#CHILDREN DO NOT OWE THEIR PARENTS SHIT

[khitty]

You know what? I will admit that my parents have supported me endlessly. They have provided me with numerous opportunities and supported me to get where I am. And that I appreciate.

However, that does not require me to continue having a good relationship with them later in life. Just because they support (kinda) my decisions, doesn't mean they're the best people.

You can love a queer person but still damaging to the community in other ways. Plus they have many other issues.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that someone can be a decent parent, but a bad person.

And guess what? My parents are in fact people, and I can treat them as such.

[irafuwas]

i don't know why, but in the sparse five hours of sleep i got last night, my brain decided to plague me with dreams of lilia taking care of an elderly silver, up until the final moments of his life. i could hear silver's thoughts the whole time, and he was so absolutely inundated with shame and guilt it almost seemed like he was suffocating. he kept thinking over and over and over again that this all should've been the other way around. he should've been the one looking after his father in the twilight of his life. he should've been his aging father's rock, his safe place to land, his stalwart defender against a world so unbelievably cruel to its most vulnerable denizens. again and again his heart cried out in vain, it should've been the other way around.

as a child he had once wished - prayed, even, to the same force now threatening to reclaim his spirit back into its unconscious designs - for his father to live a long and prosperous life, and it was as though that very wish had backfired on him in a way he never could have possibly imagined

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

[outlawssweetheart]

These bullshit parent celebration holidays need to end.

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are absolute bullshit.

Parents don’t deserve to be celebrated for doing their fucking job as a parent. Parents don’t deserve to be celebrated for simply having a kid.

No one asked their parents to make them, to have them, to adopt them. No one is special for doing these things.

You don’t deserve praise or celebration or even a “Thank you” for doing the bare fucking minimum as a parent. And many parents don’t even do that! Also, our societies standard of “the bare minimum” as parents is way too fucking low anyway. We’re taught to think that feeding, clothing, and housing your children until they’re 18 is all a parent should have to do. NO. It should be so much more than that. It should be all of that (and it should be feeding your children well, not loading them with damaging garbage food), plus loving them, teaching them, guiding them, helping them grow up to be healthy, happy, stable human beings. But most parents refuse to do that much. (And it shouldn’t be “Well, fuck them once they hit 18!”) And this isn’t even getting into how many absolutely abusive parents there are in the world!

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are bullshit capitalism holidays made to sell products and boost the egos of narcissistic parents. It’s time to end them.

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.” 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[irisintheafterglow]

[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.

"so you're both megumi's..."

"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.

"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.

you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.

"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"not for me, no."

"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."

"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.

"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"

"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.

"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.

"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.

"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."

"i think that'd be worse than satoru."

"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.

"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.

"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.

"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.

"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."

"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.

"your teacher says you're doing well in class."

"really?"

"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."

"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.

"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.

"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."

"trying to follow my example?"

"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."

"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.

"i'm one of a kind!"

"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."

[yuri-is-online]

Ok so jadeyuu! Jadeyuu? Jade is an eel. Jade has never been in a relationship- never even got the urge. So he's kinda panicking when he finally snaps out of his little domestic daydreams only to realize. He has no idea how to actually get to those daydreams.

How do humans court? Fuck humans for a second how does his own species court??? He only know surface level (ha) shit he never paid attention beyond that cause it was "irrelevant" (he wants to go back in time and punch himself so bad. For several reasons).

So now he's trying to figure it out but heres the thing, he only has super cheesy media to work with. Bro is taking it so seriously but some of the stuff is just???

Why is sharing clothing so important?

Are flowers really that big of a deal?

Why do all these couple fight all the time? He doesn't want to fight with yuu he just wants to feed them mushroom dishes and cuddle and "cuddle" He doesn't want to fight! Why do couple always fight in these movies is it necessary?? Is it a love language??

What's a one night stand?

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WITH SOMEONE YOU JUST MET???

... has yuu had any? They told him once that most of their past relationships were "situationships" and he had to laugh and pretend he wasn't about to simultaneously raise hell and profusely thank your exes for fumbling so hard.

What's this about your father's consent? Does he need to get your father's consent? Would any parent work or just your father? Do you even like your father- shit you haven't even seen your father since you've been here and he's a literal world away. ....shit.

Someone stop him he's about to create an entire world wide scheme to invent otherworldly communication just to ask his not-parners dad if he can even court them in the first place-

Oh it's not that important in modern day?? Oh. Thank goodness.

At what point in this can he ask you to be his officially?

At what point can he start indulging himself in all his somewhat ugly jealous urges in public without scaring you off?

Would it be considered a "red flag" to ask you to only talk to him? He knows it is he's just holding out hope that maybe you'll agree to be kept in a large terrarium of his and be completely his and-

You would never agree to that. Oh well, an eel can dream. If Ace gets all clingy with you again he's going to break his arm off.

How long does he have to wait until he can show you to list of names he's already thought about giving your future children?

CAN HE PLEASE JUST HOLD YOU??? PLEASE!!!

Idk where I'm going with this I just got the mental image of jade watching titanic (something something convenient potion accident) and hurriedly scribbling down notes every time something romantic happens and I wanted to share that image.

I like the idea of Jade doing research about human courtship. I really really like it I think it's so stupidly funny to picture Mr. Suave, one hell of an eel butler reading human x merfolk fanfiction and going O: that's me (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) Or watching romcoms and taking notes that's hilarious. He watches titanic and nods "yes this would never happen with us, I would simply drag them into the sea and then we would live together happily ever after while everyone else drowns- ah or is that too fatalistic?"

But yes he doesn't know much about courtship in general. He can "flirt" but its not intentional on his part, he's just being snarky. But with you he has no idea what to do. The clothing thing makes no sense to him, is it to stake a claim? Then why not bite you? That would get the point across faster... is it a him thing to want to do that or is it a mer thing? One night stands are too complicated, there's too many ways for that to go wrong the only reason Jade could think to have one is if someone has information you want to steal and he's not interested in obtaining things that way. They don't owe you anything that way.

Jade with soft yan! urges he tries to tamp down because he knows they're not healthy but he just wants to protect you form the dangerous that exist in the coral sea. Even if you become a merfolk you still used to be human, soft, fragile, and so naive... really there's no end to the things that could steal you away from him. Like Ace! Now if you could please look the other way while he disposes of this pest- he jests. He would never rob you of your friends, everyone needs them and he needs you to need him the same way humans need air.

Also the sheer irony of Yuu complaining all of their past relationships being situationships when that's what they have going on with Jade right at that very moment. Maybe that was intentional huh Jade ever think of that? Maybe the pretty human was huffing at you and batting their eyes because they are frustrated that history is repeating itself and the sketchy guy their friends don't approve of is being unclear about his feelings again. He figures that out once he finally finds out the definition and he feels so so stupid

[estell-allary]

APHRODITE’S BANE

Relationship:romantic

Pairing:Clarisse La Rue x fem!aphrodite!reader

Warnings:fighting,mentions of blood,reader getting injured,swearing pls tell me if I missed any<3

A/N-this is my first time writing,also this is just a fluff about Clarisse and you loving each other AND you are like the past Aphrodite the fighter and warrior that she truly is,not this soft weakling that people preseve she is just because she is the graceful goddess of love~(it is also 00:30am and this is heavily inspired by the song Salvatore by Lana)

Shocked.That’s what you would say you (and most of camp half-blood) were when you found out that your mother-Aphrodite-claimed you,especially in the middle of capture the flag! No it’s not because you’re not pretty-hell your one of the prettiest girls in chb,but because everyone was sure you would be claimed by ares or even Athena.

Everyone had no doubts to you being one of there children because you were strong,quick witted, intelligent and understanding you also had an undying loyalty towards the ones you loved, but after you were claimed people started to relate you to your mother more-or well who your mother used to be,Aphrodite Areia.

When you were unclaimed you would hang out with the ares kids and a few other people,but there was only(not even)a hand full of people you talked to in the Aphrodite cabin-them being piper,livia,Valentina and silena

I mean you were only claimed a few weeks after you arrived at camp half-blood that being in that years game of capture the flag..that’s also when you met her.Clarisse La Rue,honestly you didn’t really think of her to be all that before the incident,sure people told you to stear clear of her because she was a bully and would not hesitate to flush your head down a toilet,but you just saw her as a normal teenager who had anger issues.

You’ve only been at camp half-blood for 3 weeks and the date of capture the flag was today,everyone has been preparing and training extra hard for a few days now and you still haven’t even found out who your godly parent is yet,tho everyone’s already assumed who they are,ares or Athena,because your a natural for sword fighting and one on one combat or because you are wise and patient-most of the time.

You were placed on the blue team with the hermes cabin until your claimed same goes with the rest of the unclaimed kids,Chiron did his speach and then the red team let out this loud monstrous war cry that made you flinch,“um Luke,is that normal”you asked in a hushed voice to the black haired boy that was standing next to you “yep,they do it every year,don’t worry you’ll get used to it”he pated you on the shoulder biding you goodbye as the blue team departed.

Stumbling through the woods trying to get to your spot was..difficult to say the least let’s just say you got lost a few times,when you finally get there you lean back against a rock,it was smooth and rough at the same time,just right.You could feel the sun levitating off of your now warm skin,this was sure to give you a light tan.

‘Catch me if you can,working on my tan Salvatore’

You heard a twig snap behind you and you quickly jumped up and grabbed your sword,turning around to see no one,“hello?..”you said confused but keeping up your fighting stance “annabeth?..Luke?” You called out knowing annabeth was close by but Luke wasn’t you were just confused…that was until you got tackled to the floor by non other then..someone? it was a boy and he smelt vile but you had no time to think about that before you panicked and slashed your sword at the side of his amour and flipped him off of you before quickly getting up and taking a step back.

