#< made to wear woman's clothing majority of their life

[steampunkedparm]

another case of "oh hey!! thats a really cute skirt! and it has built in shor- oh fuck of course they dont have anything under a 35 inch waist :|"

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[imsilay]

I love your stalker König, have you considered writing about him kidnapping the reader?

Kidnapping them, locking them in his home so that when he comes back from his missions he can play “house” and “make love to his little wife”. Age gap is also always so good 🩷

IT WAS ON MY MIND BUT WHEN YOU REQUESTED IT I HAD TO WRITE ilysm <3

SOAR

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: kidnapping, obsessive behavior, fem!reader, König is a fucking delusional, riding, fingering.

word count: 2k

summary: Your sweet captor König fucking you after coming back to home from a long mission.

next part here

art cr: yashk_pucyet on twt

An ominous whistle echoed through the hall as he made his way to the front door of his apartment. The way he walked, his hands on his pockets and long steps, told how delighted he was to finally be back home. Other soldiers were already at the bar, celebrating their victory. But for him it was different. He didn’t wanted alcohol and woman. He wanted you. That was why he was rushing to home. He couldn’t wait to see his sweet wife, to worship his prize, to use his pet. He was aching to have you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he did basically everything in the house. He was clingy yes. He knew it but didn’t care. You were his already. So that meant he could do anything he wanted with you.

He already had his keys when he arrived at the door. Impatiently unlocking the door and kicking his shoes off. He closed and locked the door. A wont. “I’m back meine Königin.” he said not too loudly. He wouldn’t want to startle you because it was midnight and he knew you didn’t like loud noises. He walked through living room, it was designed simple; a couch and a tv unit with some plants, he could buy better but it was safe if it was small and basic. The door of your shared bedroom opened as he decided to stay silent in case you were sleeping. His heart hammer his chest when he saw your sleeping form in his bed. the sheets covered some of your body but the way your pajama pants was slid up exposing your soft thigh made his head spin.

See? He didn’t need any alcohol, you were intoxicating enough for him. “Meine Königin.” he purred as he quickly took of his gear and other clothes until he was just in his boxers. His mask was thrown away for him to find tomorrow. He climbed on the bed next to you. His massive body took the majority of the space but he wasn’t complaining. This way you were more close with him.

He gently turned your body towards him and took a sharp breath when he saw you wasn’t wearing any bra. “Nein, i should let you sleep. I don’t want my wife to be mad at me.” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his chest. “I missed you so much, meine Königin.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. You clinged to his body unconsciously for more warmth. The way your body pressed against his -especially the feeling of your breasts underneath your t-shirt- made him want to take you there but he has to be patient. Until you wake up and notice his presence.

Well… He wasn’t a patient man. Not after witnessing how easily can people die. If he wanted something, he had to have it right then. That was why he kidnapped you. You, his innocent little girl, so young and naive. It wasn’t hard to gain your trust, you loved everyone. He just waited until you were independent from your family and had your own life. New friends, new neighbors, new job… It all made you feel like you were in a dream. Everything was too perfect. Until one day you heard a loud noise in your house then everything went black. That was when he took you for himself. The first year was like hell. You were constantly trying to escape, breaking everything in the house and throwing fits. But could you really do anything to harm him? That mountain of a man? He could kill everyone who was in his way. And unfortunately the destination was you. It was almost pitiful that how desperate he was for you. He didn’t really hurt or hit you. Even when you tried to escape he just found you and brought you back to his house. In his words “Our home.”

“Maus.” he purred as his hand slide underneath your t-shirt caressing your waist. His lips inches away from yours aching to capture them. Your eyes opened slowly when you felt and heard him. “I’m home.” he mumbled as he brushed his lips against your cheek. When you finally processed what was going on you tried to move away immediately. “Let go of me!” you scowled and pushed him by his chest. He chuckled lightly and pulled you back to your position on his chest. “The harder you push me, the harder i will pull you back.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. “As much as i love your spirit, i’m tired, Maus.” his voice was giving away how tired he was. Yet there was more. You knew it. “What do you want from me?” you mumbled as you stopped squirming. Your heart was beating like crazy, you knew you had no chance against him. “I want you to love me. But i know it’s too much to ask. I don’t deserve you, meine Königin.” your heart ache for a moment. But then you remembered that he was your captor. Your heart filled with rage again. He smiled softly and caressed your waist. “But you know the other thing i want.” his hand squeezed your waist and his lips brushed against your chin. His lips kissing you wherever he could reach, but your lips.

He still haven’t kissed you since he kidnapped you. He would fuck you until you can’t remember your name but that was it. He told you the reason why he didn’t kissed you during a vulnerable moment of his. He was listening to your heartbeat after a nightmare and speaking to you even if you just caressed his hair and didn’t answered him. “I want to kiss you so bad, Maus. I really do. But i don’t want to ruin you. I’m just a pathetic man who is trying to make you love me. So, i want you to kiss me when you love me.” that was his sweet words before he eat you out. Ironic, isn’t it?

A soft sigh escaped from your lips when he kissed your neck and his hand down your body. “I want you to ride me. I want you to sit on my cock like it’s your throne, meine Königin.” he whispered as he grounded his hard on against your clothed cunt. You whimpered when you felt his hard cock against your stomach. He was away from home for a month and you haven’t since done anything for yourself. So you were already wet for him. “You should take care of your husband~” he purred. “You’re not my husband. You’re just a psycho.” you moaned as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck. “I suggest you to choose your words wisely, Maus.” he mumbled and bit your shoulder as a warning. “And how could you deny me when you’re this wet f’me, hm?” he chuckled lightly after pushing his fingers into your panties making you shudder and moan. His fingers found your clit and started rubbing it slowly. Making you wetter and ready for him. Your head dropped to his shoulder and small moans escaped from your lips. He groaned when your hot breath hit his neck. His neck was the most sensitive spot on his body. Were you doing it on purpose? Knowing how he cum in his pants when you kissed him on the neck first time?

“Maus stop- i want to cum inside you.” he mumbled and with a quick maneuver you were sitting on top of his crotch. He groaned and his hips buck upwards to meet yours. The thin fabric of your underwears did nothing. He still felt how wet and warm you were. You also whined and rock your hips. You were so desperate for a release and he was the only thing in hand. Your attempts to satisfy yourself was failed because he made you addicted to his big and thick cock, your small fingers weren’t enough. One of your hands rested on his chest as you tugged down your underwear with other. “Scheiße, Maus.” his cock twitched in his boxers at the sight. He knew you wanted him as much as he do. And it made him go feral. But he managed to stay still and watched you. You were aching for his cock but it wouldn’t fit if you weren’t opened enough. Your gaze dropped to his hands on your waist. You took one of his hands and he raised an eyebrow with curiosity but he let you lead it whenever you wanted. You took his middle and ring finger inside your mouth and moaned. Your head spun from just thinking about having it inside your tight cunt. He felt like he was having a heart attack when you sucked and covered his thick and lengthy fingers with your salvia. He let you do all the work as you grounded against his clad cock and wet his fingers. When you took his fingers out of your mouth and gave him a desperate look, he knew what you wanted. So he stuck his fingers into your dripping hole making you whimper and buck your hips. “Just like that, Maus. Ride my fingers.” he fingered your little hole as his free hand supported you by your waist. “So verdammt süß.” he hissed and picked up the pace. His fingers effortlessly finding all the spots in your tight cunt. “You’re so tight, Maus. Did you wait for me like a good wife, hm?” he mumbled as he felt you were close and added another finger. You whined and your walls clenched around his thick fingers. You cum unannounced and he groaned when you cum with just his fingers. “König.” you whimpered and your hands grabbed his forearms when he pulled his fingers out. “I know it’s not enough meine Königin.” he cooed and lifted you up a little to free his precum leaking cock. He didn’t even had the patience to take off his boxers fully. He positioned you on his cock and let you take it in slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. He groaned when your walls sucked him in greedily. “Guess someone missed me.” he mumbled and caressed your hips while you sit on his cock. “Here. Right here is where you belong, Maus.” he grabbed you by hips and made you bounce on his cock. His head tipped back and he let out a low groan. He was living for this moment. When he’s on a mission he would count the days until he meet you again. His beautiful wife.

This position allowed him to be deep inside you and it made you even more desperate. Your moans and whines filled the room as he mercilessly bounced you up and down on his cock. The tip of his cock hit your cervix and you whimpered. “König it’s too deep.” you dug your nails into his forearms. He groaned and picked up the pace. It wasn’t like you were riding him anymore. He was slamming you down on his cock with his giant strength. “Slow down!” you whimpered when he hit your cervix again. “Admit that i’m your husband. Then i will consider.” he growled as he fucked you mercilessly. “Fuck-“ you cried when he didn’t even slow down a bit. “You’re my husband, König. Please.” you managed to say. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred and slowed down just a bit. “Say it again.” he slapped your hips and smirked delightfully. His big hand covered your hips as he slammed his hips into yours rapidly. You slurred that he was your husband over and over until he finally cum deep inside you. He rubbed your clit so you cum along with him.

You collapsed on his chest as he pulled out his cock. His semen dripped from your hole and you buried your head into his neck. You hated him so much for ruining your life but you were also desperate to have his love and affection. “Meine Königin.” he cooed and rubbed your back in small circles. “We’re not finished.” he kissed your forehead when you protested with a whine.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i promise i will write the stalker x stalker after this lol

if you liked this story you’ll love this

[schtrawberry]

[3] personal astrology observations

[!] this is mostly an introspective view into my chart; in no way, shape, or form am i saying that any of this is fact or set in stone, nor am i saying that i am a professional astrologer. these are just presences that exist within my chart that i've felt manifest themselves in real life. simply put, take what resonates and leave what doesn't :)

— the observation that venus in the 9th house and sagittarius mars natives are far more likely to be attracted to foreigners and/or meet their future partner/s in a foreign country is true!

[nothing, just felt like confirming, esp as someone w both these placements 🤭 like, i honestly am more likely to be approached (in a romantic setting) by a foreigner both in-person and online!]

═ sun square neptune is the aspect of daydreamers. they're always thinking about an idealized version of the future or dwelling on the past. rarely do they ever think in the present. it is often easier for them to drift off into a daze either thinking about what could have been or everything that could be.

☰ chiron in fifth house indicates pain associated with creative passions and self-expression. one may have had negative experiences that have led them to feel insecure about these aspects of life; thus leading them to distance themselves from openly expressing themselves creatively. they may take great care to keep their works of art private, tone down certain parts of their personality, and may even feel ashamed to explain themselves when others ask them about certain aspects of their creative and self-expression because of negative feedback they could have gotten in the past.

but with such pain comes empathy and understanding. once developed, these natives are the first to take notice and are the fastest to lend a sensitive ear as well as a supportive hand as soon as they see others going through the same struggle.

☱ sun-lilith in harsh aspects might have been told to cover up more by both peers and grown-ups, even when wearing "acceptable" clothing when they were kids. this placement can indicate an individual that was more sexualized from a young age, which can lead to them either being hypersexual or overly-reserved sexually in adulthood.

☲ lilith in the seventh house can indicate an individual that struggles to commit and open up about who they are to their partner/s. people with lilith in this house may have had bad experiences with marriage (perhaps witnessing bad divorces or tumultuous long-term relationships between their parents) and therefore might be turned off by the thought of marriage and/or long-term partnerships.

and though this doesn't mean that the native will be a lone soul forever, it does make one more likely to have these sort of relationships at a significantly older age in comparison to other signs.

[tw: mention of domestic violence in my personal experience, i have witnessed my parents go through an incredibly bad separation (tons of emotional abuse, infidelity, and a situation actually involving domestic violence) which has honestly made me quite hesitant to get married, even as i approach my mid-20s.]

☴ the cancer rising urge to cry when someone you care about is crying or in distress in general.

☳ a few asteroid notes:

note: asteroids are less impactful to one's personality, physicality, etc. compared to personal planets. they tend to only be relevant to one's chart if they are either in a tight orb (0-1°) or have major aspects to personal planets, preferably conjunctions or oppositions.

✢ messalina (545) known as the most promiscuous woman in rome, empress messalina is still recognized today as a symbol of uncontrolled, violent, irrational, and impulsive behavior. this asteroid reminds me very much of lilith in that it is representative of dark feminine energy and having this prominent in one's chart can be indicative of an individual that is not afraid to use their sexuality to their advantage or to create harm unto others in different aspects of their lives, but especially in terms of romantic and sexual relationships.

✢ anagolay (3757) is an potentially hazardous asteroid named after anagolay, the tagalog goddess of lost things and the daughter of the hermaphroditic goddess of seasons, lakapati. she is culturally-recognized for her ability to find not only physical objects but also abstract possessions like lost opportunities and faded memories. having this prominent in one's chart can suggest an individual that is very in-tune with cycle of nature and the subsequent passage of time. they may be more sensitive to bouts of nostalgia where they dwell on things that could have been and the way that things were. may also just indicate a person that is hypersensitive to losing physical things, though.

[`] film: go (2001) dir. isao yukisada

last / next

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)

Chapter 1: This child needs me

[part 0, here, 2]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)

Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.

If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.

Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.

It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.

And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.

He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.

Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.

(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?

Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."

Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."

(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.

It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.

Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."

The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.

Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.

It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.

"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.

Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."

The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.

"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.

"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?

The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.

It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"

".. No."

".. Are you a boy?"

sigh "No."

"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"

(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.

"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.

He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"

The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).

"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"

"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."

(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"

"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.

"I think I'll prefer Mom."

They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?

"Do you know what I am?"

Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?

Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"

"What is that?"

"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"

(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'

His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"

"Six."

Older than I thought..

(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.

An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.

His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.

"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"

"Ye-"

"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?

Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"

"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.

The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"

The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."

"Any medical issues I should know about?"

"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.

"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"

The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?

No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.

"I do."

Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"

The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.

He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"

It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.

"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"

"Look are what she's wearing-"

"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"

"Still I think-"

"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."

The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.

"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."

"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."

"Someone you could call..?"

"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.

Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?

Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."

"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."

"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."

The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.

It was peculiar.

Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.

This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.

Avery was clinging to (Reader).

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 3

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series master list

A/N: I’m sorry I couldn’t post this past Saturday something came up, so next part will be posted on next Wednesday and so on until I go back to post each Saturday. ♥️ Thank you for reading and engaging in this little idea! It means a lot!

Word count: 3,038

After listening to the doctor assure her that the baby was fine last week, Y/N had a lot of time to think and digest all the major changes she was about to face. She couldn’t help but stay up at night and cry endlessly on her own, but after a few days Y/N had finally made a decision. It wasn’t easy, but like her grandmother had said, she didn’t have many options.

Polly had also talked to her with her heart on her sleeve. She had assured her that in the end, women did well with or without a man by their side, her own husband passed away after getting too drunk, Tommy’s father wasn’t the best example to lead a family, Y/N knew too well how their relationship ended up, Ada had married Freddy only for him passing away too soon and she had raised Karl on her own.

She was right, but there was a huge difference, regardless of the useless men in their lives, they still had their last name as support. It didn’t mean anything, but legally it granted them more rights than being a single mother. The injuries on her back had been healing, she was now able to wear her regular clothes and even though she still flinched at times from the pain, it felt nice to move around more freely.

At least she had a place to sleep and food to eat, so at the moment she got it covered. She needed to save as much money as she could though, she had to think of the future.

Staring out the window, she noticed Tommy parking outside, so she rushed downstairs.

“Tommy,” Y/N greeted him. He had been to London, but barely stayed for a night. “How was your trip?”

Tommy hesitated for an instant. Under different circumstances he would’ve shared the new business Mr. Churchill had mentioned at their meeting, but he thought Y/N already had enough in her plate to add anymore pressure. He was still deciding how to manage everything with the Russians and until he got clearer instructions he’d try to keep her out of it.

“Good. I still need to go back next week though.” He followed Y/N into the kitchen, placing a small paper bag on the table. “Brought you something.”

Y/N filled two cups of the tea she started earlier and as she was about to take them to the table, Tommy rushed to get them from her hands.

“I can walk around with them, Tom. I’m only pregnant.” Y/N chuckled at his sudden protectiveness.

“Yeah, what if you feel dizzy? You could burn yourself.” He added worryingly.

But Y/N was busy drooling over the bread Tommy brought.

“Well?” Tommy gave her a long look as he added sugar to his tea.

Y/N looked up at Tommy with her mouth full, the bread was so good!

“Oh! Right… I just wanted to ask if you’re still good with the idea of me living in Arrow House? I don’t want this to cause you troubles with someone.” She took a deep breath and stared down at her hands.

Tommy blinked a couple of times in confusion. “Problems with who? What do you mean?”

It was hard to put her feelings into words, the right words as a matter of fact. Lately she had been having lots of big feelings, lots of things to be afraid of…

Y/N moved nervously. “I’ve never been noisy about your personal affairs Tom, and I don’t want to be in the middle in case you’ve a-a you know… a woman in your life.” She admitted, her voice trailing off by the end.

He squinted his eyes, not quite believing what he just heard. Then he started laughing, a loud, genuine laugh. “This is ridiculous, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

Only then, she dared to look at him, to read his expression.

