#''eating healthy'' is incredible i think. the minds of women are beautiful

[sergle]

i feel like you guys only hear about the bad tiktok phenomenon, like Girl Math and stuff like that, bc it prompts more of a reaction. but i want to let you know that i keep seeing one that's called Dinosaur Time, and it's where you SHOVE fistfuls of raw spinach, straight out of the tub, into your mouth and eat it like you're a dinosaur ravenously devouring a delicious tree star. and then you've had a serving of greens. and all it took was 10 beautiful seconds.

[mcflymemes]

THE IDEA OF YOU (2024) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

i got swept up in the idea of you, and it's been really fun, it really has, but we both knew it had to end.

i know exactly where i'm gonna put it.

i'm not really into them anymore.

stop it. you're having a party. it's nonnegotiable.

if you ever get lonely, promise you'll text me, okay?

what is going on? are you guys in an alliance or something?

how are you? ready for some fun?

i just wanted to invite you over sometime.

i'm doing stuff this weekend you can't even imagine.

that means the world to me.

that makes me feel so much better about the fact that you fucking destroyed my life.

everything's paid for, all the hotels, the meals.

look after one another, and please check your texts.

this your first time?

which one is your favorite?

i mean, just look at him. he's such a hottie.

actually, do you know where the bathroom is?

i absolutely know who you are.

do you want a drink? i mean, i've got all the sodas, the healthy ones, the not-so-healthy ones. there's kombucha.

truth hurts, doesn't it?

it was truly transcendent.

you know, i don't think i ever got your name.

oh, we met earlier. in line for the bathroom.

slight change of plans. i met someone tonight.

i think you're not even a person until you hit thirty.

i just wanted to come over and say that i really admire you.

i don't know if you remember me, but we met at coachella.

this is a surprise.

whatever this is, i want it in my home.

they take their work very seriously, as do i.

are you gonna show me something else?

well, that was incredibly rude of me.

wow. you're a natural.

i find it honestly incredibly moving.

what do you feel when you look at it?

god, i'm starving. are you hungry? we should go get a bite to eat.

for what it's worth, i think we met in a very interesting way.

no, i'm not gonna let you smell-test the contents of my refrigerator.

we're two people with trust issues who need to open up a little.

i'm too old for you.

can i take you back to your hotel?

there's so many buttons.

i think that's my greatest fear in life, that i'm a joke.

i hope you don't mind that i borrowed your cardigan. it's only temporary. i will give it back.

i was really hoping you'd come with me.

what about what people will say?

i think we could have a lot of fun.

do you say every fucking thing that pops in your head?

you are very, very beautiful and i fell for your fuck-boy move.

i was trying to impress you.

i'm sorry, is it so shocking to you that i've slept with other women?

for the first time in... i don't even fucking know how long... i'm actually happy.

with you, laughing, just being with you, holding you at night, i mean... it's meant the world to me.

i don't think you ever even gave us a change.

so, what, you're... ashamed of me?

i'm going to go find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

i kept thinking "i'm just gonna have this experience and no one will ever know."

why would you break up with a talented, kind feminist?

maybe it doesn't have to end.

i didn't know my being happy would piss so many people off.

you're gonna have a big, beautiful life.

[eviebyme]

hi bestie !!! if you're still doing mtl requests please could you do mtl to date a plus size person for ateez/stray kids <3 thank youuu

Thanks for your request💕! I just want to say I believe all body sizes are beautiful and worthy of love - and this is solely my opinion based mostly on their Astro charts. Also, I wrote only for ateez, if you want stray kids please request again ☺️. Lemme know what you think! :3

Ateez mtl to date a plus sized person

Most

Hongjoong

Seonghwa

Jongho

Yeosang

Mingi

Yunho

Wooyoung

San

Least

I firmly believe Hongjoong prefers plus sized women (😤). He is attracted to femininity and sexuality, and a plus sized woman encapsulates this for him. A woman’s curves not only really turns him on, but he thinks a woman’s body is majestic and would love to gaze upon his partners body with admiration. Seonghwa is a bit more crude lol. He thinks plus sized women are incredibly sexy and prefers sex with chubbier women.I don’t necessarily think he would seek out a plus sized partner, but it is a plus if they are (no pun intended 😉). Honestly, he just likes something to grab onto. Oh and also - he LOVES a woman who can EAT (not necessarily exclusive to plus sized women- but thought I should note).

Jogho doesn’t fall in love with his eyes. He really needs to get to know someone before gaining feelings for them. As long as someone has a warm personality and a good heart, their appearance doesn’t really matter. Jongho can see past superficial physical attributes and appreciate the beauty within. In fact body size is one of the LEAST important factors to him. Yeosang is similar, however, he acknowledges your physical looks, and accepts you for them. Physical attraction is one of the most important aspects in a relationship for him, but he is able to find beauty in almost anything. If he cares for someone, their inner beauty will be reflected on their outside. Mingi is the last of the “no preference group”. Body type isn’t important to him, it’s all about fashion and attitude. Anyone can be fierce, and that ferocity is the initial attribute that attracts him. Mingi loves a baddie y’all, whether they are plus sized or not- he really doesn’t care, just be sexy.

Yunho is an active guy, and would want his partner to share an active lifestyle with him. Although a plus sized person can definitely be fit, he will have a certain body image in mind when thinking of good health. He will love his partner deeply, but will constantly offer advice for a healthy lifestyle - but it’s mostly a reminder to himself (and a bit overbearing). Wooyoung is a bit more superficial, but only because he believes he has a reputation to upkeep. If he is dating someone he knows that they have to be approved by his family and fit into his lifestyle. Now I don’t know his family situation, but I am only placing him low because I believe he will be more careful when picking a partner and would prefer that person to fit a standard- bc it would just make his life easier. I put San last because he would want to date some exactly like him: active, fit, model-esque. This is just a preference and our boy wears his heart on his sleeve so there’s no telling - but like Wooyoung, he would want his partner to fill a certain standard so he can show them off. Dating someone with a similar lifestyle just makes things easier for him, not necessarily better.

Requests Open

✨Masterlist✨

[azareeart]

In Full Bloom: A Zen Pinktober with Azaree was a multisensory art experience to celebrate nature and women’s wellness. Pinktober events are typically centered around fighting breast cancer, but we decided to host an evening highlighting the healing effects of being in nature, stimulating nature photography and the nurturing essence of sisterhood and female friendships, a cherished part of our culture that we very much like to hold dear. After all, we’re lovers not fighters.

As an immersive art experience, Theia Coffee house couldn’t have been a more perfect venue. Nestled in a corner of airport residential area surrounded by lush grape vines, it felt like we had been transported to a healing garden, the source of wellness itself. Framed within the exhibit were captivating photographs showcasing the beauty of yellow, vibrant tickseed flowers, flaming red hibiscus, striking fuchsia dahlias, a cool orange rose, a bright yellow sunflower, and the bold Egyptian star cluster. Arranged within metallic grids adorned with interlaced green vines and fresh yellow roses, the display itself was a masterpiece, setting a perfect backdrop for capturing fabulous photos throughout the entire evening.

The event began with a nostalgic coloring session using crayons and color pencils. We collaborated with our very talented artist, Aba Wallace, and created a vision board inspired art work. It included a variety of goals any modern woman dreams of achieving: physical and emotional wellness, financial success, healthy family bonds, and the virtues of spiritual and mental wellbeing. The ladies dived into coloring these dreams, forging new friendships while subtly imprinting these aspirations. Who knew coloring could be a gateway to both new bonds and goal-reaching power? Well psychology did, and we listened!

Following the coloring, we delved right into a thrilling mix and sip session. Here, the ladies learned the art of crafting their own cocktails; armed with fresh homemade honey, mint, sliced kiwi, zesty lemon, and a medley of juices like watermelon, pineapple, and orange. They created their own delicious, all-natural mocktails! This session was so immersive and the girls loved every bit of being mixologists for the night. Proud of their masterpieces, we were totally delighted to have been a part of such a unique and creative experience.

Finally, we had a cozy and incredibly insightful conversation with some of the ladies, focusing on diverse holistic methods to enhance our health and overall well-being. Kicking off the panel was Ivy Enyonam, an avid plant lover. Our chat centered on the surprising similarities between our lives and plants, highlighting how tending to them can mirror our self-care practices. Indoor plants go beyond mere decoration! They purify our air, enhance our breathing and sleep quality, and even bring a soothing touch to our mental and emotional balance. Our simple advice? Start with a small potted plant and witness the positive impact it can have on your life – it's a gentle step towards a healthier lifestyle!

We had Sharon, a dietitian, and Maame Yaa, a medical doctor and aesthetician, join our panel to dive into discussions about healthy diets and proper skincare. They emphasized the importance of hydration and shared some very practical tips. They suggested drinking around half a liter of water every two hours to maintain good hydration, totaling around 3 liters daily. Sharon also shared a nifty trick to check hydration levels: pinch the skin on your arm, if it bounces back, you're good to go! But if you're regularly sipping your water and minding your business, then I don’t think you have anything to worry about!

We also had an in depth conversation about healthy eating and to summarize, a simple way to envision a healthy plate, would be to think of dividing it into four equal parts: one for grains, another for vegetables, one for protein, and the last for fruits. In terms of skincare, we learned to prioritize good hygiene, avoid harsh oils and skin-lightening products, and always conduct thorough research before trying new products. Understanding the impact of genetics on our skin also helped us ease up on unrealistic expectations and potential damage. Oh, and never forget: sunscreen is your friend!

Finally, we had Ama, our fit and flexible yoga instructor, who enlightened us about the phenomenal mental and physical benefits of regular body movement and stretching. Our bodies thrive when they're in motion, and even simple stretches during our workday can make a remarkable difference in our overall health.

It was an incredible Pinktober event, radiating vibrant feminine energy through the sea of pink hues and flowing silks. Throughout the night, we absorbed a wealth of knowledge, shared laughter, and felt rejuvenated. The focus on holistic living, guided by discussions with the experts left us eager to embrace healthier, cancer-free lifestyles while nurturing our connections and friendships. It was a delight to witness everyone enthusiastically embracing the journey toward wellness and forming stronger, more supportive bonds with one another in this empowering all-women event.

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Review: Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata

I am a big fan of Sayaka Murata and always get a lot from her bizarre brand of wisdom. If you haven’t read her books before, Life Ceremony may actually be a good place to start, as it’s a collection of short stories that I think introduces the spectrum of genres and ideas that she writes about. Her English-translated novels Convenience Store Woman and Earthlings are (at least on the surface) vastly different from each other, so if you’ve only read one of those, you won’t have experienced her whole range. She’s a writer who is in a category all of her own and I’ll be forever fascinated to see where her mind takes us next. 

Translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori, Life Ceremony contains 12 stories that question social norms and frame the outcasts as deep thinkers. Exploring unconventional marriages, the strangeness of human customs and the beauty of living life in accordance with who you really are, this collection forces us out of our usual perspectives and forces us to look at the world from a different angle. Her imagery is incredibly graphic and stomach-churning but there is also plenty of humour and heart in these stories. 

The title story tells us about a world where a horrific ritual is carried out after a person dies. The deceased is cooked and eaten by their loved ones and then attendees are encouraged to have sex in order to generate new life. On the surface, this is a product of a darkly bizarre mind but Murata is commenting on humans’ obsession with reproduction. In almost every culture of our world, women are pressured to have children by their families and by society. Women of a certain age, especially if they’re in a committed relationship, will constantly be asked when they’re going to have children as if it’s a given that they will. The story of Life Ceremony shows this strange compulsion to ask women these questions in a rather base, animalistic light and makes it seem a very strange thing for an evolved, intelligent creature to do.

The same story explicitly discusses the fact that things that are considered normal by society are inherently mad. The idea that any kind of behaviour or belief that falls outside the boundaries of ‘normal’ is considered to be wrong and something to be fixed is certainly something that every reader can recognise, regardless of their background and experiences. We don’t do enough to celebrate harmless yet alternate lifestyles or personalities and we really should. 

In A First Rate Material, Naoki can’t understand people’s obsession with using dead people’s bodies for clothing, furniture and other functional materials. The human hair sweater is a nod to the fact that humans wear animals all the time (in both fur and leather) but the idea of wearing our own kind is obviously completely barbaric. You can smell the hypocrisy in huge waves and the true message of this story is perhaps the clearest in the collection. 

Food is certainly a common theme and A Magnificent Spread is definitely one of the funniest stories in the collection. In it, a couple eat mostly healthy ready meals while our narrator’s sister eats strange concoctions of her own that she says are the cuisine of Dundilas, where she claims she is really from. This story ends up being a musing on the nonsense of xenophobia and fear of foreign cuisine but it’s done in such a humourous, profound way. Spoiler: no matter how mundane you think your eating habits are, there will be someone in the world who thinks it’s the weirdest thing ever.

Two’s Family is a beautiful, moving tale about two women in their seventies who have decided to spend their lives together in a platonic relationship rather than get married and follow tradition. Through artificial insemination, they have raised three daughters together and been very happy but now Kikue is terminally ill, Yoshiko is unsure what her life will become. It celebrates the beauty of a pure and simple relationship that is based on very little other than true, undying love. Stories like this really show off Murata’s range as a writer, showing that she can do quiet, subtle stories as well as the shocking violence that some readers will know her for.

One of the most relatable stories for me was Hatchling. This is the story of a woman who struggles to fit in but wants to be liked by everyone. As a result, she develops multiple personas and is a ‘different character’ depending on what company she is in. I think everyone does this to a certain extent but Hatchling explores what happens when this goes too far and the personality splits so much that true identity is lost. It’s almost a warning from Murata to simply be our authentic selves and not lose sight of who we really are. Fitting in really isn’t the most important thing in life.

Life Ceremony is a fantastic whistle-stop tour of the world’s unconsidered oddities and the real problems that they cause. It is both funny and grotesque, thought-provoking and incredibly peculiar but most of all, a very unique view of the human race and the ridiculousness of it.

[ficsnroses]

Pregnancy Headcanons - John Wick x Reader

❧ may be read as a follow up to these.

warnings : pregnancy. smut. morning sickness mention. mega fluff.

words : 2.3k. requested by a lovely anon!

notes : remember ages ago when I said I’d whip these up? I did em! I couldn’t fit all my ideas. lemme know if you’d like to see another one of these with a similar concept. feedback appreciated as always! 

I love headcanons. so easy. so carefree. so much to say. don’t forget that you can request headcanons, too! not just full fics or drabbles.

A few weeks ago, John and you found out you were pregnant. Initially, it’s been slightly frightening to know that in a mere nine months or so, John and you will have a baby, a little human, who’s entire world you two will be, and they will be yours in return.

You’re more frightened, being the one carrying your child. You have your fears of not being good enough, or not knowing how to be the utmost perfect mother you can be to your baby.

John, however, is ecstatic. He’s frightened as well; he’s never done this before. Yet, he keeps it under wraps for you. For you, John always puts on a brave face and holds your hand each step of the way.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable and well taken care of. So far, your belly isn’t even showing; but there is life inside. John has always treated you as a queen, but it has intensified tenfold after he got you pregnant.

Not a dish in the house is allowed to be washed by you, not a cloth may be touched. John wants to you relax and take it easy, focus on yourself. He truly believes that as long as you’re happy and healthy, the baby will be too.

John has always been an absolute sweetheart; nonetheless, since you’ve gotten pregnant, he’s only gotten lovelier. Many times, you fear you’re dreaming, and may wake up soon. John Wick is quite literally;

too good to be true.

Each morning, he’ll nuzzle into your chest, smiling a goofy grin.

“Morning, beautiful.” He whispers into your hair, peppering soft kisses to your temples and forehead. “And to you too, peanut.” He smiles, heavy hand rested to your growing tummy. John never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you, and your baby. Despite them not even being here yet. He knows that this pregnancy will take a toll on you; he’d wish for more than anything that he could carry the pain instead of you, which is why he showers you with love. He’d never want you to forget how important you are; how much you mean. You’re his entire world and this means more to him than you can imagine.

Morning sickness has been tough. Often, you’ll wake up feeling nauseous, however, you feel secure knowing you have a team player on your side. Occasionally, in the middle of the night when you’re up at 3:00am feeling awful, John helps you out of bed, holding your hair up for you and rubbing small, soothing circles to your back in the washroom.

“I’m going to make you ginger tea, alright babe?” He quietly speaks, leaving a speckled kiss to your shoulder as you freshen up. You feel awful keeping him up this late, John always needs rest due to his gruesome job.

Foot rubs and massages get a lot more common as your tummy grows. John doesn’t mind, he enjoys the intimacy and being close to you.

Speaking of intimacy…

You continue having sex for as long as you can, because you both know that down the road, as your hormones continue to fluctuate and your belly grows, it may not be something you’ll be able to do often.

John and you do, and always have had sex often for as long as you’ve been together. It helps John ease down, calm his nerves and relieve tension. You don’t mind making love to him either, of course. You feel lucky to feel him so close, and to be the only women who feels him that way.

“Close your eyes, Squish,” John whispers a chuckle, a delicate kiss placed to your bare belly, just where your baby rests. His heavier hands gently peel off the fabric of your bottoms, full lips trailing lower, soft kisses pecked to your inner thighs as he nears your heat. “Daddy’s about to do some real nasty things to mommy.”

You’re not sure if its just your hormones, or delicate emotions as of late. Nonetheless, having sex with John has felt…closer since you got pregnant. It truly feels like you’re making the sweetest of love each and every time. He kisses you so sweet, works you so slow, so intimately, so tenderly, it brings tears to your eyes.

Having him inside feels unreal, divine. He only picks up pace nearing climax, his expertise, skill and unmatchable affection never failing to spill you over the edge so well.

As your belly grows bigger and bigger a few months in, going places, and moving is becoming increasingly tough. Grocery trips have become progressively more tiresome; car rides gradually more uncomfortable. John tries his hardest to help, and understands if you snap at him a little too quick or accidentally pick a fight over something minor.

“Can you turn the music down? Please?” You interrupt a serene drive home from the market, voice coaxed with irritation, laced aggravation tinted across all tones. John’s hand rests to your thigh as he drives, his other placed to the thin steering wheel. You’d been complaining about discomfort the entire morning; he felt awful knowing you were in any sort of pain.

“Sorry.” He sighs, hand shifting from your thigh to crank the stereo of his beloved Mustang 69’ down. Passing traffic winds roar outside, the New York buildings passing in towering lengths. John’s palm immedietly rests back to your thigh; smooth, gentle strokes ran across the fabric clad to your lap. His eyes stay focused to the road, yet his hand stays touching you, letting you know he’s there.

That he’ll always be there, no matter how frustrated you get, how intolerable your nagging becomes.

He loves you, and he loves his baby. He’s waited far too long to have this; normalcy, something his, something his own; something created out of love, familiarity. Something he’d lacked for far too long.

“Ugh.” You exhale, after a moment of stretched silence, hand coming up to rub your weary eyes. “I’m being awful, aren’t I?” You whisper, saddened eyes locking to your husband’s street bound orbs. He turns momentarily to lock eyes, a gentle smile your way.

“No, sweetheart.” He assures, grip on your thigh tightening. You groan, rebutting. “No, John. I am. I’m sorry.” You sigh, reaching both your hands down to your lap to engulf his, holding his hand in a soft grip. You rub the top of his palm, relaxing, playing with his sturdier fingers. “I love you. I really do.” Sincerely, your eyes stay focused to his well defined features, the dark beard that rides his cheek.