He lunged up and swung at you but you quickly dodged and bolted for the woods, running,in hopes he would head for the flag instead of following you,but he didn’t..it was strange he was going after you and not the flag, “ow!shit!” You cried out as you were tackled to the floor again this time with him stabbing at your amour.

You pushed yourself backwards and kicked him in the stomach sending him back a few meters,you jumped up again and so did he this time you lunged at him stabbing at his chest but he kicked your legs out from under you and pushed you back making you fall of a small ledge and land on the small,damp rocks of the beach.

‘Dying by the hand,of a foreign man,happily’

He jumped down on to you and held his sword to your neck,he was about to open his mouth to say something but you kicked him in the shin making him fall and his sword pierce your skin,not enough to properly injure you but just enough to draw blood,he yelled out as he hit the damp rocks “ah!you bitch!”you both got up again and started clashing your swords together “why the hell are you still trying to fight me!”you grunted out.

Before he could respond you heard yelling and both the blue and red team came running out the woods the blue team with the red flag,the person holding it was annabeth but she faltered for a few seconds seeing that you were is a fight.

Then you caught her eye,for the first time you both looked at each other and gods she was gorgeous.Clarisse La Rue.

But you got distracted.“HEY!”luke yelled out as the boy stabbed with full force at your chest.

‘Calling out my name in the summer rain,ciao,amore’

You huffed out a breath,gasping for air as you grabbed the end of his sword cutting your palm and two of your fingers but kept your grip on it strong,you raised your foot and kicked the boy in the stomach making him stumble and lose his grasp on the sword.You threw the sword into the water and just as he was about to punch you,you grabbed his fist and flipped over above him landing behind him (thank god for you being able to do gymnastics)

Just as annabeth got the red flag to the post you punched him in the back making him fall on his front and he stayed down..OH GOD YOU KNOCKED HIM OUT!!

You looked up panicked and everyone was staring looking shocked at yo-..wait why were they looking above you?You looked up and gasped,

“Wha-?”

Suddenly you were tackled into a hug by silena who was laughing “oh my god” you heard annabeth say,your gaze went from Silena to Annabeth to Clarisse..she was looking at you with a puzzled expression before saying the thing that everyone was thinking, “how the fuck are you a daughter of Aphrodite?”she said your eyes grew wide before you furrowed your brows “HEY!are you calling me ugly!?”you yelled out looking offended even tho you were thinking the same thing.

“Well no bu-!”Clarisse started before she was interrupted by Chiron “Aphrodite areia..you take after your mother’s original origins from being a warrior”he said with a kind smile on his face.

“Well that’s enough for today everyone go get some rest get fixed up and carry on with your day!”Chiron declared.

A/N:sorry that there was like no Clarisse x reader in this I promise there will be way more in my next one this one was just a tester btw😃

[askinkiskarma]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀: 𝕎𝕙𝕪 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔾𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕒 𝔹𝕖 𝕊𝕠 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: you and Neteyam are the two prodigies of the Omaticaya, and while that unmoving fact brought you together as children, now, as adults, it brings you to your knees, as each day is just another opportunity for you to hurt each other in any and every way your minds could conjure up.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, enemies-to-lovers, strong language, mentions of violence, blood, neteyam being an absolute dick, mentions of reader being choked (not in the fun way)

wc: 5.4k words

a/n: after a much longer wait than anticipated, my enemies-to-lovers fic is officially here, and I'm so excited to start a new series. As much as I love the one shots and the requests and the drabbles, I am a series enthusiast at heart, and this is something i'm really looking forward to, as I find this whole idea very challenging and hope i do it justice. pls enjoy besties, and as always, thank you for every like, reblog, reply, it means the world x (thank you very much to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

na'vi compendium: syä - bitter, rumaut - cannonball fruit tree, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, parultsyìp - children

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I tried to look for the best in the worst, but like, fuck me, that caused a commotion

You're lucky I'm a private person, I’ve quietly carried your burden

And everyone thinks you're an angel, but shit, I would probably use different wording

“You know, syä, one day, I’m going to be better than you at this, and that day, you will have to swallow your words, and I think that’ll be very hard for you to do.” 

“You know, Lo’ak, if you one day do beat me at anything, then I’ll be more than happy to swallow my words. I’ll even swallow my tongue, if you want.” You chuckled as you propped yourself onto a thin branch of a rumaut, maybe 50 metres from the target on the ground, and dangling from it, upside down, you took aim, focusing intently with one eye closed. Breathing in, you took the shot, and watched as it landed straight in the middle, right next to your last arrow, very far away from Lo’ak’s arrows, which were buried somewhere so obscure, you couldn’t even spot them anymore. 

“You suck.” Lo'ak puffed, rolling his eyes annoyedly. You laughed and reclaimed your spot next to him, nudging him softly with a hand.

“No, skxawng, you suck. That’s why we’re here.” 

These little training sessions have become one of your favourite things to spend your afternoons doing. They started a few weeks ago, when Lo’ak came by unannounced to your tent, his tail sheepishly between his legs. He hated that he had to ask, his enormous pride wounded and scarred, but he figured finally building up the courage to ask you to train him in his bow and arrow practice was better than asking his brother and once more proving the chasm between their skill level true. You were cocky and arrogant on the surface, but deep down, Lo’ak knew you had a heart of gold and wouldn’t judge and, at the end of the day, would do anything for him, and for his whole family.

Well, almost his whole family.

You found the oldest Sully sibling by his tent, masterfully skinning a yarik from his latest hunt. Just like everything else Neteyam did, he excelled at it. He looked peaceful and deep in thought as he worked, expression which quickly melted into annoyance when his lips pursed in a tight line and his eyes hardened, as soon as they spotted you making your way towards him. You smirked when you noticed the change, loving to see him so on edge whenever you invaded his personal bubble, which happened to be all the time, since you were as good as Neytiri and Jake’s adoptive daughter. 

You loved Neytiri and Jake. You owed them everything you had, everything you were. After your parents’ death, they provided you with the support and love and care needed to not fall into the pits of despair that came with being orphaned, with being all alone. They saw something in you, ever since you were a child, and trained you side by side with their oldest son, Neteyam. Quickly, it was obvious to everyone who paid attention that you were a prodigy, just like he was. Neteyam liked you when you were kids, and you liked him, too. You loved him, in fact. He was your best friend, and you were his. It was hard not to be each other’s best friends, when you spent so much time together, when you shared every blister, every bloodied gash, every muscle cramp from practice. You shared the good and the bad, and it was just the two of you. Nobody else knew what you went through or could possibly understand, nobody else had to spend their whole childhood being honed into the perfect warriors, the future of the Omaticaya strength. Kids played and kids laughed and kids held hands splashing in the nearby river, but you and Neteyam cleaned each other’s wounds and gave each other words of encouragement, and soft, shy smiles as your eyes met across the practice field. 

That was all in the past. Very far in the past. So far so, it was hard for you to conceptualise that it happened in this life, and it wasn’t some sort of fantasy you made up in your head, because there was nothing left of the warmth or the camaraderie you once shared. Whereas before he was a warm shelter from the storm in your life, now he was the storm, cold and ruthless, out to get you and to hurt you, to turn your limbs cold and your heart numb. You don’t know when this happened. You just know that at some point around when you were 12, Neteyam started pushing you away, until one day you were so far away, you were just a dot in his life, so far removed from the vast, centre-stage line you used to represent, a line between his past and future, between a friend and something more, something better, something permanent. 

It’s been 7 years since. Seven years since Neteyam was more or less a stranger, albeit an annoying, aggravating stranger. Because a stranger, you could ignore. A stranger, you didn’t have to see every damn day, in practice, in stings, in battles, at breakfast, lunch and dinner. A stranger might have ignored you, or pretend you don’t exist, but not Neteyam. Neteyam was determined to make your life a living hell, to make you feel as unwelcome and inadequate as humanly possible, and so you resigned yourself to returning the favour, because you very rarely ever lost to him, and you weren’t planning on starting any time soon. 

When you and Lo’ak approached, you watched as he sized you up, his eyes travelling down your body, lingering for just a second longer on your chest, covered in flowy, silken fabric, your signature look. You loved the beads, and the feathers that usually concealed Na’vi bodies, but what you loved even more was the feel of the luxurious, soft material that you took great pleasure in making yourself from a secret, coveted technique your mum taught you as a child, before she died. You tried to ignore how his stare made you feel, how the tingling that always appeared on your skin matched the bubbling feeling in your stomach, and you pushed it down, choosing to believe that’s just the feeling of hatred, of deep, intense dislike, that you didn’t feel for anyone but him.

“If you’re not actually going to contribute anything of use to the clan, you might as well train instead of wasting time and dragging Lo’ak to your level. Are you not in enough shit with father as it is, baby bro?” 

You didn’t even look at him as you walked past, opening the flap to the Sully family tent. 

“Well, Neteyam, not all of us have to try so hard all the time to keep up. Some of us are just naturally better than others.” You say with a sly smirk, almost able to hear the steam coming out of his ears, before you entered the tent and closed the flap behind you.

“The two of you will kill each other one day, you know that, right?”

You rolled your eyes at Kiri, who was dutifully making healing pastes by mixing it in a small pot on the fire, and removed the bow from around your torso, tossing the quiver on the ground and sitting next to it, warming your hands off the heat emanating from it. 

“Or fuck each other, one of the two.”