“Is this what’s keeping you from accepting? Y/N, look,” Tommy took a few steps towards her, his hands found their way to her cheeks to make her look at him. “I’m going to help you no matter what. Just tell me if you accept or not, I’ll take care of the rest.”

They have had each others back over the years, and now it wouldn’t be different.

“I do need to ask you for a favor though.” Y/N folded her arms. “I will need that job you offered me as secretary a while ago.”

“But you’re pregnant.” He protested.

She was already shaking her head. “I don’t want your pity or charity, I need to work.”

With a sigh, Tommy found himself nodding in agreement. She was stubborn and wouldn’t stay still for too long.

“Deal. Although if you feel sick…”

“I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

This time, it was Tommy who pulled her in for a hug, grateful because Y/N accepted the help he was offering genuinely.

“What made you change your mind from your initial decision?” He asked with curiosity.

Y/N took a sip of her tea, feeling grateful after noticing her stomach was taking it nicely. “My grandma helped me see it through. This is the most decent offer I’ll probably get.”

“So you’re accepting because it’s your only option?” Tommy teased.

“Shut up.” She shoved him slightly on the shoulder.

She still needed to send a letter to Lady Winchester to let her know she wouldn’t be able to return to work. Until now she had lied and said she got sick and didn’t want to risk her, but she needed to digest this upcoming change first.

Later that week, Y/N had officially moved into Arrow House. She didn’t own many things other than her clothes that her grandmother managed to take from her house, her hairbrush and a small bag that Polly gave her. So here she was, on her way to an unknown future full of uncertainty, but with a little baby growing inside her. And the incondicional support of the people who were so close to her heart.

Everyone in the Shelby family had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her, offering to help her carry whatever she had on her hands, telling her how they would welcome the baby with a peaky cap and defend her from cruel comments.

Her eyes danced around, she still gasped at the sight of the spacious foyer, the only difference she noticed is that it now had more furniture and different curtains.

“Mary.”

“Good evening Mr. Shelby, may I take your coat?” A maid welcomed them, moving fast to get the coat from him, she then pointed at the briefcase. She even had uniform!

“This is Miss YL/N, she’ll use the guest bedroom I asked you to prepare.” Then he turned to face Y/N. “Mary will help you with everything, please make yourself at home.”

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N admitted with a smile, but deep down she was in shock to see that a maid was practically guessing Tommy’s every move.

“Of course Mr. Shelby.” The maid gave her a subtle look, but didn’t ask any more questions. “Follow me Miss.”

Turning around, Tommy changed his mind. “Actually… Mary take her suitcase upstairs, Y/N come with me.”

Feeling overwhelmed, she followed him, crossing a huge room, Tommy explained her it was his office, he was holding the door open for her to walk in.

“An office! Look at this place… it’s bigger than our kitchen and living room together.” Y/N couldn’t believe this, she took her time to take everything in; the impressive desk, the endless bookshelves -some where still empty-, the fireplace. “You got a painting?!”

Tommy looked down, understanding her surprise. “Is it too much?” Sometimes it all felt surreal to him.

Y/N didn’t think it was her place to point wherever it was or not too much, he could do whatever he pleased with his wealth.

“It’s just I’m not used to all of this.” She shuddered.

There was something different sparkling in his eyes. It was like she was watching the boy with big dreams and killer smile all over again.

“Yeah… me neither.”

Tommy took a long puff of his cigarette, but Y/N wrinkled her nose.

“Are you feeling sick?” He noticed the sounds she made, she was holding her stomach with one hand.

“I think it’s the smell of the cigarette.”

“Shit.” Tommy opened the window and curtains to allow some fresh air to get in and then he stomped his almost untouched cigarette on the ashtray. “Better?”

“Thanks.” She then chuckled. “Sorry I don’t want to be a burden for you.”

“Hey it’s fine, it’s just a cigarette.” He waved at the air to keep the smell from concentrating in the room.

A knock on the door caught their attention, Y/N even jumped in her seat a little.

“Mr. Shelby, dinner will be ready shortly.” Mary announced.

He nodded and asked for a glass of water for Y/N.

“This feels so surreal if you ask me.” She made a funny face that made him laugh.

“I guess I’ll get used to it.”

Pouring some whiskey into the new glassware set he got, he thought about it.

“Look at us.” Y/N said absently, her face moving towards the ceiling. “Who would have thought you’d get a place like this and I’d be expecting a child without a male support.” She rubbed a hand on her still non-existent bump.

Tommy clicked his tongue and gave her an offended look. “What about me?”

“You know what I mean.” She added after noticing his eyes fixed on her.

“How about dinner?” He offered his hand to Y/N. “Let’s see what the chef prepared. Ey?”

Earning another chuckle from Y/N he guided her towards the opposite end. A huge table set just for them.

“There’s another painting!” Y/N pointed through gritted teeth.

A huge portrait of Tommy hanged immaculately on the wall. She could barely keep up with the things going on in her life, but it seemed to be surprise after surprise with his own news.

“Just ignore it.” Tommy suggested taking his place at very end, right under the painting. “I needed to spend some money.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Y/N joined him unsure. “Where should I sit then?”

Patting the place next to him, Tommy stood up. “Right here, next to me.” And he held the chair for her, like a true gentleman. A gesture no one had ever made towards her.

“Are you sure I can’t sleep downstairs? I’ll take me forever to walk down… imagine how I’ll roll down once I get all heavy?”

The image of her swollen stomach invaded his mind for a second, Tommy stopped with his hand holding the glass midway, until he shook his head a little.

“You always love to exaggerate it, it’s not so big.” He added as come back.

“It’s huge and you know it.” She added just before the maids brought their plates.

Y/N was about to take a bite of her food when she noticed something.

“Tommy.” She whispered, making Tommy lean forward. “Do they have to stay there and stare? This is awkward.”

Tommy laughed freely.

“Mary, would you give us a moment?”

“What if you need-”

“I’ll call you.” He interrupted.

She was surprised to see them following Tommy’s requests in a heartbeat. They were eager to please him in every possible way.

“This is insane, they’re watching your every move.”

Tommy chuckled unsure of what to say, he was still trying to adjust to this new lifestyle, trying to be part of a select club to fit in the upper class.

“Well I’m paying them a ridiculous amount of money.”

“You know what I mean.” She stated smirking.

He did, of course he did.

This was the kind of things people like he and Y/N could only dream a few years ago.

“Just enjoy it, you’ll get used to it.”

He smiled at his friend, understanding her confusion. A major change like that in his life didn’t happen overnight, it took time and a lot of effort to built the fucking empire he now owned. It was about damn time that he started getting a small luxury like that property or the service for the place.

Y/N had to admit the food was delicious, she had never tasted anything better than that meal.

“I’m really proud of you.” She expressed as they finished. “It’s like you made your dreams come true, you made it out of Small Heath not from the back door, you made it through the main gate.”

Tommy swallowed hard, Y/N was the only person that had celebrated with him the small victories just as the big ones. He was lost for words, to realize that she felt proud of him meant more that he could express.

“Would you like dessert?” Mary asked folding her hands.

Turning to face Y/N, Tommy realized the way her eyes sparkled. “Just one for her, please.”

She groaned. “This is going to be a problem, you’re going to make me put on some weight with all of this food.”

“Well you need to feed that baby.” Tommy leaned his elbows on the table.

“You don’t even know how grateful I am to have you in my life, you’re saving our lives.” She touched his arm.

“That’s what friends do.” He chuckled as he saw her mouthwatering expression over the plate.

A few moments later, Tommy walked her towards her bedroom.

“This is insane, a small living room inside my bedroom?!” Y/N couldn’t believe how spacious it was.

“There’s the walk in closet, and this additional wardrobe, the vanity… everything you might need.” He added pacing around, slowly. Hands hiding in his pockets. “I think you will particularly enjoy this.”

He then pointed at the window seat. Y/N gasped in surprise, she hadn’t noticed it.

“Woah… Tommy.”

When she turned around, Tommy noticed the tears in her eyes.

“Hey what’s wrong?” He stepped closer.

“You’re just so good to me, I can’t thank you enough for providing a roof to sleep under.” Y/N sobbed.

Her vulnerability broke him. It tore him apart to realize how hard this was to her. His arms found their way around her immediately.

Emotions coming out in the form of tears.

“Y/N… talk to me.”

“It’s just…sad to see my own family doing this to me. The days I spent at Watery Lane, they never went to ask how I was doing.” A sudden sob interrupted her explanation. “To check if I needed something.”

He didn’t know what to say, her family’s message was clear and he could only imagine how she was feeling.

“But you’ve my family,” he offered rubbing her back, “we’ll be with you every step of the way. Try to forget about it, you need to be calm.” He then took a step back, but kept touching her arm, “Think of your baby.”

That seemed to do the trick, because his words made Y/N smile.

“You’re so right.” Y/N took a deep breath. “Scott made his choice and so did my family. From now on it will be this baby, me, Grandma, you and the Shelby family. That’s all I need.”

A half smile appeared on her face. He knew the process wouldn’t be easy, it’d take her some time to rebuild herself, but she had the determination and courage to carry on with whatever obstacle life decided to make her face.

A flash back ran through Tommy’s mind, he went back to the warehouse and he could still hear Scott’s pleads for his life. The blinders had been playing with him for a while and Tommy took his time. But when he faced him, Scott’s eyes were fully swollen, an ugly lip cut and several bruises all over his face.

“You thought you could fuck off like a rat?! Ey?!” He shouted in his face, yanking his hair so Scott could be face to face with him. “Thought it would fun to mess around with Y/N?”

A twisted smirk appeared on Scott’s lips, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy so he moved his hand back and hit him hard across the face with his fist several times.

“This is for fooling Y/N.” Tommy announced and kicked him.

“And this for not taking responsibility over the baby.” He kicked Scott between his legs this time. “Fucking coward.”

Now, with Scott lying on his back groaning in pain, Tommy stepped over him, holding him by the shirt with one hand. “And this for telling me to fuck off.”

It took three blinders to make Tommy step back, he was determined to finish him. He had to take deep breaths through his mouth from the exertion and adrenaline rush. His heart was pumping so hard and fast against his ribs.

“I want you out of the city and you better never come back. Because next time I’ll fucking kill you.”

End of flashback.

“You’re safe now.” Tommy helped her gently to sit on the edge of the bed. “You can have a new beginning here with your baby. I can assure you, you’ll get everything you need.”

Tommy offered Y/N his handkerchief.

“You deserve everything good in the world Tommy.”

She knew that he meant every word, and most importantly, he’d keep his promises.

“Now have some rest, you’ve been through a lot.” He groaned as he stood up.

“At what time should I be at the office?” Y/N asked when her friend reached the door.

“8:00 o’clock,” he winked, “but I’ll drive you. Good night.”

As she thanked her best friend one more time and wished him good night, Y/N stared at the spacious bedroom. It was unbelievable, a dream she was afraid to wake up from.

Her heart still felt heavy for not having her family’s support, but in some way she felt secure and protected under Tommy’s wing.

And for now, that was enough.

Part 4

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219 @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog (can’t tag) @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @skydisneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactic3a (can’t tag) @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74 @natalie--rushman @elliaze @justrainandcoffee @teawonderfultea-blog1 @galactict3a

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 4

When Idol Factory first announced this series would be sixteen hour-long episodes, I thought that might be too much, but only four episodes in, and I NEED MULTIPLE SEASONS because I'm surprisingly loving each episode much like Pink Person Pin surprisingly loved that little cheek kiss from her Blue Beauty, so much that the blue door had to support her as she secretly blushed over it.

The major reason I love this show so much is Blue Beauty Anin is the perfect historical protagonist. She is rich. She has a trusty sidekick. She is intelligent. She has moxie! If she were a man, I'd be rooting for her to get the girl, but because she is a woman, I'm rooting even harder!

So it doesn't surprise me that her cousin also has a crush on her. She is wearing her blue after all.

Which just so happens to be when more purple starts to appear on Pin's clothing since blue + pink = purple.

But here's the thing - Just like a historical rich male protagonist, Anin's flaws are starting to show, like the fact that she made my girl Prik sad because she treated Prik like the servant Prik is by making her collect the balls rather than play with the royals.

And it could just be my bias showing since I love the actress, Looknam, but Anin is a princess. She has privilege. She has power. She has plans. And she has the means to make those plans happen because when she says she wants something, she gets it. When she says she is unhappy, people work to make her happier. And when she says move, people move.

Which is great. I support queer rights and wrongs! But what happens when Blue Beauty Anin hears "no"?

Can someone even say no? Can Pirk? Can Pink Person Pin?

Anin is using her cousin to make Pin jealous, but Ueangfah seems to actually like Anin, so in Anin's pursuit of what she wants, she is already hurting someone else beneath her because Princess Anin doesn't have to think of others.

Which I fully support.

Much like Anin letting Pin rest under a blue blanket, I think the story wants us to notice these moments so we can see Anin influence on others.

Anin is used to getting what she wants, but times are changing, and strangely enough, so are colors. Her brothers swapped colors this week.

And so did her aunt who wore a color only seen on Anin's mother up until now.

But, thankfully(?), her aunt was right back to her usual self when she left to attend to her duties outside of their beautifully large home(s).

Each character has been a consistent color, so to see everyone else change colors this episode EXCEPT Anin is interesting because, once again, I think the story wants us to see how stuck in her ways Anin is, so we can notice when her power starts to hurt her and she is forced to evolve.

Even Pin changed to purple as her feelings for Anin morphed, but Anin remained blue with a hint of how she can evolve by taking care of someone else instead of being cared for and with the color orange, which has been included in her dresses three times now.

I also found it interesting that Pin's pink was more vibrant once instead of the soft one she wears now.

And that her parents were blue and red. RIP parents who I never got to really know.

But back to Anin! She gets what she wants because she has power, but that power comes with a price. No matter how close Anin is with loyal sidekick, Prik is her servant, not her friend, and we keep getting little reminders of how little say Prik actually has over her life. Regardless of how Anin feels for her best friend, Pin is not a blood-related member of this family and (if I remember correctly) her adopted mother isn't either. Pin is beneath Anin, and doesn't have the freedom over her own life like Anin does. This isn't about being queer. This is about class.

So even though I should be delighted that the heavens approved of this relationship,

And that Pin was in Anin's blue (and her clothes) by the end of the episode,

I believe the series is already telling us that Anin doesn't have to change (her color), but that means everyone else will be forced to follow and do as they are told.

Even if they want to follow her until the very end.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Mr and Mrs Knight

Steven Grant (Marc Spector + Jake Lockley) x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, body dysmorphia, smut, suit kink, glove kink, fingering, PiV sex, creampie, squirting, misuse of The Suit™ (and truncheons), cosplay, established relationship, fluff

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I am unashamed to admit that suits are fucking hot and the shit they do to me is what I imagine straight men feel when they see a VS model in lingerie. And Steven is hot. So is Marc. And Jake and Oscar in general you get the rest. Imagine the Mrs Knight suit looks something like this. (Also featuring the headcanons by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for Jake's craftiness!)

Taglist: @mundivagantsoul @belle-oftheball34 @steven-grants-world @denile-xo @whatevenisagrapefruit @hagridnmegamind @sapphire-and-ruby

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

It had been a banger of a night. A fun Halloween bash at the museum, amazing costumes, great food. Donna even seemed to be in a decent mood. But of course that woman could have been faking it.

You and Steven decided to go with matching costumes. In a gross abuse of Steven, Marc, and Jake's status as Moon Knight, you'd convinced him to use his "Mr Knight" suit as his costume.

Jake helped you make yours to match. Finding the majority was easy enough at thrift stores (despite Marc's insistence that you should buy a new one), the mask was what was the pain.

That's where Jake's expertise came in. Sure his main skill was in knitting, but that didn't mean the man wasn't nuanced in other ways to make clothes. You couldn't count how many times Jake would stitch up the seams of your favorite jacket that you just refused to throw away, or how many times he'd hit you with that smug smile when you blubbered about how awesome he was for giving extra life into your jacket so you could wear it juuuust a bit longer.

Your mask turned out to be almost a perfect replica of his, complete with glowing lenses to match Steven.

You were nervous when you got dressed, looking in your floor-length mirror at your reflection.

Your hair was pinned back neatly to allow you to pull the mask on or off (because unlike Steven's, which was magically suited--pun intended--to be comfortable) without much problem, and you would still appear "flawless" as Steven put it.

But right now, you were having second thoughts. You weren't sure you liked how the skirt fit you. Or the blazer.

The waistband of the skirt squeezed your waist and the rolls of your tummy, the creases in the fabric seemingly emphasizing every imperfection you saw in yourself.

Your transparent white stockings were not helpful either, the bands squished the fat of your thighs in a way that made them look like muffins, even moreso than your tummy. They kept rolling down so much you had to buy garters to wear beneath your skirt just so they'd stay up...

You frowned at your reflection as the skirt rode up your legs, showing off the cute lace trim of the stockings and your squishy thighs; honestly if you weren't careful, or you bent over the skirt would bare your ass to the whole party.

