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talesofesther · 1 year

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this town’s for the record now

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Distance is a strange concept. Jenna feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world. If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

Requested by @thenextdawn

A/N: Tweaked the idea just a slight bit but I hope you like it, sweetheart. I wrote half of this very much sleep deprived so if anything is weird blame it on that, also take some technical things here with a grain of salt because I know very little about how shooting movies/series works. Much love babes. <3

Word count: 5k (this got out of hand pretty fast)

Masterlist

The airport was bustling with people. Some arriving, tiredness clouding their features along with happiness as they were welcomed by loved ones; others speeding down the halls, suitcases in hand as they rushed to not miss their flights.

Jenna, though her flight was about to leave, was stalling. Her gaze skimmed over the crowd around. Her hands tightly held onto yours, as if you'd disappear if she loosened her grip.

And she wasn't too far off.

You brushed your thumb over the skin on her hand, trying to convey some sense of calmness, "I think it's time for you to go, otherwise the plane will leave without you."

Jenna grinned half-heartedly, swinging your joined hands around as she leaned her head on the wall to her right. "Would it be too bad if I let that happen?"

It was your little moment of peace. This corner of the airport suddenly became your fleeting safe haven for a precious second.

"I think," you started, pulling her towards you so you could wrap her in a hug, "some people would be very mad at you if you missed this flight."

Jenna encircled her arms around your waist, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face on your shoulder, "I'd be with you though," she mumbled, words muffled against you.

Pulling back so you could look at her, you took hold of her hands again.

Honestly, you were striving to keep a strong facade on, to be the support you knew she needed. But deep down, you were holding back your own tears.

"It'll go by quickly, you'll see."

"It's eight months," Jenna sighed, "all the way on Romania. I'm excited about it, but, I never stayed away this long."

The 'we never stayed apart this long' went unsaid.

And it was true. It made you think for a moment that, to the naked eye, you two could easily be seen as a couple delaying their inevitable goodbye. That wasn't the case though, there wasn't a label to what you and Jenna were. Not yet. And it would have to wait until she came back.

"You'll be alright, I know you will," you encouraged, "you're gonna nail this role. You'll be the best Wednesday this world has ever seen," you smiled proudly, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

It got Jenna chuckling, all teary-eyed and flushed cheeks. "You'll text me every day, right? Call too?"

"Of course I will, I already miss you," you pouted.

She squeezed your hands, "promise?"

"Promise."

—

For those eight months, you kept your promise.

Every day you texted, called, and sometimes video-chatted with Jenna; checking up on her, lifting her mood, or simply talking.

You missed her more than you ever missed anyone in your life, and you could tell she felt the same. But for a while, it was bearable, because you talked every day.

Until Jenna started breaking the pattern.

It started slow, but steady. One unanswered text here, one missed call there, and suddenly you went two or three days without talking to each other.

It was comprehensible, Jenna was working after all. So you didn't think anything of it when the new normal became calling each other every four or five days.

But when those days spaced out, you counted yourself lucky if you heard from her at least once a week, and then every two weeks — her responses short and to the point.

Yet you kept sending her texts; simple 'good mornings' and 'hope you have an awesome day on set'. Because you promised you would, she asked you to.

Even if, involuntarily, you started to feel like a bit of a nuisance to her when she answered you with a plain 'u too' every now and then.

It happened slowly; Jenna became a stranger. A stranger you still loved greatly.

—

Hey Jen, how have you been? I just wanted to let you know that I got the role for that movie I texted you about a few weeks ago. So yeah, I'm very excited. Hope everything is well, I really miss you.

You stared at the message on your phone, your finger hesitating to tap the send button. You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to get rid of the nerves.

Sometimes it hurts, because it wasn't like this — though that reality feels very far away now.

The filming process for Wednesday wrapped almost three months ago. You knew that because right before she left Romania, Jenna had called you, and for a lovely moment, things felt okay; you could hear the tears in her voice when she told you how much she missed you, apologizing over and over for not keeping in touch and saying how much she couldn't wait to be back, promising to come see you soon.

But that never happened.

You haven't seen Jenna ever since you said goodbye to her at the airport, ten months ago.

You guessed that's what distance does to people.

Yet, the stubborn part of you still texts her sometimes, because when you close your eyes all you can see is that teary-eyed Jenna who made you swear to always keep in touch with her. So you do. You tell her about your little bits of progress in the acting career, about some roles you manage to get, and if you're lucky, you'll get a response with 'congratulations'.

As of today, you haven't heard from her in two months. And if you cried about it a few nights ago, that's no one's business.

You understand she's busy, you see it in her on every interview that you watch — because you know her, you know the way her posture changes when she's getting tired, you know her mannerisms when she's nervous, you know when her smile is not the brightest it can be — but you think that, if she felt for you as much as you feel for her, she'd try to keep in touch. She would come to see you.

You pressed send on the message and put your phone back in your pocket the very next second.

Sad as it may seem, you didn't expect an answer.

—

"Hey, wait up."

You looked back over your shoulder, only to see your cast mate jogging up to you in the parking lot, big smile on his face.

"Something wrong?" You asked, adjusting your backpack over your shoulder.

"No, not at all," he told you as he caught his breath, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "I just wanted to say, you did really good in there."

You averted your gaze when you felt your cheeks warming up, getting compliments from people infinitely more talented and popular than you would always feel surreal.

"I mean it," he ducked down, searching for your eyes, "that was one of the best monologues I've witnessed in a while."

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, "it means a lot coming from you."

He waved off your words as if telling you, yet again, to stop putting him on a pedestal. "That being said, I've been meaning to ask if you'd be willing to audition for my next movie."

To say your eyes widened in surprise was an understatement, you asked him to repeat himself and he did; grinning fondly, telling you all about the natural talent you have and how he couldn't forgive himself if he allowed it to go to waste.

You, of course, agreed promptly. And squealed like a schoolgirl once he was out of earshot.

Before you got into your car, you took your cell phone from your backpack, still bubbling with excitement as the offer didn't quite feel real yet.

For a fleeting second, the sight of your last unanswered text when you opened the conversation didn't make your heart clench in pain.

Jenna, you won't believe what just happened…

—

The production of a movie of this caliber wasn't like anything you'd done before; there were so many things going on all at once, so many more people involved, so much more work for you — comes with the territory when playing the main character, you knew that, but still, it was all somewhat new for you.

By the end of most weeks, you were absolutely exhausted.

You pushed open the door of your trailer with a groan, rubbing your temple to try and chase away the beginnings of a headache.

The only lights you turned on were the ones in your little kitchen area, keeping the place dimly lit so it was easier on your tired eyes.

Not bothering to change out of your work clothes for now, you threw yourself on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief when you felt your muscles relax.

Maybe it was the late hour and the vulnerability of your worn-out body; but most nights after a busy day, you found your mind drifting to memories that involved a certain someone. If you closed your eyes forcefully enough, you could pretend to be back there — your shoulder pressed snuggly against hers as she told you all about her day on set, her fingers sneaking to intertwine with yours, the weight of her head when she'd inevitably succumb to sleep against you — memories exist outside of time anyway.

When the screen of your phone lit up, you swore you could almost feel your heartbeat stumbling. You picked it up so fast that it almost fell on your face.

Jenna's name was on your screen, and you hated the way that it brought tears to your eyes.

You hesitated when opening the text, not daring to breathe or get your hopes up.

'That's exciting' was her response to your rather long list of unanswered texts, the last one being the one of you talking about the new movie you're working on.

No 'how are you', no 'I miss you'.

You closed your eyes and felt a tear running down your cheek, typing back the one thing you felt;

Sometimes I wish I had let that plane leave without you.

—

The movie you starred in ended up being the push you needed to be recognized. It was a success, and you were the reason why.

It premiered only a few weeks after Wednesday did. Jenna became known worldwide, and you sort of did too.

And that's what it took for you to finally see each other again.

If someone told you a year ago that you'd be attending the Golden Globes, you'd call them crazy. Yet here you are; timidly smiling as a billion cameras flash in front of your eyes.

And in the midst of greeting acquaintances, posing for pictures, and talking to reporters, your eyes caught sight of her.

She was nothing short of divine, soft pinkish-brown dress fitting her to perfection and her hair way shorter than when you'd last seen her. You didn't think Jenna could ever be more beautiful, but she's apparently always proving you wrong.

It felt like a gravity pull on your heart, urging you to walk closer to her, and if you ditched a reporter or two along the way, you couldn't care less. Your stomach was twirling in apprehension, it shouldn't be but it is, because sad as it feels, you don't know what you mean to each other anymore.

Jenna had her back to you as she spoke with someone you didn't know. You could feel your hands slick with perspiration when you cleared your throat a little awkwardly. She probably didn't hear, so you resorted to lightly tapping her shoulder.

It felt like seeing her for the first time in your life at the same time that it felt like you never parted ways at all. Though there was this painful squeezing in your chest that's never been there before. You smiled softly, breathing out a simple; "hi."

Jenna's eyes widened the slightest bit when she saw you, her lips hanging open when she had trouble forming words; it was a one-second thing, she was quick to recover and get her features back to impassive. Something you knew all too well was a bad habit of hers — suppressing what she's feeling.

"Hi, I- I had no idea you'd be coming," she told you, her eyes unable to find a place to focus on your face.

You pursed your lips, acutely aware of the cameras on every corner of the place. "Yeah, I tried to tell you but, you must've missed my text." The words felt heavy on your tongue, your smile didn't quite reach your eyes.

"I didn't mean-" Jenna's voice broke halfway through and she clamped her mouth shut to avoid a making scene.

It got you looking up to meet her gaze, and there were so many emotions swimming in her eyes that you couldn't put your finger on any of them.

Before you or she could say anything else, a reporter was calling out for Jenna, drawing both of your attention.

Jenna glanced between you and the reporter, before adjusting her posture and managing a smile. "I'll see you later, okay?" She told you, already turning away from you.

"No, Jenna wait, can't we talk?" You tried reaching out for her hand but she pulled away.

"Not right now."

"I just wanted to-"

She glanced back at you, taking hold of her dress in a white-knuckled grip to pull it up so she could walk faster; "I can't deal with you right now, okay? Please stop… crowding me."

Her voice had little emotion to it, but it froze you in place nonetheless. You figured a knife to the heart might hurt less.

Jenna walked away from you, smiling and waving to the cameras whilst you strived to not make the headlines as the actress who cried at the Golden Globes for apparently no reason.

So you were right in the end, she saw you as nothing but a nuisance.

—

There was a team waiting to help her get rid of the makeup and glam if she so wanted, but Jenna sent them away.

After such an event, there was nothing she desired more than peace.

Jenna's steps were slow and dragged as she made her way inside her hotel room, still holding onto her long dress, though with much less care than she did in front of the cameras. Part of it is always an act.

She ran a hand through her hair, messing up the previously perfectly styled waves with a sigh.

The shower had been long awaited and she almost napped on the bathtub; not really bothering to meticulously clean up the makeup, leaving a few smudges of eyeshadow here and there — that could be a problem for tomorrow.

And there was nothing more blissful than putting on sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

Her life has been nothing short of hectic ever since starting the filming for Wednesday, so Jenna enjoyed 200% every little time to relax that she had. Though today, she was restless, something had a tight hold on her chest and she couldn't pinpoint what.

She tossed and turned on her bed, unable to sleep even if she was exhausted and she wasn't sure why insomnia decided to kick in now.

That is, until she took her cell phone and a few clips of the event started popping up on the internet, and she caught sight of a picture where, in the background, she could be seen talking with you.

Oh.

That's where this hollowness is coming from.

The bedroom was quiet, the only things she could hear if she strained her ears were the cars way down on the road outside and the faint drizzle that started falling.

It was so quiet, so calm, that for the first time, Jenna felt it. She felt the weight of the past months downing on her.

Jenna had been running on autopilot, so much so, that she became numb to a few of her own emotions. And maybe a few people too.

There was a sudden lump in her throat. Jenna sat up quickly on her bed, clawing at her chest because she couldn't breathe. She mumbled curses under her breath, vision instantly getting blurred as tears collected on the bottom lid of her eyes.

If this wasn't a panic attack, it was something very close to it.

Jenna scrambled for her phone and hastily typed your number on it, shaky fingers bringing the device to her ears.

She held onto her breath when the line started ringing; and when it rang for the last time, she was already sobbing.

"No, no, no," she stumbled out, trying again, "please pick up, please," the pleas fell out of her mouth with broken syllables.

Distantly, she knew she had it coming, she hadn't been fair with you, or with herself. You were Jenna's weakest point, if she had allowed herself to miss you, she'd drop everything to go back. So she bottled up the feeling.

But sooner or later, it would surface, and it hurts more than she thought it would — because maybe her decision had cost her you.

Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, with tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin — she felt alone, so excruciatingly alone.

Jenna didn't sleep that night.

—

For the months that followed, Jenna tried calling you multiple times.

You never answered.

—

It didn't take long for Wednesday to be renewed for season two. It also didn't take long for filming to start.

Jenna saw herself going back to staying in a foreign country for months in what felt like no time at all. But this time around she knew what to expect, how to prepare herself for it.

Or that's what she had hoped, because when she stepped foot on set, she was greeted with the sight of none other than you. You who was animatedly talking with Emma as you held a few papers in your hands; a script, Jenna presumed. A script that had Wednesday written on its cover.

Jenna halted on her steps immediately, sneakers scratching against the floor; the grip she had on her backpack tightening significantly. No amount of internal pep talks could ever prepare her for this.

Next thing she knew, Emma had caught sight of her and was walking in her direction with you hot on her tail. Jenna felt like curling into a ball to try and disappear — not because she didn't want to see you, but because of what she did last time it happened. Part of her knows she won't be able to face your rejection without breaking.

"Jenna, you're finally here," Emma pulled her friend into a hug. Jenna held her back promptly, grateful to have something to momentarily hold on to.

"Yeah," she breathed, "it was a- a long flight." She couldn't help the way her eyes darted to you. And you were so… blank, emotionless.

"Have you met our new cast member? This is Y/n." Emma happily gestured to you, taking a step back so Jenna could properly see you.

There was a heaviness in the air, more than a year's worth of bottled-up feelings just hanging on by a thin thread. Jenna gulped back the lump forming in her throat. It was longing and hurt and guilt altogether.

She had never felt this. Missing someone to the point of feeling like your chest is being ripped open, as if they're on the other side of the world even if, in reality, they're right in front of you — just a few inches forward and she'd touch you. Yet it feels impossible.

"Hi," was all Jenna could utter.

You nodded once, with a clenched jaw and crossed arms, "hi Jenna."

—

You were avoiding her.

And it was nothing short of torture.

You were avoiding Jenna, as much as two people who work together can avoid each other, but still, you were doing a terrific job. Jenna only caught glimpses of you when it was absolutely necessary.

She had this hole in her chest; it made her restless and anxious. It's been only a week and Jenna already feels like she can't take it anymore. She knows it's affecting her work; she's not able to focus the way she did before, she finds herself zoning out whilst looking at doorways and waiting for you to walk in — most of the time you never do.

Right now, Jenna is sitting in front of a mirror as she gets her hair done for the day. She arrived a little late today, her sleepless nights finally catching up to her right on a Tuesday morning.

The distant smell of hair spray still hung in the air, the bright lights around the mirror still hurt her sleepy eyes so she keeps them closed, enjoying the feeling of the hairdresser doing her braids. She paid no mind when she heard the door opening or when the chair beside hers creaked. Only opening her eyes when your voice greeted the other people in the room.

Jenna didn't dare breathe. She looked at you through the mirror, your gazes meeting for half a second before you averted yours.

Was it too bad that she already kinda felt like crying?

There was this painful tug on her heart whenever Jenna did see you. It felt like remembering all of your good memories all at once — and they mocked her, told her she'd never have anything like it again.

Distance is a strange concept. She feels no closer to you now than when you actually were on opposite sides of the world.

If she missed you any harder, her heart might leap out of her chest and right into your hands.

You're looking everywhere except at her. It's almost bittersweet that Jenna can tell exactly just how nervous you are. Fidgeting on your seat, tapping your knee.

For a moment she wants to reach out and hold your hand, it used to calm you down, ground you.

She doesn't. Instead, she asks; "have you been enjoying the filming so far?" The words tasted strange on her tongue. Like they're all wrong and it's not what she should be saying to you when there's a ten-foot wall between you and her.

You hesitated, as if wondering if she was really talking to you. "Uh yeah, it's been a great experience so far," you said eventually, choosing to glance up at her through the mirror instead of turning your head to actually meet her gaze.

Jenna smiled, just a soft tilt of her lips.

Every minute that you weren't hers was a minute of pure agony.

And it was hardly the proper place for it, but with not knowing when she'd have the opportunity to speak with you again, Jenna took in a deep breath, and tried; "look, I- I've been meaning to apologi-"

"Not now, Jenna," you cut her off pretty quickly, drawing the attention of the few hairdressers around you. You cleared your throat; "we can talk about this later."

—

Ultimately, there was no 'later'. Jenna couldn't get a moment alone with you after that, and you made no effort either.

But when you love someone enough, you tend to make a few reckless decisions.

Jenna was staying in the same hotel as you, just a few doors away from yours, and she was a good actress.

It was late at night when you unlocked the door of your hotel room. You turned on the lights and instantly jumped back, almost tripping on your own feet; your soul leaving your body for a second.

"What the hell," you mumbled, with a hand over your erratic heart.

Jenna raised her hands and took a step back, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just me."

"How-" you gestured towards her, taking your backpack off your shoulder as the door clicked close behind you, "why-"

"Security let me in… I convinced them," she explained, a faint blush tainting her freckled cheeks as she felt strangely self-conscious under your gaze.

The hotel room wasn't big, quaint with its industrial-styled decorations and orange lighting; but with just the two of you occupying the space, it felt all kinds of intimate.

You scoffed, walking past her and to the bedroom without a second glance, "so much for security."

It hurt, way more than Jenna would care to admit. But part of her knew she brought it on herself. She followed after you, burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie to hide the slight tremble of her fingers.

Your bedroom was even plainer than the main rooms. All your belongings are pushed to one side and filled only the lonely dresser by the ensuite bathroom door. It reminded Jenna of her own room.

She lazily brought her gaze back to you, her stomach twisting unpleasantly with apprehension; "I just wanted to talk."

Jenna's voice was small, uncharacteristically so, tugging at your heartstrings with each syllable.

This was just Jenna. No actress. No star. Just your Jenna.

You almost gave in right then and there.

But you had your back to her, fidgeting with the zipper on your bag to keep yourself busy. Her presence, her perfume, it filled the whole room, "now you want to talk?"

"I know, I was an- an awful friend to you," Jenna started, unable to stay still on her stance, "I know I should've called more and I'm so-" a sob broke through her voice, you were nothing but a blur in front of her.

"I'm so sorry for what I said," it was nothing but a whisper, said while Jenna hugged herself tightly, chasing some semblance of comfort that wasn't there. Her sudden vulnerability startled you.

You heard it loud and clear, it brought tears to your own eyes, even if you had promised you wouldn't cry anymore.

"That I was just something you had to deal with?" You finally turned to look at her then, and you strived to keep yourself impassive, because Jenna was far from okay.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears that were just a blink away from spilling over. She looked so small in the spacious room. "That's not true. Not what I meant."

"Well, that's what it felt like, okay?" Your months of hurting escaped you, "so I'm sorry I kept my promise and I'm sorry it crowded you but you-" you took in a shaky breath to steady yourself, glancing up at the ceiling then back at her, "you meant a lot to me, Jenna…"

It was all it took for Jenna to break, because she saw herself being back in that airport with your hands holding onto her so tightly — and she missed you, so unbelievably much. She could taste her own tears on her lips, the grip she had on herself was almost bruising as soft sobs shook her body; "You mean everything to me, you have to know that. And losing you…" she hesitated, as if fearing that saying the words out loud made them true, her lower lip wobbling, "there's nothing I regret more."

You almost didn't catch her words given the unsteadiness of her voice. It was too much for you and your bleeding heart. You couldn't physically bear to stay one second more away from her.

You walked closer slowly, tentatively, until you were able to embrace her to you.

Jenna buried herself into you, her tears soaking your shirt as you practically held most of her weight all on your own. She held you so strongly you almost had trouble breathing.

For a moment it was all that was needed, you and her holding what was left of each other together.

