#HELP I'M TRYING SO HARD PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE MY EFFORTS

[jangmi-latte]

I AM BLIND. I DO NOT SEE ANYONE. ALL I SEE IS A PURPLE BACKGROUND. DAMN THAT'S ONE PRETTY ASS BACKGROUND INDEED

[joelsgoldrush]

“GIVE ME ALL OF THAT ULTRAVIOLENCE” | 1.9k

logan howlett x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ implied age gap, dirty talk, kind of inexperienced reader, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, dom!logan, a tiny bit of degradation (yeah i'm a whore we already knew that), he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[lavenderchqn]

"PILLOWS AND THEIR FORTS"

synopsis — after a day escalates in you being fully deflated, kinich proves you that love comes in more than one way pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — minor character having a stereotypical outlook on what love is, a very minor panic attack notes — just a small kinich fic, since I'm enjoying him a lot recently

You stifled a yawn, exhausted at the day you unfortunately had to experience. 

The beginning of a new semester was always rough — dealing with new subjects, professors, or fellow students. Sad to say, what it also came with was… bloody in-person lectures. Combining those with your first practical subjects, you were stuck at university since 8 AM. 

Checking at your phone, you’ve discovered you were almost here for 12 hours. The clock has struck a miserable 7:28 PM. Only twelve more minutes and you’d be free to go home. To your beloved blankets. To your beloved pillows. 

“Earth to my lovely friend!” Your university bestie said, her voice muffled. You noticed her hands waving in front of your face. How did she manage to still feel energised was quite a mystery. 

“What’s up?” You asked, laying your head on your arms.

“Look at the boy I’m trying to get with…” She handed her phone to you, giving you full access to her full dating app conversation. “Quite the catch, dare I say~” 

You hummed, acknowledging her words. Unfortunately for her, your brain was not responsive enough to entertain her situation. “Looks nice, I guess…” 

“I know, right! Not to mention,  he’s such a romantic!!” She tried to further prove her point by all the serenade-like words the guy had sent. 

“I’m happy for you… let me nap now, please…” You closed your eyes, trying to conserve the last bits of your energy. Sadly, that was not doable due to a sudden thunderclap startling you back to full attention. Did it seriously start to rain just now?!

On a day… when you had decided to leave your umbrella back at home? Great, just great.

The lecture soon ended, and slouched people left the classroom trying to find any means of getting home. 

“My soon-to-be boyfriend said he can pick me up!” Your friend jumped in excitement. “Sometimes I pity you for still staying with Kinich, you know?” 

Oh. That was new.

“What do you mean?” You stopped, staring your friend down. What did he have to do with anything?

“You’re too good for him!” Her voice strikes back. “Surely you could do much better with a guy who can prove their love to you!” 

Her attitude was less than enjoyable at that moment. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. That was certainly not the time to have an argument with a friend. Your head was pounding — a cumulative effort of fatigue mixed with your sensitivity to weather. 

“Whatever.” You scoffed. “You’re not the one in this relationship, so what makes you think your opinion matters?” 

With those words, you were off. Into the cold and rain, you went. 

By the time you make it, you’re soaked from head to toe. You sigh as you turn the key to the house. Halfway through your walk back, you remembered that tonight was your turn to cook dinner. Only gods can hope, that Kinich isn’t upset with you.

The moment you step through the door, you’re hit with the smell of a freshly cooked dinner. Did he get so fed up he ordered something? 

You don’t even have time to think, swift footsteps coming in your direction.

“Holy fuck. I knew it started raining, but this much?” Kinich helps you in getting off your bag before heading to the bathroom. 

He’s soon back, with a stack of towels. 

“You’re alright, Love. I’ve got you.” He starts to dry your hair, doing his best not to damage your hair. Your head hangs low — you don’t want your partner to look at your face. It’s hard to even think when tears have joined all the water drops you’re covered with. 

Kinich must know something, as he doesn’t even question your odd behaviour. He dries as much water as he can. “Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?” He asks. 

“Huh?” You finally look at him, confusion in your eyes. “Why would you?” 

“Because,” He flicks your shoulder lightly. “You need a shower before you get sick.” 

With that, he picks you up and carefully carries you to the bathroom. 

“I’m going to get you some warm and cosy clothes for when you’re done.” He sets you down in the middle of the bathroom, in front of the shower. “Once you’re done, we’re going to eat dinner.” 

“A-Alright.

You stand there frozen for a moment once Kinich leaves, staring at the shower, still in a daze from everything that had happened throughout the day. The exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders finally catches up, and you let out a long sigh before undressing and stepping into the warm water.

As the heat cascades over your skin, the tension in your body begins to ease. You let the water wash away not only the grime from the rain but also the stress of the day. You can’t help but think back to your friend's words — her judgment about your relationship with Kinich. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but as the warm water envelops you, you realise how unfair it was to let those words affect you. Kinich was always there for you, always patient, always understanding. Her words didn’t matter. 

After a while, you finally get out of the shower, feeling lighter, though still emotionally drained. You dry yourself off and slip into the cosy clothes Kinich had laid out for you. As you open the bathroom door, the smell of dinner wafts through the air again. Your stomach growls, reminding you that you haven’t eaten much today.

Walking into the kitchen, you see Kinich setting the table. He looks up and smiles slightly when his eyes meet yours. "Feel better?”

You nod, offering a small smile in return. "Yeah, thanks… And sorry for not making dinner tonight.”

“Do I need to flick your forehead harder?” He asks, head tilted looking at your face confused. “I don’t need an apology.” 

“B-but…” 

“Shush.” He hands you the cutlery, before taking a seat himself. “Enjoy the meal, we’re having a cosy night once you’re done.” 

“Cosy night?—“ You turn around to look at the living room. 

There’s a pillow fort there. Fully fortified, oozing with pure comfiness.  

You stare at the pillow fort, blinking in disbelief. Kinich, always full of surprises, had somehow managed to set up the cosiest little corner of the living room while you were in the shower. Soft blankets draped over chairs and an assortment of pillows arranged perfectly. 

“You did all this while I was showering?” you ask, your voice soft with awe.

Kinich chuckles as he takes a bite of his food. “Sure did. Figured you could use a bit of comfort after the day you’ve had. Plus, we haven’t had a good pillow fort night in ages.”

Soon after,  the meal comes to an end. You both clear the table and Kinich gestures toward the fort. “Fort time?” he asks with a grin.

You nod eagerly, following him into the living room. The fort is even cosier up close, with a pile of your favourite snacks and a movie queued up on the laptop nestled inside. Kinich climbs into the fort first, patting the spot beside him, and you quickly follow, snuggling into the soft pillows as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

For a while, you both just sit there, the warmth of the fort and his presence surrounding you like a shield against the outside world. The rain continues to tap against the windows, however inside, everything feels safe and perfect.

“Thank you, Kinich,” you whisper, resting your head against his chest. “For everything.”

He starts stroking your back. “Of course. It’s the least I could do, to make your day less shitty.”

And in that moment, you realise that he truly did that. Despite the rough day, despite your friend’s hurtful words, sitting here in this homemade fort with Kinich by your side, you feel truly content… 

Knowing that love can be more than words. 

date of posting — september 16th 2024

[azrielbrainrot]

I'll Be Here

Pairing: Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue.

Word Count: 3605

Warnings: None

Notes: I had this stuck in my head and decided to just write it down. I'm not really a writer so bear with me please. Hope you enjoy!

Healer!Reader Masterlist

It's hard to keep an eye on how much wine you drink when the glasses get refilled magically. You've heard that this house has a consciousness of its own. Maybe it can sense your growing anxiety and keeps filling your glass in hopes of helping ease your mind a little. The more you drink the more worried you get, the thought that getting too drunk will only put you at a higher risk of embarrassing yourself having infiltrated your brain and pushed all the rational thoughts out. Big gatherings aren't exactly your cup of tea and the fact that this one was personally hosted by your High Lord didn't exactly help ease your nerves.

You've visited the House of Wind before but always as a part of your duties. Though it was because of your duties you were invited to this dinner so maybe you could add this attendance as part of your job. The High Lord and High Lady decided to invite notable people in Velaris for a night of celebrating the thriving city. After losing its High Lord for decades and the war that followed his release, Velaris went through some tough times but with the help of its people - most of them gathered in this space tonight - the city was once again prospering.

As a healer you usually see the High Lord and his Inner Circle in a state of emergency, when your abilities are needed and there's usually no time for formalities or worries. Every time you encounter them outside of those situations you never know what to make of yourself. You wouldn't say you're completely inept at social situations but you're definitely a lot better at handling them when they involve your patients and you have a job to do, something more important to focus on than choosing the right thing to say.

Your relationship with the Inner Circle is professional albeit friendly. It's hard not to feel your heart warming at the cupcakes the General insisted on buying you for helping heal his wings even after explaining that you actually only helped on his recovery process. Every time he drops by the clinic to pick up any herbs or ointments he insists on buying you one - though you suspect it's also an excuse to get one for himself - and when you see him out and about he demonstrates how healthy his wings are, having done it just before dinner when he was in charge of flying you up to the house. The painting the High Lady personally painted for you, as an acknowledgement of your efforts during the war, hangs right behind your desk in your office at the clinic and is one of your most important possessions.