You were tempted to go and grab that last minute shitty vampire costume you had stashed away, when Steven walked in, already dressed immaculately in that gorgeous white suit of his.

He adjusted the tie, not looking at you as he does so.

"Hey, luv, I'm fairly ready. I can help you with your makeup now, if..." His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth feels suddenly very dry at the sight of you all dressed up.

His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, moistening it as he clears his throat.

"You look good."

"Oh.... Thanks." You mumble shyly, trying to pull the edges of the blazer down to cover the rolls poking out of your skirt a bit more.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, beautiful?" He said softly, moving up to you.

"I... I look like a marshmallow." You sigh hesitantly, your tone full of self-deprecation.

"Hey, now." Steven smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tucked your face into his lapel.

"You're the most gorgeous marshmallow on the planet if that's the case." He told you, kissing the top of your head.

He felt something press down on him, and he looked up at the mirror, getting a full view of your back, but he saw Marc's face staring back at him with a cringed expression.

(Dude, that was the shittiest compliment ever. What woman wants to hear her being compared to a marshmallow??) He hissed.

Steven was about to retort, before you started bubbling out on laughter at how silly his compliment was.

"That was so corny." You snicker.

Steven gave a smug smirk at Marc before looking down at you with a soft, lovesick smile.

"Yeah, well, you love my sense of humor, eh?" He winked.

"Yeah... I guess I do." You smile back.

"Now, then! Your makeup. Let's sit you down so I can work on it for you!"

Whenever you had your doubts about your appearance, Steven, Marc, or Jake would pipe in and alleviate your worries. Sometimes all three at once, though rapid switching would often cause problems for them (like migraines).

You kept your eyes closed as Steven carefully applied your highlighter to your cheekbones, the brush tickling your skin, his shaky breaths ghosting over your face.

He would mumble some curses when he messed up, but would correct his mistake.

When you had asked him where on earth he learned to contour and highlight he shyly admitted he watched half a dozen tutorials on YouTube to get it perfect for you.

You felt the coldness of the liquid eyeliner as he painted on the wings with the white liner, the silver and gold glitter further adding to your look.

"'Kay luv, open your eyes so I can apply your mascara." He murmured, looking down in your makeup kit for the said cosmetic.

Once he did, he pulled out the black tube and made sure there was no excess before he carefully combed the white creamy substance on your eyelashes, lightening them up to enhance the face he'd helped apply for you.

Once he was finished with both eyes, he leaned back and allowed you to blink, smiling that puppy dog smile of his in satisfaction at his handiwork before placing the mascara tube back in the kit.

He lifted his hand and shook the bottle of setting spray so you wouldn't accidentally sweat it off or wipe it off with something during the night (or god forbid it rub off on the inside of your mask).

"Close em again for me."

You couldn't help but smile at his level of gentleness and politeness.

You restrained from physically recoiling as the cold setting spray hit your skin and quickly dried.

"Now, do you want to put on lipstick now or when we get to the party?" He asked as he watched your sickeningly gorgeous lashes flutter open. All the white, silver, and hints of gold on your face enhanced your eyes and their color, the very depths of them stealing his breath away.

"We can do it now. I have liquid matte and regular lipstick." You reply, smiling once again.

"Which would you prefer?" Steven asked you.

"Whichever you think would look best."

He sucked in a breath that his lungs were suddenly starving for, and grabbed the liquid tube.

His hand gently cupped your chin as he brushed the satiny lipstick onto your lips, carefully lining them so it wasn't too much. He'd even dipped his finger in your cosmetic glitter and applied a very gentle amount.

"Gorgeous." He breathed.

"Aww..." You giggle, thankful for the glitter and makeup that hid your blush at his praise.

"Now then... Let's go, shall we?" He said, taking your hand to help you stand and slip in your white heels.

As the two of you left, Steven could hear Jake in the back of their headspace.

(Que hermosa... Be careful, hermanito. If she bends over, I just might take over for the rest of the night and have that ass for myself.)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Mr and Mrs Knight. That's what you two went as for the party. You two even won the prize for best couples costume!

Sure it was just a gift card to some restaurant, but it was exhilarating to hear how people adored your matching outfits.

And you couldn't help but notice all night that Steven simply couldn't keep his hands off of you.

He would get like that sometimes; working himself up like that, but trying to be subtle. You knew it was only a matter of time before an awkward boner would be the cause for the two of you to leave early, so you excused yourself to the restroom under an excuse to check and see if your makeup needed retouching or if you could go the rest of the night without your mask.

But you got a little nervous when two women went into the lavatory after you, and you felt trapped within your stall. You simply couldn't stand the glances from other women you were getting all night. You were afraid these two women who were clucking at each other like hens were amongst the ones judging you.

And your fears were confirmed.

"I can't believe that such a handsome guy would pick a blimp to be his girlfriend." One of them scoffed as she applied a fresh layer of brick red lipstick. As if she didn't have enough on already.

You felt your heart sink further inside of you as the other joined in.

"I know, right? It's gotta be her tits, only thing I can imagine. Maybe her ass, too." The other laughed as she touched up the false blood on the corners of her mouth.

"Either that or she gives good enough head that he can overlook the fact that if she ever got on top she could crush him." The first one snickered.

Your hands knotted in the mask you held in your hands, threatening to tear the stitches Jake so lovingly sewed in for you to wear tonight. You bit the inside of your cheek harshly as the two gossiped further.

"Ugh, and the sad thing is, he's cute, for a bookworm who won't shut up." The second sighed.

"Ugh, I know... I can look past the blabbering if I can see what he's packing."

"Right? I wonder if he's as good with his mouth as he is with his stupid history facts." The first giggled.

You gritted your teeth. You couldn't take much more, you knew that. Insulting you, you could take and bottle up to deal with later, probably in the heat and privacy of your shower.

But talking about Steven like he's some kind of... sex toy? No. Hell no. If you were anything, you were insanely protective over your boys. Even bordering on possessive at times (of course the same was true for the boys about you).

You were done.

You slammed the stall door open and sort of enjoyed how startled they seemed when they saw you, their jaws dropping when it hit them that you heard everything.

You hurriedly wash your hands and slip your gloves back on, gripping your mask in your hand tight as you spare them a backwards glance before leaving the lavatory to find Steven.

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted to go home...

When you found him, his brows knitted upwards in concern at how tight-lipped and tense you were when you gripped his sleeve tight.

"Ey luv, what's wrong?" He murmured to you, leading you away from the crowd.

"I... I just want to go home." You say, the words those women said about your body weighing down on you, and the things they said about Steven burning hot in your gut. You weren't sure what to feel with this cocktail of emotions.

"Hey hey, okay we can leave." He says, kissing you on the forehead.

"Let's go."

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

The walk back to your flat was... Difficult. You could barely hold yourself together, suddenly hyper-aware of every roll and stretch mark on your body, even the slight double chin you had when you moved your head a certain way.

It wasn't until you were in the lift of your building that you finally broke down, your reflection staring back at you in the walls of the tiny space, crushing down on you with every imperfection you saw.

You couldn't keep in the bubbling sobs, or the fat tears that rolled down your cheeks and ruined the makeup Steven worked so hard to put on you.

He cradled you against him and cooed to you, saying sweet nothings and whispering nothing but praise for your looks, rubbing your back and kissing your hair.

In the various angles of the reflections, and the oppressive feeling weighing down on Steven... He could see and feel Marc and Jake.

Both looked pissed. Marc almost looked violent.

(If anybody talks like that about our muñeca again...) Jake trailed off.

(Oh trust me, I'll do the honors.) Marc growled.

The walk back into your flat felt horrid. You didn't just cry, you ugly-cried. You ruined your makeup, your hair fell out of the pins, and your skirt rode up more with every rushed step you took to hurry up and get in to get into some baggy clothes that didn't showcase your body.

You didn't feel cute or sexy anymore, you felt... ugly.

And Steven didn't like that one bit. Marc and Jake retreated, knowing that their anger at your injured self-opinion wouldn't help. This kind of situation was a Steven situation. He knew best how to be the sweetest person on the planet with you.

But right now he wasn't feeling particularly sweet. Sure, you were upset. But he couldn't help but get a good look at you as you walked ahead of him, the skirt riding up so much that he could just barely see the black and blue panties you wore beneath, your cheeks peeking out from the edges of the fabric, the garter straps clinging desperately to your stockings in effort to keep them up your gloriously plush thighs to keep them up.

He felt hot beneath the collar, his trousers getting uncomfortably tight as blood flowed straight to his cock.

The moment the door closed behind you, your hands, trembling and rushed, went to unbutton the blazer to get it off of you quicker, sniffles and tiny sobs sneaking out of you in the process.

However, your actions were halted when Steven placed his hands gently on your shoulders from behind, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your blazer, trying to soothe you.

"Love. You're gorgeous. Beautiful." He breathed, resting his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo.

"Steven, I'm... I'm not." You sniffle. "I'm fat, I can barely squeeze into a pair of jeans, I can't even shop at normal clothing stores for women. I get looks when I wear anything tight, and--and the things I hear people say about me--"

Your voice is broken off when you hiccup, feeling another sobbing fit try to get out of you.

"You don't understand what I'm sayin', luv." Steven smiled into your hair, ever patient.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world to us. You don't need a flat belly, or toned thighs to be pretty. You're funny, you're warm, and you're soft."

You made a shocked squeak when his hands snake around you, his gloved hands gripping at your belly and squeezing the plushness there through your clothes.

Your denial died in your throat when Steven rolled his hips into you, his hard cock throbbing as he rutted into the curve of your ass.

"You wouldn't be able to get to me like this if I didn't find you the most gorgeous woman on the planet. You wouldn't get Jake to say the filthy things he tells you in bed. You wouldn't have Marc snuggling you and resting his head in your lap or on your belly..."

His breathing got heavier as he rocked his hips into you further, a bitten-back whimper dying as he swallowed hard.

"S-Steven--"

"You've been driving me insane all night. This skirt looks so good on you." He says hotly in your ear, his fingers rolling up the hem of your skirt to reveal your panties and garters, making you gasp again.

"Those stockings huggin' you so tight. Been thinking about how badly I want to have my head between your legs, tonight." He growled.

Before you could say anything else, his gloved hand went up to your mouth and he tapped your lips, begging for entrance. Powerless to resist him, you let him press his fingers into your mouth, your tongue wetting them effectively before he pulled them away, and slipped down into your panties

He dragged one of his fingers up your puffy lips, parting your folds before he turned his attention onto your clit.

"S-S-Steven--" You whimper when he starts to circle the little nub.

"Hush, now. Let me show you, eh?" Steven said, biting at your earlobe softly.

You couldn't fight it, you couldn't fight the warm nectar that gushed out from you at his words and affirmations. All your mind could focus on was how wonderfully his fingers toyed with your cunt, deftly rolling, pushing, and pinching your clit in every way he knew that brought you the best pleasure, the fastest.

Your mind practically went blank when he curled two fingers into your weeping hole, the leather around his digits making them thicker than they normally would be, and providing a luxurious texture to your clit as he massaged you with his palm. His mouth trailed down your neck, breath hot on your skin as he bit down and sucked.

It wasn't like when Jake did this to you, no. Every one of them had different methods, different touches...

And Steven was particularly good at balancing out the sweet and the hard, paying more attention to your own pleasure than his. Sometimes, he would get so lost in pleasuring you he'd cum in his pants without even being touched.

This time was no different... in no time at all, he had you cumming so hard you almost fell to the floor, your slick gushing out and soaking the glove.

He smiled sweetly into the skin of your neck as he eased you forward, so you could press your palms on one of his desks, thighs quivering as you recollected yourself.

You barely saw through your haze clearly enough to catch Steven licking his glove clean through the reflection in the mirror on the desktop, his eyes closing in satisfaction at your savory taste.

You half expected him to drop to his knees and eat you out, next, but he doesn't. He just stands there for a moment, staring at you with a lidded and loving gaze, curls falling forward over his forehead as they always do.

That's when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head, and you pinch your legs together, and try to wiggle away from his gaze, to retreat to the safety of the bathroom and escape from his heated staring.

But in a flash, Steven is on you again, his hands gripping at your hips and that's when you feel the hot, heavy weight of his leaking cock slap against the barely clothed flesh of your ass as he rolls your skirt up completely over your hips.

"Steven!" You squeak.

"Hey, now... 'M not done showing you yet." His voice croaks out, heavy and barely coherent as the silk fabric of your panties brushes the head of his dick.

He groans, giving one more roll of his hips against your ass, smearing more precum on the fabric and skin, there; before he gripped the base, lining his cock up to your weeping hole.

"Fuck, luv. So soft. So wet f'me." He said, voice strained from barely contained arousal.

You squirmed, still feeling inadequate despite Steven's words and assurances.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly. But right now you just felt so... so...

Your thoughts cut themselves off when he reached behind him, and from beneath his coat pulled out one of his engraved truncheons.

Placing it in front of you and gripping it with his other hand, pulling you tight against him as he thrust sharply into you, sheathing himself in one whole go, the tip of his cock slamming upwards so suddenly you felt his tip smush your cervix before he eased back.

"B-baby--" You whine, despite yourself.

"Not runnin' away, luv." Steven grunted into your hair as he thrust into you, his hands gripping tightly on the truncheon, using the bar to squeeze against your belly and hold you against him while he fucked you raw.

You couldn't fight the snapping of his hips or his raw need for you, right now. You couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers he wrenched out of you with each punctuation of his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" You hear him wheeze as his thrusts get more and more desperate.

There is a metallic clang as he tosses the truncheon to the floor in favor of gripping your thigh and lifting your leg so your knee was on the desktop.

You let Steven guide you so you're practically laying face down on the desk, his cock still spearing you open, pussy fluttering around him at the change in position.

You were taken by surprise when he grips your wrists next, ripping off his tie before slipping it over your hands, before tying them together at the curve of your back. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough you couldn't squirm free.

He hesitated a moment. As nice as it would be to watch the soft flesh of your ass bounce and ripple while he fucked you... He didn't want to do it like this.

So, without further hesitation on his part, he gripped you, lifting you off your feet and rolling you so you were laying with your upper half on the desktop, pulling your legs up so your calves rested on his shoulders, all without dislodging from the warm tightness of your cunt.

You whimpered as he does this, and try to wriggle from his tie so you could cover your face, your running makeup and smeared lipstick.

Your pitiful, chubby face--

"Hey, hey..." His voice is soft and shaky as he leans in, cupping your cheek with one hand as your thighs squish against the both of you.

He caresses your soft cheek with a thumb and he smiles.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart. You're gorgeous and I want to see you."

"Steven, I..." You whimper as your pussy clenches around his shaft, making it twitch inside of your tight, gummy walls.

His eyes rolled back with a groan.

"I'm not gonna stop until you see what I see." He grunts, dragging his cock out slowly until only the tip remains inside of you, the rest of your cunt squeezing desperately around nothing.

You're barely given a moment of respite before he snaps his hips into yours again, fucking you relentlessly and hitting your sweet spot over and over withe every arch of his hips.

Some of Marc's precision was bleeding into him as he aimed the tip of his cock like a weapon against your g-spot, pounding into you hard and fast, stoking the fire in your belly so hotly that you felt the embers scatter throughout your veins, every nerve in your body aflame in pleasure.

His left hand kneads the soft skin of your thigh, squishing and rolling the plush flesh beneath his gloved fingers before he slips his other hand between you, circling your clit mercilessly, making you shriek with every sharp thrust of his hips.

He loved how your body jiggled and bounced with every thrust; how your tits were bouncing so hard that they were spilling out of the top of your bra cups, your blazer falling completely open around you, now.

Despite still being fully clothed, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. Fresh tears burned in your eyes as he crammed his cock into you over and over again, his fingers working your second orgasm out of you faster and faster with every swipe of his fingers.

"It's okay, luv." Steven moaned, turning his head to plant a kiss on the inside of your knee, the leg he was squishing in his fingers.

"Cum for me, yeah? Show me how pretty you are." He pants, his thumb pressing hard into your clit.

That was all it took, the friction of his fingers, the thrusts of his hips, and each jab of his cock, plus his words? You were on cloud nine, brain fried and all sense gone as drool dribbled down your chin and you cum with a choked cry, babbling out his name over and over as your body clamps down, gushing around his cock, spraying out and soaking his hand and the front of his suit.

Steven, poor, loveable, goofy Steven could never hold out too long after you came, the squeezing and milking of your pussy was simply too much for him to bear.

Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself spasm in an aftershock as you felt the hot ropes of his cum painting your walls a milky white, flooding your hungry cunt with everything he had to give you.

He drops your leg, wrapping them around his waist as he leans in and kisses you roughly, his tongue pushing past your lips to twine with yours and steal your recovered breaths.

"See... You're fucking beautiful. Wouldn't do this to us otherwise." He mumbles against your lips.

"Oh... God." You whimper.

Your mind ticks back into sanity and you realize the two of you are still clothed. Your outfit was of course mussed, but Steven was almost completely immaculate. The only thing he was missing of his suit was his tie, and the only sign of mess was the wet stain on his front, and his cock still sheathed inside of you.

