#I myself am a straight woman after all

[guys-in-distress-database]

Something that kinda fascinates me is that where most of the GID community seems to be gay men, most of the whump community seems to be ace and/or bi women. Considering the overlap between the two communities, I just find it really interesting how you get such different demographics for each. The minute distinctions between them really make that much of a difference in the audience, it seems.

[s0urte3th]

mom is bitching at me how i need to wear short sleeves TOMORROW, and just get over it

[tkbrokkoli]

a colleague of mine used to be a professional athlete in the 80s and today she showed me and another colleague photographs from back then and she casually mentioned that two of her team mates outed themselves as trans men and two as lesbians later in life and i was like !!!!!! im

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[arthur-r]

also this song is hitting me in the face so bad right now i’m not used to wanting sexual autonomy that’s a new college experience and this song is ringing in my ears about it

[heehoothefool]

"Are cishet ace/aro men queer" holy fuck you people are just awful huh. Really just showing that we haven't moved past the Basically Straight ideology.

As a cisgender, heteroromantic ace individual myself, allow me to tell you a little bit about myself.

I spent most of my life wondering what was wrong with me. I knew very quickly that many of the people who confessed their love for me would not want me the moment they found out I was averse to sex. I would daydream of various men I'd had crushes on over the years spending time with me in ways I was comfortable, but rarely did I confess my feelings because a simple saying rang in my ears.

"You'll never find a man who will love you without sex."

And the people in my Instagram DMs who would call me baby and then ghost me after they figured out the flag in my profile picture spoke volumes to that. I was only desirable because I was physically attractive. No one wanted to love my personality, not if they couldn't also fuck me. It just wasn't an option.

I have been ostracized. I have been told I don't belong. The straight community does not want me because I do not actively desire sex. The very people you're trying to lump me in with because I'm "basically straight" will not claim me because I am not like them.

I am The Other. I am Less Than. I am Strange. I am Queer.

A person born male, who identifies as a man, and is attracted to women exclusively but only in one way (romantic) or the other (sexual) is queer.

That is a man who either does not desire sex, and is therefore Not Really A Man by society's gender standards and expectations, or does not desire a romantic relationship/wife/girlfriend and is called a manwhore dirtbag who sleeps around or is asked eternally by family and maybe partners who don't get it When He's Going To Get Married.

To be straight requires you to identify with your gender assigned at birth, to feel romantic attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, to feel sexual attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, and to only desire monogamy in that relationship.

A man, born a man, who is not romantically attracted women, but sexually attracted to them, is not straight.

A man, born a man, who is romantically attracted to women, but not sexually attracted to women, is not straight.

There is no debate. Yes, even the Demisexuals and Demiromantics. Yes, even the ones who are capable of feeling these things only under the right conditions.

They're all queer. Every single one. Because they deviate from the idea that Every Man Wants To Fuck A Woman And Be A Loving Husband By Default.

If you disagree with any part of this post get the fuck off my blog. If you try to start shit in the notes or in my asks you're getting blocked.

We're here. We're queer. Fucking deal with it.

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[greatooglymooglyyy]

Bone Tired- Matt Sturniolo

a/n: since i did chris, might as well do matt. i think i like writing these. send me requests if you want and let me know what you think? also there is a bonnet mention cus y'know... i'm mixed. idk

contains: fluff, cussing, light kissing, alludes to sex but nothing on page, established relationship, 800+ words

I groan as I wake up from the feeling of suddenly being way too cold. I glance over to my left, where, of course, Matt has rolled the entire damn duvet around himself like a burrito. I sigh and check my phone for the time. 8:34am. Might as well get up, I guess. I sit up, getting ready to slide out of bed, when I feel something tug me backwards. Matt pulls me into his side and back under the covers before curling around me.

“Where are you going?” He asks, voice still thick with sleep and his eyes barely cracked.

“Ohhhhh, so you wake up when I'm getting out of bed but not when I'm over here freezing to death for half the night?” I joke, snuggling my head into the crook of his neck.

“That’s on you; it’s eat or get eaten in this blanket game.” He says back, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“I really do have to get up soon. I have plans this morning.”

“Do they involve leaving this bed?”

“Bro-”

He makes the wrong answer buzzing sound and I fight back my laugh.

“Matty.”

“Better. Still no.”

I’m silent for a few seconds before I play my favorite card. I face him, weaving my fingers through his hair, and whisper softly, “Baby.” And I watch him melt, like he does every single time. "I don't like pet names,” my ass.

“When’re you coming back?” He asks, leaning in close and dropping kisses down the side of my jaw.

“Tonight.”

He sighs and untangles his body from mine. “I feel like I never see you in the daylight anymore.” He says as he slips out of bed and stretches.

“I know. I know. It's busy season at work, and they are killing me.” I say, following him out of bed into the bathroom. He turns the shower on while I start to brush my teeth. When I’m finished, I look into the mirror and meet his eyes, finding him leaning on the wall and watching me.

“You know you can quit, right?" He says, for maybe the 100th time this month. I roll my eyes and turn to him, preparing to give him my whole independent woman spiel. But as soon as I open my mouth, he cuts me off.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re Hercules. Shut up. The water is hot. Come on."

I laugh and lift my arms, letting him peel my shirt off for me then follow him into the shower.

***********

I turn my car off with a sigh and lay my head against the steering wheel, trying to convince myself to get out of the car. After 15 hours straight of dealing with the most annoying customers the world could hand me, walking seems like a big ask from me right now. I tap my hand against the steering wheel, wondering how much my back would suffer if I just slept here tonight.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I look out my window to see Matt looking in equal parts annoyed and concerned. I unlock my door, and he swings it open, leaning his head in.

“Are you insane? Chris said he heard you pull up 20 minutes ago. Why are you just sitting in a car at night in Los Angeles? Do I look like fucking Batman to you? If you go missing, all I can do for you is cry.” He rants, reaching around me to undo my seatbelt.

“Sorry.” I say, my words almost slurring from how tired I am.

He pauses, probably expecting way more attitude from me. “Alright. Come on. Let’s get you in bed."

