#impact of learning new language | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 1 month

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 20: The New Normal

Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor.

“You left yourself too open again.”

“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath.

“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.”

You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”

Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep.

“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”

This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you.

You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.

“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts.

You nod. “Yeah.”

The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied.

If only they could see you now.

Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything.

Of course, he has to be here in order to do that.

You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided.

“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time.

You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next.

Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.

“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you.

Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission.

His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha.

The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you.

Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control.

Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs.

You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?”

“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.”

You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you.

Maybe the training is working after all.

“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.”

You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you.

Something that’s already happened.

You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that?

You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely?

Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats.

“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you.

“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again.

“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door.

You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast.

His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you.

He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never.

He’s not your alpha.

He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about.

“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth.

“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.”

All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.

“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge.

Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes.

“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too.

“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you.

“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently.

“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.”

“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says.

You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room.

How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller?

That is what you were supposed to do.

Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned.

You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time.

John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is.

You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him.

“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.”

For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.

Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you.

He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?”

Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much.

Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues.

It would at least help you forget for a while.

A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life.

Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants.

You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you.

Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you.

But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance.

John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you.

John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.”

You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you.

“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now.

Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.

Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset.

He hates it when you cry.

Alphas don’t cry.

You’re not an alpha.

You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened.

He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants.

“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms.

“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash.

The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears.

“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.”

“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter.

“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.”

The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank.

“No!”

You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees.

“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat.

“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”

Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice.

“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare.

“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths.

You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain.

“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time.

He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot.

“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.”

He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected.

The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap.

“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.”

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.”

You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you.

“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice.

A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.

“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.”

“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.”

His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own.

You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened.

You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is.

He hates it.

He hates the way he feels.

The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in.

Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up.

The worst part?

He likes it.

He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence.

He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time.

A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long.

For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over?

He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls.

He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival.

He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest.

He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room.

It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help.

By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally.

It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat.

The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest.

It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily.

He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you.

It’s working.

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks.

“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.”

“You like the beach?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.”

“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.”

“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully.

He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.”

You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception.

“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.”

“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.”

“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”

Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.”

“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.”

A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation.

He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm.

You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly.

You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.”

“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin.

You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork.

You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.”

He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.”

He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm.

“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy.

You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back.

“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you.

“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.”

He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment.

“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you.

You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?”

He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation.

“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds.

He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan.

“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.”

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John.

He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you.

“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.”

Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock?

The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins.

“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?”

You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.”

“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.”

“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.”

He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed.

“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine.

He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement.

You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager.

You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room.

“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand.

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed.

Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass.

John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?”

“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again.

You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both.

John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before.

John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him.

John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?”

Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement.

John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak.

You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high.

John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes.

Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back.

“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life.

“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips.

“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours.

“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls.

Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock.

John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.

“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”

You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night.

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnes

@protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai

@redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg

@beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff

@smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60

@evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine

@thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows

@ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce

@darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood

@daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly tf 141 #poly task force 141 #John price x reader #captain John price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega

2K notes · View notes

novlr · 5 months

Note

how to describe despair in writing

Despair is a visceral and crushing emotion—one that echoes through the pages of a story, gripping readers with its raw intensity. It is more than just a feeling; it’s an abyss that characters fall into, a shadow that colours their every action and decision with hues of hopelessness and loss.

Behaviour

Neglecting personal care or obligations.

A lack of motivation or interest in activities they once enjoyed.

Withdrawing from social situations or avoiding company.

Engaging in self-destructive actions or habits.

Consistent signs of fatigue or lethargy.

Frequent emotional outbursts or mood swings.

An inability to concentrate or focus on tasks.

Indecisive, even on trivial matters.

Focusing on negative thoughts.

Displaying a loss of hope or a sense of defeat.

Interactions

Avoiding physical or eye contact with others.

Short-tempered and easily irritated.tempered

Speaking in monosyllables or giving terse responses.

A sense of indifference or apathy toward others’ concerns.

Struggling to express themselves or to articulate their feelings.

Misinterpreting others’ intentions or words negatively.

Isolating themselves despite offers of help or companionship.

Being unresponsive to attempts at humour or light-heartedness.

Blaming others or external circumstances for their despair.

Seeking out enablers or situations that validate their mindset.

Body language

Slumped shoulders or a consistently bowed head.

Averted gaze or blank stares into the distance.

Fidgeting, such as wringing hands or picking at skin.

Slow, dragging movements or a lack of coordination.

Heavy sighing or audible breaths.

Neglecting personal space or boundaries.

Minimal gestures or lifeless posture.

Clenched fists or jaw during moments of heightened emotion.

Visible trembling or shaking due to emotional strain.

A general lack of energy or life in physical presence.

Attitude

Pessimism towards the future.

Cynicism about intentions, whether their own or others’.

Resignation, believing that effort will not change their situation.

Indifference to opportunities or choices presented to them.

A sense of helplessness or powerlessness in all scenarios.

Self-deprecation and a tendency to dismiss their own value.

An overwhelming sense of guilt or responsibility for past events.

A fixation on the negative aspects of every situation.

An inability to accept comfort or positive feedback.

Believing they are a burden to others.

Positive Story Outcomes

An epiphany or realisation that sparks a desire for change.

A gesture of kindness from another character that provides a glimmer of hope.

The discovery of an inner strength or previously untapped resource.

A serendipitous event that offers a new perspective or opportunity.

The formation of a supportive relationship or friendship.

Minor victories or achievements that build self-confidence.

Learning a valuable lesson through hardship.

Developing empathy for others going through similar experiences.

Finding purpose in aiding others, easing their own despair.

An eventual embrace of vulnerability, leading to healing and growth.

Negative Story Outcomes

A surrender with long-lasting consequences.

The breakdown of important relationships.

A significant loss incurred because of inaction or apathy.

Descent into a more self-destructive or reckless lifestyle.

The solidification of a character’s role as an antagonist.

A missed opportunity for redemption or improvement.

A worsening of the character’s situation, potentially affecting others.

The development of a trait or flaw that hinders future happiness or success.

A downfall that provides a cautionary tale within the narrative.

A tragic ending that leaves a profound impact on the reader and other characters.

Helpful Vocabulary

Desolate

Forlorn

Wretched

Crestfallen

Anguished

Dolorous

Bereft

Hollow

Numb

Morose

Sullen

Bleak

Languish

Melancholy

Hopeless

Despondent

Dejected

Heartbroken

Miserable

Pained

Woeful

Eclipsed

Defeated

Overwhelmed

Grief-stricken

Tormented

Disconsolate

Listless

Oppressed

Despairing

2K notes · View notes

hazbin-writings-and-musings · 4 months

Text

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons

Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.

- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.

- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.

- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.

- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.

1K notes · View notes

antiquarianfics · 7 months

Text

A Slip of the Tongue

a/n: how would y’all like an un-proofread one shot i wrote? ‘twas inspired by someone else’s story with a similar concept, but i lost it. :( anyhoo. i made you some content.

warnings: brief mention of death, otherwise none.

masterlist

—

“Me and Nina played on the swings today!” Your daughter, Ellie, tells you as you strap her into her car seat.

“Yeah? That so?” You ask. This is one of your favorite parts of your day; that is, listening to Ellie tell you about her day at school.

“Yeah! Nina is new. Her daddy got a new job and had to move them here. She speaks 2 languages!”

“Wow! That’s really cool, baby. What other language does she speak?”

“I think she said… Um. Something that started with an R.” Ellie scrunches her face up in consideration.

“Russian?” You ask, finishing buckling her in. You close the door and move around the car, getting in yourself.

“Yeah, I think,” Ellie replies.

“Did you know Bucky speaks Russian?” You ask her, sharing the tidbit about your boyfriend with your daughter.

Ellie loves Bucky, and he her. When Ellie’s father passed away, you truly never thought you would move on, and it killed you Ellie would grow up without a father. Then, you met Bucky, and he was wonderful. It was a complete meet-cute. You ran into him—literally—in a coffee shop 5 minutes away from Ellie’s school. You were in a rush, trying to get your coffee, your belongings, and your bearings to go pick up Ellie, and in your frantic fumbling, you crashed into a stranger who, rather than getting upset by being hit and drenched in a late, simply steadied you by the arms and asked if you were alright.

Bucky insisted on buying you a new coffee because “It’s my fault for being on your way, Doll. Besides, my ma’d kill me if she knew I passed up an opportunity to ask a pretty woman on a date.”

The admission took you by surprise, and Bucky later revealed it took him by surprise, too. Something about you, he said, brought out his old 40s confidence. He didn’t worry about scaring you like he would anyone else. In fact, he said, in that moment, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier, and he never was. He was just Bucky.

That day, though, you’d declined, telling him you had to pick your daughter up from school, but you quickly amended your statement to let him know you were at that very coffee shop everyday for an hour before you picked up Ellie. “So,” you had said, “if my being a single mom doesn’t scare you, you can buy me that make-up latte another time.” And, by god, Bucky Barnes was at that coffee shop then next day, waiting with your latte.

Fast forward to today, and Bucky practically lives with you and Ellie. He still has his apartment, but he spends 6 out of 7 days at your house. It’s so natural, though, you wish he’d just ditch the apartment and make it official. After all, he is an excellent roommate. He does the dishes, cleans up after himself, doesn’t hog the blankets, and—most importantly—he is fantastic with Ellie. He plays with her, he reads her bedtime stories, he cuts her food for her, and so much more. He is everything to you and Ellie.

So, when you tell Ellie that Bucky also speaks more than one language, you can’t help but grin when she rambles the rest of the car ride home about how she is going to ask him about that language he speaks—what language does Bucky speak again, Mama?—and then she is going to learn it too so she can show Nina.

Ellie’s rambling lasts all the way home, into the house, and into the living room where she drops her backpack on the ground and runs to Bucky, jumping in his lap with no warning. Bucky grunts at the impact, but he smiles fondly at the young girl.

“Hey, El,” he greets. “How was school?”

“Bucky, I made a new friend! She’s so cool. Did you know she speaks 2 languages! That’s really cool. I can only speak 1 language. Her daddy got a new job, so they came here. She’s my new best friend. I don’t remember what language she speaks, though.”

Ellie speaks a million miles a minute as she tries to fill Bucky in on her day. Bucky makes eye contact with you over her head and you merely smile and shrug, making Bucky grin.

“Russian,” you offer, as you move to sink down onto the couch next to your boyfriend and your daughter.

“Russian!” Ellie exclaims, nodding her head excitedly. “Mama said you speak Russian, Bucky. Do you speak Russian?”

“I do,” Bucky confirms, laughing at the amazed look that crosses Ellie’s face.

“Say something! Say something!” She begs.

“Yeah, Bucky, say something in Russian!” You join in on Ellie’s begging with a laugh.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки,” Bucky says, chuckling to himself as he watches Ellie’s amazed face.

“Wow,” she says, eyes transfixed on Bucky.

You laugh. “Yeah, wow,” you confirm, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Bucky’s cheek before standing to go to the kitchen.

You make it just across the room when you stop dead in your tracks, turning to make eye contact with Bucky and attempt to gauge his reaction to Ellie’s words.

“I can’t wait to tell Nina tomorrow that my daddy speaks Russian, too,” Ellie says, lying her head on Bucky’s chest.

You and Bucky make eye contact across the room, and you hold a silent conversation.

Bucky’s eyes are widened in shock, but he raises an eyebrow at you as if to ask, “Did she just call me her daddy?”

You shrug, mouth slightly agape. Ellie has never called Bucky her daddy before, but it doesn’t surprise you. Bucky is always around, and he acts like a father figure regardless of your relationship with him. So, you say nothing, just shrug your shoulders and hope Bucky gets the message:

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell her not to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bucky shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t mind. Really likes it even.

Finally he speaks, “Yeah, tell her your daddy speaks Russian. I’ll even teach you some if you want.”

Ellie shoots up in Bucky’s lap, grabbing his face between her hands, and seriously begging him to follow through with his promise immediately.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She exclaims. “What did you say a minute ago?” She asks, assigning her first Russian lesson.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки. It means, “Did you two know I love you? My beautiful, silly girls.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky x fem!reader

1K notes · View notes

ahqkas · 19 days

Text

BELLA ITALIA ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! in the moment of darkness, he was your light (or when theodore nott noticed a pretty girl struggling to communicate in english and decided to step up) (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, reader is from italy, italian theodore, translation of foreign language

WORD COUNT! 1.7k

NOTES! i’m trying to learn italian on my own and when i hear this man speaking italian i am WHIPPED 😿😿

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

MOVING FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER CAN BE AN INCREDIBLY CHALLENGING EXPERIENCE.

The first problem is often the language barrier. Suddenly finding yourself in a place where you don't speak the native language can be isolating and overwhelming. Simple tasks like ordering food or asking for directions become daunting challenges, and the fear of being misunderstood or ridiculed can make even basic interactions fraught with anxiety.

The weather can also play a big role in the adjustment process. Going from a sunny, warm climate to a cold, rainy one (or vice versa) can have a profound impact on one's mood and well-being. It's not just a matter of dressing appropriately — it's about learning to cope with the changes in daylight, temperature, and overall atmosphere. You left the sunny shores filled with ocean breeze and moved to rainy afternoons that seemed rather sad than anything else.