And to the sound of your guilty voice, John chuckles, securing your hand in his, before brining it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

“I know.”

John has come to all your ultrasound appointments; he wouldn’t miss them for the world. He holds your hand the entire time, signature goofy smile daubed to his smoky features.

The first ultrasound was incredibly emotional, you shed a couple of tears. John and you stare at the screen, a pea sized dot resting in the darkened frame. John’s hand holds yours so tight, so warm, you’d felt as if you could feel him within you. Like he was this significant, big part of you that you would cherish forever. Seeing him smile that day will be a sight you’ll never forget; a mural you’ll never surrender.

Through out your time together, over the timeline of your love, you’ve only seen John this way a handful of times. This happiness was different; held something sole, matchless. This was pure happiness, where nothing else tinted the depths of his thoughts. No insecurities, no doubts, no ghosts of his past. Apart from the day you said yes to marrying him, and the day of your wedding, you don’t remember John ever being this unconditionally, purely, happy.

You both sit on the couch later that night, John’s arms holding you close as your head lays to his broad chest, staring, smiling at the picture of your dream; the one that would conquer your entire hearts when they’d come.

John keeps a copy of the ultrasound picture in his wallet. He takes a moment to look at it, to remember what he has any time he needs a pick me up throughout the day.

John takes amazing care of you, your needs always before his. He monitors your eating and drinking, to make sure you and the baby are healthy. He gives you your supplements; you often forget the times throughout the day you need to take them.

Speaking of food…

Midnight cravings have become a usual for you. Normally, you suffice for waddling down to the kitchen, sure not to disturb your snoozing husband.

Gently removing his arm from your waist, you always smile a gentle, loving glaze his way. John sleeping is a sight you’ve come to adore over the years.

John at peace; is a sight you’ve come to adore. He deserves rest, he deserves peace.

Although, its tough not to wake John. More often than not, he’ll find you in the kitchen in the AM dark, smiling a cheeky grin as you devour left over dinner, or a questionable choice of midnight snack.

He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms snoozily around your mid, hands placed to your tummy. With a gentle kiss to the back of your head and his warm chest pressed to your back, his sleep thick, honey seared voice rasps a tender baritone in your neck.

“Hungry?” He’ll chuckle, quiet and warm. You only nod, lacing your hand to his that rests on your belly.

Of course, there have been rare nights where you crave something that isn’t in the fridge. John never turns you down, however. No matter how tired, how sleepy he is, he ventures to your local 24-hour market, or gas station in search of whatever you’d yearned.

“Should I come with you?” You bite your lip, pulling the comforter of your shared bed higher up your chest as you sit up. “I’m sorry I’m making you go out.” You frown, insecure. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how I just need a candy bar right now.”

John’s brown leather jacket shrugs onto his shoulders, and his lips smile your way, picking his wallet up off the night stand.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be quick.” He whispers, a kiss to your forehead before he’s out the door, blinking away sleep dense orbs.

For you, he’d wake a thousand nights. A million slumbers may waste away.

Slowly, you build the nursery for your baby. John works away, painting once crisp white walls into something more pastel, something that would welcome your child with joyful colour.

John has definitely become more talkative over the pregnancy.

He never misses out on a chance to kiss your belly, or talk to them.

“I’ll be back soon.” He announces, car keys armed in his sturdy fingers. With a kiss to your lips, he smiles. “I love you, don’t forget it.”

“Hurry back please.” You frown, a light whine coated to your tone. John only nods, slightly dropping to his knee in front of you, a quick, brief kiss placed to your tummy. “Keep mommy company, squish.” He tells your belly, a quiet, barely audible ‘daddy loves you’ Fled into the air, before he’s up, his hold on your hand let go as you walk him to the door, wishing him a wonderful day with a final kiss to his cheek.

You shop for cribs, toys, decorations all together. John looks incredibly handsome building the crib, painting the walls, asking exactly where you wanted everything to be placed. You watch him from your rocking chair in the corner, a hand to your belly as you talk to John the entire time, about anything, and everything.

John is a wonderful listener. Together, you two often talk about your future. A future where you’ll move away somewhere out of town,

Somewhere closer to the water, down the road. Somewhere where John’s ghastly pasts wont haunt him no more; somewhere you’ll grow old together with a white picket fence, and a story.

Your story, that you’ll tell you grandkids someday, when you’re old and gray, slightly slower; but still, hopelessly in love.

John adores talking to the baby. On secluded, rainy evenings, or when the sun sets out the mauve horizon and the trees bid goodnight to cotton clouds, John and you lounge on the couch, a thick, heavy novel equipped in John’s palm as he reads to you, and your tummy.

With his head resting on your lap, you stroke his lengthy coffee mane, fully engaged, lost in his mélange voice; smoky and rich, beautifully saccharine. Your thumbs coax his tired temples; gently scratching his stubble ridden cheek when you please. Every now and then, John’s glowing eyes peer up, glossing over your features.

He looks lovely like this, at ease, immersed in art.

To you, he is the loveliest of art. He’s a story, he’s a piece of Neverland. He’s your love story, and it’s one,

for the ages;

your love is one for the ages.

Sometimes, he’ll fall asleep this way, head resting in your lap as you stroke his hair. Him and the baby rest together, so close to you.

This was what it meant to have true, wholesome, pure, purpose. To have security, to have something truly, only, yours.

They were yours.

Pregnancy would be tough. It would be a journey, things would change, you would change. But you weren’t scared, for a single moment.

Because you knew, that you had your dream, your mountain of a man beside you, holding your hand,

Each step,

Of the way.

And you knew, you knew well. That the day your baby comes, they will have the most amazing, wonderful father who loves them, and their mommy to the ends of the world, and back.

You’d felt love before, you’d had everything before.

But with this, with what you’ve made, with John; it falls incomparable.

He’s the love that made all the others,

Irrelevant.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[dandyxrandy]

Reassurance

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader Rating: Mature Length: 1,700 Warnings: Self-Deprication, Weight Shaming, Plus-Size/Heavy set Reader, Sexual Situations (if you squint) Summary: Reader is having a hard time with their weight and vents to Pedro about it, who is incredibly supportive. Part 2 will have spicy bits.

Part 1  -  Part 2

    It had been a long day that had ended on a more sour note than you expected. You and Pedro had spent the day out around the city and finished with lounging out at the pool, where you found yourself slipping into a self-deprecating mood when a group of young ladies came and shared the water with you both. They were skinny, pretty, young, and the epitome of what society said a woman should be and it made you feel horrible about yourself.

    It wasn’t their fault, you knew, and you rationalized that with yourself as they minded their own business, talking amongst themselves, but you couldn’t help but catch the glances of the other people watching them for brief moments before knowing better and returning to whatever they were doing. You knew you shouldn’t be down on yourself and knew you should be strong and love who you were. You were already working on yourself as it was, eating better, exercising more - hell, drinking at least three glasses of water a day. All this was done with the help of Pedro, who always encouraged you in making strides to keep yourself healthy and happy.

    But it still hurt whenever the group of women giggled and flipped their long hair, almost as if saying ‘look at me. I have it all.’ It made you exit the pool minutes later, wrapping yourself up in a towel and padding over to where Pedro was reclining in a chair, his gaze trapped behind the pages of a book.     “I think I’m done swimming. I’d like to go, if it’s okay.”     Pedro slid his bookmark in place and lowered his reading glasses a fraction to look up at you over the brim. You tried to hide your unease but you knew he would catch onto it with how attentive he was.     “Sounds good. It’s starting to get cold out anyways.”     You were glad when he didn’t ask about what was wrong and how he stayed quiet as you both made your way up to the hotel room where you both were staying for the weekend. It wasn’t until after you had stripped out of your bathing suit in the middle of the bathroom to shower, that you finally let yourself break down.     The reflection in the mirror was your enemy, the teller of lies, and the longer you looked at yourself, the more you saw a bloated version of who you really were. Ugly. Fat. Unlovable. The harsh lights of the bathroom didn’t help and it felt like they highlighted every imperfection. You tugged at the bits of you that were extra, the pudge at your hips and belly, imagining what you would look like if you were skinnier. You hated yourself because no matter what you seemd to do, you always failed. You were trapped in an endless cycle.     The door to the bathroom creaked open a little and Pedro came in, already naked and expecting to shower with you, perhaps cheer you up and distract you from whatever it was that plagued your mind. He paused, however, when he saw the tears in your eyes and the heavy air around you.    

    "Hey, tell me what's going on." Pedro's voice was soft as his hands guided along your hips and you moved hastily to wipe away the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

    "I'm - " your words faltered as you looked in the mirror that was starting to fog up from the hot shower. "I'm fat." 

     The words were heavy on your tongue and even though they were hard to say, the admission made you feel a little better. It made you feel like it wasn't a secret you were hiding anymore and now you were just left with the shame of your proclamation. 

    Pedro stilled behind you and you wish you could make out his face in the mirror, but it was too fogged now and all that was left was the blurry shape of you and him. But Pedro didn't stop touching you. You wanted to push him away as his hand smoothed from your hip to your stomach and it felt like you were kicked as he cupped you there.

    "You are ashamed of your body, hermosa?" His voice was a whisper next to your ear and you accidently bumped his nose when you nodded a 'yes'.

    "Why?"

    Why? Why were you ashamed? How could he not see?

    "Because I'm not skinny and dainty. I'm not one of those pretty girls who can lounge at the pool in a two piece and make men ogle me when I walk by. I'm just -" Just what? Your eyes closed as you cried, your words only a faint echo from the real pain you felt in your mind.

    "Oh, darling. My beautiful girl."

    Both of his arms slid around you, turning so you were chest to chest and you instantly buried your face against him, your arms looping loosely around his back. His fingers threaded through your hair as he gently stroked the back of your head and he pressed a strong kiss on your crown.     “You are not those things.” Him agreeing with you almost broke you and you choked back a sob. “Hey - hey listen to me…” He continued on, holding you tighter. “You are not those things, no. But you are so much more. You are strong and kind and beautiful. You light up the room when you walk in and you do turn heads. God -” He laughs as he speaks. “You don’t know how many times I have to stop myself from snapping on people for staring at you. Because you are so captivating.”     Pedro pulls away a little at that, his fingers catching your chin to turn your face up to him. You look at him through watery eyes and see the kindness in his face. He is so open with his adoration for you and you could almost feel the tangible love radiating off of him. Even so, the question burns in your mind still.

    “But why? Why, when you look like...you’re so good looking and well built. I don’t understand why you would,” You swallow thickly and he waits patiently for you to finish. He was always so good with letting you speak and get your mind out. “Why you would want to be with someone who looks like me?”     Pedro’s hand slips to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing along your cheekbone to brush away a stray tear.

    “Mi cielo, it is my job to look the way I do. Literally - I am paid to act, to look a certain way, and to keep that upheld. It is an insane amount of work and I envy you so much that you don’t have to have such a rigid diet and exercise routine. You get to be free in a way I can’t.”     It was something you didn’t quite think about until he said it and you suddenly felt guilty for being so selfish.     “And asides that, you take care of yourself as well. Along with working a full time job and keeping one needy man satisfied. You are doing wonderful and I see how hard you work, everyday. You are beautiful to me in so many more ways than your just body.”     Pedro gives you another kiss, his hand slipping down to cup your ass.     “Not that I can’t say I don’t find all of you physically attractive. You’re soft and curvy and so very supple. I enjoy watching you bend under me, taking me so easily because you are built in such a way that I can do what I want and not have to worry. You are very, very much a woman and I admire that more than you will ever know.”

    You feel him stir against you, his cock twitching against your stomach and while he is doing a good job at ignoring it, you don’t. It is almost a testimony to his words, how he was attracted to you, standing nude in the center of the bathroom, bawling your eyes out. Even at one of your lowest points he still loved you and wanted to hold you close, to touch you and be intimate with you.     “I wish you could see what I see and I know none of my words will truly ever matter. You need to believe you’re beautiful. I can tell you what I see and how I feel until I am breathless, but it won’t matter until you believe it. And we can work on that, but you have to trust me when I tell you that I love you and find you attractive, no matter your size.”     You finally smiled and although it was small and defeated, it was still there. Pedro always had a way with words to worm into your heart and warm it and this time was no different. You knew he was right, what with you needing to believe that you were beautiful. That your worth couldn’t come from what he or any other thought, but it was still hard. It was something that you fought against your entire life. You couldn’t possibly imagine how he or his co-stars worked in an industry that valued beauty above all else.     You sniffled a little, trying to composure yourself as he simply held you, his arms warm and strong.  

    “You promise?” You whispered as you looked up at him shyly.     “Of course. I will always love you for who you are.” He promised you and it was enough for you to nod in a silent agreement, that you believed him. You unwrapped yourself from his arms then and turned to the shower.     “We should probably get this chlorine off before the water gets too cold.” You take your time to look over Pedro’s body once you step in, eyes dragging from the mass of curly brown hair over his shoulders and arms, his pectorals and soft stomach. He was in between jobs right now and could afford to eat a little more than when he was on set. It showed in the softer dips of his own body and it reminded you of what he said about him being envious of you.     “Can I still shower with you?” He was polite in his asking and it showed he truly did care about you.     “Yes, of course.”     Part 2 coming soon!

[luxurybrownbarbie]

Firstly, I am sending you well wishes with regards to what is going on in your life. It seems, based or your post, you are having a hard time. So good luck❤ Also take as much time as you need to answer this.  This is going to be pretty lengthy. I will also be asking a few personal questions, so I hope you do not mind. I don't mean to be intrusive rather I am aiming to be educated and to hear different perspective of people who posses knowledge in this area, which I presume you do. Also everything written is meant respectfully. So I have been doing more research on everything concerning level up and hypergamy culture. My interest has definitely been peaked. Where I think my caution lies in this whole culture is the emphasize on age and in relation to that love. Based on my short experience following different sugaring, sex workers level up and hypergamy blogs my out look on love in particular has changed. So to start my two main points. Since the age of women is what is especially emphasized in these above mentioned spaces, how do you navigate this? I am in particular talking about wealthy men for the most part desiring younger women. Not to make this too personal but say for example you and M being close in age is something that happens but that does not seem as common in this culture. But both of you will age. Do you struggle at all with the idea that (for example) M can cheat (this is not at all about the fake assumption of wealthy men cheating more than men who are not wealthy. I know there is no difference between the two. Also knock on wood) or get a divorce leaving you to be with two kids just to start a relationship with a younger woman just because you are not 'young enough' anymore? I feel like it puts a expiration date on a woman which is obviously moronic and untrue in my opinion. I struggle and get a little bit confused specifically when I see these blogs with women saying things like 'you are young and fun, something his wife is not' (or something close to this) as if at some point these women won't be the same ages as these wives being mentioned. I guess this leads to the point of love. Do you believe that there can be genuine love in such relationship? As stated its pretty much a trade: beauty and youth for wealthy and status and vice versa. If one fails or gets away, it will be replaced. How do you not get cynical with these perspective? I have read stories of sex workers and sugar babies on here where the men admitted things such as 'being happy to be with a younger woman because his wife of x years was old and not exciting anymore' (which honestly this is something that happens on the regular with broke men too so I guess this whole section can be lumped into a big 'Is love even worth it at this point' or 'should you fully low your partner is there is a chance of being unfaithful?') My mind is all over the place and I am still trying to cultivate my stance on all of this and see how I want to build my journey. I hope this was somewhat coherent lol.💕 i am probably going to have follow up thoughts and questions

I’m going to answer this in sections.

Firstly, I am sending you well wishes with regards to what is going on in your life. It seems, based or your post, you are having a hard time. So good luck❤

Thank you. Losing people is never easy, but we move.

Also take as much time as you need to answer this.  This is going to be pretty lengthy. I will also be asking a few personal questions, so I hope you do not mind. I don't mean to be intrusive rather I am aiming to be educated and to hear different perspective of people who posses knowledge in this area, which I presume you do. Also everything written is meant respectfully. So I have been doing more research on everything concerning level up and hypergamy culture. My interest has definitely been peaked. Where I think my caution lies in this whole culture is the emphasize on age and in relation to that love. Based on my short experience following different sugaring, sex workers level up and hypergamy blogs my out look on love in particular has changed. So to start my two main points. Since the age of women is what is especially emphasized in these above mentioned spaces, how do you navigate this? I am in particular talking about wealthy men for the most part desiring younger women.

Our society as a whole is incredibly focused on youth. Because of the way it’s set up, youth is the preference, because of work, childbearing, and so forth. It isn’t new, it’s just that swers and to a slightly lesser point, hypergamy blogs discuss age regarding women. It’s a very nuanced discussion though. It’s interlinked with a lot of other societal discussions. For most men, youth makes them feel virile and youthful.

Not to make this too personal but say for example you and M being close in age is something that happens but that does not seem as common in this culture. But both of you will age. Do you struggle at all with the idea that (for example) M can cheat (this is not at all about the fake assumption of wealthy men cheating more than men who are not wealthy. I know there is no difference between the two. Also knock on wood) or get a divorce leaving you to be with two kids just to start a relationship with a younger woman just because you are not 'young enough' anymore?

Our age gap both is and isn’t common. For our peer group and circle of friends and acquaintances, our age gap is normal. We also have friends with age gaps of a couple of decades. If you take a holistic look at our relationship and the steps towards it, especially with my goal being to marry a trust fund kid, it’s in line with the “norm”. In older money circles, there’s large age gaps, and there’s small age gaps. It’s all there. I have to remind people, there’s wealth in all ages.

The guy doesn’t have to be 96 and knocking on death’s door. (Also, with medical advancements being what they are, this probably isn’t a solution for short term gains. That guy could probably live another 8-10 years.)

I don’t fear infidelity. He could cheat, or I could cheat. Both of those are possibilities we could face in our future. How likely they are, who knows. But they are possibilities. Either party could be culpable for cheating. If we get a divorce and he chooses to be with a younger woman, so be it. But I could also go be with a younger man. I might get more questioning looks than he might, but I could do it. I don’t... really care. It sounds flippant, but the two of us have talked about it before. I think in discussions like these, we tend to remove women’s agency. Anything a man could do to end their relationship, a woman can do as well.

Side note, infidelity isn’t a dealbreaker for everyone. Some of our friends literally say they can excuse cheating, but not lying about finances or moving their parents into the house. No joke. Infidelity tends to be the most prominent dealbreaker, but it’s not everyone’s.

I feel like it puts a expiration date on a woman which is obviously moronic and untrue in my opinion. I struggle and get a little bit confused specifically when I see these blogs with women saying things like 'you are young and fun, something his wife is not' (or something close to this) as if at some point these women won't be the same ages as these wives being mentioned.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen that in a while. But I think it was borne out of a bout of cynicism that tends to take hold with this. Yes, we will all age, it’s a natural part of life. But like I said before, society is very youth focused. People acknowledging that youth will be a factor in getting one of these men isn’t a bad thing, it’s the truth. But it’s also a constant reminder to always be building something of your own, because things aren’t always perfect.

I don’t believe women shrivel up and die at 28, nor do I believe every marriage is doomed the minute the woman gets older. I think moving with the idea that all marriages fail once you both get older is very concerning. Very.

I guess this leads to the point of love. Do you believe that there can be genuine love in such relationship? As stated its pretty much a trade: beauty and youth for wealthy and status and vice versa. If one fails or gets away, it will be replaced. How do you not get cynical with these perspective? I have read stories of sex workers and sugar babies on here where the men admitted things such as 'being happy to be with a younger woman because his wife of x years was old and not exciting anymore' (which honestly this is something that happens on the regular with broke men too so I guess this whole section can be lumped into a big 'Is love even worth it at this point' or 'should you fully low your partner is there is a chance of being unfaithful?')