He pulls me out of the car and picks me up like I'm a small child. I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, appreciating how lucky I got with him. When we’re back in his room, he puts me down on the bed, goes to my drawer to find my favorite big t-shirt, and hands it to me.

“You got this part, or you want the full toddler experience?” He jokes, already heading off to the bathroom.

"You've never had any problem undressing me before.” I shoot back as I finish slipping it on and crawling under the covers. He laughs and comes back with my bonnet, makeup remover, and moisturizer in tow.

I look up at him with what has to be the goofiest smile on my face, and he scrunches his face up at me as he begins taking my makeup off.

“What?” He says, his tongue slightly out as he focuses on getting off my mascara.

“You love me.” I whisper, half to myself.

I feel him pause his movement for a second as my statement rattles him, but he quickly recovers. He continues as if he didn’t hear me, but I catch the slightest smile on his face before I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

“Very evident, kid.”

[txttletale]

roadhogsbigbelly is doubling down. genuinely incredible (yes i am aware how deeply funny it is to start a serious post with that sentence. it is my one allotment of levity)

oh okay you just assumed that "loliporn" was involved and something that i deserved to be associated with defending and accused of making "integral to the queer identity" because of stuff that the OP (who i cannot stress enough i never followed or talked to or knew in any fucking way!) did that got called out months after i made my addition?

the rest of his post is just a very lengthy way of saying "umm if you didn't want to be called a pedophile because you were mean about stardew valley maybe you should be more careful about how you reblog from". yeah buddy im sure you apply that standard to yourself too huh. im sure you pull out your Bad Person detector every time you reblog a fucking post and beam OP with it. you literally screenshot my post about how as a trans women i get this standard uniquely applied to me and went "um its a good standard though. answer for the actions of every fucking person youve ever reblogged a post by".

and all this whole fucking schtick where he's like "ummmm im not calling you a pedophile :) i just assumed you thought 'loliporn was integral to the queer identity' based on source: i made it up and am going out of my way to repeatedly say you're agreeing with pedophiles and not being wary enough about pedophiles and that 99% of people who make the type of post im accusing you of making are pedophiles" is so fucking pathetic and if you fall for it you are a blatant transmisogynist like come the fuck on man.

i am no longer having a nice time on the computer, i am pretty fucking angry. and all this because he "doesnt have much skin in the game" but he doesn't like my stardew valley takes! yeah man real proportionate response.

not to mention the aside he makes to say 'wah wah someone told me to kill myself' amiguito do you have any fucking idea what my inbox has looked like since this entire transmisogynistic harassment campaign began a week ago? i delete those asks because i'm not into flaunting every piece of online abuse i get to make myself look like the victim in computer arguments but it has been constant and graphic! breaking news, women are people too, some of the most cutting-edge research suggests they might even have feelings!

"oh i censored her identity i dont know how she even found it" oh okay so you were anonymously pedojacketing me to your thousands of followers while vaguing about a post i made that had thousands of notes and using the same screenshot that an uncensored version of was passed around with thousands of notes as part of a transmisogynistic harassment campaign last fucking week?

how could anyone possibly have guessed it was me! it's a real mystery man it was basically witness protection. "oh but i didn't know, i didn't know she was trans", maybe he'll also say he didn't know about the harassment campaign, hey fucker, maybe apply some of the constant scrutiny you're reserving for women who are mean about farming game and apply it to yourself and consider looking into these things before baselessly making pedo accusations against someone!

this transmisogynistic crybully shit is absolutely fucking insufferable and i am absolutely sick of it and anyone who buys into it. i'm done assuming good faith or ignorance. i am not going to be a good placid little bullying target and acquiesce to this vile shit. it's truly fucking incredible that a tme guy can be found out as an actual pedophile and guys like mr. belly can immediately jump into action to use this as an opportunity to denounce a trans woman who had one interaction with him ever that consisted of five minutes spent typing an addition to a post and hitting ''reblog''. & if you don't find that sickening then straight up you are not safe for trans women to be around.

[teyvathandymenclub]

Good Morning

Story: You have just spent your first night together and the obvious nervousness comes in with a bang. Will he like me without makeup? I need to keep mints close to me to hide my morning dragon breath. Should I put on some mascara at least? 

Characters: Diluc, Alhaitham

TW: Beware! Fluff.

Diluc

You have promised yourself that you will wake up before him. And somehow you did. When you opened your eyes, the sun was still pretty low and the room was filled with Diluc´s deep calm breathing. Slowly raising your head you checked his chest. You have been sleeping on him the whole night so the possibility of you salivating on him was pretty high. 

It is fine. Thank god. You sigh with relief.

For a second you got stuck because you could not stop staring at him. He looks so peaceful, but authoritative at the same time. Diluc has this aura of confidence and stoicism that you have never seen in other men. He could have every woman in the Teyvat but he chose you. Your heart flutters. 

I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I will do everything to prove to you that I am worthy of you. 

With that, you stood up and tip-toed out of the bedroom.

"Are you trying to run away from me?" 

Diluc´s voice stopped you right when you were about to reach the doorknob. Heart in your chest started racing and all you could hear was your blood rushing through your veins.

"If I disappointed you somehow last night, you can tell me straight away."

"No!" You almost screamed too ashamed to look at him.

"Then where are you going? I was excited to wake up to you sleeping in my arms."

"Me too! I just need to… Use the toilet. If that is ok."

"Of Course, it is ok." Diluc chuckled with relief as he stood up. "I will show you the way."

"No! Umm… I will find it by myself."

"Y/N, what is going on?" He frowned. "Why you did not look at me once."

You wanted to protest even more, but before you were able to find new excuses, Diluc took your chin and raised your head so he could look you directly in the eyes.

After a short moment, you cracked under his gaze, just like last night.

"I did not want you to see me like this." You finally admit.

"Like what?" Diluc looked at you and scanned you from head to toe.

"No makeup, messy hair, puffy face…"

"Stop it, please." Diluc hushed you with a voice filled with amusement and disappointment at the same time.

"I am sorry." You whisper.