"I never meant for it to happen," Jenna whispered against you, damp lips grazing the skin on your shoulder, "I never- I was in a bad place and, after the f-filming for Wednesday wrapped up I got called for so many other things I didn't even have time to breathe." She curled herself onto you, her grip only tightening as if trying to merge you into her so you'd never part ways again.

You ran your hand up and down her back, leaving goosebumps on her skin and feeling your own tears trickling down your cheeks. There's no putting into words how much you're able to miss someone until you're holding them again. Until you can finally come home to each other.

For the first time in more than a year, you could breathe.

"I'm so tired," Jenna's small voice came again, tender, right beside your ear, "everything was so overwhelming, I- I felt so alone," she nuzzled her nose against your neck, and you wondered for a moment how long it's been since she allowed herself to receive any kind of comfort.

A beat passed until you were able to find your voice again, a little hoarse and unsteady; "you could've told me, I would've been there, Jenna. You know I would've done anything and more to help you."

With a sniff, Jenna finally pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, "I know," she pursed her lips, one hand coming up to brush at her cheek, damp with tear tracks — testimonies of her wounded heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

With your silence, Jenna kept going, if anything, out of desperation; "I'm so sorry, please I- you must know I never meant for it to go like that."

Teardrops clung to her eyelashes too, eyes shining brightly under the dim lights of the bedroom and her nose a little red. Oh, how you missed her.

You gently raised your hands to her cheeks, your thumbs brushing away a few tiny tears that still escaped her. "It's okay," you breathed.

"Please don't leave me," she mumbled, a soft sob cutting through.

"Not leaving," you promised, leaning up to kiss her forehead, "I'd never leave you."

When her eyes found yours again, Jenna stumbled forward out of instinct, her nose bumping yours.

You closed the gap with the encouragement you knew she needed, "you know I'm never capable of staying mad at you for too long," you chuckled, your lips grazing hers. You were home.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Jenna’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @aahdiieb @mindingmybidness12 @melthedwarf @smugchorizo @the-lazy-turtle @vorsdany @jjsmaybank20 @wol-fica @v1ci0us

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna x reader #my story

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youremyheaven · 18 days

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The Strictness of Saturn: Giga Chads, Scammers & Spiritual Gurus

Lately, I have been contemplating the energies of Saturn and how it manifests in men and it brought me to the realization that Saturnian men are the type of men that other men idolize and look up to. There are always certain male celebrities that other men fawn over but women dgaf about and they usually tend to be Saturnian as well. Why do men worship Saturnian men? For starters, the world we live is a deeply Saturnian one, with law and order, systems and regulations and structure. The general narrative is that in order to be successful in life, you have to "hustle and grind" and work hard and that you'll be rewarded for it. This is essentially the theme of Saturn. Saturn is also a masculine planet and a malefic. We live in a capitalist society where the working culture is designed with men in mind. Be it the 9 to 5 or the culture of conquest and domination (in business, politics, colonization etc) are all aggressively yang. You do all of it to make more profit to buy/accumulate more stuff, this is a deeply patriarchal worldview because yang energy is one that is fixated on "accumulation". Therefore to thrive in this world, its important to have a strong Saturn and the kind of people who thrive in this set up, aka men, look up to and admire other men who exemplify such Saturnian qualities.

I'm going to start with the most notorious example of this Saturn worship by men

Andrew Tate, Anuradha Sun & Moon

Tate's brand of hyper-toxic masculinity and his "hustler university" is so wildly misogynistic it's insane. Yet it appeals to many men.

In one video, Tate describes how he would deal with a woman who accused him of cheating: “It’s bang out the machete, boom in her face and grip her by the neck. Shut up bitch.” He’s argued that women are a man’s property, shouldn’t drive, and shouldn’t leave the home if they’re in a relationship. He claims only to date 18 and 19 year olds as it’s easier to “imprint” on them, and in a now deleted YouTube video, Tate claimed that “about 40 per cent” of the reason he moved to Romania is that he believed police in Eastern Europe would be less likely to pursue rape allegations.

Tate seems to represent the lifestyle that most men dream of (wealthy) and he presents himself as ultra masculine/alpha like which is every man's dream but the thing is extreme behaviour of any sort comes across like that person is overcompensating for something.

Machoism and machismo are what men use to signal to other men that they're not to be messed with. Its a very primitive display of behaviour that probably goes back to the cave men era where men had to rely on physical strength and brute force to survive. But no man who is actually secure in himself will feel the need to aggressively display his "masculinity" by spewing absolutely vile hateful nonsense against women or other people. Toxic masculinity is rooted in narcissism and self centeredness; these men want to be the best among men (more rich, more powerful, get more girls etc). Its a gross by product of male insecurity because truth be told men grossly overestimate the standards women have for their romantic partners.

they seem to have a scarcity mindset about how no women would want to be with a deadbeat ugly loser (i mean, duh) but believing that every single woman would only date 6’4” dudes with 12 abs and rolexes isn't true either. majority of heterosexual relationships feature a gorgeous girl with a guy who looks like a gnome. many women date absolutely hideous men who are broke just because they have sweet personalities and are nice to be around.

but male insecurity leads to incel behaviour because they believe that the reason women dont go for them is because they're ugly or broke when usually the reason women dont go for them is because theyre an asshole. by blaming women for not sleeping with them or dating them, they get to conveniently shift attention from the fact that they have absolutely nothing to offer and also, women dont owe charity sex to lame, rude, broke, ugly men?

men underestimate just how much personality matters. and by pretending that being the "alpha" will get them women, they're feeding their own masculine egos because women literally just want a guy who is sweet, texts them back regularly, listens to them and isn't a complete asshole. you never hear a woman talk about being into "alphas". its literally just a male fantasy that is completely severed from what real people are like or what real people want. its like how men believe the "Cool Girl" exists, they write female characters to be quirky, nerdy but above all hot and constantly feeding their male ego, they also write male characters to be macho, alpha, dominating other men and women because they want to be like these men.

anyways lol went off on a tangent (me with every post)

Saturn is considered a malefic not because of how it represents "karma" or "discipline" its because Saturn overdoes the strictness, commitment and discipline and "hard work" associated with it. You may work hard but you can't always tell if you're working hard enough or why your hard work isn't translating to results/rewards. That is the energy of Saturn. You overdo things and go beyond the extra mile. This may sound like a good thing because we live in a world that values these traits but it can manifest in many unpleasant ways bc pushing yourself that hard means risking burnout out and it's actually unhealthy to swing into such extremes? You can live a good life without living like a monk or a soldier which is what a lot of hustle/self-improvement coaches advocate for. This is a negative manifestation of Saturn; believing that deprivation, scarcity and harshness are the only way to get things done or that "tough love" is the answer.

Hunter Moore has a Saturn stellium (Mercury & Venus in UBP and Saturn in Anuradha)

He was a predecessor to Andrew Tate who posted intimate photos (some acquired through hacking, and many nonconsensually submitted) of women with their Facebook details on IsAnyoneUp.com (he's a convicted criminal)

He's an early example of a toxic masculine internet influencer who spewed misogyny and was worshiped by many dudebros.

Solar men may be Chads who just want to hang out with other men but they are NOT like these Saturnians. If we're going to think of Sun as the most masculine or "yang" planet, it also means they're masculine to the point of being almost feminine, if that makes sense? The qualities of preferring other male company, valuing male friendships and wishing to keep women at an arm's length (under the guise of "independence" or "non-attachment") are similar to behaviours shown by women described as a "girls girl". Solar people of either gender have a very welcoming, positive energy but they're often virtually sexless. (there are exceptions to everything ofc) but these are not people known for being highly sexually desirable. They're likable and have qualities/traits that make them "wanted" but Solar energy is too self-centered to be sexually appealing. Sun is the centre of our solar system, it's used to being the source of light and does not have the same need to achieve things the way Saturnians do for whom accomplishment has its origins in insecurity and the desire to overcompensate for what they lack. Solar ambition is rooted in their belief that they're the best and deserve to be at the top of the world and refusal to settle for anything less. Those are two very different approaches.

Tom Hardy, Uttaraphalguni Sun, Chitra Moon once said:

“A lot of people say I seem masculine, but I don’t feel it,” Hardy confessed. “I feel intrinsically feminine. I’d love to be one of the boys but I always felt a bit on the outside. Maybe my masculine qualities come from overcompensating because I’m not one of the boys.”

Tbh this could be a generalization but I feel like I have seldom seen Solar men present themselves as mega alpha hypermasculine figures. They are often perceived that way but they're not personally like that. They're more boyish, more youthful than aggressively "manly". They actually represent a more indulgent "frat boy" type of masculinity than the alpha male ideal presented by many Saturn men.

I'll cite some examples of famous men who are popular among men and not so much among women

Jason Momoa- Pushya Stellium (Sun, Mercury & Venus)

Men love to talk about him like he's a God or something because he represents the kind of masculinity that other men want to embody. 6'5 bulky beefcake build and has this uber-masculine personality.

Like all Saturnian men, he's also known for making crass, tasteless remarks like the time he said at ComicCon:

“But as far as sci-fi and fantasy, I love that genre because there are so many things you can do, like rip someone’s tongue out of their throat and get away with it and rape beautiful women"

In 2011 during an interview he said:

"Yeah, I’m raping Emilia [Clarke]” he said. “I love her, but I’m hurting her and she’s crying. We could have made it longer, but you get the idea. I’m not a rapist. I prefer my women to enjoy sex.”

All of these statements reek of the smug asshole Saturn alpha-chad vibes like he really thought he did something by saying it. You just know that he was saying it for other men to laugh to🤢🤮🤮

Saturnian men lack social grace and manners and are literal troglodytes

Sam Levinson- Pushya Moon

everything he has ever made is SO male gaze-y, be it Euphoria or The Idol. he literally makes torture porn and all his female characters are treated like shit with absolute shitheads written as the male protagonist

The Idol portrays an absolutely vile toxic relationship where the woman is literally treated like scum. He sidelined his female collaborator on The Idol and reworked the show to suit his shitty male gaze. The show Euphoria was also stolen from photographer Petra Collins' aesthetic. Here's what she said:

he's also just known for being an asshole in general. several female cast members on euphoria asked Sam if they could cut down on the nudity (first of all, i think making a highschool drama, casting grown adults and getting away with depicting gratuitous sex scenes is fucked up on its own)

Sydney Sweeney had said:

“There are moments where Cassie was supposed to be shirtless and I would tell Sam, ‘I don't really think that's necessary here,’” she told the Independent. “He was like, ‘OK, we don't need it.’”

Jason Statham- Pushya Sun, UBP Moon

Jason is another example of a man who is idolized by men. He's known for playing menacing tough guys in action movies who are sometimes complete psychopaths and has the brooding toxic violent masculinity that men get off to.

Tom Brady, UBP Moon

He is another male celebrity whom men fawn over.

Chris Evans, Anuradha Rising

Chris is arguably more popular among men than he is among women. He's too plain and boring to appeal to the female gaze truth be told.

DJ Khaled, Anuradha Sun conjunct Mercury (and Saturn in Pushya)

DJ Khaled is in general known for being an obnoxious, egotistical, pompous asshole further confirming the rumours about how self-obsessed, vain, downright delusional and mannerless Saturnian men are.

In 2014, DJ Khaled revealed in an interview that he never performs oral sex on women. The full quote goes like this:

"It's certain things I just don't do. I believe a woman should praise the man, the King." "If you holding it down for your woman, I feel like the woman should praise and the man should praise the Queen," he continued. "But, you know, my way of praising is called, 'How was dinner? You like the house you living in? You like all them clothes you getting? I'm taking care of your family, I'm taking care of my family"

When host Angela Yee asked Khaled if he "goes down" on his longtime girlfriend, he replied, "Nah, never. Nah, I can't do that. Hell nah...I can't do that. I don't do that."

Yee asked Khaled if he would be okay with his girlfriend not giving him oral sex, to which he said, "Nah, it's not okay. You gotta understand I'm the Don, I'm the King."

She told Khaled she doesn't think the double standard is fair. Khaled said, "It's different rules for men. You gotta understand, we the King. There are some things that you guys might not wanna do or wanna do. It gotta get done. I just can't do what you want me to do. I just can't," he added.

This literally sums up how Saturnian men see themselves versus how they see women.

Logan Paul, UBP Sun & Mercury

In 2017 Paul was accused of sexist behaviour with the release of his song "No Handlebars." The track, which samples 2008's "Handlebars" by Flobots, changes the original song's lyrics from "I can ride my bike with no handlebars," to "I can ride your girl with no handlebars." The video shows Paul mounting three women who have positioned themselves to act as a bicycle. This wasn't the first time Paul was accused of sexist behavior, famously releasing a now-deleted Vine with controversial Vine star Sam Pepper in which the pair lassoed women as a way of courting them.

In 2018, in one of the first videos back from his infamous post-Suicide Forest hiatus, Paul can be seen lifting a live koi fish out of water and moving it like a toy boat, as well as tasing dead rats.

In January 2023, fans were outraged when Paul's former pet pig, Pearl, was found abandoned and injured in a field by the nonprofit The Gentle Barn. In the past, he had put his Pomeranian in seemingly stressful situations for YouTube videos, like introducing him to an actual tiger and putting him in a bucket to zipline him off the roof.

In fact, animal abuse/cruelty seems to be a recurring theme with many Saturnians, both men and women. I think so many Saturnians are notorious for abusing animals because their desire for domination and control manifests most through people who cannot fight back. Obviously being abusive to women and expressing desire to subjugate them is another extension of this Saturnian tendency but it is very telling how a Saturnian can and will dominate, control and abuse absolutely every living being they come across.

many years ago, Kim Kardashian, UBP Moon went viral for holding a cat like a toy and many people said it was abusive behaviour

Kristi Noem, Anuradha Sun, Ketu in Pushya

She recently came under fire for revealing in her memoir how she shot and killed her dog who was difficult to train along with her goat who she hated? Idk how callous you have to be to describe in detail (her exact words and excerpts from the book are available online, I dont feel like repeating it here) how you murdered your pets?? idk how insane you have to be to even publicly admit something like that??

Paris Hilton- Pushya Moon conjunct Rahu

Paris is notorious for how she prefers teacup sized dogs and for anybody who does not know, when animals are specially bred to be an unnaturally small size (bc people think small dogs are "cute") they really struggle with their health a lot bc their bodies are too small to hold all their organs and they struggle with respiratory issues along with being more susceptible to diseases and having weaker immunity. Breeding dogs is absolutely inhumane and cruel. imagine saying you want a cute tiny dog when being that small means that dog lives a much shorter life and a much more arduous one as well?

But Paris isn't just guilty of this but is notorious for neglecting her pets. Los Angeles Animal Services finally interfered after rumours that staff had found a dead puppy in one of Paris’ closets. This was one of Paris’ ways of handling dogs when she got annoyed: lock them away in a different area of the house and then forget about them.

After her documentary came about, many have also accused Paris of being a neglectful mother. Her own sister, Nicky Hilton once said that Paris was too selfish to be a mother and unfortunately 😬it sort of looks like its true? Paris basically left her newborn baby with his nannies and complained about having to "work a lot" when the truth is she's a multimillionaire who can afford to take time off to bond with her newborn?? she treats her babies like props to pose with. if you watch the show you'll know what I mean. her whole attitude and demeanour made it seem like she did not gaf about her kid. She also very callously said she was doing egg retrieval over and over because she wanted a girl and kept getting boys?? idk what happened to the other embryos but its a bit icky to admit that you kind of have a designer baby? On the show, her son was supposed to get circumcised and she says she doesn’t want to be there because it’s too painful for her. How painful is it going to be for your baby?!

On the same show, she also said casually that five of her dogs got ate by coyotes on different occasions? and she cloned two of her deceased dogs??

Shane Dawson, Pushya Sun, Mars in UBP

Shane is a sociopathic asshole in general but in 2015 on a podcast, he, in very graphic detail, explained how he inserted his penis into his cat and then ejaculated onto it as well. His exact words were, "One time I laid my cat down on her back...I moved her little chicken legs spread open or whatever," "I came all over the cat. It was like my first sexual experience...I was also like 19." After this was brought back up in March 2019, he then tweeted saying “I didn’t fuck my cat. I didn’t cum on my cat. I didn’t put my dick anywhere near my cat. I’ve never done anything weird with my cats.” 🤮🤢🤮🤢

Mitt Romney, Anuradha Moon, Jupiter & Ketu

He infamously tied his pet dog in a kennel to the roof of his car for a cross-country trip.

Ted Bundy, Anuradha Sun

Serial killers usually abuse animals as children and there have been studies that link animal cruelty to future psychopathic behaviour. Ted used to abuse the neighbourhood dogs. He shot one neighbour's dog because according to him, the dog was an "evil force" that compelled him to kill. Bundy used to watch as his own father tortured animals.

Angelina Jolie, Pushya Rising

I used to suspect her of being Punarvasu Rising but I came across a 90s interview where she admits to abusing her pets which makes me think she is indeed Pushya Rising lol

"I had a dog and I ended up beating him, and he got sick and... I've hurt so many—I am just not a good animal person... I had a rabbit that died, too... a cage fell on him..."That happened when she was six. But then I had a hamster... I took him in the shower. He died of pneumonia. I had a bunch of little lizards. My friend left them in the sun, and I came back and they were just... my snake, I tried to kill."

Another thing I've noticed with Saturnian men is how they usually scam their way to the top? Deceit, duplicity, being a con artist and a scammer are also common among Saturnian men (Andrew Tate included). They have vv right wing views, especially regarding women and they're also entirely dishonest?

Lance Armstrong, Jupiter in Anuradha in 1h

He was stripped of his tour de france titles after it was revealed that he used performance-enhancing drugs and cheated on his doping tests??

Emily Ratajkowski, UBP Moon & Pushya Stellium (Venus, Mars & Jupiter)

Her bikini wear brand Inamorata has come under fire for not shipping any of their orders?? last year lol. Her brand has also been criticized for selling poor quality bikinis that are tacky and garish

Jennifer Lopez, Pushya Sun, Mercury & Rising

Apart from the fact that J Lo does not sing her own songs and has essentially scammed her way to the top, her numerous business ventures over the years including her Sephora skincare line, Kohl's clothing line etc have all been absolutely horrible, even her perfumes are apparently terrible lol

Anna Delvey has Jupiter & Ketu in Pushya

She is an infamous con artist and fraudster who posed as a wealthy heiress to access upper-class New York social and art scenes from 2013 to 2017.

Back to the theme of Saturnians being abusive, here are some more examples:

Colleen Ballinger, Anuradha Sun

She was accused of grooming her underage fans and being creepy to them and she responded to that with a ukulele song? Her ex-husband reacted to the weird apology saying "This behaviour was my reality anytime I spoke up & disagreed with her actions & rhetoric during 2009-2016. I was gaslit too. I was made to feel like I was always the problem. Any pain I felt was an inconvenience and was belittled. Every ounce of what you’re feeling, I understand."

As someone who used to watch them in the early 2010s (I feel super old) I know for a fact that Colleen was a major asshole to Josh (her ex husband) and always acted like, since she was more successful than him, she had the "upper hand". She's a toxic narcissist and I hated the way she treated all the people in her life like they're all her glorified assistants or something ugh

David Dobrik, Pushya Sun, Saturn in UBP

If you've watched any of his content, you do know that he uses people around him for "vlog content" and often does really crass, distasteful, offensive, weird, inappropriate shit to his friends for clout? he was rightfully accused of setting up the stage for one of his friends to sexually abuse a minor

Russell Brand, UBP Moon

He has been accused or rape, sexual assault and emotional abuse by 4 women

He's like the spiritual hippie avatar of a toxic alpha chad and he used to be heavily involved in the Ra Ma Yoga place that was essentially a cult

Haile Selassie, Anuradha Moon

This is a more extreme example of men (and women) worshipping a Saturn man, in this case quite literally. Haile Selassie was the emperor of Ethiopia. In the 1930s when he initially became emperor, Rastafarianism emerged in Jamaica and Rastafaris believed that Haile was the second coming of Christ and is perceived as a prophet.

Sri Sathya Sai Baba, Anuradha Stellium (Sun, Mercury, Venus & Saturn)

Sai Baba was a guru who was revered by his followers and literally thought of as God. however, he was embroiled in several scandals in his lifetime including child molestation. Its really hard to dig up info about Indian gurus because they started doing their stuff in the pre-internet era and because its really easy to get away with virtually any kind of abuse under the guise of religion and spirituality in India.

Another guru with major Saturnian energy was Anandamayi Ma who had UBP Rising.

