#does this make sense. or answer your question
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syrecjh · 3 days ago
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Okay, but imagine the reader casually blurting out to Katsuki that she’s pregnant—just totally random sksksk
The kitchen was loud with the usual mess of voices, laughter echoing off the walls like music only they could understand. Mina was talking too fast about bikinis, Sero was already volunteering to bring a cooler twice his size, and Kaminari was arguing with Kirishima about who'd make the better grill master — as if either of them had cooked anything that wasn’t instant noodles in the past year.
You leaned against the counter, slicing up fruit with practiced ease, half-listening and half-dreaming of the salt wind already. Bakugo was beside you, arms crossed, smirking like he had the whole thing figured out already. His voice, sharp but amused, cut through the chatter.
“Better bring some real liquor this time,” he muttered. “Ain’t goin’ all the way to the beach just to drink soda like a bunch of extras.”
“I can’t drink,” you said absently, dropping a slice of mango into the bowl. “You know that.”
And that was it.
That was the moment.
The knife paused mid-slice. Not your hand — his.
Katsuki went still. Not just quiet — still, like he’d been turned to stone. A breath hitched, low in his chest, and his crimson eyes flicked to you like a magnet pulled his whole soul sideways.
“
What?”
You blinked up at him, the way someone does when they realize they’ve said something that suddenly shifted the entire orbit of the conversation. But it was too late now. The words were out, weightless and quiet, but loud enough to split the sky inside him.
“I can’t drink,” you said again, softer this time. “For, y’know. Reasons.”
He swallowed. Hard.
And even with Mina cackling in the background and Kaminari arguing about bringing fireworks, the sound of your voice settled into his bones like thunder muffled in cotton. He didn’t say anything. Just stared. Mouth parting like he wanted to ask, but couldn’t find a question gentle enough to cradle the answer.
Your hand lingered on the bowl, not meeting his gaze. “It’s still early. I was gonna tell you. I mean— I guess I just did.”
His fingers twitched where they rested on the counter. Not out of panic — not Katsuki. He was still fire, still flint and grit. But he burned quieter now. In a way only you knew. In a way that meant everything he was feeling had slammed into his chest like a second heartbeat.
He didn’t ask if you were serious.
Didn’t ask if it was his — he knew.
Didn’t ask what you were going to do.
He just looked at you like something holy had cracked open between the silence. And maybe he didn’t smile — not fully, not yet — but there was something in the twitch of his mouth, the soft narrowing of his eyes, the way he stepped slightly closer to you like gravity finally made sense again.
You nudged his elbow, light and awkward. “Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not,” he said, voice low, but it wavered like a leaf in a storm. “I just
”
He broke off, dragged a hand through his hair, and let out a breath that sounded like it’d been waiting to escape for a thousand years.
“I just didn’t think I’d find out like that.”
You laughed then — really laughed. “Sorry. You know me. Great with timing.”
He looked at you for a long second, then whispered, “You always are.”
And just like that, he reached over and took a slice of mango from the bowl — popped it into his mouth like nothing had changed. Like everything had changed. And somewhere between the taste of fruit and the sound of your laugh, you saw it: the soft, stunned joy blooming quiet and slow behind his eyes.
He didn’t need to say he was happy.
He was. It lived in the way he stood closer. The way his hand brushed yours. The way, even after the beach plans and fireworks talk resumed, he kept glancing at you like you were already holding the world inside you — and maybe, in a way, you were.
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angrythingstarlight · 3 days ago
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okay but please tell me bucky had a yacht and takes mal and bee out on in the summer for a boat day
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee
A/N: Prequel to their vacation fic.
Part of the Bumblebee series.
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"This is perfect."
A few hours ago, Bucky strolled into your bedroom with Bee draped over his shoulder as he asked you if you had any plans for the weekend.
Bee was practicing bursting at the seams, trying to keep herself from telling everything he planned. The more you pretended to think it over, the closer she got to spilling her secrets. Bucky barely convinced her to wait until you gave an answer.
One saucy, playful 'actually I'm really busy' led to the two them deciding that no, no you are not before pulling you out of the house and down to the docks.
Now you're on an yacht that could double as a floating mansion.
The sun warming your legs, chasing away the lingering coolness left by the salt-tinged breeze. Lounge chairs side by side. A large navy blue umbrella casting shade over little Bee.
It's been a lazy afternoon. No worries. No responsibilities. Just basking in the sun.
Bucky told you this morning that he was going to handle everything. And he has. You haven't had to lift a finger since you stepped onboard. The hardest decision you had to make today was to pick which chair you wanted to lie on.
It's been amazing, relaxing. Even more so because you're spending the day with your two favorite people.
Bucky left to arrange lunch and bring up some fresh drinks. Ice cubes melting in the empty glass on the table next to your lounger. Your open book is discarded on your stomach, your face turned towards Bee, a soft smile pulling at your lips.
She's been talking for the past five minutes, lost in her own story. You have no idea what she's talking about but it is always fascinating to listen to her. She has a creative imagination, you don't know how she comes up with half the things she does.
So you keep encouraging her with the occasional question.
It's so quiet except for her cheery, light voice and the faint crash of waves. Nothing else exists. The world has been carved down to this. Nothing else matters. Just you. Your daughter in her black and yellow striped swimsuit.
And him.
You glance over when the sound of a door swinging open captures your attention.
Bucky emerges from the galley with two strawberry lemonades, condensation rolling off the chilled glasses. He looks good—golden tattooed skin, black swim shorts, the sun catching his wedding band.
There's a familiar expression on his bearded face—one he gets whenever he's in his element. That slight tilt of his lips has been there since he sprung this impromptu getaway on you.
A little smug, very pleased.
"How are my girls?"
"Good, Papa," Bee answers, sitting up in her chair with a grin. She looks at you, reaching for your hand. "'We love 'cations. Our favorites. Right, Mommy?"
"They are," you agree, leaning over to nudge her nose with yours, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "It's been great. We really needed this."
Bucky's heart warms, a sense of pride settles between his ribs. He lives for this—works hard for this. To see the two of you so happy and peaceful.
You deserve a lifetime of vacations and he's going to make sure you have them.
"Glad to hear it."
Bucky sets her glass on the small wooden table beside her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Instead of placing yours in your waiting hand, he unexpectedly nudges the cold, cold glass into your side.
"James!" You shriek, the shock of cold bursting across your warm skin makes the undignified sound slip out before you can stop it. Bee giggles wildly, her bright eyes watching the two of you.
You glare at him as he blocks the sun from your vision. Laughing, Bucky sits on the edge of your chair. He wipes your side off with his large palm.
"Must have slipped. Oops," he smiles innocently, bending down to taste your lips. His groan is low, soft and only for your ears. He'll never get used to how sweet you are. He glances around the deck, noticing a missing green dino. "What happened to Mr. Tato?"
"He left because he doesn't like being hots, Papa." She huffs out earnestly, offended at the even though of her beloved dino getting caught in the heat. Again. "He says he doesn't wanna be baked cause—"
"He is not a potato. And he doesn't like it when his feet get hot. He has so many, Bucky," you droll, hiding your grin when Bee nods seriously.
"You should know that," you sigh with an air of disappointment, like she didn't lecture you about Mr. Tato and his heat aversion after you made the grave mistake of plopping the dino on the lounge chair earlier.
Bee rescued him—safely tucking him away in one of the rooms below. Bee made sure he was in front of a portable fan, lying on a coloring book, before she came back upstairs.
"Yeah, Papa." Your gaze catches Bee's as she takes a sip, and you both shake your heads in unison.
"Ah. My mistake." Bucky's laugh is deep and smooth and leaves you warmer than the summer sun.
"So where are you taking us, Mr. Barnes?" You ask, tracing one of his tattoed abs with your finger.
"You'll find out when we get there, Malyshka. "
Bucky leans back, his arm around your shoulders. That smirk gets a little wider. The slight quirk of his brow letting you know that—unlike the sweet toddler beside you—he can keep secret.
The only thing you know for sure is you're going to love wherever he's about to take you. Because if there's one thing Bucky excels at, it's spoiling his girls.
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goldsainz · 19 hours ago
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# CLARK KENT — SUPERDADDY !
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MASTERLIST !
001. SUMMARY !
✶ your five year old daughter does not understand why clark owns a superman suit in his closet.
002. WARNINGS !
✶ stepdad!clark (in a cute way, not that way), daughter’s name is alice, clark has backup suits just laying in his closet. kinda proofread, kinda not.
03. NOTE !
✶ did i giggle a little with the title? well yes! also if this idea, and characters, are something you like i could be inclined to write more about them.
word count : 1,5k
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Alice was always a curious little thing. You liked to think she got that from you—nosey, too smart for her own good, and entirely too interested in wearing your heels around the house like she had a board meeting in twenty minutes. 
She had this way of getting into everything without ever making a mess, poking her nose into drawers and boxes and asking questions about things that should’ve been invisible to a five-year-old’s world. But nothing ever slipped past her for long.
You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard the familiar creak of the closet doors echo from the bedroom. Your brows furrowed, droplets still running down your back as you wrapped yourself in a towel and padded across the tiles.
“Alice?” you called out, trying to keep your voice light as your wet footprints trailed behind you. “What are you doing in there, baby?”
No answer. Just the soft clunk, clunk of your pumps hitting the hardwood as she kicked them off one by one.
You didn’t panic but you definitely picked up the pace. You quickly slipped on your robe and stepped into the bedroom, already expecting to find her balancing awkwardly in your heels or trying on your earrings. But what you saw instead stopped you cold for a beat.
There she was, standing in front of Clark’s side of the closet. One of his button-up dress shirts was slung around her shoulders like a cape, swallowing her tiny frame. And in her hands, held like treasure, was a very familiar red-and-blue suit crumpled in her arms, the gold of the emblem catching the light.
“Mummy?” she asked, her voice impossibly small. “Why does Clark have Superman’s clothes?”
Your stomach dropped.
Not from fear—Clark had always been careful, always gentle—but because you hadn’t expected her to notice. Not like this. You and Clark had talked about when and how to tell her, how to explain something so impossible and so big to a child who still sometimes forgot how to tie her shoes. But kids had a way of finding the truth long before you could package it up in the right words.
You crossed the room slowly and knelt beside her, brushing her wild curls back behind her ear, trying to ground the moment.
“Let’s sit down, okay?”
She gave a little nod and clutched the suit tighter to her chest as you helped her up onto the bed. She didn’t say anything right away—just kept glancing between you and the folded fabric in her lap like she was trying to make sense of something that should only exist in cartoons. You could practically see the gears turning in her little head.
“I thought Superman lived in the sky,” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper.
“He does,” you said softly, sitting beside her. “But sometimes he likes to come back down. And he puts on glasses and a suit and walks around like everybody else.”
Alice blinked, her big eyes locked onto yours.
“
Clark is Superman?”
You smiled gently and nodded. “Yeah, baby. He is.”
She looked at the suit again, her eyes wide, trying to wrap her five-year-old brain around the biggest revelation of her life.
“Can he fly?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can he shoot lasers?”
“Yep.”
“Can he—wait—does everyone know?”
You laughed quietly, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear again. “No, baby. Only people he really trusts.”
That made her pause. Her mouth pursed as she looked down at the bright red cape pooled across her knees. She traced the edges of the fabric with her fingers, slower now, more carefully. Like she understood just how big this secret was.
“Like
 how many people?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not many at all,” you said, your voice gentle. “Just a few. His parents, me, and now
 you.”
She looked up at you like you’d just handed her the keys to the universe. Her eyes sparkled with something between awe and wonder. Then her voice dropped even lower, her body leaning closer to you as though the room itself might be listening.
“So I’m in the secret club?”
You nodded, smiling warmly. “The very secret club.”
Her mouth curled into a proud little grin, but then her brows scrunched again like another question was brewing. “What if someone finds out and tries to take him away?” she asked, voice suddenly uncertain, almost frightened.
“Oh, sweetheart,” you said, pulling her into your arms. “That’s why it’s so important that we never tell anyone. It’s not just pretending. This is real. And there are people out there who might not understand
 or who might want to hurt him. That’s why Clark keeps it hidden. That’s why he trusts us to help him keep it safe.”
Alice nodded slowly, face buried against your chest. Her arms curled around your waist.
“I won’t tell,” she said fiercely. “Ever. Not even to the teacher. Not even to Mia. Or Grace. Or
 or even if someone gives me a lollipop!”
You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Stroking her back, you said, “That’s very brave of you. You’re like his little guardian now. Just like he protects the world, we protect him.”
She pulled back just enough to look at you, and you could already see the shift in her. She sat up straighter, prouder. It was like the weight of the secret had made her taller somehow.
“I can do that,” she said solemnly.
“I know you can.”
Another beat of silence passed, her thoughts still swirling.
Then she blinked at you, almost accusingly. “So that’s why he always hears me when I cry from the other room.”
You bit your lip to hold back your laugh. “That’s one of the reasons, yeah.”
There was another long pause as she turned the information over again, her brain clearly working overtime. Then, with an intensity only Alice could pull off, she looked up at you and asked, “Does this mean I’m part alien?”
That one did it. You laughed, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you shook your head. “No, sweetie. You’re still you.”
“Oh, Okay.” She said after a beat.
Before you could say anything else, you heard the front door open downstairs. Alice’s head snapped toward the sound, her whole body perking up.
“Is that him?” she whispered.
You nodded. “Sounds like it.”
She didn’t wait for confirmation. She was off the bed in a flash, bare feet padding quickly down the hall before she called out at full volume, “Clark!”
You followed behind, your heart beating a little too fast, the nerves mixing with something warm and wonderful.
Clark had just finished setting down the groceries when Alice barreled straight into him, flinging her arms around his neck like a rocket on a mission.
“Whoa!” he said, surprised but smiling, catching her with practiced ease. “Hey, sweetheart.”
She didn’t waste time. Her hands cupped his face, her little fingers on his cheeks, and she stared right into his eyes with all the seriousness in the world.
“I know your secret.”
Clark’s brows lifted as he turned his gaze to you, confusion flashing across his face. You gave him a tiny nod from the hallway, reassurance in your smile.
“
You do?” he asked carefully, looking back at her.
Alice nodded solemnly. “You’re Superman.”
There was a beat of silence. Clark’s eyes met yours again, but this time there was something softer in them. Something that you knew meant everything to him.
He looked down at the little girl in his arms, the one who had clung to his neck a thousand times, who asked him to read the same book every night, who believed he could do anything. And she did, even more now.
“Guess I can’t keep anything from you, huh?” he said with a gentle smile.
“Nope,” she said proudly. “I found your suit.”
Clark chuckled, holding her a little tighter. “Guess that means I need to find a better hiding spot.”
“Or you could just give it to me,” she offered, arms crossing as if the matter was already decided.
He grinned. “You want to borrow my suit?”
“Yes,” she said, determined as ever. “Because I’m your sidekick now.”
You laughed from the stairs, watching the way Clark looked up at you like he’d just found the whole world in two girls—one small, one grown—but both his. Completely.
“Looks like we’ve got a new team member,” he said.
“Just don’t let her fly off the roof,” you teased.
“No promises.”
And as you watched them, Clark with Alice wrapped around him like she belonged there, her giggles echoing through the house, you felt something inside you settle. The world knew Clark Kent as Superman, the strongest man alive, saviour of cities, protector of Earth.
But here, in this house,, he was something else entirely.
He was hers. Her Clark. Her hero. Her dad.
And somehow, that made him more powerful than ever.