"Hmm." He hummed softly, looking down at you with the softest gaze he could fix on you.

Steven gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead before he moved his mouth to the shell of your ear.

"And if you still don't believe me... Jake and Marc want to have a word with you."

[littlejuicebox]

A different kind.

Written for a prompt given to me by @coyote-mint! Thank you!

Also, peep this Dadstarion drawing by @supplementalfigures which I adore and is the inspiration for Astarion wearing baby Gale.

Summary: The Ancunins take their first outing as a family of three. They aren’t quite prepared for the new experience.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, family, parenthood, babies, Astarion being Astarion

*

Astarion protectively wraps his hands beneath the small infant in his arms. Gale is just under two months old and sleeping curled against his father, lulled by the steady thrum of the older man’s heart.

The little one is held snugly against Astarion’s chest with a wrap made of gauzy blue cotton, intricately embroidered one night by the previously-expectant father. Gold-threaded stars and planets dapple the inky night sky of the fabric, keeping the infant sleeping peacefully among the celestial bodies.

The stars certainly shine for Gale. At least in the Ancunin household.

The first outing as a family of three is to the newest shop in town, Rivington Raiments, the first fine clothier in the outer city. Both Astarion and you hoped this newest addition meant journeys into the city for every new garment would be a thing of the past.

Over the years, trips would have been even more frequent had your husband not been a fair clothing alterer himself. In the past nine months, he’d had to let out your favorite dresses more than once as your stomach grew to encompass the life that had been growing within.

But now, you’ve lost majority of the baby bump, and a few new pieces are in order to replace some of the well-worn garments currently in your closet.

The tailor fusses around you, placing pins in a winter-ready dress you’ve decided to try on. Astarion is watching with rapt interest as the middle-aged human woman adjusts the hem. He thinks that, in another life, that might have been him.

“How do I look?” You ask after you turn to face Astarion once the seamstress has finished pinning her proposed alterations.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in anything, darling,” Your husband remarks with a soft smile, his hand sliding from its resting spot under the bundle in his arms to lightly pat the infant’s back. He’s swaying gently as he speaks; the constant soothing movement while holding Gale has quickly become a habit for you both.

It’s a compliment, but he means it’s a no.

You nod your head in understanding and then turn to look at yourself in the mirror, feigning thought, before sighing and saying, “I believe I would like to think about this further before I make a purchase. But thank you for your time. Perhaps you could direct me to the children’s clothing once I change?”

As the seamstress busily works to unpin you, Astarion catches your eye and flashes you the briefest crinkled nose behind the woman’s back.

Ah, so he’d meant the dress was a hell no.

*

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your purchases, my love?” Astarion inquires as the two of you enter the local tavern for lunch.

“We go through so many diapers and burp cloths a day, it’s hard for the poor maid to keep up with the wash,” You respond, narrowing your gaze at your husband, “Just because you don’t have to wash them doesn’t mean we have enough.”

“Very well,” Your silver-haired spouse responds, choosing to avoid the argument though he cannot avoid rolling his eyes slightly as the two of you sit down.

Gale begins to stir against his father. The movements are followed by tiny grunts of disapproval coming from layers of cloth. Your husband manages to calm the infant, at least for a moment longer, with a few gentle caresses along the baby’s back.

A quick glance to the wall clock and the older elf warns, “Ah, I’m afraid it will be feeding time soon and my charms will no longer work, dear.”

The two of you place an order with the barmaid. She returns moments later with a pitcher of water and focuses her attention on the flash of silver hair peaking out from swaths of navy.

“I see the new addition is here,” She remarks, her hand moving to touch the all too tempting, downy soft patch of curls upon the baby’s head.

Astarion instantly intercepts the well-meaning gesture with his own hand, his mouth forming a thin line of irritation as he releases the woman’s wrist from his grip.

“I would thank you to not touch me or my children without consent, Beatrice. And certainly not without washing your hands first.” The male elf says, the normal gentility of his tone lost in favor of a much sharper one.

“O-oh, of course. I apologize, Lord Ancunin,” The barmaid responds, splotches of rose appearing across her face as she quickly takes a step back to increase her breadth from the infant.

Your husband gained a reputation for being highly litigious years ago. Though he slayed his enemies with contracts and court appearances rather than daggers nowadays, he was still seen as quite dangerous. No one has yet forgotten the dispute the Ancunins had with their neighbors over property lines shortly after the manor was purchased.

Perhaps Astarion had lied to get his way in that one. But what did your neighbors truly need with a single colonnade of fruit-bearing trees when you two held rights the rest of the orchard?

Beatrice quickly dismisses herself and heads to assist another table of customers. When Astarion turns his attention back to you, he spots your arms folded across your chest in signature displeasure and groans, readying himself for the chastisement.

“She’s going to spit in our food now, Astarion.” You remark with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh.

“She can spit in my food thrice if it means she doesn’t touch my vulnerable child,” Your husband retorts, his pale hand once again finding its habitual resting place along the infant’s back.

You shrug and give a vague wave your hand in a sign of truce. Because really, how can you argue against a protective father?

As if on cue, Gale begins to cry just as the barmaid places your orders on the table. It’s a loud, shrill, hungry wail, earning the two of you several bothered glares from other patrons scattered across the tavern.

“Oh, please, as if none of you have heard a crying baby before,” Astarion snaps, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear as he begins to pull Gale from the carrier. The elf tries in vain to soothe the babe, but as predicted, the little prince is demanding satiation.

You sneak one bite of mashed potato in your mouth and then sigh before gesturing for your husband to pass you the infant. Astarion gives you an apologetic look as he places the little one in your arms.

Unfortunately, daddy just doesn’t have the correct anatomy for this part of parenting.

Gale quickly finds a proper latch and stops crying as he searches for nutrients with happy hums. Astarion eats a few bites of his own meal and soon sets his sights on feeding you.

At first you refuse, already bothered by the prying eyes staring at your partially exposed breast — typical — and not wanting to attract further attention. Your husband throws the wrap over your chest and then stares as you expectantly.

The intensity of his eyes and the set of his jaw say you’re not getting out of this one. He’s going to feed you like a child since he cannot feed his own child in this moment.

It’s both embarrassing and adorable.

You watch the fork approach your face, keeping your lips firmly sealed in a final protest. But then both a narrowed glare and irritated huff from Astarion cause you to instantly open your mouth, where he places a few green beans upon your tongue.

“How do you expect Gale to have proper nourishment if you keep leaving your meals half finished, little love?” Your husband lectures before placing a bit of mashed potatoes in your mouth and planting an affectionate kiss upon the apple of your cheek.

The child in your arms coos in assent.

“See, the little prince even agrees with me,” Astarion remarks with a cheeky wink, taking a moment to steal a bite of food from his own plate.

This was the first time these two silver-haired little loves of yours formed a coup. It wouldn’t be the last.

You roll your eyes at your husband and then peer down at the baby nestled in your arms, suckling without a care in the world.

“Traitor,” You whisper, the word laced with more than enough affection to negate the connotation before placing a loving kiss on the crown of Gale’s head.

*

Your little family is almost all the way home when Astarion stops dead in his tracks with a look of horror plastered upon his face. He peers down at the small bundle of blue and baby with wide-eyed surprise.

“What— what is it?!” You practically shriek, motherly instincts jumping into anxious overdrive as you reach for the child tucked safely against his father.

Astarion quickly grabs your hand, much like he grabbed Beatrice’s earlier, though with a decidedly more gentle clasp. You can tell by his lack of panic that Gale is safe, and your initial reaction begins to wane as the elf lowers your hand away from your son.

“He pooped, dear,” Your husband sighs, a sudden wave of weary exhaustion slapping the still-new father in his face, “And if you stick your hand in the wrap, it’s going to be all over you… because it’s all over Gale… and me.”

The look upon Astarion’s face is hilarious. And you can’t help it, you simply have to laugh at the new father clinging to what little patience he has.

“Not. Funny.” The retired rogue hisses, narrowing his eyes at you before walking briskly in the direction of the house.

There was roughly a half mile left to the front of the property and he seemed intent on crossing that distance at rapid speed, “From now on we are always taking the carriage into town. With extra clothes and supplies for all of us. I don’t care how much you abhor it, Tav. Walking this far with a needy infant and scant supplies is simply impractical and we are not arguing about this further.”

As if to prove a point, Gale begins to shriek like he is suddenly aware he’s covered in his own filth. The sound causes Astarion to practically break into a sprint, both arms coming to hold the infant fast against his chest. You run after the two, trying to keep up, but your husband is moving so quickly you’d think he’s still a vampire if you didn’t know better.

*

The little prince is now clean and perfectly pink as you rock him in the nursery. The early afternoon sun is shining through the window, casting the two of you in an ethereal backlight. Gale has forgotten all about the poop incident; his father, on the other hand, will never be able to let go of this particular memory.

Astarion sits in the nursery with you two, sipping a cup of tea. His wet curls hang around his ears, still occasionally dripping water onto his house clothes. He admires you, and the sunlight dancing in your hair, watching as you hum an Elvish lullaby to the sleepy infant in your arms.

His memories quickly flash at the sight.

The day you told him you loved him.

The day you two won the battle.

The day you accepted his proposal.

The day he saw you walking down the aisle.

The day you told him you were pregnant.

He thought you were the most beautiful in every one of those moments, each one always outdoing the previous.

But this vision of you, right now, happy and calm, rocking the little prince you two created?

This certainly outdid all those prior memories.

After two hundred years of pure shit, Astarion is beyond thankful to now have over a decade of better memories.

Though, he’s beginning to see the next decade will also be full of shit.

Just a different, and somehow better, kind.

[twelvemonkeyswere]

Brienne and Femininity (and Masculinity)

I’ve been musing how one of the most important topics in Brienne's storyline is femininity, and even though her story isn't finished, we can fairly see what some of her major themes are around this—particularly, how performing or failing at performing femininity affects her both internally and externally.

Often I see people pointing out that, in spite of all of Brienne’s traditionally masculine ways—her clothes, her skill set, her body shape, to name a few—she does not fully reject femininity. That she likes little cute animals and fairy tales and wears dresses, and is shy and blushes frequently. This is an important point because, very often, fantasy settings made the assumption that a woman can only be taken seriously if she goes beyond “her womanhood” and acts and thinks “like a man,” as opposed to other girls who are too busy mending or wanting romance. Brienne challenges those tendencies that GRRM saw in his contemporaries. Things have changed a lot since (hello The Locked Tomb, for example), but you can still see where he is working from, and how many of the aspects of Brienne's story still resonate with more modern audiences because, well, sexism hasn't stopped existing. It's also important because the larger asoiaf and got fandoms often refuse to see this side of her, reducing her to a walking sword or a cardboard cut out of a pushover.

Now, my main issue here is that I feel several interpretations of Brienne have now gone on the other direction, and focus so much on Brienne PERFORMING traditional femininity—wearing luxurious dresses, using make up, accepting lavishing gifts, or wondering if she can be desired, for example—that we've gone sometimes on the opposite direction. I feel like many times we’re afraid or do not know how to approach characterizing her as someone who rejects aspects of femininity without making her into another “not like other girls” stereotype.

My two cents on the matter is that if we focus too much in what Brienne can't but "wants" to perform, we forget that she is, in fact, gladly rejecting some common impositions of femininity in her society.

Beginning with swordplay at a young age, for example, she was very glad to ditch a more traditional education in order to learn how to fight the way we know men are taught in asoiaf/got. She is also explicitly more comfortable in men's clothes. We all like the scene where Jaime makes an effort to give her a dress and she appreciates it, but we don't even find out what happened to the dress, because, presumably, the dress itself is not THAT important, at least not as much as the fact Jaime gave her gifts as a form of appreciation. Dresses have been used in Brienne's past to mock her (the event with the bear being the most recent one), and the important part is that Jaime is the only one who has given her one without that ulterior motive. The point of the scene is that where everyone undermines and underestimates her, he is acting the opposite way. We’re seeing how the relationship between them has evolved and that he is doing his best to mend what has happened and what he has done. She is given a dress and a sword as symbols that someone else in the story is beginning to appreciate her for all she is.

Beyond that, we even get details on the old shield Brienne got at Harrenhal, but not a word about the dress. Brienne explicitly doesn't really like being in dresses, she prefers mail and breeches, and feels more at ease in them than anything else. This is not her hating dresses because she is above them. I can’t remember well but as far as we know it’s just her preference: I don’t recall her saying she hates dresses, just that she prefers trousers. She must have been wearing dresses her whole life! It’s not likely she is unused to them. But we do know the act of being given a dress is important in Brienne’s story. The problem is not that they can’t make dresses for her, the problem is that everyone who forces her to wear a dress wants to signal how lacking she is as a woman, trying to fit her in a box too small for her real shape and then mocking her because she doesn’t meet their standard. The problem is they want to make her uncomfortable and they want to humiliate her, because she dares to exist in a way that doesn’t conform to patriarchal ideals. And the problem is that she likes to wear trousers and mail. She likes to wear masculine clothes, and they want her to be very aware of how much they disapprove.

And we also hear a great deal about marrying and having children out of duty. There's a certain loss she feels there because she believes that, at that point, all those missed opportunities will never present themselves again. All her life, she grew up with a dichotomy that dictated that the chance of having a family or children was through duty or none at all, because she is her father’s heir and—they kept telling her—nobody would want an ugly, masculine, temperamental girl as a wife. They could only want her for the money she brought. The point of the story is that, once again, failing the standards of femininity has forced her into a mentality where she thinks she can’t be loved because nobody would like who and what she is. But even then, even with that thorn in her mind, she still feels relieved she didn't have to perform these particular duties. The only thing she’s sad about is that she thinks she's missed any chance at having a family at all and will never know what that might be like. She doesn’t actively want babies or even to be married. She is still young, and at least to me, she seems to view these things in hypothetical rather than explicit goals or wants. She thinks that, at 20, there is no opportunity for her to experience these things because of how her society works. It’s the lack of choice that she mourns, down the line. But she rejects that particularly role that femininity imposes on her now. She didn’t want it, and she is happy it didn’t go through. She literally fought an old man to prove how much she didn’t want those impositions.

All this is interesting to me because Brienne also sort of thinks of herself as her father's son as well as her father's daughter. It almost slips her mouth once or twice. She is aware, I think, that many times the differences between a son and a daughter boil down not really to gender but to the sort of duty they perform. And she wants to do the sorts of things sons do, too. Men regularly learned to fight and wore the clothes she liked best and used hard-earned skills in a way she wanted to use them. There are layers to this (we’ll get to that in a bit) but she is, I think, very aware of her masculinity, and, if left to her own devices, she seems comfortable in it. The problem is she is NOT left to her own devices.

Most of Brienne's self doubt comes from outside forces. As a woman, they underestimate her. As a woman, they think she is stupid. As a gender non-conforming woman, every jape uttered goes directly to her womanhood. As a woman, if she looks the way she does and dresses the way she does and fights the way she does, when she expresses any vulnerable emotion, any shred of “femininity,” she is mocked for it. She likes dancing and beautiful things and pretty boys but a woman as masculine as she is is not the sort of person who gets to express those preferences without judgment from those around her.

The point is Brienne’s world wants her miserable either way: being unable to be a woman the way they demand of her, because she is too much “like a man” for it, or being unable to be a man, because she is too much a woman for that. The point is she can’t win regardless of what she does. Because that’s how sexism works.

But Brienne’s story is, I think, one about choices. The thing is that the world makes it harder for her, but she shouldn't have to be one thing or the other. She shouldn’t have to be defined by one or the other. If she wants to fight in the mud and smell roses and wear chain-mail and talk to charming men, she should be able to choose all of those things. I think it’s easy to focus too much in what aspects of femininity Brienne likes or dislikes instead of looking at what the story is proposing, which is to look at what Brienne,as a person, likes or dislikes. What she wants. Her parallel story to Jaime is about how the world will always try to put folks in boxes, especially those who, for some reason or another, do not easily fit in those boxes. The question is not “what feminine/masculine parts of Brienne is she happy performing” but rather “what does Brienne want, and why does she feel like she cannot get it and doesn't dare ask.”

This is also what drives her to servitude. There’s a phrase out there that says that if you don’t think you can be liked, you try to become useful, so at least there’s a reason to keep you around. It’s heartbreaking to see how Brienne’s vision of herself has been so skewed by the emotional abuse, parental neglect, and bullying she’s experienced since a young age. She doesn’t think anyone will grow close to her, so at least she can be close to people by serving them. She wants to put her skills to use, she wants to find a place where she fits, where she can be more herself, but she isn’t sure what that looks like or how to find it. She’s still searching, and learning many things on the way.

And Brienne is still very young. We can see her confidence growing and her worldview challenged and she is beginning to see the realities of herself and of the world around her through various trials by fire. Misogyny makes her feel incomplete, but we know the things she trusts about herself while simultaneously seeing the way she constantly doubts others. How she can't never express all of herself without constant judgment or mockery.