“Lo’ak!” You and Kiri hissed at the same time, and you threw a small rock you found on the ground at him, hitting him right in the middle of his forehead. You smiled, satisfied when he yelled in pain. You never missed. 

“Ow?! You’re so mean sometimes, no wonder he doesn’t like you! I’m just saying, you guys always have sexual tension, and I’m definitely not the only one that thinks so. Spider says so, too.” 

“Oh, well if Spider says so, then it must be true! It couldn’t be that you’re both children, and your mind hasn’t left the gutter since you first had a girl let you into second base.” 

“Ah… Mira… she was something, wasn’t she? Haven’t seen her in a while.” 

“Yeah, she’s hiding from you.” 

Lo’ak returned the rock in a pointed throw, that you dodged effortlessly, smirking in his direction. 

“See? Mean.” 

Walking through the village in the late afternoon, you are pleasantly surprised at the still bustling atmosphere, all the men, women and children contributing in their own respective ways to the clan’s prosperity and success. People were returning from hunts, crafting arrows, sharpening knives, preparing new garments for the warriors that will be leaving for a new mission early in the morning. It filled you with a sense of wonder, this clan, despite having lived and breathed in it your whole life, it never ceased to amaze you, how beautiful, how grand, how unified it was. It made you determined, more and more each day, to fight the fight, to never give up or give in, to always strive to be better, stronger.

It was a big one tomorrow, a big train filled with guns and supplies, protected by 10 helos and armed guards, that were needed to the clan and would constitute a big loss for the humans. A win-win, as Jake would sometimes say. You couldn’t even remember when the first one of these missions started. It’s been more than 5 years since the humans have returned, 5 years since life as you knew it changed forever, 5 years since death and hurt followed you everywhere you went, since every day felt like a battle for survival, for your clan, and your people, and your world. Back then, that first mission terrified you, it ate at your soul and your body, manifesting itself in chills and shakes, in crying eyes and trembling lips.

You remember that day like it was yesterday, you remember how you and Neteyam were the youngest in the war party, how for the first time in years, you felt a connection to the boy as your eyes met on your respective ikran, and you saw in them pain, and fear… and yearning. For a second, he was your friend again, and the future you dreamt about as a kid, one where it was just you and him, facing this harsh world together, came back in full force, taking the breath out of your lungs. But the second passed and so did his gaze and his vulnerability, and his walls never diminished, but only got thicker and more fortified in time, and yours did too, as a result. It hurt you, his behaviour, how sudden the change had been and how drastic, how he pushed you away with no goodbye, with no chance to defend yourself, how no matter how much you tried to mend it, it just ended up making it worse. So after a while, you gave as good as you got, and blow by blow, your relationship died like soldiers on the battlefield, broken and bruised, rotting away, only the beautiful memory of what used to be left behind. 

Training was still in full force at the edge of the village, in the big clearing fortified by trees and a waterfall where Jake now taught you all how to use human weapons. You didn't really need the practice, not anymore, having mastered every weapon he thought fit to throw at you years ago, but still, you went, because you may not need it, but one person you wanted to see did.

You smiled as you saw him, struggling with a Y70 Bullpup Rifle, a deep frown on his face and a small pout on his lips, and your heart swelled at the sight. O'ì'en Te Äfawoo Ìrauyon'itan was many things, all good and pure, all sweet and kind, a good balance for you, all fire and ice, no sense of balance or middling emotions. He was a mighty warrior, and a needed shelter from the new storms in your life. You've known him your whole life, but have started spending more time with him recently, as you started subbing for Jake as a mentor and a teacher, in days he was too preoccupied or otherwise engaged with one of his other many Olo'eyktan duties. He found the human weapons particularly strange and difficult to understand, so you weren't surprised now, finding him like this, struggling as he was, still trying to understand how to put it back together, how to make it work again.

You snuck behind him, careful not to make a noise, and he startled as your hands reached around and found his chest, that you caressed, tracing his defined pecs and abs, laughing as the weapon almost dropped from his hands.

"Tanhì, you scared me. What are you doing? People are watching."

"So? Let them watch." your eyes found Jake, who was eyeing your interaction curiously, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk on his face. You brought your hand to your forehead and greeted him with a smile, and he waved at you, another human gesture he found it hard to part ways with. He made his way towards the pair of you, enveloping you in a big hug, and you almost suffocated in between his swollen, muscular pecs.

"Woah, Jake, you're gonna kill me right before an important mission." he laughs again, and you feel the deep rumble in his chest, reverberating in the forest surrounding you.

"I see you, ma Olo'eyktan."

"I see you, O'ì'en. Is the gun giving you trouble? I'm sure my little spark here can help you out. Seems you two are... close enough that she might consider it." you rolled your eyes and removed yourself from his grasp, and his knuckles made contact with the top of your head, putting pressure and twisting until it hurt, in yet another human habit you hated, that he called a noogie. He said it was affectionate, but you weren't so sure.

"Good luck." and with a wink, he was gone, focusing on the other Na'vi who needed his help and guidance.

You got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Right. So this part is the underslung grenade luncher and it goes -"

It was late at night when you made your way back to your tent, smiling to yourself at the tranquility and joy of your evening, so far removed from the morning that was waiting for you and all you stood to lose when it came. Worry enveloped you like a shroud as you approached, and haunting thoughts tugged at your mind, but they didn't have time to fester, not as soft moans and breathy names percolated in your ears instead and took their place, names and voices you recognised. You circled your tent to the tree that rested right behind it, and you found exactly what you thought you would, exactly what you didn't want to ever see in your life. Neteyam's back shielding his little annoying girlfriend's naked body propped against the tree, with her legs around his hips, as he rutted into her.

You hated Neteyam in that moment. You knew he was doing it on purpose, you knew there was no other reason why he would choose this spot to do this, other than the knowledge that you would be coming to bed soon and the satisfaction he knew he would get from your reaction. But you wouldn't give it to him. The satisfaction, that is. He was good, at the little mind games, at knowing what buttons to push to drive you to the point of considering whether your love for the Sullys was greater than the desire to remove his head from his shoulders, but in time, you learnt all his little tricks, and in time, you learnt how to beat him at his own game.

You cleared your throat, your voice sweet and docile as honeycomb as you spoke.

"Neteyam, I just came from your family's tent. Mo'at was looking for you, she said you've been missing you treatments for your genital warts." You let out an affected noise, trying your hardest to sound sympathetic and concerned. "I'm sure it's fine, though. I'm sure the elders are wrong when they talk about how it makes fungus grow out of your vagina if you're infected by it." You almost broke your composure when the girl let out a pained yelp, but otherwise pushed through.

"Oh, well! Have a good evening!" And with that, you took your leave, grinning from ear to ear as all you heard when you entered your tent was screaming and Neteyam trying to hush her and defuse a newly-chaotic situation.

The mission and the aftermath went as well as could be expected, and you were proud of your contribution that never went unnoticed in the clan, or among the Sullys, much to Neteyam's dismay. He was still enraged about your little stunt, and you were happy that despite his continuous stink eye, you killed 5 humans, and secured the perimeter at all times, keeping the war party safe throughout the duration of the mission. The praise from everyone in the village meant the world to you, it meant everything to you, and by the afternoon, you felt on top of the world. The feeling didn't last, though, replaced with more anxiety than you knew what to do with, as Mo'at asked for your immediate presence by her side, as a matter of urgency.

You were nervous as you made your way to the Tsa’hik’s tent, unsure of why you would have been summoned there in the first place. You were going to see Mo’at for dinner shortly anyhow, so whatever it was she had to tell you was definitely too important to wait, and well, let’s just say you had a bad feeling. The bad feeling worsened when you finally pushed past the flap of the marui and found Neteyam sitting on the ground, the same kind of muted confusion visible on his face, that quickly changed into his signature “you” look as soon as he noticed who it was that walked in. You brought your fingers to your forehead and bowed your head to your Tsa’hik. 

“I see you, Mo’at.” 

She returned the gesture with a smile, and you sat down in front of her. 

“Is something wrong, ma Tsa’hik? Why are Neteyam and I here?” 

Mo’at circled the pit of fire that resided in the middle of her tent and placed a hand on one of your and Neteyam’s shoulder, a big smile on her face.

“It’s great news, ma parultsyìp. My latest communion with Eywa brought forth visions and guidance from the our Great Mother. Visions of you, my children.” Her smiled dropped a little and was replaced by a more serious expression, which accompanied her tone of voice.

“I know you two haven’t seen eye to eye for a while now. I know a lot of it is our fault, pushing you both to be the best versions of yourselves and pushing you apart as a result, but you used to be best friends, you used to hold each other close in your hearts, and Eywa thinks that can happen again… that it should happen again.” 

Mo’at’s words scared you. She was being vague and the direction of the conversation made you uncomfortable, sending shivers down your spine. You looked at Neteyam, who was watching you already and you stifled a grimace at the way he turned instantly, like the thought of meeting your gaze was too unbearable to even be considered. 

“Grandmother, what are you saying?” 

“Eywa has chosen the new Tsa’hik, grandson. You two are to be a mated pair, and Neteyam, you will be one of the finest ruling pairs the Omaticaya has ever seen.” 

Your mouth fell agape in shock and your brows furrowed as your mind was assimilating the influx of information, the way that your life instantly changed in so little time, in as little time as it took Mo’at to say the words out loud. Mated pair? Tsa’hik? You and Neteyam? Too many contradictions, too many oxymorons when said altogether for it to make sense to you. You looked over at Neteyam, hoping that for at least a second he’d let you in, he’d look at you, so you could work through this together, so you can navigate it together… so you can handle it together. But all you saw was anger and his composure coming apart at the seams, his tail shaking furiously and the tip of his ears a deep purple. 

