#still upset hes not actually an old woman

[hatterhare]

More Pauline Backstory stuff because inspiration strikes randomly and hard

Content Warning:

Abuse (general) / Misogyny / Murder (blunt force + beheading) / Death / Adultery

Pauline Margaret Tailor - later Pauline Margaret Dekker after marriage - was born on December 11th, 1942 to her parents Dolly Tailor (Mother) and Joseph Tailor (Father). She had an older brother - Daniel Tailor - and a younger sister - Juliet Tailor - whom she got along with well.

Joseph Tailor was not a kind man and would often enact strict rules on his wife and children - particularly Pauline and Juliet. This led to Pauline having an extremely close relationship with her mother. Her mother, being a seamstress, would teach her daughters how to sew and create things from bits of fabric left over from her projects. Pauline immediately fell in love with the idea of creation and especially all the different colors things could be made from. She heavily associated different colors with different emotions and would color code everything in her life accordingly - including her diary.

As Pauline grew older, her childhood fascination with color and emotion grew more intense. She would spend hours detailing how different colors made people react - in a multitude of contexts. Writing all of her observations down in notebooks she kept under the boxspring of her bed. She wasn't very popular in school due to her bookish nature and she didn't have much interest in dating. She kissed a boy on a dare, but she either didn't notice when people liked her or outright ignored them.

Unfortunately, when she was in her senior year of high school, Pauline's brother got killed in a hunting accident. Their father brought him home wrapped in a quilt their mother had made and he was buried in the backyard. When washing the quilt, Pauline had what seemed to be a mental break at the time as she began to panic and describe in detail exactly what her brother felt in his final moments. She clung to the quilt as she was carted to the hospital, as even though it caused her distress, it was also somehow keeping her close to Daniel. Since then, Pauline has been fixated on the idea of quilts and quilting and began making blankets as a way to ease her mind when she begins to miss her brother or other things upset her.

Eventually, Pauline tried to apply for college, but found it difficult to get in as a woman in her time. She eventually brought all of her research on psychology and color to the Dean's office - who promptly laughed in her face. Saying, quote, "Doll, with a pretty face like yours, you shouldn't be writing about this sciencey stuff. Why don't you go home and worry about what's for dinner instead, hm?" Pauline left in a hurry, bursting into tears behind the head office. There she met George Dekker, a clean dressed man who offered her a hankerchief and asked her what the trouble was. The two immediately hit it off, despite some of George's odd behaviors. Eventually after a lengthy courting process, the two of them got married and moved to Gotham City.

George claimed the move was for work when Pauline questioned him why they were so close to so much crime. She felt uneasy, but accepted it as an answer. For a while she and George were happy, she was a homebody who was happy to be so and George brought home enough money to be comfortable and spoil his wife. But, as the years went by, George grew increasingly distant. He became cold to his wife, working extremely long hours at work only to come home in such a bad sorts that he barely acknowledged Pauline outside of barking at her to fetch his dinner. The money too was starting to inexplicably drain from their funds.

In such stressful circumstances, Pauline took up her old hobby of sewing quilts and soon the living room became a mess of random scraps of fabric and various pins stuck in the furniture. One day, George accidentally pricked himself on one of Pauline's thick needles. He used her current project to stop the bleeding. Proceeding to berate his wife, screaming at her and throwing her sewing supplies at her and into the walls. Eventually slamming the door as he left in his anger. Pauline cried as she picked up her supplies, eventually picking up the quilt her husband had bled all over. She was struck with the same kind of vision she had when she was cleaning her brother's quilt. A vivid play by play of George's memories. This time she stood strong as she watched the apparition of her husband - who had been secretely leading an underground mob and sleeping around with various women in the city.

Pauline became so blinded by rage that when her husband finally came home from work - she bashed his head in with a cast iron skillet. Proceeding to cut off his head and carrying it in her tote bag to where she saw the mob hanging out. She plopped it in front of the members, using it as intimidation to get them to follow her orders - which after some apprehension they eventually did. With the help of the gang, she avoided time in jail. Going to her husband's funeral stone faced under a black veil - it would be the only time wearing no color was enjoyable to her.

She continued to lead the mob for 40 more years. Using her men to do what she always dreamed of doing and amassing wealth and a reputation along the way. She learned to be a sharp shooter, getting scarily accurate with a pistol. She also found creative ways to use her memory seeing ability to dig up dirt on her enemies in a way few would detect. She also discovered that she could pull pieces of soul onto her needle if she pulled it all the way through someones skin - and she could trap them within her blankets if she used it to quilt with.

During her 40s, she met and fell in love with a lounge singer named Pearl Darling. The two had a secret affair. Pauline used her men to keep it private, silencing anyone who dared to try and out her. The two remained happily together until Pearl passed at the age of 68. Some of her soul now resides in a small felt doll Pauline keeps on her nightstand.

As Pauline has gotten older, her vision has started to decrease, meaning she can no longer see colors as vibrantly as before. She has become obsessed with the idea of becoming younger, kidnapping random citizens to steal souls as she researches the key to immortality.

[voidcoretxt]

[randomshyperson]

Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap.  | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful.  In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner. 

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure." 

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?" 

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection." 

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you. 

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first. 

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel. 

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around. 

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization. 

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me." 

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up." 

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you." 

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart." 

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose."  You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice." 

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way. 

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment. 

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks. 

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious. 

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority. 

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear." 

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?" 

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces. 

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order: 

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face. 

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath. 

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down. 

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot. 

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck. 

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her. 

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

[t-lostinworlds]

Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose. 

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary​​​​ and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!

© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

[candyk0rn]

Comforting your tears-BG3

If they found you crying

Ugh I know my old friends are sick of this prompt because I’ve probably done it one hundred times..but can you blame me??

Before reading: gn reader, Angst (if you squint) with comfort, Astarion x reader, Gale x reader, Halsin x reader (separate)

Astarion:

Astarion has shed his fair share of tears in his prolonged life

Not recently, of course (Unless this takes place after a certain quest line…)

And he’s used to seeing others cry, wether they be his conquests when they realize his actual intentions,

Wether he sees a lost child in the night sobbing for his mother,

Wether it be a sad woman mourning a loss in the darkened graveyard

But he’s never seen you cry, and he’s never craved that sight either

He’s not sure why you were crying, and he doesn’t take time to ask you that

Because if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what to do

He has never once had to comfort another’s tears, and if he ever has, there was always an ulterior motive

But here you were, trying to suck back floods of tears before him

And all he could do was stand still, a small furrow in his brow

In all honesty, he waits for you to do something first

To reach for him, to say his name, anything

Even just telling him to go away would be enough, because it would give him the slightest bit of direction

If you shove him away, without hesitation he shall flee

But if you move the slightest bit, he rushes to your side

His hand twitch as they hold you, not knowing if this is truly what you need to feel better

But perhaps, these hands which have killed many,

Can also comfort.

Gale:

Similar to Astarion, he’s not quite sure what the best remedy for a broken heart is

But he is a lot less clueless

When he sees you, he wishes so badly to take all of your pain and inflict it onto himself

He’d rather die than see you like this again

He thinks back to his youth, how his mother would confer him when he would cry or become upset

He also thinks ‘How would I want to be comforted?” Only to be bombarded with thoughts of Tara purring sleepily in his lap

So that wasn’t gonna work

He silently takes you in his arms, rubbing loving circles into your back

He kisses your temple, whispering ‘What’s wrong?’ Into your ear

If you shake your head or don’t respond, he’s not going to push you for any more information

If you begin to tell him, he listens diligently, not interrupting you

He rocks you back and forth, hoping he’s helping you in some way

My bro is trying his best 💪

Halsin:

Halsin is easier than the other two because omg he’d be the best at comforting you

Like Gale, he would just scoop you up in his arms and shower you with affection

He’s also a very smooth talker

You need him to distract you? He already has a story to tell you

You need him to whisper loving nothings into your ear? He’s gonna make it his life goal to make your cheeks grow red

He takes your hand in his, placing it atop of his chest, allowing you to feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing

This is something he does often, waiting for you to follow suit

Times like these are precious to him, because it shows him that you feel able to be vulnerable around him

In his eyes, vulnerability is so beautiful, even if it leaves your face tear stained and red

He presses his lips to your temple, lingering for a long moment

He wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while

Thanks for reading!!

[violet-eng]

Neuvillette and his arranged marriage with fem!reader - NSFW

Summary: so... Furina is such a gossipy and she's kinda boring so she wants Neuvillette to marry to some random girl that can be a challenge for him... would he like this traveler?

TW: smut. Has a plot. Kinda angst? p i v. Breeding kink, praising. Unprotected sex with this daddy judge. I think that's all... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE JUST KEEP SCROLLING.

🎨: @zlidbhypy/@zljdbhypy

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

The judge had lived long enough to be carried away by appearances, his image in society was expected of a man with his profession, with his knowledge and his stature. However, in the eyes of Lady Furina, as much a lover of spectacle and scandal as possible, the great judge needed a slightly more modern image to present to the citizens of Fontaine-and perhaps to bring a little gossip as well.

The idea had consumed her so much that at the moment she met you she could think of nothing else but arranging an engagement with Monsieur Neuvillette. You were the living image of what she was looking for: a young woman of society, a foreigner with a wide knowledge of the vast continent and above all, ambitious. 

There was a flash that Lady Furina highlighted in you, a furious soul difficult to tame, a challenge for the great judge. How fun it would be to see that: the distinguished gentleman try to control the disdain of his future wife, lover of saucers with spicy mixes, so friendly to those with vision Pyro... almost as contrary to him.

You met Neuvillette a day before the wedding, when Lady Furina had given him the wonderful news that he would marry you. He could not refuse, not the Archon, and she was aware of that-that made the matter more fun.

Neuvillette looked serene during the announcement, did not give the Archon the joy of a grimace of disgust... of course not, he was not like that...

On the wedding day rain fell so much as to drown the neighboring nations, tormenting those present of the ceremony. Monsieur Neuvillette was outside the compound, admiring the horizon, yearning for the freedom he possessed years before. To this had its existence been reduced? To be a puppet for the entertainment of the Archon? To tie himself for life to a woman he didn’t even know? If only he could return to his old form... spread his wings and get out of that place...

"The rain is wonderful," you exclaimed beside him, tearing from his chest an impression he managed to hide. "I hope the tears of the Hydro dragon are of happiness for the wedding and not of misery".

"They’re just legends, stories for children," he said, though an inch of him, deep down, was delighted by the idea that unlike the rest of Fontaine’s inhabitants, you didn’t dislike the rain... the one he was provoking...

"All legends have some truth in them," you whispered, giving him a sincere smile.

The ceremony had been short because of the rain, yet your happiness was overflowing. Your dress was drenched, your hair was alike... Everything was ruined, Lady Furina kept saying it, and yet you seemed to be living the best day of your life. Neuvillette could not look away from you at any moment, you had bewitched him, a single phrase had sufficed to achieve that...

The room was spacious, exquisitely decorated, illuminated to depth, the details and finishes seemed measured with hard effort... very much like the great judge. You had been unwise to ask if you had separate rooms, that had upset him for a moment... You certainly didn’t seem to have the same scruples as him.

You opened the window of the room, resting your elbows on the frame and sucking the dew that the rain brought with it. Neuvillette stood still in his place, looking at your figure, analyzing every detail of your silhouette, trying to perceive your essence, your energy... There was definitely something special about you.

"Can I come out?" you asked, were you asking permission?

"You must not ask for my consent to be free in the place" actually, he did not think it proper from you to ask permission for something… he perceived you from the first instant as a free being in tune with nature.

"It’s my way of asking you to go out with me to enjoy the rain," you said, approaching him and extending your hand. 

The thick drops of water hit the roofs, the fountain of the courtyard was about to overflow with water, the surface covered of the leaves that the wind had brought with it. You got rid of your coat and your shoes, went into the fountain and sat in the middle, above the water level, your legs dipping, you picked up the dress on your knees. The fabric was thin, almost transparent now that you were soaked and uncovered. Neuvillette scanned the surroundings, hoping no one would look at you, you were his wife... was he jealous? No, it was a simple sense of duty now that he was a married man...

"Come closer" you said from your position, pointing your finger at the place in front of you. Neuvillette, almost hypnotized by your loud attitude, dragged his feet towards your spot, sitting across from you, likewise, his legs underwater. The familiarity of the rain on the current that had formed under his feet was pleasant, almost satisfactory, so much so that it incited him to move his hands on the surface of the water, forming figures that allowed his hydro vision. You smiled at the small spectacle he displayed for you, admiring the sublime movement of his hands, the way his fingers flexed on the leaves and the drops of water ran down his hands.

You leaned toward him, taking him by surprise, joining your lips with his. He did not turn away, but, on the contrary, he dropped his hand against your neck, drawing you closer to him, tasting the nectar of your lips and your tongue.

"I want something to be clear" you dictated separating yourself from him, "we’ll have children... not because the charlatan Archon wants it for her entertainment, no... we will have children because we both want it, it was clear?".

For all the Archons... those words coming out of your mouth, pure poison, so hostile to the Archon, calling her in a way that he could never, with your face framed by your soaked locks and your lips swollen by the kiss... There was nothing he could want but a woman like you. 

The matter of your affinity for the falling flood, added to your folly of calling the archon such a derogatory name... you were an interesting, exceptional creature whose behavior went beyond his control and knowledge. You were a challenge... his challenge... and his enthusiasm grew in his chest as well as in his pants.

You had both returned to the room in sultry form, between kisses and gasps, getting rid of your clothes on the way. He cornered you on the wall of the entrance, his hand in fist resting above your head, his forehead against yours, the other hand holding your chin, joining his eyes. Neuvillette’s chest rose strongly, seeking air, bewildered by the growing ecstasy, the desire among you that was born. 