"For what? That I did not show you my affection the same way I feel it here?" He took your hand and placed it on the bare skin of his chest. "Can you forgive me for leaving room for so many doubts? My dear, I have traveled most of our world and I have never met someone like you. Do not ever doubt my affection for you. For any version of you. With messy hair, with whatever makeup you do not wear. I do not care. "

"But…"

You tried to protest, but he immediately stopped you with raised brows that said more than enough.

"With that settled, how did you sleep?" Diluc smiled as he hid you in his embrace.

Alhaitham

Last night was everything but what you have expected from a man who presented himself the way he did. Where did those passionate touches and kisses come from?

Never even in your wildest dreams, you dreamed about being smothered with so much affection. Even though you did not want to admit it, you felt addicted. Men are usually a source of disappointment in your life. How could you score an intelligent gentleman with ways that can make your toes curl from… Well, let's call it happiness.

It would be such a shame to scare him away with my morning state. I should freshen up a little. 

You debated with yourself a little before you took your chance. As you carefully moved away his hand wrapped around your waist and tried to stand up, Alhaitham deeply growled. His grip around your body tightened. Who would have thought that he would be into spooning so much?

"What is so funny?" He asked after you chuckled a little.

"Just wondering if I could be the big spoon now."

"No." Alhaitham murmured into your neck without hesitation.

"Can I at least go to the bathroom? Pretty please?"

"So you would let me here with nothing but your scent stuck to my skin?"

"Awwwww." You smiled. "But... Do you want me to pee here?"

"You are free to go wherever you want!" Alhaitham said while dramatically pushing you away from him. 

After you gave him your best fake sad stare you quickly left to deal with some important business in the bathroom. When you finally came back, Alhaitham was already sitting in the bed leaning against the headboard reading something.

"And I thought that I had bad bed hair." You laugh.

"You probably had. You have been gone for almost half an hour."

"You did not!" You audibly gasped before you jumped at him.

"Why… Oh god…" Alhaitham growled as he maneuvered you down from him. "...do you have so much energy this early in the morning? If I knew I would never invite you over."

"REALLY?!" You froze.

"Of Course not." He smiled sheepishly as he pinned you down to kiss you oh so sweetly.

[f1fnatic]

SCRUTINY ⤿ f1 grid

→ ( in which. . . ) you are a woman on the f1 grid. you face criticism and digs almost every day from toxic fans, specifically the men. but, you shut them up after a rewarding race.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) 2023 f1 grid x female!reader

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) cyberbullying, misogyny, sexism/sexist comments, overall a shitty environment. not based on this year's monaco grand prix or the season so far just has the drivers of this year's grid at this moment except alonso he is a reserve for aston martin, jumps around a little, not a completely solid plot, other pilots make subtle mentions, but mainly reader focused.

→ ( author's note. . . ) i enjoyed writing this one a lot. with being a woman myself and seeing how we are perceived in sports, especially a male-dominated field like motorsport, it was not very difficult to keep writing. anyways, i hope you enjoy! see end for more.

→ ( masterlist )

sunday, pre-race interview ↴

scrutiny. a word that you are familiar with. a word that has so much meaning but so little at the same time. you had recently joined your dream team, aston martin. after a challenging run in f3 and f2, you finally got recognized for your talent. you knew the comments would only get worse as you moved up the ranks, but you didn't expect them to be this bad.

it was the monaco grand prix. your least favorite track to race. the tight corners haunted you. without fail, you always almost crashed and cost your team everything. but it mainly cost you your dignity.

you were sat along a crisp white sofa that sat your teammate lance stroll, along with charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, lando norris, daniel ricciardo, and lastly max verstappen. you had all become acquainted when you first got to f1. lance and you got along swell and were close to inseparable. the rest were like brothers to you. these types of conferences were your personal least favorite. you enjoyed being with your friends, but the questions that were asked were downright embarrassing.

"y/n, coming over to you." the interviewer voiced, all attention was shifted onto you. "monaco in the past years has not treated you well, do you think you will have another devastating grand prix? and do you think your difference has to do with your performance?" you felt the scoff bubble in your throat. was he serious? you knew what he was playing at. your difference being your gender.

"well, first of all, i do not think my quote en quote 'difference' has anything to do with my performance." you start, putting finger quotes to emphasize the word difference. "if anything, it would be a difference in the car. in past monaco grand prix's the aston martin car has struggled. there are no real straights for the car to get its usual speed from. the differences in the care have nothing to do with me as a driver." this was unbelievable. were they really questioning whether you could hold your own as a woman in motorsport?

"you are starting p7 in today's race. do you think you performed well enough in qualifying? what could you have done differently?" finally. a normal question. you were excited to answer.

"uh, yeah. i think considering the conditions in qualifying and the nature of the track i did well. i am happy with how i performed but there is always room for improvement. and i am open to that." you answered, smiling. you looked over to lewis and saw him smiling at you. he knew how the media worked. he himself was getting pushed under the bus with racist remarks and 'concern' around his piercings. he was always supportive of you, and you were supportive of him. there were often times when you would text or call him ranting about how unfair it was that you were being treated the way you were. he would join in with his own stories and you would listen.

"y/n, i am sure you have seen the scrutiny online about being a woman competing in the pinnacle of motorsport. do you believe you should be here competing with men?" another reporter asks.

you are stunned. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"are you serious?" lance scoffs beside you. "what is with these questions?"

"why do we get questions about normal things like our literal jobs and y/n's questions are always about her gender?" daniel adds. the couch breaks out in murmurs. the reporters visibly get uncomfortable with what has happened and end the interview.

standing up you walk out of the office and to your drivers room, ignorning the voices calling after you. these interviews were always bullshit. daniel was right, why were you always getting questioned about your gender and how that effects your performance? what does gender have to do with racing?

this was only the beginning.

sunday, day of monaco grand prix ↴

you were exhausted. exhausted by the comments, the bullshit interviews, and the stupid prick men that felt the need to voice their opinion about a woman in f1.

you could this year's grand prix was going to be a tough one. mentally and physically. you wanted to be done. done with the bullying, the sexism, the misogyny, everything. you knew you worked hard to get where you are, and you will continue to. you dreaded the after-race interviews. no matter your result, you would always get at least 4 sexist remarks.