And then, of course, there's the school. Being the new kid in class is never easy, but when you're in a completely foreign environment, it can feel like you're on an entirely different world. Everything from the way classes were conducted to the social dynamics among students was be vastly different from what you were used to, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water.

But perhaps the most challenging aspect of moving to a new country was the sense of displacement, of not quite belonging anywhere. You longed for the familiarity of home while simultaneously yearning to embrace your new surroundings. You missed the way the sun kissed your skin and the way the sea felt against your movements as you swam in the water with your friends.

And you wanted someone to understand you.

Navigating the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you clutch your time table tightly, eyes darting from one corridor to another in search of the potion dungeons. The castle's vastness is overwhelming, its endless staircases and hidden passages a far cry from the sunny, open streets of your hometown in Italy. You knew your first day here would be hell.

The weather outside matched your mood: overcast and drizzly, the persistent rain casting a melancholic atmosphere over the stone walls. You miss the warmth of the Italian sun, the vibrant colors of your old school. Here, everything feels cold and foreign, a constant reminder of how far you are from home. Everything was gray and dark, the opposite of the vibrant colors you were used to.

You spot a group of students huddled together, chatting animatedly as they stood by a stone wall. Gathering your courage, you approached them, hoping they can point you in the right direction. "Scusa," you begin, your Italian accent heavy, each word carefully pronounced. "Where . . . potion class . . . dungeons?" (Excuse me.)

The students exchange puzzled glances, clearly struggling to understand your accented English because despite your try, it still came out quite wobbly. One of them, a tall boy with a shock of red hair, furrowed his brow and shakes his head slowly. "What?" he says, not unkindly, but with a hint of frustration at this situation.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You try again, your voice wavering slightly. "Potion dungeons," you repeat, gesturing with your hands as if that might bridge the gap between your language and theirs. "Next class . . . I need find."

The red-haired boy shrugs, casting a sideways glance of help at his two friends who stood next to him. They all look at you with the same guilty expression, as if they would really like to help but there was no way. The girl with bushy hair smiled at you with an expression of 'Sorry', and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. They don't understand, and you're too flustered to find the right words.

"Sorry," the ginger boy said finally, shaking his head again. "I don't know what you're saying."

Disheartened, you nodded and mumbled a quick "grazie" before retreating. You wandered through the corridors, frustration mounting with each wrong turn. The stone walls seemed to close in around you, the ancient tapestries and suits of armor blurring together in your anxious haze. You felt lost, not just in the physical sense but emotionally, adrift in this unfamiliar place where even asking for directions was like a challenge for you.

Your mind was still reeling from the embarrassing encounter as you hurried down the corridor, your thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and self-doubt. How could something as simple as asking for directions feel so impossible? The sting of the students' puzzled looks and guilty smiles lingers, making your cheeks burn with residual embarrassment. Lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a solid figure. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, and your books spilled across the floor. You gasped at the sight, your heart leaping into your throat. Could you embarrass yourself any more today?

"Scusa, scusa!" you blurted out in Italian, crouching down to gather your scattered belongings. The words tumbled from your lips in a rapid, nervous stream. You didn't even think the person wouldn't understand your sentences. "Non stavo guardando dove andavo. Mi dispiace tanto!" (Excuse me, excuse me! I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm so sorry!)

As you frantically picked up your books, you glanced up to see who you've bumped into. Your eyes widened in surprise and relief when you recognized Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin who always seemed to glide through the halls with an air of calm detachment and mysterious aura. You braced yourself for confusion, expecting him to look as puzzled as the others had.

But instead, Theodore's lips curved into a slight smile and a warm glint appeared in his usually cool eyes. "Non ti preoccupare," he replied in perfect Italian, his voice soothing and accent deafening. "È tutto a posto. Lascia che ti aiuti." (Don't worry. It's all right. Let me help you.)

The shock of hearing your native language from his lips momentarily left you speechless. You watched in amazement as he got down on his knees, helping you gather your books with nothing but ease. The knot of anxiety in your chest began to loosen, replaced by a flutter of gratitude and something else — an unexpected connection.

"Grazie," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "Non sapevo che parlassi italiano." (Thank you. I didn't know you spoke Italian.)

Theodore's smile widened just a fraction, a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Mia madre è italiana," he explained, handing you the last of your textbooks from the floor. "L'ho imparato da lei." (My mother is Italian. I learned it from her.)

You stand up, clutching your books to your chest, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Here is someone who understands — not just your words, but the feeling of being caught between two worlds.

"Grazie mille," you repeated, your smile genuine this time. "Mi sentivo così persa." (Thank you very much. I felt so lost.)

Theodore nodded, his expression softening. "Capisco. Hogwarts può essere un posto molto grande e confuso. Vieni, ti mostro io dov'è la classe di pozioni." (I understand. Hogwarts can be a very big and confusing place. Come, I'll show you where the potions class is.)

As you walked beside Theodore through the corridors of Hogwarts, the oppressive weight of the castle's vastness seemed to lift slightly. His calm demeanor and fluent Italian became a comforting anchor in this world full of unfamiliarity.

"Da quanto tempo sei qui?" you asked the boy next to you, trying to make conversation. (How long have you been here?)

"Questa è la mia sesta anno," he replied. "Conosco il castello come le mie tasche ormai." (This is my sixth year. I know the castle like the back of my hand by now.)

"Sei fortunato," you sighed, your hold on your bag tightening. "Mi sento come se fossi in un labirinto." (You're lucky. I feel like I'm in a maze.)

Theo chuckled and the sound was low and warm. He was nice. "Capisco. Anch'io mi sentivo così i primi giorni. Ma vedrai, presto ti abituerai." (I understand. I felt the same way in my first days. But you'll see, you'll get used to it soon.)

As you continued to walk, the conversation flowed more naturally, easing your nerves. "Cosa ti piace di più di Hogwarts?" you asked him, genuinely curious. (What do you like most about Hogwarts?)

"Direi la biblioteca," Theo said after a moment of thought. "È enorme, con così tanti libri rari. E i corridoi segreti. Sono divertenti da esplorare." (I would say the library. It's enormous, with so many rare books. And the secret corridors. They're fun to explore.)

"Sembra affascinante. Mi piacerebbe esplorare di più, ma ho paura di perdermi." (It sounds fascinating. I'd love to explore more, but I'm afraid of getting lost.)

He gave you a reassuring look. "Se vuoi, posso mostrarti alcuni dei posti migliori. Così non ti perderai." (If you want, I can show you some of the best places. That way you won't get lost.)

Theo was the kindest person you've met here in the entire time since the beginning of the school term and your heart warmed at his kindness. "Mi piacerebbe molto, grazie." (I'd love that, thank you.)

Finally, you reached the entrance to the dungeons. "Eccoci," Theo exclaimed, stopping before the heavy wooden door. "La classe di Pozioni è proprio qui dentro." (Here we are. The Potions class is right inside here.)