This would be the kind of relationship anyone would kill to have with their employees - friendly acquaintances. But, since you were there for some of their most intimate moments and helped them through them, you never know how to act when you're not doing your job. You can't exactly call them your friends, even putting the fact that is your High Lord and High Lady aside, outside of work you only exchange some pleasantries whenever you bump into them. However there's too much knowledge for you to act completely professional after decades of nursing them and their family back to health. It feels awkward to shake their hands when they have hugged you with tears in their eyes, thanking you for saving their family.

There's also the tiny detail of the crush you've harbored on the resident shadowsinger ever since you first laid eyes on him. On top of trying to walk the line between friends and strangers with everyone else, you also have to be careful with not letting the observant Spymaster find out about the beat your heart skips when you see him. Making things awkward because of a silly crush is the last thing you need.

It's that reminder and the monumental effort you have to make not to let your eyes search for him that has you finally sneaking out of the room, deciding to find a quiet place to sober up. The House had fed you too much wine, and you still had to be flown back down at the end of the night. You'd really hate to throw up on Cassian's fancy suit. He probably wouldn't buy you cupcakes ever again.

You remember some of your surroundings after decades of being called in for emergencies, quickly finding one of the huge balconies overlooking the city. The fresh air grounds you almost immediately. You can still hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing party but the quietness of the mountain lets you get lost in thought. As much as you enjoy the liveliness of the nightlife in Velaris, you infinitely prefer the quietness and freedom only the woods or mountains at night can provide. When it's only you, the moon and the stars, and the world stops.

You don't know how long you sit there for, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance, wondering why your healing abilities work on some forms of poison but not on sobering you up. Your head only comes back to earth when you hear a familiar voice calling out your name behind you. You turn around fast enough to make you a bit dizzy, leaning back against the railing with wide eyes.

“Didn't mean to scare you,” the shadowsinger explained, “I just noticed you were gone from the room.” You spot the way he's bringing his wings closer to his body, making himself smaller, if that were even possible. Azriel made you feel a lot of things but you hadn't felt scared of him in decades, ever since the first time you met him. If you hadn't been already tipsy and distracted thinking about him you wouldn't have reacted so dramatically.

Realizing the spymaster of this court had just found you wandering around his house unattended, you rush to apologize and give him an explanation.

“I'm sorry. I needed some fresh air and remembered there was a balcony around here. I shouldn't have left the party without permission.” You make to move back, showing you were ready to go back to the party but he raises a hand and takes a step closer to you, stopping you before you can.

“You're not a stranger to this house. No need for permission,” he took another tentative step towards you before continuing, “Do you feel better now?” You relax back against the railing, your heart beating fast for a whole different reason now. It's not often you get to see Azriel out of his leathers and you barely had a chance to see him up close tonight, he looks mesmerizing.

“What?” Maybe you didn't sober up as much as you thought. Maybe being this close to Azriel was just an intoxicating experience in itself. Either way your brain was having a hard time catching up to his words and your chest was starting to feel warm.

“You said you needed some fresh air.” There's a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. Probably realizing that you weren't actually going to be sick. His shadows peak behind his shoulders, following their master as they usually do.

“Yes. It was just getting a bit stuffy in there.” Aside from the butterflies creating a hurricane in your stomach, talking to Azriel feels right. His calm demeanor lets your thoughts quiet. “I might have drank too much because of the nerves.”

The Shadowsinger moves until he's leaning against the railing next to you. His eyes wander the illuminated city slowly before meeting yours. Stretched wings hang in what you assume is a less straining position after having to be pulled tighter into his body in the crowded room. Shadows start rolling off his shoulders, now lazing around him instead of covering him. The soft wind moves his hair ever so slightly, letting a few strands curl around his forehead and giving him an almost boyish look. It's not often you see the spymaster appear relaxed. You decide it might be your favorite look on him.

“Nerves?” Your eyes search his face once again after hearing the confusion in his voice. Azriel has a permanent seat at the High Lord's table not only as the Night Court's Spymaster but also as someone Rhysand considers family. This night isn't so different from every other dinner he shares with his family, just more crowded.

“I've never been to this house outside of my duties. It's a bit nerve-wracking to be personally invited by the High Lord.” As you finish speaking one of his shadows curls around his ear. You've learned they do this when they're speaking to him. The thought of it being about you has your heart speeding up. Only the Mother knows just how much those shadows can see and hear, if they can hear your thoughts. You check your mental shields just in case. They can be as terrifying as they are beautiful.

“Rhys and Feyre couldn't have thrown a party celebrating the strength and courage the people of Velaris have shown without one of our best healers. You've helped more people than we could ever thank you for.” The warmth you felt in your chest before was now spreading up your neck at an alarming rate. You had just been doing your job but being recognized for it felt incredibly rewarding. The fact that this praise came from the shadowsinger was making you especially giddy. “Rhys invited you because you're very important to this court, to us.”

“I am?” The question comes out before your brain has a chance to catch up. You try not to cringe at the surprise in your tone. It's not that you're not aware of your capabilities, the High Lord and High Lady either call for you or for Madja, one of the most powerful and wise healers you have ever seen. But old insecurities will always show their claws, indifferent to your achievements. To think that you could be important to all these extremely powerful people seemed like the punchline to a joke.

“Of course.” His body turns to you ever so slightly. Fingers uncurl as if he wanted to reach out, comfort you. “None of us would be here in good health if it wasn't for you, maybe not at all. You've helped us more times than I can count.”

“I was just doing my job. And I can't take credit for Madja, I'm usually just assisting her.”

“Even so, you've helped us through a lot.” He sounded very sincere, there was no denying he meant every word, but you still have a hard time believing it.

“I just don't think I really fit in here,” you whispered so low that if it wasn't for his fae hearing he wouldn't have been able to make out the words. The admission felt heavy in the air, it felt good to let it out. You hadn't been this honest with anyone, perhaps even yourself, in decades, you must have drank way more wine than you initially thought.

You weren't born in Velaris, but you've lived here for a century. The problem is you've spent the better part of that century waiting on feeling like you finally belonged. You never felt at home in your own court or in your family so it might have been wishful thinking that it would happen here.

“I think like that sometimes too.” As baffled as you were to hear that coming from him, he looked even more surprised than you. It seems he hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the words couldn't be taken back now.

“That's insane,” you try to level your voice after the outburst, "You're part of this family. Why wouldn't you fit in?” You couldn't let him think like that, there was no doubt in your mind everyone here loved and cherished him like family.

Rhysand's inner circle was known for how close they were, they were seen as the High Lord's family regardless of if they were blood related or not. Azriel has always been calmer and you know he likes to keep to himself but you never thought he looked out of place for a second. It's hard to imagine Rhysand and Cassian without his brother.

His eyes were trained on the city under you. His shadows had come back to him, almost covering him completely. Azriel was quiet for a while, long enough you thought he wouldn't even give you an answer. But then you feel a shield form around you, lest someone wanders in and hears his next words.

“Sometimes things and people change while you stay stuck in the same place,” his eyes meet yours as he talks and you search his expression for the rest of the story you know he won't tell. If there's one thing you hate about the shadowsinger is his ability to mask his emotions. His face was the perfect stoic mask as always.

It's not hard to understand what he meant. In less than a decade the inner circle almost doubled and some of the dynamics had likely changed with it. His brothers have found their mates, something every fae dreams of, and he was the odd one out. Even the Morrigan and Amren had found lovers in recent years.

You had heard some rumors he had taken a liking to the middle Archeron sister after pining for the lovely Morrigan for centuries, but she had also found her mate. Not even his methods of interrogation could make you admit you were avoiding the entire inner circle during that time. The hope you had felt upon realizing he wasn't looking at Morrigan like she hung all the stars in the sky was short lived and it only made you feel pathetic. You didn't understand why it had affected you so much. This was just a silly crush after all, you had never considered actually pursuing a relationship with the shadowsinger.

“I still don't understand how Amren got a lover before you.” You had meant to clear the heavy air between you but why your brain decided to use the millennia old creature to do so was beyond you. “I mean she's just…” you continue, startled by your own words, praying to the Mother that the shield he put up stopped Amren from hearing you, “Well, she's fae now but wasn't before and is still mildly terrifying, even after the transition, and you're so-” Wide eyes meet hazel and nothing could ever prepare you for the look on his face. The amusement shone bright in his eyes and in the teasing grin he wore. Just when you thought the shadowsinger couldn't get any more beautiful.

“I'm so?” He tilts his head a little as he asks the question. His shadows start almost dancing around him, like they can't wait to hear your thoughts on their singer. You clear your throat before continuing, trying to salvage some of your dignity.

“You're the Spymaster, the only known Shadowsinger. That's incredible, anyone would be lucky to have you.” Something flashes in his eyes and your mouth starts back up at the thought that it could be disappointment at the impersonal description. Azriel is much more than his role in this court and you can't let him think that's all you see in him.

“You're also one of the kindest people I've ever met. I've seen you worry over every single person in that room, putting their needs over your own even when you're also injured. You always keep your composure for them and give them your support. I've seen you around Velaris too, you're always respectful to everyone, even when they're a bit scared of you.” Eyes drag themselves back to the shiny stars in the night so you can keep going without wanting to jump off the balcony and making an even bigger fool of yourself. “Even as far as looks go... I would bet my house that if we walked down any of these streets we wouldn't find anyone that doesn't think you're stupidly handsome.”