“Absolutely not. This has to be some sort of mistake, grandmother.” 

Your own ears twitched and fell backwards at the unfairness of it all, at his booming tone and furious demeanour, at the way it was inconceivable to him that you'd have to spend your life together. It stung, the needles of hurt piercing your skin like a tattoo, marking you, how Neteyam never said no to his family, to his Tsa’hik, but decided to break that rule for himself just to reject you. It’s not like you wanted him, either, definitely not, but there was something about his antipathy towards you, unshaken and unwavering, even after all these years, that will always get under your skin, in the way that only he ever managed to. If there’s one thing you were good at, though, is matching him blow by blow. 

“Yes, Mo’at. He has his standards set much too low to allow me to be his mate, and I have mine set way too high for him to be able to do anything but limbo under them.” yet another word you learnt from Jake, that seemed appropriate now, too appropriate to go to waste.

“That’s enough!” Mo’at was no longer in a joking mood as she looked at both of you, a stern disposition about her that you knew better than to cross. “Eywa’s decision is final, and she’s never wrong. I was just as shocked as you are, and I don’t know why she chose you, but she did. We will talk shortly about the ceremony. You can leave now.” 

You sighed, your head falling in between your hands as you heard Neteyam scoffing and getting up, and the air that hit your back as he opened the flap of the tent and rushed out of it without another word. 

“Mo’at… please. This has to be a mistake. I’m not fit to be Tsa’hik, you know this. I am a warrior, I have been a warrior my whole life. There’s much better suited people for the job, much better girls, I -“ 

Mo’at silenced you with an affectionate pat on your head. “I think you’d be better fitted than you think. Now go, I’m sure there’s better things you could be doing than sitting here, fretting over a done deal.”

The water in the lake of your secret meadow, your favourite place in the whole world, was colder than you were used to, a welcome respite in a sea of flames that felt like it was engulfing every corner of your mind and body, as you were processing the calamitous conversation you shared with the woman. What was she thinking? What was Eywa thinking? You and Neteyam? The man hated you. And you hated him. What kind of mateship could this ever be, other than one filled with pain and suffering. What kind of leadership could this be, other than one that was disjointed and chaotic. This was a mistake. You would tell Mo’at as much the next time you saw her.

You could at least try to reason with Jake and Neytiri first. They always listened to you, they always took your opinions into consideration. You would tell them that Neteyam has a girlfriend and an intended mate, that you were too young for such eternal commitments, that there was no productive resolution to this, as long as this was still to go ahead. You would do this and it would work. It had to work, because what was the alternative?

A little calmer and with a plan in mind, you swam your laps, enjoying the cold crisp feel of the water against your burning skin. You did this for hours, until you eventually tired, now peacefully laying on the soft grass, looking up at the stars. You have always been able to escape this sometimes harsh reality in the safety of your mind. But harsh reality always had a distasteful way of creeping back in, and it did so now in the form of the one person you never wanted to see, the one person whose presence had the power to burn you and turn you cold all at the same time. 

“Leave, Neteyam.”

“No. We need to talk.” 

“Oh, what could we possibly have to talk about, Neteyam?” You said sarcastically. Of course he’d want to talk now, finally coming with his tail between his legs. You might put him out of his misery if he was nice about it, if for the first time in years he found it in his tiny, little heart to apologise and talk to you like an actual person, if he came to you with some semblance of humbleness and communicated fairly and honestly. Maybe you could finally come to a mutual understanding. This would benefit both of you, so there had to be a way to finally learn to be civil to one another and put your difference aside. 

“Stop being coy, it doesn’t suit you.” You rolled your eyes. This wasn’t off to a great start. 

“Stop being a dick if you want to talk to me.” 

“You have to go talk to my parents and tell them you don’t want this. Tell them you’re in love with that loser boyfriend of yours, tell them you’ve mated with him already. Tell them you don’t want to ever be tied down, that you don’t think the title of Tsa’hik would suit you. I don’t care what you say, just do it. You and I both know this can’t happen. It won’t matter what I say to my parents.” He looked down to his feet and mumbled mostly to himself. “It never does.” He collected himself quickly, before he continued.

“But they care about your opinion. I have to be Olo’eyktan, you don’t have to be Tsa’hik. So go talk to them.”

You rose to your feet and faced him. Your blood quickly started boiling in your veins at his words and tone, at the way he barely looked at you or acknowledged you, at the way he continued to treat you like a plague or disease to be sneered at, to be demeaned, to be avoided. You wanted to scream at him, to take him by his shoulders and shake some sense into him, and hope that this way the Neteyam you used to know, whose memory you still cherished despite all the horrible, unhappy, strenuous years that followed, would just return to you. But being vulnerable around him is something you’ve learnt the hard way you needed to avoid at all costs, so in the matter with which you’ve been accustomed, in a half-sneer, half-growl, you spoke.

“I have to give it to you, Neteyam, you definitely have some nerve. Coming here, demanding that I take one in the chin, yet again, might I add, and be the one to go and talk us out of this predicament, and not even being civil about it, when it’s you asking me the favour. You’ve always enjoyed letting me do all the dirty work, while you maintain the golden child title you clearly value so much. The mighty warrior. The perfect soldier. We both know, deep down, you’re just a fucking coward.”

You watched as his expression darkened, an edge to his face and beautiful features you’ve very rarely, if ever, seen before. But you were angry, so angry, so done protecting his feelings, so over trying to maintain a semblance of decorum for the sake of the love you shared in the past and the love you still share with the rest of his family, for the peace that you once hoped to protect. No one could make you angry like he could. No one got under your skin as well as he did, nuzzling there and making a home of the warmth of your bones, there to stay, until you were willing to forcefully remove him, until you were willing to finally break free from his unyielding grasp his presence had on your mind. It was finally time, it seemed. 

“You sit there and act like this is an inconvenience to you. I’m going to be stuck being Tsa’hik forever. I’m one of the best warriors in this clan. I stood by Jake and Neytiri my whole life, just like you. Why the hell should you get to lead the people in battle, while I have to stay behind, and forsake everything I have ever worked for, all the sacrifices I made and all the years I gave to stand behind and heal your wounds? I should be Olo’eyktan between the two of us, and I think you know that, Neteyam. I think it eats at you at night, the thought. I think that’s the reason you have treated me like dirt since the second you realised this very fact. I think you’re scared your own parents prefer me. You’re scared that comes push to shove, that little bimbo girlfriend of yours might only be with you for the prestige that comes with fucking the future Olo’eyktan, and that if by any chance she finds this out, she’d dump you faster than a banana fruit on a sunny day.” 

You knew it was a step too far, and definitely felt it as soon as Neteyam’s fingers wrapped around your throat and squeezed and your breath hitched in your throat with nowhere to go. 

“You’re such a little bitch. Take it back.” There was no light in his tone, no levity, just pure rage, burning wildly in his eyes and manifested in his bared teeth, threatening fangs fully on display, the low growl blooming in his throat felt deep within you, and for the first time in your life, you were scared of the man sitting in front of you. You felt yourself becoming dizzy and disoriented as the lack of oxygen was taking over your mind, but you refused to give in to his desires, not when he was hurting you, not when he crossed a line, not when you could be hurting him. You smirked instead, and tried to focus enough to get the words out. 

“You’re… a coward. You’re weak, Neteyam. Threatened by a little girl, so you pushed me away and continue to treat me like dirt. I have never thought I am better than you, Neteyam, until right now, that is. I realised something today. I don’t think I’m better than you. You think I’m better than you.”

With all your might and the last of your power, you kneed him, as hard as you could, straight in the groin, and exhaled in relief when his hand dropped from you throat and went to his loincloth, growling in pain. You groaned as you felt the marks he left on you, that will definitely bruise, and struggled to find your balance, as you walked slowly away from him. 

“I’m just as unhappy about this as you are. But you crossed a line, Neteyam. The next time you lay a hand on me, I will make you pay, and I promise you that little girlfriend of yours will have to make do without offsprings.” 

You left the spot that meant so much to you, that was now tainted forever, rubbing his finger imprints off your now sensitive, raw neck, heart full of deep anguish and mind filled with all the ways you were going to make him pay, and that started with one simple step: forsaking the plan to get out of this little arrangement. 

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Breeding (Chris)

Request: Baby fever with Chris I BEG YOU/omg when you write breeding Chris can you add Y/N saying she wants to have a baby with such pretty blue eyes like Chris

Warnings: Talk of pregnancy, breeding obviously, soft/slow sex

Y/n’s pov

Chris and I have been dating since we were 17 but I’ve known him and his brothers since we were 4 years old. From the moment we started dating, our families always joked saying we’d get married one day. Well, that was a future reality, since Chris had proposed to me in May of this year. Even though we’ve only been engaged for a few months and we’re only 20, I would love to start a family with him. We had this conversation the other day with Nick and Matt, for some reason the topic was babies and Chris was ecstatic.

“I want like four or five babies! I can’t wait until Y/n gets pregnant, she’s gonna be so cute with our baby in her belly” he smiled, poking me in the stomach. “Ow Chris don’t do that. We do have baby fever though” I laughed as Nick grimaced. “I hate babies and I hate children” he said, Matt smacked him, “Oh shut up Nick you know when they have a baby you’re gonna be the cool gay uncle” he laughed. “I’m not changing diapers” Nick grimaced again, “I wanna make Y/n fat and pregnant” Chris beamed happily.