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Grazie, Theo. Sei stato davvero gentile." (Thank you, Theo. You've been really kind.)

He offered you a nod, his smile reassuring. "Prego. Se hai bisogno di altro aiuto, basta chiedere. Buona fortuna con la tua lezione." (You're welcome. If you need any more help, just ask. Good luck with your class.)

With one last grateful look, you pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit classroom. As you took your seat, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with friends like Theo, Hogwarts might start to feel a little more like home.

823 notes · View notes

dumb-ghost-child · 1 year

Text

Humans are weird: lifespan

Clara had known the mission was a bad idea. That guess was reinforced when the ship crashed. The other members of her little crew had died on impact, but she’d only been injured. From her guess it was just a few broken or otherwise messed up bones- annoying, yes, but not irreparable. She’d tried communicating with her crew, sending out transmissions and mentally screaming for Indigo, but nothing came to her rescue.

By some miracle, the air was breathable. The climate was on the warmer side, reminding her of the Caribbeans. It was quite nice, and if it weren’t for the three moons, binary star system, and the lavender sky, she would’ve been able to believe this was in a familiar system.

She stumbled out of the ship, swearing to herself when she saw what a wreck it was; there was no way she’d be getting back into the air with that.

Instead, she looked around. It appeared that she’d landed in a field of sorts- on the horizon she saw what appeared to be a civilization, maybe a town, and around her were tall trees that had pear-like fruits on them. A quick scan said they were edible, so she grabbed one. It was perfectly at her shoulder level, which she appreciated. The fruit was tasty, reminding her of earth’s apples or the kalrin-fruits Indigo had introduced to her.

It took a few minutes, but soon Clara had made herself a splint for her broken arm and gathered what she could from the ship’s remains.

She was about to make her way towards the town when she heard a strange chittering noise behind her. The translator didn’t pick it up, which either meant this was an undiscovered language or it was broken- it was really a 50/50 chance. Turning around, she saw a small creature, maybe reaching up to her knees, chittering at her. It seemed to be a bit scared, but still interested. It gestured for her to follow it, which she did, being led to another small town. All around her were the little creatures, rushing about, some coming up to her. They were cute, in a way, with mint-green skin, four arms, fur down their backs, six large eyes- well, she assumed they were eyes- and a bipedal walking pattern. They led her to a building with what appeared to be a collapsed roof, which only reached up to her head. Easily enough she fixed it, and the creatures seemed happy, surrounding her and making those same chittering noises, much more happy-sounding this time.

The Chiri, as Clara called them, were a fascinating civilization. They had a complex language of clicks, chirps, and assorted chittering sounds that took Clara a while to learn properly. Their planet was far faster than earth, one of earth’s weeks was the equivalent of a month for them, and an earth month was the equivalent of a year. Most Chiri only lived for a few of their years, but their lives were filled with celebration. It felt like every week Clara got invited to a new celebration- either a wedding, a coming of age, a new harvest, or even a funeral. Even though Clara took only around six months to fully recover, by that point she had become known as a Chiri guardian. She’d been on the planet for a number of their years, becoming a guardian figure. Where her ship had crashed was turned into a shrine of sorts, new towns being built around it. In exchange, Clara protected them, guided them, and shared her knowledge with them. She’d even learned their language to the point where it was as fluent as any other, even without her translator, which she was fairly certain had broken.

The Chiri had given Clara a new name that they called her, Xi-Rai’du. Most of the children knew her as Xixi.

Clara trusted her friends, they’d taken her in and healed her. They felt like family just as much as her crew on the ship did. Despite their short lives, the Chiri were a people who valued learning. They passed down stories from generation to generation, and Clara would help to remember them as well. She taught them to write, transcribing their stories.

One of the young rushed towards Clara, a little girl who had only recently become old enough to talk. “Xixi! Xixi! There you are!” The little one, her name Si’ra, reached out her four arms for Clara to lift her up, making a high-pitched noise that was roughly the same as a laugh. “The celebration was about to start without you, come! Dari and Lixai want you there!”

Clara nodded, smiling. Dari and Lixai were getting married, and Clara didn’t want to miss out. Still carrying Si’ra, Clara made her way towards the town.

All around the town were banners decorated in vibrant colors, flowers in every windowsill and a clear trail of petals leading to where the wedding would take place. Clara had always loved the Chiri’s celebrations, they were all filled with laugher, music, dancing and festivities that could go for days. As soon as Clara showed up, she was surrounded by lively music, cheers from the Chiri who’d arrived for the celebration, and the greeting of Dari and Lixai, both wearing gorgeous formal attire. Clara bowed to them, smiling as she let Si’ra down, watching her rush towards the other children to join in there game.

“Lady Xi-Rai’du, welcome.” Lixai spoke first, joy clear in all six of her eyes.

Clara shook her head, “Today isn’t a day for celebrating me, it’s for you two.” She gestured to the crowd, “They’re all here for you- so go, celebrate! You’ve earned it.”

Lixai and Dari smiled, taking Clara’s hand and leading her into the crowd.

The wedding was a joyous one, and Clara couldn’t help but feel incredibly proud of Lixai and Dari. Weddings were a major event for both humans and chiri, although the chiri certainly had a more lively celebration all the way through.

The next day, Clara went to the cave where the Chiri kept murals of all their major events. She smiled as she looked, seeing paintings of herself defending the town from wild beasts, celebrating amongst them, and even when she’d first arrived, now over a year ago.

Deep down though, she knew couldn’t stay. Her crew still needed her, and she knew the Chiri had to grow into a full civilization on their own. She was torn out of her mind though when she heard what sounded like screams outside. Sa’ri rushed in, panicked. “Xixi! Help! There are- there’s something outside!”

Clara, admittedly, panicked. She picked Sa’ri up again, letting the girl lead her out. As soon as she left she saw the cause of the panic. In the sky above was a ship. Her ship.

As soon as it landed, Clara put herself between the ship and the Chiri. She faced the panicked crowd, trying to keep order. “All of you! Please, calm down. These newcomers mean no harm.”

The Chiri trusted her, more or less calming down. Clara sighed in relief, facing the ship as the bridge lowered. What she saw surprised her- another human.

It took a moment for Clara to realize they were speaking English- she’d become so used to hearing the chiri’s language of chirps and squeaks- but when she registered what they were saying she almost laughed. It was a declaration of peace, saying they were only doing a recovery mission. Apparently they’d finally gotten the distress signal Clara had sent when she first was crashing, tracing it back to her.

Clara approached the ship, Sa’ri in her arms, and faced the stranger.

“If you’re looking for the recon group that was sent out here a little over a year ago..” she sighed, “I’m all that’s left. I’ve been living on this planet for the past year, and the civilization you see have helped me. They nursed me back to health, gave me a place to stay, and trusted me.” Behind her were the people who she’d protected for what were generations to them. “My name is Clara.. but it is also Xi-Rai’du, and these are the chiri.”