I feel like yes, the fact Brienne doesn't reject all traditional femininity is really important to her themes, but by extension, it's as important that shedoes reject some of those traditional expressions of femininity. What she is truly rejecting is imposition, not femininity. What she truly needs to embrace is freedom, not masculinity. She's making her own vows, breaking her own promises, going through her own mistakes. She is learning the hard way. Agency in a world of limited choices is one of Brienne's main themes too. There are moral issues that go deep within her story as well as examinations of the effects of war and the struggle to find authenticity and connection in a community that refuses to acknowledge yours, a community drenched in pretense and lost in performance.

And I think it’s easy to get too caught up in her wanting to be a girlfriend or a mother or wearing a dress that we bypass the whole conversation around why that matters at all. I feel like Brienne's success isn't going to come from her fully embracing all her feminine traits or fully accepting all her masculine traits but from being able, down the line, to be exactly who she is.

[pawnshopbleus]

Happy Birthday, Miss. President

Professor!Abby Anderson x Fem!Student!Reader

Contains - smut, teacher and student relationship, Reader is 22 and Abby is 32, this isn’t beta read so…

Summary - When an alumni meeting and your birthday fall on the same day, Professor Abby Anderson finds a way to make up for it.

Author's note - I don’t know how college works because I’m a senior in high school. Let’s just pretend that Harvard has class presidents. Let’s also pretend this is in character for Abby.

When you ran for senior class president you knew that there would be certain commitments that you could not break. You promised the entire student body that you would take their concerns into account. You wanted Harvard to become an inclusive school where everyone was welcomed. You weren’t expecting to win considering that you were running against Dina Williams, head cheerleader and every man's dream girl. When you won, you were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to get to work. That was until you found out what it meant to actually be the class president.

You needed to approve new clubs, promote pep rallies, set up the student section for football games, host spirit week, hold outreach meetings, and attend all the club meetings. To say that your life would be busy would be an understatement.

That was three months ago. Now, it is a cold October day. The trees rustled along the windows of lecture room two hundred and eleven. Some heads were settled on the desk in front of them while others quickly scribbled down notes. Professor Anderson, the chemistry professor, and your advisor glided through each slide about molecular structure. You watched as students dropped their pencils and pens to give their poor little hands a break from writing. You enjoyed the show from the comfort of your teacher's assistant's desk.

The clock struck five pm, indicating the end of class. Students rejoiced as they packed up their things and left the lecture room, leaving only you and Professor Anderson in the classroom.

You watched with attentive eyes as she walked over to her desk in the front of the room. It was dimly lit and cold over there, casting an angelic glow over her. Professor Anderson was wearing the forest green button-up blouse that you liked so much. It was made out of cotton meaning that sometimes it gets too hot. When she overheats in her clothes she likes to unbutton the top three buttons of her blouse. If one tries hard enough they can get a small glimpse of the bra she's wearing. You feel like a perv for knowing, but the professor isn’t so innocent either. Sometimes you catch her licking her lips as she stares at you, completely forgetting that she’s in a room with hundreds of other people.

As a chemistry major, you need to take many advanced chemistry classes. Since the first day of class, you found yourself staring at Professor Anderson as she taught. She would often lean on her desk in front of the class while her arms were crossed in front of her. She was the type of woman that you fantasized about. Tall, strong, and smart.

At first, it started out as a simple attraction towards her, then it turned into a crush, and now you were completely infatuated with her. You felt like you struck gold when she was appointed to be your advisor.

You get up from your chair and walk over to Professor Anderson’s desk. She looks up at you through her half-moon glasses. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly. She prefers to wear her hair in a braid, but on rare occasions, she will wear it down, just the way you like it.

“Come pull up a chair. We have some things to go over,” Professor Anderson said as she pulled out her calendar.

You dragged a chair from the corner and placed it next to her. Now that you were just inches away from her, you could smell the keynotes of her perfume. Black cherry, tonka bean, and almond. You inhaled the scent through your nose and exhaled. She smelled good enough to eat.

Professor Anderson flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other, giving you a good view of her neck. God, how you wished you were a vampire right now so you could sink your teeth into her perfect neck. You wanted to consume her, mind, body, and soul. Maybe that was a little violent, but it was true.

You were sitting so close to her that if you extended your pinky just a little bit you would be touching her.

“So, what is it you wanted to go over?” you squeaked. You hate how pathetic you sound every time you speak with her. Oh, how you wished you could exhibit the confidence some lesbians had in television and movies.

At least your birthday is coming soon. It was next Friday, the perfect day for it to fall on. After two hours of classes, you would return to your shoebox of an apartment and watch a stupid rom-com while you drank boxed wine. Now that sounded like the perfect way to spend your twenty-second birthday.

“You have a very busy week ahead of you. On Monday you have a GSA meeting to go to, the Tuesday there is an event you need to set up for, Wednesday there’s a peer counseling session you need to over see, on Thursday there’s a short film screening that you need to make an appearance at, and on Friday there’s an alumni meeting that you need to attend.” Professor Anderson took a deep breath in to catch her breath after talking for so long.

Your eyes widened with horror. No, you couldn’t spend your birthday in a stupid meeting. “Professor, I don’t think I can make it to the meeting on Friday. It’s my birthday.”

“Friday is your only mandatory day. I’m sorry but you have to go.” Professor Anderson put her hand on your upper thigh and squeezed it. She must have realized what she had done because she quickly took her hand off our thigh and cleared her throat.

You let out a small sigh of frustration and played with the sleeve of the top you were wearing. You weren’t going to complain. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful in front of your professor.

“I’ll be there, Professor,” you assured her.

“Do me a favor. When it’s just the two of us, call me Abby.”

Abby, short for Abigail. A name of Hebrew origin deeply intertwined with a figure of great beauty and intellect.

“That’s a beautiful name,” you gave her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. You were still a little disappointed about not having your birthday off, but this is what you get for running for class president.

You dismissed yourself and began the trek from your college campus to your apartment. Leaves were falling and trees that still had their coverings began to change color. The wind rustled and shook the naked branches of trees. The sun was setting, and the streetlights were about to turn on.

You hugged yourself tight as you walked against the wind. You kept licking your lips as you walked, silently cursing yourself for not bringing Vaseline with you.

You reached into your bag to search for the keys to your apartment. You unlocked the door and dropped your things on the floor. You replaced your day clothes with your pajamas and got into bed, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You stayed up all night thinking about a certain blonde-haired professor that looked like a dream.

— — — — — —

The alumni meeting was in full swing. Men and Women in their forties and fifties mixing and mingling with each other. The room smelled of expensive perfume and cologne, no doubt it was from the amount of money most of the alumni went on to make. Most of them are very successful doctors, engineers, scientists, CEOs, tech pioneers, and entertainment executives. The rest of them peaked in college and have thousands of dollars in debt.

You stood at the back of the auditorium smiling once in a while at alumni who caught your eye. So far, you haven’t done anything. The most you did was direct a lost man who needed to use the restroom. When you told him that the restrooms were in the other hall he mumbled something under his breath. It went along the lines of things sure have changed since I went here. You didn’t have it in your heart to tell him that the restrooms have always been down that hall.

You silently cursed Abby for making you attend this meeting. You could have been at home celebrating your birthday, but instead, you had to stand in the back of a stuffy room with people way older than you.

The latest Abby could have done was attend the meeting. Could you even call this a meeting?

A man who looked like he was in his late sixties stepped on the stage in the front of the room. He tapped the mic three times and spoke into it. His voice was raspy, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the entire Harvard community, I welcome you back to your alma mater.” Everyone in the room began to clap. The sound was overwhelming. The man on stage began speaking again. “Now, I would like to welcome one of our best professors to the stage. She is a Harvard graduate herself and now teaches chemistry in the Department Of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Professor Abigail Anderson.”

Abby stepped out in a black jumpsuit and red Louboutins. Her hair fell down in beautiful waves and grazed her open back. She looked like a dream up on that stage.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” her eyes began to scan the crowd and once they fell upon yours she smiled and began speaking again, “I am here tonight to reward all of you for your kind and generous donations. All of you will be rewarded with your own monument in the botanical gardens.” The alumni began to clap and cheer.

Is this why you needed to be here? To watch some rich people pay their way to the top?

You pushed your way through the sea of older people and made your way outside. Autumn in Massachusetts was fairly cold, but winter was colder and harsher. You hugged yourself in hopes that your own body heat would warm you up as you began walking in the direction of your apartment. This was your first time as class president leaving a function early. There was no reason for you to be there.

“Where are you going?” Abby asked from the doorway of the auditorium.

You huffed, causing you to see your breath in the cold air, “I’m going home.”

Abby ran up after you, “As senior class president it is your duty to be here. As your advisor, I will not tolerate your attitude.”

You stopped walking, “There’s no reason for me to be there. Either this is a ploy for the room to look packed or you really hate me. There are other ways I would like to spend my twenty-second birthday and being in a room with Harvard alumni is not one of them.”

“Listen to me,” she said your name in a tone that can only be described as stern. You could have melted from how much your skin heated up, but you kept your composure. “I understand that it’s your birthday, but I need you to go back there and mingle with people for a little bit.”

You inhaled the cold autumn air through your nose and exhaled. “Fine,” you said flatly.

“Good,” Abby’s cherry red lips stretched into a smile at your agreement. “By the way, I have a surprise for you in my classroom. You’ll have to wait till later to open it though.” Abby winked before returning to the auditorium.

You followed her back into the auditorium. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. You returned to your place in the back of the room. You took a sip of the water that was on the refreshment table in the front of the room. You wanted to stay sober enough for whatever Abby had in the classroom.

— — — — — —

The auditorium was mostly empty. The alumni have returned to their accommodations for the night. The only people that were left were you, Abby, and the janitorial staff.

Abby beckoned you to follow her with her hand. The two of you walked side by side to her classroom. You were at a respectable distance so as to not cause suspicion, but you wished you could be closer to her. You wanted to feel her skin on yours.

The two of you reached her classroom a few minutes later. It was cold in her classroom, if not colder than outside.

Abby lit two vanilla-scented candles instead of turning on the lights. The flames bounced off the walls of the classroom causing it to cast an angelic glow over the both of you.

Abby walked over to her desk and grabbed a small box from her drawer. “Happy birthday,” she said as she handed you the box.

Inside was a silver necklace with your first initial. “Oh, Abby. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your words were all over the place and all of a sudden you felt bad for the way you treated her earlier.

“It’s no problem. Here, let me help you put it on,” she volunteered. She held the necklace in between her fingers and slid it around your neck. The cold metal kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked at Abby over your shoulder and gave her a soft smile. When your eyes met her, that's when you realized that her eyes were focused on your lips. “Abby?” you whispered. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. You gave her a soft nod and she kissed you. Years worth of pent-up emotions came down to this. Her kissing you in the spur of the moment.

You immediately returned the kiss, your lips meeting hers with the same amount of fervor. Your hands tangled into the long strands of her hair. Abby tasted just like cherries, sweet and a little tart. Now that you’ve had a taste of her you wouldn’t be able to get it out of your mind.

Abby broke the kiss, giving you a few moments to catch your breath. You were high with desire for your professor. “Do you want this?” she asked. Abby wanted to make sure that you were one hundred percent on board with this before you went any further.

You nodded your head and Abby asked. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathed. You were surprised at your ability to form words at the present moment.

Once she had your verbal consent she attacked your lips once more. This time she allowed her hands to glide up and down your body. Her hands explored every inch and curve of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Remnants of her red lipstick painted your skin along the way.

You were getting bored of the teasing so you guided her hands under the top you were wearing, giving her permission to take it off. The rest of your clothes are soon to follow. Now, you’re left with nothing on but your necklace as Abby guides you to lie down on her desk. It’s cold and hard, but that’s the least of your worries when you have a naked Abby Anderson hovering on top of you.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this properly, but I couldn’t wait,” Abby whispers into your skin as she leaves trails of wet kisses on your skin.

Abby’s trail eventually leads to where you need her the most. Your sex is exposed to the cold air of her classroom. Her hands latch onto the fat of your thighs as she trails kisses on the inside of your thighs. It was one of the most erotic sights you’ve ever seen. Abby was down there, her hair grazing her naked skin, the glow of the candles making her look like a goddess.

Abby licks up and down your slit, getting you nice and wet for her fingers. Your thighs twitched, not being used to the feeling of getting eaten out, but Abby kept them apart with her hands. She continued massaging your clit with her tongue. She was using methodical strokes. Up and down and side to side were her favorites.

She inserted one finger in first, getting you used to her size. Her fingers were thick so it took a few thrusts for you to finally feel ready for another. Her fingers slid in and out of your slick hole as she continued sucking your clit.

You were close. You could feel your orgasm pooling in your lower stomach. “Abby,” you breathed, “I’m close.”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.”

And without further warning you came, your juices painting her face Abby helped you through your orgasm, stroking your clit a few times for good measure.

It took both of you a few moments to collect your breath. Abby then got a towel that she had in her desk and cleaned you up. She proceeds to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

Abby let out a laugh of delight, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” Your forehead scrunched up in confusion, “Why?”

Abby then proceeded to compliment you more times than you can count. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was growing on your face. This was the best birthday celebration a girl could ask for.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's pretend that was good!

[deadpool15]

Sugarbaby vibes ✨️

I walked out of the fitting room wearing the shit Chanel set. Let's be honest I looked to fucking die for, but once I saw the price it looked mid. Of course I wanted it and speaking of price it's Chanel what did I expect. If anything I suggested, let's go thrifting, as you can tell I didn't grow up with money. I'm still trying to get used to living this life now, it's crazy hoe just last week I was struggling to afford a pack of fucking Ramen at the convenience store and now I live in a penthouse. Your girl did, in fact, come up in life. You all better be proud. All thanks to the one and only Bada Lee.

Bada is about 28, and I'm 22, so there is a slight age gap if you care about any of that. Shit I didn't. I just needed someone to pay my bills. How we met it quite an interesting story if you think about it, I mean, I didn't sign up for a sugar mama like on the weird ass movies or stories you see on Wattpad. I was, in fact, working as a waiter in this high-end restaurant with might I add a shitty pay. Why are we serving all this expensive ass shit and in only getting made a few bucks in an hour? It's giving slavery, and not mentions my boss who, like most men, convince himself within the 3 minutes of hiring me that I was destined to be his furtre wife and the mother of his children as he call it. If you wanted to know what crazy looks like, we'll Mr. Kim is a prime example.

But we are getting of topic. See, I don't wanna tell you about my overly obsessive ass boss. I wanna tell you about the women who turned my life around. Serving tables is absolute shit, especially when no matter how rich one is, they never tip. "Hey Blue, bossman says he needs you at table six." I turned around to my partner in crime, Leslie. I'm happy to see her until I realized what she said, "I'm on break, though, like all these people around here . Can't he bother someone else." She gave me a sad smile and shrugged, "no, you know he likes to watch you suffer, because he expects after a while you will give in and let him take you out on a date." I stare at her with disgust.

"Yea, never mind your you're right. I'll take my chances with the wolves again. I'm just get going. If he asks again, make sure to tell him I chose getting screamed and yelled at my rich elderly woman over acknowledging his existence. " I hurried and jog off before she could say anything, grabbing my notepad and pen out of my pocket I had towards table six. With the biggest fake smile on. The love I have for these customers is crazy.

I stand there saying my usual line in the most chipper voice one can muster, whiteout even looking at the person sitting down in front of me. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm blue and very happy to serve you tonight. So what can I get, you folks?" I hear someone speak before muttering something about how I'm pretty, then I finally gather the courage to look up and see a group of women. All dressed to perfection, clothes tailored just to fit their figure. Those majority of them look around my age or slightly older. After a moment of being caught in a daze while overanlyzing them, I turn to her the tallest one of the bun speak up. "I would like to have a water to drink and just some shrimp pasta."

I make eye contact with her and my God. This is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. It almost feels like i should have to pay a fee to look upon her face. My stare moves down to her lips and not e how nice and pump they are. I would kill to suck on those lips, to feel what they tasted like even. I realize I've just been staring at her while the rest of the women have spoken uo about their order already. "Oo, I'm s-so sorry." I state being an absolute nervous wreck while looking down at my notepad. I hope she didn't notice that. "It's fine, sweetheart," I heard the girl that was referred to ad Lusher somewhere in the conversation state to me. I hurry up and excuse myself to go get their orders. She keeps staring at me, bitting the inner part of her check. Eventually, they leave after a while, leaving a $200 tip for me. I almost couldn't believe it. This I'd the first time someone has ever given me that much money as a tip.

After a while, the girl continues to come to our little restaurant. Same table, same confidence aura and everything. She makes it seem as if she is trying to just get something to eat. We continue to see each other even after work. She would pop in on my breaks, and around the time, I would clock out. She was intimidating. I'll get her that. I spoke with class, and her vibe just let you know she had money. And it seemed she had her eyes on a certain girl. Me. Though, after beating around the bush, Bada told me exactly what she wanted. "I want to take care of you. You'll never have to worry about a single thing when you're with me. Or lift a finger. Give you the life you deserve, baby. I mean, you are a cute little waitress, but you can be so much more. Why waste your time when you have me. Just say the words, and I'll take care of you."

