’t enough. You and Heeseung tried going to the banks, but they turned you down every time you tried. Your brother doesn’t want your house or land as collateral.

You were thankful for the people working for your shop as they wholeheartedly give you their support.

“Thank you for comforting my, guys. Don’t worry, if everything settles down, I’ll definitely throw a party.” They all cheered as you smiled.

You went out to fix the displays in the counter. You didn’t notice someone passing by, making you bump into them.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, realizing that you bumped into a woman. She quickly brushed off the area you bumped into and gave you a sharp look.

“Next time, watch where you’re going.” She turned to look at the person next to her and whispered.

“Sunghoon, let’s go?”

You felt like you were turned into stone and it looks like Sunghoon felt the same way. It seems like he was frozen in place where he stood, his gaze solely fixed on you.

But it seemed like you’re mistaken because when you looked closely at the man, his face had no expression at all.

He had changed, but not really. He was still the same Sunghoon. Only stronger, leaner, harder, darker, and more attractive. It scared you, he scared you. Yet, you wanted to reach out and talk to him. But to your utter dismay, he just walked past you. And before you knew, he was long gone. Again.

Sunghoon kept telling himself that he was not a stalker, but it had been five days and this was his fifth time your bakeshop. He just couldn’t go inside. So for those five days, he contented himself with parking in front of your shop, and watching from inside his car.

When he saw you again, he had a big idea in mind, and yes, that was the reason why he kept going to your bakeshop. Sadly, he would always go home without seeing you.

He couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between you and your employees. Their table wasn’t that far from the counter so it was inevitable. He was surprised that you didn’t notice him right away. But if Sunghoon were to talk about surprising things, what he heard was even more surprising.

It looked like karma found its way to Lee Heeseung. He should be happy about it and somehow, he was.

Heeseung took something from him, someone important, so Sunghoon should take someone important from him too.

A sister for a sister. An eye for an eye.

He glanced at his watch and told himself that this should be the perfect time. He got out of his car and walked straight towards the bakeshop. It was already past eight o’clock, but the bakeshop was still almost full.

He noticed the two service crew he saw last time, staring at him, but they immediately turned their backs on him. He approached them.

“Told you, the person inside the black car that is always parked in front of the shop isn’t a bad person. Look at him, he’s too handsome to be a bad person.” He heard the girl he assumed the name was Ningning.

“Seriously? Just because someone isn’t physically attractive doesn’t mean they’re a bad person, you know? And not everyone who looks good is automatically good. You’re being too judgmental.” Sunoo rebuked.

“And what thing could he possibly do, huh?” Ningning asked sarcastically.

“Hello? Ever heard of the saying ‘looks can be deceiving’?” Sunghoon tried not to smirk. Because their backs were facing him, they weren’t able to notice him approaching a while ago.

“Excuse me?” He said, gaining attention from the two. Ningning turned around, her eyes slightly widened.

“Yes, Sir? How can we help you?” Despite the surprise, she quickly regained her composure.

Sunghoon gave her a slight smile. “Um, I’m looking for Y/n. Is she here?” He noticed the two exchanged glances as Ningning seemed a bit hesitant before responding.

“May I ask what’s your relation to Miss Y/n, Sir?”

“I’m a friend. I’d like to have a word with her.”

“Miss Y/n is still in her office.” He saw her co-worker elbowed her, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. “If you’d like, you can have a seat while waiting for her.”

“Okay, Thank you.” He said, walking around the shop to find a comfortable seat. And he couldn’t help but to overhear their conversation once again.

“Friend? Then why am I just seeing him now?”

“I don’t know. He seems nice to me even though he looks a bit harsh.”

“Oh well. Good thing Jake is not here or else he might get jealous.”

For some godforsaken reason, he found his heart tightening at the name he just heard. Who was this Jake guy that might get jealous over him? Is it your Suitor? Boyfriend? Fiance? Sunghoon clenched his jaw. Just imagining another man touching a strand of your inky black hair made him feel sick.

He sat on an empty table near the counter and patiently waited there.

“Ningning, Sunoo, I’m leaving. Will you two be alright staying?” Said the enticing voice near the counter. He glanced over and saw you there.

“Call me whenever something happened, alright? I’ll get going.”

“Oh, Y/n! someone is looking for you.” Ningning said before she forgot. Your brows furrowed as you looked Ningning with a puzzled expression.

“Who?”

Sunghoon stood up and spoke. “Me.” He watched your eyes grow wide with shock as he walked towards you. “Can we talk?”

“I… Of course.” You absent-mindedly nodded. You pointed at the room where you came from. “Let’s go to my office.”

The air tensed up the moment you both entered your office. You sat on your chair as Sunghoon took the visitor’s chair. His eyes were trained on your face while you were looking down on your lap. No one dared to speak. It was dead quiet inside the room, a silent standstill.

Sunghoon decided not to make rhings more awkward. “It’s been a while Y/n.” Great, you suck at opening conversations, man. He honestly wanted to smack himself.