Taking you by the waist, he turned you against the wall, your face crashing against the cold marble and your palms resting at your sides. You felt his breathing on your neck, his chest against your back, his hands sliding over your curves, right to your hips, over your panties. You let out a soft moan as you felt the fabric slip under your legs and fall to your ankles.

"Monsieur..." you whispered trembling as the cold pouring through the room brushed your thighs and bare ass. 

"You don’t look as bold as you did a few minutes ago," he whispered... low, almost growling, you swore he was smiling, you sensed it in his voice.

"It’s... just... ah~" you cut the phrase in half when you felt him slip into you, separating your folds, forcing you to suck it. Your hands in fist, your hips rising, trying to avoid its passage inside you, your shoulders gathering at the sensation that flooded your center, your sex. 

"Monsieur~" you moaned, your forehead wet against the marble, your hands scratching the wall looking for something to soothe the burning between your legs, the feeling of its length between your damp walls.

You didn’t think the judge would be so vocal. When he slipped into you, he grunted, so pleasantly your legs seemed to melt. You felt the breath of his groan in your ear, your name coming from his lips.

"So soft" he whispered, resting his hands on yours, his forehead on your shoulder, "so tight..." continued advancing, rising to the bottom, "so mine"...

Neuvillette fucked you against that wall as if he was in heat-and perhaps he was-as if you were going to escape at any time from his grip, though you couldn’t. 

The moans and gasps were embarrassing, thanks to the rain they did not cross the walls, the sound of wet skin crashing during each penetration was burning, lustful. The words that came out of the judge’s mouth every time you girded your limb were a sea of incongruities, just as the phrases that your mouth dropped when he caressed your clitoris, that little lump had become his favorite toy.

The onslaught was strong, your breasts pounding against the wall every time he burst into you, rubbing against your delicate interior, which seemed made for him.

"You take me so well," he groaned, as he continued his beat against you, your breasts rising and falling down the wall. You were trapped between the wall and the monster of pleasure the judge had become.

"I will fill you with my seed, I swear..." he gasped again, his voice raspy, with flashes of hunger and lust.

"Neuvillette~" you let out a high-pitched moan, had touched your point, that felt so fucking good, the way he arched to hit that gummy dot on your cervix. He kept going, and kept going, you didn’t want him to stop. Fuck, he was so good at it, who’d say a gentleman of his countenance could be taking you like an animal in heat.

He kept hitting that delicious spot inside you, stroking your sensitive organ, one, two... three times, you suddenly felt a knot forming in your belly.

"Oh my~... don’t stop Neuvillette~..." you begged, eyes closed, lips separated by groans. The sound of his gasps flooding your eardrum... you both were close…

His onslaught lost rhythm, the intensity was almost unbearable, he came out one last time to get into you, fucking you so hard that you felt your orgasm burst and you let out a scream. He would not take long to reach his climax similarly, unloading all his seed inside you

The bed was warm, you needed it after what happened... Neuvillette lay beside you, caressing your cheek, watching the way you fell asleep. 

He looked out the window, the rain had stopped. He was completely happy... so long ago that he did not feel the fullness he had at the time... 

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, curling your head in his chest, feeling the warmth of your gentle breathing. He closed his eyes, falling asleep beside you, yearning to tell you one day about his identity... someday…

[apricityxoxo]

Help and Care

✧.* Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

✧.* wc 5,786 (teheeheee)

✧.* summary: he definitely didn't need help, he doesn't need someone to care for him. no one has ever helped him before, and no one ever cared so why would they start now. he doesn't care, he definitely doesn't need help. so why does he keep ending up in the infirmary with the beautiful nurse? and why does he keep coming back to you?

✧.* contents: fluff, a bit of angst, and a sprinkle of suggestive dialogue

here's the whole story! it took me a while but I hope you all enjoy it, sorry I'm a perfectionist. I had a lot of fun writing this but let me know what you all think. i might write a pt 2 to this idk. Also pls excuse the medical and military inaccuracies

enjoy

Help. He hates help. He can’t stand it. When others look at him, when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see himself as someone dependent on others. Why else would he enlist, he didn’t need help, he learned that the hard way. No one ever helped him and he adjusted, so why would he need help now? People are dependent on him; they rely on him. When someone is injured, scared, or dead it’s up to him to fix the situation, to solve the problems of others, to carry the fallen.

When Price told him to go to the nurse he was upset, actually, he was pissed. He was not a child who scraped his knee playing football at school. He was a soldier; he was more than a mere man. He knew how to endure, he knew how to carry his weight, and he knew that he didn’t need to see the nurse. He knew what was wrong with him, he just bruised his ribs. He didn’t need some old woman with a bad attitude to tell him what he already knew.

He endured and he resisted the pain for exactly two weeks, but the pain was only getting worse. He was confused and didn’t know what to do, he hoped that no one had noticed and he didn’t want people to start. He didn’t want questions or concerns, he wanted relief and nothing more.

He thought no one would notice and he was so wrong.

Training.

Simon hated training the new recruits, they were cocky and they didn’t know their place. They thought after joining and passing the initial physical exams, they were done.

They were most definitely not done. They needed to adjust, physically and mentally, to fit in. Many people think the initial physical and mental exams are where new recruits break, no they break here, during training…with him. He hated it but knew why Price asked him to do it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Price usually did rounds during training, he watched the recruits and the techniques of the other task forces. The smell of sweat, dirt, and blood filled his system and that smell drew his attention to Ghost. Today he felt the need to check on Ghost and see how he was doing. Ghost was a good teacher even though he didn’t realize this, Price did though.

Ghost was mean, harsh, and disciplined, and the people he taught tended not to last long, however, the ones who did turn out to be great because the one thing that Ghost teaches best is endurance.

When Price was watching him train, he started to get upset and confused. This was most definitely different from the big and bad Ghost he was used to. He thought at first that "maybe Ghost was pulling his punches?" When he paired Ghost up to train some of the rookies, he thought maybe Simon was finally going soft.

Usually after training, the rookies would be sore, and in pain, sometimes they might even need to be excused to nurse. However, these past few weeks the rookies have been surprisingly...fine. Maybe even better than fine and it's been making them cocky, it's boosted some of their egos.

It would probably boost his ego too, Price chuckled. If he were to beat the big, brutal, scary Ghost while still a rookie. However, they are starting to get obnoxious because they are taunting and boasting, which is certainly something that Price could not have. It was starting to piss him off. Price was going to tell Ghost that if he didn’t put these pricks in line, there were going to be consequences.

That was the plan, but then he took a closer look and that’s when he saw it.

He saw the way that Ghost taking more hits than normal, he was slow to react and he was even slower to respond. His stance was off as well, usually his form made him feel like a giant among men but now he looked like he was shrinking himself, like it was his first day of training. Ghost wasn’t pulling his punches, he wasn't holding back, he was weak.

Now he was pissed.

Price knew.

Price knew exactly why Ghost wasn’t as strong as he usually is, why his punches aren’t as powerful as they normally are. Ghost was a disobedient bastard and Price was pissed.

“STOP! That’s enough training for today, soldiers.”

“Ghost, come now!”

“Yes, Captain” Ghost replied in his thick Manchester accent.

“The hell is wrong with you Lieutenant!”

“Nothin' Capt’n, I'm just-”

“You’re just hurt, did you go to the nurse?” Price knew the answer.

“I didn’t feel the need to go to the medical facility Capt’n”

“You didn’t feel the need to go?” Price asked Simon and looked at him like he was crazy. Since when did his soldiers feel the need for an opinion?

“If you don’t get your ass to the medical facility right now, you’re going to be training these pricks for three months straight. You understand?”

“Yessir!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Unbelievable!

He doesn’t need to be here. As he walks to the nurse’s offices, he feels everyone's eyes on him. He’s rarely ever here and because of that it draws the eye, lots of them. He thanked his balaclava every day because without it, based on the face he was making, some might think he was actually nervous.

He doesn’t want some old hag telling him what to do and degrading him for not coming sooner. Some old nurse or doctor telling him everything he already knows just to insult him and show off their vast vocabulary just to try and make him feel small. that’s what they all do, that’s what his father did.

He approaches the front desk and the older woman tells him to go to office number 222. He makes his way over, navigating the hallways,  and he finds the office. The sign is decorated with small pink flowers and a white cat with a red bow. He resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Before he goes and knocks on the door, he dries his palms on his pants, desperately hoping to get over this.

Knock-knock.

Some time passed but then he heard a soft voice say…

“Come on in”

He opened the door and he was surprised that the soft voice matched a beautifully soft face. A face with beautifully unique features that worked together in harmony to make the beautiful woman that sat before him.

God damn.

Those were the only words on his mind.

It wasn’t an old woman who looked like she had a chip on her shoulder and carried a deep grudge, nor someone who looked like they were going to insult him… no. definitely not.

It was a young woman.

A beautiful young woman.

A beautiful young woman with the most inviting features. Absolutely gorgeous, he’s never seen a woman this beautiful ever on this base. He feels like she doesn’t belong here, her face is an exact contrast to the environment he surrounds himself every day. He has a million questions he wants to ask her, and he feels the strong urge to get closer to her. He’s such a creep. He doesn’t even know her name.

He feels his mouth goes dry and his hands sweat. Gross. He hasn’t felt this way since Secondary School, he feels like a dork and he doesn’t know what is wrong with him.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you!” Her voice was cheery and if he was a little bit more nervous, he wouldn’t notice the shock on her face and the tremble in her voice. He was used to that reaction; it was probably due to his appearance. her voice matched her face and he felt his heart beat faster, he finally was going to die.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

He was just staring at you, he was just looking. You’ve heard rumors of him, of his personality. The big bad Ghost, the professional killer who lacks mercy for anyone. He was just staring at you and it was freaking you out. What’s wrong with him, why is he here in the nurse's office? Did he hurt someone? Or worse…

He’s still staring.

“… excuse me, is everything alright?”

“Erm…yeah, sorry” he responded and if your mind weren’t running a mile a minute you would have heard the way he sounded nervous.

He clears his throat and then replies “Captain Price has recommended I take a visit down here.” God his voice was so deep. He was so smooth, he had a thick accent that wasn’t like any of the others you heard on base. His voice was not at all soft but the way he spoke made something bubble inside you. 

Wait. ‘take a visit down here’

Oh. He needed help. 

“Oh… okay sir, what seems to be the problem?” You try your best to put on your customer service voice and hide the fact that you're wondering what this man might need help with. 

“Erm… last deployment I bruised my ribs real bad, don't know how…”

You try to listen, you have to pretend to do so. You're writing as he describes his symptoms. He has stomach pain, difficulty breathing, tenderness in his abdomen, and bruising. He describes his symptoms and you feel so bad for him and at the same time, you feel disgusted in yourself. 

Disgusted because instead of being focused on how he describes his pain, you focused on his attractive ass voice. You can't help it, you're just a girl. 

No, You need to remain a professional.

“Okay Lieutenant Riley, if it's all right with you, I’d like to examine your abdomen.”

“Yeah… that's fine” he sounds hesitant you feel bad… you feel like you need to reassure him.

“Don't worry lieutenant, I'm sure everything is going to be just fine.” you try to reassure him and when you do, you unconsciously give him a soft smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Well, you have to ask him to take off his shirt. That was something that didn't occur to you. He doesn't have to comply, you could do the whole checkup with his shirt on. You hope he doesn't so you save yourself from embarrassment. 

“Sir, if you do not mind, may I ask you to remove your um… t-shirt?” you ask, trying your hardest to remain professional. It's completely reasonable for a medical professional to ask a patient to remove their shirt when they had an abdomen injury.

“You don't necessarily have to I'm sure I can find a way to…”

“I don't mind” Lieutenant Riley cuts you off as he agrees.

He sits on the examination table and removes his shirt.

You think you just died. You are short of breath and you think you died because there's an angel right in front of you. If you were anywhere else you would admire his powerfully built body, but you were more concerned with the bruising on his stomach.

You feel and you touch his body, extremely concerned about his well-being. His stomach was black and blue, his stomach was sore, and he could barely bend over. 

You were worried but also shocked because this man worked and trained in such a condition for about a week. You knew of Simon Riley and you knew of his reputation and this just supported the fact that he's an absolute abled-bodied unit… it was almost scary.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

“I believe you have a few broken ribs…sir.” You say almost scared of his reaction. He needed x-rays, actually he needed time off. 

“I'll recommend you an off-base X-ray Tech to take pictures of your abdomen, I also recommended to your captain that you take time off to heal. After we get your x-rays, I recommend you visit me every two weeks so we can look over your progress ” You tell him, distracted as you look over all your notes.

“Oh ok, every two weeks, and how long will it take to heal…” Luitenent Riley asked, he sounded nervous and you started to feel bad for talking to him so nonchalantly about his condition.

“Um should take about two months to heal. Ribs tend to heal rather quickly, however, since they weren't treated earlier it might take a while longer. Don't worry I’m sure you'll feel better rather quickly.” You try to give him a little bit of comfort. You give Luitenent Riley instructions, stating how to take care of himself and treat his injuries. 

He collects his stuff and is getting ready to leave before he turns around looks you up and meets your eye. 

“Thank you so much luv, ‘preciate it.” He tells you, in a soft accented voice.

“It's not a problem Luitenent.” You tell him and you feel your heart pick up its pace.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Week 2 

He was supposed to visit today, you were expecting him today. You had all of his notes laid out and you were just waiting. 

Waiting.

Waiting. 

Other patients came and went but you were still looking forward to one specific client. The first time he visited you had no time to admire his large and confident stance when he walked into the room. He walked into the room with utter confidence as if he knew it would have an effect on you.