The human seemed shocked, but they didn’t do anything agressive.

“The crew thought you’d died..” they muttered, “they hired me as a replacement. How are you even alive?!”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “I told you. The chiri took me in, and the planet’s atmosphere is breathable.” she put Sa’ri down, and she hugged my leg before running back to her family, as though sensing that this would be the last time she saw her. “I assume you’re here to bring me back now that you know I’m alive?”

They nodded, gesturing for Clara to follow them.

“Just give me a second,” Clara turned to face the Chiri, bowing to them and switching back to their language. “Thank you, all of you. Now I must leave.. but I will return. Reach for the stars, and perhaps we will meet in the cosmos one day.”

The chiri seemed to understand, solemnly accepting that their guardian was leaving.

“Xixi!” Sa’ri called up from the crowd, “I’ll find you again, I promise!”

She turned, nodding to the fellow human. “Bring me back onto the ship.”

Maybe, just maybe, part of the reason she’d turned was because she wanted to hide the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. But when she returned onto the ship, Clara was reminded of where she belonged, amongst her family in the stars. The chiri had been kind, but she had to go. Besides, when Indigo saw her again, xir expression just about made all of the time away worth it.

#whoo boy #this went in every direction except for the one I thought it would go in #emotional? Maybe?#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #lifespan #sci fi

3K notes · View notes

venusgroove · 15 days

Text

solar return observations #2

this post is quite short, sorry!

moon in 7h - new (and committed!) romantic relationship. also shows an emotional maturity in both romantic and platonic relationships.

sagittarius rising - feeling of freedom in ones physical and emotional expressions.

neptune in 6h - disappointment in plans with others. things may not be solid and cause further disappointment.

pluto conj. venus & venus in 8h - strong emotional dependency in relationships

uranus in 10h - being perceived in many different ways amongst people. there may be a perception that one person holds that is far different than another.

sun in 9h - learning a new language and/or learning about a new culture. overall large presence of another culture in ones life.

aries chiron - denial in ones losses. not fully accepting failure further harms the individual.

6h placements - a change in health and lifestyle. check placements to see how it manifests.

pisces neptune - very emotional, emotions will almost physically impact oneself and even hurt those around them.

sun conj. mars - learning/improving confidence, but if the sun and/or mars has negative aspects, this confidence can be very harmful.

lilith’s placement - displays what one truly desires, but often hides and doesn’t exactly seek it.

ex. lilith in 10h - someone who desires recognition and popularity.

#astrology #natal chart #astrology observations #astro observations #astro #solar return chart #solar return observations #solar return #sr chart

622 notes · View notes

genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 months

Note

Lynette, Eula, and Lumine with an s/o whose love language is acts of service, and enjoys cooking/baking for them?

(Genshin Impact) Signs of Love for Lynette, Eula, Lumine, Arlecchino, Chiori, Lisa, Yae, Xianyun, Dehya, and Kokomi

WOE, EIGHT EXTRA WAIFUS UPON THEE

Lynette prefers this type of love over any kind of flowery words.

After all, with her true profession words mean very little.

How someone acts tells her everything she needs to know.

It especially show in the way S/O cooks their meals.

After coming home from a show, she sees S/O gently smile at her, with a bucket full of shellfish on the table, and a small plate of lemons near it.

She doesn't need to say anything, a small smile from her and her tail swishing faster than usual tells S/O how happy she is.

Having some true peace and quiet with the people she loves nearby is all she could ever want.

Eula is actually thankful S/O shows affection in a language she can understand: nonverbally.

With a simple hug, she can immediately tell how S/O is feeling with how tightly their arms are wrapped around her.

Eula chuckles, being behind closed doors allowing her more gentle side to come out.

(Eula) "Nice to see you too, S/O."

(S/O) "Dinner's already done, kept it warm for you."

(Eula) "How chivalrous of you."

She teased, before seeing a change of clothes already on the table for her.

This was something she could get used to.

With all the things Lumine gets up to, having someone just prepare dinner for her while she's away is enough to make her to cry.

With no other obligations than just to come home safe to someone she loves, Lumine completely relaxes around S/O.

(S/O) "Welcome back. Busy day?"

(Lumine) "You already know."

Lumine slumps down on the chair, letting out a dramatic sigh making both of them laugh.

(S/O) "Dinner should be ready in a second, and I got a bath running upstairs."

S/O heard her head lean back into the chair.

(Lumine) "I could kiss you right now."

(S/O) "Do it when you don't stink."

Lumine rolled her eyes, hearing S/O chuckle.

Arlecchino can easily smell the barbecue coming from the House of the Hearth, as well as the sound of children laughing.

And she knew S/O was in there, keeping them happy.

It was strange, admittedly.

To have someone who genuinely loved her, without knowing entirely what she was actually like.

And instead of showering her with useless words or gifts, S/O let their love show in how they treated her and her children.

It made her quite fond of S/O, and if they were already like this, then she knew she didn't have to say "I love you" to them every day.

(S/O) "Arle, care to join us?"

(Arlecchino) "Of course, have you made sure to make some for yourself?"

(S/O) "Mhm, just didn't want to dig in without you."

A smile finally grows on her lips as she sits down, S/O next to her.

(Arlecchino) "Apologies for keeping you waiting then, Shall we?"

Chiori's not gonna sugarcoat it: Instant kiss with both her hands behind S/O's head the moment she sees her tools already brought out in the order she likes.

She didn't need S/O to do that, but this was way better than some expensive gift she'll never use or wear.

In fact, S/O made damn sure to never buy her clothes, as that would be the ultimate insult.

Instead, it was everything that could help her, ranging from tailoring tools and new windows.

All with an admittedly very cute smile they wore just for her.

(Chiori) "Hm, you have me head over heels for you, S/O."

She said, with a relatively deadpan voice.

(S/O) "You can barely keep the affection in, dear."

Both of them quietly chuckle as they work on their jobs inside the store.

Other than making her name known across all of Tevyat, she doesn't think she could ask for anything more.

Lisa's eyes haze over with more love than she thought possible when she realizes that her tea is already on the table.

(Lisa) "Oh, you sure know how to make a woman's heart skip a beat, S/O!"

(S/O) "Well, I learned from the best, right?"

Lisa absolutely adores S/O's love language, seeing as she barely needed to lift a finger.

But that being said, she makes sure to return the favor. It isn't much of a relationship if only one side is putting in this much effort.

Both S/O and Lisa constantly do little things for each other, whether it be work or home related.

The real moment Lisa is ready to just drop down on one knee for marriage is when they already have a hot bath for her the moment she closes up the library.

Yae gladly takes the sake S/O has prepared for her on the table, making sure to pour them some as well.

(Yae) "Oh, where would I be without you?"

(S/O) "Hm, probably very bored. But still in the same place."