you didn't know what else you needed to do to be able to prove yourself worthy of your seat. you shouldn't have to prove yourself anymore than you have. you are in f1, and all of these assholes are not.

your pr manager, bless his soul, had to listen to your rants after interviews. lewis always got brunt end of it as well. he had experience with degradating comments. he always knew what to say and when to say it. fernando has been a huge help as well. he was like a father to you, always there when you needed someone. he would defend you when you needed defending. he always knew what to say and when to say it.

race start, p7 ↴

p7 was not a bad place to start, at all. but the internet and crowd thought differently. you were sat in your car, ready for the formation lap when someone yelled at you, "c'mon pretty lady! get back to cleaning! this is a man's sport!" you resisted the urge to quip back at him, instead you raised your left hand and flipped him off. your pr manager would have your head later but you couldn't care less. you needed to do something to voice your annoyance.

concentration is what you needed, but you couldn't seem to gain it with more comments being shouted your way. "hot momma!" followed by a cat call whistle, "sweetheart take off that suit! let's see what's underneath!", "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THIS JOB!" were only some of the handfuls thrown at you. they also seemed to be the ones that bothered you the most. your grip on your steering wheel tightened, anger bubbling in your gut. these people knew nothing. they don't know how hard you work. they don't know how much blood, sweat, and tears you poured into achieving your dream. and they never would.

before you knew it, the formation lap started. it went quickly. you got back into your respective starting positions and stared down the lights. you took a deep breath to attempt to ground yourself. it is just a race, you have done this before y/n.

the lights lit up red, until they didn't. you flew forward in your aston martin, pushing it for a decent start. you ended up gaining two positions, going from p7 to p5. the rest of the race was uneventful, until it wasn't.

"y/n, caution on the chicane. hamilton, perez, and leclerc crashed. yellow flag, safety car." your race engineer voiced over the radio. "that moves you into a fortunate p2."

"okay, copy." you were ecstatic. this was your chance to prove yourself to everyone. to those men who scrutinized you before the formation lap, to the trolls online, and to those misogynistic pricks known as reporters. this was your moment.

"gap to verstappen 1.6 seconds, push." you did as you were told. you pushed, and you pushed hard. this was for all of the girls that wanted to be you. "oh my days y/n! p1! p1! you just won the monaco grand prix!"

"yes! oh my god! fuck me! we did it!" you had done it.

you did your victory lap and parked behind the p1 tower. when you got out of your seat tears stung at your eyes. you ran over to where the aston martin team was and hugged them over the barrier. team members were banging on your helmet. lance had managed p2 and came up behind you and hugged you, along with the team.

the podium was a blur. you could not describe the emotions you were feeling. pride, excitement, and most of all, happiness were swirling within you. you stood tall as aston martin's anthem played and even taller when yours sounded shortly after. the champagne spray was the best part. carelessly spraying lance as giggles sounded on the podium. you also sprayed your team below, this would not have been possible without them. you would never forget this moment. it is forever engraved into your mind.

this was it, this was what you needed to prove them all wrong.

not feeling super happy w this one. i like the beginning but i feel it gets away from me in the middle and end. feedback and requests are welcome! make sure to leave a comment and kudos as well, only if u want to tho! lmk if you like it :)

[greynatomy]

mural

leah williamson x reader

came across an interview of leah talking about this awkward encounter she had with a fan.

———

“You’re actually off the market now, yeah?”

“I am. I’ve got myself a girlfriend. Finally.” Leah laughs awkwardly.

“First of all, congratulations!”

“Thank you.”

“Second, how did this love story come about? How did you first meet.”

“It was quite funny actually.”

———

Leah was back home in her hometown, walking around to places she’s been to since she was little. Many people have already asked for picture with her, which she happily accepted.

On her walk, she comes across her mural that was painted in honor of her. There was only one other person there with her, standing in front of the wall.

She had a camera, a professional looking camera in the hood of her hand, snapping pictures of her surroundings, as Leah observed. The woman was now holding her phone out in what appears to be taking a selfie. Thinking she was a fan, she walks towards the woman, put her arm around her, smiling and holding out a peace sign.

You slowly put your camera down, turning to face her, staring at the woman in confusion.

“What are you doing?” You asked her.

“Uh- we- picture?” Leah stuttered. “I’ll let you have one on your own.” She steps away from you, lips forming a straight line.

“Thanks.”

———

“Yeah, I totally misread the situation.”

“You just put your arm around a complete stranger, with a smile on your face?”

“She was standing in front of my mural. How was I supposed to know she didn’t care much about the person painted on it?”

“What happened after then?”

“She actually took my picture, which then she realized who I was. Not really who I am, just that I shared the same face as the wall.”

“Not a football fan then?”

“Not at all. Knew nothing about football or sports in general.”

“Funny story to tell then.”

“Yeah, and embarrass myself every time.”

[baek-at-it-again95]

We Know

Pairings: park seonghwa x fem reader x choi san

genres/content: action, agent au, mafia au? rivalry, leader bang chan, angry seonghwa, y/n is san's weakness lol

Warnings: profanity, violence, weapons, suggestive content!! please take care of yourselves <3

A/N: I am nervous about this one y'all 😳 I've never written something like this before, but it ended up being so fun! This is for my friends, @milfks and L, who had these wonderful ideas! Love you two lots <3

Synopsis: Tonight's mission is in your hands, and you're eager to prove that you're capable of handling it on your own. Unfortunately, your plans are interrupted a bit sooner than you expected.

***

"I've got eyes on him," you mumble, pretending to fix your diamond earring as you adjust your earpiece. Surveying from the platform of the mansion's grand staircase, your eyes follow a man in a black suit as he turns the corner and disappears down a far hallway.

Chan's sigh rings in your earpiece. "Be careful."

"I can handle myself. Trust me."

"I trust you, Y/N. You know that. It's everyone else that I don't trust. It's your first time unaccompanied," Chan says.