AND GAHHH LEEE

When he removed his shirt, you don't know how you controlled yourself. You knew he was a big man with a hefty build but you were not expecting what you saw. Your eyes were blessed with a solid, broad-shouldered, athletic man.

The literal definition of manly, if he wasn't in the military you were sure he would be off somewhere chopping wood or something. If you weren't at work you're sure you would be lying in bed kicking your feet.

When he spoke to you he had such a deep and low baritone voice that was heavily accented. You never had a thing for accents but he was something else completely. Low and intimidating, his language was professional but you could tell that he was trying not to curse and use slang. It's embarrassing to think about the things you'd do to hear him, swear or even say your name. In your head you know you’d sound like a rabid dog if he’d said it in that attractive ass voice-

Then you hear your name and think you might die. Actually, it was your last name and your medical title. But still—

It’s him.

He’s here. 

Remain professional! you scream and shout at yourself.

You greet him and try to make small talk, asking him how he’s doing, how he’s feeling, and what he’s been doing with his time off. It's hard, he's such a beefy and attractive man. You can't even see his face but based on just the way he walks, you know he's fine. 

Admittedly, working on this base that’s far away from your home made you forget how to act around an attractive man…

“Been reading too, I'm trying to distract myself. If ya have any recommendations just let me know.” he interrupts your thoughts and you relate to him. It gets boring between deployment he tells.

“What do you usually do between deployments?” you ask, sincerely.

“Train, train myself then train with others.” He replies.

You don’t ask anything else, you know that he must miss training every day. The way he says it makes you feel bad. You know many of the soldiers find solitude when they work on themselves and train. It calms them and helps them recover, it's almost a form of therapy. Simon can't do that, not with his injury. You feel a pang in your chest. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

You go over his notes and x-rays. You give him a checkup and note that he’s healing rather quickly, based on the other scars you know that this isn’t his worst injury. 

You catch his eyes when you are going over everything with him and explaining your notes to him. He’s looking at you with his golden green eyes, staring you up and down. You feel sort of embarrassed because you don't feel cute at this moment. You didn’t put makeup on in the morning, just gloss on your plumped lip and curled your eyelashes. Your wash day is coming up too so you wrapped your hair in a colorful scar today.

The way he looked at you was the way men would look when you would walk into a club. When you had a full face and your hair was freshly done. When you had a tight and short dress that would accentuate your beautiful curves. When you knew that you looked stunning that's the way he was looking at you, right now.

His visit was finished and you put the date for the next visit in your calendar. Before he leaves he thanks you.

“I don't like doctors but I appreciate all you've done for me, miss.”

“Thank you Luitenenent, if you ever need a book recommendation you can always come see me.”

“Thank you.” He tells you and even though you can't see his face, you feel a smile radiate off him.

You feel like he’s such a kind man.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Week 4

Today, on his next visit, he’s not as kind.

You know why. You can tell that he's antsy, that he wants to get back to work. He’s rushing the process and wants to do everything you told him not to do. He wants to disregard all the instructions you gave him. You’re used to that, soldiers want to get back to their daily routine and they’re itching to do something strenuous during the healing process.

You would be fine with that if it were not for his shortness with you. He was annoyed and that was completely acceptable but there was no need to be curt and downright rude to you.

His answers were short. After each question, while trying to make small talk he replied with a ‘Mmhmm’. He didn't make eye contact with you and when you would suggest activities for him to try and distract him, he would roll his eyes and brush it off. 

He didn't want to chat and you feel like this is not the same man, who came to visit last time.

Today’s visit was short, there was clearly no need for small talk on his end and no time for the flirting you wanted to do. 

You did yourself up today too and now that you think back at it, it feels like a waste of time. You enjoyed the visit you had with him last time you were looking forward to today's visit. However, that feeling quickly dissipated, when Luitenenent Riley came in with a bad attitude and short tone. You had no time for this today, you think you even returned that same energy. So the visit was short and he left with a slammed door following behind him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Lunchtime came around and you were most definitely looking forward to it. After a long day, that wasn't even over, all you wanted to do was eat. You grab your book and sit in your designated corner to eat in the loud cafeteria.

You feel relaxed when you start eating and open up your book. The loud cafeteria with the chatter of men and women surrounds you. It's kind of calming when you think about it. The laughs, small talk, and clattering cutlery fade in the background around you. This is just what you need after such a long and tiresome day. 

You try to focus on your book but then you are interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Is this seat taken?” You glance up from your book, you find him standing there, his presence commanding attention even in the busy room. Lieutenant Riley is looking down at you with a food tray in his hands. He refers to the seat across from you and you shake your head no. You try to avoid eye contact when he sits down, still feeling annoyed from earlier. 

He lifts his balaclava over his mouth and you both eat in silence. There’s a growing tension around you both. 

You eat your food and busy yourself with your book, however you can feel him looking at you. He ate in silence, his eyes occasionally meeting yours before darting away.

It was irritating.

Earlier he was being rude and barely talking to you and now he was acting timid, the audacity. You started to pick up the pace and eat your lunch faster.

Then he interrupted his silence with his deep sultry voice.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was disrespectful to you when you were only trying to help. I'm sorry. I've honestly been sick and tired of sitting around and doing nothing that I took out my anger on you and for that, I apologize.” It sounded like he practiced this. It makes you smile thinking about the Ghost practicing an apology in the mirror. You can just imagine him practicing and it warms your heart that he put this much energy into an apology.

“Thank you for your apology.” You reply in a soft voice.

There was silence for a while but it was interrupted by your voice.

“Um…I know it's hard, not being able to do the things you used to be able to do. I'm sure soon you will be able to get back to your routine and do everything that you want to do… and more. If You need to talk to someone, you can always come and see me. ” You tell him, a bit timidly. All you want to bring comfort to him and reassure him.

“Thank you,” he replies.

“No problem Luitenent” you respond.

“Call me, Simon.”

That was the end of the conversation. There was a soft smile on your face, and you both sat in a comfortable silence, taking quick glances at each other.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Week 6

This next visit was much more casual than the previous two. Throughout the whole week before this upcoming visit, he’s been stopping by your office. 

In the beginning, he would just stop and say hello and indulge you with some small talk. Nothing more than checking in on you and asking how your day was. However lately, he’s been getting comfortable here. He’s claimed the large decorative leather chair in the corner of your office, closest to your desk. 

He would just sit there and talk to you about anything and everything. Conversations went from favorite foods to his most recent reads to how long you’ve been an RN. 

The other nurses in the building have gotten used to his presence in your office. When they come to visit or drop something off, his presence doesn’t throw them off anymore.  They’re used to the large man sitting comfortably in your office. 

Today was no different, he stopped by in the morning and you both got to chatting. An hour went by when it felt like mere minutes. Time flew by so fast that you almost forgot about his checkup.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I'm such an idiot, I almost forgot why you were here Simon.” you shoot up from your desk and walk over to the examination table, slapping it twice with a big grin on your face

“Alright Simon, let’s get this over with!” You sell him with a large smile on your face. 

Simon slaps his knees and pushes himself off of the deep and comfortable chair. He makes his way across your office looking at all of the flowers around your office and the Sanrio Characters you have scattered around. 

When he gets to the examination table, just as you're about to move out of the way, he grabs your waist and moves you to the side. He lets his hands linger and he makes eye contact with you as he sits on the chair. 

You're certain he’s smiling under that stupid balaclava.

Cocky bastard. 

You clear your throat and attempt to focus on your work. The checkup only lasts a few minutes, he’s getting so much better. You would be so excited to tell him that he can start getting back to his normal routine, but you're distracted.

Distracted because he’s so touchy. First, he touches your waist, he must know that it has some sort of effect on you because then he touches your clothes. 

During the checkup when you need to do something basic and mindless, he grabs the corner of your coat and rubs yours between his fingers. When you speak to him he’s doing the same with your black scrubs.

“You can start getting back to your regular routine, like training and stuff. Don’t rush it or anything, just …baby steps'' you say, you move yourself to stand in between his legs.

“That right?” He asks but he’s not focused on what you say. He’s focused on your plump lips and you think it’s turning you on. His eyes slowly make their way back to your eyes. 

“Mmmhhh! But nothing too rough.” You reply looking back at him. You feel his hands make their way up your waist. 

“Not even a little rough?” He asks. You both start to lean closer and he takes one hand off of your waist and takes it toward his mask. 

Oh god! What is he doing? Is he going to show his face? Kiss you! Or maybe—

Knock Knock

The loud knock draws your attention away from Simon and you pull yourself away from between his legs.

You clear your throat and attempt to fix yourself even though you two have done nothing. 

“Come in!” You shout, voice cracking a bit. 

One of the more intimidating on-field military nurses enters your office. Unlike you, this nurse is trained for the field and it shows. She is tall with broad muscular shoulders, and she confidently walks into the room with a skeptical look on her face. 

She takes a look at both you and Simon before addressing you. Telling you that your presence is wanted somewhere else. 

“Oh okay… I’ll be there in five ma’am.” You reply and she makes her way out of your office with a raised eyebrow at Simon. 

“Okay, Simon! your next check is in two weeks and that’s your last one, congratulations.” You address Simon trying to make it seem like you don’t remember the moment you two had before you were interrupted. Simon stands and makes his way over to you, stops right in front of you, and towers over you. If he was anyone else you’d give them hell for popping your personal space bubble.

“Alright…Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at you. 

“Are you injured?” You ask sarcastically. 

“Got a paper cut. That’s what I get for reading” He shows you his thumb and starts to chuckle. You laugh right along with him. You look up at him and nod, you smile while biting your lip. 

“See you tomorrow Si”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

Week 8

Two months.

He’s known you for two months and he still doesn’t know how to act around you. This past month he’s seen you almost every day constantly visiting you. He feels like every day he’s getting to know you better and better. You’re a genius, graduating high school and college early which explains why you're so young. You love this little Japanese cat thing that’s called Hello Kitty. Your favorite flowers are tulips, and that’s something that stuck out to him. 

Tulips stuck out so much that he used his last day of time off to go out off base and buy you some. Today is his last official visit with you but he most definitely doesn’t want to make it his last time seeing you. He wants to see you more, a lot more. He wants to see you outside of work, he wants to see you outside your work clothes. He wants to see you in jeans, a dress, in his bed—

He shakes his head, trying to stop himself from thinking like that. It’s disrespectful to you, he hasn’t known you for longer than a couple of months, and he can’t think about you that way. 

It’s hard not thinking like that. He thinks about his third visit with you, when you both were rudely interrupted. He thinks about what your waist feels like, what your face looks like. He thinks about it often, especially at night–

He cringes at himself, he feels like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman. 

He tries to distract himself by looking at the tulips he bought for you. They’re closed and pink with long green stems. They’re beautiful just like you. He doesn’t understand, how someone can be so effortlessly beautiful. 

When you wear makeup or no makeup: beautiful. When you have your hair down and natural, sleek and bone straight, or up in braids, buns, or a scarf: beautiful. He can’t begin to comprehend it. 

Not only are you beautiful on the outside you have the personality of a goddess. You’re kind and compassionate but not afraid to snap back when someone gets out of line. That’s what makes him nervous, the doubts start flooding his mind. 

He’s still staring at the tulips when Soap enters his room. Unannounced. 

Soap comes into his quarters and scatters around the room. He looks in draws and under furniture, he's scattering stuff around as if he lives here. He is tossing his stuff around and looking in places he shouldn't be. Ghost hasn't even looked up, hasn't even acknowledged his presence. Ghost rolls his eyes so far back into his head when he hears Johnny whining to himself. 

“What’re ya lookin’ for Johnny?” He inquires in an irritated tone. 

“Lookin’ for my char–” He cuts himself off as finally looks up at Simon. He sees Simon slouched over his bed looking at the pot with pretty pink tulips and a wide, knowing, mischievous grin appears on his face. He looks like the Cheshire cat.

“Look at you Simon, those for that bird you've become so fond of…”

“Watch it Johnny” Ghost finally looks up, he's not pleased. Johnny continues like a mindless, careless, idiot.

“I've heard the rumors, some field nurse says she saw you two in her office…alone. Good on you Riley. Yer getting old now, ya deserve something like that. Herd shes a beauty too. ” He laughs obnoxiously at his own jokes. He slaps Ghost on the hard on his back and continues searching around his room

Ghost sits in silence for a while, thinking about Johnny’s words, he knows that he is joking, he’s not serious.

‘“Whatdya mean by I deserve something like that?” He finally inquires, the question was practically running around his mind. Johnny continued searching around the room as he answered his question.

“Well you know, ya have had a hard life. Yer always helping people, always trying to be the best, and ya never really had that soft life. I know ya don't think it but yer a good man and you deserve a good woman. We don't live forever so think ya should take the risk and do what you have to do… Are you sure you don't have my charger? He asked after giving some of the most meaningful advice that he'd ever heard.

“Get out,” he replied annoyed by his short attention span.

“Maybe Gaz has it,” he says and leaves the room as if nothing happened.

Those words resonate with Simon and he thinks about them for a long time. The time of the appointment was getting closer and closer. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about what he was going to say to you. He wanted to make it meaningful, he wanted to ask you out on a date. 

He wanted your friendship to continue and he wanted your relationship to grow and become more and more personal. He hasn't done this in a long time and he wanted it to mean something. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

15 minutes.

He had 15 minutes to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

As he made his way down the familiar hallway toward your office, every step seemed to quicken the pace of his heartbeat. The clock was counting down, each second would go by, getting closer to the moment. In his hands, he held a bouquet of vibrant tulips. He knows that he is catching the eyes of the people around him but each person he passed seemed to fade into the background.