You looked up and your eyes met. “Yeah, it has been a while. How are you?” You slightly smiled at him.

“I’m doing great. You? How are you? I heard your having problems at the ranch.” He paused at what he said. It made him wonder if he was rushing the conversation.

“How did you know?” You asked hesitantly. “The town is a small place, Y/n.” She firmly pressed her lips together. For someone sweet and innocent-looking, you could be fiery too.

“Yes, there’s a big problem at the ranch, but it would be solved in no time.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at the intensity he heard in your voice. “According to what I’ve heard, you were having troubles finding the money needed to fix things on your ranch. So, I came here to offer a proposal.” He leaned on the chair and watched your confused face. You were always this transparent, it’s likely that you now think he’s going crazy.

“What proposal?” You asked with confusion written all over your face.

“I will lend the money you need for the ranch, but you have to marry me.” His simple answer seemed like he was just inviting you to go out ang have a picnic. You looked at him with an unreadable expression before you respond.

“I’m going to what?!”

“You heard me.” He knew it was unnecessary because she could always reach him if she wanted to. But Sunghoon still took a business card from his wallet and placed it on the table.

“I want you to think about it. Call me whenever you made up your mind.”

You stood up from your seat and looked at him with hard eyes. “If you’re just playing around like you used to do, just leave, Sunghoon. Don’t waste my time.”

He also stood up to remind you of the significant height difference you both had.

“I’m not fooling around, Y/n. I’m dead serious.”

“Then why? Why would you want to marry me?” You asked, still stunned be his offer.

“For revenge, I guess? I’ll lend your dear brother the money to help with the recovery of your ranch. But after that, you will cut ties with him. You can’t meet him nor even talk to him.” He took a deep breath before letting out the next heavy words.

“He took my sister from me, I will take you away from him. It’s my kind of revenge.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked but once again quickly turned serious. “Whose fault is that?”

“Why would you think would I agree to that?” You tilted you chin up, trying to defy him. Too bad, it was futile. The corner of his mouth went up again. “Because you’ve got no other option.”

“You’re insane.”

“Crazy? Insane? Well, maybe you could come up with something more colorful after this.” He grabbed your nape and captured you sinfully pink lips. The table wasn’t able to hinder him from giving you something that would shake your world.

—

Your heart was pounding as you proceeded to enter your house. You still couldn’t believe what just happened thirty minutes ago. The Sunghoon whom you secretly love, and the friend who suddenly left you and your brother returned to shake up your world once again.

One slap wasn’t enough for what he did to you. And he has the audacity to be the one walking out after his recklessness.

You touched your lips. Until now, you still feel the young man’s kiss and the warmth of his lips brushing against yours. It was a shocking first time and definitely a memorable one. But despite all that, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

You took a deep breath before walking to the kitchen to get something to drink. But on your way, your gaze drifted towards the study room. The room was slightly ajar. You approached and entered.

You saw your brother sitting on the swivel chair with his eyes closed. He looks beat and tired and it pained you. If there’s only something you could do to help solve this problem, you had already done it.

Then it hit you. You could do something to help you dear brother and fix the problem. Only, there was a price to pay.

It has already been ten years since Sunghoon’s sister died. Maybe it’s time for you to do something to make him forgive your brother and move on. Maybe you could at least give him a bit of happiness, maybe you could do something to bring him back to his old self.

You glanced at your brother. Please, trust me on this.

It would be hard, you knew. But you needed to do something to save them all.

“We’re here,” Sunghoon announced. “Nervous?”

You looked out the car window and surveyed the grand mansion that would become your new home. Your heart was racing, and you felt like your heartbeat was at one hundred and seventy bars per minute. You felt nauseous, your hands were badly sweating and you were having a hard time breathing.

No, you weren’t nervous. You were having an anxiety attack.

Sunghoon unbuckled your seatbelt before holding your face with both hands, waiting for to look into his eyes. His eyes were dark and sensual. Nope, it didn’t help you calm down a bit.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” He asked with concern in his voice. He felt your forehead and neck as if checking if you had a fever.

You felt electricity ran through your body because of his touch. Feeling as if you were burning, you pulled away from him and averted your gaze somewhere else.

“I’m fine. It’s just that, this was all so sudden.” You noticed his expression darken from the corner of your eyes.

“Then get used to it because you’re my wife starting today.”

Before you could even respond, he already exited the car and opened the passenger side door for you. He took the duffle bag containing a few pieces of your clothes. He then held your hand as you both walked towards the mansion.

“Don’t be so stiff, Y/n. There’s no way I would hurt you, you know?”

You knew Sunghoon was telling the truth, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. He wouldn’t hurt you, he said. Still, he had the power to, especially now that you were married.

It all happened so fast. Just last week you were still a Lee, and you still couldn’t believe that you are now Mrs. Park.

After that night, you went to your bakery and called Sunghoon the next morning. And a week later, you were now married. No entourage, reception or whatsoever.