"Like I said, I can handle it. Besides, the boys are always out by themselves and they're just fine." If you could see Chan right now, you know he'd be pinching the bridge of his nose out of stress, holding back from giving you a lecture on why your situation is different from theirs. You know his concern is out of love, and he would blame himself if anything were ever to happen to you. But this is your chance to prove yourself. Tonight, you'll be participating in an auction to get your hands on the Cromer, a powerful artifact that can control time. It's been rumored that ATEEZ has their sights set on it as well, so Chan had you do as much research on them as possible. Unfortunately for you, they're quite good at covering their tracks and keeping their identities under wraps. You know only a few of their names and faces, so you'll need to be extra careful about your approach to this. 

The auction will begin in about an hour, and you'd rather not hear a lecture from Chan. "I'm going in," you whisper. Your black dress flatters your figure perfectly, and you're excited to show it off tonight. With a deep breath, you make your way down the staircase, your heels silent on the expensive red carpet.

Clusters of people stand together around the large space, sipping champagne and chatting amongst themselves. Many wives have separated into groups away from their husbands, who go on and on about their latest business ventures and investments. Understandable—how boring. You greet some people as you go, your charming smile in effect as their eyes land on you. One woman compliments your dress as you pass by, and you enthusiastically return her compliment, telling her that her own dress brings out her eyes. She blushes and tells you it's custom made, which basically means "my dress is worth twice as much as the average person's monthly paycheck." 

You continue to weave through the crowds and admittedly get a bit distracted, still thinking about the woman's compliment. As you turn into the hallway you witnessed your target disappear into, you bump straight into an oncoming person. A strong arm wraps around your waist before you can lose balance on your high heels. 

"Woah there, doll. Straying too far, are we?" A tall man with dark hair looks down at you, his eyebrows raised.

Park Seonghwa. Just the man you were looking for. 

"My apologies sir," you say quietly, feigning innocence and avoiding his eyes. His arm leaves your waist after steadying you. "I was wandering in hopes of finding a vacant room to lie down...I'm afraid I've had a bit too many drinks too early in the night." You stumble for dramatic effect, hoping he'll eat up your lies. "I have to sober up before the auction," you say, shaking your head. "Daddy will throw a fit if I spend all his money tonight."

The man looks amused. "Yeah? Better be careful, princess."

"I can handle myself," you say for the second time tonight, stepping closer to trace the pads of your manicured fingers over the fabric on his chest. He tilts your chin up gently, and you meet his intense gaze. He's breathtaking. Suddenly, you have an idea that seems much more fun than your previous plans.

Sorry Chan, you think as you press yourself against Seonghwa.

***

You didn't find anything of importance on Seonghwa's person, but you did manage to slip a tracking device into his suit pocket. Chan should be able to access his location any minute now.

You enter the auction room fifteen minutes before the event is scheduled to start, scanning the tables for your seat. It's dimly lit, a majority of the lighting coming from a screen behind the stage. You don't see Seonghwa seated anywhere yet.

"And what are the starting bids on you, lovely?" a low voice asks, breath tickling your ear. You turn to look at the owner of the voice, his strong facial features almost as striking as his neatly-styled red hair. He's practically undressing you with his eyes, and you can't say you hate it.

"Whatever you've got to offer, pretty boy," you reply sweetly. He smirks, pleased with himself as one of his hands finds your waist.

"My friend says you're not as innocent as you look."

"Pardon?" you ask. The man turns you around, your back against his broad chest as his free hand reaches up to your ear. Before you know it, your earpiece is on the ground in front of you, crushed beneath a polished designer shoe. Looking up, you see that the shoe belongs to none other than Park Seonghwa. Of course they're working together.

You freeze as something cold presses to the exposed small of your back. 

Fuck.

"One wrong move and you're done for, princess," the man with red hair says calmly, lowering himself back down to your ear. "Try to cause a scene and innocent people will pay the price."

You take a deep breath before nodding your head in submission. You slowly turn back around and watch as he returns his gun to his shoulder holster, his expensive blazer completely concealing it. No one around you sees the ordeal, too distracted and eager to spend their money. The man then puts his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the auction room. Seonghwa follows close behind, making sure you aren't able to slip away. You have no idea if he is armed at this point in time.

You're led into a large meeting room at the very end of the upstairs corridor, the bright moonlight seeping through the open balcony doors and illuminating the glossy wooden table at the center of the room. You catch a glimpse of the pretty garden below the balcony before the man guiding you throws you to the floor. You can feel the bruises forming on your knees instantly.

You don't dare fight back yet—your training in hand-to-hand combat doesn't do shit when your opponents are armed with guns, of course. You would attempt it if he were alone, but with Seonghwa present and potentially armed, you'd rather feel the situation out. 

God, Chan will never let you out onto the field again. He's probably losing his mind now that you've lost contact with each other. Not to mention the fact that you were busted before you even had a chance to get what you came here for. The auction is going to start any minute, and now you're certain there are other ATEEZ members in the auction room that are ready to claim the Cromer instead of you.

You're angry with yourself for not being more prepared with your own weapon, but your favorite handgun unfortunately didn't fit under your dress of choice. You sigh to yourself. At least you look good in it. 

"Give it up, sweetheart. We know what's going on here," the man with red hair says. Seonghwa locks the door behind him before speaking.

"I saw your wolf tattoo, and I've seen only one other just like it. You're working with Bang Chan," he states, is emotions unreadable. 

No. You had forgotten to conceal your waist tattoo since your dress fully covers it. You hadn't expected to completely remove your dress tonight. Rookie mistake. You should expect everything. 

"All this over a tattoo?" You eye him, downplaying the situation.

"How brave of you to interfere with our operation by yourself," the other man comments, ignoring your previous sentence. "No back up here to save you, huh?" 

"Oh, you don't really believe she's here alone, do you, San?" Seonghwa asks. Choi San. You recognize that name. Seonghwa comes over to you, a completely different aura surrounding him now. He's intimidating, gripping your chin with much more force than he had earlier. "Be a good girl and tell us where your friends are, yeah? Don't make things difficult." A chill runs down your spine at his threat. 

"I'm not here with anyone," you state. It's the truth. Even though Chan had insisted he wait in his car nearby, you convinced him to stay and monitor operations from your base. If you don't make contact within the next hour or two, he'll know something is wrong and follow Seonghwa's location.