It felt like when he visited you the first time, his hands were sweating and he was nervous. He says ‘hello’ to the woman at the front desk. Even though her attitude has always been rude and uptight however he thanks her every day for sending him to office number 222. The number that completely changed his life.

Now, standing just a few steps away from your door, his mind blanked, and his carefully rehearsed words were completely forgotten. Doubt starting to flood his veins. His hands are sweating again, and his heart is beating a mile a minute. He doesn't know if he can do this, he feels like it is a mistake but his feet won't stop. 

They won't stop because even though his brain is telling him to stop, his heart won't let him.

It's been years since he's ever felt this nervous, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He finally arrives in front of your door and holds the flowers behind his back. He gets ready to knock and says a silent prayer to whoever or whatever higher being is listening.  

He knocks.

He waits a beat and then he hears your beautiful voice say “Come on in.”

Right as you say that without thinking Simon impulsively rips off his balaclava off his face and opens the door. He watches as you slowly look up and he swears he sees a natural glow around you. 

“Hi, how can I help you?”

He doesn't respond, instead, he slowly brings the tulips to his front and presents them to you with a soft smile. You look at the man and he watches as you raise an eyebrow, it's like he can see the clogs turning in your head. Then he sees the pieces being put together in your head and your face lights up.

“Simon?” You ask with a gorgeous smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

giggling and kicking my feet

[agender-witchery]

On Project Moon

Hey, this is gonna be long, I'm putting most of it under the cut. This post is about the recent firing of VellMori from Project Moon, I know that it warrants some tags for triggers, but I have no idea what's commonly used, so if I miss something, please tell me.

Additionally, I have written this up in a way that if it escapes the target audience of Project Moon fans, it can still be understood, so with that in mind, there will be Library of Ruina spoilers.

The tl;dr for those who don't wanna read the full thing is that Project Moon was put in a very bad position with some violent extremists targeting them and that I'm not happy about any of what happened.

So, for those unaware, Project Moon has fired VellMori, the CG artist for Limbus Company. Now, a not inaccurate statement that can be made from this is "Project Moon fired a woman for being a feminist" but this is... somewhat reductive. Let's immediately get out of the way that VellMori did absolutely nothing wrong. Some people have said she is a TERF. I've seen no evidence of this. Some people have said she wished death on all men. I've seen no evidence of this.

What I HAVE seen is that VellMori thinks sexual abuse is bad. Now, why would this lead to a firing? The short answer is that a bunch of violent incels, one of which was literally dressed as a clown, came knocking at their office doors.

See, Limbus Company has a "beach" event coming up. In this event, we are getting a water themed outfit for two of the characters, one male and one female. For Sinclair, the guy, he has been given an EXTREMELY slutty mechanic's outfit. For Ishmael, the woman, she has been given a very skintight wet suit outfit. Now, I wanna take care to note that VellMori is the CG artist - she had no hand in these designs, a man made them. I would also like to mention that both outfit designs are amazing, and I will be including them at the end of this post for reference.

Now, upon revealing the wet suit design for Ishmael, a bunch of whiny incels on what is basically Korean 4chan got upset that Ishmael, instead of being in a bikini as is usual for gacha games, was wearing a wet suit. Nevermind that the designs in Limbus Company have always been conservative and that the Sinclair design is the most skin we've ever seen and it's just an open shirt. Again, the wet suit is still super revealing, it's skin tight and this is literally the first design of her that doesn't make her look flat chested. They're not rioting over the lack of sex appeal, they're specifically mad that it's not a bikini.

The incels come to the conclusion that the lack of any skin being shown on Ishmael's outfit is a result of evil feminism. No, I'm not exaggerating. They initially begin harassing the artist who is actually responsible for drawing the outfits, but upon learning that he is a man, set their sights on VellMori because she's a woman, and being an artist is good enough I guess. What they do from here is they start digging and digging and digging on VellMori's twitter, making use of archived pages because many of the "offensive" tweets had been deleted.

I'd like to take a moment to point out that VellMori never actually tweeted anything out here - it was all retweets from a 4-6 year old archive, and retweets that have been long deleted. These retweets contain such transgressive statements as "I'm sick of misogyny" and "If being against patriarchy makes me antisocial, then so be it" and just... mirroring back to men what those men were saying to women. Some people would like to have you think she was calling for death to all men. She wasn't. She ALSO retweeted all this stuff while she was a teenager and well before she worked for Project Moon.

Nonetheless, the incels had decided that feminism was the reason Ishmael had a wet suit and not a bikini and they had found a feminist working for Project Moon. It is at this point that we must take a brief detour and talk about Library of Ruina, Project Moon's previous game.

See, in Library of Ruina, one of the protagonists, Angela, has this whole arc about escaping her abuser and becoming a human. Yes, she is literally a robot, but Project Moon isn't exactly a stranger to symbolism in their stories and a feminist reading of Angela is ridiculously easy. The main antagonist in Library of Ruina is Argalia, the Blue Reverberation, and his crew is called the Reverberation Ensemble. Every member of the Reverberation Ensemble is a violent lunatic who each want to reinforce the status quo in their own unique shitty way. In addition to this, typically in order to reach the titular Library, you would need to be invited. The Reverb Ensemble are the "uninvited guests", the ones who managed to reach the Library and knock down the door without an invite.

Why am I talking about this? Well, the incels decided to start calling themselves the Reverb Ensemble, and referring to each other using names of the Reverb Ensemble members such as Pluto, Elena, and Oswald. Having taken on the moniker of the uninvited guests, they then showed up to Project Moon's office to protest. Over the lack of a bikini. Now, remember how I mentioned someone was dressed up as a clown? One of the Reverb Ensemble members, Oswald, is a clown with an extremely tenuous grip on reality. So much so, that his ideal world is one in which there is no meaning whatsoever. That is the character they chose to dress up as. This is either a case of extreme self awareness or extreme self unawareness.

Eventually, the incels were let into the office possibly as a form of damage mitigation to prevent the crowd of protestors from getting any bigger. This was a questionable decision, but they had a group of violent incels at their doorstep either way, and I don't exactly have full details on this. Regardless, Project Moon had on their hands a group of violent protesting incels, who they felt compelled to let into the building, and who had demands including the firing of their feminist employee. (7/28 update: a translation of the transcript posted to DCInside has surfaced. Please check the reblogs for it. Project Moon was verifiably threatened.)

So while "Project Moon fired a woman for being a feminist" isn't inaccurate it also isn't the full picture. More appropriately, it'd be "Project Moon fired a woman because a group of violent incels who weren't satisfied with a form fitting wet suit instead of a bikini showed up to their office demanding that an artist who did not make the wet suit design be fired because she retweeted some feminist stuff 5 years ago while she was a teenager".

I'm not happy with this. None of this is good. People are allowed to be feminists, and Project Moon stories have always presented progressive ideas to anyone with half a brain to do some basic literary analysis. I can understand why they would cave to the demands of people who were threatening them and showed up to their actual place of work, but at the same time, that's someone's livelihood gone and proof that in the future, the same sorts of people can use the same sorts of tactics to bully Project Moon into doing whatever they want. All of this sucks.

For those who would like to see the retweets in question alongside translations: https://twitter.com/danghwangs/status/1683884236888223744

And for people who would like reference as to what the artworks these incels were up in arms about, Ishmael in the wet suit and Sinclair in the mechanic's outfit.

[tarjapearce]

Could you elaborate more about the fight Miguel had with your family that was mentioned in the soccer family proposal imagine?

Ayyy! It's the perfect chance to get the angst out of me jsksj. And of course, no relationship is perfect 💔.

What caused the fight Pt3

Gabriel's eyes settled on the both as you entered Miguel's apartment. Solemnity and listless faces dragged inside.

Gabriel was as perspicacious as his elder brother. A habit rubbed on him through the years of sharing the apartment and drunk in mezcal and tequila talks.

You were teary eyed, unable to look him for more than a couple of seconds before acknowledge him with a lip tight smile and follow Miguel to his room like a scolded puppy. The room felt smaller, crumpling around you, almost suffocating. A couple of your belongings scattered around the place.

So far the only indicators that a woman occupied a spot in his life. Silence felt so deafening it crawled and bit on your tremorous skin. Dread had made itself comfortable in your guts along anxiety ever since you left your old house. Cause you'd certainly wouldn't able to call it home.

And after all these years the little to no improvement had only made you oath to yourself that you'd stay as far as possible from them.

You'd notice the white of his knuckles gripping so tightly at the wheel, that when you tried to get a hold of his hand, his hand recoiled from yours. An appalling contrast from hours ago where he'd held you and gave gentle touches to ease and relief your nerves.

You had warned him, and still the both got burned. Him specially. It felt like the person you had as a mother figure was doing it on purpose to upset you and him.

It couldn't be that bad between the both, right? If he was honest, at first he thought that nothing but a small fight had ensued and that you were a little immature about it. But as your relationship kept growing you'd tell him just the highlights of your mother's behavior.

Something that he actually related way too well. He knew that speaking of your family was still a sore point, something you were treating with therapy.

"What's wrong, Miguel?"

"Nada." (Nothing)

"Mentiroso. ¿Qué te pasa?" (Liar, what's wrong?

Silence. You were done with it.

"You haven't spoke much ever since we got back from my old house. You're not... even looking at me!"

"Your family thinks I'm a freak."

You frowned and shook your head.

"And I apologize for that. I warned you about them-"

"Thanks for the fucking late warning"

His massive back heaved with subtle anger as it turned to you. His hands in his waist.

"Miguel..." Your eyes went wide at his words, head buzzed with his hurtful words.

"I bet you didn't even tell them about me."

His accusing tone was certainly tugging too hard at your heart seams. "I barely keep communication with them, Miguel. You out of everyone knows it!"

"Are you ashamed of me?" His self doubt threw daggers at your heart with each syllable that formed the question.

"W-What?"

"¿Qué no oyes? Te avergüenzas de mí o qué?! (Didn't you hear, are you ashamed of me or what?!)

"Le bajas a tu tono que no eres mi papá. No le permití jamás levantarme la voz para que tú lo hagas ahora." (Chill your tone down, you're not my father. I never allowed him to do so for you to come at me like that now.)

"And now you're scared of me"

"Listen to yourself, Miguel! Pull your head out of your ass for a second and listen to how you're talking to me! Haven't I been there for you and with you since last year?"

Gabriel gave a silent whistle as your fight grew loud enough for him to hear everything outside Miguel's bedroom door. He retreated to his room out of politeness.

"Yeah, we've been-"

"Then why you act like I'm being a burden to you all out the sudden? Why are you acting like I'm the one that hurt you?! You know that I'd never do that!. I'm not my family, Miguel."

Your voice cracked.

He shook his head. He had seen the way everyone stared at him when he tried to open the beer with his teeth. Fearful, disgusted.

The exact way he was looking at you.

To say it hurt was an understatement. He was deliberately prying open your chest and ripping your heart out while showing off and marveling at the process of such act.

"You... You don't wanna be with me anymore?"

The question sent a painful jab to his chest, but his wounded ego had taken all the controls on his rational side.

"Maybe it's time for you to get someone that's fucking normal. I'm clearly not. So why staying?"

A hiccup.

"Because I love you, you fucking idiot!"

A sob, and his heart sunk deeper.

Apologize. Now.

His mind chanted but his pride joined in the maneuvering of his spilled and jagged emotions. Adding more dry bones to the fire.

"But clearly this... this isn't working out, isn't it?"

"Clearly."

Your head nodded as your arms braced your quivering form. A meek protection from his cutting words.

"Sorry to have wasted your time then." You spoke in between angry sobs as you removed the necklace he once gifted you and shoved it back to his hand.

His bottom lip pursed as he saw you picking up the little traces of you in a haste. He went for your shoulder gently.

"Mira, yo-" (Look, I-)

You recoiled away from him as silent tears kept rolling down your face. Some watered the carpet underneath your feet.

"You've said enough."

A way too polite 'Don't Touch Me"

You picked up your things in your arms, messily. The room was clutching at your throat, cutting bit by bit your breaths, but Miguel's indifference was the one that made your head spin from the sudden lack of air. He was killing you with his suffocating coldness.

You hadn't mind the little brostbites he'd gave you, but this one had been too bad for you to keep holding it up. The burn had been too much. Too fast and too deep for you to properly process. All you knew is that you needed to get out.

Now.

Bundling up the things in the cardigan, you went out his bedroom's door.

Stop

His steps followed you, but this time he was the one unable to catch up. You were already closing the main door with a quiet close.

His hands trembled as they found their way on each side of his hips. Gripping and provoking enough pressure to at least feel a fraction of the pain he just put you through.

The necklace in his hand still warm. His own heat dulling yours. Just like your smile. Just like you. Just like every damn thing that made him feel good and happy.

Self sabotage was his best trait. Something he clearly forgot to warn you. But it was late.

The texture of the metal chain crunched underneath his fist.

Too late.

[aokoaoi]

saw the request was open and id love to request an ao’nung x reader where they’re arranged to be mates, reader is the ‘it’ girl along with tsireya, graceful, kind, and beautiful but still with that fiery spirit in her. females and males in their clan show off or surround her and ao’nung wouldn’t admit it out loud but he would kiss the ground she walked on. he has loved her ever since they were children. upon the arrival of the sullys, reader gets along with neteyam in only a friendly way ofc bc man theyre the mature and level headed ones. ao’nung gets jealous and confesses his undying love for the reader? 🫶🏻 please n thank you i love your writings

— pairings : ao'nung x fem!metkayina!reader.

— warnings : avatar the way of water spoilers. small arguments. bruises. mentions of death. very horrible way of confessing.

— author's note : so i searched up what cheeky actually meant, i was so heartbroken when i learned it actually wasn't what i thought it meant☹.. anyways enjoy ! i love ao'nung sm so i love this request<3 ty for requesting this !