That was like five days ago, today we were having a lazy day, we lived in the guest house behind Matt and Nick’s. They got it built after hearing me and Chris fuck too many times, but still, it was a nice gesture and we get to still live with them basically. “Would you really have babies with me?” I asked Chris as I cuddled up to his side. “I’d love nothing more than to get you fat and pregnant. Our babies would look so cute” I could literally hear the smile in his voice. I pulled away and sat up against the headboard, Chris doing the same right after, looking at me with a big smile.

“Our kids can’t call me daddy though, that would be fucking weird” he laughed, causing me to smack his chest. “They could call my parents Mimi and Papa, and yours Grammy and Pop-Pop. Those sound so cute!” I gushed. “My dad would love Pop-Pop” Chris laughed again. “You know what I would love?” I asked, earning a small hum for me to continue, “I’d love for the baby to have your pretty blue eyes and gorgeous pink lips” I told him as my eyes shifted between the two, Chris doing the same to me. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly against my lips, “Yeah” I said back in the same way.

Chris leaned in and softly pressed his lips against mine, moving us to lay back. “Let’s make that blue-eyed baby right now! You’re off birth control right?” he asked softly, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Yes, now let’s make that baby” I smiled, placing a passionate kiss to his lips, after a few minutes, Chris pulled away. He took off his shirt and sweats before pushing my shirt up to see my stomach. “You’re gonna look so good pregnant. Can’t wait to put a baby in your belly” he said while kissing all over my stomach.

“Chris— babe please hurry!” “Sorry, I’m just so excited to have a kid with you” he blushed hard. Chris pulled my shirt over my head before taking off both our underwear, running two fingers through my folds. “So wet already- can we just go straight into softly fucking?” he asked breathlessly, “God, yes” I whined back. Chris slowly slid in and started thrusting fairly fast right away, not too fast though. I pulled him down for another kiss and we let breathless moans out into it, having both a passionate kiss and sex. I was running my fingers through his hair softly while the other held onto the side of his jaw.

One of Chris’ hands moved down to my clit, rubbing it quickly. Pulling away from the kiss, he started talking, “This is like the slowest sex we’ve ever had but— shit! This is gonna be the fastest I’ve ever cum, want you to cum for me princess” he said lowly. I let out a few loud moans before I started cumming, “Oh fuck Chris, so good babe. Want you to cum in me” I moaned. Chris hid his head in my neck, whining as he came in me, pumping into me a few more times before pulling out. He immediately moved down to finger his cum into me, not wanting any to spill out.

“Can’t believe we’re going to have a baby” he said excitedly, kissing all over my stomach. “They’re going to have the prettiest blue eyes, just like their dad” I smiled while playing with his hair. “God, I love you so much Y/n!” he said, looking at the pretty engagement ring on my finger. “I love you so much more” I replied as we both cuddled up with each other and drifted off to sleep, hoping we’d have a happy little family soon.

<<< 12 months later>>>

A few months ago I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Chris was ecstatic to find out he was going to have a son. He does, in fact, have Chris’ pretty blue eyes, he’s so tiny but you can already tell he has his dads nose as well. We named him Nolan Cole Sturniolo, Chris is literally the best dad ever, he helps me with everything. Matt and Nick are so excited that they’re uncles now, Matt always offers to babysit him so me and Chris can go on date nights. I wonder if he’ll be confused when he grows up, having a dad and two uncles who look exactly the same and all. Anyways I’m very happy with our little family.

[homunculus-argument]

Why are you Finns so miserable? From an outside perspective, as someone who lives in a country where our government has continuously failed us, your country seems to be nearly perfect. It seems like paradise.

I truly feel that most people living in my country would kill to live in one like yours. I would saw off my leg if it meant that I could have the guaranteed quality of life that you guys have.

So why are you guys so sad? Is it the cold? The lack of sunlight? I’m seriously at a loss here, because I feel like you guys really take your homeland for granted.

I have no idea. Being alive is simply an unpleasant obligation and a thankless duty that you owe to nobody in particular and gain nothing out of doing. I was literally born as an unpleasant obligation - my parents didn't like each other and they didn't like children, but they married each other and had two kids because that's what people are supposed to do. When we whined as kids about how we don't want to go to school, they'd just say "well I don't want to go to work, either, but unfortunately that's just what life is." Life consists of going places you don't want to go to do things you don't want to do.

My mother once told me that if I ever kill myself, she will go completely insane, just the way that my grandmother went insane when my aunt killed herself. I was like 15 at the time when she told me this, I had been three years old when the aforementioned aunt died. I had never known her, but I was raised with the understanding that the only reason to continue being alive is peer pressure. You don't get to die, you have to keep living because the people around you would be sad if you quit. It's a mutual hostage situation.

Back when the church had more power and death penatly was a thing, there were people who committed crimes that had a death penalty (or claimed to have committed them, depending on the crime) in order to get executed rather than simply commit suicide, because suicide was an unforgivable sin but if you were executed, you could still confess your sins before the final blow and die with hopes of going to heaven.

Finns aren't oblivious of how bad things are everywhere else, or how good we have it. That, too, is a source of misery. It's a whole country of "you have no reason to be sad, there are people out there with real problems" and being reminded that everything everywhere else is even more miserable than how we have it. That anyone else would be ready to kill or saw off their own leg to get to be here, and here we are squandering all this potential by sitting here like a miserable little piece of shit.

Frankly, I am baffled by the concept that there really are people who just genuinely, honestly, wholeheartedly want to live. Like as a preferrable option to having never been born at all. To me, finding happiness in life has always been a "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" sort of thing, finding silver linings out of the unfortunate matter that I happened to be born.

[teaboot]

Hi! (just a personal ask. Sorry if it's not okay to ask for advice out of nowhere but I wanted to see an outer perspective and didn't wanna ask my friends. No pressure to answer of course but I would love to hear your thoughts!)

Is it normal for me to feel overwhelmed about something I want? I am just starting med school and it's a lot but I am fighting. And in my culture, parents buy their daughters their like things?? (like towels and bed sheets and a fridge. Anything they can buy except the apartment basically) for marriage from a young age. But my mom just started recently. And when she first bought me something. The idea of getting married & being a doctor (both things I want) felt like too much I teared up. My mom said I was being spoilers I guess?? Like I was ruining a good moment? Of course it is not that serious since I wasn't outright crying, and I just laughed afterwards as I felt silly lol ,but It got me thinking if I was being that dramatic.

This honestly felt like the moment in the movie where the mom hugs her daughter and says something like "oh how much you've grown" . Her retort felt like it was out of the script.

If you find time to answer, please be extremely blunt. Because I know for a fact I have a tendency to exaggerate things.

You are not overreacting. You are not exagerrating things. And I'm going to tell you this, because I experience this, the tendency to downplay your own feelings and recollections of events very often comes from having other people do it to you first. People tell you your feelings are wrong, or stupid, or irrational, and you learn to listen to them instead of yourself.

It makes complete sense that coming up on a major cultural milestone would make you feel excited, or scared, or overwhelmed. It sounds like you came upon the first step of a very big change and the reality of it all hit you at once, which sounds completely normal and expected!

Fuck, *I* used to get that about moving houses, and YOU'RE expecting shit like marriage? Holy fuck! I'd be a complete mess! The fact that you're level-headed enough to ask questions and process your feelings and talk things through is impressive, because I think I'd be losing my mind.

Personal story, but when I turned 17, my mom asked me if I wanted to go to a restaurant to celebrate. When I told her that it sounded nice, but I'd rather have dinner at home with the family, she told me I was a selfish narcissist, and that I was so busy thinking of myself that I didn't consider that other people might have been excited to go out.

At the time, I thought she'd been harsh but ultimately correct.

Now, I see that she had decided what kind of perfect evening she had wanted, and had expected me to play the part in the movie she had written herself. It had never been about what I wanted at all- it had been about her personal desires and expectations.

And it's normal to feel frustrated about things that don't go the way we want or expect, but lashing out at others is not an appropriate way to handle those emotions.

The way we feel cannot be controlled like a machine. The way we feel is usually not a problem. The problem is what we do, and the choices we make based on those feelings.

Children throw tantrums and sat mean things because they haven't learned better yet. They don't have the practice or experience. Adults like your mother and mine should have that on lock, but often don't, especially if culture or tradition or social expectations tell them their actions are justified.

If I had to take take guess, I'd say it sounds like your mom gave you this gift with an idea in mind of how she wanted you to react. She probably wanted you to be grateful and praising and sweet, so she could fulfill the role she envisioned for herself, and when you deviated from that picture, she was disappointed. From that perspective, it would seem that she felt slighted, and that she was owed your gratitude, and you were at fault for withholding it.

This perspective makes sense, in an emotionally immature sort of way, but would completely overlook your feelings, which are just as important.

Your exact situation is not one I've been in before, but if I'm correct in my assumptions (which I may not be) then I'd suggest keeping an eye out for other instances of your perspective and feelings being minimized.

Are you often told you are behaving irrationally? That you're over-emotional? That you're self-centered or greedy or entitled? Are you told that you don't remember things or do things as you're told? That you see problems where there aren't any? That you male trouble where there is none? That certain conversations aren't worth having, or that "you're always like this"?

It sounds like you know that something is off. I'd encourage you to keep asking questions and follow your instincts. At the end of the day, your life is your own, no matter where it came from.

[lostgirlmuseum]

The Swan and the Soldier

^made w/ pinterest

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x f!dancer!reader

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer. 