“Stupidly handsome?” The amusement was dripping down his voice at this point. The smile was unmistakable in his tone and you couldn't hold yourself back from watching him any longer. You feel yourself relax at the grin plastered on his face. It isn't often that the shadowsinger shows any emotion at all, and you can't help the pride in knowing you put that gorgeous smile on his face, especially after the somber turn the conversation had taken earlier. You continue despite the warmth you feel in your ears, you'd compliment him for hours if it meant he wouldn't feel sad ever again.

“I've actually heard someone use those exact words to describe you.” You've thought it to be the most accurate description of the immense beauty the shadowsinger radiates ever since you heard the barista use it. Apparently she hadn't been born in Velaris and had taken up the job only a few days prior to serving the illyrian. She had barely held the compliment down long enough for Azriel to exit the building, shooting up into the sky. A few fae present couldn't contain the laugh at the fervent appreciation of the shadowsinger, but the air of agreement shared by everyone was unmistakable.

“I'll have to let my mom know,” there was laughter in his tone, “I'm sure she will be very proud that her son is receiving such compliments.” You hadn't known his mother was still alive which makes you think it's meant to be kept secret. You almost curse at the way your heart flutters. Stupid crushes.

“I'm sure she is very proud of you regardless.” He doesn't give away any hint of what might be going through his brain and it leaves you in a slight panicked fear of overstepping or having said the wrong thing. You could swear you saw a glint of disbelief but it was gone too fast for you to be sure. The idea that the Spymaster couldn't see his own mother being proud of him was ludicrous to you.

The nod he gives you doesn't give any of his thoughts away, but his shadows keep moving slowly around the balcony, never rushing to cover him.

“Why are you single then?” You know he's changing the subject but you don't have time to consider that when you realize it's your turn to answer the questions.

“Me?” You barely register the slight nod he gives to show you he's expecting an answer. If you had shadows of your own they would have wrapped around you like a blanket until only the top of your hair was peaking out. “How do you know I am? Are you using your spies on me, Spymaster?”

“I have to be well informed of what happens in this city,” he searches your face just like you did to him, “And as the spymaster I'm more than familiar with deflection. You don't have to answer my question. Tell me if I'm overstepping”

“No. It's-” you cringe, trying to find the right words. “I just never found anyone special I guess.” Even talking about this with him has your heart swelling in your chest and you pray to the mother he can't pick up on any changes in your heartbeat. You've been avoiding this conversation with family and friends, but despite all this you know Azriel will understand and won't make fun of your feelings. It feels safe talking to him. “I get really busy sometimes so it's hard to keep up a proper relationship, even with friendships. Sometimes people need more time than what I can give them.” You try not to think of all the times you didn't measure up to other people's expectations, when they didn't see you as enough for the trouble.

“They're idiots for letting you go.” You don't know if he's being polite in not mentioning how your heart keeps speeding up or if he thinks you're drunker than you are, but you thank every deity you can think of that he doesn't say anything.

“Some things just aren't meant to be.” You hope he doesn't insist on this conversation. There isn't much else to say and you'd rather not keep talking about how many times you'd gotten dumped. You consider pointing out he never gave you a reason for being single and that he was the one actually deflecting, but you don't want to push what clearly isn't an easy topic for him to discuss either. You suspect Azriel barely opens up with anyone, so you'll just treasure the brief look into his heart he allowed you before.

The rest of your night is spent with the shadowsinger, sitting in that balcony, watching the stars and talking about anything. The next day you'll sit in bed mortified, thinking about how you were doing most of the talking while he listened, but he had seemed content enough so you couldn't have been too annoying. When the party ended you had said your goodbyes to your hosts, without the previous nerves after your conversation with the shadowsinger. Feyre had even asked you if you were alright because she also noticed you leaving in the middle of the party, though something about the glint in her eyes told you she had gotten the wrong idea. Then Azriel had flown you down the steps and winnowed you to your front door - even though you could do it yourself. Maybe you'd have to rethink calling the inner circle your friends.

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

[hermetiqa]

What's your message for today?

Daily Message: 12.08.24

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

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NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it. Also, my apologies for not doing any daily message readings for days. I focused on the mini readings first!

Pile 1

Hello, Pile 1! This is such a good reading and honestly, you don't have to hear much. I can see that you've been having some conflicts with yourself. You're in a state of me vs. me lately and that's a good thing, but not in a way that you lower your self-esteem and put yourself down. You should be in a state of me vs. me when it comes to your growth. Outgrow yourself and be the better version of yourself as much as you can. Be content with what you have because I feel like when it comes to your achievements in life, nothing seems to be enough. Take a pause and appreciate them. This is the perfect time to be grateful of what you have become and what you have achieved. Be grateful of the people around you. Allow things to end and welcome new beginnings in your life.

Pile 2

Hi, Pile 2! How have you been? I'm seeing that you're not doing well lately but you're still doing your best. Has anyone told you that they appreciate you? Well, if not, let me say this: I appreciate you. You've been working hard a lot lately but no one seems to be recognizing your efforts that you put into the real world. Everyone seems to be asking you to do more and more, without acknowledging the fact that you've always been doing more. This is taking a toll on you emotionally and mentally now, so it's time to take a step back and breathe. Connect with your emotions. Meditate. Take nature walks or at least have some picnic in a place where you'll feel connected with nature. I'm getting some anxiety here and you're scared that you might fail. You're scared to disappoint people around you and you might be pleasing people all your life. You could have a masculine energy, but a calm one. You always understand people. You understand why they do what they do and it came to the point that you're making excuses for them to yourself. This isn't healthy anymore. It's time to set your boundaries and make them clear. Stop pleasing them because they don't have any relevance in your life anyway. In the end, you only have yourself and at this point, you're losing yourself because of them. Leave the environment where you and your efforts not appreciated and acknowledged. You don't deserve that.

Pile 3

Hello, Pile 3! I see that you've been trying to heal well lately and you truly want to heal. You're hopeful that you'll heal soon and I believe that you will. But you need to be reminded that healing takes time. It doesn't happen overnight. It's alright to feel stuck right now and not know what to do. Sometimes, we really don't know what to do and that's okay. You simply need to take some time to figure things out. Allow yourself to accept help and let other people help you. If they offer a shoulder to cry on, let them, don't just turn them down simply because you don't want to be seen vulnerable by other people. Allow yourself to cry and feel your emotions. Let yourself be vulnerable, whether in front of others or not. This is your reminder that showing vulnerability to other people is what bravery really is. Let yourself feel all the emotions that are deemed to be negative. Whether that's disappointment, sadness, upset, anger, etc. Listen to your emotions and feel them, because that's your inner self telling you that something's simply not right and someone crossed your boundaries and hurt you.

[ellieromanov]

Moments in between

Pairings: Natasha x reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: angst

Warnings: toxic relationships (toxic Nat) manipulation, brief Smut

(Ngl, This wasn’t my best work, don’t love it but I needed to post something lol)

Y/n’s point of view

Natty❤️

Hey, the mission was canceled, I'll be home around 7-7:30 give or take. So I'll see you soon! Btw I'm starving! xx

Me

That's great! I can't wait!! I'll have dinner ready! Love you!!! xx

Despite her lack of response, I immediately set to work, tidying the house so she wouldn't have to worry about it when she returned.

By 6:20, dinner was in progress—her favorite, a small effort to make our evening special. As it cooked, I chose a cute dress, styled my hair, and applied makeup. Nights like these were extremely rare lately, and Nat and I were feeling the strain so I might as well put details into the little things when I can.

She's always busy with work, I mean of course she is, she's an avenger. But when I go weeks at a time without seeing her it gets hard. It feels like half the time shes avoiding being around me. It feels like she often looks for extra tasks. It might all be in my head but I mean Hell I can't even remember the last time we ate and had a conversation together, so I want tonight to be perfect.

As the clock ticked past 7:20, dinner sat ready on the stove, the aroma of her favorite dish filling the air. I hesitated, torn between plating her food or waiting for her call. At 7:40, I finally dialed her number, but the call went unanswered, sending me straight to  voicemail. I decided to wait before serving the meal, hoping it wouldn't lose its warmth.

8:00 nothing, she hasn't called back or texted. But that's alright maybe she needed to get a few things done.

8:30 nothing. Maybe traffic?

9:00 nothing. Maybe there was an emergency

9:30 not a word. Something probably came up.

By 10:00 I gave up. I put away the left overs and cleaned up the kitchen. I put Natasha's plate in the fridge, turned off the music and blew out the candles.

In the bathroom, I unwound my efforts, removing my makeup and undoing my hair before stepping into the shower.

I went to sleep alone that night. Natasha finally came home just past 2 in the morning. Her footsteps were loud enough to wake me up. Though I heard her entrance, I chose not to acknowledge her. She joined me in bed, and when she realized I was awake she wrapped her arms around me and whispered apologies and showered kisses on my bare shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled between kisses. She kissed from my cheek to my neck, then finally my collarbone. "Let me make it up to you gorgeous."

When she kissed my lips I could taste the whiskey on her.

I remained silent, unsure whether to accept her apologies or express the disappointment that lingered. Natasha's tender kisses continued, and her warmth beside me begged for acknowledgment.

I didn't say anything. "Please baby, let me make you feel good, let me make it better." She pleaded as she sucked marks into my neck. I was so overwhelmed with emotions and I was mad and disappointed but I couldn't convey any of my feelings. I couldn't speak so I just nodded my head as tears started to stream down my cheeks. I don't know why I was crying but I couldn't help it. Once the tears started they couldn't stop. Natasha got on top of me, straddling my hips as she kissed my neck. I just wrapped my arms around her and buried my hands in her hair as I cried.