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catboybiologist · 11 hours ago
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Preaching to the choir here but
The reason why "what is a woman" can't have a snappy little, one sentence answer isn't even because that's not how gender works, or how biology works, or how social groupings work
Mostly, it's just straight up, not how words work. And it's an interesting example of the impossible standard that gender related topics receive in how much they need to "define" their terms.
For example. Let's define a dog. Simple, right? "A domesticated canine, commonly kept as working animals or pets."
Cool.
So if I feed a coyote, is it domesticated?
What is a canine?
Does this include cats?
Does it have to be from a particular lineage?
Giving an accurate, fully comprehensive definition of "dog" that would meet the standards placed on gender terminology would require several essays about canine genetics, the history of domestication, the sociology of how we interact with pets, and application of this analysis to similar populations of wolves, coyotes, dingos, and more to make sure that they're all distinguished.
Does that mean we don't know what a dog is? Or can't define dog?
Of course not. "Dog" is a one word summary of a complex concept with a lot of facets. Most people understand what a dog is, just by repeated exposure. They understand how the term can be expanded to include things that are not domestic dogs, or narrowed to include only domestic dogs. More rigorously, we *do* have comprehensive, satisfying explanations for exactly what a dog is, but again, it takes essays.
That's why we have a word for it. It's a summary of a concept that we intuitively get.
So of course "what is a woman" is a rage baiting dogwhistle, and nothing more than a tactic. "Woman" is a complex concept that we synthesize down to something that people have a general, day to day understanding of. If you use the answer that has been flaunted by Republicans, adult human female, you're suddenly left with a lot of fucking questions. Namely, what is "adult"? What is "human"? And the most important and complicated one in this context.... What is "female"? Cuz there's already a sociology and a biology essay waiting to answer that.
But we don't want to be writing essays to define these concepts. Instead, we use definitions up front to cue us in to concepts, and the our pattern recognizing brains to filter in each case until we establish a pattern, or a "vibe", that is a synthesis of thousands of invisible factors. Including, in this case, presentation, someone's *current* biology added by hormones, and whatever information about their identity they volunteer to you.
"but Sierra" I hear you protest, "if we're leaving it down to a general sense of 'intuition', then won't a bigot's intuition reject us?"
Yeah. Of course.
So what's the response?
Well, I'm no activist, and I don't have specifics. But it should generally be to dig your heels in, be unyielding about codified rights, and then, over time, that "intuition" will shift. Through protection and normalization over decades. And along the way, we need to make sure we can survive.
But that's not the point of this post.
What even is at this point? Right. "What is a woman" isn't misunderstanding "biology" or whatever. It's misunderstanding what words are in the first place.
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sharieb · 15 hours ago
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Hiiii, may I ask for lads x non mc headcanons where we walk into the LIs' study or studio and as we walk toward them til we're near them. We could be leaning down since they're sitting or leaning up since they're standing and purched our lips into smooching 😙 CLEARLY asking for a kiss, but when the LIs lean into us JUST RIGHT before theirs lips could touch ours, we turn sideway making them kiss our cheek instead. Then we walked away like nothing happened, feigning ignorance and decided that the things in their study or studio were very interesting. I wonder how they react😁 will they threaten us with a good time later to get their "revenge" since we teased them?😛
Thanksssss, VERY love your writing.đŸ©·
Kiss and Miss
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Setup: They were deep in their work when you wandered in, lips sweetly pursed and mischief tucked behind your smile. A kiss? They leaned in without question. Only to miss. Only to fall harder.
Pairing: LADs x Non-MC reader
Genre: Fluff
Writer's notes: I noticed I've been writing a lot of kissing fanfic, which I find so cute and enduring that a lot of you want this kind of fanfic.
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You step into Xavier’s apartment, where warm lamplight spills across scattered star charts, journals, and his always-meticulously organized clutter.
The scent of tea and old paper fills the air, and he’s curled on the couch with his legs tucked beneath him, hoodie sleeves pushed up, reading a softly glowing paper in his lap.
He looks up the second he senses you. “Hey... you need something?”
You drift across the floor without answering. The light catches your smile.
Lips pursed.
No words.
He tilts his head, eyes trained on your mouth.
The journal is forgotten, dropped on the coffee table.
He leans forward slowly, hand brushing your wrist, eyes half-lidded in that soft, wondering way he always looks at you when he’s feeling fragile.
His breath warms your cheek.
And you turn your head just in time. Mwah.
Right on your cheek.
You gasp, startled, at one of the space models on the shelf. “Xavier, did you finish this tiny Andromeda set? That’s so cute.”
He freezes.
Stares.
Then gives a helpless laugh and slumps into the couch with a groan muffled by his sleeve.
His ears are turning pink.
“You know that was evil, right? Unforgivable. Irredeemable.” “I hope you know you’re not leaving this apartment without a real kiss, starlight. I’ll chase you if I have to. I will run in socks.”
Still slides a blanket over your shoulders and gives your forehead the gentlest kiss like you didn’t just break his whole heart in two seconds flat.
He’ll get his kiss. He always does.
He’s already plotting how to catch you next time—with a pillow fort trap, maybe.
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He's in his study with half-uniform on, working on logistics reports for the Fleet.
His brow is furrowed, his posture stiff, and his jaw tenses every few seconds with some calculation.
There’s a gentle knock before you enter—just enough warning not to spook him.
But then you lean down, right beside his chair.
Lips pursed. “Need something?”
He murmurs, already reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your skin as he leans in.
His eyes are softer now.
Waiting.
And you pivot. Mwah.
Cheek kiss.
Not even a pause. “Ooo, your stylus has a new grip, how ergonomic!”
Caleb sits completely still.
Processing.
Blinking slowly. Twice.
“You did that on purpose,” he whispers, blinking again. “You definitely did that on purpose.” “You better hope I forget before I finish this report, baby. Because if I don’t
”
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Just tugs you gently into his lap and buries his face into your shoulder, letting out a soft, lovesick groan like you’ve completely ruined his focus.
He holds you there, unmoving, like a man anchoring himself to reality.
The stylus clatters forgotten to the floor.
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He’s standing, arms crossed, coolly reviewing data on a giant screen in one of his underground bases.
The hum of machines fills the silence, and the faint glow of Intel windows reflects off his cheekbone.
Even now, he looks like someone who could command a room with a glance and yet here you are, sneaking into his space with mischief in your eyes.
You slink over, tilt your chin up at him with an expectant lips pursed.
He quirks a brow. “You’re brave,” he drawls, bending down slightly. “But I suppose I deserve my reward.” Mwah.
Straight to the cheek.
You blink up at him innocently. “Oh, sorry, I was just interested in those decrypted files... what’s this redacted part?”
He stays very still.
Eyes half-lidded.
Smile curling in a way that is not entirely safe, but entirely amused.
“You are unbelievable, you know that?” he says with a short, husky laugh. “My sweet little con artist.” “You’ll be surrendering that kiss later. Willingly. Gleefully. And probably repeatedly.”
He’s already pulled the power on your comms tablet and locked the room with a casual flick of his wrist.
The smirk he gives you says it all: you’ve started something.
He plans to finish it with interest, and with just enough softness to make you melt.
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You wander into his studio where he’s shirtless and painting at an enormous canvas, brush in hand like some dramatic Renaissance husband caught mid-masterpiece.
Classical music plays faintly in the background, mingling with the scent of clay, resin, and a bergamot candle he insists helps with “artistic longing.”
He hums when he hears your footsteps. “Back to admire your muse, darling?”
You say nothing.
Just walk right up.
Lips pursed. “Oh?” he teases, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “I knew you couldn’t resist...”
Mwah.
Right on your cheek.
You immediately gasp at a half-finished canvas propped beside his easel. “Oh no, did the paint smear? You poor thing!”
He stares at you, scandalized and wounded. “You vixen,” he breathes. “You minx. I was emotionally prepared for a romantic interlude, and you gave me tragedy instead.”
“You will pay for this. With cuddles. With kisses. With praise. And yes, maybe whipped cream.” “I have been wronged and I shall be extra about it. I am composing a haiku about my suffering right now.”
He follows you like a pouty puppy, occasionally collapsing dramatically onto the floor near your feet like a painting of betrayal come to life.
By evening, he’s painted a tiny, overly dramatic self-portrait of himself in the corner of a new canvas, complete with exaggerated tears and a comically shattered heart.
You find it oddly adorable.
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He’s in the middle of dictating a report with surgical precision, surrounded by holoscreens and piles of pristine files.
There’s a mug of untouched coffee beside him, long gone cold.
He doesn’t even look up at first, eyes darting between data points, fingers moving with his usual perfect control.
You glide in, barefoot and casual, until you’re beside his seat. You know better than to sneak up on him—he senses your presence immediately. “Zayne.” “Hm?”
Lips pursed.
He doesn’t even miss a beat.
Immediately closes the last screen, leans forward, hand rising to brush your waist, the other hovering behind your neck with surgical precision.
But you end up turning your head, making him kiss your cheek.
Mwah
The pause is long. Suspicious. Calculating. “Oh! That’s such a neat specimen photo! Mind if I take a look?”
Your sweet "innocent" voice makes him narrow his eyes. “You little
”
“Cruel, clever girl,” he says, low and amused. “You know I’m not built for that kind of emotional whiplash.” “I’m going to remember this. And I always, always collect what’s owed. Thoroughly.”
He lets you browse his screen like nothing happened, but when he kisses your knuckles ten minutes later, it lingers just a little too long.
The payback will be quiet.
Precise.
Affectionate.
And oh, so smug.
He’s already planning to interrupt your next study session with a kiss you can’t dodge.
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pitchsidestories · 19 hours ago
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What was left of summer (2) II Jana FernĂĄndez x Reader
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romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | part one I word count: 2153
summary: Reader returns to Barcelona, reigniting unresolved tension with her former best friend Jana and the past they never truly left behind. requested
author's note: hi everyone, this can be read before part one, enjoy. 💗
disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.
Jana’s chest tightened the moment she saw you walk into the changing room. Everything about your presence felt like a sharp jab, a reminder of the past she hadn’t quite moved on from.
Resentment bubbled up before she could stop it. How dare you come back, like nothing had happened?
Yet beneath the anger, there was something else, a gnawing unease she couldn’t shake. Why did it feel like losing you had left a hole she couldn’t fill?
“Welcome home.”, Alexia greeted you warmly.
It was your first day back as a player for the club where it had all begun. After a few seasons abroad in England, something had drawn you back to Barcelona, to the familiar sun, the city, and the people you’d once called home.
A nervous smile played on your lips: “Thank you
 it’s great to be back.” Then, more quietly, with a twinge of regret: “Just a shame Bruna’s in Brighton now”
“She’ll probably visit soon, once she hears you’ve returned.“, your captain replied with certainty.
“You really think so?”
Alexia nodded: “I’m sure. The others will be thrilled to see you too.”
You hadn’t realised the changing room had filled until you heard the shuffling of boots and soft chatter behind you. Turning, cheeks warm, you gave an awkward little wave.
“Hi, everyone.”
“Hey, Y/n.“, Irene answered with a kind smile.
Then, cutting through the calm like ice, came a voice you hadn’t forgotten.
“What is she doing here?”, Jana’s words were sharp, almost venomous.
The chill in her tone settled instantly in your bones.
Alexia's jaw tensed. She placed her hands on her hips, tone clipped and cool:“She’s back. She plays for Barcelona now. You’d know that if you kept up with the news, Jana.”
Jana shook her head slowly, disbelieving: “No.”
You met her glare with quiet defiance: “Yes. Now
 time to train.”
“Barça definitely made a mistake taking you back.”, your former friend sneered, bumping into you as she passed. Her words dripped with hatred.
Shocked by the defender’s hostility, Kika stepped in:“Woah, Jana, calm down.”
“No.“, she responded flatly, her voice sharp with finality.
The Portuguese player gently pulled her teammate away from you: “Come on.”
“Whatever. I don’t want anything to do with her.“, Jana muttered, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.
Still trying to make sense of what had just happened, Ona turned to the captain, eyes wide with confusion:“Ale? They must’ve been in the youth team together
 but why does Jana act like she hates her?”
“I don’t know the full story.“, Alexia sighed, her frustration mirroring hers.
Kika, curious now, raised an eyebrow: “But you know something, right?”
With a serious expression, the older woman replied: “They used to be close. Until y/n left. That’s all I know.”
“Maybe Bruna knows more.”, Ona thought out loud.
It was Alexia who remembered the three of you: “She probably does. Bruna was part of the group back then.”
Ona nodded decisively: “I’ll ask her.”
“Good luck with that.”, Alexia muttered, raising her eyebrows and nodding subtly in your direction.
Your thoughts were racing during training. Questions that you had no answers for swirled in your head.
You decided to approach Jana after the session.
She was standing on the grass, happily chatting to Kika when you walked over.
“Jana
”, you began carefully as if you were afraid your voice might scare her off.
She glanced at you but didn’t acknowledge you further. Instead she kept talking to Kika: “Are we still on for coffee later?”
You hesitated. It was like you hadn’t spoken at all. With your jaw set, you turned around to leave.
“Yes, Y/n will join us with Patri and Ona.”, Kika beamed, seemingly unaware of the tension between you and Jana.
Janas jaw dropped: “What?!”
“And did you know she’s into surfing too? I finally got someone to come with me.”, Kika continued brightly.
“You can’t go surfing with her.”, Jana said suddenly, her tone serious and her eyebrows furrowing uncharacteristically.
Kika blinked at her, confused: “Why not?”
“Because.” That was all she said.
“Uhm, okay?”
“I also won’t join you for coffee. I
 I forgot that I have an appointment.”, Jana added a little too quickly to be convincing.
Patri, who had only heard the end of the conversation, shared a confused glance with Kika and then shrugged: “Next time then?”
Next time never came.
Jana kept avoiding you like the plague, week after week. You were lucky if she passed you the ball during training. It got more and more frustrating, not only for you but also for the entire team.
Eventually, it went so far that Ona refused to keep watching and took matters in her own hands.
After a particularly awkward session, she called Bruna.
“Bruna? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Ona.”, the younger player answered calmly.
She got straight to the point: “Why does Jana hate y/n so much?”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Oh
”
“Yes?”, Ona pressed.
Bruna sighed: “That’s a weird story.”
“Tell me.”
Ona could hear the sound of Bruna sit down before she began: “Jana had a boyfriend back then and Y/n got jealous.Jana only admitted she liked Y/n too when Y/n was about to leave. Like literally at the airport. Y/n didn’t stay. So I think
 Jana never forgave her for leaving her alone and confused with all those feelings.”
Now it was Onas turn to go quiet: “Oh wow
”
Then the younger woman broke the silence: “I know.”
“But they were still teenagers back then, right?”, Ona asked, just to be sure.
Bruna hesitated. The words didn’t come easily, and there was a hint of regret in her voice: “Yeah. It was years ago. They’ve refused to speak since.”
“We need to get them talking. They won’t connect on the pitch if they’re not even speaking.“, Ona said, frustration edging into her tone. Their tension was beginning to seep into the team.
“They won’t,” the Brighton player replied quietly. “I tried.”
Ona frowned: “Then maybe it’s time for something more serious.”
Bruna perked up: “Like what?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll ask the others.“, Ona admitted, biting her lip.
She tried not to sound too hopeful: “Maybe they’ll have an idea.”
The conversation shifted after that. They talked about the younger player’s life in Brighton, how she was settling in, when they might meet in London. Both lit up at the thought.
And beneath it all, they held the same quiet hope, that things between Jana and Y/N could be repaired. That the past could finally loosen its grip, and the two could find their way back, at least on the pitch.