Some might've immediately said yes, and to be honest, I would've to. Until Bada told me there were rules. Which did kinda throw me off a bit. I mean, I thought I had the whole idea down until well, I realized I didn't. It wasn't just about the money it was the pleasure. How much would she give me, and fuck did she give me a lot. Well lived by only a few rules, but Bada took them very seriously.

Rule 1: Don't question anything

Rule 2: Don't talk back

Rule 3: Don't touch yourself

You should've seen the look on my face when I heard the third rule, I mean, at the bright age of 22, who the hell doesn't masturbate. Literally made no sense to me until she tried to explain it further. "I give you pleasure. I'm the only one who should be touching you. I'm general baby. You belong entirely to me. That's how this works. Therefore, you shouldn't be doing anything without my permission cupcake." After finally going over the terms, I agreed in the end. At the end of the day, I was a broke college student who desperately needed the money, and Bada just so happens to be the sexy older one willing to give it to me. In a sense, I was happy with my current predicament. My life was going well. Now, back to what I was saying earlier.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Sometimes, I forget that I can look this good. "Yea, ayye, get it, girl." In the process of hyping myself up, I finally hear a voice speak up from behind me, scaring the absolute shit out of me. "I'm glad you like it, baby. It does look good on you, I told you I have an eye for beautiful things. I mean, just look at my baby girl." She says while holding on to my waist, kissing my neck slowly. I smile for a while until I realize what she is doing. "Baby, we are in public, a fitting room at that. We aren't doing that here," I say, trying to be firm while avoiding her glaze in the mirror.

"What did I tell you about saying no to me, huh? Do you make the rules?" She forcefully grabbed my chin when she caught on to the act. She grabs my breast while still making eye contact with me in the mirror. "That's right, just stand right here, ok? Gonna be my good girl, right?" I stare at the door, thinking about the people outside that will hear us. While I'm thinking about them, Bada moved the hand that was holding me under my top, slowly circling my right nipple. "Gonna be good, right?" She asks again,she never has enough patience to ask again. It seems she is being nice today. I nod my head at her question this time.

"Word babygirl, I need to hear you. Let them hear you. Just stop all that thinking for me." I whimper at her words. Finally, forgetting about the staff in the store. She moves her hand down my body, teasing me with her pace. "P-please, I'll be g-good. Gonna be so good for you." She smirks, looking down at my face before moving her hand towards my soaked pussy. "Always so f-fucking good for me, aren't you? My precious little baby. Just needs to be filled, like always." I look into her eyes in the mirror about to answer her before she insert a finger into me, all while still playing with my breasts. She knows my body like the back of her hand. Doesn't even have to try to find the spot.

"Yea, right there, come on. I can't hear you, baby girl." I know exactly the game she is playing at, but I can only stand there moaning like a bitch in heat being held on my weak jelly-like legs as she adds two more fingers. While she grinds her hips into me, fuck those bloody dancers and there hips. "Y-yes y-yes... shit o fuck right there". She just smiles at my reactions. Assuming to her if anything. "Were gonna buy this little outfit, then I'm gonna by 28 fucking more just to fuck the shit out of you in them. And you gonna let me, aren't you?. Gonna take it like a good girl who just needs her holes filled, right?" I shake my head, screaming yes over and over again while nodding profusely. Seems that's the only word my brain can come up with as she starts to suck down on my neck leaving marks while circling my clit with her thumbs. And she still continues to thrust those same three fingers in and out of me ob command.

"Fucked you dumb, aww that's adorable baby. But we just started, " She says while smirking, and I stare at her in a mix of fear and pleasure. "Now open those legs wider for me, baby girl."

[verybadatwriting]

A Prequel to Dog Tags

Summary: A blurry recounting of the first few years of your life. 

Warnings: Medical problems (seizures, broken bones), experiments, Nazis, HYDRA, war, needles, kidnapping, child death, major child abuse, swearing

Notes: Prequel to Dog Tags, which you can read here. Dada/dad=Bucky, Papa=Steve

Gn!reader

Word count: 5,386

The first memory you have is the cage. It’s tall enough to stand in without hitting your head. Around you are a few other kids, all the same age, roughly two, maybe three. Scars from constant needle pricks litter everyone’s inner arms, especially around the inner elbow. It’s cold, and you’re all wearing identical beige shirts and shorts. You have a faint feeling that there’s someone missing. Like there used to be more of you. 

Through the thin twisting wires, you can see a small handful of people in long white coats working at desks, storing documents in massive metal cabinets lining the walls. Soon, they leave.  

The dim overhead lights turn off quickly after that, tossing all of you into darkness. You curl up together. Dirt and grime from the floor gets everywhere. Your hair, skin, nails, and clothes are all layered with it. Your eyes drift closed, and you dream of a woman whose face you can’t quite remember holding you.

You wake up when the boy curled next to you starts shaking violently. The other kids wake up, too. All you can do is watch. Most times this happens, the kids wake up fairly quickly, cry a little, and are fine.

One of the dreaded men comes in to monitor the fit. He wears a white coat which goes to his knees. When the shaking stops, he waits a moment. The boy doesn’t move. He pulls a stethoscope from around his neck, presses it to his chest, listens for a moment, then lifts the boy up and takes him away. 

You remaining kids cuddle up in an even smaller pile than before and try your best to sleep.

Another memory is from a long time later. It’s just you and a girl in the cage now. You’re maybe four years old, and have just woken up. 

Two white-clad men walk in, and as one reaches to unlock the cage, you and the girl scamper to the opposite side and press yourselves against the metal. Clinging to the bars is futile, as he simply reaches in, grabs your ankle, and drags you out. He passes you to his companion, and reaches back in for the second child. 

She bites his hand and he curses quietly, but keeps his grip and pulls until he has a screaming, thrashing child in his arms.

“This one,” He says, shaking his head, “Always biting.”

“Calm that thing down,” The man holding you said. “These are the last two, we can’t risk losing another one.”

Their harsh voices echoed off the walls as they walked. Through the doors, straight, left, up a flight of stairs, and through swinging double doors. You’d made this trip more times than you could count, which wasn’t saying much since you were four.

The man put you down on a cold, metal table, and helped his coworker strap the other kid into a chair. It was so tiny. Specially made for her. She fought against the straps, like she always did. She was strong, for a child. She helped you feel safe. 

They pulled a curtain around her, and that was the last time you saw her. Things get worse after that. Since there was no one else left for them to poke and prod, all of that fell to you. The cage felt colder at night. 

One day, just as the overhead lights rattled on, very loud noises and shouts echoed through the halls. Raised voices weren’t super uncommon, the guards weren’t the most peaceful of people, but this was louder. 

You scrambled as far from the cage’s door as you could, hands clamped over your ears. Something rammed against the door once, twice and it burst open. Men carrying large guns swept the room. One saw you. 

He had a dark blue jacket, brown pants covered in pockets, and short dark hair. 

“Hey, Dumdum,” He called quietly to one of his friends, “Look at this.”

A short man with a large mustache walked over, brow furrowed.

“A… child?” He asked. “I knew they were twisted but…”

The blue-clad man took a step closer, and you shrunk even further into the shadows. 

“You’re okay,” He said, putting his hands up, palms facing you. He crouched slightly to be at eye-level with you. Your eyes fell on the gun that was now slung across his shoulder. He followed your gaze, and made a big show of putting it on the ground.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said.

You didn’t move at first, but your grip on the metal cage loosened. Slowly, you put one hand on the ground, and started crawling towards him. He held out his hand, and you took it after another moment of hesitation.

He picked you up out of the cage and held you with one arm. 

You were scared, yes, but you could tell he wasn’t with the scientists, so maybe wherever he was taking you was better. You looped your arms around his neck and propped your chin on his shoulder. You watched the cage get smaller as the man walked towards the door.

The mustachioed man stayed behind, looking through papers from the many filing cabinets. 

You’re carried through the halls, at first familiar, then they grew stranger. Eventually you reach the final door. He walked though it and you were bombarded by vibrant greens and blues. There’s people walking everywhere, all with such purpose, from trucks to the door, or back out again. Mud caked the ground where they walked, their many feet had quickly worn a path through the grass. Most people had guns strapped in holsters. The trucks had extras, too. The light was so bright, unlike anything you’d ever seen. 

It was all too much. You tucked your face into the crook of the man’s neck, blocking out most of the light. 

“It’s bright,” You said quietly. 

“Jesus,” He whispered, “Did they not take you outside?” He didn’t really need an answer. He already knew. 

“Is this better?” He asked after a moment. You looked up, and saw you were inside one of the trucks. It was darker, and quieter. You nodded.

“Alright,” the man said. “We can stay here.” 

You looked around some more, still not daring to let go of the man’s jacket. Something shiny caught your eye, and you pointed. The man followed your finger, and picked up the metallic thing.

“This?” He asked. You nodded.

“It’s a canteen,” he unscrewed the cap and took a sip. “Want some?”

The two of you stayed there for a while. You’d point to something, and the man would explain it. After everything in the truck had been thoroughly investigated, you pointed to him.

“Me?” He asked. “I’m Bucky. Who are you?” 

“I don’t know,” you said. 

“Well, what did they call you?”

“Number Sixteen. But I don’t like that. I think–” 

You were interrupted by the canvas cover of the truck being pushed aside, and about a half-dozen people clambering in. They were loud; you shrunk into the space between Bucky and his arm, tiny fingers digging into his jacket sleeve. 

He shifted to make room for someone to sit next to him, and moved you so you were sitting on his leg. The truck’s engine rumbled to life and it lurched forward. You leaned against him and closed your eyes.  

“I found their file,” the man next to Bucky said, passing a folder to him. His eyes skimmed over the pages. There were photos of experiment setups, logs of their results, growth milestones you reached, every little thing about you from the past four years. Stapled to the back page was the information from when they caught you.

“It says their parents named them Y/n Y/l/n.” 

Somewhere deep down that name resonated with you. You curled up in Bucky’s arm, and fell asleep. 

You half-woke up when the truck stopped. You felt Bucky stand up, still cradling you against his chest. He started to pass you to someone standing on the ground, and your eyes instantly snapped open. You shrieked, and clawed out of his hold. You scrambled across the dusty ground, and snuck under the truck. 

The rest of the world continued on, people unloading trucks, and moving boxes. All you could see was their boots stomping by. The truck shook slightly, like someone had just hopped off it, and soon Bucky’s face peeked under the truck.

“What’re you doin’ down here?” He asked. 

“I don’t know him,” you said, referring to the person Bucky had passed you to. 

“Well, we can fix that,” Bucky smiled. “His name’s Steve. He’s my best friend, and I promise he’s nice.”

Having successfully coaxed you out from under the truck, and introducing you to Steve, Bucky brought you to the mess hall. You had to stand on the bench just to see over the tabletop. Bucky sat to your right, and Steve was to your left. 

While eating, Bucky introduced you to a few other people. He called them the Howling Commandos. It was a little overwhelming to be suddenly bombarded by so many new faces, but you were alright so long as Bucky was close by.

“I’m gonna take them to the medical tent,” Bucky said to Steve, as you were wrapping up your meals. “So they can get a once over.”

“I’m going the same direction,” Steve said, “Might as well walk with you.”

The dirt paths through the camp were lined with long, dry grass. You walked with one hand in Bucky’s and the other trailing through the thin strands. A grasshopper sprang out in front of you. You stopped suddenly, and crouched down to get a better look. Its little shiny eyes stared up at you.

“Come on,” Bucky gently pulled your wrist, and you continued onwards. 

“What was that?” You asked, twisting around to try and see it. 

“Just some bug,” Bucky said. “We can look at more after the doctors make sure you’re not hurt.”

“Okay,” you said, glancing over your shoulder one last time. Steve parted ways with you at a tent with a large red cross on it. You and Bucky went inside, where there were rows of beds. He set you down on one, and talked to a woman wearing a blue blouse with a white apron and a long white skirt. Again, on her chest and hat, was the red cross.

She stood in front of you and introduced herself as Nurse Boyd.

“I’m just going to make sure you’re alright,” she said. She washed your face, listened to your heart, and did a general check up. 

“You seem to be all good,” she said, writing down measurements and such on a clipboard. She turned to Bucky and said, “I am a little concerned about their lack of medical records. Is there any chance they could be passed along to us?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head, “Everything we found in that base has to be screened before we can send it to you – if we can release it at all.”

“That’s a shame,” Nurse Boyd said, shaking her head. “To be on the safe side, we should administer the vaccines for typhoid, yellow fever, and tetanus.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Nurse Boyd said. “Do you have any clue what they were trying to do there?”

“Last I heard, it was called Project Prophecy, but that’s about all we know.” 

“You’d better get those files to me the moment they are cleared,” Nurse Boyd’s voice was ice cold, and Bucky quickly agreed.

Despite a World War actively raging, you were having the best time of your life in the Howling Commano’s Camp. You’d given many people nicknames, mainly Dada for Bucky and Papa for Steve.

They’d heavily altered some uniforms to fit you. It looked like you were just a very, very small soldier. Even just having you around boosted morale.  Once you got comfortable with the sheer amount of people, you were confident strutting around camp on your own.

Your constant amazement and pure joy at the most basic of things was infectious, like when you’d first seen a grasshopper. Since then, you could always be found in the small grassy patches, looking very closely at small things. 

There was always someone watching you, or at least there was supposed to be.  More than once, you had slipped out from Nurse Boyd’s watchful gaze, or snuck past a distracted Stark to scale a tree. You never quite thought about how to get back down. It always turned out alright in the end, since Bucky or Steve would climb up after you. 

Since you knew they’d come get you, it wasn’t scary. The first three times. The fourth time you shimmied up a tree, something bad happened. Your eyes grew unfocused. They couldn’t tell up from down, which can be rather dangerous when high in a tree. 

Your fingers clawed the tree bark. You knew what came next, but normally you’d get a bit more warning. Your limbs started to shake violently.

Strange images flashed before your eyes. A woman with red hair getting shot. Papa and a masked man fighting. The man shooting then lunging at Papa with a knife. His arm shined, like it was made of metal. A red star painted on the shoulder. Papa kicked him into a car, but he just got right back up and kept fighting, then chucked him across the pavement. He brought his metal fist down, slamming it into the concrete just as Papa moved his head.

They moved too quickly to keep track of. It was overwhelming. Eventually, Papa managed to flip the man and toss him. His mask fell off. 

Dada?

Then, blank nothingness for a split second. Peaceful, blank, nothing. All too soon, your eyes opened, to see Bucky and Nurse Boyd standing over you. The canvas walls and rows of beds told you you were in the medical tent. 

You felt dizzy, your head hurt so much, and your arm, too. But most of all, you were scared. Dada and Papa weren’t supposed to fight each other, and they weren’t supposed to let you fall.

You sat up, despite the dizziness, and reached a hand out towards Bucky. 

“Dada?” You asked.

“I’m here,” he said, taking your hand and crouching down next to you. 

“Where’s Papa?” 

“He’s on his way,” Bucky reassured you. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and you crawled over next to him. He hugged you. You could tell he was scared. 

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s over now. It won’t happen again for a little while.”

“This has happened before?” Nurse Boyd asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Mhm,” you nodded, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, already over the whole thing and starting to explore the world again.

“Y/n,” Nurse Boyd prompted, “I need you to tell me about the other times this has happened.”

“The world goes fuzzy,” you began, a small frown scrunching your face. “Then I see things and shake a lot. But it's fine after a little bit. I'm okay now!”

As if to prove this, you stood up on the bed and did a little jump. Bouncing on the mattress, even though it was fairly soft and springy, made your arm hut. 

“Ooh,” you said, looking at it. “That hurt a little.”

“Let me see,” Nurse Boyd held her hand out, and examined your little arm. It bent a little too far the wrong way.

“You'll be alright,” she said, “just need a cast.” 

As she said that, you spotted your Papa enter the tent, eyes wide and face serious. Nurse Boyd noticed him, and after flagging down another nurse to cast your arm, she went over to talk to him.

Bucky stayed on the bed next to you, and held your other hand while this new, unfamiliar – and therefore untrustworthy – nurse tended to your arm. 

He kept you distracted, which helped, although you were still scared.

“I don't give a damn about procedure!” Nurse Boyd yelled from her and Steve’s secretive huddle in the corner. The whole tent went quiet as she continued. “This child just had a seizure for God's sake, I need their medical records.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Steve replied, notably quieter, but not calmer. “I think this incident will be enough to convince them.”

“This “incident” might have been avoided if I had been given the necessary information any basic physician requires.”

“I know,” Steve's voice was stern. “If I had it my way you'd have gotten them the day we brought Y/n back.”

“Good to know we're on the same page.”

A few days went by before Nurse Boyd finally got her hands on your records, and had time to study them. In those days, she kept a very close eye on you. She eased her watchfulness once she started listening to your heart and giving you medicine. With help from Stark, she was able to find the right balance of medications to help with the seizures. These meds made it so you'd only fall asleep and twitch a little, instead of violent shaking. 