"Wrong answer, princess." He grips your hair harshly and you wince. "I have a hard time believing that they would put you in a situation like this without back up. Where are they?"

It's sweet of him to underestimate you, honestly. You got yourself into this situation, and you're sure as hell going to get yourself out. You're already halfway done formulating your escape plan. "I said they're not here," you answer again. He lets go of your hair with a hiss.

"It would pain me to ruin such a pretty face...I think we'll let the boss deal with you." 

The boss? Chan told you that no one knows the leader of ATEEZ—it's safe to assume that anyone who's seen him hasn't lived to tell the tale. You're not sure if he'll have any mercy at all to offer you. But maybe these two still have some in them.

"No, please!" you plead, your fists balled up as they rest on your thighs. "If I tell you where they are, will you go easy on me?" You let your head hang low, looking at the floor. San lowers himself in front of you and you find his eyes. You blink, letting a few tears slip down your cheeks. 

"Sure, doll face. We will." You look away from him to briefly meet eyes with Seonghwa. He still stands at full height, arms crossed as he looks down at you. Perhaps it's your tears making your vision blurry, but you swear his gaze softens at the sight of you. You look back to San, sniffling.

"You promise?"

Now, never ever would someone in their right mind trust a promise from someone like them. But you're not planning on following through with your own side of the promise, either. Two can play at this game. You would never jeopardize the safety of SKZ...you told Chan you could handle yourself and you meant it.

"Promise," San says. He's truly something else, radiating such strong and convincing charm. You would fall for his promise in a heartbeat if you didn't know who he really was.

As you slowly rise from your knees, San stands with you. "They made me do it," you confess, more tears spilling from your eyes and taking your favorite mascara with them. "They said they would kill me if I didn't," you whisper, looking away. 

"It's okay, doll," San says, coming closer to comfort you. You flinch before he touches you. "Just tell us where they are, okay? We'll help you." You bury yourself in his chest, your frame shaking in his arms as you cry quietly.

Your best performance yet, if you say so yourself.

After a long minute in his embrace, you begin to pull away. In the process, you grab the gun out of San's shoulder holster and hold the barrel to the center of his chest. He curses under his breath, raising his arms in defeat. You slowly step backwards, turning your aim to Seonghwa as a warning not to try anything, and then returning your aim to San. Seonghwa makes no attempt to grab for anything, so now you know for a fact that he is unarmed.

"I told you the first time that there's no one here with me." You smile. "But it's nice to discover that you both have a heart." 

"Tell Chan we said hi," Seonghwa replies, irritated. 

"Of course, it would be rude of me not to. It's truly been a pleasure, boys." You give Seonghwa a wink. "We'll meet again, right? Maybe you can introduce me to your boss next time."

You've backed up far enough to step onto the balcony, assessing the situation above and below. The garden below is deserted now that the auction has started, but it's a far drop to the ground. There is another balcony above you, but it seems a bit too high for you to escape to. You're trapped, so you're going to have to pull this off fast to avoid getting hurt. 

All you can hear is the sound of your own heartbeat as you throw the gun over the railing into the garden. If you slip up, they could get their hands on it again, and you cannot let that happen. You'll fight the real way if you must.

As soon as it leaves your hands, the men launch at you. You quickly dodge them, ducking under San's punch and managing to sweep Seonghwa's leg, knocking him to the ground. Now that they're both on the balcony, you run back inside, shutting the french doors and locking them behind you. You know it will barely do anything to set them back—they could easily break them down if they wanted to. Through the glass, you watch as San pulls Seonghwa off the ground and looks at you. He doesn't make an immediate effort to get inside.

Is he letting you go? 

You shouldn't wait around any longer to find out. You blow him a kiss before taking your exit out into the main hall. 

But after stepping out, you see why they let you go...

[alienpossession]

My stepson is a rather troublesome kid, especially after his mother's passing. He soon dropped out of college, losing the sense of direction he had and just straight out spiralled into a mess. Not to mention that his coping mechanism involved him to hung out with the wrong crowd and start smoking too despite his mother in the past clearly forbid him since he was a prospective star athlete. He also started to grow agitated to the world and overall just disrespect authorities, which included me as the last person that is bold enough to reprimand him while on his way to do his antics

After one of our early morning argument as he arrived back home from clearly a long night he did doing God knows what, he just stormed into his room after giving me a middle finger and cursed under his breath. I decided that enough is enough and I did what I knew best to handle reckless and wild human like that

You see....I was not from this planet. I arrived around 20 years ago into this farmland where I stumbled with this young studly farmer that just about to start his days. I slid into him and never left his body as I decided that I would be safe and undetected as long as I did not slid out of him while the search for me was still active. I was paranoid that if I ever left this body, suddenly the detection system spotted me so I resisted the temptation to leave and remained hidden inside while controlling this human that I cultivated into the best version it could be. But this little punk really pushed me to my limit. I'm just so desperate trying to prove my humanity and ability to disciplined the smaller and younger human I supposedly have authority over, I pushed myself out and slid into the sleeping body of my stepson. Once I slid in, I went straight to his brain and started to work it while he's sleeping soundly with zero awareness that a far more intelligent being is currently rewiring his organ responsible for free thinking into one filled with obedience and submissiveness. I was not necessarily the expert on brain's anatomy but I know which part I should and should not touch. Once I felt like my job has been precisely executed, I slid out of his brain and entered back to my original vessel.

Now, imagine my surprise that not only I made that punk into a more docile and submissive version of himself, I somehow made him gay too as I checked on him after the rework I did to his brain. And I guess I graced the part where he can pick up aroma even more strongly this time and that caused him to be a musk-whore for everything's sweaty and pungent. His obsession to his own pits clearly were a sight to behold as it was a far cry from his womanizer self I have to witness for the past few years he brought home girls to his bedroom.

Aside from his own self, he also loved me. Not the usual familial love, this boy is clearly fucked in the head as he viewed me as some sort of authority to please. It's like him calling me daddy is laced with sexual innuendo rather than the usual way a kid called up his parents. So, like the good father I am and to avoid getting him jumped on me while I sleep as I didn't satisfy his needs, I decided to change our family time where I asked him to have dinner with me to him sniffing my feet and servicing my needs. It's not as cool (and normal human looking) as having him seated next to me watching the TV together or having warm dinners, but that's the way we live nowadays and not like he's complaining anyway.