"I promise to make it up to you." She whispered for the hundredth time as she kissed my bare skin. She took my hoodie off first then went lower, leaving her trail of marks as she went.

Moments later I was completely bare under her and had no control. I know if I told her to stop she would. I know that. But then what. We'd fight and she'd sleep in the guest room? I just want things to go back to the way they were.

With every thrust I just held onto her tighter and closed my eyes to stop the tears and try to enjoy the moment with her but there was no enjoyment to be found.

Just tell her to stop.

Tell her later.

Tell her you're tired.

I didn't say anything. I tried to react as much as I could when she wanted me too. Gasped when she went faster, moaned when she did something different, just keep her satisfied.

"God baby, you're so fucking perfect." She grunted.

Just nod.

"Such a good girl"

React.

"I love your tight little pussy so much. I love you, so much detka"

Tell her you love her.

...

She eventually got the release she was looking for and went to sleep not long after. But I couldn't. I stayed awake next to her and cried. I curled up in a ball with me knees tucked under my chin and cried. My whole body was shaking from my silent sobs. It wasn't that she touched me, it wasn't that she didn't show up for dinner, it wasn't that she didn't take care of me, it was the fact that things used to be different. It was the realization that I was losing her.

She used to get home from missions early to come home and cook with me, we'd dance in the kitchen together and we'd laugh until we couldn't breath and it physically hurt, we used to talk for hours on end, we used play games together and watch movies, we used to make love, and we used to read, and paint, play music, go on walks, we used to do everything together. Because we loved each other...

But now... I don't think she loves me anymore. She doesn't look at me the same. She used to look at me like I was the only girl in the world, but she doesn't have that same spark in her eyes anymore. She doesn't talk to me anymore, she doesn't watch movies with me, or go on walks. Let alone laugh or dance with me. I haven't heard her say she loves me before tonight in months. I think she's done with me...

When I was younger I remember thinking that I'd refuse to stay with someone who doesn't see me for all my worth. How naïve.

_____

When the sun came up in the morning I was alone again. She left without a goodbye, without a kiss on top of my head, without a touch. without a simple acknowledgment.

When I went to the bathroom to shower I saw how red and puffy my eyes were from crying last night. Seeing myself like that confirmed my thoughts that Natasha was in fact done with me. No loving caring partner would let this happen. They wouldn't let their person cry themselves to sleep after an intimate moment. They wouldn't miss a dinner after saying they would be there and they wouldn't use sex as a way to make it up to them. That's not how a healthy functioning relationship works. It's just not.

That afternoon so many thoughts ran through my head, because even though she didn't love me anymore, I loved her with all I had. And if she didn't want me to leave then I wouldn't, I'd stay and I'd give her my entire being until I had nothing left to give and even then I'd stay. I'd stay because I'd have no where else to go, I'd have no one. I'd have nothing. And Id always love her.

I texted her that afternoon asking to talk when she got home.

Me

I Hope you are having a good day. I want to talk to you when you get home if that's okay. Stay safe.

I love you.

She didn't respond, she never does.

As the hours passed by I distracted myself with cleaning, cooking, painting and reading, and with each activity my concern only grew. the sun set and the only thing that brought light to the apartment was the television.

when 10 o'clock passed by I started crying again. I wondered if tonight would be another night on my own or if she'd decide to come home at some point. My heart felt heavy with anxiety and mourning. I wish I had never made the realization that she was moving on from me, I wish that I could have stayed in my denial.

The more minutes that went by the more tears I shed. I tried calling her and I tried texting her, but every message went unanswered. I tried to check her location but she turned it off. I finally had enough and decided to text the one person who always knew of Natasha's whereabouts.

Me

Hey Barton. It's Y/n, I don't know if you had my number saved. I was just texting to ask if Natasha was still at the compound?  Or if she was sent on a mission. She stopped sharing her location with me and won't respond to any of my text. I'm just starting to get worried so if you could just let me know that would be great.

It didn't take him long to respond.

Clint 🏹

Hey Y/n. Natasha went out with Maria and a few other agents. They said they were just going out for a quick drink. Is she not responding to your calls either?

Me

She hasn't responded to anything, text or call. Thanks for letting me know.

Clint🏹

Do you want me to try calling her? Try to knock some since into her?

Me

If you could try calling her I'd really appreciate it. I Just want to make sure she's okay. If she answers tell her I need to talk to her.

Clint🏹

Of course Y/n. I'll let you know if she picks up. If not I'll call Maria.

Me

Thank you Clint, I really appreciate it.

As I sat on the sofa with tear stained cheeks I finally got a message from Natasha.

Natty❤️

What?

Me

Are you serious?

Natty❤️

What do you mean am I serious?

Me

I've been trying to call you and text you for the past four hours Natasha.

Natty❤️

I'm sorry. I didn't see them.

Me

but when Barton is the one who's calling all the sudden you see it.

It took her a few minutes to respond to the message. The text bubbles kept disappearing and appearing again. But Finally she responds.

Natty❤️

I'm sorry. You're right, I should have answered you, I've just been busy. Is everything okay?

Me

Im just hurting. I really want you to come home to me Natasha.

Please just come home.

When the text bubbles disappeared my heart sank even more. I couldn't help the sobs and whimpers as I curled up on the couch.

_____

Natasha's point of view

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. I sat at a corner table, nursing a drink that I ordered half an hour ago. I stare off as I half-listen to Maria rant about her latest assignment from Fury. But truth be told, my mind was elsewhere,  the guilt sitting in.

I glance down at my phone for every new string of unanswered messages and missed calls from Y/n. I continue to Ignore them as they keep poring in. I take another sip of the aged whiskey, as I try to participate in the conversation and ignore my buzzing phone. Finally, well past midnight, I decide to head home, my mind clouded with the alcohol's numbness. The walk through the Crisp winter air helped me sober up and cleared my head as I walked.

Finally getting to our townhouse I unlock and open the door. As I climb the stairs to the main floor I notice the lights are off so I simply assume she has gone off to bed. Perfect, that means no fighting. But when I reach the final step leading to the living room I find Y/n on the couch, tear-stained and defeated, wrapped up in a blanket, half asleep. I walk towards her, every step echoing in the stillness of our home.

I wordlessly scoop her up into my arms, I can see the hurt on her face as I hold her against me. She wakes up enough to wrap her arms around me as I take her to our room.

"I'm tired Tasha." She mumbles against my neck, she's hardly audible but I could hear her. "I know. I'm here now, we can sleep." I tell her as we enter our room.

I Gently place Y/n on the bed, I couldn't meet her eyes. There was a weariness in her voice as she again murmured, "No, Nat. I'm tired." I couldn't help the sigh that escaped me as I replied, "Just go to sleep, Y/n." The weight of my own exhaustion mingled with the my guilt.

I walk off to the closet to change into comfortable clothes and when I walk back to the bed Y/n is sat crisscrossed in her oversized hoodie with tears streaming down her face again. a knot of frustration tightened in me.

"Y/n stop it. It's late. I'm not dealing with this right now."  I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, my impatience slipping into my tone. But then she looks at me. "No Nat. Im so tired, im tired of being so lonely..." her voice shakes. "I miss you so much. Is it to much to ask you come back to me at the end of a day? I'm hurting so much." She stifles her cry.

I sit next to her and grab her hands. "Baby please. Let's not do this right now. We are both tired so can we please go to sleep and talk about this tomorrow?" I try to negotiate with her.

"No because I might not see you tomorrow, I hardly ever see you anymore Natasha, that's the problem. The past few months you haven't been here... you'd rather stay out till god who knows how late rather then to come home to me..." she pauses for a moment before beginning again. "Natasha I love you so much. And I want you to be happy. So I need to know now. Do you still want to be here?-"

"of course I still want-"

"No Nat, let me speak. I Will not be the reason you are unhappy. I won't, I won't do that. I will not be the reason you miss out on the life you are wanting so I need to now right now. If you are done I need you to tell me- because I can't let go of you by myself, I love you to much to willingly walk away, so I need to hear you say it. If it's time for me to let you go I need you to tell me that, i need you to tell me to let you go. You have to do that for me..."

As she spoke something finally registered with me, something I've known for a long time but never wanted to admit. Y/n has always been a backup plan for me. If any aspect of my life were to go south I could always come back home and she'd be here waiting. She's a safety net, a lifeline, she's the plan B. And I don't want to let that go. If I let her go then that means I have no one to fall back on.

She deserves so much more then me, she deserves someone worthy of her, to give her love and affection, and someone who will show up for her when she cooks dinner, and be there for her when she needs a shoulder to cry on, I know this. I've always known.

She will always be second in my life, she'll be second to my career, to my wants and needs. But that selfish part of me won't let her go. I won't let her go even though I know it's time.

As the room hung in silence, Y/n's  tear-streaked eyes searched mine for a response. For an acknowledgment. The tension between us only thickened. Her eyes begging for an answer of some sort.

"I..." The words lingered on my tongue. My gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding her pleading eyes. I know it's selfish, I know I should do what's best for her because I do want to see her happy but I can't loose her.

"I can't let you leave, Y/n..." I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Y/n's eyes glistened with a mix of relief and sorrow. She heard the words she was hoping for, but I could tell she was hoping for more. For an expression of love and need, she wanted to feel the truth of my words but she couldn't find any. But I will say what I need to to make sure she doesn't leave. If she needs to hear me say I love her then I will tell her every day, if she needs to hear me say I need her, then I won't stop telling her until she gets sick of it. It's all about playing the right cards.