The one thing they couldn’t fix, which just seemed to steadily keep getting worse, was your heart. It went from a minor source of worry, which Nurse Boyd was passively keeping an eye on, to a clear danger that heavily interfered with day-to-day life. 

Stress grew, soon and all the Commandos were on edge. One surprise, one scare, one tantrum, and your heart could give out. Being five years old was all the more dangerous, since anything could upset you. 

After yet another close call, Nurse Boyd suggested an… unorthodox idea to your Dada and Papa. They seemed reluctant, but agreed it was the best course of action. They didn’t tell you what the plan was.

The night it was put into motion, y'all were eating dinner and everyone seemed sad, despite a recent victory. They tried to hide it. You knew there was something more going on, but they were very good at distracting you.

“Ooh, I'm full,” Bucky said, pushing his plate away.

“Me too,” Steve replied. “I don't think I could eat another bite.”

“But we have all this dessert left! Whatever shall we do?”

You smiled and raised your hand high in the air. They pretended not to see you.

“I guess we'll just have to throw it out,” Dumdum sighed.

“I don't see any other option…” Bucky shook his head with mock sadness.

“I have an idea!” You declared. “Give it to me!”

The adults looked at each other in amazement.

“Why didn't I think of that?” Bucky said as Dumdum comedically slapped his own forehead. They slid over the little bits of deliciousness, and you gobbled away. They still looked sad… but how could you be expected to fix that with all these sweets to eat?

Then, after an hour or so where everyone seemed solemn and were way kinder than normal, Bucky and Steve took you on a trip. They had a truck, like the one you’d been in the day Bucky had found you. 

The rest of the Howling Commandos, plus Nurse Boyd, Agent Carter, and Mr. Stark gathered to send you three off. They all had similar smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. There were lots of hugs, and goodbyes. Why they were doing all this, you didn’t know.

As Steve drove away, you looked out the back. The little group seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging, once you were in the truck. They didn’t see your little eye peeking out through the curtains as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

You drove all night, wherever you were going was far from the frontlines. Most of the trip, you just slept. Finally, the sun pulled up over the horizon, just as you came to a stop outside an already bustling building. It looked too small for all the people and crates going in and out. 

“This is a Strategic Scientific Reserve base,” Bucky explained. “It’s where a lot of big ideas come from.”

“These are the people who tell us what to do,” Steve added. 

“Woah,” you said. “So they’ve gotta be really strong!” 

“Um, they’re more smart than strong,” Bucky said. “They’re some of the smartest people around.”

The two men sat there, looking at the building.

“Why are we here?” You finally asked.

“You know how your heart isn’t so strong anymore?” Steve started.

“Yeah.”

“The people here think they can help,” Bucky said. “Nurse Boyd and Mr. Stark have been working with them to come up with a solution.” 

“Then let’s go!” You jumped up, beaming.

They had no choice but to oblige. 

It was very exciting to get to see so many new faces and interesting things – still a little scary though, so you kept Bucky close.

He didn't resist, or try to get you to hold Steve's hand instead. Even before you got into the building, you got distracted by a line of ants marching in perfect order. An SSR agent nearly stepped on them, which caused quite a hubbub. 

Bucky didn’t hurry you along to go up the steps and in the door. He didn't pull you down along the hall when you inevitably got distracted again. He just let you walk at your own pace through the hallways, accepting whatever little distractions or treasures you found joy in. 

Neither Steve nor Bucky were talking much. They’d respond when you said something, most times, and they’d nod along while you talked. They kept exchanging little glances. You didn't understand why, but you'd find out soon enough.

The three of you reached a large set of double doors, marked with some warning labels. This part of the base was deep underground, so no sun or outside sounds got in, which was already enough to upset you. 

Bucky had picked you up. Upon opening the door, it became clear why. The room was filled with machinery, a large blue cylinder teeming with wires and metal, and a dozen doctors. 

Their white coats filled your vision. Every one of them had the same distorted evil smile and the same empty eyes. Their pockets were teeming with chemical-tasting mixtures and sharp metal things, knives and needles, ready to poke and prod and experiment and zap and hurt and hurt and hurt. 

You realized you'd been scratching and thrashing only when Bucky handed you to Steve. Now you were back in the hallway outside. Steve was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around you partly to calm you down, and partly to keep your hands away from his face.

You whipped your head around to see where Bucky was, and calmed down once you saw he was nearby, wiping off a scratch on his cheek. He hadn’t been as quick as Steve.

“We've gotta remember to cut your nails,” he said, glancing over to you.

“I hurt you?” You asked, shocked. “I’m sorry…” Your lower lip wobbled, eyes filling with tears.

“It’s okay,” Steve reassured you, loosening his arms. 

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “I’m fine. It’s just a little scratch.”

“Lemme see?” 

He scooted over next to you, and you reached out a little hand to touch his cheek. 

“I think he’ll pull through,” Steve said, eyes lingering on his old friend’s cheek.

“I think so, too,” Bucky agreed.

The three of you stayed there, on the floor, leaning on the wall for a moment before the door swung open again. 

A young, frazzled doctor looked down the hallway, and only saw you three as he was turning to go back inside.

“Oh, hello! Is everything alright?” He asked, noting y’all were on the floor.

His white lab coat set you off screaming again. Bucky swatted him away, motioning for him to go back into the other room. He looked confused, but complied.

“You got Y/n?” He asked Steve.

“Mhm, go take care of it.”

Bucky stood up, promised to be back in one second, and went into the room full of horrible labcoat-wearing people.

“Noo!” You reached out after him. Steve didn’t let you follow. You wriggled around and forced Steve to look you dead in the eyes by holding his face still. “They’ll hurt him.” 

“Bucky and I beat the evil scientists that used to hurt you,” he reminded you as he pushed your hand off his face. “He’ll be fine.”

You listened for the sounds of your dad beating them up. Instead, you heard him talking to – no, scolding – the doctors.

“... in an underground bunker surrounded by nothing but metal and Nazis in labcoats, so of course they're fucking terrified of them! And…”

This went on for a few more minutes, you and Steve still sitting on the floor outside the doors. He looked so sad, just listening to his friend through the metal, and looking forlornly at your little frown.

“Dada’s not supposed to use that word.” 

“Hmm?” Steve said, as though he hadn’t been listening.

“The eff one. He’s not supposed to.”

“Oh, well, adults say things when they’re really sad or angry, even if they're not supposed to.”

“Why is he sad?”

“It’s… it’s because we might not get to see you for a little while, that’s all, and we’re gonna miss you.”

“Where am I going?”

“Somewhere really, really cool.”

“Where they’ll fix my heart?”

“Yeah…” he trailed off.

The doors swung open once more.  

“C’mere,” Bucky said as he reached down to scoop you up from Steve’s lap. He held you up by his face, and looked you in the eyes. “You’re gonna have to be brave for me, okay? Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, determined.

“Good,” he nodded back, casting a glance at Steve to make sure he’d follow. 

With more effort than normal, Steve stood up. It was like he was carrying a heavy weight, like his bones had been turned to lead, or at the very least his heart. 

Bucky, who’d been doing a fairly good job at pretending to be happy today, also moved differently. He walked slower, as though he was dreading his destination. He paused before the double doors, and once more looked to Steve.

“It’s for the best,” Steve placed an arm on his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, as though he was trying to convince himself. “The best.”

They finally pushed the door open, and you hugged tightly to your dad’s neck, burying your face to avoid seeing any of the scary machines. You felt Bucky walking a few paces. 

“Y/n,” he said softly. “It’s time for me to show you something.”

You slowly looked up. You glanced around the room, and found not a single labcoat in sight. Before you towered the blue chamber. Now that you were closer, you could see it had a little seat-like thing, except for standing in. It was perfectly made for you. Unease growing, you remembered the girl’s chair from all those years ago. 

Steve saw your eyes flicking around, and probably heard your heart rate pick up.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You just have to stand there for one minute. I promise we won’t let the doctors hurt you. Imagine this tube is another one of Stark’s new toys.”

“Yes,” you whimpered between small sniffles. “I like machinery. It’s not scary.”

“Brave, remember?” Bucky reminded you, voice wavering just a little bit as he walked even closer to the tube. He slowly lifted you up and into the seat. 

A small team of doctors descended to connect all sorts of little monitoring devices to your arms and head. Despite their labcoatlessness, this still freaked you out, and you jerked your arm away.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said.

Once they finished, a glass plating started to slide down between you and the outside world. 

“Dada!?” You panicked, “Papa?!”

“We’ll see you… soon,” Steve said, his voice breaking and going all husky on that last word.

The door sealed with a hiss. The temperature suddenly dropped, it was like ice rushing through your veins. A small puff of breath fogged the glass before it, too, started to crystalize. Your eyes stayed open just long enough to see Bucky break, start crying quietly into Steve’s shoulder, and Steve to pull him into a hug.

They faded away, and were replaced by images flooding your head. Little visions, thousands stacked on top of one another. Scenes swirling around you. 

It felt like you were only in there for a minute before the door hissed and began sliding upwards. The ice crystals were gone, and the tube wasn’t as cold as it had been a moment ago.

The room had changed. How did the room change? Bucky was gone. Steve was there, but in different clothes. A handful of doctors were hovering around you. One minute ago, there wasn’t a single labcoat in the room. Now, it was full of them.

Instinctually, you lunged away from them. Your body didn’t move right, it was slower than it was supposed to be. The floor tilted, pitching you forward, but you managed to scramble towards Steve. 

He said something – you couldn’t hear, like you were under water – but whatever he’d said didn’t matter. He crouched down to scoop you up, and held you tight. Rubbing your back soothingly, he spoke softly. 

Slowly, slowly the room stopped tilting. Just as slowly, the warmth returned. Finally, your hearing came back. 

“... We’re gonna be fine,” Steve was saying.

“Where’s Dada?” You asked.

“He’s not here right now.”

“Why did he leave?”

“He didn't want to, he'd never leave us if he had a choice…”

“I was only in there for a minute. How could someone make him leave?”

“It’s been a lot longer than a minute.”

You took in that idea as you looked around the room. It had changed quite a bit. The walls were a different color, a calming blue, and they weren't made of metal anymore. It was warmly lit, almost comforting if you could ignore the medical supplies at the ready and the child-sized freezing tube.

The doctors crept closer, as though asking permission to approach.

“So long as you take off the coat,” Steve nodded. In almost unison, the doctors shed their lab coats, and one stepped forward. 

She put a stethoscope against your back, and explained that she was making sure your heart was alright. She put a cuff around your upper arm.

“I'm supposed to tell you that this'll feel like a really tight hug,” she said. “But it doesn't. It just feels like a machine squeezing your arm. It's so that I can see how strong your heart is.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It's definitely not comfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt. Let me know if it does and I'll adjust it.”

She recorded the results, did a few more tests, took a few more measurements, and finally, Steve was allowed to take you home. You assumed you were heading back to camp.

Boy were you wrong.

He carried you outside, through different halls than you remembered, and out into a city. It was much busier than camp, or the main base. Short trucks zipped by, all different colors, and Steve hailed a bright yellow one. He spoke briefly with the driver, and buckled you in. He sat right next to you.

He told you about the city you two were in, Washington DC. He told you about cherry blossoms, museums, and giant statues. He told you about boardwalks and Rock Creek Park. He explained that you were in downtown right now, the place where a lot of people work, which is why the buildings were so tall and everyone was so busy.

He told you about a little two bedroom apartment, and a really good hospital. In a few days, you'd go there and they'd fix your heart. No more worrying about it getting worse, it'd be all fixed.

“After that,” he said. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t go to school. I think you’ll like it.”

“Maybe,” you warily agreed.

Steve wasn’t talking anymore. You kept looking out the window. As the city rushed by out there, only one question came to mind.

“Where’s Dad?”

@arctrooper69

[fanaticsnail]

Bar Shift: part 2

Barely proofread, but it's here! Finally I've pried out the first two parts of this little idea from my head. Part one is here: Part 1

Once within your room, you angrily threw off your casual dress clothes and began assembling your working attire. You opted to leave your hair down for your shift, wanting to showcase the amount of work you put into its presentation. Bar shift was more casual than the floor or behind the doors of the kitchen. It was known by the majority of the staff as the “party shift”, often being the one that brought in the most amount of berry to the till.

Searching your many clothes for work-appropriate bar attire, you stumbled upon something appropriate and began forming a cohesive arrangement. You sulked over to your vanity and brought out your collection of makeup and began applying it in a way that would last well into the night, adding dimension to your face with different natural tints and darkening your eyes to look more sultry under the bar lights.

Once slightly happy with your application and checking yourself once more in your room, you left to begin your shift on the bar. You hastened your step, switching fully into ‘work mode’ and checked in on the roster sheet – ensuring to harshly scribble out Cole’s name from the roster list and add your own at the bottom, noting the time down you started.

The beginning of your shift went smoothly, you made small talk with the regulars and introduced yourself to the newcomers while serving them with a flirtatious smile. As the sun began to lower itself onto the horizon, the dinner shift was in full swing; leaving the bar slightly barren.

“Hey, sweety,” you acknowledged your coworker, prompting her to turn to you, “I’m gonna go on break, ok? I’ll be back in about a halfa.” You tapped your hand on her shoulder and she nodded to you, returning to the task of sifting through the bar dishes and polishing the glasses before the night life began.

At this stage, you had been on your feet with no break for the past nine hours – only dipping out to go to the bathroom or retrieve something you needed from the kitchen. You passed the kitchen on the way to the staffroom, hearing an echo of: “Order up, table 103!” from Patty, prompting you to let out a laugh and shake your head in response. Table 103, being the non-existent table number that was often called from the pass when a pretty woman made their way over. Several members of the kitchen crew peaked their head up and snickered at you, prompting you to wave at them and continue on to take your break.

You passed Sanji, noticing he was wearing his waiter uniform and slicing up some complimentary bread close to the kitchen. You ran your hand over his shoulders, causing him to look up to you and give you a warm smile in response.

“You going on break, princess?” he asked you before turning back to cutting the bread with a large serrated blade.

“Yes chef,” you said with a slight flirtatious tone, reaching down and beginning to assemble the sliced bread into the empty basket for Sanji to bring to the guests. You took a small, porcelain ramekin and began to pour a portion of oil into the dish, topping it with a small amount of pink sea salt.

“Then off you go, then,” he said playfully, taking the ramekin from your hands and ushering you out of the floor and towards the staff room. You laughed a little, turning back to him.

“What time do you go on break?” you asked him, raising your brow slightly.

“As soon as I drop these off to the corner table and take their order,” he replied with a broad smile, gesturing to a booth with four guests; three men and one woman.

“I’ll see you back there, then,” you smiled at him, turning back around and briskly walking to the staffroom. Once making your way to the corner room, you began assembling a small assortment of food onto two plates from the prior made ‘family meal’ you assume was put together by Patty by the looks of it.

You placed the plates on the staff table and made to grab a mug to fill with the filtered coffee from the hot urn in the corner of the room. The door of the staffroom flung open, revealing your tall, blonde coworker as he sauntered over to the staff table.

“One of those for me, princess?” he asked you, gesturing to the plates on the table.

“Yes, love. You want a coffee too?” you asked him, pouring the dark liquid into your mug.

“I’d love one,” he said, taking a seat at the staff table, watching you as you picked up another mug and filled it to the brim with the caffeinated substance. You walked over to the table and placed one mug in front of him and the other in front of the plate you set aside for yourself. Before you could pull the chair out from under the table, Sanji rose back to his feet and moved the chair outwards, gesturing for you to sit in it.

“What a gentleman,” you commented with a small smirk, thanking him with a nod and taking a seat.

“Anything for you,” he flirted back before resuming his position on the seat adjacent to where you were sitting.

You and Sanji were very much accustomed to minor, and sometimes major, flirtations with one another. Being in the hospitality industry, words of charm and flirtatious advances were often commonplace as it would bring more berry to not only yourself but to your head chef. Feeding the bellies and the egos of the diners was a skill that went hand in hand, and you were more than grateful to Sanji for the ability to practice these particular skills with him.

You both sat in a shared, comfortable silence as you consumed the family meal with one another.

“I saw the redhead on table 12,” you slyly mentioned in between bites, prompting Sanji to turn his head up to you.

“Oh?” he responded with a quirk of his brow.

“Really pretty,” you offhandedly commented, staring at your dish and fishing for a pea that escaped your spoon.

“Not as pretty as you, cheri,” he smirked at you, prompting you to scoff and nudge him.

“No, I’m serious love,” you said, looking up at him and tilting your head to the side, “she looks like your type.”

“You don’t know my type,” he quipped back at you with a coquettish Cheshire grin. You rolled your eyes and retrieved your mug, taking a sip from the porcelain container. You sighed as you felt the caffeine enter your system, imbuing your body with a gift of energy pulled from the recesses of your body.

You looked at the time and noticed you had around ten minutes before you were due back at the bar.

“When’s your next rostered day off?” Sanji asked you, fishing for a cigarette from his inner jacket pocket. He retrieved your lighter he was yet to return and flick the flint to ignite the end of the cigarette.