You were sort of known as an 'it girl' in your village if you were to describe it in modern ways. No matter where you go, who you were with, you were always the same kind of lady everyone would talk about.

Elegant, graceful, admirable and compassionate. Not to mention attractive.

That had always been how the village folks describes you, and you never had a problem with it. It started when you were fairly young, adults would come around you and your parents and share how they think you'd grow to be such a fine lady. And you did.

But you weren't only compassionate, 'soft and gentle'. You were also fierce and bold when you had to. You'd do anything for your family, even if it'd have to ruin your perfect image.

By the day you were fourteen, you learned from your parents that you have been set as a mate of the clan leaders son, Ao'nung. You were still young, and you didn't know what or how to react, but you didn't have a problem with it since you'd only be his mate once you both are old enough.

Still though, you were fairly upset that you couldn't be free and choose a man or woman of your own.

Ao'nung wasn't all that bad. He did have a ruthless side to him, but he does show you some decent qualities of himself whenever it's just you two. The village people are already aware about how you two were set to be mates when you're of age, but that certainly didn't stop na'vi's your age from showing themselves off for you.

You and Ao'nung's sister, Tsireya had also gotten close considering both of the 'popularity' you two had. Tsireya had only heard talks and gossips about you from the beginning, but she never got the change to talk to you. That was, until Ao'nung introduced you to her.

You two were basically platonic soulmates. You adored the girl so much, probably more than you adored Ao'nung. You two basically acted like sisters with eachother, always seen laughing and gossiping together like you're still cheeky little girls.

But back to the present.

You trailed behind Tsireya after she dramatically emerged from the waters, watching as she swiftly finds her way to her brother and his friend, Rotxo. She scolds him, slapping his hand away as he was pointing at two boys' tails, and instantly the duo shuts up.

You turn to look at the two boys, seeing as they were trying hard to ignore the teasing of your two friends. The shorter one of the two boys nods his head at Tsireya, speaking up a short; "hey,"

The girl beside you giggles with a cheeky smile, and you smugly grinned at her, teasing her with small nudges of your shoulders.

You watched as the siblings father, Tonowari, fly down into the water his spear raised up high in confidence. You smiled at his presence, and then you noticed a figure slip past from behind you. You turn to see Ao'nung walking past you, and towards his father.

He gives you a look, gesturing movements with his hands that just screamed, 'follow me'.

And to which you did. You took light steps towards him while you still paid attention to Tonowari's conversation with the Omaticaya clan leader, Jake Sully.

"We are reef people, you are forest people. Your skills will be nothing here." You heard him speak.

You saw Ao'nung's mother walk to where the Omaticayas where, circling them as she was examining something. She looked at the arms and touched their tails. She stopped by a small child, and you watched as the poor girl look at her mother in worry.

"Their arms are thin. Their tails," the girl winced a small 'ow', shoving the Tsahìk's hands away from her tail. "Are weak." Ronal finishes.

"You'll be slow in the water." She stoicly spoke, her eyes looking down at something. She grabbed the girls hand before speaking up again. "These children.. are not even true na'vi." She reveals the girls hands, and you heard gasps ring around you.

"Yes we are!" The girl harshly says, pulling her hand away from Ronals hold.

The woman walks to another direction, towards the two boys and immediately grabbed the shorter ones hands. "They have demon blood!" She exclaims. The na'vi around you gasped, and started hissing, making you worry.

Their father speaks up for their children as they hung their heads down in shame. "—I was born of the sky people, and now I am not. Alright you can adapt!" He says, trying not to come off as threatening.

"My husband was Toruk Makto." A tall woman perks up, and you immediately saw her husband make a face at her words. You slightly grin, biting your lip at their chemistry.

"He lead the clans to victory against the sky people."

"This is what you call victory? Hiding amongst strangers?" Ronal immediately retorts. The woman looks down at her words as Tsahìk nears her.

"It seems eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one." She turned to the clan leader, and in an instant his wife hissed at Ronal.

You looked at Ao'nung secretly, wondering what his thoughts on this scene was right now.

"I apologize for my mate, chief."

"Do not apologize."

"We've come a long way and she's exhausted." — "Jake!"

Tonowari looks at the three, making sure they were done before stepping in to speak. "Toruk Makto was a great war leader. All na'vi people know his stories." He gestured to the clan members around, putting a hand on the man's shoulders. "But we Metkayina, are not at war." He assures the people.

"We cannot let you bring your war here." He spoke as he turned to the Omaticaya clan leader.

"I'm done with war. Okay? I just wanna keep my family safe." Jake says as he places a hand in his youngest daughter's back. You looked at them sympathetically, wondering what decision Tonowari and Ronal would make.

"Uturu has been asked." Says the woman.

You observed as the scene went silent, and Tonowari turned to look at his wife, letting him know of her decision.

"Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea. So they will he like babies taking their first breath."

"Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the same of being useless." You bit your lip at his bold words, wincing slightly.

Jake sighs, turning to his daughter as the girl looked up at Tonowari gratefully. "What do we say?"

"Thank you."

My son Ao'nung, our daughter Tsireya will show you daughter what to do." Tonowari informs, hid hand pointing at the said siblings. Ao'nung looked at him in confusion before coming up to question him.

"Father why—?"

"It has been decided." He cuts Ao'nung off.

"Come! I will show you our village." Tsireya speaks up, swiftly moving towards the other clan and greeted them with a big smile. Tonowari turns to you as you grasped Ao'nung's hand, rubbing it in reassurance.

"You're free to help those children as well, child." He informed you, and you just nodded your head, bowing slightly.

Ao'nung sighed before letting go of your hand, wrapping it around you shoulders instead. "Let's go back to meet Tsireya." He says, walking to the direction where the girl and the other clan went to.

You held a small girl who you knew as Tuktirey as you watched his brother try to make a bond with an ilu while Ao'nung stuck close with his sister.

"It's just like you're riding an Ikran, but a different species and on the ocean." You told him, attempting to make a conversation with the boy to make things less awkward. You flashed him a smile as he only nodded, nervous.

"Be careful of how fast you go. It's your first time, so you're definitely not used to it yet. The pressure of the water is different from the air when riding after all." You informed him, watching as he listened closely.

"How about you try leading him above the water first? It's simpler that way." You instructed, your hand brushing on the boys Ilu.

"..what's your name?"

You looked at him as he questioned you this. You slightly grinned at his shy expression, and it made you wonder how long he's been waiting to ask you that.

"(name)." You answered. He nods, smiling slightly. "It's nice to meet you, (name)." He bows his head, almost falling off his Ilu in the process. You softly laugh at his clumsiness, your voice ringing in his ears.

Ao'nung turns at the sound of your laughter, seeing you and that four fingered boy talking and smiling at eachother. He scrunched his nose, clicking his tongue before averting his gaze, displeased by the sight of you smiling because of another boy.

You irritatedly looked at Ao'nung's face, face scrunched at the sight of his bruises. "Why would pick a fight on Sully's kids?" You hissed out of concern, but at the same time scolding him. He puffs out a breath, rolling his eyes and looking away as you treated the bruise on his face.

"He blew the first hit. Not me." He corrected you, still avoiding his gaze.

Your hand and the herbs your holding moved away from his face, and you pursed your lips tightly. "From what I heard, you were picking on Kiri and called the siblings freaks. Why did you do that?"

"It's true. Didn't you see how they had four fingers and a thumb? They're not real, (name)."

"It's still not right to act like that, Ao'nung. You should treat them like that just because they're different." You lectured him before you continued to dab a few more healing herbs on his face.

"Why would you care now? You didn't care before when I picked on someone. Why are the Sully's any different?" He questioned you, looking at you suspiciously.

You sighed, putting the herbs away. "Because they're my friends. I care about them." Ao'nung scoffs at your response, standing up.

"Yeah right. You just met them yesterday, (name). They might seem nice now, but you wouldn't know. They may be plotting something." Ao'nung retorts.

"Don't talk about them like that."

"It's about that boy, isn't it?" Ao'nung questioned you, catching you off guard. He crouched down to your level as you were sitting on the ground, intently watching your expression.

"I'm sorry? What boy?"

"That eldest Sully. I saw how you were getting comfortable with him earlier, you think i wouldn't?"

"Neteyam..? He's a friend, Ao'nung." He scoffs again, standing up from his crouched position and walking away irritatedly. Your gaze followed where he left, and you looked down at the bowl of herbs on your lab sympathetically.

"Greatmother, what will I do with that boy.."

"I wish I had been there. The ocean blessed you with a gift, brother."

Your group and the Sully siblings had been gathered around somewhere in the village. Lo'ak as telling you the story of when he was lead to the three brothers rocks and almost died, but fortunately a tulkun saved him.

You sat next to Neteyam, but you were also beside Ao'nung. He was standing and leaning on a tree, though. It seemed as if he was avoiding you.

"The tulkuns have not returned yet. And anyway mo tulkun is ever alone." He made gestures with his hand. He leaned forward, and you watched as his necklace that always clung onto his collarbone swing back and forth at the motion.

"This one was." Lo'ak spoke. "He had a missing fin. Like a stump on the left side."

Your eyes widen in realization, "Payakan. Lo'ak, you just met Payakan." You told the boy, nonexistent brows slightly furrowing. Ao'nung turns at the sound of your voice, but pettily looks away.

Neteyam noticed this, and gave you a questioning look. You only shrugged your shoulders, making gestures with your hand to just leave him be.

"Who's payakan?"

"A young bull who went rogue. He's outcast, alone, and has a missing fin." Rotxo answers Kiri's question.

"They say he is a killer." Tsireya tells the boy beside her, looking at him worridly. Lo'ak shakes his head, muttering a small 'no' before getting cut off my Ao'nung.

"He killed na'vi and other tulkuns." Says the boy. "Not here, but far to the south." You and Neteyam exchanged looks, and you turned to see what Lo'ak was feeling.

The boy immediately shots down the accusations of his new friend being a killer. "Lo'ak, you're lucky to be alive." Tsireya's voice falters.

"I'm telling you guys he saved my life," Lo'ak attempts to convince the group. "He's my friend."

Neteyam stands up, and at those actions Ao'nung gestures you to stand up and come beside him. You did as what you were told, leaning your head on his shoulders as you watched the two brothers interact.

"The mighty warrior who faced a killer tulkun and lived to tell about it." He teased the boy, both hands coming up to his brothers shoulders as he puts his weight on the younger boy.

Lo'ak hissed, pushing his brother away. The boy stands up from his position, putting a hand up in exasperation. "You guys aren't listening."

"Lo'ak— I'm listening." You heard Tuktirey call out for her brother. Your tongue clicked at her attempts to try to make her brother feel heard, looking at her sympathetically.

"Lo'ak, come back."

"..is it weird that I believe him..?" You perked up after the boy leaves. The group turns to look at you after your statement, looking at you as if you were crazy.

"I mean.. he couldn't like about something like that, yknow? How would he when know about Payakans existence in the first place?"

"He met Payakan and he survived? Are you hearing yourself right now, (name)?" Ao'nung questions incredulously. You sighed, rubbing your shoulders as you removed your head from the boys shoulders.

"The possibility isn't impossible. If he actually saw Payakan then he wouldn't even be here anymore. He'd be dead. He couldn't possibly fight against that creature especially when he has nothing to defend himself with."

Ao'nung looks at you incredulously. His sister steps in after the both of you have a glaring competition, pulling you away from her brother and distracting you with flowers.

You looked down at the water beneath you with a peaceful smile, throwing petals on the clear liquid from the flowers Tsireya placed on your hair earlier. You and Ao'nung had split ways earlier, once again without saying anything.

You didn't know what was happening to the both of you, but you were just being pulled apart the past few days by a nonexistent force.

Biting your lip, you wondered where it went wrong. The flowers on your hand remained there was you thought carefully. A few days ago, he showed signs of jealousy just because you shared a few laughs with Neteyam.

And then you got into another argument because of how he almost got Lo'ak killed, and then what happened earlier with the Payakan thing was another one.

So yes, it's safe to say it went downhill when the Sully's showed up. You can't blame the Sully's though.

You were too lost in your thought to notice the boy you were just thinking about approach you and take a seat right beside you. He looks at you, noticing that you weren't paying attention and was lost in thought. He fakes a cough, and nudges your shoulder with his own.

You snapped out of your train of thoughts, looking at him in surprise. Your body slightly shifted from the thick woven material you sat on, facing the boy. "What are you doing here?" You asked him, your fingers subconsciously curling around the flowers that peacefully sat on your hand. You didn't crush it though, not wanted to destroy its pretty petals.

Ao'nung looks at the water as his feet got wet from it, swinging it back and forth. "I wanted to check up on you." He says, his eyes not leaving the soft moving waters.

You took the chance to admire the sharp features on his face, from his jaw and to his cheekbones. Your head leaned against his shoulders, your soft and slightly wet hair touching his skin.

"Alright." You simply responded, letting out a small exhale. Ao'nung glances at you, seeing how you were looking up at the stars.

"..I also want to apologize." He perks up after the silence. He hears you let out a breathy chuckle, and he feels your body slightly shift. He hopes you don't move your head away from his shoulder, and he let's out a relieved exhale when you don't.

"Apologize? For?"

Ao'nung bobs his head around for a few seconds, "Yknow.. for being an asshole to the siblings. And to you." He eventually says.

"Well I forgive you. But you shouldn't be apologizing to me for the siblings." You respond to him, a hand coming to touch his arm and you patted on it gently.

"And I'm also sorry for not being understanding and always shutting you out when you confront me about my behavior." He ignores your words, continuing to apologize to you. He shifts slightly, removing his gaze from the water and finally facing you.