It turned out to be Claudia who had the idea, how to get Y/N and Jana to finally have the much-needed conversation. She mentioned it casually as she and a few teammates sat down after training.
Sceptically, Ona raised an eyebrow. “You think this will work?”
“We could at least give it a try?” the striker replied.
“I guess we can.”
Even though you hadn’t been on time, you’d waited patiently for your teammates at the cafĂ© where you were supposed to meet. The smell of roasted coffee beans and the soft autumn light spilling through the windows soothed you as you read the book you'd brought along, something you were quietly thankful for.
Then, to your surprise, only one person walked in.
“What? I thought you wouldn’t come.“, you noted, startled.
“Oh no.“, Jana muttered. Just seeing you sent her heart racing.
You glanced toward the window, half-hoping you’d spot the others, your teammates, who were slowly becoming your friends off the pitch too.
“But they’re still coming, right?”
“No, Y/N! They set this up!”, she hissed.
You froze, the pieces clicking into place. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe this was finally your chance to speak to her, reasonably.
Out loud, you answered: “Might not be the worst thing for us.”
“No. You don’t get it. I won’t talk to you!”
And just like that, the warm little cafĂ© wasn’t peaceful anymore.
Jana took a step back like she might turn around and leave any moment.
“Jana, it’s been ages.”, you said gently, trying to ease the tension.
She nodded like that was the whole problem: “Yes, exactly!”
You sighed, tired of trying to talk to her: “Why can’t you just let it go?”
She looked genuinely offended.
“Why?”, she echoed. “As if it was so easy, y/n.”
“It’s not?”, you asked.
Even Jana seemed to notice the baristas watching her now, in hopes to witness some drama on an otherwise uneventful day. She took a few quick steps forward, yanked out the chair across from you with more force than necessary, and sat down.
“No. Not after you left me standing here.”, she hissed.
The moment at the airport flashed through your mind but you quickly pushed it away.
“You were doing alright.”, you said casually.
“Sure. You must have been able to tell that from England.”, Jana shot back.
“At least Bruna said so.”
“Of course, you talked to Bruna but not to me.”
You exhaled slowly: “I thought it would be better that way
”
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried but you were tired of this discussion. “Do you think we can start again?”
Janas hands gripped the edge of the table, her eyebrows lifted slightly: “Start again? A lot has happened, y/n.“
You decided to ignore the last part: ”As teammates and maybe one day as friends.”
There was a heartbeat of silence before Jana quietly said: “I’m not sure we can ever go back to being friends. But maybe teammates.”
It stung, you had to admit that. But at the same time, relief flooded your system. Teammates were better than nothing.
“Let’s start with not ignoring each other in games and training, okay?”, you suggested.
Jana studied you for a second, her jaw tight. Then she finally nodded: “Fine.”
Things got easier from that moment on. Jana had left without ordering anything that day but she kept her word. Your communication on the pitch improved, passes flowed easily between the two of you and from time to time, you even exchanged words of praise or encouragement.
Barcelona started to feel like home again. Especially at the end of the season when you lifted another trophy together.
When the final whistle blew, you couldn’t stop grinning.
“We won!”, you beamed.
Jana was the first to reach you, giving you a faint smile: “Good job,”
“You were great.”, you replied.
“You too.”
You stood in the awkwardness of that conversation for a second, not sure whether you should say something else or hug each other.
Then Ona appeared, interrupting with a wide grin: “Does that mean you’ll join our trip to Mallorca?”
“Oni, I’m not sure if Jana would-.”, you began.
To your surprise, it was she who cut you off: “It’s okay. We’ll have plenty of space.”
You hesitated, glancing down. “I mean
 I can’t say no. Not before the Euros.“, you admitted.
A smirk tugged at Jana’s lips:“Then you should come.”
You almost couldn’t believe it. That was really what she’d said. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, like all those years ago, when you were inseparable, best friends in every sense.
Weeks later, beneath the golden sun of Mallorca, that same ease returned, not forced, not planned, just there. You and your teammates had travelled to the island’s most private and picturesque corners. The turquoise sea shimmered in the heat, stretching endlessly into the horizon.
Jana and you had drifted from the others, staying on the beach while the rest took the boat out. The sand was warm beneath your feet, the salt heavy in the air.
From a short distance away, Alexia turned her head, calling softly to the younger players beside her:“Girls, look.”
They followed her gaze to you, to Jana.
Patri raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing:“Only teammates don’t look at each other like that.”
Bruna folded her arms, a knowing smile on her face:“They were always more than that.”
You didn’t hear them, not really. Your focus was on the way Jana’s hand brushed yours, casually, like it had before everything changed.
And suddenly you could feel it again, the pull. The same one that began years ago, at the airport in England, when you walked away and never looked back.
But now, as the waves rolled onto the shore and the breeze lifted strands of her hair, you knew.
This time, you weren’t walking away. You were coming home.
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cjjohansson · 2 days ago
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- no stopping us now -
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natasha romanoff x virgin!reader -reader has a penis- 18+ smut - 2.8k
summary: natasha has some questions, but is too afraid of the answer. it isn't until you confront maria do you understand what's going on and decide to take the next step.
-------------
"They won't sleep with me," Natasha mutters into the room. Wanda and Maria still as they turn to look at her. Confusion filling their faces.
"What?" Wanda answers back. 
"Y/n." Natasha mutters yet again, leaning towards the table and grabbing the bottle of vodka set between them. 
"They just might not want to share a bed with you. I've shared one with you a few times after missions, and you are such a bed hogger-"
"No, no, not like that. Ugh, god, they won't have sex with me!" Natasha huffs, throwing herself back onto the couch as she covers her face with her hands, embarrassment filling her face.
"Wait, I thought you had already slept together?" Maria leans forward now, her elbows resting on her knees. 
"No! We have been together for six months now and nothing! Make-out sessions, yeah sure, but they won't even touch me sexually. The other week, we had been watching a movie in bed, it got a little steamy, I grabbed their hand and put it on my boob and NOTHING! God, I don't know what to do..." Natasha sighs in frustration, Wanda and Maria turning to look at one another as they raise their eyebrows. 
"Wait, we are talking about Y/n, right? Like Y/n, who is meant to have slept with half of the women at SHEILD?" Maria asks, it doesn't make sense to her. 
"Thanks, way to make me feel better, Ria! Just forget about it..." Natasha huffs, going to stand up, but before she can, Wanda stops her. 
"Nat, no, come on, she was only joking, you can talk to us." Wanda tries to tempt her to sit down, but Natasha stays hovering behind the couch. 
"Nat, just talk to them, ask them. Have a conversation, then you will have answers." Maria weighs in again, Natasha stays silent, just staring into the distance, until she nods her head and walks out of the room. 
-------
4 Days Later.
"Hey, baby, movie later?"  You whisper as you wrap an arm around Natasha's waist from behind in the kitchen. Pressing a kiss into her neck. 
"Yeah, sure," Nat whispers back, making no move to turn in your arms like she normally does. 
"You ok?" You ask her again, moving from behind her to stand next to her. She won't even look at you. 
"Yh, just late for training, I'll see you later..." She is gone before you can even open your mouth to reply. You see Wanda sitting at the kitchen island in your peripheral vision, her eyes trying not to stare. Something is definitely up. 
"What do you know?" You ask her as you look up, and she can't hold your stare. 
"What? Nothing, nothing?" Wanda says as she stands up and quickly makes her way out of the kitchen. 
Weird. 
----
"What's going on with Nat?" You straight-up ask Maria as you walk into her office. Her eyes widen as she stops what she is doing. 
"What? Nothing, nothing?" 
"No, see that's EXACTLY what Wanda said. Nat's been acting weird since your little girls' night the other day, so spill it. Don't lie to me, Hill." 
"God, Nat is going to kill me..." 
"Hill, what is it?" 
"Why won't you have sex with her?" It's your turn for your eyes to widen now. Shock fills your face as you fall into one of the chairs placed opposite her desk.
"Sorry, what? I don't see how that's any-"
"That's what's wrong with her, she is horny, Y/n, probably has been since you got together. Because you won't bone her. God, you slept with the majority of SHEILD but won't even sleep with your girlfriend?" The words shock you, and the way Maria speaks so casually throws you majorly off guard. 
"Wait, what? Slept with the majority of SHEILD? Maria, I haven't slept with ANYONE from SHEILD?" 
"Yeah, and I'm the new Captain America!"
"No, Maria, I am serious..." She looks into your eyes then, and stays silent while trying to read you. 
"Holy FUCK! YOU'RE A VIRGIN?!" 
"MARIA! Keep your fucking voice down, ok!" Marias mouth hangs open at the fact that you don't correct her. Her eyes wide open, too.
"None of this is even your business. And I'd prefer it if this stayed between us, ok? Bye Hill." You mutter as you escape the room at record speed, ignoring the looks you receive as you walk through the corridors. You can feel the heat on your cheeks, and your palms are sweaty from the awkwardness that is flowing through you. You hate how quickly she worked you out there. 
----
By the time you have done everything you needed to get done today, it's 6:45 pm. Anxiety has been surrounding you all day. You haven't even spoken to Natasha since this morning, and it is all you've wanted to do since speaking to Maria, but you're glad you took the time to focus on yourself and what you need to say. 
It's 7:30 by the time Natasha comes to your room, and you can feel the awkward tension in the air as you both settle on the bed next to one another, a movie waiting to play in the background, you picked a random one you hadn't recognised, hoping Natasha hadn't seen it either. 
Then tension is still in the air when you reach halfway into the film, and you can't take it anymore. 
"We need to talk..." You swallow the lump in your throat as you turn your body to face Natasha.
"Yh, we do," Natasha replies, as she turns towards you now. You watch as she pulls the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands; she feels the tension too. 
"Why won't-"
"I'm a virgin." 
Silence. Other than the movie continuing to play in the background, neither of you speaks. You let your words linger in the air for a few more minutes until you finally find the courage to speak again.
"I was going to -"
"Wait, what? What about all them women?"
"Maria said the same thing!"
"Wait, you spoke to Maria?!" 
"You were being weird..."
"Y/n...you could have-"
"I could have told you, I know, I'm sorry...I just didn't want to ruin this, ruin us..." Natasha moves closer then, her hand moving towards your cheek to lift your head to look at her.
"I was scared to tell you, worried that you would see me differently, I didn't want that, I know about the rumours of all the women, but they're just take, rumours. I've never slept with anyone, god, I've never actually even seen a woman naked in real life-"
Natasha cuts you off, pressing her lips onto yours, shutting you up completely. She throws her leg over your waist, settling herself down on top of you as she continues to hold your face, her lips moulding onto your own as she pushes her tongue into your mouth. 
"This feels good..." You moan onto her lips, pulling away to calm down for a moment. 
"Natasha..."
"For like 5 months, I thought you didn't find me attractive, sure you have called me pretty and stuff, but physically...you should have told me, I wouldn't have seen you any differently. I tried so many times to make a move, and you always turned them down..."
"I was scared."
"Well, I know that now!"
"You still want to sleep with me?" You mutter into the space between you both. You watch as she bites her lip, nodding before she moves back onto your lips. She pulls back a moment later.
"You sure? I don't want to push-"
"I want this, I want you, can't you tell?" You moan as you drag her hips over yourself, your erection well and truly present. 
"Mmhmm, fuck..." Nat mutters as she connects your lips again. 
"I don't know what I'm doing, Tasha..." You moan into her as she continues to drag her hips against your own.
"I've got you." She whispers onto your lips. Her hips stop their movements as she moves her hands to the bottom of her hoodie, dragging it over her head and throwing it somewhere into the room. You're rewarded with her bare breasts in front of you, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head.
Her hands instantly move to your t-shirt, dragging it over your own head and soon following her hoodie. She moves off of you, and you have to hold in the whine that wants to release from your own throat at her body no longer being pressed against yours. 
You watch as Natasha pulls her shorts down her legs, her underwear following after, and you don't bother stopping the whine falling this time. She looks back up at you with a smirk, moving forward and grabbing your shorts and pulling them down along with your boxers. 
You both stay still, staring at one another for a moment before she finally moves again. 
Natasha finds purchase between your now open legs, she moes forward pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away again. 
"Call out, widow, if you want to stop." You nod in reply, eyes wide as she starts kissing your neck. Natasha sucks harshly ever now and then, clearly leaving her mark as she starts to drag her kisses down your neck and towards your torso. You're breathing heavily, and you feel overwhelmed, but so good that you refuse to let her stop. She looks so good right now.
Her hands join the journey until she reaches her desired destination. She looks up at you, her eyes dark and blown. Then her hands find your dick, she grabs you gently, jerking you off slowly as you throw your head back, a moan leaving your lips.
"F-fuck- shit, that- that feels good." You moan aloud.
"You've done this before, though, right?" Natasha mutters, you feel her breath hit your thigh, and you look down to meet her eyes.
"A few times, haven't in m-months, you feel way- way better though." Natasha moans at that, then she moves again, she places a kiss on your tip, your head falling backwards again as you try to slow down your breathing. 
Your hand finally moves, it connects softly with Natasha's cheek, then moves lower to her neck, you grip her lightly, pulling her face towards yours. You press your lips onto hers, moaning into her mouth when she tightens her hold and jerks you quicker. 
Natasha smiles against your lips over your moans, "I want to suck your dick, you gon let me?" She mutters, your head nodding quickly as you let her go. You watch as she makes her descent again. A teasing smile on her lips, she stops as she reaches the tip of your dick. 
"I love you" 
"I-I love you too."
And then her mouth is on you, you can't stop your moans now. They're loud and frantic, your hand finds her head, gripping her hair and moving with her as she sucks you deep. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 
"I'm gon cum.." You whimper, your eyes are screwed shut. But then she takes her mouth off of you, her hand now making more movement. 
"Yeah? Where do you wan' cum?" Natasha mutters before taking you deeply again.
"In your mouth!" You shout as she speeds up her movements, her hand helping her to take what she can't fit into her mouth. 
"FUCK! FUCK! I m'm-I'm!" Your body jerks as you cum, your hips lifting off the bed as you finish into Natasha's mouth, her gagging as she swallows every last drop fills the room. She brings you down slowly, her mouth finally releasing you. You watch her with your eyes wide open, another moan slipping from your lips as she wipes some of your cum off the corner of her lips. 
"Come here." You tell her, grabbing her hand and pulling her into your lap. Your mouth connects with hers, pressing small kisses onto her lips before moving them to her neck. Her head moves to the side to give you more space. 
"I want to touch you." You bite into her neck, "Then touch me..." Natasha says as she releases a breathy moan. 
"I don't..." You're cut off when she moves her head away from you, grabs your hand and moves it towards her face. She places your thumb in her mouth, shocking you as she sucks it before moving it down her neck, and towards her breasts. Natasha hovers for a moment, her hand holding yours on her breast until she squeezes, your hand following her movements as you finally squeeze her breasts. She moans lightly, moving her hand to grab your thumb again and teasing her nipple with it. Her other hand moves towards your head. Pulling you closer to her, you get the idea, and your mouth connects with Natasha's nipple. Sucking gently and then swirling your tongue around it, you feel her squirm in your lap. Her other hand starts to move your hand down her body again, your mouth now moving to her other breast and repeating the same actions. 
Your own breath hitches as your hand connects with Natasha's core. Your fingers move through her folds, getting used to the feeling of her as she starts to move her hips against your hand. 
"That's it, you're doing so good, detka..." Natasha moans, your mouth moving off her chest, your free hand moving back to her neck and pulling her lips back into you. 
"Just like that," Natasha groans, her hips stilling as your fingers move to her entrance, entering her slowly. Natasha stays still for a moment, getting used to your fingers before she starts moving her hips against you. "Fuckkkk." Natasha lets her head fall into your neck, biting into your neck as her palm grazes her clit every time she moves her hips. 
She pulls away quickly, lifting herself up and off of your fingers, "What-" You cut yourself off with a loud moan as Natasha grabs your hard again dick, she rubs your dick against her fold a few times before she moves you to her entrance. Your eyes follow her every moment, your breathing deep and heavy as she slowly starts to push herself down onto you. 
"GOD! Fuck, baby!" You groan, resisting the urge to thrust your hips as Natasha slowly moves down your length. 
"Shitt- you're so big, feel so full!" Natasha groans, her hips finally settling onto your own, one hand frantically moves to her hip, while the other one grabs her throat. 
"You're so wet. So tight, feel so good!" You huff as you allow the feeling of Natasha take over you. Her lips press onto yours softly. She breathes into your mouth, lifting her hips so only the lip is inside her before she drops herself back down.
You look down, watching as you move in and out of her from her movements. Her walls clench tightly around you, her eyes fluttering shut as she starts to move quicker. 
"Gon cum", Natasha whispers. "Me too," your hips now lifting off the bed to meet her hips, her hips meet your own more frantically. 
"Baby," Natasha sighs, sweat dripping down her chest as she speeds up her movements, your eyes zoning onto her chest, watching her tits bounce with her. 
"Cum for me..." You whimper out; she clenches around you, her body slowing down as her body jerks, her mouth open in a silent moan as she finally cums.
"I'm not stopping until you cum." Natasha's words are firm, your body reaching out to her as she speeds up, despite her body seemingly being overstimulated. You grab her shoulders, pulling her down onto your chest and flipping you both over, your thrusts going crazy fast as you find your confidence to chase your own orgasm. 
Natasha bites your neck and collarbones again. Anything to help you get to where she wants you. 
It isn't long until you feel the burning need to cum. Your eyes fly to Nat's, her head nodding, telling you it's okay, "cum, please," she practically begs, her core tightening again, and that's all it takes.
Your body releases. Your hips twitch as you empty yourself inside of her. You let my body collapse into hers, both of you panting messes.
"fuck, fuck, fuck!" You breathe heavily as you try to pull out of her. 
"Nooo, stay, please." You move back forward, letting your head rest on her collarbone as you try to regain your breathing. 
"I love you..." Natasha whispers to you; you feel her lips press against the top of your head.
"I love you." Your words are quiet as you think about everything that just happened. 
You had no reason to be scared. Not with her, never with her. 
"Give me 10 minutes, and I'm sure I can go again," you mumble into Natasha's chest as she releases a light chuckle. 
"What, now you've got it, you don't want to stop?" Nat questions you. 
"I don't think I'm ever gonna want to leave you." You tell her as you connect your lips with hers and start to grind your hips back into her again. 
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watchmegetobsessed · 2 days ago
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LEFT UNSAID (part 2)
A/N: i hope you guys are enjoying the story, we are digging deeper! as always, i can't wait to hear(read) your thoughts on the story or the update!
WORD COUNT: 6.5k
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THEN
“Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you're going to say? Why?”
I lock my phone and place it back next to my drink. We’ve been sitting here for about half an hour and we are only on question number three. The second one, that asked if we would like to be famous and in what way took us a little longer to discuss, maybe because I got carried away with the idea of Harry starting a band so it turned into a fight about what he would and wouldn’t do as a world-famous singer. 
“You go first,” I tell him. He thinks for a few minutes before answering.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Really?” I’m surprised.
“Yeah. I also pace back and forth and kind of treat it like it’s a whole monologue.”
“With gestures and everything?” Harry smiles as he nods.
“Sometimes I feel like my brain is stuck in a buffer mode and I can’t get it to work. Rehearsing what I’m gonna say kind of helps with that.”
“I thought you'd be the type who just wings it,” I smirk. I’ve known Harry to be the kind of person who considers his words, but it turns out he might be just simply rehearsing what he’s going to say. 
“I do wing a lot of things, I think, but when the outcome matters, I want to be prepared. I also don’t want to be a bother to others, so being able to get to the point without becoming a stuttering mess is kind of a must. That way I have more control and things can move more effectively.”
“That’s actually very
 wise.”
“Mm, I haven’t been called wise, like, ever,” he chuckles. 
“You’re hanging out with the wrong people then,” I grin at him, grabbing my drink and taking a few sips. “Okay, I’m gonna be boring. I don’t rehearse.”
“Never?” His eyebrows rise.
“Nope. If I think about it way too long I talk myself out of calling and get into a spiral of never ending procrastinating. And I’m actually very good at that.”
“That sounds chaotic,” he smirks.
“Actually, it’s my charm, it spices things up.”
Harry laughs, grabbing his drink. 
“I would rather text. I have the chance to edit and rewrite things before sending it, I don’t have that on the phone.”
“So you never talk on the phone?”
“I do, but mostly with people I trust. I just–Whatever, forget it,” I shake my head, pushing the thought to the back of my mind. 
“Nope, it’s not whatever. I thought we agreed not to half-ass this. Tell me.”
I sigh, leaning back I fold my arms on my chest.
“It sounds ridiculous, but when I trust someone and care about them, I care way less about what they think of me.” I glue my gaze to the table top, his scrutinizing eyes suddenly feel way too intense. “They already know me and I have this sense of safety that if they wanted to leave, they would have. So if I say something stupid on the phone, it won’t be their only impression of me, because they already know me. Does that make sense?”
There’s a heartbeat of silence and when I look up at him, he is staring at me with a soft, understanding look.
“Yeah. It makes perfect sense,” he smiles and I feel relief. “But you’re doing this right now.”
“What?”
“This is pretty much my only impression of you and you can’t draft or delete what you’re saying. Does this mean you trust me?”
His question catches me off-guard, not because I haven’t thought of it, but because he so easily drew the parallel. 
“Sometimes I like to spice things up for myself too,” I shrug, brushing it off. Harry laughs, but I wonder if he felt that little something too that settled in my chest. Clearing my throat I reach for my phone. “Alright, let’s move on.”
NOW
I don’t meet Harry in the hours before dinner. Somehow we manage to avoid each other in the room, which lets me think that maybe we can survive these few days. 
Dinner is held outside on an outstretched part of the back terrace with a stunning view of the lake. It’s one long table, decorated with cream colored flowers and tall, thin candles. When I emerge from the house most people are already there and I don’t see Harry, but I do spot yet another familiar figure. 
Helen is nursing a glass of red wine, wearing a white pantsuit, the only person who would dare to drink red wine in an outfit like that.
“Well hello there, so great to see you!” I greet her with a short hug. Helen is kind of the odd one out of our group. With a career as a successful attorney in one of the biggest law-firms in the state, she definitely brings that kind of cold, tough character people tend to associate attorneys with. She is very straight-forward, doesn’t shy away from getting into confrontation because she is usually the one to win. It was a total coincidence she ended up in the class we all met, because she was a senior when we were freshmen, but she needed a few extra credits so she took the same psychology class as we all, then we were grouped together for a project and the rest is history. Somehow, Helen kept in touch with us, though I always felt like she was in a whole different universe, but from time to time she always checked in and tried her best to catch up. 
“Fill me in, what did I miss?” she smiles at me from behind her thick-rimmed glasses. Her hair is shorter than the last time I saw her, it’s in a stylish bob that fits her just as perfectly as practically anything she rocked before. 
“Ben fell into the lake. Jade changed her dress three times in the past four hours. Loki ate Asa’s bacon out of his BLT. I’m sharing a room with Harry.”
Helen nods.
“Alright. Just the usual then.”
“Kinda,” I shrug, but we share a small smirk. 
As the guests start arriving the chatter increases and soon everyone is finding their assigned seats by the table. I’m not at all surprised when I find my name card next to Harry’s. 
She is the bride, I can’t kill her, I tell myself as I sit, just when Harry appears. I watch him scan over the cards as he moves by the table, then his eyes meet mine and I just nod at the chair next to me. 
“What a surprise,” he mumbles, taking the seat next to me and I try my best to hide my smile. There’s just something in this shared experience we’ve been having with Jade and her little games that I always found funny, no matter what was behind our story.
I immediately feel his warmth as he sits beside me, his arm brushes against mine, we are a little tight around the table, lessening the emotional distance I would love to put between us. Sleeves rolled up, shirt lightly rumpled, he looks frustratingly cozy and casual, making it hard to ignore his existence. 
“You two are such a lovely couple!”
We both turn to Jade’s grandmother, Adeline who sits right across from us, wearing a lavender dress, paired with glasses in the same color. 
“Ah, no, we are not together,” I shake my head with a nervous chuckle. Suddenly, the temperature feels way hotter than just a minute ago. 
“You sure?” Adeline asks and that brings a laugh out of me. 
“Very,” I assure her. She just hums, her glassy eyes switching between me and Harry a couple of times before she turns her attention to the whiskey a waiter just put in front of her. 
“Thank you so much, Handsome!” she chuckles, patting the arm of the young guy who just smiles at her before walking away. 
As she sips on her drink I think to myself that once she downs all that liquor, she will surely forget what I just told her and mistake us for a couple at least a few more times. 
I grab my drink, hoping to calm my nerves and just when I’m thinking this evening couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, Lory takes the seat next to Adeline. 
“Starting the party early, Grams?” She wraps an arm around Adeline’s shoulders, pulls her into a side hug before looking at Harry, then me. “Hey guys! Ziggy, I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I smile at her, though I can’t fully ignore this stinging feeling that settled in my chest when she sat down. 
“We need to catch up this weekend!”
“Absolutely!” 
Was I too enthusiastic? Did they notice I wanted to say absolutely no? And why am I acting like a jealous toddler? I don’t want anything from Harry and they were just talking earlier. I’m being ridiculous.
I quickly grab my drink and down the whole thing at once, ignoring Harry’s and Lory’s look. Then catch a nearby waiter and ask for another round.
Once everyone is settled the dinner finally starts. The conversation rolls on, harmless on the surface; wedding details, travel mishaps, how Lory’s bridesmaid dress almost got lost in the airport, but I’m having a hard time actually listening. What I do focus on is how Harry smiles at Lory or how Lory laughs at things Harry says, it’s grinding my gears, driving me mad and the thought that it shouldn’t just fuels it all in my head. 
And then Adeline starts it again. 
“It’s going to be your wedding next, eh?” she points at me and Harry and I almost choke on my wine. Lory lets out an amused laugh at her grandma’s question. 
Something snaps in me. Maybe it’s Harry’s closeness, maybe it’s Lory’s presence or maybe it’s the alcohol I’ve drunk. 
“Yeah, surely, Adeline!” I smile at her. “We are definitely getting married, because we are madly in love!”
While Lory finds the scene funny, not catching up on the vibes behind my words, I can feel Harry still beside me. I peek at him and he is staring down at his plate, face unreadable. 
“That’s wonderful! Cheers to that!” Adeline raises her glass, oblivious to my annoyance. 
When the plates have cleared out the seating slowly changes up as people start to flow from one conversation to the other. It’s a welcomed break when some distance is put between Harry and I, but I still feel like I’m on the edge. 
The candles are flickering lower, laughter and chatter lingers around the table. Lu and I are standing off to the side, near some potted herbs, I’m nursing a glass of water that I desperately needed after all the wine I’ve consumed tonight. 
“You okay?” Lu asks, rightfully so, because I asked her if she wanted to talk, we walked to the side and then I haven’t said a word in like three minutes. I inhale sharply.
“That’s a dangerous question.” Lu chuckles. 
“You know I like to live dangerously.” I snort out a laugh. Luelle is anything but dangerous. As the only daughter of her Chinese mother and Swedish father, she’d tried to rebel several times, but never succeeded and she just realized she likes to live safely and comfortably. She and Helen are the mothers of the group, but while Helen is the one who bails you out of jail or punches the kids who bully you, Luelle is the caring type, the one who packs your lunch, helps you with homework and switches seats with you on the plane so you can sit by the window. 
My eyes involuntarily scan over the guests and they settle on Harry, who is talking to Ben’s uncle. One hand in his pocket, the other one holding the railing beside him that fences the terrace. 
“I’m fine. Just a little tipsy,” I shrug.
“Zig, come on. I saw you at dinner, you looked like someone was slowly sticking a torch down your throat.”
“Well, it’s a nice way to say I look like shit,” I huff and drink some more water, avoiding her gaze. Lu just rolls her eyes. We settle in a short silence before she speaks up again.
“Look, I know something more happened between you and Harry than just a flirty Q&A night. It might help if you–”
I cut her off with a sharp glance.
“Please don’t ask me to explain it. I’m barely holding it together not explaining it. If I put it into words, I
”
I don’t have to finish for Lu to understand. She nods, though I know she is dying to know more, but she also respects me too much to push me any further. 
“It’ll be alright.” Lu squeezes my hand reassuringly and for a split second I believe her. “Take a walk, clear your head out.”
“Okay, mom,” I tease her, to which I just get another eyeroll and then I’m heading down to the water. 
The darkness around me and the pebbles underneath my feet just makes me realize I shouldn’t have drunk that last glass, because I almost fall at least two times. The water is still and dark, the light of the moon dancing on the surface. The breeze feels needed against my heated skin and I look up at the clear sky, mesmerized by all the stars I never get to see in the city. 
I hear footsteps behind me and for a moment I think it’s Luelle, but I realize who it is before I turn around and look back at Harry’s figure. I don’t see his face, the light coming from the terrace casts him in a soft, warm hue, only giving away the outline of his curls, his broad shoulders and lean legs. 
I turn back towards the water and stay quiet as he simply stands next to me. 
“Did you follow me here to drown me in the lake so you get to have the bed?”
“I think it’s best if no one drowns this weekend.” I huff a laugh out, but not at all amused.
“Shame. Would’ve made a great wedding story.”
The silence between us feels static, but I do my absolute best to ignore it. 
“You seemed tense at dinner.”
“What an observation.”
“I don’t want you to be like this all weekend. I want you to enjoy it, it’s a celebration.”
I sigh in defeat.
“Sorry. I will try to
 loosen up.”
Harry just nods, though I can feel he wants to say something, but he keeps it to himself. He doesn’t leave. I hear him shift his weight, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. A warm breeze dances around us, catching into my hair before carrying on to make the nearby bushes tremble. I keep my eyes focused on the way the moonlight shimmers on the surface of the water while Harry stands next to me, staring ahead as well.
The silence is somewhat comfortable, not suffocating but I still speak up, breaking it.
“Have you thought of how weird it is that we’re here? Like this?”
I see him turn towards me from the corner of my eye, but I keep my gaze ahead.
“Weird?”
“Yeah. Jade is playing matchmaker again without realizing she already succeeded and then failed. I feel like we will never escape this.”
He sighs, or maybe it’s a laugh, I can’t tell.
“You know how stubborn she is and I guess she just really thinks we should give it a shot,” he shrugs.
“And we have,” I say, quietly, but then turn to him. “Or have we?”
It’s a genuine question. Not just one that’s supposed to get a rise out of him and start an argument, I don’t want that. But I’m curious how he sees this now that it’s more or less behind us. Sometimes I think it’s less.
This time he is the one to avoid looking into my eyes.
“I don’t know,” he answers after a beat, but I can tell there’s so much more going on in his head that he is keeping locked away from me. When he turns to me and his gentle eyes get a hold of my gaze, I already know I won’t like what he is about to say. “I don’t want us to be like this, Ziggy.”
I shiver, hearing him say my nickname instead of calling me Sigrid, but I let it slip.
“If we at least talked, then it would–”
“It wouldn’t,” I shake my head, cutting him off, earning a look that speaks to me: You didn’t even let me finish. “It wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t change a thing, it wouldn’t solve anything.”
I can feel the anger crawling up my throat, but I swallow it back. I don’t want to burst, I don’t want to argue or scream. I want to move on, even if that seems impossible right now as I stare back at him, because suddenly, I’m in my apartment, with my phone in my hand, staring at the text I sent him after seeing him with Taylor, his supposed ex-girlfriend,  replaying the memory of them walking out of his building over and over again as it sinks deeper into my consciousness. I feel betrayed, hurt and unwanted and looking at him now reminds me of all of that. 
“I’ll work on not being angry if you’ll never bring it up so I’m not forced to think about it again and again. This is all I ask from you, Harry. This is what I need to make it through this weekend.”
His jaw tightens and he looks to the side, eyes scanning over the water before he turns back and nods. He doesn’t seem frustrated or angry, but I notice something tired, something sad in his eyes. 
“Okay,” he quietly says. “If that’s what you want.”
When I see the resignation on his face, for a split second I wish he would fight, but I’m quick to shake that thought.
“I just don’t want to feel like a ghost whenever I’m near you,” he adds and I exhale, tired, from the day, from the alcohol and from the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on since arriving.
What I want to say is that he can never be just a ghost to me. Even on the day I hated him more than anything, he couldn’t have been a ghost. I could try to turn him into one, that might help me, but I could never make it real.
But I don’t say a single word, just stare back at him with a tortured look and I think he understands, or at least realizes that I’m not in the right state of mind to continue this conversation. 
“Let’s go back,” he nods towards the house. “It’s late.”
He falls into step beside me, close enough to feel, but not close enough to touch. Neither of us says a word on the walk back. I say my rounds of goodnight and then I scan over the last few guests lingering outside. I find Harry chatting with Ben when I turn and walk inside. 
I take a shower, pretending to rub the emotions of today and then climb to bed. I don’t wake up when Harry comes into the room and he is not there when I wake up, only the rumpled sheets on the pull-out indicate that he was there. 
THEN
We left our cocoon, aka the booth in the bar when the crowd started to get too rowdy. Now we’re walking along the riverbank, enjoying the slight drop in the temperature the evening has brought. 
There’s enough space between us to stay safe, but not so much that it feels like distance.
“For what in your life do you feel most grateful?” I read the next question, the ninth out of thirty-six. We have a lot more to go. 
“Now you answer first.” He smiles at me, turning around our usual order of him answering first.
“I think
” I begin toying with the strap of my purse. “I’m grateful that I left my hometown. That whole life. It wasn’t bad, not exactly, but it wasn’t mine either. I would’ve settled, never actually figured out who I am.. So I’m grateful I didn’t.”
He watches me for a moment, quiet, chewing on my words. 
“That sounds brave. It’s hard to change something you’re so used to,” he says. 
“So damn hard,” I nod with a chuckle. “Remember what I said about my younger self?” He nods. “It comes back to that. I feel like I was a whole different person then, which could be fine, but I think that wasn’t fully me. I needed to find myself outside of what everyone expected me to be.”
Harry nods along again and I know he understands what I said, I can tell from the way he stares ahead of himself as we keep walking.
“Do you think you have?” he asks. “Found it out?”
I frown, making us both laugh. 
“I’m in the process and it’s a long one, let’s just say. Not just the finding part but
 also liking what I find.”
He glances over at me again, his gaze steady this time.
“I like who you are too,” he simply says.
All I can do is smile while I’m pretty damn sure my face is turning red. Luckily, he looks away when a biker rides past us while I’m still stuck at what he said, willing myself not to do something stupid, like get carried away and see more into it than what it is. 
We keep walking, it’s quiet, comfortable, but somehow charged at the same time. After a while I read the next question. 
NOW
The house is quiet when I make my way down in the morning, but I find quite some life in the restaurant area where breakfast is served. The room is like one big sunroom with floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the water, this is where the wedding reception will be held too and you get why Jade fell in love with the place. 
At one of the tables by the window I spot Luelle, so after filling a plate and pouring myself some coffee I join her. She is sitting beside an open window, the soft morning breeze is very much welcomed on my face when I take a seat.
“Morning,” I smile at her and I know her searching eyes are trying to figure out just how hungover I am, but I feel like it’s the emotional residue from yesterday that is showing on my face rather than the alcohol I consumed. 
“Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” is all I say and then dig into my eggs.
She doesn’t push it and I’m thankful. I need at least a few hours where I’m not thinking about Harry. 
As if the universe heard me, my phone buzzes in my backpocket and when I fish it out I almost groan out loud at the test. But Lu notices the change in me either way.
“What is it?”
I leave the text unanswered, not in the mood to deal with it. 
“It’s Milo.”
“What? You’re talking to him again?” she frowns into her mug.ïżœïżœ
“No. He keeps trying to talk to me. I don’t understand him.”
“What does he want?”
“He always has an excuse to text me, but it’s pretty obvious he just wants to talk, which I don’t get, because according to him, I’m a psycho bitch.” I scoff at the memory.
I met Milo at a work event about eight months ago. We kind of hit it off, he was always flirting and I was enjoying the attention and the compliments. We kept talking and I let myself finally believe that it could head somewhere. 
Well, I was wrong.
He was all talk, no actions. Kept telling me how he wants to be with me and how much he wants me, but he never did anything for it and I had to realize he was just playing, though he denied when I confronted him. 
We had a big fight, I told him I’m done dancing on the line of ‘will we, won’t we’ and he makes me feel like shit. His reaction? He called me a psycho bitch and told me to think before I talk. Now he’s been texting me about once a month with all kinds of excuses, most of the time pretending like we didn’t have a screaming match over text. I don’t think I’m the psycho out of the two of us.
“And do you
 want to talk with him?” Lu gently inquires and I give her a sharp look.
“Sure, I miss him so much. Maybe we should give it another chance!” I say that, but my face says otherwise and luckily Lu gets the sarcasm.
“Good idea. You and Milo
 great match. You communicate so well!” she joins in and we try to keep our giggles back.
“Right? I agree.” After a short silence, we both laugh, soft and conspiratorial and then go back to eating. “I can’t believe I wasted emotional energy on that guy,” I sigh, slightly shaking my head. 
“Everybody makes mistakes,” Lu smirks.
“Everybody has those days,” I say, finishing one of our favorite Hannah Montana quotes we often used in college. 
As we eat in silence I let my thoughts wander back to Milo. I knew he wasn’t right from me, maybe from the very beginning, but I hid it somewhere under the attention and the flattery and the little dopamine hits from his late-night texts and good morning texts. But I let it happen and what’s worse, I let myself believe I could get vulnerable with someone again, because I was desperate to feel something that wasn’t hurt or disappointment or the pain I was left with after Harry. 
Milo was lightyears from breaking my heart, love was never in the cards when it came to him, but the reason it stung so badly, the reason it kept me up at night, replaying every passive-aggressive message and mixed signal, was because I had already been broken.
I somehow thought Milo was my chance to have what I couldn’t have with Harry, I told myself that everything happened for a reason, that I had to have my heart broken by Harry because the next person, Milo, was my person, but I just set myself up for even more hurt.
Way to go.
By around midday all the guests who are not in the wedding party left the lake house and more wedding guests start arriving. As a little welcome gesture, Jade and Ben have a lemonade and ice-cream bar set up down by the beach, a great opportunity to mingle and bring the people together. It’s the kind of scenery I imagine happening in movies. 
I’m perched on a blanket next to Helen. She is wearing a sundress and it’s probably the most laid-back outfit I’ve ever seen her in, but still very stylish. We hide our assessing gazes behind sunglasses, sharing little inside info about the guests around us. As distant as Helen could be, she knows a lot about Jade and Ben’s family. 
“See that guy?” she nods towards a middle-aged man, stalking behind an older looking couple near the lemonade stand. I nod. “Cheated on his wife with an eighteen year-old, the woman divorced him and took all his money. Now he lives in the basement of his parents.”
“How do you know that?” I huff. It’s truly incredible how much she knows.
“I listen when people talk, Ziggy,” she scoffs and I almost feel ashamed when she smacks my shoulder. “Just kidding, my boss was the wife’s lawyer in the divorce,” she snorts and my mouth hangs open. 
“Wow, such a small world.”
“Yeah. His parents are friends with Ben’s parents.”
“Must be proud of him,” I mumble under my breath and take a sip from my lemonade. 
It carries on as a relaxed afternoon gathering, nothing extra, but at one point a group of guys start playing volleyball, dress shirts get untucked and unbuttoned as the game turns more serious and guests start to move closer to watch it unfold. 
No surprise, Harry is involved too. 
Helen and I join the audience, after a few short games the teams change up a bit, some give up, some join in, that’s how Lory ends up in a team with Harry. And what’s worse is that she is really good at volleyball. 
I watch their team absolutely crush it and every time they score, Lory and Harry either high five or hug each other before moving back to their spot and my jaw starts to hurt after a while from clenching too much. 
Harry turns at one point, scanning the beach, maybe he is looking for Asa who left the game not long ago, maybe he is looking for water somewhere, but then his gaze settles on me and I absolutely hate how just one look takes my breath away. But it doesn’t last long, because Lory hooks her arm around his and drags him back into the game and I take that as my cue to leave.
“I forgot to call my mom back. I’m gonna give her a ring so she knows I haven’t drowned into the lake.”
Helen just nods, her focus still on the game, she doesn’t notice my bullshit of an excuse luckily. I quickly make it back into the house and look for a quiet corner where I can clear my head or at least try. 
There’s a hallway running from the lobby area to the restaurant with big windows and this morning I spotted that the sills are cushioned, so that’s where I end up. To ease my consciousness I send a text to my mom, letting her know that everything is going well and attach a few photos of the lake and the house. Then I just sit there, back leaning against the window frame as I stare out, into the woods that stretch around the lake. 
I have only been here for about twenty-four hours and I’m already a mess and I still have more than half of this wedding weekend to go. This time yesterday part of me actually thought I could make it through, but if things keep going the way they have been, I might be the one going crazy instead of Jade. 
As if on cue, my phone buzzes and at first I think it’s just mom’s reply, but I see Jade’s name on the screen, asking where I went. I quickly type her a message that I came inside for a bit because of the heat and send her a selfie from the window so she knows I really am okay and I’m not about to faint from a heat stroke. 
Not even ten minutes pass by when my peace ends.
“Ziggy? You alright?”
I turn from the outside view and find Harry standing a few feet away, a worried look on his face. 
“Jade sent me to check on you, she said you weren’t feeling well?” It kind of comes out as a question and I can’t help but laugh, because the devil works hard, but Jade works way harder. 
Note to self, never give a hint to Jade where you actually are, because she will make sure Harry shows up.
“I’m actually fine, which is what I told Jade as well, but of course, she used it to get us to talk.”
I want to be mad at her, really, but I can’t. I know she has all the right intentions and it’s not her fault she doesn’t know our history. I also can’t upset the bride on her wedding weekend. 
Harry steps closer, as if he wants to check if I’m really okay. He’s a bit sweaty from the volleyball game, shirt rumpled and dirty, his hair a mess, but damn he looks so good. 
He nods at last, but doesn’t move, just stands there with his hands on his hips. Then suddenly he sits on the other end of the sill, facing me and I give him a questioning look. 
“I thought of what we talked about yesterday.”
Fuck.
I guess my inner reaction is written over my face, because Harry holds a hand up.
“Hear me out. I
 I don’t want to hurt you. Never did.” He pauses and I know he feels what else those words carry, but then he continues. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, I will respect that.”
“Thank you.”
“But I want us to be friends. Or at least try.”
His words settle between us, heavier than they probably sound to anyone else.
I pick at a peeling edge of paint on the windowsill. “Friends.”
Harry doesn’t flinch, doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He just waits, elbows resting loosely on his knees, gaze steady.
“You really think that’s possible?” I ask eventually, my voice quieter than I mean it to be.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I’d rather try than keep pretending we’re strangers with shared friends and a weird history.”
I glance out the window, watch two birds fly over the pine trees before disappearing from my view and then I turn back to him. His posture is relaxed, but his jaw is tense. He’s bracing for rejection,and part of me wants to give it to him. Not out of cruelty, but out of survival. Logically, I know distance is what can make me get over him, physical and emotional distance, but my opposition simply melts away the longer I look into his eyes.
“Okay,” I whisper. I can see the surprise on his face, but it quickly turns into a small smile as he nods. 
“Friends then.”
“Friends,” I repeat, though the word just doesn’t feel right, not entirely, not when it’s about Harry and me. But weirdly, there’s a sense of relief settling in my chest as well. 
“Great. Then as a friend, can I ask you a favor?”
“Wow, straight to the point!” I chuckle, Harry shrugs with a grin.
“Asa and I volunteered to put up lights around the dock. While we are physically capable of doing it, I think we need a pair of eyes that can actually see what looks good.”
“I have a feeling that if I say no, the two of you would absolutely butcher it and end up putting two thirds of the lights on one side of the dock and not even notice how uneven it looks.”
“That is a very real threat, yes,” Harry nods with a serious expression, but I see the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, a hint of mischief. 
“Okay. When?” I give in.
“We want to do it before dinner so we can check it once it’s dark. So can you meet us in the lobby at six maybe?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about ten pounds of sand in my clothes, I need to clean myself.” He hops off the windowsill and takes a few steps, but turns back around. “Ziggy?”
That still stings, how he wouldn’t call me Sigrid.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad we’re friends.” His smile is warm and honest and I can’t help but mirror it. 
“Me too, Harry.”
Then he nods and walks away. 
THEN
“What do you value the most in a friendship?” 
I look up from my phone, we’re now sitting on a dimly lit park bench. It’s nearing midnight now and we are on question number twenty, which means we’ve made it to the second half. I’m sitting sideways, legs crossed while Harry is leaning against the back lazily, elbows on top of it, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at his ankles. I take just a moment to admire how perfect his side profile looks with the light coming from opposite of where I’m sitting, gifting him with a heavenly hue. 
Harry sighs and gives me a small smile.
“It’s getting tougher,” he admits with a chuckle.
“I know,” I agree, smirking.
“Alright. Friendship, to me, means
 choosing someone. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when they’re being a bit of a mess. It’s showing up. Being honest, even when it’s not easy. Letting people see the parts of you you usually try to clean up first.”
I don’t speak for a second. I just let the weight of that answer settle, between us and in his head as well. 
“That sounds suspiciously close to love,” I then say. 
“Maybe. Because it kind of blurs together, but only if it’s the right person.”
My throat goes a little dry. I look away, suddenly hyper-aware of how close we’re sitting, how natural it’s starting to feel.
“Your turn.” He tilts his head slightly and I clear my throat as I try to put a coherent thought together.
“Friendship for me is
” I start tapping on the back of my phone with my nails. “Being able to breathe easier around someone. Like you’re not performing. Like you’re allowed to take up space without being afraid they’ll leave.”
I glance at him, expecting a teasing comment, but he just nods slowly, thoughtfully, like he gets it. All of it. 
“And when it’s really good,” I add, softer now, eyes glued to the phone in my hands, “you forget to wonder if you’re being too much.”
Speaking it out into the world feels more vulnerable than anything in this moment. My fear of being too much and not enough at the same time is what has kept me in a choke hold my whole life. But when I look at Harry and I see the softness and understanding in his eyes, I’m finally able to strip those nerves off, even if it’s temporary. 
“I hope you have a lot of people like that in your life, Sigrid.”
I look up at him, not sure what to expect, maybe a smirk or some of that half-teasing charm he is so good at, but I’m only met with a look full of unguarded softness and honesty. 
“Because you’re not too much,” he adds and he sounds so sincere that I forget to breathe for a moment. 
I feel a lump growing in my throat, but I’m quick to swallow it so I don’t make a fool out of myself. I flash him a weak smile and glance down at my hands again, pretending to check the next question, but the words blur.
That’s when it happens, the sinking feeling in my chest, the lingering something that’s been tickling me probably since ten questions ago. It’s not a sudden slap across the face or a wild lightning, this realization sinks slowly but heavily.
I like him. More than I'm ready to admit. More than I ever meant to.
And it’s scary, it’s ripping my chest open, it’s comfortable, it’s wanted and welcomed, it’s everything I didn’t expect when the evening started.
And it’s starting to point dangerously farther than friendship.
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fru1t4fr0gs · 3 days ago
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You and Me - Chapter 20
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Summary: You and Bucky arrive in Louisiana and help Sam fix up the boat.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Swearing, Implied sex, Bucky is a flirtatious lil shit with you in this chapter, Things get a little hot and heavy on Sam's couch, Fluff, Please let me know if I forgot anything!
Author's Note: This chapter is just piles and piles of cute. Also, I couldn’t resist doing a lil something with that one knife trick Bucky always does. As always, please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback are always insanely appreciated!
-
When Sam Wilson calls, the entire town answers. They come together like a true community. They contribute what they can. Give what they can. And before long, the remodeling of the Wilson’s old family boat begins to look a lot more promising.
And this is how a small group of locals find themselves on the dock, smiling and laughing and reminiscing about his parents as they stand beside a truck with a new engine in the back. Sam is as grateful and kind as he’s always been, grinning wide at the sight of the giant hunk of metal.
“How do we get it off the truck?”
The engine, which must way nearly half a ton, is suddenly sliding off the bed of the vehicle, lifted over a man - a single man’s - head and placed on the ground with nothing more than a simple grunt of effort.
“I know,” another stranger breaks the shocked silence, eyebrows raised and hands in her pockets. A mischievous grin dances on her lips as she looks from the man to the group of people standing by the truck. “Hot, right?”
The serious look remains on the man’s face, but the older and more observant members of the group notice the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. The way he seems to stand a little straighter with something like pride.
She leans against the side of the truck while the man drops a heavy looking briefcase onto the back, offering Wilson a grin and a little wave of her fingers.
“Hey, Sam.”
-
It’s supposed to be a simple delivery. An easy, simple delivery. 
However, as Bucky drops off the briefcase, explaining where it came from and the favor he called in to get it, he notices that your eyes are fixed on the boat. Wide. Interested. He can almost see the gears turning in your mind, the ideas racing through it.
He knows he’s gonna be fixing a boat today before the pipe even bursts.
You seem to sense it right before it happens, in that odd little way that you have. You pick up a wrench as you jump over the railing, pulling up on the rusted screw with a grunt of effort.
“I got it, doll.” He’s behind you in a moment, gently taking the wrench from your hand and stepping in to twist the pipe closed and halt the steam pouring from it.
“Why didn’t you just use the metal arm?” Sam asks, and he can’t help his blink of surprise at the question. He even lifts his flesh hand, still holding the wrench, to furrow his brow at it.
“He’s right handed.” You explain, absentmindedly, as you take the wrench back and immediately begin inspecting the rest of the boat.
He sees where this is going.
“Whatever you do, do not let her look at me.” He says quietly to Sam, urgent and pleading and already preparing himself for what’s to come.
“So...This is the boat, huh?” You ask, eyes turning back to Sam, alight in that way that makes Bucky’s heart feel like it’s on fire.
“Yup. This is it.” Sam responds, with an affectionate pat to the rusted side.
Your eyes become impossibly lighter. And then, they meet Bucky’s.
Excitement. Ideas. Even just a bit of pleading. He knows he’s going to agree to whatever you want in less than a second.
“Want some help?”
Sam turns to Bucky, a question in his eyes. He caved the second your eyes met his.
“She needs a new project.” He says with a shrug. “Our microwave floats now.”
“It doesn’t float, it hovers.” You immediately say, defensive.
“Why?” Sam asks, and you prickle even more.
“This guy had me on what was essentially bed rest for a week and a half. I was completely healed in like three days.”
“So you made the microwave hover?”
“I think it’s alive.” Bucky adds with a grumble, almost under his breath.
Your eyes snap to him. “It’s not alive.”
“It follows me.”
“It followed you once. It’s not alive.”
“I almost forgot how weird you two are.” Sam says on a sigh, already beginning to move to the other side of the boat. “Stay and help if you want, but don’t bring any part of this boat to life.”
“It’s not alive!” You shout at his retreating back.
“And no lasers!”
-
It’s fun.
You’ve always liked projects. Always been most comfortable when building or fixing something. And you and Bucky move with and around each other as smoothly as always, barely needing to let a word pass between you. He lifts heavy things like they’re made of paper, you pass him tools before he needs to ask for them.
He and Sam get along, too. They bicker a bit, like usual, you all do. But after the first few hours, Bucky seems almost completely comfortable. Relaxed.
“You’re having fun.” You accuse him after a while, watching him sand the deck of the boat with a look of complete concentration on his face. He looks up, like he might argue or deny it. You stop him before he can with a wave of your hand.
“Nope, none of that.” You smile at him, hopping up on the railing. Despite your perfect balance, he still sits up a little straighter like he’s preparing to catch you if you fall. “You’re having fun. You haven’t made your Murder Face all day.”
“It’s not so bad.” He admits, almost sheepishly. Your smile is triumphant, and his blue eyes are even brighter in the sunshine as he raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re staring.”
“Oh, definitely.” Your smile widens. “You pull off the rugged manual-labor look really well. I’m prepared to stare all day.” You lean back on the railing, like you’re reclining. That seems to be his breaking point. He stands, moving over and wrapping an arm around you as he pulls you fully back onto the boat.
When he kisses you, you’re still smiling.
-
Hours later, the two of you stand at the head of the boat. You hold a paint scraper, and Bucky is slowly guiding your arms into the proper positions to show you how to perform a knife trick you’ve watched him do in a few fights.
“And then you drop it,” he says, metal arm blocking your ‘attack’ as his other gently moves your hand into the proper position. You drop it. Catch it. “and move your hand up.”
“Pretty straightforward.” You say, slowly pretending to jab upwards. “You make it look a lot harder than it is.”
He raises an eyebrow, stepping back. “Really? Try it, then.”
You’re so used to moving quickly, heightened instincts and fluid grace having become such a part of you over the years, that you sometimes forget one thing.
You’re quick, but Bucky is fucking fast.
To any onlooker, the two of you might look like a blur of movement. You reach up, he blocks it effortlessly. You drop the paint scraper, catch it, and he grabs your arm and twists it just enough to spin you around so your back is pressed against his chest.
“Practice makes perfect.” His voice is quiet, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a way he knows will make you shiver. He presses a kiss to your cheek before letting you go. You narrow your eyes and try again.
This time, he catches the paint scraper as you drop it, snatching it out of the air so effortlessly that you barely even see it before you find yourself in the exact same position as before.
“That’s cheating.” You grumble, hearing the tool clatter against the deck as Bucky drops it and moves his arms to wrap around your middle.
“Fair and square, doll.” He says, smiling against your neck. You try to frown, but your own smile breaks through as he begins pressing gentle kisses to the side of your throat.
“You’re gonna get motor oil all over you.” You say, even as you tilt your head to the side to allow him more access. After an hour fiddling with the engine, you’re absolutely covered in the stuff, and his wandering hands are already smudged with black.
“Tragic.” He says, very unconvincingly, and pulls you even closer.
“Oh, come on guys.” Sam’s voice makes you blink, turning in surprise to see him standing a few feet away. “No sex on the boat.”
You snort, pulling away with a roll of your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, we’re not gonna have sex.”
“We’re not?” Bucky asks behind you, sounding so convincingly disappointed that you can’t help but laugh.
“That better be a joke.” Sam grouches, and you laugh all over again.
-
At the end of the day, Sam convinces you to stay.
Well, convince is probably not the right word. You can see in Bucky’s eyes that he wants to, even as he mentions needing to catch your flight soon. You, personally, could sit and work on this project until the boat is shiny and new again. Maybe, with some persuasion on your part, Sarah and Sam might let you put a laser or two on it.
Either way, you find yourself on Sam’s couch that night, collapsing onto the surface with a tired sigh. Bucky barely has time to envelop you in his arms before you’re asleep, worn out and satisfied after a hard day’s work.
You wake the next morning to a warm, gentle kiss to your cheek, your nose, your lips.
You don’t even open your eyes, humming sleepily as you feel a large body shift smoothly above yours. Your arms come up to instinctively wrap around Bucky’s neck, holding him close to you as you’re pulled peacefully back into consciousness.
When you do meet his gaze, you’re blessed with a glimpse of bright blue irises before he’s leaning down and kissing you again. Slow, gentle, deepening when he feels you relax beneath him.
“You always wake up so early.” You complain half-heartedly, fingers moving up to slide through his hair as his own hand moves under your shirt to suggestively trace over your skin. His only response is to hum against your mouth, scraping his teeth against your bottom lip as his fingers slide up a little higher.
“Sam would kill us.” You whisper, and his answering smile is purely wicked as he trails his mouth down your jaw, over your neck. He shifts above you, sliding his metal hand down to hook behind your knee and tug you further below him.
“So we’ll be quiet.” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin of your throat, and you are legitimately about to give in, especially as he settles more on top of you and presses you even deeper into the couch.
It’s in that somewhat compromising position that Sam’s nephews find you as they burst into the room, play-fighting with Steve’s shield. They see the two of you, and immediately drop it.
“Uh, hey.” You say awkwardly, at the same time Bucky removes his lips from your neck to blink at them.
“Hey.” He echoes you, and for a moment you all stare at each other. Bucky on top of you, one hand still hiking your leg up around his waist while the other has abruptly ceased its suggestive venturing up underneath your shirt.
The kids wave shyly, looking much more concerned about getting in trouble for playing with the shield than scarred for life at what they nearly walked in on. That, at least, is a relief.
They scurry off, and Bucky drops his head onto your shoulder with a soft noise of embarrassment.
“Did you just throw up a peace sign?” You ask, and he makes another tortured sound, hand coming up to loosely cover your mouth like it might stop anymore teasing. You playfully lick his palm in response, and he laughs as he releases you, sitting up and pulling you with him.
You both glance once more at the shield, a silent wave of grief seeming to wash through the room, before you shake it off and stand up with a stretch.
“Bet Sam is back on the boat by now.” You say, straightening your clothes and looking out the window to the gentle glow of the dawn. “You soldiers all wake up before morning even starts.”
Bucky just smiles, pulls you to him, and kisses you one last time.
“Later.” He promises, and you grin as you nod.
-
It’s a bit later in the morning when Sarah finds you sitting by the water pump. You’re spinning a wrench absentmindedly in your fingers, staring down at the piece of metal with a frown.
“Okay, so this screw should go in
this hole.” Sam tries, looking to you for reassurance.
“I have no idea.” You say, helplessly. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. As the certified genius here, I can confidently say that this thing should not exist.”
You’re almost relieved when Sarah shows up to kick the three of you out, and the teasing that ensues makes your heart feel full. Just like yesterday, Bucky seems at peace. Comfortable and happy.
Later, in Sam’s backyard, you let them talk as you take a turn throwing Steve’s - no, Sam’s - shield against a cluster of trees.
Of course, it bounces and comes right back to you, and your reflexes help you catch it without a second thought. Still, despite how light it is, the impact nearly knocks you backwards.
Too cumbersome for you. Too big. Too much
weight, behind it. Not physical wait, of course, but
something.
“Oh, nope.” You say, handing it over to Sam as you make a face. “Not for me. Not my thing.”
He looks at you like he understands, doesn’t question your words or push for any more of an explanation, and throws it again.
The following conversation is
necessary. Hard, but necessary. And Sam is right. If the Winter Soldier is still in Bucky, you’ll just have to deal with that. Work through it and manage it as best you can. But if you want the nightmares to stop
.you might have to switch tactics.
So you leave. You say goodbye to Sam, and begin making your way down the road.
“So
” you say, chewing on your lower lip as you begin trying to form a plan. “What now?”
Bucky’s arm wraps casually around your shoulders, and the corner of his mouth quirks up as he speaks.
“Well first, I wanna finish what we started this morning.” He says, low, and you feel heat creep into your cheeks at the promise in his voice. “And then
I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”
You smile, sliding your arm around his waist. “Sounds like a plan, Sarge."
-
Taglist: @vicmc624, @saucysasha2035, @iyskgd, @intothesoul, @capswife, @otterlycanadian, @phoenix666stuff, @astridphantom, @miss-chuchu, @frog-fans-unite, @torntaltos, @redh00dsbf, @chronicallybubbly
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tanadrin · 24 hours ago
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Where would your sense of self even come from without any experiences to inform it?
this is, i think, a very good question!
So I can only assume that some sort of government agency would decide what people need to know, and what their values would be, and kind of implant those things?
The standard assumption in these answers seems to be that the government would manage reproduction, which seems to me not unreasonable, but also not guaranteed. You could imagine people clubbing together on lots of different bases to reproduce--professional groups, philosophical tendencies, religious associations, etc. I suppose what I meant was just that no newly-decanted clone would be unusually deficient in knowledge, but the way I worded it implied all clones would necessarily have identical knowledge, which I guess does imply some kind of society-wide standardization.
Do you get randomly assigned ‘Roman Catholic’, or ‘Orthodox Jew’, or ‘libertarian’, or ‘communist’ by the cloning machine if the state has decided that those are groups of people it wants to have in its society?
I think for sure religion and individual affiliation to subcultures would look radically different in this society! How different would depend how long this cloning technology had been in use.
People make meaningful choices and achieve meaningful things before they are 18.
They sure do! That's something I find very interesting about this hypothetical.
New people are produced via cloning. This cloning method is one of those bs science fiction cloning machines that produces a fully grown adult. Thanks to how these machines are designed, this fictional society is about as genetically and individually diverse as our own. New adults are physically about 18 years old, and equipped with a standard set of knowledge about the world, comparable to what your average 18-year-old today knows.
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monstersinthecosmos · 1 day ago
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every time I come across ppl hyping up devil's minion that will supposedly happen in the show I feel like pulling my hair.
I love those two in the books and no hate to the show actors but it's literally impossible to adapt the book themes when they've changed so much about armand and especially Daniel. Like, it's not gonna be anything like in the books. I feel crazy
((I try not to talk about AMC too much because I don’t want to be a hater on your dash and make anyone feel bad LOL but I will answer this, and if you’re new please feel free to mute my AMC tags - #vampire pajama party on amc and/or #the rolin jonestown massacre depending on how upset I am LMAO!!))
Yeah I mean. Ngl it’s really frustrating! 