There will be a part 2, where I'll explore more about Saturnian energies and how it manifests in women etc<3 But I hope this post was interesting <3

#saturn #anuradha #uttara bhadrapada #pushya #vedic astro notes #astrology notes #sidereal astrology #nakshatras #astrology #astroblr #astro notes #vedic astrology #astro observations #astrology observations

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months

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The Bolter (part two)

Steve Rogers x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve tries to settle into his life in the 50s, and we get a glimpse of the days when Steve and the reader were getting to know each other post Civil War.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Steve beginning to regret his decision (he just won't admit it yet), the NSFW stuff won't happen until after a whiiiile, this is a slow burn (y'all can blame Steve!!)

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

The 1950s, one month after Steve's arrival

Peggy knows about you. It doesn't take her long to figure it out. What started out as the mystery figure her partner seems to be so wistful over - as time passes, the idea of you becomes stronger.

It takes shape, like you are not just a memory to be gotten over.

You're there, in their very walls, but you're not. Of all the people Steve left behind, your shadow looms the strongest over him.

"She must have been special, Steve. She sounded like a very dear friend," Peggy expresses, one morning over breakfast when they were going through the people in Steve's future.

Past, to be more apt. All those people are no longer going to be a part of Steve's days. You no longer will be.

He thought he would be fine with it all, treating it like the end of a book. This is his fresh start with Peggy, a chance to simply live his life without constant threat of impending doom.

That apple pie, white picket fence, American dream. He wants to have a son and a daughter. Maybe he'll even name them after you and James.

The two most important people in his life then, reflected in the children whom will be his reason for existence.

Everything should be just perfect.

So why isn't it?

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2017, eight months after the Avengers' Civil War

Being on the run was brutal, but familiar.

A year ago, you were made to choose between the two sides in the Sokovia accords, after your old friend Natasha pulled you out of your over extended holiday.

She wanted you to join her side, Tony's side. They could use all the help they can get to fight Captain America who apparently had gone rogue.

Little did she know that you would end up fighting with him instead, after you found out what his motivations were.

After the war, yourself and all those who acted against the accords were branded enemies of the state. Incidentally, this included Nat, who also had a change of heart.

Captain America - Steve - broke you out of a maximum security prison, and you all branched out in different parts of the world to go into hiding.

At first, you and Nat went to her safehouse in Budapest. Then to one of your apartments in Malta. Eventually, you had to separate to keep the trail cold, and to confuse anyone at your tail.

Which is how you ended up in some remote cabin in Alaska with none other than Steve himself.

And you got to know each other really well.

He was closed off at first, maintaining a sense of cordiality that must come as second nature to him. It was evident that the Civil War took a toll on him. He had an anger, a resentment about him that wasn't there when you first came across him in Romania. When you decided to cross over and aid in his cause.

For the first few weeks, he kept his distance, merely keeping up with what's required of a fellow lodger on the run. He made sure there was hot coffee left for you when he brewed a fresh batch. He was always quiet in his room across the hall. He would say his polite good mornings, his how are yous, before taking his daily walk in the woods, scouting the area for any potential anomalies.

It took a while before he stopped being just Captain America in your eyes, but inevitably, you grew to know Steve Rogers.

And you came to fall in love with him. But you didn't admit this until much, much later.

You're not sure which one of you broke first, but eventually the polite, little greetings turned into breakfast conversations, eventually incorporating comfortable inside jokes.

You discovered that he had a myriad of questions about your chosen life, how you ended up working for The Agency. Much like the Red Room but without any ties to a particular government, The Agency specialized in producing highly-skilled individuals when it comes to combat and covert operations.

For a while, it was your MO to make sure that the widows were unsuccessful in their missions which involved civilian casualties. So you first encountered Nat when the Red Room gave her the task to take you out, but you were too wily and evaded her at every turn.

At some point, and to both yours and her surprise, you actually ended up becoming friends.

You could tell that Steve was holding back in commenting on your choice of profession, but he wasn't really in any position to judge - America's former poster boy turned into their number one fugitive. He wanted to suggest that perhaps there was a better life out there suited for you, one that didn't require you to constantly look behind your shoulder.

But how could he? You were there because of him. In a way, his rebellion pulled you out of your momentary pocket of paradise.

You told him you had retired before Nat called you in, but of course that wouldn't have lasted long. One way or another, you always found yourself back in.

Like you were craving it, almost. Or because you had nothing else but this life. This was your normal.

"What do you think it would look like, if you actually had a shot at normal?" he asked, the glowing embers of the fireplace dancing shadows across his face.

You observed him, and you couldn't help but note how impossibly good he still looked even with his facial hair unkempt and grown out. "What I think it would really look like, or what I would want it to be?"

The corner of his lips raise at your statement. You were right. For both you and him, what you want is almost never what you can get. "Either way," he shrugged.

"Well," you paused. You knew you were stalling, but you didn't really know what to say. "I guess... there was a time when I used to want the normal life. You know - a partner, kids, a lakeside house with a nice backyard, maybe a dog."

"What kind of dog?" he asked suddenly, distracting you.

"Oh, uhm, I like German Shepherds."

He smiled, "I like them too."

That one remark was enough to make your imagination run wild. He likes them too, he said. What must it be like to be with Steve, to live in a lakeside house with him? Enough, you quickly reminded yourself, stop before you get hurt.

You must have been staring at him then, because he casted a gentle glance at you, saying, "Keep going."

You found yourself continuing with more ease, "I never really had a whole family. Only lived with my parents for a time, didn't have any siblings. So when - if, and that's a big if - I do have kids, I'd want more than one. So they would always have each other, you see."

When you looked back at him, his blue eyes were arresting, almost like they're boring right into you. Captain America is trying to get a good read on you, and you feel like you're laid bare before him. But it's not a discomforting feeling.

Maybe it's just the effect Steve has on people. Or maybe it's you. You weren't ready to accept just how much you already took a liking to the Captain America. You just knew - it would not end well.

These things never do.

But then he said, "When you do manage to have all of that, will you send me a postcard? Let me know how you are?"

Your smile widened at his sincerity. He wasn't just playing along, indulging in what you think are just delusions. He actually meant it. "Steve, you'll always be welcome at our lakeside house, you know."

"Our?" he smirked.

"Yeah, well," you leaned back at his implication, but his expression is enough to warm you all over. "I... I meant, mine and my partner's or... mine and my dog's, I don't really know - "

He laughed lowly, the sound hearty and deep in his chest. "I understand what you mean," he said, before adding, "although, I definitely wouldn't mind sharing a lakeside house with you."

"And my dog," you added jokingly, but your pulse had already quickened.

He nodded, but he wasn't finished. "Could be my dog, too." You don't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that he didn't say, and our kids. Grateful, you decided. It had to be that. You were getting too ahead of yourself.

You agreed, playing along, "As long as I get to name him."

"Of course, doll."

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The 1950s, two months after Steve's arrival

Steve decides that he would get a dog.

It's about time, he believes. He's always wanted to do so anyway, and what better time than now, when he is settled in a good home base with a lot of backyard space for the dog to roam around.

He wants to get a German Shepherd, and it's fine, because Peggy does not really have a preference.

It is the evening before he is scheduled to visit the animal shelter, when Peggy asks him if he has decided on a name for the dog.

He startles at that, looking up from his plate. He barely registers her hand that has been caressing his own throughout dinner. Steve, being Steve, immediately feels ashamed at how he doesn't seem to be present and appreciating the moment.

"Have you thought of a name?" Peggy tries again.

A name, he ponders. No, he always thought he would leave it up to you.

"I'll figure it out," he says after a while, taking Peggy's hand and bringing it to his lips.

Everything will be perfect.

Read part three here.

taglist: @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan

caution: this is will be the slowest burn, and even MORE angsty when things come to a head.

the next chapter will be from the reader's POV and how she's coping...

Are all of these dog shenanigans alluding to how the reader will walk Stevie boy like a dog??? *evil, maniacal laugh*

Taglist still open!

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #chris evans #the avengers #captain america #mcu #the bolter

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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months

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The Weasleys Aren't Great Parents...

I know a lot here love to talk about how the Weasleys were so good to take Harry in and all that... But the truth is, the parenting skills of Molly and Arthur Weasley are questionable at best.

I'm not saying they don't love their kids and Harry — they do, and they do so honestly. I'm just here to say they aren't actually a good example of parenting.

Like, when fans talk about the Weasleys what I usually see is either treating them like they are a perfect example of a family or unfair bashing. So, while I definitely believe that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love their kids, this post showcases where their parenting skills are lacking...

So, the Weasleys, to Harry, seem like the perfect example of a happy, loving family. Now, I'm not saying there isn't love there, but the family dynamics we see aren't great, to put it lightly. Harry just has no reference for anything better.

Children Running Away

The first thing I want to mention here is that all Weasley children leave the Burrow and their parents the first chance they get.

Bill goes to work for Gringotts in Egypt.

Charlie goes to tame dragons in Romania.

Percy, well, Percy is a whole can of worms right there. But once his parents shun him for being more successful than his father in the ministry, he doesn't look back.

Fred and George leave Hogwarts in the middle of their seventh year and move out of home then, before their even done with school.

I don't think that's normal. This is what we see in houses where there is mistreatment of children, so they don't want to stay any moment longer than necessary. Because all of this, what all of them did, was running away from home.

Each of these Weasleys was seventeen — maybe eighteen when he chose to leave (sometimes the country). This is running away, even if they still talk to their parents, they did rub away from living under the same roof.

This already suggests to me something unhealthy is going on there.

favoritism

Any child psychologist would tell you one of the worst things a parent could do is pick favorites amongst their children. All children, favored or not, suffer from it.

And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.... well, they showcase favoritism constantly, here is an example from Order of the Phoenix:

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” said George, smirking. “Match his what?” said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.” Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?” Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” “What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 163)

Molly is so glad to have prefects in the family, that she actually ignores the fact Fred and George aren't prefects and are her kids. George actually calls her out on it, except she isn't actually listening to him l. No, she pushes him aside. This treatment is insane, and I don't blame them for up and leaving the moment they turned seventeen.

This favoritism is seen more, this is from Chamber of Secrets:

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred. “YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —” It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 38)

Prefect Percy is better than Fred and George and they should learn from him and be more like him, according to Mrs. Weasley. This sort of comparison between children is really harmful to their development and is frowned upon by most. Definitely by me.

Not to mention how Harry is definitely a favorite of hers, so much so he does not get shouted at for the same crime, but get's food. That is honestly the bare minimum she can do for him considering...

Harry's Abuse

The Weasleys are aware of Harry's abuse. They are made aware of it time and time again, and with all their love for Harry — they do nothing more than give him food when he asks. I don't think I need to explain why this is terrible.

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. “It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.“They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

George here outright tells her Harry was being starved — this goes ignored. When Harry writes to her to send him food, she sends it, but doesn't ask him why he isn't being fed:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

No, she sent him food but didn't bother doing anything to help a child out of a clearly abusive situation. Not even asking why he isn't getting enough food.

Arthur Weasley isn't any better. He knows just as much as Molly and even met Harry's pleasant relatives:

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 48)

He acts as if the Dursleys are normal. As if a child saying their caretakers wouldn't care he wasn't there isn't cause for alarm. No, Arthur Weasley just thought it impolite and odd, but not enough to actually do something to help Harry. Just annoy Uncle Vernon.

Blaming Kids For Things Not Their Fault

“You?” she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs and replacing it in front of her. “Why should I be worried about you?” “When Mum’s next letter finally gets through Umbridge’s screening process,” said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, “I’m going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent a Howler again.” “But —” “It’ll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,” said Ron darkly. “She’ll say I should’ve stopped them leaving, I should’ve grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it’ll be all my fault. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 679)

After Fred and George leave Hogwarts, Ron tells Hermione she should worry about him because he would suffer their mother's ire. He speaks about it as if it's a regular occurrence. Like he regularly gets blamed for Feed and George's mishaps when the twins aren't there.

This is incredibly unfair to Ron, Fred, and George. There is no reason Ron should fear his parent's response for something he had no control over.

Conclusions

As I stated above, I don't think Arthur and Molly Weasley are abusive or neglectful or that they don't love their kids. They are far from perfect, loving, and dotting parents I see them sometimes portrayed as. Neither are they as awful as I sometimes see them. Like many characters in this series, they are more complex than that.

#harry potter #harry potter theory #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hp theory #overthinking #wizarding world #harry potter analysis #molly weasley #arthur weasley #the weasleys #the weasly twins #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #percy weasley

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iri-2 · 6 months

Text

I Love You Like That

Rating: Not Rated Category: F/F Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Mother Miranda/Reader Characters: Mother Miranda, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, Eva

Summary: As a scientist in The Connections, you and Miranda work together in a laboratory. Over time, you develop feelings for this somewhat harsh but seemingly vulnerable woman. One day, she "takes" you to her hometown.

You find yourself falling for Miranda.

A few months ago, she was just a somewhat sharp-tongued colleague who had recently joined. You don't know why you are attracted to her and trap so deeply.

"I think I might have some feelings for you, Miranda." Your fingers tightly gripping the edge of the notepad.

Miranda's scalpel pauses on the corpse. "Why?"

Why?

How would you know? Most of the time, she doesn't seem that friendly towards you. Until recently.

"Lab romances aren't a good idea. Shouldn’t we just focus on researching the combination of the E-type fungus and cadou?" Miranda rejects you directly.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you, you’re too cold to everything." you mutter, the tip of the pen you're holding trembling on the experiment log, leaving messy ink stains.

Several months ago, the leader of The Connections suddenly announced with excitement that they had found a scientist to join the project you were working on.

As the team's most outstanding researcher, you were assigned to the same laboratory as this scientist, in Romania.

Passing through the purification facility at the entrance, you enter the room. You see a woman already dressed in full lab attire, examining a small piece of tissue under a microscope.

"So, you're THE best researcher? You're here REALLY early," the dark-haired woman says.

"You must be Dr. Miranda? I firmly believe that I arrived on time." You try to ignore the unfriendly sharpness in her tone. This new scientist seems to have no understanding of interpersonal communication.

"In my sense of time, you are late." She doesn't lift her head from the eyepiece.

That’s quite rude.

"Okay, first, you’re new. Second, I’m on time. Third, I hope we can get along well at work," you put on your lab coat.

She takes off the slide and finally wants to take a look at you. "That'll take a while."

… For the sake of the experiment's progress, you silently endure her occasional criticism.

She’s mean all the time. She even uses you as her assistant, handing you the used experimental equipment for cleaning.

"For a hundred times, I'm NOT your assistant! I’m a scientist as you." You can't bear it anymore.

She shrugs her shoulders and remains silent.

… One day, she directs her accusations at you again.

"Did you touch my culture dish?" Miranda accuses you without any evidence.

"Why would I touch your culture dish?" you respond, feeling puzzled.

"It's just the two of us here. If it's not me, it must be you. No one else can come in."

"So, you blame me when your experiment doesn't go well?" You're annoyed.

Every time she starts an experiment with anticipation, but after a failure, she becomes unusually desperate.

Her blue eyes dim a bit, and the wrinkles at the corners deepen.

"Sorry." You hear her say the word for the first time.

She looks vulnerable. She has never revealed to you the purpose of her research. However. every time the experiment fails, the gloom in her eyes deepens a bit. She doesn't seem to have only seen biochemical experiments when she looks at the tissues and cells. When the experiment fails, she seems to have lost her most precious thing.

"It's okay," your anger subsides slightly.

In the next few days, Miranda's accusations against you seem to decrease. Once, while testing the biological activity of one kind of cadou, you were about to cut a small piece when Miranda suddenly stopped the next move of your scalpel.

"Put this on." She hands you safety goggles.

You put on the goggles, and soon you understand why.

This type of cadou sprays green slime when stimulated, splattering on your goggles and mask, and it smells awful.

"Well, thanks, Miranda."

"No problem." Miranda says gently.

In the following weeks, she finally treats you completely as a colleague. Sometimes she will leave some very clean culture dishes and test tubes by your side. Once she suddenly appears behind you, tidying up the collar of the lab suit you hastily put on in the morning, and then goes to do her experiment as if nothing has happened.

You have become accustomed to her harshness towards you, and recently her tenderness and concern for you have made you start to worry about her situation. What makes this woman who always uses ridicule and condescension to communicate with others like this? And what makes her depart from her normal behavior?

Sometimes when you observe your chemical reaction, you feel someone looking at you from behind. When you turn around, you only see Miranda writing the experimental report seriously.

… You shouldn't have started caring about her. This has kept your gaze on her for too long, so long that you realize you have fallen in love with her.

But out of professionalism - or more importantly, you still think Miranda will treat you with her cold attitude, just like she has built a defense line in her heart, making your heart break, so you just hold your feelings.

… Six months later, when you place the cells you cultivated under the microscope, you witness unprecedented success.

"Miranda! Come here!" you wave for Miranda to come over.

She observes the cell activity under the microscope.

"These are cells I cultivated with an entirely new serum," you say with joy in your tone.

"Eva…" Miranda murmurs.

"Our project has finally made a breakthrough." You write something in your experiment log.

Miranda looks up, muscles twitching on her face, as if suppressing ecstasy. "You’re better than I thought."

"Let’s just pretend I didn't mention this," you place the notebook on the desk. You regret your impulsiveness. What were you thinking?

Miranda holds the equally cold surgical knife in her cold hand and hovers over the body for a while before continuing with the dissection.

Miranda doesn't speak much that day. At the end of the work, she takes off her lab uniform and speaks to you as if she has made up her mind, "I didn't tell you and most people about my research purpose because people would think I was crazy and that I just needed to find a psychologist,"she continues,"I want you to know my purpose."

"But this is a surprise, and you might not like it."she adds.

"Try me," as someone who has just been rejected, you speak weakly.

Miranda takes a step towards you, and you see her hand getting closer to you, then it lands on your face.

And then you plunge into darkness.

"Wake up, wake up." You hear Miranda calling your name.

"What?" You open your eyes and find yourself leaning on her.

She sees you awake, coughs awkwardly, straightens your body, and steps away from you.

"Is this your idea of a 'surprise'? The best I could think of was that you blindfolded me and took me somewhere, not something resembling a kidnapping." You're a bit annoyed and confused,"How did you make me faint that quick?"

"I did say you might not like it," Miranda avoids your question.

"Where did you bring me?" You glance around, it looks like a vineyard.

"My hometown," she replies.

Miranda guides you out of the vineyard and onto the road.

The houses around are very low, the highest looking like it has only two floors. Some houses have adjacent livestock sheds with pigs and chicks.

The villagers here wear clothes from the last century, some grinding flour, others rolling hay. They stop their activities in surprise when you pass by, and when they see Miranda beside you, surprise turns to fear. They quickly return to their work.

"Don't be surprised, they rarely see outsiders, so they react like that," Miranda calmly explains to you.

"But they seem scared of you," you turn to Miranda.

"Probably because I look different from usual. This village is conservative, and they're not used to new things," Miranda tries to explain.

What is she like usually? Does she wear the same clothes as the villagers? You rarely see Miranda in anything other than a lab coat, and today she wears a simple solid-color cardigan. You can't help but imagine Miranda wearing the villagers' clothes.

"Why don't they go to the outside world?" you mutter.

As you go further, people become scarce until you enter a field where there's no sign of villagers.

"We're here," Miranda leads you to a house.

This house is built against the mountainside, away from the village center.

She opens the door and enters with you. The furnishings inside the house match the vintage theme of the village.

"Is this where you live?" you ask.

"Yes, not used to it?" she gazes at you.

"I just didn't expect someone like you to be so unmodernized," you murmur.

"Come see my lab." She ignores your sarcasm.

"You also have a laboratory here?" The size of this house doesn't look like it can accommodate a laboratory.

She opens a door deep inside the house, leading to a bedroom.

"Well…?"

She goes to a corner and pulls down a switch.

There's a click, and the blank wall in front of you starts moving to the sides, revealing a laboratory still marked by the passage of time.

"I see. But why do you hide the lab?"When you think this woman is strange enough, she still has surprises waiting for you.

She gestures for you to enter her laboratory. A damaged wooden table is scattered with various books and a few black-and-white photos.

You see a photo of a dark haired woman holding a little baby. "Is this you?"

"Yes."You never see her this emotional before, her blue eyes slightly dimming.

"This child…"

"She was my daughter."Miranda's voice carries endless sorrow. "She died when she was ten."

"Oh, I’m sorry, Miranda." You look at her, your voice softens.

"That's why I'm researching the Megamycete; I want to bring Eva back." Miranda's hand holds your arm.

"That's why when your experiment failed, you were like a soul being pulled out of your body?" You feel the coldness of her hand. Has she always been this cold? "I believe you can succeed, our research is progressing well."

Her blue eyes have returned to their original state, looking at you with immense tenderness. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you." She seems to find it awkward to say such things. She lets go of your arm, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She appears so fragile.

"You know, you can tell me directly in our laboratory." You don't think she needs to use "kidnapping" to take you to this village surrounded by deep mountains to tell you this.

"There are still some things that I will let you know here," she doesn't think she does this with great fanfare.

Miranda insists you stay overnight in her bedroom.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll rest on the couch." Miranda is about to sit down.

"Miranda?" You call her from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like to hear Eva's story."

Miranda freezes in her movements, then stands up and says, "Not many people ask about her."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to force it." You see sadness engulfing her again.

"It's okay, I don't mind talking about her." She slowly walks towards you and sits beside you.

"Eva was born in August. I remember it was a hot day, and giving birth to that little one exhausted me." Miranda's gaze focuses in the distance as she smiles.

"Her eyes were blue…"

"Like her mother."

She looks at you gently. "Yes, just like me."

"She was the smartest among her peers, learned things quickly. She got along well with other kids, everyone wanted to be friends with her." Miranda speaks softly.

"She even learned carving from the village carpenter. One day, she excitedly ran home, holding something in her hands, shouting, 'Mom! Look at what I made today!' She raised a wood carving in front of me, which was in the shape of a goat. The head and body were divided into two parts and pieced together. I held little Eva in my arms and praised her for doing so well. She was thrilled."

A wood carving of goat? You seem to have seen something similar in the village.

"She used to visit various houses in the village every day, helping them with chores. She was so energetic." Happiness surrounds Miranda as she speaks.

You listen attentively to her storytelling. This is the most time Miranda talks, maybe too much.

After that, it's not your fault. The day-to-day research makes you sleep very little. In Miranda's gentle voice, it feels like listening to a bedtime story, and you grow sleepy.

Your head tilts to the side, hands on your stomach, breathing steady.

Miranda lifts you gently from the bedside, letting you lie down on the bed. She covers you with a blanket, arranges the pillow, and sits by your side, watching you sleep peacefully.

Lab romances? Sounds fun.

You wake up from Miranda's blanket, and the scent of her woody perfume lingers in the air. Getting off the bed, you walk to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Miranda sits at the dining table.

"Good morning." You lazily reply.

"Your breakfast." She points to the apple pie and fried egg on the table.

"What about you?" You look at the complete apple pie and ask her.

"I've already eaten." She picks up her tea and takes a sip.

"Any plans for today?" You cut a piece of the fried egg and put it in your mouth.

"We're going to Heisenberg's factory."

"Heisenberg's factory?" You question.

"Yes, Karl Heisenberg is my… assistant. He's advanced in bioelectric research."

"Oh, you have 'assistants' here too? I thought I was the only one of yours." You tease her.

"They are indeed my assistants, but you you're different." She awkwardly coughs.

You feel a bit pleased that you successfully teased Miranda.

"Have your breakfast now, we'll head to the factory. It's located outside the village, a bit far." Miranda gestures towards your breakfast.

"Why not 'kidnap' me there? Seems quicker." You take a bite of the apple pie.

"I could, but I prefer you to walk there with me consciously." Miranda finishes her tea.

"What do you mean by 'I could'?"

"Eat your breakfast."

Miranda and you walk on an ancient bridge. In the village, you still feel the strange gazes of the villagers, but after Miranda glares at them, they dare not stare at you anymore.

"Miranda?" You tilt your head to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Miranda softly responds.

"Why do I feel like the villagers are afraid of you?" You ask her.

"We'll talk about it later." Miranda doesn't want to say more.

Outside Heisenberg's factory, wild grasses are overgrown, and abandoned metal parts are scattered in the bushes.

As if predicting your arrival, the factory gate slowly opens, revealing a man standing at the entrance.

He wears a dirty light green trench coat with a tattered wide brim fedora, but his sunglasses are polished to a shine.

"Ah, Miranda, you're here. Welcome." The man opens his arms to welcome you.

"Heisenberg, this is my colleague." Miranda informs him of your name.

"Hello, Miranda said I should show you how bioelectricity works." Heisenberg produces a cigar from behind his back.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

In his workshop, you see various large instruments emitting orange lights, indicating their operation. They are quite different from the precise instruments you are familiar with in your laboratory.

You swear you hear a hissing sound coming from some tightly closed doors.

Heisenberg leads you and Miranda into a dimly lit room with many surgical tables. On them lie many gray-skinned… people?

"These are my experimental results." Heisenberg proudly says. You can see excitement gleaming behind his sunglasses.

"Are these people?" You point to one with an iron drill replacing its arm.

"They used to be. Don't worry, I only experiment on them after they've passed away. They've been implanted with Cadou, and with some electric stimulation, they’ll 'come alive'."

Like Galvani's frog experiment?

"Although the electricity used now is external, in ongoing research, I've enabled them to gradually activate their own neural potentials, making them have life activities, just like a resurrection." Heisenberg explains.

Your understanding of bioelectricity is limited, but you listen to Heisenberg's enthusiastic explanations, occasionally nodding along.

"Perhaps this can help with your research?" Heisenberg finishes his grand speech and hands you a development notebook.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

"Call me Karl." Heisenberg corrects.

You filter out his self-praise in the report, summarize the key points about the experiment in your head.

Heisenberg finishes his cigar, casually tossing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. Taking a step forward, he places his hand on your shoulder — the glove he wears is oily, much like the messy strands of his long gray hair.

"I believe Miranda wouldn't choose the wrong person. She never used to wander around the village with outsiders." He gives you a positive look.

Your gaze shifts to Miranda, who is staring at your shoulder. "HEISENBERG! I appreciate your help today, but it's getting late. We should go."

"But it's only noon. Don't you want to stay for lunch or something?" Heisenberg asks you with a smile.

"No need. We have other things to do. You should focus on your own tasks," Miranda immediately rejects him.

"Alright, suit yourselves." Heisenberg walks towards his workbench, starting to clean a metal hammer.

"What else do we have to do?" You ask Miranda as the factory gate behind you automatically closes.

"We're going to the reservoir."

"The reservoir? I guess it's not for some leisurely fishing."

"No, just taking a walk."

"So, this is the 'other things' you mentioned. Sounds important," your tone carries a hint of mockery.

Miranda purses her lips. "It's important to me. Perhaps to Moreau as well."

"Moreau?" A new name.

"He's another assistant of mine, living near the reservoir. We can pay him a visit."

You follow Miranda towards the windmill. Does Moreau live in a windmill? That’s so weird.

Miranda leads you into an elevator, descending into a cave-like area.

Wow, this guy lives in a place even more unusual than Heisenberg.

You hear the sound of someone vomiting.

You see Miranda frown.

Sounds emanate from a small house in the cave, like a comedy show. You hear an odd laughter, followed by chewing noises.

Miranda knocks on the door.

A peculiar-looking guy opens the door.

"Mother!"

You see Miranda shoot him a fierce look.

Mother?

"Oh, no Moth… Mo… Mi… Miranda, you came! Moreau welcomes you to my reservoir! Y…You brought a newcomer." This hunched-over guy speaks with a strange voice, containing a gurgling element, reminiscent of fish blowing bubbles.

After the door is fully open, you see his face clearly under the indoor lights. Wow, his features seem… really bizarre. His eyes are swollen, half-closed, his nose is short, and below, his mouth is wide open, with teeth seemingly having a mind of their own, growing in various directions.

Oh, God bless him.

He acts unusually excited, his skinny arms trembling. He invites you into his house. Miranda looks somewhat reluctant, but she follows you inside.

"Miranda, you're actually here to see me. You rarely visit me!" He's excited like a child, reaching out to you. "And you brought a newcomer!"

"Salvatore, stop. She's my colleague, here to help me with experiments. We just came from Heisenberg's place. We need some data on Cadou." Miranda halts Moreau's action.

"W…Wait for me here. I'll fetch the experimental data right away." Moreau rushes into the inner room and comes out with a stack of documents.

Miranda takes the documents and hands them to you. You carefully avoid touching the suspicious green marks on top and put them into your backpack.

Miranda seems ready to leave, and so do you.

"Miranda! Newcomer! Stay for lunch with me." The person with a strange appearance shouts.

"No, thanks, Moreau." Miranda replies coldly.

Moreau leans forward and grabs something. You follow Miranda and turn around, seeing Moreau holding onto the corner of Miranda's cardigan hem, hunches his back, appearing so small and weak.

"Fine. I can accompany you for a while. Let go." Miranda pulls out the hem from his hand, speaking extremely reluctantly, "No lunch."

She looks at you inquiringly. You nod.

"Just one episode, just one episode like always," Miranda tells him.

Moreau tries to jump up excitedly, completely unaware of the stiffness in Miranda's tone. He continues playing his comedy and starts chewing on the cheese on the plate.

You and Miranda sit side by side on the stools behind Moreau, facing the TV. The comedy is amusing, Moreau giggles, and at one point, he accidentally chokes on the cheese, producing a loud cough. Miranda sits straight, showing no reaction to the comedy.

Is this cave well-ventilated? Why do you smell such a strong fishy odor?

You frown in disgust, praying for this episode to end quickly so you can leave this damp and gloomy place.

The unpleasant smell allows you to catch a faint fragrance from Miranda, like her blanket, woody and pleasant — something you like.

After another ten minutes, the fishy smell intensifies. Unable to bear it any longer, you start moving closer to Miranda, attempting to use her scent to mask the fishy odor.

The fishy smell is really strong, and your face is almost buried in her neck. When your nose brushes against her skin, she slightly recoils.

Miranda speaks.

"Moreau, control yourself."

"Mo… Miranda, I didn't mean to!" Moreau immediately apologizes.

After a while, you feel the fishy smell diminish significantly. You turn your head to rest it on Miranda's shoulder. She doesn't move, lets you lean on her.

The episode finally comes to an end, and you feel relieved.

Miranda says to Moreau, "We should go now."

You stand up quickly, ready to escape.

Moreau appears reluctant, and there seems to be tears in his eyes. "Goodbye, Miranda. Goodbye, newcomer."

Before you can say goodbye, Miranda, without looking back, pulls you away, leaving Moreau behind.

Leaving the reservoir, the air suddenly becomes incredibly fresh. You feel like your foggy brain has been liberated.

"Miranda? Shouldn't we go for lunch?" you poke her arm.

"Sure," Miranda nods.

"Are we going to the restaurant in the village, or…?"

"We'll buy ingredients and cook ourselves."

"Getting another meal from the great scientist? Looking forward to it! The apple pie and fried eggs you made this morning were just perfect." You recall their aftertaste.

Miranda smiles at your reaction. "Let's go and get some ingredients."

You can also find me here.

Thanks for reading!

#re8 village #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #resident evil #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #mother miranda x reader #she's a poor little bird

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d4rkpluto · 6 months

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i've returned to post about a particular subject i've been fighting to or not to post, because i used to consider this person the closest person in my life and i even considered her as a best friend and a sister.

and we have fallen out and apologised to each other many times, but perhaps whenever we argued it was life telling me that she is not supposed to be in my circle. and you could be wondering why am i bringing this up and telling tumblr this but im telling tumblr this to be aware of @couerardent and her scamming behaviour.

couerardent also known as MYSTIICWINTER OR MYSTICWIINTER.

talk about WORSE SERVICE I HAVE EVER GOTTEN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

[other people have come to me and spoke about how bad her services were, but i tried to overlook it because i really cared for her, lessoned learn]

i have always been empathetic towards ardent and her money situation, but there are moments when excuses turn into reasons to not do something. on august, i sent alex money because she needed it, but she also said in return she will give me 4 packs she usually gives her clients and she told me she would give me my money back.

first pack is "tell me your story."

second and other packs she hadnt told me what they were but she informed me that i'll be receiving them weekly since august, and now its november.

at first i was empathetic, since i used to be close to ardent, i knew she went through a lot of stuff at home, so i was patient. until august turned into september, and september turned into october and then october turned into novemeber.

and slowly i became annoyed, [as i should] because her services arent even long or good, as someone who gives chart readings to other people that consists more than fourteen pages, the effort to write that would take long, but ardent doesnt even give five pages for her services, three at most, so why is it taking her so long?

previously, she has joked to me about scamming other people, but would put the blame on them and not want to take accountability until they start using threats to expose her, i think she deleted the making fun of scamming them but here is some of it:

and when i would message her for updates about my reading because it'll take months, she would ignore me and even change her pfp on tumblr or discord, until i reach out to her on more platforms to get her attention.

and what would annoy me even more is that she would talk about how she never has something to do or would focus on other stuff knowing she needs to get my reading done lmao and this would be like 1-2 months after i was supposed to receive any of it lol.

worrying about the layout for almost 3 months PLEASE.

i have received 1/4 readings, and that was now almost 2-3 weeks ago, we should've been on my 2nd or 3rd reading by now, the only reason i have received 1 reading is because i did threaten to expose her if she didnt send the money or reading my way, because even i had some issues because living in london has gotten really difficult and i have been trying to support my family as much as i can, but im doing better right now.

its all about the principle. and she has none of that. and even attempted to victimise herself and behave like she was in distress whenever she got called out about her behaviour.

she lost track of time, the time being 3-4 months lol.

and when i was speaking to her she ignored me for a bit again ha, it was almost comedic. for almost two weeks she didnt try and check what i was speaking about.

she has gotten ill, but this was still months after.

and i have remembered, she has used much of her earned money to fund for her nose job but also uni, but during the moments it was best to pay me back was at the job she said paid her well, she informed me that when she gets paid by her job she'll pay me back, and she never did and ended up quitting the job.

[the unfairness i was speaking about is how uni her country dont do student finances, she's from romania, because they do in the uk it was just a surprise].

i asked her recently on how i was supposed to receive a reading but she didnt reply but change her pfp on whatsapp and discord, again.

if there is any confused people comment please because i did this half asleep lmao

#tarot #tarot community #pick a pile #pac #romance #astrology #pick a card #pick a photo #future spouse

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anto-pops · 1 year

Text

Homecoming - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: The carriage ride home was a test of sheer willpower. Your hands were demanding; pulling at the lapels of his coat and tugging his shirt from the waistband of his trousers to expose creamy, smooth skin. His hiss of pleasure when your chilled hands roved over his stomach sent a bolt of pure lust straight to your core, and you damn near straddled him right then and there.

Alternatively summarized as you and Ominis making up for lost time.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit content

Full fic can be found here on Ao3

All work and no play made you a frustrated and insufferable bitch.

It wasn’t your fault though– nor was it Ominis’, really. It was easier for you to blame the Ministry for sending him away in the first place– on stupid assignments as far as fucking Romania, of all places. You’d received maybe two owls from him in the entire three weeks he’d been gone, and his lack of communication had set your teeth on edge for the last ten days.

Again, it wasn’t his fault. Work was work, and you already knew Ominis loathed the Ministry assigned dictation quill they made him take with him, so you couldn’t particularly blame him for failing to send word more frequently. At the end of the day, you simply missed him. Longer trips away from home had become commonplace in the last few months, and every new assignment brought stronger cravings for him in his absence. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that, right?

Wrong. Well, half wrong.

You grew fonder of Ominis every day– even after five years together, you were surprised to still be learning new things about him. Specific things that were prone to work you into a tizzy if you thought about them for too long. Like the infatuation he seemed to have with your hair, and how he would run his fingers through it before yanking deliciously to the side. Or his affinity for visiting every region of your body with his mouth before his cock even came into play. Not to mention the absolutely filthy way he would moan your name; the word always sounded like a prayer falling from his lips before his bruising grip would pull you on to his cock harder and faster, fucking you through your climax as he chased his own with a mind-numbing pace that would leave you drooling and begging for more.

Of course you grew fonder of him. But the distance could fuck right off– and you were prepared to tell him as much as you waited for his train to pull into the station. Twenty long days were finally coming to an end.

It took the better part of a half-hour for the steaming pile of metal to dock and another fifteen minutes for people to begin unloading from the cabins. You anxiously scanned the crowd until you spotted a familiar coif of blonde hair emerge near the back, and then you were expertly weaving and ducking through the clusters of bodies to get to him.

“Ominis!” you called out, and the way his entire face lit up at the sound of your voice made your heart soar.

He was rather lucky he didn’t end up back inside the train as you threw your arms around his neck. Your hug was roughly the equivalent of a chokeslam, your shoulder digging into his throat as you pulled him against you with a strength that put a Troll’s to shame. His chuckle of amusement tickled your ear, and you shamelessly inhaled his scent, having gone far too long without it.

“I take it I was missed,” he mused, letting his wand bearing hand slide up the nape of your neck to angle your lips to his as he kissed you hungrily. The contented noises that escaped your mouth made his chest lurch with affection, and he was made aware of just how much you’d missed him when you angled your hips to press against his groin. He stifled a groan, digging his fingers into your waist as you bit and sucked at his bottom lip.

When you pulled away to look at him, you practically growled your confirmation. “You have no idea. If the Ministry asks you to go on any more trips I’m sending a Niffler in your place.”

Ominis couldn’t contain his laughter as you pulled him against you once more, stealing a few more toe curling kisses before he was nudging you away from the platform. Your intentions were clear enough, but he would sooner lay across the tracks than give anyone the pleasure of observing you so wound up. That was a gift reserved for him and him alone.

The carriage ride home was a test of sheer willpower. Your hands were demanding; pulling at the lapels of his coat and tugging his shirt from the waistband of his trousers to expose creamy, smooth skin. His hiss of pleasure when your chilled hands roved over his stomach sent a bolt of pure lust straight to your core, and you damn near straddled him right then and there.

It was far from a one-sided affair– Ominis was just as greedy– if not more so. His hands were trailing up the seductive curve of your waist as he leaned over you to kiss you, that broad tongue delving deep to tangle with your own, swallowing every little mewl and moan he elicited from you. At one point, he took your hand and placed it on his lap, urging you to feel the effect you had on him. His cock strained painfully against his trousers, and your mouth watered when it twitched in response to the tentative squeeze you gave him.

“Damn– I missed your hands on me,” his lyrical voice cast a shiver down your spine. It was hushed and gravelly, the pure desire in his tone making you press your knees together in unbearable anticipation.

Ominis abandoned your mouth to press wet, hot kisses to your jaw, tilting the column of your neck back with the force of his lips. When you felt his teeth bite down against your pulse, your heart stuttered in your chest, and he heard and felt you gasp with pleasure. Ominis smirked against the wet skin, sliding his hand from your hip up beneath your ruffled blouse, scratching as he went to squeeze your breasts. The pad of his thumb toyed with your nipple for far too long, making you squirm and pant in his hold in search of more.

Fuck– you didn’t even think climbing inside his skin could begin to satiate you.

When the carriage finally lurched to a stop outside your shared home, you barely had time to tug your shirt down before the driver was opening the door for you both. If he could tell what the two of you had been up to moments before, he didn’t show it, simply moving aside so you could step out.

You let Ominis deal with paying the man as you rushed to the door, eager to be inside the privacy and comfort of the cottage. You took the liberty of summoning Ominis’ bags into the living room so he wouldn’t have to, and with a quick spark from your wand the fireplace was roaring to life, casting the space in an ambient glow.

Heavy steps in the entryway drew your attention then, and your knees buckled at the sight of Ominis slamming the front door and stalking towards you like a wolf on the prowl. His knuckles were blanched white around his wand as he maneuvered around the familiar layout, and when his free hand found your shoulder, he languidly scooped you up and rammed your back into the wall as he claimed your lips in a desperate kiss.

You were an absolute mess as you sighed against his open mouth, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Oh, how you’d missed this. You let your fingers wind their way into his soft, blonde hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Pinned between Ominis and the wall, the feeling of his hard cock rubbing against your slick through your skirt had you grinding back for more.

“Missed you–” you started to say before he cut you off with a chaste kiss, then he was burying his face in your neck, those sharp teeth of his biting and sucking any part of you he could get his lips on. You moaned, “I missed you so much Ominis. I h-hate it when you leave– fuck–”

“Me too,” he groaned and punctuated the statement with a dizzying roll of his hips. “Merlin, I missed you too. I want you so bad—“

Your nails dug into the small of his back as you clawed at him, the ardent need to feel more of him against you as strong as the need to breathe, and Ominis obliged as he tightened his arms around you and kissed you once more. It was long and passionate and everything you had been dreaming about since he’d left those three agonizing weeks ago. Before you could properly appreciate the unique scent of him, he was breaking away and dropping right to his knees to slip slender fingers beneath your waistband.

You watched as Ominis slowly tugged the fabric down, past your hip bones and over the shapely curve of your ass, before it dropped unceremoniously around your ankles. His milky blue eyes widened when his hands ghosted over where your underwear would have been… had you been wearing any.

His mouth fell open at the realization, brows slamming down into a serious expression as he moaned, “Fucking hell–”

There was no helping your smug grin at how incredibly turned on he sounded, but it lasted only a second before he was gripping your waist and hauling your soaked cunt to his mouth, and then you were throwing your head back against the wall with a string of cries that only served to spur him on.

Ominis made it his mission to make you melt under his attention. His nose nestled against the bundle of nerves at your center, dragging a sultry moan from your throat as his hands nudged your knee over his shoulder and forced more of you on his tongue. He couldn’t get enough of you— the phantom taste of you on his lips had haunted him for his entire stay in Romania, making work a fucking impossibility. Knowing you had been as eager as he was, to the point where you’d completely forgone your undergarments on the off chance he would fuck you— it was enough to have him caving to his baser urges in a heartbeat.

As he lapped at your juices, Ominis brought one of his hands down to his cock, palming himself shamelessly through the material as he ate you out, and the sight was nothing short of sinful as far as you were concerned. When his tongue came to probe at your entrance, you couldn’t help but buck your hips against his face as you gasped sharply.

“F-Fuck, Ominis—”

It felt fantastic— so much better than your own fingers, which had failed to get you off a frustrating amount of times in the time he’d been gone. Ominis’ ability to focus on all of you with his heightened senses was otherworldly. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that he had more sexual prowess in his left pinky than anyone else on the planet.

The thought solidified tenfold when he wiggled his tongue deeper inside you, those full lashes fluttering open to gaze lovingly in the direction of your voice.

Your nails scraped along his scalp in a feeble attempt to feel more of him as an immodest moan tumbled from your throat, and the hand he still had braced against your ass tightened in response. Ominis ravished you, pulling curses and pleas from your swollen lips as the fire in your gut began to spread lower, the coiling heat driving you to rut back against his mouth as hard as your trembling legs allowed.

“Fuck, Ominis– please, I’m so close–”

Ominis drew in a long breath as he held you fast to his rapidly moving tongue. The weight of your cunt pressed against his lips was making him lose any semblance of control over himself, the blood pulsing through his cock bordering on painful and demanding to be addressed. His desperation to take you on the bed had to be fucking palpable, and as you finally tightened around his tongue and your release cascaded over you, he barely waited a full minute before he was pulling away to pick you up again.

“You’re incredible,” you felt him mutter the words into the crook of your clammy neck, and all you could bring yourself to do in response was whimper. “You’re going to listen good for me, hm? Going to let me fuck you until you’re crying my name and begging for more? That’s what you want, right?”

You were still caught up in the euphoria of your orgasm– the small twitches emanating from your body were his only indication that you were still alive.

Laughing against your shoulder, you felt Ominis move off the wall with you still boneless in his grasp as he made his way to the far corner of the cottage. “Of course you’ll be good, just listening to you I can tell. You didn’t even try to stop yourself from riding my face– so needy.”

That teasing tone in his voice was enough to bring you back to the present moment. You didn’t even know if his wand was still in his hand, but it didn’t matter either way; he knew every inch of your shared home almost as well as he knew your own body, and he expertly maneuvered you to the edge of the mattress before throwing you down on the plush surface.

Any sounds you made were immediately swallowed up by Ominis’ lips on yours again. Your noses and teeth knocked together as you drank in the lingering taste of yourself on his mouth, and when you raised your knee to arch closer to him, he boldly ground his cock against your leg, and your brain officially ceased to function.

Glorious as the moment was, it was rudely interrupted by the fabric of your blouse beneath his fingers, and he really didn’t have the patience for any hindrances any longer. With an animalistic snarl Ominis was yanking the center seam apart, the buttons flying off in every direction and pelting the floor softly. Your gasp of shock overshadowed the noise– a brilliant red flush swept over your torso, trailing Ominis’ hands as he cupped your breasts and kneaded the skin beneath his fingers.

“I thought about you every second these last few weeks,” Ominis started to say, trailing one burning hand down against your folds in a way that left your head spinning, before he was silently slipping a crooked finger into your slick heat. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, your chest hitching as Ominis’ other hand came to gently curl around your neck. He applied a gratifying amount of pressure on the sides of your windpipe, pulling a choked wheeze from your parted lips. “I thought about how I would take my time when I got home– mapping your parts again like I did the first time. But to be quite honest with you, I can’t bear another second without you around my cock. I think I’ll skip any more pleasantries for tonight, what do you say?”

His thumb came to rub at the renewed slick coating your sensitive clit, and your head kicked back against the pillows with a wanton moan.

“Please–” you choked out through clenched teeth– the spots that danced in the corners of your eyes were so blissfully titillating, you never wanted Ominis to remove his weight from your throat. All you cared about was his cock– how it would finally feel buried in you to the hilt, hitting that sweet spot that you knew would reduce you to a pile of limp mush.

“Please what?” Ominis’ voice sounded foreign, even to him. His blatant lust for you diluted his words, and his grip on your throat tightened just enough to leave you clenching your knees around the hand he had buried in your aching cunt.

One of your hands shot up to grip his slender wrist as the other fisted in the blankets, and you wanted to cry– your need for him was so intense– you would agree you were a damned Hippogriff if it meant he would give you what you wanted, what you knew he wanted as well. “Please fuck me, Ominis. I can’t take it anymore– I want your cock, I missed your cock– please–”

Your airy voice was his final straw. He relaxed his grip on your throat, and the greedy breath you drew into your lungs was effectively stolen as Ominis leaned down to claim your lips in a hungry kiss. His trousers were irritatingly tight, but he couldn’t be bothered to waste any time on painstakingly removing them, so he slid his finger from your wet heat to hastily undo his belt. Arousal clouded his mind, and the first few attempts at removing the leather strap failed with a string of curses on his lips.

In an impatient attempt to move things along, your fingers drifted up to help Ominis take off the belt, but the immediate and positively indignant furrow of his brows quickly conveyed exactly what a bad idea that was.

Not quick enough, though. The hand on your throat flew to both your wrists in a flash, and then he was throwing your arms over your head with that hidden strength you knew always lurked beneath the surface. “Keep your hands to yourself, darling,” he purred the demand against your lips, and the sound of his belt finally falling from his waist was like music to your ears. “Or do you need help? Do I need to physically restrain you to keep you from doing the simple things I ask of you?”

Part of you leapt at the idea– to be completely at Ominis’ mercy, hands restrained while he used you for his own pleasure– your own protests and requests forgotten. But a larger part of you wanted to feel him now. It had been three fucking weeks. If he wasted another second teasing you with his fingers or his hands– or even his Merlin be damned belt, you were going to combust. So you shook your head and whimpered out a meek, “No, please– just fuck me already Ominis– I’m sorry– please, I need you.”

You heard his belt clatter against the floor somewhere far away, your mind suddenly flooded with the taste, the smell– the ripe, undeniable feeling of Ominis all around you. He had shoved his trousers down around his hips, allowing his cock to spring free from its clothed prison. It stood arched and proud against his narrow waist, the swollen head peeking through his foreskin, and your mouth watered promisingly at the sight.

He adjusted his hold on your wrists; snug and secure. When he finally nudged his head against your entrance, your nails dug into your palms with the effort it took to not grab his hips and pull him into you all at once. A keening sound came from somewhere in your chest as he pushed in more, instantly thrilled to be feeling him inside of you after so long. Those hazy blue irises followed the sound of your stifled gasp as he worked his cock into your overwhelmingly wet heat, taking it all in as he committed your raspy moans of his name to memory.

Ominis gave a shuddering groan, leaning back to brace himself on his arms once he was fully seated inside of you. His length was considerable– the fact that you could actually take all of him was a bonafide miracle, and the way he felt pressing against your walls was an absolute and utter God-send.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned from above you. His face betrayed every thought racing through his mind. The brief moment he waited before pulling his hips back was more for him than it was for you– he was overcome with the sheer sensation of you encasing him. When he finally did move, however, both of you were sighing in earnest at the euphoric sensation it brought you. “Fuck, you feel incredible, love.”

One of your favorite parts about laying with Ominis was watching him. He was always so expressive, making it relatively easy for you to cater to his desires when it was you working to pleasure him. But when the roles were reversed like this, you enjoyed watching the ecstasy you brought him wash over his lithe body. His eyes narrowed in concentration with each slow thrust of his hips, and the way he was grinding against you while fully sheathed in your cunt made your eyes cross. The hands he had previously manhandled you with were now tracing every ridge of your body– featherlight and testing at first– but then his blunt nails dragged over your pert nipples and pulled a guttural whine from your throat. That muscle in his jaw ticked at the sound, and before you knew it, Ominis was mercifully picking up his pace.

Your name tumbled from his lips as he came to dig his fingers into the skin of your waist, angling your hips up just enough so that when he pulled back and plunged back in, the head of his cock reached far deeper than anything he’d offered you before.

“Fuck!” You screamed and flexed your fingers in Ominis’ grip. “Oh my– Merlin, that’s fucking– Ominis–”

Nothing coherent was coming out of your mouth, but Ominis didn’t seem to mind as he swiftly slammed his cock into your pulsing core again. No, if anything he loved hearing you reduced to a mewling, unintelligible pile of limbs. It riled him up more– leaving him desperate to fuck more disjointed words and phrases from your wicked lips. Your magnetic aura always drew him in, that ancient magic of yours acting as a beacon whenever he was apart from you. Joined together like this– fucking the composure straight out of you– it brought that gravitational pull to new heights, and his hand tenderly felt its way to your cheek.

Ominis’ thumb swiped through a few tears that had slipped out the corners of your eyes, and you turned your misty gaze towards him, willing your muddled brain to focus on his face through each rough thrust of his hips.

“Are you alright?” he asked, the concern in his voice apparent, but he didn’t cease his ministrations– thank Merlin.

“Y-Yeah, f-fuck– feels so good, Ominis, you’re amazing– I missed you, I missed you so much.” Your reassurances had an affectionate warmth spreading in his chest, and when he leaned forward to capture your lips once again, he damn near passed out as your walls clenched around him.

With a growl, Ominis released your wrists and was sitting back on his heels to grab at your calves. You had the good sense to lift your legs in assistance, and as soon he had you in his burning grasp, he was folding your knees up to your shoulders. A sharp cry ripped from your throat as his cock plunged back in, followed by a string of sinful moans as you were left to feel every deep, delightful brush of his shaft against your cervix.

Ominis set a brutal pace, shifting his own legs apart to pound his cock right into where he knew your sweet spot was, taking advantage of the fantastic angle your raised legs offered. Your cries grew louder, needier, and before you knew it you were ripping the pillow out from beneath your head to sprawl freely across the bed and arch towards him with as much give as you were allowed. Ominis felt you contorting beneath him and whispered filthy praises in your ear, his lust-dark eyes driving you mad as he squeezed your legs and told you how good you were being, how pretty you sounded, and how nicely you were taking his cock.

Before long you could feel the telltale coiling in your gut returning, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. Ominis wasn’t far behind– he honestly could have come hands free earlier just from having you half-sat on his face– but this new angle allowed him to brutally slam his pelvis against your ass, and the sound of skin slapping against wet skin threatened to send him over the edge.

He bent down, pushing your legs back farther as he kissed any coherent thoughts from your mind and slammed his cock into you. “C’mon love, watch me– watch my cock drag those pretty cries from you– let me hear you.”

Following his request was harder than you imagined– you were fucking boneless. Your head struggled to cooperate as you lifted your neck, but Merlin, was it worth it. Ominis’ pale cock glistened with your slick, the firelight casting a brilliant glow over his sweaty, porcelain skin. The supple muscles in his shoulders flexed beneath his shirt with the effort he exerted to keep you bent precariously in half, and his kiss swollen lips parted around a keening groan as he ground his balls against your ass.

“Fuck, Ominis, s-so fucking good– a-ah–” His thrusts grew in intensity, and you wanted to complain when he released one of your legs and let it fall limply to the side, but that was before the now free appendage found your sensitive clit and pressed hard, tempting circles against it. Your head flew back in ecstacy, unintelligible pleas falling from your lips left and right– and you were almost certain you were drooling all over yourself, but you couldn’t begin to give a shit about it with Ominis pounding you and rubbing your clit and wearing that unbelievably seductive expression like some sort of convoluted sex-demon.

Fuck– the mere sight of him ramming into you, desperate to have you falling apart on his cock, was everything you’d ever need.

“I’m gonna come, fuck– Ominis I’m close, please let me come, please.”

“Come, darling. You can come.” Ominis buried his face in your neck as he let out a positively erotic whine, your begging causing his mind to completely empty, and when your walls seemed to constrict and suck him in further, he nearly lost it then and there. “That’s it– come on my cock, let me hear you– come for me, love–”

You cut him off with a desperate cry of his name, arching your back so it was flush with his chest as your nails flew to his shoulders. They dug into the material of his shirt in a last ditch attempt to pull him closer to you as you fell apart around his cock. Ominis moaned, the sound long and low as his fingers tangled in your messy hair and pulled, the sting making you buck involuntarily against him– and if he didn’t come now he was positive he would drop dead on top of you.

Ominis pumped harder, his own rattling moans growing in volume as he chased his orgasm. His pace was fast and rough as he slipped his arm under your waist and held you fast to him– those slender fingers digging into your body with bruising strength that left you clenching around him, and his hips began to falter as his own release coursed over him like a deadly tidal wave. You felt him shoot his load deep inside of you, and you whimpered at the sensation– your legs shook wildly on either side of him as he slowly rocked against you, milking every last drop from his twitching cock.

It took a while for the two of you to catch your breath and come down, both of you salty with sweat and so beyond content with it. Ominis was absurdly careful as he pulled out of you, and you shivered as you felt his hands drift over your naked body, pressing and soothing with gentle touches and chaste kisses. You watched through hooded eyes as he backed up further, then leaned down to press a delicate kiss to your overstimulated clit. Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn’t help the small jolt your body gave at the unexpected touch.

“All mine,” you heard him mutter from down near your nether region. Despite the raunchy activities you’d just partaken in, you flushed a brilliant red at his tone. It was predatory– almost feline, and you felt his hands grip the soft skin of your inner thighs before his long finger was pressing against your leaking hole. The digit pushed his milky semen further inside of you, and you gasped. “And this is yours– a keepsake, for waiting so patiently for my return.”

If you weren’t so drained, you would have jumped up from your spot and flipped him over to go again, his lewd acts of reverence making you dizzy with want.

But alas– you were exhausted. Ominis looked fatigued too, his full day of travel finally beginning to catch up with him now that he’d gone and emptied three weeks worth of cum inside of you. You watched as he traced the delectable outline of your hip bones with his hands before he slid off the bed to lazily tug his shirt over his head, and then he was quickly shedding his trousers. He tucked his softening cock away in his briefs as he maneuvered his way back to the bed, feeling for you instantly.

You let his lithe arms tug you against his bare chest, burying your head in the crook of his neck and intertwining your legs with his so that all the softer parts of you were flush with the harder parts of him.

It was easy– exactly the kind of simple life Ominis had always craved. As loathsome as it was to perform the bulk of the Ministry’s leg work overseas, coming home to you each time made every second worth it. His head craned sideways to place a tender kiss on top of your head, your hair tickling his nose. “I love you,” he murmured affectionately, his eyes drifting shut.

“I love you more,” you countered easily. It drew a breathy chuckle from Ominis, and you felt his broad hand spread across the small of your back as he held you tight.

The two of you fell asleep like that; cocooned in the familiar safety of each other’s arms, sweet nothings drifting from your lips until Ominis’ steady breathing lulled you into pleasant dreams of your own. The last thing you found yourself thinking about as sleep overtook you was how you would absolutely be sending a Niffler in his stead the next time the Ministry came calling. They could pry him from your cold, ancient magic wielding hands.

For the first time in three weeks, you and Ominis slept soundly and uninterrupted.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt oneshot #hogwarts legacy fanfic #my writing #ominis gaunt x female!reader #why do i do this to myself

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thevillainswhore · 10 months

Text

Anywhere Away With You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader; other pairings but I don’t want to spoil anything!

Word Count: Over 11.5k

Summary: Old ghosts from your past threaten to disturb the peace you’ve made with your new life. Will temptation steer you away?

Warnings: Smut (‘daddy’ kink, finger-ing, mentions of oral, p in v, n-ipple play, derogatory names), flashbacks, angst, (Bucky is a warning here), emotional cheating? (I want to say this to cover all grounds)

A/N: unbeta’d, dividers by saradika

I’m sorry in advance for how long this piece is - I got an idea and literally ran with it, my head wouldn’t let me stop 🤣 hope you enjoy!

Romania - June 2019

The cool Romanian night air weaved through Bucky’s shoulder length hair as he walked the cobbled streets. He was glad he grew it out. A good change from his usual style. He felt free, more than he ever had before in his life and he was glad Steve pushed him to take this break before having to become the newly appointed CEO of his father’s company.

Peaceful. That’s how he would describe his time away. Traveling, sightseeing, learning new cultures. Bucky was extremely appreciative to have been able to experience the things he had and it was a journey he would never forget.

But seeing you, a total stranger on your own, dancing to your heart's content to a cheesy pop song across the road in a karaoke bar is an image that would be imprinted in his mind and heart forever. Your flowy silk red dress flawlessly wrapped around your curves and your gorgeous smile coated with crimson made Bucky feel like a teenage boy with a crush for the very first time.

So, it was by no means of his own when his feet walked themselves up to your carefree self, grabbed your hand to spin your body into his and dipped you, the words flowing out of his mouth as he introduced himself, “hello kisa, my name’s James and it would be my pleasure if I could dance with you tonight.”

He wasn’t sure why he gave you his real name, but it felt right in the moment and the feeling of being his authentic self out there had him divulging in all truths. In all honesty he didn’t know what had gotten into him, he wasn’t a seize the day kind of man, and definitely did not spontaneously introduce himself to strangers and ask to dance with them on the regular. But magic surrounded you that he was victim to and your ethereal glow called to him. It was a token he couldn’t pass up as his blue eyes pleaded with you to take a chance on him.

He wouldn’t have blamed you had you smacked him across his face and told him to get lost. Yet, he was pleasantly surprised at the full blown grin that split your face as you replied, “okay then James… show me what you’ve got.”

Not that he knew it then, but that moment had changed the course of his life forever. The six months he spent with you in Romania in your tiny little one bed apartment were some of the happiest moments he could remember. Details skip his mind when he tries to think of how you created an immeasurable connection in such little time.

He only remembers two parts of life: before you and after you.

It was a whirlwind romance. Had anyone known the story of the two of you, they’d have said you were crazy. Bucky didn’t see it like that though, you both may have been impulsive and reckless to trust a complete stranger, but there was an unknown force pulling the two of you together that made you click. As if you’d been waiting for each other all this time.

Even the small things mattered, like waking up with your head snuggled into his large chest. Your cute grumpy face from being woken up too early as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you. Cooking breakfast together and having food fights with the flour and eggs only to fall into the shower, where Bucky would tease at least two orgasms out of you with his thick fingers before fucking you against the screen door as you screamed his name.

It was bliss.

He learned that you were a journalist, who’s traveled across the world to write about your adventures from country to country. He learned that you had a best friend who encouraged you to expand your horizons and that’s the reason you were in Romania. He learned what you’re passionate about. Your hobbies, your fears, your dreams. He also got to learn that you’re a little freak in bed.

Not that he minded.

The serenity that those six months with you allowed him set the pathway for Bucky to truly find fulfillment in your presence and be the best version of himself when he was with you. It’s how he knew he was falling down the rabbit hole to deeper feelings. He dared to say he had already fallen in love with you.

And it was with that realisation that he created the downfall of the two of you. He knew you loved him, you’d told him so a month into your relationship and he wished he could’ve said it back every time. But he couldn’t comprehend the feeling of having something so precious in the palm of his hands. Didn’t want the responsibility of breaking your heart from his own foolishness in the long run. You never minded, always giving to never expect anything back in return.

You were too good for him. Too beautiful inside and out for him to be worthy of you.

That’s why he had to leave.

No note. No goodbye. Nothing. Just his rucksack packed with all his belongings on his shoulders as he took one last look at your sleeping form. Desperate to take in as much of you as he could before he deprived himself of your essence for the rest of his days to come.

New York - Present

“Helloo? Nat, is she okay? She's been like this for a while- oh! There you are sweetie, you zoned out on us again!” Wanda chuckles as your vision comes back into focus from your daydream.

You let out a weak laugh, “sorry Wands, my heads all over the place.”

It’s convincing enough, you think. The stress of upcoming events a good excuse to explain how far away your mind really is. Wanda is a great friend, truly so supportive and loving, but she doesn’t understand the ins and outs of your situation, hasn’t known you long enough to know the complexities that torment your memories.

Nat however does.

“Wanda, why don’t you go see how the caterers are getting on?”

Being the sweetheart she is, she agrees straight away, “yes! I can do that for you, I’ll be right back lovelies!” Natasha waits until she hears the door click shut and spins to set her eyes on you.

She chooses her words carefully. “You know sweets… you’ve been a little off-“

“I’m good, Romanoff”, you interrupt her firmly and then grimace in regret for snapping at her. It wasn’t her fault you were so fragile at the minute. Softening your tone, you try again, “I’m okay, I promise. Don’t worry about me, yeah? I’m good.”

Nat doesn’t look convinced, but you haven’t got the energy to go down that road and she knows it’s not the time to push you further. She can read you like an open book - one of the only people who can. Unaffordable to you right now though, not when you’ve got to paint the happy smile back onto your face to see through the night. It’s routine for you now.

Smoothing down your white sundress in the mirror, you ignore your best friend’s sympathetic gaze and turn around to walk out of the door.

Being away from home for so long has had its downfalls for Bucky. Although he needed these past couple of years to recharge and come back with a screwed on head to run his company as the CEO, he’s missed out on a lot. His best friend’s engagement being the main example.

He sees the love in Steve’s eyes. The pure happiness that radiates from his full being. It was hard to come back home and witness the dramatic change from the once bachelor, who was never interested in settling down, to hearing he had actually proposed to a woman. It stunned him, completely threw him for a loop, especially since Steve hadn’t mentioned anything over the phone while he had been away.

Nevertheless he was ecstatic for him, he knew what it felt like to completely fall head over heels for someone who makes life so much brighter. Someone who totally turns your world upside down in the most amazing way.

Too bad he lost that.

“Bucky, I can’t wait for you to meet her, honestly she’s so beautiful and kind and you’re gonna love her, I promise.” Steve blabbers on about his fiancé and Bucky can’t help but feel a stab of jealousy.

It should have been him engaged by now. It should have been him planning his wedding to the love of his life and annoying everyone else around him with his continuous declarations of love.

All he can do is hope Steve doesn’t notice his fake smile as he claps his hand onto his back and jokes, “well pal, you’re whipped now - can’t wait to see the woman who’s locked an old brute like you down.”

Luckily, Steve doesn’t notice the melancholy that takes over Bucky’s face, too absorbed into his own world of excitement to bother about anything else. He didn’t want anyone to see anyway, so he took in the guests and the decorations surrounding Steve’s beautiful garden of his home as they all waited for the woman who held Steve’s heart.

The click of your heels echoing through the hallways has the anxiety bubbling up further in your throat. Palms sweaty and knees wobbly. It wasn’t unusual to feel like this at big events you attended, but there was something in the air that had your nerves on edge, a sense of doom teasing you that there was something different about tonight.

Chatter and music from the party got louder the closer you got to the garden patio doors and your breaths were coming in faster. Nat caught up to you and spotted your struggle, coming to your aid and holding your arms.

“Hey, honey, breathe for me, there we go, deep breaths.”

You followed the rise and fall of Natasha’s chest to calm yourself down. Nerves were normal for you, yes, but you’d never felt like this abnormal before. Eventually, your breathing regulated and Nat bristles as you start laughing hysterically.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with me? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Nat’s emerald eyes that hold so much sorrow for you bare deep into your soul. This was the woman who had been there for your worst moments, the times where you broke down in despair from heartbreak. Your best friend. She knew what was wrong, you knew that she knew what was wrong, but it was a promise made that stopped either of you from bringing up the elephant in the room. Your whole world would come crashing down and you were not ready for that outcome.

So with a heavy heart for you and a smile that was keeping you together, she murmured lightly, “c’mon you, we’ve got a show to run.”

Everyone turns around in unison to see the double doors from the decking open up to the guest of the hour walking through. Timid smile on her face as claps and whistles applaud her.

“There she is! Hi baby, come over here.”

Pride shines through Steve’s eyes as he holds his hand out for his fiancée to take hold of to help her step down the stairs. Cheers and wolf whistles from the crowd at the happy couple continue as Steve pulls her into his side and places a loving kiss on her forehead.

Bucky doesn’t pay attention to the commotion, lingering towards the back of all the guests as he looks into the general direction of where his best friend is. He can’t see Steve’s wife-to-be yet, but judging by the look on his face, he’s totally smitten with her, lovedrunk in his own little bubble of joy. Bad friend he may be, but Bucky just can’t stomach pretending to be happy for him whilst he’s stewing in his own misery of his fuckups.

Although, his quiet brooding doesn't last very long when he hears his name being called.

“Buck? Bucky, where are ya punk, you’ve gotta meet my girl! Hang on one second babe, I’ll find him, you’re gonna love him.”

Steve leaves his fiancée’s side in his quest to find his best friend, eager for the two most important people in his life to finally meet.

It takes everything in Bucky to not grimace when Steve spots him.

“There you are Buck, I’ve been looking all over for you! C’mon, I’ve gotta introduce the two of you.”

Reluctantly, Bucky follows his best friend as they approach a woman wearing a white sundress, back turned to them as she’s talking quietly to a redhead. The thrill on Steve’s face as they get closer increases tenfold as if it physically pained him to be away from his fiancée and as they stop just behind her, Steve places his hand on her waist and whispers loud enough into the curve of her neck for Bucky to hear.

“Baby, this is Bucky, my best friend and boss, who I’ve wanted you to meet for a long time.”

It’s almost like a scene from a movie, the way her hair fans out as she spins around, the skirt of her dress billowing in slow motion as her sweet perfume tickles his nose. But, he recognises that scent… recognises that candy like smell that’s buried deep into his mind-

The shatter of glass silences the whole party as all eyes dart to the scene of commotion. Bucky’s mouth gaping open and body stiff as stone when he finally sets his eyes on Steve’s bride to be.

You.

You are Steve’s fiancée.

“Jesus Buck, what’s a matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Steve’s chuckle laced with a hint of concern snaps you out of your reverie as he waves over cleaners to sort out the mess - shock leaving you almost paralysed as you take in the sight of the man, who still haunts your dreams, you haven’t seen since the night before he left all those years ago.

James hardly looks any different to how he did back in Romania. The long brunette hair - though now tied back into a bun - you used to run your nails through. His open blue shirt with a white vest underneath, reminding you of how you used to smooth your hands over his big, strong arms just to get a feel of him. And that gold chain resting against his chest donned with gold rings on his thick fingers that have your mind still going hazy with need.

“James, oh fuck James, yes, right there!”

“Yeah? You like that, kisa? You like how deep my cock feels in you?”

“Yes, baby yes! please, please don’t stop.”

“Then tell me, who’s fuckin’ you this good, hm?”

James gripped your throat and tightened his fingers to slightly cut off your oxygen, rendering you speechless with drool dripping down your chin.

“I fuckin’ said, tell me who’s makin’ you feel this good.”

“Y-you are, James!”

“Oh c’mon kisa, you know that’s not what I mean.” His chain swung back and forth above your face with each thrust he made. “I know you’re a cockdrunk little slut for me, but you’re not stupid. I’ll ask you one more time, and if you don’t tell me who the fuck is makin’ you moan like a whore, then I promise I’ll stop right now and leave you begging.”

That booted your brain back into gear.

“D-daddy!”, you stuttered, all but forcing your lust drunk mind to say it so he didn’t stop, “Daddy’s fucking me so good!”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

His condescending words only brought you closer to the edge, the coldness from the rings adorning his fingers added to your pleasure as he stroked your clit in a figure of eight.

The bastard knew you had a thing for his jewelry.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your climax approaching, legs trembling in the crevices of his arms as his cock repeatedly hit your g-spot.

James brought his lips to your ear and you could feel the salacious grin that split his face as he reveled in your filthy moans and whimpers. He knew you were close.

“I know you’re desperate to let go baby, so show Daddy how good he’s making that pretty pussy feel, Kisa.”

His final words had you screaming.

“Cum for me.”

A shiver racks through your body as you force the memory as far away as you can, eyes unwilling to lose contact with him as you cravingly soak in what you haven’t seen in so long. James’ stare is pathetically zoned in on you too, the rest of the party a blur in the background.

Reprimanding yourself for getting lost in his aura, you snap your head away from his direction, watching the cleaners sweep away the glass and mop up the spilled champagne, listening to Steve’s apologies for the inconvenience.

You look around to the rest of the guests and find all attention on your predicament, paranoia filling your mind that everyone knows the history between the two of you. Sneaking a peek at James and seeing his gaze still focused on you doesn’t help your situation in the slightest.

Luckily, Steve’s voice cuts through the tension he’s unaware exists as he turns back to you.

“As I was saying baby, this is Bucky. We’ve known each other since we were kids and he had to save my ass from all those back alley fights - now we work together. He may be my boss, but he’s still a punk.”

Guilt hits you like a truck as Steve talks about his best friend with so much fondness. The sickness that you’ve felt since the beginning of the day rising up your throat as you fight to stop the tears welling up. You couldn’t have known the two of them knew each other, Steve talking about a ‘Bucky’ you’d never met, having no alignment with your ‘James’. But the nagging feeling that this is all your fault drills into your brain.

Looking toward your fiancé and plastering what you hope is an honest smile on your face, you clear your throat and pray your voice doesn’t break, “oh yes, I remember you saying honey!”

Knowing you have to sell a lie, you turn to James and hope that your pleasantries don’t come across as fake as your smile, “Stevie here’s told me all about you. It’s really nice to finally meet you, Bucky.”

The tightening of his fist doesn’t go unnoticed by you at the mention of his apparent real name. It could also be your pretend act of not knowing each other, but he lost the privilege to know you the day he left you and you didn’t care for his discomfort right now.

“Stevie, I’m just gonna go sort out some last minute details with Natty and I’ll catch up with you later.” The excuse to high tail it out of this nightmare seems to go down well with your soon-to-be Husband as he hooks his arm around your waist and gives you a loving kiss as a farewell.

“Don’t be too long, babe. I’ll miss you.”

You’re not sure if the low growl you hear is a figment of your imagination or not, but you ignore it as you squeeze Steve’s hand and take off to find where Nat had run off to, keeping your head down to avoid any temptation of catching a last look at old strangers.

Spotting Nat laughing with Wanda and a handsome dark-skinned man, you dart into her direction and hook your arm with her to drag her away, “sorry guys, I just need to talk with Nat about- something. I’ll bring her right back!”

You don’t even give her a chance to end the conversation as you haul ass towards the side of the house, not missing a step as you feel yourself breaking.

“Hey! Babe-, Sweets, what’s going on?-“

“In a minute, Natasha.”

“Where are you takin-“

“In a minute.”

Natasha stays quiet as you round the corner to a hidden alcove, private enough for your mental breakdown to unleash.

You let go of her arm as you pace up and down the small path, muttering to yourself as you hold your head in your hands. Your best friend tries to be patient as you attempt to gather the strength to tell her what the hell just happened, but she’s too worried for you to stay silent.

“Honey, what the hell is going on?”

Standing stock still, you look up to the sky and release a shaky breath.

“It’s him, Nat.”

Not clueing in to what you mean, she asks, “what?”.

“He’s here.”

“Who?-“

“Him.”

Putting together what you mean by your words, her head whips into your direction and her eyes bulge out of her head.

“No-, honey no. Are you su-?”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Nat. Of course I’m sure! I just saw him.”

“I’m gonna let you off speaking to me like that this once.”

Defeated, you crouch down onto the ground and hold your hand over your mouth, muffled sobs spilling out for Nat to hear. She rushes to your side and brings you into her embrace, tilting your head to lean against her shoulder as she comforts you.

“Shit. Everything’s gonna be okay Sweets, I promise. We’ll figure something out.”

You’re not quite sure you believe her this time.

It had been a week since your episode at the engagement party. After Nat has assured you to not worry over anything yet (big fucking understatement), you got your act together and calmed yourself down - arriving back at the party with no tears in sight with Steve soon at your side, unknowing to your distress. The rest of the night went smoothly, chit chat with the guests and announcements of how happy everyone was for the two of you easing your anxiety to whether people had caught on or not.

And if you could feel eyes on you throughout the whole night? You told yourself you were imagining it.

Steve hadn’t sensed anything was wrong with you this week that had passed. A true blessing in disguise really. You had no idea how you could even begin to tell him that you knew ‘Bucky’. So your decision to keep it a secret was the best way to go about this, you concluded. You’re marrying Steve. Steve. And James was part of your past that you were not revisiting. That was that.

The ding of the elevator lets you know you’ve reached Steve’s floor at his work. Wanting to drop off some lunch for him since he told you he was working late tonight, you prepared his favourite meal and thought he’d appreciate you bringing it over. He always loved you surprising him at work, especially since he’d taken over command and had a lot on his plate while his boss had been away traveling.

You guess the clues had been in front of you all along.

Walking up to Steves’s office door, navigating your way through the eeriness of the darkness of the building, you knock. Concerned at the lack of answer, you try again, rapping your knuckles against the wood in your own signature style to let him know it’s you who’s knocking - yet to no avail, silence again.

You’re about to take your phone out of your bag to text your fiancé and ask where he is, when you feel a looming presence behind you, hairs on the back of your neck standing up in alarm.

“Steve’s not here.”

Seems like you can’t escape your past after all.

Whipping your head round to the deep gravelly voice you haven’t heard in so long, you see James. You’d recognise his voice anywhere. Eyes wide open and heart beating out of your chest as all you can do is stare into them steel blue eyes you used to get lost in all the time.

Home.

Shaking your head to stop the locked away thoughts from taking root at the forefront of your mind, you attempt to speak, to say something.

“Oh.”

‘Oh’? What the fuck is that?

Bucky speaks up again, “He stepped out for a last minute meeting with one of our partners.”

Taking a deep breath to cool your nerves, you attempt to speak again. This was your fiancés best friend, nothing more. You can do this.

“Um, okay, yeah that’s fine.”

Yeah, so much better.

You nod dumbly, head continuously bobbing up and down as you look anywhere but at him.

Turns out you can absolutely not ‘do this’ - the depths of his intense gaze zeroed in on you, shaking your confidence and leaving you making a quick exit to avoid the awkwardness.

“I’ll just- leave it on his desk, I guess. Could you tell him I stopped by? Thank you. Bye.”

Before you can even take your first step to leave, he interrupts you.

“So, you’re marrying him?”

Your surprise at his gall to bring up the elephant in the room has you reeling back, stopping you in your tracks. But the anger that stems from within at his audacity to even mention it soon takes over and allows your facade to entirely switch in a moment of braveness.

“We’re not doing this.”

“You’re breaking my heart, kisa.” Bucky’s whisper, just loud enough for you to hear through the abandoned top floor of his building, cracks away at another piece of your heart.

You swallow the lump in your throat but your voice still comes out trembling, “Don’t fucking call me that.”

The tight white dress shirt bulging over his large chest and black trousers fitted snug against his crotch didn’t do you any favours either - hands tucked into his pockets practically screaming at you to look at the veins of his forearms.

Fuck.

You take deep breaths and decide you need to get out of this dangerous situation, pushing yourself to walk by him, you’re startled as he holds out his arm to hold you still by your waist.

The shuddering sigh you let out is louder than you expect it to be. Glistening moonlight cascading over the two of you in the darkness of the office. You haven’t felt his touch in over three years and all you want to do is fall into his arms and never let him go. It had been too long since you felt the gentleness of his touch, the feel of his thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin underneath your shirt, transporting your mind back to lazy mornings tangled in the sheets.

“Bucky! Stop it, you're tickling me!”

The scrape of his teeth against your neck had you squirming in his grasp, the sweat from your morning escapades gathering between your bare skin.

“God, I fuckin’ love how sensitive you are for me baby girl.”

“I can’t go another round Bucky, you're insatiable.”

“You sure about that, kotehok? Because I know for a fact that your little pussy is pulsing for my big cock.”

You're a prisoner to watch as he grinds against you, kissing down towards your tits that you know he’s a sucker for. “Fuck.”

“I also know that if I were to suck those pretty nipples into my mouth, you’d be putty in my hands. A cute little mess pleading for me to fill you up.”

He always knew what he was doing, pushing you to your limits. But he knew you could handle it.

“That’s not fair baby, you know how bad that gets me.”

He ran his tongue over your stiff peaks as you keened, sucking each nipple before his plump lips trailed down your belly to stop above your mound, dying to eat your pussy like a man starved.

“And you know how crazy I am for you, so sit back and relax while I get a taste of you baby. You can take it, you’re my good girl.”

Shit.

You rip yourself away from his grasp and back away as he reaches out for you again.

“Kisa-“

“I said, don’t.”

The demand in your tone has Bucky pulling his arm back to his side and hanging his head.

Not bearing to look at him, you walk away, missing your old flame deflate at the consequence of his own mistakes.

The next couple of days go by fast for you, distracting yourself with last minute wedding plans to keep your mind focused. Not wandering. You hadn’t seen Steve much, only briefly in the mornings before he had to leave for work and hardly getting to see him later in the day due to him tying up loose ends before the wedding.

It was another relief in all honesty. Your emotions have been going haywire ever since you found out Bucky was back and you weren't sure how you could hold yourself around Steve.

Again, the wrongfulness of your actions has your gut churning. You hadn’t cheated. But it wasn’t exactly fair to keep your fiancé in the dark like this. Steve hadn’t done anything wrong - he’d been nothing but loyal to you and treated you like you deserved throughout your relationship. He had never abandoned you, never left you wondering what must be so wrong with you to not be good enough staying for. So, why was your mind so conflicted?

You’re torn out of your inner conflict when you feel a dent in the bed.

“Steve?”

“Yeah baby, it’s just me.”

His sweet tone and pure happiness to see you has that nauseating feeling coming back.

“I was able to get off work early today. Finished handing over everything to Bucky so he can get started with the company.”

Yeah, you didn’t think it could get much worse, the mention of him having bile rise in your throat. Deciding to torment yourself even further, you poke the bear.

“Oh good, good. How is everything? Been nice having him back?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea. I missed him so much while he was away. We were two peas in a pod, y’know? Always causing trouble together.”

Your eyes start to sting and you thank every god out there that it’s dark enough in the room for Steve not being able to see.

“He also mentioned you dropped by work the other night, sorry I missed you honey. One of our partners needed to speak about something to do with the increasing costs, but you don’t wanna hear about that, I’m just glad to be home with you now.”

It takes everything in you not to start crying. The fact that Bucky had mentioned you has your mind spiraling - something Steve notices when you don’t say anything.

“Honey? Everything okay?”

Hastily moving into his side and snuggling up to him, you think fast to try and eradicate the negative trail this could go down, hugging him tight and willing yourself to chill out.

“Yeah of course, sorry Stevie. Just been stressed lately and I’ve missed you, that’s all.”

With the way he wraps an arm around you and pulls you tighter into his body, he seems content enough with your reasoning. His hand smoothing down your side and hiking your leg over his waist, a move you had gotten so familiar with and now feels so foreign.

“Shit, I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much too, sweetheart. How about I make it up to you, hm?”

This you can do. You can take your mind away from your worries and indulge in everything Steve for one night.

So as he rolls over you to lay you fully onto your back and starts to kiss down your neck, you cup the back of his head to bring him closer and avoid closing your eyes to prevent anyone else sneaking in your thoughts, basking in his soft touch and eagerness to please.

You can do this for him.

The dinner party Steve had arranged a couple of weeks before the big day consisted of inviting close friends to celebrate and enjoy an evening together with good food and drinks to let loose.

Dread was all you could feel.

You hadn’t spoken to Bucky since he cornered you at the office and any events that you both were attending, you made sure to stay clear from him. The risk of bumping into him again too great to let down your guard.

However, that idea was out the window as soon as you found out you were seated next to him at the dinner table.

Pulling Steve aside to casually question the seating arrangements had set your nerves alight for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Steve, sweetie... H-how come you’re not sat next to Bucky? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

He sighs as everyone else takes their place at the table and puts his hands over your cheeks, thumb rubbing your pouty lips. “I thought it’d be a fun idea to seat people next to someone they don’t really talk to, y’know let everyone get to know each other more. It makes all the games I’ve planned more fun.”

Steve looks over your worried expression and continues to try and put you at ease. “I know Buck’s a bit grumpy and he doesn’t talk much, but will you try and talk to him tonight? It would mean the world to me if you two got along, honey. Besides, he’s probably just missing his time across the world, someone like you will bring him right out of his shell.”

You can say that again.

Not wanting to make this harder for Steve, you smile and nod to which he pecks your lips and thanks you profusely for the effort you're making.

You already know Bucky is sitting down, looking over to see his chestnut locks tucked behind his ears with a hair tie on his wrist next to his gold bracelet. So with a final pep talk to yourself to get you through this dinner, you drag yourself to your seat and carefully sit down as quietly as possible to not draw attention to yourself.

Impossible when you can literally feel his eyes burning a hole through the side of your head.

Natasha’s subtle tapping on the empty plate across the table has you looking up at her, a raised eyebrow code for the two of you to ask if you’re going to be okay. The small nod you send back her way placates her for the time being.

You wouldn’t believe yourself either.

The gulp of wine you chug down does little to settle you, already grabbing the bottle to pour yourself another glass when you feel the timber of a low chuckle close to your ear.

“You always did like wine a little too much.”

You choke on air at the unexpected inside joke, the dark-skinned man you’d come to learn as Sam in the seat on your other side, patting your back to help you through your coughing fit. Throwing him a look of thankfulness as your cheeks flush hot in embarrassment, you sit forward in your seat again and grit your teeth to stop yourself from smacking Bucky across the face.

“Nervous, baby?”

Keeping your eyes straight forward is a task, but you refuse to play Bucky’s games. His sudden bravado throws you off your duty of keeping cool.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Your angry whisper only results in his growing amusement - that stupid smirk on his face you've seen many times in his moments of mischief.

Taking a look around the table, you see everyone in conversation with each other, unaware of yours and Bucky’s back and forth.

“Gotta get your attention somehow, baby girl, you ignored me the last time.”

You don’t give into his whims, his charm and sweet names threatening to derail your psyche when you’re not even halfway through the night. Instead you turn and start up a conversation with Sam, an old friend of Steve - and Bucky unfortunately -, to take your mind away from the arrogance your other way.

Little did you know this was just the start of it.

The next hour or so goes by more smoothly than the beginning of the night and you’re proud of yourself for managing to actually have some fun. That may very well be because you actively chose not to look in Bucky’s direction or give him a slither of your attention, but you’re still happy with yourself nonetheless.

Your newfound peace is disturbed when Wanda - the enthusiastic, innocent soul you have to remember you love - suggests an icebreaker game that has you, yet again, choking on air.

“Suck and blow! So, the rules are you have to pass this card to each other using only your mouth. If anyone drops it, they have to take a shot! Oh, this is gonna be so much fun!”

Jesus fucking Christ, you couldn’t catch a break.

The nervous look you send Steve literally begs him to raise concern, to say anything that will get you out of this nightmare. But being the perfect angel he is, he just sends a wink your way and shouts over the table “don’t worry sweetheart, I know you only have eyes for me.”

A sniper to the head would be more comfortable than this.

It’s burning torture as you watch the start of the game, the card beginning with Wanda as it’s sucked from her grasp by another friend of Steve’s. It goes down the line one by one and all you can do is sit and watch as it gets closer to Bucky.

You wish you could slow time down as Bucky sucks the card into his mouth, the turn of his head towards you signaling your turn in the game. If you react too slowly, everyone around you is going to get suspicious, react too quickly and you come across as too eager.

And those cerulean eyes that pin you down with a look you know all too well, don’t help your cause one bit.

Bracing yourself with a hand on the table and a hand on the back of your chair, your knuckles turn white as the death grip keeps you stable when you slowly lean forward. Your ears start to ring and the fact that Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you once makes your palms sweaty.

Pursing your lips, you close your eyes as you suction the card from his mouth and successfully take it in your grasp, applauding yourself internally at how smooth the transition went without you freaking out - too much.

Only for it all to come crashing down when a firm, calloused hand squeezes the meat of your thigh and has you releasing a gasp of air, eyes shooting open as the shock of the unexpected touch has the card leaving your mouth, fluttering downwards to land on the floor beside your feet.

The lack of distance between yours and Bucky’s open mouths has your head spinning, taking you back to those public rendezvous against a wall of a club bathroom and panting into each other's mouths as you scream praises to each other.

“Open that slutty mouth, now.”

James’ hand flew up to your jaw to pry your mouth open when you took too long to obey his orders. Leg hiked over his wait as he was two fingers deep in your cunt.

The wetness that landed on your tongue had you moaning louder when you realised that James had spat into your mouth, pussy fluttering around his thick fingers as his eyes darken.

“You want everyone to know how good Daddy’s fingers are making you feel, baby girl? Sure sounds like it.” His dirty grin only made more of your juices leak over him.

“Yes Daddy! Don’t wan’ you to stop, feels soo good.”

The slur in your voice had his cock harden against your leg, and you were sure you were going to pass out as he assured you. “Oh don’t worry, pretty baby. We’re about to see if you can take another one of Daddy’s fingers.”

And by the look on Bucky’s face, he knows all too well exactly what you’re thinking.

The boos and hollers of everyone else snap you back to reality, adjusting your stance and clearing your throat to blend in with the rest of them. Shouts of “loser” and chants of “shot” taking precedence over the wetness of your panties and the throbbing of your pussy that makes your thighs rub together.

You ignore Bucky’s stare, ignore everything else that threatens to consume you as you take the shot to forget about everything just for a short while. You can’t deal with it right now.

As the cheering dies down, you stand up and make your way to the bathroom, declaring that you’ll be right back after relieving yourself, which gains some laughter.

You’re too out of sight to see Bucky half assing an excuse to follow right after you. You also don’t see the look that crosses Steve’s face as he watches the two of you leave.

Bucky hears the telltale clicking off your heels, your announcement of heading to the bathroom a lie as he walks past it and up the stairs to find you leaning against the balcony railing on the roof, looking out at the stars.

You know he’s there by the sound of the lock clicking shut, the defeat at avoiding this exact situation evident in your sigh.

He gently walks to your side, almost afraid to scare you off like a baby deer and simply waits for you to start speaking.

“So, I guess this is where we talk.”

The laugh he lets out at your statement has you reluctantly smiling, unable not to love the crinkles that appear by his eyes.

“I think it's overdue, don't you think?”

“I guess.” You pause as you try to think of what to say. “When did you get back home?”

“Not long ago, about 3 months. You?”

“Came home a couple of weeks after I knew you weren’t coming back.”

Heavy silence falls between the two of you.

“Can I ask how you met Steve?”

You knew the question was coming, “Natasha introduced us.” You shrug and answer vaguely.

“Ah, the best friend. I remember you mentioning her.”

As you continue to stare out into the night, Bucky decides to carry on. “Do you remember when we used to climb up the stairs to rooftops like this back in Romania? We’d lay all those blankets down and I’d tell you all about the different constellations in the sky. You already knew all of them - always my smart baby girl - but you still let me go on about them because you loved hearing me talk about it.”

You can’t bare to think about the memories that come rushing in at his recollection. The ones that hold a special place in your heart - conversations of getting to know each other, the details of your life you were so willing to give up to him as he slow danced with you in the refrigerator light of your tiny kitchen. Too much for you to comprehend right now as you begin to go walk back inside.

“Hey no-“ he reaches out to grab your arm to try and get you to listen to him.

“Please don’t touch me”. Tears race down your cheeks as you gather the strength to speak your mind. “You left. Do you know how long I waited for you to get in touch with me? How long I stayed in that apartment, thinking you’d be back?” You laugh, “silly me for thinking I was special enough for you to stay.”

“It wasn’t like that-“

“What was it then, Bucky? Because I didn’t get one phone call from you. Not even a text message to tell me you were okay. You ghosted me - abandoned me and then I see you again after all these years.”

Bitterness takes over Bucky as he blurts out, “yeah, I see you’re really hurt - marrying someone else.”

You’re speechless at his audacity, sputtering to fire back at him, “what does it even matter to you anyway? You didn’t even love me, Bucky!”

“Stop calling me that!” He deflects.

You ignore him. “What is this? What are you doing? Trying to claim me back as some fucking prize or something?”

“N-no, no! Of course not!”

“Then what, Bucky?!”

He finally snaps and tells the truth. “I want you back!”

All you can do is blink at him as he struggles to find what he wants to say.

“Do you know how miserable I’ve been without you? How long the days were without you beside me, kisa? I know I ran baby, i know I fucked up. But I was scared, I didn’t want you to look back in a couple of years and wonder what you’ve been doing, wasting time with someone like me. I know better now though, I know how I feel.”

He pauses and gulps.

“I do. I love you.”

The three words you had been dying to hear, but ever so patiently waited for back then cut your heart into pieces. What you would have given to be on the receiving end of his love when it mattered. But you’ve got a fiancé to think about, a wedding not long away to seal your fate to a man who thinks the world of you and shows it.

“Yeah?” You gulp and turn to walk away, mumbling over your shoulder, “well it’s too late for that now, Bucky.”

You’d love to say that you had been channeling your energy into Steve and proving how much he meant to you ever since your rooftop meeting with Bucky. You wanted to solidify how good you had it already, how you didn’t need to reminisce on memories with someone who lost you when you were perfectly happy with Steve.

But he hadn’t been around a lot lately and you started to grow worried when you had hardly spoken to him when you had a wedding coming up. So to see him leaned over his desk, hair disheveled and tie loose had you a little stunned - never had you once seen Steve in this state.

You cautiously walk towards him and fiddle with your fingers not knowing how to approach him. You keep a small distance and prepare to soothe him.

“Is everything okay Stevie?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

His blunt statement with his gruff voice has you growing nervous, he hasn’t ever spoken to you like this. “W-what? I don’t know what you mean-“

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Steve doesn’t stop there. It makes your stomach drop, in fact, to see him turn around and notice his bloodshot eyes that look like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep recently, preparing for things to change.

“How do you really know Bucky?”

Your blood runs cold. The thought of Steve knowing the past between you and his best friend has you starting to shake.

“S-steve, what are you t-talking about? He’s your best friend-“

“Tell me the truth.” His sternness in the raise of his voice has you stop talking immediately. “Y’know I thought it was a little weird at our engagement party when he couldn’t take his eyes off you, like he already knew you, but I let it go, it was easily something I could pass off. Then I heard he bumped into you at work, no biggie either, I wasn’t concerned. At least not until I see for myself how skittish you were over some stupid game. The longing looks he sent your way when you weren’t looking. So I went into my camera feed at work and boy, was I surprised to hear what he had to say, never mind the way he touched you.”

The tears can’t help but escape and you know there’s no getting out of this now.

“So I’ll repeat myself, honey. Tell me the truth.”

And you do. You tell him every last detail of how you first met James. The karaoke bar in Romania. The six months you spent together in your apartment. How you fell in love with him. You also spill all your regrets. How you didn’t know how to tell Steve. How you never expected to see James again, never mind see him again as your fiancés best friend. You pour your heart out to the man who’s done nothing but love you unconditionally and you plead how sorry you are for everything.

You see him process all the information once you finish. How he internalises the history between his soon-to-be wife and best friend he’s known since childhood. You know it’s not looking good for you.

“Have you cheated?”

You're a bit taken back by his question but nevertheless answer straight away. “No! God, no Stevie, I swear.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes. More than anything.” Again, you respond.

“Do you still love him?”

The pause in your response is enough of an answer for Steve and you fully expect him to call the wedding off, declare that he doesn’t want anything to do with you again. You wouldn’t blame him, you know all of this isn’t fair to him.

So the shock that runs through you when he takes both of your hands and kisses them multiple times is palpable, murmuring into them, “do you still love me?”

You do love Steve. You’re so grateful for everything he's done for you, for all the care and happiness he’s brought you. You don’t hesitate to answer him this time.

“Of course I do.”

The smile that graces his face is award winning, the exact one that hooked you in when Natasha told you he was worth it - to give him a chance to make you whole again.

“Okay. I can work with that.”

Everything hurts. Your dismissal of Bucky’s feelings, your ignorance to his attempts to just talk to you. He supposes it’s karma biting his ass for being so stupid.

If he could go back in time and stay with you, in your one bedroom cosy little home away from his responsibilities as CEO and his fate of seeing you belong to someone else, he would - in a heartbeat.

Bucky thinks back to your conversation on the roof, when he blurted out he loves you. He regrets telling you like that, but the desperation for you to be back in his arms, back where you were supposed to be was at an all time high. He was running out of options. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, because he really did, he just knew it shouldn’t have been said that way.

He should have grabbed you by your face and kissed you senseless back when you were together as he poured declarations of love into your soul. Looked into your eyes and whispered how lucky he was to have you as you lay underneath the Romanian stars. He was a fool.

Steve was the deserving man, he thinks, watching him dance with his friends and blabber, even drunk, how in love with you he was. Bucky can’t help but clench his fists at the thought of Steve getting to hold you, kiss you, pleasure you. He’s never held resentment towards his best friend, but right now he was a jealous man.

It drills home how bad of a friend he is to Steve though, Bucky may have had you first but he knows that doesn’t mean a thing when Steve was the one who picked up the pieces, unknowingly, of the ruins in your trust. Either way, it doesn’t deter the possessiveness and need Bucky feels over you.

He shouldn’t be thinking like this at his best friend's bachelor party.

And speak of the devil, the drunken mess plops onto the seat next to Bucky with a dreamy look on his face.

“Buck! James, why the hell aren’t you out there tearing up the floor with us?” There’s no slur in Steve’s words, but he does get very weird when he’s been drinking.

And Bucky doesn’t like the use of his first name coming out of someone else’s mouth other than yours.

“Sorry Steve, just ain’t feeling it tonight, but don’t worry. I’ll be here watching you make a dick outta yourself.”

The bowl of laughter that bellows out of Steve has Bucky laughing for the first time in a while, the rivalry present in his mind disappearing to share a genuine moment with his best friend since childhood. It felt good.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I’m having a good time though, getting married to the woman of my dreams soon enough. What’s there not to be happy about, eh?”

That shuts down the ease found between the two of them. A grunt of acknowledgment from Bucky all he can offer in the souring of his mood.

Steve carries on, nonchalantly, as he swirls his drink. “It’s funny, y’know. Our taste in women. Who’d have thought that the woman id marry would be the one you were fucking whilst you were off on your travels.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Bucky’s head as he slowly turns his head in Steve’s direction, the lump in his throat hard to swallow - Steve knows.

“Listen Steve, nothing happened-“

“Oh I know. Nothing’s happened while we’ve been together… doesn’t mean you don’t want to. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Don’t blame you to be honest.”

His collected composure throws Bucky off completely, the unease rattling him from the casual way he speaks of you. Bucky isn’t prepared for the dark tone that encases Steve as he goes on, however.

“But just so you know, she’s marrying me. She chose me. You left her.”

That pisses Bucky off. He knows all too well what he’s done, berated himself night and day for his mistake. He also knows you. You’re content with your situation - there’s no denying that.

But, you could be happier. Bucky could be the reason you wake up every single day, loving life and looking forward to your future.

Not marrying someone out of regret.

He doesn’t say that though, let’s Steve have his moment and decides that if this is the end of their friendship, he’ll do it respectfully.

So as Steve looks over to Bucky, daggers in his eyes for the man that got the girl first, he decides to leave him to himself and go home. Things hadn’t really been the same with Steve since Bucky had gotten back - a piece of his heart with you wherever you were. And then he saw you in your little white dress that reminded him of home and he knew his relationship with Steve couldn’t go back to what it was.

“See ya round, pal.”

He’ll miss Steve, truthfully. The little guy he protected from bullies twice the size of him. He knew they couldn’t come back from this though, in love with the same woman and unwilling to let her go. So he tips his head to his best friend, downs his drink and walks out the bar.

He wasn’t going to give up on you without a fight.

Suffocating.

The hairspray that clogged the air. Makeup scattered over the side tables. Your wedding dress that you could faintly hear your bridesmaids gush over.

It was all white noise to you.

You loved this dress - adored it whenever you got to try it on at regular fittings. There may have been a twinge in your gut every time, but you always forced that feeling down. Aside from that, you appreciated how well the dress fit you and how stunning it makes you look.

All you wanted to do now was rip it off.

There was no more countdown to your wedding day. It’s happening today. Now. Whether you’re ready or not.

Mind fogged over, you don’t hear Wanda’s fingers clicking in front of your face. “Sweetie, you there? You keep zoning out again.”

It’s only a touch to the shoulder that brings you back out of your head, a perfectly manicured red nail seen from the corner of your eye to let you know it’s Natasha.

“She’s just fine, our girl’s just busy thinking about how Steve’s going to rip this dress off later on.” The mixture of squeals of laughter and prudish whines from your bridal party have you grateful for Nat’s ability to deflect with ease.

“Why don’t we give the bride some space for a little bit, yeah? All you bitches are giving me a headache, never mind her.”

As you see the last flutter of a dress walk out the door from the reflection of the mirror, you turn to your best friend, the one person you don’t have to pretend with.

“How do I look, Natty?” The crack in your voice gives away your vulnerability, there’s no hiding with her anyway.

“You know you look beautiful, babe.” A noncommittal hum from you is all she receives as you turn back around to continue looking over yourself.

She brings her face next to yours, giving you her most reassuring eyes and a hug that has fixed you multiple times. But you’re most grateful for the murmur in your ear for only you to hear. “I’m here for you, whatever you want to do, you know that right?”

You do know that. Your maid of honour who would burn down the world to make your heart whole again. So you owe her the knowledge that you’re gonna be alright, that you’re okay with what’s gonna happen.

“Maybe I should get married to you Romanoff, I think we’d make a killer couple.” The landing of your joke goes down well with her, the doom of your fate on the back burner for now.

And as she walks out the door to give you a couple of minutes to yourself, she throws a wink your way, speaking over her shoulder, “give me a time and place and I’ll be there, sweetheart.”

Why the hell did this church have to be so big?

Trying to be stealthy and quiet in a church full of guests roaming around wasn't the easiest task Bucky had ever dealt with. A bridesmaid or a groomsman lurking around a corner had him almost shit himself a couple of times, but he had a plan set in motion and he wasn’t going to be easily deterred.

The clock was ticking, and Bucky had to get to you, there was no time to waste.

Steve’s fault really because Bucky has full confidence you wouldn’t have picked somewhere like this to get married. A scenic forest setting or even a shotgun wedding much more your style - it gives him an extra push to find you.

“You really doing this?”

The voice of his old friend Sam stops Bucky in his tracks as he turns around and releases the door knob he was about to turn. It also doesn’t slip his mind that Sam is stationed outside of a specific door. No doubt another order of Steve.

At least the search for you is over.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life, Sam.” And he hasn’t. Call him selfish, but he has to speak to you one last time to tell you how he feels. For you to see that he can’t let you go so easily.

“And you love her?” Sam may be Steve’s friend as well as Bucky’s, however, the two of them have always gotten each other. Sam knew Bucky wouldn’t go to all this trouble for some random girl.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to answer his question. “More than you could ever know.”

The crack in Sam’s steel armour, crossed arms and a wide stance becomes noticeable first by the subtle shake of his head. What he’s about to do isn’t great, but he also sees the longing in your eyes, the spark that brings you to life in the presence of Bucky. Steve doesn’t do that for you.

“Shit.” Sam rubs a hand down his face and steps to the side. “Okay. You’ve got five minutes tops, that’s the best I can do.” And Bucky couldn’t be anymore grateful for his friend, a tip of his head to Sam to show his appreciation.

“Five minutes is all I need.”

You’re sitting by the window when you hear the old wooden door creak open. Expecting Nat to check in with you for a final time before the big event, you don’t bother turning around.

“Don’t worry Nat, I’m good. I’ll be out in a sec.”

“You sure about that?”

Your reaction is similar to the first time you heard his deep tone after so long back at the office - head whipping round in shock to see James in a black suit with his hair pulled back.

Why does he have to look so damn good?

Standing up, you lift the skirt of your dress and stomp over to him. “Bucky? What the hell are you doing here?!”

He can’t even process your anger at seeing him before your wedding, stunned to silence at the beauty you radiate - you’re so beautiful it hurts.

“Holy shit, you look gorgeous.”

Affected by his response, shyness takes over you as you stutter - speechless in his presence yet again.

“I had to see you, kisa.” The pet name reserved for you tugs at the ache already there in your heart.

“James- Bucky, you can’t be here, I’m about to marry Steve.”

“Don’t.”

You have an idea as to what he means, but you have to ask just to be sure, “don’t what?”

“Don’t marry him.” The way Bucky says it as if it’s so simple astounds you.

“You’ve gotta be kidd-“

He interrupts you before you can finish. “Please, just- hear me out for a second, please?”

So you stay silent, a tiny piece of you wanting to hear what he has to say.

Bucky straightens the lapels of his jacket and prepares himself for the most important speech of his life. “In five years time, are you gonna look back and have no regrets? Can you tell me truthfully that if you marry Steve, you’re not gonna be wondering what else could’ve happened?”

Tremors start to rack through your body at his questions you don’t want to think about, too scared to really think about answers. Even so, Bucky carries on.

“I know you love him, baby. But are you in love with him?”

You have to stop his rambling before he says something you can’t hear right now. “Buck-“

“Because I’m in love with you.” He interrupts you. “I’m so fuckin’ gone for you baby girl that I’m here begging you not to marry him.”

Tears threaten to ruin your makeup that took hours to perfect.

“Runaway with me.”

It’s the last straw that breaks your resolve as you begin to sniffle.

“We can go back to Romania and start over, or travel together, I don’t care as long as you’re with me.”

You finally speak, “you h-have a business to r-run, Bucky.”

“You think any of that matters to me when I can have you?”

He places his hands on your arms and rubs his palms up and down, giving you the comfort your body is screaming at you for but your mind battles against.

“I know I left you before and I’m so fuckin’ sorry for breaking your heart. But I swear I’ll be better for you this time.”

Sliding his hands up to cup your cheeks, he leans forward and places a kiss on your cheek, so close to your mouth that you can feel his breath against your skin. Bucky puts his forehead against yours and whispers his last line that he prays will win you over.

“I love you, kisa… take one more chance on me.”

“Ready, honey?”

As you stand at the double doors waiting to walk down the aisle, your mind races. Too overwhelmed to speak and only able to give Nat a firm nod in acceptance.

“Let’s get this show on the road then.”

It’s hardly noticeable to you that the double doors open to reveal the altar, the aisle looking so much shorter than you hoped it to be.

You couldn’t answer Bucky, head scrambled by his dump of love on you and his pleading for you to run away with him that you had to walk away from him. How could you just leave with the person who left you?

But how could you live without him if you marry Steve?

You don’t even realise you’re halfway down the aisle as you deathgrip Nat’s arm to the point of bruising - lack of expression on her face apart from a warm smile to not let anyone notice your spiraling.

And then before you know it, you’re at the altar next to your fiancé and soon enough husband in just a couple of minutes.

The false bravado you showcase impresses yourself when you see no one is batting an eye at your downfall. You think you hear the priest begin the ceremony and go on with the usual spiel of vows and promises. Yet, It just feels like you’re underwater and you’re slowly sinking with no way to the surface.

Somehow though, you manage to hear the subtle click of a side door towards the back, even through the jumbled mess of your mind.

It’s like your mind actively seeks out the man who’s had a piece of your heart since you met him. James. The one who literally had you at ‘hello’.

You remember how you felt as he caught you into a dip, the karaoke bar neon lights casting a luminescent glow over his features and those steel grey eyes breaking through your defenses.

Home.

So the cold panic that rushes over you as he sends one last tender smile your way, his crows feet sending your heart into overdrive, is instant. You don’t miss the single tear he lets escape and the bow of his head as he turns around and walks out of the church doors.

No.

Looking back towards Steve, you know he saw Bucky and the war going on inside your head by his forlorn expression.

Steve.

He deserves so much better than you. His kindness and patience with you proceeds anything you were worthy of. Them ocean blue eyes begging you not to go even after all he’s put up with.

But they never were your blue.

You drop his hands and back away, the rejection of his pleas hitting home as he knows what’s coming next. Sliding the sparkling engagement ring from your finger and placing it into his palm, you peck his cheek and whisper your apologies.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.”

You hate having to do this to him. You hate that you can’t give up a crucial part of your past to be in the present with him. But he deserved someone that could love him with their entire being, not you who could only give the smallest offering.

It was time to start being honest with yourself - starting with following your heart and going after who you really want.

The grin on your face at your epiphany is unstoppable, as you kick off your shoes, rip off your veil and grab the skirts of your dress.

Then, you run.

You ignore the gasps of outrage from all the guests, you don’t see the smirk on Nat’s face and Wanda smacking Nat’s arm out of shock as you finally give in to your true desires. You just keep on running.

The church doors burst open and you race down the steps to see Bucky ducking his head to get in his mustang and starting the smooth engine to drive off.

Shit.

“JAMES!”

He doesn’t hear your cries over the rumble of his car, and you push yourself to run faster. You have to catch up to him.

“JAMES WAIT!”

Just as Bucky puts his foot down to accelerate, he hears the passenger door to his mustang whip open and his head snaps over - only to see his beautiful angel sitting in the passenger seat staring nervously into his eyes.

“No fuckin’ way.”

His breathlessness makes you giggle as you nod your head in excitement, the way his face lights up at the sight of you and that gorgeous smile on his face has your stomach fluttering.

This is what love should feel like.

“Fuck, you actually did it, baby.”

“Nervous were we?”

Bucky lets out a huff of breath at your jab and shakes his head with fondness, unable to believe he’s really got his girl back.

Not wasting a minute more, he pulls you in by the back of your head and kisses you with wild abandon, his tongue teasing its way in to dance with yours. You’ve missed him more than you were willing to admit - pouring all of your yearning over the years into the kiss. He pulls back when you both run out of oxygen and stares into your eyes as if this is all a dream. Bucky has you laughing once more as he pinches the skin of his arm just to double check.

“So, where are we going, kisa?” Bucky waits for your response as he shifts the mustang into gear, car moving forward as he gets ready to prove how much you truly mean to him.

You lean your head back on the head rest and close your eyes, mind clear for the first time in a long while as the tires turf up the gravel and speed off.

The upturn of your lips has the spark you thought was gone inside you reigniting. And you know now this is where you’re supposed to be.

“Anywhere as long as it’s with you, James.”

A/N: if you got this far, thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this one and there’s also potential for a second part should I feel there’s enough interest - I never learn 🤣

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan smut #bucky x you #bucky smut #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

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Warmth of Another

Jenna Ortega x Reader

A/N: I don't usually do celeb x reader fics but I had this idea in my head and I needed it out

Part Two

Romania was a wonder this time of year. This was the first time you've ever been to Europe, but it wasn't as a tourist. No, you were working. Working on the set of Netflix's 'Wednesday.'

You got cast as a secondary character for the new season and since it took place during the winter semester of school, that meant dealing with the cold season of Romania. You were used to dealing with snow and chill. Even if you weren't, you were always warmer than most people.

Taking a glance, you could see the rest of the cast suffering in the cold. Especially Jenna. The 'Wednesday' star was bundled up in her costume, winter coat, snood, and gloves and yet she was still shivering. In contrast, you were just in your costume, albeit with a hoodie underneath the school uniform, and winter coat. What helped was having your hands in your pockets. For some reason, as long as your hands were warm, you were warm.

Suddenly, you notice Jenna glaring at you and your relative comfort in the chilly air.

"How the hell are you not freezing right now? I can't even feel my nose."

You let out a laugh in response and shrug. "I've always been a human heater. I actually like winter a lot because of it."

With that knowledge in mind, Jenna begrudgingly trudges towards you and leans against you, trying to sap your heat. You chuckle softly and wrap your arms around the frozen girl. Your coat was actually unzipped so the girl just shoves her arms under that and your school blazer. Almost immediately, the warmth seeps into her body.

"That's it. I live here now."

Jenna then steps back to unzip your hoodie to add another layer of warmth to steal from. You just shake your head as you rub her back, trying to generate more heat for her. It causes her to burrow further into your body and suddenly you jump.

She had buried her frozen nose into your neck and snuck her icy hands into your shirt, letting each frozen appendage hit your bare skin.

"Gah! Some warning next time!?"

Jenna just cackles softly against your neck and nuzzles further. "Gotta make sure you suffer like the rest of us. At least for a little. It's fine, anyway. You're already warm again. It's not fair."

"It's not like I'm hoarding all the heat. You're stealing my warmth right now."

"It's your duty to share." She huffs, warming your neck with her breath. "I'm the lead here. I'm entitled to this comfort." You just snort in response, but you don't say anything else.

It was nice to have Jenna in your arms. You were always a fan, but getting to know her personally made you fall a little bit further. At least you can have moments like this and cherish them. You'll take what you could get.

"Well, I'm here anytime you need a cuddle, warmth, or just a hug. All you gotta do is walk up."

Her hold on you tightens in response. You hope your heart isn't beating too erratically for the girl to notice. At least the blush could be blamed on the cold.

"I will definitely take you up on that."

You hold onto Jenna until the directors call for everyone to be on set. She lets out a long groan and just burrows more into you. So with her still in your arms, you waddle over to the set, holding on until the very last minute. When you let go of her though, something makes you freeze. Jenna gives you a smile and makes her way to her mark, reluctantly shedding her coat to brave the cold. You, on the other hand, had only one thought flooding your brain.

Did you just feel Jenna's lips on your neck?

#a dragon tries to write #Jenna Ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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renamami · 4 months

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Facts About Romani People Because That One Person Asked For it On My Post About Azusa

A while back I made a post about how I wished people in the Diabolik Lovers fandom focused more on how Azusa is a Romani man and how cool that was for an otome game. Somebody reblogged and asked for somebody to make a post about Romani people so we'd have more reference on how to incorporate Azusa's heritage into more content of him so here it is!

I wanna preface this post by saying that I am not Romani or of Romani descent! I simply like learning about other cultures and groups of people and want people to learn more information about a race that has been villainized and oppressed for centuries. While I'll be discussing basic history, myths and stereotypes, and basics in culture, please make sure you go find Romani creators and people to get more information from! I love Florian on TikTok and YouTube so I recommend checking him out first!

As somebody who is not Romani, there might be some things that aren't completely correct since I'm relying on what is available. Always listen to Romani voices when looking for information. I'm just providing basics and am definitely NOT and expert!

Basic Terminology & History

First off, you might know Romani people often being referred to as the G-word. It's a racial slur that came from people believing they originated in Egypt and has been used for centuries to degrade and demean Romani people. NEVER USE THIS WORD.

The Romani people have a very closed culture and language which has helped them preserve it throughout the years. Translations and translators are hard to find and I don't recommend trying to find any out of respect for the community. What is known, though, is that there are masculine and feminine ways to refer to Romani people.

Romani: The race and communities as a whole

Roma: I'm slightly unclear on this one but it's another way to refer to the race and community itself. Take this with a grain of salt and do your own research

Rom: Way to refer to men as masc Romani people

Romni: Way to refer to women and fem Romani people

Romanipen: The Romani philosophy, rules, laws, and culture (note that there are a bunch of different communities since Romani is a race. There is Christian and Muslim Romani groups and people who's rules differ from others. Like all races, every community is different.)

Gadjo/Gadji: Someone who has no Romanipen, typically someone who is not ethnically Romani but can also mean a Romani person who does not live in Romani culture

Contrary to myth, the Romani people originate from South Asia, more specifically India. It's not clear when in India they came from but it's speculated that they came from the North-West region about 1,000 years ago. From there, they migrated to Europe and other continents. There are Romani populations all over Europe, commonly known mostly in Romania and Spain. Even now, the Romani language still has Indian and South Asian influences as well as Persian and Arabic influences.

From the very beginning, Romani people were discriminated against. They were labeled as wizards, thieves, baby-snatchers, etc. They were enslaved and coerced into chattel slavery in the Middle Ages by the Danubian Principalities where they were divided into groups by their owners. In the 16th-18th centuries, anti-Romani sentiment grew around Europe which led to many Romani people being murdered without any justice being served. They continued to be persecuted and blamed for a range of thing for centuries even up to this day.

In WWII, Romani people, along with Jews and black people, were at the very bottom of Hitler's totem pole and were targeted for ethnic cleansing in the Holocaust. While it's estimated that the death toll came in 150,000 people, others estimate it to be around 1.5 million victims of the Romani Holocaust. Unfortunately, the Romani victims are still very overlooked when the Holocaust and WWII is covered.

Right now, Romani people are still being persecuted and stigmatized. In Romania, they live in squatter communities with high unemployment. While some live a "nomadic" lifestyle, most migration is forced because a ton of communities don't accept Romani settlements. Discrimination is still rampant and all the violence and propaganda that racism entails is still alive and well when it comes to the Romani people, especially in Europe.

Please note that this is a VERY vague history and absolutely does not cover nearly a fraction of Romani history. This is just the cliff notes and I've only scratched the very surface and left out a lot of details.

Myths & Stereotypes

You ever see this shit before?

What you're looking at right here are racist racial caricatures and oversexualized fantasies of Romani women, specifically "fortune tellers".

Let's quickly get into myths.

Fortune Tellers: Romani people who were impoverished and desperate and down on their luck turned to earning money where they could. It was already a prevalent stereotype that Romani people were witches and mind readers, so many women turned to fortune telling and giving tarot readings because that was what was available to them and were thus painted as occult-loving scam artists. No, they are not supernatural being or seers. In the same way that somebody can practice spirituality, that's what they did. Nothing more, nothing less. Extra tidbit: tarot is not a closed practice specific to the Roma. Saying that it is is like saying banking is a closed practice for Jews. It's racist to push that narrative and if anyone tries to just know they're a dumbass.

The Exotic Wanderer: Romani people very rarely travel out of desire. They travel and migrate because everywhere pushes them out and denies them permanent residence. They aren't free-spirited nomads and portraying them as such further harms them. Speaking of exotic;

The Mysterious and Sexy Romani Woman: Notice how all the women in the picture above are super sexualized or have this air of mystery to them? That's because art, theater, and propaganda has painted Romani women as sexually available and provocative, gaudy, and "exotic". Women of color, you know what I'm talking about because we all deal with it. One of the biggest examples in recent history and the most popular in modern culture is Esmeralda from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame adaptation. She's portrayed as this mysterious and enchanting dark-skin Romni woman who all the guys are after in, again, stereotypical and oversexualized traditional Romani clothing. I mean, they had her essentially pole dance within the first hour of the movie. This portrayal of Romani women in media actively contributes to sexual violence against them. DO NOT ENTERTAIN THAT SHIT.

Thieves, Criminals, and Baby Snatchers: This one has been around for centuries. It's rather self-explanatory so I won't heavily explain the first two. Romani people have been painted as violent outsiders for as long as they've been in Europe and other places. Blaming disease, crime, and things going missing on them was (and often still is) a European's favorite pastime. The baby-snatcher narrative is common in media, again like in Hunchback where Esmeralda was originally a white French girl in the book who was stolen and replaced Quasimodo by Romani people. Obviously this is fucking gross and a vile narrative to push. When I talk more about Azusa, I'll get into adoption more.

There are obviously more myths and stereotypes but these are the biggest ones. Now, to cleanse your eyes, have what real Romani clothing and women look like.

See the difference? Modesty is a huge aspect of Romani culture.

Culture & Society

Again, much of Romani culture is closed and has been kept alive through remaining closed. This is just what they (or scholars) have chosen to tell and what I have personally learned. It is important to remain respectful of what Romani people do and do not want to share. That said, not much is left of Indian influence in Romani culture save for the people who still celebrate Hindu holidays. However, what has survived is the concept of universal balance. Many believe that everything, or almost everything, fits into a natural place. For example, birds are supposed to fly right? It's chill to eat those if your faith allows it. But a penguin? That bitch doesn't fly, it's a freak of nature, so don't eat it. A penguin is out of balance and, therefore, bad luck. That's why Romani people traditionally don't eat hen eggs because girlie can't fly. Of course, other faiths like Muslim Roma, who have special recipes, eat hen eggs.

Like every race, every community and individual has a different faith. Most popular is Christianity and Catholicism and it has become the primary faith among Romani people. Other religions like Islam and Hinduism are also practiced. These faiths have their own set of rules that they follow alongside Romanipen, which is not written and passed down orally. Romani people even have their own patron saints: Ceferino Giménez Malla, The Virgin of Hope of Macarena who is specific to the Spanish Calé, and Kali Sara who is an Indian deity and protector of the Roma. For Christians and Catholics, they also worship the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ.

Cleanliness is another big facet of Romani culture. Your genital area is considered impure and unclean. Because of this many Roma do not have pet cats or dogs because they lick their genitals. These rules are so strict that food must be entirely discarded should a strand of hair from these animals get into it as the whole meal is then contaminated. Additionally, tops and bottom are typically washed separately as to not mix pure and impure fabrics. This is especially true for AFAB menstruation, which is also seen as impure, as is childbirth. This is because of Romani code which is the most important part of Romanipen: pillars both honor and shame.

Like many societies, importance is placed on the men and subscribe to expected gender norms. In typical Romani home consists of a married couple, their unmarried children, at least one married son and his wife, and their children. Extended family and family in general are an integral part to Romani society so they will play active roles in a Romani child's life. It is possible to be expelled from your community, however, should you go against your community's rules or, for example, marry a gadjo. This is because, depending on the community, it would bring dishonor.

Every since the 16t century, Romani people have either made their livings or enjoyed their time through music and dance. Both still have Indian influences but have also added other elements depending of the region. For example, belly dancing is big among the Turkish Romani. Have you heard of flamenco music from Spain? Did you know that it came directly from the Romani Calé? Romani music has had a huge influence outside of the community, as it has inspired genres like bolero and jazz music.

Before I go onto how I want to see Romani culture integrated with Azusa content in the future, I want to touch up on adoption and interracial marriage. While interracial marriage is frowned upon in some communities, if a gadjo learns Romanipen and lives their life as if they are Romani, they are accepted as fully Romani. This also goes for adopted children. If they live by the rules and codes, dedicate themselves to the culture and society, then they are fully Romani.

Azusa Mukami, His Romani Identity, and What I Want To See More Of

While Diabolik Lovers does have it's problematic moments when referring to Azusa's past such as calling his community but the g-slur, it's super important to recognize how freaking awesome it is to have a Romani character who is largely not a racial caricature and not portrayed as less than simply for being Rom. He is a fully fleshed out and romancable character which is so cool.

It isn't explicitly stated whether Azusa was adopted by his community or is Rom by blood, but given the time period around the 1960's to 1980's (I recommend looking at @i-write-hurt-not-comfort's blog for more information on the Mukami's timeline) I would recommend steering FAR away from the idea of him being picked up since the baby-snatcher stereotype was and is still big. Plus, it's just so much more fun having a non-white Rom love interest. Let him be brown, y'all. Also, he's Romanian Romani, let me see him be Romanian Romani.

Speaking of which, know he's super pale but I want to see him be South Asian and anemic! It's so rare that Romani people are white and Azusa would look cute with tan or dark skin. I'd love to see more art where he has melanin. Brown and black people can be pale too due to things like anemia. Don't be afraid to make him look like a vampire that has not seen the sun in days who happens to be brown!

This man canonically loves spicy food! You know what race's food is super rich in spices and flavor? Romani food! I'd love fics where we get even a throw away line talking about him eating spicy stew or chile mole. Make him hold Ruki at knifepoint in the kitchen having him make some stuffed peppers.

Even small things like him not eating eggs or separating his tops and bottoms because that's what he learned to do as a child would be so damn nice to see. Tiny things that connect him to his race and heritage would be so cool to see in more content of him.

Final Thoughts

Romani people, each community and each individual, have such rich culture and history. They are incredibly interesting to learn about and have had so much influence over things we might not even thing about. They're not only in Europe. They're every where. South America, the US, Asia, every where. It's about time people started recognizing them outside of what governments and white supremacy teaches us and admire the resilience and beauty of the Romani people. Please do your own research and look for real Romani people to get more information from on TikTok, YouTube, hell even the damn bird app. I hope this helped whoever wanted to know more about the Romani people. Thank you sm for reading too, this was a long one.

#ren's essays #romani people #azusa mukami #diaboliklovers #Some of this information may not be fully accurate but I did my best #If you have anything to add please let me know! I love learning new things #This contained a lot of upsetting topics but it's history and that's expected #Thank you to that one person I had fun writing this

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