"I know I haven't been here for you as I should be, I'm sorry you felt neglected, but I need you to know how much I need you, and want you. I can't do this without you."

A heavy silence settled between us as the gravity of my decision sunk in. Y/n, still wrapped in the blanket of my selfishness. she clung to the hope that things might change, that our love will come back.

I reached out, hesitantly brushing a strand of hair from her tear-stained face as an attempt to comfort her. Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her eyes have always been a beauty. Pools of color I could always get lost in. I hold both sides of her face and wipe away the tears.

"I love you. I need you to stop doubting me. Do you understand?" I ask. She only nods and leans further into my hands. "Good girl. Now Can we keep talking in the morning? You're exhausted." She again only nods her head. I lean in to kiss her forehead before getting up to my side of the bed.

We get under the covers and it takes no time at all before Y/n is pressed against me, I instinctively wrap my arms around her.

When we first met, I really did love her, or the closest thing to love I could feel. She used to make me laugh and smile, she made me feel comforted, she made me feel safe. I don't know when that stopped. I just hope the feeling might come back if I put in the effort.

As my thoughts continue to race, she eventually falls asleep. She sniffles and whimpers in her sleep, just like she has been these last few months. Even in her sleep she can't seem to catch a break. My heart is heavy, I know I don't love her as I should. I just don't know what I'm meant to do. I was never made to love. It's not apart of my nature. I'll continue to be selfish and hold on to her as a life line for as long as I can. Maybe one day she'll be strong enough to walk away by herself.

[fairuzfan]

I'm sending this in sincere appreciation for all your time, effort and knowledge that you share.

News isn't entirely reliable in Canada, even moreso since a change in law dealing with Facebook. Any news publishments, broadcasts or even links can't be shared. Local or otherwise. Or, if shared by others, they appear "unavailable" and broken.

I refer to Facebook because that's the only other social account I have, besides this relatively new Tumblr.

All that being said, if not for yourself (and a number of others!) who share updates, news, links and an assortment of other resources: I imagine that many people could be "sitting in the dark" more than they realise.

Thanks to you, so many people are confident to have reliable information.

At the risk of sounding pathetic, I've fallen for a donation-type scam in the past, so, please understand how awesome it was to make a donation through your shared links! On a number of occasions now, with no problems at all! This was a relief but more importantly, I trust that my money will go where it's needed.

I don't know the best way to explain my appreciation for all your efforts without a bit of background for some emphasis, I hope you don't mind.

I wish you very well. You've made a positive impact for so many and in so many ways!

wow oh my gosh this is really a great ask to have received thank you so much <3 if you don't mind, i want to extend this thank you to @ibtisams because she's done so much and gets so much hate for it so i wanted to acknowledge all her hard work as well.

im glad the donation posts are helping! i would also recommend checking out other palestinian bloggers as a backup to make sure the donation is legit :) i do try to double check donation sources as much as possible or ask other people to double check me also (thank you @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi for your help!!!!!)

but thank you again for this ask, its really nice to hear this and i appreciate it so much <3

[cyberbabyangell]

₊˚⊹☆ persistence (shifting/manifest)

hi its soren writing this from the innerspace (⸝⸝ ˊᗜˋ⸝⸝ ) (i swear ill explain what it is one day)

so, as i've stated before i'm very new at this mindset of "I have everything, just need to remind myself. The 3d will follow through" so of course I had a thousand questions. And I assume there's a lot of people that do too. So I'll answer myself in hopes it'll help some of u guys!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"What am I supposed to persist on, as people say, if I'm on the mindset I have everything?"

I was very confused when I was told to persist, and I believe "reminding" would be a better term for me! Persisting in my eyes means constantly repeating something to get what I want. But persistence in manifestation is reminding yourself that you have what u want!

"But how do I persist?"

Depends what you like to do! Yesterday, I saw someone say they would not put effort into shifting anymore since they know that they are in their DR, and they would only keep trying if they thought they weren't. I understand their POV and support them, but I personally love SATS and robotic affirmations! Everyday I put on subs and repeat the same 2 phrases over and over for 10 minutes. Some people do it for HOURS which is so cool (⸝⸝ ˊᗜˋ⸝⸝ ) Some people continue their methods like before, just in a different mindset.

"How do I ignore my 3D?"

I stubbornly tell myself all the time "i dont care if i dont see it, it is here anyway". In the beginning there was this tiny voice in my head being like "..i dont see it which makes me doubt a lil." But I kept through and I'm starting to be able to ignore these thoughts or push them aside. If you find yourself doubting, just convince yourself. Its like in meditation, if you find yourself getting sidetracked, acknowledge it and move forward!

"How long will it take?"

However long you want it. After reading many success stories, some people take a month, some a couple weeks, some days, some hours, some seconds to have their desires! So that made me confidently believe, "Well, then, I can get whatever I want right now because I said so." It can take longer if you're looking for validation in the 3D. If I had to write a step by step it'd be,

1. Choose what you want

2. Acknowledge you have it

3. Let it go

4. If you doubt, remind yourself you have it 🎀

Which is why some people shift by being like "Damn, I'm in my UA dorm right now." And falling asleep!

"Will affirming be enough?"

What you deem to be enough will be enough! You're the boss, if you think visualisation is enough, then it is! If you believe a single sentence and a couple seconds a day is enough, then it is!

"What if I get demotivated?"

Please, never ever give up. Keep trying, keep reminding yourself you have it all. Please stop looking at the 3D ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ It's hard right now, but what is a couple years/months/weeks/days of trying against eternal freedom? Remind yourself why you started this, take a break! Do what you like but it's sooo important you don't give up.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Lastly, as you persist, you'll find your way of thinking actually changing. It won't be too long before you won't have to force your beliefs into yourself, if you persist, you'll believe! Your mind isn't stupid, it learns, if you spoon feed it a fact everytime it doubts it then at some point, it'll be like, "Oh right, I have everything! So shifting is like another desire!" And BAM! 💥

[risingsuntarot]

1--2

3

What are you currently not seeing ?

My lord I'm so sorry I've been gone for so long I kinda jus felt so unmotivated and kinda went hermit mode for quite a while so I apologize for my absence!! Anyways I wanted to make a come back with a reading regarding being trapped, blinded or stuck on something that is unfortunately, hindering your process ;+(

Also * will indicate a reversal from here on out also only three piles because I wanted to get this out ASAP !!

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Pile 1

---Cards pulled---

5 of Coins/4 of Wands*/The magician

3 of coins*/The Moon

---Clarification---

9 of coins/9 of Swords/The hierophant

Ace of wands/3 of wands

There is most likely a financial or material issue happening, I heard "just enough to get by"

It looks like you lack in what you currently need as well? But despite this you are content or try to come off that way

Maybe you just moved into your own apartment recently? Or now have to pay rent or something along those lines

A new responsibility within your family/home life too

There's a lack of confidence here especially within self and home life

Something or someone in your home isn't making you feel quite safe? Or you get nightmares about them (if this is the case please seek help!!) that might be a very specific message BUT Could also be ready as you may be dealing with flashbacks at this time due to financial or material loss !! Maybe you grew up in poverty or an unstable home? Or your parents/caregivers weren't able to provide necessities?

It looks like with the magician and the hierophant there is a gift on the horizon or a very promising belief or like system? Maybe a change in routine or spending habits and thinking will help tremendously

I see that on your end for some your guides are frustrated with your lack of effort and motivation to make your thousands of ideas a reality

They absolutely love your creativity tho don't get me wrong

Maybe you have a hard time focusing right now and have many great ideas to put into place but lack motivation or resources as well so this leads to lack of movement or commitment

Sadness, restless emotions and late sleepless nights are prominent here, someone may deal with insomnia here but y'all sleep schedule is wack (same tho)

Feeling blocked and frustrated >:+(

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Summer - "Bask in Joy and Light"

"Rise up, open your wings and shine. Bring your projects and plans into into the light, into manifestation" as soon as I opened the guidebook lil

DEADASS do that's just that, start off easy with a lobes hobby, draw something new or listen to a new genre, learn that new music sheet that has been challenging you or even get into a new type of skill to re motivate you !!

This also indicates summer may be your time of change!! New opportunities, new memories maybe even knew people

I feel like this is the perfect time to go outside, bask in sunlight and enjoy a nearby park or go on a nature hike, try meeting new people at libraries, bars or events even book clubs?

I'm getting a message to connect more with water so swimming or maybe even kayaking?