Yae simply chuckles at that, not even bothering to argue.

S/O was certainly interesting in her eyes, as they rarely needed to be told how they could help her out.

She honestly expected their love to be a bit more grandiose instead of something so plain.

And yet she could hardly find room to complain about it. Especially with all the fried tofu they cooked for her.

(Yae) "Remind me to get you something nice for today. Oh, how about a signature from our very own Miss Hina?"

(S/O) "I think I'd prefer my reward not paid with someone's tears, Miko."

(Yae) "Hm, your loss."

S/O already had Xianyun's heart at the good food, but everything else was a bonus that just kept on adding.

And what better way for One to repay S/O's love than eating every single morsel?

For all their efforts, Xianyun works to invent something special, only for S/O.

(Xianyun) "Hm..."

A single finger brushed the bottom of her chin, lips pursing as she struggled to think what machine they could use.

They already had her cooking tools, and while newer ones could be good, she felt the need to give them something even better.

(S/O) "Something on your mind, Xianyun?"

(Xianyun) "No, One's problem is that nothing is coming to it..."

She wanted to repay her affection in kind since this was her love language as well.

What about a machine that could allow them to fly with her?

...Actually, that'd probably be a bad idea....Or would it?

(Xianyun) sigh "If only you could fly, S/O..."

(S/O) "...?"

As a mercenary/bodyguard, actions always spoke louder than words to Dehya.

And she'd be damned if S/O didn't show how much they loved her.

Whether it be buying a nice makeup set for her or preparing an entire bag of Candied Ajilenakh Nuts, it never failed to make her cheeks heat up at least a little.

(Dehya) "Thanks, I'll be sure to use it later! Let me know if there's anything you want me to get you as well!"

She had many types of people try to win her love with trying to smoothtalk or bribe her.

But all S/O had to do was pay attention to the little things.

And seeing how they were trying hard to reinforce her makeup case, Dehya already knew her heart belonged to no one else.

(Dehya) "...Is that steel?"

(S/O) "Think that's too much?"

(Dehya) "Hah, just a little!"

It does not matter how tired Kokomi is, the moment she sees S/O tidying up her bed with a few books already by the nightstand.

Her energy skyrockets back up to full as if she got hit with a power boost.

(Kokomi) "S/O, thank you so much!"

She does feel a little bad for S/O to do so much for her when she's so busy.

But at the same time, it was hard to deny that being pampered like this was greatly relaxing for her.

So much responsibility was thrust upon her, it felt nice to have someone who had no expectations in return to do something just because they wanted to.

In her journal, the energy S/O gives her had at least four digits at any given time.

Of course, she makes sure that they don't ever see that, lest her energy drop to zero by making her want to bury her head inside a pillow.

582 notes · View notes

elodieunderglass · 3 months

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could help me out with a word I've forgotten? I'm trying to remember the name for a concept that (I think) talks about how people better understand or process Things once they have vocabulary to describe it - I've heard it talked about in regards to the colour orange, or coercive control, etc.

long story short i've just read a paper saying ancient Greeks and Romans weren't racist bc they had no word for racism and am trying to form an argument against!

(no worries if this is unanswerable, i'm aware its a bit of a long shot but you struck me as a person who Knows Things)

That’s extremely kind and funny of you. i don’t know much but i am ok at synthesis.

I think you might be thinking of the concepts loosely called the “Sapir-Whorf hypothesis”, which describes something called “linguistic determinism.” This idea has been “disproven”, as it is just too reductionist as a concept - people are clearly perfectly capable of having experiences that are tough to describe with words. There will be plenty of papers showing how this reasoning is applied.

but it is still commonly thrown around and still considered a useful teaching framework. That’s why you’ll see it referenced online as if it is fresh, new, and applicable - people learn about it every year in college. Also, elements of the framework are probably perfectly sound. It definitely seems to be the case that language shapes brains; it just doesn’t seem to be the case that humans who don’t have specific words for them can’t experience orange, or the future.

(Many things in college are taught using teaching frameworks that may not be, technically, true; the framework is intended to give a critical structure for interpreting information. Then, when we later find evidence that disproves the hypothesis, that single piece of information doesn’t destroy our expensive college education; what we paid for is the framework. This is mostly frustrating in the sciences, when fresh crops of undergraduate students crash around on social media, grappling with their first exposure to (complex concept) and how it’s DIFFERENT to what they learned BEFORE and their teachers LIED TO EVERYBODY and they’re going to save the world from POP SCIENCE by telling the TRUTH. You’ll notice that these TOTALLY NEW INFORMATION reveals map along the semester schedule. The thing here is that getting new information, or information being different from what you were previously told, does not cancel out the fact that you are getting what you pay for - an education. Learning new facts that change our relationships to hypotheses isn’t a ✨huge betrayal ✨ , but the expected process of academia. Anyway.)

You have an interesting response here, and can start by looking at the ways that Sapir-Whorf has been disproved. There will be loads of literature on that.

However, it would be interesting to look at the argument as an unpicking of the other side’s rather weird, ritualistic superstitious belief that a behavior doesn’t exist if the creatures doing it can’t describe it. It is not on the ancient Greeks and Romans to categorise and interpret their behavior for a modern educated audience. They do not have the wherewithal to do so. They are also fucking dead. We can name the behaviors we see, and describe their impacts, however the hell we like.

Sure, the ancient Greeks used “cancer” to refer to lumpy veiny tumors. We can infer that they still had blood cancer, because their medical texts describe leukaemia and their corpses have evidence of it - they just didn’t know it was cancer. But we do, so we can call it cancer. Just because Homer said “the wine-dark sea” in a flight of girlish whimsy doesn’t mean he was unable to distinguish grape juice from saltwater, which we know, because we can observe that he was an intelligent wordsmith perfectly capable of talking about wine and oceans in other contexts. We are the people who get to stand at our point of history with our words, and name things like “this person probably died of leukaemia” and “poets say things that aren’t necessarily literal” and “this behaviour was racist” and “that’s gay” and “togas kinda slay tho” despite Ancient Greeks having different concepts of cancer, wittiness, prejudice, homosexuality, and slaying than we do today.

Now just to caveat that people do get muddled about the concept of racism. Our understanding of racism from here - this point of history, with these words, probably from the West - is heavily influenced by how we see racism around us today: white supremacy and the construct of “whiteness,” European colonial expansion, transatlantic chattel slavery, orientalism, evangelism, 20th century racial science, and so on. This is the picture of racism that really dominates our current discourse, so people often mistake it for the definition of racism. (Perhaps in a linguistic-deterministic sort of way after all.) As a result, muddled-up people often say things like “I can’t be racist because I’m not a white American who throws slurs at black American people,” while being an Indian person in the UK who votes for vile anti-immigration practices, or a Polish person with a horrible attitude about the Roma. Many people genuinely hold this very kindergarten idea of racism; if your opponent does as well, they’re probably thinking something like “Ancient Greek and Roman people didn’t have a concept of white supremacy, because whiteness hadn’t been invented yet, so how could they be racist?” And that’s unsound reasoning in a separate sense.