After the civil wedding with the judge that Sunghoon knew, you went straight to the mansion, you didn’t even manage to say goodbye to your brother who was currently not in korea.

At the mansion’s door, you were both greeted by Aunt Chul, the house keeper. Sunghoon and his sister had nannies when they were children, but they remained closest to the woman.

“Dear!” Aunt Chul greeted you as she gave you a warm hug, then gently held your face as she pulled away.

“How are you? It has been so long and you grew beautifully, Dear.”

Despite everything, you were able to put a happy and genuine smile on your face. “Thank you, Auntie. I’m doing great, and you?”

“Oh, I’m not getting any younger, dear! I think I can count the remaining black hairs I have left.” The woman joked, laughing slightly.

“You still look great, Auntie.” You smiled at her, shaking you head slightly.

“You’re still the same old playful one, aren’t you?” she teased. “Now come get inside, I prepared you both something to eat.”

She turned to Sunghoon and looked at him. “Let me take that bag, son.”

“Oh, no. We can handle this, Auntie. Thank you.” He said embracing the elderly person.

“My wife and I are just going to have a talk before we eat.” You froze when you heard him say the word ‘wife’. Yes, there’s no mistaking it. You really are Park Sunghoon’s wife.

When you glanced at the woman, there’s not a trace of surprise marred her serene face, which puzzled you.

“Alright, you know where to go when you two want to eat.” She smiled softly.

Sunghoon guided you upstairs to the room where you’re staying.

The room was definitely Sunghoon, very neat and manly. The walls were painted white, accommodating the rich hue of the big bed and built-in cabinets. Everything was well placed and clean.

“You may find my room dull and boring.” He said as he placed your bag on the side of the dresser. “But you may refurnish it however you like. Have the walls painted, the curtains changed. Just don’t put too much pink.”

You blushed at what he said, you were a girl who has a deep obsession with color pink ever since. And it seems like he still remembers that about you. But as much as you wanted to renovate the room and make it appear more your style, you wouldn’t do so. You liked the room as it was.

You didn’t notice Sunghoon approaching, so you gasped when you felt your husband pulling you by the waist closer to him.

“Let’s talk.”

“Y-yes, of course – Sunghoon!” You let out a small scream as the strong man lifted you up, and you had no choice but to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Sunghoon, what the hell are you doing?”

“I was supposed to carry you over the threshold, but I knew that you would snap at me if Aunt Chul sees us.” He answered with a gorgeous grin on his face. For a minute, he looked like the boy you used to know.

The guy you used to love.

But no matter how handsome the young man appeared to you now, you still couldn’t stop the seething the anger in your heart towards him.

“And you think I wouldn’t do that now? I did that once before, I could do it again.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m more prepared this time.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes. He dropped you onto the bed and hovered above you. You gasped for air when you felt his hard body on top of yours. You were sure that when you entered this room, the AC was on, but for some reason the air became thick and hot and filled with desire.

“I t-thought we’re going to talk?” Your voice was shaky and far different from you challenging voice earlier.

“We are. We’ll talk like this.” He lowered his head and nestled into your neck. You had never been intimate with any man. This was new to you. Your heart was beating wildly and you afraid Sunghoon would hear it.

You felt so warm, it was as if your bones were melting. It felt good to be this close to him. And he had been hugging you for a while now. He was the only man who could make you feel extreme emotions.

“I told them about us.” You heard him mumble, his hot breath licking your cold neck.

“You… what?” You asked, disoriented.

“I told everyone in this house about us. Even my dad that’s currently in Japan.” He lifted his head and looked at you as if you as if he wanted to know what you were thinking, if not to absorb your very soul.

“You told them about our agreement?”

“No, I only told them that we were getting married. That I couldn’t wait about Dad’s arrival. That we saw each other again, and instantly fell in love. So make sure to be a loving wife to me, especially in front of them.”

As if he needed to say it. “Of course. But I hope you don’t forget about the other part of the agreement. The money, Sunghoon. I need it.”

“I didn’t forget about that. I’ll give it to your brother as soon as I see him.”

“Glad to hear tha—“

Sunghoon slowly lowered his head, your eyes widened. “Wait, what are you-“

“You’re mine, Y/n. Including your body.” He said with his tempting mouth.

You wanted to stop him and tell him to stop what he was doing, but no words came out of your lips. Instead, a sound coming from your stomach halted your husband’s advances. You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or thankful. You were saved, not by the bell, but by your tummy.

God! Sunghoon didn’t need to smile, amusement was in his eyes.

“Maybe we should eat first.” Sunghoon withdrew from being pressed against you, stood up, and extended his hand towards you.

“Come.” You hesitantly took his hand and stood up as well, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Do you still know the way to the dining room?” He asked as you refused to meet his gaze, just nodding in response.

“Do you mind going there alone? I just needed to call someone. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

You just nodded again and quickly left the room. Usually, after the wedding comes the honeymoon. Or in your case, funnymoon.