"Ao'nung—"

"No, listen to me. I'm apologizing for my wrongs okay? I was such an asshole back then, I not only did others wrong, but also you. I should've tried to be a better person to you back then and stopped treating you like trash. But—"

"There's a but?" You cut him off, looking at him incredulously. He grins slightly at your words, trying to get back to his point.

"I was dealing with my feelings. You know what cheesy romantic stuff and all. Yeah I was basically going through that. I was pushing you away because figuring out if I.. liked you or not."

"And a few days ago— I was jealous. I didn't like how close you and that sullys eldest son gotten and I accidentally hurt your feelings in the process. I'm such a bitch, aren't I?"

"No you aren't." You shook your head, holding his hand reassuringly. He looks at you with a 'seriously?' face, and you pursed your lips. "You kind of are, but there's still hope that you'll change." You sweetly smiled, bringing his hand you're holding up to your bottom lip.

"So.. you forgive me?" He asks you, anticipating your answer. You nodded at his question, still smiling.

"You weren't that all bad to me. You were mostly nice to me after all, you were only mean to me when there's other people."

"But I was still a bitch."

"Mhm." You cooed, your hand falling back to your lap. You grabbed one of the flowers that you left on your lap, gently holding it in between your fingers and placed it on Ao'nung's hair. You giggled at his confusion, watching as he held up his hand to where you placed the flower.

He grins when he realized what it was, nudging your side with his hand, slightly tickling you. You two shared a few laughs together, eachothers voices filling up the silence of the village, no shame in disturbing the people sleeping near your area.

Your laughter died down, and Ao'nung leaned his weight onto you. He leaned his head onto of yours, looking like he was trying to say something but was hesitant.

"I don't know if now is the right time, but I have something to confess." Your heart skipped a beat at his words, thinking of every possible outcomes on what he meant by that.

"You don't have to respond right now, but I simply cannot keep it to myself anymore—"

"Get to the point!" You hissed, anticipating his words. There was only one thing on your mind right now, and one only.

Ao'nung clears his throat at your hiss, trying to his his smile. "I know I haven't been the best, but I am willing to change. (name) (fullname), i like you, would you be—"

"Yes!"

"I haven't finished yet—"

"Yes! Greatmother, yes! Took you long enough." You laughed loudly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you engulfed him into a tight embrace. Ao'nung's hand holds your back as you both slip down from the woven material, and onto the waters with a splash.

You both come up from the water, breathing loudly as you flicked your hair away from your face. Ao'nung chuckles at your enthusiasm, looking at you fondly as you gave him the biggest grin you've ever had.

"I'm so happy." You cooed, pressing your forehead against his ad you let the cool waters relax you. Ao'nung's hand wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer, biting his lip as he smiled cheekily.

"Is this your way of saying you like me too? Pulling me into the water?" He teases you, and you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head.

One of his hand comes to your cheek, thumb caressing your skin as he pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"Mmm, you missed, silly." You cheekily grin, peaking at him with mischievousness. Ao'nung snorted at your words, softly hitting your back as he hides his face from the curve of your neck.

[nburkhardt]

Part 1

Wayne Munson can read a person within a few minutes when being in the same room together

So when he comes home from work one evening, he immediately clocks an upset Steve. It’s not even surprising to see the boy in his living room nowadays. What is surprising is that his nephew is no where to be found. Neither of them speak as he takes his work boots off and jacket, then makes a quick cup of coffee and settles in the recliner.

“So, why’re you upset? My nephew forget a date?” He sips at his coffee and watches Steve tense up, he can tell the boy is holding himself back from looking towards him. It makes Wayne pause, clearly something is actually wrong. “This serious, boy?”

It doesn’t take a genius to see how much whatever it is, is really effecting Steve. It’s the way he holds himself back, even with being hunched over. How tense his shoulders are, that his hair is a mess and how he’s clutching his hands. Truthfully, Wayne can tell the boy is trying hard not to cry.

The day he officially met Steve Harrington within five minutes of talking, he grew a soft spot for the boy. It wasn’t with the way he talked about how much he liked Eddie or the way he held himself. It was because of the longing in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

They were in a hospital waiting room, Eddie was still in surgery and Wayne had shown up to a room full of kids. The reporter girl had pulled him aside to explain what was happening and he was listening to her but glancing around the room when his eyes caught sight of a young man sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his eyes were trained on the sight of a kid with curly hair in the arms of a woman. To anyone else, it would just be a friend watching someone else.

But to Wayne? He knew what longing looks like. Has seen it many times in his life. Especially in Eddie. The biggest difference between Steve and Eddie? His nephew learnt to hide that look, figured out how vulnerable it can be.  With Steve it’s noticeable, and, it seems he wears his emotions like a jacket. It’s there and open for all to see. With all that, he immediately knew that he’ll be there to care for Steve in anyway he’d want.

He also knew, as soon as Eddie was able, that he’d be right there with him. Fast forward a few months, Wayne was correct when Eddie told him about his first date with Steve.

“I, uh. I asked him” Steve mumbles out without looking at him, “it- didn’t go as I planned”

Nodding, he places the cup down and leans forward. It’s a serious type of talk, it seems. “What happened?”

Steve shakes his head and he catches a quick sight of red teary eyes, “I told him about a gift and he panicked, thought he missed an anniversary or something. Then when I tried to ask him, it was someone’s birthday and the waiters were singing loudy. Then, then, I lost my plan and just said if he wanted to share his last name.”

He chuckles at that, but it dies down when Steve finally looks up at him. He looks just absolutely heartbroken and close to breaking completely. Schooling his face, he leans forward to grip Steve’s shoulder. It snaps his attention and Wayne’s thankful for it.

“Steve, why don’t you relax? Try again another-“

“He thought I was asking if you’d adopt me!”

Once it’s said, it’s silent. Steve’s tears have broken the invisible barrier and falling down now, it’s breaking Wayne’s old heart. Makes him want to smack Eddie upside the head for being an oblivious idiot.

“Look, how about ya go take it easy and I’ll wait up for Ed. Love that boy but he can be a bit oblivious.” Wayne shakes his head before nudging Steve’s shoulder again, “that ring of yours will get on his finger, son. Just let me talk to him”

Steve just nods, wipes at his eyes and makes his way towards Eddie’s room. Glancing at the clock, he knows Eddie won’t be back for another hour or two. Depending on if he starts on a rant, so in the meantime, he drinks his coffee and waits.

He hears the sounds of Eddie’s van nearly an hour later. He’s on his second cup, ate a quick sandwich and made sure to check if Steve followed his advice, which to his relief he did. With Steve asleep in Eddie’s room, he decided his best bet to talk with Eddie was driving. It eased his mind and with his boots back on he waits for his nephew to walk in.

“Honey, I’m hom- oh. It’s just you” Eddie looks disappointed and it makes a beeline to go to his room. Right before he’s able, he grabs hold of Eddie’s arm stopping him. “Wayne, come on. I know Stevie’s here and I’d like to join-“

He shakes his head and stands up, pull Eddie with him back towards the door, “Your boy is asleep, come with me for a drive. We gotta have a chat, alright?”

Eddie pouts but doesn’t move away, moves with him with a whine of, “but Waaaaayne! I wanna go cuddle my boyfriend!”

Rolling his eyes, he opens the door and waves a pouring Eddie out. “You’ll survive a short drive, Ed.”

Eddie dramatically groans but stomps out towards his truck and crossed his arms waiting. With another eye roll, he closes the door and joins Eddie before unlocking the doors. They both climb in silently and continue this as he drives away. It’s not until he’s on the road that Eddie finally says, “Why am I in trouble now?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and instantly flashes back to when Eddie was fifteen and gotten in trouble in school for the first time while living with him. Wayne decided the easiest way to get anything out of the near panicking Eddie at the time was to talk while driving aimlessly around.

They’ve done this a few times since then. Eddie hasn’t caught on that it was a benefit to both of them. Emotional talks aren’t his thing. But he’ll be damned before he admits that out loud.

“Nah, ya ain’t in trouble, boy.” He finally tells him while stopping and glancing at Eddie, he’s bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers against the other leg. “Ed, serious, you ain’t in trouble. We’re just havin’ a late night drive and chat”

“About what? You only do this when I’m in trouble or, or when I came out to you” Eddie doesn’t stop his tapping but he does bring up the leg that was bouncing to lean against.

Wayne shakes his head, moving back to watch the road. Thinking over his next words, Eddie doesn’t bother with the radio and is still watching him. He knows and doesn’t call his nephew out for the staring.

“Look, I came home and your boy was upset,” He started off, glancing over quickly to see Eddie tense up. “We chatted, he’s been asking me things about ya. See if I’d know where your head is at.”

“Why- uh. Why would-“

“We both know your boy has a lot of insecurities, doubts and all that.” He came to another stop and looked over at his nephew, meeting his eyes before Eddie quickly looks away. “Don’t get lost in your insecurities right now, Ed”

Eddie shakes his head and pulls his other leg up to hug them, “why didn’t he come to me about whatever the problem is?”

He has to quickly smoother the smirk that wants to work it’s way on his face, doesn’t want to give away that Eddie’s worried over the wrong thing, “Wasn’t a major problem, mostly he wanted to know my opinion on a gift”

Eddie’s face is mostly hidden but his whole body tenses up. He look up at him with wide eyes, “You- you know what it is?”

He nods, looking away to drive again. “Ya, it’s gorgeous. Your boy sure knows how to pick things out. Asked if you’d like it, told him it just screamed you. It’ll go nicely with everything you own.”

Eddie doesn’t say a word and Wayne just silently drives back towards their home, it’s nearly too late.

“So- you knew he was gonna give me something?”

“More like, ask ya something. But we can go with that too, if you’d want”

Wayne pulls up to their home shortly after saying that, turning the truck off to turn and watch Eddie. Watches as Eddie thinks about it, slowly his cheeks turn pink and into full blown red as the realization hits him. If he didn’t love this boy so much, he’d be laughing his ass off.

“Oh fuck, I- I’m an idiot”

Shaking his head, he settled a hand on Eddie’s knee, “nah, you ain’t an idiot. Just a little slow, Ed. Now come on, go inside sleep and tomorrow you and your boy can talk. Yeah?”

Eddie only nods before getting out and making his way inside and Wayne just watches before following suit. As he walks past Eddie’s door he hears a soft conversation happening.

“I’m sorry, my beloved.”

“Why’re you sorry?”

“I’m an idiot, that’s why”

“Baby, Eds- no. Don’t say that, you really ar-“

“But I am! You, you were asking me to marry you and I stupidity thought you wanted Wayne to adopt you!”