Racism as the practice of prejudice against an ethnicity, particularly one that is a minority, is a power differential that is perfectly observable in ancient cultures. The beliefs and behaviors will be preserved in written plays, recorded slurs, beauty standards, reactions to foreign marriages, and travel writing. The impacts will be documented in political records, trade agreements, the layouts of historical districts of ancient towns.

You don’t need permission to point out behaviours and impacts. You can point them out in any words you like. You can make up entirely new words to bully the ancient romans with. You are the one at this point of history and your words are the ones that get used.

Pretending that “words” are some kind of an intellect-obscuring magical cloud in the face of actual evidence is just a piece of sophistry (derogatory) on the part of your opponent here. It’s meant to be a distraction. You can dismiss this very flimsy shield pretty quickly and get them in the soft meat of them never reading anything about the actual material topic, while they’re still looking up dictionary definitions or whatever.

606 notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 3 months

Text

ACROSS YOUR SKIN // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.6K WORDS

Theo Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* During a Quidditch practice, you accidentally harm Theo and you both learn something new about him.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Sub!Theo, Dom!reader, Oral sex (male giving, fem receiving), consensual hitting, heavy kissing, language, Quidditch injury, fem reader (lmk if I missed something) (not proofread)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Sweat - ZAYN

- - -

The entirety of this practice had shot by like a knife through air. You could feel the air slicing across your body, penetrating your Quidditch uniform.

The darkened clouds overhead danced along the horizon, concealing the golden sun from the pitch. Your eyes scattered across the field in an attempt to locate the Seeker.

In a flash of green and black, a robed bolt of lightning shot across the pitch, heading downward toward the smallest glint of gold. The Snitch.

You shot your head up, and just as you did, a Bludger sped around the edge of the arena, heading straight for him. You clenched your jaw and angled your broom toward the speeding bullet.

“Blaise!” you shouted over the whoosh of the brooms around you. The boy’s dark eyes found yours quickly.

“Head that off!”

Despite Blaise’s position on the team, he caught sight of the flying Bludger and raced off toward it once he realized you wouldn’t catch it in time.

Today's game was a sort of scrimmage for the Slytherin team to practice. Your team often did this instead of running drills like the Gryffindors. Your teammates found they were better if they practiced the way they played—and you’d have to agree. The game got your heart racing, not stupid drills.

Just as Blaise reached the Bludger, he caught the edge of the heavy object with the tail-end of his broom, using its vortex of built-up speed to send the small ball hurtling toward you.

You gripped your bat, and just before it collided with your arm, you swung wildly. The force of the Bludger hitting your bat sounded like thunder.

You watched as it slung off in the direction of the opposite team’s Quaffle.

You admitted that in the heat of the game, you didn’t consider that the opposite team wasn’t really that; it was your team pretending to be another.

“Watch it! Sorry!” you shouted.

Theodore Nott was in a spiral towards the ground, chasing after the Quaffle Berkshire missed, when the Bludger clipped the end of his broom.

His broom stuttered at the impact and sent him circuiting in the opposite direction. With a deepened yelp, he was thrown violently through the air.

“Theo!” you shouted. You gripped the handle of your broom and pushed it toward the ground. Your hair whipped wildly around you as you rocketed toward the boy who now lay collapsed against the damp sand.

Just before you reached the ground, you pulled up and lept off of the wood, running to gain your balance on the uneven ground. You sped toward the motionless boy, trying to keep your footing.

“Theo!”

The game above you had ceased, and other teammates began to drop behind you, trying to reach the two of you.

You dropped down to your knees beside him and laid your body across his. Your gloved hands gripped his shoulders and shook him roughly, trying to stir some consciousness, but there was nothing.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, fretting endlessly. You pressed your cold hands to his face in an attempt to shock him awake. Nothing.

“Fuck, Theo! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

You were shaking him and shaking him and—

“THEO!” You brought your hand down across his face swiftly, skin meeting skin in a fiery clap.

Theo’s eyes shot open with a small gasp. A deep sigh of relief pushed from your lungs, and you leaned your forehead against his in a moment of weakness.

Your skin pressed against his, the beads of sweat intermingling like a crown of frost. Your gloved fingertips were gently against his cheeks. Both of your lips were parted, breaths heavy and relieved.

“I wonder if you’d ever do that to me again, bella,” his raspy voice purred against your ear.

“Ugh!” You wrenched yourself away from him, relief turning to annoyance. Of course, he’d take this moment to say something sexual.

“Alright, that’s practice! Everybody get washed up—I’ll get Nott to the infirmary.”

With that, a few of your teammates helped Theo toward the pitch’s exit, and the rest of you headed back for a cold shower.

***

It was a Friday evening which meant that all of your roommates were out for the evening—flitting about Hogsmeade, studying in the library, or whatever. You’d been invited out, but you were unbelievably sore from this afternoon’s practice. Be it because you’d pushed your body as hard as it could go during the actual practice or because you’d practically dove off your broom to get to Theo, you didn’t know. Either way, you were taking an early night.

You were, anyway, until you heard a knock at your door.

At first, you’d just assumed it was one of your roommates checking in for the night, but you were sure you hadn’t locked the door.

You rolled over and faced the thick wooden door, waiting for another knock, just in case you’d imagined it. You didn’t want to get up if you didn’t have to—especially after you’d already gotten so comfortable.

Another knock came to the door, this time a bit quicker and rougher.

You suppressed a sigh and yanked your covers back, headed toward the door at the end of the room. Whoever it was had better have a decent excuse for interrupting your rest. Every step you took felt like a dagger shooting up your legs and back.

The minute your fingers wrapped around the door handle and pulled it back, a tall figure pushed past you and into the room.

“Hey, what—” you began to protest before a voice interrupted yours. It was the same rasping, deep voice from earlier on the Quidditch pitch—one you knew all too well.

“Please, bella, let me stay,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This was Theo. The two of you had been on the same Quidditch team since you were eleven, you knew everything there was to know about each other. Except how badly he apparently wanted you, it seemed.

“Theo, I—”

“Please,” he spoke, eyes wide and wanting. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Just let me have you—just this once.”

“We can’t do this…we’re in the same house, on the same team, we’d just fuck everything up!” you tried to reason with him. There were a thousand reasons why nothing romantic should ever happen between you and Theo and zero reasons why they should, yet…the way he stared at you with such desire imprinted in his oceanic eyes had your knees weak.

“Please, I will do anything to have you,” he said. His voice cracked beneath the weight of his desire, the volume little more than a pathetic whisper.