“Oh, I don’t know. Never?” you replied, taking the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own. You inhaled deeply, maintaining eye contact with the blonde chef and returned the cylindrical object to his fingertips. You exhaled, ensuring you did not blow the nicotine riddled smoke at him but to the side of the room.

“Surely you’ve been scheduled off at some stage?” he asked, bringing the cigarette to his lips and deeply inhaling.

“Well,” you shrugged in response, “you know me, love. I never turn down a coverage shift.”

You collected both your and Sanji’s empty plates, utensils and mugs and brought them over to the sink and began washing them with scorching water, running a brush with dish soap over them and ensuring they were completely clean before placing them on the drying rack.

“Well, that’s it for me I’m afraid,” you said, drying your hands on a tea towel and smoothing over your top. You turned to face Sanji, noticing he was wiping down the staff table with a damp towel to remove any crumbs or blemishes from the surface.

“Just a halfa?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow up to you, “you’ve been on for nine hours.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got six more to go,” you shrugged.

“You’re working close?” he said, pausing his cleaning and looking up to you.

“Yeah, Lara hadn’t been feeling well so I offered to close for her. She’s heading off as soon as I’m back,” you said while scrunching up your nose.

“Leaving you with Jacob?” he asked you, throwing the damp towel onto the table.

“That’s right,” you said with a smile, “we’ve got good rapport. We’ll make it work.”

You gave him a pat on his shoulder and made to exit the staffroom, only to have your movements halted by a hand firmly grasping your wrist. You creased your brows and turned back around to look at the blonde chef in front of you.

“Are you ok, love?” you asked him, bringing your own hand to rest on the one grasping your wrist. You gave his hand a small squeeze in comfort, offering him a smile to further reassure him. His eyes bore into your own, lips slightly parted as he gazed into your eyes.

“Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me,” he said, shaking his head and releasing your wrist from his grasp, “You’re working yourself too hard, is all.”

You offered him a genuine smile and placed your hand on his left cheek. You reached up on the tips of your toes to place a brisk kiss on his right cheek, holding him there for a moment. After releasing his soft cheek from your hand, you sunk down onto the balls of your feet and smiled in reassurance at him.

“You’re so beautiful when you care, Sanji,” you complimented him before stepping your body away from its close proximity to his. You could see a slight pink tinge cross his nose, cheeks and ears; prompting you to smile at him broadly.

“Come and see me for a drink when your shift is up,” you said, turning away from him, “I’ll make you something nice for your knock off.”

You briskly exited the staff room, made your way onto the floor and sauntered up the stairs to the bar where Lara was waiting to do a hand over with you for her portion of the bar.

Sanji was left stuck in his place for a moment before his enchantment was broken by an interrupting guttural cough. He turned to see the figure of the head chef, Zeff leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“Got something to say, old man?” Sanji taunted Zeff, reaching his hand up to rub over his face and fix his hair in an attempt to rid his features of any unwanted pigment.

“Not a damn thing, little eggplant,” he replied with a smug look, scratching the whiskers on his chin and smoothing over his braided moustache.

Once Lara completed handover with you, you placed your hand on her shoulder and wished her well on her recovery from sickness. You made your way over to Jacob who welcomed you to the bar with a warm embrace.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you tonight!” he exclaimed in delight, “this shift is going to be an absolute breeze.”

You laughed at him and went over to the sound system and began to create a small set list to blare over the speakers in the bar area to set the atmosphere for your upcoming patrons. Once you had managed to complete the list of rotating records, you ignited the speakers and swayed your hips a little to the rhythm.

As the night flew on, more patrons exited the restaurant and flooded into the bar. Both you and Jacob began to bounce off each other, juggling bottles as you created cocktails, shots and poured tankards for your guests. You paid special attention to a customer who introduced himself as a pirate captain who continuously ordered goldfish bowls full of fruit-forward cocktails. You would laugh at his many tales of adventures on the high seas, only halting your laughter as your attention was required of the other guests around the bar.

You sang along to the words relayed over the speakers near the bar and continued to create a pleasant atmosphere for the customers with your flirtatious service. Small touches here and there were exchanged in a friendly manner with some of the regulars who knew you by name, which you reciprocated as one would do old friends.

You began to collect a variety of discarded glassware to bring back to the bar to wash, placing each item in the rack you carried. You saw the redhead sitting with a man with three swords and green hair drinking a bottle of rum, their table littered with several empty shot glasses.

“Hello loves, can I take some of these glasses from you?” you asked with a warm smile.

“By all means,” the redhead said, sitting back to recline in her seat.

“But leave two,” the green-haired man grunted out, his hand hovering over one of the glasses.

“Absolutely,” you smiled, reaching forward and collecting three fishbowls, six shot glasses and an empty bottle of rum, “would you like a refill?”

“No-,” the redhead began, her words being halted by the swordsman.

“-Yes,” he declared. You arched your brow in response.

“I’ll just leave it for now,” you smiled, turning your attention to the redhead, “come and find me if you change your mind,” you added with a wink.

“Are all the staff here so flirtatious?” she asked with a hint of slight agitation.

“Only the fun ones,” you retorted with a shrug and a slight laugh. You turned back toward the bar and began sorting through the glassware to prepare them to be washed by your ‘bar back’, Tori.

You gave Tori a smile and turned back around and began preparing drinks for the new wave of customers littering the bar. You noticed a newcomer facing the bar, not yet being served with a drink. The pirate captain continued to spurt tales of daring adventures while he finished another fishbowl of mixed liquor.

You turned your attention to the newcomer, noticing his broad hat shielding his face from your vision.

“Can I get you something, sir?” you asked him. He tilted his head up to reveal his yellow, hawk-like eyes staring at you with an uneasy intensity.

“What varieties of red wine do you have currently,” he asked you with a quirk of his left eyebrow, continuing to bear his gaze into your own. Heeding the uneasy feeling no mind, you leant your arms onto the bar and brought your gaze closer to his own.

“It depends, darling,” you challenged the newcomer, “are you more of an aged vintage or late harvest kind of man?”

He hummed in response, leaning in with a slight smirk.

“Do I look like the type of man to have my dessert before dinner?” he taunted you with a slight hint of flirtatious contest.

“You look like the type of man who could have anything he wants in any order he desires,” you retorted, quirking your own brow and looking at him through half-lidded eyes. You allowed a small pause before you began listing the vintages you kept behind the bar.

“Our lighter reds are pinot noir, sangiovese and tempranillo,” you backed away from the bar slightly, maintaining the hold of your gaze into his own yellow eyes, “and our more heavy bodied varieties include cabernet sauvignon, shiraz and we’ve also currently got a fifteen year barrel aged grenache, syrah, and mourvedre combination if that more your fancy.”

You offered him a slight sigh while you fetched a large crystal chalice from the cabinet you kept below the bar, kneeling slightly to retrieve the object. You stood again to your feet with the glass.

“Our late harvests include a sauvignon blank and merlot combination, but we’ve also got a reserved tawny port and refined muscat if that more your style,” you quirked your head to the side.

“You know your wines,” he commented, relaxing into the bar stool beneath him.

“It comes with the job, darling,” you jested with him, placing the glass in front of him, “what will it be?”

“The GSM,” he said, clasping his hand around the wineglass stem, “please.”

“Right away,” you purred at him, turning to journey to the wall of the bar containing several bottles lying on their sides.

“Thank you for taking that one,” you heard Jacob utter from beside you, “I couldn’t take his intensity.”

“Oh, tush,” you disregarded the comment, “you can take sailors, marines, and pirates but you can’t handle the gaze of a single shirtless swashbuckler?” you teased him. He mocked a silent laugh at you before turning and continuing to ready the glassware that had been washed and dried by Tori.

“I heard Sanji made you breakfast,” he asked you with a knowing tone, “how did that go?”

“What do you mean, how did that go?” you asked him to confirm, “how do you think it went? You’ve sampled his cooking. It’s superb.”

“Not what I meant,” he nudged you, placing a corkscrew into your open hand for the bottle you were preparing to decanter, “I feel like all of the front of house know you’re sweet on him.”

You froze slightly at the words before you began using a small blade to cut away the wax on the neck of the wine bottle.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you uttered, removing the wax and aligning the screw end of the corkscrew with the wooden cork.

“Playing coy? So unlike you,” Jacob accused with a smirk, “I’ve seen the way you look at him. We all have.” He nodded his head to Tori, of which you met her gaze. She scrunched her nose and nodded her head with a smile.

“That obvious, huh?” you asked, twirling the corkscrew to the appropriate depth of the bottle and commenced levering it from its place within the neck of the bottle.

“So why don’t you make a move?” he asked.

“Haven’t you got somewhere else to be?” you retorted. He shrugged his shoulders and encouraged you to continue speaking.

“Fine,” you relented, popping the cork from the bottle neck without leaving wooden residue within the deep crimson liquid. You brought the neck of the bottle to the crystal decanter and began slowly oxidising the liquid by pouring it into the pitcher.

“We work together. He’s the sous chef, I’m the front of house manager. Sometimes I do kitchen duties, sometimes front of house, sometimes aiding Zeff with his managerial duties,” you began, focussing your attention on the liquid slowly pouring into the crystal chasm, “today, bar shift.”

“So?” Jacob asked you, opening his arms in question.

“Our whole job is to flirt,” you expressed, “we are to appear available, but never be available.” You crouched down to focus more on the angle of the neck entering the decanter, focussing on the moment any grape sediment that would seek to enter into the refined liquid.

“Believe me, I want nothing more than to act on my impulse with him,” you said, lifting the bottle up from it’s place in the lip of the decanter, “but as everyone on this ship knows, I never get a day off to keep for myself, let alone foster any time into a relationship.”

You grabbed the now semi empty wine bottle and discarded the dead yeast sediment and grape residue into the regular bin before tossing the bottle skilfully into the recycling bin. You paid no mind to your coworkers while you swirled the deep red wine within the decanter.

“So, you actually want him then?” Jacob questioned, “not just playful banter?”

“Oh, won’t you just leave it alone?” you asked him in response, poking out your tongue at him, “c’mon, we’ve got customers and the chefs and wait staff are probably going to want their knock offs soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jacob smirked at you as you made your way back to the intimidating swashbuckler with his perfectly prepared decanter full of red wine.

Part 3

[artificial-transmutations]

Minimum Wage

"And finally, it is worth to consider that the majority of those low-end jobs are being held by foreigners. Foreigners who took those jobs from our own people! Foreigners our country does more than enough for already. Any raise in minimum wage will just be spent on alcohol and cigarettes and condoms for their gay sex! Ladies and gentlemen, raising the minimum wage should be out of the question! We should think about lowering it instead!" Thomas finished his speech before the parliament and was content. Great speech, he thought. There was applause from one side of the room and angry shouting from the other side, just as usual.

One of those pesky left-wing women was especially outraged. Her head was as red as her unkempt hair, and he could hear her agitated shouts even without her using a microphone. Something about having no idea about the reality of those minimum wage workers and that he should try experiencing such a life for himself. His microphone was still on, so he added: "And my suggestion to Miss Motley is to find a broomstick to fly away on instead of shouting nonsense." Laughter from his fraction, angry faces from the other side of the room. Great job, Thomas concluded and left the lectern.

That woman was being ridiculous. Even comparing himself to such a low-life was out of the question. He would never lower himself to something like that. That's why he had been working hard all these years, studying politics and economics in order to get into the government. It did help a bit that his family was wealthy, but that was clearly because they have lived in this country forever and weren't some immigrant scum or sexual deviants. Thomas thought for a moment while adjusting his expensive suit and looked at his smartphone. He didn't care too much for the rest of the parliamentary day. There would be some speeches from opposing fractions and then there would be a vote where the majority would vote in favor of the raised minimum wage. Fools. Thomas shook his head and decided to go home early today.

He gathered his things and phoned his driver on the way out. Thomas scowled when he heard the man say that his car was still in maintenance since he didn't expect to be needed before the end of the session. It was really hard to find good staff these days. It was too far to walk, so he would have to take a cab. While he was walking to the cab stand, he messaged his secretary to fire his driver and find him a new one.

"What do you mean 'on a strike?'" He asked, incredulously. There had been no cabs at the stand and when he phoned the company, they just told him the cab drivers were on a strike today for higher wages. Angrily, he hung up. Just great! He would have to take the bus now. The bus. A public transport system for the poor. He hated them with every fiber of his being. They stank like hell, they were full of criminals and immigrants who couldn't even speak the language properly, and worst of all, they were overcrowded.

Fuming, he made his way to the bus stop and entered the vehicle. It was full, but he managed to secure him one of the last seats. It would take quite a while going by bus, so the first minutes, Thomas was busy swiping on his phone. It was really full and warm in here, with the smell of sweat and unwashed people assaulting his nose. He felt really uncomfortable and shifted around in his seat. He wanted to get back to using his phone, when he noticed that there was dirt under his fingernails. No wonder in this dirty environment. When he tried to clean it, he noticed that the nails on his other hand didn't look better. In fact, his whole hand looked dirty and rough, like he had tried to dig a hole in the garden. He frowned and inspected it closer. The skin seemed different and not only that, it was darker. He looked down at his designer shoes and saw that they were covered in mud.

"What the..." He muttered to himself. This wasn't possible. He was wearing his best clothes, which cost more than most people earned in a year. He looked down at his hands again and realized that his rings were gone as well. What the hell? Where are my rings? He took off his jacket and checked inside the pockets but found nothing. His cellphone was missing too.

Thomas began to panic. Had someone stolen his stuff? That was impossible. He just used his phone seconds ago! And that wasn't his jacket either, even though he just took it off. This was a high-vis vest made out of cheap reflective fabric, not the expensive jacket he was sure to have put on this morning.

"What the fuck is happening?" He said aloud, but nobody answered. All he got was an annoyed glance from a woman behind him. She gave him a dirty look and turned her attention back to her phone, ignoring him completely. Thomas looked at his hands again. There was something wrong with them. It was like looking at a strangers hands. The back of his hands looked dirty and hairy, with more dirt under his nails. The skin was darker than he used to. If he just saw these hands, he would think they belonged to someone used to working outside.

He checked his feet again, like this was all a bad dream. Still covered in mud. But these were not his shoes, either. He was wearing sturdy work boots all of a sudden. With steel toe caps. The leather was torn in places, too. He could feel that the soles were worn thin, and the heels weren't exactly comfortable to wear for long periods of time. Just as he was watching, his expensive dress pants changed next. Over the course of a few seconds, they shifted to a pair of worn work pants. His shirt and tie followed suit, but instead of changing into something else, they just disappeared into thin air, leaving him shirtless. A large leather toolbelt formed around his waist. Thomas couldn't believe his eyes. He was dressed like a filthy construction worker! He felt angry and helpless. He should call the police or something, but what would he tell them? That somehow his clothes just magically turned into some cheap worker attire?

Something else caught his eye. His work pants were pretty lose. If he were to stand up now, they would probably slide down his legs. However, as Thomas began to tighten his toolbelt, he watched in awe as his midsection began to expand. It was not that he was growing a gut; on the contrary, his belly even started to shrink. No, his hips started to widen with a broader build and fill in with muscles. At the same time, some coarse dark hairs started to appear on his abs. Not many, just a few. The changes quickly spread upwards, with his chest filling up with strong pectoral muscles. At the same time, he felt his upper legs touch his pants legs more tightly, as they filled with muscles, too.

Thomas's mind was reeling. He knew that there must be a logical explanation for this situation. It couldn't just happen by itself like this! So why did it happened? He thought about it hard and fast but came up empty. Generally speaking, thinking became more and more difficult for Thomas. It felt as if years of precious education that his parents paid for just evaporated from his mind.

As Thomas continued to stare at his body, he realized that the changes were far from over. His arms grew larger and stronger, and his shoulders broadened with each passing second. At the same time, his lower legs and feet thickened, filling out the pants and boots now much better than before. Even his face changed, becoming more masculine and rugged. His cheekbones stood out more clearly and his nose widened. His mind was getting more and more foggy during all of this, and as the changes reached his cock, his intellect was reduced to a way more simple, practical version of himself.

He had lost most knowledge of his once native language, but another language grew in to replace that. With some horror, Thomas realized he wasn't just becoming a dumb construction worker, but also an immigrant! He tried to hold on to his ethnic background, but it was like trying to catch sand. Before long, Tomasz knew he had lost the battle.

It might not be for the worst, he mused. After all, his genetics gifted him with some boons, like the enormous cock whose bulge was now prominently visible between his wide spread legs. He would have liked to man-spread even wider, but sadly, the confines of the bus didn't allow for that. Perhaps, if he worked hard, someday he would earn enough money to be able to afford a car.

Well, speaking of work, his stop came up next. He would have to walk have a mile after that to get to his current construction site, but that's life. Tomasz smirked, as his dick grew hard thinking about his colleagues. Perhaps a few of the other men would be up to releasing some steam in the break, after a smoke and a beer perhaps. It slowly became a regular thing between them to pound each other’s asses, and he loved it more every day. If only he had enough money for condoms.