Wayne shakes his head at that before making his way to his room, his job is done.

~~~~

The ring doesn’t make an appearance until nearly a week later.

Wayne can tell the boys are even closer now, that their communication skills have grown just a little bit better. His nephew is still a little slow sometimes but now they’re more clear in what they’re talking about and hardly interrupt each other during more serious conversations. Makes him proud to see it.

It’s during a family dinner when he spots the ring on his nephew’s finger. He smirks into his drink but doesn’t mention it, he also doesn’t mention anything when he spots Eddie’s ring on Steve’s ring finger.

He’s happy for his boys, and he can’t wait for the day they can actually get married. Because it will happen, they deserve it.

Annnnd that’s it!! I decided half way into writing the ending to end it within Wayne’s pov. It seemed fitting to me. I’d like to thank @i-less-than-three-you for the help with parts of this!! If it wasn’t for her, this fic actually wouldn’t be a thing lol.

[samstersv]

EMBARRASSED; batfam x sis!reader, barry allen x reader

•the justice league walks in on the batsiblings arguing in the batcave and they watch bruce discipline his children while barry allen catches a glance at y/n wayne

•y/n is barry’s age, it goes damian, tim, y/n, jason, dick

“i didn’t go into your things y/n i promise!” dick yelled as you grabbed one of his escrima sticks, ready to hit your brother with it.

“dick, i always keep my room nice and clean and put together when i’m gone. nothing is out of place. i kept my papers here purposely for that reason, so i wouldn’t lose it!” your heels clicked against the floor as you walked towards dick. you were currently dressed in formal attire and a professional amount of makeup on your face.

minutes ago, you were very excited to be heading over to wayne enterprises in around 35 minutes time; you had a speech today and had prepared for this moment for weeks now. when you had finished getting ready, you walked over to a drawer in your dresser to pull out your pile of papers for the speech but it was gone. you knew alfred wouldn’t have taken your papers and automatically took damian out of the equation, not only was he your blood but he wouldn’t have done it either way, you hope at least. when you headed down to interrogate your brothers all you saw was dick with a smug look on his face, tim getting ready for patrol and damian looking at things on the bat-computer, jason was nowhere to be found so you automatically accused dick.

“look, maybe you left your papers at your actual apartment or maybe someone else took them! why don’t you ask damian or tim or jason?” he pointed fingers at his two younger siblings “damian has no reason to do this at all, jason is god knows where and tim— wait tim what if you took my papers..” you slowed down your sentence.

“i didn’t take your papers! why would i? i know this speech is important and honestly i didn’t even know where you hid them.” tim automatically defended himself. “maybe damian us just trying to be smug or something.”

“don’t go accusing me drake, i had nothing to do with this. i promise.” he turned to y/n for the last part of his sentence.

y/n sighed and turned back to dick “you’re the only one who could’ve done it!”

steps were heard from behind the group and you all slowly turned to see batman, superman, wonder woman, aquaman, cyborg and the flash walking towards you guys. the wayne siblings all looked at their father. “you all should’ve left by now.” bruce spoke, his voice strict but not angry. “what held you all up?”

“dick took my papers for my speech today!” you automatically accused your older brother. you were embarrassed but still upset.

dick tried to take a step toward “i didn’t take your papers y/n!” he spoke, you poined his escrima stick right at him and hit the taser so it would scare him (dick wasn’t too frightened). at this action, aquaman let out a quiet chuckle and wonder woman, superman and cyborg smiled. barry was currently mouth agape as he watched you in a trance.

“careful there barry, that’s bruce’s daughter.” diana smiled at the younger male. he straightened his posture but never took his eyes off you “she’s so pretty” he whispered.

“y/n put the escrima stick down.” bruce told his 25 year old daughter. she of course listened but still put up the middle finger to dick once it was placed on the table. “are you sure you didn’t leave it at your apartment?” bruce asked patiently.

y/n nodded and told bruce exactly where she left her papers the day they were done. bruce nodded and looked at damian and tim “tim go on patrol, damian, excuse us?” his two sons nodded and walked by y/n and dick. tim patted dick’s back as a sign of good luck and damian glanced at his older sister before the two left.

“i’m sorry for interrupting you all.” y/n pursed her lips as she looked behind bruce at the group of heroes. everyone shook their heads and smiled, to be honest they were all finding this slightly amusing. on the other hand, barry’s smile widened and he shook his head “it’s okay.” he said out loud, admiring the shorter girl.

y/n smiled at the boy before her and blushed as she directed her attention back to her dad. “uhm, i’ll reschedule the speech for tomorrow so you have time to find your papers or make up something else.” he compromised. y/n looked down at her feet and slowly nodded, clearly upset. dick bit his lip in sympathy for his sister but knew nothing could be done.

“it was nice seeing you all.” y/n smiled sadly at the justice league “dick and i are going to let you all get to your business though.” y/n looked over at barry “bye flash.” her beautiful smile made barry blush. he waved at y/n as a goodbye.

dick and y/n began to walk past the group when a whistle was heard from above. y/n looked up to see her other older brother, jason fucking todd, with her stapled group of papers in his hand, dangling from the top of the batcave.

y/n’s sad face automagically turned into anger as she looked up through her glasses at the real smug and cleaver look jason had on his face “oh i don’t care if you’re my brother, i’m about to murder you.” you cursed under your breath as you grabbed one of the grappling hooks and pointed it upwards to the wall so you could climb up.

this is when aquaman started snorting from how funny this was, and wonder woman was heard chuckling at the antics of the batsiblings. barry was too laughing at the pretty girl in front of him who seemed to have a not so secret badass side to her.

“i fear that won’t be necessary master y/n.” alfred called. he walked up behind jason. if you were near alfred in that moment, you’d be able to see the faint smile that dawned on his face in this moment. “master bruce, it may be fit to make master jason take his sister to wayne enterprises today as punishment for taking something important from her.

bruce now smiled and nodded “c’mon jason.” jason groaned and hopped down from the top to now be standing next to his sister. y/n took the papers from jason and slapped his head with her hand. “ow.” he winced.

“whyd you take my papers, asshole?” you asked your older brother. jason rolled his eyes “you trashed my apartment a few days ago.” he said like it was obvious.

“oh.” dick snorted from behind you two “that would’ve been me.” both you and jason glared at dick, you a little harder. he put his hands up in defense “i promise you i didn’t know he took your papers.”

you rolled your eyes at your two older brothers “i hate you both” you told them. then you turned to your dad and the justice league “bye dad, bye everyone.” you looked at everyone but kept your eyes on barry a little longer.

“i’m barry by the way.” he blabbed out. bruce turned towards barry with an angry father look. “oh i know.” you winked at him and dragged your two bothers out the batcave by their hands.

“oh my god.” barry whispered. clark swore he could see a little drool dripping out the speedsters mouth. “barry allen.” bruce sternly said, his batman voice was back. harry quickly straightened up and itched his nose nervously, but for the rest of the day he was thinking about y/n wayne.

[trentsgirl]

— 🗝️⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: as a renowned actress and the partner of footballer joão felix, you find yourself attending an interview, unaware that he is actually the one conducting it.

⟡ content: fluff, a little proofread, reader a bit of a dumbass for not realizing but it had to be this way, nardwuar reference in the end.

⟡ request: here:))

⟡ masterlist.

when you were informed that you’ll be interviewed, you expected to have a face-to-face interaction. however, you were surprised when they placed you in front of a camera and inserted an earpiece, explaining that the interviewer could see you, but you couldn’t see them.

you didn’t think much of it and decided to go along with the situation. however, in hindsight, it would have been wise to question the unusual setup, considering that your boyfriend, joão, was the one conducting the interview as a prank on you.

clearly, you had no idea.

“hello, i’m spencer, and i will be conducting the interview today,” a male voice resonated through the earpiece.

joão couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt to put on a fake british accent. it was quite comical, yet once again, you didn’t find it peculiar and simply nodded in response.

“hello,” you greeted with a smile directed at the camera. “i’m y/n.”

you heard joão humming before he rudely questioned, “is that what you’re planning to wear for the interview, ma’am?”

upon hearing joão’s remark, your smile quickly faded, and you glanced down at your dress. you were wearing a beautiful white sundress adorned with blue flowers, a dress that joão actually adored and considered one of his favorites.

however, his comment was part of the question he was given by production.

you chuckled awkwardly in response, stealing a quick glance at your manager who was standing with the production team. your manager simply shrugged his shoulders, leaving you to address the question. “um, do you not like it?” you asked, trying to maintain a light tone.

joão hummed once again, his disapproval evident in his tone, and you barely was able to resist rolling your eyes.

“it’s lovely, ma’am. i was just wondering.” he said, although it was clear that he didn’t truly think so.

“anyways, let’s start shall we?”

“yeah, sure.”

joão proceeded with the question and had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter due to its absurdity. “alright... so, why do you think men like you? is it because of big breasts or personality?”

the unexpected question caught you off guard, causing your eyebrows to jump in astonishment. you were under the impression that the interview would focus on your new role in bridgerton, not about your breasts.

“I’d liked to say personality but we both know that’s not true.”

your answer prompted a few chuckles from the production team, but joão restrained himself from laughing, aware that you would immediately recognize his distinct laughter.

“do you genuinely believe that you have big breasts, ma’am?” joão asked solemnly.

glancing down at your chest, you took a brief moment to assess before raising your gaze and nodding. “yes, i suppose so.”

and again, there’s that stupid hum.

joão continued with the next question, “alright, moving on. who do you believe should pay for the first date? the man or the woman?”

you were still puzzled about how any of these questions were relevant to your show, but you chose to answer to avoid causing any disruptions.

“i don’t really mind,” you shrugged. “whenever my boyfriend and i go out, he usually insists on paying, but i would be more than happy to pay. he just never lets me.”

joão smirked, knowing well that what you had said was indeed the truth. he had never dared to let you pay for anything, even though you were one of the highest-paid actresses in the industry.

he held old-fashioned views and saw nothing wrong with it.

“more than happy to pay? i haven’t heard a woman say that, like ever. that’s new… are you sure you’re not just saying it?”

joão noticed that he had upset you when he saw your stern and intense expression through the camera.

it was evident to anyone watching the interview that joão was thoroughly relishing the opportunity to annoy you.

“i’m sure, spencer.”

he could recognize the annoyance in your voice. he realized that spencer had made it onto your list of least favorite people. it was amusing to joão how you actually maintained a physical list of people you weren’t fond of.

“why do you always let your boyfriend pay for everything? doesn’t it make you feel guilty? what a poor guy...” joão remarked, his voice dripping with feigned disappointment.

you managed to maintain your composure and professionalism, although it was a challenge. who did this guy think he was, pushing your limits like that?!

“I can assure you we’re very happy, next question, please.”

you were eager to talk about a different topic, nothing that involved your boyfriend or personal matters. that wasn’t the focus you had in mind for the interview.

“alright.. why do you prefer to sleep on the right side of the bed and not the left side?” joão inquired.

you appeared visibly unsettled. the only person who knew which side you slept on was joão and only him. not even your manager was aware of this detail.

“how on earth do you know that?” you wondered, a disbelieving chuckle escaping from your lips.

joão tried to maintain a serious demeanor, but your facial expressions were absolutely hilarious. they were pure gold. your level of discomfort was evident, and you made no attempt to conceal it.

“you’re y/n l/n, we have got to know.”

you cast a pleading glance at your manager, silently urging him to bring this ridiculous interview to a close.

“this is getting too strange for me. i don’t think i wanna continue with this interview,” you stated, reaching to remove the earpiece, but spencer intervened to stop you.

“wait, just one more question and we’ll be done!” he assured you.

you out a sigh, reluctantly acquiescing. mentally preparing yourself for yet another bizarre question, you were taken aback by what he actually said.

“how does it feel to be pranked?”

immediately, you recognized the portuguese accent of your boyfriend, who was clearly amused and laughing uncontrollably.

“joão? oh, i’m so going to kill you!”

[violetszone]

This Marriage Will Break You

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had to arrange a marriage contract with Pierre to cover up his old relationship. He was still seeing his ex while you were madly in love with him and according to everyone you were the bad woman in this triangle.But when your breaking point came, Pierre noticed you.

a/n: I tried so hard to make it long, It's probably pretty ridiculous but that's about all I can do (not edited writing btw)

You had to marry Pierre to cover up his past relationship, you didn't know why they chose you, you just wanted to believe it was because you were so good at acting. Your acquaintance with Pierre was based on your childhood, in fact, you grew up in the same environment as him and you liked him all your life, actually this arranged marriage made you happy at first.

But as time went on, you saw that this marriage was actually the opposite of what you expected, a kind of marriage that will upset you.Of course, you didn't have very high expectations, but you didn't expect that Pierre would still secretly meet with his ex, that you would still bury your love for him in your heart and that the fans would blame you for the separation of the two of them.

According to Pierre's fans, you were the bad woman, but no one saw what was going on inside the house and what happened was not very heartwarming. You were under pressure from your family because your relationship was not realistic, and Pierre almost never came home, when he came, he only went to his room and slept, the company said that you should try harder, and your relationship with the fans was not very good, when they saw you, they either looked at you badly or simply ignored you. Pierre, on the other hand, was enjoying his life with his ex.

Within a few months you had collapsed physically and mentally from the pressures on you, but it took a long time for Pierre, your family and the company to realize that. You were trying to take care of the house as much as you could, and one day, while cleaning in the morning, you accidentally broke a frame and that was your breaking moment. You didn't know that Pierre was at home, you sat in front of the frame and you started to cry, you didn't know why he was crying, you were just too full and you couldn't stand it, you tried to shut yourself up with a sigh, but you couldn't stop. Then the door in front of you opened and Pierre came out of his room, you tried to shut yourself up by pressing your lips together, but it didn't work. Pierre felt a pain in his heart when he saw you, he had never seen you like this and he was just realizing how much weight you had lost in a few months, he came and hugged you.

You didn't want this, you didn't want him to pity you, you tried to get rid of his arms, but you couldn't afford it and continued to cry, he hugged you and stroked your hair until you calmed down, and when he finally asked "Are you okay Y/N", you just shook your head and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You needed his attention before, not now, as soon as he broke the hug, you stood up and brought the vacuum cleaner to clean the floor. Pierre was watching you sadly, forcibly took the broom from your hand and stopped it "Stop doing that please" you looked at him angrily "What, did you think I'm in this house now? I'm sorry I won't make a noise again. You can go on with your life as if I'm not there" as you reached for the machine he pulled back and he grabbed you and walked you to the sofa he made you sit down "Do you realize what you've become Y/N? what's going on with you"

"Why are you interested right now, why are you here right now, it's 11 o'clock, don't you have to have breakfast with your girlfriend?" Pierre turned for a moment and looked at the clock and that was enough for you. You stood up angrily Pierre pressed your shoulders and made you sit down again."Y/N I'm sorry I know this marriage wasn't quite what we both expected but,pff whatever, I'm just sorry I didn't realize you were getting into this, okay now wait a minute" Pierre pulled out his phone and called the company. He told them that he had been secretly seeing his ex for months, how he neglected you, how you had become because of the pressure they put on you, he told them that he would take care of you from now on and that it was his responsibility and not to disturb you.

It surprised you that he was so interested in you, but you still didn't expect much from him.You said, "Is it over? Thanks for your help" and got up from the couch and he grabbed you by the arm as you passed him. "Get ready we're going out" you were surprised "You have to go to a party? I have to dress accordingly, you know then they talk badly about me" Pierre sighed "No, I'm taking you out to dinner, I'm going to spend time with my wife" normally you were always kind to him because you didn't have a problem with him,and you loved him but now you were tired.