I don’t begrudge show fans for watching and enjoying their fun show—I’ve enjoyed lots of shows where I hadn’t read/seen/played the source material and even when something is a shaky adaptation, if you don’t know any better you will still really enjoy it! Dexter and True Blood and The Outsider come to mind. Speaking of Stephen King, I’d also list the Kubrick version of The Shining, which became a horror classic while absolutely BUTCHERING the themes of the novel and being a pretty horrifically bad adaptation in the end. (It begs the question: Is it still good writing if you gutted an existing novel and only half-wrote something, or should you have just sacked up and written your own story at that point?) There’s also stuff like The Haunting of Hill House, which is a truly godawful adaptation of the novel and yet it is so extremely perfect and intentional down to the tiniest details that it speaks for itself and survives on its own merits as one of the best pieces of horror media ever?
(this got long sorry lmao im really crashing the fuck out over here to the joy of my enemies 😂😂😂)
So like sure if someone watches IWTV with no expectations and then finds out that Armand & Daniel are a canon ship I’m sure they’re excited and tinfoil hatting and looking for clues everywhere LOL. 
Something can be a good show/movie while not being a good adaptation, and you can be a fan of both, you can nitpick as much as you want, and sometimes it won't deliver and other times you just go "damn that slapped, I don't even care that you fucked up so bad." On the other hand, sometimes an adaptation is TOO careful to the point that it comes out a bit boring, with nothing to add!!!!! And I think regardless of how these creative decisions shake out, media needs to be able to exist on its own for the audience who don't know the source material. For a lot of IWTV fans, it does!! And I think there's a lot of dissonance when you get book fans coming in with too many expectations. But for a lot of people, whether they realize it or not, the story is leaving TONS of gaps, and the nature of interacting with fandom means everyone's kinda choosing their own adventure. I think it's also worth noting that this show has a bit of a cult fandom and is relatively unknown outside in the regular world, so this really colors the way we interact with it.
One of the things I think this show really struggles with is whether or not it expects the audience to know the story already, and if they assume the audience either read the book, watched 1994 movie, or is maybe even reading alongside/between seasons/whatever. (It’s ironically incredibly antagonistic to the source material at the same time, so like, are some of insults and jokes meant to land, like the telenovela comment?) There are lots of weird little narrative gaps that I don’t think make a ton of sense within the show’s own independent text, and yet we see the fandom extrapolating with tons and tons of thoughtful meta of how it actually relates back to the books, and honestly I think people are twisting themselves into pretzels trying to invent a story that they aren’t actually being shown.
I’ve hesitated to talk about S2 too much because I’m sure I missed some stuff and I thought I needed to watch it a couple more times to figure it out, but honestly I just 

.. haven’t wanted to lol. But I mean, look I’m not the sharpest crayon in the shed but there was a lot in S2 that didn’t make narrative sense to me, and when trying to focus on the show’s own text, and what it’s trying to tell us, there was so much going on that only makes sense if you use the book as a filler. For example: Why did Armand have Claudia killed, except that the book necessitates that they circle back around to it? An example from S1: Why did Louis go back and forth about killing humans so much, except that the book necessitates it? What’s the actual independent logic from within the show’s own text?
(And look like, maybe I’m dumb! Maybe I didn’t get it. S2 confused me a lot LOL there were a lot of moments I really wasn’t following the story and didn’t understand why characters were behaving the way they were or why we were spending time with certain things, and that’s okay! Maybe it’s not for me. But I do think that if a moderately nerdy viewer can’t follow very basic character beats, maybe you’re too obscure and intellectual for your own good, or maybe there were some plot holes?)
But I say all that to say, you’re correct!
✹Devil’s Minion was 86’d the moment they announced Eric Bogosian as Daniel!✹
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And I think there’s a bit of fandom semantics here, because I know people use “”””Devil’s Minion””””” as a ship name. So like, looking at TV!Armand and TV!Daniel and saying DEVILS MINION COMING simply in terms of their becoming a ship is not necessarily the same as DEVILS MINION THE SHORT STORY IS BEING ADAPTED. But yeah like. 
Idk, there’s really no possible way for the Devil’s Minion story to be adapted. The window is closed! It’s not happening!
And there’s a weird phenomenon going on in this fandom where, for some reason, every other fandom in the world that’s ever gotten an adaptation gets to nitpick it to death and complain about like, someone’s haircut, a character’s height, a sequence of events being out of order, leaving out an inconsequential subplot for time, etc—but with this show, everyone’s gaslighting each other that changing every single possible detail and being unsubtly antagonistic to the text is actually so great? Even looking at a show like Game of Thrones it seems like universally agreed upon that it fell off when they started deviating from the books. And every week after House of the Dragon I’d peek at the Tumblr tag and it was NONSTOP COMPLAINING about all the things they changed! 
Like, I think there’s a lot friction because I get the impression that a majority of the TV fandom either hasn’t read or actively dislikes the books LOL. So they see a lot of these radical, load-bearing changes as really cool ways to update the text and “correct” the books to make them better? And it leaves book fans standing here like đŸ§â€â™‚ïž because we actually liked the books? And for me it begs the question like, what does RJ actually see as the core important things in VC? Because we have a wildly different take! And like no one expects such an unconventional, non-linear book series to have a 1:1 adaptation, but my question is like: Did you really have to change LITERALLY EVERYTHING??? LOL Could we have kept like, a couple things? As a treat? Did you really not have the fanfic writing chops to tell a new story and expand the canon without creating a universe that is so diametrically opposed to the source? 
And it’s really really normal to read a book/play a game/whatever and then have fun checking out a movie or show! It’s fun to look for all your favorite parts and see how they come out in a new medium! Just this week I read & watched This Is Where I Leave You and it was so fun to see the scenes come to life and really interesting to analyze the story to see how certain changes did or didn’t make sense to a new medium! I think it’s NORMAL to want that experience! But if you read IWTV and then watch the show it’s like.. there’s
 Two? scenes from the book? In ~15 hours of TV? Come on man. 
So when you see people talk about Devil’s Minion it’s just crazy talk to me, like I feel gaslit as fuck bro. Because within the text of the show, we’ve gotten .. ? What? TV!Daniel is so incredibly antagonistic and like, I’m not saying Eric Bogosian wouldn’t be able to hypothetically deliver it, but I don’t think the writing team has the skill to transition this character to sincere and romantic. I’m not even convinced he’s queer in the text of the show—sucking dick for drugs does not a queer character make. 
Everything the fandom cites as “Devil’s Minion” content is FROM THE BOOK!!! 
The book that people claim to hate so much! That should be destroyed and rewritten! And it proves to me that the show’s own text is not strong enough to provide compelling ship content! And like, why would they! When every other ship they’ve done so far is absolutely unrecognizable from the books! When the writers care more about adultery drama and domestic violence than about the way vampires experience love?! 
It’s just! 
Like, maybe I’m being a twat, but I think “The Devil’s Minion” is the story of Daniel becoming enthralled with vampires -> Armand becoming enthralled with Daniel -> a tense 12 year relationship where they cannot find peace because they cannot both have the thing that makes them happy -> Daniel’s curiosity and verve are the thing that lets Armand become a new person and allows himself to love -> their lifestyle will get Daniel killed and Armand finally caves because he cannot live without him.
For starters — THE SHOW TURNED DANIEL OFF SCREEN??? LMAO???
Like, listen. Y’all are really lead poisoned if you think RJ gives a SINGLE fuck about this ship! He acted so surprised when people kept asking him about it around S1! He acts put off every time people ask! He does NOT care dude! Lol. It’s ALWAYS been the second VC ship! It is BELOVED! He does not care dude. You’d have more material to work with if he cared! It would’ve been laid in carefully from the start, it’s load-bearing! 
But it’s also like.
Casting a 70 year old for Daniel immediately tells us that the story did not happen, because he is very much a person who survived to 70. The point of DM is that Armand’s love destroyed him. It KILLED him ! And it’s not REALLY a story you can tell with a 70 year old — I’m not being ageist here, I’m saying that the tragedy is that Daniel destroyed his youth and never had the chance to live. His life effectively ended when he was 20. He never had a normal experience again. TV!Daniel has CHILDREN. He had a CAREER!!!! He lived a life!!! That completely misses the mark for me! 
The point of DM is that Armand compromised his ONE deeply held belief because he was IN LOVE. (The show is even admittedly uncertain about this!! They said they weren’t sure how to write him!! What is going oN!) 
Armand even warmed up to Daniel because he wanted an usher into the modern world! In the show, he’s perfectly comfortable in the modern era! He’s bar hopping with Louis and wearing contacts! What is the point here?! 
(Side essay but like the way the show absolutely destroyed Loumand here and that they overlap lmao and like, Armand & Louis’s breakup in the book is SO important to both Louis’s AND Armand’s characters and their growth and we simply do not get to have it. Sigh!) 
((I also don’t really understand how the themes and character growth Armand goes through with DM make sense when Louis is there the whole time????? Again maybe I’m dumb idk. I don’t get it lol. đŸ„Ž))
So like. It’s not to say that the show won’t finagle their way into putting them together, but is it The Devil’s Minion? Or is it two random TV characters named Armand and Daniel that get to hook up in unrelated circumstances? Is it an Armand/Daniel fanfic AU that doesn’t really resemble the story of the Devil’s Minion at all in the end? 
AND LIKE ALSO, just to sidestep this point: I think the show really wrote itself a get out of jail free card by saying that no one’s memory is reliable, so like. It feels that any complaint we make, someone can go BUT WE’LL GET THE *REAL VERSION* IN SEASON 38!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And like, I do wanna say 2 things about that
1 - This is another point where I think the (often very clever and insightful) meta written by fans is for a show they wish they were watching, and not necessarily the show that we’ve been given. Because like for example, how hard was everyone coping with The Drop and insisting that we’d find out it never happened, and guess what! We haven’t been told that. People were convinced that S2 would reveal that some version of Devil’s Minion happened in the past, and guess what! It didn’t! There actually weren’t these predicted, massive narrative changes revealed in S2, so like, is it smart to continue hoping for that?
And if so 
2  - It is a really really tall order imo to expect your fans to wait 3, 5, 8, 10 years for a story to make sense. I want shows to have the integrity to pull off a long game but I think they have to be a little more mindful of the medium they’re using. 7-8 episodes every 2 years is not really a great format for this type of storytelling. MAYBE I’M JUST IMPATIENT AND THIS FORMAT IS NOT FOR ME LOL but idk man. Because what I think it winds up doing, and we’ve seen this unfold in fandom, is create a situation where, as a viewer, you can’t trust anything you’re watching. And like, again, being mindful of format, maybe that works for some things? But on the other side of the coin, how are your viewers supposed to become emotionally invested and give a shit in what they’re watching if nothing is the truth?
And looking between S1 and S2, so many of the fandoms predictions didn’t even come true anyway? 
Like, do you ACTUALLY really like a show if you’re constantly just propping up the version you’re imagining in your mind, that will maybe come to fruition in 2-6 years from now? Are they insisting it’s an excellent Devil’s Minion adaptation because of the sunk cost fallacy and the stubborn need for fandom clout? I remember after S1, a couple of the huge AMC fandom people were absolutely devastated about the Rashid-Armand twist (privately, on Discord, came online literally in tears after) but continued to cheerlead and tweet that the show was gods gift after they’d been """ waiting 15 years """ to see DM on screen? Hello???? 
I just think like. Personally!! For me!!! I expect a little more from an adaptation. The source material should not only show up as Easter eggs. I want to actually see the STORIES! It’s so mangled beyond recognition at this point and I don’t personally find it fun to like, sit here and try to Leo!point my way through a show where nothing is where it’s supposed to be. I just wanted to see the DM story on screen, and this isn’t it! :( And like, how am I supposed to be interested if it takes 4 years to throw us some crumbs hahahah GOD. :( y’all are stronger than me if you have the patience and optimism for this, especially coming from Let’s Rape Claudia guy. 
But I admit I’m firmly in salty hater mode about this show LMFAO. The books are just too precious to me, and I cut my teeth in fandom as a Devil’s Minion fic writer — THEY ARE THE SHIP I CARE ABOUT!!!!!!!! — and it’s been hard to engage when I could tell before the show even came out that DM would not be a part of its canon. Even when I have watched the show, and it was so kinda goofy and unserious that it blunted my grumpiness, there’s still such an undercurrent of crushing disappointment that this might have been the only chance in my lifetime to see the Devil’s Minion on screen and it’s not what I wanted! :( 
It just bums me the fuck out man.
But anyway tldr, you aren’t crazy, idk why this is the lone fandom on god’s green internet where we have to play Opposite Day and suck the dick of a shoddy adaptation. I think it’s good and correct that people want support queer shows with leads of color !!!!! Especially when it’s not clear if AMC is being particularly good to their actors and not doing a great job with marketing! It’s okay that the show might have a grassroots & cult following! And I’m not sure why it’s very popular in the fandom to take the position that the books suck & Anne Rice sucks and the show is so much better until a book fan complains that it’s not a good adaptation, and then it’s IT’S A GREAT ADAPTATION! IT’S FROM THE BOOK! Babe choose a side!!!!!!!!!!! Like I said, I’ve enjoyed shows like True Blood that were just silly good fun and yet I managed to not insert myself into the book fandom and pick fights with people who wanted have honest conversations about it, but that’s just me! I guess fandom culture has changed lol. 
Basically I guess it’s just a recipe for disaster on piss on the poor website amongst a populace that leans TERFy-conservative and can’t handle dark topics in fiction haha. 
Yikes!!!! 
also armand can walk in the sun lol that's so stupid
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protector-of-tinies · 13 hours ago
Text
A G/T TROPE THAT NO ONE'S USED BEFORE
(SO TECHNICALLY IT'S NOT A TROPE YET):
One of the questions raised by the existence of shrinking technology is "When someone shrinks and they lose ninety-nine percent of their body mass, where does all that extra matter go?"
Some G/t media, like Ant-Man and the Wasp, has answered this question by saying "The extra matter doesn't go anywhere...it just gets compressed together very densely by moving all the person's atoms closer together." This is kind of a stupid answer, though, because it means that the person's mass and weight remains the same, which creates many problems for G/t scenarios. It's obvious that the Marvel movies didn’t know what to do with this concept, because they tried to apply it, but they did it in a VERY, VERY inconsistent and silly way.
Sometimes shrunken people and objects are heavy (whenever the movie needs them to be), but sometimes they're inexplicably very light (whenever the movie needs them to be). For instance, Dr. Hank Pym is able to shrink an entire building and then wheel it around like a suitcase...this makes no sense. If the building retains all its mass, it should be way too heavy for that. A lot of common G/t tropes just don't work anymore if shrunken objects retain their mass, which is why Marvel had to cheat in order to have it both ways and try to make those ideas work. Ant-Man and the Wasp would be a very boring and anticlimactic movie if it ACTUALLY followed its own rules consistently...the writers kind of painted themselves into a corner where they were "forced" to break their own rules so the movie could happen.
I propose a new solution to the "mass" problem. In my fictional universe, when you shrink, you temporarily lose all that extra mass...and you transfer it to another person or object in your vicinity. Maybe you have to be touching that person or object in order for the transfer to work.
So let's say we have a superhero duo: a girl and her boyfriend. The girl has the ability to shrink, and when she shrinks, she transfers her lost size to her boyfriend, which causes him to grow into a mini-giant like the Hulk (obviously, this gives him super strength). Because that extra mass is still invisibly linked to her brain and her body (maybe through quantum entanglement or some other science-y explanation), she retains control over her missing atoms, which gives her the ability to partially control her boyfriend's giant body. So she could wield him like a pilot controlling a giant mecha warrior...or like the rat in Ratouille who could control a human's movements by sitting on top of his head and manipulating his hair. (That Ratatouille concept sounds completely bonkers when it's written out on paper. What were the writers at Pixar smoking when they came up with that??)