I guess I really need to do better with all this brain rewiring

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

I Still Love You.

Okay, hi, yes, I am real, I do exist haha, anyway, I'm suffering in college but I miss writing for my cowboy so I'm gonna try to do some magic with this prompt from the lovely @photo1030 about our cowboy and us getting into a fight, the first fight, after they start dating.

SO

Let us start!

Warnings: Arguing obviously, swearing, Arthur feeling bad, you feeling bad, female reader, possibly 18+ themes. Modern Arthur AU

Definitely maybe projecting a little bit of myself into Y/N here but we aren't gonna mention that.

Also don't you dare make fun of me I haven't wrote much recently so my noggin doesn't work, all I know is homework

You scoffed, continuing to wash the dishes in your sink as you listen to Arthur rambling on, trying to make you 'see reason' as he put it.

Usually you couldn't find a single thing wrong with Arthur. For the most part he was the perfect man. Of course, he had his flaws, as all humans do, but you guys had NEVER had a fight before, but lately...you couldn't help but fume at him.

He was just....You loved him, and you loved being around him and typically nothing about him bothered you but....

You couldn't help it.

He was just so damn...Stubborn! All the time!

No matter what, he always had to be right. Doesn't matter exactly what it's about, but he has to be right, even if it's something that YOU know more about.

"Jus' listen to me Darlin', it'll be so much easier for us to do this if we jus'-"

"I told you Arthur, that's not it, that's not gonna work!"

You sigh and turn around, leaning on the lip of the sink, your arms crossed as you look at him.

"You know, JUST as much as I do, that if we want to move in together at some point that we should invest in a place for BOTH of us, not just me moving in with you or you moving in with me."

"It'll save us money if you jus' move in with me-"

"And it'll save our relationship if I don't feel like I'm a visitor in a place that I didn't purchase. That's YOUR apartment, with YOUR decorations, YOUR pots and pans, YOUR shower curtains, EVERYTHING is yours, and even if I brought some of my stuff in, it's not MY place or OUR place-"

"So now our relationship needs savin'?"

He snorts and copies your body language, crossing his own arms as he stares down at you.

"You livin' with me, regardless as to if it's at your house or my apartment is the same as us buyin' a place together, and our relationship is just fine, it don't NEED savin'. At least I didn't think it did until ya said that."

"Oh my god, you are such a stubborn jackass."

You grind your teeth, standing up straight.

"It doesn't need saving, not YET. Arthur, a place of our own, together, would be better for the both of us, and you KNOW that."

"We would save much more money if we just moved in to one of the places we ALREADY own-"

"That wouldn't be OURS-"

"We would MAKE it OURS darlin'-"

"Arthur, why can't you understand-"

"Why can't YOU understand, I'm tryin' to save us money in the long run, money we can use to save up and buy a house later down the line, when we need one."

"Jesus, Arthur! How am I supposed to even move in with you in the first place when all you can do is try to prove you're right about everything all the damn time!"

You throw your hands up in defeat.

"You just have to always, always, always be right, don't you? You can't just understand or accept that someone else MIGHT be right!"

"You know damn well that ain't true!"

Arthur stands straight himself, putting his hands on his hips.

"I ain't tryin' to prove shit!,"

He pokes you in the chest, right under your collarbone

"I'm TRYIN' to make things easier on us! I'm tryin' to do somethin' good for the woman I love, but clearly you ain't very appreciative about it!"

"I would be, if you didn't always have to be so damn pushy, always 'oh well actually we should do this its smarter' shut UP Arthur, shut UP. It's not always your way or the highway!"

You smack his hand away, scowling at him as he shakes his hand and puts it back on his hip.

"You know how awful, how fucking stupid you make me feel, all the time!? Even when I'm RIGHT, you make me feel stupid because there's always some other way that we can do things that you always deem 'better'. What is it? You just don't like the fact that I can do things? That SOMETIMES, I have good ideas?"

"What? What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"You know what I'm talking about-"

"I don't!"

He groans in frustration and moves to your fridge, opening it to get a beer out.

"Oh, and you're gonna help yourself to my drinks too, right? That I paid for?"

"This ain't even yours! I bought these, I brought 'em over for me when I visit! You don't even like this brand, hell you drink them fuckin' fruity drinks, the what....the Smirnoff or whatever the fuck it is."

He pops the bottle cap off.

"'Sides, what's the matter? You ain't never been upset about sharin' with me before."

"It's not the point!"

You groan and move past him into the living room.

"The point is Arthur, you always have to be right. Always. You make me feel like an idiot. Even if I know something more than you. Hell you'd tell me I was wrong if I was talking about what I majored in, in college."

"Oh I would not-"

He states, following you into the living room.

"You just did it again! Just there!"

"I ain't doin' shit!"

"AND AGAIN!"

Arthur gives a huff and puts his drink down on the coffee table, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand.

"Look, Darlin', all I'm sayin' is, if we make a budget and live together at my place, or at yours, we can save up money, and EVENTUALLY get a place together. a NICE place. A GOOD place, that's big enough for us, and what I HOPE is eventually our family."

"Why can't we buy a place that's already a good place?"

"You have to have MONEY Y/N!"

Arthur closes his eyes briefly, and crosses his arms again.

"Christ, Y/N do you ever fucking listen?"

"Oh like you're any better-"

"I am!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you!"

The two of you stare at one another, fuming, both of you clenching your jaws.

"Get out."

You murmur softly.

"Get out and go home."

"Really? You're gonna kick me out?"

"Yes, go!"

Arthur stares at you for a moment, and then moves around the couch and takes a seat, kicking his feet up on the coffee table after grabbing his beer.

"No. Not until we talk this through. I ain't lettin' either one of us walk away angry."

You angrily groan and turn away from him, going to your bedroom. You slam the door shut behind you and lock it.

You take the time to breathe, putting your hands through your hair, trying to keep yourself from being too angry.

You move to your bed and take a seat, letting yourself think.

Granted, yes, neither of you had been extremely awful to one another, but you had said some pretty mean things, and after sitting there for about twenty minutes you started to spiral.

That was a dick move of you. A dick move of him too but...what if....

You shouldn't have said anything like that to him, calling him a stubborn jackass, telling him to fuck off, you shouldn't have said those things.

You think it over more and more, and the longer you think about it, the guiltier you feel.

Accusing him of taking your food, when you always share your stuff with him anyway, intentionally starting a fight basically.

Its another ten minutes of thinking about how you'd yelled at him, and then you can't take it.

You unlock your door and come out to find Arthur still on the couch, his arms crossed as he looks up at you.

"You done throwin' a temper tantrum, Y/N?"

You go to speak and surprisingly you find yourself choked up.

"I'm...I...I'm sorry, Arthur I..."

You can feel yourself beginning to tear up and you try to wipe your eyes without it being too obvious, but Arthur was able to see it clearly.

"Woah, hey-"

He's quick to get up and move to you, taking your face in his hands.

"Whatchu cryin' for Darlin'? It ain't that big a deal, it's jus' a spat, that's all..."

He keeps his voice hushed, doing his best to try and soothe you.

You just can't help but feel...absurdly guilty, and all the sudden, worried.

"You aren't gonna run away from me, are you?"

You question, looking up at him.

"You aren't gonna leave me?"

"What? What on earth, no!"

He pulls you closer, bringing your head to his chest, wrapping an arm around your head.

"Jesus, Sweetheart no, I'm not leavin' you, it ain't that big a deal, it ain't that bad...it was just a little spat, an argument, couples have 'em all the time...."

He murmurs, and quietly kisses the top of your head.

"I shouldn't have called you a jackass, and I shouldn't have told you to fuck off, and I'm sorry-"

You ramble on, hugging yourself tightly to him.

"I'm really happy you want me to move in with you, I want to move in with you, I love you, I don't mean anything, I don't want you to back out of it, I don't wanna push you away-"

"Darlin', Y/N, please, calm down, okay, sit with me."

He gently guides you to the couch and sits with you, still holding you close to him.

"Sweetheart, I'm not breaking up with you, you haven't pushed me away, and you certainly aren't gonna cause me to back out."

He chuckles quietly and kisses your head again.

"It's just a little argument. That's all it is, that's it. It's nothin' to break us up over. Couples have fights all the time, it's alright."

"I know..."

You breathe out quietly, his voice was certainly soothing you.

Pulling away from him, you look up at him.

"I am sorry though, I am. I shouldn't have said those things....We should talk, seriously talk, take a minute, and CALMLY talk about the whole housing thing we want to do, I don't wanna argue about it anymore..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay, really it is."

He smiles and takes your hand.

"We can sit and talk, that's okay, but you don't have to apologize, I do. Alright? You're right, I tend to try and prove I'm right, and that ain't fair....So we'll talk, okay?"

He smiles at you, and he brushes some of your hair away from your face, looking you in the eyes as he does. That little smile of his is always enough to make your heart melt, and in this case it does plenty to soothe those worries that had so easily snuck up on you.

"Honey, it's alright...really, I mean that."

You nod and breathe quietly.

"I am still sorry Arthur."

"So am I, but I promise...nothing bad is gonna happen between us, okay, nothing."

He smiles.

"Well, good things will." He adds, and chuckles quietly. "We'll sit down and talk, and for tonight-"

He moves, and puts his finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

"I'm gonna take care of you, alright? I'm gonna make sure, you have a good time tonight, we'll have a movie night, and I will make dinner, you're favorite even."

You can't help but chuckle and lean in, kissing him softly.

"Thank you, thank you Arthur, I love you so much and I'm so...so sorry again."

"Stop sayin' sorry, okay? We're both idiots."

That makes you chuckle, and you lean your head against his shoulder, scooting closer.

It was a good feeling, knowing that if you had further arguments, which, you would, as couples do, you could work things out....that he wasn't going to abandon you.

He's a good man, and you...are good too.

[lanabuckybarnes]

Bucky makes you a meal for international Woman’s Day.

(This is a re-upload so that’s why it’s late)

A tiny piece of writing I may or may not have thrown together.

I never wrote anything for IWD and I wanted to indulge myself but I think this came out kind of rubbish I can’t lie. It won’t stop me from posting it though.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None!

-

It had been 8 months since you started dating the grumpy super soldier, or as everyone else liked to call him, Bucky.

Those 8 months had been the best in your life. He’d supported you through thick and thin and you in turn helped him through the issues he dealt with.

-

You knew Bucky’s past, born in 1917 and after being captured in 1945 he’d never been free until recently this also meant that he’d never learned of the world events during his time as the Winter Soldier. This is why it came as a surprise when you opened the door to your apartment, the smell of fresh cooking whacking you straight in the face.

“Bucky?” You questioned, his stubbled face poked out from the kitchen.

“Hey sweetheart, how was work?” He flashed you a genuine smile.

“It was alright, same old stuff”.

He nodded intently at your words, walking from the kitchen dressed in your frilly pink cooking apron to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Why are you being so sweet?” You accused with a jabbing finger into his large pec.

“What? Am I not allowed to spoil my girl” he chuckled, wrapping his beefy arms around your smaller frame.

“Bucky” the words laced with warning.

“Fine, fine” he pushed himself back to gaze into your eyes with his big blues.

“I was talking with Natasha and she told me that yesterday was International Woman’s Day, I never knew that was a thing” he explained. His eyes never once fell from your own.

“So, since you weren’t here yesterday I thought we could celebrate it today, together” he flashed you his pearly whites. God, you loved this man.

With his hands on your shoulders, he directed you to your dining room. He’d laid out a perfect selection of dishes for you both to pick at and your favourite wine was cooling in an ice bucket.

“Bucky this beautiful, thank you” you gasped, he’d done all this for you, all because of yesterday. You’d never expected him to do anything because of his age and knowledge but he’d gone to such an effort.

“Anything for my little lady”

He sealed his words with a kiss to your lips, a kiss that left you weak at the knees. A kiss so filled with love you were sure Cupid was working overtime.

He was once in a lifetime and you weren’t letting him go.