And just as you were about to turn him away for the final time, he sank down to his knees just before you. His hands reached out for you, asking wordlessly to touch you. When you didn’t pull away, his shaking fingers made contact with your bare legs.

One arm curled around one leg, and the other pushed between your thighs. With begging strength, he pulled himself to you, pressing his shuddering, parted lips gently against your flesh. The feeling of his hot breath against your skin sent chills across your body.

Your eyes fluttered for a fleeting second as you imagined the possibilities—ones of you tangled within the sheets and devouring every inch of his body.

“Please,” he practically whined the word, his breath hot and panting against you. His hands clutched your legs endlessly, his lips across your skin, your fingers curling in his hair. You didn’t really recall doing that. Fuck.

“Okay, Teddy,” you whispered. His head shot up quickly, and his eyes searched yours. He looked in disbelief as if he hardly believed you’d ever say yes.

“But you do everything I say.” You removed one of your hands from his curls to trace the knuckles down the length of his cheek.

“Yes, bella,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your hands on his skin.

His breath caught in his throat as your next words hit his ears. His eyes glanced up at you only for a moment before he was slipping his trembling fingers beneath the fabric of your night shorts.

His touch felt like fire along your flesh, melting and scarring everything it touched. Your head tilted back slowly as he worked the clothing down your legs, his movements slow and methodical.

Just as soon as they were on, your shorts pooled on the floor around your ankles, and Theo pressed his nose to your core, eliciting an electric response from you.

Your fingers tightened in his curls as the tip of his nose bumped against you. It was clear from his slowed breathing and caressing lips that he wanted to touch you badly. But still, he listened.

When giving instructions, you had told him to pull your bottoms down and to place himself just before you but not to touch you yet. You wanted him to beg even more. You loved how pathetic he sounded.

“Baby,” he whispered against your skin, hot breath flowing down your legs. His pale eyes stared up at you with desperation leaking around the edges. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, begging you to allow him to touch you. His fingers practically vibrated along the edge of your skin, every other shudder forcing him to come into contact with you.

“What do you say, Teddy?” you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Please…,” he whispered, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your nightshirt. “How many times shall I say it? I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to.”

“Just once more, then you can touch.”

“Please, my love.” His voice was soft and cracking. The words he chose made your head spin, making you wonder what kind of feelings he was truly harboring for you. Were they purely sexual or perhaps something more? You weren’t sure. It was a question for another day.

“Touch me, Teddy.”

With a shuddering exhale, he pressed his mouth to the core of your body in a hot, languorous motion. At the feeling, your fingers returned to their station in his hair, pulsating against his scalp. Your head rolled back against your shoulders. Your throat strained against the flesh of your neck, sending sparks of sound down through your chest at every moan that exited your lips.

He destroyed you sweetly from the outside in, feasting on you like fruit in the summer. His desperation to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you was pulsing through him like a bullet. Your legs began to shake beneath the feeling of his lips on yours.

When he realized your knees had begun to shake, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pushed you up and over onto your bed.

As your back hit the length of your mattress, a soft gasp left you as you realized his lips had never left you. He had never pulled away from you despite the motion. He had never pulled away, and your end was rapidly approaching.

“Close,” you whispered to the air. At the word, Theo’s hands clutched around your hips tightly, pulling you even closer to his mean mouth. A yelp escaped your lips at the sudden intensity of his tongue. Nothing could have ever prepared you for the feeling of the boy beneath you.

His eyes refused to leave you. They resembled that of a predator in the wild feasting on his prey, with no regret of what he was consuming. He could have eaten you whole right now, and you would not have felt any less pleasure.

Your fingers wrapped into the duvet beneath you, pressure increasing with each second. The breaths entering and exiting you increased heavily as your body skated closer and closer to the edge.

A small groan from Theo’s mouth sent shockwaves up the length of your body. The fuzzy feeling pooled in your head at the base of your skull and neck. You weren’t going to last much longer.

You glanced down to warn Theo that he would have to move away when you registered what the boy beneath you was doing. His eyes, now peacefully shut, refused to falter despite his body's motion.

His hips rolled roughly into the edge of your mattress, pushing pleasure through the rest of his body. His eyebrows began to knit into a rough line just as you began to tip over the edge of your mind. Your head rolled back against your pillow, Theo’s mouth showing no mercy despite the pleasure he was now giving himself.

You could barely stand to hold onto the comforters above you anymore; the only thing you could bear to grip was Theo’s honeyed curls, and with each tug to the delicate strand, he’d release another moan against you.

In a second, you fell over the edge, cascading into an overwhelming high that rose your body away from the bed. No matter how far into it you were, Theo refused to slow down and moved you through the whole moment, never relinquishing his mouth’s movements.

You finished with a cracking groan and shuddering legs. The weight of Theo’s hands against your thighs barely kept them from rising off the bed.

He chuckled evilly, a mixture of slick and spit running down his chin and neck. His lips were swollen and reddened, begging to taste your mouth.

He began to crawl up the bed towards you, but you stopped him with a foot placed delicately on his chest. You shook your head weakly and angled your head towards the obvious problem that had blossomed beneath his trousers. A lazy smirk spread across his lips.

“Finish,” you demanded, your eyes heavy and lidded, your lips parted and panting. The sweat from your exertion bled down your neck and between your breasts.

“Please, bella, let me touch you—”

“No, you’ve touched me enough,” you whispered. “Finish yourself in front of me.”

He swallowed thickly, the motion of his throat sending a shiver across your arms. He was the perfect specimen of a man, you could hardly stand it.

And when his hands dropped to separate the button and zipper of his pants, you could have come again. His hands slid across his slick stomach and pressed against himself.

His eyes screwed shut, and a slight hiss left his lips at the sensation. There was something so empowering about watching him do anything you told him to. It felt absolutely perfect, and you never wanted to stop.

His free hand rose to his face and slid the remaining sheen from his mouth across himself, the scent of you mixed with the consistency had him very quickly rolling his hips into his fist. He groaned against the feeling, bracing himself on the mattress just above you.

His eyes could barely hold yours, yet every time they fluttered shut, you laid a light slap to his cheek.

“Keep your eyes on me, Teddy,” you whispered. The skin on his face was becoming redder by the moment, but every time your hand came into contact with his cheek, he seemed to get closer to his climax. You never would have pegged Theo as someone who wanted to be hit by his partner, but it seemed to be working wonders for him. He was pathetic and begging for more after two or three hits. It felt perfect.

“That’s it, Teddy, that’s it, baby,” you whispered against his swollen lips. “Take it.”

And within a few moments, he was groaning and releasing himself against his hands, and you were pulling his lips to yours by his hair and devouring him just as he’d done to you.

Tag List: @lilymurphy03, @mypolicemanharryyy, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx, @thatblackthorn, @robinyx, @starsval, @jolly4holly, @blvebanisters, @chgrch

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott

989 notes · View notes