—

The moment you—or rather, his wife—stepped outside, Sunghoon finally let go of the smile he had been holding back.

Yes, you had become matured and become tough over the past few years, but in many ways, you still hadn’t really changed. You were still funny, cute, adorable, and his.

His previously bright face was now replaced by a blank expression. Finally, Heeseung would experience what it was like to lose someone important to him. The only difference is that no one would die.

He wouldn’t hurt you, at least, not intentionally ang physically. Never. Heeseung was still lucky that Sunghoon had some semblance of a heart left.

All he wanted was to emotionally torture him. He would make his heart bleed in sorrow, until he would beg him to stop.

And that would start now.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number. On the third ring, the person he was trying to reach answered.

“Yes, hello?”

His grip on the device tightened upon hearing the voice of the man he despises.

“Heeseung.”

He could taste the bitterness in his own voice. The man on the other line wasn’t able to respond immediately, so he continued.

“I heard you’re not in korea right now.”

“No, I’m not. What do you need, Sunghoon?”

He asked directly, without preamble.

Nothing, you’re the one who’s going to need something from me.

“Nothing, really. But if I were you, I’d go back to korea right now.”

He could already see the furrow on his former friend’s face. Soon he would face his range, but instead of being afraid, he would actually be glad to see it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s Y/n. She left your house and she’s with me now. Too bad you weren’t there when she left.”

It was a shame for Sunghoon the he couldn’t see firsthand how the person on the other line is reacting.

He bet it would be priceless.

“You son of a bitch. What did you do to her?!”

He heard the grinding of his interlocutor’s teeth making him chuckle sarcastically.

“You asshole!”

“Yeah, Heeseung. Curse me all you want, but I’ll make sure that you will never get see your sister again. I will make you pay for all the things you did. Prepare yourself because I will take you to the hell you put me through.”

He ended the call. With his hands shaking, he exhaled sharply. He forced himself to calm down before he began to walk out of the room.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to the dining room just yet. He’s still feeling the anger coursing through his body, and he didn’t want anyone to see him like that, especially you.

But when he saw your beautiful face with a smile plastered on it while chatting with Aunt Chul, the heavy emotions enveloping him suddenly dissipated.

While looking at you glowing face, he lost the bitterness and pain that he had been feeling. Your bright smile simply made the pain go away. He was certain of what he was feeling. About his fear ang pain going away.

He took a deep breath once again ang approached the two, specifically you. He leaned down and kissed you on the forehead, disregarding the watchful eyes of the elderly person nearby.

“What are you two talking about?” He asked. Aunt Chul smiled at him and seemed to chat with him like a child.

“I never knew Y/n had a bakeshop in town. If I’m not mistaken, one of the helpers bought the bread I liked there. Turns out Y/n was the owner.”

He sat beside you and held your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Yeah, her pastries and sweets are indeed famous in town.” He stated, smiling proudly.

“Y/n also told me the she hasn’t had a boyfriend. She had suitors, but didn’t accept any of them.” The woman gossiped.

“Auntie!” You playfully reprimanded the her.

Sunghoon threw a glance at you. “Oh?”

His face lit up, secretly smiling to himself. So it was likely that the guy named Jake whom your employees were referring to was you suitor. He suddenly felt relieved. He glanced at your plate that is still empty.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” He asked you as you shook your head in response.

“Not yet. I was busy chatting with auntie.”

“Tell you what, Sunghoon. Your wife was just really waiting for you to come here.” Aunt Chul remarked.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two love birds alone to enjoy your food.”

Once the two of you were left alone, Sunghoon couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face.

“So, you were waiting for me, huh?” He said teasingly.

“I wasn’t waiting for you. The conversation with Auntie just really hit the spot.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s eat.”

They ate in silence. You sat beside him quietly with your head bowed as you eat. You were like some kind of a shy teenager sitting next to her crush.

Sunghoon smiled a little as he remembered their happy memories. You were just like this back then when you two are being teased together. You would blush furiously and he just enjoy the teasing.

“I’ll go upstairs to take a shower ang get changed.” You said after he was done eating.

But before you could fully stand up, he pulled you back into the chair and bestowed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Please don’t tempt me like that.” Your eye widened and your lips parted in surprise. Your face reddened and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. You quickly stood up and rushed away from him.

Well, it was useless since no matter what you do, you were already his. Nothing could ever separate you from him, not even your brother.

Sunghoon’s smile faded, and his eyes grew cold.

You would be forever his, and you had no idea of what the future lies ahead of you.

[yandere-toons]

Matthew Patel

Romantic Headcanons - Yandere

WARNING: violence, death, implied stalking, mentions of religious concepts, toxic mindset.

From the moment you invite Matthew into your life, he will carry that memory to his deathbed. The bond you forged that day is unbreakable and immortal for him: he will go blind to all other reasons for living, consumed with rage at your absence, and ecstatic at any sign of your favour.