If she shrinks and transfers her atoms into an inanimate object, that means the object would grow bigger and she could also "possess" it and control it, at least partially. Meaning she could wield a tank or a bulldozer or something and use it as a weapon or as a way of blowing something open.
There are all sorts of interesting places this could go. Someone needs to write this trope and make it into an ACTUAL trope!
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keuncats · 16 hours ago
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15, 17, 28, 35, 60 + ster
15. does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close ones?
this is an interesting question because ster loves meeting new people and hanging out with them, but she doesn’t necessarily consider every single person her friend. that’s actually something very smart because she knows not everyone will show the same level of care and consideration that she gives when she likes someone. she’s very careful about who she can lean on. honestly, that’s a skill she mastered during her trainee days and while being in nova, because there were a lot of girls there, and she could sense that not everyone was genuine in their dynamics. so, to answer your question, i would say she prefers a circle of friends she can trust and feel a true connection with. it doesn’t matter if it’s only three people or ten, she likes to be surrounded by those she feels comfortable with, because she is very passionate and loyal in her friendships, and she just hopes her friends feel the same way about her.
17. where was your oc born? do they still live there? how do they feel about their birthplace?
ster was born in seoul and has lived there since birth. sometimes she would go to australia to spend summer or winter breaks with the other side of her family, which i will explain later in another question about her family dynamic. she likes both places, she does enjoy seoul more but she felt weird for a while, probably during childhood, because some idiot korean kids would say she wasn’t korean enough because her mother was chinese and stuff like that. so, for a time, she felt awkward about her chinese side, since her mom is chinese. once, she went there for vacation with them, but she isn’t in touch enough with her roots; it feels as foreign to her as any other place. she probably started to embrace her chinese side when she entered the company. she decided to join the korean-english classes that the company provided for the chinese trainees, and she became more fluent in chinese and also made friends with other trainees. that’s probably how she met geovany and grew closer to mei.
28. what are your oc’s general life goals or dreams?
ster’s dreams came later than you can imagine. i mean, she did become a trainee and debut as part of a girl group, but that was never her goal. she only went for it because her best friend did, and she thought it would be super cool if those times when they played around pretending to be glamorous and cool like kyungri and xiulin actually came true. but to her, at that time, it just felt like a silly dream you have as a kid. she wasn’t even an influencer before becoming an idol because she never thought she’d enjoy being a public figure but she did. after debuting, she kind of started making notebook notes about her future plans (with cute stickers and everything). at the top of her list is working hard on her skills for nova’s projects, which i believe is more because she saw that a lot of the members live and breathe for their dreams, so she feels she should take this job more seriously for them (again, she’s that type of friend). another important goal for her is making herself more remarkable in the fashion industry and getting brand deals, she loves this part of her idol job, for real. sometimes i think about making a jewelry collection for her, just like i did nontitle.ml for mingyu, because i truly believe she has the ability and interest to do something like that. in her free time, she goes to arts and crafts studios to make bracelets and necklaces, she even made some for the fans and gave them away at fansigns.
another dream that’s very important to ster is her future podcast with devi, which i believe she’s going to fall in love with, mainly because she’ll be working with her best friend, her favorite person in the entire world, so she’d do anything to make that podcast successful. once, i even told you about her going to college to make her dreams better, and you thought it was funny, which it is, because ster is not into study at all. but she is very curious, and college isn’t something only academically driven people can do. ster is someone curious and open-minded about becoming better at something and understanding more.i ’m just babbling, sorry. i just wanted to point out how ambitious ster has become in my head.
35. what’s your oc’s family like? who are they closest to — birth family or found family?
ster has, overall, three parents and one stepmother. basically, ster was a planned, fertilized child between two gay men and their lesbian friend. she lives with her two gay dads in seoul, one is a sculptor artist and the other works in high technology, something that allows them to live comfortably in a penthouse. one of them is her biological father, which is why she has “beak” in her last name.
these two gay dads wanted to have biological children, but of course, neither could get pregnant. they had a really close friendship with this chinese lesbian, who was also a plastic artist like the sculptor dad. they were best friends since college, and she was very close to the gay couple, they would joke around a lot that they were a couple of three, and the lesbian was like a goddess to them. so, they decided, “why don’t the three of us have a baby together?” and that’s how they decided to have ster! they went to a fertility clinic, one of them became the sperm donor, the lesbian became pregnant, and the rest is history.
the three of them lived together until ster was six years old. by that time, the gay dads officially got married, while her lesbian mom had a lot of relationships with other women over the years. her mom, who has the last name chai, was a very spontaneous person and traveled a lot for work. she eventually got an offer to teach at an arts university in australia, and she decided to go because it was a great career opportunity. they decided that ster would stay and live with her dads in seoul, and during school breaks, she would spend time with her mom in sydney. there was even one summer where she begged to take devi with her to spend time there, and they let them!
ster is really close to her dads and visits them every week, even after debuting. she also facetimes her mom every chance she gets. eventually, her mom found someone, got married, and decided to have children as well. ster became an older sister at sixteen, and now she has two little sisters whom she absolutely adores. she tries to send them gifts every month because she doesn’t get to spend much time with them, so she wants them to remember her as the cool older sister who became a k-pop star.
60. has your oc ever had their heart broken?
of course she had. sahyuk wasn’t her first boyfriend, although he is the only one she can genuinely say she loves. but i don’t think ster ever really got her heart broken, even when dating. she did get rejected sometimes by boys at school, and that made her cry and stay in her room, skipp classes, the same way couples do after breakups. in total, i think she dated over three guys, counting sahyuk. the first one was a summer fling with this teenager in australia, he was blonde, skinny, and had that accent. they dated for the entire summer vacation, which was just one month. they tried to keep dating long distance, but the guy started ignoring her texts. they didn’t officially break up, but you know, she got ghosted. that was way worse because she kept calling him her boyfriend to her friends when she got back from vacation, and when he stopped replying, she felt dumb and annoying. it was traumatizing for her. the other guy she dated was during her last year of high school. she didn’t get heartbroken by him, but she felt sad because she started getting tired of his presence. she didn’t want to feel that way because he was sweet, but they had nothing in common. he was just cute. she got sad after breaking up with him because, well, he was really cute he had the potential to date her for more than three months if things were different. and the other time she got heartbroken was when she had to end with sahyuk because that time she really had real feeling for him.
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tarookie · 21 hours ago
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hii can you please do enhypen jake's current love life reading? thank you!
jake’s current love reading
four of pentacles + the moon + knight of wands + the star + king of wands + five of pentacles + wheel of fortune + two of cups + eight of swords + the hanged man + queen of cups + nine of pentacles reversed + eight of cups
if you like this reading and would be interested to book a more personal one or ask something about your favorite idol, check my ko-fi on my pinned!! <3
i will say that he’s not in a relationship right now and i don’t feel likes he’s really looking for one, very introspective energy. he may be scared to open up right now and is avoiding the thoughts of a relationship.
emotionally i can see that he’s confused and a little lost. i think that he sometimes may think about finding someone but it’s also a bit contradicted because there’s other things going on in his life right now and it’s like he doesn’t know where to draw his attention to/ where to go/ what to do first. he’s at the moment where he doesn’t know how to name his emotions very well. he’s feeling unavailable.
i asked if there’s anyone in his heart right now or someone that he’s currently thinking about or something like that, i can sense this energy that there might be a feeling of desire/ something intense, but i don’t think that it’s someone that he’s currently seeing, i think that it’s more of a person that he idealizes for his desires, someone who he pictures when he’s alone or when the thoughts of something romantic crosses his mind. he may think about wanting someone when he has sexual necessities too. if he is seeing someone, there’s nooo strings attached, no emotional connection at all.
he may be thinking about wanting to have mutual passion with somebody but its almost like he thinks that person doesn’t exists or is way too far away from him, literally idealizing. when i asked about how he deals with his feelings, the king of wands showed up, so I think he acts upon what he’s feeling, he’s a guy that will take action, if he likes someone he’ll go for it. however, he could be a bit controlling about his feelings too, only shows what he he wants to show and ignores “bad” emotions that he considers inconvenient, which is not very healthy or helpful
one of my questions was about what he’s looking for consciously and the answer was the five of pentacles so I think that he’s not looking for anything? lol bc that card also talks about being disappointed in life and feeling disappointed in love, like there’s nothing to wish for, nothing to look for, hopeless. it’s possible that he may feel left behind by someone and feels resentful about it. unconsciously, he wants a love that changes his life and his view about love, someone different that will make him feel different. a mutual love that completes him in a way.
the hanged man is showing that his past love experiences changed his view about relationships, putting him in the state he’s in right now. he may still have wounds caused by someone in his past.
as for external interferences, he feels like his life is an obstacle in a sense that makes it hard for him to find someone he truly loves, and even if he does, it’s hard to have something serious.
he needs to cure his deepest feelings, he needs to learn how to deal with his emotions and not hide from them. maybe he has been hurt before so he finds it hard to open up and face his feelings.
for the future, i see him still resisting giving in to his emotions and still hopeless for love. it will take a while for him to realize what he needs to change about himself. he won’t feel ready for a relationship and won’t be able to fully trust people in this time.
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henchmaniac-ford · 2 days ago
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... uhh, hey, hench. sorry about what i did. i don't think i was quite myself, but that is no excuse. i just want you to know that i asked wilhelm to have a trial for me before yours, so there's evidence in your favor and all, and i also wanted to know how your recovery is going, if you are recovering at all. uh, anyways, hopefully i'll see you there so you can have some sense of vengeance. i'm sorry for what i did.
you can stop by my lab for supplies to help you if that at all makes up for it. consider your ban lifted. don't touch the jelly beans on display though, those were ford's that he was holding on to.
-tt
Hench reads the note carefully, crumpling it and shoving it into his pocket after he's finished. He has better things to do than walk into what's so obviously a trap meant to finish him off. Like, build a machine that can turn anything into jelly beans for one.
He does cave in after a few hours.. He has questions he wants answered. "So, my ban is lifted is it?"
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broomsick · 3 days ago
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Hello there :) i'm new here and wanted to ask you something since you seem very experienced in your faith (if that makes sense):
I've been very interested in norse/germanic paganism/heathenism (whatever it's called) for a veeeery long time. I even had a very vivid dream about Odin once (he encouraged me to follow my faith) and then started working with Freyr who helped me a lot when i went to therapy for my mental health struggles (i love him so much, he's basically the only god i'm working with atm)
Now, i've always been a bit overwhelmed by my own expectations and by all the information online. I WANT to practice my faith actively, i want to pray every day, i want to give offerings, i want to celebrate yule and solstice and everything, but i just don't know how and where to start.
So i wanted to ask whether you could maybe help me:
- do you have any suggestions for not getting ahead of yourself, for starting slowly with your practice, and for not letting other people's practices influence your own?
- do you have any suggestions for teeny tiny things i could start doing every day to show appreciation to the gods? (especially on low energy / bad mental health days)
- what do you actually DO with your altar? Do you use it as a place where you pray? A place where you give offerings? I really want a little altar but i'm just not sure what i actually want it for which might help me decide on how and where i'll go about making one
- i've only ever worked with Odin and Freyr before, do you have any tips on how to get started with working with other gods? Do you simply read their stories to learn about them and pray to them? I'd love to 'get to know' Vidar and Thor too but i just don't know where to start
I really hope this all makes sense, any help would be greatly appreciated!!
Hello! Thank you for reaching out! It's great to know you've had such positive experiences with Óðinn and Freyr. It sounds to me like you're already well on your way to building your own personal practice! There's really no trick to "getting started." Once you've looked a bit into the path and the practices, you've already stepped into the faith. I definitely think your unease concerning other people's influence is relevant. Especially since more and more people are turning to "influencers" and online content makers to answer their questions regarding paganism. This isn't a bad thing per se. But even outside of social media, I'm afraid putting your trust in information heard from others is only a tiny fraction of the work. And in the long run, you may realize others experience the Gods in vastly different ways than you have. In the same manner, you'll notice certain practices feel right and others simply don't, even if they were recommended by this or that influencer. My advice would be to exercise skepticism without restraint. Even when someone seems certain of what they're saying, always wonder where they got their information. Does their personal interpretation influence their message? Have other people claimed something similar? Does this information ring true, and fit your experiences? And when you decide to adopt practices or methods recommended by other people, stay aware of your own feelings. It's great to experiment, but don't force yourself into repeating rituals that felt like a chore, or which you haven't enjoyed. Once you've grown tired of a certain practice, there's nothing wrong with changing the routine up. Unless an oath has been sworn, none of us are bound to any duty in that regard. Even for pagans like me who have been practicing for years, the path is fluid. In fact, I think this exploration and adjustability are an important part of a beginner's journey in paganism.
Now, the topic of low-energy rituals is a very interesting one! The easiest and least draining devotional activity you can engage in is prayer! I know lots of people don't like the term, because it brings to mind a very ritualized and structured practice, when it can actually take on many forms. You can pray out loud or quietly, include praises or not, ask for something or not, mention things you're grateful about, mention current worries, or even simply talk about your day! A lot of pagans will choose to pray right before sleep, in the moment before you feel your consciousness slip. Others like to sit at their altar with a cup of tea and just chat away, being in the Gods' presence. It's even possible for you to write letters, on paper or in a phone app, letting all your thoughts out for your deity to see. I've found the latter practice to be quite liberating! I think this partly explains why journaling is such a popular hobby for pagans to adopt. Now, there are loads of low-energy practices you could choose to adopt, but they will depend on your personal habits. Blending worship in with your routine is a great way to stay connected to your faith on bad mental health days. If you have the habit of making tea at night, why not make a second cup for a deity? Or save part of your coffee to offer in the morning? And if you're an artist, why not dedicate some craft time to the Gods, and make art for them? Look into habits where you could include the Gods! It's as simple as inviting a deity to join you before gaming, reading, starting a movie, or generally engaging in hobbies you like!
As for your question regarding altars, I'm afraid to say the answer's quite vague! An altar's purpose varies greatly from person to person. People who actively engage in witchcraft might use it in their practice. Especially if there's a need to call upon a God or Goddess when they engage in spells or rituals. In this sense, it's almost like a work table! For some people, however, the altar is really more like a shrine. It's a space where you can encapsulate a deity's essence, for example, by putting up their image. You may choose to decorate it with candles, trinkets, an oath ring, images or objects related to your belief... The purpose of such a space is to have a spot in the home where the Gods' presence might feel stronger. It's the perfect place to sit by their side and pray, if one is so inclined, and to leave your offerings!
Finally, I'll tackle your last question! I've gotten a similar question before, so here's where you can read my answer. People become antsy at the thought of getting to know a whole new deity, but if I'm honest with you, there's really nothing to be nervous about. I'd rather see it as an adventure! If your intuition is drawing you in the direction of a new deity, then it's only natural you look into them! It can be interesting to learn about their myths, sure, but Norse mythology has a rather large collection of deities who only feature in 1-2 stories and are barely mentioned. For this reason, I think it's even better to look up historical research and scholarly interpretations. They may tell you even more about the way this or that deity was viewed and worshipped. I think it's a sign of respect towards a deity that you come to them wholeheartedly, frankly, and willing to learn about them! It's a way to say, "Hey, I know we don't know each other, but I think you're cool and I would love to receive your guidance!" From this point on, it's perfectly okay to pray to them and give them offerings right off the bat. You have to start somewhere! And there's no better way to learn than on the field. You may intuitively start sensing that they love this or that offering, or that they manifest themselves to you in this or that way.
I hope this all made sense and that these tips will help you! I'm really happy to know you value my insight. Please take good care of yourself.
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