The big message here is try something n e w but I'm also being told to "loosen up" I'm tensing up a lot with this reading

Bumble bees maybe significant to someone :+) or honeycombs cereal? Lmao honey and bee related things here

---Channeled Songs---

Ego brain - SOAD

"You see my pain is real

Watch my world dissolve

And pretend that none of us see the fall

As I turned to sand

You took me by the hand

And declared, that love prevails over all"

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Pile 2

---Cards pulled---

Temperance/9 of Wands/Ace of cups*

Knight of Coins/6 of Wands

---Clarification---

5 of Coins/The Lovers*/8 of Coins

The Moon/Queen of Wands

Okay so there's a sense for reluctance from this pile tbh like to fully acknowledge the truth

I keep wanting to say what happened so you may be being asked this question a lot

For one there is guilt over either healing and moving on or from not healing and moving on from a difficult situation but for most it's a romantic connection

I feel like voices were silenced, and you were constantly fighting for you right to be heard, seen or acknowledged fairly

It was a toxic dynamic that you still look back on to this day but almost feel indifferent but it seems it's just suppressed emotions and memories that you have yet to actually acknowledge

You seem to be a BIT too logical with what happened, like everything was supposed to be this way even this you didn't at all anticipate it if that makes sense

Like you knew what it was exactly, no bs and people tried convincing you otherwise

It looks like someone may come to you to talk about what happened although you may be reluctant to actually open up and speak on your side or even acknowledge that it hurts

It's like you go on about your day with a heavy rain cloud over your head and this person can see :+(

it maybe a friend to help you through this for some possibly offering you a type of hype sesh or even help you glow up a bit even if it's confidence lol

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Wolf- "Take care of your needs"

I feel like you definitely need rest here, this card says "Do everything you need to do to be at your best, Then move beyond your fears and limitations"

it feels like a state of I can FINALLY get some rest from running and running and running

You've been in survival mode for so long or you just genuinely feel exhausted from the expectations around you or the trauma in your past

Know that's it's okay to just chill out and it's okay to be on your own for a while it's all part of the process, in fact I believe your guides are asking you to spend time with yourself more

Self care and YouTube days are recommend :+))

---Channeled Songs---

Around the fur - Deftones

"Please don't fuck around and die like this

'Cause I love her"

Brand new numb - Motionless in white

"All of my flaws, I wear 'em with honor

A purple heartbreak for all we've suffered"

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Pile 3

---Cards pulled---

The Hierophant*/King of cups/4 of Swords

Wheel of fortune/5 of wands*

---Clarification---

Ace of Swords*/5 of Swords/Queen of Coins

The Hermit*/Queen of Cups

This may be a more masculine in terms of energy for this pile but I'll still read the same

So it seems there was a hypocrisy or an act that went against your morals and you were quick to act and deliver your opinion... "sharply"

You stood your ground and what you believed in in your heart despite the haters lol, and despite the arguments or how many people you had to leave behind something about conflict here

Although the way you did this was quite nonchalantly and someone was not a fan I'm picking up on black hair and green for the description for some reason

This person tends to be the center of attention? Or is very attractive, or maybe even a bit out of place almost ? But you not caring is pissing them off

I see there's gonna be change to the situation but someone may have to trail off onto their own path :+( a bit shunned almost but it's a high probability it's this other person

It's possible someone with the same morals and values as you is helping the conflict "die out" but not caring or almost standing in solidarity

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

High Priest - "Intend and Create"

"Recognize you have the power to change you life. Face your fear and align with the light"

Kind of a plain message but with this card I am getting that you can literally move anyway you want with this and just move on

It seems your intentions were nothing but pure in the end so no Karma was ever delivered to you

How unfortunate for the other person :+pp

It also seems some may follow in your path a bit here but spirits asking you to reach out to someone like a teacher for further guidance if you feel stuck

---Channeled Songs---

Riptide - Grandson

"I've tried getting better, did all of the twelve steps

Whoever would'a thought? Whoever could've guessed?"

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[find-roronoa-zoro]

Roronoa Zoro X CisFem Reader

7

"Law just pulled up!" Ace called from downstairs. 

"Are you sure you want to date this guy?" Sabo stepped into your room crossing his arms, "You were getting along with Zoro so well."

"Can you zip me up?" you turned your back to him, "Zoro is great and everything but he's young and doesn't need an old lady like me holding him back. I'm sure now that he knows how old I am he thinks I'm just desperate to have a husband and pop out a couple of brats."

Sabo scoffed tugging your zipper over your still bruised back, "That's why you should get to know each other right? Prove the desperate 30-something stereotype wrong."

"I've been here before remember James? It's fine. It was just a little crush." you turned straightening out your purple cotton dress, "How do I look?"

"Beautiful as always." he sighed.

"You always were my favorite." you winked ruffling his blond waves, "Don't tell the others."

This was your third date with the doctor. You got along surprisingly well and could sit and talk for long periods of time without awkward silences. He had moments where he could be a bit too honest but you found it a little endearing. 

"You look nice." his smooth voice complimented as you reached the bottom stair. 

"It's nice to have your hard work acknowledged."

"I'm sure you hardly had to try." he smirked. 

"Ugh," Ace gagged, "can you just go already please?" 

"Shut it." you snapped flicking his nose. 

"So, you haven't said what's on the agenda today." You murmured carefully sliding into the passenger seat of Law's '68 Super Bee. 

"Well, the last two dates were a little too stuffy...you know I'm still learning your preferences," the classic engine roared to life, "I thought today could be a little more low key. I know a great sushi place."

"Still sounds fancy." you noted glancing at him.

"It's a cozy little place, trust me you'll be comfortable there." 

"My comfort is in your hands then." you chuckled. 

It was a short drive to the small restaurant, you were still amazed by how much this town had changed since you moved away.

It was indeed a quaint family run restaurant, Law seemed to know the owners. You took your time to eat and talk, finding conversation topics quite easily. Law sort of put up a stern cold front, but you found him to be interesting, funny and warm. It did worry you a bit that despite his looks and personality you hadn't really swooned over him the way you had with Zoro. The greenette had done absolutely nothing and completely swept you away, Law on the other hand was actually putting in effort and nothing. Well, not nothing, you definitely liked him you just wondered how much of it was genuine. 

"F/N-ya?"

"Hm?" you hummed watching a smattering of stars become visible in the oncoming night sky. 

His phone rang interrupting whatever he'd intended to say. 

"Yes... Yes," he sighed glancing at you, "I'll be there as quickly as I can." 

"Duty calls?" you guessed. 

"Unfortunately, one of my patients may need another emergency surgery. Worse, I don't have time to drop you off." 

"It's fine. I'll just Uber or something." you gave his shoulder a weak pat. 

Once you'd arrive at the hospital, Law kissed your forehead a told you he'd text you later. You took a seat on a bench after slipping into your sweater and opened your Uber app to order a ride. It only took a few seconds to confirm your trip as someone was near by, you didn't even bother reading the driver info and put your phone in your purse waiting for the marked car. Not even five minutes later a black F-150 pulled up with an Uber sticker in the window. 

"Is everything ok?" A familiar voice called as you stood. 

"You're my Uber?" you scoffed at the irony. 

"Helps make ends meet." Zoro reached across the seat opening the door from the inside, "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, yeah everything is fine. I was just hanging out with a friend who works here." you cringed at yourself for that one. 

Why were you even compelled to not be truthful?

"Well, you look nice for just hanging out in the hospital." he watched you climb into the cab and buckle up a light flush dusting your cheeks at his compliment. 

"I look nice compared to the last time you saw me looking like a beat up trash person." you chuckled trying to deflect. 

"No, you are a nice looking trash person too." 

You blushed harder. Since when was he a flirt? 

"Speaking of beat up, your face healed nicely." 

"Yeah, thanks for the medicine. It really helped." he breathed, "How's your back?"

"Ugh," you groaned, "still bruised and sore but it's getting better."

"Good. If you ever wanna pay Kid back let me know."

"Nah, you heard Pops. It's best to just move on." you frowned as you turned down your driveway. 

The truck came to a stop behind Thatch's car. 

"Wanna come in for a bit... the guys probably wouldn't mind a surprise hang." 

What were you thinking? You're dating someone. 

"I can't, I haven't met my goal for the night." he declined as you opened the door. 

What was he thinking? This was his chance!

"Have a good night then." you smiled.

"You too."

"Why is Zoro bringing you home from your date with Law?" Sabo inquired from the porch where he sat in the rocking chairs with his new girlfriend. 

"Well, hello to you too baby brother," you sneered and turned toward the brunette at his side with a smile, "Hey Al." 

"Hey F/N." she replied smiling sweetly. 

"And if you must know, Law got called in for an emergency and Zoro just happened to be my Uber driver." you reached for the door.

"So he just left you somewhere?" the blonde clicked his tongue. 

"It was an emergency Sabo, he couldn't make a patient wait. I went to the hospital with him and was safe the entire time." you ruffled his hair, "Though it's nice that you still worry. You two don't stay out too late you'll catch a cold."

"You're back early." Ace commented as you entered the house. 

"Yeah yeah," you waved him off and slouched up the stairs. 

As you got undressed and started to braid your hair your phone pinged in your purse.

A text from a coded number. 

530744 : Next time you need a ride just text me and I'll pick you up for free. 434.555.9946. 

You touched your lips in attempt to keep your smile from growing and saved the number in your contacts. 

Me: Thanks Greenie, I'll be sure to give you a stellar review.

Zoro: and don't forget to tip your driver

Me: shameless.

Zoro: a guys gotta eat.

[v3nusxsky]

i’m so in love in your writing skills babe xx you have no idea how much you makes me feel so happy tysm

Could I request motherly lady lesso where the reader has trouble with eating (anorexia) & often have very bad panic attacks because of that and lesso try her best to help her with comforting and etc please❤️

I struggle with that so bad rn.

Hey lovely thank you so much love that makes my day that they have this effect on you. You all provide me with the motivation to write and continue posting so thank you for the support <3 it wasn’t something I planned on doing more off just a way to get over a nasty breakup but I’m so glad now I write more it makes me truly happy.