Talk of other suitors sends Matthew into a frenzy from which he will not emerge until this obstacle to his happiness is laid low. Dispute over the value of certain traits leaves Matthew resentful—of himself for not being better, of the other person for possessing what he lacks, and of the universe for cursing him with such horrid luck.

When such a person speaks your name, Matthew is driven by his own insecurities to loathe them. The sound of their voice becomes like a cheese grater to his ears, a reminder of how close he is to losing his world for the second time, and from thence into a sound he will fight to the death to silence.

The look of this person, particularly when they light up at the mere mention of you and receive such a look in kind, is a ghastly thing. Matthew's takeaway is one of doubt and bad memories, of all the similarities to Ramona's waning interest that he had been too immature and inattentive to rectify. He vows not to make the same mistake twice.

Seemingly overnight, Matthew transforms from a brooding presence lurking in your shadow to a wellspring of offers to solve even the smallest of issues. He makes a habit of dropping to one knee and delivering a Pagliacci-esque soliloquy about how deep his affection runs, professing that you've become his whole world and that to lose you would leave him with nothing.

Despite your promise not to "betray" him, as Matthew so graciously puts it, he fears it would be a mistake to let his guard down. He believes you were sincere at the time, but Ramona's flippant attitude has left him anxious that you may change your tune and turn your back on him for no apparent reason.

For years, Matthew sought answers as to why she hurt him: on bad days, he blames her for playing with his emotions; on worse days, he blames himself for not trying hard enough to become someone she wanted. Now that he has another shot at human connection, this earth will burn before it slips away from him.

Matthew's actions arise from a peculiar sense of justice: he views himself as retribution sent down upon all those who have wronged you. By daring to replace him, their way of looking after you is inherently and unforgivably flawed. Someone who could, in reality, be quite decent will devolve in his mind into a parasite who takes advantage of you.

Whether they are cruel or kind-hearted, what obsesses Matthew and keeps him stewing for potentially years is the notion that they've robbed him of his one chance at happiness. So long as they keep you company, he sees his future darkening.

What should be a private affair, Matthew turns into a spectacle: he takes to the stage in his most flamboyant attire and declares war, goading his enemy to meet their doom at his hand. Everything, from the venue to the battle itself, is a power play, a performance art in which he displays his prowess for all to admire and envy.

Once he has struck the first blow, there is no version of events where Matthew shows mercy or admits defeat. The harder they fight, the prouder he is to butcher them. Their death will be a triumph, a testament to the fact that he is strong enough to win this war. Anyone who rolls over in the face of his challenge must not be truly committed to you and therefore deserves to feel his wrath for stringing you along.

Coming to over the shiny remains of his enemy, Matthew forgets his rage and revells in the thought of having the sole being who brings him happiness. Ready to pick up where he left off and confident he's earned that right, Matthew throws himself at you and proclaims how thrilled he is to be together again.

Matthew struggles to move beyond the past and to envision a future where he is alone. Having spent much of his life pursuing others, Matthew has no concept of living for himself. He stakes his survival on the volume of applause at the end of every performance, and in the home environment, his tendency to cling to petty recognition has taken root in all interactions.

This emotional hunger reveals itself in the unnecessary extremes to which Matthew proves his devotion, convinced that the obsequious nature of his company and continual sacrifices gives them meaning. He jumps at every opportunity to be near you, no exceptions, afraid that missing even one will be termed neglect and spell the ruin of his life with you.

At his best, Matthew is an unrelenting thespian who serenades you with ballads and calligraphic poetry. But at his worst, he is an unstable and violent creature full of pent-up rage, who conspires with Daemonettes to bind your soul to his, making it virtually impossible to give him up for another.

[purplesoulcollection]

Hello, are you busy right now?? I want to request oneshot when Deon jealous x reader

I won't force you, you can do this in your free time. Thank you~😊

Thx for the consideration. I write this in my unexpected free time.

Hope you like this

Deon kept reminding himself that he wasn't jealous, even as he felt a surge of anger at the sight of someone getting too close to Y/N, she talks to him too friendly even lean to him to explaining what was written with her finger tracing the paper to the person. That person seemed completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him because they still busy talk face to face.

He was in a state of turmoil, with no intention of holding back the fierce protectiveness he felt for Y/N. To him, she was his and his alone.

He never imagined that jealousy could creep into his heart, especially when he had someone he cherished and wanted to keep safe by his side.

Jealousy had never been part of his life; it was a feeling he thought he would never experience. It was a luxury he had never known.

From the start, he had battled feelings of despair due to a troubled past. He harbored resentment towards those who had thrust him into a conflict he never wished to join.

Even before the war, he struggled with self-doubt, feeling inadequate because of his frail body and the striking difference in his appearance—white hair and red eyes—compared to his family's dark hair and green eyes.

This mix of inferiority and bitterness made Deon a potentially volatile individual, especially when it came to love and the jealousy that could arise from it.

A newfound awareness of his instincts hit him like a jolt, causing him to flinch at the unsettling sensation that prickled the back of his neck. His body temperature plummeted, and a chill swept over him, making him shiver with fear.

Like a frightened animal trapped in the presence of a hunter, he finally caught sight of Deon. There was no smile on Deon's face; his lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes glimmered with a menacing light, his brows furrowed as if he were contemplating how to inflict pain before delivering a final blow.

In that moment, the realization struck him hard: he was in deep trouble. Deon's reputation loomed large, feared in both the human realm and the demon realm.

He swallowed hard, his mouth trembling as he mustered the courage to excuse himself from Y/N and make a hasty retreat, leaving them alone together.

"You frightened him, Deon; he was just inquiring about work," Y/N said, shooting a disapproving look at Deon, her hands firmly on her hips. She was well aware of his tactics, recognizing the subtle threats behind his jealousy.

Deon asserted, "He's the one in the wrong here, so why am I the one being blamed? He's just too familiar." He spoke firmly, though he couldn't bring himself to meet Y/N's intense gaze.

"Really? You say that when everyone knows about our relationship? Only a fool would think they could handle you," Y/N replied, playfully fluttering her eyelids, signaling her teasing mood.

Deon, realizing the implication, looked at Y/N and said, "But you need to deal with me first, Y/N. I won’t get jealous if you don’t act all friendly with him." He stepped closer, causing Y/N to instinctively back away, unsure of his intentions. His voice dropped to a low growl, adding an intimidating edge.

"Hey, you're blaming me! I'm innocent, Deon!" Y/N retorted, attempting to escape his grasp.

However, Deon had already cornered her. Their faces were mere inches apart, forcing Y/N to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His other hand gripped her waist firmly, leaving her unable to turn away.

"Y/N, don’t try to make me jealous. You really won’t like the outcome," Deon warned before he kissed her passionately, both of them losing themselves in the moment.

The bottom line: Avoid making Deon jealous; the world isn’t prepared for that. He’s the kind of guy who would go to great lengths for Y/N, his morals long since twisted. After all, she’s the reason he still fights to stay alive in this world. (Please to keep stay in fiction story, Deon)

The End

Sorry for the hiatus, Writer's block and lazy and desire to only read is so strong...

[yunsound]

Pop Culture Chinese Mythology? : The Heaven Haters Boy Band

I first introduced the Heaven Haters boy band in my Erlang Shen post, but it’s a recent meme that describes Ne Zha, Sun Wukong and Erlang Shen as the 反天庭三人组, or the Anti-Heavenly Court Trio. A little like the 3 Musketeers.

I already included this art in a different post but it just goes so hard.

Artist 万葉皆秋 on Xiaohongshu and Douyin

I’m sure you can learn about Sun Wukong from more qualified people than me, but some shameless self-promo:

My Ne Zha post

My Erlang Shen post

My Investiture of the Gods post

I recommend either reading all 3 of these, or at least the first two, or doing some research into these myths before you can understand the power of the Heaven Haters boy band.

Keep in mind the Heaven Haters boy band is mostly headcanons and memes. While these three characters do all rebel against heaven, they all ultimately concede defeat to ultimate authority: Wukong gets properly humbled by the Buddha and the monk Tangsen (Read JTTW to know who Tangsen is), Erlang Shen and Ne Zha eventually become the Heavenly Court’s special ops squad.

Heaven Haters boy band is still funny though, and they genuinely do all hold resentment for heaven. 

I’ll make clear how and why the various members of the Heaven Haters boy band rebel against heaven.

Sun Wukong:

This is fairly obvious. His most famous story is literally called Havoc in Heaven 大闹天宫 (or more literally, Tantrum in Heaven)

He was literally born with Rebellion as his middle name. First thing he does upon gaining power is rampaging his entire way through the East China Sea Dragon King’s entire palace for fancy weapons. (This, by the way, is Ao Guang, Ao Bing’s dad.)

Then he goes and smashes up the heavenly palace. Then he literally FIGHTS HIS WAY THROUGH HELL and erases his name off the list of the dead. Soloed 100,000 of the Heavenly Court’s soldiers and won (actually I don't remember if this was in the original JTTW or if it's a plot point from a recent movie adaptation, but either way it's a pretty well-known part of his story).

Erlang Shen:

This seems subtler since he works for the Heavenly Court, and his uncle is the Jade Emperor, the head honcho. However, he still disobeyed the direct Heavenly Mandate to trap his mom under a mountain, and he split the mountain in half to save her.

Erlang is more of the cold, calculated type- if you offend him or try to fuck him over, he’ll ruin your life, but otherwise he couldn’t be bothered. In fact, even though he helps the Heavenly Court, he only does so for big opponents like Wukong- day-to-day tasks that his position requires, he totally ignores.

His uncle struggles to control him, and has resigned himself to just letting Erlang Shen do whatever the fuck he wants.

Ne Zha:

Although Ne Zha isn’t as strong as the other two, he’s still one of the strongest in the entire Heavenly Court. He’s the type to throw hands first and talk later. He’s more obedient to the Heavenly Court than Erlang or Wukong, but he’s probably actually done the worst thing out of the three of them: try to commit patricide.

This is a HUGE no-no in Chinese culture, which prioritises filial piety over almost everything else. Erlang Shen splitting the mountain in half to save his mother (and directly disobeying Heaven) isn’t as bad as Ne Zha trying to kill his dad.

I’m not going to blame him, since Li Jing is a bit of a dick, but if Li Jing didn’t have that powerful pagoda the Buddha gave him, Ne Zha would set him on fire in a heartbeat.

In battle, Erlang is what you would call a homing missile, Wukong is a tactical nuke, and Ne Zha is a bunch of cluster bombs. Erlang is precise and deadly, Wukong is… Wukong, and Ne Zha does not discriminate in who he wants to beat up. Surprisingly, out of these three, even though Wukong is the one famous for throwing a huge tantrum, he’s probably the most reasonable and gentle one.

Let me put it this way: would you rather deal with a murderous iPad kid on (actually) flaming Hot Wheels roller skates who punches first and asks questions later, a sadistic royal warrior who can split you open from inside (NOT THAT WAY, get your heads out of the gutter),

Or a feral monkey that you can placate just by calling him a bunch of fancy nicknames?

I'll just say that neither Ne Zha nor Erlang Shen would be tricked into putting on a cursed set of clothes to control them. I'd MUCH rather deal with Wukong as an enemy. Worst case scenario I die painfully anyway, so I'd like to at least have a chance to pull out the fancy nicknames and appease him.

See, this is the reason they sent Wukong to go on the Journey to the West and not Ne Zha or Erlang. I don’t think they would’ve made it two steps on the way before the other two beat Tangsen to death just for looking at them the wrong way. 

Also another thing that’s funny is their names technically line up.

Sun Wukong’s title: Qitian Dasheng 齐天大圣 Great Sage Equal to Heaven

Erlang Shen’s title: 二郎神 Godly Second Son

Ne Zha’s title: 哪吒三太子 Ne Zha the Third Prince

So… 大圣二郎三太子... Great Sage, Second Son, Third Prince. 

This is funny because this is the reverse order of their ages. Ne Zha is the oldest, Erlang is the second oldest, and Wukong is the youngest.

Also funny is that Erlang and Wukong are the strongest and Ne Zha is weaker despite being younger. Not much you can do against Monkey King hacks.

It’s debatable who’s stronger between Wukong and Erlang. Technically it’s Erlang- he’s beaten Wukong before, albeit with help and while Wukong was trying to protect others. 

Between the three strongest mythological characters (in popular culture, there are others stronger), their stats are:

11 eyes

10 arms

0 parents

10 billion various side characters killed

If you recall, Wukong was born out of a rock. Ne Zha’s mom is probably dead by now. He also already has “returned his flesh and bones to his parents” by cutting himself apart and committing suicide for his dad, so technically he and Li Jing aren’t father and son anymore. I actually don’t know if Erlang’s mom is still alive but his dad is definitely dead.

There’s a funny saying in Chinese: 一块石头两斤藕，三只眼睛栓条狗

One rock, two lotus roots, three eyes and a dog. 

That’s all it takes to make the Heavenly Court shiver in fear LMAO. Basically the equivalent of a toddler, a monkey and a Californian dog dad. 

In essence, I stan the Heaven Haters boy band more than any other K-pop group, sorry Stray Kids. I'm not going to lie though, Erlang Shen is definitely a smash. Ne Zha... IDK, not exactly my type (unless its the recent Jiaozi movie Ne Zha). Wukong is a monkey but I can definitely see the appeal for some people I guess.

Keep in mind for the Wukong simps that in most adaptations, since he is... well, a monkey, he speaks with the Chinese equivalent of a heavy Cockney accent. Do with that what you will.

[celaenaeiln]

What are you favorite things about Dickkory?

Please and Thank You☺️

SO. MANY. THINGS!!!

Where do I start?!

Their freedom

Their dedication

Their dynamic

Ok so my favorite thing - well one of three favorite things - about Dick and Kory is that they just let each other be who they are.

What I mean is Dick never tells Kori she has to look a certain way, act a certain way, or talk a certain way. Obviously he's going to stop her from killing people but he loves her for who she is.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

This means the WORLD to me because EVERYONE loves Kori for her body canonically. Like every single guy is just so turned on by her looks but for Dick that doesn't matter. He loves her wholely and purely. I'm tearing up a little by how much respect he gives her.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #71

You have no idea how happy his words make me. He never ever EVER blames Kori for the way she dresses or restricts her in any fashion. He's always extremely supportive of her. If she wants to do modeling? He's all for it. If she wants to go dancing? He's right there with her. She wants to try something new? He's helping her. He is SUCH a supportive boyfriend in everything she does. The killing is still off-limits ofcourse but everything else he loves her so much. He loves her for who she is not how she looks.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #71

He NEVER puts her down. And she never puts him down. They're supportive. And this I can appreciate even more because some of Dick's other love interests have it out for him. They get some type of power play about digging open his insecurities and throwing his faults in his face but not her. He's aware of his own faults, he doesn't need that to be used as a weapon against him like some more modern love interests do. Kori's understanding and loving and in response to that Dick treats her like a queen.