"Pierre you don't have to take care of me, I'm really fine you can go about your business I have to clean the floor okay" he didn't stop you when you stood up but called after you "No you're not okay this is not the confident strong and happy woman I married and I want that woman back so I will clean the floor and you're going to come to dinner with me wearing whatever you want, okay?" You knew it wouldn't do any good to oppose him, so you just nodded at him.

On your way to your room to change, you heard the sound of the machine and smiled a little.You were ready in 1 hour, you were dressed comfortably but stylishly you left your room looking for your lipstick in your bag Pierre was sitting on the sofa waiting for you he said "you look beautiful" you looked at him he was smiling and he said sincerely you thanked him and smiled.

While you were spending time together in the restaurant, you realized that he was interested in you for real. You were better than in the morning, you felt happier, you thought you would go home after you finished your meal and got up, but Pierre took you to the beach You were surprised that he was holding your hand. "Oh right, there are people," you said to yourself, but Pierre was holding your hand because he wanted to. You sat on the dock "Thanks for the food Pierre, I'm feeling better" nodded and smiled, it was a pleasant moment. then his phone rang of course his girlfriend was calling but Pierre didn't pick up his phone.

After that day, your life started to progress like a normal marriage for a long time, you were cooking together, cleaning the house, going out and getting to know each other.One night, Pierre said that you were going to attend an important event, you both got ready in a stylish way, holding hands and got into the car. Pierre looked a little nervous you took his hand to comfort him he smiled an kissed the top of you hand.

When you arrived at the place of the invitation, Pierre opened the door for you to get off and took his hand, you went in hand in hand again, of course, because it was a famous invitation, the press was there and everyone went crazy when they saw both of you.Pierre looked at you to make sure you were comfortable.  You looked at him and smiled, after a few poses, you walked in, met and talked to the invitees. While you were chatting with someone, Pierre was only watching you, he was looking at you as if he was in love with you.

You had a lot of fun at the party with Pierre, you laughed, you danced, until the person who will spoil your taste approaches you with anger, Pierre's ex-girlfriend.You were laughing again at a joke Pierre made when someone came and grabbed you by the arm, and when you looked, you saw that it was him, of course Pierre immediately freed your arm from his hand and pulled you to him, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily. "Pierre, do you realize how long you haven't been answering my calls and it's only because of this little bug" Pierre raised your hand with the ring on your finger and his own, and showed the girl, "If you remember, I'm married and it's been a long time since I finished this with you, did you hear me now, go away, and don't ever come near my wife again"

You were in shock and everyone was watching you as she walked away angrily Pierre turned to you and looked at your red arm. "Are you okay, did she hurt you a lot?" you nodded as if to say i'm fine "Pierre everyone is watching us can we go home" He looked around nervously, but when he turned to you, his gaze softened.He stroked your cheek with one hand then took your hand and took you out of there.

In the car, neither of you spoke at all, but it was clear how angry Pierre was, which frightened you a little.When he suddenly stopped the car and turned to you, you almost banged your head forward due to the sudden brake and your eyes widened in fear, "I'm sorry Y/N. But I have to say this, I won't let that woman come near us again okay won't spoil your mood" You nodded, but you couldn't believe what had actually happened."you were serious when you were angry with her ,you don't see her anymore" he just nodded.

"I haven't seen her since the day I promised to protect you.I should have done this sooner though" you smiled at him "Thank you" he looked at you "For what?" you watched him for a while "For being with me, by my side" He reached out and took you hand "Of course we're married after all and I have to take good care of my wife, and it wouldn't be right for me to know that my wife is madly in love with me and make her suffer like that"

Surprised, you pulled your hand back "You knew" Pierre laughed "Of course I knew Y/N, imagine if anyone else had gone through what you went through, they would have divorced me on the second day" what he said was right the reason you put up with him was because you fell in love with him.Pierre approached and took both of your hands, "I apologize to you with all my heart, will you let me love you as you love me" you nodded happily.

In the months that followed, everything became more beautiful than you had imagined. You had a real marriage with Pierre. You both loved each other very much. As Pierre promised you, you never saw that woman again.After the fans learned the truth about Pierre's ex, they started to treat you more kindly. You had the comfort of walking hand in hand in the paddock with Pierre.You two were happy.

-------------------------------------------------------

@gaslysainz

[4ft10tvlandfangirl]

You know what's incredibly upsetting? Seeing so many pro-Israel or pro-Zionist posts parrot that the only reason anyone could be pro-Palestine or call for a free Palestine is because they hate Jews.

I know what this tactic is meant to do and I know how making people apathetic, how discrediting their knowledge of a topic or questioning the genuineness of their empathy and other similar tactics are used to benefit the oppressive group but it's still pissing me off.

I am a descendant of enslaved people.

Our history lessons always begin with the slaughter & genocide of the indigenous peoples that were here first, primarily the Taino, who thankfully have a few descendants living in isolation along with the protected Maroon villages. It is normal throughout high school to take history trips to former great houses & plantations and see for ourselves the sites where our ancestors were brutalized and massacred; the weapons and tools of torture preserved and on display so that we knew but a taste of what they went through.

My university is built on the grounds of a former plantation. There are businesses and homes built on top of mass graves & on top of sites of slaughter. There is literally no escaping our colonial history because it touches everything. Our last names are not even our own! Most of us have English, Scottish and Irish last names given by the plantation owners to our ancestors. Or you know...because many children were the product of rape. We cannot accurately trace our true heritage more than 4-5 generations back because most families have no complete records.

A lot of you like to bring up grandparents. Cool. My great-great grandmother was the daughter of a mulatto free woman and a white Scottish sailor. She was white passing. Because land and work were hard to get here under colonial rule, she left the island for a better life with her husband who was a Cuban born mulatto and they ended up living in the US through WWII and after. They were considered an interracial couple (black & white rather than both being seen as mixed) and could not live in certain places because it was illegal. Papa couldn't find work, was treated horribly, because he had darker skin but Grandma found work passing as white and was treated much better. She worked 2-3 jobs to provide for them and their 5 children.

But, there were times when she would appear darker like if she was out in the sun too long or her curls would start to show and a Jewish neighbour/coworker suggested to her it might be safer to tick Jewish on forms rather than white if her race was ever questioned. I suppose due to that kindness the family formed friendships within the Jewish community where they lived & Grandma's eldest son actually married a Jewish woman. His kids and grandkids are all Jewish and they still live in the US.

I share this specific thing because I have very real concerns for those members of my family. But while I worry for them in this time of increasing anti-semitism and absolutely decry any verbal/physical attacks against them, I am still going to speak against things that are wrong. What Israel is doing is wrong. Of course as a non-Jewish person I can acknowledge I may misstep and if I say/do something that is genuinely anti-semitic I'll take the correction. But if your aim is just to intimidate me into silence it's not going to work.

And trying to tell me 'well black people are not welcomed there or black people wouldn't get treated well in Palestine' as if that affects the cost of bread. Guess what? Black people face racism everywhere. Even among our own and colonialism has a lot to do with that. That same grandmother, I was fortunate to grow up with her in the latter part of her life after she returned to the island and every time I went out with her there were questions of whether my family worked for her. Or why was I, this little black girl with this little old white lady as if I meant her harm. She had to say proudly, "This is my granddaughter." How other people view me or treat me isn't going to stop me from speaking up for what's right.

With the history of my people I could never ever ever side with the oppressor. Ever. Whether its here in the west or in the east, whether it's happening to my fellow black people, or any other group of people, I cannot in good conscience stand with the oppressor. My ancestors were forcibly stripped of their humanity, called savages, animals, barbarians and all of that was brutally beaten into them. That same language and similar acts of brutality are being used against Palestinians today.

You think you can cower me into staying silent on that? With unfounded accusations of hate? I refuse.

N.B. - my use of the word mulatto here is strictly to provide the historical context of how my grandparents were seen/classified and spoken of. It is not a term we use.

[autolenaphilia]

Some thoughts on The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

I found out about The Coffin of Andy and Leyley from an ”antiship” blog that I was on solely to block, because these people are always violent callout culture transmisogynists. Them getting very upset about this game having incest in it piqued my interest. The art looked interesting, and if these people hate it, it can’t be all bad.

(Case in point about the transmisogyny, from my understanding some people tried to dox the pseudonymous and secretive developer of this game, Nemlei. And the motivation was to prove the doxxer’s suspicion that Nemlei is a trans woman, because “only a trans woman could create such degeneracy.”)

Sure enough, TCOAAL is actually a nuanced and well-written psychological dark comedy /horror game. This is going to be more of a preliminary analysis than a review so full spoilers beyond this point. It’s by necessity preliminary since the game isn’t finished yet. My review is: go buy it if you are a fellow sicko who enjoys interesting stories about cannibalism and incest and like visual novels.

TCOAAL uses a trick from more transgressive forms of horror fiction, where the protagonists are not the heroes, but the villains, and the story is from their perspective. Andrew and Ashley Graves are murderers who kill people, sacrifice their souls to demons and cannibalize their bodies. They would be the villains of a more conventional horror story, their crimes investigated and thwarted by some heroic detective perhaps. But in this type of story, you are denied the comfort of heroes, or even innocent victims as you watch the protagonists twisted psychology lead them to commit terrible deeds.

The tone of the story mostly isn’t really horror, but very dark comedy, kinda Jhonen Vasquez-ish. The horrors are portrayed with a gleeful flippant tone, and cute appealing art. The tone mirrors how especially Ashley feels about her crimes. The game’s tone gets serious sometimes, going for straight horror occasionally, acknowledging how heartbreaking yet insane the Graves situation is, but there is a deep vein of the blackest humor.

Andrew and Ashley

Andy and Leyley themselves have this co-dependent toxic abusive sibling dynamic. Ashley is emotionally abusive, extremely possessive and manipulative towards Andrew. But her beloved Andy is the only person she actually cares about, and the rest she is able to kill with gleeful abandon in her heart.

Yet Andrew is not purely a victim. I’m going to talk at length about him, because the gap between how he describes himself and what the game shows is fascinating. I’m not the first to point this out. And it even extends to the game’s promotional material, like this official art on the game’s steam page is actually subverted by the game itself.

His character is not "doormat extraordinaire" who just "exists", the words "very not good, in fact very bad" apply to him too.

He is a victim, and loves to point at times how exploited, manipulated and abused he is by Ashley and he’s of course right. But he also uses that as an excuse for the horrific violence he commits, that he is just a doormat has been manipulated and corrupted by Ashley. “I was just being manipulated by Ashley to do it” is his variation on the old Nuremberg defense for his crimes. He has no sense of personal responsibility, no understanding that even if someone else tells you to do it, you are still responsible for your actions.

And the game itself proves that “it’s all Ashley” is not really true. A lot of the violence and murder are definitely on Andrew’s own initiative. He is violent towards Ashley too, the abuse is reciprocal. And he like Ashley doesn’t care much about other people. He gets distraught about killing people, but if you follow his dialogue, he is mostly freaked out about the consequences for himself. He is dependent on Ashley as someone who he can lay all the responsibility and blame for his own actions for. And of course, there is genuine affection there, because things are complex. He was parentified to take care of Ashley as a child and still has the drive to be her caretaker and protector.

It’s a fascinating pair of characters, and an interesting dynamic to observe.

“Der Mensch lebt nur von Missetat allein”

And the game’s writing is smart enough to have them not be an individualized evil, that came out of nowhere. Andrew and Ashley are the products of a neglectful and cold parents. Their mother made Andrew the favorite, but basically in order to parentize him to take care of his younger sister. And their dad can’t even remember the names of his kids. Not that the cycle of abuse starts with the parents, the mother had Andrew and Ashley when she was 15 and 17 respectively. But that doesn’t excuse how they ultimately, sell their kids’s lives for money to an organ harvesting scheme. This scheme is strongly implied to be part of an hilariously over-the-top soda company, toxisoda (it’s implied their soda is literally made from humans, so the company is doing the same thing that Ashley and Andy does, but on an industrial scale).

This is the situation that pushes Andy and Ashley to become evil murder-cannibals horror movie villains they become. They are deliberately being starved to death, and decide human meat is preferable to that. And the point here is obvious. To quote Brecht, “Erst kommt das Fressen, dann kommt die Moral” or in english translation “Food is the first thing. Morals follow on.” Andy and Ashley are bad people who kill and eat other people, but they are the product of an evil society. A family system where children are property of their parents to be abused and sold. And ultimately a capitalist system which kills people to feed others, a societal and systematic version of what Andew’s and Ashley does. They literally become cannibals to escape becoming literally or essentially cannibalized themselves by the capitalist system. Capitalism is a system which works on prey and predator dynamics, and they just fought to became predator instead of prey. To further quote the same song by Brecht, in capitalism, “Der Mensch lebt nur von Missetat allein” or in english “mankind is kept alive by bestial acts.” And in that broader view, Andrew and Ashley’s small-scale evil is dwarfed by the system they are born into.

Incest

It’s with all this context the game’s treatment of incest must be understood. It’s a horror game, about two siblings with a fucked-up abusive relationship. Of course there is incest, it’s far from being the worst thing these two do. The game only gets more explicit about incest in one optional ending, but it’s there explicitly and subtextually from the very start. Ashley jokes about it repeatedly, it’s there in the possessive jealousy Ashley feels for any of Andrew’s girlfriends, it’s implied in the casual physical intimacy of the siblings. Like it’s very obvious that their fucked-up but close relationship can lead there right from the beginning of episode 1. It’s a very natural conclusion to their dynamic. And the characters know it, Ashley definitely knows it, and their own mother accuses them of it. Andrew denies his mother’s accusation of fucking Ashley, and he’s probably not lying at that moment, but his relationship with Ashley leading there make perfect sense and he is not just capable of admitting that. Anyone who claims to have played this game and then claims be shocked that there is an optional incestous ending can’t have been paying much attention. This is the incest cannibalism game.

The Graves siblings are heading towards committing more murder as long as they stay alive, and incest is a minor sin for them. And probably not even the unhealthiest way for their relationship to develop. It definitely won’t fix them, but I doubt it will make things much worse.

And condemning the game morally is just absurd. This is a horror game, and you are outraged about the incest and not the murder-cannibalism? The Graves siblings relationship is not portrayed as healthy and the incest is part of that.

In fact the game portrays this double-standard in the actual story. It’s the possibility of her kids committing incest that finally makes Mamma Graves admit she is “the worst mother ever”, and not the whole selling the lives of her kids for money thing.

Sure, there is a fair argument to make that the incest is romanticized and fetishized. Ashley and Andrew are certainly drawn as attractive, and even the abusive elements can be part of the fetish. But the thing is, Ashley and Andrew are not real people, it’s fiction, it’s not real incest, so if people get off to it, I have no reason to see it as a problem.

The antiship blogger was actually especially angery about this official art from a devlog and honestly after playing the game, it kinda sums up my feelings about the incest controversy: