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#Unacceptable | To Stay Silent
xtruss · 5 months
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“Terrorist, Fascist, Illegal Occupier of Palestine 🇵🇸, Apartheid, the Bastard Child of the United States and the West, War Criminal Zionist 🐖 Isra-hell’s” attacks in Gaza, Forever Palestine 🇵🇸, have Killed at least 100 Innocent Palestinian Journalists and Media Workers. Others have been Severely Wounded, forcibly displaced or lost entire families. These journalists report on Israel's attacks, the resulting starvation and humanitarian crisis in Gaza, all while experiencing it themselves.
Now, Palestinian Journalists are calling on U.S. Reporters to Boycott the White House Correspondents' Dinner in protest of the War Criminal Genocidal Biden Administration's Actions Toward Gaza. "It is Unacceptable to Stay Silent out of fear or Professional concern while Journalists in Gaza continue to be Detained, Tortured, and Killed for doing our jobs," the Journalists wrote in a letter Calling for the Boycott.
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fcthots · 4 months
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You’re sitting on the couch of your shared apartment when Jason climbs in through the window, finally done with patrol. His entrance makes you look up from your phone. He reaches up and tugs his helmet off. His hair looks a little funny, but it also made him look good. He didn’t need the ego boost though. You can tell he had an eventful patrol by the smile on his face.
He walks towards you and drops his hand onto your arm. He lets it slide down until his hand rests on yours. He pulls your hand to his lips in greeting. “Hey, princess.” He squeezes your hand before giving it back to you.
“How was patrol?” You watch as he strips off his outer layers of gear. The display never gets old.
“Good.” He laughs. “But I have got to tell you what happened. Red Robin, Tim, smacked into Red Robin, the restaurant. It was completely by accident too. I begged Babs to get me the camera footage. She’s searching as we speak.”
You laugh at his enthusiasm and the way he laughed before he even finished the story. You ask him questions, he answers them. It continues until he goes to take his shower.
You turn back to your phone. This is where it all goes wrong, because you see a post that ruins your day. It reads, “the first time most men receive flowers is at their funeral.”
Evil. Illegal. Unacceptable. Had you really never given Jason flowers before? You swore you did but your memory came up empty. By the time you finished your existential flower crisis, Jason finished showering and called you to bed. He’s exhausted and falls asleep quickly. You, however, stay awake and plan. You will get the love of your life flowers. You will not let the first time he receives flowers to be at his funeral. You fall asleep trying to decide what flowers he would like best.
You wake up before him, getting up as gently as possible. If he wakes up with you, he’ll trap you for cuddles in his huge beefy inescapable arms, so you must be careful. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if you didn’t know Jason as well as you do.
You get ready as silently and as quickly as possible before sliding out the door. The nearest flower shop isn’t too far. You make it there and back in 30 minutes, and most of that time was spent deciding what flowers you wanted to get Jason.
You walk home with a bouquet of simple red roses with some baby’s breath sprinkled in. It’s wrapped in black paper with a read bow, a color combination you’re sure he’ll love.
You walk home a little slower, careful not to disturb the flowers cradled in your arms. The long walk leaves you to your thoughts. You wonder how Jason will react.
And then you get worried. What if he thinks it’s weird? Jason has never called you weird unaffectionately before, but what if this is what does it? Or, even worse, what if he pretends to like them but actually thinks it’s weird? You spiral a little and panic. You eventually walk head first into your door on muscle memory.
You make sure the flowers are okay before opening the door. You hide the bouquet behind your back. To your surprise, Jason is awake and in the kitchen. His morning voice greets you with a smile. “Did you just walk into the door?”
Your worry begins to fade and a smile crawls its way onto your face. “Shut up.”
He laughs and the sound makes you blush. You love him. “You did!”
“And to think I was out getting you a present.” You shake your head.
“You got me a present?” He looks a like an excited puppy.
“I got my loving boyfriend a present. Let me know if you see him.” You pretend as if you’re about to walk out.
Jason rushes over to you smiling. “Wait, no! He’s right here! Please! I want my present!”
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you thrust the flowers at him. He takes them from you, his smile softening. “Do you like them?”
He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “What are these for? They’re beautiful. I love them.” You watch him feel the petals with a gentle smile that he can’t seem to help.
You tell him about the post you saw, and how you couldn’t let the first time he got flowers be at his funeral. He pauses. “Babe. I really love the flowers. Seriously. Best gift ever. But um. The first time I got flowers was at my funeral.” He watches your face.
You lift a hand and cover your mouth. “Oh my god.” He laughs and uses one had to hug to you to his chest.
“I really love the sentiment! It means a lot! I love them so much!” He smiles into your hair as you wrap your arms around him.
“That’s why I remember buying you flowers before but couldn’t remember giving them to you. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. This was so sweet, seriously. If it wasn’t the ass crack of dawn, I would cry.”
You laugh. “It’s past noon.”
He huffs. “Same thing. We were up until like 4.”
“This is true,” you say. “I still feel so bad though. I can’t believe I forgot you had a funeral already.”
He laughs and you can feel it in his chest. “The idea was really sweet, princess. I love the flowers. You just made my day. Nay, my week.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you running into the door really sealed the deal.”
You push on his chest. “I hate you.”
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fanaticalthings · 4 months
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Give me crime lord!Jason who's actually on good terms with the batfam. Not only would it actually be helpful when it comes to missions surrounding underground/illegal operations (Jason would be able to retrieve way more insider knowledge) but also I think having a supervillain family member that you're chill with is just untapped comedic potential that needs to be taken advantage of.
---
Damian gets into a petty fight with Bruce, and the next day, instead of waiting for Bruce to pick him up from school, he calls Jason, who shows up in full Red Hood regalia and just rides off with Damian.
Of course everyone at school sees that Wayne's son just got snatched by Gotham's most notorious crime lord, so ofc when Bruce gets there, sees Damian missing, and hears a series of panicked whispers about a gun slinging, criminal biker riding off with a prince of Gotham, Bruce immediately knows what's up and just sighs, already anticipating the many publication companies he's gonna have to bribe to stay silent.
---
Sometimes, they need Jason's help with intercepting certain illegal trades within the underworld of, not just Gotham, but just common areas where shady businesses are most prevalent. And when Bruce requests that Jason brings evidence of said illegal shipments to the cave, Jason will smugly respond with "I can, but it'll cost ya"
And Bruce is all exasperated like, "Jason, please, this mission's been going on for a month, I just want to get it over with."
And Jason's just looking down at the crate of smuggled materials, recognizes that it's highly sought after by many rogues (maybe it's machinery parts or rare chemical substances, etc) and ofc Jason's about to be petty as hell when responding to Bruce:
Jason: I don't think you have any idea how valuable the stuff I have is. If I sold this myself in my part of the underground, I'd make a fortune!
Bruce: Jason
Jason: Butttt, if you're not willing to pay me for this, y'know, despite being a billionaire, I guess I could just auction this off to another willing client
Bruce: Jason
Jason: I hear Lex Luthor's been cookin' up something new for Superman. I wonder if he'd be interested?
Bruce: Son, please.
Jason:
Bruce:
Jason: I'll give you a family discount.
And it's just a back and forth of this EVERYTIME. And Jason only does it when he's collaborating with Bruce. None of the other bats have to deal with Jason demanding money.
---
There was one time, during a Wayne gala where practically ALL the kids (except Jason, dude's still legally dead), had to show up. And around halfway through, the Red Hood just crashes through the skylight and then just fucking kidnaps Bruce Wayne, in front of everyone. And of course the gala has to be cut short.
Meanwhile, Bruce, in Jason's custody: I CANNOT believe you, son. WHY of all times would you do this? You are GROUNDED, I don't care if you don't live with me anymore, this is just UNACCEPTABLE-
Jason, completely ignoring him, holding up a tablet with news article headlines about this incident: Bruce, look at this shot they got of me crashing through the ceiling, I look fuckin' badass
And then when the fam (in costume) come to "save" Bruce, in a blink and you'll miss it moment, Bruce catches Cass and Jason whispering something to eachother in the corner and them fist bumping before Jason books it out of there. He can already feel a headache brewing.
And generally speaking, I feel like the batfam could be way more efficient with this arrangement. You got the regular team of bats, investigating from above, as well as being able to infiltrate socialite environments as Waynes. Then you got Jason, who can keep an eye on all the lesser exposed and lucrative activities whilst he keeps the underground businesses under his control. I feel like it would be a win win situation that would be hella interesting to see explored.
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joonsytip · 3 months
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Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 3
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Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au
Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?
Warnings: character death, mentions of pregnancy, Mingyu acts dumb, reader goes through a whole lot of emotional turmoil, mentions of divorce, tears, profanities, major angst.
Word Count: 5.7k
@wongyuuu thanks a lot for brainstorming out this with me & happy birthday, love! 💕🎂
[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]
Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue
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Mingyu returns to an empty house. He waits for you for an hour, two hours and when the clock strikes midnight his mind clouds with concern. He fishes out his phone and ignoring the series of notifications that keeps on popping up, he calls you.
But with all his calls remaining unanswered, Mingyu surges in panic and calls Soonyoung who's extremely pissed and shows his discontentment through a dry, edgy reply.
"She left with Minghao."
That's the only line Mingyu hears before getting hung up. And Soonyoong does not pick up his call again.
And now he sits rooted to the couch, tapping feet in anxiety and worry with no idea about your whereabouts and who the hell is Minghao?
His thoughts bounce off the walls and he decides to take his car and drives off to find you aimlessly. He goes to your office only to be greeted by the security. He goes to the café you are regular at, knowing very well that it would be closed but he makes a round just for his sanity. He knocks on your apartment door but it's empty just like the house was.
Dejected he fishes out his phone to call your uncle when the notification of your name flashes on the screen.
'Meet me at home within fifteen minutes.'
There's no way he's gonna get home within the said timeframe but just as he rushes towards his car, his phone vibrates again.
'Half an hour. Don't run the red lights, don't run over people.'
Mingyu listens to your advice and thankfully he reaches you in one piece.
But he stands frozen as he sees you in the hallway carrying a duffle bag.
"Where were you?", no greetings, you ask checking your watch.
Mingyu knows you know and you know that he knows that you know.
"I had to leave with Sora."
"And who's she?"
Mingyu bites his tongue before answering, "My ex."
"What made you go somewhere with your ex rather than watch your wife getting felicitated?", your voice is calmer than usual and it scares your husband to the bones.
He stays silent. And you wait for him like you have all the time in the world.
"I can't tell you right now, Y/N. I'm sorry.", he answers quietly, lowering his gaze.
"Okay.", you say and Mingyu looks at you flabbergasted. Before he could speak, you add,"I'm going to stay at my uncle's."
Mingyu feels electrified, the sensation which burns his whole body, itches on his skin and scratches at the throat.
"I'm sorry, I know it is an unacceptable behaviour of me but please trust me. I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.", Mingyu grabs your hands and blabbers, "You can stay with your uncle but please tell me when you are going to return, that you're going to return."
You pull back your hands from his grip, "I don't think I'll be returning anytime soon.", you say sternly, "I had something to share with you but this isn't the right time."
"Y/N--"
"Before I leave, tell me one thing. Are you going to keep seeing her?"
Mingyu flares at this, "I'm not seeing her for fucks sake! I would never do something bad, I'm your husband."
You stare at him for a solid minute, "You didn't answer my question. Anyways, I'm disappointed. Keep yourself in my shoes and give it a thought."
"Let me drive you, it's late.", he offers.
"You don't have to worry about me, Minghao is already waiting with his car."
Mingyu twitches on hearing the name for the second time, "And who's that?"
"I can't tell you right now, Mingyu. I'm sorry.", you mimic his words from before and just as you are about to cross the threshold, you whisper shaking your head, "You can't even put yourself in my shoes..."
Mingyu watches you leave with a grim heart.
It's been a two weeks since you've been living with your uncle. And though you've left home in despair, Mingyu has somehow made it a mission to win back your trust.
But who's gonna tell him that you never doubted him, you were just mad, just like a teenage girl who can't keep her act straight in front of her love.
He calls you every night. For the first week you didn't pick up his calls but when your anger started to subside you entertained his calls but never spoke much, just listened to him telling how his day went. He asks every time if could visit you, getting a straight no as reply. He might be obedient but he's sneaky as hell because most of the times when you're getting off work you somehow see him engrossed with some conversation with Soonyoung at the parking.
What is he doing at your workplace almost everyday, when he could crash at Soonyoung's place. Why does Soonyoung have to call out your name every time when you're walking past them, roping you into some small talks.
Soonyoung is the imposter.
And why does everytime aa you are about to take leave after the conversation, Mingyu asks you the same question, "When are you returning?"
You never answer.
"You've gotta be kidding me!", Seokmin yelps. They all have gathered at Mingyu's place because everyone is stressed and wants to know what is actually happening.
"There are all sorts of rumours at the workplace. And I wanna punch everyone in the face.", Soonyoung says dejected, "Minghao and Y/N went to the same university so some are saying that they have dated during that time." he takes a chug from the can and continues, "And since Mingyu didn't show up at the event last time, it has sparked the speculations."
Mingyu sits head lowered, rubbing his hands all over the face.
"I'm sure Minghao likes her. I can tell by the way he looks at her.", Soonyoung puts it down.
"What about Y/N?", Mingyu asks his heart beating in his chest rapidly.
"What do you think dumbass?", Junhui glares at him.
"Woah, I'm offended now that you asked that question.", Hansol speaks in distaste.
"It's been a month without her.", Mingyu sighs, his lips curl down, eyes filled with concern, "I think everything was going back to normal, assuming by the way she responded, I felt like she'd be coming back anytime but she has gone radio silent suddenly. For the past two weeks she isn't responding to my calls or texts, she is even working from home."
"Yeah maybe Minhee can tell something", Junhui suggests, "But I doubt she'd spill anything if Y/N has told her not to."
The evening bleeds into night and the guys keep on chatting when suddenly Jeonghan who hasn't been much involved decides to speak.
"Now that Sora is back? What are you gonna do?"
The laughters die down and room falls silent with all the eyes on Mingyu.
"What's going on guys? Is there something we don't know?", Seokmin asks in fear.
Jeonghan leans back on the couch and looks at Mingyu, saying, "I think it's time, they should know. I'll go first, that day Mingyu left with Sora to meet me. Apparently, the guy Sora had left Gyu for turns out to be a douch. Won't go to the details but he kept blackmailing her, so desperate to save herself and afraid that I won't be meeting her if she went alone, she took him with her. I'm skipping the legal parts and that guy has been sort of taken care off. But that's not where it ends.", he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The problem is that Sora wants him back now."
Gasps erupt through the room.
"Why did I see it coming though?", Seokmin says, "You have said no straight to her face right, Min?", he asks Mingyu.
The silence that follows horrifies every other one present in the room.
"Don't tell me...", Hansol trails off, eyeing his friend in utter disbelief.
"It's not what you're thinking.", Mingyu frowns, "I haven't said anything to Sora. But I have loved her for so long it's rolling back like a habit.", he hesitantly looks up and sees a bunch of disappointed faces, "But if it had been the previous me, I'd have gone to her in a snap but I'm changed now."
Mingyu gives a wry smile when looking at the relief washing over his friends.
"Here's the real deal begins. We have been married for over two years, in a few months we'd be hitting the three year mark. It's a long time right?", he sweeps his gaze across the large wedding frame of you both on the wall, "Instead of being a couple, I feel like living with a roommate. No feelings involved. She's stoic, nonchalant and even inconsiderate sometimes, even if I think that there's something between us, her actions act as bucket of cold water on those thoughts. I understand that not everyone is the same and I agree that Y/N has changed but somehow we're still at the starting point and it's starting to tire me out. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this marriage--"
There's a sudden thud and all the necks turn in unison only to find you standing by the hallway and your bag on the ground.
Heartbreak is one thing but the humiliation is another form of descend you're currently facing. You return your home only to find your husband shit talking about how unhappy he is in this marriage to his friends.
And the biggest loss turns out to be how you're the only one who thought that it's a happy, perfect marriage. Your husband isn't wrong when he said that you're inconsiderate.
Tears prick at your eyes but aren't you stoic, nonchalant so why should the people infront of you get the leverage to see you vulnerable? They shouldn't, so you pick up your bag and walk past them going straight into the guest room.
There are continuous knocks on the door. Your phone keeps ringing but you pay mind to none. Your mind only reels the words of your husband from before.
The previous you would have stomped out of the house but now, you can't. The situation has changed, the circumstances are different and you are totally lost.
Because there's a life is growing inside you. The reason you decided to return home tonight but your second attempt at letting Mingyu know that he's gonna be a father cracks again. The first attempt was the night where Mingyu chose Sora over you. He doesn't want you, would he want to raise a child with you?
Maybe you shouldn't have gotten married, maybe you shouldn't have fallen in love with your husband and maybe she's better, the previous you who knew you're undesirable, who knew that people like you are unlovable, who very well knew how to maintain a boundary.
You have lost the track of time but you sure can hear voices from the other side of the door. You think attachment is something you can't effort, you are not people's people.
So that's how what Mingyu had said, you turned into his roommate. Since that day, you have settled in the guest room. You don't get out of your room unless it's an emergency. You leave for work early and return home at late hours.
You haven't spoken to Mingyu since that day. You've rejected all his advances of striking a conversation. But you're thankful to him for making you food everyday because you can't eat anything else, it makes you nauseous.
"Hey, are you okay?", Minghao asks worried as he takes a sit beside you at the cafeteria of the office, "You have been throwing a lot."
You nod your head, avoiding his gaze, "I'm fine."
Minghao doesn't buy your words but you both settle in the comfortable silence and until he gasps.
You cock brows looking at him.
"Are you pregnant?", he gasps, "Oh my god."
You freeze and slap your hand over his mouth and proceed to tell him everything that has been happening.
"So Mingyu doesn't know yet. And he's being a jerk ever since his ex-girlfriend returned.", Minghao says in anger. He sweeps a gaze across your face and his eyes soften, "You love him, don't you?"
You avoid his gaze again, you don't answer him.
A sad smile graces on his lips as he reminiscences the past. How he had practically clinched himself in your life. How he had fallen in love with you but knew that you wouldn't reciprocate, the reason why he disappeared abruptly from your life years ago. The apologies are always on the tip of his tongue for leaving you alone, for creating the safe place but also leaving it void.
"You know you shouldn't be taking stress. I know it's not easy but I'd suggest for you both to sort things out, atleast for the baby.", he says patting your back in a comforting manner, "If Mingyu does anything to hurt you again, tell me I'll beat him for you."
"Thanks Hao.", you say smiling.
"Also let me know if Soonyoung bothers you. I'll handle him as well."
You shake your head laughing, "He insufferable Hao, you'll give up."
"We'll see that.", he smiles softly, "But do plan on telling him. Uncle also needs to know, he'd be so happy."
"I want the baby's father to know first. Then I'll tell everyone.", you assure him.
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Mingyu knows he went overboard. He knows he was being an absolute asshole when he uttered those baseless words in your favour.
Maybe he should never have compared the type of relationship he had with Sora with the one he's having with you. It's a grave mistake and the lack of your presence is taking a toll on him. But he understands if you need space or even don't want to see his face. He's willing to give you all that but he plans to apologise to you and if you don't forgive him, he'd understand.
Work is hectic but the situation at home is feverish. He has been getting earfuls from all of his friends and family, specially Minhee. She has been giving him shit routinely.
His reverie breaks when he receives a text from you. Hurriedly opening the text, his eyes widen with a mixture of horror and anticipation.
'Come home as soon as possible. I have something to tell you.'
His mind could only hint at it being something ominous.
You pace around the entire house nervously.
"Mingyu, I'm pregnant. You're gonna be father."
You shake head at the selection of words.
"Congratulations! You're going to be a dad!"
Sounds too exciting for an unplanned pregnancy.
"You're pull out game was weak. Guess what I'm pregnant."
Too snappy, rejected.
"Kim Mingyu, you're pregnant, I will be-- wait what no-- I'm pregnant, we're expecting."
You sit down pulling your hair in frustration.
After another hundred million failed rehearsals you sort to say whatever your heart would feel like at the moment in his presence.
But where's Mingyu? You check the clock, it's past his work hours. Maybe he's running late for some reason. It's your third attempt to tell him about your pregnancy and you hope that you'd succeed this time.
Your phone rings and you would never have guessed that your world would come crashing down.
You stand with head your head bowed down the entire time at the funeral hall. The band wrapped around your arm acts as a constant reminder that you're the chief mourner. You don't raise your head, not ready the see the picture that's kept on the board.
The heart attack was so brutal that it claimed the life of your uncle without a chance of revival. When you were informed he was already gone.
No last words, no goodbyes. Now you're left with only his photo and memories. You walk into the room where his body is kept as you've made a special request to let you meet him before he's taken into the coffin.
He's almost unrecognisable as you sit beside the body. Gently caressing his head, you finally let the tears fall.
"You were so eager to meet everyone that you left me alone here.", you sob, "What do I do without you now?"
You caress his cheeks gently, "Whatever I have become it's because of you. Even though I was the reason they died, you took me in and raised me like our own."
"I have something to tell.", your hands place themselves back on his head, "I'm pregnant. You're gonna be a grandparent. Tell mom, dad and aunt that I have grown up. Tell Sejin that he's gonna be an uncle."
You spend some more last moments with your uncle before there's a knock on the door. You quickly wipe the tears and look up to see Mingyu standing at the threshold.
"It's time.", he says solemnly.
You nod and look back at your uncle saying, "Thank you for everything. Have a nice reunion with everyone up there. Forgive me if I have been a bad daughter. Goodbye comrade."
You don't like the pitiful look everyone throws at you. You hate it, it claws on your skin and you feel like throwing up. Running into the washroom, you sit down opening the lid to empty your stomach when you feel your hairs being pulled back in gentle grip.
It's Mingyu, you know even though even without seeing him. He doesn't care about entering a ladies washroom when he has to look for you.
"Here, drink some water.", he uncaps the bottle and offers it to you.
He's presence is somewhat comforting, he makes things bearable. Your uncle is laid beside the rest of your family and you request everyone to be left alone. It's night time when you leave the place only to see Mingyu waiting for you.
There's silence throughout the ride back to home, no words spoken when he makes you eat something he cooked when you were showering, unspoken words when you go back your room and he goes back to his.
You mourn for days and while you do so you take notice of a lot of things.
"Y/N, I'm sorry for that day. I didn't mean anything I said, I was just being an idiot.", Mingyu  says after barging into your room one night because he had enough. He decides he won't let you suffer alone anymore.
You nod your head, "It's okay.", your short and curt reply doesn't settle well with your husband.
"I know one apology isn't enough and I understand if you won't forgive me but please let me be there for you.", he pleads closing the gap and taking your hands within his. His eyes searches for your face and his brows crease when he finds you avoiding eye contact.
You pull back your hands out of his grip, "I can take care of myself, Mingyu."
Your call of name rings oddly in his ear. It's rare for you to call him by name, it's always husband when throwing banter or Gyu while being affectionate.
Affectionate? His mind reels in the moment. Aren't you unexpressive then how could his mind produce that word in your wake?
"I'm tired. Let's call it a night.", you say poised, "There's no need for an apology. Everyone has the right to voice out about anything they don't like."
Mingyu feel like he's not your husband rather an office colleague. Your tone is so formal and dry. Your words cut him like a dagger. He wonders if he has caused damaged beyond repair.
It's so fucked up that he wants to hold you sleep, say sweet nothings to calm your senses but he's afraid to ask you to come back to the master bedroom.
So he lets you bask in your own company. He'll interfere with your personal space for sure one day, hustle in forcefully if you don't let him, no matter how rude and irritating it is, he'll mend the broken bond.
His heart breaks when he notices that you don't look him in the eyes anymore. You always had a strong lively gaze, but they are now hollow. You don't call him when you're struggling to open the jar, you don't ask for him when you can't reach something kept on the top shelf.
His friends are all dejected at how you don't indulge them anymore, they're sad at how they don't get to see you nowadays.
Mingyu had attempted to gauze you out of the coop by inviting the guys to the apartment. But you had locked yourself in the room the whole time.
His parents lament on how he ruined something so beautiful, his sister cries at how you don't communicate with even her nowadays.
He's already going crazy and Sora's pestering him by showing up outside his workplace often or making thousands of phone calls almost everyday, makes him ponder upon how was he even in love with her at some point.
He regrets again, now that he can clearly see the difference. You are you, the actual indifference you're showing is now and it's driving him crazy.
He wants to fix this. He needs to fix both of you because he needs you.
You're in the middle of some paperwork when there's a knock on the cabin door.
Soonyoung enters and the look that you give him is sharp enough to scare him off.
"How have you been doing?"
"Breathing fine, alive."
He should have taken the clue and left but it's Soonyoung and he lives as if he has nine lives.
"We miss you, please stop ghosting us."
"I'm not ghosting anyone."
"Minhee is miserable."
The writing stops, your hand halts for a moment before continuing. Soonyoung knocks on the table demanding your attention on him.
You sigh, having no option but look at him.
"You can be mad at your husband but we didn't do anything, Y/N. I don't even know Mingyu, I'm your friend."
The corner of your lips threaten to curl up. Your heart twinges and you smile sadly, "It's better to be prepared ahead so that you all will get accustomized to it later. Attachments are always painful."
Soonyoung looks at you quizzically, "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing.", you drew yourself back in the papers, "I have a meeting in ten minutes, I need to go over these documents before that."
Soonyoung maybe callous at times but somehow seeing you and hearing your words today makes him bothered.
Another weak passes and you are packing your bags the entire time little by little, unknown to Mingyu because your door is always locked. Your office room is almost empty except for the systems. When Mingyu's not at home, you roam in the bedroom, swaying in the memories you both made there. You lay on the bed, sniffing the pillows because they smell like him.
You crave his touch all the time and him being in your vision doesn't help at all when you could sense the longing in his eyes.
Mingyu doesn't know that you've stolen one of his shirts and a hoodie. He should never find out.
Your soul knows. It tells you that it’s time to distance yourself from those who no longer align with you mentally, emotionally or physically.
"I can't stay here.", you whisper to yourself as you continue to pack rest of the items.
"I'm cursed.", you frantically wipe your tears, "People related to me keep dying."
Your body shakes, eyes producing another batch of fresh tears, "No one should be associated with me. I need to cut everyone out of my life for their sake. Without me, they'd be safe."
You heave a breath, in an attempt to calm yourself, "Mingyu doesn't like me anyways. I'm just a burden. He'll be free once I leave, he can be with Sora.", you rub your chest as it stings, "He'll be happy and that is what I want."
Your gaze instinctively lands on your belly, hands gently rubbing circles, "I promise, even if we won't be together, me and your dad will try our best to raise you. I can't wait to meet you, to hold you."
Mingyu, on the other hand is set on winning you back. He knows you don't like anything extravagant, so he plans to surprise you out a romantic date at home. He's ready to go to the lengths to make you forgive him. He craves your presence, your touch, your shy smiles, the way you call him when you want something from him.
He wants to love you, wants to make love to you. He has been dreaming a lot about starting a family with you. He wants the little versions of you both running around the house. When his friends took the initiative to show him how he has changed and it's for better he knows that it's true. He wonders if all the frustrations were because his heart wasn't ready to seek out the real feelings.
But now he has figured it all out, he likes you, likes you a lot. So he wants this marriage to work out.
He hopes for you to like him back. So who's gonna tell him the truth?
Some free time at work and he's watching new recipes to cook for you. Before going to bed, he's open the phone gallery and goes over your pictures, the pictures which are candid, the ones in which you posed, the best where he's with you in them.
Would you like it, if he throws pebble at your window and serenades you at the middle of the night? Would it be a good idea if goes down on his knees because he hasn't done it before and know he wants to.
Mingyu is all giddy making up scenarios in his head. He wishes to watch them all happen successfully.
"Are you having mood swings?", Jeonghan asks him one day when everyone gathers at the former's home, "Or do you have dissociative identity disorder? You were regretting getting married to her some weeks back and now you're saying that you like her?"
Junhui is grumpy, he takes a look at Mingyu and smacks him hard on his head causing the later to scream out in pain.
"He claims he is the most closest to Y/N and he is grieving because she is not responding to his texts.", Seokmin clarifies and eyes Mingyu in disbelief, "Seriously dude, what's wrong with you? How can you mess up this bad?"
Before Mingyu could speak up, Hansol interjects, "How hard it is to sort out your feelings? How could you even utter such ridiculous things about her when you know how difficult it had been for her, the whole life. Now she even lost her uncle. Imagine listening to your husband yapping about how much he dislikes you when you think he is one you can lean on? And that too instead of voicing out your mind to her first, she heard you telling it to us."
Hansol is a calm man, he never loses his cool except for some situations and this being one of it.
"It's not only me and Jun. Everyone is upset.. I know I'm making it sound bigger, we know that she is your wife, first and our friend, second but we can see that even though she never shows it she cares a lot. I'll tell you no one has ever entertained me constantly to help me, not even you guys. She even suggested me tools that she thought might help me with the editing though she had to invest time on getting to that point. She gifted Jun a diffuser as the previous one was causing him throat irritation but he was too stubborn to discard a newly bought machine."
Seokmin adds up to Hansol, "Didn't she help you with the paperwork late at night even though you both work in an entirely different industry? I'm sorry but did Sora ever do that being in the same line of work? No right. If you would have noticed she has always tried to accomodate herself within us even when it was difficult, it was all new to her."
Mingyu sinks his face into the palm of his hands, as he says regretfully, "I made a huge mistake. I let my intrusive thoughts win and ended up hurting her."
"What if it's too late to fix things?", Soonyoung speaks, his vision dazed as your words from before keeps reeling in his mind, "You should resolve the matters before it's too late."
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The following week is hectic for Mingyu. The clients are visiting and everyone has to stay late attending them. It's a whole damn hustle, draining the employees out. The week goes on and out with him spending most of the time in office when all he wants is to go home just to see your face.
It's the last day of the visit and Mingyu thanks the heavens. He's usually patient but now all he wants is to avail the comfort of his home.
It's around one at night but unlike other times the hallway is lit in dim lights flooding  into the dining. There's an eerie silence and something unpleasant awaits.
"Let's get divorced."
When Mingyu came home late at that night to see you awake and waiting for him, there was an uncanny feeling that settled within.
Your hands are crossed, face void of any expression. He almost misses your words. If not for your next words, he would think he's hallucinating.
"We can decide on the terms and clauses, all as per your convenience.", you stress, "I do not expect any trouble from your side."
Mingyu finally registers everything you have said till now and everything hits him all at once.
"W-What are you talking about? Why do you want a divorce all of a sudden?"
Your monotonous tone rather asks him another question, "We have been married for over two years, nearing its third anniversary. Do you really want to be tied in this marriage?"
Though Mingyu thinks he doesn't know you well enough but he knows you enough to catch the wind of your words. He knows its not because of something he had said that day.
A familiar set of papers lying on the table catches his attention. His gaze then turns towards his office room and his suspicion confirms to be correct when he sees the door opened ajar.
"Why did you enter my office? I had clearly warned you about not doing so.", he says in a strict voice.
"That doesn't answer my question.", you say getting up, "Anyways it doesn't matter anymore. I'll get a lawyer, you get one too and proceed with the divorce. Oh, you already have Jeonghan."
As you turn back, you feel your husband's hand wrap around yours.
"How are you so calm? Why are you not asking me anything? Do I really mean nothing to you?", you hear his voice laced in frustration, "We are married for almost three years now and your cool headedness after, I'm assuming, knowing everything makes me aware of the fact that I really don't know you."
You jerk your hand out of his grip and turn back to look at him, "And how is that my fault? Maybe you've never tried to know me.", your voice drops another octave, "You can stop with the doting husband act now that I know the truth."
Mingyu doesn't miss the way your eyes show vulnerability for a moment. Your words strike a chord within him.
"You signed a contract with my uncle in exchange for marrying me.", you chuckle bitterly, "All you wanted was the stocks of the company uncle owned, a goddamn promotion, this house, everything else but me. I was never on the list. I was just a pawn. I don't know what my uncle saw in you to desperately marry me off to you. I hope all of this was worth it. The stocks must have passed down to you smoothly as it can only be acquired by someone working in the company. You can keep this house, keep everything."
"Y/N--"
"I don't wanna hear anything. I was waiting for you to come back so that I could make you aware that you're busted. I'll to go bed."
Mingyu reaches out for you again but you lay out a hand, "Please, I'm tired."
"O-Okay.", Mingyu backs down noticing the resignation in your demeanor, "But we're gonna talk it out tomorrow morning.", he sounds sincere when he says, "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain everything."
But little does he know, you've already closed the room for any diversions, that you've decided to part ways with the person who has betrayed your trust.
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→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.
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phoenix-creates · 2 months
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Genshin Impact, Both the Game and the Community, Cannot Hide Their Colorism or Racism Anymore
This is going to be a long read. I refuse to stay silent.
I've played Genshin Impact on and off since 2021 when I was first introduced to it. I drew fanart but rarely participated in the fandom, as Genshin has one of the most toxic and racist fandoms that takes pleasure in driving off content creators of color, perpetuating racism within the communities, as well as harassing and threatening people who dare try to speak out about it. But, for as racist as the fandom is, what can I expect from them considering Hoyoverse as a whole has it's own set of racial problems.
It is clear from the release of Sumeru to the recent teasers of Natlan. Hoyoverse has colorism problems and racism problems and we're going to take a look at them here.
Before we begin, I want to take a moment to say that there will be a lot of information presented in this post. I ask that you read carefully and be considerate of every talking point presented.
Now, let's talk about Sumeru.
Sumeru, the fourth region released in Genshin Impact, draws a lot of real world inspiration from Middle Eastern culture, with even the geography mimicking the real world geography of China and India. The characters, music, food, and geography all draw inspiration from various different real world cultures, and just from a few glances, it is easy to see exactly where and what cultures they’re taking from.
Candace for instance, from name to appearance, draws inspiration from kandakes, which was the title of a queen mother in Nubian kingdoms. Even her accessories, her talents, and her weapon take pieces from other aspects of Egyptian culture.
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Cyno, another character from Sumeru, is dressed in garb that mimics depictions of Anubis, the ancient Egyptian God of funerary rites and protector of graves. As with Candace, his talents and abilities reference Egypt.
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Even Sethos, a newcomer to the game and also a Sumeru character, has clothes, skills, and a name that alludes to either the Egyptian God Set, the god of the desert and storms, the Egyptian pantheon in general, or the Ancient Egyptian King Seti/Sethos.
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These three characters are tanned, anyone can see that, but if you take a closer look you'll notice that they're all around the same shade. Considering all three of them take inspiration from real world Egyptian culture, it is insane to me that they're all a similar shade of the same slightly tanned tone. It is unacceptable that they're all a shade or two away from white when all of them has some aspect of Egyptian culture in their character.
To further shed light on Sumeru's racist sins, there exists a long standing conflict in Sumeru regarding The Eremites, a race of people descended from the ancient, now-collapsed civilization who primarily live in the desert. These people are the enemies in the game. You read that right. The desert dwellers are the enemies and not only that, but unlike the treasure hoarders who disappear into smoke when defeated, the Eremites collapse to the ground like the Fatui.
Why do the Treasure Hoarders, a band of pale skinned thieves, get away but the Eremites, treated as if their culture is lesser, presumably die?
Worse than that, there is a long quest in Sumeru where a white academic from Sumeru spends nearly the entire length of the quest insulting an Eremite. The quest I'm referring to, Golden Slumber, is a multi part quest that has the Traveler accompanying a researcher named Tirzad who is exploring the ruins in the deserts of Sumeru. Throughout the quest, Tirzad spends most of his time complaining and insulting Jeht and Jebrael, calling the latter an uneducated brute whenever Jebrael tries to do anything. And the Traveler is no help, with dialogue options remaining neutral instead of rightfully telling Tirzad to stop.
What we have here is a white man stereotyping a man of color and assuming things about himself and his race due to his own racist biases.
Many players have called out the racism in Tirzad’s actions and this quest overall, but Tirzad at multiple times fails to see the error of his ways and leads the group into life threatening situations simply because he can’t believe an “uneducated desert brute” could possibly know more than him.
I could sit here and pick apart more aspects of Sumeru and it's failures to properly represent the culture it's using, but I want to get into the inciting incident of this entire post, which is Natlan.
When the teaser for Natlan was released, it was just another failure on Hoyoverse's part. To understand why, we can break it down into parts, starting with the character leaks:
Mavuika, presumably the pyro archon, with a name inspired by Māori fire deity Mahuika.
Ororon, a mispelling of the Yoruba god Ọlọrun, the creator deity in the Yoruban pantheon.
Kinich, named after the Mayan god of the sun.
Iansan, another character whose name comes from the Yoruba pantheon.
Xilonen, this name coming from one of the aspects of the Aztec goddess of maize and the goddess of sustenance.
Kachina, name inspiration directly lifted from the religious beliefs of the indigenous Pueblos people.
Chasca, name coming from the Incan goddess of dawn and twilight.
Citlali, a name derived from Nahuatl, which is a language from ancient Mexico.
Are you seeing something interesting with these characters?
Hoyoverse has shoved multiple different cultures under one region and whitewashed every character. They did the bare bones work of lifting names and small design inspirations from so many different cultures and using them in the laziest way possible. If not pale white, the few characters who are tanned are a mere shade darker than Cyno and almost the same shade as Kaeya. There is nothing darker in sight with any of these characters.
Cultural representation matters. If Hoyoverse can explore the cultures of Germany (Mondstadt), China (Liyue), Japan (Inazuma), and France (Fontaine), it is insane that the same sort of love couldn't be given to both Sumeru and Natlan, both nations where we should rightfully be seeing more people of color.
(Side note, we should be seeing more people of color in the previous regions as well, even as NPCs. Bi-racial people exist all over the world, not just in America. Quick google searches will show what I mean.)
I can already hear the arguments against me.
"But Hoyoverse is an East Asian company! They don't need to/don't care about representation!"
Oh really? Because Lilithgames, the company behind Dislyte, is a company based in Shanghai, China. And when you compare the variety of skin tones of Dislyte to Genshin, you cannot make the argument that a company based in Asia doesn't care about diversity. Hoyoverse does not seem to care, but don't make it a blanket statement for all companies.
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Still not convinced? Bluepoch, a small Chinese company behind Reverse:1999, is responsible for this character:
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Smite, a game published by Hi-Rez Studios and Tencent Games (A Chinese publisher), has a character based on Olorun. And they did just fine in their depiction of him:
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And the director behind Tekken 7, Katsuhiro Harad, shared concept art of an Arab fighter they want to add to the game. Why? Because he wanted to make sure he was respecting Middle Eastern culture and asked for feedback to see what can be improved. He posted this concept art and asked the community for input to make Shaheen as accurate as possible:
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But sure. Asian companies don't care.
"It's a fantasy world! It doesn't have to 1-to-1 mimic the real world!"
Oh really? So why are characters named after real world cultural figures, why is the food based around real world food, why are outfits somewhat inspired by real world garbs then? If you're gonna draw inspiration from something and use the real world in your game, the world is a diverse place. It is not all white nor all slightly tanned.
"You can always stop playing the game."
I could, but that would mean letting them win and get away with their racism. It would mean letting Hoyoverse think this is the norm instead of the outlier. It would mean staying silent during injustice. I can do a lot of things, and exposing their issues is one of them.
"It could be difficult for them to implement dark-skinned characters."
It actually is not. Look at all the examples from other games and companies discussed previously. It's not hard. Plus, take a look at Wriothesley's concept art:
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Originally, he had a different skin tone. So characters with different tones existed but got lightened and changed over time.
"I don't want [insert race here] in my fantasy game/it doesn't matter!"
Honey, you're just racist.
"Wow, I get it now. This is bad. What can I do to help?"
There are several ways:
Use Surveys and Feedback when you log into Hoyoverse games. This problem extends past Genshin, into HSR and ZZZ (a game whose ads promote itself with rap music and yet noticeably lack playable dark skinned characters so far). Use the platforms that they gave us in order to spread the word. Tell them that you're dissatisfied with the cultural appropriation and disappointed in Hoyoverse for taking certain cultures and whitewashing them. Email [email protected] if the feedback buttons aren't working for some reason.
Stop putting money into the game. A lot of companies listen when there's monetary loss involved. Show them that you mean business and stop supporting their business. You can also leave a one star and a review with your thoughts on their cultural appropriation.
Amplify the voices of those speaking out. There are plenty of posts out there better worded than mine that go in depth into a lot of these problems. Multiple voice actors of all ethnicities and backgrounds have spoken up about Hoyoverse’s injustices as well (many of the VAs from the game, including the voices of Albedo, Sucrose, Layla, Beidou, and even VAs for smaller NPCs have spoken out). When you see those posts, share them. Spread the word. Get those voices out there.
Shut down those silencing others. For as many posts out there trying to bring more light to this issue, there are others who try to shut us down. They continue to be racist and double down that nothing is wrong with Natlan. Do not let them get away with this. Show them this post or the myriad of other posts that exist. Tell them to shut the fuck up. Call them out. But don't let them silence anyone else.
If you've made it to the end and learned something, I'm glad. If you've made it to the end and want to further support me or anyone else in this fight, share this post and others like it.
Thank you for reading.
EDIT: As noted in this ask, the naming conventions of characters from other regions as opposed to Sumeru and Natlan. I’ll be adding a separate reblog to this post with a full list of naming conventions from each region.
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mondaymelon · 9 months
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₊˚ෆ 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄… | xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader
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⤷ art by @/Deltanpopo on twitter ! ❀
[ A coy thing, you are, daring to lie to them about your wellbeing. ]
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— "I'm alright."
A scoff leaves XIAO's lips at your swift words, his mouth curling into a sneer, one absent of a smirk. His arms crossed over his chest, dark shadows cast over his eyes. "Come again?"
His glare was intense - dangerous, its malice not directed towards you, but instead to whatever had made you like... this. You could shield your form from his piercing gaze all you wanted. It'd do nothing to deter him. The knowledge he held of your character, the way your voice gave the slightest tremor, and the way your eyes slipped from his own... he let out a noise of annoyance.
"As I said, Xiao. I'm fine."
You were't a good liar. At least, from his knowing view. Unacceptable. His lashes fluttered as his eyes narrowed. Was he not reliable enough for the truth? Why was it that you'd refuse his assistance while you were clearly suffering?
"No." His voice was decisive, cold, but not in the manner of harsh, unforgiving ice, but the morning frost that bloomed on the dewy stalks of riverside reeds. "You aren't."
He felt your gaze pause at his lips, yet did not rise to meet his own. Your own mouth quivered, just the slightest, and you downcast eyes that glistened flicked their attention to the ground. "Xiao, I..."
You voice trails off. There's no need to say more. For you stood, enveloped in the adeptus' rare embrace, his pale skin cool, yet sparking an unquenchable warmth within your chest.
"If you aren't okay, that's okay. I'll just have to hold you in my arms, until you are." ₊˚ෆ
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— "I'm alright."
A laugh escapes CHILDE's parted lips, a rather empty sound that resounded in your silence. It continues for a couple brief moments. "Ah, you're kidding, right?" He breaks into a smile that fades at the lack of your response. "Right?"
"Why would I be kidding?" You sighed, trying to sound as exasperated as possible. "I'm serious, Childe. I said I was fine." His gaze bore into you, to the point where you could feel your body smolder under his eyes. You shouldn't look at him now. Pursing your lips, you strengthened your resolve, but a moment of weakness upon hearing his shallow laughter was all it took to glance upwards. To meet his gaze.
A grave mistake, you had just unwittingly committed.
Before you could turn your head away, Childe's hand's caught you, one of them grabbing onto your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. "Say," his voice was low, quiet. A telltale sign of the anger that simmered underneath. "When did you get the notion that you'd be allowed to lie to me, and then get away with it scot-free, huh?"
The moment he had met your fleeting gaze, eyes locked onto yours, your verdict had been decided. Guilty. "Childe, it wasn't that I..."
"Oh, is it something you can't tell me, then?" His voice was softer now, but not in a threatening way, eyes melting with concern. Yes as much as he'd love to get at whatever - or whoever had made you so upset, he had a higher task of importance as of now. And that was to comfort the person before him, tentative under his touch. He slowly released his hold on your chin, instead giving your hair a ruffle that caused your locks to fly in disarray. "If so, then I won't push you anymore."
"I've... I've just had a really long day and-"
Your words lost their sound as instead, warmth replaced the quiet. Childe held you in his arms, delicately, like you were made of porcelain, and the slightest touch would shatter you. For someone as brash as him, to now stay silent, letting you let out all the world's concerns in his embrace...
"I won't say anything, alright? Just let it all out, and I'll listen." ₊˚ෆ
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— "I'm alright."
At first, SCARAMOUCHE almost looks offended at your words. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are drawn into a scowl. "What, care to repeat that? It's funny how you think you're fooling anyone."
It takes a moment to find your voice again, with how intense his eyes stare into you - indigo, flashing with electro power. Mesmerizing, dangerous, lethal if you drew too close. It didn't matter you supposed, you had already been in his reach for far longer than you cared to admit, and you had yet to be burnt away. "...I'm alright, nothing happened."
This time, your answer drew a startling laugh that bubbled from deep within him, a carnal yet almost melodious sound that flowed like water and blazed like flames. "Ah, that's funny. You've been hanging around the other Fatui, haven't you?" His gaze narrowed in distaste. "Disgusting, all of them. And from the likes of it, you've been picking up some nasty habits as well. Speaking nothing but the truth to me should be a given, yet you're saying such things without the slightest guilty conscience... I couldn't help but laugh!"
Guilty conscience my ass. Of course it took something out of you to lie to your.. lover. Yes, despite it all, Scaramouche was the one you were joined hands with - even in the male didn't act like it. Or perhaps he did, in a world of his own masked away in a guise behind a guise. His spark just drew you closer.
"Scara, you wouldn't understand...!" Don't get aggravated, keep your voice composed, steady. "It's... it's something personal, alright? I just.. I just don't want to talk about it right now. Give me time, please."
Please? His maniacal expression dimmed as he paused, just a brief moment. He hadn't hurt you, had he? No, you knew him well, well enough to know that that was just the person he was, didn't you? "...So it was like that?" He tried to hide his apologetic expression with a hand over the lower half of his face, but his eyes glistened regardless.
"Ah, just forget about it. If you're hurting, then... Come here, all right? I'll humor you, just for tonight." ₊˚ෆ
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(a/n) okay okay so. i. im gonna try and post a fic every day this week. spoiler alert: its fucking exam week BUTBUT BUT im so close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be so silly if we could hit it before new years!! that's why im gonna be listening to burnout playlists while typing away like my life depends on it.// wish me luck on my exams ahah. theyre tommorrow.
໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader
-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶
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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months
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Youth Team III
Hardersson x Teen!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: You have a bad game
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You stared down at your gloved hands with a frown, like you couldn't quite believe that you missed it.
You should have caught it but one of Scotland's strikers came barrelling towards you and trapped your hand between her shoulder and the goalpost.
Your fingers throbbed badly and you just managed to block another shot but by a bare brush of your gloves. Your fingers pulsed with pain and you grit your teeth.
It was official.
You were having a bad game, by your standards at least.
Letting one goal past you could take but two were unacceptable. Your saves were sloppy and your footwork even worse. Your defence was having an off day too so there was nowhere to hide.
The armband around your bicep felt like a weight rather than a privilege as you struggled to keep the ball out of your net.
By the time the first half finished, you were disappointed in yourself, a pit deep in your stomach. Letting two goals past you felt like the end of the world. It felt like everything was going wrong and it was all made worse when you tugged off your gloves.
Two of your fingers were purple and swollen.
It made sense why they were throbbing now.
They were both curled over as well and felt stiff. You try to straighten them out and wince, biting down on the inside of your cheek.
No.
This can't be happening.
You hide them under your shirt. If anyone saw then they would take you off. If they took you off then you wouldn't be able to redeem yourself.
Your mothers were in the crowd. You were wearing the captain's armband.
You didn't want Momma to see her daughter being taken out of the game.
You dig around in your bag, pulling out a popsicle stick that moster Frido gave you for emergencies and a roll of medical tape. You shove the stick between your two fingers and wind the tape around them, forcing them to straighten out.
They pulse in protest but you pop a painkiller and grit your teeth.
It's harder to play with two fingers in one finger hole but you're coping and no one seems to notice.
Your defence is still in shambles and you yell at them to get their act together. You're not really a yeller. You don't like to bark orders but you're getting desperate.
Usually, you can allow your defence to be a bit messy but you're not on form and you need them to start pulling their weight.
They don't and the ball skims your finger as you push it away.
"Organise yourselves!" You snap, your frustration bubbling up as your fingers throb in protest," Stop playing like children!"
This is one of the worst games of your life.
Your defence might as well be making daisy chains. Your midfielders keep losing possession and your forwards have grown complacent with your one goal lead.
You're not doing much better either.
None of your saves are smart. You're desperate to keep your measly lead even as your fingers throb and your armband feels tighter and tighter every minute you wear it.
The win leaves a bitter taste in your mouth when the final whistle is blown and you can't help but ignore your defensive line in an attempt to not blow up at them.
Your fingers look terrible as you shower and change, shoving your hand into your hoodie pocket so you don't have to look at your failure.
Your mothers are waiting outside in the car and the rain pelting the windows only seems to make your mood worse.
"A few close calls, huh, princesse?"
It's clear Morsa is trying to laugh this off but you don't want her to talk so you stubbornly plug your earphones in and turn them up until your mothers can hear it too.
You stay silent until you get home.
A win is a win but this is the last game of this international break and you can't help but feel angry at it all. Your flight back to Sweden is tomorrow and you've got two days of rest before you're back at training again.
"Have we got ice?"
It's the first words you've spoken since you left the changing room and your Momma raises a brow.
"Why do you need some?"
You show her your finger and the hasty splint you made.
"Princesse...What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it," You reply, turning your head away so you don't have to make eye contact.
Momma looks like she wants to say more but she ends up just shaking her head and going off to find some ice.
Morsa throws your phone at you. "Call Zećira," She says.
"What?"
"Call Zećira. You're upset. You didn't play as well as you hoped. We can't help so call Zećira."
Morsa doesn't give you much of a choice and you dial the number.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Hi..." Your voice is moody and sullen as Morsa stands in front of you with her arms crossed.
"Well, that doesn't sound good. Rough game?"
You look down at your bruised fingers. "Something like that?"
Zećira hums on the other line. "Did you try your best?"
"I guess..."
"That's not an 'I guess' question," She chides," I'm not asking if you were the very best today. I'm not asking if you played in your best form. But, for how you were feeling today, did you try your best?"
"Yes."
"Then that's all that matters."
"How many did they score past you?" Zećira asks," Come on, how many?"
"Two."
"Two goals isn't much in the grand scheme of things. How many did Denmark get?"
"Three."
"You didn't lose," Zećira says," And you tried your best. What else happened?"
"I hurt my fingers. They're all purple and...I didn't get them checked out."
"Put ice on them and get them checked as soon as you're back in Sweden, okay? I've got money placed on those hands winning a World Cup. You've got to keep them safe."
That shocks a laugh out of you. "I will."
"Good. Listen, you're still young. You're allowed to have off days. It's okay."
You sigh. "Things were easier when it was just as in the park."
Zećira laughs too. "I hope you remember those times when you're lifting the World Cup as a captain."
You scoff.
"I'm serious," She says," Maybe not your first World Cup but definitely one of them. I can see it."
"Whatever you say."
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diorchids · 5 months
Text
after-class, simon ‘ghost’ riley.
cw; professor!simon, age gap, teacher-student, manipulation, oral, impact (spanking), size kink, degradation, rough sex.
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your professor was harsh. grading-wise, he never let the smallest things slide. he docked points pettily, even for minor errors. 
“thank you for your participation today, class dismissed.” as your classmates began to pack up, preparing for an exhausting day tomorrow. “but you,” he looks at you, standing in that small dress, in one of the front rows. “you will stay.” 
your mouth was left slightly agape, brushing the hair out of your face as you questioned yourself. did you forget to submit an assignment? a discussion post overdue?
you nod slowly as the last people begin to make their way out the doors. he spoke from his desk, sitting on it as he motioned for you to come down, “what are you waiting for? here, come here.” he said it in a way that made you feel dumb. you made your way to him, fingernails digging into your palm, sure to leave marks. 
you stood a few feet away from him, keeping an appropriate distance from simon. after all; he’s your professor. 
“your research paper; it was lousy. i wouldn’t have expected it from you, to be honest,” he said bluntly, emotions weren’t very visible. he was just… neutral. 
your face—on the other hand—was hot, a soft frown crept onto it as your head filled with thoughts. this was bad, but you couldn’t help but think of how long he must’ve thought about you and your paper. “i… professor riley, i honestly thought it was my best work,” you continued, “the writing was—” 
he interrupted blatantly, and you slowly inched closer subconsciously. “simon. call me simon.” your fingers fiddled with your dress before nodding. “yes, sir—simon.”
you stood in front of him as you two sat in an awkward silence, while he examined your body. your dress was just too short, not appropriate for class, too much showing. his big hand reached out to your dress, gripping and tugging it as you watched silently. your eyes were wide, his eyes were half-lidded as he sat back. “dress code.” 
it wasn’t a dress code. you have no dress code—he just wanted to touch you. 
he exhaled and pinched his temples, “y’know,” he sighed, “you’re a great writer, you know what you’re doing. but this… it’s unacceptable,” you’re not used to letting him down like this, always making sure to do your best in all of your courses. 
“you’re a big girl now. you’re borderline failing my course.” 
you blink back tears as you dig your nails deeper into your palm. you’re so sensitive, can’t even take a bit of criticism. he continued speaking as you listened intently. his hand slowly crept its way to your leg as you watched shamefully, failing to stop the man. 
“this could be bad for you, hm?” he asked, tilting his head. “i’m sure you wanna write in the future, don’t you?” he stood up, your tall professor towering over you, “you let me finish what i’ve started, and i could up your grade a bit.” he took advantage of the size difference, your height in comparison to him was, at the very least, small. 
you hesitated to nod your head. he was a professor wanting to take advantage of a student; how vile is that? 
“perfect.” 
you stood there aimlessly before he gently took one of your hands into his own and guided it toward his zipper. he held your hand against his bulge, urging you to squeeze and give him a good rub. 
simon lets out a low groan as you take his cock into your mouth. he cups your head gently, holding you in place as you begin to suck and lick on him.
his cock was thick, dragging in and out of your mouth as he pushed his hips back and forth, your warm throat taking him so well. he held the sides of your head, and you gagged around his ridiculous length each time he pushed into your mouth fully. 
“disgusting. look at you.” he pistoned his cock deeper as your eyes welled with tears before they down your face. his fingers tangle in your hair before pushing your head further down, your nose nestled in the short hairs along the base of his girthy cock. 
you needed air, you pulled off him abruptly as you coughed messily, catching your breath. your lips wrapped around his red, swollen tip perfectly while your hand stroked the base softly. 
his hips start to move rhythmically, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth roughly. he grabs your head tightly and starts thrusting deeper into your throat, pushing past the back of your mouth. “take it all. just like that.” he continued to use your throat as a fleshlight.
simon’s cock throbs in your throat, his balls slapping against your chin. your head is pounding by now, your legs burn and your neck hurts. don’t forget what you’re doing this for. 
“fuckin’ delicious, fuck.” he grinds against your face harder, his hips moving at a rapid pace as he approaches his climax. 
he groans loudly, his hot seed shooting down your throat in powerful spurts. he pumps his thick cum deep into your mouth, filling it to the brim. he continues to hold you in place, his cock twitching as he unloads it all into your mouth. “swallow it all,” he said in between labored breaths, still softly thrusting himself into your mouth.
“what an angel you are, hm?” you choke and gag as he pulls out, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. he pants heavily with a smile plastered on his face while looking down at you in satisfaction. 
you’re bent over his desk as he delivers another painful strike across your ass, dress driven up to your hips as you squirmed. “you’re almost ready.” he said, big hand soothing your burning cheek. 
“hurts s’bad, sir—simon!” you cried out while his thick fingers made its way to your cunt. his thumb sat on your slit as he massaged your clit through your panties, small cherries on all over them. his finger dipped into your underwear, running over your wetness as you felt shame wash over you. 
doing all this just to not fail? letting your professor touch you like this—sucking him off while your friends were probably asleep. desperate was an understatement.
he played with your cunt ‘till you came all over him, poor thing can’t control your body, huh?
his thick cockhead tapped against your flush cunt, all sensitive and puffy from the abuse it’s suffered. you felt how big his cock was as it poked at your hole, his large hand guiding it up and dragging it all over your hole. he pushed into you as you cried in pain, tears rolling as he bottomed out inside of you. at least tried to.
his hands rest on your waist, gripping your hips as he fills you up to the hilt, groaning out disgusting degrading words, mumbling ‘bout how tight you are. 
“god, you’re tight. such a little thing—takin’ your teacher like this,” he delivers a harsh strike to your soft ass, “knew you’d be up for it.”
he dragged his heavy cock out of you just to plunge it back in, deeper. “mr. ri—simon! s’too big! n-no, no, no, slow down!” you cried out loudly as he held you in place, making sure you took him all the way. 
he chuckles softly and begins to thrust faster, his cock stretching you open as it slides in and out. he leans down to capture one of your nipples in between his index thumb, rolling and pinching harshly as he fucks you. “it's okay, you can take it. you’re gonna take it. you want a good grade.” his words reassuring, but also bits of condescension poked through. 
salty tears fell onto his desk as your legs trembled from the overstimulating heat in your tummy. 
simon picks up the pace, his hips slapping against you as he takes you harder and faster. he continues to roll your nipple, his free hand moving to grope your ass cheek. “tell your—tell your teacher how much you love his dick, tell me.” 
this was odd. he knows it’s wrong, to do this with a student. he acknowledges it, yet he loves the power he has over you. you’re like a puppet. 
you act like you don’t want it. you do. the way you suck him right back in, the way your gummy walls grip and squeeze his thick cock, you need this. 
“love it… love it s’much! feels so good, simon…” you cried loudly, making sure he heard you. 
his thrusts become deeper and harder, his cock hitting your deepest spots with each powerful stroke. simon’s free hand leaves your ass cheek to wrap around your throbbing clit, rubbing it roughly against your sensitive folds. each time his finger runs over your puffy clit, your walls tensed around him, practically choking his length. “that’s it… that’s it, cum for me.” 
with a final, rough thrust, simon groans loudly as he empties himself deep inside you. he slows his movements, his cock pulsating rhythmically inside you. he looks down at you, affectionately stroking your hair. he holds you tightly, your bodies moving in a rhythm as he continues to pump his seed into you.
he thrusts a few more times, getting those last spurts of cum out. 
“we can—we can discuss your grade tomorrow. how’s that sound?” his hand soothed your ass as you nodded. 
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gojoux · 1 year
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how jjk men react when they’re jealous
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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒
Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta.
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◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
His jealousy is a mixed emotion between amusement and annoyance. He'd make some jokes when he became jealous. “You shouldn't pay attention to this slob when you have the real deal here.” His pride would be the main factor in his reaction. He'd try hard to hide his jealousy but he'll also show it. When he's feeling petty, he'll make out with you in front of the person shamelessly, showing out his possessive side and showing off that you're already taken. Gojo also tends to be extra clingy towards you when he's feeling jealous. He'd want your undivided attention and he'd want to be around you more when he feels that way.
◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
Geto would be rather calm when he's jealous. He'll still have a faint smile as he watches you intently as you interact with another person. But once the person gets close to you, you'll see the slight frown on his face. He smiled slyly before speaking loud enough for the other person to hear, “Be careful, love. Some people are good at hiding the fact that they're interested.” He'd give you a side glance, standing himself closer to you. Despite his jealousy, he trusts you and knows that you wouldn't pick the other guys over him.
◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
Sukuna is the most possessive of them all. He'd be rather intense and almost aggressive if another guy came close to you and got your attention. You could tell that he's pissed off and annoyed by the way he frowns and cross his arms. He's spending his time with you and someone else got your attention? Unacceptable. He'd glare at him before growling, “The hell you looking at?” and wouldn't hesitate to hurt the other guy if he thought that they had other intentions with you. Then he'd grab you firmly but not enough to hurt you to walk away from the spot, “You're only mine, got it?”
◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
If you'd been alone with the other guy for way too long, Nanami would raise a brow, wondering what exactly are you doing. He stays silent, letting you interact with the other person. After a while and checking his watch with a sigh, he'd think that's enough for you to spend time with this guy, before he approach you, placing a hand on your shoulder. He'd speak to you with a quiet tone into your ear, “Be careful getting friendly with other men. Especially when I'm not around. Who knows what other intentions they have.” He trusts you a lot and will try not to let his jealous side show even if deep inside he may be feeling like that. He's just being cautious, that's all.
◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎
Choso isn't afraid of being jealous and would make it known when he feels that way. An annoyed look would appear very clearly on his face as he crossed his arms, giving the guy you're talking to a death glare as he stayed quiet. He watches the guy on full alert, trying to see any suspicious signs, even when he's not interested in the conversation, as he lets you continue to interact with the other person. He'd reach out a hand to hold yours the whole time until you're done. “Please stay close to me when we're outside and around strangers.” He trusts you enough to not let his emotions ruin the day but he'd be protective of you nonetheless.
◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
Despite his laid-back and cool attitude, he does get very jealous when another guy tries to hit on you. He'll hide his annoyance with a smirk and dismissive gesture, giving the guy mocking remarks and attitude so relaxedly with an arm around your waist from behind. He leans closer to your ear, “Don't talk to him with that sweet tone of yours, darling. They're going to misunderstand your intentions.” He'd be protective of you and wouldn't appreciate you getting overly friendly with other guys. “Alright, that's enough talking. Nice to meet ya.” He pulls you away immediately, not wanting to entertain the person any longer.
◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈
He would be irritated but he'd try to hide his jealousy around you behind his calm expression even though there would be a slight furrow on his eyebrows. He'll be bored when you interact with the other person, his hands in his pocket, and would look around instead, trying to find something interesting to distract himself from the fact you're still talking with someone else. “Are you done? We still have somewhere else to go.” He pulls the edge of your clothes between his fingers gently. He's rather sulky afterward when he's being confronted by you, “I'm not jealous.” He answers shortly, ignoring the way his cheek would turn slightly red.
◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈
Itadori is the least jealous of the rest. He's protective of you but not at the point that he'll lash out. He'll show you his jealousy but not to the extent where you'd think he might confront someone else. “Oh? Is that so? Well, as long as you remember who you came with, I'm alright with it.” He's a positive guy who tries to not make a big deal out of something even when he feels jealous. He would feel rather left out though since the other person got your precious attention away from him. Be he fully trusts you with whoever you hang out with. He knows that you'll always pick him over whoever person you're interacting with. He'll be happy and forget right away that he was jealous once you give him the attention.
◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀
He would try to not feel too bothered even if deep down he's feeling jealous. He repeats the same thing to himself in his mind, “It's okay. Your lover is just being friendly. Yeah, it's okay.” He observes the guy you're talking to more than you since he trusts you but not the other person. His eyes would dart around, trying to not feel like he's eavesdropping, but he doesn't feel comfortable being the third wheel in this situation. He'll wait rather impatiently despite how he looks rather collected on the outside, squeezing your hand in his hold once in a while. “Oh, you're done? That's a relief. Let's go then.” He might overthink it for a while, but it's all good since he has you all to himself now.
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Anon, how did you know this was in my draft? 🤨
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whispersoftheton · 6 months
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Could I request Anthony bridgerton x wife angst where they have an argument/fight because he is stressed so he takes his anger out on her so she ends up giving him the silent treatment while he basically begs for her forgiveness
Ahh I love this! I hope you like it :)
Anthony Bridgerton X Fem!Reader
Warnings: angst
Word Count: 855
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"Dear, remember we have tea with your mama tomorrow, and then I shall head to the modiste and return in time to oversee some floral arrangements for the ball this coming week." You adjusted your glove as you barged into Anthony's office. It had been a tedious morning in the Bridgerton household, seeing as most of Anthony's siblings were staying with the two of you for the next two weeks. "As hosts, we have a lot to see to in order for everything to run as smoothly as possible." Anthony scoffed as you finished speaking, making you glance at him with furrowed brows.
"Can I not have a moment alone without you berating every last ounce of my nerves." The sternness in Anthony's voice sent a shiver down your spine and had your stomach plunging with discomfort. His hands rubbed his temples as he stood from his chair.
"Is a mere greeting from your wife too much to bear? Or am I simply missing something?" you asked, suddenly treading cautiously. Anthony's ill mood put you at unease; it was rather unusual for him to return from a day's work like this.
"You care to call that a greeting? It is nothing but an aggravating list of endless tasks which have nothing to do with me." Anthony snapped.
"I am simply performing my duties as the Viscountess."
"Inadequately, I might add." His remark pierced through your heart with an unexpected strength. Tears brimmed your eyes as you attempted to blink them away, unwilling to show how he'd just taken your heart in his palm and crushed it under the weight of his words.
"Then I guess that settles it." You cleared your throat. "I apologize, my lord. It is clear now I am not performing as I should as Viscountess. I will see to that immediately." Your tone was as cold as the words felt on your tongue. Unsure of how long you could maintain your composure before him, you quickly bowed and exited the office, prepared to let the pain and tears bubbling inside escape the moment you were out of sight.
Days passed with a lingering sense of dread since your argument with Anthony. More so, days filled with silence amongst you, your gaze averted and avoiding your husband at every opportunity. Meanwhile, Anthony's apprehension grew with every one of his feeble attempts to win you back, hitting a dead end. Endless gifts were sent to your shared home, a flower awaited you along every afternoon tea with a heartfelt note, and even showering you with compliments day in and day out. But still, there was nothing. You had spoken less than a handful of words to him in the past week; even when he tried to take your hand or slip an arm around your waist as he typically did, you acted as if his touch had scorched you. Anthony couldn't take it anymore; it was driving him mad.
He hastily strode through the hall just outside the main room, and there you were—a picture of grace adorned with the most enchanting dress. His breath caught in his throat, as it did every time he saw you. Anthony quickened his steps to catch up before taking your hand and dragging you into a hallway closet nearby. Your startled gasp was quickly contained when you realized it was your husband in the dimly lit closet. You attempted to exit before he stopped you.
"Wait." His hand covered yours, slamming the closet door shut once again. Anthony pleaded with you until you surrendered enough to step back and listen. "I cannot bear the distance between us any longer. I apologize immensely for my behavior. It was unacceptable; I understand that now." He sighed. "The crushing weight of my duties as of late has been taking a toll, and although that is no excuse for the way I spoke to you nor the things I said, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." Your eyes locked on one another, and your expression softened just enough for Anthony to step closer and place a hand at your hip, pressing his forehead against yours. "You are my Viscountess—the woman I chose to stand by my side for the rest of our lives." Is that all you truly were to him? Your gaze cast downward and back to his in a small defeat as his words from that day sunk in all over again. Anthony lifted your chin to look at him once again. "Though that is not all you are. Not to me. You are the love of my life. My person. The love I hold in my heart for you knows no bounds. We are meant for each other in every way a person can be meant for another. I will do everything in my power to assure your forgiveness." Your smile widened as you reveled in this moment with him.
"I can think of a number of ways you can make it up to me." Anthony's hands wrapped tighter around you as he placed a kiss on your lips.
Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added/removed)
I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission
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scuderia-hamilton · 7 months
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i genuinely have no words to describe how this makes me feel. i am angry, disappointed, scared and sad. and that doesn’t even cover it.
all the talk about how they’ll treat this very seriously and the investigation will be thorough feels like a slap in the face. he is allowed to keep his position, represent a team and deny all this, while trying to pay off the victim. an innocent man does not do that.
and he’s protected by the team, by the public, and even though there is concrete evidence against him, none of that matters. he's allowed to walk around the paddock, while there is an ongoing investigation against him, when he should be suspended until all this ends. the victim is the one being called names, she’s the one being harassed, she’s the one on sick leave, people are trying to expose her identity and silence her.
this makes me wonder, if this is how they treat a situation like this, when there is evidence, how many stories are out there that we don’t know about? how many powerful men in the sport got away with something like this, because the victim was afraid to speak out (and rightfully so) or was threatened not to or was silenced? and how many more will stay silent, seeing how people treat them when they speak out?
this is not just a taint on Horner’s career or Red Bull’s brand, this is a taint on the sport itself. they showed time and time again that women are not equal, we’re not appreciated, but now it’s very clear that it’s way worse than that. F1 is not safe for women.
and i know that people will think that i’m overreacting or they’ll want me to stop posting about this, but i won’t. we should talk about this every damn day, cause something like this is absolutely unacceptable. and while you may feel like he's being criticized, i want you to remember that you're surrounded by this bubble online that you created, where people have similar opinion to yours. but the overwhelming public is on his side.
why do people feel the need to protect a man who is literally accused of abusive behavior? why do they feel the need to always take the side of the abuser? this is way beyond him being a successful team principal, there is evidence against him supposedly assaulting a woman. accusations like this are not just born out of thin air.
and while there is no verdict yet, i will not be surprised if they try to sweep this under the rug, because this is how they treat white, powerful, rich men. in the world and in this sport too. no one holds them accountable, no matter how big the public outrage is.
it is only innocent until proven guilty, when it’s a man.
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novashelby · 1 month
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Quick Shot~A Tommy Shelby x Reader Smut
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Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warning: smut, p in v, gun talk, language, insinuated gun use, dub con
Summary: To get away, Tommy visits a pub outside of Birmingham. The barmaid is quite interested in his gun and he makes her a little promise. *I got a request for a smut when Tommy teaches reader how to shoot. But there is quite a few one shots like that, so I made something inspired by it. If the person who requested doesn't like this, please request again. :)
Please reblog and comment. Likes are so kind, but reblogs and comments are much more helpful to a writer. :) Please also enjoy!
“Target practice, Mr. Shelby?” she had asked as her hand quickly swiped down at the wooden counter. Little specks of soapy water hit his steam pressed sports jacket. He didn’t mind. Tommy Shelby knew what he was getting into in a pub such as that one. The Garrison was his go-to, but when he wanted to drink in complete solitude while still enjoying background noise, he went to a shabby one in an outskirt village. The barmaid had a bit more edge and hardly cared who he was. Admittedly, he found it to be refreshing. She grinned at him, placing the wet rag at her hip. “Forgetting to leave your big boy toys at home, eh?” The barmaid also lacked the Brummie tongue. 
Amused, his lips paused at the rim of his glass as his eyes fluttered upward. “Haven’t been home yet. Too busy.”
“Doing?” She pried a little bit more than the usual woman would. Though to her defense, she only knew Tommy Shelby, the factory owner. Not Tommy Shelby the gangster.  
He pulled the glass away from his lips, raising it to her. “Drinking!” he said, a sarcastic undertone that felt so comfortably familiar to her. He’d been going there on an off for a good two years if she had to calculate it. But there were so many faces that came and went, it was hard to tell. He, too, would leave at some point. Another lonely, lost man will take his seat and just like that, all over again, she’d have to become acquainted with another. 
She took an empty glass, and chuckled as she raised it. “To drinking-”
“But you aren’t-”
“I can’t,” she said, placing it back down in its proper spot. She went back to drying the counter, swiping it left to right with a new rag, trying to be mindful of his arm. “Sorry,” she mumbled when it lightly braised his propped elbow. 
Tommy Shelby lazily looked down at his elbow before fluttering his eyes upward. He always wore that sneaky little grin when he wasn’t completely serious. Unfortunately over the years, he had lost it along the way. Less to be amused about and more to be serious about, he assumed. But there, with her, almost alone in an empty pub, he wore it once more. The time was dwindling on the gray line of open and closed. But he showed no interest in leaving and she didn’t care. “Oh no, that was just unacceptable. You’ve done it this time.”
“Hmm, someone as witty as you, Mr. Shelby, I’d thought I would have received a better comeback. You’re slipping,” she said, matching his grin. They took a little pause, having a silent tango; eyes connecting, facial expression matching. When he wiggled his brows up in a quizzical look, she took no shame in mocking him. Neither a girl or woman in Birmingham would dare. But he found comfort in her antics. He wasn’t the Tommy Shelby, but just Tommy Shelby. It was the closest to pre-war Tommy he could get. 
“I’m getting old,” he said, finishing off his glass. She was quick to turn for the whiskey bottle and top him off before he even asked. Tommy was mid stand, ready to leave when she made the silent gesture for him to stay. “I’m driving-”
“And I’m walking,” she said, quick. Once again, they stopped their mundane, routine acts to share a little stare and chuckle. “Plus, you didn’t seem like you were ready to leave. I spared you the awkwardness of saying goodbye.” When he objected, claiming that she must be tired and that home was calling, she told him, “you want to stay more than I have the urge to leave, Mr. Shelby. Plus, I’m curious about you in a way I can’t be curious about on the clock-”
“That’s dangerous,” he accused, sipping at the brown poor man’s liquor. She hung up the rag for the night and locked the door. He had to wait for her to wash her hands of work before she joined him on the chair next to him. “Knowing too much of me is like a curse, and you’re only young-”
“Not as young as you think,” she said, taking his glass and sipping it lightly. His look said I thought you don’t drink. “It was hardly a sip for taste. Besides, from all your mystery, perhaps I may need a few sips.” Tommy slid it back to her, allowing her to have the rest. “I’m twenty-”
He cut her off, leaning in, “I have you beat by a good fourteen years.” Tommy enjoyed the aged old compliment. You look good for your age, but she never gave it to him. Only took continual sips of liquor because she can’t drink. She giggled to herself. He cut her off before she could add the eight to her age. 
Though after a while, she did say, “I heard thirty-four is the new twenty-two. But that isn’t actually what I meant by prying into your business. Hardly care about your logistics like age and birthday, Mr. Shelby. I want to know the fun stuff.” That made him laugh, but she wasn’t laughing. When he tried to protest, saying nothing about him was fun per se, her hand teased at his knee for a moment, lingering there casually. Tommy cocked a brow, mouth slightly agape. He slowly dropped his eyes, watching her fingers spread over his knee, finger tips pressing in. She was entranced by how she so casually came up on him, he hardly heard what she said. “Like what you use that gun for.” 
It was a good minute or so before he answered, as her fingers inched up past his knee, resting more on his mid-thigh. “You shouldn’t really ask what a man uses his gun for, love,” he said, in a mere, barely audible whisper. His eyes never left her hand, watching, patiently waiting to see what her intent was. It was entirely possible she was just being friendly, he thought, never previously considering the pretty barmaid. The ring on his left hand banned him from that. 
“Should I be worried you’re out shooting people and not targets?” she asked, leaning her head down to make him look at her. “Hmm?” 
“Depending on who you ask, people can be targets, too,” he said, finding him doing something that he hadn’t done to anyone other than his wife in a long time. His arms found their way around her waist to pull her in from the chair she’d been sitting on. I’m not usually a lap lady, she said as he rested her over his lap. It was his turn to feel over her thigh and lay it to rest on the inner most part. Her arms loosely hung over his shoulders. 
“That sounds like I should be sliding off your lap, Mr. Shelby,” she teased, eyes glancing to the hunk of dangerous metal strapped to his hip. “Isn’t it strange…being so close to something so lethal?” She dropped one hand to touch it but he was quick to grab her hand, his trust not being fully there with anyone. Startled, she turned her direction back to him. His fingers curled over hers, pressing with a warning. Her fingertips were turning slightly white.  She opened her mouth to speak.
He stopped her, tone turning a bit forceful. “You didn’t ask. You want to touch my gun?”  Her eyes went from flirty to startled to doe-like very quickly. She nodded and he let go of her hand to unstrap his gun and take it out. Her breath hitched as he raised it between their faces. Taunting her, his finger looped around the trigger, caressing it. She went to hold it over his hand, but he stopped her. “But you have to touch something else first-”
“Mr. Shelby,” she snorted, putting her hand down. “Thought you had more class than that. Aren’t you too old to be playing those boy games-”
Perhaps stupidly, he placed his gun on the counter, where she could easily reach it. Or maybe he was confident she wouldn’t. That he’d be good enough for her to be preoccupied with. “What boy games?” he teased, pulling her in more, making her legs rest over the sides of his so she was facing him. Taunting, teasing circles were rubbed on her back over her white blouse. He knew he was being childish in the last spot he could be childish. “Hm?” His fingers felt along her back traveling over her hips. Her breath was caught in her throat. It’d been quite sometime since a man laid their hands so intimately over her body expressing the need for her and solely her. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a boost in ego. Palms pressed against her stomach, he felt upward. Each little centimeter closer to her breasts, her fingers tensed. But he skipped over them, going for her arms instead. He knew what she was thinking. The disappointed rush of an exhale exposed all her secrets. 
“You’re playing a game right now.” She pressed into him a bit harder feeling the tent in his trousers poke at her inner thigh. He chuckled as she told him things he already knew. Tommy Shelby was in no rush to go home. Besides, he needed to fuck off the drunken buzz in his head.
Their foreheads touched and he wasted no time, leaning in to trap her bottom lip between his teeth. He couldn’t kiss her. As bad is sounded, he wasn’t going to kiss another woman, but he was going to fuck her. Not just fuck her, but run his hands over her body, touching each and every crevice and space. “It’s been awhile,” he said, half apologetically in response as he pulled back. Her lips wore a reddened shade from where he bit. There was some sort of silent agreement where she understood it. She understood what it was. Her and him, pressed up against one another. It was a fuck and only a fuck, leaving traces of romantic intimacy at the door.
Impatiently, she bunched up her skirt, placing it over her knees. As she fumbled with the fabric, she asked him, “Are you going to be greedy then?” What an insulting thing to ask, he thought, but instead of answering her, he slipped his hand under her, pressing his palm against her cotton white panties. Challenging her, he cocked a brow as if to ask, do I seem the type? She lifted her hips a bit to give him some room to slip her underwear off to the side before sliding his hand over. “Mr. Shelby,” she gasped out in anticipation. 
Smiling to himself, he felt over her wet folds with his two forefingers, before slipping beneath the outer folds. “Still Mr. Shelby, eh?” As if it was an order, she immediately responded with Tommy. Doing the same thing as she did to her breasts, he touched everywhere except where she wanted to be touched. It was amusing as she shifted and rolled around her hips, trying to take control of the situation she was never meant to have control of. His fingers lightly danced over the flesh around her clit and vagina, purposefully avoiding any hope. When she got a little too pushy, he pulled away, using the same hand to cradle her throat just tight enough to hold her in place. “Don’t be greedy,” he mocked with a stern tone, using her same lingo. He leaned in, lips hovering over her temple. Little ghost kisses haunting her desires. Pathetic, perhaps, but a tiny fear hung over her. What if he wasn’t going to fuck her was a nagging thought. 
“Fuck me,” she said abruptly, not even sure how or why the words came out the way they did. “I need you to fuck me-”
“And I need you to be patient,” he said, palms finding their way back to her tummy going straight for her breasts barely contained by her buttoned blouse. A long string of moans sang from her lips as he cupped them over her clothing, squeezing decently hard. Nipples perked, he teased them in circles with his finger tips. “You asked me not to be greedy,” he teased, tongue flicking at her earlobe. “But I think you should take your advice, hm? Or do you think that doesn’t apply to you because you’re a woman, eh?” Stopping his groping, he started with the top button, painfully slow. One by one he undid them, allowing the cool pub air to touch her chest. Tommy didn’t even have the chance to slip it down her shoulders, feeling her goose bumped arms before she had torn it off and tossed it somewhere beside them. 
“No,” she said, grinding down her hips, wet slick soiling his trousers. “I’m horny and you’re being an ass...I asked you to fuck me. Are you going to fuck me or are you going to leave me like this?” Amused by her assertiveness, he sat back and grinned. She mocked it. “It’s been awhile.”
“Really? A pretty girl like you working in a pub?” he challenged, not believing her. “Surely you have a twisted idea of time. What’s awhile? A month-”
“Two years,” she confused, fingers undoing his belt, cursing at the clasp. He didn’t believe her, but chose not to press the reasoning. In the grand scheme of shit, it didn’t matter. Instead, he helped her with his trousers, undoing his buttons and pulling down the zipper. “I got it,” she fussed, pushing his hand out of the way. Tommy watched as she pulled down his underwear just enough to let his cock out. 
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, scoping her up from under ass before positioning his cock. But he wouldn’t allow her to slam down. Gently, he teased at the entrance with his tip, saying, “just the tip.”
“You didn’t even finger me,” she teased back. “Selfish arse!”
“Maybe when I hit a target with my gun.”
“A still one?” she snorted, finding her way to leave playful bites along his jawline. 
“A breathing one,” he said, and before she could react, slamming himself upward, balls hitting her backside. He held her there, studying her face. It was nothing, but a silent scream. A part of him felt a tinge of guilt that he hardly prepped the poor girl, but all her selfish antics made him a bit greedy. “You feel it? This is exactly what you begged for-”
“I said don’t be-”
“Greedy?” he teased, cupping her fragile cheek with one hand as his other teasingly rolled her nipple between his fingers. He rolled up his hips meeting her aching cervix. The pain radiated through her lower half, sending up a searing heat. She hissed, digging her fingernails into his sports coat covered arms. Too deep, she winced through her clenched teeth. “Yeah?” he asked, fake concern lingering, lightly jutting forward, pressing deeper just to watch the painful facial expression laid on her face. “You’re brat…I don’t like brats.”
“Mr. Shelby,” she whined, twitching around him. Pleading, she wanted him to ease. Which he obliged, and lifted her up a bit, pulling himself back. When she regained her composure, she took the wheel and rolled her hips into him; sliding up and down, attempting to slide her hand down to her throbbing clit, but he caught it. 
“No, no,” he said, clasping her hand in his, keeping it there. She was about to complain, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh, just keep riding me…relax me. I’ve had a long day.” She nodded, resting her other hand on his shoulder for support as she raised her hips, a moan stuck in the back of her throat, feeling his thick cock sliding up and down her needy walls. He rested back, his breaths becoming ragged and hitched. She giggled when he rolled his head back, allowing her hand to slip from his grasp. But she was a good girl and didn’t dare touch her clit. She placed it on his other shoulder for support.
She circled her hips, watching his lip quiver stealing his grin. “Am I in charge, now?” she asked in a gasped, speeding up her pace, bouncing up and down. His eyes hazily watched her breasts follow along, taking one in each hand. He massaged them, fingers teasing at the nipples; pulling, pinching, flicking. It sent a perfect tingle down her spine. “Shit,” she gasped, leaning down, resting their foreheads together. It wasn’t supposed to be intimate. It’s just sex. But they kept eye contact, relaxing into each other's rhythms. 
“I’ll play along,” he said, licking up at her lips, but when she went to kiss him, he turned his head. “Keep ridin’ me.” He demanded her in a bathless gasp, getting impatient. He wanted a quick release. She let out a needy cry, begging him why when he slipped his hands from her sensitive breasts down to her hips, gripping them tightly. His knuckles turned white as his fingers dug into her soft flesh. Hard enough she could have sworn she felt him touching her hip bone. 
“Yes, sir,” she mocked, going faster; slamming down on him and enjoying the way his moans were deep and throaty. He jutted up, meeting her in her dips. Tommy’s thrusts got messy the faster they were. It was as if they were competing with who can go the fastest. No, who can wear the other one out first. It was her, of course. She wasn’t going to come from this and he selfishly knew that, enjoying the way her pussy felt around him. “Tommy!” She cried out, holding herself closer to his chest.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” he said, sliding his lips down her neck to bite at her shoulder, growling. “Shit.” It was muffled and low. Rudely, he repeatedly slammed into her cervix, hardly giving her time to breathe and ease it as he felt his climax approach.
She pulled her face away from him and gripped his jaw. “Not in me,” she warned.
“No?” he laughed in breaths. “Where do you want it, huh? Your tits? Belly? Your arse?” He gave her ass a generous squeeze before reaching up and tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back slightly. He felt his climax near, slowing his thrusts just enough to slip from her cunt. “Fuck!” He cursed, tugging his cock one handedly. A deep red flushed over her cheeks as she felt a stream of hot cum spray up her back and drip down over her ass. “Shit,” he moaned, out, closing his eyes to catch his breath. “Fookin’ ‘ell.” She slumped against him, sweaty and hot, but he didn’t allow her to rest long, pushing her off. “I have to get goin’, love,” he said, patting her cheek. 
“So you really are going to leave me like this?” she asked, referring to her lack of orgasm.
Tommy Shelby slid from his chair and fixed his trousers. “I told you, I hit a target and I’ll give the lady what she needs.” He winked, grabbing his gun from the counter. 
She laughed as if he was being humorous. He hardly said good night as he left. He wasn’t a weekly regular, but perhaps bi-weekly. Every other week he’d come in for the same thing; a whiskey neat. But it was going on three weeks then sooner or later a whole season passed without Tommy Shelby. But it was normal. People came and went, and she cursed herself each time she became attached to one person’s presence. 
However one night a few too many weeks later he came in as she was cleaning up. Through the reflection in a dark whiskey bottle, she saw him take a seat. A metal clink echoed the empty pub as he put down his gun. “We’re closed-”
“I’m not here for a drink,” he said. 
“I’m closed,” she said, not forgiving his selfish quick shot. 
He chuckled. “Say, love, do you prefer the feeling of a man's firm hand or soft tongue?” She froze, fingers knotting in the wet rag she used to clean the glasses. Swallowing, she turned to see the gun first then spots of red on his white shirt. Nervously, she looked up his arm to his face that wore specks of red. “Perhaps both at the same time-”
“Mr. Shelby-”
“C’mere,” he demanded, not asked. “And I’ll show you how much of a man of my word I am.”
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stereksimp · 3 months
Text
Derek hated the mouthy, sarcastic, asshole that stuck his nose in business that had nothing to do with him. Like when he was looking for Scott because he got shot but couldn't find him, and Stiles found him first.
He did convince Scott to actually help him, which kinda kept him alive. He was still an asshole the whole time.
Stiles also stuck his nose in the Kanima business. So when he got in the way when the Kanima was attacking them, protecting the kid got him paralyzed in 8 ft of water.
He did hold him up for over 2 hours, and even when they were going under the last time, he didn't let him go. The kid would have drowned right along with him, but Stiles would have died without him, so it had to be self-preservation.
After when they were all talking the in parking lot and he said that the Kanima was a werewolf that went wrong and Stiles called that an abomination over a werewolf, he started seeing the loyalty in him.
Then Scott betrayed him. He worked with Gerard, and that kid is not smart enough to come up with that plan himself. Stiles had to have been in on it. He betrayed him as well.
He was still paralyzed, grapling with what just happened when that damned jeep crashed through the wall and smashed into the Kamina. Stiles figured out how to save Jackson, and when everything was settled, Derek started to leave but overheard Stiles talking to Chris about Erica and Boyd. He left before the conversation finished.
When he got back to the train station, Boyd and Erica were there curled up together. When they saw him, they whimpered, and Erica rushed him.
Erica: Where's Stiles? What happened to him? *tears running down her face*
Derek: *a low growl in his voice* he's fine. What happened to you guys.
Erica tries to speak, but she's crying too hard to get words out, so he looks over to Boyd for answers.
Boyd: Gerard and Allison took 5 when we were in the basement, Stiles was thrown down the stairs. They tortured him, but he didn't say anything.
Derek: *stunned* What.
Derek: Boyd, take her and stay here. I'll be back.
Derek peals out of the lot and makes his way to Stiles' house in record time. The Sheriff is gone, so he slips into Stiles' room to find him wrapping his ribs. A growl rips its way out of him as he crowds Stiles.
Derek: *running his hands all over Stiles* You... didn't know. Scott. Gerard. You. Safe.
Stiles: woah woah woah slow down, big guy. What is going on? I need you to use full sentences here.
Derek's growl tappers off into a whine.
Derek: You protected Erica and Boyd. You got hurt protecting us. You didn't know what Scott planned. You...
Stiles: *Anger laces his voice* I would never do that to you. We may not always get along but to take away your choice like it is unacceptable. Are Erica and Boyd all right. Chris said that he released them when he found out.
Derek just silently grabs the first aid kit and goes about patching Stiles up .
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writerslittlelibrary · 9 months
Text
We can be your family, part 2
Tumblr media
masterlist part 1 part 2
summary: having been in the foster system all your life, you don't expect much when your case worker tells you you're being moved again. what happens when the car suddenly stops in the most expensive neighborhood in all of New York…
pairing: Natasha x teen reader, Maria x teen reader, Blackhill
warnings: mentions of abusive foster families, mention of sexual assault, a deadly amount of mama Natasha fluff
genre: fluff
words: 1257
a/n: part 2 is here! it's really short but I didn't really know what else to write. this is just mainly here to give closure to part one :) 
I'm not really planning on writing a third part, but if the demand is there and anyone has an idea, maybe I will🫶  
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work
 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|
Living with Natasha and Maria was the most fun you had in a while. They made you food three times a day, always asked for your opinion on things, and always made sure you were okay. it was a completely different experience than you were used to, and it couldn't have been better.
Tonight Maria and Natasha scheduled a movie night, and to say you were excited was an understatement. The day before, Natasha had taken you to the store to pick out all sorts of snacks. Maria had made your favorite dinner and you were happy and content as you three watched the movie.
That was, until Natasha got a sudden call.
You paused the movie while she left the room to pick up the phone. You anxiously looked at the closed, knowing no normal person called at this time of night, so it must be your social worker.
Marie noticed your concerned gaze, deciding to distract you with the mission to help her make you three hot chocolates. 
Soon enough, you were laughing in the kitchen, the amount of mini marshmallows in the hot beverage being absolutely unacceptable, all the while Maria just kept putting more in. 
You helped Maria take the hot chocolates to the couches, putting them down on the coffee table. Just then Natasha walked in, a distressed look on her face. You looked at her, but kept your mouth shut. You didn't want to know what was wrong, especially if it meant leaving.
Her and Maria shared a knowing look, before Natasha sat down next to you and laid her hand on your knee, smiling warmly at you.
"Before I say anything, I just need you to know that you're not going anywhere. You are staying right here, with us. I promise,” Natasha said as Maria took a seat next to you as well.
"What's wrong?" you asked Natasha, and she hesitated a moment before responding.
"Alice called, and apparently, a foster parent you stayed with before has been arrested, and they want you to testify against him…” Natasha explained carefully, and you just sat there, avoiding your gaze back to the coffee table.
"Why was he arrested?” you asked when Natasha moved her hand to your back, rubbing soothingly with her thumb. 
It was silent for a moment, before Natasha took a deep breath and spoke. “ He's been arrested for abuse and…” Natasha took another breath, finding herself incapable of just saying. “And sexual assault…” she said quietly, and you closed your eyes with a soft sigh.
You knew him, and of course you knew why he had been arrested. You just needed Natasha to say it. You needed to hear it.
"I'm done with movie night,” you said after a moment of silence, getting up and shrugging Natasha's hand off your back, making your way to your room without looking back. 
Neither Natasha nor Marie tried to stop you, letting you walk to your room, knowing you needed the space. 
You laid in your bed, your stuffed bunny clenched tightly to your chest as numb tears streamed down your face. You wanted to be alone, and yet, it was almost as if you wanted to be alone with Natasha and Maria. You'd never felt like this before. You've never craved the touch and attention of your foster parents before, so why was it suddenly so different this time?
It was like Natasha had heard your thoughts, because soon after, you heard a soft knock on the door. 
You didn't say anything, feeling too numb to even acknowledge the fact someone just knocked, but it hadn't mattered as Natasha came in anyway, a mug of hot chocolate in her hand.
She didn't say anything as she walked towards you, sitting on the bed next to you and setting the mug down on your nightstand. You sat there in silence for a while, until a muffled sob could be heard from your mouth, and Natasha didn't hesitate to crawl up the bed, sitting against the headboard as she coddled you closely to her chest. 
"It's okay. Everything is going to be okay,” she assured you as her hand gently stroked your back, her other hand on your head as she held you tightly.
You were so close to Natasha, you didn't think you had been so close to anyone else before. You didn't think anyone ever even gave you a hug like this. A hug with meaning. A hug filled with love and care. You cried for a while, and Natasha didn't say anything as she just held you. 
After a while, your sobs had turned to sniffles, and you gently raised your head from Natasha's chest. 
She wiped the strands of hair from your face, smiling gently as she cupped your cheeks.
"Everything is going to be okay,” she assured you again, and you could cry purely from the way that she said it. You didn't cry, instead just sitting up against the headboard next to her, you bunny still rightly in your embrace. Natasha had one arm over your shoulders, making you sit against her closely.
You didn't mind. You wanted to be as close to her as possible. 
"Can I have my hot chocolate now?” you asked quietly while your head leaned on Natasha's shoulder. Natasha smiled and reached for the mug, handing it to you, watching as you drank happily. 
"I don't want to testify,” you then said. Natasha hummed but didn't say anything, waiting for you to continue. “I don't wanna see him again…” you added softly, and Natasha grimaced slightly  at the idea of what he could have done to you. 
"We'll think of something. We'll be here for you, I promise,” Natasha said as she gave you a kiss on your head. 
You nodded as you finished your drink, handing Natasha the mug so she could put it back on your nightstand. After some more cuddles, you yawned slightly, and Natasha chuckled as she sat up straighter. 
"You should get some sleep, you're exhausted,” she told you, and you nodded. 
When Natasha went to get up, you hesitated for a moment, looking at your hands and picking at your skin. 
"Can I stay with you tonight?” you asked quietly, almost embarrassed of the question. 
Natasha smiled as she nodded, letting you stand up before she placed her hand on your back. "Of course you can.” 
You went into your bathroom and quickly brushed your teeth, changing into some pajamas before walking back into your room. You grabbed your bunny and went to Natasha, who was waiting in the doorframe. She smiled as she led you to her room, opening it to reveal Maria already in the bed, a book in her hand.
The moment she saw you, she put her book down, opening her arms and inviting you to get in the bed. 
"Come here sweet girl.” You quickly got in, crawling to Maria and letting yourself fall into her warm embrace. She smiled as she hugged you close, much like Natasha had done. 
"I'll be right there,” Natasha said as she went into the bathroom, but you paid her little mind as you enjoyed Maria's warm hug. 
Once Natasha was settled in the bed as well, you lay in between them, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Thank you,” you said quietly as you laid your head on Natasha's chest, falling asleep in no time. 
"We love you, Malysh…” Natasha said as she kissed your forehead, her and Maria falling asleep as well.
Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat
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khawlakbg · 9 months
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The Brutal Reality of Occupation:
Palestinians Under Attack #USA complicit
It is unacceptable to stay silent in times like these. Israeli forces have committed egregious human rights violations against Palestinians, including bombing schools, mosques, ambulances, bakeries and invading homes,mocking women in their own bedrooms, vandalising, descreting places of worship, killing journalists, women and children. We must never stop speaking about them and keep demanding a ceasefire NOW.
This is the reality of the Palestinians since October 07. This is their daily struggle.
ISISREAL🇮🇱 Zionists entity are only concerned about their own agenda, it's never about Hamas, never about lessening the civilian casualties, this is all about brutality, bloodlust, genocide, and ethnic cleansing of the Palestinians.
Their indiscriminate shooting, that caused 3 hostages from their own people says alot about how the never cared about human life.
SPEAK UP! SPREAD AWARENESS! STOP THE GENOCIDE!!! CEASEFIRE NOW!
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kominigiru · 2 days
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im gonna start dumping my one-shots here from now on just bc. also posted on ao3!
satoru's guide to wedding day blunders
contains: female reader, fluff, crack, gojo being a menace, reader and toge are siblings, shoko and nanami being so done with satoru's shenanigans part 1 - part 2 (both in ao3)
Gojo Satoru is late to his own wedding.
You stand at the altar, fingers clenched around your bouquet, doing everything you can to keep from grinding your teeth. Shoko, standing to your right as your maid of honor, is shooting you sympathetic looks, while Nanami on the left looks like he's one deep sigh away from physically dragging Satoru here himself.
Your family sits in the front row, their faces showing various degrees of irritation, disappointment, and—worst of all—pity. They're whispering among themselves, making no effort to hide the glances they cast toward you, or the fact that they're annoyed on your behalf.
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the noise. When you open them again, your mother is already halfway up the aisle, moving toward you with a determined look in her eyes.
"Sweetheart," she says, barely acknowledging Shoko and Nanami. "It's been over an hour. I think it's time to accept that maybe this wedding… isn't happening."
You stiffen, fingers going numb around your bouquet. Cancel?
Nanami sighs heavily, crossing his arms. "She has a point. Gojo's behavior today is completely unacceptable. It reflects poorly on him, and worse, on you. We can reschedule."
Shoko snorts in agreement. "Yeah, even I'm tired of waiting, and I'm not the one at the altar. Typical Satoru."
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't speak often—as your Cursed Speech makes casual conversation risky—but the urge to say something now presses hard against your chest. Before you can figure out how to respond, you feel a tug on your gown.
You glance down to see your younger brother, Toge, standing at your side, his tiny arms wrapping around your waist in a comforting hug.
"Aniki's late," Toge mutters, his voice barely audible.
The way he says it tugs at your heartstrings. Even your usually patient brother is starting to lose hope.
Suddenly, with perfect, almost theatrical timing, the heavy church doors burst open, slamming against the walls with a deafening thud. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is.
"Sorry I'm late!" Satoru's voice rings out, loud and unapologetic, echoing through the silent church.
You finally turn, and there he is, Gojo Satoru, standing in the doorway like he's just walked in from some casual errand and not his own wedding. His hair is tousled, his sunglasses perched on top of his head, and he's grinning like this is all some kind of joke.
Satoru saunters down the aisle, waving casually at the guests. "Miss me?"
Your family collectively groans, and you can feel Nanami's simmering rage without even looking at him. Shoko rolls her eyes dramatically, muttering something about "classic Gojo" under her breath. You, however, stay rooted in place, fingers tightening their grip on your bouquet.
Satoru reaches the altar, looking perfectly at ease, as though he hasn't just kept an entire wedding party waiting for over an hour. He slides up next to you, his grin widening when he sees the expression on your face.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, leaning in just enough for only you to hear. "Sorry about that. Had to deal with a curse situation. You know how it is. Life of a sorcerer and all that."
You stare at him, your mouth a tight line.
You've gotten used to Satoru's antics over the years, but even for him, this is too much. Still, speaking directly, even to scold him, could have unintended consequences thanks to your cursed technique, so instead, you breathe deeply through your nose and give him a pointed glare.
"Ah… right," Satoru says, catching on. "You’re upset. Understandable."
Nanami, who's been silent up until now, finally speaks up, his voice thick with irritation. "You're lucky we haven't already canceled the ceremony."
Shoko nods. "An hour late, Satoru? Even for you, that's ridiculous."
Satoru throws up his hands in mock defense. "Okay, okay, I know! But hey, at least I showed up, right? That's what matters."
You can feel the tension radiating from the entire room, but before you can think of how to express your feelings in a way that doesn’t result in your cursed speech accidentally knocking everyone unconscious, you feel a tug at your dress again.
You glance down, and Toge is looking up at you with wide, concerned eyes. "Tuna mayo," he says softly, which is his way of saying, Are you okay?
You crouch down slightly, giving Toge a reassuring smile and patting his head. It's a small moment, but it helps ground you. You straighten up, turning back to Satoru, who's watching the interaction with a sheepish grin.
"Look," he starts, "I know I messed up. Big time. But hey," he adds, flashing a grin, "You know you love me anyway, right?"
You stare at him for a long moment, taking in his disheveled appearance, his unshakable confidence, and his infuriating grin. Despite everything, despite the frustration, the embarrassment, and the whispers from your family, you can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth twitch upward.
Maybe it’s because this is so typically Satoru—unpredictable, chaotic, and yet, somehow, charming in his own way.
You take a deep breath and raise your hand to his chest, pressing two fingers lightly against him. It's a gesture you often use when you can't speak, one that means I forgive you, but don't do it again.
Satoru's grin softens, and he takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "I promise," he says, and for once, there's no teasing in his tone. "I won't mess up again. Well, not today, at least."
Nanami clears his throat. "We'll see about that."
Shoko shrugs. "Honestly, I'm just impressed you got here at all."
Toge, ever the voice of simplicity, tugs on Satoru's sleeve and mutters, "Okaka."
Satoru gasps dramatically. "Betrayed by a child! I thought we were family, Toge!"
Toge just crosses his arms, unimpressed, as you all share a quiet laugh at Satoru's expense.
Satoru turns back to you, his grin back in full force. "So, what do you say we make this official, huh?"
You glance at the altar, the officiant who's been waiting patiently, and then back at Satoru. Slowly, you nod.
Satoru's face lights up, and with a flourish, he turns to the officiant. "Alright! Let's get married before anything else decides to go wrong!"
As the ceremony finally begins, you can't help but feel a mix of exasperation and fondness swelling in your chest. Life with Satoru will never be predictable, but as you look at him now, standing beside you, you know one thing for certain: it will always be interesting.
And in his own chaotic way, you know that Satoru loves you—enough to show up late to your wedding but still make you smile in the end.
You squeeze his hand once more and and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead and whisper, "I love you, too."
Later that night, after the wedding reception winds down and everyone heads home, you and Satoru return to your shared house. You're still wearing your wedding dress, and he's got his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, looking as carefree as ever. He's been trying to sweet-talk you the whole way back, as if he hadn’t shown up an hour late to your own wedding.
"Come on, sweetheart, it wasn't that bad." He grins, nudging you with his elbow. "Everyone had a good laugh, right?"
You give him a sidelong glance, your silence speaking volumes.
"Okay, okay, maybe I pushed it a little. But hey, I made it in the end, didn't I? That's what counts!" He flashes his signature smile, the one that usually gets him out of trouble.
You pause at the front door, turning to look at him. For a moment, he thinks he's won you over. You're smiling, after all. But then, without a word, you toss him a single pillow.
Satoru catches it with a confused look. "Uh…what's this?"
You gesture to the pillow and point to the roof.
His smile falters. "Wait, wait, wait, hold on. You're not serious, right?" His laugh is nervous now. "You forgave me at the altar! We're good! We're married now!"
You shrug and head inside, but before he can follow, you turn around, blocking the doorway with your body. His eyes widen in panic.
"Come on! I can't sleep on the roof on our wedding night! People will talk! Nanami will find out and he will never let me live it down!"
Your only response is a raised eyebrow, and you slowly, deliberately, start to close the door.
Satoru jams his foot in the door with a dramatic gasp. "But I thought you loved me!"
You don't need cursed speech for this one. You give him a sweet, innocent smile—the kind of smile that would normally melt him on the spot. But tonight, it just spells doom for him. He knows that smile. It's the smile that means, "I do love you, but you're not getting away with this."
He groans. "Seriously? After all the curses I've fought, this is how I go down?" He leans his head dramatically against the doorframe, clutching his pillow like a lifeline. "Sleeping on the roof like a stray cat? Come on, babe, be reasonable!"
You sigh, your patience wearing thin. He's still whining.
With a subtle tap into your cursed technique, you say the words that you've been holding back all night. "Sleep on the roof tonight."
The power of your cursed speech echoes through the air, and Satoru visibly flinches. His body moves on its own, turning toward the roof like a puppet on strings.
"W-wait! No! I take it back! I take it back! You don't have to use that—"
But it's too late. His legs betray him, carrying him toward the roof with a dramatic flair, like he's being pulled by some invisible force. You watch as he scrambles helplessly, pillow tucked under one arm as he clambers up to his new "bed" for the night.
From the roof, you hear him groan, his voice tinged with betrayal. "But I'm your husband now! Doesn't that mean anything?!"
You close the door, letting out a small chuckle. Behind it, you hear him muttering to himself in frustration.
"Of all the things to use your cursed speech for..." he grumbles. "Could've just told me you were mad! But noooo, had to make me sleep outside on the night of my own wedding!"
You hear some shuffling from the roof, and then: "At least give me a blanket! It's cold up here!"
You open a window just wide enough to toss him a thin, scratchy blanket, watching it float up to where he's perched.
"Thanks," he mutters sarcastically. "This’ll totally keep me warm."
There's silence for a few moments before his voice drifts down again.
"I'm sorryyyyy!" he yells, his voice carrying through the night air. "I'll never be late again, I swear! I'll be early to everything! Our anniversaries, your birthday, breakfast—you name it! I'll never mess up again!"
You shake your head, smirking to yourself, knowing full well that's a promise he'll break within the month. But for tonight, the roof will teach him a lesson.
From the roof, you hear a long, pitiful sigh. "I thought married life would be more… cozy. Not like… this."
Finally, after what seems like an eternity of grumbling, he goes quiet, probably giving in to the reality of his situation. The stars twinkle overhead, and for a moment, all is peaceful.
Until—
"I bet Nanami's gonna find out and give me that look tomorrow." His voice suddenly perks up again, this time with a hint of dread. "You know the one. The 'I told you so' look. Ugh, I hate that look…"
You roll your eyes, closing the window fully this time, knowing that his whining will eventually tire him out. But still, you can't help but smile.
You know he'll be back to his usual antics by tomorrow, but for now, he can enjoy the roof.
As you settle into bed, you can faintly hear Satoru one last time from outside.
"You'll miss me eventually! No one can resist my charm!"
You smile into your pillow. Not tonight, Satoru. Not tonight.
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