Chosen Momma

*Authors note| another sensitive topic so I'm going to try and do the prompt the some justice. Again everything I write comes from my own experiences so please be gentle and if anyone is struggling with this my messages are open*

Trigger warnings~ anorexia and panic attacks

Prompt~see ask^^^^

Mothers. Certainly a funny concept. The one person who is supposed to nurture, comfort and support you as you navigate life. Yet yours, well she did the opposite. So much so you couldn't help but feel relieved when you joined the school for Evil. Your mother being an Ever, now refused to even acknowledge your existence. At first you thought you'd be sad, that you were not seeing your mother. After all you only get one mother. Yet you didn't feel sad, no you just felt freedom.

Your struggle with eating has been present for years. Certain foods would cause extreme reactions for you, resulting in panic attacks. Sometimes you would have good days, but naturally you also had bad days. And on those days you couldn't help but wish to have someone to hold you and guide you through the process. Recovery was a long road, one that contained a lot of twists and bumps. The bends were sharp and honestly, it was a treacherous path to travel alone.

Since arriving at the school, you had done your best to hide your illness, you didn't want to appear weak. Weakness is not something a Never should show, you'd had that drummed into you from day one. Making a conscious effort to do well. Maybe because you wanted those grades or maybe it was due to a certain red head. When you arrived you were instantly drawn to her. She seemed to attack your gaze effortlessly. Teaching attachments are a serious thing. And on the first day you had not planned for Lady Lesso to be your attachment. Yet the world works in mysterious ways and you soon found yourself in that situation.

Lesso seemed to have a soft spot for you, you knew that with how she treated you. In fact, you now found yourself searching for her any time you two were in the same room. On the hardest days, a smile from her would brighten your day, giving you a small beacon of light to guide you. Yes Lesso was more of a mother to you these past months than your mother had been in years. And as hard as that was to admit it was a pure fact.

The day she found out of your illness, you'll never forget the sadness that lingered in her eyes, she was desperate to help in some way. As much as you knew you had done the right thing telling her, yet you felt so guilty seeing the pain it caused. And that was the night that you made a promise to the Dean, you would find her whenever you were struggling. And on those days you had helped Lesso know exactly how to help you. Exactly what you craved and needed to get through this. Maybe just maybe, having her by your side to guide you through it al would be helpful for you.

On this particular day, the food being served in the food hall seemed to be massively terrifying. You sat, gaze unfocused, starring at the plate of food as if it was the most scary monster to be imagined. You could feel yourself being swept up in the panicked thoughts, your heart racing as if it was beating at the speed light travels. It was hurting your heart. Was it going to beat out of your chest? You vaguely remember being told that when you felt as though a hand was plunged into your chest and squeezing your heart like a vice, that you should try to sit up straight. Yet your body seemed to just want to fold in half. Your vision was the next thing to deteriorate. You vaguely remember a pressure on your shoulder before you lost consciousness.

You conciseness began to flood your body once more, you instantly noted the change of environment. You were no longer in the noise hall, you were in the safety of Lady Lesso's office. The women was sat by your head, stroking through your hair to provide comfort. Only when you were fully back in the present did she help you sit up and pulled you into a loving embrace. Immediately stepping into the motherly mode. Her hand never left your hair as she rocked gently with you in her arms, whispering repeatedly words of love and support. "Oh my little dove, are you okay my darling? Is your chest still sore little one?"

You took a few more steady breaths before attempting to answer her, "I'm okay momma it is still hurting slightly but it's much better now momma" you mumbled soaking in her embrace. You'd been calling Lesso momma now for a few months, it had slipped out during a particularly bad attack and luckily she felt honoured you saw her as your chosen momma. If she could provide you with what you truly deserved and you felt comfortable with that title then who was she to deny you such a comfort. You had told her about how your mother would handle this, and to have the complete opposite from the one and only Dean of Evil was just overwhelming.

The softer side of Lesso was one that only a select few people had the pleasure of seeing it, so the fact you were one filled your heart with joy. Whenever you had bad days, where everything felt too much you knew you could come and seek comfort in your momma's embrace. Knowing she would hold you till you had weathered the storm. Only then when you were calm, she would get you some of your safe foods and encourage you to eat. "Eat my darling, take as long as you need and I'll be here with you my little one" was her constant reminder that you would never be alone and there was no pressure to eat any faster than you could handle. She wouldn't leave you because of this illness, in fact she was going to stay and help you recover. And that made your heart fill with love. Who said a mother is formed by sharing blood and DNA?

Word count~ 1137

[evelyn-is-eccedentesiasts]

Ninjago Headcanons (Love Languages)

Please note these are just my Headcanons of what I think their Love Languages would be

Lloyd: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time 

I think Lloyd's would be Words of Affirmation and Quality Time. Lloyd seems like someone who would appreciate those who encourage him and actively listen to him, along with those who both affirm and recognize the efforts he makes. Both as a lover and a team leader. Second Quality Time I think Lloyd genuinely would appreciate spending one-on-one time with his partner since as the leader of the team his time and attention are often split between so many people. He would greatly appreciate his partner cutting out time in their day where they can spend it with him solely and enjoy one another's time together one-on-one. 

Kai: Words of Affirmation, Receiving Gifts 

I think Kai would also be one to have Words of Affirmation as one of his love languages. Mainly I think he would want his partner to affirm that they do appreciate him both in his actions and his overall appearance. He seems to take great pride in his appearance mainly his hair. Not only that but also Receiving Gifts as it's stated in the earlier episodes that Kai does get fan mail and enjoys attention from others, especially girls as stated in Skybound. 

Nya: Words of Affirmation 

I genuinely think Nya's would be Words of Affirmation as many of the other love languages require a certain level of dependency that Nya repeatedly has shown to dislike. Considering in the earlier episodes such as the beginning of Rebooted she discussed boundaries with Jay. Not only that but she doesn't seem like the type to like Physical touch or having Acts of Service done for her, as she seems like an I'll do it myself kind of person. So at the end of it, Words of Affirmation seems to make the most sense as it's shown she greatly appreciates when people acknowledge her effort and achievements. 

Jay: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time 

Jay's is kind of harder to pin down but I think it would be Words of Affirmation and Quality Time. It seems to mean a lot to Jay when his effort is noticed and affirmed verbally. Especially by Nya, the second is Quality Time as it seems Jay and Nya often spend time together. As it's mentioned they took a dancing class with one another without the knowledge of most of the other ninjas. Not only that but in the other seasons Jay is trying to spend more alone time with Nya when possible. 

Cole: Physical Touch, Acts of Service

Cole's is even harder to guess but I'd have to say Physical touch and Acts of Service. Physical touch is a little hard to prove but to me, Cole doesn't seem to mind physical touch with others and as seen with Baby Wu he is seen to have a rather protective aspect to his personality. In my opinion, I think having physical contact with his partner would make him the most comfortable as it's a way for him to know they are safe and sound and ensure he is there to protect them. As for Acts of Service since his love for food and cake. I'm sure he would love for his partner to cook and bake food for him when possible. 

Zane: Quality Time and Acts of Service 

I think Quality time is very important to Zane, he seems like someone who would appreciate his partner spending time with him one-on-one. Zane would enjoy doing simple day-to-day things with his partner. I can see him enjoying cooking meals or even doing chores together. I feel like he wouldn't really care what they did as long as they were together and his partner was happy. Acts of Service seem to make sense also as when Zane met Pixal and she repaired him and he greatly appreciated it even mentioned to the other ninjas correcting them when they said that they had been the ones to repair him. 

P.I.X.A.L.: Acts of Service

I feel like PIXAL would appreciate Acts of service. Little ones from bringing her, her favorite drink when she's working on a new project. To actively help her with the said invention. Showing care and concern for her would go a long way. And while she might not always express it she definitely does appreciate it.

Misty(OC):  Quality Time and Physical Touch 

Misty's love languages are Quality time and Physical touch. Quality time as she really enjoys spending time with her partner. Making sure to plan and take time to spend with one another is very important to her.  Physical touch is also very important to her as for someone with very strong emotions physical touch often helps ground her and make her feel at ease with her partner. She favors forehead kisses and holding hands while together. 

Words of affirmation are ones that I feel would be common for many of the ninjas. From the fact that they are always saving Ninjago. I feel like it never hurts to hear from their partner how much they are appreciated or loved.

[sanderssidesthehouse]

for the bingo thing?? how about logan??

- lots of love, rayn 🤍

Thanks for the ask, Ryan! I can absolutely do my favorite boy, apologies for my lack of hinges.

I think Logan is probably the most trustworthy, not bc none of the others wouldn't try their darnedest, but bc he also wouldn't get distracted and he's very capable and nor very impulsive generally.

I don't think anyone can quantify the sheer amount of Logan angst I have read, which is a fantastic marker for how much I like him. I relate to him so hard. I was always smart (and got called a robot frequently) but I have trouble with the emotional stuff. Identifying emotions is not my strong suit so sometimes I'll be straight chilling but start crying and have no idea why.

Also he has eldest daughter syndrome for real. Someone please help my boy.

Also one of the few cases where we could fix each other. If Logan Sanders told me he was proud of me I would shatter into a million pieces and reform into a better person. If he gave me a pat on the back and told me everything would be ok I'd say I'm yours in whatever way you want me. Lab partner? Done, I'll bring PPE. Help with work? I'm not that smart but I'll try. Wanna make out about it? My tongue's already in his mouth. Who said that?