That's the first reason. The second reason is they help each other.

Dick can be difficult to deal with because he locks his emotions away. When he feels stressed he isolates himself because he doesn't want to talk to anyone about how he's feeling. But Kori? She doesn't resent him for that. She actually patiently tries to get him to open up. She's understanding and loving of him and his situation. I love them because when things get hard they don't just abandon each other, move on, and then get back together again after they've solved their own problems alone - no. They work hard to work through it together.

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

Dick and Kori come from vastly different cultures and have different beliefs so this causes problems. Here Dick's contemplating settling down with Kori because of how she kills people.

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #13

But in the face of it all, losing her is imporant to him that their difference in values

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #14

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #15

The thing about Dick and Kori having problems is that it's inspiring. Like you see all the troubles they faced, all the hardships, differences, and difficulties they went and it's amazing. Because Dick and Kori come from two different world. Literally. But they worked hard on their relationship. They worked through their differences because they loved each other so much that they wanted to stay together.

We could've have Dick and Kory forever if the real life Batman office writers hadn't broken off their wedding because they wanted to take Dick away from the Titans and give him to Batman. Do you realize what this means? If DC writers Dick hadn't been ripped away and Kori hadn't been disparaged by them, we would STILL be reading about Dick and Kory now. They would've been married and had kids by now.

But that brings me to my point - their love is amazing because they worked on the things that were different. It's awe-inspiring to love someone so much that you'll stay with them through anything.

Dickkory is my number one romantic pair for this reason. The problems that Dick has faced in his subsequent relationships is NOTHING compared to what he worked through with Kori. Which is why it frustrates me when a love interest abandons him at first stirrings of trouble because "hello? what you're getting now is cleaned up dick grayson. This is like playing a game on easy mode and still failing. If you can't be there for him when he has his act together, how could you ever be there for him when he's truly struggling?"

Going back to the scene at hand, Dick still stays with Kori but Kori is forced to marry another man at her father's orders and this is what breaks them apart. Because Kori is married to Ryand'r and Dick loves her. But despite this?

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #32

For Dick on the other hand it takes a case for him to understand -

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #34

But he gets it.

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #34

They come back stronger than ever.

Their love is the greatest romance of the ages for this reason. Your partner is your confidant. When the whole world turns against you, YOU need to be there by their side and they need to stand by you through everything. If you suddenly go from being rich to dirt poor, your parents abandon you, your friends betray you - the greatest love is standing with your partner through everything.

And Dick loves Kori for this too

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #44

And that's what they embody and that's why I respect them.

Their relationship isn't a shattered vase glued together, their relationship is a muscle growth. You exercise, you stress the muscle and tear it. It causes you pain but that tear heals and the result is a stronger muscle and a healtier and fitter body. They're just so great.

So the second reason was their dedication to each other. The third reason is I love their dynamic!!

Kori is aggressive and strong but loving where as Dick is softer and strong but loving. It's like a girlboss and powerful malewife dynamic. Dick is phsycially shorter and smaller than Kori and Kori taller than him. They way she carries him around and touches him and holds him?!

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #15

The way that Dick gets so jealous and tries to show off for Kori only for his mount to slip off the cliff is so cute!! To everyone Dick is this cool, sexy, intelligent, perfect figure. The only time he gets childlishly jealous and reckless is when he's with Kori. And then having Kori bridal carry him after his mistake is just priceless.

But Dick doesn't begrudge Kori for this. What I love about Dick loving Kori is that he loves her for her power.

The Flash (1987) Issue #81

Dick thirsting for people who can pick him up and throw him around will always be my favorite part of him.

"I love that in a woman."

Yeah, Dick, we can hear that loud and clear. See it too.

LIKE LOOK AT THIS!!!-

Dark Knights of Steel Issue #7

With Kori there's no hesitation to give Dick affirmation.

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #50

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #2

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #49

Everyone in the entirety of DC knows that Dick is exceedingly pretty. Even villains regularly call him out on it. But it's SO nice to hear his girlfriend tell him that in such an honest and nice non-sleezy way. And that's my probably most favorite thing about them. This girlboss/malewife dynamic they have going on. They're equals but it's not the usual dynamic where the guy showers the girl with compliments and she's satisfied back. She tells him of her own volition how much she loves him and how beautiful he looks. She carries him around and is aggressive in their love. And I just love that so much.

Their love overall is just off the charts.

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #39

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #38

Teen Titans Spotlight (1988) Issue #19

The New Teen Titans (1984) Issue #10