Words: 5.6k (oops)

Warnings: Mention of an injury + brief description of pain, poor writing at times, lemme know if I missed anything

A/N: I really hope this isn't complete dog shit

(Dividers by me😎)

“You want me to what?”

Bucky dropped his sandwich back onto his plate.

“I was gonna do it but I’m too busy to make every rehearsal.”

Bucky had been staying in Louisiana for the past month, finally taking a break from going from fight to fight. Sam encouraged him to stay with him at Sarah’s place, which Bucky did for a while, but after a couple of weeks, he decided to rent his own place. He was still near to Sam, and was at his house nearly every day, seeing as he was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Bucky just felt like less of a burden this way. 

“And I’m not busy?” Bucky countered, staring at Sam from across the kitchen table, where they were taking a quick lunch break before getting back to the boat.

“Well—” 

“Shut up.”

“It would mean so much to AJ. It’s his first dance recital and I think he would be a lot less nervous if someone he knew was on stage with him.”

“I’m not a ballerina, Sam.”

“You don’t have to be!” He quickly uttered, putting down his own sandwich. “They just need a couple of parent volunteers to step in and play the adults at the beginning of the show.”

“I haven’t liked dancing since the 40’s. And I don’t know how I feel about being on stage. Would I have to wear a costume?”

“It’s the Nutcracker.” Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky a judgmental once over. “I don’t think it fits the show to have you dressed like an angsty motorcyclist.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can—”

“Uncle Bucky!” A cheerful voice entered the room as AJ came bounding up to the table.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky smiled, giving the boy a quick fist bump. 

“Uncle Sam told me you would be a part of my recital!”

“He said what now?”

“What?” AJ asked, oblivious.

“Nothing, I—AJ, could you give Uncle Sam and me a second?”

AJ nodded and skipped back outside into the sun. Bucky glared over at Sam.

“So maybe I jumped the gun a bit…”

“Samuel.”

“You can say no,”

“You know I can’t say no now!” Bucky flung his hands out, exasperated. 

“You can! You’ll just disappoint him. But if that’s what you want to do—” Sam trailed off, taking a bite out of his turkey and provolone. 

“This is manipulation.”

“Is it working?” Sam mumbled and swallowed.

Bucky shook his head and stared at his plate. “You owe me.”

“Big time! Promise.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Bucky mumbled, planting his face in his palms.

“Rehearsals are Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Sam got up from the table and grabbed his now empty plate, “you’re making the kid really happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. To be clear, I am doing this for him. Not you. I don’t give a shit about you.” He pointed.

“Love you too, Buddy.” 

Bucky found himself that very Thursday at the ballet studio, in a small group of parents, as a petite young woman—well, she looked about 60, but compared to Bucky, she was young—introduced herself, a southern accent clear in her cheery tone.

“Welcome parents and volunteers! Most of you already know me, but I’m Ms. Cindy, the head of this program and this year’s Nutcracker! I’d like to start by thanking all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and support us and your children. It’s you who keep this dance studio up and running, and I’m so grateful for that. Throughout today, you’ll each get called to get your measurements taken so we can be sure that the costumes are ready before the performance. And as for roles, we’ll figure that out at the end of class. I have to go teach the little ones, but feel free to take a seat and watch the choreography your students have been learning all season!”

Bucky followed the others, who seemed to already be acquainted with each other, into a small observing room attached to the studio where AJ was practicing. Bucky stuck himself in the back corner and watched AJ through the one-sided mirror for only a couple of minutes when his name was suddenly called.

“James Barnes?” 

Bucky looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He ignored the glances that turned his way as he followed the woman out the door.

Did they know who he was? Did they know what he had done? Or maybe they had no idea. Maybe they were judging him for not engaging with them in polite conversation, maybe they thought he was weird for hiding silently in the corner. 

Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head as the (attractive, he might add,) woman opened the door for him into a new room. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t a closet either, and Bucky immediately noted the lines of clothing racks stuffed with colorful dresses that lined the walls.

“I just need to get your measurements quickly for your costume. I can take them now, or if you’re more comfortable, I can send you a list of measurements I need and you can get those numbers to me on Thursday if you’d prefer.” 

Bucky thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take his own measurements, and he sure as hell did not want Sam of all people helping him. On the other hand, having a stranger so close to him sounds embarrassing and stressful. But he saw the kindness in her eyes, and oddly enough, he felt he could trust her.

“Now is fine."

“Sounds good.” She gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen and told him where to stand. He took off his jacket with ease, feeling somewhat comfortable knowing he had a long-sleeved shirt under to hide his metal arm. He kept his leather gloves on, and she said nothing.

She demonstrated to him how to hold his arm, and he obeyed, holding his right arm out and bent at the elbow. She chatted as she brought the tape measure along his arm. “Which kid is yours?”

“Oh, none of them.” 

He noticed the subtle tilt of her head.

“I mean, I’m not a dad, but I’m AJ’s uncle. Well, a friend of his uncle but,”

Luckily, she stopped his ramble before he could truly embarrass himself.

“Oh, you’re Bucky?” She dropped the tape to her side and smiled. “I’ve met Sam a couple times, but I’ve heard all about you and him from Sarah.”

“Oh? All good things I hope?” 

He asked in a lighthearted tone, but in reality, he was terrified of the things she’d heard about him.

“Only good things.” She grinned and grabbed the pencil behind her ear to scribble a number on a chart.

“That’s a relief.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to think up conversation to fill the silence. “So are you a parent volunteer?”

“Not a parent, no. I used to be a part of this program growing up. It’s done so much for me, and I wanted to stay connected, so I help out here and there when I can. I mostly fit the costumes.”

“That’s cool.” 

Cool. Cool. Cool response Bucky. Ask her a question, dammit.

“Do you still dance?”

“Not anymore. Can you put both arms out to the side please?” She asked, and Bucky lifted his arms so she could measure his chest. She continued to make conversation as she wrapped the tape around him. “AJ is a great student. He has a lot of potential, he just needs to find his confidence. And he’s a great kid. You’re a lucky uncle.”

“I am,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to not freak out at how close she was to him, and how she was only going lower, as she moved to his waist.

She took a break to write down a couple more numbers and returned to him.

“Now I need a hip measurement, so I have to measure around your butt. Is that okay?”

Bucky gave a convincing nod. “Do what you gotta do.”

‘Do what you gotta do’? What the hell am I saying?

He avoided looking at her and held his breath as she brought the tape around his hips.

“Just a couple more measurements and you’ll be out of here,” she assured, dropping the tape from his hips. “You can put your arms down now.”

Bucky let his arms rest at his sides.

She quickly went about measuring his legs and finished a couple of minutes later.

“You’re all good to go, Mr. Barnes, thank you!” 

“You can call me Bucky,” he tried to hide his bashful smile and started to exit out the door, but stopped and turned at the last moment. “What was your name again?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

He liked the way it felt on his tongue. With that, he said goodbye and returned to the observing room.

Thirty minutes later class was nearly over. All that was left on the agenda for the day was to form the groups.

“So it seems we have an odd number…Lois, is this everyone?” Ms. Cindy asked, looking over to her assistant.

“Everyone that signed up, yes.” Lois, a shorter girl with an auburn bob, tapped on a clipboard.

“Let’s just see how this goes. Mr. and Mrs. Tudor will be group one, Mr. and Mrs. Malone will be group two, Mrs. and Mrs. Cardoza will be group three, and that leaves Mr. Barnes…”

“We could have him be a single parent to his group?” Lois offered, looking up from her list.

“We could, but then who would he dance with at the party scene?”

Bucky swore he saw a literal lightbulb light up above Ms. Cindy’s head as her gaze fixated somewhere in the back of the room where you were simply passing by.

“Oh, Y/N? Dear?” She called in a uniquely falsetto voice.

“Yes, Ms. Cindy?” Y/N answered, pausing.

“I realize you’re already doing our costumes, but would you be interested in volunteering as one of the parents? We are short a person.”

“Oh, um…”

“You can think about it Dear. It’s no trouble if you feel that it’ll take up too much time, we appreciate you for your dedication to the costumes.” Ms. Cindy was careful to add.

Despite her initial hesitance, Y/N spoke up.

“I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Cindy blinked, surprised by the answer.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes. I’ve already got measurements, all I need to do is submit an order. And I can’t tailor anything anyways until the shipment comes in.”

“A round of applause for our beautiful and dedicated Y/N, everyone!” Ms. Cindy cheered and began clapping her hands in a circle. The parents all joined in, and Bucky gave a quiet few claps. “That means Mr. Barnes and Y/N will play the fourth couple. Splendid!”

Lois tapped Ms. Cindy on the shoulder and pointed to her watch. Time was almost up. Ms. Cindy was fast to get back to business.

“Now let’s quickly assign each group their children, and then we can end rehearsal.”

“Buck, I’ve got some good news.” Sam’s voice flowed through Bucky’s phone.

It was Tuesday morning, and Bucky had been up and dressed since seven in the morning, eager to pick AJ up, even though class wasn’t until 5 p.m. He was currently lying on the couch, watching the clock tick by.

“What, you finally learned to use the potty like a big boy?” Bucky mocked.

“It was one time. ONE. TIME. You know I don’t fuck with clowns!”

“I don’t like clowns either, but you don’t see me shitting myself at the Halloween Festival.” Bucky quietly chuckled.

“First of all, I didn’t ‘shit’ myself. I peed. A little. And second of all, I had a lot of hot chocolate beforehand, and my bladder was at max capacity, and—why the hell am I explaining this to you?”

“Because you know I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“Moving on,” Sam sighed, “I was calling to tell you that you don’t need to be in the performance with AJ anymore.”

Bucky shot up from his lying position. “What do you mean?”

“My schedule freed up a bunch so I can take AJ and be in the show now.”

“Oh.”

Bucky slumped back onto the cushions, dejection dripping from his voice. Sam clearly picked up on it.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I thought this was good news for you. I know I forced it onto you and all, and your thing isn’t really being on stage in front of a bunch of people.”

Bucky picked at the edges of his fingers, carefully considering his next words.

“I mean it’s not my thing, but—I don’t know, I feel like I’ve committed. And I get to spend some time with AJ, y’know? And, truth be told, it’s not all bad.”

There was a pause on the line before Sam’s voice rang through.

“That’s awfully sweet Buck. And very out of character for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, I can be nice.”

“Yes, of course. Bucky Barnes, the world’s famous sweetheart, how could I forget?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Bucky warned.

“Bye, metal man.”

“Fuck off bird brain.” Bucky was about to hang up, but quickly added in a serious tone, “I’ll be there this afternoon to pick AJ up.”

“You’re a good man.”

“Whatever.”

“Welcome back everybody!” Ms. Cindy’s high voice rang. “We are going to practice the beginning of the show where the families enter the party. We’ll take it group by group, so let’s start with group one, the Tudors. Your family is super excited for this party, so we’ll have you enter stage right and I need the children to be skipping and bubbly.”

Ms. Cindy instructed the groups one by one. Eventually, she got to Bucky’s group, which he shared with you and four kids, including AJ.

“And our final group, group four, is the family that does not want to attend. The parents should be trying to get the kids to smile, and at least act like they are happy to be there.”

Bucky let you take the lead and simply followed what you did. He walked beside you, stopped when you stopped, turned when you turned.

“Good, now make it look like you are trying to get the kids to smile.”

Bucky copied the way you pointed to your cheery smile and did his best to ignore the embarrassment bubbling in his chest. 

The comically grumpy—and much better actors than him—kids sighed and plastered on cheery expressions. 

“Good, and you can continue walking.” Ms. Cindy ordered.

Group four finished the short trek across the stage successfully. For such a simple task, Bucky had felt surprisingly nervous. 

Ms. Cindy quickly gave her praise and ordered everyone to start over. As Bucky and his group were going back to the line, she offered some advice.

“Y/N and Mr. Barnes, could you try holding hands? You don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else.”

Bucky gulped. Of course you don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else, all the other couples are actually couples, and married for God’s sake!

You, on the other hand, simply said “Okay.”

“Group one, go,” Ms. Cindy called, and the Tudors began to cross the makeshift stage.

The line moved forward, and Bucky with it. He began to sweat a little. 

Hold your hand? With my left hand? My metal hand?

She simply glanced at him and gave him a small smile.

“And group two,” Ms. Cindy called.

Everyone stepped forward.

The good news is that Bucky was wearing his gloves, but surely she’d notice his hand felt different and think he was weird. Although, did she already know about his arm situation? She did mention that she’d heard about him and Sam from Sarah. Maybe she already knew, and wouldn’t care?

“Group three!”

Bucky looked back at the kids trailing behind him and spotted AJ beaming right back at him. Suddenly, Bucky felt ridiculous. 

Bucky, you’re being an idiot. Be a man and hold her hand. It’s not that deep. You’re doing this for AJ.

“And four,”

He grabbed her hand and started to walk with her. The first thing he noticed was how small her hand felt in his. It gave him an unfamiliar tingly feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was better than anxiety.

He tried his best to puff out his chest and mimic her confidence as they walked. Bucky stopped halfway through, like they were supposed to, and turned to face the kids like last time. He pretended to point to his smile and finished the walk across the stage.

“Excellent! Let’s move on.”

Bucky managed to make it through the entire class without sweating his clothes off from nerves. 

“You ready to go, AJ?” 

AJ yelped, “Wait! I want you to meet one of my friends!” He dramatically waved over to a little girl with a sunflower barrette in her hair who came skipping over. “This is Ava.”

“Hi, Ava.” Bucky gave an awkward smile.

The little girl looked up at him unphased. 

“Hi, Mr. Bucky. So are you really a superhero?”

Straight to the point, huh? “Oh—um,”

“He is!” AJ butted in, “He’s friends with my Uncle Sam, they save the world all the time!”

Ava crossed her arms across her chest and jutted a leg out.

“So can you fly?” She squinted.

“Nope, I can’t fly.” Bucky began to rub the back of his neck.

“Can’t your Uncle Sam fly?” She asked, looking at AJ with skepticism.

“Yep!”

“So if you can’t fly, what can you do?”

Before Bucky could even begin to stutter, Y/N appeared.

“Hey, Ava! I think your mom is looking for you.” She said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go. Bye AJ,” Ava quickly spouted and ran off towards the doors.

“Bye!” AJ shouted.

Bucky noticed Y/N holding his blue cap out to him.

“I think you forgot your hat.” She spoke softly. 

“Didn’t even realize, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Bucky.”

Bucky was about to give a lopsided grin when AJ interjected,

“Only friends and family call him that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! James, then.” She brought her hand to her cheek.

“No, no, Bucky is fine,” Bucky quickly corrected, “you can call me Bucky.”

“You’re sure? I don’t mean to overstep,”

“You aren’t, I like it when you call me Bucky.” 

He instantly felt his cheeks get warm at his confession. Before she could respond, he quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I can’t be here at the next rehearsal. AJ will be here, but I completely forgot that I’ve got an appointment that day.” A monthly check-in with Dr. Raynor that he forgot to move. “I don’t know if you want me to meet somewhere instead, or I can just come early on Tuesday and you can catch me up to speed or…I mean whatever you think is best.”

“If you want, we can meet on Friday at my place. I can send you the address if you’d like?”

“Yeah, yes, sure, let me get my phone—” he fumbled while grabbing it out of his pocket, “what’s your number?”

“Hey, come on in!” Y/N appeared behind the crisp white door of a cute house, not unlike the Wilson’s, and gestured inside before grimacing. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before, are you cool with dogs?”

Bucky nodded.

She gave a sigh of relief and fully opened the door. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the graying corgi staring back at him.

“This is Frank,” Y/N said, bending down to bring the panting dog into her arms.

“Hi, Frank.” Bucky greeted, giving the dog gentle pets with his right hand. “Your house is lovely,” he added after catching a glance around.

“Oh, thanks!” She smiled, walking into the living room area to set the dog down on the couch. “This is actually my parent’s house, I’m just house and dog sitting for the week while they’re out of town. Usually, I live in my apartment.”

“Is this where you grew up?” Bucky asked, eyes searching the place. He noted the multitude of picture frames lining the wall and the slightly worn couch.

“The first eighteen years of my life. I told myself I’d be out of Louisiana by the time I went to college, but clearly that didn’t happen.” 

“Where did you want to go?”

“New York, San Francisco, I don’t know, maybe even Australia or France.” she laughed at the absurdity and sighed. “C’est la vie,” 

Bucky stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure of what to do next.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Iced Tea? I can make some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Just water is fine,”

“Sure, one second.”

Bucky took the opportunity to explore the room. His curiosity was set on the shelf beside the fireplace, and the multitude of shiny awards it adorned. 

Several faux gold figures of ballerinas and a plaque filled the space, as well as what looked to be a photo album. Bucky thought better than to touch it, however, he did notice the significant lack of dust on it compared to the trophies. 

“I see the obnoxious shrine of my dancing days has caught your attention.”

Bucky spun around, cheeks a little pink at the notion of being caught wandering. He was looking for the right thing to say as you took a seat on the couch and placed the water on the coasters.

“Looks like you’re an amazing dancer.” He nodded, hoping that it was the appropriate thing to say.

She ducked her head at the compliment. “I was okay.” She pointed to just beyond his shoulder at the photo album. “You can look at it if you want,” she offered, clearly sensing his curiosity.

Bucky grabbed the binder from its spot on the shelf and took a seat next to her. He slowly opened the book to the first page. 

There you were, 4 years old in a bright pink tutu, beaming at the camera. The page was covered in cute stickers and artistic swirls. 

“My mom has a knack for crafty things,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the book.

Bucky hummed and began to gingerly flip through the pages. It was odd but endearing seeing you change through each photo and page, but one thing that stayed constant was your eyes. In every photo they had the same sparkle, the same light. It looked so right on you, but he didn’t recognize it in you now.

Bucky stopped on the page dedicated to age 17 and marveled at the costume you were wearing. He couldn’t look away from the intricate feathers and sequins.

“That was for our Spring production of Swan Lake.”

Bucky turned to see a subtle smile on her lips. She was looking at the book, but it seemed as if she was seeing right through it.

“You were the swan?”

“Odette, yeah.”

Bucky turned the page once more, except this time there was no photo—just the outline of where one would be on a mostly blank page, minus the glittering bold number “18”.

“Anyway, the choreography,” she quickly chimed, her attitude dramatically changing, “I’ve got the video right here, we can watch it first.”

She snatched the album up and placed it back on the shelf before handing him her phone. Bucky watched the thirty-second clip of two of the volunteers—possibly the Tudors if he remembered correctly—as they danced a shockingly simple routine.

“That’s it?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“That’s it.” She assured. “Ready to try it?”

“I might be a little rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

She turned on the music and started counting under her breath.

They started by facing each other, their right palms in front of them, and placed against each other. They both took a step in, a step out and circled around the other to which they were now in the opposite places. She curtsied, he bowed, and then they repeated the step in, step out, switch. Now they stood next to each other, and she held her arm out over his. They took three steps forward, and the music grew into a faster tempo.

“Easy enough?” Y/N asked, grabbing her phone to stop the music.

It was suspiciously simple, Bucky thought, but then again, the adults were just a small addition to the show. It’s really about the kids.

“We can make this more interesting.” He remarked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s try it again.” Bucky gestured to her phone.

She obliged and restarted the music.

They went through the routine again, all the way to the end at which the music began to speed up. As Y/N went to pause the music again, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her in. She gave a surprised gasp, but Bucky wasn’t regretful once he saw the smile on her face. He pulled himself back and began to spin her around and basked in her soft laughs. After pulling her back in again, and dancing around each other, he dipped her. She wrapped her right leg around him in response and he hoped she didn’t notice his smirk transform into a blush. 

“Alright Mr. ‘I might be a little rusty’, someone has moves!” 

Bucky helped her up once she removed her leg. 

“I used to be better,” he mumbled.

“None of that,” she softly chided, bringing his chin up, “where did that confidence just go?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll keep practicing, then you’ll see,” he simpered.

Time went on and not a day went by that Bucky didn’t think of you. After weeks of practice, it was finally dress rehearsal. Bucky was surprisingly calm even though they were no longer practicing in a studio, but in the local high school’s theater, in full costume. You held his hand through it—literally, for some parts—and Bucky was grateful for it.

It was Friday night, the final rehearsal before the show the next day, and Bucky was just about to drive off when he realized how cold his hand felt against the steering wheel. He cursed himself and ran back inside, luckily finding his leather gloves sitting on a chair in the wings of the stage. Right as he was about to scamper off, he noticed a figure at the very front of center stage. He recognized her immediately, and without a second thought, he approached from the darkness of the sides and into the light of the stage. She had already changed out of her ballgown and was back in black leggings.

“Hey.” He uttered, slowly taking a seat next to her at the end of the stage. He let his legs dangle over the edge.

“Hey,” she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “Sorry, I thought everyone had left.”

“I forgot my gloves.” 

“Seems like you have a habit of forgetting things,” she teased.

“Only when it comes to clothing, apparently.”

“Is AJ not waiting for you?”

“No, he left with a friend. He’s got a sleepover with Marshall tonight.”

“Gotcha.”

A thoughtful quiet settled over them, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the somberness in her eyes, gazing over the expanse of empty velvet seats.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you stop dancing?”

She was quiet for a minute. Bucky started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually, she whispered,

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

She began mindlessly rubbing her knee.

“I tore my ACL my senior year. It was our annual production of The Nutcracker and I was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. There was a rumor that some influential talent scouts were going to be attending. So when my knee started hurting I ignored it. I didn’t tell anyone. I worked my ass off and pushed myself harder when I really should have been resting, but I was stupid.” She gave Bucky a short glance. “Opening night came, and so did my solo. Everything was going fine until I heard a pop. Next thing I know my leg is on fucking fire and I’m hitting the ground.

“I embarrassed myself and our entire company. My knee took longer to heal than it should have because of more poor choices I made. What should have been nine months of healing turned into years. By the time it was safe enough to start dancing again, it was too late. I was too far behind my peers. Even still I sometimes have issues with it.”

Bucky simply nodded, taking in her words.

“I tell myself I’m over it because it was so long ago. But deep down I know I’m not. I’ve asked my parents to take down all of my stupid awards, at least store them away somewhere, because it’s just some sick reminder of what I lost. Actually, the whole reason I started volunteering in the first place is because my mom told me I should. Said it could be good for me. She never said so, but I really think she was hoping that by being surrounded by ballet again, I would feel motivated to begin training again. But it’s a pipe dream.”

She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

“All I ever was was a dancer. And a good one. It was the only thing I was good at, besides sewing, but I only learned that after I injured myself. The whole town knew me as the dancer. I guess the problem with having my entire identity wrapped around one thing is that when that thing goes away…well, who are you? Who am I, if not the girl who’s going to be on the stage one day? My entire identity was ripped from me.

“I’ve just been wading through life. Time keeps moving and crashing around me, but I haven’t changed. I still don’t know who I am, besides the girl who could’ve been great. And now I’m just—stuck.”

Her eyes went wide for a second before squeezing them shut as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“God, I’m so sorry, you didn’t need to know all of that—”

“No, I—” Bucky stopped her and hesitated to rest his hand on hers. “I can empathize. I hate that you had to go through that. That you’re still going through it. I can understand not knowing who you are anymore.

“A long time ago, I used to be someone else. I used to be charming, independent… happy. But after I was drafted my identity was no longer my own. I was a fighter. I belonged to the army. And then I belonged to Hydra. And even after, I belonged to the Avengers, the world, whoever needed me to fight, I was their soldier. But I’m tired.” At those words, Bucky slumped. “I don’t want to fight anymore. But I have no fucking clue who I am if not a soldier. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

“I can’t tell you who you are,” she whispered after a moment, “but I can tell you that whoever you are, I like you.” 

Bucky blushed.

“I like you too. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,”

“What is?”

“I didn’t really want to volunteer for this. Sam forced me. And while I love being here for AJ, I’d much rather hang out with him outside the theater where I’m not expected to be looked at on stage. But then I met this pretty costume designer…and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.”

“Pretty?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He specified.

“What a coincidence. I also met the most handsome and charming man recently.”

“Charming?”

“He doesn’t realize how charming he is. I guess that’s part of his charm.”

“He sounds great.” He turned to face her more directly. “Just to be clear, you are talking about me, yes?”

“Yes, you oaf.” She laughed.

Bucky pursed his lips.

“Would you be willing to let this oaf take you out on a date sometime?”

“More than willing.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighed, falling back onto the stage. “I figured it was 50/50.”

She gave him a silly grin and shook her head in amusement.

“You underestimate yourself, Bucky Barnes.”

The final performance was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be with a production of the Nutcracker with dancers ages ranging from 6 to 106. Most importantly, AJ had fun and did a fantastic job. After the show and final bows, Sarah, Sam, and Cass came rushing onto the stage to congratulate AJ (and Bucky of course. Sam made sure to tell him that he was very proud of how brave he was, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He secretly appreciated it, though.) Cass handed one bouquet to his little brother and the other to his uncle, who funny enough lit up in a similar way as his nephew at the gift. But Y/N lit up the most when Sarah handed a third bouquet to her.

“For keeping Bucky in line, and giving a beautiful performance,” Sarah clarified.

“You’re so sweet,” she beamed, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug. “I have the perfect vase for this.”

“Can we go get ice cream now?” AJ jumped. 

“Let’s get you out of your costume first,” Sam said and gave a quick wink to Bucky before herding his sister and Nephews backstage. “We’ll see you by the car Buck.”

Bucky nodded and turned his full attention to Y/N. He felt weirdly high after the performance. “Wanna join us for ice cream?” He asked, placing his hands on her waist.

“Gladly.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I like dancing with you.

A/N: If you've made it this far, tysm for reading!!! I really hope this doesn't suck complete ass, idk what happened 😰 Im going to go hide in a hole now and question everything

If you'd like to read more, here's my Masterlist

Happy holidays!

[fvckinaphrodite]

You know those fics where Catelyn Tully Stark is depicted as this evil bitch who disrespect the North, its people, its culture, its Gods? That the Northmen hate her because she's one of the southern ladies throughout centuries that become the Lady of Winterfell and believe in the Faith of the Seven? That she somehow always insists for her children to stay away from their direwolves till the end? Where, I ask? Where tf those craps ever written in canon?! WHERE?!

Because I tell you I'm reading A Storm of Swords right now, and I find nothing of those shits. She's always courteous to the Northmen, even those who are huge-rawdy-closer to wildling type and don't give a shit about propriety like Greatjon Umber. She doesn't look down on Maege Mormont who fights just as good as men like those crap fics suggest. When Robb comes back to Riverrun from his campaign in Westerlands and they learn about what she's done, Maege sympathizes with Cat and tells her that she would've done the same if it were her daughters that's been taken. The Greatjon lifts her in the air and tells her some optimistic motivational words about how Robb gonna beat Jaime again. What else, she's horrified when Robb tells her that Grey Wind is not allowed inside the keep because he doesn't like Jeyne Westerling's uncle. She REMINDS Robb that Grey Wind is part of him, and BELIEVES that the Old Gods has sent the direwolves for her children to be their protectors. A chill literally "went through her" when she believes that Jeyne's uncle is not good for her son, all because Grey Wind also doesn't trust him (or as Robb says, "doesn't like the smell of him). She has to beg Robb to send Jeyne's uncle away.

All I'm saying is that, I won't give any Catelyn haters a minute of my life if I can help it. Just say you are a misogynist and be done with it. The fandom really hates her all because she refuses to mother a child that is not her responsiblity, that she owes nothing of. They hate her because she's just trying to save her remaining children--two little girls whom in the eyes of her eldest son worth next to nothing. Robb refuses to save his sisters, and when his mother takes matter in her own hands, they condemn her, as if they wouldn't have done the same thing in her position. It's so easy to see her as the obstacle to Robb's campaign, yet people tend to forget that any decent parent would do the exact same thing. Especially when ASOIAF universe is filled with murdered children.

[punkstylerecovery]

Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.

By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many people’s parents physically hurt them, how many people’s parents mock their insecurities, how many people’s parents don’t care for their children’s health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die? 

And so many people don’t give a fuck. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t deserve shit. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to “respect our parents” in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people don’t even think twice about it. 

But children DO deserve more than they’re generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and that’s vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no “societal power” to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck. 

Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than they’re being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what we’re owed in parent/child relationships.