You’re going to be very disappointed if you go through life thinking you shouldn’t love people just because there’s a possibility of infidelity.

Also, saying love isn’t real because is some old men want to have their cake and eat it too is not healthy. Some men just suck. Doesn’t mean they all do.

Love is real. It is. There is a lot of cynicism, but I can tell you, I’m fairly certain 75% of the women who marry wealthy actually like the person. They either find them to be a great companion or a great partner for life.

Possibly building a life with someone you don’t even like is not advice I’ve seen in a very long time, so I would say you need to evaluate each piece of information you get, so you don’t internalize bad advice.

I was cynical for a long time. I drained my SDs dry, didn’t care, and moved forward.

When my goal became marriage, I decided to actually be with someone I loved and liked. It made the lows even more painful, but the highs even better.

There’s many versions of love, many different ideas, and sometimes companionship is the piece people want.

There’s different versions of genuine love, because solely looking at your relationship as a transaction of beauty and power will exhaust you. It’s normal to think about it, casually, but it’s not the center of every discussion.

Entering this world full of cynicism is not smart. You don’t have to be doe eyed and overly optimistic, but you cannot be a cynical woman who doesn’t want to actually be vulnerable with the person she enters into a relationship with, you’ll lose out every time.

The hypergamy journey is about choosing the best partner, one who actually brings something good and doesn’t bring you down. If there’s a connection, either a great friendship or romance. That’s at the heart of it all.

[gamergirl929]

Baby Heath: Loading... (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Anonymous Request:  Could you do a Tobin x R, where the R is pregnant and Tobin cares for her. With the ending being R giving birth to a baby girl named Ashlyn. (Named after R's soccer mom)

SOOOO, considering it’s someone’s birthday today, I thought it was only fair to post ONLY for her today.

Happy Birthday to one of the greatest forwards of all time, the no-look shooting, the fancy dribbling, spicy Nutmeg Queen herself, Tobin Heath!!!!!  

Tobin brushes a strand of hair out of your face and you smile, the woman’s soft brown orbs the first thing you see when your Y/E/C orbs flutter open.  

“Are those heart eyes I see?” You ask, the woman rolling her eyes as she leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.  

“Maybe...” Tobin blushes and you smirk, yawning.  

“They totally are.”  

Tobin rolls her eyes, leaning down to playfully rub her nose against yours.  

“I mean, you ARE my wife...” She teases, her tongue trapped between her teeth. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”  

You cup her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.  

“Oh, I definitely don-

You jump, the tiny life inside you kicking you straight in the bladder, making her presence known.  

“Well, someone’s practicing her power shots.” Tobin laughs, rubbing your tummy and you hum.  

“Right on my bladder.” You growl, squealing when Tobin picks you up, carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom.  

"Your chariot my lady.” She grins and you snort.  

“Such a gentlewoman.”  

“Only for you love, only for you.”  

                                                            ***

Tobin’s eyes fluttered shut as she rests her head on your tummy, smiling when she feels the little girl's tiny kicks.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Tobin whispers as your fingers run through her hair, a grin on your face.

“She’s going to be so spoiled.”  

Tobin rolls over, her sparkling brown orbs locked with your Y/E/C orbs.

“Of course, she’s my baby girl.” She beams and you smile, cupping Tobin’s cheek.

“She’s going to have the best mommy.” You whisper as you brush a strand of hair out of her face.

“She will, and I’m looking at her.”  

You shake your head.

“I love you Tobin.” You whisper, the woman sending you her trademark grin, the corners of her eyes wrinkling.

“I love you too.”

Tobin jumps at the sound of her phone vibrating and she smirks.  

“Probably Ashlyn again checking up on her daughter.” She sends you a wink and you grin.  

“Hey, you can’t say she’s a neglectful soccer mom.”  

                                                            ***

“Babe?” Tobin yawns digging the heels of her palms into her sleepy eyes.

“Yeah?” You call out from the kitchen, the woman smiling.  

Tobin walks towards where you’re standing at the counter, munching on a pickle.

Tobin wraps her arms around you from behind, yawning.

“It’s cold without you.” She hums, nuzzling into the nape of your neck.

You smile, leaning back against her.

“Your daughter wanted pickles.”

Tobin laughs.

“Does she want anything else? I can make her and her beautiful mother anything she wants.” She kisses the back of your neck and you hum.

“Grilled cheese?”  

Tobin rests her chin on your shoulder, turning your head so she can press a tender kiss to your lips.

“Anything for you.”

                                                            ***

You pout, eyes glassy with tears as you poke your protruding belly.

“Hey what’s wrong??” Christen asks, the woman, along with Emily and Lindsey there to spend the day with you while Tobin was out.

“I’m so fat.” You sniffle, turning to Christen with a trembling lip, the woman wordlessly opening her arms, allowing you to bury yourself in her embrace.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Emily asks.

“I'M A COW!” You sob, the blonde’s eyes widening as she jumps behind Lindsey.

“No, you aren’t!” Lindsey frowns, glancing down at your tummy, you follow her gaze and again let out a sob.  

“I SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO LIVE IN A HOUSE I SHOULD BE IN A PASTURE!”  

A snort sounds from behind Lindsey, everyone turning towards Emily, the hazel orbed blonde shrugging.  

“What? It was funny.”  

Your bottom lip juts out and Emily shakes her head, arms flailing.  

“No! No crying!” She frowns, your bottom lip trembling as she cups your cheeks. 

“You’ve got a Heath in your belly; god knows she eats a lot.” She winks and you let out a watery laugh.  

“She does, she’s always hungry.”  

Christen hums.  

“Are you eating healthy?” She asks, eyes narrowed and your eyes widen.  

“Ummmm...”  

“Hey, I’m home!” You hear Tobin’s voice from the living room and sigh in relief.  

“Oh, thank god.” You mumble, waddling away, Christen’s eyes narrowing further. 

“Tobin! Have you been feeding Y/N junk food!?” She yells, Tobin’s eyes widening when angry green orbs lock with hers.  

“Ummmmmmm....”

Christen crosses her arms across her chest.  

“Jesus Christ, I’m moving back in.”  

                                                            ***

Christen was true to her word, and soon she was crashing in the guest bedroom, chastising Tobin whenever she’d give you something unhealthy, but even SHE knew to not come between you and your cravings, BUT she’d always balance out those cravings with a healthier option.  

Soon Christen had you craving home blended strawberry banana smoothies and Christen felt INCREDIBLY accomplished.  

“See, you just needed me here.” Christen shrugs with a smile.  

You hum, chugging down another smoothie.  

“Agreed.”  

Christen glances at Tobin, your wife shaking her head.  

“Don’t rub it in.”  

“I would NEVER.”  

                                                            ***

The closer your due date comes, the more your wife and her best friend kept their eyes on you, Tobin asking Christen to stay so she could keep an eye on you when she couldn’t.  

She wasn’t the only one who decided to make her presence known, considering Ali and Ashlyn had decided to take up residence in the apartment, Ashlyn wanting to be closer to her ‘daughter.’  

The baby had noticeably ‘dropped’ inside you, signaling that the little bundle of joy inside of you was coming sooner rather than later.  

You wince, stopping to grab a nearby wall, another painful contraction making ache.  

“You okay?” Tobin asks, placing a hand on your back and you nod.  

Typically, your contractions taper off, but in this case, they were being PAINFULLY persistent.  

“Yeah it’s just, not stopping.” You growl, sweat forming on your brow.  

You give your head a shake, taking a deep breath, looking down at the floor.  

“It’s so messy in here.” You mumble, waddling towards the closet to get the sweeper.  

Tobin glances in the living room at Christen and Ali, the two women humming.  

“I think she’s nesting.” Ali comments, her eyes narrowed.  

“What does that mean?” Ashlyn asks, flopping down on the couch beside her wife and Christen hums.  

“It means someone is coming and coming VERY soon.”  

                                                            ***

“FUCKING HELL.” You yell as Tobin helps you into the car, she, Christen, Ashlyn, Ali, and the addition of Megan, who’d came the following day, pilling into the car.  

“Come on, let’s get her to the hospital.” Christen shuts the door, basically appearing in the driver’s seat and zooming towards the ER.  

Your water hadn’t broken, but the pain you were feeling was intense, a pain you had yet to feel during your pregnancy.  

Ashlyn winces as you take her hand, squeezing it so hard she’s afraid her fingers are snapping beneath your grasp.  

Tobin holds you close, whispering softly in your ear, trying to calm you down in any way she can.

“It hurts Tobe, it hurts.” You whisper, inhaling softly, your eyes flashing open when you realize what had just happened.  

“Ummmm Chris.” Tobin’s eyes widen as she looks down at the seat of her car, cringing.  

“Yeah?”  

“Y/N’s water just broke.”  

                                                            ***

You let out a raspy groan, your throat sore from all the crying considering you were in the worst pain you’d ever felt.  

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Tobin kisses your temple, the woman shushing you softly as she nuzzles into your sweaty hair.  

You’d been in labor for hours, the tiny body inside you putting up a fight, not yet wanting to come out to the world, but what you didn’t realize was you were about to meet her in mere moments.  

“Okay Y/N, I need you to push again, okay?” The OB asks and you tiredly nod, Tobin taking your hand as you push with all your might.  

“Only a few more Y/N, she’s ready.”  

You push, and push, and push again, somewhere in all that pushing, your daughter enters the world, her tiny cries filling the room.  

You laugh, leaning against Tobin the woman grinning as she peppers your cheeks with kisses, until you turn your head, your lips meeting in a weak kiss.  

“She’s here Y/N, she’s here.” She whispers, as the OB waves her over.  

“Cut the cord?” She asks and Tobin nods, making her way towards the table where her daughter lies, the little girl crying as she snips the cord.  

“You ready to meet mommy?” Tobin asks, the little girl crying as the doctor takes her to you.  

Though you’re exhausted, you open your arms, taking the little girl, hugging her against your chest, the little girl’s cries tapering off.  

You look down at the little girl bundled in your arms, a grin stretching across your face, it’s a few moments later her tiny little Y/E/C orbs open, locking with yours, the baby looking up at you in curiosity.  

Tobin leans her head against yours, staring down at the little girl who turns to her, eyeing her just as curiously.  

“Do we have a name picked out?” The OB asks and you grin, turning to Tobin.  

“Yes, I think we do.”  

                                                            ***

Ashlyn’s bottom lip trembles when she sees the little girl asleep in Tobin’s arms, the goalie stopping beside your bed, grinning down at you, a grin you return.  

“She’s wonderful.” You grin, as Ashlyn tucks a strand of hair behind your hair.  

“You never told us her name.” She whispers and you grin, nodding towards the neatly written scrawl the doctor had written on the baby’s chart.

Ashlyn turns to it, ducking down to look at the scrawl, tears in her hazel orbs.  

“Christen...” Ashlyn sniffles, glancing at the forward who makes her way over, looking at the baby’s name, Ali, Emily, Megan and Lindsey on her heels, eyes narrowed. 

Christen’s green orbs fill with tears as she turns to you and Tobin, little Ashton now in your arms as you hold her close, the baby’s Y/E/C orbs on the women surrounding her bed.  

“Are you guys serious?” Ali asks, the two of you grinning as you duck down to kiss Ashton’s forehead.  

“More than serious.” You grin.

Tobin nods.  

“You brought us together after all.”  

Ashlyn moves towards the bed, Christen on the opposite side as they wrap their arms around you, and Tobin.

“Group hug!” Emily squeals, the rest of her teammates quick to join in, wrapping their arms around you, Tobin and little Ashton Annamarie Heath, the little girl already having each and every one of their hearts, as well as their aunts who couldn’t be there.  

The door suddenly swings open to reveal a heavily panting Kelley O’Hara, the woman’s eyes wide.  

“I missed the group hug already!?”  

Mallory Pugh whines as she and Carli Lloyd make their way into the room.  

“We’re late for the group hug!?”  

Rose Lavelle shakes her head, groaning.  

“Damn it.”

Becky Sauerbrunn huffs as she moves into the room.  

“How the hell did YOU get here before me?” She asks, pointing at Kelley and she shrugs.  

“Gotta improve on that speed Broon.”  

[kelby-writes]

Can I. Please ask for Brahms with like a 5’10” fem s.o. Wh9 is insecure about her height and weight?

I didn’t know if this was meant as Head-Cannons or a Oneshot, so I decided to do Head-Cannons because…well, i like doing HCs? If you wanted a Oneshot please message me or send in another ask! :>

Brahms W/ an Insecure S/O Head-Cannons

Brahms doesn’t understand why you’re so insecure—He thinks you’re beautiful, and honestly, while this man can be picky with who he likes and is attracted to, he doesn’t mind a S/O who is a twig, or is described as a “circle” by modern standards

By the way, calling someone a “circle” is so incredibly rude. In no way should you ever call someone’s body shape a “circle”, even in a joking way, or even if they jokingly call themselves that. It’s insulting—PLEASE be nice to others, and spread positivity, not negativity!

Brahms loves you every way to Sunday; Why are you so negative about your body? Now he isn’t very secure with how he looks, or confident, but he believes in the confidence you should have

Brahms will actively become less bratty the moment he picks up that you’re down, and sad about the way you look—why though?

Marilyn Monroe wasn’t skinny, yet she was considered very attractive in her day. Women back in 1910 who society today classify as “obese” were considered important and very attractive. There have been many instances in history where bigger, “huskier” women were saw as sexy and attractive, so why do you think you’re unattractive and ugly? 

If you’re skinny—why the sadness? While it may not look healthy in some instances, you are still very attractive, no matter how small a size you are! Throughout the ages, skinny has been a societal look that many adore and go after—why do you think you’re ugly, just because you might have small assets, or near-to-none curves?

Brahms also doesn’t see the dilemma with your height—So you’re taller than average, big deal. You’re small compared to the 6′5″ intimidated figure that is Brahms, so you don’t have to feel shameful of your taller height!

In fact, Brahms finds your tallness extremely attractive—he doesn’t have to lean as much when he wants hugs or kisses, and plus; you have long legs that just entice him so

Thicc Thighs Save Lives, “overweight” ladies! Be proud of your thick thighs, as Brahms is a big fan of having those thighs wrapped around his waist, and around his head. He also likes to grope-

If Brahms finds you looking at you body disgustedly in the mirror, he will probably stand there for a moment, confused out of his mind. Why are you looking at yourself in such a repulsed way? (Y/n), you’re upsetting him with the way you look at your body in shame

Brahms, if still in the mask-wearing stage of the relationship, will stalk out of the walls and into the room, most definitely startling you. But, before you have a chance to ask what’s wrong, Brahms’ll walk towards you and, albeit a bit awkwardly, pulls you into his strong chest, letting one hand rest on the small of your back, the other holding your head softly to his chest, letting his chin sit atop your head

“Don’t look at yourself in such a way, (Y/n).” He’ll drone out emotionally in his deep voice, surprising you since he didn’t use his normal child voice—you knew this was serious for him instantly

Every time he sees you looking at yourself in a negative way, he will tilt his head (see Gif) in minor confusion and annoyance; Don’t you know it hurts him to see you so insecure, so hateful towards yourself?

Please, it sincerely hurts him to see you so insecure about your body—such a beautiful one, no less. It may seem strange, but while Brahms is notably known for his horniness, he does in fact value mental stimulation and intelligence. 

Your body is not everything he values—Brahms has read enough to know the usual circumstances. Insecurity about one’s body is negativity, negativity can lead to bad views of oneself, in which can lead to larger mental issues such as anxiety, depression, etcetera etcetera. 

Brahms does not want to see you fall into a bad mental state—He truly cares about you, despite his seemingly constant brattiness and near constant horny attitude. Brahms fell in love with you most definitely because of how caring you were, how motherly you could be, and how much you truly seemed to care for him, even if it was only to save your skin in the first place

Brahms is worried and scared—What if this leads to something more serious? What if you did what his parents did? 

These terrified thoughts spur him to be overbearing—constantly by your side (which is strange), being clingier than normal, speaking in his deeper voice more often, making sure you eat healthy amounts and drink enough water, making sure you do your normal activities throughout the day. If he sees you judging your body in a reflective surface, by the next day you can’t seem to find the mirror, nor could you find the decorative silver plates, or the reflective vases. 

 Brahms will be touchier than normal, but not in a sexual way. He makes sure to squeeze your sides lovingly, to kiss you (the real way) whenever he gets the chance, to do positive activities like dancing to the classical music, or to hold you close by the stomach while you read together, occasionally squeezing your thighs 

Brahms is on maximum overdrive, making sure to pull you away form any reflective surface possible, to keep you distracted, to keep your mind off of falling into that sick place of self-doubt or self-loathing

You never knew how much he truly cared about you, and how observing he was until you finally found out over time, putting two and two together when you catch him watching from the walls as you silently judged your body in the full-length mirror

I hope you like this! I just now realized it focuses more on weight than it does the height insecurity, so i apologize! Also, there was no specification of Overweight insecurity or Underweight insecurity, so I tried to include both, since I know people are not only insecure about being “obese”, but also being “underweight” or “too skinny”! 

~ Kelby

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #449-450

(both from yesterday)

What do you dislike about the house you live in? It's in the suburbs. Have you thought more about your funeral, or your wedding? My hypothetical wedding. Dinosaurs or unicorns? DINO BOIZ. What do you think of Maroon 5? I like some of their old stuff, and one or two of their newer songs, like "Payphone." What about Coldplay? I enjoy them. Fall Out Boy? Love 'em. Katy Perry? She's okay, I guess. There are a few songs I enjoy. Have you ever snuck into an R-rated movie when you weren’t old enough to see it without parents? No. What is your favorite Disney show? I don't have the slightest clue what's on Disney nowadays. What do you miss most about elementary school? Digging tunnels in the sandbox during recess with my friends. :'( When was the last time you saw the person you had your first kiss with? The start of February 2017. Hard to believe it's been four whole years... Is there anything hanging from the doorknob in your room? Ha, yes. Mom got me a little sign that says, "If I can't wear my flipflops, I'm not going," lmfao. All I wear are flipflops. What's your opinion on wearing pajamas in public? Do you yourself do that? I LITERALLY couldn't care less. I wear pjs in public sometimes; it really depends on where I'm going. What was the most severe punishment your parents gave you when you were growing up? Taking away technology was the worst. Do you usually fill up at the same gas station? Mom goes to a few different ones, depending on proximity and price. Have you ever owned any pet birds? What kinds/colours? I have not. I used to want a cockatiel for a long time, though. Do you pay much attention to your YouTube recommendations? If so, what was the last video that caught your attention? Kinda, I guess. I'm not sure what was the last recommended video I clicked. What has been the happiest time of your life so far? It's complicated. Most of my best memories are from high school with Jason, yet at the same time I was HORRIBLY depressed. I think my most pure happiness when I was really progressing with recovery. Moving on from him, losing tons of weight, feeling motivated... Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity? Who? My two biggest celebrity crushes ever have been/is Link Neal and Mark Fischbach. Do you have any fears you would rarely admit to anyone? Nah. Admitting fears isn't a big deal to me at all. What website do you spend most of your time on? YouTube. What did you have for dinner last night? A chicken sandwich. What could you talk about for hours? Meerkats, Silent Hill, Mark... Do you have a lamp beside your bed? Yes. What's your favorite ice cream topping? Chocolate syrup. What was the last TV show you binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender. Would you rather eat burgers or tacos? Oh, burgers for sure. I don't likes tacos. Did your mother change her maiden name when/if she got marred? Yes. Do you use TikTok? Nope. Are you closer to your mother or father? Mom. Do you own any costumes? No. Would you care if your SO went to a strip club? Hm. So long as they're not laying hands on any of the strippers and they ASKED me first, I don't think I'd care? I'm pretty sure I'd also only be okay with that if we were a long-term couple where very strong trust has been built. How helpful are your parents to you? Would they help you to pay for your first apartment? College? Where does the line end? They are so, so very helpful and I'm pretty sure would go to the ends of the earth to help me in any way they could. I know they WOULD help pay for the things you mentioned, but it's not something I want them to do. I want to be able to financially provide for myself, one day... Have you ever had to evacuate due to natural disaster? No. What video games did you have when you were growing up? LOADS. I looooooooved video games. What was the first election you ever voted in? This last one, actually. Can you hear anything right now? Yeah. I'm watching Gab play the Resident Evil 3 remake on hardcore mode. What's the coolest, most unusual pet you can think of? I've always thought sugar gliders were quite interesting as pets. I wanted one for a looong time, but I am not informed on how well they do in captivity and if it should even be legal for me to truly want one anymore. Have you ever seen a UFO or other weird object in the sky? By definition, it was a UFO. Sometimes I do even wonder if it was an alien spacecraft, given JUST how strange that shit was. I won't explain it again, just 'cuz I've done it in many surveys before. Are there any albums you know every single lyric to? I could probably nail Ozzy's Black Rain. What's your go-to painkiller? Advil. Does your mom have a celebrity look-alike? No, but there's a celebrity with her exact name. Do you think it’s pretty when 100s of balloons are let loose into the sky? NO NO NO NO NO that shit is SO upsetting. Where do you think they end up??? It's littering. Animals get choked and tangled by them all the time. What do you draw more than anything else? Definitely meerkats. Have you ever visited someone in a psychiatric home or ward? No, but people have visited me in one. Have you ever received a parking fine? No. Are you in any group chats? Who's in them? No. Do you have a lisp? No. Do you have an Instagram account? Do you use it often? I have three, but one's pretty much dead. I don't post stuff regularly on my other two either, really... Can you parallel park? I would absolutely hit another car. Have you ever played paintball? Did you get hit? No, that shit's dumb. You can get really hurt. What was your favorite fairy tale when you were a kid? Maybe Little Red Riding Hood? Are your parents still together? If not, do you know why? No. Mostly financial disagreements, but I know there's stuff I don't know. Have you ever been evicted? Why? Yes, because we couldn't keep up with rent. Have you ever worked as a manager or supervisor? Noooo. What was the last thing you voted for? So Snake Discovery (a reptile channel I love) hosted an enclosure build-off recently, and the winners were selected by fans via voting. The guy I voted for got 3rd. What's the most amazing animal you've ever seen in captivity? I've been very close to an elephant at a zoo once. They're magnificent. Having been to Sea World as a kid (I would NEVER go now), I also saw the killer whale show. As much of a spectacle as it was, it was animal abuse regardless. Do you like white chocolate? It's okay in small doses. Have you ever eaten snow? Yeah. Do you talk to your pets? Um, duh. Have you ever adopted a stray? (Cat or dog?) Cats, yes. Do you read about any mythology? (Greek, Roman, Norse, Egyptian, etc) No, not by my own will. I DO love mythology, I just... don't read it. Do you ever use bath bombs? No. Have you ever gotten angry at an employee and complained to the manager? No. Have you ever sent your food back at a restaurant? Yes, because they got my meal wrong. I was REALLY shy to do it, but I made sure to do it politely and apologetically. Do you sleep in a bra? What mad lad sleeps in a bra???????????? Has your ex ever gone out with someone close to you? No. Can you suggest someone funny on YouTube? I'll go for someone what isn't my obvious vote, ha ha. There are truly so many, but Garrett Watts is high on the list. Elena Bateman, too. Can you do a handstand? No. Has anyone close to you ever been suicidal? Yes. Have you ever broken someone's heart and didn't care? Tyler sure acted like I did, and to be entirely frank, I didn't care very much, but only because it was a HUGE overreaction and I knew he'd be fine quick. What color is your hairbrush? It's just a white comb. Who was your most recent call from? My psychiatrist. Have you ever watched someone die? Only animals... It's the absolute worst. Are you currently "seeing" someone? No. Are you friends with someone who's autistic? I might be, but I know my niece is on the spectrum. Do you like humans? To be entirely transparent... I think I wish humans were never a thing. We've done so, so much harm to the planet, some things irrevocable. Earth would be a much healthier, far more peaceful place if we'd never existed. Do you like pandas? I love pandas. P.S., fuck outta here if you're one of the people who don't support conservation efforts for them. That shit blows my mind. What do you think of Evanescence? They're great. Amy's voice is absolutely incredible. I don't even think that's an opinion, but global fact, ha ha. What do you think of Avenged Sevenfold? I like some of their stuff. I haven't heard a whole lot though, honestly. What do you think of Halestorm? ^ Do you think you are attractive? God no. I don't see me as an attractive person at all. Do you like dinosaurs? I love 'em; I was OBSESSED as a kid, and my first aspired job was a paleontologist. Do you like lasagna? No. Do you share a room? No. When was the last time you climbed a tree? Never, actually. Have you ever been hospitalized for more than 2 weeks? I think my longest was three. What can you do that none of your friends can do? I dunno. Why did you last go to the airport? Mom and I were dropping Sara off so she could go home. Who was the last person to see you in your underwear? My mom. Who’s the most attractive female you’ve ever seen? Maybe Alissa White-Gluz from Arch Enemy? Or my friend Alon. I'm certain there's more, because women are just so fuckin beautiful asdkfajlwejkrjqwe Red, white, yellow, or pink roses? I actually like the original, rich red. Do you think someone would ever want to marry you? Well, two people have, but one absolutely doesn't anymore and the other knows that it's not healthy or emotionally safe for either of us to imagine that at this time. I don't know if anyone ever will again. Do you like Thanksgiving? No. Like I enjoy the focus on thankfulness, but the history isn't right and I don't enjoy the food. Do you ever wear colored eye liner? No. Have you ever used a darkroom? No. Have you ever been "popular"? No. Has someone ever tried to convert you? Yes. Have you ever been told that you dress like a slut? No, not that how someone dresses has any relevance to their sexual activity. What’s your most recent obsession? Final Fantasy X jfccccccc. Video games or board games? The former. Are you scared of tarantulas? As much as I talk about them... you can probably tell I have a massive interest in them, ha ha. However, even though I love them, they're still sorta scary. Like, threat poses are no joke. And it's terrifying on the very rare occasion they hiss. During Covid, do you wear a mask or no mask? I'm fully vaccinated, and yet I still wear a mask because I'm a considerate human fucking being. Do you have a PlayStation 4? No, but I reeeeaaally want one. :/ Have you ever played Fortnite? Nah, not my type of game. Do you like anime? Yeah. Have you ever been on a boat? Yeah. I was always SO excited as a kid when Dad would take the boat out for a fishing trip. Have you ever played Kingdom Hearts? I've played some of it with Jason. I wasn't a fan of it. Have you ever built a snowman? Yes. DC or Marvel? I don't really have a preference.

----------

Do you prefer your nails long or short? Why? Short, because I can't keep my nails long for the life of me. I pick/peel my nails badly. Do you have any vinyl records? No. Are you still in touch with your best friend from high school? No. Have you ever visited any celebrity gravesites? No. How do you feel about archaeology? It's extremely fascinating. Would you have a big cat (like a tiger) for a pet if you could? No. I could never provide the environment they need, and it's simply not safe. They are not domestic animals, and even the ones that seem most tame can surprise you. What are your favorite smells? Cinnamon rolls, coffee, lilac, fresh baked bread, barbecue, etc. Have you ever had to block people online for harassing you? I'm not sure, actually... What is your favorite thing to do on The Sims? Surveys have a lot of questions about those games... I only ever played the ones that focused on animals, and I think I most enjoyed breeding them and naming the bbz. :^) And watching their behavior. Which hair color you've had has been your favorite? Red. If you were stupid-rich, would you ever actually want a mansion? No. I do not need all that room, nor am I wasting my money on such excessive space. What drinking games have you played? None. Do you take lessons for anything? No. Has something really heavy ever fallen on you? No. If you wear makeup, what colors do you usually wear? Only black. Does your shower have curtains or a glass door/wall? Curtains. If you have more than one pet, do they ever get jealous of each other? One is a snake and the other is a cat, so. Is there a room in your house that you don’t like going in? No. Besides salt and butter, do you put anything on your popcorn? Nothing besides what you mentioned. Are you lonely? I'm way too lonely for it to be healthy. Do you like pineapple? Yep. Have you ever seen fireflies? Yes; they're endemic to here. Have you ever trespassed? As a kid, yes. Do you raise your hand or participate in class? I did sometimes. Are you afraid of heights? Yes. Are you afraid of the dark? No. Would you ever be your school’s mascot who wears that costume? No. Have you ever written a poem? I've written a lot. Would you ever be a tornado chaser? FUCK TO THE HELL NO. What is your favorite thing to eat with bbq sauce, if you even like that stuff? I hate bbq sauce. Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? No. Have you ever been to the rainforest? No. Ever thought about writing a book? Yes. Have you ever had a dream where you killed someone? Yes. Have you ever solved a Rubik’s Cube? Nope. Have you seen all of the Jaws movies? No, only the first one with Tyler. It was aight. Have you ever had a black eye? No. Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? I haven't seen a picture of Jason in years, and I don't want to. Not because I care about how he looks now, it'd just be extremely triggering to see his face. I still find Sara gorgeous. Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? No. How often does your employer ask you to work overtime? N/A When was the last time you were scared? Ummmm I really can't say I know. What’s your favorite song by Rihanna? "Disturbia" is where it's AT. There's this synthwave edit of it that I positively adore. Can you speak binary? No. Have you ever had a pet that you disliked? A family pet, yes. Do you like boys with long hair? UGH yes. Do you like root beer? Not really, no. Do you like ice cream cake? Not really. Do you ever dream of yourself dying? That's not all that rare in my nightmares. What song always makes you sad? I think two songs are tied for what makes me most sad: "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin and "Eternally Yours" by Motionless In White. Were you mean as a little kid? No; I was a sweet kid. Have you ever tried spam? No, it looks SO gross to me. How fast can you run? This is pathetic, but I don't think I CAN run. My knees are too weak. I think my weight coming down on them would just make me crumple over. Have you ever bought something from Spencer's? Yeah. Have you ever been on a diet? I've tried diets many times. Do you prefer light or dark jeans? Dark. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I almost always just listen. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yeah. Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? Jason. I miss his memory every day. I say "memory" because it's been years, and I have no way of knowing who he is today. How many cars are parked at your house right now? One. Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak? No. Do you know anyone who has gone missing? If so, were they ever found? Not personally. What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten? Some wings with extremely hot sauce at Buffalo Wild Wings. Have you ever deliberately tried to get someone drunk? Um yeah, no. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? No. I don't like sprinkles in general. Do you know how to do the moon walk? No. Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Yes, somehow. Onion rings or french fries? French fries, for sure. Who is the best cook that you know? Dunno. If you have your ears pierced, when did you get them pierced? When I was a kid. I don't remember the age, but I was old enough to decide myself that I wanted them pierced. If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you? They have their own places now. Do you like fried rice? Yessss. Are there any animals you refuse to touch? Some bugs. Have you ever intentionally fed a house spider? I don't believe so, no. What makes you feel lucky? That I have the family I do. What is something nice going on in your life right now? Just the gym-going, really... Who’s the worst person you’ve encountered on the Internet? An old friend I just knew as Shakes. If death wasn’t a consequence, what would you try? Maybe sky-diving, idk. Has a teacher ever told you off? No. Have you ever told off a teacher? No. Do/did you take school seriously or not? I certainly did. How do you usually cope with breakups? Not well. I obsess over how something's wrong with me and I'm not good enough for anyone. Disney princess or Disney animal movies? Animals, for sure. What's your favorite Katy Perry song? It's evading me right now... Have you ever made/tried friendship bread!? Omg, I forgot that was a thing! I actually have. I've completely forgotten the gist of it or even how it tastes, but I remember I loved it. What do you want to know about the future? If I'll ever be content and happy. What's your biggest insecurity? My weight. Ever found something disgusting in your food while eating out? No, thank god. Does the area where you live have a good or bad reputation? A very bad one. Are there any holidays that you don't celebrate? Yeah, like St. Patrick's Day, among some others. If you could find out who you're gonna marry right now, would you? Yes. Save myself time and heartbreak. How important is it to you that your partner has the same religious views? I wouldn't date someone very religious. If they're more tame about it, that's fine, but I'd prefer to not date a religious individual. Do you own a Wii? Yeah. I've kinda been wanting to play Guitar Hero or Rock Band lately on it... Do you like a lot of cheese on your pizza? "A regular, reasonable amount of cheese." <<<< This. I really don't like when things are so cheesy that it leaves a ridiculous trail when you try to separate pieces. Have you ever been made fun of because of your sexuality? Not directly to my face, but I can guarantee people I know had certain ~opinions~ on it when I came out. I also like just came out as pansexual versus bi, and I'm not even telling a lot of people in my personal life because I know they'll find the concept absolutely ridiculous. What would you do if you found an abandoned animal? "Depends on what type of an animal it was, and whether it was friendly or skittish." <<<< This. I'm obviously not going to try to usher a rabid dog over to me (I'd call a rescue or something if the animal appeared potentially dangerous), but if the animal appeared safe, my heart would absolutely lead me to try and get the animal to come to me so I could take it home and try to find the owner. Have you ever kissed someone who had a tongue piercing? No. What singer/band do you think deserves to be more famous than they are? Jonathan Young from YouTube. He is INCREDIBLE. He deserves to be picked up by a label so badly. What is your favorite PlayStation 1 game? The original Silent Hill, no competition. Do you think objectum sexuals are real, or attention seekers? I really can't imagine someone pretending to want to fuck their car for attention. I don't get it AT ALL, and it's weird as shit to me, but I mean, I don't think people can control what they're attracted to. How far out of your age bracket would you date? 21-early 30s, probs. Have you ever had an STD? No. Have you ever tried pho? No. Pick one: Crash Bandicoot or Spyro? Spyro!!!! I have the original trilogies of both series, but Spyro is where it's AT. Does your job allow piercings or tattoos? I'm unemployed, but I wouldn't work at a job that didn't, honestly. If you could dye your hair any color right now with absolutely no restrictions, what color would you dye it? Maybe like a galaxy-esque mixture of layered colors. I've wanted that for YEARS. Have you ever known a white supremacist? This region is swimming in them. Have you ever spoken to a detective before? No. Do ladders scare you? Climbing them does, yes. Do you have any tattoos on your arms? Yeah. Have you ever thrown up on anybody? Unless I did unknowingly as a baby, no. How many people have you turned down when they asked you out? Uhhh two or three, maybe? What is your favourite kind of fruit cobbler? I actually haven't tried enough to have an educated favorite, but I can say I love peach. Do you hear any other people talking right now? I'm watching a let's player play Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, so I hear her, obviously. When was the last time you started a new medication? It's been a while, idk. What is your favourite type of nut? Cashews, I guess. I don't really like nuts, but I definitely like cashew bars. Where did you eat the best pizza you’ve ever eaten in your life? ... Domino's lmaoooo. Did you ever watch The Rugrats when you were a kid? Yeah, I loved that show. I even had two video games. Do you know anyone who was adopted? Yes. Can you name all 50 US state capital cities? No. Can you tie balloons? I can't, actually. Have you had a deep conversation with anyone today? Yeah. I wanted Sara's advice on something I'm dealing with. On your Facebook friends list, who was the last person to have their b-day? One of my sisters' was yesterday, actually. What did you/are you having for dinner tonight? I had Special K cereal. Name some healthy foods that you enjoy eating. Strawberries, apples, bananas, (sometimes) broccoli, other things that aren't coming to me. Who was the last person you Facebook messaged? My friend Girt. What flavor was the last cupcake you ate? The cupcake itself was chocolate, and the icing was uhhhh... blue? Apart from sleeping, what do you plan to do tonight? I haven't done anything of note. I'm probably going to bed soon. What’s the age difference between your parents? Two years, I think. When was the last time you ate an apple? Today. I have been on a big sliced apples w/ peanut butter kick lately. Have you had any caffeinated beverages today? I have soda every day. :x Have you eaten any chocolate today? What kind? Mom brought me a Reese's home today when she went out with a friend. How many different towns/cities have you lived in? Three. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone special? Poems, yes. Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? Not very much physically. Emotionally... I don't know. Do you have any ice cream in your freezer? What flavor is it? No. Ice cream is my #1 comfort food, so that's a big "keep out of the house."

[ithehellisbucky]

Alpine

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: None

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff. Mentions of someone being hurt and brief discussion about the mistreatment of a cat.

Author’s Note: I haven’t written in so long, I’m so sorry. I suck at fluff apparently, which is a good note. It’s pretty short, sorry about that. Enjoy!

~

James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The White Wolf. Deadly assassin. Cat person.

This was a secret if you've ever seen one. A shame, constantly hanging over Bucky's head. But you honestly thought it was cute as hell. 

I mean, come on, he's the scariest dude you'll ever meet; but once you break through his surface he's the opposite of terrifying. He's like a burnt marshmallow, rough on the outside and soft on the inside.

So, when you saw his face light up as you walked by a pet store, you set your plan in motion. You are going to get Bucky a cat for his birthday, even if it kills you.

~

It was March 3rd, exactly a week before his birthday when your plan was set in motion. Presents were wrapped, plans were made, and all for the incredible payoff of jack shit.

A pair of socks and a new shirt, absolutely nothing. But the cat, the cat was everything. It was going to seal the deal. It was going to make this the best birthday ever.

His name was Alpine. The cat that Bucky had looked at every day when you passed the glass window. Alpine. A white, scrawny, orphan cat. Not a kitten, but a cat. A cat that would at least make Bucky's day, if not his year.

In the days leading up to Bucky's birthday, you slowly got everything in order. Bought more towels, blankets, and even cat food. Everything was in order, now, and all you needed was the cat.

~

March 10th. Bucky's birthday. The day he simultaneously loved and hated. In one way it reminded him of his life in the 30s, and in the other wasy it did the same, yet only it shone light on a different perspective.

You snuck out of bed at 8 AM. You were positive that Bucky would probably freak out if he woke up to an empty bed, so you wrote him a sweet note that said you were picking up a last-minute gift for him.

It was like something out of a spy movie; you wore a hoodie and sunglasses, in case Bucky went out on a morning run and spotted you (definitely not for the thrill of pretending you were in a James Bond movie).

First, you went to the pet store, not the shop where Alpine stayed, but at a giant pet store. You bought all the things that you couldn't easily smuggle into your apartment. Kitty litter, a crate, a collar, and a tiny little cat toothbrush that was far cuter than a toothbrush had any right to be.

After picking up all of the necessities, you drove to the pet shop. A smile spread onto your cheeks when you saw who was at the window.

It was Bucky, sweating like a pig from what you assumed was his early morning run. He was peering into the window and had a giant smile on his face as his lips formed baby talk (or cat talk I guess, but you assumed it sounded the same).

Waiting for a few minutes to enter the store was no problem, it would all be worth it to see Bucky have that same smile on his face, all day long. 

Once Bucky left the window, you instantly rushed into the store. The woman at the counter had a cheery (if not enthusiastic) look on her face, and you hoped that her service would be as great as her smile.

"Hi, I'm (y/n) Barnes, we spoke on the phone." You exclaim to the woman with a smile.

"Of course, you were seeking to adopt Alpine the cat; correct?" She returned with a grin.

"Yes, that is me," you pull out your ID to show her. 

"Great, it seems like you have most of the paperwork already filled out, if you could just fill out these few forms you'll be all set to take Alpine home." She cheerfully responded.

"Thank you so much." You reply, taking the clipboard she was handing you into your clutches.

It only took about 10 minutes to fill out the forms, and once you handed them to the woman at the counter she looked over them and then said: "Congratulations Mrs. Barnes, you are now a proud pet parent. Do you have a crate to take home Alpine, or would you like to purchase one."

"I have one, if you wouldn't mind that I pop into my car and go grab it." You could barely contain your excitement, just because this gift was for Bucky’s birthday it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a present for you as well.

You ran to your car at an almost lightning-fast speed, practically walking on sunshine the whole way there.

Once you got back into the store, the clerk was standing right next to the window. On your side of the glass, there were boxes with all the cats and dogs. It was positioned in a way where the side facing the street and the side facing you was glass. The two adjacent walls were made out of wood painted grass green, and the top was open.

There were several pillows and a water bowl in there, and he seemed slightly malnourished. "He was a rescue." The woman exclaims.

"Hm?" You ask, you were too busy looking at Alpine to register what she was saying.

"His old home abused him, eventually animal control found out and rescued him. They put him in a shelter for a couple of weeks, but he was too scared to eat or interact with any of the other cats, so we thought it would be much safer and healthier to have him live here until he got adopted."He's a pretty traumatized cat; we've only had him in for about a month, and he's not a great eater. If you do decide to adopt him, you're going to have to do a lot of work to keep him happy and healthy. I would completely understand if you didn't want to adopt him now, we have several other kittens that would be great for you and your husband."

You didn't have to think at all, you already knew your response. "No thank you, my husband walks past this shop at least once every day, and he loves Alpine. Every time he comes here, his mood instantly brightens. He's been through some shit, and so has Alpine. I think that they could help each other."

Your gaze averted from the woman and down to the white cat in front of you. 

"Alright then, I'll open the crate and you can pick him up and put him there." She exclaimed. 

The moment your fingers touched his fur, the entire world became bleached in sunshine. His fur wasn't soft by any means, but that didn't matter to you. It was obvious that he wasn't taken care of that well, and you felt yourself developing more and more resentment for anyone who helped this beautiful cat become as scared and hurt as he was.

You carefully picked Alpine up and wrapped your arms around him in a way that you hoped made him feel protected. Half-expecting him to freak out and scratch you through your shirt, you were pleasantly surprised when he did none of those things. He just simply cuddled himself closer to your chest.

"He's perfect." You whispered under your breath, just enough to make the women smile lightly.

Gently placing Alpine in the crate, you smile at his small paws prodding around the new space. He mews, and your eyes light up even more.

"Thank you so much," You exclaim with a smile to the shopkeeper.

"No problem, give me a call if you have any problems." You grin, and shake her hand.

You pick up the crate, and Alpine starts mewling at the shaking space around him. "It's okay," Reaching down to put your hand at the opening you smile when he rubs his face against your fingers.

When you walk out the door you wave at the shopkeeper. The two of you make eye contact and exchange a smile. 

As you walk back to your car you try to move as carefully as you can to not swing around the crate too much. When you reach the car you gently put the crate in the back seat. Even though you may want for him to sit next to you in the passenger seat, you know that he could get hurt.

~

When you got home, you asked the old lady named Cynthia in the apartment next to yours to watch Alpine for a little while, just long enough for you to keep Bucky's surprise going.

"Hey baby," You exclaimed as soon as you walked in through the door to your apartment.

Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book as he ate cereal. You internally winced when you realized that in your haste you had forgotten to make him a special breakfast, or at least picked up some donuts from Krispy Kreme. Bucky would never expect you to cook for him, but it still made you feel bad that he was eating cereal on his birthday.

"Hey doll, how are you doing today." You smile and walk up to him, scooting his chair back and moving to straddle his lap. 

"I'm doing okay, how about you?" You ask, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"I'm doing great now." He says with a chuckle. "I was a little bit concerned when I came home and you weren't here, but it's all good."

"Sorry, I was picking you up a present." You kiss him on the lips again.

"Can I open it right now?" He asks, moving in to kiss your neck.

You laugh, and simply respond with, "I'm not your present Bucky, I think you'll like the one I am getting you a whole lot more."

"Nonsense, you being here with me is a gift of itself, everything else is just confetti."

"Awww, baby." You tilt your head to get a better look at the adorable fluffball in front of you. "I am getting you a real present though, and I think you'll like it a lot.

"So... Do you want to unwrap presents now?" 

"Sure, sounds fun." Bucky is trying to play cool, but you can see through his eyes that he’s excited.

"Alright, I'm gonna run into the bedroom and grab them really fast, then we can open them. We'll open the rest of the presents tonight at Pepper's house."

Inside of the closet where you stashed the shirt and socks you giggle thinking about the stunt that you're about to pull on Bucky.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Bucky, happy birthday to you!" You walk in carrying the two presents in your hand, and Bucky looks almost happier than you've ever seen him before. 

Once you set both of the presents down on the ground, Bucky eagerly rips open one of the neatly wrapped packages. The second he sees that there is only a red henley inside, his face falls slightly, but he quickly picks it back up to keep the appearance of excitement on for you.

"It's great Doll, I needed another one." He reaches over and kisses you on the forehead.

He opens the second present, more slowly this time, and pulls it out carefully. His face immediately droops when seeing that it's socks. He puts on a happy face and says, "great, I love it." With as much enthusiasm as he can muster.

You let out a chuckle, even though you feel guilty for making Bucky feel bad. "I'm just kidding Baby, close your eyes and I'll have your real present in a minute."

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, and he immediately looks guilty the second after.

"C'mon baby, did you think I would play you like that?" You respond with a small chuckle. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes," you exclaim as you lean down to kiss him on the cheek.

After you leave the apartment, you pretend to stomp down the hallway, when in reality all you’re doing is going next door. You carefully knock on the door, and Cynthia opens it up almost immediately.

"Hi, is he doing alright?" You ask with genuine concern.

"Oh lovely, you're very lucky to have him, he's sweet as sugar. My cat, Vera, has taken a liking to him, perhaps you could bring him over some time for a play date?" Even though you had never heard of a cat play date, you were open to the idea.

"Sounds great!" You reply with a smile.

"Splendid, I'll go get him now." She walks back into her apartment only to shortly return with the crate.

She hands you Alpine, and you quickly respond with: "Thank you so much, Cynthia, have a great day!" She then smiles and closes the door.

You walk the few feet back to your apartment, and you open it to a crack. "Hey baby, could you close your eyes for a minute?" Bucky doesn't say anything, and just simply puts a hand over his eyes.

As you open the door, Alpine lets out a meow. You frantically look over at Bucky, but he’s none the wiser.

Once you're fully inside and have the door closed, you set the crate on the ground and open the latch, pulling Alpine out. 

"Keep 'em closed, and let your arms out." Bucky does as you told him to, and you gently place Alpine in his arms.

"You can open them now."

Bucky looks down at the white ball of fur that he's holding, and a smile immediately erupts on his face. "Is it-"

"Yeah, baby, it is." A grin spreads on your features.

Bucky doesn't say anything, just carefully plays with Alpine. He turns him to face him and smiles even more when he sees his cute little whiskers. He begins to talk baby talk to Alpine, and you can't help but giggle at this adorable display.

"His name is Alpine." Bucky looks up at you, and then back at Alpine.

"Well isn't that the perfect name for the perfect cat." He exclaims with the biggest smile you've ever seen him wear. 

He reaches towards you and pulls you closer towards him. You move from facing him, to sitting next to him, and he wraps his human arm around you.

"I love you, sweetheart." He says as he kisses you on the forehead. 

You smile and respond with, "And I love you." As you move your lips towards him to give him a kiss, which he eagerly returns.

After you finish your sweet embrace he turns down to look at the white cat that had cuddled himself into Bucky's arm. "And I love you too, Alpine."

Requests are open!

Prompt List

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

[ineffablecolors]

The Wife [24/24]

The Wife || Ch 24 ~ 8.8k || Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10 Ch11 C12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 Ch17 Ch18 Ch19 Ch20 Ch21 Ch22 Ch23 || FF.NET & AO3

Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

A/N: First, forgive me. This is half a year late but life is unpredictable sometimes and the muse - always. This last chapter is the longest of this fic and I sincerely hope it makes up for the long wait. For a moment there, I didn’t think I would be able to finish this in a way that satisfied me but I’m actually quite pleased with what you are about to read. I hope you will be too. Second, thank you. This fic has proven to be my best experience in this fandom. Thank you for all the excitement, for the gifts and for the gifs, for the long reviews and for the “loved it” reviews, for the kudos and for the likes, for the messages and for all the little jokes. I never would’ve written this without you guys. This isn’t mine, this is ours. Thank you for the love!

The silver platter hits the table with a clatter – all empty cups and plates, she didn’t know the girl could eat this much even if she forced herself, which Mrs Lucas suspects she has.

“Well?”

“’Well’, well, he says. You couldn’t have picked one that isn’t stubborn as a mule, could you?”

“If we are being precise, Liam—”

“Oh, we’re being ever so precise! So precise she won’t let her toe graze the carpet.”

Killian frowns deeply and Mrs Lucas feels her shoulders slump even before she has decided to give up being vexed with him and his lady wife.

Truth be told, Mrs Lucas was plenty relieved at first. She has seen her fair share of foolish women frequenting dances and even riding while with child. Mrs Jones deciding to remain at home looked like a blessing alright, before it became clear that the girl had decided to order herself on bedrest before one could even properly tell there was a babe growing inside her.

That was almost two weeks ago and it seems to Mrs Lucas that they have tried every trick for luring her outside. All save for the direct one.

“It seems to me that it is her husband who must talk to her.”

Killian gives her a look that is part disgruntled old man, part petulant little boy and the way his mouth works tells her he is resisting the urge to argue semantics and point out that he walks to his wife every day. Just not about what needs talking about.

///

He opens their bedroom door a couple of hours after talking to Granny, after letting Roger take him as fast as he was willing to go. He’d decided even before saddling the beast but the acute absence of Buttercup beside him or Emma pressed warm and soft again his back certainly solidified his courage.

The sun is starting to itch down and Emma’s fingers look like spun gold as they smudge the pencil lines on the sheet before her. Her ring doesn’t seem to reflect the light but rather absorb it into itself and it makes something possessive and very satisfied purr in his chest.

He sits on the edge of the bed and dives his hand under the blanket, searchingly blindly until he finds her ankle and curls his fingers around it – they close perfectly, the tips of his thumb and middle finger touching over the smooth hardness of her malleolus. He studied all the known bones in the human body in a fit of morbidness and cynical humour when he first lost his hand but the memory that comes to mind is one made in this very room, much too late into the night, and saturated with Emma’s almost constant giggles and sharp bursts of laughter as he recited all the names of her bones in the most tactile manner possible.

Now he circles the bone under his thumb and waits for her to finish drawing and look at him, not allowing himself to peak at her work, knowing she hates anyone seeing her sketches all the way until she grows either bored or pleased with them and abandons them on a windowsill. Her work was always good but he thinks it has been growing progressively better and he is having more and more difficulty holding his tongue about it until the right time.

Eventually, unhurriedly – he is both exasperated and incredibly pleased in her confidence that he will wait at the foot of the bed as long as it takes to receive her attention – she sets the sheet on the little bureau beside the bed – face down, pencil on top – and lifts her eyes to his. In the afternoon light, her eyes are golden too and this becomes one of those moments that make him very aware of how very beautiful his wife is.

He stands up and inclines his head toward the bath he sent Ruby to prepare before he came up.

“Trust me?”

It is not the layered question it might have been a year ago. It is mostly just that – I have only one hand and I want to lift you in my arms, will you trust me to do so? He doesn’t know if that is indeed what she hears, the way her eyelashes flutter, the way her mouth softens, but then she lifts her arms toward him – so innocent and child-like and trusting that Killian feels the space where his heart lies burning.

The flames in the fireplace reflect along the length of the white bathtub. There’s something different in the air, something tart and speaking of citruses because Emma doesn’t seem to like her old perfumes and soaps these days, because Ruby knows all and is – always, miraculously – prepared for it.

Killian’s arms are hard and firm as iron around his wife and yet, his step falters imperceptibly when her fingers first tangle in the ends of his hair. It’s hypnotic, euphoric. Her thumb glides over the muscles of his neck, pressing at intervals – curious and bold, as her fingers move ever so lightly through the grey strands. His hair has grown longer than is proper in the last month, he has taken advantage, delight even, in getting completely off the merry-go-round of society.

She is warm in his arms and slightly heavier – almost unnoticeable unless you are looking for that last confirmation the way he is, he stops half a pace from the tub and drops to one knee, lowering her ever so slowly into the water. She ripples all over at the first touch and he hides his grin in her hair.

“Oh, you are something else.”

He hums, inhales her before he pulls back to look in those molten eyes.

“All I am is yours, my queen.” His voice is the embodiment of reverence and supplication but the look in his eyes must betray his baser thoughts so he keeps them firmly on hers.

Her cheeks flush quickly, the warm bath and the blatant flirtation attacking in tandem, she lifts her shoulders slightly and gathers breath to pay him in kind. But he knows her ever so well, well enough to steal it again, ducking his head in the exact moment when the tops of her breasts peak out of the water and pressing his mouth to the soft skin.

It’s tempting beyond belief to touch and tease and enjoy her like this but he did in fact intend to help her with her bath and the ends of her hair are already growing heavier and darker. He rolls his left sleeve and watches her leave wet spots all over as she does for his right. He grabs a comb and shuffles behind her, pressing his body against the cool surface of the tub for relief, to keep his mind somewhat clear and starts working his way down her tresses.

“Emma.” He lays a curling strand over her shoulder and runs his knuckles over the long expanse of her throat – up and back to the nape of her neck, gathering another section of hair. “I’ve pondered— that is… I believe… love, I believe everything is going to be well.”

The air is still for a moment, the only sound the crackling from the fireplace. Then there’s a slight tug as she nods. Confirmation because of decisiveness rather than belief, he thinks.

“What I mean to say is that I want you to stop worrying.”

“I’m not worr—”

“You haven’t left this room in days.”

“My being careful does not mean I am worrying, thank you ever so.”

“Emma.”

“It does not.”

He presses his lips together and continues working the comb’s teeth between the strands of her hair. He itches all over to snuff out the tension in the citrus-scented air, to smooth his hand over her shoulder and embrace her and tell her that she is right. Alas, she isn’t always. His brother would laugh to death at him but Killian wants his wife to always be right, it makes him feel like he is losing his footing when she isn’t.

Emma’s sigh is deep, nettled but almost accepting now.

“Perhaps…,” her voice is small but she tips her head back on the edge of the tub and he can almost see her eyes. “Perhaps I’m a little scared.”

“That makes you a good deal less scared than me, love.”

She snorts – mellow and undignified and private and he drops the comb and slips his arm around her, resting his palm and forearm over her sternum and his cheek on her neck, wet hair sliding against skin.

“It’s going to be my fault if—” she starts.

“Nonsense. That is nonsense and you know it.”

“It is not. You don’t know. I feel… It feels like in all the world only I can protect this little thing that needs so much protecting.”

“Aye, I don’t know. What I do know is that you are the best protector anyone can ask for. And what you seem to forget is that… this time, this world, our world would do everything to protect you both.”

She is silent long enough that he picks up the comb again but when he takes a section of hair she hums and turns her face to the side, her lips pressing against the inside of his wrist.

///

She knows Killian means well, what is more, she suspects he might be right. But the thing is that Killian has already done this, he already is a wonderful father, he has already raised a beautiful, healthy and happy daughter. Killian could never muck this up. She just needs to be certain that she won’t either.

As with most things, Killian Jones changes her mindset and she has to give him extra credit for not even being present when doing it. It’s just that it does get insufferably boring to stay in one’s bed all day long, no matter how tall the pile of books by said bed and no matter how many different sunrises she draws. The house is still much too quiet without the girls there and somehow she manages to miss her husband any moment he is not being doting and overbearing. So, this is how Emma finds herself throwing off the thin blanket laid over her legs, wrapping herself in a shawl and tiptoeing out of her room.

“I did not know that I was married to a thief.”

Killian’s head comes up lightning fast, his neck pops audibly and his eyes widen in surprise and crinkle with joy as he finds her with a hip against his doorway. It takes him a moment and then another but Emma waits patiently for his mouth to quirk up and for him to lean back in his chair and meet her challenge.

“I’ve been called many a thing, my queen, but this is the first I’m hearing of my being a thief.”

“Everybody gets caught eventually, my heart, and you most certainly did not pay for that,” she says and nods toward the framed drawing hanging above his head.

Truly, it’s ostentatious and a little bit ridiculous to have it handing there. The sketch is good enough, if she does say so herself, but it’s old and messy and clearly abandoned much sooner than it would have been decent enough to display anywhere, let alone in a such a place of pride. It is far from the best rendition of this particular subject that she has been drawing ever since he told her.

“Oh, this?” Killian leans his head back so he can see the drawing and Emma can see the long expanse of his throat. “Why, Mrs Jones, I found this masterpiece just lying about on my property. I must say I’m rather in love with the style but for the life of me cannot seem to track down the artist.”

Emma shakes her head and moves further into the room, Killian pushes away from his desk and turns to face her as she circles his desk. She does so love every surface in this study.

“In love, are you?” she asks coyly even as she straddles his lap shamelessly.

“Hopelessly,” her dramatic husband says as both his real and wooden hand find her hips with studied accuracy and he rests his chin just below her belly, pressing a soft, absentminded kiss there that makes it flutter the way her eyelashes do. “Thank you for giving me my island, Emma.”

///

Alice and Robyn are back within a week of the three letters Emma and Killian pen, sharing the newest development in their life with their closest friends and family.

“Have you chosen a name for her yet?”

“Why are you so certain it should be a girl?” Emma asks, even though she is quite certain herself and delighted and anxious and impatient and many other feelings that she keeps stored beside her and Killian’s bed to unfold and examine only when it’s late and cloudy and just the two of them. The name of their child has yet to see the clouds of such a day.

“Oh, it is simply papa’s fate to be surrounded by ladies,” Alice answers as she winds another layer of wool around Robyn’s patiently extended forearms. Everyone but Alice is convinced that she has no idea what she is doing, mostly because she hasn’t even decided what it is she wants to make, but she and Robyn have been kneeling before the hearth and untangling Granny’s balls of wool long enough that now something simply must be done with it.

“Ladies?” Killian looks up from his papers and pulls his glasses a little down his nose, making a show of carefully surveying his surroundings. “Why, I cannot remember the last time I saw one.”

Emma gasps in a way worthy of her husband’s own theatrics even as Alice takes hold of one of the balls of wool and throws it like a true markswoman straight at her father’s head, dislodging the poor spectacles further, while Robyn agrees mournfully that she herself has forgotten what such a thing as a lady even looks like.

Emma couldn’t be happier to have them back.

///

One thing Emma never expected from her older and storm-wrought husband the first time she met him was to ever see the child that he surely must have been, the playfulness and innocence of youth. Emma remembers that assumption wobbling unsteadily the first time she saw Killian sitting on the floor and then a little more every time she watched him enjoy his cocoa a frankly undignified amount. She thinks this is the moment when the last rock of what’s left of that assumption topples, as she watches Killian lying on his stomach between her generously spread legs, head tilted to the side and tongue and teeth working over his bottom lip as he measures her breasts with his good hand with all the dedication a physician might apply to his life-saving research.

“Killian, they have not changed.”

Killian ignored her for a moment, then looks up with all the disappointment in the world gathered in his blue eyes. She suspects he positions the candles in their bedroom just so to give him the utmost dramatic flair when he himself is positioned just so between her legs.

“It is an outrage and a travesty how little attention you have paid to your own lovely form.”

“If I did, neither of us would get anything done, my heart.”

Killian’s grin is unrepentant, triumphant even.

“Precisely so, love. Thus, I am the expert on matters such as these and can assure you that differences are present, have been noted and must be properly appreciated.”

Even as she shakes her head, Emma arches her back a little off the mountain of pillows behind her, pushing her chest toward the warm radiating off of Killian. He obliges her with hand, stump and mouth and difference or not, Emma delights in being properly appreciated.

It is perhaps why the question catches her unawares later, somewhere in that state between the clearest pleasure and the deepest comfort, as she melts against Killian’s body and traces her nose along the edges of a long scar on his side – rhythmic and hypnotic and gradually putting herself to sleep.

“Have you given it any thought?”

The hum she lets him have is more than she thought herself capable of giving right now. It makes him chuckle, a hint of smugness in it that would make her roll her eyes if he had not earned it so thoroughly.

“A name. For our lass, according to all of you.”

“Oh.”

She follows that scar until her nose is buried between Killian’s hot skin and their silken sheets. Killian twitches a little and his hand tangles in her hair.

“I have no good ideas,” she mumbles somewhere under him and tilts her face so it’s now her mouth that brushes the raised skin, her tongue flicking out to taste the uneven texture. Killian groans above her and his hold tightens.

“Perhaps,” he swallows and gasps, delightfully out of control now as she digs further, following the routes on his skin and butting her head under him even as her hand slips between his legs. “Perrrhaps you could be… so good… oh, Emma, so good.”

“Mhm?”

“So… so good as to share them anyway?”

She takes her sweet time about it and he does not seem to mind terribly, not if the way he twists toward her and ruts against her is any indication. But, eventually, after she has been satisfied with his satisfaction, she comes out from under the tangle of sheets and blankets and Killian and combs the hair out of her eyes.

“I like nothing so well as to share,” she says, honest but almost petulant. “Evelyn. It’s the only one I like but not enough.”

It’s the first name spoken between them and it doesn’t fit quite the way she wants it to. Killian hums and mentions some he has considered and discarded himself.

“Mary Margaret says there is this new fashion to choose something meaningful. She and David wanted something brave. Strong.”

Killian props his chin on his left forearm and gives her a soft look, the kind that negates the need for her to ask for anything, the kind that says she just has to name it and it shall be. It always makes her feel terribly flustered, overwhelmed and rather powerful too. She wonders if that’s how queens feel at first.

“What do you want for her?”

Her lips twitch as his steady conversion, his blind trust in her equally blind belief that they are to have a girl.

“I just wanted her. And you gave her to me.”

Killian laughs, it delights her. “Rather the other way around. But after, what do you want after?”

She is still afraid to think too much about after, as if she will ruin it, if she imagines it too much. “I don’t… I just hope she is happy. I hope she is healthy and happy to be here.” She laughs, it sounds wet. “I hope she loves me.”

Killian’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth but she rushes ahead, can’t stop imagining now and it feels safer to do so here, with him.

“I hope I get to teach her to ride and Alice teaches her to shoot a bow and arrow and you teach her to read and, lord, I hope Ruby can teach her to dance because none of us will do it properly.”

She looks at Killian’s eyes and can’t tell if she loves the colour or the dark lashes or the lines around them more.

“I hope she falls in love. I… I hope…”

Killian’s eyes sparkle and the lines grow deeper.

///

Next come Liam and Elsa with all the fanfare and gifts that befits Admiral and Mrs Jones.

“She is not even born yet,” Killian grumbles even as he admires the toy horse his brother has deposited in the middle of their drawing room, on top of the table – much to Granny’s dismay and more genuine grumbling – like it’s the queen’s jewels.

“She?”

Killian’s face scrunches up and he waves a hand in the air.

“The girls have gotten into my head.”

“Then God help you when you get yet another one,” Liam grins smugly.

///

“You never asked.”

“Hmm?” Emma tears her head away from the target practice going on a few feet away from them. It’s not easy. There is something delightful about two young girls in billowing skirts embarrassing a naval admiral and captain and pushing them to the sort of language that Emma is certain neither Killian not Liam have ever permitted themselves to use off a ship before. When she looks at Elsa she has the same look on her face that she first gave her at her welcoming ball. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s quite alright,” Elsa turns her head toward the rest of their party and takes a sip of her tea. “I could hardly take my eyes off him for the first three years after we married.”

Emma smiles and resists the urge to point out that time hasn’t changed all that much for Elsa and she is quite certain it won’t for her.

“Why we don’t have children. You never asked.”

Emma’s eyes widen at the non-sequitur and Elsa’s matter-of-fact tone.

“I… I didn’t want to pry.”

She hadn’t, she hadn’t even asked Killian, too aware of how much she hoped Admiral and Mrs Jones would take their time before they start asking themselves and others the same thing about her. That and she had drawn her conclusion and felt nothing but desire to not bestir those waters.

“I never wanted to,” Elsa says in that same tone and Emma blinks at her – once, twice, until Elsa’s perfect blue eyes turn to her.

Once, after a shamefully long and indulgent dinner at their estate and a couple of glasses of cognac each, Liam Jones said that he no longer feels the need to go sailing because he has the ocean all to himself every time he looks at his wife. Killian teased him mercilessly until Emma was forced to bring to attention the fact that he has taken, perfected and elevated his brother’s talent for dropping into casual conversation the sort of lines that must belong on stage.

Elsa smiles gently at her surprise.

“Outrageous, I know. What sort of a woman doesn’t want to raise a child with her husband?”

“No, I…” Emma doesn’t know what she would have said, if Elsa hadn’t continued, it’s hard to imagine not wanting something that you’ve thought you simply won’t be allowed for so long.

“I’m simply a terribly selfish person, Emma.”

“That’s not true.”

Elsa smiles again, much more playful, the kind of smile Emma is used to from her, the kind that tells you you don’t know even as little as you think you do.

“It is. But I don’t mind. I rather like it. Love it. I love my life and my husband. I never wanted to share it or change it and I’ve never felt…”

Emma can’t help but know exactly how she herself would have finished that thought. “Incomplete?”

Elsa is surprised to find her knowing, pleasantly so.

“No. Never.” She looks back at their husbands and the girls and Emma catches the movement of her fingers, playing with her rings. She notices because it looks so out of place in Elsa Jones who is always in perfect repose. “Liam has never tried to convince me. He wanted children, I didn’t, so we weren’t to have any.”

Emma turns to look at Liam Jones who is bent in half, hands on his knees and nose almost brushing Alice’s bow as he watches with narrowed eyes how she pulls back her arrow. She has never thought him an unsatisfied man and she doesn’t now.

“I just wonder sometimes. Why he never asked again,” Elsa says, almost as if to herself.

“Would you change your mind?” Emma asks, equally quiet and utterly unsurprised as Elsa shakes her head. “That’s why.”

Elsa turns to her and gives her a brand new smile, the kind that tells Emma sometimes Elsa doesn’t know everything either and she is glad to be told.

///

Mrs Nolan comes last but she brings Leo and everybody forgets everything else the second he smiles his biggest smile and sticks Killian’s thumb in his mouth.

///

“This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Dearest—“

“Granny is in there! Why can’t I—“

“Alice, it’s… I’m sure it’s all overwhelming enough for Emma without the whole household being present.”

Robyn withstands her love’s glare admirably, if she does say so herself. Oh, Alice is sunshine made flesh and she loves her so much but when she is unhappy she rages like the wind whipping the whole world outside.

“I’m not going to overwhelm her. I want to be there! What if…”

Alice’s pacing comes to a sudden halt and Robyn furrows her brows and pushes off the wall outside Captain and Mrs Jones’s room, taking an instinctive step toward her.

“Alice, she’s going to be just fine.”

But Alice looks up at her from under her lashes and chews on her lip and Robyn realizes she doesn’t want anyone to see, let alone hear, her true fears. Robyn opens her mouth to reassure her again when Captain Jones appears at the top of the stairs and heads down the corridor toward them.

The change in Alice is instantaneous – her shoulders straighten and her eyes open and clear and she puts a little sway into her movements as she reaches out and takes her father’s hand.

For his part, Killian looks like he couldn’t compose himself even if he tried but he comes to a stop and kisses his daughter’s temple and smiles at Robyn.

“I’m sorry you have to wait outside but Doctor Hopper said—“

“It’s alright, papa,” Alice cuts him off and some of that sunshine that has kept Robyn warm even during the bitterest winter spills into the windowless corridor. “You go ahead and calls us in when she is here.”

Killian kisses her one more time and squeezes Robyn’s shoulder as he walks into the room. As soon as the door is closed behind him, Alice flushes and averts her eyes.

“Yes, I know I was just complaining about being made to wait but it’s not like he can—“

Robyn’s hand finds the back of her neck and her lips cut off the flow of her self-conscious explanation.

“I love you, Miss Jones.”

///

The youngest Miss Jones comes into the world in a tremendously dramatic fashion – a stormy night of swirling greys and dark blue, thunder and lightning and a wind that screams and screams in tandem with Emma. It’s a fact that will be cited over and over again in the years to come, mostly by Granny but certainly by her parents as well when weary enough and certainly by her sister and Ruby with all the pride in the world.

Days later, when Killian is close to throttling the poor man because Emma still can’t get out of bed on her own, Doctor Hopper will tell him that it was a perfectly normal birth – if a bit longer and a fair bit louder.

Hours later, when Alice rushes into the room and demands a proper introduction, Killian will look down at the baby he has only let go of for minutes at a time so Granny can clean her up and Emma can hold her close and introduce Hope Evelyn Jones and it fits just the way Emma wanted it to. They haven’t talked about a middle name and the way Killian looks at Emma as if he knows she will be pleased makes her as happy as hearing him say it. As happy as Alice’s little sigh of pure love and the way she leans over and presses a kiss to Emma’s temple and tells her that she loves her and makes her cry all over again.

Seconds later, when Doctor Hopper tries to hand their baby to Granny to clean her up, Killian will intercept him and take his daughter in his arms with a movement that guarantees nobody but Emma will ever know he worried about how he will hold her only days ago. It’s one of these moments in life that you know you will never be able to recall perfectly. It would be too much, to hold all that emotion inside you for the rest of time. So Emma doesn’t even try, she doesn’t do anything but watch and bask in the love on her husband’s face and the love that overfills every little place inside her when he places their daughter in her arms – pink and squealing and so so warm.

///

The strangest thing is how calm she is in the weeks after, when she can do little more than feed her baby and herself. Doctor Hopper has sworn on everything Killian could think to make him swear on that she shall recover fully and Emma believes him. She believes him because she never once feels cold.

///

“Are you certain, love?”

“She is a bitter old woman, Killian, not an infamous brigand.”

Killian gives her a look that seems to imply that he doesn’t feel like the gulf between the two is wide enough.

“I’m merely suggesting you reply that her visit will be welcome at a later date,” he says but the inflection on the word “welcome” somehow manages to turn it into its exact opposite. Emma smiles at him and lets her hand run through his hair long enough that Killian sighs in obvious defeat and drops his forehead against her shoulder. “I do not see why we shouldn’t have her wait until you have fully recovered—”

“Because I do not want this visit hanging over my head. I’d much rather have it done and over with. And what is more,” she continues quickly when she feels Killian’s lips part against her skin to most likely explain how it needn’t be done at all. “I do not care to perform for Regina’s pleasure.”

Killian is silent for a moment and she lets the silence prove her sincerity. Emma was surprised herself when she received Regina’s card and realized she did want to see her grandmother one more time. She wants to close that door very firmly, lock it and abandon the key somewhere without even bothering to throw it away. What is more, she feels a queer thrill at the thought of welcoming her now, just like this, still recovering and as far from the perfectly staged lady as she can be without outright impropriety.

“Have it your way, my queen,” Killian sighs eventually. “But the second you want her out—”

“I shall show her out myself,” she bends her head and waits for him to look up so she can press her lips against his. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Always,” he hums and scatters a few kisses over her cheeks and then down her throat – the light, soft kind that he has been giving her for weeks, the kind that she loves with her very soul but also make her skin tingle with an impatient desire for the future.

“I would like you to take the girls away, however. I don’t want her around them.”

Killian breathes out against her collarbone and swipes his thumb over the sharp raise of it before he glances up. “And I do not want to leave you alone.”

Emma huffs a little but decides she could give him that, knows she would like to have him close, just in case, just in case Regina’s presence affects her more than she thinks it will have the power to.

“Alright. You can have Hope, Robyn can take Alice out. Just for an hour. Just—I don’t want her near my daughters.”

His thumb stops, barely pressing into her skin, and Killian looks up at her. Fortunately, by now, Emma has learnt how to meet the steady and deep – bottomless, utterly without end, without corner or condition or caveat – press of Killian’s love. She has become something of an expert at how to welcome it, fold it and hold it and keep it. It feels indulgent and almost blasphemous every time, especially when there is so much happiness and gratitude mixed in with it like now. She takes it gladly.

///

Mrs Lucas bustles up the stairs at a speed that she thought she’d left behind in her years of running after little Miss Alice. She supposes it’s a good thing to check and find that she is still capable of it and the thought of the new miss running through the house before long manages to break a smile on her face even in her current foul mood. But that would be then, this is now and there is nothing but fury propelling Mrs Lucas toward the master bedroom.

When she storms in, Emma looks up at her as if it’s any other day. She is in bed but on top of the covers, a light blanket thrown over her legs and a shawl over her shoulders, her hair is messy, braided only at the very end, the way she does it when she’s had her hands empty for a moment too long. Mrs Lucas feels a rush of fondness coming up her throat so violently she think she is going to belch. It steels her resolve.

“Now, Captain’s saying you know all about this and, what is more, it’s you who talked him into allowing it. But I’ve spent too long around you two and watched you consume too much sugar right before bed to mind too much about what either of you says first time around. So, you tell me now and I’ll take that old wretch by whatever’s left of her hair and drag her out the door myself.”

Emma’s eyes are wide for a second and Mrs Lucas has the strange feeling that now this girl truly knows her. Then the skin around her eyes crinkles and she shakes her head and extends a hand toward her.

Mrs Lucas huffs and keeps away, hands on her hips and her mouth set in a steel line for all of five seconds because this damn house has made her soft as an overkneeded ball of dough. She steps forward and takes Emma’s small hand and bends forward to press her closer against her bosom because no matter how much Emma’s appetite has grown, her hand is still a fragile little thing in Mrs Lucas’s wrinkled palm.

“Let her up,” the silly girl says. “And make that godawful tea you keep at the very back for business meetings Killian wants over as quickly as possible.”

///

After all the fuss, Regina’s presence when she enters the room is rather anti-climatic. Emma hadn’t even considered how the couple of years in which they hadn’t seen each other might have changed her grandmother, and even if she had, she doubts she would’ve imagined this.

Regina’s hair is almost entirely grey now and the rigid and undoubtedly very carefully chosen coiffure cannot quite hide how thin it is in places. Her face is as cold and severe as always and there aren’t that many more wrinkles to tell of the passing of time but it’s her hands that shock Emma. If Regina were truly the evil witch everybody says she is, Emma would think she had cast a spell to gather all of her age in her hands – wrinkled and spotted and claw-like as they clutch her cane. The cane is new, as well, and obviously terribly expensive, black and shiny and looking like a rod for all that is bitter in the world. Emma is glad Regina didn’t have it when she was living under her roof.

“Most women would be out of bed and taking care of their child and household by now.”

Regina’s voice has always been cold but now it sounds like it has turned to icicles in her throat and pains her slightly as she talks. Her opening is the first thing that slots right into place in Emma’s expectations and almost makes her smile sardonically.

“You look well, Regina.” She allows herself this one jab, she does not care to play a game of veiled insults with Regina but this one slips out before she can stop it and, if the look in Regina’s eyes is any indication, it lands right on target. Emma gestures toward the armchair set beside a small table a little way from their bed, not too close.

Regina liked to stand tall and rigid over Emma for most of their life but it seems to cost her too much effort now. Her back stays as straight as possible, her hands spider like and just as restless. This is also new and Emma does not care to observe for too long.

“The child?”

“With her father,” Emma says with a finality that should alert Regina to the likelihood of seeing Hope with her own eyes.

“Your servants could certainly improve on their manners,” she says next and this time Emma does let the corner of her mouth quirk up. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to run a tight household from your bedchambers.”

“Captain Jones and I find them perfectly suited for us.”

She can see the reply in Regina’s cold and sharp eyes but that is when Granny comes in to bring the tea and display her improvable manners. The look Regina gives her assures Emma that they will be coming back to her household’s shortcomings but she turns in a different direction when the door closes behind the cook.

“Yes, I suppose your husband must be less than concerned with propriety to be taking care of his babe, while his wife lazes around in bed weeks after it is all done.”

Emma has the vague notion that such a comment from Regina should incite things in her but all it does is make her crave the image of Killian with their daughter in his arms, which she is sure to be treated to as soon as Regina leaves.

“Frankly, Emma, I believe you should thank me. I don’t know who else would’ve put up with you.”

She hears the tinge of annoyance, almost desperation, in Regina’s voice and realizes her grandmother is now grasping, scrambling for whatever she came here for. Emma is not certain what it is exactly that she is withholding but she knows full well what it is that Regina doesn’t want to hear.

Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? Because Regina’s not wrong and for this one thing Emma doesn’t mind admitting it. Emma’s smile is serene and she would think herself benevolent but for the twinkle in her eye that makes Regina’s spider-fingers spasm.

“Thank you, Regina.”

///

She wakes up next to the inferno that is Killian even barefoot and on top of the covers. His left sleeve is rolled up to his elbow, the right one just pushed up, his wedding ring catching the sunlight as he holds his papers in front of him, his glasses hanging precariously on his nose.

Emma pulls herself up and huffs at the way the pages drop to the bed and his hand immediately settles on her arm.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. Better,” she says pointedly. She is not perfect but she has been better every day, yet every day he fusses just as much as the one before. “Where’s Hope?”

He kisses her sweetly and she pushes his glasses up before they fall on her face, then takes his hand off her arm so she can roll up his right sleeve properly.

“Ruby took her about an hour ago but I’m sure Mrs Lucas has gotten her hands on her by now.”

Emma feels the stretch in her smile at that. When Granny holds their daughter in her arms you can’t tell she can ever be anything but smooth edges and soft places and softer lullabies.

“You should have some breakfast, let me—”

“Can I have it outside?”

Killian’s already on the edge of the bed but he turns back at that – his face a mix of anxious hope and consternation.

“Emma, I don’t think you should be walki—”

“That’s what I have a strong, gallant husband for,” she says and makes sure her smile is enticing and not just plain spoiled as she throws off the blankets and extends her arms in a gesture he has never once been able to refuse.

Killian developed an amazing fascination with carrying her around during her pregnancy, even when there was no need and long after it was probably advisable for his back, the way his face positively melts tells her that their daughter’s birth hasn’t changed anything in that respect.

“That you do, my queen.”

He helps her change into something less prone to blow in the wind than her nightgown and shrugs on his coat directly over his shirt, which Emma decides is definitely a look they should revisit when she can appreciate it properly, and takes her into his arms.

There is nothing quite like being carried in Killian’s arms. It’s not just how safe she is, it’s how precious it makes her feel. The thought never fails to make her blush and she promptly buries that blush in Killian’s neck.

After months of this, they navigate doors and corridors and stairs with barely a thoughts and she is being lower on the swing in the garden before anyone has probably even noticed they’re outside. Killian disappears through the back door of the kitchen, much to her displeasure, because he claims food is more beneficial to her than being able to lie in his lap. Emma disagrees but she is more than willing to have both.

They stay out long enough for her to track the movement of the sun, long enough for Granny to find them and roll her eyes at them in a way that Emma knows means she likes what she sees.

“The little miss is hungry,” she says with all the reluctance of someone who would give anything to not have to let go of the baby in her arms.

Emma grins as Killian wraps his arm around the entirety of her waist and helps her to sit up and lean against him. Confined to bed as she has been, she is more than aware of the tug of war in the house and how anyone who manages to get Hope in their arms will keep her there until they have no other choice. She has seen Ruby folding the bedsheets in their room one-handed and Killian somehow juggling baby, ledger, pen and inkwell with only two spillages as a result.

So, Emma feels rather smug in her privilege. They can hoard her baby all they want, eventually they all have to hand her over to be fed, and as Granny settles Hope in her arms and Emma feels the warm weight and the sweet smell of her, she really can’t begrudge them the hoarding.

However, she can and does begrudge Killian the speed with which he steals their daughter’s attention with barely a finger pressed to her pink little nose.

“Killian, my breasts are bared to the whole world,” she huffs, even though there is no one else around.

“I know,” she doesn’t even need to see the grin on his face. “I’m paying rapt attention, love.”

“You are distracting her.” She tries to be stern but it is so very difficult when she is practically molded to his side and he is making Hope smile her big toothless smile and making the most embarrassingly endearing sounds next to her ear.

“Am I, princess? Am I distracting you? Are you not giving mummy’s luscious breasts the attention they deserve?”

“Killian!” And she is scandalized and indignant, she really is, but she is also laughing so loud her sides ache a little.

///

Killian combs Emma’s hair back and watches his daughter’s blissful face as she feeds. His hand stays, stroking and scratching lightly, running his long fingers carefully through the tangled strands even though no pin has come anywhere near her hair in weeks, maybe months, and he raises his left forearm to Hope’s back, the whisper-soft hairs at the back of her neck brushing against the hard skin at the end of his wrist. He can’t feel that but he feels the way Emma drops her head back, closing her eyes and entrusting them both entirely to his arms and he presses his smile against the crown of her head.

///

Mary Margaret declares herself utterly enamored the second Hope spits on her shoulder. It takes another hour, during which Mrs Nolan wastes no time in adopting the habits of the household and refuses to let anyone else hold the happily gurgling baby in her arms, for her to come up with the idea that nothing will be better than a match between Leo Nolan and Hope Evelyn Jones.

Emma watches Killian and Mary Margaret haggle over the advantages and disadvantages of this only slightly premature plan and cannot help but wonder if Killian is so scandalized because “she was literally just born” or because he didn’t think of the match himself.

///

Emma is just pouring out the cocoa when she hears the door open behind her. She glances over her shoulder, surprised at the sight of Robyn – not at seeing her there but rather at the rumpled state of her, the sweet, almost child-like way she is rubbing her eyes and the braid that’s keeping less strands in place than letting them fly around. Alice and Emma and even Killian, but never Robyn – she cannot remember ever seeing Robyn on the verge of sleep.

“I could hear Granny grumbling all the way down the hall,” the young woman teases and Emma just rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry. Killian and I have decided that we shall be introducing Hope to hot cocoa as soon as we can. Just wait and see how quickly Granny decides sugar before bed is the most precious idea in the world.” She offers Robyn a cup but the girl just shakes her head – she doesn’t have Alice or Killian’s sweet tooth and she does look like she is just about to lie down and go to sleep on the kitchen floor. She also looks very, very amused and a little impressed.

“You guys are ruthless.”

“Are the rest still awake?”

“Not for the last hour,” Robyn says and Emma laughs and picks up her tray.

“Are you coming?” She asks at the door but Robyn shakes her head and yawns, her impeccable timing making Emma laugh again as she heads into the corridor. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Emma. Please direct her upstairs when she wakes.”

Emma smiles as she nears Killian’s study and pushes the door slowly, in no rush to wake Alice or anyone else just yet.

She is less used to seeing them here, in this smaller, darker room that is more Killian than anyone else. That must be why her breath backs up into her throat and the mugs rattle on her tray as she looks at Killian behind his desk. His chair is pushed back, almost all the way to the window, his hair is very dark and the silver streaks in it seem to catch all the moonlight outside, his spectacles reflect the fire at the other end of the room, his left forearm is bare and wrapped securely around one dozing daughter while the smaller one is sleeping soundly in his right elbow, pressed close to his rest. Alice must have been holding the book he was reading but it’s now lying face down in her lap, precariously close to toppling to the ground.

It’s a lot for one chair and Killian looks like he has never been more comfortable in his life. When he dips his chin and looks at her over the tops of his glasses Emma feels his contentment travel down her own spine. She sets the tray on the desk and is just wondering if she can lay down on the settee and go to sleep just staring at them, when Alice grumbles and snorts sharply and jerks a little, book finally falling to the floor. Emma bends to pick it up and snorts, giving her husband a pointed look.

“Aren’t pirate stories a bit on the nose for a naval captain?”

“A good pirate story cannot be resisted,” Killian and Alice say at the same time and Emma sits on the floor with the book because… well, she is a little overwhelmed with how much she loves them is all.

Alice laughs sleepily, stretches and kisses her father’s cheek, then promptly steals the baby in his arms. She ignores Killian’s grumbling completely but stops by Emma to allow her a kiss goodnight.

“We’ll be up in a moment.”

“No, you won’t.” Alice grins before losing interest in them completely and bending her head over Hope as she whisks her away, telling her all about how their parents eat too much sugar and go to bed too late.

Emma shakes her head and looks at Killian.

“We need to be careful or—“ The words die in her throat as she is confronted with the very incriminating scene of Killian with his eyes closed in bliss and his nose buried in one of the mugs she brought. It would be easier to get the sun back in the sky than to stop her gentle laughter.

Killian looks at her and pushes his bottom lip forward, a trace of chocolate smeared on the inside of it.

“What? I have been left cold and bereft.”

“Oh?” Emma raised her eyebrows and takes her laughter down to a simmering smile as she gets to her feet and sways toward him. “Do you need me to warm you?”

If there was ever a double entendre, this should be it and yet. She settles against him with her legs swung over the arm of his chair and her head nestled perfectly innocently in the crook of his neck, feeling the spaces where the girls were and where the cold must have rushed in upon their departure. It gives her more pleasure than straddling his thighs would have – to warm him. So, Emma gratefully takes the second mug Killian offers her and relaxes completely, feeling the lift and fall of her husband’s every breath against her.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

She watches him place his mug on the desk and his hand settles on her knee, drawing little circles over it with his ring finger.

“Do you want to get married again?” he asks and continues on when she doesn’t immediately answer. “We can do it properly, invite Mr and Mrs Nolan and Nemo and Belle, the girls will be there and— or it can be just them. Just them and us, in the garden again or anywhere you like. Somewhere by the sea perhaps or—“

She has been surveying his study – the book still on the ground, the baby blanket Granny made for Hope on the settee and the ribbon Alice must have left on the mantle, the island drawing hanging over their heads, the mugs of cocoa on his desk – and now she twists around to kiss him and goes on kissing him and kissing him.

She can hardly remember the last time they kissed like this – long but chase, with nowhere else to go, nothing more to do. It reminds her of the first time she kissed him, she wonders if it reminds him of that night too because his lips keep twitching under hers.

“Do you always smile so much when you kiss a woman, captain?”

He pulls half a breath away from her and keeps smiling.

“It would appear I do.”

“I don’t want another wedding, my heart.”

“No?”

She watches his face carefully but he doesn’t look disappointed, he doesn’t look like he is missing a single thing in the world. She remembers coming into this room minutes ago and knows it’s because he isn’t. She shakes her head.

“No. I never wanted to marry you,” she lets her own lips tick up and takes his hand in hers, their rings clicking together as she leans forward again so her lips brush his as she speaks. “I just wanted to be your wife.”

*******

If you really enjoyed this monster of a fic, I have one of those Ko-fi things. I will also be crying over having finally completed it for the next week so come join me whenever.

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[borhap-au]

Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

Joe’s girl feels down and needs him to be there for her.

 He knew something was wrong. You could see it from just looking at him. He wasn’t like he always was. He was not playful, he didn’t crack jokes. He didn’t smile. He knew you felt bad. And – what broke your heart to a thousand pieces – he thought it was his fault.

“Please, please, please, just tell me” he looked you deep in the eyes, holding your hands in his. He was leaning towards you, sitting on the chair opposite you. Your mind was pure chaos. You knew well what was bothering you, despite telling him you were just in bad mood, without a reason. Yet it was so hard to say out loud. It wasn’t a one-time thing, it was happening for quite a long time… And you never truly admitted to anyone what was going on in your head. But it was the right time, the only right time if there ever was one. Right here and there – just to reassure the man you loved more than anything else in the world that it was not his fault.

“Where do I start… Well, fuck. Do you really feel like listening to all this? Because it is a long story, and as much as it’s important to me, I know nobody else cares, so…” you started. You honestly doubted he was ready for what’s about to come. He probably thought it was just about a stupid fight with your friend, or that you didn’t fit in your favourite jeans. He didn’t know how deeply it was rooted in your brain.

“Yes. I am ready and willing to listen to you no matter how long you want to speak. Please, tell me everything. I’m begging you” you smiled sadly looking at him. Despite feeling down you knew one thing – Joe was perfect. He was the perfect boyfriend, he was so loving, caring, so sweet. And you wanted to give him much more than you believed you were.

“I hate myself” he wanted to interrupt, but you didn’t allow him. “Just let me get all of this out of my chest. Then you can say whatever you want about it.” He nodded slowly letting you proceed.

“It’s not a new thing, I did since I was like… 12? You know, I was one of the cool kids when I was very young. I was believed to be pretty, smart, interesting. Always told by everyone I will go far, I will go wherever I want actually. Got the best grades, boys were interested in me, I had expensive clothes, beautiful hair… You know, the things that are important when you’re 12. And then I entered my teenage years and the reality hit me. Hard. I got much fatter than I used to be, I got acne, I heard for the first time that I’m ugly. We got new subjects and there were kids I could never catch up with, because I prefer languages, history. I was never good at physics or PE. I realised I’m more of an introvert type. I got less and less popular. I had a really toxic best friend that bent my worldview, but also my self-esteem. I was always in her shadow and at her every wish. I’m pretty sure my parents just got me because well, they… happened to have me. Neither of them is really meant to be a parent, they don’t know what they’re doing, really. And when I got into my rebel phase, they never understood me. They still don’t. Nobody in my family really does. They’re all like: “socialize more” or “lose some weight” or “all your problems start with you.” Well of course they start with me, Karen, I am the problem! I’m never good enough. All the people around me make me feel bad about who I am. I’m an introvert, and logically, there is nothing bad about it. It’s just the type of personality I have. But no. “You should go out! Meet people! You’re like a freak all by yourself in your room. You don’t socialize because you have no friends, is that the case?” Or if I’m shy and I don’t feel ready to be an adult yet, I’m scared to go on a job interview, I don’t like strangers, I have a fear of being rejected. And it is not my fault. I’m just that kind of a person. I do make money, just differently, I teach a few kids I know. But no, all the other people my age make fucking millions. “Oh, your cousin has bought a house. Your friend is balancing three job and college. Oh, my friend’s son is travelling all around the world.” Oh, well, good for them for fuck’s sake. I’m not like them. I’m not perfect. Just tell me I’m a fucking disappointment already. Just disown me. Because all of those little comments just make me feel like shit. And yes, it took me years to find a boyfriend so I obviously heard about it too. “Oh, you’re just jealous it’s not you.” No, I’m not jealous. And even if I was, I still wouldn’t like listening about other people’s love and sex life. I’m just not interested in those things. Honestly, I try to be a good friend, but when you’re the only single person that constantly need to give advices to those in relationships… It gets tiring. And of course nobody has ever been proud of me, not since childhood. I try, and try, and work my ass off and when I for example score 90% from a very difficult exam, all I hear is “why not 100%?” I’m not smart enough. I stress about everything. And when I stress, I eat. So I can’t just get slimmer. I can’t get motivation to work out, because I can’t get a motivation to live. I don’t feel like getting out of bed. I’m not smart, pretty, skinny… Not even interesting or charming. I’m annoying. I can see in people’s eyes they had enough of me few minutes into our conversation. I always feel worse, like I’m not good enough for anything, like literally everyone’s better. At everything. I don’t have my own thing. And even if I find something, soon people turn to the person that is better than me. I’m not anyone’s favourite person-"

“Oh no, I need to interrupt you here. You are MY favourite person. You are my favourite person on the whole planet. And I’m really sorry you don’t see how beautiful you are. I know the girls in the magazines look differently. And good! Because they are not real. They’re photoshopped. And we are made to believe this is what we want – this is what girls should look like, and in those kind of women we are supposed to fall in love with. But they don’t exist. To achieve such a small flat stomach you would have to get rid of all your organs. It doesn’t work like this. You are slim. You are beautiful. Why do we even care about the standards of beauty other people tell us we should have? You are my standard of beauty. I’ve never seen more beautiful eyes or smile in my life. I look at you and I just immediately smile to myself, thinking how lucky I am and how happy you make me feel. When you’re laughing, goofing around, when you do absolutely anything. They make money on dieting, sport related things, “healthy” food, proteins, whatever. They want us to hate ourselves. To always try to achieve the impossible. Because then we buy more. Because we are sad, depressed. Easily manipulated by the media. And I don’t want you to let them win. Because you are so fucking beautiful, girl, I had a crush on you since the first day we’ve met. I adore your body. I cannot take my eyes off you when you’re walking past me. You are the reason I’m happy and I want to be the same for you. And I am proud of you. I’m incredibly proud of every single achievement you attain. I always tell people what a good person you are, how loving and caring you are. I notice everything. And if you got 90% from a test I know damn well there is not a single person that got 100%. Because nobody is better than you are. And nobody knows more about the things you’re passionate about. And to me there’s nobody that can overshadow you. You are the one and only, the only one I see when you walk into a room. You’re your own light. And you have enough to give me a bit of that too. Because this is what kind of person you are. You give instead of taking from people. You are very special. And anybody who doesn’t see how blessed they are to have you in their life can go fuck themselves. I see it and I know that I am. You mean so much to me. And I see that you’re trying and honestly in the circumstances given, you really do well. You don’t have to compare yourself to others. They all had a different start. They came from a different place, they had different people around them. Especially since you only had people discouraging you. You achieved it on your own. You owe it all to yourself. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with being an introvert, when will people acknowledge that? It’s not a mental disease like they want it to appear. “15 ways for introverts to appear as extroverts!” What about manuals for extroverts to be more quiet and understanding sometimes? And you never disappointed me. Since we’re together I’ve been so much happier and I really wish I could do the same for you. I don’t know where I’m making the mistake-“ you stopped him with a kiss.

You were listening to all that he was saying not believing this man is yours. He was like a blessing, he understood everything you had in your mind and was able to help you understand very important things too. And he loved you. Loved you more than you allowed yourself to believe. He was genuinely interested in you and your problems. He wanted to help, however he could. He even blamed himself for not doing more. Yet he did so much more than anyone else in your life before. In that brief moment, you felt happier. You knew it wasn’t the end of fighting for your happiness, it was just the beginning. But you finally felt like you wanted to fight. He made you want to take appropriate steps to change the voice in your head. Because for once you felt like someone actually wants you to be better, but in a sense that they cheer for you, not that they’re disappointed in who you are. And you knew it’s a long fight and there will be many defeats. You knew the excitement you felt now won’t last forever. But the moment you felt his lips on yours, his hands on your back, bringing you close, you knew you had a reason to fight for your happiness for. He was your reason.

“Believe me or not, I actually feel better now… It was good to finally talk to someone about it. But please don’t tell me that you feel bad, because it’s your fault… It isn’t. It started happening long before I met you. I don’t expect you to come into ruins and build a castle from them. I just love you so much for the fact you enjoy what you’re seeing for the reasons others hate it.” He smiled a bit petting your cheeks with his thumbs and kissed your forehead.

“I love you very much. And if they don’t see how amazing you are, it’s their loss, not yours. You have the people that truly care around you. You have me. And you will have me as long as you need me. I’m here, always. Call me at 3 AM, no problem. Text me and I’m here. Stay over at my house whenever you please, fall asleep in my arms if that calms you. Let me know if you need my attention more than usually. Hit me up when you need someone to encourage you. I will do all of it for you, and more, but please, just let me know you need those things. I’m not a mind reader, although I wish I was. I cannot help you if you won’t tell me something’s wrong.” He looked at you concerned. After all, he still wasn’t sure if he did enough. He was truly worried. He really cared.

“Only if you promise me that you will do the same. Maybe you think I don’t know it, but I do. You feel down sometimes too. And I don’t want to feel like I’m nosey and I try to dig out something you don’t want to tell me about. But I do care so much about you, and I want you to tell me, always. If I see that you don’t, I won’t tell you either. Either we’re both in this relationship, caring for each other and helping each other, or… There is no deal. I don’t want you to suffer quietly and then come here to help me. Men can feel bad too. You should allow yourself for it, rather than keeping it in and pretending all is fine. Men can be emotional, men can cry. And you can cry on my shoulder whenever you want. I’ll do anything I can to help you overcome your problems.” He sat on the couch next to you and you leaned on him, snuggling. He pet your back.

“I promise you. Actually, there’s something- I didn’t tell you this before, but I really like when you ask me all those little questions. Like how am I, is everything alright, did I took everything, how was my day, am I feeling well physically and mentally, did I dress appropriately, didn’t forget to eat… It may seem stupid, but I really love those things. They make me realise how much you care for me, to take time to think about those things. And I like resting my head on your stomach hugging you in bed. It makes me feel close to you, I love hearing your heartbeat. Those little things are important to me.” He smiled slightly when you nodded making sure to remember all of it.

“I like when you text me first thing in the morning. And when you come here out of the blue. I like when you’re showing me affection, hug me, hold my hand, caress my body. I like when you speak about your emotions. I like when you say”

“I love you” you both said at the same time and you smiled.

“Exactly. And I love that you listen.” You added.

“Because you listen too. I have boys who listen to me when I’m excited about sports; mom, if I want to talk about job opportunities or my dreams… I can always find someone who listens if I talk about good things. Nobody else listens when I feel down. Nobody else but you. You understand the importance of my mental health. I hope one day you’ll understand how important your health is. How important you are. ‘Cause to me, you mean everything.” He kissed your head.

“If one day I feel like I’m good enough, it will be thanks to you.”

“You are so much better than just that. You could fucking own the world if you wanted to. You can do, achieve, whatever you really want. You are a queen to me. I love you to the moon and back. And I’m so fucking proud to call you my girl. You just make other people happy. You make me happy. You know how much it’s worth? In the world where everything brings you down? It’s priceless. You are priceless. And I don’t know what more to tell you other than this girl – the one I have in my arms right now – is the reason I go out of bed, if feel like I’m flying instead of walking and whenever I know you got interested in something new, I can’t wait to hear you talking about it, gesticulating and being all excited. I love it. I love those moments with you. I’m always happy when I know we will meet on that day. It makes me feel alive.”

You listened to him carefully. He was better than you could imagine him. You knew he really would come at 3 PM to comfort you if you asked him to. And it was so important to have someone like that in your life.

“I don’t know what to say either. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too. From the moment you said you want to be with me, the life has been surreal. I feel like it’s all just a perfect dream. I’m in coma and I will wake up and you will be gone, my angel.”

“I’m here, Joey. I’m as real as it gets. Why are you here, though, I cannot understand.”

“Because you make me happy. I don’t feel obliged to be with you or any other bullshit the voices have been telling you. Actually, I would be happy if you became my wife one day. Because if I spent my life making sure you feel great and loved, then I would consider my life to be a fulfilling one. I’m not here because I have to, or something like that. I need you. My beautiful, intelligent, attractive, charming girl. My best friend. Just please, stay with me. Just as long as I make you happier than others would. If you find someone better, I will step aside. Because I genuinely only care about your well-being. I love you so much it hurts when I’m not around you.”

“Do you mean all this?” it’s like he’s been reading your mind. He told you exactly what you needed to hear.

“Every single word. Please, just try anything to be happy and I promise to be there, on the way with you, cheering for you and telling you how proud I am for every little step. And I mean all of this too.”

“Who would I be without you?” You asked rhetorically. You knew the answer was “nothing”, but you didn’t want to say it, since it would hurt him to hear you saying it about someone he loved so much.

“An ambitious girl with a bright future in front of her. Honey, you would be exactly who you are right now. I don’t make you whole, you are whole. I’m just an addition. You don’t necessarily need me, but you want me, and I’m happy and proud of it. And I will stay as long as you want me to. Helping you achieve what you would achieve on your own anyway and hopefully much more. I will not leave you. I’m here, for you. Always.”

[velvetv0nblack]

An open letter;

(Possible trigger warning)

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, maybe because this theme of abuse has be something I’ve been experiencing as a third party, the person removing the victim this time, you know the role many of my friends filled within our tumultuous relationship... maybe it’s because my friends abuser is now threatening and harassing me for helpingher leave... maybe it’s because I’ve finally found my therapeutic dosage of lithium, am in a clear mind and are therefore able to reflect properly for the first time in my life... or maybe it’s because this is not an apology, I mean maybe it is if you had only been a serial cheat, but the truth is you fractured my skull and cut me open with a knife, so this is not a fucking apology. Also I’d rather rip my own eyes out of my skull, smash them with a hammer, and then inject the liquid into my ass than actually engage you in any kind of conversation, so knowing that this is the one platform you can still check for me on, I’m going to post this here... Its about time I had my say without putting myself in physical danger.

You would think I wouldn’t have an essay to correct your 3 lines of a nothing apology, but here we are I guess.

This kind of self deprecating “I wasn’t good enough for you” narrative is truly infuriating, and not because you were actually good enough for me but because of the very reasons you proved yourself not be “not good enough”. You weren’t undeserving of me because you didn’t work, I am physically incapable of doing so myself and I didn’t fall in love with you because you came across mad motivated. You weren’t undeserving of me because you took drugs, drank like a fish or smoked like a chimney, we were both purposefully killing our selves in the same way. You weren’t undeserving of me at all, until you fucked my best friend in the bathroom and collectively gaslit me into wondering if I was imagining the whole thing, and slowly but systematically broke down my confidence and support network away from me. I want this to be very clear; the reason you do not deserve me or any other decent human being is because, you are an abuser, you abuse people.

I was barely a whole person when I met you. I was barely an adult. I had lived through so much already, and had been abused in every area of my existence. I was easy pickings to you. The issue was you were not a pawn to me, a player in any game, or any of that. To me you were this fascinating, beautiful soul, to me you were someone who needed my love who needed someone to support you and I couldn’t believe that you chose me to fill that role. I was freshly 18 that month, and I had just had a flat mate steal £3k and kill my kitten.

I weighed all of 63lbs that night you lost the plot on me because I didn’t want to go to Big Red to watch that actual cunt of a waitress smile at me as she gave you lap dances, it’s not even a dance joint it was a fucking bar. You allowed other people to emotionally abuse me with you for months up until this point and I just didn’t want to go, all I wanted was the keys and I would of gone home alone and gone to bed. Why you feel the need to publicly humiliate me again instead of just leaving it? You couldn’t just go be adulterous without me watching and hurting, so you followed me home, screaming at me the whole time. You told me I was pathetic, you hated me, I should just kill myself- on a bus on a Saturday night, from the bar I worked in, in soho, back to our place near Caledonian Road. I was so unstable anyway, undiagnosed autism, misdiagnosed mental health issues, on the wrong if any medication, deep within the throws of an addiction and eating disorder... you. I couldn’t take you verbally ripping my heart out anymore when I decided that throwing myself from our 3rd story window would hurt less. The fact I could of died isn’t what made you grab me and stop me jumping, no in fact you told me you don’t care if I kill my self as long as it’s not in the flat, you were much more concerned with the amount of drugs in the flat and the prison opposite our window. At that point you threw me full pelt across the other side of the room, all 63lbs of me flew through the air like a paper aeroplane and smashed directly into your guitar. You know your beloved custom Les Paul? The headstock came off, and at that very moment despite the fact you were the one who threw me, my life was the one in danger. You started strangling me and threatening to have men come down to London to gang rape my then 14 year old sister. It gets a little fuzzy, that’s what your brain does when you experience potentially life ending trauma. I do know I ended up with stitches in my lips and hands, that you fractured my right eye socket- that I still suffer issues with to this day- and had black bruising covering my entire body like a bus had hit me.

For a couple of years there my brain completely blocked out important details of that night, and a lot of our relationship. Don’t worry though periodically I have the real type of flashback where I relive these events and I come back to reality remembering more than I ever wanted to. I’m yet to even touch on the fact that whilst I may of been able to escape you in waking life, my dreams are perpetually stuck in this horrific PTSD dream land, a town that is a mash up of all the places I’ve been traumatised in my life, the place you eternally reside inside my head to traumatise me whilst I desperately need to rest. You haven’t really left my life despite the efforts I have made to avoid you (I think I’ve seen you once, from a distance once at Download 2 years ago, my heart fell out my ass, and I dragged Camilla in another direction) I have only 2 dreams in 6 years that haven’t included you chasing me down to finish what you started and kill me or keep me captive. But that’s what trauma does, and oh how you traumatised me.

I really loved you though, that’s why I stayed, and those couple times I tried to leave before I came back. I loved you so unconditionally that it took me realising that everyone else around us was so complicit that they’d help you hide by body. To this very day I cannot believe a man, a male roommate, walked in on you pinning me into a sofa by my neck, with both your planted knees on top of my chest, full weight suffocating me, biting the end of my nose until it was blackened and he had the audacity me I needed to calm down. I have to label the guy the world biggest pussy in my head so I don’t get wound up about it.

I wasn’t perfect, I can never be perfect, I have more imperfections than most. I am severely mentally and physically unwell- I sure as hell am a pain in the ass to love- however I cannot actually think of a damn thing I did to deserve constant unending emotional abuse, threatens and follow through of physical abuse and then after I left stalking and harassment. I am difficult but I am not deserving of abuse and that’s all you gave me in the end... unless of course you “needed your baby girl to suck your dick” - that was the only time you were ever nice to me, and I know because I recently read back a bunch of our texts and you flipped between “I hate you, I’m gonna kill you/kill your self” to “I need my beautiful girl to come and suck my dick I love you so much” is actually fucking insane. - Should I bring up the fact you would bang pathetic girls on the scene and then dicknotise them into stalking and harassing me with you? Because... what I had the audacity to leave a man, of over 6ft tall, who would become violent to my 5ft 63lbs self?

So yeah, you didn’t deserve me, but not because of any self deprecating attention seeking reason but because you’re a sociopath, who seems to take pleasure in fucking with vulnerable women.

Am I happy? Now that’s a fucking difficult one to answer.

I ended up homeless on and off for a year. Despite the homelessness I had suffered before this was worse because of the place I was in mentally.

You caused me to develop complex PTSD.

You caused me to have a 3 year long psychotic break.

You caused me to live in secure supported housing, where I was prayed upon by other residents.

You caused me to fall victim to abuse within the system

Not sure if you know this but our mental health services sucks ass, after leaving you I had a delightful therapist that would text me telling to kill my self and would tell me you were right to abuse me.

But I got one thing from our relationship, I fine tuned my “four Fs” ...I no longer freeze or fight in the face of difficulty... I developed an ability to fawn.

Dead ends are no longer in my eyeline, I will metaphorically straight on walk through someone else’s house to get where I need to be, I will jump the fence, break the locks and out run any guard dog. I may fall down but I’m never out.

When I was diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses and essentially lived in hospital for 3 years, even when I thought to end my life it was weighed out by the thought of “how do I get to a place we’re I can do even 5% of what I want? What do I have to change, manifest?”.

You see if you could only temporarily break me but not stop me then why the hell would I let my own mind and body do that? That ability to fawn came with an ability to find a middle path, to be diplomatic. That ability to fawn gave me the patience to understand medical text and use that to access the right care. ~ I am actually thinking of starting a medical degree just to prove I can ~ I am now 98lbs and healthy for my size and stature, I now have a home with a housing association who like me so much they have me a lifetime partner agreement, meaning I will never be homeless again. I have been clean 7 whole goddamn years and 2 months. I have the most beautiful empathic cat, 2 foster dogs and an incredibly patient partner, who has known me before you had ever entered my life. I am as healthy as someone in my position can be, I still struggle with the anorexic thoughts but I eat everyday of the fucking week now.

I am not “happy” as happy is an emotion and emotions are fleeting but I am content in living for the simple life I have fought ever so hard for. I am strong, and determined and constantly fucking working on making more for myself. I’m proud of myself.

All I have to say is get therapy. If you’re really sorry work on yourself enough to be able to apologise properly before you fuck my day up by rising your head again for this weakness. I can’t say I don’t have morbid curiosity, because that’s me all over, however I’m much more determined to keep all that I have work for mentally, emotionally, and physically safe. For that reason I would never in my right medicated mind talk it out with you, email you back or seek you out. I’m sorry, it is what it is.

You can not damage someone irreparably both mentally and physically and think “I’m sorry for being a cunt” even close to cuts it. You are mentally unbalanced, in a way not even I can relate to.

[jonthethinker]

Expositor Beauregard And The Mighty Nein

Others have said it before, but because I think it should be screamed from the mountaintops everyday, Beau’s growth is so fucking good!

I think back to the runaway monk we met at the beginning of this campaign, all sharp edges and curt words and no roots, committed to convincing the world she doesn’t care about anything and she’s fine on her own (but the loneliness already showing as she asks Jester and Fjord whether they’re going to leave town without her.)

Then we have Beau now, who has deep friendships with every member of the Mighty Nein sans possibly Caduceus and Yasha (who still fall under the domain of her protective instinct, and who she still very much considers her people.) It could be argued that Beau is the sturdy foundation of the Nein, offering each other member of the Nein some sturdy ground to stand on to grow themselves:

Travis has mentioned Beau’s commitment as first mate as a comfort for Fjord, and when he was deliberating whether to reveal his accent to the group, He never doubted that Beau would continue to support him if he told the group the truth. Their easy relationship is among my favorites on the show, and when the action starts they’re never out of sync.It is safe to assume that to the half-orc orphan who very much attended the school of hard knocks and has every reason to distrust others, having a friendship in which the only thing that is asked is a willingness to call Beau on her bullshit and an openness to Beau calling him on his, is an immeasurably important feature in Fjord’s current life and one he wouldn’t trade away for anything.

Beau is undoubtedly fiercely protective and supportive of Jester, and made it clear to her that she will support Jester being more honest about negative feelings she has, while also standing up to Jester when she thought she was making a reckless decision in how to confront her father if it meant keeping Jester safe and the door open for a healthy relationship with said parent. Jester has in Beau someone who will continually encourage and support her through thick and thin, and have a good time along the way. I want to say a hell of a lot more about their friendship and the parallels of their lives, because their friendship is the most precious thing to me in all of critical role, but that’s not what this meta is about, so I’ll save it for another time.

Her sisterly relationship with Nott is something that is easy to forget about, but I imagine it means more to Nott than is let on; Nott was a bit of an outsider even as a halfling. Since the Iron Shepards (And arguably before, in Hupperdook,) Nott has had an easy relationship in Beau, with Beau being about as judgement free as Nott has ever experienced. The two are playful with each other in a way I imagine Nott wishes she could have been with her brothers, and Beau’s willingness to forgive Nott for any harmful decision she has made (a certain bullet in the ass comes to mind) can’t be underscored in its importance towards the goal of keeping Nott’s beaten-up heart healthy.

While I disagree with some in the fandom who think that Beau’s friendship with Caleb is the single most important relationship in his life right now (which to me has been unquestionably, from the beginning, Nott, and is nowhere near changing to anyone else in my humble opinion,) to say their friendship has not been a critical step in his growth as a character is absurd. Caleb perhaps had not planned on one of the keys to his success in his wizardly pursuits as well as the reclamation of his humanity being a rough-and-tumble friendship with a blunt, somewhat aggressive monk with a knack for getting him to admit to things he never wanted to admit to, but life doesn’t often go according to plan. Despite a rocky beginning, their friendship has evolved into something beautiful, with Beau always there to keep Caleb grounded, whether he risks letting his thirst for knowledge drag him into trouble, or his past begins to eat him alive. And it’s certainly nice to have someone around who can help him find that book he’s looking for.

Beau’s relationship with Yasha has been interesting from the get-go, what with Beau immediately seizing on the opportunity to flirt with the giant, introverted barbarian. While shipping discourse tends to dominate the discussion of their interactions, we shouldn’t ignore the chance to take a crack at what these moments mean to the characters as individuals.

With hindsight and insights Marisha has given on Talks, I’ve gathered that to Beau these moments were driven by this weird relationship in Beau’s mind between sex and power. She uses these casual, almost doomed to fail, encounters with women as a band-aid to avoid confronting her actual problems with developing intimate, meaningful romantic or platonic relationships with women she’s physically attracted to. She sort of game-ifies the encounters into a power struggle between her and her potential conquest; the end goal not being the sex or denial thereof, but of the buzz of the conflict itself. On the outside it looks like a pure expression of ego, and some of it may be, but I interpret it mostly as a deflection from Beau’s clear struggles with self-loathing and her fear of abandonment; I speculate that to Beau, after how things ended with Tori, has not allowed herself to feel the same about anyone else (With the recently revealed exception of Jester, who is all too conveniently deemed inaccessible; “She has a thing for Fjord, and so it’s not a possibility,”) for fear of utterly letting down yet another women she loved.

With Yasha I take these moments as a sort of siren’s song. Here she is, having lost the most precious person in all her life, a love she knew was forbidden but pursued anyway, and clearly blames herself and her desire for Zuala as the very reason she died. To Yasha, the lesson she learned from all of this is not that her tribe was wrong, but that her desires are wrong, that she can’t trust herself to want anything, and can’t trust herself to love without getting someone hurt (A feeling only exacerbated by the death of Molly trying to save her from the Iron Shepards.)

So she feels all this and then there’s this monk who relentlessly flirts with her. Their first interaction indicates to me that Yasha has had some experience handling this sort of thing since joining the circus, and with arms like those, how could she not? But Beau just keeps going and going the more time they spend around one another, and Yasha has eyes, and Beau does indeed have those abs, and is incredibly persistent and almost admirably self-assured about herself, and okay maybe eventually even the tough Barbarian might be flustered and stutter a little bit.

And that would be that, if that’s all their relationship was. But Yasha being the quiet one who looms to the back in social interactions and group planning watches the others, Beau included, and maybe begins to see another side to the monk. The side that clearly cares a great deal about this group. Who looks out for the others and will gladly put her body on the line to protect them. Beau isn’t as sturdy as Yasha, can’t take as many hits and depends on avoiding being hit in the first place, but still there she is, tanking a Hydra, rushing to the front lines and protecting her friends. There she is, reassuring party members in a well-meaning if a little rough around the edges sort of way. There she is, comforting Yasha after she reveals her past to the group, seeking a way to relate to her even when it’s clear Beau doesn’t share personal details often.

So to Yasha, Beau is a few things. She’s someone who she can rely on to keep this lovely found family alive no matter the personal cost. She’s someone who can be leaned on and relied on not to judge. And she’s someone who makes her feel like a person, not just a tool or a wall of muscle, or a burden to be dealt with, but a person. I think Beau will be second only to Jester in the importance she will play in Yasha’s recovery and victory over her grief and guilt, which, let’s face it, is a long road yet to be traveled, but a road made all the easier due to Yasha’s friends of the blue persuasion.

Caduceus sees in Beau potential. Where he may get frustrated or confused by many in the Nein, I think in Beau he finds a reliable and easy to understand set of motivations. Beau wants to keep the Mighty Nein happy, healthy, and most importantly alive, and maybe make a positive difference in the world along the way. While her gruff demeanor can sometimes grate him the wrong way, I feel her actions have spoken for her in Caduceus’ mind. I take that he feels that while he may be the only adult in the room, Beau is definitely the rather mature teenager that can often be trusted to make decisions in his absence. Condescending? Of course. But a delightfully Caduceus-like thing to think.

This long diatribe is not me saying that Beau is the be all end all of the Nein, but just my way of illustrating the impact of her and her growth on her friends, and the role she plays within the Nein. The other members have had just as much of an impact on her. From Fjord’s trust and charm training, to Jester’s love and support and faith in strangers, to Nott’s open ear and sisterly banter, to Caleb’s ability to establish goals and remind her of both the forest and the trees, to Yasha’s fierce protectiveness and soft treatment of their friends, to Caduceus’ encouragement to tell the truth and be open and the successes that attitude has led to.

And to Molly, who arguably, made this growth possible, or at least as quickly progressive as it has been. Without him pushing her towards making the world better than she found it, it’s hard to imagine the road she would have had to travel to get to where she is now, fighting to save the world, standing up to and earning the respect of her Cobalt Soul mentors, sharing her feelings with the group, and allowing herself to love.

Beau is my favorite character on Critical Role. She has been for a very long time, but my love for her has only aged like a fine wine. From barely being able to meditate at all, to mentally transporting herself to a beach in Nicodranas in order to escape Obann’s thrall. From telling Jester she didn’t worry too much about her well-being, to telling her on several occasions that she loves and cares about her. From being incredibly antagonizing towards Molly, to getting a tattoo in his honor very visibly on the back of her neck. Her Journey to become the Expositor she is today has been an absolute delight, and her journey towards forging the ties she has with this beautiful found family have been heartwarming and some of the best storytelling I’ve ever seen. And she has so much potential for growth and I just can’t wait to see more.