Also, hi, he is so fucking tragic. Everytime he is ignored he takes it as a personal failure and if anything ever happened to c!Thomas that he could have prevented if he had been listened to it would destroy him, even if he literally did everything he could. c!Thomas cannot function without his Logic, we all know this. He's trying so hard, but he's not getting far at all and it really does matter. And this is why he feels like he can't ever be silly or have fun bc the weight of his world is on his shoulders and I'm not crying about it I swear.

I also need everyone to acknowledge the growth he's gone through. Whenever something gets brought to his attention and he sees that he needs to work on it, it doesn't happen that episode sometimes, but he does change his methods or behavior. He's trying so hard. That's what really gets me is his genuine, honest, whole-hearted effort that he puts into everything he does. That's my BOY.

Another thing really gets me is how absolutely tender Logan can be. Like Mr. No Emotions rolls up and does his best to provide comfort and care even though it's not his strong suit and he knows it (though he will try to defer to someone who's better at it if possible). This is absolutely related to how genuine he can be, which makes his current state devastating to me. Bitter cynicism is not what I want him to feel like he has to do! He's always been a little sarcastic and a little petty, but like in a way that didn't make me concerned for his mental health. He had such a beautiful outlook at the beginning but it's long since started to crumble. I hope he's not left with ruins.

I have so much to say, I don't think I'll ever be done. I really want to talk about what a dork he is. 'Cogitating cap'? I'm in love with him. I could never argue with him like 'whatever you say bbgirl'. Except for when he's doing that 'I don't have emotions' routine. I need all of them to stop lying to each other and themselves.

Right, so current state of canon thoughts. I need him to have the bitchiest, pettiest, rawest break down imaginable. He deserves to let it out and I want it to be explosive. I want him to do something they can't ignore.

Just in case I want to be clear, I don't think he's perfect and he's not the only one getting ignored. He is absolutely not the only one denying his feelings and I need ALL of them to cut that shit out. Also any annoyance expressed is at the character as a 'person' not the narrative, I really like how everything is being written and explored. That 'done dirty by canon' mark was hesitant and now I can't even remember why I put it there. I'm sure I'll remember in the middle of the night, I've had a long day lol.

Thanks again for the ask, and as always, absolutely anyone and everyone is welcome and invited to agree or disagree or ask for clarifications or expansions. I tried to keep it short and tbh compared to the amount of thoughts I have, I succeeded.

[dayz-ina-daze]

hey op your post about aita phone bill. i apologise if this is forward, please understand i am reaching out out of concern and not to upset you or be disrespectful at all. 🙏

your descriptions about your parents worry me as it sounds like they are engaging in abusive behaviour. i have chronic migraine and my parent did the same actions as your parent (dependent on them, feeling 'in debt' to parent for all the help they gave me ("i pay for all this, and i'm sick too"), guilted for spending maybe $30 on myself, etc) and it was only as i got older (23, 24) that i realised there was abuse.

but i also acknowledge our illnesses are different and that you are in a situation where you cannot yet be on your own and so have to 'make do'. please continue talking with your therapist because they may help come up with strategies to deal with some of the abuse-like behaviour that seems to be happening. once you have your chair, i strongly suggest you continue saving in case of emergency (in case you have to rush to move out or similar), i really hope things improve for you.

there are 'work from home' jobs online that you can do from a laptop/computer such as data entry or transcripting where you wont need to stand. if you havent already, i also suggest reaching out to others with pots who could provide help, tips, advice, and support and understanding of what you are going through. there are tumblr users with pots who trained their dog to alert them before an episode (so they dont faint/sit down before the episode), maybe there is a pots crowd fund to help you get your chair? is there somewhere we could donate to help you??

remember: do not let them guilt you into thinking you are broken or costing them 'their time, money, effort, life' etc... they are parents, they should be rising above that. it is not your fault illnesses cost money to treat, that disability is not often considered by others in the world - it is NOT your fault you are unwell 💖

I’m aware that I’m being abused… I’ve come to terms with it. It’s hard even accepting that, of course, because I love my parents, and most days they’re wonderful people… But I’ve had to learn that even if they’re good people, they aren’t good parents in the slightest, and I have to differentiate between the two. Perhaps even that isn’t true, but it’s just what I tell myself in the hopes that someday they’ll see all the damage they’ve done and feel remorse and regret.

Also as a byproduct of how I was raised, I physically can’t accept “handouts” — even if I know it’s for my own betterment. I want to work for what I earn, so I can never be accused of being lazy or a leech like my parents so often imply. My parents have a dog that’s already trained to be something of a diabetic alert dog, although unofficially, and he often alerts to me at times as well, though for different reasons related to my POTS (I’m hypoglycemic as well, plus fistfuls of other diagnoses). I’m still saving up, though what I have isn’t much. I have some support in place, and I’ve been trying to integrate myself into more POTS support systems (I lost almost an entire year of my life just to recovering from when it initially hit me, so I admit I’m a bit slow to the uptake), I’m reaching out to doctors and therapists and anyone who can help…

For now I just. Have to wait.

If you’re able to offer me even a penny, I’ve got KoFi and other money apps to that regard, and in return, I’m happy to provide sketches or full on art pieces of whatever you’d like!! Though I understand if some are hesitant to take those routes. My friends are coaxing me to the idea of starting a GoFundMe, but it feels like a “cheap” way out, and that I’m not able to pay back such kindness, so I’m hesitant. Like I said: I want to work for what I get, in any way I can.

And truly, thank you for this… It’s nice to hear I’m not crazy for thinking the way I’m treated is wrong. This didn’t upset me, but it surely made me cry just knowing that some strangers on the internet are so kind. Thank you, sincerely. <3

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

May I please request Jumbo with an s/o who sometimes sings or hums a soothing song while they’re massaging his joints in order to help him further relax bc he deserves some TLC? This man deserves so much love.

he really does!! ;-; sweet darlin <3 <3 <3

the song featured is "A Little While" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti! it's a lil hard to find Victorian era songs, and I'm unsure if this is actually a song song or a poem, but... I liked it so I went with it. uwu :3c

(Name) knows JUMBO works so hard to keep everyone else happy. He does a lot for the little family they’ve become a part of, and as much as they’re certain everyone appreciates it… often, they all leave him to his own devices when he seems tired.

Probably because being in such close quarters all the time, they all figure that he’d rather take time to himself when he can get it. To a point, that’s true… but, sometimes (Name) notices when he might like some time where he isn’t quite alone. Of course, he’d never ask for company. So here they are, among the busy grounds of a circus, a slower-paced role than the others, ready to help their lover relax.

It’s actually relaxing for them, too, so it serves a dual purpose. How can they not slip into a slow trance? The movements of working effort into the typically sore parts of his body just make a wave of calm wash over them. Even though they can acknowledge that they’re not exactly at rest, they also find it hard to think of this as ‘work’.

He’s so exhausted tonight, too. His eyes keep slipping closed, only to suddenly jolt himself awake. It’s like he thinks he’s obligated to not fall asleep while he’s with them.

Whether it’s because they subconsciously think he needs his rest, or because they’re intentionally trying to lull him, they start to hum as they go along… and, then, they progress to singing softly.

“A little while a little love the hour yet bears for thee and me who have not drawn the veil to see if still our heaven be lit above thou merely, at the day’s last sigh, hast felt thy soul prolong the tone; and I have heard the night-wind cry and deemed its speech my own.”

They hear Jumbo take a deep breath, and he shifts around a little bit. When he speaks in that same hushed tone he uses around them, (as if he’s worried he’ll suddenly frighten them somehow), it makes their heart melt. “Oi… don’t usually get t’ ‘ear y’ singin’…”

Of course, that only means they have to continue. Is he hoping they’ll stop out of some self-conscious, blushing shyness? Perhaps it’s something he assumes because they’ve witnessed him do it; stop something just because they’ve ‘caught’ him doing it. Singing, especially. While he plays the harmonica and clearly loves music, he seems to think he’s not a good singer.

They’ll work on that bit of insecurity next. For now, they glide their hands down to the small of his back, find another knot, and begin to massage it away. Their voice doesn’t miss a beat.

“A little while a little love the scattering autumn hoards for us whose bower is not yet ruinous nor quite unleaved our songless grove only across the shaken boughs we hear the flood-tides seek the sea, and deep in both our hearts they rouse one wail for thee and me.”

He tries very hard to keep his noises to a minimum. Even when they’re at the end of the knot, and it finally uncoils, he seems to bite his tongue to avoid being too loud.

They can feel the relief that washes over him, but he still strives to be quiet. With that knot out of the way, they give a long, slow stroke to the whole of his back; almost an apology for that healing pain they were causing a minute ago. Much as they try to be careful, the nature of massaging knots out of someone’s muscles results in some pain.

“Are you alright?” they murmur before giving a kiss to the top of his head.

Thank God, his eyes have closed again. He needs as much sleep as he can get. If they can be of any help in his surrendering himself to it, they’ll do whatever they can. “I am.” When they reach to give his hand a brief squeeze, he runs his thumb over the back of their knuckles. “… Y’ gonna keep singin’?”

They smile. “Do you want me to?”

The only answer they get is a small nod. They might as well finish the song, mightn’t they?

“A little while a little love may yet be ours who have not said the word it makes our eyes afraid to know that each is thinking of not yet the end; be our lips dumb in smiles a little season yet: I’ll tell thee, when the end is come, how we may best forget.”

Although they won’t be sure he’s fallen asleep until they look, his breathing has fallen into a more tranquil rhythm.

They continue to sing anyway, keeping their voice low; a lullaby for the one they love as he rests.